Love Does Not Boast

This Week's Story

For years, my husband Steve and I ran a golf course together. He was the superintendent outside; I was the general manager inside. Important person, important things to do, no time for pesky drop-in salespeople.

One day a golf cart salesman, thirty years my senior, sat down across from me and asked if the same superintendent still worked there.

"Yes, that would be my husband."

"No, the superintendent. The guy that takes care of the greens."

"Yes. That would be my husband."

"No, no, the guy with the grass and the mowers." We went around like that five more times, my jaw clenching tighter with every lap, until he shook his head and said, "No, no, no. The young guy."

The young guy. Steve is four years OLDER than me. I stood up, told him I didn't have time for this, and strutted away without making sure he found the door.

Years later that same man walked up to Steve on the course and asked, head low, "Hey, is that bulldog of a woman still around?" Steve thought it was hilarious. Me, the old lady, not so much. But looking back, I showed that man no love. None. Zero. I thought I was higher, better, brighter, and way more important, and I never even noticed I was boasting. Love doesn't need the pedestal. The taller the pillar, the harder the fall — and I fell right off mine into a plate of humble pie.

This Week, Day by Day

My Prayer This Week