I think I must like that word: insignificant. I’ve used it before when I spotted a moment in one of my favorite books, Les Miserable. You can read that completely unrelated post here. But right now, you can read this little reflection I began in the car on the way home from vacation this past Thursday….
We were driving on our way home from another unique ‘vacation’ when I started to share in words this little trifling story – part one of the trip we passed working hard with young people and loving it in Czech Republic, and part two spent relaxing at the foot of the Dolomites of Italy. Maybe one day I’ll tell some great stories (and funny ones too, because there were plenty!) about part one. But right now I will skip to a small, somewhat insignificant event from part two. Well, even insignificant events can mean a lot – especially when enjoyed with family.
As I said, we were driving back home, enjoying some Bossa tunes from a cd I took – from a cardboard trading box in a restaurant in Feltre. And now that you are possibly confused, not sure where I’m going with this anecdote, and wondering how small events, cd’s, and restaurants even possibly relate, come with me to the day before where my family and I stood looking at a tourist sign in Feltre.
To be honest with you, my sweet husband and I were actually beginning to get irritated with each other. I wanted to sit down to eat, but not take too long, he wanted to just grab sandwiches, and we were beginning to go head-to-head in a nice way, albeit slightly cranky. That’s when I said, ‘hold on. Let’s pray.’ I love what happens afterward every time we do that. Because then Someone Else intervenes.
So there we were, not fighting anymore, just looking at the info sign and attempting to come to a mutual agreement on which way to enter the old city. That’s when an insignificant, sweet old lady walked up to us (out of her way, I want you to realize, because she crossed the street to us only to cross back again after our conversation and go back the same way she came). I didn’t catch her first comment, but it had to do with asking us if we needed help.
“Si, stiamo cercando di quale direzione entrare la parta vecchia dalla città, anche vogliamo cercare un posto dove mangiare.” (For those who need translation, I let her know we were trying to decide from which direction to enter the old city as well as looking for a place to eat.)
“Allora, se voi andate ancora avanti, entrate sotto la ponta, e subito sulla sinistra troverà un’osteria molto buono, non c’e tanti scelti, ma buono con prezzi giusti.” (So she told us which door to go in AND a good restaurant.)
We spoke a little more as she gave a few other tips, and then she walked away, back in the same direction from where she had come. My silly hubby was cracking up at God sending us an old lady to tell us what to do. Like good young people who respect their elders, we listened to her, and I’m very glad we did 🙂
Just inside the lovely old gateway to enter the original city, we found the restaurant called Crash. If I were to rename that hidden treasure, I’d call it ‘Don’t judge a book by it’s cover’ or ‘Come check out our hipster style with exquisite taste’. Okay, maybe Crash is a great name, both of my ideas are just too long for a restaurant name.
We were the only people to come for lunch so far that day – which changed over the course of our meal. But the place was so cute, the music playing was absolutely perfect, and the service was super friendly and helpful. Yes, the menu was limited, but that didn’t make choosing challenging at all. Everything sounded delicious….and we devoured our plates: everything tasted delicious. Our sweet kids are growing up so fast, I felt like we were 4 friends visiting and enjoying being out together. There was no need to tell them to sit up, eat over their plate, not pick on each other. And that’s not always the case! But not today, not on that insignificant magical meal in Feltre. We lived our lunch with laughter, with remembering other more significant events from the past days, and fun photographs of this fleeting moment.
As we walked away, full and refreshed, I breathed a prayer to thank God above who cares about even the insignificant moments of our lives.