The First Ten Years, Matthew Kennedy, Books, Real Stories

It’s funny how life can actually get in the way of being alive. The ancient Greeks had this theory that we should live our lives in this endless endeavor to find the truth of life, or the essence of life – the ultimate reality. A place I am certain that most of us never really get to that often. Some would have it that human beings attain this “reality” only three times in their life: when you’re born, when you dream and when you die. I would take exception to that. I was fortunate to be in that place the morning of February 25, 2006.

It happened in a place no one would ever expect, on a set filming a commercial. It was absolutely gorgeous out, one of those Southern California mornings where the air was crisp and it was chilly outside with the promise of warmth as the day moved along. My two boys, nine-year-old Ronan and six-year-old O’Leary were taking part in a commercial for the Los Angeles Metro System. My good friend Addison was directing. There was too much standing around and more than enough boredom.

Ronan’s job was to run out into an intersection without looking as an oncoming car comes to a screeching halt and gives the appearance of hitting him. O’Leary was already done with his scene and Ronan was working on the 247th version of his.

The assistant director, a kind soul named Peter, was in the intersection ready to call “action.” When he did, Ronan was late on his cue and the moment was lost a little. So, they had to do it again, which meant stopping traffic on a major thoroughfare, an event tantamount to hell on earth in Los Angeles. I could see Ronan was upset having missed his cue and he was beginning to get a little bit emotional. Addison was behind all the commotion watching on the monitors and running the show from the “control tent.”

With the scene set, Peter was about to call action when he noticed that Ronan was upset and fighting back tears. Suddenly, in the midst of all this chaos, the world slowed dramatically and what happened next unfolded so slowly and beautifully that I can’t really describe it the way God played it out.

It started with a bit of sadness because my boy was upset and I didn’t want to interfere. I felt that he needed to take this step into the world and work this out on his own. This was so hard because it meant the inevitable, time was taking my boy on its road. I couldn’t stop it and if I don’t surrender, I’ll get crushed and he would be suffocated by my holding on too tightly. So I tried to let go in that moment. Funny how God takes care of us.

Ronan is standing on the corner of the intersection, right in the middle of the madness, horns honking, people screaming and film people running around, alone and tearing up. Peter sees it and he calls “cut” . . . He walks up to Ronan and faces him eye to eye. Peter is on his right knee and he has his right arm on the outside of Ronan’s left shoulder. He is talking to him, consoling him and most importantly, not condescending to him. He tells Ronan to “just take a minute” and “it’s fine.”

I watch the world slow down and I hear Addison behind me coming out from underneath the tent and calling to Ronan. When he gets to him, he kneels down and begins a conversation with him. It is calming to Ronan. I couldn’t really hear what was going on; I just know that right in the center of all this madness, cars beeping horns because filming is holding up traffic, people running around all over the place, Ronan and my good friend Addison were in another place all together. Just talking, being present to one another and not to everything else around them.

I feel my skin stretching because my body is just so full at this moment. This is a higher place, I think, this is my boy and my friend connecting and being present no matter what else is happening. They are the only two human beings in the world, and it makes me proud, so proud.

I stand there watching from a distance, I hear my friend Laurene making sounds of empathy, and she’s been swallowed in the moment. I think life just doesn’t get better and then God shows you that it always does. From I don’t know where, O’Leary saunters onto the scene. He made his way through all the technicians, camera people, grips and so on to get to this spot. When he gets there, he naturally leans into Addison’s back, on the opposite side of Ronan and casually puts his arm around Addison and stays there until the moment is done. Addison clearly recognizes the body and I see him gently shift his weight to support O’Leary and it makes me full in a way I have never been full. I can’t breathe. I stand there rocking back and forth, I’m tearing up because I feel so alive.

Addison and the boys stay in that spot only briefly. Addison and Ronan looking at each other with O’Leary bringing up the rear. No one is saying anything; all of them are just present in the moment. Then it dissolves slowly and life begins to encroach on the scene and everyone goes back to work, including my boy Ronan, adjusted and better for the experience.

You never really know where or how God creeps into your life. It is always easy to say thank you for the food we eat, the jobs we have, and the homes we live in. These are all the tangible things that make it somehow easy or easier to “believe” in God, because we’re not starving, unemployed or homeless.

But then there is the morning of Saturday, February 25, 2006. It isn’t always the case that God puts such beauty in front of us and says “here I am, take it in”. It showed me that God runs through all of us and on a beautiful morning amidst chaos, a stranger named Peter, my heart Ronan and O’Leary and my good friend Addison Wright proved to me that there is nothing more wonderful than when you get to experience that connectedness and it is so real. It is the essence of what we all look for but often miss because life gets in the way.

I couldn’t be more thankful for that perfect moment.