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I remember the day the space shuttle fell apart, and the pieces fell all over Texas. You could get really famous if you got hit by a piece of space debris. You’d be in all the papers for a week or so.

And I remember when a big old sink hole swallowed a car near Pittsburgh, back when I was living up there. Of all the ways to lose your car, that is one that would make the papers.

Used to know a woman who slept with a sauce pan on her head. She lived in a bad neighborhood, and she said you never know when a stray bullet is gonna fly through your bedroom.

My college friend, Bruce Call, was delivering papers in Xenia, Ohio, when the biggest tornado in the history of the state ripped through. There was Bruce, riding his bike like the wicked witch of the west, through a tornado…dodging softball-sized hail stones. He actually lived to tell about it. There are certain places where you just don’t want to be a certain times—like on the sidewalk where the piano lands when the piano-movers rope breaks as he’s delivering the thing to the fourth floor walk-up.

So far, the Lord has been good, keeping us from those places. But, since pride is a bad thing, He has also kept us from being in the right place at the right time. Today, we talked to some folks who would be perfect clients for us. They believe what we believe. They sell what we buy. They’re a little weird, inexactly the way we are. Unfortunately, they just hired an agency…right before we got there. We’re not giving up on that one. Could still happen. Maybe a project. Maybe something down the road.

Wrong place. Wrong time. Could be worse. Could be a falling Boesendorfer.

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