Amidst the busyness and long hours of work yesterday, doing my own regular work and then helping train in a new staff person, a little childish fun was one of the highlights.

I wanted let the new person know what the emergency call signal from our independent apartments sounded like and help her learn how to respond to it.

Thus it was that, while she was sitting with the receptionist at the front desk, I took the master key and walked down to a vacant apartment.

I went into the bathroom and pulled the emergency cord, which sets off a buzzer at the reception desk.

Going down on my knees on the floor, I waited for the responding party. As I heard them draw near (the receptionist and trainee), I began to call out in an exaggeratedly mournful voice, “Help me; help me!”

I had fun, and it reminded me of when used to do little plays for fun as kids. It was a great way to relieve a little stress and tension on a 16-hour work day.

The above-described dramatized, embellished cry for help, though, is not totally artificial. I might try using it at prayer when I feel a special need.

It won’t bring my co-workers coming with a gait belt to lift me off the floor, but it would probably bring some help from Above.