Not sure exactly why, but I skipped church this morning. I heard the wind howling even worse than yesterday. Walls and windows were rattling. We have a weather station in the house, and it was showing winds between 35 and 55 miles per hour. Chief, who leaves the house every morning very early, and on Sundays, he makes it back to town in time for church -- called and said the wind was blowing.
(Oh, really? Thanks.) Here was his proof. He thinks he is a comedian.
This is what a farmer does when the wind is unbelievably high, and your farm ground (top soil) starts to blow away. You go out there with tractors, and you try to 'rough it up' so to speak, to keep it from blowing until the ground is slick-smooth. After I saw this picture he sent, I didn't move very quickly to get out the door. I peeked out the windows in every direction. Same view. Brown-ness. Somehow the idea of eating dirt and my skirt possibly blowing over my head kept me at home.
I've told you about my problems with breakfast, so I poured myself a giant glass of iced tea, and found that Joel Osteen was just starting on tv. Next best thing, I thought. His message was about God speaking to us and how we have to listen. We have to have open minds and be receptive to every thought that pops in there, because that's one way God moves us. Even when we think, no, that can't be right -- God is always right. We have to listen. We have to be receptive. He gave several real life examples of this happening in his life, his dad's life, and even strangers who had shared their tiny nudges and their choices to listen or wish later they had.
After Joel finished, I was left wanting more. I was flipping around looking for another minister to listen to, when I got a text. It was unusual, and it was from a friend from out of town. My friend texted me from church to tell me something hilarious that was happening in the praise band at their church right that moment. It was funny, but I sent a quick text back (correctly predicting the sermon reference) and decided we would finish this later.
Sure enough, my friend contacted me almost immediately upon returning home, and we continued this conversation. Their family is dealing with some heavy stuff, and they aren't sure where to turn for the type of help they need. The problem is not new. We talked a little about where they had been, where they were headed, the history of the situation, and recent scary events. If I hadn't have been home, I would have missed this. I'm not sure if I was helpful to the friend, or if the help and conversation was for me. But I was listening.
I am having a hard time believing that God wanted me to stay home this morning. Maybe I really did need to be available for the conversation with the friend that I ended up having. Sometimes you are listening and you don't even know you are listening.
