People worship celebrities, rock stars and multi-millionaires.
But this raw piece of life haunted me in a way that is forever imprinted on my soul. Truly, I will never be the same.
Springing out of the bed one rainy Seattle Christmas day, I drove to Starbucks to buy some lattes for my husband and me.
I’d never seen the caffeinated Mothership so crowded. I waited my turn, bored into oblivion.
Almost twenty people stood in front of me.
“I’ve never seen this place so busy. It’s going to take forever,” I said to the twenty-something young man standing next to me.
He turned to look at me, his green eyes peering into my soul. “Last year on Christmas, I was on a mountain in Afghanistan getting shot at.”
Stunned, my eyes widened.
I felt as if I was drowning in a deep ocean of his pain. I pictured the young man drenched in sweat, droplets of fear dripping down his forehead. He trembled, breathing heavily as he hid from terrorists.
He fought desperately to save his own life while fighting for my freedom. Me, whom he’s never met. Pure, raw selflessness.
Radically different from our culture with a million voices screaming, “It’s all about me.”
Suddenly I saw a snapshot of myself, in comparison, that Christmas.
I sipped my coffee in my warm, cozy living room, snow gently stacking up on my curved sidewalk like white fluffy cotton balls. A Hallmark movie played in the background.
I honestly don’t remember how I responded.
Instantly, the fuzziest of my inner world focused into perfect perspective.
This profound moment in Coffeeville changed me forever.
In a millisecond, our life stories intersected as we waited in line for coffee on Christmas Day.
The truth does set us free, even if it burns like wildfire under our skin. ~