Some days I don't know how to "people."

You've heard the phrase that's becoming ever-popular in young adult circles lately: "I can't adult today."

Well, I couldn't "people" today.

I woke up in a fine mood. I had my coffee. The day was on track for me to want to be in the middle of everything and converse with everyone like I always do.

But I got to church and had trouble with the usual chit-chat. I felt awkward and out of place. Even as I sat through service I felt like I was in the way and that one thing that doesn't belong in "Which one of these things does not belong?" Yeah, it was weird.

We went to the zoo after church because Jack Hanna was in town, and if you know anything about me, you know that I love Jack Hanna because I watched him on Letterman with my folks growing up.

I got held up, but told Bo to go in and find us a seat. I get a text that says he's waiting outside the little arena where Jack's show will take place (He wanted to make sure I was able to get in before they stopped letting people into the arena because, well, that's just my sweet Bo being himself.).

Nonetheless, I think to myself, "Great. Now we're going to have crappy seats and will be blocked in by people on all sides."

We walk into the horseshoe-shaped space, and sure enough, that problem I had with "people-ing" earlier resurfaced.

They were everywhere. People, that is. Seemingly breathing down my neck. Shooting me glances as I slid down the cold metal bleacher that was directly in front of their family of four. "She better not block our view," I could almost hear them internally dialogue-ing with one another.

I felt frustrated. Crowded. Trapped. Hot. Cranky. Overly conscious of the space I was taking up with my broad shoulders and my camera.  

The wait for the show to begin felt like it was d r a g g i n g . 

"Will this thing ever start??" I asked myself. That's when I saw her.

A little girl--probably 7 or 8--wearing an orange bandanna on her head to match her Cleveland Browns jersey, holding her mom's hand as they, her two sisters, and her dad looked for an available seat.

It was pretty crowded by that point, but she led her family up the stairs with the confidence of a 20 something. I glanced in her direction as she got closer. No hair where eyebrows and eyelashes should be. Tired but smiling eyes that harbored a bit of excitement. Perhaps about the animals or maybe to see Jack. Who knows? 

The point is, despite whatever hell she has faced/is facing, having all of the reasons in the world to be bothered by the crowd, the stuffiness, and a seat that wasn't the best, she chose joy. She chose to appreciate and be thankful for the space that she was in at that moment.

I sometimes forget how privileged I am--to only have had to sweat the small stuff in most of my twenty five years of life. Not to have had to deal with greater grief than what I've experienced. Never to have experienced or watch my loved ones experience the pain of serious illness. 

I do not believe everything happens for a reason. But I do believe that God was with me as I noticed that little girl and her family today. Maybe the Divine was on the seat next to me, because there was certainly room, nudging me toward this family: 

"Change your heart. Look outwardly, not inwardly. Use your energy to be present and to pray for those who suffer and whose suffering you know nothing about. Give of yourself out of love. Be moved by this child of mine and know that she is touching many more lives than just yours. Because you, my child, are but one piece of a very big puzzle--of all who have been, all who are, and all who will ever be. Just as my love has always been, is, and will forever be. Don't let stuff that doesn't matter harden your heart. Be selfless. Be kind. Be patient. Be generous. Be compassionate. That is who you were created to be."

It is amazing to me what God does and who God uses to reveal Godself in the world. And the ways in which that revelation calls us to get over ourselves and get into being active in revealing God's Kingdom...

through love. 

That's it. Love first. Love always.

Thank you to that little girl and all she did for me today without even knowing. Please join me in praying for her, for her family, and for all who love her. Thanks for stopping by.