Breadstick crumbs in my lipgloss.

Today was interesting.
We had a rough start: Jubilee woke up at about 5:15am barfing chunks all over herself and her bedding. Justin heard her first, so he was already trying to comfort her when I stumbled through to help put her in the bath, wad up the nasty blankets, etc. Justin lovingly offered to take a family sick day to help me out in case the puking continued, as it usually does with our girls. Not to mention by the time the ordeal was done, it was about 5:40, and J is normally walking out the door by 5:45, but this morning he was covered in yesterday's dinner. Well, God must have looked down upon my already-pitiful cycle this week of potty training (more "potty" than training), because she ended up recovering quickly. She fell back to sleep on my lap, and I was also able to catch a wink or two.
After all that, J and I switched roles for the afternoon-him on kid duty and me out running errands and gettin ish done. Dropped off a load of crap at Goodwill, returned some things we hastily purchased the other day but didn't need, picked up some more school supplies, laundry soap and dryer sheets, groceries, full tank of gas, the rest of Juby's ballet accessories. It was so glorious to just be out n' about in the full sunshine, reminding myself to walk a little slower through the isles, take pictures in my mind's eye of the concrete jungle bathed in a golden glow.
I went to Target for a majority of my toiletries and whatnots. By the time I got there, I realized quite suddenly that I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and the coffee I was feverishly sipping just wasn't doing the trick. I really didn't wan't to eat at Target; why eat in a food court, Bea, when today and today only, you are a carefree young woman in a summer dress, just galavanting all over town, and you could legitimately choose from any of the number of the trendy coffee/sandwich shops that the city has to offer, stroller not included?  Well, because it's 3:30pm, the last time you ate was 8:30am, it's 85 degrees in the shade, and those personal pizzas are calling your name. I caved and bought the "pizza combo": it consists of a small pizza, a serving of breadsticks, and a drink. The pizza would have been plenty on it's own, but I'd already committed to the thing, so there I sat in the center of the Target fast food area, chomping down on a delicious personal pan-sized cheese pizza and crumbly but equally delicious breadsticks.
I was facing the entrance doors, so of course I commenced the peoplewatching.

And this is truly what I want to highlight about today: the gift God gave me today of having compassion again on my fellow humans.

I have always been sensitive and emotionally in tune with other people. For a long time it felt like a weakness. I would literally get all weepy about E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G  at any given situation. Homeless kittens. Homeless kids. Sappy commercials. Violence. The general passage of time. Sometimes it was problematic, but as I got to know Jesus and His character, I would try to channel all that feeling into a productive prayer life, whatever that means. But after I went through a horribly unhealthy relationship in college, it was like a switch was flipped. I could not feel. I could not care. Even after that relationship ended, I was devastated by this emotional disconnect, but there wasn't anything I could do to remedy it. Over time, God healed whatever issues were causing this weird apathy, but it's never been the same. I find now that my level of concern and consideration for other people and the vast intricacies of humanity wavers back and forth for long seasons. All of that, to say that I am always so pleasantly surprised when I sense the familiar swelling of compassion in my soul, toward others.
It was so beautiful: witnessing the real-time orchestra of creatures who bear the image of God, each one holding out their notes in a delightfully disorganized cacaphony of moments. Tall people, short people, skinny people, fat people, kids, older folks, so many shades of skin. The pretty blonde mommy pushing her strawberry-haired and freckled little girl along. A college-aged couple sauntering through the doors, toting handmade ethnic satchels and keeping time with each other's steps. The middle-aged looking dude with a salty ponytail and t-shirt commemorating the 13th anniversary of something I could not decipher from where I sat. He grabbed a bag of Bugel chips from the $1 section.
The more I beheld all the faces and let my head become filled with wonder and amazement at each life, the more I could feel this longing to know each person. I imagined where they were going and where they were coming from. My heart beat a little faster.
I started to think about how confined we are, even in a crowd of people in a big department store. What if I just wandered over to the table of ladies a mere 4 feet from where I sat, and asked if they wanted a breadstick? Or if I had just casually invited some passerby to sit in one of the three empty seats at my table? What if someone detonated a bomb at the cash register and we were all suddenly brothers and sisters escaping falling bricks and flames? Does anyone else get to thinking this way?
As crazy as it probably looks and sounds at the time, I am so thankful for these gifts of loving people, of quietly wiping away tears while I browse the clearance sections and utter conversational prayers under my breath. I'm grateful that today, Target gave me more than just a small pizza and cheap laundry soap: there I also was able to find the time to think again. It's so much easier to storm through our world with brows furrowed and hearts filled with pain. To breath slowly, to catch eyes with a stranger and linger longer than just a glimpse, to put your feet in their shoes without asking what it will cost: these are the disciplines of selflessness that I always wrestle with. Today, praise God, was a small victory.