This post contains links that, if you click on them and make a purchase, will earn me money. Regardless, I only recommend products or services that I believe will be good for my readers. Thanks for helping me continue to produce great content!
|Trying to act nonchalant.|
See this woman?
See what’s behind her?
Yeah, at this particular moment, she was feeling pretty darn good about herself.
She was thinking that she, for some reason, had been allowed to hit the jackpot.
Have you ever been someplace, gone someplace, and known that you had risen above your social pay grade?
At the moment that this picture was being taken, I was well aware of that fact: I married a quality human being. He chooses friends (or they choose him) who are quality human beings.
And it happens that his friend – I’ll call him Ozzie, is just an amazing guy, married to an equally amazing woman, who I’ll call Harriet.
Ozzie and my Bison go hunting together. They write songs together. They make and produce music together.
And because I’m married to The Big Bison, every once in a while, I get to go along for the ride. Sometimes, like on the very evening this picture was taken, quite literally.
Ozzie’s son and daughter wanted to celebrate the 36 beautiful years that their parents have been married. So, Ozzy’s son and his gorgeous wife concocted a scheme to surprise his parents that involved us all climbing into a Hummer limo at Ozzie’s son’s house, and riding to Ozzie and Harriet’s house to pick them up and take them out to dinner. As planned, it was meant to completely take them by surprise.
First element of surprise: limo arrives at Ozzie and Harriet’s door.
Second element of surprise: limo filled with Ozzie and Harriet’s kids and their spouses, and grandkids, as well as a few friends.
The surprise worked perfectly, by the way.
So, this photo of me was taken right at the beginning of the evening, just as we were getting ready to climb in the limo. I’m looking up at the sky, trying to act nonchalant, like I climb into Hummer Limousines all the time.
But YOU can see it for what’s really going on, can’t you?
Yup. You’re right. That hint of smugness. That hint of pride on her face. Why else would she stop and ask her husband to take a picture, right?
Well, as we all know, pride goeth before a fall.
And this woman’s about to have one, and she doesn’t even know it yet.
Because one thing the camera DOESN’T really do very well is paint the entire picture. There’s nothing you can TOUCH to know how slick and shiny that limo was. You can’t HEAR the sound of the birdies chirping in the springtime air. You can’t SMELL the dog poopie, that unbeknownst to me, I apparently had just stepped in while posing for that picture.
But, about one minute after climbing inside, and duck-walking my way down that limo, you COULD smell it.
God’s little way of reminding me that, indeed, I am NOT worthy. I’m the idiot from the sticks who brings the dog poop on her shoe to the party.
The good news? I did discover it before we left Ozzie’s son’s house. They gave me some Clorox wipes, and my shoe and hands were duly Clorox’ed. The limo itself was made free of all traces of doggie-doo stench, before we began rolling down the road.
And I came back inside the limo a chastened, humbled, and more sanitized woman.
Although the fact that it takes a public humiliation to remind me to be humble is just a touch annoying. But apparently, some of us need just a little more work than others of us.
To sum up the evening: Ozzie and Harriet were beautifully honored by their children. We all had a rip roaringly great time, and story after story was told, each of which is worth writing down, and being re-told. But they aren’t really my stories to tell. I’m just hoping that Ozzie and Harriet have them written down somewhere. Their marriage, their children, and their life’s work are all beautiful testimonies to the grace of God.
Both the Bison and I have lost our parents. Every once in a while, there is a temptation to feel sorry for ourselves in that regard. But then, I am reminded of Ozzie and Harriet’s beautiful family, and of how they have welcomed us in to special evening after special evening in their home and within their circle, and I wonder how I EVER got so blessed as to be included into their orbit in life.
And then, this morning, this verse came to me:
God sets the lonely in families,
he leads out the prisoners with singing;
Just want to say how grateful I am to have been allowed a seat at their family’s table. Sharing part of my life’s song with this family has been freeing indeed.
And, um, sorry about the dog poopie.
~shakes head mournfully~