Author name: Dan

  April and I don’t know how many more years we will have together. Granted, theoretically, it could be one more day. But we know we’re nearing the end of our time together. That’s where our new priority lies.

While in college, I spent a summer as a flagman for a construction company. Waving a flag wasn’t particularly hard since the flag weighed less than a saltine cracker. Standing on black asphalt for eight hours in the summer sun provided a nuance to the phrase ‘road kill.’ It was hard work, and nothing could have made it easy.

God is love. That phrase is in the Bible (1 John 4:16). Sadly, many churches and pastors have co-opted the definition of ‘love,’ and now it means ‘tolerant.’ They teach, ‘God is tolerant.’ Therefore, we must be tolerant. If we all become tolerant about everything then evil ceases to exist. Seriously?

That’s masterpiece irony, and only God Himself could make it happen. Maybe He chuckled as He made it happen. After all, excellent irony makes us all laugh.

I owe plenty to my mother. She is the one who determinedly made sure her little boy went to church on Sunday. Of course, I didn’t thank her at the time. Instead, I went to the car kicking and screaming. Still, she refused to allow me to stay home and watch paint dry.

April is one of the best photographers in the world. She would debate that and ask me to tone it down. Therefore, and undoubtedly, she is the best photographer in our house. She can’t refute that.

Years ago, my sixth graders were required to write book reports. I stood over the desk of one young man. He wrote down what he thought was a sentence. I said, “That’s not a sentence.” He said, “Why not?” I answered, “It doesn’t have a complete thought.” He replied, “Yes, it does. That’s all the thought I have about it.” Point taken.

Thank you, Holy Spirit, for making our yokes easier via your presence in our lives. You come bringing fruit, gifts, and Yourself. With indecipherable peace, we are duly awed.

Back in our youthful twenties, April and I would throw a suitcase in the car and speed away from our home. Friday had come, and with it, escape. Our plan was simple: Land somewhere we had never been.

April eventually came along. We met in a lunch line at college. She was beautiful. I was not. We enjoyed lunch together, and I walked her back to her dorm. Years later I found out she was thinking, “When is this guy going to leave?” Had to be the cow lick, right?