Welcome to the Funny Farm (15 page)

With all that free stuff, I figure the only way they could get any more complimentary was if they also told me I was nice looking.

You know, I may not put much stock in gambling, but I have to admit that when it comes to the possibility of getting something for nothing, I'm as much of a sucker as the next guy. In fact, I joined a book club once because I could get five free books for a dollar. What I didn't realize was that I wasn't allowed to quit the club until I had purchased a number of books equivalent to the inventory of the Library of Congress.

I guess there's no such thing as a free lunch. Which is too bad, because most of us would love to get that lucky break, win the lottery, experience a windfall. We'd love to be the one to slide a nickel in the slot machine and get a thousand dollars in return (better yet, we nongamblers would love to have a FRIEND win the lottery or hit the jackpot and share their winnings with us!)

Unfortunately, life doesn't usually work out that way.

There's this school of thought, however, that says that life is filled with freebies. You've heard the cliché as often as I have. It says, “The best things in life are free.”

But I have to wonder about that.

After all, the very best things in life—a strong and passionate marriage, intimate friendships, a vibrant relationship with our Creator—exact a heavy toll. They may be priceless, but they are not without cost.

They require hard work.

They require sacrifice.

They require an investment of heart and soul, time and effort, love and risk.

Indeed, the best things in life are anything but free. But maybe that's okay. Because the price we pay is just a token, really, in light of the priceless value we receive in return.

The Bible offers us a strange economy indeed. If we lose our lives, we'll find them. If we're last, we shall be first. If we give with a glad heart, it'll be given back to us pressed down, shaken together, and running over.

Over and over the Bible teaches us that, when it comes to following Jesus and loving people around us, yeah, there's a cost.

But it's nothing compared to what we receive in return.

Which, if you think about it, is a lot better odds than you'll find anywhere else. Especially in Las Vegas.

I should know. We got home from Las Vegas Wednesday afternoon, and I immediately headed out to the supermarket to buy a few things for dinner. When the cashier announced my total, I decided to pay with left-over cash from the trip.

I pulled out my wallet and began counting out bills.

I was a dollar short.

33

Takin' It to the Street

I
T
'
S
A
UGUST, AND
I'
M ABOUT TO EMBARK ON AN ADVENTURE
that is as American as motherhood, apple pie, and Nick-at-Nite. In fact, for many folks, this particular experience epitomizes the spirit of summer vacation like nothing else.

After all, what other experience gives you the opportunity to sweat, bicker, whine, battle boredom, and bond with loved ones all in the space of one week?

I'm talking, of course, about the family road trip.

The recipe for a road trip is simple. You begin with a handful of kids and one or two well-intentioned adults. Put them into a space the size of the average coat closet. Jostle, mix, and toss for five to ten days. Season with any combination of the following: PMS, road maps that appear to have been written by the Three Stooges, pent-up testosterone, fast-food wrappers, engine trouble, a half-eaten bag of pork rinds, “NO VACANCY” signs viewed through bloodshot eyes at midnight, surly teenagers, and preschoolers with bladders the size of peanuts.

When the car limps back to its driveway-of-origin, fling open the doors.

All that jostling and seasoning in close quarters will have fostered a certain fermenting/marinating kind of process. Sort of like Amish friendship bread.

Or composting.

In any case, what tumbles out of the car—in addition to sweaty, cranky family members—is something not quite as tangible (and definitely not as aromatic), but just as real nevertheless.

I'm talking, of course, about warm family memories.

Sure, some of that warmth gets generated from heated arguments, busted radiators, and the kind of emotional spontaneous combustion that can occur when normally civilized folks spend too much time confined together in close quarters.

But even memories of chaos and crises, in retrospect, can take on a certain charm of their own. In fact, in hindsight, some vacation foibles can become downright hilarious. After all, lots of folks believe that comedy is merely tragedy plus time, and they may be on to something.

Other warm family memories, however, come from genuine Kodak moments. Intimate connections that wouldn't have occurred back home in the rush of daily living. Sweet moments of bonding (and I'm not referring to the time the Tootsie Roll melts in the backseat and glues the two-year-old to the upholstery).

So that's the kind of thing I get to look forward to. Our trip begins in one week, which gives me a limited amount of time to compile all the little necessities we're going to need for our journey. On the list are car toys, snacks, an ice chest, Larry's Windham Hill CDs, my collection of Shania Twain tapes, sunglasses, road maps, and a prescription of Valium.

I thought about bringing Walter, but decided that spending five days confined in a car with a German shepherd was on par with a bad case of hemorrhoids: The experience wouldn't kill us, but we'd be so miserable we'd wish it had.

So Walter will stay home. And we'll hit the road. And when it's all said and done, we'll spend twenty bucks getting film processed at Wal-Mart, two days unloading the car, and the next couple dozen years reliving the laughter and the memories.

