[A story of how I got left at the altar.] It’s a snow day for the local schools. The custodian came out to church while I was there and brought her kids along. The youngest – we’ll call her T. – is always my biggest helper when she’s here. She’s five -ish and eager to do anything. Today, she helped me finish a bulletin board in the hallway and then she wanted to color on my white board. Cool. Go to town, T.
She finished the picture out of my view and then asked me to guess what she had drawn. There’s no way I could have anticipated this one. She turned the white board around –
T: That’s you. (pointing to the purple lady)
Me: Cool. What’s the red stuff?
T: Roses. It’s your wedding.
Me: It’s my wedding?!
T: Yup. And you’re surrounded by roses!
Me: Where’s my husband?
T: Oh. He didn’t want to come.
Is this a prophet in my midst? Is she telling signs of my future?
Me: He didn’t want to come to his own wedding?
T: Actually it’s not your wedding. It’s your birthday party. But he still didn’t want to come. He doesn’t like roses.
A birthday party for me and I’m the only one who shows up.
At least I bought myself flowers, I guess.
there's no place like gnome. 
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