It’s the little things …


Today was a good day. Ninety-two in September … a trip to the Farmer’s Market, grocery shopping with the Husband and lion-boy, stopping at “Guitar Center,” and picking up some much-needed musical equipment. BLT’s to celebrate “National Bacon Day,” both of my kids still in school beginning (on their own, I might add) their assignments three days before “school” starts (that’s a first, I tell ya!). Now, watching “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

Today was a day of little blessings that culminated with an incredible kindness by a friend. Angie is a sweet woman from our church. She is quiet, yet strong. Amazingly observant (something I am not), and her entire family exudes gentleness. Tonight, she stopped by after telling the Husband, “I found something at a garage sale for your wife she might like.”

I have a lot of history with “church people.” Much of it is good, I’ll admit. But there have been times people have “thought” to give me clothes because they were embarrassed by the way I or my children dressed. Or books they thought I would “be interested in” because they spotlighted things these fine folks thought I should change. Or times when people would come to our house and inform us our vehicles were an “embarrassment” to them, so much so they could never invite their friends to our church.

I try to focus on the good, you know? But some of the wounds inflicted “in Jesus name” are difficult to heal.

So, when someone (who I believe to be wonderful) says something like that, my heart is torn between what I “want to believe” and what I have been subjected to. I tell myself, “Think the best, think the best, think the best …” but honestly, I struggle.

So, when Angie came by tonight, I put on a smile, and went to see her. “I found this,” she said, and handed me a cup. “I noticed you collect these, and wondered if you had this one.” She was right — we collect goofy things but that hold very special places in our family mythology. And the cup she found … the cup she found was one of eight. I had seven. The one she found … was the one cup I was missing.

Crazy. Crazy that this busy woman was observant enough to notice we even had these cups. Crazy that she was so thoughtful that she would be out and about, thinking about us. Crazy that the one missing cup from this collection was found at a garage sale, fully intact and boxed, and “just happened” to be a sale my friend Angie stopped by.

Crazy enough that a God I often doubt cares about me can use a little thing to further my faith.

So here’s to a day of small things that culminated in a very big thing for me. May I etch this day in my heart, so that when the days are not so beautiful, I remember, and still believe tomorrow can be better.


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