Memory is a beautiful thing, that is, when it is working. I must confess there are many times in which my memory is on some kind of a vacation.
Why is it when my wife is giving me a piece of her mind, all I can remember at the time is a funny incident that happened to me earlier that morning? Smiling at a time like that is not advantageous to a happy life of the husband. When she asks, “What is so funny?” I cannot tell her I was not listening to her but thinking about something else.
My memory was jogged earlier this week when a certain incident happened at the Post Office.
Anybody who knows me knows that I am not in any way shape or form a hugger. I am a firm believer in what the Bible says, “the right hands of fellowship” (Galatians 2:9). I am vigorous in this handshaking ceremony. That is about as far as it goes.
Standing in a very long line at the post office at which time I was in somewhat of a hurry to get through a lady walked in. She looked at me and says, “Oh, it’s so nice to see you. I haven’t seen you for a long time.” Then she caught me off guard and gave me a hug.
I did not know who this woman was; I could not remember ever seeing her before. With the way my memory is these days, I pretended as if she was a long-lost friend of mine. She chatted about stuff that really did not make any sense to me, and I smiled and nodded my head. I was not really paying attention and as the line moved forward, something dawned on me. When she hugged me, she stepped in front of me and therefore was ahead of me in line.