We’re out and about on a sunshiny mid-February afternoon, going about our business and enjoying one another’s company, when we encounter a man who has fallen on the ice. He’s injured—not seriously—but an ambulance has been called.
We’re shaken and choose not to go for a walk in this icy area. Subdued. Each sitting with our own thoughts for a time until we talk it through.
Things change in an instant.
The older we get, the more likely one of those instants is to occur. They remind us not to live with dread, but with intention. Not to run hard, squeezing as much as possible for ourselves out of the time we’re allotted, but to seek wisdom, enjoy the Divine, and worship with our lives. To make a quiet, lasting difference.
We stop at a park and photograph mallards. We stop at the grocery store and buy a bunch of happy daffodils. We stop for a sandwich and a cup of coffee.
Later, at home, good conversation and a few jujubes (He always gives me the black ones. That’s love.). Salmon for a late supper. And Doc Martin.
Ordinary stuff that makes an extraordinary life.