My quiet Saturday morning ended abruptly when my 12-year-old
\nson, Billy, and one of his friends burst through the door.<\/p>\n
“Hey Dad, announced Billy, “have you met the new neighbors?”<\/p>\n
“No.”<\/p>\n
“Come on Dad, you have to meet them.”<\/p>\n
“Some other time; I’m busy.”<\/p>\n
“Dad, you have to meet them now.”<\/p>\n
From the urgency in Billy’s voice, I assumed the neighbors
\nwere waiting outside. I set aside my project and went to the
\nfront of the house. No one was there.<\/p>\n
“Where are they?” I asked.<\/p>\n
“Well, Dad,” he explained, “we haven’t met them yet either,
\nbut our baseball is in their living room!”<\/p>\n
________________________________<\/p>\n
A husband reading a newspaper says to his wife, “You know,
\nhoney, I think there might be some real merit to what this
\narticle says, that the intelligence of a father often proves
\na stumbling block to the son.”<\/p>\n
“Well, thank heaven,” said the wife, “at least our James has
\nnothing standing in his way.”<\/p>\n
___________________________________<\/p>\n
The pastor’s sermon focused on how God know’s which of us
\ngrows best in the sunlight and which of us needs shade. <\/p>\n
“For example,” he said, “roses must be planted in the sun,
\nbut fuchsias thrive in the shade.” <\/p>\n
After the service, a woman, her face beaming, approached
\nhim. <\/p>\n
“Your sermon did me so much good,” she said. <\/p>\n
Before he had time to gloat too much, however, she added,
\n“I always wondered what was wrong with my fuchsias.” <\/p>\n
________________________________________<\/p>\n
After our friend Tom had been a temporary Bachelor for
\nseveral weeks, we stopped by his Home to visit him. My wife
\nasked if he was eating Properly. “Well, I do eat a lot of
\ndog food,” Tom Told her. <\/p>\n
“Dog food!” my wife exclaimed, horrified. “I can’t believe
\nyou would be eating anything Like that!” <\/p>\n
“Come to the kitchen and I’ll show you,” Tom replied. <\/p>\n
Opening the refrigerator door, He waved his hand at a row
\nof doggie bags from half of the restaurants in town. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My quiet Saturday morning ended abruptly when my 12-year-old son, Billy, and one of his friends burst through the door. “Hey Dad, announced Billy, “have you met the new neighbors?” […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[41],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n