Sometimes ya stumble into something serendipitously.
Almost as if it’s a reward from above for relentless industry and hard work.
On the heels of the post prior, my one day off from work involved … what else … work! Errands and a drive to the laundromat with a bulky load including bedding and jeans that had taken a rugged beating with the move, lifting and cleaning.
Fun tasks on the one day off? Not exactly.
But completion left me with a sense of accomplishment.
Around 5 p.m. I stop at Panera cafe for a pick-me-up bite (having not eaten all day) and coffee. And I stumble onto this:
This duo playing its first gig, a trial run, on the outdoor patio!
May seem like a small pleasure, a simple thing, a silly thing, even a less-than-newsworthy event.
I don’t see it as such.
I see it as this great little thing, wholly unanticipated, a full-on pleasant surprise … music on an uncrowded patio on the hill in an early-autumn breeze …
God or the angels or my fellow human beings may not step forward to say:
“Your recent works are commendable. You are recognized for your true diligence, tirelessness in the face of depleting fatigue, exhaustion and dearth of support.”
Who am I kidding? No human will step forth and say such a thing!
Then … something like this happens … live music on an uncrowded patio on an early evening tinged by autumn … and you feel you are being recognized by someone(s) above whom you cannot see.
That good — in the form of right timing and serendipity — does flow your way, through no intent or design of your own … and somehow, I don’t know how, you just know it’s good returned to you for the good that you’ve done.
A good moment.
A good view.
A good cuppa coffee (this wasn’t).
A good seat in the house.
A friendly hello or smile from a stranger.
A favorite song.
This very moment: “The Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot being sung by the duo.
Something small. Innocuous. Something you might never notice normally.
You notice and appreciate the good moment, no matter how simple or everyday it appears, FOR the hard labors that have engaged you and demanded your all.
I don’t believe in a God benevolent.
But moments like this, I pause and want to believe … and wonder whether I ever truly could.
For this moment — this moment — it’s all good.
For me, that’s an accomplishment as worthy and satisfying as every bit of hard work of late gathered under my belt.