“Squirrel” is my favorite line from “Up.”  (You know, that cartoon that has the best love story ever told in an opening animated scene!) The line I love refers to a dog being hopelessly and repeatedly distracted by the furry little creatures.  That’s how I am when assaulted with God’s natural and beautiful creation.  I love a waterfall, a butterfly…a rainbow.  And one day, as I was traveling in New Mexico with my platonic best friend, Alex, there it was, a majestic double rainbow drawn on a slate sky.  To say I was distracted would have been an understatement.  I was mesmerized.  

So when we swerve slightly and brake hard, I’m surprised. But as I look ahead, it is obvious that something significant has happened and traffic flow is disrupted.  Filing cabinets.  Three cars have hit filing cabinets that have made their way onto the roadway.  And I think of the storm that produced the rain that made the rainbow possible and the wind that accompanied it and the tumbleweed that blew in front of us just a few miles back – not even.  

Had I been driving, I would have been focused on the rainbow.  (Hopelessly distracted. Squirrel!) I realize it is likely I would not have reacted quickly enough to what was unfolding in front of me.  I thank God silently that Alex is behind the wheel and I am not, that we are still driving through Albuquerque unscathed. 

Shortly afterwards we stop for gas.  While he goes in to pay, I jump out to begin filling the tank. I make eye contact with a man begging for gas and smile.  I will offer to help, but I’m going to wait until Alex returns and ask him about it.  I don’t have to.  As soon as Alex gets to the pump and makes eye contact with the man, he motions him over for gas.  We get to chitchat for a moment with the man who says he’s from Texas – a small town adjacent to MY town!  It’s a small-world moment.  He says his house burned down, and he’s traveling with his wife.  Alex asks if they’re hungry and offers to buy them something from McDonald’s.  And we do – ten of those little hamburgers and a couple of drinks.  Alex walks the food over to the man and his wife and is introduced to a third traveling companion, their dog.  I see him pet the dog and remember that Alex’s dog had recently died, and there is a strange sense of regret that I never met the dog that would not have liked me anyway.  (Elvis was an anti-social pit who didn’t even much care for his owner.)

Thankfully, I take notice of the grace offered in the moment, the brief but poignant interaction with strangers. Alex is always telling me he’s a simple man.  I think he’s trying to say that he’s comfortable with routine and enjoys ordinary things – that the biggest part of one’s life is spent doing the rote and is anything but exciting or extraordinary.  Alex and I have talked about the men and women on social dating sites who tend to emphasize their love for adventure.  Sometimes I think we even feel inadequate because our routines seem mundane to the escapades others boasts in their profiles.

Where do I fall on this spectrum?  What do I want in a relationship?  I don’t need to jump out of an airplane (thanks, but no thanks, Crazy Curtis), but I need to do things that build memories – I need the “remember whens,” and this moment in Albuquerque feeding a man, his wife and dog – or perhaps entertaining angels unaware – is exactly that.  

There are probably some pretty simple things in all our journeys, our daily routines even, that if we would just take notice, are really sublime. Please feel free to share your own extraordinary ordinary!

P.S. When my normally camera-shy and publicity-shy friend, Alex, discovers he’s an integral part of my blog, I have a feeling he will be less than pleased! Shhh….