Somebody totally stole my lunch today. That was my lunch. Mine. I made it. I was planning to eat. It contained things I paid for with my own money. My lunch. Why would anyone steal my lunch?
Which got me thinking. I love it when things like this happen. Thing beyond my control or influence. Because if something has nothing to do with me, it means there's something to learn from the situation. Like when I got a speeding ticket. There's a lesson, and it's not just "Put your lunch somewhere else," or "Don't speed," it has more to do with what happens afterwards or how that event affects my plans.
So what lesson did I learn from getting my lunch stolen? It's hard to say. But it has produced two new lines of thought: 1) Maybe my lunch was diseased and God delivered me from it, and 2) I hope whoever stole it enjoyed it.
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Last Thursday I had to go to the library. While everyone else I know brings their food and drink into the library, despite the numerous signs prohibiting such behavior, I like to play by the rules of common courtesy. At least when it comes to books. So I left my freshly brewed "Moon River" blend in my silver travel mug on the trash can just outside the door of the library. I was inside approximately 12 minutes, and when I returned, my coffee was gone.
I've left a whole fresh salad on that trashcan for an hour and a half and it was still there when I got back. Why this time? Why fresh coffee that has my germs floating in it?
I hope they at least drank that cup of coffee. I'll bet it was really good.
(I took the opportunity to buy a travel mug that, strangely, matches my glasses. Lemons into spicy lemonade.)
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