My
friend Cindi's love language is cream of chicken soup. Her husband Michael's
love language is winning. The reaction from their combined love languages looks
like this:
Maybe
Maria von Trapp and I need to start at the very beginning.
It's
been over a year now that I've been meaning to tell you this story. It happened
soon after Labor Day 2013, right after my twin daughters left for two different
colleges. Before school started, they took me kicking and screaming to the
Verizon store to get an iPhone. Actually, Abby got an upgrade, and I inherited
her old one.
Picture
me at sitting at the kitchen table at The King’s Inn at Lake Eufaula on Labor
Day, bemoaning my sad state of technophobia to my friends who are Early
Adapters of Technology. We make each other laugh, but we do not see eye-to-eye.
They move quickly; I move slowly. They like new (Michael more than Cindi); I
like old. However, we all err on the side of overreaction. We all figure a
hearty guffaw trumps an understated giggle every single time.
With
my hands flinging, I wailed, “I just want a phone that plugs into the wall in
the kitchen! I just want a phone with a long curly cord that will stretch
across the room! I just want a phone that I can lean on my shoulder and talk on
while I’m washing dishes! WHAT WAS SO WRONG ABOUT THE GOOD OLD DAYS?!”
We
cackled until the laughter triggered asthma attacks, parted ways, and returned
to the Real World.
Later
in the week, Michael stumbled across a handset advertised online that plugs
into an iPhone. It’s big and clunky and fits nicely on a middle-aged mom’s
shoulder, while her iPhone is tucked safely and snugly in her jeans pocket.
He
chuckled to himself and purchased the darn thing.
(He
likes to win, remember. He likes the last laugh.)
We
didn’t see each other for a couple of weeks. Michael the Impatient Hare
couldn’t wait any longer to see my reaction. He made Cindi take my gift to
handbells one Sunday afternoon and told her to record me as I opened my
surprise (on her iPhone—the latest version, duh.)
I
was delighted, thrilled, overcome.
Honestly,
I haven’t used it. It sits on my desk in my little home office, where I listen
to Pandora as I pay bills, play on FB, and avoid household responsibilities. I
smile at it several times a week. It makes me feel all warm inside, just like
Cindi’s homemade cream of chicken soup makes me feel.
It
is, to quote Hannah Montana, the Best of Both Worlds.
I
suppose my love language is sacrificing my dignity for your merriment.
Take
me home, Lord Jesus!
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