As a third grader, I discovered my teacher’s age, quite by accident.
I had passed by while she was having a conversation with another adult, and I remember thinking that 30 was quite old. She was all of 23 years older than I was. How incredibly ancient!
Twenty-three years, to my seven-year-old mind, was a very long time.
I have heard it said that “Time waits for no man”…
I stepped away for a moment and, before I knew it, two years had rolled on into eternity past. Two years filled with joys as well as sorrows; laughter and tears; victories and struggles… all the good stuff that makes life the magnificently complex thing that it is.
God has been gracious and… isn’t that just like Him?
* * *
This space has been quiet
For far too long:
Enough of the silence;
Let’s hurry along. 🙂
Image credit: Pixabay
My face was blank as I stared at him because I was not completely sure whether I should laugh or cry, and I felt too off-kilter to do either.
His promotional spiel was of the sort that inspires incredulity. Let’s face it, to stand before a congregation, seated in a church that has obvious infrastructural challenges, and make an appeal for contributions toward the building of a 30 million dollar edifice, not their own… well – that takes a ‘special’ kind of gumption.
How could a sane adult be so utterly oblivious?
Third World Internet issues.
These four words explain my mysterious departure from Internet Land for the past week.
My service provider’s byline declares ‘This is how we Flow’ but, for those of us viewing those non-flowing modem lights, the irony is staggering. Throw in unanswered calls to the local office, as well as toll-free customer support that does a truly remarkable re-enactment of the confusion at Babel’s Tower, and you would be forgiven for thinking that Satan himself was the mastermind behind the altar to unprofessionalism that is FLOW.
If this is how these folk flow, we need an alternative because we are down to a trickle here.
Alas, alternatives are in short supply on this little corner of JamRock, which is why companies can afford to dish out disgustingly sour service (if it can – in truth – be considered ‘service’) and get away with it.
Ah yes… welcome to Jamaica, man.