How often do we get to peek on someone else's magical moments? There are plenty of synthetic ones on television, but to witness the real deal is precious. I will never meet either of the two people who promised to join their lives, yet somehow I ride on the coattails of their joy. Incredibly, there is enough to go around. 

How is that even possible? 

If love were a limited commodity like coal or endangered birds, it would be a problem. But love erupts from a Source that does not peter out after a few thousand years or even a million.

It's a good thing because if I were the primary fuel tank of my own marriage we would have hit empty ages ago. I know because I scrape bottom. Regularly. Then somehow another lock opens up like the Panama and a deluge I never knew about comes whooshing in.

One time was last week. I had been uncharacteristically kind and offered to bring back some boxes for a friend that were stored in her father in law's garage. John and I were headed that way and had the back half of a car to spare. So I said that if he brought it to the church we would load it up and carry it back. But Sunday came and there were no cardboard stacks. I was ready to wipe my mittened hands and head home without them but John asked for the time to call. 

"Five minutes. Maybe he has them ready after all." I kept my mouth shut and we waited at the gas station near the turnpike. Sure enough a man drove up in a red pick up and we nodded to each other. We had never actually met but the indications looked right. He had boxes. We had a van. John shook his hand and I noticed a wedding band. I knew that his wife had died a few years back of cancer. Suddenly my impatience melted into compassion. The transfer happened quickly and we waved goodbye. 

Where there had been nothing, suddenly there was a flood of affection for this man who chose kindness over efficiency. I loved him more than I had ten minutes before. And the spring was definitely not me. 

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