My Book of Life

I would hypothesize that at least 67% of our adult lives is spent waiting on some sort of repairman. For the second time in a row, the Terminix guy didn't show up during his three-hour window. Isn't it funny how we pay a fortune so that little micro-bugs don't eat our ENTIRE house? That's one of the many fun details they don't tell you about being a grown up. Probably because it would induce nightmares. Hey sweetie, I can't believe you just got your driver's license. Next thing you know, you will be ready to finance a company to make sure your floors don't cave in from gluttonous home terrorists. Have fun.

Then it was the plumber's turn. He showed up 15 minutes early. Early. He was polite and he finished within an hour and only charged me $90 (when another company said it would be $185 just to crawl under my house. Even if they did nothing else). I wanted to kiss him. I didn't. I'm not a Desperate Housewife...yet. 

I still share exciting news like this with my mother; she used to hear about college functions, now she gets to hear me squeal that the plumber didn't charge me a billion dollars. "You need to write his name down," she cheered.

"I will. I'm going to write his name in my book of life."

I don't know where that quote even came from. But there it was.

It's the truth, though. When you become an adult, you keep a little black book of sorts. When you find a stylist who doesn't style your hair like the duck in the Aflac commercial, ya write it down. When you find the grocery store cashier who lightning scans with fire in her eyes, ya write it down. When you find a mechanic who doesn't tell you a bad brake pad totals your vehicle, ya write it down.

Justin and I will purposefully try to sit in a certain waitress's section if she knows us and has our order pretty much down pat.

You spend most of your life trying to get in with the "cool kids." You spend the rest of your life trying to get the cell number of an honest plumber, a capable mechanic and a hair stylist. They're the ones you don't want to get all 'Mean Girls' on you.

If you're reading this and thinking, "That is such a sad existence," you are young and your time will come. And when it does, call David at Emergency Plumbing and try not to kiss his face.

.....

Isn't it cool that God has our number on file? Our name in his book? We have nothing to give him. He doesn't need us to patch a leaky pipe or give him blonde ombre'. He just needs us to bring our messes to him. To have faith in his power. To love like He loves.

And when that day comes, we will hear our name called and we will rise.

And go to a place where moths and [termites- praise Jesus] can't destroy.