It was closing night of a one-act play festival in the small town of South Salem. A theater company set up in the basement of an Episcopal Church mounted seven short plays about different kinds of love. Ten-year-old Mirabel [not her real name or photo] stood in the dressing room area just off stage left. As the second play performed, she stepped into her bulky, white snowsuit costume to be ready in time, for she was on next.
Mirabel struggled throughout the run with the snow jacket’s zipper. A seasoned actress who used to teach first grade (and was good with zippers) often helped her complete the task. But tonight, something subtle was about to shift.
We had to be very quiet backstage. Mirabel made a face as she struggled with the zipper, then looked at me and laughed a silent laugh. She tried again—expressing more comedic frustration. I moved ever so slightly towards her with eyebrows raised in the unspoken question, would you like some help? She shook her head no and mouthed, I want to get it myself.
That’s when I recognized what I call a God moment—an experience outside of time and space where we have the opportunity to hold and wait while divine love steps in. I stood still and went silent inside. I breathed. I held space in my heart, space for Mirabel to find her own unique way to meet her challenge. The world went into slow motion, like a feeling of suspended animation. I knew only unconditional love for the Soul in front of me and how precious she was to the Divine.
On her next attempt, the bottom of the zipper caught the track. She looked up at me, mouth open in surprise and delight. I smiled back.
Minutes later, that young actress took the stage with the confidence of a champion. Lines? Easy. Character? No problem. Zipper? Conquered.