The Reverend James L. Snyder is an award winning author whose writings have appeared in more than eighty periodicals including GUIDEPOSTS. In Pursuit of God: The Life of A. W. Tozer, Snyder?s first book, won the Reader?s Choice Award in 1992 by Christianity Today. Snyder has authored 8 books altogether.
Rev. James L. Snyder has a knack for making fun of daily frustrations and will increase your humor aptitude so you too can discover that life is less stressful when you?re laughing. Through these essays, you will realize that humor and religion belong together and that its OK to keep from taking yourself and others too seriously.
Have you ever noticed that when you are on vacation time goes by rapidly? According to my calculations (and I'm the first to admit I didn't do well in calculus), the average minute during vacation time is less than 20 seconds. This is one reason time goes by so quickly on vacation.
The other reason, as everyone knows, is that during a vacation week there are no days beginning with the letter 't.? Now, you know why your vacation went by so quickly this summer. There are always reasons if you are willing to dig hard enough.
Now, if this is true, the question plaguing my mind is: where does all that time go?
Have you ever noticed that when you are in a hurry to go somewhere it usually takes twice as long to get there? It does not matter what time of day it is, or which day it is for that matter, for when you are running a tad late for some appointment across town, Old Father Time insists that you go through . . .
For my wife's birthday (I'm not allowed to mention which one) I surprised her with roundtrip tickets to her family reunion in upper New York State. Out of courtesy to her I elected not to include myself in her little vacation. After all, it's her family and that's just the kind of man I am.
I must say I was looking forward to a week in the house by myself, where I could be the absolute boss. Nobody to tell me what to do. Nobody to tell me where to go. For a week, I would be the king in my castle; the captain of my ship; the pilot of my spacecraft.
Actually, I need more than one week to do all of these things.
The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage deserves time off and away from Yours Truly. All year long, she works hard and most of the time has her hands full trying to untangle me from one foil after another. Lately, it has developed into a foil-time job.
The day finally came for me to take her to the airport and . . .
A man is not a man, in my opinion, unless he has adequately mastered the art of snoring. When I say mastered, I mean there is more to snoring than the mere act of making ze noise.
It is an ancient art form passed down from generation to generation, from father to son. It is the one thing men share in common and one of the few pleasures left in life that don't cost an arm and a leg.
Everything of late is too expensive, too fattening or too politically incorrect.
Once upon a time, a real man could enjoy the simple pleasures of life without any outside interference. Ah, for those good old days. Now, everybody and their tree-hugging cousin wants to tell me what I can and cannot do.
I have yet to understand how this simple practice of snoring can jeopardize the environment, but I was . . .