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Well, several years ago it was our turn again for the cicadas to pay us a brief visit. You can't really complain; they only drop by every 17 years. What a life these critters have! They suck on a root in the ground for a while, they finally emerge, they climb a tree, they make a lot of noise for about three weeks, and they die. You talk about "get a life!"
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You've got to feel bad for the youngest child. Look, there's a thousand pictures of the firstborn, "Hey, we've never had one of these before!" Maybe 300 or 400 of the second born. And then, if you're lucky, maybe like 30 of the final arrival. Oh, we loved him just as much. We just didn't have as many pictures of him. Probably because his brother and sister wore us out.
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On the Sunday before Easter, my pastor was talking about the donkey that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. And my mind wandered, (not the pastor's fault) to a horse that I met one day in Texas.
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I grew up around Lake Michigan. And when I was little, I used to go in it. Now I mostly just look at it when I'm in Chicago or in the Great Lakes area. Part of that is because of what happened to me when I was ten years old. My memories of that lake are memories of a struggle I will never forget. I was out with my friends. I didn't know how to swim and I was too proud to tell them. Well, I started to go under. No one took me seriously. I mean, I'm yelling. I'm trying to get some help. I'm drinking the lake! I'm in a panic, flailing around, and my friends are going, "Oh, Ron, you know him. He's such a clown!" Great! Finally, just in the nick of time, someone came. They grabbed me and they literally saved my life.
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I had a mountain of work to do to prepare for some radio programs that I was scheduled to record, and the way things worked out I ended up doing it on the road. I was traveling by van about 12 hours with two of our team members. Now, let me make one thing clear. I like to drive; a guy thing maybe. I'm not the greatest passenger. I don't really like to ride, but I had so much work to do, I needed all the time we were driving on the trip to get it done. So they actually set up this little office for me in the back of the van, and they brought along a little power pack that would allow me to use my computer all the way. Very reluctantly, I climbed into the back of the van and settled in to work and watch someone else drive. At first it drove me nuts. But by the end of the trip, I realized how much creative work I'd gotten done in my office on wheels. What a productive day I had! All because I let someone else drive.
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I was in Georgia when a friend said to me, "Do you know which team is one of the best football teams in our state?" When I said I didn't know, he said, "The Georgia School for the Deaf." I've got to tell you that kind of caught me by surprise. I wasn't expecting a school for the deaf to be like football champions. He said, "Man, we played them when I was in high school and you always had to get up for that game. They were always the toughest."
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Those of us who lived in the New York area at that time added a frightening new word to our vocabulary. It was called "wilding". In fact, that word was the entire front page headline on one newspaper after this brutal attack in Central Park. A 28-year-old jogger was raped and viciously beaten by this gang of 10 - 15 teenage attackers. Besides an ugly sexual assault, she was beaten with rocks, and a foot long pipe, and then left for dead in a puddle on a 40-degree night.
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I had the cutest little guy join me on my hike. I was in the country exploring a trail that wound along the creek and at first I just saw this little flash of black and white fur toddling along through the grass not far from me. He was headed the same direction I was; going my way. I told you he was cute. He was all black, except for a nice white stripe all the way down his back, a big bushy tail, a cute little almost kitten-like face. Yes, it was a skunk!
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I've had a number of young women complain to me about a condition they find rampant in young men these days. You could call it "commitment phobia." Or as one author did, "Peter Pan syndrome; I don't want to grow up." A guy's willing to show interest, he's willing to court you, charm you, agree with you, spend money on you, and you reach this level of mutual compatibility. That's good. And then you're on the edge of commitment and he's gone. That's pretty frustrating.
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My friend was an executive at a Bible distribution society, and he told me about one of their workers in Zimbabwe. His name was Gabriel. What a great name for a man distributing Bibles, huh? Their policy was to sell their Bibles for a small price so people would value them. The problem they encountered was that some people were actually using the thin paper of those Bibles to make cigarettes! In fact, one potential customer actually said to Gabriel, "I'll take one of your Bibles, but if I do, I'll smoke it."
