We had our hot water heater replaced today due to a leak. I am sure you can imagine the scene with two sick children, a house that was minutes away from being shown to a prospective buyer and a garage that was a wreck with men working to replace our hot water heater and drilling holes in our brick. Don't ask. Just picture chaos.
We fumbled out the door to feed our lil' ones dinner and get to small group on time.
Hours later after small group, we pulled into our garage and were overcome by the smell of natural gas. Brad called the 24 phone number and they dispatched someone to our house.
At 11:00 pm, a man named Dennis rang the doorbell. Not once, but twice. Whattha? Then he proceeded to stomp through the house and he was not talking in his inside voice.
Now don't get me wrong, Dennis is my hero because he solved the problem so that we would not die of toxic fumes and he took care of a second problem of low water pressure that we had just discovered, but my guess is that Dennis DOES NOT have children.
What is yours?
When Dennis came I was sitting on the couch crying about India. Yes, India. Sometimes it still overwhelms me. But I will have to get to that post on another day because Dennis made me loose my train of though.
Dennis, my hero, the man without children, who interrupted my crying.