A couple years ago, the wife and I were headed to California=
and out of the snow and cold. Now, I’m into Christmas, but can’t sta=
nd airports with tacky red and green decor, and loudspeakers blaring elevat=
or renditions of so-called Christmas music.
I grit my teeth and go to che=
ck in our single suitcase (with baggage fees so high, we now consolidate), =
when I saw some mistletoe hanging. Not real mistletoe, mind you, but very c=
heap imitation plastic with red paint on the rounder parts and green paint =
on the flatter and pointier parts, that could be taken for mistletoe only i=
n a very Picasso sort of way.
 =
;
With a considerable degree of frustration (a=
nd my snarky sense of humor), pointed to the mistletoe and said to the airl=
ine counter worker, "Even if I weren’t happily married, I wouldn=
’t want to kiss any worker under such a gross mockery of mistletoe.&q=
uot;
She smiled. "Sir, look more closely at where the mistletoe is ha=
nging.".
"Ok, I see that it’s above the luggage scale and not eve=
n over your station. That isn’t even the right place to get a kiss,&q=
uot; I joked.
The patient gal replied, "That’s not why they hung it th=
ere."
"Well, I give up, Why is it there?" =
With a twinkle in=
her eye she replied, "It’s there so you can kiss your suitcase goodby=
e."
~~
Dr Bob Griffin
[email protected]=
www.grif.net
"Jesus Know=
s Me, This I Love!"
m