Here it is a Sunday afternoon in Santa Clarita, California. I am sitting outside on my patio with my cat Grace as I speak. That might sound nice and simple now – but this morning when I first woke up? Not so nice. Not so simple:
. . . “Is it really Sunday again?” was my first thought of the morning. (sigh) For quite some time I have had high hopes for two plans every Sunday when I wake up:
plan #1) get to the new church again that I found long ago (awesome music AND cup holders in every seat)
plan #2) The Gentle Barn www.gentlebarn.org (a magical healing barn for rescued animals that were once abused – the land is beautiful)
My chronic intestinal discomfort woke me up this morning with different plans. That would actually be plan #3) I’d say. (whaaa!) My familiar belly pain opened my eyes this morning. I was extra sore all over. Especially my upper back. Suddenly I was wide awake. My thoughts said, “I’d rather have an obnoxious alarm clock wake me up ’cause it was time to get ready to go to a dead end job. That would be so much better.”
But nope, that’s not the plan. Nope, no plan #1. No plan #2. But the un-plan #3 was in full swing.
I gingerly I moved my body and blankets and pillows with the intention to find a way to feel more comfortable. Didn’t help. I then started to politely struggle with my soft down comforter to try to feel more comfortable . . . Roll. Unroll. Fold. Unfold. Fluff it up. Flatten it out. Still not helping me. My comforter was not being comforting! Perhaps it’s faulty. Perhaps I’ll return it. “Yes, I’d like my money back for this comforter, it is not comforting and that is quite unacceptable.” Cha-ching. “Thank you.”
Kicking my uncomfortable comforter to the curb, I turned on my side as I kept my eyes closed. Something about Sundays.
Once more, through my messy tearful process, finally I surrender.
I decided to have lunch out on my patio. Salmon, gluten-free brown rice pasta with organic olive oil and a little fresh lemon juice. Perfect if I do say so myself.
Grace was content and loving every minute of the patio and soft breeze that moved only the dinky leaves around. I wanted to turn the hose on to water but was concerned it would scare my sweet love-bug of a cat. But, who knew? I could not have been more wrong. She could not get close enough to the action of the water. (Picture? But of course!)
She loved it. I had no idea until today.
It was grace that got me outside. Sometimes Sundays are like that. And I am hopeful for my plans for next Sunday.