What if you told him, “As long as there is gas in my car, I will always seek you.”
What if you stopped for every rainbow, snapped a picture, remembered every recent promise fulfilled?
You could roll down your window. Give him something–money or some trail mix, pressing palm to palm just a little extra longer, making eye contact.
What if you called strangers by “sir” and “ma’am” with a bank of respect, using formalities among all—until friends, making acquaintances and strangers, homeless, widows, children—all feel like royalty.
What if you let the tears fly, and your heart sing with joy and roll in thorns alike. Would it then be stronger, burning excess fat of anxiety?
What if you could love even those who never smile?
What if you could give up your dream job for another, and truly feel hopeful for the future?
What if your burden is measured not by 5 minute time slots booked in a day, but by the one you serve? And if his burden is lighter than yours?
What if what you said to a child is what that child listened to for the next fourth off his or her life?
What if you planted, in your yard, a tree for every person’s obituary in the local paper?
What if Earth is mere preview and heaven is a breath away?