Perspective.

Stella and I went to register my car today.  I brought a few books for her because it usually takes a LONG time to get your car registered in Nottingham...we have a po-dunk town hall and the hours are weird, so there is a line, lots of the time.  I sat down and there were three people ahead of us; I knew we'd have a wait.  

Stella read her books and talked a lot - she had a few people smiling.  There was one man there who caught her attention, though.  She kept looking at him and he would sometimes wave at her or offer a smile.  When I looked at him I thought to myself, "He looks so tired and sad."  He was a younger man - in his late thirties, maybe - but he just looked a bit disheveled, he clearly hadn't shaved in a few days, he had bags under his eyes, his clothes were kind of dirty, and he had an air of sorrow about him.  

After a while, two of the three people were done with their business and had left the town clerk's office, then it was the sad man's turn to be helped.  The room is quite small and it was only me, him, and the town clerk left.  It was then I realized why this man looked so sorrowful.  

He spoke softly, but definitely loud enough that I could hear their conversation in the tiny room.  He explained to the town clerk that his wife had passed away last month; their only car was registered in her name and the registration had expired in January...she died in February.  He needed to get the car transferred to his name and update its registration.  My heart sank.  No wonder he looked like he was having a rough time.  The town clerk was lovely to him, appropriately comforting and sympathetic.  She called a few people and got everything sorted out for him.  As things were finished she said to him, "You're all set now.  I'm very sorry for your loss."  He turned to walk away, but not before saying, "So am I."  I wanted to run after him, to hug him, to let him hold Stella and to cry together, but I stayed glued to my chair. 

I held my little baby in my arms and thought about my husband, about how thankful I am for my loved ones.  It's no guarantee that everyone in my life will stick around, that everything will be fine and there will be no suffering.  As I left the office after getting my registration, Stella and I prayed for that man.  I cannot imagine going through the searing pain of loss without Jesus in my life.  I prayed that he would know the comfort of God's love in his time of mourning.  I am thankful for the reminder to count my blessings.  I'm thankful for the reminder to not allow frustration to creep in when you wait in line for something...you never know what people are going through in life, about how much more significant someone's problems may be than your own feelings of being inconvenienced by waiting.