It was 11pm by the time I breathed today. My power walk came to a halt mid stride as I made my way home from the parking lot. There was no urgency to get indoors. The moon cast a beautiful scene as it peered through the skeletal branches and hide behind the clouds. Every possible noise stopped for a simple, graceful minute of peacefulness: cars whispered by and barking dogs rested. Even the cold seemed refreshing on my skin and lungs, like a dip in an August pool.
I stood there watching my exhale float into the night as I soaked up the first actual, peaceful moment of the day, astonished that I failed to realize before then that I was alive and involved in a world outside of my mind.
Will it be the days of inability to look beyond my thoughts that I will end up regretting? Or will the minutes in the middle of empty streets overthrow them, truly unveiling God's hope for conscious living?
