God's Penman

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.

Lately, I have noticed a lot of news regarding all aspects of the body. According to one report I read, this is a multibillion dollar-a-year business. I never knew my body was worth so much money. Im tempted to sell it, or at least rent it out on a part-time basis.

I did not know how big of a deal this was until one night this past week I had a little trouble sleeping.

One reason I have trouble falling asleep is my deep fear of falling. Actually, its not the fall that worries me so much as that sudden stop. For some inexplicable reason I always stop three inches past the floor.

I would not worry so much about falling asleep if I knew I was going to fall on my pillow instead of the floor. However, I cant count on anything these days. Not even my fingers.

I once woke up in the middle of the night engaged in a vicious life or death pillow fight. Unfortunately, the pillow won and I cannot find anyone to take my case.

I did find one lawyer but he was three-sheets-to-the-wind and my case was no breeze.

One fear I have in the middle of the night is . . .

One morning this week, I woke up with a black eye. How I got it still baffles me. I have my suspicions, of course, but some things are better left to themselves no matter how lonely they may get.

In getting older, I have realized certain things are changing in my body. For example, I now find myself walking in my sleep. This is a new experience for me and I'm not sure what it means or what I should do about it.

On the positive side, walking in my sleep is about the only exercise I really get these days, so I should not complain too much. It is nice to know at my age some things are still working even if it is when I am unconscious. My problem has escalated to the point where I have begun wearing sneakers to bed. Of course, I don't wear anything else and when I find myself three blocks down the street, my sneakers had better be PDF (pretty dashing fast).

Walking in my sleep is not that bad, except for my mysterious black eye.

Not only am I walking in my sleep, but also my wife has accused me of talking in my sleep. Actually, in my own defense, talking in my sleep is the only time I get a word in edgewise. I guess in the middle of the night I'm trying to make up for this lack during the day.

Lately, I have talked so much in my sleep I wake up a . . .

Recently, while sitting in my chair drinking the last of my breakfast coffee, a thought staggered into my mind. I must confess most thoughts are quite lonely once they enter my mind, but this one had a nagging element to it.

Experience has taught me I should never give in to these strange trespassers. Every time I entertain any of them, I'm the one getting burnt.

This time was different. Don't ask me how it was different, or how I knew it was different, it just was. Of course, looking back I could have been wrong.

The thought: why not surprise my wife by baking her a cake?

I know what you're thinking. I thought the same thing when this suggested itself to me. But, the more I thought about it, the more delightfully delicious it sounded. How can anything go wrong if I am doing it for my wife?

The only question I needed to answer was what kind of cake should I bake.

After a long period of ruminating, I settled on a lemon sponge cake with peanut butter icing. This was going to be the best surprise my wife has ever . . .

This year the Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly celebrate 35 years of marital bliss. During more than three decades of matrimonial ecstasy, I have learned many things.

For example, I never knew how many mistakes I made until I got married. My dearly beloved has been most generous, almost to a fault, in this area of our relationship. Through the years, she has faithfully (and I may even say religiously) pointed out my mistakes.

Boy, did I make mistakes. It has taken her 35 years, come this August, to straighten out the likes of me, and the job is not quite finished. She may need another 35 years.

During these 35 years, I have discovered the secret of marital bliss. When my wife and I got married, we were determined to make it work. I must confess, when I put my mind to something, I can never find it again.

What is the secret of my martial bliss, you may ask? And a good question it is. If I can pass along any wisdom I have gained over the years to any male components of marriage, I?ll be surprised.

What I have learned, however, is this; whenever I . . .

This month the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly celebrate 35 years of what we like to call a romantic ramble through life. Thirty-five years ago this month, we became engaged and our lives took a change for what I believe is the better.

Although no expert on romance, I have observed several important things about romance. For example, romance goes through stages much like a stagecoach ride. It takes a lot of horsepower to get going, the ride is usually rough and it never arrives on schedule.

For someone who likes to have a firm grip on his schedule this has been most trying for me. Just when I think I have everything figured out, my better half reveals a side I have never seen before, and there goes my beloved schedule. I can't remember how many times I have gone back to the drawing board to start all over again.

This points out a very specific difference between men and women, specifically husbands and wives. Husbands age, while wives evolve.

Men have mastered the fine art of growing old. Women, on the other hand, have mastered the art of . . .

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