January 14

I had a lovely chat with Diane this morning, which was funny because I'd never seen her before in my life.

As I was leaving Starbucks, I noticed a silver-haired lady sitting outside at a table knitting.

Talk to her.

I paused, but continued on to my car and got in. And then...

Go talk to her.

I sighed. Although I'm a healthy mix of introverted and extroverted, I still had zero desire to strike up a conversation with a stranger. After all, who does that? What if she thought I was a nutjob? What if she was mean? What if...

GO TALK TO HER.

I had my key poised by the ignition. But I knew I'd regret not heeding the voice; after all, it was a pretty harmless task. So I got out of the car. And I walked over to her. And I said hi and introduced myself and told her I felt like I needed to come chat with her.

And then I saw her necklace:

And in an instant --a tiny, crystallized, perfect moment in time, I knew why I was sitting there talking to a complete stranger.

I asked about the ring. And she told me about her husband, Chuck, who died of cancer in 2012.

Logan died of cancer in 2012.

And she told me that wearing his ring around her neck helps keep him close to her heart.

Just like I wear necklaces to keep Logan close to my own heart.

I told her about Logan. She surmised that he and Chuck were in Heaven, wherever and whenever Heaven is. We wondered what they were both doing. She wondered if Chuck misses her or if time just works differently there. I've wondered the same thing, but she was the one who spoke the words.

At some point, she took off her sunglasses and looked me right in the eye. And I felt a real connection.

I thanked her for talking to a random stranger. And for sharing.

She gave me a hug.

And I drove home.

It was a surreal experience, and I'm so thankful that I was open to doing something a little bit crazy. I know that for those 15 minutes, I felt like someone else really understood my co-mingled feelings of loss and hope for the future.

And I hope that she shared the sentiment.