Yesterday it rained. And then one of the guys in our apartment asked me to share a blessing I had received over the last week. This was just as I was placing the first bite of stir fry into my mouth. This was just at nine o’clock at night. This was just after I had been waiting for him to fulfill his scheduled cooking role for the last three hours.
“Not having to spend time with you on the weekend because you were on a trip!” But you really can’t say things like that.
“Uh, I guess I went to the Cheesecake Factory and I got to relax. And even though my friends left pretty soon after I came, it was nice to be alone and I could enjoy my food. Well, actually it was someone else’s food. That’s why it was nice when they left, because they left behind half a piece of chocolate mousse cake, and I got to eat it alone, in the dark, just me and the bill for my eight dollar smoothie.”
And all of a sudden I could taste the strawberry in the smoothie and that hint of coconut. I could remember sitting in my suit and eating decadent desserts and feeling rich and unprofessional at the same time – unprofessional because I had to move to another table and eat off someone else’s plate, without their permission, in order to taste the decadent dessert.
And I remember washing my hands in the restroom and feeling that feeling you get late at night after a wonderful day. It’s a sad feeling that makes you want to hug everyone you meet. It’s a happy feeling that makes you want to dance. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s very romantic. And so I danced. Tap, tap, tap, I staggered across the tile floor watching my blue pinstripes blur in the mirror (you can’t dance without a mirror).
The romance came back, even though I was sitting on a freebie couch eating stir fry with unromantic people cross-examining me and no mirror to dance with.
Yes, I had a blessing from God last week – I had a moment of rest.