Remember last week’s post? I wrote that any time I was invited and thought about attending a service it seemed that the universe was plotting against me? Saturday was nothing new. I’d been invited to a ladies’ retreat that ran from nine until three. I woke up after nine, but I needed the rest, so I wasn’t really worried about the extra sleep. I had a list of things to get done before I went, and that ended up taking longer because I sat around with coffee too long. After a quick shower, though, I was on my way. I figured I’d arrive during the lunch break since it seemed like a logical time to avoid interrupting. Before heading to the church, I took out the trash and stopped at the store for some necessities.
While in the store, I ran into someone, and we started chatting. Time escaped, as it does, and I noted it was after one while I was in the checkout line. I drove up the block to the church anyway and pulled into a parking space right in front of the door. That rarely happens, and I took note of it. It was, again, chilly, but I dragged my carcass out of the car anyway.
The pastor’s mother-in-law was the guest speaker, and her message was from the book of Isaiah. She noted the multiples of three in his message. I’d never realized that before. At the end of the meeting, we ladies were given a rose for ourselves and a rose to share. I brought mine home to my Bela. They serve as a lovely reminder that all women are beautiful.