When Evan and I first moved to
We had grown close with nearly
all our neighbors not long after moving in (save for a few Yankees that I could
never quite see eye to eye with). One of
our neighbors was a sweet old man, who split his time between bagging groceries
at Publix, and volunteering at the Salvation Army’s thrift store just down the
street. He was quiet, kept to himself
mostly, and always walked to work. He
was the type who would smile and wave when you passed, but not really stop to
converse. Because our house was so near
the entrance to the neighborhood, we did see him nearly every day.
One morning, during season, I
found myself running late for work – again.
After rushing around the house to quickly feed the cats, walk Maggie Mae
(who was just a puppy at the time), turn on the dishwasher, and find my shoes,
I grabbed my bag and bolted for the door.
I hurled my belongings into the back seat of our truck, hopped into the
driver’s seat (uttering many four letter words at the time) cranked the engine
and threw that sucker into reverse, ready to barrel down the driveway and into
rush hour traffic. This was not how I’d
envisioned my day starting…my head was full of mean thoughts, anticipating the
awful drive in and the disapproving looks from my supervisor, who would most certainly
be waiting at my cubicle. I also knew
that starting my day on such a sour note would surely keep me on this negative path. The day hadn’t even begun, and I was already
thinking of crawling back in bed.
Halfway down the driveway, I was
forced to slam on brakes, as our quiet and kind (and extremely slow) neighbor
was making his way down the street, headed to the thrift store for his day of volunteering. I glared at him in the rear view mirror, and
continued spouting out a few more choice words.
Of all mornings, this is the one he decides to walk on MY side of the
street?!
He made it to the center of our
driveway, and stopped. Then, he bowed
his head, and brought his folded hands to his face…and he prayed. His prayer lasted ten or fifteen seconds at best. He concluded, made the sign of the cross, and
continued on his way, never turning his head in my direction.
Witnessing this small act felt
like a sucker punch to the gut. Why was
I in such a hurry? Why was I placing so
much importance on such menial things?
Turning into Speed Racer wasn’t going to clear the traffic; swearing at
the coffee pot wasn’t going to make my day any easier. What was the point of getting so upset over
such silly things, completely beyond my control?
I’ll never know what my old neighbor
stopped to pray for. Maybe he saw my
frantic face, and thought I could use some extra prayers that day. Maybe he feared for his life when he saw me
spin the tires just backing out of the driveway. Or maybe he was just stopping to thank God
for the beautiful day. Either way, his
small act changed my entire direction that day.
I was reminded that in all
circumstances, good or bad, I need to take the time to be with God, to talk to
Him, and thank Him for all He’s given me.
And this isn’t just in the major
good and bad times…we’re talking every day.
Thanking him for BOGO Ranch dressing, for a day where the humidity never
even comes close to reaching 100%, for a few quiet minutes alone…and even for
the blessing of a career that may require getting up a little bit earlier in
the morning to make it on time.
In every situation, God is with
you; right beside you, holding your hand, steering you in the right direction –
if we just stop to pay attention. Take a
prayer pause in your busy day and have a chat with the Big Guy; thank him for
your blessings, in all circumstances.
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