Today started like any other Saturday for me.
Except I ate half a honeydew melon for breakfast. That is unusual. A delight though.
I ate my honeydew while Will & Grace played in the background. They are the only voices I hear at home. I don’t even hear my own unless I’m on the phone (which I avoid). I checked my email, not because I was expecting any–more so out of compulsion. Junk email and a few Facebook notices. Whatever.
I had an acupuncture appointment at 10. They’re treating me for insomnia. I guess I don’t really have bonafide insomnia. I fall asleep easily; it’s the staying asleep part that troubles me (well…I guess that is insomnia). And I wake up ridiculously early. Acupuncture has helped with other ailments I’ve had recently, so I’m thankful for that. Although, in the back of my mind, I do wonder if it is, well, just in my mind! But does that matter? If I feel better, does it matter why or how? I mean, I guess the $20 I shell out each week adds up quickly for something that’s not really working. I used to worry about that, but I don’t anymore. If nothing else, acupuncture forces me to stop. To be still. To pay attention to myself and my body. It’s a shame it takes appointments and $20 to make me do that. Ha. I always try not to fall asleep during my session, but I usually do. Today, I caught myself having weird little dreams before I had even fully fallen asleep. I thought they were thoughts and then I realized they weren’t making sense. It was all very odd. But I welcomed it.
I left acupuncture and walked up the street to the coffee shop. I ordered oatmeal and coffee. They put cinnamon and vanilla and cranberries in the oatmeal. A little dry but tasty. I pulled out my journal and my devotional and turned off my phone. I had made up my mind to talk to God. Before I could even talk to Him, though, I felt the need to talk to myself (on paper, I mean). So I started writing just to expel my thoughts and feelings. Sometimes I feel like I throw up on God with all my thoughts and feelings. And He can take it, He can. But by the time I’m done throwing up, I’m too tired or distracted to listen for Him or to Him. So I figured I’d get the throw up out of the way first. My devotional today spoke to me. Stuff about fitting into the culture around me without even thinking about it. And how the culture drags me down and God brings the best out of me. As I read, I felt this strange feeling…something like conviction but not as strong. It was more like….when you get lost in a city (I’m thinking pre-GPS era), and you’re driving around for forever and finally something looks vaguely familiar. You haven’t reached your destination yet, but there is a sense that it’s not too far away. I didn’t feel convicted; I felt like I had run into a landmark that I recognized.
So I did talk to God. I told Him of my disappointments and exasperations. I didn’t get far. I didn’t have much to say. I ended up people-watching more than anything. But I did tell God that I’m trying to reconnect with Him. I had this weird, desperate feeling inside. Like…”God, I don’t know what else to do or how many ways to ask. I’m weary of trying. Do whatever You’re gonna do.”
I left the coffee shop and strolled around the square. They had blocked off a section for “Market Days”, so I strolled past the tents to see what they had. Local farmers selling tomatoes and peaches and plants, etc. Then a man came up to me to give me a flyer for his church. A chubby Hispanic man with braces on his teeth and passion in his voice. He started talking to me…well, evangelizing really. It started out as an introduction and an invitation, then turned into him sharing some of his testimony and witnessing to me. I told him I was saved. That, of course, changed the tenor of the conversation a little bit. I didn’t tell him I was saved because I wanted him to know; I told him because I didn’t feel like listening to him talk about heaven and hell and the end times and all of that. Stuff I already know and already have my own thoughts about. He then invited a woman over that introduced herself and started talking to me and gave me her phone number. She seemed open-hearted. I remember thinking, “The next time I need someone to pray for me, I will call her.” And I found comfort in that just for a moment, while I stood in the hot sun between farmers’ tents on a sunny Saturday in central Texas. Just for a moment.
I left Market Days and strolled down to the consignment store, not really in search of anything but open to the possibilities. When I walked in, I noticed an elderly woman sitting on a chair doing a crossword puzzle. She said hello and I responded and asked how she was doing today. My response flung wide a door of conversation! She began talking to me about who-knows-what, and then talking to me about the fact that she talks to people that come into the store. She said, “You know why I talk to people? The Lord!” I was a little surprised by her answer and didn’t quite get it. But as she continued to talk, I understood. Here sat a woman SO full of joy that she couldn’t hardly contain it! So I stood there and entertained her rambling for several minutes. And I desperately wanted to just walk away and shop in peace, but I suspended myself in that conversation because I sensed that it brought her joy to be listened to. And it brought me a slice of joy just to experience the overflow of her joy. She said something about Jesus and God and people….I was only half listening. With the other half I was thinking, “God…are you trying to connect with me?”
I think He was.
I think the church people in the street were God reaching out to me. I’ll probably never go to that church or call that woman. I was somewhat turned off by the whole interaction. But their passion inspired me. It’s as if God was saying, “I’m still worth it. I’m still worth all of your passion.” I think the chatty old lady was God reaching out to me. It’s as if God was saying, “I see you. Even here, I see you. This is the joy I want for you.”
There was a great reassurance in my soul that God heard my heart in the coffee shop.
