I noticed, when I was in Paris yesterday, a young woman with a coat with the words: this is your life, this is your moment, so I tried very hard to be in that moment of time. I sat in a chair near the fountain in the Tuileries, with the sun on my face, I looked at the voluminous clouds that hovered over the tops of the buildings. But I only lighted there for a short time, and felt compelled to move on. Move on, move on...there must be more to see. So I walked, and walked. And as I walked, my feet began to hurt, the bag I was carrying was getting heavy and the weight of my finite self caused me to resent all this walking. What was I doing? Where was I going? Why was I even bothering? It is in times like these that the longing for comfort supersedes the desire for adventure. I felt old. I resented my bad knees and sore feet. I wanted to feel a burst of youthful energy, to be able to walk and explore.
I saw tourists with sensible shoes enjoying Paris, being amazed by its charms. It was then that I knew I had become ungrateful. I sneered at their awkward gawking, I reveled in the fact that I knew parts of the city they didn't. And then I caught myself...I had become a bit jaded, even spoilt by the fact that I have been here so many times. So, as I rode the metro back to Montreuil, I breathed a prayer of thanks for the time, the day, the sun, the people who where around me going about their lives. That evening, over some very good wine, my friend and I contemplated life and death. She had just received the news that a dear friend of hers was in the hospital. That was all she knew. She did not know if he was alive not, or his condition. She would not know until the following morning. She was grateful I was there.
Today is my birthday and I am sitting in the apartment being lazy, doing some writing, not going anywhere, not walking around Paris. That is it. But this is not a milestone birthday. I am just here, in France, writing. Yet, when I stop and contemplate that I have the opportunity to be here in France writing, I have to almost give myself a sound slap for not being thankful. I take it for granted that I have a friend who always welcomes me, who feeds me and spends what time she can engaging in deep conversations with me. I take for granted that I am so fortunate. This may not always be. She could move to a smaller place, or heaven forbid, die. Or I could become disabled or too poor to travel. So many things could change the situation. So, for now, on my 58th birthday, I sit quietly thinking about what opportunities I have had. I do this on the cusp of hearing that my friend has just lost someone dear to her. She phone from her job to tell me what she had found out. She had just seen him, talked with him, enjoyed his company. Now he is gone. I did not know him, but his death makes everything so much more poignant. Death always hovers over Life, and when you view the waning years, you cling a little more tenaciously to each moment. It is so easy to lose perspective or to get caught in the trivialities of each day. It is also equally easy to never be quite in the moment, to always be thinking ahead or behind yourself, "What shall I do about this or that, or what should I have said back then." I admit that I am not very good at slowing down the time and finding the eternal moment in each moment of the day. There is an eternal moment, although that sounds like an oxymoron as eternity is timeless, it is in our finite moments that eternity is laid out. What we do, how we respond, how much we show we care, these small moments create in us the peace that goes beyond time (and understanding).
When my friend returns home, she will be in a confusing place of grief and unbelief. I will be here to listen and care. It is my birthday, but it doesn't matter. There are reasons we are in certain places and times, opportunities to give to others, and gratitude when others give. It could be a chance encounter with someone you needed to see, or a quiet moment just being present in someones life. And one never knows when these eternal moments may happen. It is grace that brings us to these places.
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