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On the Sunday before Easter, my pastor was talking about the donkey Jesus rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. And my mind wandered (that's never the pastor's fault) to a horse that I met one day in Texas.
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One time Andy told me about the worst Christmas he ever had. Oh, he'd always had a hard time waiting for Christmas morning. I think most kids do. He felt that Christmas Eve was the longest night of the year just waiting. But there were a lot of long nights before then. And he was a little unsure of that Santa Claus business, and didn't quite have all that figured out.
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At first I thought some apocalyptic event had hit our town. Schools were all empty, wasn't a school bus in sight, lots of people suddenly disappeared. Not to worry. It was just Spring Break.
Of course, for many of America's young people, Spring Break is code for "party like there's no tomorrow, baby." Well, after downing lots of booze and sometimes drugs...your internal censors just go off duty. So a lot of folks come back from break with little memory of some big mistakes. Partying that lasts for a night; regrets and scars that can last a lifetime. Going for "break" and coming back broken.
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So, our whole family had to go for blood tests. It was time to check everyone's cholesterol levels, we were told. Now, as our son's blood was being drawn, he suddenly said, "I'm feeling a little weak." Well, that's unusual, because this son was probably the strongest member of the family.
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After Whitney Houston's sudden death, the world has fixated on replaying her iconic and now more poignant performances of her signature songs. And what stuck in my mind is the video they have shown of one of her first performances and the video of one of her last.
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I know you shouldn't yell, especially on a Sunday, but I did. On a Sunday a few months ago during the Super Bowl.
But, hey, my New York Giants were playing for the championship. And they needed my help, right, my encouragement, and my suggestions of course. How could they hear me if I didn't yell? I know it's, okay, just earth stuff, but it was fun to watch them win; especially since I have a special attachment to the Giants that goes back to our years in the New York area, when I used to speak for some of their pre-game chapels.
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"So are you planning to go on a cruise sometime soon?" It was the guy checking me out at the drugstore, and he was pointing to the newspaper I was buying and sort of asked that with a wry smile. Because on the front page was this haunting picture of that capsized Italian cruise ship that went aground a few months ago.
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I won't be going to a Lady Gaga concert soon, but tons of people have and will. To some, that headline-generating singer is just another cultural side show. But at least for now, the entertainer known for her bizarre outfits and her wild performances is an A-list celebrity and a cultural icon.
And it's all too easy to forget she's a person. Like all of us, a person with a story. She's starting to tell some of that story. As I read part of it yesterday, I honestly felt sad. For all of her stratospheric success in the spotlight, there's apparently a lot of hurt offstage.
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Wow! Talk about so near and yet so far - poor Desmond Bishop. He missed what could have been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to the White House and meet the President of the United States!
Desmond was a linebacker for the Super Bowl champion Green Bay Packers that year, and his team met the President. Meanwhile, Desmond took a nap on the team bus. Why? All because he inadvertently left his I.D. on the plane, and the Secret Service wasn't about to make any exceptions on letting someone close to the President. No I.D., no White House, no President.
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Years ago a friend of mine told me this, "If people who don't know Jesus want to know the difference Jesus makes, let them come to our funerals."
Well, I thought of that again this week as I joined one of our dear friends in mourning the loss of his precious wife and our precious friend. They've poured out their lives for other people in one of the world's most troubled places. And because of the violence around them, one of their little daughter's first words was "rocket." But a year ago the bomb that changed everything was a word that they heard in the doctor's office - "cancer." Last week, after a brave fight against that killer, Nancy breathed her last. And that little daughter, who is now a beautiful young woman who really mirrors her mother, and she sang at Nancy's memorial service. And she had this glow that defied the grief. The song said:
