Signs

You've had these days, haven't you? Days where nothing seems to go right. Nothing seems to go exactly wrong, either. It's a day like bumper bowling -- a slow, wobbly progress, grazing left and veering right, never heading down the middle, and never really hurting yourself but feeling a little jolt nonetheless. You try to talk to people, but it seems as if you're speaking Swahili. You get blinked at. A lot. You try to work through the simplest tasks, like laundry and dusting, and they take forever. You just feel dull.

Like today. Travel does that to me. This morning I had coffee on Lake Tahoe. Now, I'm at my home in the middle of the desert. Sunday nights will do that, especially since I'm not exactly looking forward to going into the office. Worry will do that, too. The problems aren't huge, but they're many. And each one sends me tottering off in a different direction.

At times like this, I do two wildly opposite things: I pray and I consult my horoscope. Most good Christians would call that second thing "divination." I'm not a good Christian. I'm practicing to be better, though.

My prayer mostly consists of, "Lord My God, what is going on here?" Once, I heard that prayer should be really specific. I'm not good at specific. Besides, if I keep the question wide, then any answer will do.

Then, I go to the stars. Miles will send me good, scary horoscopes (or horror-scopes) that are far too descriptive to completely ignore. If he's not watching for me, I'll grab one on my own. Like today's little gem:

Today, like many days, you should focus on the journey -- not just the destination. You need to slow down, or you could miss some important landmarks. Juggle your schedule to create more free time in the evening, because you need a chunk of time that's flexible and relaxed. If a talkative friend wants to bend your ear on the phone, politely tell them you have other things to deal with. Pull out your patience and save the foot race for another day.

O-kay. Kinda accurate, but not really helpful.

After I pray and do the bad divination thing, I start to look for SIGNS. It doesn't have to be anything big or flashy. I don't need wonderful surprise phone calls or fat checks in the mail. I don't need a sudden burst of understanding or empathy or affection from my loved ones. Just, Lord, something small.

I was folding laundry earlier. Slowly. And of course, it seemed as if I wasn't making progress at all. Then suddenly, I was finished and miracle of all miracles . . . all the socks matched up.

I'll take it. After today's odd, plodding progress (and a long, weaving blog post), I'm happy with perfectly matched socks.

That's enough Sign for me.