Final touches to notes. The lesson I will share with a group of women is complete. Or is it? Unsettledness. “Okay God, what would YOU like to say?” I argue, I fuss, and then it comes. It took more morning time than planned to change my notes and make them His. That time was allotted for other things.
Mumbling under my breath and now behind schedule, there’s no time to curl the hair today—fixing the hair straight is quicker. Black attire on, I grasp for the lint roller to remove excess dog hair from my black pants. I rush to the closet to retrieve my books for the event. Reaching into the closet, a machine gun sounds, bratatat, bratatat, bratatat! Dropping to the floor, chest hits first. Next, silence. The only sound now heard is the thumping of my heart. Looking behind me, I identify the gunman. It was no other than, Gangster Bubble Wrapper. Yes, I had stepped on bubble wrap. Oh Glory! I laugh, but there is no time for such festivities.
Back in upright position, my lovely black outfit is once again, lined with Husky hair. I begin bonding with the Israelites through grumbling. “See God, if only I’d stuck with the original talk that I’d planned, I wouldn’t be running late and covered in dog hair!” Backspace, delete, where’s the white out? Okay I would’ve been late anyway, but that’s beside the point. I had been shot at, and running out the door I continue to grumble.
Speech done, applause, I return to my seat. Ladies talk about how their hearts received my words. I tell them, “God’s words, mine were different.”