To repair William Tell's overture

No time to lament.  Our initial shock came backstage, and we scrambled to consider options.  It was time for the chase scene, and should we attempt it without our usual William Tell overture?  Our sound system had crashed.  And what about our individual microphones and the rest of the music?  It was only Monday, and we had 6 more performances that week.  What to do for a trio of actors from out of town?  Imagine gyms full of kids, and would anybody be able to hear anything without the sound system?  That afternoon ushered us through a host of phone calls, some in search of a repairperson, some to touch base with the rest of our schools, and one to call in a lunch order for fast pick-up.  All the while, we asked the Lord to guide our path.  A trip to Guitar Center introduced us to a very kind staff who sympathized and quite generously offered their time.  A recommendation to Guitar and Banjo Studio connected us with an electrician who diagnosed our transistor problem.  Even reaching that point was mentally taxing, given our narrow timeframes and the miles that separated the stores.  Through all our phone calls and jaunts on the road, and amidst our regular loading and unloading of stage equipment and even the basics of locating the different schools and driving to each one, the Lord's timing did prove impeccable.  At each school, He brought together an in-house sound system, whether using clip-on mics or hand-held or stand-alone ones, each occasion being accompanied by a new amazement for the sufficiency of His provision.  From the children came wonderful levels of attentiveness as well as lively participation and hearty laughter, lending us to realize the Lord's blessing upon them as well.  And we did pick up our sound system from the electrician in perfect time for our last performance of the week.  All along the way, the Lord tossed in reminders of His presence.  One afternoon, having collected our to-go lunchboxes from McAlister’s Deli, I opened my horseradish roast beef and did munch to my heart’s delight, just so thankful for some nourishment in the quick recess between venues.  But then I saw a sheet tucked behind the sandwich, and in it was a pickle.  Something so simple brought an escape for me.  It seemed each bite of that pickle was flavorful enough to lift me out of our hectic pace.  As long as I ate that pickle, my backache disappeared, my heart quit racing, and my mind was quiet, except to tell my fellow actors how freshly I was blessed by that pickle.  I remember our director telling us ahead of time, “Oh, Monday afternoon should be leisurely.  Maybe we can go to the hotel pool.”  The closest we came to the pool was to peer at it through a window on our way to collapsing on our beds at night.  But we left town having seen the Lord at work.  And that's exciting indeed.