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Thursday, June 13, 2013

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I guess I'm just too sensitive. I feel guilty when I walk in a store, knowing I'm not going to buy anything. And some bored salesperson sees me come in, and then you see that look of hope, that look of expectancy on their face, "At last I can justify my existence. At last I've got a customer! At last I can accomplish something. At last I can sell something." And so they very pleasantly ask, "May I help you?" And then come those two most hated words to the ears of a salesperson, "Just looking." Suddenly they lose all interest in me and they retire dejectedly back to their corner. Did I say I'm too sensitive? Well, I'll tell you this, nobody ever gets very excited about someone who is just looking.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

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I'm seldom home for lunch. But one day, my travels had me at the right place at the right time. Unfortunately, that one visit wouldn't encourage me to do it a lot more times. I had an early breakfast that morning, and I usually do get a good head start on things, and so by the time I finally got around to lunch, I was really hungry. I came in ready for a major lunch. Well, we grilled a hot dog in the toaster oven. That was a good start, and then my wife went to cook some more things on the stove for me. Would you believe that the stove decided not to work at that point? And she said, "Wait a minute! Nothing's heating up." I said, "Well, that's okay. I know there are some chips here. I'll just load up on potato chips." So, I went to get the chips out of the cabinet. What chips? My son had fed them to his friends. So, I enjoyed my lonesome hot dog very slowly. I ate everything I was served. I was still hungry.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

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It's almost become a gag line; it expresses the attitude of an employee who just wants to meet the bare minimums of their job. You ask them a question, ask them to do some small task; kind of shrugs his shoulders, puts his hands in the air and says, "Not my job!" Well, that can be a lazy response or maybe a wise one in some cases. For example, if you ask me to repair your car, I probably should say, "It's not my job." Or if you ask the local mechanic to take care of your toothache, it would be good if he said, "It's not my job." Or if you ask your dentist to program your computer, it would probably be good for him to say, "It's not my job." See, you really shouldn't be working out of what really isn't your job and you don't know how to do.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

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I remember the time that my son got in real late. And I remember because that really wasn't his usual style. And, of course, I was waiting calmly and patiently for him to get home and, you know, waiting to hear his explanation; except for the hand cuffs and the bright light that I greeted him with. Now, he had good reasons. There were car problems, and there were people who really did have to be dropped off before he was, and, oh yeah, they got lost. It all checked out, but I was still an unhappy father for one important thing that he missed. Can you guess what it is? Uh-huh, "You didn't call!" Every parent knows, and most teenagers learn that you're making a big mistake when you don't call home.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

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I think my son was about four the first time we played baseball together, and I taught him with a plastic Wiffle bat and Wiffle ball. I remember telling him rule number one of baseball even then, and really of other sports too. I said, "Now, son, keep your eye on the ball." Well, I've told him that lots of times over his growing up years, and it wasn't always about baseball. Whenever he's had trouble with his hitting, though, which today really isn't very often, it usually was because he wasn't watching where he should be.

Friday, May 31, 2013

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Every once in a while the monotony of driving the Interstate is broken by some interesting signs. Sometimes I'll see one and my mind will get going, and it will process what I saw and I'll think about it for several minutes. I remember one in particular. There was a big, old truck speeding down the Interstate and it had in bold letters this sign: "Guaranteed Destruction of Confidential Files and Records." Well, that got me going! There was also a phone number. I didn't write it down; I didn't actually have any need for their services. But there was a number to call if you wanted all your confidential things destroyed. I thought about who might want a service such as that. I brainstormed some intriguing reasons and some intriguing people who might want to call that number. Guaranteed destruction! Actually, there's another sign that interests us even more.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

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Sometimes I wish it were in my power to get every church youth group in America to go on a missions' trip. Something unusual happens when some all-American kids suddenly get plunged into another culture to do some work in Jesus' name. It does something for the people they go to help, but I think it does more for the kids who are doing the helping. I heard a local youth group report on their trip to Mexico. Basically they had all of their support stripped away from them while they were there. It was a language they weren't accustomed to, the money was different, they didn't have the comforts they were used to, they had some spiders hanging over them as they slept at night which they for the most part don't have at home. They had unfamiliar food. The customs were things they weren't used to.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

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Most of the major milestones in college revolve around a little four-letter word. Maybe you remember; maybe you're experiencing it now. The word - exam. My wife and I ended up in some classes together while we were in college before we were married, and that meant we ended up being stressed out at exactly the same time, sharing the same questions, the same challenges. But it was after the exam that the differences we had really surfaced because we handled the exam aftermath differently.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

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"We have a little boy here!" That was the announcement we heard when we were down on the boardwalk at the New Jersey shore. We'd been biking along the boardwalk, and it was a great sunny day; thousands of people were milling around the boardwalk. Then came that announcement over the sound system; you could hear it all down the boardwalk. "We have a little boy here who seems to be lost. He's about five years old. He's wearing red shorts and holding a little red truck." All of a sudden my bike ride wasn't as cheerful as it had been. I began to wonder why they didn't at least give out his name. I found out later it was because he was crying so hard he couldn't give it!

Friday, May 24, 2013

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I remember the last time I bought a house. It was a while ago, but I still remember that nervous feeling of stepping out on a limb that night to say to the owner, "We'll buy it." I was thinking, "Where in the world are we going to get the money for this?" And then the hand shake, the signature on that document that committed most of my working life to paying for it.

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