30 Jul What Is This Moment Asking of Me?
This morning at the gym, I watched a woman pull on a pair of worn leather lifting gloves. She worked each finger into place, fastened the velcro around her wrists, took a sip from her water bottle, and tucked her purse into one of the cubbies.
She glanced at her phone one last time before putting it away. As she reached toward the cubby, the screen lit up. She drew her hand back, looked at the caller ID for just a moment, then swiped across the screen and lifted it to her ear.
“Hi, sweet girl.”
She listened.
“It broke?”
“Oh, honey.”
“I know.”
“That was so special to you.”
“You worked so hard on it.”
She listened a little longer.
“We’ll figure it out together when I get home.”
“I love you.”
When the call ended, she held the phone for just a moment before slipping it into her purse. Then she walked over to the bench, lowered herself beneath the bar, and unracked the weight.
A moment earlier, her daughter had needed tenderness and compassion. Now the lift in front of her asked for focus and determination.
She gave each moment exactly what it seemed to need.
Our days are full of moments like these. We move from one conversation to the next. From one responsibility to another. From one unexpected interruption back to whatever was waiting for us before it happened. We don’t often give ourselves much space between them. We carry the frustration from one conversation into the next. The stress from work into dinner. The difficult email into the meeting that follows.
Sometimes the space between moments is no bigger than the time it takes to reach for the next thing. Just enough time to ask, What is this moment asking of me?
The answer is rarely the same. It couldn’t be.
Some moments ask us to comfort. Others ask us to decide. Some ask us to be steady. Others ask us to be brave. Sometimes we’re called to listen. Sometimes to lead. Sometimes to speak. Sometimes to simply stay present.
In those few quiet seconds between the phone and the barbell, she gave herself just enough space to shift into the next moment.
Perhaps that’s what those small transitions are for. They give us a chance to let go of the moment that came before, then notice what this one is calling for.
The answer changes.
So do we.