It's difficult to stay perturbed when you get the runaround if you have a good time later on.
Last week I thought I would get a final answer from the doc, but I got a not-so-final maybe, and it perturbed me. Then, however, we met our friends Mike and Annette Goater at an Italian restaurant in Marion for dinner, and all the bad slipped away. It was too much fun. Until one of the bus boys came by and took the plates, including the one with my bread stick on it. At least I saved my lasagna. He might have been trying to tell me to quit talking and hurry up with the leaving, but I didn't care.
Michael and I graduated together in 1965, and this little reunion came on the heels of nine girls from our class meeting for dinner two days earlier in Eagle Grove.
It's tough staying crabby about anything when I have so much fun in the past.
When we first started our monthly dinners, it took a while to figure out who each of the girls was. Time does that to eyes. Now, however, each looks exactly as I remember her from high school. I hadn't seen Michael for about 40 years, but his mother, Onie, and mine were fast friends. Years back, Mom and I went to visit Onie one day, and Mike called. Onie made us talk. Since then, we've become good friends. Our moms, both dead, would be happy.
Getting happy last Friday just shows how little things can turn your thinking around, can push bad things out of your head. So, too, can little miracles.
At church Sunday, I was hurting a bit and between prayers thought "I've sure been playing in the dark these days."
Within seconds, the lights went out. For real. A cloudy day, no sunshine even slipped through the windows. Only the two candles on Grace Lutheran's altar and the baptismal candle lit the church. Almost as if I heard God talking, I heard the words, "Even in the dark, I am the light. There is no dark too dark for me."
Puts a whole new perspective on whining about slow doctoring.
It's like the shipwrecked man who, though exhausted, managed to build a driftwood hut to protect himself from the elements and to store what few possessions he had saved. He prayed for rescue, but no help came. One day, after scavenging for food, he found his little hut in flames, with smoke rolling to the sky. He cried out, "God! How could you do this to me?" Early the next day, he was awakened by the sound of a ship approaching the island. Those on the boat had seen the smoke.
The moral of this story: It's easy to get discouraged when things go bad, but we shouldn't lose heart, because God is at work in our lives, even in the midst of our pain and suffering. The next time your little hut seems to be burning to the ground, it just may be a smoke signal that summons the grace of God.
Maybe I should set the doctor's office on fire and see what happens.
So long friends, until the next time when we're together.
Contact Sandy Mickelson at (515) 573-2141 or email@example.com