The circus is coming to town! Who cares? I haven’t been to the circus since my kids were little. Let’s see, that was twenty five years ago. Twenty five! I ran to the mirror and inspected my face…with a magnifying glass. That was a bad decision, this magnifier would show wrinkles in a baby’s butt! I put the glass down and examined my face a la natural. Not bad. My kids may be older but I survived the nasty tricks of time. I still looked sixteen…minus youth’s nasty tricks of zits.
Now wait a minute; the circus. That did sound fun. This was going to be an impulse thing but …I grabbed my purse and headed to the ticket office. I wanted to get preferred seating. After all why sit in the back when you could buy choice seats up front in advance of the last minute buyers who bought their passes at the door and got turned away.
What a wonderful surprise this will be for my family, I thought as I pocketed the tickets I purchased for my kids and their spouses. I staggered to my car with a lighter wallet after having been mugged by the cashier. I wonder why she wasn’t wearing a mask. She should be afraid someone will follow her to her auto to get retribution. Keep in mind, it has been twenty five years since I bought tickets and inflation hit the circus hard. But after all this was the Shriners’ circus, the proceeds helped underprivileged children so I shouldn’t complain…. much.
When I got home I called my son and daughter to inform them they needed to clear their Saturday calendars for a family outing. I had bought tickets for the circus! I exclaimed, hardly waiting to hear their speechless gratitude. (Hear speechless gratitude?) One call after another left me flabbergasted. My gift landed like a water balloon, splashing all over the ground. None of them could make it. I should have consulted them first, they explained. After all they were married now and couldn’t just make spontaneous plans like that! I was bowled over. (I’m a bad bowler but a good target!) No one was excited. No one could come. No one would come. They could come if they were reasonable. They could change their plans! What appreciation? I was their mother after all, I knew them longer than their husband and wife, I deserved more respect!
What to do now? I called all my friends to offer them free tickets, and a chance to be with me on Saturday morning. No one could come. This was beginning to be outlandish. I never knew so many people could refuse a free ticket, no strings attached, plus the chance of spending time with me in a crowded coliseum with screaming kids waving lighted sticks and eating hot dogs and cotton candy.
After a few hundred phone calls, (I had started calling strangers at random from the phone book; just kidding) I managed to find takers for all but one ticket. That was somewhat of a relief. At least I wouldn’t be alone. (Not counting the countless strangers that would be present.) And I’d had a wonderful time catching up with erstwhile acquaintances.
The night before the extravaganza came to town I went out to eat with an old school buddy. I mean old. She was in her seventies. I did say it was college buddy, not a high school buddy, so don’t assume we’re the same age!
After I recounted my week with her she said the most uplifting thing, “I’ll take the last ticket.”
“Really?” I had never even considered her as a possible candidate. After all at seventy plus she had to have seen more circuses than she’d care too. This was great, I thought I’d have to stand in the courtyard of the coliseum and try to sell the remaining ticket. I had already purchased a trench coat, baseball cap and sunglasses to fit the image of a scalper.
“Yea, I think it would be fun,” my much older friend declared. This must be how she stayed so young at heart despite the ravages of time. (Boy, I hope she never reads this!)
Saturday morning. Gifts for sale. Stuffed elephants and tigers. Laser guns. Coloring books. Junk food. Nachos, funnel cakes (my personal favorite, with powdered sugar,hmmmm!) Children running to bathrooms and sales counters. Parents yelling for junior or missy to come back. Clowns available for picture taking. Shriners strolling about selling catalogs for three dollars. Three dollars! The money benefited the Shriners hospitals. How could I refuse, I bought two and got an appreciative thank you.
We had front row seats and this is where my disappointment came. There were lots of vacant seats. Lots! I could have waited and acquired my tickets today and not gone through the aggravation of finding substitutes for my kids. Well actually I probably wouldn’t have been here today because I would have known my kids weren’t coming. Apparently the Saturday matinee wasn’t a sold out feature anymore. In my day (I’ll just let you guess when that was) the circus was filled to capacity; and of course the outside would have been crammed full with horse and buggies waiting to take us back home!
My friends and I had first-class time (mis)behaving like kids again. Hooting and hollering, oohing and ahhing. I even paid good money for a laser stick to swing around in the dark while eating cotton candy,(after my funnel cakes and nachos!) Good thing my brood wasn’t here to be embarrassed by their old mom. Or maybe they would have embarrassed me with their stick in the mud attitudes. I could hear them whispering behind my back now, debating whether a nursing home was in my near future.
