We kept two special remembrances of our wedding. One was a piece of wedding cake that we froze; the other was a recording of the ceremony. The recording was a much better idea than the cake. We ate the cake on our first wedding anniversary. You've heard of chocolate cake; this was more like chalk cake. Uh-huh, bad idea. But oh, the recording, now that was a great idea. In fact, often on our wedding anniversary we have replayed it. We relive that wonderful day that our marriage began. I know some couples go beyond that. They actually dust off the old wedding dress and reconvene what's left of the wedding party, and do it again on some milestone anniversary. Hey, it's good for a couple to remember that wedding day. It's good to remember where it all began isn't it? In any important relationship a trip back to the beginning can rekindle the spark.
When I go to the doctor, he sure is inquisitive. I tell him, "I feel sick!" And he insists on getting all the details: What's your temperature, tell me about your symptoms, what about your throat? Let's check your throat. I mean sometimes he even resorts to a blood test. How radical! And if it's serious enough, we even have to get into my mother's health and my father's health, and my family history. Actually, I'd be wise to give the doctor all the specifics I can think of. If I just walk in and say, "I'm sick", that doesn't do much. It's really tough to help someone when they're not specific about what's going on.
Poor ol' Charlie Brown; staring into his mailbox on Valentine's Day, hoping to find a Valentine. He never does. And when he yells "hello" into the mailbox, the only answer he gets back is his own echo. "Happy Valentine's Day!" Man, that's an oxymoron for Charlie, and for lots of real-life folks.
"Who's going to drive?" That was the question Dave and I were debating. And after the debate was over, we got a pretty good laugh out of it. Dave was new on our staff in the New York area, and soon after he arrived we got, shall we call it an "enlightened" look at each other's personality. We were headed up to this retreat center for a day of prayer and planning, and we got to the parking lot and said in unison, "Well, who's going to drive?" It turned out we both wanted to.
My daughter went on a trip some years ago to a part of the world that she brought home with her in her heart and brought into the hearts of our family. It was back when the Soviet Union was beginning to collapse, as it was known as the Communist Empire and the Iron Curtain was coming down. It was right at the beginning of that. She was on a Christian music team on a tour to Estonia and Latvia. They were actually pursuing some historic opportunities to present Christ in public settings. But what really impressed them was the Soviet believers. And that impressed them even more than the meetings that they were able to hold. And they saw in those people a hope of freedom.
Well, the world sure looks different on a foggy morning. In our neighborhood the neighbor's houses suddenly aren't there. There's a hill I can usually see out our back door. On a foggy morning - no hill. And on the highway, forget it! I mean, it's suddenly hard to find where you turn or to plan much beyond the car immediately in front of you.
Over our lifetime I did a lot of the driving. But this time, I was the passenger and I was being driven to the airport from a speaking assignment. It's a good thing I was the passenger. I glanced over at this little amusement area by the side of the road. We just zipped by it, but I saw a water slide, a miniature golf course, and then I was really startled by what I saw. There was a giant, plastic water faucet and it was hanging, suspended above the ground with water falling out of it. It was not attached to anything, or so you could see it anyway. There was no water source anywhere nearby; it was just hanging there.
Rosie the Riveter! That's a sweet, fragile name for a lady, huh? How would you like to go out on a date with somebody called Rosie the Riveter? Actually, Rosie was a symbol during WWII. She was a symbol of the millions of women who left their homes to go to work in America's factories.
Okay, here's the scene: My wife and I are sitting together on an airplane. I'm busy working, trying to be a good time manager; getting my work done on my way to Chicago. And my wife has headphones on listening to whatever program happened to be on the stereo system, and she's laughing out loud. You know how frustrating that is? I'm trying to get work done and she's ho, ho, ho, ho! Listen, that drives you crazy when you don't know what somebody's laughing at.
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