“Preachers with sermons and children with laughter, deacons with stories and relative disasters…”
(In the previous post “A few of my favorite things,” we referred to the Julie Andrews song we all know so well. That started this little series and accounts for the not-serious attempt at song-writing above. Now, one explanation: In what follows, I am leaving out my best-loved people on the planet, my wife and children, our eight grandchildren, and all of my siblings but one, Ronnie, who just had to be mentioned. Margaret says I’m going to slight some other well-loved friends by not including them. I assure her they will not mind, because anyone who calls themselves my longtime friend has been slighted by me so many times they’ve long since come to expect it, and nothing surprises them any more. So, why am I doing this list of a few of my favorite people? Answer: I have no idea. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. Next will be “A few of my favorite places.”)
I am what you would call a people-lover. I am gregarious by nature (Ginger, that means I love being around them) most of the time, although after a while I’m ready to shut down and be alone. In the words of a friend-now-in-Heaven, Dr. Frank Pollard, I’ve learned to enjoy my own company.
But I love people. I love to talk with them and hear their stories, love to laugh with them and share their tears. I love to make new friends and renew old ones. And, I love to amuse myself remembering conversations with friends of past years who are no longer around to defend themselves. Up in Heaven, they are visiting with the great story-tellers of the ages–imagine sitting in a cluster at the feet of Moses or Abraham or Peter or Paul for a few years–and then, eventually someone turns to them and says, “Tell us your story, about the time you fell in the pond when you were preparing to baptize,” and they’re off and running.
I can’t wait.
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