I bargained my way out of church today, which I realize sounds quite heathen of me but the reasoning goes like this: If I am to attend church, I need to get up early enough to help get the kids ready (including a decent breakfast) and get myself showered & looking pleasant, then it is 15 minutes driving there, an hour and some minutes for the message and visiting, another 15 minutes back home (unless we stop at Home Depot or Target or somewhere else along the way for "just a minute"). So I begged out on the presumption that I would use all of that time to get done most of the chores I avoided yesterday - and no, I did not get into a negligee, pour a drink, pop a Valium OR take a nap. And I certainly did not look like the young Elizabeth Taylor. Sigh.
You might notice that I am not yet doing any of the things I told my family I would be doing while they worshipped the Lord without me. Because it's really important that I tell you about a dream I had and what I've figured it to mean. You could learn stuff from me.
Essentially, in the dream I had married a guy who looked like someone I went to high school with - disarmingly cute and sweet but kind of, well, slowish. The kind of guy who very much advanced on his looks & charm and relied on others to fill in the blanks of intellectual conversations. Such as, how to butter toast. The thing is, someone who seemed like my actual husband Stu was in the dream but we had for unknown reasons been apart, and in the meantime I needed to marry the other guy. When I thought about my slow (but sooo darling) husband, I felt sympathy for him but I also really liked the way he adored me. As I recounted this to Stu, he compared my dream relationship this way: "You mean you liked him to pet you and love you and keep you?" And the answer was YES, YES I DID. I decided what I need is more worship in my world. Worship of me. Which makes the skipping church so very much more damning.