by Rick Jones, husband of The Minister's Wife
When I agreed to write a regular column of [hopefully] humorous and insightful commentaries on life for my wife's blog, Lois and I had some details to hammer out. “Hammer” is figurative, of course. Our family discussions involve other weaponry. I rely on wit, sarcasm and technicalities of the English language; she relies on an old family heirloom, her grandmother's iron skillet.
Oh, you didn't think she resorts to violence, did you? I meant that she bribes me with the promise of a four-egg omelet if I'll concede the point under discussion.
We quickly determined things like length and frequency of articles; I told her I don't really care about graphics and pictures, so any of that you might see is her contribution to this effort. Of course, since I'm just playing a supporting role in her production here, she has broad editorial discretion. It's safer that way: sometimes I write things that I find hilarious, but which make no sense to, or will be highly offensive to, my audience.
During sermon preparation, I would often share my notes with Lois, getting helpful reactions like “No one will get that joke” [she was right] or “Didn't you quote lyrics from Alice Cooper last week?”
There were a few times while preaching that I would suddenly think of a great pun to drive home a point. Instinctively, I would glance at Lois. She knew that look: I was wishing I could bounce the idea off her. Then I'd get distracted because I could see her reaction: It was as if she “sensed a strange stirring in the Force.” She'd turn pale and her eyes grew wide, like she was about to witness a train wreck but couldn't look away. Then she'd try to locate the nearest exit.
And after reading this article, and reminiscing about those last-moment jokes, you can believe that Lois will diligently exercise her editorial privileges. And maybe enforce them with an antique iron skillet.
Tune in next time, when I explain why “Rick's Ramblings” and “Ruminations” were rejected. Unless I get distracted.