Pet peeves. We all have them.
One of mine is being late. I hate to be late. It doesn’t matter so much if you are late, but when I’m late, it makes me anxious.
I realize sometimes it is beyond our control. Perhaps someone else is driving or there could be other circumstances.
After 9/11 happened in 2001, there were many stories of survivors that came out. One in particular I read was about a man who was wearing new shoes that were giving him blisters. That morning he took the time to stop at a drug store and buy bandaids which made him late to his job in one of the Twin Towers.
His being late was a good thing. In actuality it saved his life.
Yesterday, we were late to worship. Even though only a minute or two, the singing had already begun, and there were no seats where we usually sit. Some of our kind friends saw us struggling to find a seat and moved over to let us sit with them.
In this case, also, being late was good. No, it didn’t save our lives, but it allowed me to sit next to a man that I have grown to love, who reminds me of my Daddy, and who has one of the best voices. His deep baritone voice brought my eyes to watering a few times as I listened to him sing those hymns.
We need to always remember, God puts us where we need to be when we need it the most!
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