Rob and I took the opportunity last Sunday to watch our wedding video (converted from VHS to DVD) with Robert and Sigourney.
During the time, Rob said it had been the best day of his life. I agree. (Lump in my throat).
That day was filled with what I call “holy moments”. Holy moments are those that are so awe-inspiring in the way I see God, that to make light of them is almost blasphemous. Even to recount them seems to cheapen them.
Other holy moments for me were the birth of Robert and the first time I experienced ultrasound pictures of David. That technology was not around during my first pregnancy. Of course David’s birth was another such moment.
Holy moments aren’t always joyful for me either.
The day my grandmother, Mama Smith, died was one of those days. Rob, the boys, and I had decided to decorate her bedroom door with a live Christmas wreath and had picked up one and were taking it to her. We had donned the wreath with a puffy red velvet bow. It was Christmas time and her bedroom where she was confined needed a bit of greenery. On the way we had occasion to hear Steven Curtis Chapman’s “Home for Christmas” and I had turned it off. It kind of made me melancholy. Mama Smith loved Christmas. She and Papa Smith had married one Christmas Eve long ago. Anyway, when we arrived, she was sleeping and I didn’t want to awaken her. But, the nudge of the Holy Spirit prompted me to do so, so I went back to her room and spoke with her a few minutes before she smiled and motioned at the door for the visitors to come in. She commented on how cute the littlest ones were. I smiled and looked at the door assuming she was talking about Rob and the boys.
When I looked, however, no one was there. Yet, she continued to beam and smile and welcome her guests. Her speech was too clear after all her small strokes had robbed so much of her ability to talk. I knew that was a holy moment. I believe she had a bit of heavenly company showing up to take her home for Christmas. Corny sounding perhaps, but true.
When we left her, I pressed “play” on the car cassette tape player and the same song I had stopped listening to earlier on the radio was the song cued to play on my car’s tape player. No joke!
That evening I would receive a call from my brother informing me that Mama Smith had passed away in her sleep moments before. A holy moment preceded by other moments throughout that day.
There are other such moments in my walk with Christ where I cannot help but recognize His presence, His sovereignty, and His goodness toward me in them. Most are just too personal to share because that’s another attribute of them for me. They are just too filled with Him to even speak them to anyone out of reverence for what I anticipate God will do through them.
Do you have holy moments? Give God the glory.