She held her foot up to where I could see it through her open window, the most worn out pair of flip-flops possible. She told me how she and her mom live in her car (her mom was with her) and her shoes had worn out. “I’m desperate,” she told me, “let me see those men’s shoes, maybe I can wear a pair of those.”

Now, I wasn’t born yesterday, and I’m aware that many (if not most) of the “homeless” on corners with cardboard signs are scams raking in big bucks. When Terry worked restaurants, whenever he’d see someone with a sign near one of his restaurants he’d hand them his card and send them over to tell the manager to put them to work. Out of thirty years of doing it, not one ever actually wanted a job. Once he saw one of them walk over to their station wagon parked behind his restaurant, stand up and fold up his wheelchair, and climb into a car loaded with bags of groceries. Just this week, while Jan and I were in Texas, we saw a homeless-looking man with cardboard walk over to a parking lot and hand over a roll of bills to a well-dressed woman in a nice van, talk to her, then head over to the corner again. There’s also a scam going on in this area where someone stops you outside a restaurant or mall and gives you a sob story and asks for money. I fell for it the first time, but since it happens regularly I’ve gotten smarter. All that’s to say, it’s possible that this woman at Goodwill was a scammer, but I don’t think so.

For one, it was obvious that she lived in her van and had everything she owned in it, and I stood and talked with her awhile. She told me stories of her experiences being homeless. She was upbeat and humble, and as I talked I was listening to Holy Spirit and trying to discern the situation. She never asked for money or even hinted at it, all she wanted was a pair of shoes.

As I stood there holding the box of men’s shoes, I suddenly remembered that in the stuff I had two brand new pair of shoes that I didn’t want! One was from the Sketcher outlet and was a cute pair that hurt my little toe, and the other I’d only paid three dollars for at Sam’s Club but it was a new pair of Reebok flip-flops. I’m not sure why I thought that after a hundred years of not wearing something between my big toe I could now comfortably do so, but I was dead wrong. I had tried to give those two new pair of shoes away but they didn’t fit anyone in the family, and now, though it was painful, I was giving them to Goodwill.

“WAIT!” I said, and quickly ran over and dug out the two boxes of shoes, handing them to the woman. She was beside herself with joy! She pulled the flipflops out and immediately put them on, and they were a perfect fit. She oohed and aahhed over the other pair, not able to believe that I had, not one, but TWO pair of shoes that would fit her! From then on, every little bit as we talked, she’d lift her foot up, look at it, and say, “I can’t believe it, they’re so PERFECT!”

I don’t know any of her history or how she ended up where she was, we just chatted about things like how expensive even the smallest apartment is nowadays. I prayed over them that God would give them favor and a way to earn money.

I’m praying that God will help them. I couldn’t do anything for them myself, but I know Who can. But I’m so grateful that God would let me play a little part in sharing with them.

And yes, in the beginning it entered my imaginative mind that they could be plotting the murder of us heretics, but my logical rationale quickly took over pointing out that that’s highly unlikely, they’re probably discussing how hard it is to buy a prayer shawl locally or asking who noticed, in class, that cute girl in Oil Drilling 101.

So, while I’ve noticed and found them interesting, I’m also fairly used to them. This morning, as three Arab guys are sitting by me and chatting away in Martian so I can’t eavesdrop, a woman my age, juggling her coffee and paper, comes and sits nearby. She catches my eye and smiles. Too bad the Arabs are sitting by me instead of her, I think to myself. Shortly thereafter the guys pack up and leave, and then the woman gets up and starts to leave. She catches my eye and I say, “You’re leaving way too soon!” After all, she’s not even opened her paper. She comes over with a freaked out look on her face and leans into me like she’s going to tell me a state secret.

“Wasn’t that WEIRD?” She says, in a for-your-ears-only voice as she glances over towards where the guys sat.

“Oh,” I said, “they’re in here all the time, they obviously enjoy coming and studying here or hanging out.”

“Really? Oh wow!” she said, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“Yeah,” I say, “I assume they’re attending EKU.”

“Well that’s really weird, that’s just totally weird,” she continued. She then introduced herself, telling me that she’s a realtor, at which point I’m eternally grateful I wasn’t sitting close enough to be able to converse, as odds are her passion for her job would enormously outweigh my interest. After a hearty handshake, she left.

For some reason I found that conversation strangely disturbing. I thought about why on my way home from Starbucks, and came to the conclusion that two things bothered me. One was the prejudice. Okay, I totally get that there is some basis for a prejudice to Arabs as a people group; as a whole we’ve not exactly had a lot of warm-fuzzy interactions with them. But I can’t see judging or fearing a whole race of people based on that.

