With my husband away for the evening (I was staying home to have a quiet, restful evening), I had more than an hour before sundown and the beginning of the Sabbath. Realizing that a Visa gift card we had expired yesterday, I attempted to spend the balance online. With that failing, I thought I walk up to the nearest store (we have only one car, and my husband had driven it to vespers where he was playing the piano) and buy a little fruit.
I walked over the bridge, and saw that the trees and the river looked something like the picture above. In the store, I found apples, spaghetti sauce, some bird seed. I thought I had a little left to spend, so I set out in search of tofu.
But instead of tofu, what should I find but half-gallon canning jars! Right then and there I knew I needed a cart! This size of canning jar is not quite easy to find in our little Michigan town and the surrounding area, and with plans to make apple juice in a week or two, I could not pass these up even though I knew I would need to spend more money than originally planned.
On my way back, I ran into another canning friend who I knew had been searching and searching for this particular kind of jar.
"They have half-gallon jars!" I gleefully announced, and we both went straight to them, loaded our carts, and went our separate ways.
I checked out, paying for everything including my four boxes of jars. Only as the bagger began loading everything back into my cart did I realize my dilemma.
"Oh, no! I didn't bring my car, and I don't know how to get everything home!" I blurted.
I stood there sheepishly wondering what I was going to do. I didn't see my fellow jar buyer anywhere in the near vicinity. My husband would be in the middle of practicing with the other musicians, so I couldn't call him. The bagger was telling me I could leave the jars at the store and come right back to get them. But he didn't understand. My car wasn't waiting for me at home. If I tried to walk home and back, it would take me at least four trips to get everything taken care of. And I couldn't even make one return trip before sundown.
I looked toward the store entrance right at the same moment that two musicians came through the door. Friends! I knew they would have come in at least one car if not one car each. I knew they would rescue me.
Sure enough, I waited for the one to finish her purchases. She drove me home, helped me carry in my boxes of jar-treasure. I sent her away with a plate of supper. And she laughed at me (well, with me, I suppose, since I was laughing at me too).
Then followed a quiet evening, with reading, conversations with my mom and one sister-in-law, a long warm bath. My husband came home to a tower of boxes beside the couch, and he was overjoyed to learn that we now had vessels for the apple juice we're longing to make.
And we've had other Sabbath blessings as the morning came and turned to afternoon:
- Hearing voices of loved ones living continents away from me
- Hearing voices read and share what they have learned from group Bible study
- Hearing voices of husband and the choir he is in making music during the worship hour
- Sitting with young friends while their parents and my husband sang in choir
- Seeing the sunrise, and a cloudless sky
- Seeing a cardinal in our bush, eating its berries
- Seeing a friend from far away, who is here for a family visit as well as business
- Feeling the warmth of the heater on my feet
- Smelling food warming up in the oven, which we will also soon taste
- Tasting barley crackers, sent to us from Mom in Oregon
I'm not sure if it's genetic, or just part of the family culture. My grandmother loved barns. My mom loves barns (is it because they make her think of her mom, who she loved very much?). I love barns--because they make me think of those very special women in my life, AND because they have a country charm and beauty that just can't be surpassed.
