In an effort to do a better job listening to what God is teaching me, and being more obedient in writing, I've been journaling as I ride on the Metro to work. This was my journal entry from the other day when God spoke to me in a really sweet way, in the middle of an every day routine:
I am going to work late this morning. Last night we had dinner with Tim Rose and his family. What a great family. I really enjoyed being with them. What a privilege it is to share moments with people.
This morning on the metro I am sitting next to a grandpa. His granddaughter is sitting in front of us. I think she is about 4. I am loving listening to him talk to her about the train, and the airport, and what they are going to see today. He is wearing a straw hat and clinching a wooden cane. Sometimes when he talks to her, he rests his chin on the metal bar on the back of her seat.
Makes me miss my Papa Tom. I'm glad I'm going to see him again one day. There’s part of me that wants to interrupt them and get that little girl’s attention, and tell her to soak these moments in. Remember the funny things your Grandpa does and says, and the way his face smiles, and the way it feels to hold his hand.
A couple of other things to note from yesterday. I talked to Chris. He told me two of his guys got hurt real bad the other day. Chris told me not to worry. Yeah right. I kind of wish I had one of those video baby monitors so I could keep an eye on him. But that would be bad, because I would only want to see it when he was sleeping or laughing. I'm so scared for him. And I'm so heartbroken about his buddies being hurt. I pray for all of them.
Last night, Michael told me that he got really angry at God when I told him about that conversation with Chris.
Every morning, my metro train rolls through and stops at Arlington Cemetery. I'm ashamed to say that this doesn't even usually phase me. But this morning, at that stop, I paused and prayed.
It seems like Michael and I are in this season that God wants us to trust him. To stop fighting the challenges, to again, ask “What Lord?” Instead of “Why Lord?”
I just heard the grandpa ask the little girl "Do your ears feel funny?" he told her if they do, yawn.
Grandpa told me to have a good day as I got off at my stop. I looked back at them through the window of the train. The curly headed little girl had turned around and was taking a picture of her grandpa with her pink hello kitty camera.
And, I feel like I’ve been blessed with a glimpse of the God who has gone before me, and knows, and is in control.