With a Little Help

I love that Jesus calls us friends. That's a big deal. It's so informal. And unheard of. It puts us on the same level as the Son of God, the everlasting Prince of Peace. Absurd.

My dad and I drove downtown today to pickup some curbed old windows and a desk, with which to repair a greenhouse and a rocking chair, respectfully. But, they were already gone. Alas.

So, headed home, we stopped at a red light. The car to our right was blasting a reggae version of a Beatles song. Do you need anybody? I just need someone to love. Could it be anybody? I just want someone to love.

We pulled into Claire's filling station. I walked over to the laundromat to look at their fancy pocketknives. When I returned, the bill was $18.01 to fill up the little red container, and we had $19.00 cash. Dad asked if I had a penny, and I said no, but I could walk around until I found one. I turned, prayed for a penny, and found a dime. Immediately in my mind was the Beatles chorus: I get by with a little help from my friends. Excellent.

I flicked dad the dime, and he went inside. The cashier (presumably Claire) said, aw, don't worry about the penny. Dad dropped her the dime and said, don't worry about the change.

Good morning.