I’m remembering a wonderful weekend in Charleston, SC, one of the loveliest cities I’ve visited. I was enthralled by the pristine architecture of steeples reaching toward heaven and of course the wrought iron sculptures, which are truly works of art that grace the simplest to the grandest of homes. After driving on the Cooper River Bridge, I wanted to lace up my running shoes and experience the elegant symmetry of that engineering masterpiece up close.
But it’s the ordinary things that I remember the most. A hot and humid stroll through an old cemetery, reading stories of lives passed… etched on concrete monuments and then happen to spy a few sparrows cooling their feathers with a splash of water from a concrete bird bath.
Dodging people in the Straw Market just to get a closer look at overpriced stuff and then notice an elderly lady sitting in a shady corner where a cool breeze is felt, her hands moving swiftly, gathering straw to weave the next basket. I think she has been sitting in that chair for a long time, everyday weaving her baskets. She looked weary, yet driven to finish that basket. When she finishes weaving the basket, it will be tossed in the pile of more baskets.
I remember the joy of chatting with friends while casually touring the city streets. Waiting (somewhat) patiently while she searched for the perfect water-color painting to grace her home, or the oldest tin ceiling tile that communicated the most character and then celebrating the find together. Watching her take pictures of a lamppost or an old window shutter and thankful for her inspiration. Laughing so much that it brought tears to our eyes.
It’s the ordinary things that God used to communicate His presence–He cares for the sparrow and He knows the needs of the weary basket weaver. He will love me no matter what and gives me friends that remind me of that.