Oh Happy Day!

My third-favorite local Goodwill store is now being run by somewhat stern Russian immigrants. While the Eskimos-- aka Indigenous Alaskans-- may have four hundred words for snow, former Soviet bloc merchants don't seem have one single word for service.

The place is as messy as an angst-ridden teenager's bedroom. It's the kind of thrift shop that makes you feel bad about shopping at a thrift shop. But there are good deals to be found if you're not afraid to trip over used furniture or dig through piles of debris.

As my husband and I were inspecting what is now our new computer bag, I was approach by a smiling elderly gentleman who handed me a two-inch booklet and said, "This is from the Lord." The name of the mini-publication was "Jesus Saves" or "Jesus Loves You" or "Jesus' Favorite Recipes."

In my indignant younger days, I may have snorted and tossed back the religious promotional tool or at the very least lied and said that I was Jewish. (Since I'm 1/8 Jewish it would only be 7/8 of a lie.) But, the current placid me took the book, smiled broadly and thanked him sincerely. He said, "God bless" and left happy.

Why not? He was only trying to help in his own pushy, inept way. I was, after all, shopping in a creepy Goodwill. He probably thought I needed some guidance or, at the very least, directions to Target.

Before exiting, I placed Jesus' book on a shelf near the front door. Maybe it will be exactly what somebody else is looking for-- I was only looking for vintage drinking glasses and a dress to wear to Hawaii.

But what if the man wasn't lying when he said, "This is from the Lord." What if, instead of a religious text, the Lord was just slipping me a note like boys used to do in high school. What if the inside said, "Jesus thinks you're cute."

Sorry, Jesus, I'm married. But I'm sure you'll have no problem finding a date for the prom. Who wouldn't want to go with a guy who could turn water into wine.