Terrorist Fairy Garden

           Well, there’s nothing like an innocent fairy garden to get you on a Watch List.  That, and auto-correct.  Here’s what happened:

          A friend of mine bought a new house up in the mountains (we live near the base of the Sierra Nevadas).  It’s on a slope, and she wants to build a town for the fairies on her property. She knew I have one wrapping around a tree in my backyard:

                                                               

 

          So she asked me for ideas.  And the first one I thought of, was to terrace it so you can have level places for the homes, and cute retaining walls made of tiny stones. 

          But when you leave a message, autocorrect immediately changes “terraced fairy garden” into “terrorist fairy garden.” And now, instead of picturing happy, winged fairies you imagine machine-gun-toting fairies and miniature tanks.

          Of course I blame the terrorists. If they hadn’t appeared on the scene, autocorrect would have left the fairy village terraced, safe, and lovely. My cell phone never would have thought I was saying “terrorist” because it wouldn’t have existed. And the world would be a better place.

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Suspended in Disbelief

           Sunday at church, St. Bob—who sits on the stand up front, as one of the leaders—darted right down to me after the service.

          “Come with me,” he said. And he seemed serious.

          He led me to the tiny Family History room.  The sister missionaries wanted to put their bicycles in there, but he held them off. “Just five minutes,” he said, and closed the door.

          What surprise could he possibly be hiding?

          He began taking off his suit coat.

          “What on earth are you doing?” I gasped. Surely he didn’t think this was an appropriate place—”

          “My suspenders have come off in the back,” he said. “I need you to put them on again for me.”

          Oh, good heavens!

          “My pants nearly fell down,” he whispered.

          I remembered our eldest son as a child, once saying, “It’s okay if your pants fall down. You can always pull them back up.”  But I decided this wasn’t what Bob needed to hear just now.

          He’d begun wearing suspenders about a year ago when he discovered how much more comfy it was than a belt. I happily snapped them onto his pants in the back and he slipped back into his suit coat.

          We opened the door so the missionary girls could stow their bikes there, and saw their wide eyes. Now I’m REALLY glad I didn’t laugh out loud when I learned about Bob’s suspender emergency.

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What a Voice!

           I recently got together with some long-time girlfriends. 

         One morning I was doing breakfast dishes, looked out the window, and saw a man walking through my friend’s back yard.

          My girlfriend had said she had a worker who’d be there, but what surprised me was that he was singing as he went along. Not just singing, but singing incredibly well!

          His beautiful voice came softly, yet beautifully through the windows, and I smiled. Not only did he have a gorgeous voice, but he was perfectly on key.

          This is how life is, I thought to myself. You can be a truly inspired singer, yet never become a star, but a worker in someone’s back yard. Still, you can sing with joy, share your talent, and bless the world.

          And then I saw it. On my friend’s windowsill was a home receiver for music, with a picture of Dean Martin on the screen. Everybody Loves Somebody, it said, the very song I was listening to.

          It had been turned down just low enough that it sounded as if you were hearing it through the windows. And, of course, exactly on key. I told my friend and she can’t wait to share this news with her workman!

          So, I’m just saying, this one example of my assuming the best about someone should at least cancel one of the times I’ve assumed the worst. Right? Darn right. And that’s how you get a few points in Heaven, my friends.

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