Overweight, Oversensitive and Overheard

All this talk about overweight Americans has got me a bit skittish.  I have a very hard time losing weight and keeping it off.  I, along with New Jersey governor Christie, don’t need to be told I’m too fat.  I’ve been on the heavy side a loong time. So, I admit to being a little bit sensitive what with all this negative press.

Recently, for example, I was eating breakfast (fat or not, you should always eat breakfast) at our local grocery store foodbar.  Several groups of older men gather there to talk and drink weak coffee.  Some of them were seated behind me and I couldn’t help overhearing some comments that got my attention.

“Wow! He’s a big’un ain’t he?

“Did you see his body?”

“Yup, he must weigh 220!”

“Lookit them littlebitty horns.”

By this time I realized they weren’t talking about me.  After all, I weigh a bit more than that.

A Wasted Morning

It’s a shame to write only when one is irritated.  Do it often enough and you will earn the designation, “curmudgeon.”  I am, at the moment, highly irritated and I am writing.  But I promise not to make it a habit.

Abilene is not really a small town, but sometimes it seems to be.  One would think that most things would be readily available here, especially medical supplies.  We have a dozen or so listed in the phone book and so, I got on the phone and began calling to find a particular item I really needed today.  I called several places, a couple of which did not have the item in stock but promised they could get it by the next day.  I decided to keep calling around to see if I could find it in stock somewhere.

My first “hit” was a place called “Choice Medical Supply.”  Yes, the lady told me, they had some in stock.  “Great,” said I and hopped in the car to pick one up.  It was not a short drive but not all that far either.

When I arrived, the lady I talked to on the phone led me into a room whose walls were lined with this and that.  But when we came to the place where it should be…guess what…it wasn’t there!

“I thought it would be right there,” she said.

“You mean, when I called you didn’t check to see if it was really in stock?” said I with growing dismay.

“I’m sorry,” she offered, “I thought we had some.”

“Look,” I said, “that’s the reason I called ahead so that I wouldn’t make a useless journey!”

“So sorry,” she said, “it’s my fault.”

At that moment, some language I learned long ago in the oil field came to mind.  I wanted to say, “You’re (fill in the blanks here) right!  It sure as (blank) isn’t my fault!”  But, keeping in mind certain biblical injunctions regarding a Christian’s speech, I simply stalked out.

Returning to the car, I consulted a phone book we keep there for situations such as this, and called some additional suppliers.  I kept striking out until one person told me that “West Texas Rehab” would be my best bet.  Since it was on my way home, I stopped in.  The very kind and polite lady there said they had sold their supply business and it was now “Travis Medical.”  She offered to call for me and, wonderful news, they had one!  It was two-thirds of the way back to “Choice Medical” but I was so happy to have found what I needed that I willingly and joyfully drove to their place.

In spite of having difficulty finding their location, I arrived in high spirits.  “We called a few minutes ago, looking for (the elusive item),” I said, flashing my best smile.

“Oh yes,” the man jovially responded, “it is right over….well, I thought it was there.”

“Oh no!” I said, my smile turning to a look of horror.  “We called,” I cried, “you said you had one!”

“I thought we did but it turns out it was this thingy,” he said lamely (the “thingy” bears little resemblance to what I was after).

“But that’s the reason I called ahead!” I responded with growing anger.  I looked for a table or something to turn over and drive everyone out with a cord of whips.  In the end, I simply walked out with slumped, defeated shoulders.

Finally, all hope of imminent success gone, I called one of the other medical suppliers who had promised they could have one by the next day.

“Should be here between 10 and 11 in the morning,” she said.

“Are you sure?” I asked with trembling voice and a tear threatening to form.

“I’m sure,” she said confidently.

As you might guess, dear reader, I’ll believe it when I touch it.

Without Apology

“So, you believe that only Christians are going to heaven?”  It’s a question that has caused more than one person to squirm uncomfortably.  It is especially uncomfortable if the question is asked in a public forum (radio or television interview) in a challenging way by someone who (1) isn’t a person of faith or, (2) an adherent of a non-Christian religion.  In reality, any answer will offend someone, somehow.  One response will offend one group, the alternative will offend the other.  No answer at all will offend whoever’s left.

If you are a Christian and you believe the gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John) to be accurate accounts of the words and actions of Christ, only one answer is possible.  It is the answer Jesus gave to a disciple named Thomas.  Here it is:

Jesus *said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me” (John 14:6).

It is also the answer that, after the death of Christ, Peter gave to the rulers, elders and scribes in Jerusalem.

And there is salvation in no one else; for there is no other name under heaven that has been given among men by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12)

Jesus and Peter said it, I didn’t.  So, you can get mad at me for believing it, but you can’t blame me for saying it.  I don’t have to apologize for their answers.  No uncomfortable squirming here.