Within five minutes of arriving, I had been swept into another world — a world in which my wife and I do not live, a world of politicians, a world of high-flying, egocentric movers and shakers. One of the first people I bumped into was an old colleague of mine who was emceeing the event. Cordially shaking hands, we struck up casual conversation about the year that had passed since we’d last seen one another. During our conversation, he could not keep his attention on me. His eyes roved about the room, often looking over my shoulder or winking at someone passing by. Suddenly, I felt it. My heart started beating and my ego recognized I was speaking with someone “more important” than me. I knew he was well on his way to becoming someone truly influential, someone truly “in the know.” I had heard of his weekly TV show, but not of his authorship of many newspaper and magazine columns, or of his daily radio show.
Unexpectedly, I felt I needed to prove myself. I engaged him more in the conversation and willingly competed for his undivided attention. I made sure to mention I was doing some writing of my own. I had no more than offered him my business card when a former student of mine whisked in, interrupted us and whispered something in his ear, ignoring me. I glanced around the hall spying for other “important” people. I noticed a few politicians and many young people trying to climb the power rungs on the ladder of the twenty-first century. The energy in the room was intoxicating. The live band kicked it up a notch, and I decided to do the same.
I pitched myself into the ring. I felt the competition surging around me. I needed to make some connections. I needed to let the other important people know that I knew what they knew, and that I was worthy of some recognition as well. Fifteen minutes later, things slowed down a bit, and by the grace of God I was given a new perspective. I stepped back out of the ring and watched the power-players and smooth-talkers in action. On the ride home, my wife and I discussed the atmosphere of the evening and discovered we had different, yet similar experiences. She confessed she was tempted to buy everything in sight during the auctions; I told her I was tempted to swim in the swift river of pride. We thanked God that we had not been swept away.
I thought my learning moment was over, but God hammered home His point about living the humble, simple life the next morning. I was in the backyard with my two-year-old son (Christian) and 9-month-old daughter (Lauren) when I spotted a beautiful butterfly perched on a nearby blade of grass. As stealthy as one can with two toddlers, I moved closer and eventually got the butterfly to sit on my hand. As my children stared at the fluttering wings of the butterfly, I was hit with the stark contrast of my situation the night before. Then, the butterfly crossed my hand and settled onto Christian’s finger, and I saw my son’s eyes light up with wonder. It was truly a moment of greatness, yet pride was non-existent in this serene scene. The greatness belonged to my God.
We played in the grass and later found a salamander and a caterpillar to add to our backyard biology field study. All the while, I soaked in God’s beauty and basked in the afterglow of my second spiritual tutorial in 12 hours. It proved to me once again that God speaks to us in so many ways; sometimes He speaks amid the din of parties and other times in the simple, quiet moments of a Saturday morning.
© Copyright 2002 Catholic Exchange
(Brian Butler, co-founder of Dumb Ox Productions, is a theology teacher, campus minister and senior retreat director at Archbishop Rummel High School in Metairie, Louisiana. Brian can be reached by email at brian@dumboxproductions.com.)
