Holy moments in between
There are many attributes that come with being a proper Midwesterner: knowing how to drive in the snow, mastering the 10-minute good-bye, apologizing when someone bumps into you, serving dessert salads, saying “It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the wind” (or the humidity), and, of course, having the ability to endure – and even enjoy – a road trip.
We drove everywhere when I was a kid. Summer vacations often meant road trips up north or out west. I learned at a young age how to keep myself busy during the two or so days that we would spend in the car. There were movies, car-bingo, I spy, snacks, travel games, sing-alongs, and storytelling.
As I got older and spent countless hours on buses traveling to sporting events, marching band competitions and college music ensemble tours, I added Cribbage and 500 card tournaments, riddles and word games, singing random campfire songs, and long conversations to the list.
Time on the road – whether driving or riding – became filled with moments of connection and memories. I vividly remember my college band singing the intro of Queen’s It’s a Beautiful Day when the sun finally broke through after a week of rain. I remember the laughter after a chip bag in the trunk popped right behind my head as we drove over the mountains when I was in elementary school. I remember friendships that deepened through shared snacks and unplanned conversations, and the many hours spent talking with God and dreaming about what might come next. I remember these moments in the car just as vividly as the destinations themselves – and, in many ways, I treasure them even more.
What should have been ordinary and mundane – even impatient – moments of simply driving from one place to another became holy spaces of connection and joy.
Life is full of these in-between places: in the car, waiting for an event to begin, during the do-nothing days of summer, in the quiet after the kids go to bed, or around the table sharing a meal. When we choose to be intentional in these moments – when we choose to connect with one another, God, or even with ourselves; when we choose to laugh, share our joys and tears, or simply ask about each other’s day – the ordinary becomes sacred. These seemingly small, mundane moments become holy moments of connection, where the rest of the world melts away.
I’ll leave you with the closing stanzas of a prayer by Kate Bowler, and a challenge: dwell in the sacred spaces between the busyness of life for just a few moments longer.
Lord, fill me with happiness
because these hours and minutes
are so inconceivably,
astonishingly precious.
And as I begin the day,
translate all things ordinary
and commonplace,
stupid or boring, funny or profound,
into yet another reminder
that each is somehow shimmering.
