“Grrrr!” I whispered. “Free internet my back end.”
I entered the letters and numbers for the 6th time.
This time I pounded on each key most methodically, aggravating my snoozing sister.
A M E R I N E
5 0 8
The message flashed again.
We’re sorry. We have been unable to find a guest matching those credentials. Please call the front desk for help resolving this issue.
My sister was asleep in the hotel bed next to me. If I made a call it would only further irritate her sleep. She’d already pulled the covers over her head when I turned on my laptop.
Grumpily, I pulled on my clothes and tiptoed out the door to resolve my “free internet” issues at the front desk and retrieve the peace offering of coffee for my sister.
I scowled on the elevator ride down.
[clickToTweet tweet=”I tiptoed out the door to resolve my “free internet” issues at the front desk” quote=”I tiptoed out the door to resolve my “free internet” issues at the front desk”]
The man at the front desk greeted me with an overly enthusiastic smile. “Good morning! How can I help you?”
I wanted to say, “You can start by wiping that grin off your Metroplex pretty boy face and then fix the issue with the internet!”
Alas, this is not how I roll, even when I really, really want to. So instead I said, “My name is Jami Amerine, A M E R I N E, and I can’t log into the internet.”
“Oh goodness, I am so sorry for the inconvenience.” He clicked away on his keyboard. “Mrs. Amerine, I see here your room came with free wifi. Did you enter your last name and your room number?”
I refrained, yet again from the snark. I so badly wanted to say, “Yes, ‘Steve Jobs’ you infallible computer wizard, I was able to type in my name and room number. Can you spell ‘I hate you’?”
I opted for, “Yes, six times.”
“Hmmmm.” He pretended to ponder my conundrum.
I wasn’t leaving. I needed to put a post up on my blog and although I didn’t know what I would post, I would stand here until I could do what I needed to do with the free internet I had paid for indirectly, cause nothing is really ever free.
He jotted down my name and a number I didn’t recognize. “Mrs. Amerine, I will reset the WiFi. If you’ll go back upstairs and type in your name and room number 8 0 5, it should be working shortly. Here is a voucher for free breakfast for the inconvenience.”
This happens all the time to me.
And every time I think, “DANG IT! Dyslexia! What fresh new hellish embarrassment have you afforded me now????”
I played it cool.
“Thank you, and thank you for the voucher. But, I am not hungry.”
Cause I couldn’t take a free breakfast for an inconvenience that wasn’t this guy’s fault, that wasn’t really free cause nothing is really ever free.
[clickToTweet tweet=”Cause nothing is really ever #free. Obviously.” quote=”Cause nothing is really ever #free. Obviously.”]
I sheepishly made two cups of coffee and shuffled back to the elevator. I was most grateful for the revelation on my way back up to the EIGHTH floor, instead of the FIFTH. Certainly, if my own sister was politely irritated by my early morning connectivity issues, the unsuspecting folks in room 508 would have been much more so.
As I wandered toward my room I was also most glad to know, I am covered.
I am watched over; He who created me with what I used to consider and misfiring brain follows closely, ready to unscramble the scrambled and giggle with me, not at me. He who knit me together, with grand plans for my future, a future where I prosper, have hope… and am not harmed, wanders through hotel lobbies with me, and waits for me to uncover the obvious.
And He does so without irritation or condemnation.
He is for me.
He is for my success. He is for my redemption. He is for my advancement.
And not because of who I am, but because of who He is and what He accomplished.
Time and again He reveals to me His glory, even the tiniest of random, albeit ridiculous incidents.
If ever there was something free, freely given when it wasn’t deserved, when I was still a wretch who scowled at freebies cause nothing is really ever free – He died for me and set me free. He keeps close watch over me and opens my eyes to new truths, obvious wisdoms and the grandest free sacrifice in the history of pure love.
Even when I am wrong.
Even when I am ridiculous.
Even when I am on the wrong floor of the right hotel, with free internet for the select, who know their room number.
He is a good and gentle Father.
May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami
Ephesians 4:2 (NLT) “Always be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love.”
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