A Moment

      I walked into my bedroom after taking a shower this morning. I was clean, in fresh clothes, ready for the day.  I walked pasted the front window and noticed a man standing at the side of my driveway, leaning on the trunk of the Sycamore tree.  He seemed distressed.  He was wearing jeans, a long sleeve shirt over a dark green tee shirt and a black bandana around his head.  He leaned his tall body forward and vomited.  I watched a little longer wondering if I should call an emergency vehicle for him.  He heaved a few more times and then took a tissue from his pocket and wiped his mouth, the inside of each nostril, wiped his eyes. 

As I watched him I wished I had some magical power to make him feel better.  I thought perhaps he was dealing with cancer and the effects of chemotherapy. 

I spoke to God, “Can you send him some relief?”

     The image of this man—this stranger, leaning against the tree, vomiting in the driveway, took away my feeling of comfort for just a moment.  My compassion for him pulled me from my place in the world into his place in the world.  This is what so many people I have known and will come to know have to struggle with.    

     He put the tissue back into his pocket, straightened up, and walked away leaving only the memory of his body against the tree and a stream of vomit trickling down the driveway into the street.  I want to see him healed, strong, living the life he thought he’d have when he was twenty. 

     All we have is this moment, and then the next moment and maybe the one after that moment.  We don’t know when the moments will run out.  I send peace and compassionate thoughts to this man who stepped into my moment.

June 9, 2016