The Matrix that Holds Us All

Glimmers

I recently caught a glimpse of the divine intelligence that weaves through life in the most unexpected place—a glimmer of inspiration, the kind that made my nervous system feel calm, safe, connected.

I volunteered to put away lunches at my son’s school. It was a simple task that took about 30 minutes. Each class has a cart where the kids leave their lunchboxes, and after they begin their day, I rolled the carts to the refrigerator, carefully placing each lunchbox on its designated shelf.

For the younger grades, every lunchbox is supposed to have a label with the child’s name, classroom, and date. My job was to check for labels and, if one was missing, write it out with masking tape and a marker. Now that Gabriel’s in first grade, I only need to label his name. I remember when I used to write his classroom and the date, and how sometimes I’d forget, it would fall off, I’d write the wrong date. Seeing the variety of labels—some handwritten, others neatly typed—reminded me of those days. These small details are just little markers of where we are as parents on any given day.

I saw Gabriel’s friend’s sparkly gold lunchbox. I noticed that Gabriel’s name label had fallen off, and I carefully rewrote his name, securing it in a spot where it would (hopefully) not fall off again.

I was struck by how much I love doing this—this simple, small task—almost in awe of the depth of my love for it. There’s something so comforting about the quiet of the school hallways, the muffled sounds of children’s voices, maybe a little crying behind the doors. Peeking through the classroom windows, I could see these precious beings fully absorbed in their morning work. Behind those doors, so much is happening.

I feel so lucky to even be inside this magical place. I tell Gabriel all the time how much I’d love to spend the day at his school. The classrooms are just for kids, but it feels like magic happens in there—a perfect blend of structure and order, focus and care, play and creative freedom. There’s a rhythm to the day, an intentional flow that supports these little ones as they learn, grow, and safely explore their world. I can feel it wash over me, absorb it like a sponge.

As I store the lunchboxes, a couple of the staff thank me and remind me that I am accomplishing an important task that supports them in their day. I like being one part of the many people and jobs in this sacred flow that keeps everything running smoothly.

What I was feeling in those moments, I recognize as joy. Soft, awe-filled, grounded joy. It was warm, gooey at the center, and yet so sturdy and tangible all at once. It felt like I was being held by love itself, supported in the matrix that connects us all.

These glimpses of joy in the simplest things—maybe that’s how we touch the vastness.