A Simple Saturday

Once upon a time, a little while ago, about last Saturday, a very tired, happy girl sat on her tiny balcony to drink her coffee. She was tired because she’d been on a glorious, intense, bountiful choir tour all over Poland for the last 3 weeks, and she was happy because she’d made new friends she’d never dreamed existed, she could putter around her little flat again and water her brave, parched houseplants and drink coffee–plus she still had her voice that hadn’t succumbed to vocal fatigue as it had in other tours.

At noon, the happy, tired girl took herself to the school to clean the place and get it ready for church the next day. But she ended up not cleaning very much because of all the lovely help that also showed up, so she went out to buy cleaning supplies that had run low over the summer. Then, because she had time/money/energy and because she always wants a reason to buy flowers, she trotted off again to buy flowers for some friends. The florist lady, speaking English, helped her expertly and asked when English classes will start again because of course she’s coming for lessons.

Back home again, the girl had every intention to sweep and mop the floor, but was too tired, and laid on the couch for a long time. She read a borrowed copy of Fahrenheit 451 and wished for her own copy to write in and then she had a nap.

The tired, happy girl was invited to a friend’s bonfire for dinner. They were six friends around the fire, with lemonade, glorified ramen noodles over the fire, kielbasa, and apple crisp and tea. All of this was spread out over hours while the sun dipped low and golden and the stars came out. At one point during the laughs and stories of family lore, the girl tipped her head way back and saw the stars sparkling between the tall trees over her. It looked like glitter and diamonds and all the tired went out of her.

It had been a Very Good Day.

8 thoughts on “A Simple Saturday

  1. I read this the other day and have to admit that I thought of it with a bit of jealousy while I was canning in my kitchen….

    Why is it that someone else’s life can appear to be much more romantic than our own beautiful one? I’m glad you had the gift of a perfect day.

    • ummmm, did I say the day was perfect? It was simple and good, not perfect. Blogging, for me, is a constant tension of honesty and modesty. Most people don’t know how many tears and yuckyness is part of my life, because that’s not what I want to put out there in cyber space. I love my life. I live in a dream. But I cry–a lot. There are scars and brokenness I live with that often nearly put me over the edge. But because of Jesus and hope and redemption, my days are good!
      I guess it’s human to think someone else’s life is better than mine. It takes a great largeness of soul to embrace one’s own joys and sorrows as one’s own gifts. Sometimes I have that largeness, sometimes I don’t!

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