Truth is, I'm looking forward to the trip. It's going to be an adventure. I know everything won't go as planned and that there will be surprises (some good, some not so good) along the way, but I figure if everything went EXACTLY as planned, I'd wake up to find I'd been dreaming, which would mean, among other things, that none of my pictures would turn out.

Unplanned chaos, ruts, and bumps. I sort of expect them when I'm on a road trip.

They're a little harder to accept in other parts of my life.

When it comes to my marriage, parenting, finances, career, health, and friendships, I'd just as soon go by the map, thankyouverymuch. No surprises. No detours, disasters, or delays.

Unfortunately, that's not how it works.

Which is one of the reasons I love Psalm 139. It's one of my favorite passages in the Bible. I love it because it's chock-full of comfort, whether I'm talking about an excursion on the road or a season of my life.

The whole Psalm, from top to bottom, is magnificent. Do me a favor and read it (or reread it) for yourself this week. But in the meantime, let me quote one of my favorite phrases, penned by King David to God:

“Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? . . . If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast” (vv. 7–10).

What a comforting thought for road-weary folk like me! And it only gets better. I love the part where David says to the Lord, “You hem me in—behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me” (v. 5).

What a great image! Whenever I read this verse, I get this picture: I'm traveling down the road of life, and there's God. He's got me surrounded. He's in front of me. He's behind me. He's even above me, with his hand on my head. This is better than Mapsco, folks. Better than AAA. Even better than having a car with one of those fancy satellite links that slaps street directions on a computer screen on your dashboard.

Feeling a little road-weary? Had your share of bumps and detours? Feeling lost and in need of some directions?

Yeah, me too.

What a great time to remember that we belong to Someone who doesn't need a compass for directions. He doesn't look to the stars because he's the One who hung the moon. Best yet, if we let him, he's ready to lead us in the way everlasting.

Not even AAA comes close.

34

Open Mouth, Insert Foot?

P
EOPLE SAY THINGS TO ME ALL THE TIME
that I'd just as soon not hear. One day a woman came up to me in a store. I'd never met her before in my life. She just approached me to pay me a compliment.

At least I think it was a compliment.

She said, “I just love your hair color! It looks so natural. What brand do you use?”

I guess it didn't look as natural as I'd hoped.

But I shouldn't feel too bad. My husband has had worse experiences. A college professor at the time, my husband had just finished teaching a class when a student approached him and, nodding at my husband's suit, said, “I used to have a jacket that exact same color. I made it into a pillow for my dog.”

Sometimes the table is turned. Sometimes I'm the one who would love to make a comment or give a piece of advice, but I hesitate because I'm not sure how well my words would be received.

In fact, recently I was sitting in an airport when I thought of something I wanted to say to the woman sitting three seats away from me.

I wanted to say, “You don't have to yell. I don't know who you're talking to, but my guess is that whoever it is, they would be able to hear you even without the cell phone.”

Of course, people who yell into their cell phones aren't the only folks I'd love to set straight.

There are other things I'd love to say—but never manage to get up the courage to do so. Here's the short list:

“I'd love to know the name of the store where you buy your clothes. That way I won't ever shop there by mistake.”

“Your kids could be bottled and marketed as a form of birth control.”

“You don't have to suffer with unsightly facial hair. Help is available. We have the technology.”

“Booger alert.”

I don't say these things because I'm afraid the person I'm saying them to will be upset or offended. Of course, if I REALLY wanted to get these sorts of things off my chest, I could always have them silkscreened on a T-shirt or bumper sticker. This is because people will communicate all sorts of things on their chests or bumpers that they would never say in real life. Remember the bumper sticker that said “Mother-in-law in trunk”?

Sometimes getting something off your chest isn't such a bad thing. Sometimes people are wise to take a chance and just spit it out. They're right to just walk up and say what's on their minds even though they're not certain how their words will be received.

Some of my best friends have done this with me. I remember the time my sister Michelle took a risk with me and said, “You know, Karen, you seem angry all the time.” Her words got me thinking . . . and into Christian counseling.

It took courage for her to speak up. She took a risk, and it paid off.

Maybe I should follow her example. Jump in. Take a risk now and then. Maybe not with total strangers talking too loudly into their cell phones but with folks I know and love.

Telling a friend who is angry or depressed, “I love you and I'm concerned about you,” is one example.

I can think of another example of something I should be willing to say more often. Oh, I think about saying it a lot, but too often I hesitate to spit it out. I'm afraid my words might not be well received, so I just think about what I'd like to say, roll it around in my head now and then, never letting the marble drop down to my mouth and out my lips.

I'm talking about the phrase, “You need Jesus in your life.”

I'm not saying I'm not willing to talk AROUND the topic. If I'm with a friend who doesn't know Jesus, I might talk about church or God or spirituality in sort of general terms. But when it comes to the bottom line, I'm chicken. I hesitate to get the words out of my mouth: “You need Jesus in your life. Not church. Not a belief in some nebulous big guy upstairs. Not angels or good karma or some book by the latest spiritual guru featured on Oprah . . . but Jesus.”