Scribbler

By scribbler

Road trip

Trees at Southwest Community Center.

It's Sunday morning. But I don't have to be at the cathedral for the Archbishop's Divine Mercy Holy Hour until 2:30. Just the free time I've been pining for to catch up on my journal.

But wait! Where is my journal? Uh oh. I remember carrying it into SWCC on Saturday morning because I took it out of the trunk by mistake. Rather than walking back out to my car, I stowed the journal bag on the top shelf of my locker. You see this coming, right? Top shelf, short swimmer?

I phoned the center on Sunday. And phoned and phoned. Never got any response  but voicemail. No point in driving sixteen miles round trip if I was wrong about where I'd left my journal. But it seems I had no choice.

Drove down in the rain in heavy traffic. Drove back in the rain in heavy traffic. But my journal was there on that top shelf, just as I'd left it, and luckily, no one had locked that locker. 

By the time I got back, there was no time to write. But there will be, some day, I hope and pray.

INTERRUPTIONS

Why plans are thwarted
I cannot begin to guess —
leads to a royal mess.

Things lost, things ruined,
appointments canceled or changed,
must be rearranged.

Think how time would grow
if everything would just go
as I meant it go.

But no. God has ways
that are higher than my ways.
Faith demands my praise.

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