Do y'ever just have those times of perfection? Contentedly happy. I think the last time I felt like this was the night Stan and I used each other as backrests.
There has _got_ to be a God thing here.
It's nice I'm taking a personal day tomorrow and may get to go kayaking. It was good to be part of a meeting with other adults tonight and feel that I was heard.
Afterward, I plopped myself down at the church's drumset and plugged my headphones into my computer. I youtubed up some Def Leppard and tried to combine what Stan had told me on Easter Sunday with what I was hearing in the music. And that was interesting. There are only so many times, however, that one can listen to "Hysteria," "Photograph" and "Animal" before wanting to turn the sticks toward one's computer.
I pulled up some of my music files and grooved with Jars of Clay, Caedmon's Call and the David Crowder Band. It was very good no one was around. I looked rather silly. My left heel actually fell asleep.
Sitting there, I realized how much like my random drives in the country that was. Music loud. Drumsticks instead of pens on the steering wheel. Physical exertion, no matter how slight. Time to breathe. Alone enough to feel the presence of God. Alone enough to realize I am accountable to Him. Alone enough to realize He does fulfill me.
I left, tired and...perhaps not "empty," but "open." Relaxed, except for the dark church hallways I navigated alone. (Even that wasn't so bad.) About to exit the building, I noticed HA spending some quality time in a cushy chair. We chatted, and Stan called back.
*I want sugar.*
*Wanna run to the store?*
*Sure. But you're gonna have to come pick me up.*
I did, and let him drive since my body is better designed for sitting on the cupholder tray. (My kayak takes up the majority of my passenger seat...and the rest of my car.) And it was nice. I am so blessed to have safe guy friends who at times provide the physical touch I crave. How funny that this came after I had spent time worshipping God.
Stan waited patiently as I extricated myself from the car, and we walked into the store.
*Go ahead,* I nudged him. *Find your stuff.*
*You're not getting anything? I thought you had stuff to get.*
*I thought you wanted to get stuff! That's why I asked if you wanted to go to the store!*
We still managed to wander and make fairly respectable purchases before loading ourselves into the car again, getting platonically cozy in a small space as only exes-turned-friends can, with God's miraculous restoration.
Pulling up at Stan's house, we saw that his sister Ley was there. She drug out a flashlight and we scouted for the worms she and Stan had seen mating the night before. There were nightcrawlers and grubs and a millipede or two--nothing exciting until we ventured to the side of the house and she yelped. The flashlight beam barely caught two nightcrawlers at a moment obviously intended for just themselves. They separated and disappeared faster than two high schoolers on a couch when one's parents come home.
Ley chased her boyfriend Chi with a slower-moving single worm. The chicken Rottweiler dared to sniff my hand...and leg... Ley and I joked about further worm-scouting a few hours into the future, particularly under Stan's window and including loud exclamations for each discovery.
And that was it. It was short. It was sweet. And it was God's almighty hand that transformed small-town moments into precious tidbits for my mind, heart and spirit.
So Stan, if you've been praying through my recent tribulations, thank you. God is good. All the time!
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