No, I thought, I’ll just go to the Sun Fresh. It’s small and expensive, but the closest grocery store to my house. But there is only one road that goes from here to there, and when I got to the intersection, a white police van was blocking the way, lights flashing.
Wasteland to the right (well, a windy road that I have never followed to the end since it seems to lead past oddly populated ponds, electricity compounds, and graffiti’d underpasses). To the left – Walmart. A very far-away Walmart, when the snow is blowing and the roads treacherous.
To the left I went. Odd, how the Lord takes a day and flips it around on you, as if you’re not really the one in control. And odder still when you find that your heart just easily follows him, without the usual frustration over changed plans.
Besides the fact that I forgot to buy the chicken (a central ingredient when cooking Chicken-and-Wild-Rice for dinner guests), it turned out to be a very successful shopping venture. I recognized my check-out clerk as the same one who’d had a cold several months ago and who I’d said I’d pray for. (Not that she had asked, you know. But what can a clerk say if you offer to pray for them? The customer is always right.)
I asked if she was the one; she sort of laughed, obviously remembering it, and said yeah, and that she had felt a bit better. I’m a little slow on the draw sometimes (comes from having once been shy), and it wasn’t until I was already at the doors out that the Lord reminded me He had detoured me miles out of my way in order to re-meet her. So I abandoned my cart to a door attendant who said she’d look after it (she didn’t) and ran back to the counter, interrupting the next customer to reiterate to this young girl (in case she hadn’t already realized): the Lord LOVES you!
It was as I entered the doors of Starbucks down the road, not willing to brave the cold ride home without a latte, that I remembered the chicken. Too many cute men had smiled at me in Walmart – can I blame my memory lapse on that? So, armed with instructions from the barista on how to bake broccoli (with olive oil in a 375 oven for 15 min.), and yet another smile from a cute baristo (is that the male form of barista?), I headed off to Hyvee…where a very handsome butcher seemed quite keen on assisting me. The thing is – a butcher?! Remember Fiddler On the Roof?
Back to the moral.
1.) Don’t let men distract you from chicken.
2.) Watch for God – what seems like inconvenience to you might actually be an invitation to do some heavenly damage (good damage, I mean, to colds and sad hearts).
