When interruptions require me to slow down or completely stop, once I work through the irritation, I catch sight of wonder that would go unnoticed in the rush of life.

It was a rainy Seattle January rush-hour morning. I had started my commute seventy-five minutes earlier and if the traffic did not pick up soon, I stood a good chance of being late. Suddenly traffic slowed and came to a complete stop. I felt panic and irritation. At first, my eyes stayed on the bottleneck. As the delay lengthened, I took in my full surroundings. To my surprise, I saw two raccoons had climbed up the nearby chain-linked fence separating the I-5 corridor and green belt from the parallel road. There they hung, each claw clinging into a link. They climbed two-thirds of the way up and stopped. I was mesmerized by them, and they were, what? Curious? Petrified? Traffic broke loose, I drove on and the raccoons remained on the fence. The next morning the raccoons were gone. I have often wondered if they tried to scale up and over the top. Or did they back on down to the safety of the greenbelt before any other harm came to them?

Another day, ugh, I missed the light— But! I came to a stop just in time for a crow to fly across the windshield. What was in its beak? Not one, but two peanuts! The crow landed in the sidewalk grass strip right by the passenger side easily within my sight. I expected the crow to drop the nuts, peck them open and feast. Instead, the crow pushed both nuts deep into a spot in the lawn. It then took up dried grass from a past mowing and pressed it down tightly over the cache. The crow hopped on to scout his next discovery as I moved forward with the green light.

Over time, the irritation of needing to stop at lights dissipated as I saw the value of using the time to look around and see! The sunlight at different times of day and seasons filtering through the leaves; the streets lined with the fresh promise of spring in the pastel-colored blossoms; birds splashing a bath in puddles; birds gathering twigs for nests; people walking their dogs; and dogs walking their people!

One day an hour-long stop due to a traffic accident provided a front-row seat for a show by Mother Nature. Immediately to my left was a cemetery. It had beautiful rolling hills and a lovely view of the Salish Sea. I watched in awe as a small, isolated weather system moved across that water view. It was like in cartoons. The land was in complete sunshine, while an invisible showerhead poured a column of rain down and slowly moved across the open water! What a gift amid stopped traffic.

On another harried day at work, I retrieved a voice message on my phone, “Please come to the front desk.” Initially I was irritated. If this request was so important, why was I not paged? If the request was not urgent then why not inform me of the purpose so I could determine when to squeeze in a stop by the desk during my day. To my absolute surprise and delight, a cake from my mother was waiting for me at the desk. No longer able to drive herself, she arranged for a friend making the two-hour trek to hand deliver the culinary gift. Cooking and baking were Mom’s great passion, and this was her way of sending an “I love you” to her daughter. Never has one of her cakes tasted so good.

Many years ago, amid struggling to finish school, get a career, “get a life,” and heal from significant losses, I was gifted a print by Brian Andreas titled, Angels of Mercy. Brian’s work is noted for bright colors and unconventional figures. This piece has two ‘angels’ looking anything but angelic, and the inscription reads, “Most people don’t know there are angels whose only job is to make sure you don’t get too comfortable & fall asleep & miss your life.” At the time, I felt those angels had done their work too well. I was ready for more comfort and while working and getting my master’s degree, I certainly could use more sleep! Irritation!

Yet, as those angels hung on the wall of my spiritual care office year after year, I began to love that piece. I came to understand that it is in those interruptions that one takes the time to see, to reconsider or perhaps just to be. The interruptions in life are life. This understanding would become so significant in my family that my daughter would create her own pattern of angels and sew a quilt for me inscribing the poignant phrase around the edges. I proudly display it in my living room to remind me of her love and the realization to be open to this remarkable existence in all its irritations and interruptions!

I also recall an attitude-adjustment conversation many years ago with a dear friend who loved me enough to nudge me along further into maturity. I had complained bitterly about a perceived slight, and she encouraged me to find the blessing in the situation. I erupted, “Blessings! I am sick and tired of hearing about blessings!” My friend replied, “Kizzie, it takes you out of being the victim into being the receiver of gifts.”

Ah, to be the receiver of gifts. The gifts are all around us every day and isn’t it ironic that irritations and interruptions are sometimes the instruments used to wake us up to their wonderment?

Revised from an earlier version published in Writing in Place: Prose & Poetry from the Pacific Northwest, by The Edmonds Writing Sisters, 2019.

Crow photos by Kizzie Jones.

Two Racoons Holding on a Metal Cage by Tatiana Orlova / Pexels.

Angels of Mercy ©storypeople storypeople.com.

Quilt made by Kizzie Marie Funkhouser. Photo by Kizzie Jones.