Things you realize on a Sunday morning

There are times when it’s good not to be famous. They’re the times when you prepare to dress for church only to find nary a nylon. Even with half the contents of your drawer strewn upon your bed, the best you can come up with is a brown pair of tights … nice, thick tights … the kind to keep you toasty even in the midst of a blizzard. So you ponder. It is Spring, after all; in theory, you can go without. But your legs would surely blind the congregants–and you’re not exactly sure how old that tan-in-a-can is that sits in the back of the cupboard. For all you know, it could eat your skin off. Not to mention, there’s a chill in the air. So you do the unthinkable. You pair winter tights with a spring skirt and step outside your door.

Had you been famous, that’s precisely the time a photog would snap a photo. Before you knew it, said photo would be plastered on the WonderWall, along with a catty diatribe on your obvious loss of fashion sense.

So let this be a reminder: count your blessings … even those of the smallish sort.

God knows. In case you failed to notice, the rapture did not take place last weekend. I repeat, the rapture did not take place. I guess God was serious when he said no one will know the day or the hour. Go figure. But to those of you who question whether or not God truly speaks to us today, rest assured, He does. And it may be the exact moment you’re about to nod off during the sermon, only to look down at your Bible and read, “Wake up, O sleeper … ”

See?  He knows.