To Live Is the Rarest Thing in the World
There are seemingly insignificant moments in life that end up staying with us forever. My travels abroad to Ireland, Scotland, Italy, Costa Rica, and elsewhere were all pleasant, memorable experiences. I happily discuss these trips with friends at social gatherings, and they return the favor with talk of their travels. What I don’t share is the time my wife came home from her job as a hospice nurse and collapsed happily on the back patio couch for a snooze with her cat. To relate such a common moment would perplex my friends. They’d probably stare back at me, waiting for the punchline. It’s easier to flash exotic vacation photos on my iPhone than try to explain an inexplicable moment of inner happiness and well-being.Sometimes, common moments are camouflage for divinity and grace.
Modernity, with all of its technological intrusions and distractions, has recalibrated humanity to exist in the thrum of incessant noise and superficiality. We sense that life has something deeper to offer us if only we could calm our distracted minds.But sometimes there are moments of blessed clarity when the camouflage lifts and we experience a kind of transcendence. It was around dusk and the weather was mild the day my wife came home from work and settled onto the patio couch. The last of the bees were flitting about the garden flowers, and I was immersed in a book, sipping a coffee. Our cat, Einstein, ambled out of the house and joined my wife on the couch. My wife is a hospice nurse who has the privilege of gently caring for people as they navigate the closing chapters of their lives.
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