The dryer is broken. The air conditioner in the white car only blows through half the vents. The sinks in both bathrooms are clogged, one by toothbrushes dropped down the drain. The upstairs cast iron tub won’t drain at all anymore. The dishwasher only cleans the bottom rack.

Three weeks ago Bob and I went to an art show by my friend and co-worker, and we bought the biggest, most beautiful painting in the gallery. We whipped out our credit card quickly and decisively, like a couple of art patrons who do this all the time.

Bob brought the painting home and hung it yesterday. When Girl saw it, she fell backward and screamed “I LOVE IT!” It’s in the dining room, the heart of our house. Bob and I stop and stare at it at different hours of the day and night, noticing how the light and shadows bring new meaning and context to the work.

Maybe it’s completely impractical to buy art when so many things need to be fixed. But I’m so tired of my money going to things I care so little about. Sometimes my days feel like one long, boring maintenance manual.

The beautiful piece in my dining room is called Heaven’s Gate, and I think it’s no accident it came to me the day after my dear aunt’s funeral.

It can be my reminder of the Divine in everyday life.

My great aunt passed away last night. She was almost 89 years old, but still, I don’t think it was her idea to go.

In fact, I can picture her at Heaven’s Gate, arms crossed, arguing with St. Peter.

“You go tell Him I’m not ready,” she says. “Tell Him I want to go home.”

“You are home,” St. Peter says.

“No I’m not. There’s still plenty going on down there and I need to know what happens.”

“Darlin’,” St. Peter says, putting his arm around her. “Things were fixing to get hard down there for you.” (Yes, St. Peter talks like a Texan.)

“What do you mean?” my aunt asks.

“You were facing heart surgery. That’s a hard road for an 89 year old body,” St. Peter says. “You wouldn’t have been able to go to any more weddings or any more baby showers. You wouldn’t have been able to get your hair fixed or your toes done any more.”

“Oh,” she says.

“And He knows how much you loved that house. He thought it’d be much better to take you from there than from some strange hospital room.”

“Oh, I see,” she says.

“Besides that, your new house is ready now.”

“My new house?” my aunt says, perking up.

“Yes. You see that man over there?” he says, pointing to a tall young man in an Army uniform.

“Yes, I remember him,” my aunt says, putting her hand to her mouth in surprise.

“He’s been working on your house for 12 years. He just finished the green house today. So it’s all ready for you to move in.”

“Well, that’s good,” she says. “It’s about time he did something without me having to fuss at him about it.”

“Come on now,” St. Peter says, putting his hand on her back. “Your mama just put a pan of lasagne in the oven and your dad’s got a pot of crabs boiling.”

“But what about the ones down there?” my aunt says. “They still need my advice.”

“They’ll get by,” St. Peter says. “And Darlin’ you’ll see them all again soon enough.”

Today I taught second grade Sunday school for the first time. Here’s what I learned:

– A neighbor’s goose died
– A chicken tried to cross the road and was miraculously saved from an oncoming truck
– A grandma’s dog died
– A big sister ran away from home and was living in a shelter
– A mom was going away for a week
– A dad was in charge for the summer but didn’t know how to say prayers as good as the mom
– A dad was very sick

And that was just within the first 20 minutes.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a blog post about my new favorite TV show, Clean House, and included this sentence: “God, it’d be fabulous if a TV crew came over and cleaned up my big fat mess.”

At the time, I didn’t realize I was addressing Him directly, but apparently that’s the way He read it.

No, God is not sending over a crew of cute TV hunks to whip my house into shape. He’s sending someone better: the most organized person I know.

A friend of mine recently decided to start her own business helping people get organized: rooms, files, garages, you name it. In the e-mail announcing her new business, she said she would help the first three people who responded for FREE. I happened to see this e-mail and respond back within the first nano-second. So she’s coming over next month to assess my mess and help me deal with it once and for all.

And here’s the thing. She really needs someone to help her with her new website for her business. At some point as she was thinking about at all that webby/marketingy stuff she needed to do, my friend probably threw up her hands and said, “God, I could use a writer.”

So God, being the organized person He is, sensed the possibility of a prayer two-for-one and hooked us up.

Dear God, thanks for reading my blog!