How many things have been happening? Approximately: so many. And why blog-post when you can live on the edge right? So, I think I’ll take the next few days and play catch up. It’s still my blog, I still make the rules.
SO!! Ste Anne pilgrimage happened a few weeks back. How’d it go? Well. They made a movie about it. You can see my face and stuff/ hear my speak in non-typed word:
I think it was a good day. Wellll, generally.
The shirts went well, the people were cool, the weather was PERFECT, the route was good, the maps and prayer books were nice, the mass was beautiful, the bus was good…etc.
Now, I tell you this so you don’t read this blog all, “Wow, look at her, she’s living a great life!11!” because, nope.
Back to the restaurant.
I had stopped in three different times in the weeks proceeding. I said things like, “This is what I’m planning on doing…” and “Can you accommodate…” and “Here, I typed everything we talked about on this sheet of paper….”
Oh, and we spoke on the telephone.
And we texted.
I thought I was so covered.
Now, the pilgrimage event started at 1:00 in the p.m. on a certain Saturday. Just before 11 a.m. on that Saturday, I started driving downtown, ready to set up and what not.
And I got a text from the restaurant, “Sorry, we can no longer accommodate.”
LIKE WHAT THE HECK????????
Cue minor heart attack.
Cue me texting close friends, “PRAY, PRAY HARD, PRAY RIGHT NOW!” (And some of them, “Wait. Who is this?”)
Cue stopping in the place, the restaurant preparing for something completely different than what we discussed (wha???). Cue me paying many dollars more than we had bargained for, just so I could get what I needed. (Because, seriously, how could I set up a similar deal in a FEW MINUTES when my event started in AN HOUR?)
Cue me driving to the event start-location and trying to look pulled together and welcoming and stuff. I don’t know many things, but I do know that the hostess sets the tone, yo. And if I was happy–the people could be happy.
Can I just say: I get Jonah.
I used to think he was the lamest prophet–going to Tarshish instead of Ninevah like God commanded, being swallowed by a giant fish, whining once his fig tree was eaten. Whine, whine, whine.
But, that was me. I was out a some dollars, not a lot, but enough to count for something, and boy did I prayerfully whine.
And then we had that talk we’re always having where God is like, “Who gave you that job again?”
And I’m like, “You did! You gave me the job!”
God: “Who makes sure you get paid dollars?”
Me: “You do. You run the things.”
God: “Have you consecrated your life to me or what?”
And I’m like, “I have, I have.”
“It’s just,” I added to the end, “I didn’t want to waste your stuff.”
And he was like, “Did people get to experience more of my love?”
Me: “I hope so.”
Him: “Then I don’t think it was a waste.”
So then I exhaled a, “OK, God.”
A few days later I was called into the director’s office at my work.
And they gave me a bonus for a job well done on something else. Not a lot, mind you, but enough to count for something…enough to cover what I had lost and a bit more besides.
If anyone needs God, he’s over here reiterating lessons in generosity and stuff.
So, yeah. I’d say it was a pretty good pilgrimage. 🙂