Wandering Wonders

Only seven days, Jessica, only seven days. Am I musing? Ahhh… I have been working a  minimum of  twelve hours every day to save up for Prague.  I am irritable and easily annoyed, and generally sleep deprived, but somehow still happy or at least content as some would call content.  I can’t wait to go.  I feel like so much has been on hold.  And I am scared of the unknown. 

Will I get pickpocketed?  Probably.  I’m like a bright freak of nature, oozing naivety.  It’s like a gelatinous glue glaring on my face. Haha.  Even so, Abba has a way of protecting me.  One time I left my purse in my locker unlocked and everyone’s belongings in the break room got rummaged through, and many stolen, all except mine.  My purse was black and my locker was dark, but unlocked, so I guess they couldn’t see it.  Another time my roommate stole six hundred dollars from me and I had absolutely nothing, but Abba provided for me with $500 checks from my grandpa, who I refused to ask for money from and is generally a Christmas/birthday kind of giver.  I couldn’t believe his provision then, and somehow I know He will be just as faithful as He’s always been.  Call it Kharma, good turkey, whatever, or just plain lovingkindness on the part of the Father.  And that time I ended up staying in Honduras with no money to get back, but somehow I knew I would get home… well, I’m wondering if Prague will be that way, too. 

   Ohh, and by the way, my customer service skills kinda suck right now.  I keep thinking to myself when someone gets irritated because they have to wait in line just like everyone else, and there are way more customers than employees, “Is it really all about you?  Are you gonna get behind me in traffic and ride my tail, too, because you obviously set the speed limit?  Is that how you live your life?  Frantic?  Hurried?  Without meaning… without reason? Put down the ream of paper and go home.  You don’t need to be shopping.  You don’t need that thumb drive or cat 5 cable you have in your hand. And what will make you “happy”, you’re not going to find here.  Believe it or not, buddy, happiness can’t be bought, printed, copied, or faxed.”