I was having a lovely day, doing some heavy thinking (About a caliga_rpg post that's unwritten as of yet, but is supposed to be posted soon), nodding and smiling (well- not scowling, perhaps), generally full of cheer (for me), and I seat myself at the nail dryer-thing (the UV light that you're stuck under for 8 minutes til your polish dries). And this woman strikes up a conversation. Which is fine. (Question: Do I have a face that says 'please dump all your problems on me? Or unload heavy, life changing issues here, please? I'd be interested to know.) We talked Christmas shopping, pleasantries, are you from here? (Because NO ONE is at Christmas time; every po-dunk town from 200 miles around comes HERE to shop at Christmastime because we're stranded in the middle of a Godforsaken desert but THAT's a rant for another day.) Anyway, in the 8 minutes I was under the dryer, she managed to tell me that she was in town for a funeral, a 15 year-old boy (Her best friend's son) had committed suicide. She started crying, I got chillbumps and teary (SO not me), very nearly lost it completely, but somehow managed to say something vaguely encouraging to her. She thanks me, tells me that she feels better having got all that out, and that she'll be stronger at the funeral now, gets up and leaves, and I'm left with the knowledge that we are put here, in the situations that we go in and out of every day for a purpose. I am so very grateful for my husband, my family, for their health, for my friends, (rl and online) my life, and I ought to thank God a whole lot more than I do for the blessings I have.
All because I'm shallow and vain, and missed my earlier nail appointment because I was trying on freakin' wide leg pants. *nods* It's all in the plan, y'all.