This article was published in Faith Pittsburgh Magazine in the 2014 Summer Edition.
You can access it here or read the full article below.
BY REV. SCOTT HENWOOD
I love riding a motorcycle.
There is something very freeing and life-giving about it. One day when I was riding I experienced more life than my bike could ever have delivered. I stopped in at a Waffle House for a late lunch in my beat‑up leathers with a “doo rag” on my head and smelling of highway exhaust. The booth I found was out of the way, and I could sit with my back against a wall with full sight of all the other tables. It was perfect.
While I was eating I noticed a man with a child sitting by the door waiting for a seat. He was holding the child in a blanket tight to his chest. There were plenty of seats, but he was waiting for something.
Time passed and he still had not taken a seat anywhere in the restaurant. This made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I just wanted to relax, but he kept looking my way. He was holding out for the booth I was in. With kindness and patience he continued to wait — passing up every other seat that was offered.
After a while I saw him begin to move to the booth adjacent to mine. He carefully positioned his daughter on his lap and sat facing the wall that was at my back — he and I were now facing each other. He had a choice to face a disinterested crowd of people or a goofy-looking, dirty-faced biker who smelled like exhaust. He chose the biker.
We acknowledged that we had become neighbors and went back to our business. Mine was eating. His was to become intimately focused on his daughter.
The daughter’s height was that of a two-year-old, but her face indicated she was older than 5 and younger than 10 — she was so frail and thin that I couldn’t really tell. Her hair was thin and dark. Her cheeks were sunken. Her arms were skin over bone with no muscle mass to speak of. The father cradled his daughter’s head on his shoulder so her head wouldn’t fall — her neck had no strength. Their eyes locked, and they exchanged smiles.
I saw him put a small portion of eggs on a fork and chew but he didn’t swallow. He eased the chewed eggs back onto the fork, and he put the fork to his daughter’s open mouth. In her weakened state from whatever illness her body was fighting, she had lost the ability to chew anything even as soft as a scrambled egg, so her father was doing it for her.
At this point I got it. The father had wanted my booth so that he could face the wall and not have anyone see them. He didn’t want to put his daughter on display. His concern was for her.
What I witnessed was a moment of pure love that was soaked with grace and mercy. It was a moment where the spirit of God’s love was transferred from a parent to a child through eggs on a fork. It happened in a Waffle House, but I am telling you, it was sacred.
Sacred moments are done out of such pure love that they ooze grace and mercy. They deepen our connection to God. They affirm that place in our soul where we know that God is real and his greatest desire is to be in relationship with us.
To see sacred moments we must be aware of what is going on around us. We can’t be so focused on our agenda that we miss our surroundings. Sometimes we see sacred moments in a scenic landscape. Other times we see them as someone is being assisted out of a wheelchair and helped up some steps. Sometimes you may find yourself participating in a sacred moment, but you have done that act so often it’s too familiar for you to realize it. Keep your eyes open as you search for God in the world around you. You will experience life like never before. You can find sacred moments in the strangest of places — even at a Waffle House. †