Saturday, September 8, 2012

cause of our joy

One of the most wonderful blessings of life are the stories woven together, which we only catch glimpses of: we are allowed to see little exchanges and moments, and left to wonder what the rest of the story is. 
We never get to see it, but we are allowed in for that brief moment when our life intersects with theirs--the thread of our narrative gets tangled up with theirs for a split second.

There are stories everywhere and in everything. But sometimes we only get to see freeze frames, little brief moments:

The girl who slaps both cheeks to keep from laughing. Shaking the laughter out of her face.

~

"What does the flashing red hand mean?"
"It means stop whenever the red hand lights up, and then start when it disappears."

~

She asked for my phone number. And then paid me twenty dollars.

~

The four young women who made cookies, and then give them all away.

~

 I said hello. And he just laughed at me.

~

"I followed her up into the office and I told her I couldn't live without her."

~

You know that literary trope where one human being encounters another who teaches them a lesson or helps them, etc., etc., and it actually is an angel in disguise? I have made the executive decision that I dislike that particular thematic device, because it diminishes in a way the astounding miraculousness of humanity.
Each human being you encounter is a human being. Every mortal you encounter is an immortal in disguise.
And just let that sink in for a while. 

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