The End of the World

It’s a busy day.
I get many things done, but not everything intended.
The world doesn’t end.

I take a break to put pieces in a jigsaw puzzle,
read a few pages,
and finish my book.
These, knowing I’m leaving other things undone.
But the world doesn’t end.

I eat half an egg salad sandwich for lunch
While folding towels.
Not the wisest choice.
But I’m still learning
Haste isn’t always the wisest course
And I didn’t appreciate one single bite of that sandwich.

I could have taken five or fifteen minutes
To sit in the backyard
Watch the dogs sniff around
Listen to birds
Taste egg and chives and radishes and salt and pepper and Miracle Whip
On sourdough bread
And those might have been the most important moments of the day.

But I didn’t.
And the world didn’t end.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.

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