Awareness.

There is this book that I've been reading for almost a year now--it is a sort of compilation of excerpts from theological and spiritual books written by old thinkers like C.S. Lewis and Thomas Merton, men who really understood the meaning of things--this is really rich material.  And this little supplemental book kind of takes a theme each week and delves into it with all of these varying views and perspectives and references to the Bible that have to do with that particular subject.  After a year you'd think I would be tired of this old brown book that my dad handed down to me, but I'm not.  And, in fact, as the year comes to an end I think I'm actually nervous for this book to conclude because it has helped me to take such giant steps forward these past months.  And then I talk to my dad and he tells me that he read that book over and over again for about twenty years. I can see why.

Anyway, this week the subject of the book is "Awareness" and it is all about how God can be found in thousands of places--everywhere, really--if only we would be aware of his surrounding presence in the plain things.  I stared out the window thinking about this for a while this morning, considering the things I don't actually appreciate.  I mean actively.  For instance, I have a job!  I mean, that seems stupid, but really.  I have a job that helps me to pay for the things that I need.  Some people don't have the luxury of a job.  And the sun, for instance. It's sunny most days where I live.  When it's grey I appreciate the sun, but when it's sunny I don't. On grey days I am a gremlin. I can't keep my eyes open, I'm grouchy and crampy and generally reclusive.  But on sunny days I'm a happy and curly and creative.  It's amazing what the sun does for my soul, but I don't thank God for the sun when it's sunny. (As I write this, I am amazed by my own ignorance).

So I had this whole haze of thoughts on awareness today when I was sitting behind the counter at the coffee shop (it was my last day working there) and this first-class character walks in.  Most of the people that come in the shop are regulars, but not this man.  He walks in, sort of swaggers, and practically hits his head on the top of the door jamb because he is so tall. He has this kind of lumberjack look about him but he's got a Hawaiian shirt rather than flannel plaid.  He stops in front of the pastry case and I tell him the old "everything is locally baked" line, but I kind of whisper it because he is so big and so quiet.  And he nods at me, slowly lifting up his eyelids enough to show me the twinkle in his eye, telling me that I don't really have to say anything.  He's just going to decide in his own sweet time.  So I just stand there sort of staring at this incredibly substantial man whose head is bald and shining with the reflection from the overhead bulbs.  His woolly mustache is kind of reddish and his arms are just huge.  And it occurs to me now as I write that it is entirely possible I remember this man as bigger than he really was, but I was just so enamored by him in all of his sixty-two-year-old glory.  

So he finally decides on this pastry, a big cinnamon and sugar and walnut frosted thing that is appropriately named "Bear Claw."  Of course he wants the bear claw.  And then I ask him if he wants something to drink.  And of course he does.  I assume it'll be a black coffee, but it isn't.  He orders a milk.  This Goliath of a man orders a big cup of whole milk.  But he wants ice. And he wants a straw.  

It just struck me so funny, this enormous man drinking a big cup of milk with ice through a straw while he eats this super sweet and delicious pastry that's locally baked.  He sits there for thirty minutes eating and slurping away at his milk.  I mean, my brother and I used to drink iced milk when we were about three and a half feet tall.  After furtively watching him for a while and secretly stealing a picture on my cell phone camera, I decide that it is perfect.  It is absolutely appropriate for him to be drinking milk and eating a delightful pastry at 10:30 in the morning when everyone else is either at work or at school.  So bafflingly appropriate.  And then it occurs to me that perhaps I am experiencing a taste of awareness impetuous.  I could get used to living like this-