Many years ago,
An acquaintance from work invited me to her home for breakfast.
Let's call her Niecy.
A bit surprised by the invitation,
Yet humbled to receive it,
I went.
After hanging my coat,
We walked back to the kitchen.
The cooking area was very tiny,
And the breakfast area was small.
I felt cramped because I was accustomed to large houses with spacious kitchens.
Though uncomfortably small,
It was purposefully decorated and adorably cute.
As we chatted,
And Niecy moved about preparing the breakfast,
I caught myself thinking how cramped she must feel working in such a small space.
She was tall,
And it seemed she had no room to move around.
As quickly as that thought came,
I noticed something else.
There was a sense of genuine joy and delight all around her.
She smiled as she spoke about this and that,
Doing everything effortlessly as though on autopilot.
I'll never forget this.
As she put the toast on the bread plates,
Cutting each piece in half,
She talked about the many ways she'd been showered with blessings.
She didn't speak comparatively.
For example,
I don't have this,
But I'm grateful for that.
No future promise of gratitude like,
When such and such happens,
I'll be grateful.
Her speech was organic,
An almost melodic flow of expressions of gratitude.
A modest environment,
But the magnitude of her gratitude could not have been greater had the world been at her feet.
I'd never experienced such an atmosphere.
Niecy was a seasoned senior.
She'd known life as it was.
Hopes that didn't happen,
Dreams that died.
Less time in front of her than behind her,
To dream new dreams that would take a lifetime to manifest.
Yet,
There was an indescribable overflow of contentment around her,
And she was happy sharing it with me.
