I went to church today for the first time since my life-altering moment under the boat on the Dolores River in Utah on Cinco de Mayo, to give thanks for discovering the strength within me when I was in the river to get out from under the boat before I drowned. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, you know?
I was relating my nascent faith to a friend today and she pointedly asked about me delaying for two Sundays after I got back before I made it to a service if that's how I now felt about it. She's actually not much of a believer herself, and views my belief with skepticism.
I just laughed. Two Sundays ago, today, it doesn't matter really, not to me anymore. (Right: Tough times on the river. We all came out alright, thank God.)
I think I've changed a little, actually. Tomorrow, for all my non-readers out there, we'll recover the overturned boat and learn the truth about "dry bags" as the cold night descends.