I understand the personal feelings of the ones who were involved in 9-11, but I can’t see, as a whole, that everyone must now hate and fear individual Arab people, just like Pearl Harbor didn’t mean that every Japanese person in the world was evil.

The other thing that bothered me is how small this woman’s world is, even though I can assume from what little interaction I had that she is educated and pursuing a career. People with a world mindset look at other races and cultures from a different viewpoint, one of general acceptance and friendliness, because I think, in the norm, people are usually friendly. Smallmindedness grows out of a mind that is limited to its physical surrounding. It’s never been stretched to compassion and understanding and being socially tolerant and accepting. It’s ignorance keeps it flooded with intolerance and imagined fears. And, may I say, being well-traveled doesn’t necessarily determine your mindset.

And so I came away this morning feeling sorry for that realtor, confined to her small world and all spooked out over some Arab college guys hanging out and drinking coffee. My message to her is this: Get out into the world and open your eyes, and see that everyone all over the world, as an individual, just wants exactly what you want out of life—comfort, friends, acceptance and love.

I have a challenge for you. Get outside your head and watch yourself and see how you multitask. Not just in your ability to clean house while talking on your phone headset but in unique ways. Catch yourself doing funny things, and then tell me about them so I’ll know that I’m not the only crazy out there.

This woman was born in Hong Kong, grew up in Paris, and later lived in Hawaii. During the Vietnam War she worked with the military, and I don’t know what she did for them but I got nervous when she told me “… and now I’m working here! I don’t think anyone can find me here, since I’m a woman and they won’t know my married  name.” WHAT??? Was she in the Secret Service? Can I expect to be machine-gunned down as I get snipped and styled?

Anyway, she had a suggestion that I found intriguing. When I pointed out how my hair is getting thinner on top she showed me how my scalp is very white (maybe because the sun doesn’t shine on it?) and said it was because my scalp is too tight, causing my hair to fall out (not old age?). She showed me how to massage my scalp, telling me to do it every night for ten minutes. After her demonstration she showed me how nice and pink my scalp was. According to her, if I massage my scalp every night for ten minutes it will help my hair be healthier and stay put.

While I wonder if this is some oriental wisdom, I have to admit that it does make sense. So, now, every night as Terry and I watch whatever it is we’ve taped and are catching up on (currently it’s Master Chef) I massage my scalp. If the next time you see me I have thick, cascading hair you’ll know the secret.

And yes, I loved my new hair style. Afterwards I went over to where Jessie was working and had her take pictures on all sides so that I can have it reproduced. Right in the middle of the picture-taking her co-worker came by, only to see a stranger standing with her face to the wall while Jessie pointed a camera at the back of her head. I wish I had a picture of the look on her face.

So this is our new baby, and Terry and I are so all-consumed by it that Terry says the neighbors are probably thinking that we should get a dog. We can’t leave the house without stopping to measure how much it has grown and how many new flowers it has and how much the tomatoes have grown. We’re all the time hovering over it like a mother hen, clucking nervously around it to see that all is right. The second day after planting it it was covered with tiny bugs that quickly ate the leaves, but sprayings of soapy water quickly cures that and now we keep a better eye on it. We can’t plant anything and mess up the landscaping, hence the pot, and it needs lots of sun, hence the table to get it over the shrubs. But now it’s taller than the wire cage, hopefully it won’t actually reach the ceiling. There are four different clusters of tomatoes about golf ball size, so hopefully we’ll have some fried green tomatoes soon!

Terry is in Columbus for the day, and might even stay the night, so I’m enjoying my day at home just to do whatever I want when I want to. I started out with the perfect breakfast of an Arby’s chocolate turnover I bought yesterday and grapes. I sat on the front porch in the shade of my tomato tree and wrote in my notebook. Then I vacuumed, dusted, and had four lengthy phone conversations (that’s how the dusting got done), and then worked on figuring out my new organizational phone app (you know, the kind where you spend seven hours setting it up and figuring it out so that you can use your time more wisely).

About eleven Jessie picked me up and we went to Starbucks for a cold frappuccino, sitting outside squinting while absorbing lovely vitamin D. Then we headed over to The Children’s Place (where Jessie works now) and oohed and ahhed over the cute stuff, then to Belks to shop their Fossil purses. After drooling over the eighty to one-hundred-and-eighty dollar purses we headed home for lunch, sitting at the kitchen counter and each reading our books while we ate.

