Yo mama...

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a place of winter For the Years of Winter…

I have told you before of Helen’s necklace that reads WWAGD? She says that it’s not always easy to figure out what Jesus would do, but she can see what Aunt Gertrude does, and that’s close enough.

It turns out that in basketball season, the answer to WWAGD? is: “Talk trash.”

Aunt Gertrude loves basketball, especially IU basketball, even though she moved from Greensburg, IN to OH when she married my late Uncle Randall, and has lived there ever since. She now lives with her daughter, my cousin, Kae, and Kae’s husband, Tim. They wanted to go to FL last week for a little R&R. Aunt Gertrude refused to go along until they assured her she could see the IU-PU game and the Greensburg HS team in the state tourney on the computer. The reason WWAGD? works so well is that Aunt Gertrude’s priorities are clear.

Kae is a nurse, but not just any nurse. She’s a super-nurse. She’s the sort of nurse you get to create new departments in medical schools. So for three years, she’s been flying back and forth to the Howard U. School of Medicine in Washington, DC, creating some new program, like a school for surgical nurses, or something like that. [Give me a break. I’ve got about a hundred cousins. I can’t keep up with the details on all of them.]

When IU beat Howard in basketball earlier this year, Aunt Gertrude asked Kae to pass on some trash talk to the folks at Howard. Kae, who is very Scandinavian-looking, said the thought of transmitting the trash talk of an eighty-nine-year-old white Greensburgian Presbyterian lady to black folks in Washington, DC, almost did her in.

Just because you’re old doesn’t mean the devil gives up on you. In fact, sometimes he thinks we’re easier marks because we’re too tired to recognize or fight off his ploys. So WWAGD when the devil comes along and tries to muddy up the clarity of your priorities and get you to cheer for the wrong team? Dunk it in his face and talk a little trash.

“Hey, Devil, I’m going to continue to associate with Jesus, because your maternal parent is so overweight that she ought to attend Weight Watchers… not necessarily every week… or I could be wrong… maybe she’s just big-boned… but if you were a good son you’d at least look into it…” That’ll get him.

JRMcF

I told this story to the great Indiana and Olympics sports writer and Presbyterian layman, Bob Hammel, “retard,” which is how we pronounce “retired” in southern IN, or at least that’s what we tell him, who said it needed to be shared with a wider audience, so make your complaints to him at presbyteriantrashtalk.omg.

The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer!

You are always welcome to Forward or Repost or Reprint. It’s okay to acknowledge the source, unless it embarrasses you too much. It is okay to refer the link to older folks you know or to print it in a church newsletter or bulletin.

{I also write the fictional “Periwinkle Chronicles” blog. One needs a rather strange sense of humor to enjoy it, but occasionally it is slightly funny. It is at http://periwinklechronicles.blogspot.com/}

(If you would prefer to receive either “Christ In Winter” or “Periwinkle Chronicles” via email, just let me know at jmcfarland1721@charter.net, and I’ll put you on the email list.)