Grass pierces concrete

Today at work I was in the office talking to a tearful mom when one of the kids knocked on the door to interrupt and give me a sealed envelope. They were on the way out to recess and she had an urgent sense of getting me this letter. I opened it with the usual feigned interest and gratitude to find a string of six letters written at the top of the page, in pencil. “^valor” is what this 4 year old had written. Hm. Later I thanked her for the letter and asked what letters she had written and she said, “I don’t know, look it up on the computer!” She had just chosen some random letters and actually spelled a word (aside from the first symbol.) Is God trying to tell me something about bravery???

Google maps, street level, is really freaky. You can actually explore my neighborhood. You can see one of the cars that the people live in in the post “My Street.” You can see the orange car that the hippies drive with the antlers strapped to the bumper. You can even see my jade plant. Weird.http://maps.google.com/maps?tab=wl

The more I thought about it, the more instances I remembered where God was totally cute and hooked me up with answers to prayer that were really meaningful just because they were silly things that didn’t really matter except to show me he loves me. Like the post you can read about called “Bedsheets.” Or when I moved to my current house and I told God that I would really like to have a room with yellow walls and roof access and the first place I visited not only had a yellow bedroom but yellow living room and halls too and not just roof access but roof access out my bedroom window with an ocean view. Or the time in high school where I told God I wanted a turtle and later that week my dad yelled, “Girls, come down here!” because there was a turtle in our back yard that ended up spending the whole day there (that was the first and the only time that there has EVER been a turtle in my parents’ yard and they’ve lived there for 18 years now!) Or when I’d been wanting a piece of glass to cover my kitchen table and one of my roommates found one in the dumpster in our appartment complex that fit perfectly. And I’m sure there are countless more occassions over the years that have slipped my memory. But the point is that I was wrong when I said, “that kind of stuff NEVER happens to me!”

The sound of public transportationWhen someone else figures out how to split the checkSleeping on a shipFrogs croaking at night in the summerMan handsSomeone else in the house playing music, or better yet, playing guitarPs 91Lighting in the late afternoonTurbulenceRain on the skylightsThe smell of the sachets on the beds at the Carneros InnTuna melts for lunch on Sundays