A Priest’s Word and a Son’s Speech

I’ve been thinking about a word for months now.
Not obsessively.
Not with any kind of purpose.

It just kept showing up…
in quiet moments,
in long drives,
in early mornings when the house is still.

It wasn’t a loud word.
It was simply there, sitting in the background of a year where I’ve been doing more reflection than usual.

Maybe it’s where I am in life.
Forty-nine feels different.
Not old, not even close…
but aware.

Aware of time.
Aware of the people who matter.
Aware of how quickly things can change
and how little control any of us really have.

Between raising five kids who are each stepping into their own paths…
taking a risk most people my age would never attempt…
hearing about old classmates and colleagues passing far too soon…

it makes you confront the truth that life has no guarantees.

And in the middle of all that,
this one word kept tapping me on the shoulder.

But I didn’t want to write about it.
I didn’t even want to say it.

It’s one of those words society has overused until it’s lost its weight…
a word people throw around casually,
a word tossed into captions and slogans,
a word that deserves more than what we’ve turned it into.

Still…
it stayed with me.

And then came this weekend.

A Moment in the Church

We were all together for the wedding of close family friends…
people who’ve been lovingly woven into our lives for almost two decades.

My five kids were there.
My ex-wife was there.

Everyone in the same space…
not because life forced it,
but because life allowed it.

That alone felt meaningful.

The entire ceremony was beautiful.
But at some point, the priest stepped forward,
paused,
and looked out at all of us and said:

“Looking out at all of you, on this day, I want to talk about one word…”

And in the split second before he finished the sentence,
my mind and heart braced…

Not out of fear,
but because I felt it coming.

And then he said it.

The exact word I’d been circling all year.

Hearing it spoken in that setting…
simply,
sincerely,
without any performance…

it felt different.

It reminded me that the meaning of a word doesn’t disappear just because people misuse it.
Sometimes it just needs to be heard in the right environment to return to its original form.

In that moment,
I knew the article I’d been avoiding had found its opening.

But the day wasn’t done with me yet.

The Hours That Followed

After the ceremony, the reception unfolded in a way that revealed things I didn’t realize I needed to see.

Friends of my kids, some that I once coached…
now adults…
came up to me, unprompted, to talk.

To share memories.
To tell me what those early years meant to them.

Moments I barely remembered
that still lived inside them.

There’s something powerful about hearing your presence mattered
in ways you never saw at the time.

Throughout the night,
I found myself noticing the little things more than the big ones…

conversations that lasted longer than expected,
laughter tied to shared history,
familiar faces aging and changing,
while somehow staying the same.

Dancing the night away with all five kids…
there was a joy in it I wasn’t expecting.

There was a calmness to it.
A steadiness.
A sense that life was offering me a full picture instead of a glimpse.

And then came the speech.

A Son’s Speech

I watched my son stand up to deliver the best man speech.

I expected a good one.
I didn’t expect what it stirred in me.

He spoke with a calmness,
a sincerity,
an emotional honesty
that held the room.

No trying to impress.
No performing.
Just presence.
Just truth.

As a father,
you hold onto moments like that.

Not because they’re big…
but because they’re real.

I saw in him a level of depth,
awareness,
and heart
that can’t be forced.

You either bring it into the moment,
or you don’t.
And he did.

It moved me…, and the room,
quietly,
deeply,
in a way that made the entire day feel connected.

Suddenly,
the word I’d been circling didn’t feel abstract anymore.

It felt lived.
It felt earned.
It felt like it had been waiting for this exact day
to reveal itself fully.

The Last Word

I’ve been avoiding this word all year…
not because I didn’t understand it,
but because I didn’t want to use it cheaply.

And after this weekend…
the beautiful ceremony,
the conversations,
the small moments,
my son’s speech…

it no longer feels cheap.

It feels right.

So here it is…
the word the priest brought to life,
the word that echoed through every moment that followed,
the word I’ve been circling quietly for months:

Gratitude

My hope is that you make space for it too… in the middle of your real, messy, beautiful life.

With Absolute Sincerity,

Ed Clementi
Founder & CEO of Inspired Fire, LLC

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