“I think today was the official opening day for wearing sandals in Seattle!” Ryan chuckled as he observed three of us donning Tevas.
I started my studying for GMAT Round Two yesterday afternoon in the wee hours of the workday, and I was this close to 86-ing my plans for spending some after-hours time with the C-Group so I could relearn geometry for the eighth time in my life.
But as dusk settled in, the prognosticator of prognosticators (i.e., a licked finger shot up into the air) assured me that this was no night to stay cooped up in my room. Twenty minutes later, the roommate and I were enroute, turkey meat and hamburger buns in hand.
Conversation swirled around our Group’s resident one year-old and her newfound hobby: drinking water out of Gatorade bottles. MG started walking the morning I returned from China; she’s now motoring about with a vengeance.
I retreated to the grill every so often to inhale the smell of roasting meat and charcoal. As I was happily gazing at the darkening blue sky, I was joined by a recently-acquired dear friend, one whom has seen his fair share of recent struggles. He simply came to keep me company, nothing else, yet we smoothly slipped into a discussion about how we’ve equally fallen on some challenging times lately. It was…refreshing, to say the least. All too often I create a whirlpool of activity that only I can master, and it sometimes just takes a slow, patient conversation with a friend to unsettle it. It’s a healthy unsettling, for sure.
I love to serve. I treasured this thought as I carried in the first batch of freshly-grilled turkey burgers to the semi-hungry crowd, not requiring anything in return but the assurance that I provided something from my heart. Whether it’s charred animal flesh, a business proposal, or a prayer, a gift should always come from the depths of your soul.