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So the other day, I answered the phone to a telemarketer. In short, the guy named “Mark” from India – I know that because I asked where he was located – was trying to sell me a membership to an exercise program for any pets I may have.
After 120 minutes of trying to break through the accent barrier while telling Mark no, I may have used a few choice words before hanging up on him. I tried to be polite at first, but they never listen.
Anyway, my husband let me know that my language was probably not pleasing to Jesus. I let my husband know that Jesus probably never had to answer a spam or telemarketer call.
Every day, I try to stay on the narrow path because I love God and am thankful for what Jesus has done for me – but I just keep stepping off that road onto the shoulder, which is strewn with litter.
Last week, I told a white lie to a friend who asked me how she looked in her new dress. I told her she looked refreshing, when actually she looked like a weathered oak tree in pantyhose.
To my credit, though, her dress was made with Realtree fabric, for cryin’ out loud. Either way, I don’t think Jesus cares about the color of a lie and, once again, I found myself apologizing while asking for forgiveness.
My cousin’s best friend’s brother-in-law’s great aunt reminds me of Satan in a pair of capris, yet the Bible seems to speak directly to me.
I remember my reaction to a medical bill that I received in the mail a year ago, and it wasn’t pretty. My insurance company refused to pay the bill because the provider was out of network, it wasn’t medically necessary and the doctor wasn’t wearing a red shirt at the time – blah, blah, blah.
Sometimes, I get so frustrated with folks, but that’s no reason for me to loose a jewel – or, in my case, a bead in my crown.
My Uncle Vinny seems to push me right off that narrow path into the pit of hell, given the way his stupidity triggers all of my buttons.
Two weeks ago, he came to our house for grilled steaks. I asked him to season them with pepper and some garlic while I ran to the neighbor’s house for something. He was unable to find the pepper, so he unloaded an entire can of pepper spray from his vehicle on the expensive cuts of beef.
Since murder is not very Christian, I walked away from the grilling tools quickly, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to grumble upon fleeing. However, since our thoughts are as bad as if we’ve actually committed the sinful act, my uncle did perish that day, at least in the deep recesses of my mind.
Not a day goes by that the horned one doesn’t try to make me look bad in the good Lord’s eye. The Bible says we should avoid Satan at all costs – I’m paraphrasing, of course.
I had a dream a few nights ago that I spotted the devil himself walking around downtown. I snuck right up on him because he wasn’t exercising good situational awareness and never saw me approaching.
I punched him right in the face before running for my life. I then looked up to see a cloud in the sky shaped like a thumbs-up before waking up.
I felt as though I had won my battle with Satan and had a stronger resolve to behave in a way that pleases the good Lord.
That lasted about an hour – before I saw my uncle’s name appearing on my phone. Perhaps he’s the one I should have snuck up on in my dream.
Anngee Quinones-Belian of Murphy is a staff correspondent for the Cherokee Scout. Her humor column runs every other week. Email her with column ideas at anngeeq@gmail.com.