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Yellow Lights, Red Flags: Warning Signs That Help Keep Our Noisy Lives in Check
I ran a big fat yellow light this week. Actually, if you must know, it looked a tad orange. How a human brain can go back and forth that many times in a matter of 1.8 seconds is beyond me, but there I was: Slow down. Punch it. I’m good. This isn’t good. Cops? No cops. I got this. I don’t got this. Gahhh! Don’t judge. I’m guessing you’ve been in an orange light situation at some point, yes? Those split-second decisions don’t exactly give me time to wrangle my best drawl, sing Jesus Take the Wheel and then wait for Him to move. Most of the time I’m relying…
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Trading Sorry for Thank You
“Sorry I’m late.” “Sorry I didn’t call.” “Sorry about the mess.” “Oh, sorry!” “Oops–sorry.” Enough already. Of course, sometimes a genuine sorry is exactly what’s needed. But I’m referring to all the times when sorry becomes excessive… unwarranted… over the top. What in the world would a public bus be sorry for? That it’s winter? That’s you have to step out onto slush? Have you ever wished someone would stop saying sorry so much? Maybe (like I did) you realize you’re the one constantly saying it. Whether it’s intentional or not, if we’re consistently spewing the word, it tends to lose its effectiveness. It can also make us look guilty,…
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Donate This, Not That: Tips to Donate with Dignity
I know… I’ve had good intentions that went awry too. I’ve donated things I probably should’ve thrown in the trash. I felt guilty about the blatant waste though, so I passed it on for someone else to hopefully benefit from. Trouble is, if an item falls into that category, it’s probably going to end up costing the recipient more time than it’s worth. I never truly understood this principle till I moved to a 3rd-world country. Pretty sure the ministries in Mexico get more donations from the U.S. than any other nation, but after living there for 12 years, I’m not confident the helpful handouts outweighed the inconvenient/annoying ones. For…
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Adjusting the Scales of Honesty: Do White Lies Count?
“Hey, boys—throw this blanket on top of the sacks. And make sure you get the corners.” I cringed in opposition. Did he just involve our children in a hidden importation? I turned my head to the west and spaced out while he drove. Lest you feel the urge to judge, think about this: if you were taking a twenty-dollar item across the border, would you be willing to pull over and pay a six-hundred-dollar fee for it? Behold, one of my most humbling posts ever. Thoughts of a corrupt government, two years of paying 16% taxes, border agents who charge whatever they’re feeling like that day, and insane importation…
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Gossip: Loose Lipps Sink Ships
“Some say our national pastime is baseball. Not me. It’s gossip.” ~ Erma Bombeck When he welcomed us into his rad classroom, we eighth graders knew we finally made it to the top. To be in Mr. Lipps’ class meant we got the cool English teacher. Of all my junior high classes, this particular one simultaneously thrilled and unnerved me. The middle-aged, borderline hippie spoke with authority and sauntered between our desks with an abundance of confidence. His “Loose Lipps Sink Ships” poster spanned the width of one wall and sat higher than our heads when we stood. It struck me as deep… forward-thinking… high school-ish. And I had no idea…
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