Happy Little Trees

I like things. But most of the time, they don't rule me. Sometimes, I am drawn to something overly sparkley or get the fever for a new trend, but I am not obsessed.

Recently, I was trained by the lady at the Sunglass Hut about the wonders of the sunglass brand, Maui Jim. Prior to this training, I was completely unaware that such sunglasses existed, much less the power of polarized glasses. When sunglasses are polarized, glare from bright lights is completely muted. You could probably view a solar eclipse if you felt like it with no retina damage (not an official claim by Maui Jim).

One small detail about these glasses that the lady left out was the price. Maui Jim's cost around $300. With $300, I could buy 30 pair of the sunglasses I currently wear. But who can put a price on good vision, right?

I later found out that lots of sunglasses that costs a lot less are polarized. When I went to a discount store, I decided to see if they had polarized glasses for a cheaper price. I found several styles that looked decent, and most were designer brands from department stores.

I noticed one pair I put on appeared to be polarized. I tried them on--no glare. Then, I examined the glasses. There were a few stratches, but most of the discounted glasses appeared this way.

The inside label said, "maui" so I thought they must be knock-offs. When I looked at the front of the glasses, in nice cursive writing was, "Maui Jim." I was in disbelief. I found a pair of Maui Jims on the rack! A few weeks ago, I would have had no clue what treasure I had found. The only problem was that there wasn't a price on the glasses.

And then I noticed, the Maui Jims looked pretty worn. Then, I realized, these glasses were probably left by mistake. For a moment a thought flashed, "So...if they aren't the property of the store, and somebody left them, finders-keepers losers-weepers?"

I decided I didn't want to go to the slammer for sunglasses. I carried them to the front of the store to see if by chance, they were for sale. That was a fat chance, and they were not for sale. So, I left the store, glasses free. But honest.

My caramel macchiato wasn't what I wanted it to be today. It was free, because I took a special survey, so I tried to get something fancier than my normal drink by adding soy and getting a larger size. But the sweetness that I prefer just wasn't there.

Over the last few days, I've had some conversations with friends and family that have dealt with some heavy matters including death and divorce. It can be hard to hear about hurt and pain. But a positive thing that can result is that matters such as the sweetness of my coffee seem to get shuffled back to its proper positioning in my mind--the bottom. And hopefully what will rise to the top is a desire to lift this heaviness up to my Heavenly Father to intercede for these friends.

I love it that there is always hope. I love it that God uses messes and makes them beautiful. And I love it that he blesses us by getting to be his hands, feet, and ears. I am thankful for the people who have been in my life who have been those hands, feet, and ears to me. And I am thankful for the times I get to experience being the giver.

Thank you, God, for friends that share their hearts! And thank you, God, for free coffee!

I have been invited to two weddings on the same day. One is at 4:00 p.m. The other is at 6:00 p.m. I am going to both.

I was so enamoured by the calligraphy on one invitation that I had to examine it again this morning. I also decided to trek over to the Y early to get my run out of the way.

I started disliking my walk to the Y since the local middle school is back in session and middle schoolers are everywhere. I feel okay saying that middle schoolers get on my nerves, because middle schoolers are even bothered by themselves.

Anyway, this morning, I'm standing on the median of the street with three boys about a foot shorter than my 5'3" self, while a crossing guard keeps hooting on his whistle. All around us are what seems like hundreds of parent cars waiting to drop off their kids. At this point, I'm really missing my evening Y time, when all of this chaos seems like a dim memory. I could moonwalk across the street at that time if I felt like it.

I look down at my hands. And I'm holding my iphone--and a wedding invitation--complete with the transparent paper insert, return envelope, etc. I try to act normal hoping that the three middle school boys don't notice that I'm holding a wedding invitation. Finally the whistle-happy guard points at us and then the place we should walk, and I cross trying to somehow make it seem normal that I am carrying a wedding invitation to the Y.

I decide to make the best of my brain being asleep and think that maybe I could ask around at the Y (after some observation) and see if anyone there would like to be my guest. Then, I decide against that.

So, I prop my invitation up on the treadmill, do my workout, and then walk it back home. There had been an accident at the crossing, so the whistle blower was occupied with the tow truck and driver. He let me cross without even one whistle puff.

Now that I think about it, maybe I missed out on an opportunity. I should have asked the crossing guard if he was busy the day of the weddings. And then my next question would have been, "On dates, do you keep that whistle at home?"