In the past three days, two people have called me looking for someone else. “Is Mrs. Cragness there?” Uh, nope. I’m not a Mrs, and my last name certainly isn’t Cragness. Praise the Lord. (my apologies if that happens to be your name. I hope the person who was trying to reach you found the correct number.) I’ve had other wrong numbers too, in calculus. Fortunately, not too many, so I will have no problem graduating. Graduation. That’s in 50 days.
Back to those phone calls. Whenever a number that isn’t in Pearl’s phonebook pops up on the screen, I debate over whether I should answer it. I’ve had tons of calls for this Cragness woman since I got my phone – which makes me wonder if she’s been trying to steal my identity… – most of which I don’t answer. So then I get voicemails for Mrs. Cragness. I wonder what those people think when she never replies? There’s something a little disappointing in knowing that I’m not the person that these callers are looking for. I can’t help them, can’t answer their questions. I’m really of no value to them, just helping them know that this number is not the one for Mrs. Cragness. That is, if I decide to answer. Thank goodness I get calls from people who actually want to talk to me, or my self-confidence would be shot! (don’t worry, I don’t measure my self-worth by how many phone calls I get. It’s more by blog views per day.:))
Today, I’m just a wrong number. Which is totally fine, since it’s my day off – and I’m not itching to spend my day on the phone. Those wrong numbers remind me of how I look in all the wrong places for the things I need. For happiness, for satisfaction, for peace. For energy. I’ve got some wrong numbers.
“My soul, find rest in God alone; my hope comes from Him.” Psalm 62:5
Ahhh. There we go. That’s the right number. No number in my phonebook can give me those things: rest and hope. Just thinking those words gives me that peace in my heart that nothing else brings. There are some sensations you can’t describe – and this is one of them.
Another thing that is hard to depict without pictures (my apologies, I forgot to get my camera out.) is waffles. You think you know what waffles look like, but until you see two girls with peanut butter, syrup, chocolate chips, yogurt, etc spread out all over the counter, eating next to the waffle maker because it’s just more convenient for stuffing yourself than moving back and forth from the table to the counter… you haven’t seen waffles. Waffles, dear reader, are a beautiful thing.
The dishes, eh, not so much. But it’s a small price to pay for a fun breakfast on a day off with a lovely friend. Hooray for waffles. Three cheers for days off. Hurrah for sunshine and spring.