Always heed the magic of life

Just when I think I’ve lost my way, life gives me a little something to work with and the clear message that I need to take a deep breath and step outside of what I think is safe.
Sometimes I just have to believe.
I was sitting in a local restaurant enjoying a Reuben sandwich, with one juicy mouthful in full swing. Long, chewy strands of sauerkraut hung from my lips as the woman approached my table, where I sat with one of my grandchildren.
The little person of my heart was busy dipping a French fry repeatedly in ketchup and licking off the red glob. We’d been talking about letters to Santa Claus and the excitement of waking up on Christmas morning to find our stockings filled with candies and other delights.
The little person of my heart was explaining to me how Santa managed to fit himself into each house—even the ones that didn’t have chimneys.
My sandwich was warm, and my attention was focused on how good it tasted and on listening to the conversation that revolved around the magic of Santa.
In that moment I was a living, breathing associate member of the “Power of Now” club. Nothing outside of that moment existed—until the woman stopped at our table.
I looked up at her standing over me and, feeling a piece of sauerkraut dangling from my lip, pushed it in with my finger as she promptly put her hand on the top of my shoulder.
This woman, with tousled gray hair and dressed in sweat pants and a big overcoat, wasn’t someone I knew nor had I ever met. She was a complete stranger.
I’m not normally easily startled and initially I wasn’t in that moment—until I felt her fingers apply what I only can term as a direct and clamping pressure to the muscles near my neck where she had touched me.
I know my eyebrows rose. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have time.
She looked directly into my eyes with palpable urgency and without blinking said, “There is no choice you’ve ever made, nor any you will ever make, that will limit you as much as you may fear.
“Get the mud out of your wings. Do it now.”
And then she let go of me, turned, and walked out of the restaurant.
My grandchild hadn’t stopped poking the French fry in ketchup during those few seconds of mysterious intervention. I, on the other hand, had to reach up and catch my dropped jaw before the masticated sauerkraut tumbled out of my mouth onto my plate.
The little person of my heart licked off another red glob and said most confidently, “I’ve seen your wings, Granny, and they aren’t muddy.
“You just have to believe you can fly and then leap, like I do.”
There is a quote by an unknown sage that reads, “The only way to live is by accepting each minute as an unrepeatable miracle, which is exactly what it is—a miracle and unrepeatable.”
That’s the truth.