Sending Kathy S.
I was having mega-maxi computer problems on Sunday morning, and was pitching a hissy fit. Half the people on my bulk email list hadn’t been getting my Sunday columns for quite a while. They thought it was their breath. But it wasn’t! It was a mysterious computer snafu. Their names were still on my bulk email list; they just weren’t getting the stories.
Then there was a lady who wanted to unsubscribe. Even though I had deleted her name and email address from my address book, and it appeared expunged from my records, she kept getting my Sunday stories anyway, week after week. She was getting a little huffy about it. SHE thought it was MY breath!
So those who wanted the stories weren’t getting them, and the one who didn’t want them, did. Oy!
Then my website gurus, who were supposed to have a new subscription feature up and running by Sunday that would solve these problems, either didn’t get it working correctly or failed to teach me how to post correctly. It looked like I would have to type every individual email address and send out every story one by one from now on. Yikes! Maybe I should quit. This is far more stress than it’s worth.
Thankfully, the hubby is a lighthouse in the storm. I told him of my woes, sobbing. We held hands, bowed heads and prayed. Should I quit? Or should I just keep my head down and keep working on my swing? Show me, Father.
Then we headed off for brunch with the fossils. We had no sooner sat down than an old friend of mine, Kathy S., came bouncing up to our table . . . and went on and on and ON about how much she loved my Sunday stories and how she forwarded them to all her friends and family, yadda yadda yadda.
I looked at my hubby. He looked at me. We both just laughed.
We knew Who was sending Kathy S. on a special-request, reinforcement mission. It’s His way of doing CPR when a saint’s about to faint. Thanks, Coach. I needed that.
Then there was a lady who wanted to unsubscribe. Even though I had deleted her name and email address from my address book, and it appeared expunged from my records, she kept getting my Sunday stories anyway, week after week. She was getting a little huffy about it. SHE thought it was MY breath!
So those who wanted the stories weren’t getting them, and the one who didn’t want them, did. Oy!
Then my website gurus, who were supposed to have a new subscription feature up and running by Sunday that would solve these problems, either didn’t get it working correctly or failed to teach me how to post correctly. It looked like I would have to type every individual email address and send out every story one by one from now on. Yikes! Maybe I should quit. This is far more stress than it’s worth.
Thankfully, the hubby is a lighthouse in the storm. I told him of my woes, sobbing. We held hands, bowed heads and prayed. Should I quit? Or should I just keep my head down and keep working on my swing? Show me, Father.
Then we headed off for brunch with the fossils. We had no sooner sat down than an old friend of mine, Kathy S., came bouncing up to our table . . . and went on and on and ON about how much she loved my Sunday stories and how she forwarded them to all her friends and family, yadda yadda yadda.
I looked at my hubby. He looked at me. We both just laughed.
We knew Who was sending Kathy S. on a special-request, reinforcement mission. It’s His way of doing CPR when a saint’s about to faint. Thanks, Coach. I needed that.
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PRAYER REQUEST: Another saint who needs reinforcement is Joan, who underwent a tracheotomy this morning and is in an ICU in Kansas City attempting to get her strength back so that she can have a quadruple heart bypass. Lord, be her strength. (Psalm 46:1)
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