mary.

right now as i type this, i am sitting in front of my fireplace welcoming the warmth and it's amazing smell. the lakers game is on in the back round and my husband, sick as a dog, is laying on the couch cheering them on in his sweats and messy hair. duke is tired from the jog i took him on this morning, and has spent most of the day sleeping on varies items: the couch, the floor, my brush, the remote. he is just the most amazing rug i have ever known.

true story.

i have been having to 'up' my role around here. with nathan being sick again and duke having two ear infections, i have found myself running around like a mad women making sure nathan took his medicine, duke got his ear drops, we have the right foods for dinner tonight, does nathan have enough food while i am at school, do i need to pack anything before i go..? the list goes on...and on...and on...and on until my brain hurts and there is honestly nothing else i can do.

i was on my way to target (hallelujah!) when i saw a women sitting at the bus stop. nothing about her looks were noteworthy, nothing about the way she carried herself screamed "amazing". she was as average as they come- except for one thing.

she was praying.

she was sitting on this bench in front of one of the busiest streets in my city, hands folded, eyes closed, muttering her holy words of thanks and forgiveness. every word she uttered made me step on my breaks a little bit more until my car window was right in front of her. her eyes shut tight with no chance of her breaking this conversation with her God. her fingers were white with bitter cold as she continued to keep those hands held tightly around themselves while having a conversation with her God. with Jesus.

it brought tears to my eyes, for so many reasons. it was beautiful, it was hopeful, it was exciting, it was humbling, it was shocking. it left me hopeful and shameful. i would never sit at a bus stop and pray, it just isnt me. i couldnt be that vulnerable in front of millions of strangers. how could i? but the question isnt how could i. the question is who am i.

who am i that i cant even entertain the idea of worshiping my God on a bus stop. it isnt as if God isnt at that bus stop already. where is my relationship with God that praying out in public is as foreign to me as graphic design or India?

after i pulled into the target parking lot i sat in my car for a while, feeling the sun on my face and wondering where i went wrong. wondering how i fell so far away from that crazy love i felt as a teenager, when it came to me.

just pray.

i could not allow myself to feel one more minute of that pity or selfishness i was feeling seconds earlier, how is that glorifying to God? how is that going to help bridge this gap?

i sat in my scion and allowed the grace and mercy of God to rush over me and take me to a better place. i sat in that car with hands folded and eyes closed tight, genuinely glad to have a moment with just me and Him. thanking Him for today and for nathan. thanking Him for my amazing friends and an undying love for Him.

i dont know how long i sat there, but by the time i was done the sun had shifted and i was sitting in the shadows of the large building. i got out of the car and laughed: i had forgotten what i needed here in the first place. i almost got back in the car amused that God had brought me to Target just to each me a lesson, then i remembered that i had a sick husband and home and needed some more Tylenol cold.

all in all, i would say it was a good day.

and to you, the beautifully plain women sitting at the bus stop, thank you. you are a blessing and i dont even know your name, but i will call you mary. for no particular reason other than i think that name might fit you.

thank you mary.