Then came the grand finale. Every act paraded out and circumnavigated the arena. The elephants with slender, barely clad women. Horses prancing and preening, heads held high, their riders standing on them, arms outstretched welcoming the applause. Everything was bathed in lights; lights that blinked, lights that dazzled, lights that glittered. Breathtaking. The performers were dressed in gaudy costumes that barely concealed trim figures.
Suddenly I was blinded. Was there an explosion! I couldn’t see a thing except an intense radiance. An overpowering deafening roar filled my ears. It had to have been a bomb discharging. I gasped, waving my arms about, trying to find my friends in the overwhelming light. Nothing. I hadn’t felt an impact. I felt no pain. I seemed to be whole. I just couldn’t hear or see. I thought, with profound insight, this wasn’t good.
I was deaf but I heard my name being called. That’s all I heard. No one around me was screaming. No one was bumping into me. I felt no mass panic going on in my vicinity. Just mass panic within myself which was enough for me to handle right now. I was sure the world had ended. The circus had for sure!
“Here I am,” I yelled to the invisible voice. Please be someone useful, like a firefighter, I prayed.
Out of the light came, “Marcy, Marcy.” Well, whoever it was knew my name.
“Here I am,” I repeated.
“Marcy, Marcy.” Came the reply again. All right, this could go on indefinitely. I kept my mouth shut this time.
“Marcy, its me.”
“Me who?” I queried, straining to get my vision back. Why do people think squinting does anything but narrow the visual field?
A horse trotted up to me, my vision was returning! A magnificent white horse with a exceptional looking white bearded rider, wearing a white robe. The rider had extraordinary eyes. Piercing eyes. Gentle eyes. Sad eyes.
“Marcy, it’s me.” Okay, by now I was pretty sure he knew my name, but did his vocabulary go any further?
“Yes, it’s you alright.” I declared, concluding the best course of action was to just be agreeable.
“Oh, Marcy. How sad you could spend so much time inviting people to the circus but you find it arduous to invite them to my house,” the bearded rider moaned.
His house? Who is this guy? I tried to pick my brain for recognition. I’ve never seen this man before………..wait a minute. A white horse. A white bearded man. Piercing eyes. Adding two plus two I came up with.. Jesus! I’m not taking anyone’s name in vain, I really mean; Jesus! I was being addressed by my savior!
“Oh my gosh!” Well that was an intelligent response. I’m just grateful I didn’t ask him for his autograph.
“Marcy, your friends don’t have much time left. Invite them to my house, please, for me.” The rider asked. Then with a toss of its magnificent large head, the stallion turned on its heels and sped away (flew, actually), carrying its rider with it.
My vision and hearing were completely restored. The grand finale was still in progress. I hadn’t missed a beat. I turned to scrutinize my companions. They were still enthralled with the presentation; nothing seemed odd to them. They sure didn’t look like they had just witnessed an explosion and heard me talking to a man on a horse. Everything seemed surreal now. Had I just had a hallucination brought on by the nachos, cotton candy and funnel cakes? Why would a grown woman eat like that? I nominated myself the new head of the twelve step program for “Junk Food Anonymous.”
“Marcy, are you alright?” Brenda asked.
I’m getting a little annoyed hearing my name today!
“I’m fine, why do you ask?” I croaked.
“Well, for one thing, you look three shades of green!” Brenda answered.
“She sure does!” My other friends chimed.
“Really, I’m fine!” I asserted, a little to enthusiastically to be truly convincing. Then before I lost my nerve, “I’ve had so much fun with you guys today, why don’t you come to church with me tomorrow?”
All four of them looked at each other for feedback; then, “Sure, we’d love too.” They replied in unison. That was so unexpectedly easy I pondered why I hadn’t invited them years ago.
Sunday morning after services I walked down the aisle to congratulate my friends for making commitments to Jesus. I had four new sisters in Christ. All signed on to God’s kingdom.
Vowing to fill up the empty pews in the church auditorium, I went home that afternoon and got out my address book. Everyone in it was going to hear from me again; then I really was going to start on the phone book! Jesus was right. If I could get excited about the circus, I should get more excited about inviting my friends to join me in heaven so they could witness the ultimate Grand Finale, the New Kingdom in all its glory. After all, these tickets were a free gift, paid for in blood.
