Lunch today is a Banquet meal. Not one of the "good" ones, either, one of the ones you left for last because you really aren't crazy about them and you were secretly hoping Jesus would come back before you had to get to that one. (Doesn't say much for the two that are left in the freezer, does it?) The chicken fingers taste kinda like sand sprinkled on dirty rubber, the brownie isn't very good, and the macaroni, this highlight of the dinner, is okay.
I'm mentally preparing for a department head meeting with the boss. These are usually some of the worst times in this place. Nobody leaves happy, ever. People have called in sick to miss these meetings.
So, I sit at my desk with my sandy-rubber chicken fingers about to go into my rather-be-yakking meeting. I place the cheap plastic-ish tray on my desk, and then I do something that instantly shames my entire line of thinking.
I bow my head to pray.
Lord, make me grateful for all that I have. Amen.
