Friday, September 21, 2007

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One of our new staff members just discovered the secret in our headquarters dining room. As she was carrying her lunch to the table, she bumped into this white pillar that stretches from floor to ceiling, and it moved. The look on her face was priceless! She wasn't quite sure what she had just done, or if she was about to cause the collapse of the room on top of all of us. But, see, that's the secret. The pillar looks real enough, but it's just decorative. It's made of plastic, and it doesn't hold up anything!

Monday, July 9, 2007

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It was pretty scary for a four-year-old little girl. My wife's grandfather had somehow managed to drop his favorite pen down a cistern in his yard. She remembers it as being about 25 feet deep, and she remembers that because she was the one who had to retrieve Granddad's valuable pen. Her Daddy made this makeshift harness for her to sit in, tied a tope around her waist, and began to lower her down into that hole. Her mind was focused partly on the lost pen, and partly on what snakes might be down there in that damp hole in the ground. As she dangled in space in a scary place, she was counting on one thing: her big, strong Father was holding the rope.

Monday, June 25, 2007

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People who know me know that I'm a very focused person when I'm working on something. Except when it comes to the most distracting person I know - my little granddaughter. When she was only one-plus-year old, there was just no way to resist her when she came my way. She'd pull herself up by my pant leg, she'd stretch her arms my direction, and then made these cute little noises and irresistible faces - virtually begging me to pick her up. I'm not the only one who's gotten nothing done when she's around. No, she was that way with other family members; reaching out to be held. And I'll tell you this: our arms were always open.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

When my wife and I stuck our head out the door of our motel room one morning, we were greeted by a torrential rainstorm. Because we were driving a larger-than-usual vehicle, we had to park a distance from our room the night before, which meant we were in for a wet run to our vehicle. I was collecting our overnight bag, so my wife was the one who struck out into the monsoon first. For the most part, she was able to run under the cover of a motel overhang. So I took off, sprinting along the route that she had just taken. What I missed was her yelling "No!" to me as I approached a place to cross the parking lot. I missed her warning and promptly ran full speed into a huge puddle that had accumulated at the edge of the sidewalk: soaked socks, soaked shoes, squishing for the rest of the day. Oh, and my wife's feet? They were dry. Mine were soaked. The difference? She looked ahead to see where she was stepping. I didn't.

Friday, June 15, 2007

For years, the stories of J. R. R. Tolkien's "Middle-Earth" were contained in his "Lord of the Rings" book trilogy and enjoyed by a relatively small number of people who loved those stories passionately. But since the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy exploded from books to blockbuster Hollywood movies, millions became enthusiastic fans. The engaging fantasy world of Tolkien's "Middle-Earth," the unique characters, the epic battles, and the spiritual themes that run through the stories; there are many layers that have blended into an experience that has magnetized millions of people. It's a great story, but for many, this is a story that seems to say something - something important. Tolkien, the author of the "Lord of the Rings," was a man with a deep Christian faith, and that faith helped to shape the provocative spiritual themes that many find in "Return of the King," the finale of the trilogy. There is the ring. There is the king. And there, somewhere tied to both, are many of us.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

I arrived at our office one recent morning and had a little scratch on my forehead. It was really obvious, and most people didn't mention it. They were very nice to me. But then there are those who - like me, unfortunately - hate to miss an opportunity to "bust" someone. So, of course, I heard more than once that day, "So, why did your wife scratch you?" My poor wife took the blame. And, of course, I kiddingly went along saying, "Oh, sometimes it's the only way to keep me in line." Now for the truth: somehow, I managed to scratch myself in my sleep. It was all my doing.

Monday, June 4, 2007

Disney World. The Magic Kingdom. How can a four-year-old girl be a little cranky in that dream destination for kids her age? Our granddaughter had been having a great day there with her mom and her cousins while her daddy was busy in meetings. She'd done all the princess stuff she loves, she'd gotten the autographs of Disney characters she loves, she'd gone on rides she'd been looking forward to. But for some reason, by early afternoon she was just a little out of sorts. By that time, her dad was available, and he showed up to take her on some rides. And suddenly, it was like the clouds had blown away and the sun came out. She was the bouncy, happy little girl we all know again. In retrospect, it was easy to diagnose why the clouds had rolled in. Even in the middle of all the excitement a child could ever want, she was missing her Daddy!

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

I stopped by our local post office the other day; I'm sort of notorious there. No, not because my picture is on a poster there, but because I kid around with the workers a lot. But I wasn't kidding when I complimented them on their new uniforms. The Post Office has premiered a recently redesigned uniform, and I actually noticed. One of the women there seemed pleasantly surprised. I said, “Can you believe it? An observant male!” She smiled and said, “I thought that was an oxymoron.” Unfortunately, it would be all too often.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Aunt Betty's wedding ring had been in the family for three generations, and it's been passed down to my wife. There's probably no piece of jewelry that she treasures more than this one. But she couldn't wear it because Aunt Betty's ring size was a lot larger than my wife's little fingers. My wife identified a jeweler whose craftsmanship she trusted and she entrusted this heirloom to him to be downsized. To be honest, she was a little nervous leaving it with anyone, but she did commit it to this jeweler. When he called that the ring was ready, she could hardly wait to see what he had done with it. Well, the diamonds were intact, the ring looked the same, but it fit her perfectly. He didn't make it into a necklace or a pendant. He didn't change the setting of the stones. Of course not. He took what was entrusted to him and he made it better.

Friday, May 4, 2007

It's really a beautiful area of the Southwestern United States, except for this one horrendous eyesore. It's a graveyard for cars. Acre after acre, and you've seen them, they’re covered with cars that have been discarded, wrecked, crushed, and stacked several cars deep. And every time I pass this one and see all these trashed and mashed cars, I can't help but thinking to myself, "Just think, one day that car was somebody's dream come true." Someone probably wished for that car, got that car, and showed everybody this car they were so proud of. Look at it now!