Sunday, while driving through town on my way to the grocery store, I encountered one of those indulgently sincere, shared moments created by connecting souls with candid meaning.
I stopped as a middle-aged lady with impaired mobility wheeled her chair slowly into the crosswalk. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I could see the cars quickly line up behind me.
The wheelchair edged out into the street, the woman doing her best to expedite her transit but having difficulty due to upper body strength issues. Uneasy with holding up traffic despite enjoying the safe-to-cross signal, she started to drift back with gravity in response to the imperceptible crowning of the asphalt that ensures water runoff.
Unfathomable to most, this brave woman’s terrifying challenge was merely to cross the street.
She stopped her backward slide and, visibly flustered, turned the wheelchair backward, facing me in an attempt to gain leverage with her stronger triceps. She looked at me, probably expecting to see the shared malady of our time, frustration-induced road rage. Instead, I smiled.
I cheered her forward with my expression in unwavering support. She had a kind face, one that glowed with welcome yet could not hide her terror at the thought of being singled out by an inconsiderate passing driver.
Suddenly, we both started laughing in the joy of trying, of not giving in to a less-than-easy life. She inched across the street’s centerline to the favorable grade on the other side, her eyes never leaving mine, smiling sincerely without interruption.
Our silent communication joined us temporarily in the love of life as it is. We went our separate ways.
Grace resides in life’s details. Meaning is present in the ordinary acts we perform, no matter how trivial, requiring only that we slow sufficiently to notice.