The Story Table

How to Get the Flu ASAP and Other Stellar Advice


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Hey, y’all! Thanks for dropping by! I’ve been looking forward to it. I’m knee deep into my speaking/travel season and life is going at warp speed! I could use some down time with my friends. Let’s chat…
You know, some people avoid hard conversations. Others tend to jump in too quickly and say too much.  Yeah, I resemble that.  And yet, the fact remains, hard conversations are necessary. They challenge us, and they change us, so regardless of your relational style, we need to learn how to have them. In today’s show, Lori Roeleveld, author of The Art of Hard Conversations, will give us some much-needed tips and tools to do just that.

But, first, let’s have us a hard conversation right now. Did you know there’s now a company out there devoted to helping you get the flu? It’s true. You know about chicken pox parties, right? I didn’t participate with mine, but I heard about ‘em. This is like that. Kinda. Only, this company that I will not name, ‘cause I don’t like to see the flu spread but I’m not in the business of helping Straight Running Crazy spread either—and we’re already in epidemic stages in many areas of our fine nation, will ship any sucker, I mean, anyone interested in their services a used tissue from someone who is already suffering from the flu! All for the super low cost of eighty bucks! If you’re trying to keep up, this means you can add this benefit to the already established offer of getting a transplant from the, um, extra output of a super pooper to aid in your digestive issues and you’ll be covered at both ends.
I’m assuming the flu tissues come with instructions, but I’m here with some that will save you the $80 bucks. Just keep the church nursery next Sunday. You’ll have access to more snotty noses and used tissues than you could ask for—and if you’re in the market for a good stomach virus, you may be able to grab one of those, too. You’re welcome! I’m just one woman, but I do what I can.
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(On the subject of church nurseries, here’s a little something from my Insta account that inspired today’s chat:

 
Add this to the bazillion reasons I love this man and why I give him grace when he does man things like…oh, I don’t know, how about standing in front of the fridge and asking if we have ketchup BEFORE he opens the door. Bless ‘em. They want to hear it from our lips, gurls. But, the pic.
This isn’t our grandchild. It doesn’t matter.
Phil and I kept the nursery Sunday. The precious young boy in my man’s lap hasn’t grown up as a nursery kid at our church. This accounts for why he was convinced that he had been abandoned, why he cried and snotted (sorry if you’re eating breakfast kids) the entire time. It’s why he refused all goldfish and cracker bribes and responded to my every “do you want to________” question with a wailing, quivering lip, “I doooooooooon’t.” I was yet another pain in the little one’s side, but Phil? The child bonded to my man like crazy glue.
Phil tried every “Pops” trick he knew to try and dry his tears. The boy wasn’t buying.
This isn’t our first trip rodeo. We’re parents and grandparents, remember? But rarely have we ever seen one remain distraught for the duration.
And that’s why Phil held him and spent the morning wiping snot off the boy’s face —and off of his own neck, face, shirt, and vest. Our traumatized little charge only quit crying when he was told service was over and he was going to be reunited with his mommy. That’s when it happened.
The child looked at Phil, stretched out his hand, and asked, “You coming, too?”
That’s the power of human touch. Let’s be someone’s solace today. God loves you. (And if I don’t have a winner/winner with this fella of mine my name isn’t Shellie Charlene).
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The Story TableBy Shellie Rushing Tomlinson

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