This week I was visiting a parishioner at a retirement facility. I was waiting in the lobby to meet the parishioner when I suddenly realized they were playing Glenn Miller’s Moonlight Serenade on the speakers. I was catapulted to another time and place as I listened. You see, Moonlight Serenade was the first song my husband and I danced to when we were married. It had been the same song his grandparents had danced to when they were married 55 years earlier. Not long after we started dancing, they joined us on the dance floor. I remember catching a glimpse of them together as I danced with my husband, hoping we could enjoy such longevity and happiness in marriage.
Of course, little of our everyday lives are that dreamy. We spend much of our marriage tending to the “stuff” of life – juggling work and family time; shuttling children to school, activities, and parties; tending to household duties; and trying to squeeze in sleep now and then. There are certainly great moments – watching my husband engage our children, listening intently as he passionately talks about his vocation, and laughing heartily as he jokes about things only we get. We are piecing together a life full of wonderful memories and chapters, but that life is also full of the mundane, everyday, ordinary stuff too.
I think that is why I was so grateful to hear that song this week. That song reminded me of my identity – a moment in which I covenanted to live in a certain way with a certain person. Though our dance together was just one part of that day, the song is a tangible reminder of identity.
After my visit and quick note to my husband about “our song,” I found myself wondering what other markers of identity we experience. In the Episcopal Church, I would argue the sacraments are our biggest ones – the weekly celebration of Holy Eucharist, and the periodic celebration of Baptism. In fact, Church is all about helping us define our identity as disciples of Christ – reminding us who and whose we are. But I wonder, in your mundane, everyday, ordinary lives, what moments or events remind you of that identity? What are those moments that halt you in your steps in a lobby and make you feel affirmed, rooted, loved, and empowered?