It had been a long morning. I wasn’t hungry but knew I needed to eat. Standing in line at this little family-owned sandwich shop, I took in the chaos of the lunch hustle, watching as those behind the counter rushed to get soups, salads, and sandwiches together.
I looked around at everyone going about their lives–talking, laughing, and checking their phones as they waited for lunch, hurrying so they could quickly get back to their day.
We had just left the hospital where only an hour prior we had watched my grandfather take his last breaths.
Right in front of me, he left this world and went to meet God.
Yet there I was, moments later, standing in line at a little sandwich shop.
I had just watched someone take his last breath.
I had just watched the strongest woman hold her husband’s hand—the same one she held for over 50 years—and say to him, “You are a great dad, a great husband.”
I had just watched three generations of people gathered in one tight hospital room to say a last goodbye to a man who had a unique role in each of their lives—dad, grandfather, friend, husband—yet all sharing a common love for him.
How? I thought. HOW can I just be standing here waiting in line to buy lunch after witnessing all of that?
Then I realized, maybe that’s how God wants it to be.
Maybe at times, God gives us glimpses into Heaven.
Perhaps it’s by watching someone pass away.
Or when a new baby is born.
Or when you get to witness someone feel peace after suffering.
And then you have that moment when you take it all in.
And while it’s just a moment, maybe that’s all He gives us because it’s all we need.
It takes just that moment to remember . . .
Not to take things for granted.
What’s most important.
To learn His lessons.
To remember that we are not alone. Ever.
I was just standing in line for lunch for a moment.
But it was a moment that became so much more.
It was a reminder and a lesson that as we go about our daily lives thanking the cashier for our soup while simultaneously responding to a text to not forget to stop and appreciate the moment—the one we aren’t guaranteed.