It's Gonna Be A Good Day

How do you know it’s going to be a good day?

I believe God sends us little signs. This morning, He sent me three.

But before I tell you about those, let me start at the beginning.

Yesterday was one of those days that fills your heart without making much of a fuss about it. I finally found a coffee shop with internet that actually worked. I spent part of my morning tinkering with my blog and, by noon, finally settled into my morning ritual. At one o’clock, I met up with a dear friend I hadn’t seen in a while.

We spent the afternoon doing two of my favorite things, wandering through thrift stores and laughing.

Then we went back to her house, shared a cocktail, told  her husband about our wonderful afternoon. Then she served the kind of homemade chicken soup that reminds you somebody loves you. The kind Mama would have made. I didn’t just eat it. I fell into it.

By the time I headed back to camp, my heart was full.

That’s about the time things looked like they were fixing to go south.

The campground was empty except for one enormous family. And wouldn’t you know it, they settled into the campsite right next to mine. I looked over at what seemed like sixteen kids, crying babies, coolers, toys, chairs, and enough camping gear to start their own zip code. I figured there went my peaceful evening.

I’d been looking forward to sitting at my little picnic table with a cold beer, watching the day fade into evening.

Instead, I climbed into my car, hung up my curtains so nobody could peek in, and laughed to myself because those folks had spread out so far I could’ve handed somebody a diet Pepsi through my window.

So there was no beer on the picnic table. Just me, curled up in the car with a good book I found earlier at a thrift store.

And here’s the funny part.

There wasn’t chaos.

There wasn’t shouting.

There wasn’t blaring music.

There was gentle laughter. Kids playing. The occasional squeal of excitement. Parents talking in low murmurs while they grilled dinner. They were respectful, and I tried to be respectful of them, too.

Funny how quickly we can write a story in our heads before we’ve even read the first chapter.

Maybe it was the laughter. Maybe it was seeing an old friend. Maybe it was that bowl of chicken soup. Whatever it was, I slept so soundly Satan himself couldn’t have woken me up.

I woke up a couple of hours ago wondering if I should stay another day, endure another round of afternoon rain, or just head home.

I crawled from the back of the car into the driver’s seat, fired up the engine, and made a beeline for Starbucks.

I ordered my coffee and sat down to wait.

They called my name.

I picked up my coffee, found a seat, and had barely taken a sip when I heard my name again.

I walked back to the counter.

“Here’s your coffee, ma’am.”

“Oh no,” I said. “I already got mine.”

She smiled and said, “It’s our mistake. Keep it.”

Well… thank you very much.

So now I’m sitting there with two cups of coffee.

A few minutes later…

They called my name again.

You can’t make this stuff up.

I walked back to the counter, and there sat a third cup of coffee with my name on it.

Three cups of coffee.

I only paid for one.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I figure that’s about as close to a heavenly sign as this coffee-tea loving woman is likely to get.

So I made up my mind.

Instead of spending another rainy afternoon sitting in my car without internet, I pointed the RAV4 toward home.

Adventure doesn’t always mean staying where you planned.

Sometimes it means recognizing when God hands you three cups of coffee and says, “Honey, it’s time to hit the road.”

Off to find adventure!