Friday

Friday morning. 

Those are the sublimest words in the English language.

Last week I had to work. I hate working on Friday. Ever since MDCC went on a four-day week, (2007 I think) I have counted the fifth day of the week as sacrosanct. When anything, and I mean anything, messes with my special day, I am not a happy camper. To understand how this day means so much to me, you need a little look back on life in the past. 

For a couple of decades, I never had any time off. Really, I never had time off, never had money, never had enough energy. All of it was used up. I worked a full-time job, pastored a church, raised children, tried to take care of a house, and went to school. I completed BA, an MDiv, a PhD, and an MEd. If I wasn't on the job or in the pulpit or in class, or meeting with teachers or taking a sick child to the doctor, I was studying and I mean studying. My play, sports, and health were all on the back burner. Scratch that, they were only a distant memory of a bygone day that would never return.

Once, as I drove around in that little pest control truck and day dreamed, I had fantasies of what life could be life IF. I wondered what it would be like to have some time off. I thought, wouldn't it be nice to have a real vacation? Wouldn't it be nice to have enough pay to cover the bills? Wouldn't it be nice to live close to work? Wouldn't it be nice to get off a little earlier than 5:00 o'clock? Wouldn't it be nice not to have to work everyday? Wouldn't it be nice to have a retirement? Wouldn't it be nice to have all that and still have a job? Wouldn't it be nice to have a job that was not so physically difficult? 

It sounds like a tale, but for thirteen years during that time, my personal vehicle was a 1971 GMC pickup truck that I purchased for $200. When my son was ten years old, I cleaned out the storage room of all the old house paint, gave him a brush and told him to have at it. Yep, a ten year old painted my truck with house paint. It looked better. I was in the library at Wesley Biblical one day when I, from several book rows over, overheard one student ask another, "Have you seen Zane?" The askee responded with, "No, but I've seen his truck." The normally quiet book house broke out into a round of laughter.

Life was a struggle then. I commuted in that old truck to Delta State in Cleveland, MS, to Wesley Biblical Seminary in Jackson, MS, and to Mid-America Baptist in Memphis, TN. I had a propane heater I set on the floorboard in the winter time and I duct-taped the window up to keep them from rattling down.

That little mental wish list happened while I drove slowly down Montgomery Street in Greenwood, Mississippi about the year 1999. I had hope for a better day, but the things that ran through my mind then were only fantasy. What if? Ever play "What if?"

Fast forward to a Friday morning in 2008. I was doing what I'm doing now: drinking coffee, hanging out with cats, and pecking on a computer. God arrested my attention and caused me to think back to that forlorn day. "Remember?" He whispered to my soul. "Remember all those wishes? I gave you all of it."

Indeed, God's goodness is without measure. Life is more enjoyable now, easier, playful. I start slow on Fridays and play fast and long. Today I meet a friend at the pool and we swim. This afternoon a mow grass and lift weights in the back yard gym. Fridays are literally God's gift to me and that is why I feel like Satan is plotting, scheming, working when someone or something encroached even a little on my special day. Leave me alone world, or face my wrath.

Thank you Jesus for your blessings. In this case, you answered not a prayer but a wish list. May these answers always be fresh in my heart. May I always cherish them. May I always praise You for your goodness.