It will be written on my tombstone, 'Well, she tried.' And probably graffiti-ed next to it, 'She was very trying.'
There has been a new lady in church for the last few weeks; we have made eye contact and exchanged smiles. This morning I spotted her sitting three rows in front of me. I determined that today I would speak to her properly.
At the end of the meeting, she got up and headed across the room. Undaunted I jumped up, followed her, and put my hand on her shoulder. 'Hello, I'm Liz; I've been meaning to talk to you properly for ages.'
She looked at me blankly.
Did I have the wrong woman?
She politely gave me her name and then said, 'I can't see my little boy; I'm sure he's wandering around.'
'Is that him?' I pointed at a small child.
I definitely had the wrong woman.
She made an excuse to go and speak to someone else, and I went in search of a cup of tea.
Ah, well, the intention was good. (Roads to hell etc)