I type this brief blog post with the backdrop of trickling rain dancing outside my window. It’s a cloudy, chilly Sunday in the south (Alabama, that is), with naked trees and hues of brown, orange, and grey painting the landscape of the land.
Today I debated going to church. I’m so glad the wise one in me won. My church, Church of the Highlands celebrated its 14th Anniversary. It was an amazing, amazing, one hour and 15 minute investment into my life. The music moved me, the message corrected and directed me, the ending with people choosing to give their lives to Christ through on-the-spot baptism encouraged me.
Coming out of that awesome worship experience, I began to get frustrated, really frustrated. Many don’t know, but my house has been on the market for five years following my divorce in 2010. (Gasp, I know!) Having to rearrange my life for the last five years, at the drop of a dime for dozens and dozens and dozens of strangers to enter my home, and deal with the unspoken of hassle this lingering part of the divorce continues to cause me has definitely developed my patience. I received calls yesterday that two (more) prospective buyers wanted to view my home in the middle of the day, which meant I would have to find somewhere to go to accommodate them. That’s also a sign of hope, which meant I had to learn to get over my frustrated feelings.
Now, I just mentioned that it’s cloudy, chilly and rainy here in my part of Alabama, and after an early morning church service I would like to do nothing more than go home and hop in the bed for a few uninterrupted hours. Not only could I not do that because of the home viewers, I couldn’t immediately find somewhere to go. So I went to Sonic’s and devoured the most fresh, delicious French toast sticks and sausage I’d had all month, with syrup streaming down my steering wheel. (BTW…Today is the first day of the month. Ha! Ha!) Then I headed home for a “teaser” knowing that I would only be able to enjoy my time there for one hour and 30 minutes before the first round of house hunters trekked in. Much to my surprise my one of my favorite, badly acted, beautifully intentioned, cult-classic movies, B.A.P.S. was on, and guess how much viewing time was left. Let’s just say there was enough time for me to catch up at my favorite part, write this post, light my Coconut Milk and Mango candle, tidy up my house again and get under the inviting covers for a hot minute with the rain whispering to me before having to head to my next destination for the day.
The fact that the Lord would allow me a bit of extra special peace and tranquility on a day that could have remained frustrating is a blessing to me and not taken lightly. Sure, it’s raining. Sure I couldn’t readily find somewhere to go. Sure I had to reroute my plans and use gas I had not planned on exhausting. Sure I didn’t have as much time at home as I would have preferred. Sure B.A.P.S. is definitely not Halli Berry’s or Martin Landau’s finest, award-winning film, but I’ll take the beautiful joys of this sweet Sunday ANYDAY compared to the sourpuss alterative.
PS…Wouldn’t you know it, as soon as B.A.P.S. went off, Purple Rain, another poorly acted, but undeniable classic, all-time FAVORITES came on. Yes, indeed. I’d say today is sweet. And it’ll be even sweeter when I head to my next stop, throw on my sweats and plop down in front of the big screen. Singing…Purple Rain, Purple Rain…