You are not ordinary, neither is the guy who cut you off.

When you die...

Not if. When.

When you die, what follows will either be a shameful tradgedy or the conclusion of a beauitful reconciliation.

I suppose I should mention the third option, because some people actually do believe it exists. *no offence*

The third option is that there is no immaterial. We are not imago dei, we are imago matter...or when everything is said and done imago nothing.

I am watching a man right now, on the very final leg of his physcial existence...spending all his precious time watching televsion.

My observation is not from a loathing, critical spirit...it comes from a belief that he is so much more than he appears. Despite his weakend, corpse like physical presence... I believe he is really so much more.

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations--these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit--immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn: We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously--no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be a real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner--no mere tolerance, or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your senses.

Words from The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis.

Do you think that perhaps at times you see other people as mere cattle on the road? Blocking you on your road to real happiness and success? Are people often in the way of your life, delaying your journey and keeping you from your destination?

I will admit that I often feel this way. I forget that every man, woman and child is a dearly loved by God. I forget just as often that I am dearly loved by God.

We are here to Love God, to know his Love for us, and to Love one another through his Love for Us.

Anything outside of this... to me is at best a scent of what we were made to do, and why we exist.