Sunday, January 30, 2011
As Paul and I sat with friends on Friday evening watching a televised broadcast, he put his arm around me and played with my hair and then gave it a flip and then another. I turned to look at him. He was smiling and so was I as we remembered together an incident that happened to me about ten years ago. I was in a church meeting, sitting on the second row in the chapel. On one side of me was Phil and on the other side was my youngest child. Paul was in another church meeting elsewhere. As we sat listening to the speaker at the podium who was directly in front of us 10 feet away Phil started to brush my shoulder-length hair off my shoulder and onto my back and then he proceeded to scratch my head. It felt great I recorded in my journal. Then in an instant as though a switch had been thrown, he started flipping my hair so it was flying and quickly covered my face. I smoothed it down, uncovered my face, and then leaned over to say something to Phil but before I could speak he whispered very clearly in a slow affected voice “Knock it off, Sonny.” I tried to remain serious but failed miserably. My laughter only brought encouragement so he tried flipping my hair again. We had done enough entertaining. I snapped out of it and shook my head no and to my relief he stopped. I was under no illusion that I could drag a 23-year-old out of the meeting.