A new temple was dedicated yesterday so the whole state of Utah got a day off of church.
My hub and I woke up and smiled.
Then we went back to sleep.
Then we woke up again, ate some Cap'n Crunch Berries and went for a walk around the neighborhood.
It was eerily quiet.
Actually, to say it was eerily quiet is an understatement. It was more like a ghost town--not a creature was stirring, not even a house.
Not even a car.
We checked our watches--9:30 a.m.
"Maybe everyone is at the temple dedication," my hub said.
"Why would they be?" I said. "There's no church. Shouldn't they be out dancing in the streets?"
Just then a streak of lightening split the sky and the clouds opened and the rain began to descend upon us like tiny drops of correction tape.
At first we were unafeared, but within minutes we were drenched in white out and we began to tremble.
"Do you ever feel like Gad is watching us?" I said.
"From a distance?" my hub said.
"No, from close up," I replied. "Like maybe Gad lives right here in Utah."
A thoughtful silence spread between us as we stood under a tree waiting for the rain to stop.
"Wasn't The Truman Show filmed here?" My hub finally said. "And Bruce Almighty?"
"And isn't Jim Carrey a Mormon?" I added.
More thoughtful silence.
It wasn't the first time I sensed an all-seeing eye watching us since I've been back in Utah.
There was that morning I walked my twins to school on their first day. The crossing guard was wearing corky wedges.
What crossing guard would wear corky wedges unless Gad was watching?
And everyone I passed was holding their child's hand and saying enthusiastically, "Today is going to be a GRRRRReat day!"
Who would say that to their child on the first day of school unless Gad was watching?
I would have said, "Today is going to be a GRRRReat day with a capital GRRRR!"
And then my kids would have said, "Ba dum bum" under their breath.
But then Gad doesn't live in Hawaii, so . . .
When the R.S. Presidency came over to welcome me to the ward, I made the mistake of saying "High five, sistahs! I bet you're pumped there's no church on Sunday."
Their eyes fluttered to the sky for a split second before swearing up and down that they enjoy their callings immensely.
You guys are probably thinking I'm easily spooked, huh? Paranoid, right?
Well get this . . . later that day we decided to roll the dice and go for another sabbath-day walk.
We only got as far as our chapel when the sky opened up again and James Earl Jones spoke to us across the universe.
"Simba, you have forgotten who you are!" he boomed.
And then I swear on my copy of Twilight we heard someone whisper "cue the rain."
Within minutes we were dripping in white out again.
And I was whispering "Ba dum bum!" under my breath.