To paraphrase Amos, the Old Testament prophet, "I am neither a prophet, nor the son of a prophet." But some things are so very predictable that even a blind man could see them coming.
I truly hate to be suspicious of my wonderful church family, but sometimes they simply leave me no choice. It could have simply been a coincidence, but when you consider that they keep insisting that I immediately take a cruise, and the fact that they have hidden all of my hand sanitizer, there seems to be only one logical conclusion:
The mournful sound of "Taps" echoed slowly across the gently rolling hills of the cemetery one county over from our church.
When my children were little, I read them the entire Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S. Lewis. This passage is from the last book in that series, "The Last Battle":
Sometimes it is not just good to take time out for laughter, it is also actually biblical and beneficial. Proverbs 17:22 says, "A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones."
I watched as the truck, if it could still be referred to as such, teetered like a seesaw on the speed bump. It was the early 1990s in the midst of the "lowered truck" era.
Perspicacious, ubiquitous, calamitous, cacophonous, irascible. I know what all of those words mean and can use them correctly in a sentence. I also am not commonly heard saying, "Hey, y'all, watch this!" nor do I eat livermush, listen to country music (except for "He Stopped Lovin' Her Today," but you have to be a communist to dislike that) or ever touch alcohol. Our home is lovely and clean.
As I sit typing this column, I am not the least bit distracted by my two finger, hunt-and-peck style of typing.
Right off the bat, let me once again state my opinion that there are far fewer actual racists anymore than one might imagine, especially given the prevalence of politicians and pop stars and thespians pinning the label on absolutely everyone with whom they disagree, even when said disagreement has literally nothing to do with race.
They say that confession is good for the soul, but I fear that confessing that which currently weighs on my mind like a sedentary elephant with access to unlimited Twinkies will merely spark scorn from those who enjoy laughing at the plight of others.