Now Jessie has headed out and I’ve cleaned up the kitchen and put away the collard greens I cooked this morning. I wanted to take advantage of Terry being gone to cook them, since he doesn’t appreciate the house smelling like a sewage plant. How can something that tastes so good stink so badly cooking?

And now I’m off to do MORE fun stuff! And it’s only 2:45!!! Ah, a lovely long day stretching out before me just waiting to be filled with fun. The possibilities are endless: write, clean the bathrooms (NOT!), juggle, play the recorder, read my new html book, play King’s Quest, oohhh—a good idea, I could make dessert! I don’t like to do that with Terry home since he can’t have any. Mmm, SUCH a good idea, I’m off to think of what to make.

(I ended up making sugar cookies (from a roll of dough, not scratch) and fudge, YUM!)

What does your perfect day look like?

Oh my gosh, I’m on this writing high, my adrenaline is pumping and I want to shout for joy! I spent the morning writing at Starbucks and got SO much done, writing a whole article from scratch and mostly finishing it. That’s quite a feat since I usually try out several different subjects before settling on one and then spend hours birthing it. Then comes breathing life into it and cleaning it up, until I have a perfect baby ready to show off to the world.

I slept later than I’d meant to, but my bed was so warm and lovely and soft, and even the thought of Starbucks and writing couldn’t overcome it. So it was after eight by the time I’d stopped by Meijer’s bakery to pick up a sugar-coated doughnut twist and then finished sugaring my latte. I’ve got the routine down, heading to my favorite table that shares the three-table padded bench (not only is it in a private corner but it’s got a padded seat, unlike the rest of the tables). It’s the bench by the window but the table furtherest away from it so that the glare isn’t behind my laptop screen. It only takes a minute to set up and plug in, and while it boots up I go order my latte. They always want my name to put on my cup to identify it but I don’t care to have my name shouted out to the world so I always give them “Murphy.” I consider my name to be a personal matter. (Panera does the same thing, have you noticed?) I sneak my doughnut in its little white sack out of my canvas bag of reference books (Teach Yourself Visually WordPress, HTML for Dummies, and my small binder of passwords and notes on using various programs), along with my snack bag of grapes, placing the doughnut on a napkin and then quickly wadding up the evidence and throwing it away. I pull out my little red notebook and open it to the right page, dating it and writing “AT STARTUCKS!!” at the top. Next I sneak out of the notebook pocket my verse from Jesus to me (I keep several tucked in there in case I’m caught out at breakfast) and try to read it and copy it into my notebook without anyone seeing me. I’d probably draw less attention if I just pulled it out and read it, instead of them wondering what that woman in the corner is doing as she glances around guiltily and sneaks something that she won’t let anyone see.

So I enjoy my breakfast and the total loveliness of sitting there with nothing more than my notebook and Jesus for company. The only downside is that the music is a bit loud, keeping me from hearing all the interesting conversations going on around me. And then, after brushing the sugar off the table and throwing my napkin away, I get started.

Usually I’ve sorted out what I’m going to work on before I get there or I waste time being overwhelmed by choices. Today I picked my blog (hence the bag of reference books) and/or my monthly article. I never made it to my blog, but that didn’t matter.

And then I wrote. And wrote. And looked up references to personal experiences. That’s one thing that takes a lot of time, finding the right real-life examples. And the next thing I knew it was lunch, and time to pack up and head home. Yes, definitely a successful morning!

I’m home alone for the day, Terry is in North Carolina and won’t be home until this evening. The raging storms of yesterday are past and the sun is shining, making me think that spring might really be here. And I’ve got a whole list of a million things I want to get done during this one, short day. Unfortunately, I’ve got a sniffly, sneezy, messy cold and when I move my heart starts pounding like I’ve gone up several flights of stairs. But the good news is that my brain feels wonderful! So I’m ignoring my body and doing brain stuff, like writing blogs. Breakfast was about the best ever. Even with the cold I can still taste, so it was scrumptious.

The toasted croissant with melted chocolate chips smeared on it was unbelievably good, and really set off by the last of the fresh strawberries, cut up in my lovely red ramekin with the tiny brass bamboo-shaped fork (it’s probably for shrimp or pickles but it works awesomely on strawberry chunks). But the best part was my big red mug of jasmine green tea, so hot and soothing to my innards. Ah, bliss! I sat on the futon in my office and ate and wrote in my notebook. Then while I finished my tea I gave a compassionate talk out loud to our Monday night group of kids, as if I were right in the room with them, telling them how much they mean to us. In my enthusiasm I forgot all about my sore throat and just enjoyed sitting there drinking tea and giving speeches to a captive audience.

