After taking some much-needed time off for my grandmother’s funeral, I’m back in the blogging business! I’d like to thank everyone who’s reached out during these past few weeks. Especially to everyone who’s given our family food. We’ve gotten everything from rotisserie chickens and Sam’s Club cake from our friends who can’t cook, to pot roast and made-from-scratch mashed potatoes from a wonderful friend who cooks a lot. Both were delicious. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a position where random people have given us food, so it’s quite nice to see the support.
Anyway, I’m also back in the swing of things at school. I’m making more of an effort to get out of my dorm. For those of you who don’t know, the lockdowns of 2020 messed up my mental health pretty badly, landing me with a diagnosis of clinical depression. And I’m still working on getting better. I have good days and bad days, and I’m realizing that I’m more likely to have a good day when I spend some time out of my room. It’s hard. Especially on days like today, when the wind chill is in the 20s and I forgot to bring a decent jacket because it was in the 70s earlier this week.
But last night, I went to church. And I invited a classmate of mine whom I almost developed a bit of a crush on. (I mean, he’s tall with brown hair, he’s a pre-med student, AND he’s in the National Guard.) Wednesday services at this location of my church are different from most services I’ve seen. We have small group after a short message. My dad encouraged me to go because his massage therapist apparently attends on Wednesdays, and he insisted that she was a sweet lady that I’d like to meet.
Now, the way my church works is we have about 13 different locations. I’m used to going to a different one, so while it’s the same church, I don’t actually know anyone there. Anyway, I sit down with my classmate and spend the first five minutes of service whispering to him what’s going on, as he described himself as “not particularly religious.” The message goes well. It’s about the gifts of the Holy Spirit, a topic that I’m quite eager to learn about. Then, as we break into small groups, I feel a God-nudge directing me to look to my left. There are two couples standing up, collecting people to join their small group. I feel drawn to the couple wearing dark gray shirts.
I sit down, and turns out, the couple went to my home location for twelve years, and I know their kids! Turns out, one of the ladies in this group is a sweet lady I know from work! Turns out, one of the other ladies was one of my counselors at church camp a few years ago!
We go around introducing ourselves, and I give my name and a brief biography (as you do.) A third lady asks what my dad’s name is. I tell her, and she says, “He’s one of my clients!”
Ladies and gentlemen, I have met the massage therapist my dad has talked so much about. Turns out, she is indeed a sweet person. And apparently, my dad has told her quite a bit about me–and probably embellished in true Italian fashion. She said that she was excited to meet me, that she felt like she already knew me through all of my dad’s stories, and that she knew I was lonely.
Guys. She gave me her address and phone number and told me to come over sometime.
I suddenly understand the concept of radical hospitality. I don’t know if this is Jesus or Texas or a lot of both, but…I’m stunned, y’all. I guess it is a God thing, because no one in their right mind would give their address to a college student they’d just met.
Well, it’s late, and my fish needs his dinner. God bless you, dear readers, and don’t forget to review us on Amazon!