With “On the Road Again” blissfully playing in my head, the queen and I are off to Chattanooga for a fun (and frantic) weekend.
Sunday we’ll be at Journey Chattanooga, a church planted my Mark Love (who is a remarkable fellow) and where one of my two most favorite son-in-laws Charlie heads up the worship and creative team. We’ll have the privilege of sharing what Gospel for Brazil and Seed of Hope are doing.
Tonight we’re going to see The Glorious Unseen and Charlie Hall. Tomorrow we’re going to spoil the grandkids rotten. We may even find some time for the daughter and son-in-law.
So yesterday my friend texts me and asked, “What does IDK mean?”
So I answered, “I don’t know.”
My friend texts me back: “OMG nobody knows!”
During a recent company password audit, it was found that a certain air-head was using the following password:
When asked why such a big password, the employee said that it had to be at least 8 characters long.
My neighbors must think I’m trashy.
I don’t even have a car on blocks in my front yard nor a dilapidated washer on my front porch (though I would like to have a goat staked out and grazing). I’ve not painted the house purple, I don’t have old tires holding a tarp down on my roof and the grass isn’t knee high.
But my neighbors, or at least one of them, think I’m trashy.
I don’t have garbage service. I take my trash to the dumpster at my office. So, I don’t have one of those big, green trashcans the waste management company gives you.
Every Thursday the streets in the neighborhood appear to be decorated for St. Patrick’s day. Green trashcans are everywhere. At the end of the day everyone collects them and brings them back in.
Except one person.
I think they are trying to be a good neighbor. But they are driving me crazy.
Every Thursday evening upon returning home, there is a big, green trashcan parked directly in front of my front door. I take it back to the street and park it away from my house. The next morning it is back.
Either that trashcan is awfully fond of me or someone thinks it belongs to me.
I put it back in the street and it mysteriously disappears until the next Thursday.
There’s probably another neighbor who wonders why I keep stealing their trashcan…
I only have one name — no last name. I hope you’ll fix your form so it doesn’t insist on people filling in both fields. Also, I dislike having to give my information to place an order. This makes Internet shopping more time-consuming than it needs to be. This was a definite turn-off that made me order less than I would have otherwise.
We have an online natural products site. In eight years of taking orders from folks, today I experienced a first.
“Moonchild” places an order and added the above comment. Um, excuse me, but most folks do have more than one name. In thousands of orders placed, this is the first time it has come up. Maybe the name should be divided in two, as in Moon Child. It would probably make life a bit easier.
Would it not be a bit difficult for me to send you what you ordered if I don’t have your address? Not quite sure how to “fix” that one. Yeah, it’s kind of a bummer, and does consume time, but until we get the teleporter up and running I’ll probably have to have your address.
Ever been to a boring church?
Kinda sucky, isn’t it?
If you like boring, you’d best not show up at the Gospel for Brazil church in Ubaúna, Brazil. These folks are rockin’! They do not know what it means to behave in a “dignified” manner. They go all out, just like folks at a big ballgame! A hootin’ and a hollerin’, why you’d think they’re having a grand ol’ time.
This church hardly has two pennies to rub together. But that didn’t stop them from saving their tithes and offerings to be able to purchase an electric guitar and a drum set.
There are two things that are significant about that statement. First, in order to purchase these items, there was REAL sacrificial giving taking place. We’re talking about folks whose ANNUAL income doesn’t even reach $1,000; yes, I said “annual,” not monthly. Second, isn’t it interesting that the first thing they wanted to purchase were tools that would help them worship Jesus more intensely?
Even the kids got in on the action. Not about to be left behind, they are some of the most vocal and active worshipers in the church. There’s nothing that warms the cockles of this ol’ heart than to see these little tykes get wound up and then turned loose praising Jesus.
Maybe I’d better get down there and straighten them out.