I had a long, luxurious breakfast today with a good friend. We sat and ate apple strudel, mushroom quiche with thyme, good, rich coffee and a big yummy bowl of cheese grits. It was heavenly. There was a mother and a little boy, about two years old, sitting at the wooden table next to us. As the mama was enjoying just a couple of minutes with her coffee, her son, seated in a stroller was eating monkey snacks, or small little jelly things. All of sudden, I saw a bright green thing fly from the stroller onto the floor and I heard coughing. Then, I saw him stop for a second, and then he had a look of alarm. And so did the mama. The mother jumped up and turned him over and started hitting has back to get this monkey snack out. And then, she stuck her finger down his throat to get it out. The child vomited on the floor and started crying. By this point, my friend had her cell phone in hand and we both moved very close to the situation. I got down on the little boy's level and just looked at his eyes. He was breathing. Mama was panicking. When my children were toddler's, my mama friends would laugh because I would cut a hot dog into tiny little pieces, just to avoid this catastrophe. When my children turned three, my friends started to tell me it was okay for my child to eat a grape. I still cut them up. So, needless to say, this moment was a little terrifying, for all of us. But, for some reason, as I was praying standing next to this woman, I felt a sense of calm. I felt a sense of peace. After we knew this child was breathing, we all, my friend, mama and little boy, stood together, holding each other in this restaurant, while mama cried.

Tomorrow afternoon, I will be in the hospital having a breast biopsy. The doctors think that it is nothing. They said, they are just being conservative. Something like this would freeze me in fear, even just six months ago. But I have been getting lots of practice; praying for God to show up in the unexpected places of life. I pray when I am in the hospital, God let me see you here. I pray when a child is choking, God let me see you hear. I pray when I am listening to really bad music in a restaurant, God help me to hear you here. This has helped me trust this situation, in ways that I never could have. Also, paying attention to my body, keeps me in the moment. We don't sense our lives in our thinking minds. We sense our lives through our tongues, our fingertips, our ears, our eyes, our hearts.  Unbelievably, by the grace of God, I have not projected myself, more than a couple of times, into the future where I am dying and saying goodbye to my children. My worst fear. This time around, I am choosing to look into my child's eyes, right in the moment, as he tells me about his school day. I really tasted my mango, black bean and rice burrito today. I smelled a lilac in a vase three times today in passing. And I stood on my grass last night and listened to the grasshoppers sing. And I said out loud, God, thank you for giving me this life. Thank you for this moment. To say this, while awaiting a breast biopsy is truly, in my case, a miracle. It truly is. To not freeze, but to live, is such a new way of being in the world for me. I am trying to just receive this peace. The fear rises, I get a tingling in my chest and a pit in my stomach, and then I hear from within, Jenny, you are not there, yet. And when I am, like when I was in the ultrasound room watching pictures of my breast on the screen, as my legs shook in old fear, I knew I was not alone. God was there. Because God could be. Right there in the moment. God cannot be with me in the fantasies of my mind.

Back in the restaurant this morning, after some thank yous and goodbyes with the mama and her son, my friend and I sat back down at our table, breathed deeply, and my friend said, "Monkey snacks and breast biopsies." With tears in our eyes, we laughed. Life is a fragile, precious gift. I intend to fill in every space of me. And taste the delicious gift that this life is. Every single part of it.

If you think of it tomorrow, around 12:30 in the afternoon, send out a prayer for me, would you? And, let our prayers be this: That I stay very, very close to God. I don't pray for outcomes anymore, because when I do, I am often left feeling abandoned. But God, stay close; I like that prayer. I know you, God, are with me no matter what.