This morning, my roommate and I went out for coffee like we do every week before church, and after we were done, she took me to see her church, which is really incredibly beautiful. As a result, though, I got stuck on the opposite side of the street as my dorm. You see, there’s an enormous race that’s blocking off the major streets, and my service starts an hour and a half after hers, so I had quite a bit of time with nothing to do.
I started the mile walk to church and began self-consciously photographing the runners. As I watched them, some in costumes, some carrying enormous flags and some seeming to carry burdens that were even larger, I couldn’t help wondering about their stories.
There’s also this special quality of a Sunday morning. Everything is clear and bright and quiet. The Pittsburgh Carpathian band was playing and the bells of the huge cathedral were ringing, and there’s so much I would have missed if I had gone back to my dorm to fix my hair and powder my nose.
I’m sitting on a bench waiting for my friends to get here and church to start, watching the remaining stragglers and walkers. It’s a quiet Sunday again, giving me just enough time for a blog post before service.
So sometimes roadblocks are a blessing in disguise. But I guess I should know that by now.