A really great Sabbath

Another one of those golden days, and much appreciated.

I made it to Arlington early, so I drove through my old neighborhood to see the flood damage. My friend Leslye's house is by a park and a creek. That creek sent four feet of floodwater through her home last week. All along that curve, the houses were open, and many of them had Dumpsters out front. I saw her hubby and a younger man (not their son) out in the yard but did not have time to stop and hug everybody. A little further down the street is the complex where we lived for several years, the one where it was Mardi Gras 24/7 upstairs, after Katrina. The property is still surrounded by a chainlink fence. The units on the west side ground floor had their windows and doors open, so they must have had some flooding. Our old apartment, on higher ground, appears to be intact.

Then I drove on to the chapel and to hear Firstborn sing, “I Heard Him Come,” a lovely song written from the viewpoint of one of the lepers. I wish her voice coach from high school could have heard her. I got a lot of knitting in and am now halfway up the left back on Faith’s sweater.

Then I came home, took a catnap, and picked up my companion for visiting teaching. We went over, had dinner, and talked for nearly four hours about family life and the gospel. I got home just in time to go to bed again.

My gym bag is packed; let Monday officially begin.