Sunday was one of ‘those’ mornings. It fell in one of those weekends where most minutes are accounted for. Plans upon plans upon plans.
I woke up around six o’clock to get a run in before my day really hit its stride. Things started to intrude the way things tend to. It is important to note that I am not such an accomplished runner that things can go wrong and my morning run not be a train wreck, someday perhaps, but not this day.
It started with little things. I was greeted with yesterday’s dishes, having opted to ‘do them in the morning’. Now that morning was here, it seemed inopportune at best, but they needed done.
Today’s iteration of me decided that starting the coffee maker before doing the dishes wasn’t something that need be remembered. ‘Morning me’ just cost ‘runner me’ another twenty minutes. After starting the java machine and cursing myself, I laced up my shoes and set to get my equipment together. Again, if I were a better runner, equipment for a run might not be critical to my ability to accomplish said run, but alas, here we are. Long story short, I was first unable to find my running water bottle for a while and when it was eventually located, I found my iPod out of juice.
The iPod proved to be the death nail in my running plans more because of the time than the device. The dishes, the water bottle, the iPod combined set me too late to get a run in. No bother, I run not for the love of it but for the benefit of being able to go up a flight of stairs without sweating. I decided to enjoy the fresh coffee I had made and then get the girls up for Sunday school an event they generally enjoy. But today wasn’t generally, today was one of ‘those’ mornings.
Both Macy and Darby woke up on the way east side of the bed. They felt it important to complain about breakfast, about their clothes, about going to Sunday school, then about not going, and then about going again. By the time the waffles hit the table, it was eight o’clock and I was already through with my day. I went upstairs, got myself ready and was wanting to be left alone.
We got in the car and made our way to St. Luke’s. Apparently, Sunday was the first day Christmas music started its assault on the radio waves. The girls asked that the music be turned up, (because Burl Ives can never be played loud enough) and I sank deeper into my morning. Things haven’t been going great of late and this morning felt like the kick to the undercarriage that I didn’t need.
Now would be a good time for a couple of confessions. As church goers go, I am often as interested in a quiet place to sit as I am the ceremony. I am much more interested in strengthening the girl’s moral compass than salvaging mine. Second, I am not someone who believes in fate, karma, kismet, or things that are meant to be. This is important to the story.
I was thinking about my morning as I walked in the door of St. Luke’s and I thought to myself, “Faith is an easier thing if there’s a little less faith in it. Some people feel like they’ve had a ‘sign’. That’d be something I’d like. It’d make things easier.”
We walked in as the service started and I pulled a move that I haven’t pulled since I was twelve. As everyone got sat I excused myself to the restroom. This afforded me the time to go for a bit of a walk, get a drink of water, whatever floats my boat. I was trotting around and made my way to the restroom. A man held the door for me as he was walking out and I was walking in. Then it struck me.
There was a smell, a familiar one. Not the kind you generally associate with my locale. It was my dad’s cologne. If you had asked me before that moment if I could have identified that smell, I would have thought there would be zero chance. But there it was. I went into the restroom and felt a weird calm. Yes, and it was as awkward typing it as it was reading it. I had an overwhelming sense of calm standing in a church bathroom. There are things that I have wrestled with for years revolving around church, my dad, my family and my role in the world, but for one afternoon, I was at ease.
The lesson this week, ladies, well, I’m still not a person who thinks about ‘meant to be’ but I won’t claim that I understand everything either. I can say this, the cologne I smelled was absolutely your grandfather’s brand and I can say that I have absolutely not smelled it since he passed. I remember my mom saying the same thing about her father and if I remember correctly; it was in one of her own moments of need. I guess the lesson is this, don’t assume that if you can’t see it, it isn’t there. Who knows, there may be nothing after we shed this coil, but there may be something great, too. I don’t know, honestly, but I’m not ready to write it off just yet. Also, Macy, if you’re going to play with someone’s iPod, plug it back in! Apparently I needed a miracle to turn my mood around to get over you not plugging mine in.
Just seeing this one. Brings back a number of memories about dad, church, dad not going to church with us as kids . . . This was a nice one, a very accurate picture of best intentions flying off the rails with little provocation - feels like the story of my life sometimes!ReplyDelete