Today I’ve tried (tried) to give God a little more credit. More credit for being–I don’t know–intelligent. More credit for being–interested. Because I’m just going to say it. I’ve spent plenty of time thinking he (or she, if you like) doesn’t give a damn. I mean, about me, my checkbook, and the fact that I go to bed alone every night. (Although I do think I’m currently sharing the room with a mouse.) I just figured he’s–well–busy. But last night I read something in The Artist’s Way that went something like this–Oh, God can figure out the subatomic structure of the universe but can’t find answers to your problems?

Well, when you put it that way.

Lately I’ve been saying to myself and out loud, “I’m willing to accept gifts from the universe.” Today I added, “God’s pretty smart. He wants to help me and has lots of money and lots of answers.” So get this. Today I had a chiropractor appointment, and that was supposed to be it–no massage because all the therapists were booked. But in the middle of my appointment, one of the therapists (a guy who worked on me last week) had a cancellation, so I got in–without even asking. Well, he worked on my uneven hips, a problem that’s been a problem for ten years, maybe twenty. And in less than an hour, there was definite progress. They aren’t twisted as badly as they were before, and they hurt less. Tonight I went running and had to get used to a new rhythm because my gait is actually different.

How about that?

After the appointment I binged on reading material because my week of reading deprivation is over. (Hallelujah.) Then I went to get a smoothie because I may be addicted. And right there in the parking lot were about seventy pennies–pennies from heaven. I know it’s only seventy cents, but I wasn’t about the tell the universe, “I’m sorry, that’s not enough free money for me to bother,” so I scooped up every one of those suckers.

Then while I was running some errands, I got a message from a friend who offered me free tickets to Art on the Border and the Peacemaker Music Festival tonight. So I scooped those up too. (Thanks, friend.) Well, while I was at the art exhibit, I ran into two of my favorite people, Bruce and Lyn, and since they were headed to the music festival, I shamelessly asked if I could hang out with them. (They said yes, and on the way there we saw a pair of panties on the sidewalk. No, we didn’t touch them. Bruce said I should blog about it, so that’s what I’m doing. So just to be clear, I’ll pick up pennies from heaven, but not panties from heaven. There’s a difference.)

One of the reasons I wanted to go to the festival was to see the inflatable art installed (for this weekend only) by D*Face, an artist who’s done two murals in downtown Fort Smith. Well, from far away, all I saw was a blow-up Snoopy and Hello Kitty, something like you might see in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Isn’t that cute? I thought. But when I got closer, they turned out to be zombies. Zombies! Snoopy looked like Hannibal Lecter, and Hello Kitty looked like she got into a fight at a lesbian biker bar (and lost).

Personally, if I’d seen something like this as a child, I would have wet the bed for a month.

I ended up spending most of the evening with Lyn’s daughter Leigh, who was also at the music festival. Since this is quickly becoming a blog about abundance and gratitude, I’ll go ahead and say that Leigh gave me a free beer–and a half. (Thanks, Leigh.) That’s all four of us (Bruce, Lyn, Marcus, Leigh) in the picture at the top of the blog. Aren’t they adorable? Lyn made us retake the first picture and told Bruce to “show your teeth,” then afterwards he facetiously asked if his hair looked okay.

Bruce and Lyn and I left in between acts, and then I walked around to check out the mural progress. Here’s the other side of the double-decker bus that’s at the Park at West End. It’s a giraffe in a spacesuit. Pretty sweet, huh? Notice the big cock in the background. (First panties in the street and now this. What’s the world coming to?)

Lastly I checked out the alien in the bamboo hat–and friends. Take a look. I’m assuming at least one of the people who bent over right as I was taking the photo is the artist. Talk about bad timing. Or–if you prefer–serendipity.

To(may)to, to(mah)to.

One one hand, it’d be easy to say that “nothing spectacular” happened today, that it was just “a really good day,” and as for the unexpected and wonderful massage, the pennies from heaven, and the free tickets and beer (with people I love!)–well–isn’t that neat? But Albert Einstein said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” So I’m choosing to see all the things that happened today as miracles, even the sidewalk panties. Granted, manifested underwear isn’t on the same scale as manna from heaven, but it’s a start. And if God can arrange a last-minute massage (that helps fix a literal long-standing problem), and whip up some free entertainment (just for fun), then surely He can do any number of things. What’s more, surely he wants to.