Photo 184
Here was the schedule for the afternoon.
Yellow Fever Vaccine – 2:00
Conference Call with Compassion Bloggers – 3:00
Meet Austrailian buddy at Buckhead – 3:30

That was how it was supposed to go.
To put it simply, our form of payment was not accepted at ghetto Cobb Country clinic so I went on a wild goose chase around Marietta looking for a Washington Mutual while Heather stayed at the clinic with the kids.
1 hour later…no funds…no shots…screaming kids…no phone call…missed meeting…Atlanta drivers deciding to all hit the brakes at one time because of the white flakes from the sky.

I cussed for 30 seconds straight.
30 seconds. Seriously. I have not cussed for longer than, um, like 2 seconds before. Ever.
That is about how long it takes to say some pretty nasty things.
But at 3:35 pm today I screamed and cussed at the top of my lungs in my car while managing not to take the Lord’s name in vain.
Like He cared after that.
When I was done I looked down at the passenger seat next to me.
There was my iPhone.
The home screen was not on.
It was the phone screen.
It had changing numbers on the screen.
Directly above that the name…”Dr. Rob Mohn” was displayed.
It only took 2 seconds for me to figure out that whatever was on the other line of that phone call just heard me brilliantly display my need for grace.
I slowly picked it up and heard nothing…
Then beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep…click.
My dentist just got a lesson on 9th grade ghetto grammar.

Only from a 34 year old pastor…sigh…