Last week I drove to Philly to babysit my granddaughter. It was mid day, so the traffic was light. In the lane next to me I noticed a FedEx van and was startled to see his door was open. I had seen such cavalier behavior on my dead end street, but here on the interstate? Hopefully his seatbelt was secure. No doubt his supervisor quoted a study about saving the five seconds it takes to open and close it, multiplied by twenty seven deliveries a day, and the overall cost to efficiency. 

I wondered what it is like, always delivering, never lingering to watch the customer open their package. Everyone likes the package man, and is happy to see him drive up. But it must be unsatisfying to leave before the contents are revealed. Like getting invited to a string of birthday parties and saying goodbye before the cake and presents. 

The other day I was piecing hexagons for a One Block Wonder. The fabric is of poppies, and was not cheap. I have a soft spot for poppies, because Poppy was the name for my father to his grandchildren. Sadly my older five children scarcely ever saw him and the last four never did. But that is not an impediment to my longing to see him again.

I had ordered fabric printed with a Monet garden in anticipation for my next quilt, and was thinking about it as I sewed. Then I realized. Here I was working on a quilt I already loved, but my mind was somewhere in the future. Why do I do that? 

I was like the FedEx man, always hustling to the next place, without enjoying the moment where I was. Granted, an employee who actually did that would likely be fired, though he might be popular with customers. But I won't be. I drew my attention back to the fabric in front of me, exploring the symmetry of identical triangles and how their colors amplify by being partnered. 

In that moment I chose to let the door of my attention stay open. Not so that I could hurry out, but so the miracle of what lay before me could more easily come in.