Crosspoint

"You see, I am not talking about something complicated or unusual in the least. God wants us to be present where we are. He invites us to see and hear what is around us and, through it all, to discern the footprints of the holy." - Richard Foster

My alarm went off this morning. I lumbered out of bed to shut it off, then slid my bed into a couch, picked up my Bible... and promptly fell asleep.

I opened my eyes. Then I opened my eyes wider as I looked down at my watch. Not good. I threw on some sweatpants and a Tshirt. Then I stumbled out the back door and unlocked my bike. It was raining, but this was the only way I would make the bus. Why did I take my car off the road again?

As I turned left out of the driveway I saw the bus driving past the stop I should be at. Really not good. But it's OK, the 35 seems to stop at every block picking people up or dropping them off. I should catch up quick.

Or not. Apparently nobody likes to wait at bus stops when it is cold and raining. I was almost all the way to the junction pushing myself faster than the speed of traffic when I finally managed to catch it. In the meantime my bike was shooting up dirty rainwater that was plastering the back of my legs and the seat of my pants.

I got on the bus and sat down. My knees were revolting to the torture I just put them through literally seconds after waking up. My vision was dizzy. My stomach and throat were playing tug of war with whatever was still undigested from last nights dinner. But I was on the bus. I was on my way.

There was nowhere to park my bike that would keep it out of the rain at work. Oh well. I rang the bell to the back door as I looked at my watch. Fifteen minutes early. That gave me plenty of time to clean up and dry off and get in uniform.

Bob opened the door. He looked me up and down in disgust and said, "You're late." Only then did I remember that last week I had agreed to come an hour and a half early Monday to get some extra work done.

So I was scrambling to get everything ready in time when one of my coworkers arrived. She was supposed to be last cut but she had a 3PM appointment. When they told me I had a way to make up the time I missed this morning I was in no position to argue. But that meant I would probably not get away in time to make the prayer meeting I was planning to be at this evening.

And on it went. There was a slow lunch with a late rush. That meant I was there working longer but for not as much pay as a normal business day. There's the family with that rowdy kid who left his mac and cheese smeared all over the seat. And the wall. And the window. There was that guy who sat in the booth and read, and read, and read all through the lunch rush taking up my booth. Then he tipped a dollar.

And then I was done with work and I'm over here at Barnes and Noble and I read these words:

"You see, I am not talking about something complicated or unusual in the least. God wants us to be present where we are. He invites us to see and hear what is around us and, through it all, to discern the footprints of the holy."

It jumps out at me because I have the very same among my collection of quotes at home. But they are not what I want to be seeing right now and I close the book and exit the bookstore.

Sometimes I don't want to be "present". I'd rather shut myself off to the ugliness of this fallen world. I don't want to see and hear what is around me because the rain is spitting down and the mud is spitting up and frustration is shouting in my ear. And those footsteps... they're walking all over me.

I'm out and walking through the parking lot in this bitter frame of mind when I hear in my spirit, "In this world you will have trouble, but take heart. I have overcome the world." Sometimes my mouth can get me in trouble. I know I should shut up, but instead I spit out the words, "That's great, God. I'm glad You overcame. But I'm still down here wading through the muck."

I stand there in the misty wet parking lot daring God to show up. Nothing. No reply. No lightening. Nothing.

Then John spots me and comes over to say hi. John pushes the shopping carts out of the lot at WalMart. He's got a big heart for God and for people. We talk about the weather and church for a brief minute then he pats me on the back and heads back to his duties. As he walks away I think, "There goes Jesus."

I see a little girl holding her daddy's hand. She is a tiny bundle of joy who is laughing as she jumps into the puddle with both feet. Her father smiles down in love ignoring the wet brown specks appearing on his nice black pants. Oh look, there's Jesus again.

I pop a skittle in my mouth and walk over to have a seat and get out of this drizzle. Waiting for the bus to arrive I lean back and close my eyes. I can hear Jesus as I listen to the birds chirping as they are sheltered from the rain.

Two girls are talking next to me in accented English and I, being the extrovert that I am, am soon pulled into the conversation with them. The conversation continues through the entire ride home. We talk about SUNY, and the area, and differences in various cultures and languages, and Ottoman history, and they tell me a bit about their homes in Tunisia and Turkey. Through it all God is teaching me more about the people he loves and I am "present".

As I peacefully bike in the opposite direction over the distance that I frantically moved this morning, I think to myself, "This wasn't such a bad day after all."

It's amazing how being "present" can give you a new perspective. A fresh start. A brand new