missionary in Arizona, helping the caffeine-deprived understand that real coffee doesn’t necessarily have to taste like bitter charcoal water.
Jerry and I stood in a long check-out line at Hobby Lobby, my favorite craft and home décor store. Although there were four check-out stands, only one had a cashier and the other three remained vacant. Many people–five, six, maybe ten–stood in line ahead of us. Just as many stood behind us. The line crept slowly, then stopped. Our cashier apparently had a problem with a transaction. She held the phone to her ear, her eyes darting anxiously around for assistance. Finally I had to break my new year’s resolution to not complain.