My only prayer for eternity: Please don’t serve any funnel cakes, cotton candy or nachos at the celebration feast, in Jesus’s name, amen.
Now wait a minute; the circus. That did sound fun. This was going to be an impulse thing but …I grabbed my purse and headed to the ticket office. I wanted to get preferred seating. After all why sit in the back when you could buy choice seats up front in advance of the last minute buyers who bought their passes at the door and got turned away.
What a wonderful surprise this will be for my family, I thought as I pocketed the tickets I purchased for my kids and their spouses. I staggered to my car with a lighter wallet after having been mugged by the cashier. I wonder why she wasn’t wearing a mask. She should be afraid someone will follow her to her auto to get retribution. Keep in mind, it has been twenty five years since I bought tickets and inflation hit the circus hard. But after all this was the Shriners’ circus, the proceeds helped underprivileged children so I shouldn’t complain…. much.
When I got home I called my son and daughter to inform them they needed to clear their Saturday calendars for a family outing. I had bought tickets for the circus! I exclaimed, hardly waiting to hear their speechless gratitude. (Hear speechless gratitude?) One call after another left me flabbergasted. My gift landed like a water balloon, splashing all over the ground. None of them could make it. I should have consulted them first, they explained. After all they were married now and couldn’t just make spontaneous plans like that! I was bowled over. (I’m a bad bowler but a good target!) No one was excited. No one could come. No one would come. They could come if they were reasonable. They could change their plans! What appreciation? I was their mother after all, I knew them longer than their husband and wife, I deserved more respect!
What to do now? I called all my friends to offer them free tickets, and a chance to be with me on Saturday morning. No one could come. This was beginning to be outlandish. I never knew so many people could refuse a free ticket, no strings attached, plus the chance of spending time with me in a crowded coliseum with screaming kids waving lighted sticks and eating hot dogs and cotton candy.
After a few hundred phone calls, (I had started calling strangers at random from the phone book; just kidding) I managed to find takers for all but one ticket. That was somewhat of a relief. At least I wouldn’t be alone. (Not counting the countless strangers that would be present.) And I’d had a wonderful time catching up with erstwhile acquaintances.
The night before the extravaganza came to town I went out to eat with an old school buddy. I mean old. She was in her seventies. I did say it was college buddy, not a high school buddy, so don’t assume we’re the same age!
After I recounted my week with her she said the most uplifting thing, “I’ll take the last ticket.”
“Really?” I had never even considered her as a possible candidate. After all at seventy plus she had to have seen more circuses than she’d care too. This was great, I thought I’d have to stand in the courtyard of the coliseum and try to sell the remaining ticket. I had already purchased a trench coat, baseball cap and sunglasses to fit the image of a scalper.
“Yea, I think it would be fun,” my much older friend declared. This must be how she stayed so young at heart despite the ravages of time. (Boy, I hope she never reads this!)
Saturday morning. Gifts for sale. Stuffed elephants and tigers. Laser guns. Coloring books. Junk food. Nachos, funnel cakes (my personal favorite, with powdered sugar,hmmmm!) Children running to bathrooms and sales counters. Parents yelling for junior or missy to come back. Clowns available for picture taking. Shriners strolling about selling catalogs for three dollars. Three dollars! The money benefited the Shriners hospitals. How could I refuse, I bought two and got an appreciative thank you.
We had front row seats and this is where my disappointment came. There were lots of vacant seats. Lots! I could have waited and acquired my tickets today and not gone through the aggravation of finding substitutes for my kids. Well actually I probably wouldn’t have been here today because I would have known my kids weren’t coming. Apparently the Saturday matinee wasn’t a sold out feature anymore. In my day (I’ll just let you guess when that was) the circus was filled to capacity; and of course the outside would have been crammed full with horse and buggies waiting to take us back home!
My friends and I had first-class time (mis)behaving like kids again. Hooting and hollering, oohing and ahhing. I even paid good money for a laser stick to swing around in the dark while eating cotton candy,(after my funnel cakes and nachos!) Good thing my brood wasn’t here to be embarrassed by their old mom. Or maybe they would have embarrassed me with their stick in the mud attitudes. I could hear them whispering behind my back now, debating whether a nursing home was in my near future.
