As I typed that last post late this afternoon I kept hearing a persistent banging coming from the kitchen. But, in hopes that if I didn't respond it would disappear, I ignored it. Finally, though, I had signed off the computer and the clock told me it was past time to start dinner. There stood my son (who asked not to be identified) trying to jam the oven door back onto its hinges. In some weird manner, it had come off the hinges (I never did quite catch that story). It wouldn't go back on. So, in a desperate attempt to fix the problem he took a block of wood and a hammer - and did something. I'm not sure what it was, but it resulted in the oven door shattering into a million pieces all over my kitchen floor. I didn't yell - to my credit. I simply turned around and went and put a load of laundry in the dryer. Said child was distraught, so I called his dad and suggested to Paul that he assure this individual that he was not in trouble (even though he had just shot the chances of us selling this stove once the new one arrives. In addition, I wasn't sure at that point if I would even be able to use my oven anymore, which posed serious potential problems to our need for food until then. I don't think you can cook casseroles in a toaster oven.) As I posted on Facebook: Testosterone + brute strength = 1 shattered oven door...sigh...
As it turned out, Paul was able to put it back together when he got home. He showed said child how the door latches into the hinges (it was really quite simple) and then he used electrical tape to hold the insulation onto the door.
I am SO glad we ordered a new stove yesterday! I can't help but think God directed our steps. Perhaps, he even arranged that sale at Menards specifically for us...
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