
I feel like a prisoner in my own house—apartment. I woke up this morning with the reality that I was scheduled to go to work—actually, to help a friend paint a room to be used as a church office. My pastor was sort of counting on me to help out. But I feel lousy. I hope I’m not getting the coronavirus. I’m 69 years old and ripe for the virus; old people like me are really suppose to stay home. I didn’t want to do it, but I really felt that I should—that I should text the pastor and tell him that I can’t come, that I wasn’t feeling well. So, I did…
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Your young. I’m 76 and also staying home. It’s okay though I am busier now that I’m the chef and not eating out. I get bronchitis so easy, that I am just finding things to do and wishing I could be out birding. Yet, the Lord has graciously sent a Mockingbird right outside the back door this morning and 14 Whistling Ducks just across from my backyard yesterday. Have photos, so there must be a story there somewhere. 🙂 Feel Better! Lord’s in control.
Thanks. At least we are not in an actual prison.
Yep! We control the locks on our doors. 🙂