There are some beautiful moments that, as they are happening, each second is being tattooed upon the soul.
The etching is painful and wonderful because you also know the moment will pass far too soon, but the feelings stirred within will defy age.
When these happenings occur, you do your best to live into every breath, touch, sound, and texture. Each sense cultivates a unique memory, keeping the whole of the moment alive well beyond its expiration.
I had such an experience not too long ago when my husband called me away from my desk. Working from home, I have developed the unhealthy habit of overworking and under-moving.
Getting me to move once I am locked in for the day is known to be difficult, so when I heard his voice, I was curious.
As much as I have been sitting in front of a computer, my husband has been working on getting our commercial property ready to open. While exciting, he has been leading efforts to collaborate with everyone from the city to the government on matters ranging from permits to inventory, certifications to remodeling. For months, he has been working tirelessly with community members and others to turn a calling into reality — a vision he has watched grow from seed for decades.
That vision now has color and texture. I am so very proud of him and thankful for his willingness to trust God’s guidance every step of the way.
As a man of active faith, I often sense the Holy Spirit when I am with my husband. One such day was when he called for me.
When I heard my name, in truth, I didn’t want to get up. I was in the zone. Yet, when he came toward me, I saw his tired brown eyes — they looked a lot like mine.
I sat back and studied him. The only thing I could think of was how much I truly respected, appreciated, loved, and honored the man before me.
In this thought, I stood and followed him.
He took my hand and led me to the building. Inside, I was taken aback by how much progress had been made. The space was attractive and inviting.
So many hands were needed to reach this point, some of them being contractors, electricians, and plumbers. Others gave handshakes and pats on the back, encouraging us. Still others held hands in prayer, asking God to reveal His will in our obedience.
“The surround sound has been installed,” he said.
I looked at the corners of the ceiling and saw the speakers. Before I could tell him how nice they looked, a song began to fill the space.
In the midst of tables, chairs, paint cans, and permits, he squeezed my hand and brought me close to him.
Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” played on his cue, and we danced as he whispered the lyrics in my ear.
I felt the painful beauty of the moment — each second being rhythmically tattooed upon my soul.
Almost a lifetime in the making, here we were, witnessing a dream starting to bear fruit. I was overwhelmed with thankfulness for the journey, even the downpours and dips.
Dancing with him, I felt like I was also dancing with Jesus, as Jesus has led us each step of the way.
I knew this moment would defy our weariness and rest itself in wonderment.
Days have since passed. Yet, I can still traverse into every breath, touch, sound, and texture of that moment.
Although I have much to improve in regulating a healthy balance in life, I have found that tracing tattoos upon the soul often offers the best respite.
As we finish one day and prepare for the next, may we not forget the importance of acknowledging, honoring, and enjoying those closest to us, with God leading the way.
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.