The New Woman's Guide to Getting Married

In the words of a famous General, 'I don’t mean to brag, but…' once upon a time, before I entered the 8-5 world [Note: Yes, Dolly, it seems the days of 9-5 are behind us], I spent some time as a youth intern. What that means is that I got paid to play games, make iTunes playlists, put together an occasional PowerPoint, and mold young people during the most impressionable part of their lives. Before I put my humble hat on, I was pretty good at most of those things.

All that to say, if you see teenagers driving away from my house, please refrain from checking any state or national registries. Though, odds are, they are leaving the scene of a crime. It seems last week there was a party on my deck starring King James, Nelly, and Tim McGraw: I have been trespassed against. Over and over again.

For those of you who didn’t grow up in a small Church of Christ, one thing you should know is that, while the CoC world is full of good people, these people don’t throw anything away. You want to know which people were at church on May 17th, 1972? I can look that up in our database. That database is a series of cardboard boxes full of attendance records. In case that whatever you call that cloth-like wallpaper that has covered the walls of the auditorium for 30 years now somehow disappears one day, never fear: We have a couple of spare rolls in a closet. Do you remember the plastic horses suspended by springs that you used to ride on as a child? I do. Mainly because they’re stashed across from one of the classrooms at church.

This week, some of those youth group kids avoided joining a gang and opted to clean up around the church. [Because everything a teenager does during the summer months that is not joining a gang is obviously in an effort to keep them from joining a gang.] As a part of their charitable labor, they cleaned out some of the relics around the church house.

As we have been taught for so long, act as if someone is always watching your actions. Unlike Crosby, Stills, and Nash, we have not taught the children well. In lieu of throwing the junk away, most of it ended up on my back deck.

Day one, day one, God made light when there was none. Day one, day one of church clean up, I come home to some new literature…

I found humor in this. Then things got a little more violent on day two…

Day three was a special one. Backstory: A little over a year ago, the preacher decided to do an object lesson involving trophies. Lucky… er, blessed… for him, our church was a basketball powerhouse in the 70s, a softball dynasty in the 90s, and returned to basketball glory in the early 2000s. If you’re doing the math on the basketball team, you’re right, I still haven’t found that humble hat. Anyway, preacher brought lots of trophies down from the 3rd floor and claimed he would throw them away a couple of weeks after the lesson if no one claimed they wanted them.

A year later, those trophies still sat in the corner of one of the baptistery changing rooms. Until day three. I back in to my driveway like any other evening, when I see a trophy on my gate with a sign reading “You’re the Greatest.” [Thanks, by the way.] I thought this was a great contribution to the deck compared to the previous days. Then I opened the gate…

Day four was the final day of cleanup. I managed to fight through the suspense and make it through the workday. Contrary to what you may have heard, most days when I come home, there are not girls waiting for me at the door. Day four was not most days…

As I know you read this looking for life lessons [and if you’ve read this far today, you obviously deserve it], here are today’s:

1. When you stumble across that banner that says “Community Day 1981”, go ahead and throw it away.
2. If you feel like giving me a gift, just leave it on the back porch, I’ll get it.
3. To my neighbors who read this, if anyone is wondering whether we have a Neighborhood Watch program, we apparently do not.