I left Atlanta around noon today after having spent some time getting a personal tour of the CNN Studios. We were the only ones that required some assistance in the accessability department, so we were assigned our very own guide and we took an hour long tour of the back hallways of the studios.
What fascinated the boys more than anything? The smells wafting from the employee cafeteria. I was fascinated by everything except for the extra 10 pounds that I saw on myself when I stood against the green screen.
Our drive west was rather uneventful until I got to Birmingham and Travis decided to have a massive nose bleed while I was driving 85 70 miles an hour down I-20 without so much as a Q-Tip within reach with which to stop the blood. I grabbed a Pull-Up from the deep recesses of the center console, handed it back to Tommy and told him to jam it up against T’s nose while I started scanning for the first exit.
I was a little concerned about pulling off into the unknown (when I travel alone, I try to be very aware of my surroundings and pull off where it’s well lit and highly trafficked), but desperate times called for desperate measures and I saw a McDonald’s at the top of an off ramp, so I chanced it and exited the interstate.
Within seconds, it was clear that I had chosen a location where no one else looked like me.
I was met with more than one curious stare as I darted inside, grabbed two handfuls of napkins and ran back outside to tend to T. Once we got his situation under control, I headed back in to wash off and grab a coffee for the road and while I was standing in line getting my order together, I started to hear some murmuring.
The murmuring got louder.
And started sounding less like murmuring and more like talking.
Then the talking turned to shouting.
It was directed at me.
In the corner of the McDonald’s was an older man who appeared to be mentally unstable. His garbled language and unpredictable movements confirmed my amateur diagnosis. I couldn’t understand everything he said, but “you white girl” was pretty clear and since there was no one else in there that fit that description, I can only assume that he meant me.
I tried to smile at him, but that was not the response that he was looking for.
I tried ignoring him, but that wasn’t right, either.
He was becoming more and more agitated and by the time I got to the head of the line to place my order, I was flat out scared.
And then Jesus walked in the door.
In a police uniform.
Looking for an apple pie.
(Can you believe it? And I wasn’t even at a Chick-Fil-A.)
His presence prompted the staff to escort Mr. Crazy out the door. He stayed with me until I got what I needed and He watched to make sure I made it safely to my car.
I am in awe of how He shows up right.when.I.need.Him.
Not a minute too early.
Not a minute too late.
Whether I’m in my neighborhood.
Or in somebody else’s.
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
Have a nice day.