When I was younger Return of the Jedi was my favorite of the Star Wars movies. It started off with a bang on Tatooine and finished with a three-way battle, like a not naughty ménage-à-trois. The middle of Jedi, though, always left me a little bored. It was filled with quiet discussions about plot points that simply got in the way of the action.
The quietest and most intimate of these discussions took place between Luke and Leia in the Ewok village. This is a powerful scene where Luke reveals to Leia that they’re siblings and children of Darth Vader. It’s an intimate moment that we as the audience get to observe.
I had an intimate moment of my own observed yesterday.
My grandpa is the most amazing man I know. Yesterday his wife passed away after a yearlong battle with cancer. She knew Jesus and he has taken her home to be with him. She lived a long life focused on loving and serving her Lord.
Yesterday also happened to be the first day of our Preaching Team retreat. Every year, at the beginning of the year, our Preaching Team heads off site to work on the coming year’s sermon series. At the beginning of our time, our pastor asked us to share about a rose, a thorn and a bud from this past Christmas season. As my grandpa’s wife had just passed away, I had a very fresh thorn to share.
As I sat in my chair in a hotel conference room, I knew that I was having an intimate moment.
I was sharing about my love for my grandpa and his wife.
I was sharing about the last time I saw her at my ordination and the special gift she gave me.
I got choked up.
I cried.
All while my colleagues sat and observed.
Thankfully they’re more than colleagues, though, and they’re more than an audience watching an intimate moment unfold on a movie screen. My colleagues are also my friends and they weren’t just sitting and observing, they were supporting and encouraging. I don’t normally like showing much emotion but in that moment I knew my friends were empathizing with me carrying my burden with me.
My intimate moment became an opportunity to feel the power of community.
How have others supported you in personal and intimate moments of pain?
Scott, my sympathies on your and your grandfather’s loss. It’s a blessing that she was (is!) in a relationship with Christ, but the sadness is still real. Thanks for sharing this “thorn” with us, too. You’ll be in my prayers.
As for the geeky stuff in this post, ROTJ really falls off for me once the gang leaves Tatooine. I do, however, appreciate the scene you lift up (although Lucas apparently didn’t remember it when drafting the prequels, but I digress…). I think the tag end of it, too, when Leia simply asks Han to keep quiet and hold her, may offer an insight into how to support those who grieve: if they ask for a specific form of comfort it’s within one’s power to give, one should give it!
Thanks for sharing this special moment. Thanks also for your special message at Sue’s memorial service today. You’re the best!
Grandpa