Last Friday morning, I told Daniel that he could either do his regular homeschooling assignments or he could climb in bed, sit next to me, and watch a movie. He deliberated for three long seconds and chose the latter.
We watched The Way, a beautiful movie by Emilio Estevez and his father, Martin Sheen. It is a story of a pilgrimage, a journey, a transformation. It is a story of friendship, parenthood, risk-taking, love, and death. It is a story of life itself.
I confess that I was a little nervous about my movie choice. After all, Daniel is 16 years old. He likes rap music and playing tennis, cheeseburgers and gatorade, professional wrestling and The Jersey Shore. What is he going to think of a movie about a few people walking an ancient pilgrimage across the northern coast of Spain? Will he care enough to put down his iphone and actually watch or will he bail out twenty minutes in and say he'd rather watch his biology video after all?
Before we watched the movie, I talked to Daniel about the concept of "thin places." Those places in the world where you feel like you are closer to God, to eternity, to that which is unseen but deeply known. Those moments when you know that you are not alone, that you are loved, and that, indeed, all shall be well. Those places and those times when you know that you know that you know that you are exactly where you need to be, and your body and soul quiver with recognition of the eternal, right there with you, within you, around you, next to you. Well, at least that what it feels like to me.
While we watched the movie, there was no texting, facebooking, or instagramming. No requests for bathroom or popcorn breaks. No rolled eyes. No sarcastic remarks. Just this Momma and her sweet son watching a movie on a Friday morning in February.
At the conclusion of one of the most poignant scenes in the film, he said, "That is definitely a thin place."
I smiled and thought - with a soul-shifting tremor - "Right here, right now, this bed of mine is a thin place."