And I got to thinking how happy I am and how good my brain feels. And there are so many lovely things I want to do. Where do I start? I SHOULD start by cleaning the bathrooms, since I noticed as I washed my hair this morning that the tub is beginning to grow something pink, like possibly mold. But I prefer to think that it’s from the fairies that come in the night and play, and they’ve left behind some fairy dust. It would be a shame to destroy it! On the other hand, since I’m not the only one who lives here, Terry might not appreciate the fairy dust as much as I do and maybe I’d better do something about it. Maybe the fairies don’t want anyone to know they come in the night.

Anyway, I’m off to a day of lazing away (around cleaning the bathrooms), and if it’s half as nice as it’s been so far I’ll have a wonderful time. But maybe I’ll work on my monthly article before I clean the bathrooms. They’ve waited this long, they can wait a few hours more.

I’m not good with change. Frankly, I hate it. I rebel, and get all fussy and pouty. Even in something small, like when I think I’m going to be home and I find out I have to go somewhere. So you can imagine how the big changes send me over the edge.

When microwaves first came out you couldn’t have given me one, no sir, the stove was PERFECTLY good enough for me. During a visit from my in-laws over Christmas we bought them one, and my downfall was that during their visit we used it. By the end of their visit even I couldn’t live without it, so before they left they bought us one, claiming it was an early gift for our May anniversary.

Recently I was forced to make another huge change, and Terry and I both dreaded it. Terry is familiar with the new-cell-phone battle, which goes like this: I go into Best Buy already mad because I know they won’t have my ancient phone anymore. I then give a cursory glance over the choices and hate them, so I leave without one. But this time I knew I had to pick one, no matter how much I wanted to walk out.

My top criteria for choosing anything is how it looks (if the car is red I love it and want it). So I quickly glanced over the choices lined up before me and picked the htc Aria; it was small, didn’t slide or flip, and looked cool. Good enough, I’d take that one. They then made me mad by forcing me to get the data plan with it, vowing in my mind to tolerate it one month and then have it turned off, the only thing I would EVER use the internet for away from home is to look words up in the dictionary.

Well, suffice to say, I have become obsessed with my cell phone, whipping it out several hundred times a day, whether for necessary information (the current weather in Hawaii, Bangkok, and London), fun ( ball-in-a-maze for one), or education (my screen becomes a piano keyboard and I’m learning to play). It provides entertainment for my three-year old granddaughter (Fun at the Zoo and coloring pages), and finds restaurants whenever I’m overcome with hunger.

It is the most amazing thing ever! I can speak my text messages, grocery list, and Google searches into the phone and it types it out for me. But the ability to keep numerous long lists are the best. Over the years Terry has wanted to get me a palm, but as usual I pooh-poohed it, I’m a paper-and-pen person. Now I have lists on my phone for everything. Groceries. Miscellaneous. Want. Goodwill. Sam’s Club. Notes. To Do. Info. Writing. And I keep all appointments on the calendar in my phone, “at hand” anytime!

On a recent trip to Florida I entertained myself for hours by Goggling the baking mat I wanted, and checking out what was on eBay. Before, it was painful to be away from my email, now I can read my emails all day long no matter where I am!

I can find a Starbucks near me should I be caught in a latte emergency. And get this! The other day I was here at my laptop and I needed to find the jack-holes for the headphones and microphone so I could use my Voice Recognition. It was dark over here in my desk corner, and I needed a flashlight. I started to pull out my phone, because as we all have learned, it is a great light when you need one. BUT, I suddenly had a thought: maybe there is a flashlight app! So I looked, and sure enough, now I can just touch the picture of a light bulb and voila! I have a flashlight. I love modern technology!

Since I’ve had my phone I’ve even looked up a word in the dictionary. And occasionally, I’ll use it to make a phone call.

Lately Terry has been asking me about a Kindle. But I’m not interested, not even tempted. I LOVE the physicality of books, the feel, the smell, the pages, the romance of it all. I’ll NEVER want a Kindle.

Then, to make matters worse, I’m having huge ego issues. I don’t want people to actually SEE me wearing my strange magnifying glasses that sit on top of my regular glasses, and I’m not getting any work done by yanking them off every time someone might look my way. Nor do I have the courage to look like someone from a train wreck and wear my two carpel tunnel braces that I really should wear to not only protect me from getting it but will help keep it from acting up in the mornings with my arm goes numb. Unfortunately, admitting pride is an issue doesn’t make it disappear. If only.

This computer had better get over its funk about Starbucks because I’m not putting up with this. I’ve raised kids, I’m certainly not taking any attitude from this little ol’ laptop.