"Oreon told me she’s praying for you,” my husband, Gary, said in between bites. He and I were having dinner after work one night when I was in the throes of a particularly stressful time at work. Gary is a pastor at a downtown Chicago church, and Oreon is one of the staff members there.
“Why is Oreon praying for me?” I asked. I hadn’t had more than a passing hello with Oreon in weeks.
“She saw your Facebook status message,” Gary said.
“Oh,” I said, feeling my face go red and my blood pressure rise. I’d forgotten that I’d recently allowed Oreon to become a Facebook friend of mine. What had I written on Facebook? Was it something I felt comfortable having one of the ministers at church reading? I hadn’t said anything too horrible, like I wanted to kill my boss or throw something (or someone) out the window, had I?