An affair to remember...
So today I pretended to have a social life. While my mom napped and my sister watched TV in her room I got dressed in a nice turtleneck and slacks, slipped on a super cute pair of shoes and headed out to my car. I had no real destination in mind, if I happened by a bookstore I’d try to find a copy of a book a friend recommended, but there was no real goal in my little adventure. Sometimes I just need to get out, drive in the car, collect my thoughts and talk to God, alone, without any distractions (save the radio). I’m really going to miss these little jaunts while I’m in India, they help me feel like I’m escaping somehow, running from something or to something, perhaps. Anyway, after having no luck finding that book, I stopped by Safeway to grab a healthy linner (or dunch) of pizza sticks and Mt. Dew. You know it’s a small town when you’re standing in line ordering junk food and your dad comes up behind you with a load of groceries; it almost ruined the whole mood of my escape, since he was on the phone with mom and she wanted to know if I would be home for dinner of chicken sandwiches and tortilla soup. Of course I had my cell phone with me for emergencies, but I didn’t tell them where I was going, I shouldn’t have to anyway, I am an adult. So my cover was blown, but when they asked what I was doing I danced around the issue and told them pizza sticks would be good for dinner. I got in my car and headed toward the park. My car and parks, two places (save Mt. Rainier) where I really feel Him. I can just get so much accomplished, prayer-wise, in these places. I can feel totally alone and not worry about crying or singing or what-have-you. But for some reason parks have this ridiculous “closed at dusk” law and in frustration I drove to the local elementary school. Thankfully no one was around, and I parked my car. Since it was raining outside I took off my nice clothes and changed into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt I had laying around in my backseat. I put on my boots and gloves, pulled up my hood and stepped outside into the cold air (this, bye the way made a ridiculous outfit, it’s a good thing nobody in Yakima actually saw me wearing it). I headed toward the swing set, flipped the seat over and proceeded to begin swinging, like a little kid who enjoys playing outside (regardless of the temperature or weather patterns). I felt fee. And there, at Cottonwood Elementary, I sang praise songs on a swing. When my arms got tired of pumping, I just sat there and sang, and prayed, and maybe shed a tear or two (it’s hard to tell, it was raining after all). And I laughed. When my mittens were soaked through and I could no longer feel my rear, I walked back to the car. I couldn’t stop smiling at how strange this all was. Back in the car, with foggy windows from my breath, I managed to wriggle back into my nice clothes, and smoothed my messy hair. I couldn’t help but think how much this was like a secret love affair. A tryst with the Maker of the Universe. Beautiful.