KENTUCKY (6/30/13) - My past week was an open commentary on “Murphy’s Law.” Offhand I am not quite sure who come up with this concept, but they must have had a week somewhat like my week this past week.
I had to go across town and endure all that traffic. It is not my favorite place to drive. Just as I turned onto a street, my engine sputtered a little bit. Then, much to my chagrin, the engine stopped completely. I hate when that happens.
I turned the key several times and then, I do not know why I did it, but I glanced at the gas gauge and the arrow was pointing way beyond the E. It is bad to run out of gas, but the worst thing for me about running out of gas is calling the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and asking her for help.
Thursday also had its issues. My wife wanted me to go to the store and pick up something and for some reason, I cannot remember it now, I used her car. Maybe it was because I did not want to run out of gas!
I got to the store, paid for my purchase, came out and tried finding my truck. I walked up and down and my truck was nowhere in sight. The only thing I could think of at the time was that somebody had stolen my truck.
I thought about calling the police, and then I thought better and decided I would call my wife first.
“I can’t find my truck,” I said trying to keep my voice as calm as possible not to get her upset, “I think somebody stole it. Should I call the police?”
Silence on the phone. Then I heard her say in a very calm voice, “Whoever stole your truck parked it in our driveway.”
It was such a horrific week and I was so deep in trouble with my Better Half, I decided to take her out Friday night for a nice meal on the town. I took her to her favorite restaurant and we ordered our supper, then set back and kind of sighed the week away. Maybe all that could go wrong has gone wrong and the week was about to turn around.
We chatted; I tried to skew the conversation away from running out of gas and misplacing my truck. Then the waitress came with our meal. I was ready to settle down, enjoy a scrumptious meal and end the week on a happy note.
The waitress set my wife’s plate in front of her and she smiled. Then the waitress set my plate in front of me and I freaked out. For some reason the waitress got my order mixed up with somebody else’s order and right in the middle of my plate was a pile of broccoli.
The only hope I have is that it cannot get any worse than this. I think David, the psalmist, understood this when he wrote, “… weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning” (Psalm 30:5 KJV).
As bad as it gets, as a Christian I have some great things to look forward to in Jesus Christ.
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