Worry

Jesus said not to worry. He didn't mean pretending it's peachy either. He meant it was unnecessary. 

Like when an older lady was about to ride a friend's new bicycle home, and it was starting to thunder. I was never happier to see that the bike was missing a valve cap and had a flat. (We'll fix it. She had a ride home and stayed dry.) 

Like that yellow bicycle. Mustard would have a tough time being more yellow. The bike was relatively cool-looking. But nobody wanted it. The red one and the bright pink one found homes quickly, but I couldn't convince anyone to take the yellow one. 

When we were down to two bikes, a high-school boy chose the silver bike with the granny basket over the sleek yellow one. Uh-oh. 

The last one was then assigned by phone, and the owner came to pick it up. I was beyond nervous. Until the man got out of his van. 

His sneakers had bright yellow laces. The bicycle was going to the right home after all. 

The assistance center folk were also learning the same lesson. There was very little left this morning to give. The staff had to buy water and rice to get the day started. 

Then a couple of trucks arrived, one with rice, other food, and water, and the other with 100 futon sets (Japanese ones don't come with a wooden frame.) 

OK. We get it now. Worrying is a bloomin' waste of time. 

Maybe I should listen to Him a bit sooner next time around. Heh.