Frozen Scrambled Eggs
It’s happened to me more than once.
I make scrambled eggs for a child, but I’m in too much of a rush to wait for them to cool down, so I balance the plate of scrambled eggs on top of the ice cream and veggie hotdogs in the freezer.
And then the phone rings and someone comes to the door and a certain child needs a diaper change URGENTLY, and the next time I remember about the scrambled eggs cooling in the freezer is a week later when I go looking for the ice cream.
Yesterday I was rushing somewhere when I saw somebody I haven’t see in a few years.
At first, I slowed my pace to walk with her, and enjoyed getting an update on her kids and life.
But I was in a rush, so after two or three minutes I excused myself, and sped ahead of her, leaving her way behind…
Until I had to wait for the light to turn into a green walking man, and before long my long-lost friend was standing at my side.
And I realized, I could have enjoyed another minute of conversation with her, but chose to eat frozen scrambled eggs instead.
It’s not easy for me. But sometimes I make an effort to slow down.
This morning I walked by a house I rush by every single day on the way to Tsoofy’s gan, and for the first time ever I noticed the breathtaking explosion of flowers cascading down from its upper porch. I had never even seen them before!
And last night, I went walking on a street I’ve walked on hundreds of times, and for the first time I noticed the glow from a yeshiva’s crowded library of holy books—like the fire of Torah shining out and lighting up the world’s darkest corners. And then I noticed the name of the yeshiva—Me’or HaTorah, the light of torah!
How many similar wonders have I missed because I was rushing by, racing to make drop-off time, pick-up time, appointment-time, supper-time, bed-time?
What a treat, from time to time, to take a deep breath and sit down and enjoy my scrambled eggs—steaming hot.