The gift of normalcy, with an easel

Finally, my prayers have been answered. Divine intervention is real and I am basking in the promise of a brilliant tomorrow.
 
Like so many people, I have been yearning for a sign that normalcy will return, that the earth will regain its balance and we will rediscover the world we took for granted in the time before. I feared that hope was in vain as the scourge continued unabated, tearing across the fabric of our communities with an almost palpable fury.
 
And then, the omen. The prophecy. The hope.
 
My insurance agent sent me a 2021 calendar. At last, I can breathe.
 
Now, this might not seem like much in the way of signs from the heavens. There was no lightning, no thunder, no writing on the wall or guiding stars. It was more a whisper than a crash, a quiet assurance of continuity, but it was very, very powerful.
 
At first, I wasn’t sure how to take this gift. Really, is there anyone anywhere who uses these things? How many people worry about losing track of their days until the insurance calendar arrives in the mail and they can finally sleep at night? How many people need one more assurance beyond the dates displayed on their phone/tablet/laptop/watch/microwave/television/clock?
 
Are there really people who race to unfold the tabs at the back so they can stand the calendar up on their desks and admire their insurance agent’s picture?  If that is the insurance agent’s picture, of course. I’ve never actually met my insurance agent, so I wouldn’t know the difference. The photo is a middle-aged white guy in a suit and tie, so it’s probably the right person, but there’s no proof.
 
I do know a high-quality calendar when I see one, though. This beauty has 13 pages, including this month, so I can start using it right away. It lists all the major holidays and even includes two spellings for Chanukah/Hanukkah, just in case someone couldn’t figure it out from only one option.  (Fun fact: August is the only month without a major holiday, or even a minor one.) Best of all, this incredible calendar also predicts the moon’s cycles, almost like Nostradamus or Aunt Flo.
 
But wait, there’s more. There’s a telephone index behind the calendar, printed on the cardboard easel, so I can keep track of all my important contacts. There are only nine spaces for me to fill in, but my social circle has been shrinking over the past several months anyway.  If I ever make more friends, I can always ask my insurance agent for an extra calendar.
 
Best of all, though, this calendar is a message from above. Beyond the thousands of incredible practical uses for my amazing yearend gift, this little blessing is a reminder of all that perseveres in this world. Challenges come and go, tides rise and fall, but the insurance agent’s calendar is a consistent signpost in our lives.
 
It’s the promise of a blank slate, a new year, an opportunity to write a new chapter in each of our lives, and we all need that kind of assurance right about now. It’s not quite a parting of waters, but I’ll take it.
 
Not to brag or anything, but I also received a fresh copy of The Real Yellow Pages last week. Don't you want to subscribe (click here) to find out what divine message it has revealed?