Everyone Has a Story

Chloe's at Mother's Day Out or Parent's Day Out to be politically correct. When she's there I try to do things that I wouldn't normally be able to do with both kids IE. post office, grocery store, shopping, Starbucks, sit and do nothing.

This morning, I took Cooper to get his 5 month shots. (We are doing the Alternative Schedule by Dr. Sears.)

While I was there a young girl walked in carrying a car seat with a while blanket over it. I began to think, "I wonder how old her baby is? Boy or girl? Hmmm, well pink diaper bag, must be girl. Huh, she's feeding it a bottle, I wonder if she pumps or just does formula. She's all alone. I wonder if she's a single mom."

The baby poops, so she gets it out. This whole time I have not been able to see the baby. Once the baby is out of the car seat my mind begins to wonder again, "Ohh, my gosh, that baby is so tiny. I wonder how much she weighs? Oh no, she had an explosive poop. Oh, she can't find another diaper. That stinks. She looks like she really loves that little baby. I hope all goes well with them."

I wonder what her story truly is.

Then on the way home I drive by a house that I probably drive by hundreds of times. There were balloons decorating their carport and the cars. As I am approaching, I can see they have painted the windows in the front of the house. "WELCOME HOME ALEXIS!!!"

I begin to think, again, "I wonder where Alexis has been? Has she been in countries of war, starvation, poverty or just on vacation or maybe in Europe as an Au Pair? Maybe she's been no where and they are being silly. I wonder?"

I just think sometimes how everybody has a story. Whether it's good, bad, sad, funny or just mediocre, it's still their life. The people next door lost their home to foreclosure. They have a story. It's mind boggling to think of all the people in the world. ALL of these story lines being written and God can keep up with every single one of them and it's nothing. Weird to think while I drink my Starbucks Carmel Macchiato extra Carmel, there are people dieing, crying, laughing, playing, pushing, mourning, celebrating, sitting, drinking, smoking, wishing, working, thinking about the same things I am and maybe worshipping in places that could get them killed.

Everyone has a story.