Today I am Writing: On Wallets and Worship

I started my day in the local cafe. I sat in the leather chair, in the corner, with my thoughts, my ipad, my journal, and my drink. I checked the email, I read the things I read. I wrote down the thoughts collected through the course of a restlessly sleeping (but there is healing happening) night. I pondered, I asked, I breathed.

People wandered in and out; some I knew, and some I did not. I nodded heads with a man wearing scrubs and carrying out a tray of drinks; I know him, I just don't know how. Across in the corner sat a friend I had lost touch with over this long semester, wrapped in a blanket shawl, working on her laptop; we set our calendars up to chat. Another young friend came with her backpack lightly hanging on her back; she sat down on the chair at my knee and I listened to her life update and smiled at the peace new in her eyes.

And then, the colleague entered, the one I respect, admire, consider friend though our paths rarely cross. As she unloaded her things at a table nearby, we exchanged the typical end of semester greeting: Are you done? Done. Me too. Phew.

I noticed her pick up her wallet, out of her bag, tuck it into her pocket to go buy her fare.

I don't know why it struck me that her wallet was just so her: Strong, solid, rectangular. Pink, but with a yellow edge.

And I don't know why I had a strange moment of wonder: Inside of that wallet, what would I find?

Would the cash be separated out, like mine, each category paying for a certain type of thing? Would it be laid out bills, pristine and even? Or folded ones, jumbled and jarring?

Was there even cash in there?

It made me think how every person in that room had their own wallet, their own way of going about things. It made me think that there are probably no two wallets alike, on this whole green earth. Which made me quiver with unthinkable joy, that there are no two people alike on this whole green earth at all. 

And if a wallet can turn into worship, I simply Wondered.