Days

The end of a week has arrived.  I'm not sure where it went.  How did Friday show up at my door already?  I'm not complaining, simply marveling at the whirlwind that was this week.

Most days seem to do that.  They blow by me, a flurry of ordinary duties and seemingly unimportant details.  I blink for a second, my eyes survey where I am, and in an instant change has taken over.

When we were home at Thanksgiving I took some pictures of places and things that, after many days and much change, are still important to me.

This is my dad's grave site.  I was not quite two on the day he died in 1971, a day that has shaped my entire life,  a day I don't remember, a man I never knew.  I've spent more than one day wondering why, asking God questions he hasn't answered yet, scratching my head, concluding that God is God, and I'm just going to have to trust him with it.  Trust him with all of it.  I can't remember the day I decided to trust instead of question.  I'm sure it didn't happen in one day.  Most likely it was a series of ordinary days that blew by me silently, offering nothing substantial to hold onto or remember, but when they passed, I blinked, and I was left with a new way of looking at that grave stone.

Today was an ordinary day.  I worked out, took some pictures.

These are my friends who I was trying to keep on task.  We were there to exercise, not goof around and be silly, but they kept wanting me to take their pictures. They are vain women. Nothing like me.  I wonder though if today will go down as one of those days.  One of those days that blows by, leaving me with laughter, excellent photographs of my friends, loads of silliness, and maybe something more.  Something I may not see until that moment I open my eyes and see that I've changed forever.