A Bad Day?

OK, I whine. I whine a lot. I like to whine, and I'm good at it. And, yes, when I read about people who have seriously horrible lives, I feel guilty about said whining.

But occasionally someone's normal, day-to-day life will jar me out of my whining.

Yesterday we had an extra handbell rehearsal at 10:30 am at the church. Our director, who is also the organist and choir director, is typically a very even tempered man; but he was a bit out of sorts yesterday, and he finally explained why. He was woken up at 7am by an old college friend who was down in the dumps and wanted to talk; he wound up snapping at his friend and then felt guilty, and then when he got to work, the window to his office was broken, and a homeless man was sleeping on the couch.

Now, I personally would, A. freak out completely, B. call the police, and C. never go into my office without an escort again. Granted, I can be a wimp, but still.

Tim, on the other hand, woke the guy up, told him he couldn't sleep on the couch, and got him some bandages since he'd cut himself climbing in the open window.

OK, I know this man is a minister (of music, but still). But OMG. And he could joke about it just a few hours later, and claimed that the homeless man wasn't that bad because he helped clean up the mess.