This morning a man with a handlebar mustache, wearing a cowboy hat, and driving a late 70's Dodge Ram flashed me a white smile and gave me the customary two-finger wave from the wheel. If anyone has ever driven an older model pick-up, you'll discover that there's a club that you automatically become a member of, and of which this is the proverbial secret handshake. I gladly offered up the same two-fingered greeting in return and smiled for the remainder of my short commute to school. Pure neighborliness. Sweet harmony. It made my morning.
A dear little honey of a girl in second grade named Emma sat on the floor at my feet yesterday in the classroom. Since I wear flip-flops until forced by cooler weather to switch all the way to boots, my feet are most usually bare. As I read the class a book called Ish, her tiny, soft hands removed my shoes, tickled my bare feet and smoothed slowly up and down my shins. I realized once more that the human touch is unlike anything else we experience. It simply cannot be duplicated. We crave it, require it, and this sweet display of tenderness made my afternoon (and almost put me right to sleep).
A friend in the hallway asked earnestly how I was doing. I told her the truth. She offered kind words and a smile just when I needed them. It was second nature to her, something she does easily, but this made my day.
I went last week to one of the best record stores in Nashville called Grimey's to fetch a birthday gift. When the salesboy greeted me he promptly pointed and said with a smile "I love that tiny pocket on your tshirt." This made my day, and I'm sure my pocket appreciated it too.
While rehearsing music for a friend's wedding which is coming up, I sang the doxology in 4-part hymnal harmonies with 3 boys, 2 of whom I grew up with. It felt old-fashioned, family-like and just right. After the "amen" we silently smiled that smile when you know you sound really good. This made my evening.
Am I easily pleased and an essentially contented girl? Sure.