I was sitting in an awards assembly at my place of employment with several hundred of my colleagues. Of the three nominees for an award, my name had been called as the award recipient. Applause began and I rose to my feet.
Appreciation. Confirmation. Respect. Validation. Acceptance.
For a brief instant, I tried to suck in all the air in the room to enjoy what was happening. I mean for me something like this doesn’t happen very often. I then turned to the crowd behind me, grinned and with my hands begged the crowd for just a little more applause. Folks laughed and a few even rose to their feet. I dropped my head, smiled and made my way to the stage to accept the award, a check, and nice words from my higher-ups. After the brief ceremony, many crowded near me and wished me well with hugs, handshakes and kind words about me and my job performance I feel are undeserving.
It was a special moment. For a couple of minutes on a cool January Wednesday, I was recognized for achievement in my field of work by my peers. That is gratifying.
Reflecting, I can’t help but begin to see why people seek the warm rays of a spotlight. It’s intoxicating to feel that applause. I understand how this might be a bit addictive. You embrace the adulation, let it wash over you and crave it after you realize it is no longer there.
It’s the rock star who keeps touring long after the music world has veered down a different road. It’s the faded TV star from another decade trying to reignite his career with a stint on a reality show. It’s the disgraced former politician weaseling his way onto a special correspondent’s gig on a cable news network show. It’s the hottest movie star wearing the latest fashions from the latest Paris fashion show walking the red carpet at a movie premiere. Somehow in my brief award accepting moment, I now can relate to those whose time is defined by that fleeting moment in the glare and heat of the spotlight.
Approval. Corroboration. Recognition. Verification. Affirmation.
Fast forward one day.
The congratulatory wishes from the previous day's awards ceremony continue. Again, the feeling is so seductive I wonder how long this can be prolonged. As the work day stretches into overtime, my cell phone rings. It is my wife. She has car trouble. After wrapping things up and leaving work, we spend the next four hours waiting for our car to get fixed. When the repair bill is handed over and announced, I realize that monetary gift from the day before has just been spoken for.
It was that moment when the intoxicating feeling from the previous day's events wore off. The glare of the spotlight faded into a disappearing glow. The warmth of that spotlight turned into a split-second shiver. And there I stood in a very sober place.
Actuality. Certainty. Reality. Veracity. Authenticity.
I live in that sober place. I know the confines of that place. I know that place’s nooks and crannies.
I love that place. It is where I belong.
And so, with no applause and with no spotlight, the bill gets paid and all I can do is smile, shake my head and thank God I have a wife whose love and faith keep me grounded in the place where I belong, right by her side.
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