Yesterday, I had a nice experience with the Spirit on the way home with my car full of groceries. I remembered that I had gotten a magazine in the mail a couple of days ago that was intended for a woman who lives exactly one block north.
“I should take her her magazine after I put the groceries away.”
“And it would be polite to attach a note, explaining that it had been mistakenly and coincidentally delivered to another quilter.”
“And I could also attach a fat quarter or some charm squares.”
Proving that Heaven is behind my ongoing project of stash-busting; i.e., really *is* in the details.
I share this not to glorify myself, but to illustrate a process. Candleman touched upon this in a recent post (well worth your time to click on the link, for another perspective on the sixteen smooth stones that went into the barges), in which he discusses why we might be so reluctant to ask, or to not ask the deep questions.
It is always instructive, and sometimes entertaining, to ask Heaven what we should do next, or why we should do the thing that is obviously inspiration because it is a good thing which runs counter to our [OK, my] natural desires.
When I first saw the chapel for my current ward, I knew that I was supposed to be here, and I asked, “Would you mind telling me why?”
So I was not entirely unprepared at the answer to another question, just shy of a year later. “I feel like I need to be doing something, that You don’t have it in mind for me to go dancing six nights a week, although I certainly could.” No immediate response, but a few days later [two days after my birthday] as I walked up to the chapel door, there was the executive secretary telling me, “Bishop would like to meet with you at 2:30.” And it all came together in my head, interspersed with flashes of oh please let me not be presumptuous about this.
Friends have asked if my life is any less complicated now that I am no longer the Relief Society president. Maybe a little; my keyring is certainly lighter. But I still have a lot on my plate, most of which I have consciously chosen.
Get fit. Get out of debt. Save money. Serve others. Eat chocolate. Make art. Be a good matriarch. Know and live the scriptures. Live a consecrated, sanctified life. Clean house and simplify, both literally and metaphorically. Sustain my leadership. Attend the singles’ conferences (even if the one next weekend is in Allen, which is 55 miles from my house, and the keynote speaker is Danny White, and we know how much I love football). Stay open to the concept of remarriage. “You want me to what? We see how well that happened, last time.”
All the little ordinary acts and hopes that make up a human life.
Today is pretty cool. I have already read a couple of the Conference talks which I missed when I took that much-needed nap last Saturday. And after church today, we are congregating at Firstborn’s for Lark’s birthday party. Big sister Willow drove in from out-of-state. I will get to see 80% of my children (and have chatted briefly with the other one, via Facebook, this morning) and 100% of my grandchildren.
I am about 75% done with the Hemingway book, something like 50% done with Blessing’s shrug, and 100% ready for a quick nap before church.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!