Momentary Opportunity

I ran out to the market the other evening to pick up a prescription for a friend. As I pulled into the parking lot I looked up to see this dramatic sunset. We're not New Mexico or Arizona but we do manage to get a spectacle like this every now and then. As I prepared to jump out of the car I thought I might grab a picture of this on the way back out or after I got home. All I had to do was run in and run out.

As it turns out my trip to the pharmacy took longer than expected and by the time I got back out to the car the scene had morphed into another phase of sundown. The spectacle that had captured my attention was gone. The light that remained had none of the color, the drama, or the beauty of the sky just minutes before.

For once I had done the smart thing and, recognizing a beautiful and fleeting opportunity, I stopped first and captured the moment. And when I later returned to the car I realized the value of my decision. Instead of racing ahead to the next thing on the list, I made a conscious decision to stop, to take in the beauty of that moment before it faded away. It cost me less than a minute.

This experience reminds me, once again, of all the beauty, all the photographs, all the opportunities in my life that I chose to place on hold. Sadly, at this point, it reminds me of too many missed opportunities.

Happily, it reminds me to be more diligent: look for things that matter. And when you see them, when they pop-up in the real or figurative sky, stop for just a moment and drink it in. When the picture is that beautiful, the person is that dear, the friendship is that precious, the experience is that powerful, stop. You won't be able to at every opportunity, but you will for more than you think. But only if you choose to stop. Only if you choose to look, to keep your eyes open. Only if you recognize the importance and just how fleeting these moments can be. Whether it's a sunset, a new baby, or a rapidly aging friend, they grace our lives for what is, or sometimes seems, just a moment. And then they're gone. Gone to sundown, gone to adulthood, sometimes just plain gone.