The joy of living in the present

I ran across a quote from Shirley Temple, who was a bit before my time — more my mother's era. But I've seen her immensely popular child star movies. Known for her winsome personality, curly hair and dimples, she could charm anybody. I can see her growing up and stating this: “I think we all learn from the past. I just feel we shouldn't live there. I live for today, and to me, the most important moment is now.” 

That slides into a conversation my husband and I just had. I was wondering — as I see time trickling downstream, maybe more like spring runoff — if I have done enough with my life. I haven't been a real planner and goal-setter; I live life as it comes.  

Terry chimed in with a hilarious line. He brought us to our present saying, “We're retired, and we don't have to plan too far ahead — which is two weeks!” 

There is something appealing about living in the moment. It truly is what I have. How could my life expand if I saw where I am right now as the most important place I can be?  

Memory has its pluses and minuses. It is an award-winning teacher — if we're listening. Some try to outpace their past, while others — as Shirley alludes — want to never leave it. And, of course, memory is ultimately a raft of all those collective moments — which is why fully living in the now matters.  

Past and present connected in a startling way for me last week. In 2001, I had landed in Anchorage, flying standby, just a few hours before 9/11 happened. There was a two-week-old grandson to meet. With all the national horror in that time, it remains a set apart memory — holding that baby and feeling his little breaths on my face. I've told him so many times over the years. 

He is 23 now and married. I was down with the flu when his mom asked if I'd checked my Love Box messages. I've mentioned the small electronic box with the spinning red heart that tells me I have a photo or message from someone in the family. After the query, I drug myself out of bed to go lift the lid and see what was on the screen. 

There was a photo — a newborn baby snuggled with her dad, and the message “those little breaths.” We had a new great-grand, which was a big hoopla. But it was that phrase, “those little breaths,” is what got me. 

Caleb had taken that moment from the past and given me its gift in the present. He, too, now knew “those little breaths.” Over two decades ago when I valued the moment, unknown to me, it would take on substance and travel the years until it emerged again ready to shine. That's what making the most of now can do. 

I remind myself, don't live in the past — don't live in the future. That will have me doing the splits worse than Jean Claude in his Volvo commercial. The place I am is the present moment. How will I live it?