Annal 77: Tale from a Bus-Driving Frodo

So apparently my sister has decided to join with all of my other friends in the effort to find me a man.  I first noticed this change in her about two or three weeks ago when she texted me one morning to inform me that her bus driver was attractive, and that I should OBVIOUSLY ride with her to the college.  I had to chuckle over this since all of my bus drivers are passed age fifty with heads of white hair... or no hair.  I also chuckled because my sister usually tries to not get involved in the relationship part of my life.  I think she figures that I can either find someone on my own, or else that my friends are trying to take care of it, so she doesn't need to.

The point is, she and I were waiting at our bus stop this morning, when the bus pulled up (shocking, I know).  And the driver was not a fifty-something gentleman with a full head of white hair.  He was Frodo, minus the curls.  And just as friendly too.

My sister was quite happy about this, and informed me that I really should write a blog entry about it, and then informed me that I had her permission to marry the bus driver.  I think she just wants her nieces and nephews to look like hobbits.

All in all the whole situation just leaves me smiling.  I would be the single woman who people would try to hook up with bus drivers.  Although I suppose if I had the summer of police officers thanks to the deli workers, it would make sense to have a semester of bus drivers.

But mostly I think I feel loved.  I have friends and family who care about me so much that they just want me to be happy.  They don't think I'm incomplete without someone, or that my life is meaningless because I'm single, they simly love me and want me to find someone else who loves me too.

It's nice to feel loved.

Such is the life of a Christian single.

Annal 63: Tale from the Drowned Rat

Have you ever seen a drowned, or at least soaking wet, rat?  I have not, but I have seen wet dogs that closely resemble rats, and as such feel justified in the title of this entry.  It rained all day yesterday, the result of which was a somewhat wet me waiting to catch the bus up to the university. 

A friend kindly pointed out to me that in British Literature the heroine always goes through some sort of an emotional journey, which ends up being symbolized by her travelling through the rain.  Just as she collapses, unable to go on any further, she is swooped up in the arms of some hero and taken to safety.  I don't know about you, but this sounds like a fantastic idea.  Sadly, I have never  been one to be allowed to follow the norms set about by literature, and so my story is slightly different. 

I have had a somewhat emotional journey, things which perhaps one day I will get into a little more, but for now suffice to say that my heart has been broken and has had to be mended.  Therefore I feel that I am about due for a symbolic walk in the rain.  I had this yesterday morning when I was making my way to the bus stop. 

Now, just when you think my hero should come riding in on his noble steed to save me and take me up to the university, a hero did come in.  But he wasn't on horseback.  He was driving a bus.  And he didn't swoop me into his arms, but instead opened the doors to the bus early so I could jump on and avoid being further soaked.  He even wished me a "Good morning."

Yeah, how's that for a romantic encounter?

I then had to walk home from the bus stop at the end of the day.  By the time I unlocked the door I was pretty wet, pretty dirty, and overrall not the most attractive creature on two legs.  How do the women in the BBC movies make getting caught in the rain look so good?  They have the perfect mix of vulnerability and not-running make-up.  It is no wonder men always want to rush to rescue them.

This morning I was reading in 1Peter 3 where Peter is describing the relationship between a husband and a wife.  He talks about how women should not focus on adorning their outer appearance, but instead on adorning their inner appearance.  He uses the term "imperishable beauty" (this is the the English Standard Version).  This got me thinking.

What does imperishable beauty look like?  Peter lists some examples, but I wondered what others thought about this.  What does beauty that doesn't wash away in the rain look like?

Such is the life of a Christian single.