Then came the grand finale. Every act paraded out and circumnavigated the arena. The elephants with slender, barely clad women. Horses prancing and preening, heads held high, their riders standing on them, arms outstretched welcoming the applause. Everything was bathed in lights; lights that blinked, lights that dazzled, lights that glittered. Breathtaking. The performers were dressed in gaudy costumes that barely concealed trim figures.
Suddenly I was blinded. Was there an explosion! I couldn’t see a thing except an intense radiance. An overpowering deafening roar filled my ears. It had to have been a bomb discharging. I gasped, waving my arms about, trying to find my friends in the overwhelming light. Nothing. I hadn’t felt an impact. I felt no pain. I seemed to be whole. I just couldn’t hear or see. I thought, with profound insight, this wasn’t good.
I was deaf but I heard my name being called. That’s all I heard. No one around me was screaming. No one was bumping into me. I felt no mass panic going on in my vicinity. Just mass panic within myself which was enough for me to handle right now. I was sure the world had ended. The circus had for sure!
“Here I am,” I yelled to the invisible voice. Please be someone useful, like a firefighter, I prayed.
Out of the light came, “Marcy, Marcy.” Well, whoever it was knew my name.
“Here I am,” I repeated.
“Marcy, Marcy.” Came the reply again. All right, this could go on indefinitely. I kept my mouth shut this time.
“Marcy, its me.”
“Me who?” I queried, straining to get my vision back. Why do people think squinting does anything but narrow the visual field?
A horse trotted up to me, my vision was returning! A magnificent white horse with a exceptional looking white bearded rider, wearing a white robe. The rider had extraordinary eyes. Piercing eyes. Gentle eyes. Sad eyes.
“Marcy, it’s me.” Okay, by now I was pretty sure he knew my name, but did his vocabulary go any further?
“Yes, it’s you alright.” I declared, concluding the best course of action was to just be agreeable.
“Oh, Marcy. How sad you could spend so much time inviting people to the circus but you find it arduous to invite them to my house,” the bearded rider moaned.
His house? Who is this guy? I tried to pick my brain for recognition. I’ve never seen this man before………..wait a minute. A white horse. A white bearded man. Piercing eyes. Adding two plus two I came up with.. Jesus! I’m not taking anyone’s name in vain, I really mean; Jesus! I was being addressed by my savior!
“Oh my gosh!” Well that was an intelligent response. I’m just grateful I didn’t ask him for his autograph.
“Marcy, your friends don’t have much time left. Invite them to my house, please, for me.” The rider asked. Then with a toss of its magnificent large head, the stallion turned on its heels and sped away (flew, actually), carrying its rider with it.
My vision and hearing were completely restored. The grand finale was still in progress. I hadn’t missed a beat. I turned to scrutinize my companions. They were still enthralled with the presentation; nothing seemed odd to them. They sure didn’t look like they had just witnessed an explosion and heard me talking to a man on a horse. Everything seemed surreal now. Had I just had a hallucination brought on by the nachos, cotton candy and funnel cakes? Why would a grown woman eat like that? I nominated myself the new head of the twelve step program for “Junk Food Anonymous.”
“Marcy, are you alright?” Brenda asked.
I’m getting a little annoyed hearing my name today!
“I’m fine, why do you ask?” I croaked.
“Well, for one thing, you look three shades of green!” Brenda answered.
“She sure does!” My other friends chimed.
“Really, I’m fine!” I asserted, a little to enthusiastically to be truly convincing. Then before I lost my nerve, “I’ve had so much fun with you guys today, why don’t you come to church with me tomorrow?”
All four of them looked at each other for feedback; then, “Sure, we’d love too.” They replied in unison. That was so unexpectedly easy I pondered why I hadn’t invited them years ago.
Sunday morning after services I walked down the aisle to congratulate my friends for making commitments to Jesus. I had four new sisters in Christ. All signed on to God’s kingdom.
Vowing to fill up the empty pews in the church auditorium, I went home that afternoon and got out my address book. Everyone in it was going to hear from me again; then I really was going to start on the phone book! Jesus was right. If I could get excited about the circus, I should get more excited about inviting my friends to join me in heaven so they could witness the ultimate Grand Finale, the New Kingdom in all its glory. After all, these tickets were a free gift, paid for in blood.
My only prayer for eternity: Please don’t serve any funnel cakes, cotton candy or nachos at the celebration feast, in Jesus’s name, amen.
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