Live Moments. Don’t Phone Them.

Live moments. Don’t phone them.

Let me explain.

There are several reasons why I enjoy the movie “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.”

First, I love to travel, and I doubt I’m alone. Does adrenaline rush through your veins at the idea of voyaging to remote landscapes and standing on lookouts overseeing the vastness of God’s creation? Do your tastebuds crave experiences of authentic foods you can’t find around home? Does meeting different cultures and finding out the intricacies of how they live as people groups excite you? This film has a lot of that, and it seems to feed my sense of travel and adventure. Second, I feel it’s important when I sit down and spend two hours of my time watching a film, that the producer has something to say.  I like that there are messages written in the backgrounds and tucked in strange places for viewers to pick up on if they’re quick enough.  Finally, I’m big on purpose.  I find movies with deep meaning and sentiment fulfilling and satisfying to watch.

It would come to no surprise that this film catches me in ways most others do not.  Specifically, during the scene when the character Sean O’Connell stalks a snow leopard and has opportunity to capture it on film, I seem to hold my breath and soak in what he says.

I won’t spoil his line, but I found myself doing the exact thing this past week.

It was a gorgeous, spring evening, and I decided to get some fresh air on the trail that meanders through our fields. When I made it to the top of the hill overlooking our house and farm, I gazed at the sun.  It was such a beautiful sight, and I decided to stop for a while.  I’m glad I did.

My artist eye took over.  I watched the way the sunlight and shadows interacted, dancing in places like the undersides of the growing wheat sheaths.  The sky was glowing pink around a bright, yet soothing sun—like it was bathing everything in a peace the day had not known until then.  The clouds turned purple.  Everything seemed to hush. 

And I remembered.  Nostalgia overtook me.

The mood of the moment brought back the days of my childhood when I had been in the same spot.  Instead of relishing it, I immediately took out my phone, snapped this picture, and began texting my siblings the thoughts swirling through my head: Do you remember when you were seven, and the music of the ice cream truck always seemed to play, and every summer evening seemed warm, and the sunsets were always wonderful, and the world was an easy place to—

Oddly, when I looked up at the sunset to gather my next thought, I realized that texting was distracting from what I was partaking of.  I was missing the beauty of what I had been so excited about when I did the cultural norm of whipping out my phone every time something significant occurs.  And so, after catching myself trapped in what I had hoped would never happen, I looked at my screen, pushed the backspace button, and deleted the whole text.  I put my phone in my pocket.  I resumed viewing the beauty of what God had made—seemingly for me.  I sang a worship song to Him.

And just like Sean O’Connell, I lived life.

Crazy, isn’t it?

I tell this story so that you can do the same.  The concept behind “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” is not my own, but I’ll gladly adapt it.  Far too many times we are living moments we never dreamed we would, only to clutter or distract ourselves with a device.  My suggestion?  Walk to a hilltop and watch a sunset in person.  Go outside at night and count the stars without an electronic device.  Walk the seashore and don’t expect to take Instagram by storm with your next selfie.  Eat the yummy dinner you paid for without snapping it.

Live the moments that make life grand.

But if you do take a photo, enjoy it later.

Just like this one.

By Chuck Carr