My sister Sherry is a speech language pathologist. So is my daughter, Annie. Sherry worked with young children in elementary schools for more than three decades.
One day she was testing a kid for word recognition. She said a word, had the child repeat it to her, and then the kid was to put the word in a sentence.
Word #1. Irrigate.
The kid rolls those “R’s out with a bit of a struggle, then follows with this sentence:
“My big sister irrigates me!”
Sherry smiles, hands him his reward for pronouncing the word, then suggests that he may have meant that his sister “irritates” him.
Same kid, word #2. Humid.
The kid hums the “m” and clicks his tongue up behind his teeth to form the “d”.
“Humid. My dad has a really good sense of humid.”
Sherry: (Chuckling) Sorry buddy, I think you meant to say “humor.”
A good clean chuckle, to a Christian soul, is like rain on the desert. We really overlook its power. I HOPE I don’t forget that!
Last night my sister Libby told us about the time she had to correct one of the ticket agents for Trans World Airlines. Lib was regional sales manager for TWA, and she was at the desk overseeing a large group from a travel agency. She could hear a young agent talking to a passenger who was trying to check a cardboard box instead of a suitcase. “Sir, you’re going to have to sign a waiver for this package. TWA cannot be reliable for this.” The passenger objected, and the agent just kept repeating “TWA is just not reliable, you’ll need to sign a waiver.” Finally Libby stepped over to the gal and pulled her aside, “Um, I think you must mean to say that TWA cannot be liable or responsible; but we really don’t want you to keep repeating that TWA is not reliable.”
For years now we have been commenting amongst each other that some people just don’t have a good sense of humid. And when I’m bothered by a situation, I complain that its irrigating me. I’m terrible at telling jokes (ask my family), but I sure like a good chuckle. And thanks to the people around me, where’s plenty to laugh about. The humid lives on!
During the season of Lent I make the personal commitment to write every day. I’ve done this for the past eight years, as a token of devotion and thanks to the Lord for giving me a brain that works (usually). I publish these writings here on my blog, unedited and splattered like wet paint, as a way to share them and to keep them for myself and for my posterity. This year I have decided to ruminate on thoughts, ideas, habits and miscellaneous personal practices I would like to put in a figurative HOPE CHEST to take with me into the rest of my life and the life beyond. Besides that, there are bits of advice I would like to tuck into the HOPE CHESTS of my kids and grandkids.