| Sunny Side Up May 18, 2005 �2005, Kathleen Gibson The Preacher's day out The Preacher and I drove two hours southwest to Regina the other day. Usually we have a reason to go to Regina. An appointment, a plane to catch or meet, a hospital visit. Not that day. This was a day beyond reason. A date. No deadlines, no ministry. Before we left home I asked, "What fun things shall we do in Regina?" "I dunno," he said. I planned brilliantly. The day proved a stellar example of a middle-aged couple making time to reconnect after an extended period of far too much busy-ness. We held hands. Talked for hours. Returned home ready for a new charge at life. I lied. Here's how the day actually went. We thought we'd walk around Wascana Park, something we try to do several times a year. But our infamous Saskatchewan weather interfered. We'll go to the Imax, we decided. We both enjoy that. But the featured show was all about the secret life of bugs. In India, a giant cockroach scaled my bare leg - and summited. Since then, I've felt I've been privy to more information than I want to know about the secret life of bugs. We passed, though the Preacher was disappointed. The Preacher is particular about movies, but I'd done some homework. 'Because of Winn Dixie' is showing at Rainbow Theater. You'll like that." I said. "It's about a preacher and his daughter and a dog." "Okay," he said. We didn't make the start time. At one of our stops, the wind lifted my hair. Walking just behind me, The Preacher began chuckling. "You're getting gray underneath!" he said. "I'll have to start calling you 'Granny Gray'. He laughed four times that day. That was his first, and he laughed alone. But I laughed along on the next three: three signs posted at three Regina businesses. The first read. 'Where are we going, and what's that handbasket for?' The second read, 'Incontinence line. Please hold.' And the third, posted at a car sale, read, 'Mothers are special, buy one today.' As we headed out of town, the Preacher unexpectedly screeched around a turn. "There's Toys R Us," he said, suddenly animated. Inside, I watched him scour the aisles, as enthralled as a child. Reviewing the games, inspecting the playhouses. "Good plastic," he said at one, rapping on the roof and circling it. "It's a store, a house, a gas station, and a bank. He could have fun with this." He - Benjamin, our first grandchild, barely born. "Too young," I said. I spied stick-on glowing stars. "Let's buy these for his ceiling!" "Too distracting," he said. "He might not fall asleep. Amanda wouldn't like it." So we left the stars, too, for another year. We found other things though. Left the store grinning like a pair of teenagers. Granny Gray and Gramps. I suspect we're not alone. I suspect that one of God's many plans for grandparenting is to bring fun back into our middle ages. And I suspect we've only just begun. Respond Home |
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