Tonight, as I sat in the Safeway parking lot, waiting for my dear friend Sharla, I had time to simply sit and think. As I sat pondering life and deep questions that have been tracking through my brain, I saw a woman get out of the car almost directly across from me. She was a smallish woman, a little over 5’, with salt and pepper hair pulled into a bun. The clothes she wore marked her as a guard or other disciplinary figure from one of the prisons in the area. She looked tired, shoulders slumped, head not quite down, but definitely far from what I figured she could look like during the day; and I had to wonder what her day had held. Questions continued to pour into my brain as I watched her. Did she have family? Was she going home to an empty house? Did anybody care for her heart? Was her day bad? Was her day good? Did anyone care? Did she feel loved, accepted, wanted? As I drove away, I put her out of my mind. I spent my evening being seen and heard; and seeing and hearing for two others. We cared for each other. We shared our hearts. As I drove home, the woman I saw came to mind. Say there was a chance that she didn’t have anyone, why wasn’t I more grateful for the people that God had put into my life? Why wasn’t I more grateful for the things that I experienced that were painful, knowing that I had those strong towers full of God surrounding me? Why couldn’t I appreciate the journey and process more, when I have everything given to me to succeed in this crazy thing called life? Why wasn’t I more grateful for the cross and Jesus, knowing that from those two together and the sacrifice, that I’ve been given a different Lifeblood? Why do I hold so tightly when I know that letting go of my life means receiving true freedom? Why?