It’s
been 10 years. My feelings have somewhat recovered, and my embarrassment has
abated a bit. I love a good story, even if it’s at my own expense, so I’ll tell
you exactly what happened.
Back
in 2004, one of our local boys was a Friend of Aubie at Auburn University. One
Saturday that summer, Aubie came to our church. An orange and blue backdrop
with orange and blue balloons was set up in the gym for folks to pose for
pictures. Everyone passed around their cameras. Aubie signed AUtographs.
It
was an AUsome afternoon.
It
was an AUsome year to send an Auburn Christmas card, too. The Tigers went
undefeated that fall. We received several cards with pictures taken on that
same summer day with “Merry Christmas” and "War Eagle" expressed in a
variety of ways.
Never
one to leave well enough alone, I wanted to add a Bible verse to our cute
picture which expressed my family’s love for Auburn—and Jesus, of course. I
chose Isaiah 40:31: Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will sore on wings like eagles.
I
marveled at my cleverness and creativity.
Every
Christmas, I hand write the addresses on the envelopes. Every Christmas, Chuck
asks, “Don’t you want me to print labels for you?” Every Christmas, I say, “No,
thanks. I like to see the names of the people that I love.”
“I
could print them out in minutes. It takes you days to address them all.”
“It’s
okay. I like to touch the names of the people that I love. I like to think
about each one before I mail them.”
“I
don’t mind.”
“IT’S
MY FAVORITE THING ABOUT CHRISTMAS, OKAY?!?!”
So,
Chuck printed the cards for me--but not the labels! I stuffed and sealed and
stamped each envelope. (I do like a return-address label, because writing my
own address over and over would be boring and laborious, not to mention
time-consuming and tedious.) I put them in the mail and marked them off my
list.
A
couple of days later, I saw Melissa. We grew up in church together. Our parents
were friends. Her daddy called me Queenie. He said I was the queen of the
Kings. Melissa is three years younger than I am, so she doesn’t remember life
without me. She and I have each buried both of our parents. We each lost the
first one quickly and unexpectedly, and we lost the other slowly and
agonizingly. We have born each other’s burdens as we walked rocky roads.
Therefore, we have earned the right to say to (or about) each other whatever we
want. (That’s why I’ll tell you that she is not “on” Facebook, but she stalks
it through one of her sisters’ accounts every day.)
ANYWAY,
when Melissa saw me, she grinned wickedly and asked, “Celeste, how do you spell
soar?”
Sucker
punch.
Oh.
My.
Gosh.
I
knew IMMEDIATELY what she meant and what I had done.
They
will sore on wings like eagles.
I
had printed it on my adorable Christmas card and sent it out to 200 of my
closest friends all over the South and to beloved Yankee cousins in New York.
My
people delighted in my oversight. I heard about my goof quite a bit for quite a
while. (FYI, never give Bama fans a reason to gloat over you.)
I
licked my wounds and stayed out of public for most of the year. (I’M KIDDING!!
But I didn’t even know to rejoice that there was no social media. Thank you,
Jesus.)
The
following year, my friend NancyBorland (That's not a typo. That’s her name: NancyBorland.)
told me to dress up my kids as shepherds and misspell Luke 2:9. I didn’t go to
that extreme (besides the girls were middle schoolers and never would have
agreed), but I did have a cute pic from vacation that would work.
It
wasn’t our main Christmas card. I asked Chuck to print just a couple of dozen
(“Don’t you want me to print labels?”) . . .
.
. . and I only cent it to my friends with a since of humor.
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