It was Mother's Day. The boys and my husband had offered to take me out for lunch, but I prefer my own cooking, so we had a lovely lunch at home. Afterward, we all enjoyed an afternoon nap, and then Matt and I headed out to visit a friend at the hospital.
We stopped by Sheetz to gas up the truck, when I spotted a man across the street in a white 3-piece suit. He cut quite the figure there, tall and trim with a white fedora placed neatly on his bowed head. He held fresh flowers in his hands and appeared to be praying.
He stood near the traffic light, and stop and go traffic zoomed noisily past. The sun shone brightly, the day was gorgeous, and no one else seemed to notice the man in the white suit.
He was standing in front of a grave marker, placed too near the road for mournful meditation. His Mother's Day was not marked with happy conversation around the table and an easy afternoon nap. He stood alone in a graveyard passed by busy traffic and thoughtless people. Out of place, out of time, out of sync with the busy world.
Sometimes I feel that way, too. Alone with my thoughts I am out of place and time, singing a tune that the rest of the world never hears. I wonder if God is across the street at the gas station, saying a silent prayer that I will enjoy this day, even if it isn't like everyone else's.
The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17
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