I was on a plane last week that was scheduled to land in Spartanburg, North Greenville, Greenville, Greer, and back home to Columbia. I was packed and fully prepared for all the excitement. Planters from U.S./Canada, college students eager to change the world, and movement makers of all ages were part of the itinerary.
Instead my plane landed abruptly in West Columbia, Tuesday afternoon. Two weeks before the big Resurrection 5K, I had one workout and two blogs for the week. Talk about an empty tank. I was face up on a mattress sweating through my fifth t-shirt in two days. No movement makers in sight. Our Siamese cat (who was in heat, btw) Tiger Lilly a.k.a Lilly, was as close as I would be to mulitiplication. Her week didn't go well either.
I wanted my Yvette to call Dustin Willis (Midtown) to pass on my thimble full of wisdom and the keys to my humble ministry in South Carolina before I died of the flu. She called him but he suggested I just text him anything he needed to know and to leave my keys in the mail box. Talk about living in the margins.
What happens when the plane lands at the wrong place? A place you didn't pack for. A place you never wanted to go, etc. Has that ever happened to you?
World Headquarters today. A bunch of catching up to do.