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Stuff Happens by Phil Callaway Back in ninth grade I weighed a whopping 81 pounds with my pockets full of change, so I decided to beef up by engaging in a rigorous exercise program including weightlifting. My brother Dan informed me lifting weights above one’s head kills brain cells and he didn’t think I could spare many, so I opted for lying on my back and thrusting the weights into the air. On good days I could bench press upwards of 30 pounds. One Saturday, those 30 pounds got away from me and I broke their fall with my nose. It was the third time I had broken it, and to this day when I wiggle it with one hand it sounds like a man crunching peanuts. Laughter helps. But I still don’t welcome pain. That’s why I’m always amazed when I meet people like Reg Mellor. At 72, Reg is the reigning world champion of “ferret legging.” If you’re interested in trying it, here are the rules. 1. Tie competitor’s trousers at the ankles. 2. Insert into trousers one pair of vicious, foot-long carnivores called ferrets. 3. Once ferrets are firmly in your pants, tighten your belt. 4. Stand before the judges while these razor-toothed critters try to chew their way out. Reg Mellor did so for five hours, 26 minutes. Now, most of us don’t go looking for pain. We’re born with a God-given pain-resistance mechanism that flips on at an early age. Early in life, Mom would hold me tight on the rocking chair and sing depressing nursery rhymes about falling eggs, snapping cradles, and pumpkin shell prisons. When our kids were toddlers I rewrote these rhymes. Three blind mice got their tails fixed … and glasses too. Old Mother Hubbard found chips in her cupboard and the old woman in the shoe knew what to do. The kids listened and said, “Nah, Dad. Sing the one about the ladybug and the house on fire.” I suppose there are advantages to knowing from a very early age that life may not turn out as we planned. Perhaps those who listen closely in the nursery begin to understand life will be a wild assortment of the mundane and the adventurous. People we trust will disappoint. Friendships will fail. Storms will come. Ironically, such a realization is essential to bringing joy to life. Removing the expectation that life will be fair is a vital stepping-stone to finding our funny bone. Part of the joy of existence comes in facing the unknown and overcoming it with God’s help. Perhaps I know now why I slept so well after a ride on our rocking chair. Maybe I realized the future would be wild, but worry was like that rocking chair. It gave us something to do. But it didn’t take us anywhere. I think I slept soundly for another reason, too. You see, Mom always ended the day with an old hymn. I can still hear her singing as I listened, my nose perfectly straight: “When peace like a river attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.” Phil Callaway is the author of ‘To Be Perfectly Honest: One Man’s Year Of Living Almost Truthfully Could Change Your Life,’ Visit him at laughagain.org. A Spring In Your Step by Rhonda Rhea My kids keep asking me if I’ll bounce on the new trampoline with them. I keep telling them I can bounce without the trampoline, thank you very much. Besides, I could get hurt on that thing. Not just the average compound fracture, splattering on the ground kind of injury. No, I’m telling you. Women over 40 do not want to sass gravity. I’ve noticed, for instance, a younger woman can see a friend across the yard and give a big, friendly wave. Not so we of the over-40 crowd. These days I have a different wave. For interested wave-impaired readers, here are the instructions: “Raise arm until elbow is almost even with shoulder. While careful to keep all of upper arm stationary, wiggle fingers, and only fingers, vigorously in a friendly fashion. Slowly and carefully lower arm. If no part of you has slapped another part, successful post-40 wave has been accomplished.” Let’s think it through. How can I get on the trampoline with this kind of instability? What if while my feet are touching the trampoline, the rest of me is still in the air? Couldn’t I get hurt when all that stuff is coming down and the rest of me is flying back up? I might actually meet myself coming and going. Splitting atoms hardly seems more dangerous. I guess I could wrap all my not-so-stationary parts with duct tape or something. But that could take a lot of duct tape. It’s just one more reminder that life definitely has its ups and downs. Let’s “bounce” this idea around: for every “down,” God gives us an opportunity to become someone else’s “up.” Second Corinthians 1:3-5 of the Bible says, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows.” Isn’t it amazing that God can use our down times to help others in theirs? And according to this passage, for every down we suffer, Jesus Christ, who knows hurt to the max, gives comfort reaching so much deeper than the hurt. We can’t experience pain bigger than His comfort. No matter what we suffer, His comfort is immense enough to cover it. Not only cover it, fill it. Not only fill it, but overflow it! Knowing God, the Father of Compassion, comforts in mass quantity can add a little bounce to any day. The good kind of bounce. It’s guaranteed to put a spring in your step. No duct tape required. Rhonda Rhea is a radio personality and a conference speaker across North America. She is a wife, mother, and author of several fun and fruitful books. Look for her newest book, ‘Whatsoever Things Are Lovely,’ in stores now. Find out more at www.RhondaRhea.org. 
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