As The World Turns

Recently, while performing a cardio-does-the-back-good routine at the gym, my Ipod died a sudden death. Noiseless, empty ear buds a mere prop. A bold question mark dangled in my head. How am I going to finish exercising? I need my music! Bereft of my workout companion, I swallowed a discouraged breath, and headed for the weight room. I needed to perform a long stretch, the kind that begs for the company of music. I knew I had to find a way out. A distraction to prevent me from bolting for the locker room. Voices filtered through the atmosphere, a cold rush of air brushed my shoulders, my eyes darted to the clock. Four minutes, six yet to go. I groaned inwardly. Soon, a gentleman approached, a man I see regularly, the sweetest smile lighting his face. A sun break. The question mark morphed into answer. I had been given a way out! We chatted for a few minutes about the weather, the new weight machines. The stretch tightened my calf muscles. The sparkle in his eyes eased the boredom. After he parted I took a long look around the room. My eyes panned the new gym equipment, faces of both the familiar and unfamiliar, people like me trying to take care of their bodies, ease the pain, stay fit. Like an early morning sunrise, reds and golds palming the sky, I understood I had just received a gift, a grace. When I reached the locker room I jotted it down in my journal. # 309. Ipod died. I didn't. Nice chat with gentleman. They are vigilant. The searching eyes. The cataracts supernaturally removed. And as the world turns, I watch eagerly, much like a five-year-old at Disneyland, eyes opened fresh wide, the magic kingdom unveiled. Oh, the wonder of it all. This thing called grace.