I cherish the fact that once a week, a dearly beloved mama-friend watches my younger children so that I have a couple of hours to run errands or to simply be alone.  This morning, though I planned a grocery shopping trip, other errands presented themselves.

I delivered (late Christmas) packets to some of our local OBs on behalf of BirthNetwork, and instead of dropping a packet in inner office mail, I actually called the Director of Women and Children’s Services to schedule an appointment to meet in person.  As someone entrenched in the birthing community in our area, I figure this is an important person to know and to have open communications with.  This was a bold step for me and an important one for our organization.  I hadn’t planned to make this connection today.

In effort to resume my morning pages (a journal of sorts), I next stopped at a local coffee shop for a tasty beverage and reflection.  When I walked in, there was an older gentleman just ahead of me.  We made eye contact, and of course I smiled.  Naturally, it didn’t go anywhere from there as he ordered, and I waited.  But this man conversed with the barista and with nearly every person he saw.

I almost took my drink and left the shop.  I could just write in the van.  There wasn’t a side table available, and I didn’t feel like writing at a table in the middle of the shop.  But I halted before the door and sat in a low leather chair in the corner, beside the lone high chair.  Can’t get away from the kids, I thought with a smile.

I wrote, but the older man was in my line of sight and his conversations interesting.  My writing changed direction, and I began to wonder if I was supposed to talk to this man.  Would I regret not talking to him?  I remembered the book Celestine Prophecy.  If I felt an energy connection with this person, truly I would be doing myself a disservice by not speaking to him.

So, I closed my book and rose to leave, but I went up to this perfect stranger, gently touched his arm for attention, and asked, “I’m sorry, but do I know you from somewhere?  You seem familiar to me.”  Perfectly true.  Perfectly bold for me.  I had no expectations.

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” he replied with a smile, and we exchanged introductions as we realized that we didn’t know each other.  We also exchanged small talk in an effort to establish some footing, I suppose, some understanding of where the other person comes from.  But this was small talk, generic conversation.  He is capable of much more.  What he does for a job is not who he is, just as being a mother is not entirely who I am.

He said he’s in there all the time.  I told him I would see him again, and I hope I do.  I’m so glad I listened to the inner voice that told me to say hello.  You just never know what each day might bring.

*I highly reccomend the iced cacao mocha at Arsaga’s.