Good
Tuesday morning here on this
January 12, 2016. The wife has left me again. She is over in Louisiana with her family. Our dear Bro. Milton is slipping away but he is still sharing his testimony of where he is headed and how that it is all going to be okay. I came in from Church Sunday evening and decided to make me some supper that reminded me of Bro. Milton. Back in the olden days before we were married we did most of our dating at Church. Her dad was the pastor of a Church and that's how he and her mom wanted it done. Well, let me rephrase that. I can't say they really wanted it done at all but that's how they tolerated me coming out to their neighborhood. They just wasn't that sure about me. At any rate, after their Church services a group would gather at someone's house for fellowship. One evening we went to Bro. Milton's home. A young couple, he and his wife were the proud parents of their first little boy. I didn't mind having to compete with the other teen aged boys but I had no chance at all when my date was occupied with that baby. Bro. Milton was very excited to have everyone in his humble abode. He wanted a special feast prepared. Fried potatoes and light bread with cold milk. I wouldn't say that I had never before rolled up fried potatoes and made a sandwich out of them but I think that was the first time I ever saw it prepared for a fellowship meal. I can still see him beaming in my mind's eye. I told the wife last Sunday evening to be sure and tell Bro. Milton that I had remembered him as I enjoyed one of his all time favorite meals. Such sweet memories. Priceless.
I know to many that kind of unsophisticated story is very corny and simplistic. It might be referred to as a Mayberry moment. I plead guilty to not only the actual recollection but any and all premeditated thoughts about it. Everyone can have their own types of memorable things to recall. I've actually been permitted in my lifetime to be in places a number of times where cocktails and caviar were being served and the pretentiousness hung heavy over the entire proceedings. I'll take the simplistic homespun stuff any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Does that mean all I have in my memory catalog are these happy happy recollections? Not hardly. I, like most everyone, have plenty that still stop me in my tracks when I think about them. However, it's a blessing to have more of the good ones than those that are painful memories. Even some of the painful memories have a sweetness to them because they involve those who left us way too soon, as we see it. I think I can easily co-opt Bob Hope's moniker when telling the Lord God of heaven, "Thanks for the memories!" I feel an
Amen coming as I consider these blessings:
Amen!
I told the wife when she left Sunday morning that I was glad she was going but I hated to see her go. She simply said she knew that was how I felt. She knows that I am more than capable of managing on my own. (I obviously know how to fry potatoes, wrap them up in a slice of bread and wash them down with a glass of milk.) She also knows how much better I operate when she is around to help me. That term
better half was used initially to describe close friends and it dates back to the ancient poet Horace, (65 BC to 8 BC). Over the years it evolved into the meaning that we most often identify today relating to a spouse. The first printed instance of this to be found is from a book written in 1580. I think the best possible situation is when a couple both refer to each of as their better half. The only problem I have is that when I identify her as my better half I get a resounding agreement from all of those who know us. I can't even catch a break even when I'm home alone getting by on potatoes, bread, and milk. No need for you to send me a sympathy card because I am just having a little fun today. I hope you have a little fun yourself today and I hope that we all will remember to remember how blessed we are.
Amen. .....More later.
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