I rested my chin on my hand and gazed steadily out the window. We were on our way to Grandma’s house after church and the yellow light ahead was ignoring our inward pleas to stay the same. As we stopped, a truck caught up with us. I looked out the window and glanced at the girl in the truck the exact same moment she glanced at me. Our eyes locked for a brief moment... we turned away apologetically, each from the other.
We drove on and my mind kept straying back to that moment. Why did we feel awkward and sorry for looking another in the eye? Are we so worried of involving ourselves in another’s life? Of offending them?
There was a man driving the truck and a baby in the back seat. I think the carrier was pink, so it was probably a girl. Where were they going? Did they have family to spend Sunday afternoons with? To my memory, that was the first time I’ve ever met eyes with someone else whilst in a car.
Why did this stick with me so much? I’m honestly not sure. Little moments like this, ordinary moments, become extraordinary when reflected on enough. I could create multiple stories about the little family in the truck, none of which would be true; merely figments of my imaginings. I’ll probably never know who they were or where they were going, but I do know this: Next time something like this happens, I’m going to smile and try to show the love of Christ. Even if it makes me feel awkward and self-conscious.