It was breathtaking. . . I was at a conference, high on thought-shifting conversations and coffee much buzzier in the big city than at home in small town, Nebraska. I was skipping through life, jazzed by the fun of the 30-day gratitude thingy I was doing at my blog (which I was trying to quit downplaying by calling it a thingy). In the middle of all that life rhythm, pulsing, on pace, lively, breath in and out. . . no breath.
The blue seat in the center back of the bus with a vibrant pattern stopped me short.
My last vision of that seat is one filled with a young man, around 14, his feet propped on a red cooler of our mission-trip snacks, joking with friends as they tussled each others’ hair. I remember them roughhousing–just being kids–in between checking their phones, all swimming in the noise bustle that is adolescence, this time of not quite yet. This young man, thin, dark hair, was the epitome of not quite yet. He was quirky, smart, interesting, one maybe seen more truly by adults than his peers at this stage.
. . . I’m guest posting over at my friend Deidra’s blog today. Will you join me over there for the rest of the story?