Not an Emergency

Friday. I stay in bed a little  longer. And let my boy snag a half hour more of sleep.

I arise to a day that glistens in its newness; all the haze and smog the rains had washed away.

Breakfast with my child; chatting. Our morning rituals.

I watch this boy tuck his raggedy stuffed baby and kiss him goodbye. 

When we get to the car,  I see the time and groan: “We’re late.”

“But hey,” I add, “Life is not an emergency; it’s a gift.”

To which he agrees. Amazing. Even  the boy agrees. I feel wonderful.

Drop off. A goodbye kiss. I go on my way.

I am late for work.

A landscaping truck  is ahead of me driving below the speed limit. I crawl along behind it. I reroute, through the roundabout way, thru three more stops.

“Life is not an emergency; it’s a gift.”

Red light one.   

On my CD plays the song: “Such a tiny offering, compared to Calvary; Emmanuel, God with us.”

I start singing.

Red light two and three.

My heart is caught up with this song.

Green, and I smell  nasty gas fumes  from some car. I open my windows and a waft  ever so lightly touches my left cheek, and then my right.  I smile. That wild, crazy smile is plastered on my face.  Jesus is here.

I wait on every red light, past a school zone on a day that I’m late. And I am singing. On my CD: “Emmanuel; God with us.”

“Oh, Lord, you have visited me.”

Last traffic light of my drive…I make it to the green left turn !  I spontaneously burst into laughter. “It is you, Lord! You are here. “

Today is not an emergency. Today is your gift.