The Little Things

This week is insanely busy, and it's starting to get to me.

So I'm shut up in my bedroom, enjoying the quiet. In a few minutes I'll crawl into bed, and do a little reading, then turn the lights out early.

Tonight I'm realizing that I can find rest in the little things:

• in a long bath with a good novel, and my favorite bath salts.
• in incense burnt in my bedroom, making the air spicy and beautiful
• in decorating a Christmas tree - even if it does look a little "Charlie Brown" like
• in slathering on hand cream for sore skin
• in a quick spray of my favorite perfume
• in comfy sweat pants to wear to bed
• in a really good chocolate
• in a cup of tea
• in wrapping myself in a blanket and curling up on the couch
• in emails from a few dear friends
• in a photo of a special spot in the mountains that's hanging on my bedroom wall
• in a clean bedroom
• in a warm duvet cover
• in a quick dinner with a dear friend
• in taking vitamins and knowing I'm taking good care of myself
• in facial moisturizer that I really like, and that doesn't make my crazy sensitive skin break out
• in anticipating travels over the next while
• in a pretty vase on display in my bedroom
• in a smile from a friend
• in laughter with a coworker over mutually "blond" moments
• in the nearness of Jesus
• in a favorite Psalm
• in a moment's prayer
• in hearing a friend's heart - even the painful bits.
• in knowing that there are only two work days left this week, and one of them is casual Friday.
• in the satisfaction of knowing I've done my job well this week, despite crazy and sometimes adverse circumstances.
• in clean-smelling, freshly washed hair, hanging damp around my face
• in warmth and light
• in the birth of a friend's child
• in a favorite teddy bear named "Nelly"
• in cozy wool socks that don't itch
• in music
• in a great novel I've just finished
• in twinkling Christmas lights on the tree
  

Tonight, I'm all about the little things.

Breaking hearts and Wednesday Transit Adventures

This is one of those mornings. It is, indeed, a Wednesday!

I slept poorly again last night, waking often (though this has become the norm lately and I think I am once again adapting to functioning with less sleep).

I woke dry-heaving, and feeling ill, but knowing I needed to head for the office.

I managed to make it out the door and to the train on time, but no sooner had I climbed on the train then there was a passenger medical emergency that delayed us at the stop for an extra ten minutes, officially putting me on track to be late.

While the train was delayed at the station, a rough looking older man pushed his way on. Transit delays generally make the entire over-crowded train population grumpy, and this gentleman was no exception. He began to loudly expound upon his views on everything from the coming plans for expansion of the c-train line, and how ridiculous he finds them. As we finally got underway, he simply continued talking, holding a conversation with another woman who chose to agree with him at each turn. His comments became rapidly more ignorant and offensive, as he complained about the province of Alberta providing disaster relief a few years back to another province, “that’s money we paid in for our own. They’re not our own.” He then moved on to complain about money Stephen Harper has recently committed of African aid projects for much the same reason – it’s not caring for our own. Another woman on the train made eye contact with me at that point, saw her thoughts reflected on my face, and smiled. I made a comment to her about the necessity of providing aid to starving nations. As I glanced away, a beautiful black muslim lady found my eyes with her own, and smiled at me.

The gentleman, however, charged on with his diatribe. Content that he’d covered his political bases, he complained at the high cost of living in Calgary, regaled us with his adventures of living on or nearly on the street (he’d had a run in with the police yesterday), and flashed his Canada Pension check, boasting at the large amount he received. Not satisfied with that, he and the woman he was talking with began to discuss the cost of living in other Canadian cities in comparison to Calgary. Vancouver came up, and of course, this man had lived in Surrey a number of years back. His next comments became increasingly racist – horribly rude things, directed mostly at Muslims.

By this point, the anger in me was building. All I could think was how desperately I wanted to get off of that train and away from this man. (I also wanted to punch him in the nose!) There were two beautiful Muslim women on the train in close enough proximity to hear this gentleman’s comments this morning, and I found my heart breaking at his rudeness.

As I got off at my stop, and walked to the platform where I transfer trains, I was reminded again of the Sunday school lesson I taught a few weeks back. Of the question we posed, “What would make Jesus angry today? What would break his heart?” I paused as I began to see Jesus, standing between this man and the two women on the train. I saw him wincing as the words hit him like whips, tearing into him. And I understood, just a little bit more, the power of words. More than that, I understood, again, just a little bit more, the way the heart of the father breaks at things done and said without love. And my heart broke too.