blind.

lerin stopped to ask her if she needed help with her groceries.

i hadn't noticed. i hadn't noticed the brown oldsmobile, its trunk full of plastic bags. i hadn't noticed the lady, elderly, tired, breathing a little unsteadily.

we carried her groceries into her living room and left them. she saw us out, and told us we had made her day.

i would have walked right by.
why hadn't i noticed?
we were walking. i was talking. what about, i can't remember.
probably myself. i do a lot of that.

i'm glad that lerin's eyes were open. she saw a need and met it.

there have been times when i have too. and each time i am receptive to the whisper, something blooms inside of me.

but it doesn't happen often. walking home i thought about what paul really meant when he praised a quiet spirit.
maybe my spirit is too overwhelmed by the clamor i create myself.
i can't hear. i don't see.

how much will i be awakened if i let myself be still.