I was travelling by the DLR- it’s a kind of overground tube that runs in my part of London when I saw her
Of African origin, with a sparkling skin. Very tall, with the longest legs possible. Very well turned out- with perfect nails, dress, shoes , hair. She was wearing huge fashionable shades. Hair pulled back in a very in hairstyle that suited her well. Black 6 inch heels. Black glittering bag.
She seemed so confident, well to do and successful. A little arrogant perhaps. A little intimidating, maybe. The perfect work woman.
I looked at her with envy as I chatted with Ma catching up on her day. I wondered why I can never look like that. I can look sweet at best- never this kind of Oh My God.
Mummy said something and I laughed. As I laughed I stole a glance at her again- just curious to check out her watch. That’s when I saw them.
Big Fat tears. Rolling down her cheeks from under her shades.
She hurriedly wiped them off with a tissue she clutched tightly in her hands. With the tears removed, she went back to looking like she belonged to a near perfect life.
A few seconds later some more escaped from beneath her shades.
That made me think how often we think how perfect the life of XYZ person is and have no idea what actually is going on.
And brought back to my head a hymn I learnt way back in school:
Count your blessings
And name them one by one
And you will be surprised to see
What the Lord has done.