Sacajawea State Park marks the confluence of the Columbia and Snake Rivers. The last time I was there I was much younger. And I don't remember how much younger so that must have been a long time ago. I was in my folks 25 foot Bayliner. My dad was practicing docking...in the wind...the wind that comes up about 2 pm at Sacajawea State Park. I connected the dots. The winds slammed the Bayliner into the dock way back in 19XX. And the wind wanted to tear the canopy off our camper last weekend as we attended the Sacajawea Bluegrass Festival. We paid to get wrists band and listen to music but we mostly showed the wristbands as we pedaled in and out of the Park to enjoy the great bike path.
Along about 3pm on Saturday we both jumped out of our chairs realizing almost simultaneously that we had promised Sara we would be back at 3:45 to rehearse music for the 5pm Mass. Scrambling for guitar, music, capo, picks, and straps we secured everything else from blowing away with the wind that we knew was coming (it was a bit tardy). Charlie knocked over my guitar picks and picked them up and put them somewhere. Its very nice of people to put things away for you, but then you never know where they went. We raced home in the red car, grabbed fast food for Luke, took quick showers, found clean clothes and made it to the church almost on time. I started to get my guitar out then realized my guitar picks were not in the bag.We searched every nook and cranny my car uses to hide stuff. No luck. I dumped every thing out of my purse. Nothing, Charlie went home to look around the house and check pockets for even one little guitar pick. No guitar picks. We were all pretty unnerved at this point. THEN The priest came up to remind us about the "DO NOT PLAY" list. I was just glad he didn't tell us all the songs we wanted to play were on that list because that's all I brought and we would then be in deep doodoo. The keyboard player didn't show up. It was going to be just me and I didn't have any guitar picks. Sara placed her hand on my right arm and prayed and then I played the opening song without a guitar pick. I turned the page, listened to the prayer that lead into the next song and reached into my purse for a kleenex. There it was,! My little bag full of favorite picks. I was flabbergasted because I was sure the purses was empty. I do not know how the picks landed in my purse. It had to be divine intervention.
This was the first miracle of the night.
Wow, you did all that in 45 minutes and still managed to make it to the church on time and perform. I like the part where you reached for a tissue and found your picks..in the very place you didn't even think to look! Happens to me all the time. I am a big fan of yours!
ReplyDelete