Now

I am currently tucked away in a corner of a crowded cafe.  It’s the lunchtime peak and voices echo from every direction.  To my left sits an older married couple.  It’s hard not to notice how few words pass between them.  How’s your salad?  Silence.  Do you want a cookie?  Silence. I wonder if their silence is an awkward one or if it’s a comfortable silence that has developed over years of knowing each other so well that, sometimes, words are not needed.  Across from me sits another couple in a booth.  Their food has been pushed to the side and the woman reads a book while the man works intently on a crossword puzzle.  What’s a five letter word for divert? he asks her.  Every now and then they converse and laugh.  Over a few tables I see a young girl, probably in her twenties.  Her table is littered with bowls, cups, and napkins.  At her feet there is a large backpack and a purse overflowing with cosmetic bags.  She looks like she walked straight out of the 70s, except for the iphone that is seemingly glued to her fingertips.

I can’t remember the last time I sat in a place and had the opportunity to just sit and watch.  Most of my time is spent flanked by this child or that one or all three of them.  And if I am out on my own I’m usually running from here to there and crossing this off the list and anticipating the next task to complete.  The hour that I’ve spent sitting here and watching has touched a deeper part of me. The part of me that lives in the now.  The part of me, quite frankly, that has been buried in late night feedings, school schedules, dirty diapers, meal planning, laundry doing, and on and on and on.

So often I find myself thinking once Meadow is sleeping through the night. . . once the kids are a bit more self sufficient.  Once I figure out the next step in life. . . once everything is running like a well oiled machine. . .

Then. . .

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It’s two days later.  I wasn’t able to finish my thoughts that day.  The clock struck two and it was time to go.  That clock. . . it’s always getting in the way.

In all reality, sitting in that cafe two days ago was a beautiful thing. How is it that I was able to hear my own thoughts in an atmosphere that was so loud and chaotic?  Easy. . . I slowed down enough to listen to them.  What I realized is that I have gotten stuck in the rut of planning my life for the future, instead of living in the now.  When the kids are older. . . when I’m getting a full nights sleep. . . when our future feels a little more secure. . .

Then. . .

There is no then. . . Sitting in that room, intoxicated by the smell of coffee and baked goods, I realized that right now is all I have.  I can’t build my life on tomorrows, nor can I grieve the days that have past.  What I can do is life in the now.  Enjoy the season of today.  Be thankful for what is right in front of me now.

Be in the present moment.

Smile at the simple things. . .

And count my blessings daily. . .

It’s such a simple little truth, but one of which I needed to be reminded.  These short moments in the corner of a cafe reminded me that the “now” is a discipline.  One that I need to work on daily.  I’m not sure what it will take, but I think I’ll start by taking a moment each day, when things are most hectic, to close my eyes and breathe deep and listen, really listen, to what is going on around me.  Somehow, seeing and hearing and really being in a moment reminds me what a precious gift “now” is.