Someone from the church works at the local coffee house. I mentioned on Sunday that I would stop by today, and I did. A stellar decaf latte got the job done. I used to dislike milk in my coffee, but a mission trip to Brazil changed that. Anyway, the coffee was here one minute, gone the next.
Like you, I have received approximately three metric tons of political mail. Shiny and colorful card stock, printed both sides. This weekend, someone went through and put a bunch of door hangers on each of our handles. As the winds kicked up Sunday evening, they flew all over the neighborhood and mingled with the fallen leaves. Here in suburbia, machines with cup-holding fingers pick up piles of leaves we pushed to the roadside. Can the flyers get picked up that way, too? It’s about the same amount.
I couldn’t help but take a moment to drink in tonight’s sunset. Outstanding work. I knew it would only look like this for a few minutes, so I captured it. Very Bob Rossian.
These three items have something in common. They are all temporary. The hand and gut warming cup of coffee is consumed and forgotten. Leaves that worked all summer have died, just as half of all political hopes shall do when the votes are counted. The street lights are on until the sun shows up on the other side of the sky tomorrow (you know, Lord willing). And a Tuesday election will come and go. A term in office will come and go. The kids will tell their own kids about 2020 and what it was like. I’ll be drinking coffee for as long as I can, which isn’t forever. At least not here.
No, there’s nothing new under the sun. It’s all cycles. Eternity is in the beyond, above, elsewhere.
Every day here is a gift. Observe, enjoy, but don’t fret. It’s all temporary.