Flow.

I grinned and let my fingers fly. Words, word, letters spinning across the Tinderbox window. My table was snug against the magazine rack, my chair hidden from the Friday night crowd.

Blam! Blam! Bing bop whizz!!! The ideas snapped around faster than a foxtrotting Mariachi Band, faster than Mexican jumping beans in a pressure cooker.

Rare freedom. I grinned and nodded my head to the rhythm of the finger-taps.

Flow.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

She was stylish. Crisp. Bold colors set on black. And very sorrowful.

"Excuse me," she said and looked at me with deep -- deeply sorrowful eyes, "Do you mind if we take your table?"

An odd request, since there were plenty of other clear tables.

There were plenty of other clear tables, so I began to pack up my laptop.

The elderly woman continued to speak, "My -- this man, you see, has Alzheimer's."

I silently wrapped up my power supply.

"Every time we come, he sits in your seat. It's one of the last places where he remembers."

Inadequacy.

A hoarse mumble grated in-between the man's faithful vocal chords.

"Don't worry. This nice young man is going to let us sit here. Just be patient."

I quickly stood, and as I turned to walk away, nothing came to mind.

I opened my voice. "God Bless you," I said. Inside, I added, "as only You know how."

Her response was quick, "No. God bless you." she quavered.

I have never seen anyone so grateful as that time.

I was about to wonder if this was the greatest thing I have done in my life. It doesn't matter. Maybe it is. Righteousness and kindness aren't superlatives or comparisons.

Being found in a situation, we do what we can with God's help. It is good. It is enough. It is all we can really do.