He’s walking fast, Starbucks coffee clutched in his right hand, rolled black umbrella in his left. As he strides past me — confident eye contact, slight nod, no smile — I can smell the fresh scent of his morning shave and shower. His posture is erect, made more so by a tightly tied, tidy backpack. No lose straps here; he’s all business. Although he’s dressed in khakis and wearing gym shoes, everything about him says suit and tie.
I, on the other hand, am strolling. A teabag tag dangles from my dented and decidedly uncool thermos mug, and my umbrella swings in lazy circles from my wrist. I’m wearing my hiking boots because they are the only walking shoes I have that don’t hurt my feet.
He’s headed somewhere. I’m headed nowhere.
I spent last evening organizing greeters for my church and preparing to lead an Advent Quiet…
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