Let's all pray

 Does this ever happen to you?

You find an old framed photo of yourself crossing the finish line in a 10K race. It's from way back in the day. When you could slide into a 31 inch waist pair of Levis. And the drawer in your bathroom had all kinds of combs and brushes and hair creams and condoms that are all useless, now. 

You want to hang this momentous glimpse of the past and you've found the perfect nook or cranny in the house to accommodate your pitiful nostalgia. But the nook and/or cranny is on a piece of drywall where there are no studs. So you search for a left handed, zinc plated mollybolt. But can't find one. 

"Where are my damn mollybolts?" , you might scream at the three walls of the garage if you were short tempered and given to bursts of unnecessary drama.

You might not have one, but you can be sure Jeff Bezos does. And then, for the next three weeks your social media is flooded with ads for mollybolts. From Amazon. To Arnie Rollay's house of Mollybolts. 

It's all mollybolts. All the time.

That's the mystical algorithm at work. And while it doesn't possess the power to change elections, as many low informed, red hatted voters might suspect, it can be pretty fascinating to watch it work its magic.

Last week I received an email from the good helpful people at Glassdoor, who unlike the folks at LinkedIn, want to see me gainfully employed and storing away money so I don't end up in a dirty nursing home. 

They said they had a perfect job for me. 

Given my calm demeanor, my accumulated years of life learning and my special relationship with the Lord, can you blame them for reaching out to me? 

Faithful readers of this blog know I dropped to my knees and seized upon this possible calling when approached two weeks ago for a different church position. And for reasons known only to the man/woman/deity/spaghetti monster above, the clergy decided to "move in a different direction."

But neither I, nor the angels at Glassdoor, are put off by the decision. Like the mollybolt incident, I now find myself deluged with job openings, most of them part time, at churches throughout the land.

It would take a month of Sundays to answer them all.

Nevertheless I threw my proverbial mitre hat in the ring. I penned what I think is a very convincing argument for taking my application to the next step. Though in hindsight, I missed a golden opportunity to expand upon my love for Maryland. When I was a young boy I was huge Johnny Unitas fan. And followed the Baltimore Colts religiously. I'm still reeling from the 1969 Super Bowl loss to the lowly NY Jets. 

Why Lord, Why?

Here's the short cover letter I'm hoping will catch the attention of the powers that be at Colesville Presbyterian...

Pray for me, won't you?