Never let anyone tell you God doesn't have a sense of humor.
So, I've just washed my hair and tossed a little warm air at it with the hair dryer when my friend Dawn, home on leave from the Army, came over to play. That was a very good day, indeed, and the good feeling stayed with me the next day when I had to do a little shopping. We all know how shopping will deplete my good mood.
I'm driving into town over the Karl King Viaduct, trying to ignore an errant hair waving at the side of my right eye in time with the sway of the car, which only added to the irritation of not being able to brush it away.
Finally, I took off my glasses and pressed my fingers as tightly as I could to my face and rubbed slowly. No hair could withstand that onslaught - but it did. That crazy strand of hair still waved with the movement of the car.
Strands of hair often get stuck at the edge of my eye when I sleep, so I didn't complain when I got stopped by the lights at the east end of the bridge. I took that time to look in the mirror to find the hair.
No hair. Anywhere, except on my head, which in itself is a major feat since I lose hair so fast I should be bald. On that day, however, there was no hair sticking to my eyelashes.
Then I saw it. My antenna moved ever so slightly. My mind must have seen the movement as I drove but turned the thin, silver antenna into a hair. I started to laugh, which rocked the van, and the "hair" moved even more.
It's possible, I admit, to see this as a manifestation of too little sleep or too much shopping anxiety, but I prefer to see it as God's sense of humor. He finally found me in a good mood and was playing with me.
That, I think, will fuel any resolution I plan to make for the new year. I shall resolve to look for the fun in life, to ignore the little things that could ruin a perfectly good mood and to accept the fact that I don't always have a handle on what's going on.
This is big for me.
It's so much easier to complain about life, and heaven knows there's a lot to complain about, but I'm using God's playfulness as a benchmark. If he sees humor in the hum-drum of daily life, maybe it's not so hum-drum after all. Maybe it's just what I make of it, and making it fun is a much better way to go.
Because I'm not big on resolutions, this epiphany likely will slip through the resolution web by my birthday, which is, by the way, coming very soon. I'll be 65, plenty old enough to give up feeling sorry for myself and to accept life as just that - life.
It is what we make of it.
So long friends, until the next time when we're together.
Sandy Mickelson is the former lifestyle editor of The Messenger. She is retired. She may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.