I was killing time while they made my latte—and had to chuckle at the brochures. To give the impression they give a rip about their customer base, there’s one that says, “We’d Love to Hear Your Thoughts.”
Oh, no, you wouldn’t!
“Your mochas taste like you put sand in them.”
But I wouldn’t stop there: my mind would wander to places that are, well, to quote a friend, nunya-biznizz.
Who are these people, and why are they so curious? Goodness knows, with all the coffee, cups, and cash, they’ve got enough problems; they certainly don’t need mine.
I’m sure anyone would agree—it’s one of God’s best designs that the human brain is encased inside a thick skull; we’re all better off.
Ps. 26:2 Examine me, O LORD, and prove me; Try my mind and my heart.
My husband loves many things about me, but yeah, there are a few thorns on this rose—one of which is thinking I can read his mind. He absolutely hates that. (He didn’t have to tell me.) Oh, and what husband doesn’t equally disdain constant poking and prodding until he spills it—only to regret it. Frankly, the one doing the prodding usually regrets hearing what was (or wasn’t) spinning around in there.
So this brochure struck a chord. The last several weeks have been challenging. And I admit, I’ve had to confess and turn from thoughts that are not entirely righteous. So, when somebody else elicits my innermost ideas, I really do want to give them what they’re asking for: a piece of my mind.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Coined (lol) at least as far back as 1546, in today’s money somebody would have to offer $42.67 to know what’s going on in my head.
You, on the other hand, just have to click.
Nah. ‘Not worth it.
2 Peter 3:14 Therefore, beloved, looking forward to these things, be diligent to be found by Him in peace, without spot and blameless