A Moment in Time
On purpose, presence, and the beads we unknowingly thread.
“A moment in time” isn’t an original thought. It’s been a movie title, a song lyric, a podcast theme, a story starter. And yet, these four words keep returning to us, over and over, because they sound like truth. Because they are truth.
There’s the moment you hear your baby cry for the very first time.
The moment you say “I do” at an altar.
The tiny kiss goodbye on the first day of preschool.
The “Be safe. Don’t text while you drive,” shouted from the doorway as your teenager pulls out of the driveway for the first time.
The “I’ll see you at Thanksgiving, make sure you study” as you drop your child at their freshman dorm.
The “Do you agree?” whispered by a judge during a divorce.
The first instant you lock eyes with someone and know - this person will matter.
These are the concrete moments in time.
Moments threaded together like beads on an endless necklace, different colors, different shapes, different qualities, each one nudging the next, each one waiting for what comes after. A story being told even as it unfolds.
Some moments stand out. Some reroute everything.
The diagnosis.
The stillborn baby.
The angel baby.
The suicide attempt.
The first “I love you.”
The crash.
The forgotten object on the counter that changed the entire shape of the day.
The yes.
The no.
The “I’m going to stay in tonight.”
The grief of a loss.
The elation of a miracle.
The degree.
The addiction.
The accident.
The moment that tilts your trajectory forever.
And then there are the moments before all of that, the moment our soul was sent to earth, carrying some unfinished job, some purpose we haven’t fully named yet. Who are we here for? What bead are we in someone else’s necklace?
I find myself hoping my bead matters.
Maybe it’s meant for one person.
Maybe many.
Maybe it’s simply meant to let my soul feel its full experience: the ache, the joy, the rock bottom, the perseverance, the love, the brokenness, the healing, the loss, the yearning.
The endless gifts contained inside the moments we’re given.
So I wonder…
What will your necklace look like?
🌅 Hanging By a Sunrise
Sometimes my necklace looks like a noose, other times a fine silk scarf.
I don’t always know what my bead is supposed to be, or who it’s for. But I know some moments have shaped me in ways I didn’t expect—some painful, some miraculous. Your words make me think maybe the point isn’t perfection… maybe it’s presence.
Makes me wonder what kind of bead I would be in the people's who's paths I course or if they even care enough to consider me a bead. I think every moment is a bead that shapes some beads just move farther down the line as others move closer.