Every minister's nightmare came true for me this afternoon. I had a memorial service to conduct and upon arriving at the funeral chapel, noted that I forgot my Bible. Not a problem, there was one on-site; then I couldn't find my notes for the service itself. I rummaged through my bag, rooted through the car a couple times, hastily making mental notes all the while, fearing I'd have to extemporize and ad lib my way through it.
I called home and Shelley didn't see it anywhere. After a minute of heart-pounding fret and anguish, I called her back and had her email the document to the funeral home where it was printed and in my hands in a matter of seconds. To say I was relieved would be an understatement.
I guess this whole ordeal was cosmic payback for saying "Jackass" during the Children's Story in church.