Monday, September 13, 2010

Every Moment

The light of the TV flicked across the room, it’s corners darkening with my lids as they grew heavier. It was another bout of insomnia that was keeping me awake, and my choice of medicine for the evening was raunchy television. Hey, it’s better than Unisom for the fourth night in a row, right? Even if it was Chelsea Handler re-runs I was burning brain cells with…

Turning to fumble in the dim light for the remote so as not to wake the sleeping beast beside me (M, not Ellie) I found myself pausing for a moment again to take in the soft melody of a familiar commercial, watching as the pictures droned by, and taking in its intricate messages:

And, like it had probably hundreds of times before – it moved me. The message, the completeness, the realness, the expressions, the heart pounding, the possibilities – all impacted me where I found myself wanting to cry or beam with the kind of joy that can only be felt from deep, deep within. Now, without Googling the commercial, I couldn’t tell you who was endorsing their product through human heartstrings, but I can tell you…

I’m grateful. Oh so grateful. That messages like this exist in our world still today, despite headlines of news meant to shatter our souls versus build them up to the potential they were meant to be. To lift our hearts with hope when some days, it seems like there is none left.

So thank you (advertisers), for keeping this campaign alive. It sparks in me the gentleness, grace and patience to make every one of my moments count, including:

Holding my son when he cries, watching him struggle through emotion and frustration and try desperately to interpret what that might mean to him at age one. To look up at the clouds when I’m walking the dog. To notice the person’s smile and color of eyes in the drive through. To drive a different route to work. To fail with grace. To let the house remain a mess in order to soak in the last 10 minutes of the sun. To hug for 10 minutes as Dr. Daly recommended. To strike up a conversation in an elevator. To put the iPhone down and the smile up. To dance in public places with a child on my hip. To remember a dear friend’s birthday. To really feel the grass between your toes. To sense the water as it lingers over your hands doing dishes. To watch my son’s face as he studies a toy intently, only to break into fits of laughter for no reason at all later on. And so very much more…

These are the moments. And, like AT&T promises: they all count.

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