I love weed.
Or, at least I love the way it changed my day today.
Katie and I have been looking forward to today, Sunday, since last week when she text me and said there was a church about an hour away that she wanted to check out. Of course, I said I would go with her and so we've been waiting - waiting for today to come. We almost didn't embark on our Sunday adventure due to weariness both in body and soul but I left the decision up to Katie and she said, "I think I'd regret not going."
Boy, was she right.
So we arrive at afore-mentioned church at approximately 10:20 a.m., just in time for the 10:30 service and just after the 9:45 continental breakfast, which we'd joked about attending. Another reason why Katie chose this church was because of their slogan, "Our only dress code is please do." And just before we pulled into this church's parking lot we passed another church who's slogan read, "The church you've been looking for." If we only knew how true that was.
I got out of my car at the Weed Church (as it has been dubbed by muah) and smell something burning. Me, in my pea-brain-ness though, "I wonder what the hell is wrong with my car."
I went over to Katie's side where she was getting Evalyn out of her carseat and she mumbled, "Do you smell that?"
"Um, yeah," I replied, glancing at my car's hood.
"It's weed," she said, hardly containing her smile.
"Oh, you're right, it is!"
And we both breathed deeply...and rapidly...and then deeply again.
(my mom's first comment was, "I don't want to know how you know how weed smells." I distinctly remember riding on tailgates through campgrounds and my friends trying to "point" out the smell of burning weed but I couldn't get the drift and by the time I knew what they were talking about the smell was gone and the only thing you could hear was me asking, "What?! Who's smoking pot? Where?" The other times I've been educated on the Burning Weed Smell is walking into my narcotic detective friend's office and him going, "Smell that weed?" Yeah.)
The smell at the Weed Church was not a passing whiff. It hung around and hung around and I kept looking in the car next to us and around us trying to find a happy person. None could be found.
"Do you want to leave?" I asked Katie.
No. She would rather wait until we were seated, until after the pastor had introduced himself, and the worship band was through their first song before she leaned over and whispered, "Let's go."
"Are you serious? Everyone's going to know we're gone!"
Yeah, she was serious. And I agreed.
I mean, it was terribly difficult to concentrate on anything, much less anything spiritual when all I could do was look around the room and wonder, "Who's high?"
"Instead of Where's Waldo," I whispered to Katie. "It's who's high?" Haha - okay, maybe it wasn't all that funny. :)
Katie and I have perfected our Church Escape Route.
I get an important phone call that takes me out of the service, out of the building and to my car. Katie gets worried and comes looking for me. And we're never to be seen again.
We migrated to the church next door - remember, the one with the slogan, "The church you've been looking for"? - and we sat through an amazing service with a sermon so rich and full of the power of the Holy Spirit. Wow. (I'll probably blog more about the sermon later when I've had time to digest some of it.)
And that's the story of how weed changed my Sunday - possibly, my life.