In the large picture, or screen shot for modern day world, of life-this doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter that for lunch today I pulled into an almost empty parking lot. I ate the salad I packed at home for my lunch. In telling you that, maybe you had an image of me making and packing my lunch today. Maybe you didn’t. Because, it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter that I turned the car off after I ate too fast, opened the car door, and turned sideways so my legs hung out of the driver’s side of the car. And I sat facing the sun.
It doesn’t matter that the sun rested casually on my arms, my legs, and that the book was brilliantly illuminated. The very book a young man of five years old, carried for me yesterday.
Maybe that doesn’t matter either.
It doesn’t matter that I read about eight pages. And with some displeasure, closed my book. I took care to stick the envelope I was using as a book mark into the pages where I wanted to go back to reading. I really don’t like picking up a book and trying to find my place. I want to pick it up and get right back into it.
This may be of no interest to anyone.
That may not matter either.
You, and everyone else, can dismiss this as not mattering.
But, it does.
I can’t live a big picture. I don’t have that skill.
I only have the ability to be in my life, in that pixel part of the big picture, that I am in, for that minute.
The things that matter.
The sun and enjoying it on my lunch break.
The smile, thinking of the child.
It may not matter to anyone else.
But they very much matter.
For all of our individual pictures, there are brush strokes and sketches that aren’t seen by others.
But the importance is there.
It very much is.