And so we left, Judah and I, with a handful of bags and a list full of food. We rummaged for apples while talking about their color and looked curiously on at the table of samples from which we consumed.
But then something happened in the coffee aisle. That’s where the shift took place. You see, in one instant I was yielding to my caffeine addiction, and in the very next instant I was desperately trying to keep a toddler from knocking down a stack of biscotti. And that was it — the moment the ordinary turned extraordinary. Because over the abrasive drone of the coffee grinder, I thought about all of the other ordinary times I had been down that aisle. . . alone, all of the times my heart ached for new life, all of the times I dreamed of moments like the one I was living, right there in that coffee aisle.
And that’s a gift I am so thankful for. . . in the most extraordinary way.
Quick story behind this video:
I stood in the check out line tossing corn up into the air to make Judah laugh. The lady behind me looked at us with a wide-eyed grin as she grabbed my phone from my hand and said, “you have to let me film this. You’re going to want to look back at this moment someday.” And wouldn’t you know it? The day I wrote this very essay, this video popped up on my timehop. One year ago! And so, thank you, kind stranger. You were right.