A praise given
God never gave anyone more than they could chew. At least that’s how the saying went. Between March 21 and April 6, 2011, my faith was tested at least three times.
The first was when my phone in the bedroom died. It worked just long enough for me to erase the annoying 1-800 messages I didn’t answer. Then, my phone had the message “Check telephone line”. That’s when I discovered no dial tone. I checked everything under my desk, never touching anything since I hooked up the new phone almost two years ago. The maintenance man from the apartment complex said it was my phone line. The phone in the kitchen got a dial tone so it was something else. The CyberPower 625 battery that came with my HP Pavilion 735n must have sputtered to a stop, because the phone was hooked to the battery and my computer hard drive. As soon as he plugged the phone in the wires from the jack, there was a dial tone.
The second time my faith got tested was when my friend’s companion had to work last Wednesday and I had to use a cab to get home from church. Their father dropped me off in the now retired blue Buick La Sabre, whose tags expired March 31. The turn signal lights didn’t work after the wreck he had last year, so neither he nor his younger daughter drove after dark. It cost $9 getting from the church back home. That was after the first taxi driver in the first cab was the only one available for my call. That van was as big as the church van they used on Sunday, minus the safety strap. I told the driver when I requested a car with a trunk big enough to fit my standard chair, I didn’t mean that big. The other in a regular car was all the way in Archer City. The person in the regular car was sweet. The meter read $9.34, but she gave me a flat rate. In order for this type of back up to work, I needed someone to either drop me off at or pick me up from church. A round trip fee of $18-$24 was quite a chunk of change from my pocket.
The third thing happened Wednesday before I left for church. I misplaced my house keys and broke my Nokia 6010 when it fell off my lap onto the parking lot. My friend, who was mentally challenged and didn’t like having their schedule interrupted, had a hard time believing I had trouble like that. To keep them happy, I got a spare key from the office. I waited till I arrived at church to have someone put my phone back together, minus the back part covering the battery. That part was missing. If I had just five more minutes to find my keys, the need for the spare key and the broken cell phone would have been avoided as well as the constant badgering from this person to hurry. I found my house keys in the shirt I wore two days ago that had a coffee stain on it. Instead of upgrading to another phone, I found a replacement part, same make, model, and color cover back piece I lost yesterday on eBay. Now that was a praise.