So Saturday night, after the garage sale, we planned a trip to our ward temple night, the 6:00 session. So we planned to pick up our babysitter at 4:30, which would give us enough time to get ready after the garage sale and drive the half hour to the temple. I knocked on our babysitters’ door at 4:29. No answer. Hmmm… called her home number. No answer. Dang it, I knew I should’ve called her last night, I thought. I called a few other teenagers to see if they were free or knew Jillian’s cell phone number. Nope. At 4:45, I knocked and rang the bell again and called the home number and left a message. Bummer.
Driving home, I passed Laurece, the woman in the neighborhood who knows everyone and everything. “Hey Laurece,” I asked. “Can you think of anyone who could baby-sit, like, right now?”
Turns out her 13-year-old neighbor was still on the corner selling garage sale refreshments. I flagged her and her mother down. Talked to them for about 5 minutes. She had completed the Red Cross babysitting class, had a few years of experience, and Laurece recommended her. Her parents were down the street, and she had her own cell phone. “Sounds good, I said, hop in.”
I flew home, introduced Loreena to Megan and Gavin, threw on my dress (no time for a shower, unfortunately) and we raced to the temple.
Christopher, for about the past year, has refused to drive over the speed limit. It’s pretty annoying. So, there we were, in the right lane, all these cars passing us, and we’re about to miss the session. I didn’t want to miss the session, because, this isn’t Provo, the sessions are not every 15 minutes, only every hour. So if we missed 6, we’d have to wait until 7, and then we wouldn’t get out of the temple until 9 and I’d be really hungry. Plus, I had to pee.
Well, you know the ending to this story. Driving 60 miles an hour, we made it into the temple session with 3 minutes to spare, and I even had time to empty my bladder. We got out at 8, got some amazing Indian food at our favorite little strip mall restaurant right next to Deseret Book, and arrived home by 10.
So the moral of the story is– the Lord will help you fulfill the righteous desires of your heart, like attending ward temple night, even when your husband refuses to speed and your babysitter stands you up. (Poor girl. By the way, she was inside, sound asleep because she was so pooped from the Young Women’s sleepover the night before. Her mom said she was hysterical. I told her, no worries, the Lord took care of it.)
Another interesting part of the night. We had a huge wad of cash from selling a bunch of our stuff. Christopher counted $1952. He took out $25 to pay our babysitter (yes, he only gave her $5/hour, but the house was a wreck when we got home).
Monday, I went to the bank, and I didn’t want to count that wad of cash again, so I just subtracted the $25 that Christopher paid the babysitter with. I took out another $2 to make it an even number, and wrote $1925 on the bank slip. The teller said there was a problem and recounted it.
“I keep getting $1950,” she said. “I’ve counted it three times.”
“That’s weird. I could’ve sworn my husband took out $25 to pay the babysitter with. I guess not. I guess it’s $1950.” I told the teller.
Christopher says he definitely took out $25 for Loreena. So either he miscounted the first time, which is a possibility, or the $25 we used to pay our babysitter for going to the temple was mysteriously replenished. I guess we’ll never know!