Hanging Up

I really admire telemarketers. After all, they put up with a lot. They are hard-working people, just trying to make a living, and what do they get for their efforts?

People like me. Or worse, people like my dear husband.

A typical evening at my house has at least one episode like this:

RRRRRRRiiiiiiiing!

Me: “Hello?”

Telemarketer: “Hello. May I please speak with Mr. or Mrs. Brooooom-bug?”

Me: “I’m sorry. There is no one here by that name.” Click.

Hey, I was telling the truth. There is no “bug” in my name.

I know I should be more patient, more forgiving of mispronounced names. But they always call right in the middle of something important. Like Wheel of Fortune.

So, if you are a telemarketer, I apologize. You are a much more patient person than I am. I should take a few minutes and listen to what you have to say.

But I make no promises.

Honestly, I’m not as bad as my dear husband. Nobody, and I mean nobody deserves what he dishes out. Telemarketers, please accept my humble apologies on his behalf. He really is a good guy.

But he likes to toy with the sales people. He makes up stories using strange accents. Don’t ask me why he does it. I’ve been married to the man for nearly twenty years, and I’m still trying to figure him out.

One such time, the phone rang.

“Hello?” answered Mark.

“May I speak with Dr. Mark . . . Brooooom . . . bug?”

Well, Mark was in an especially feisty mood that evening. In a deep southern drawl, he said, “No, he don’t live here no more. He’s serving twenty to life at the state penitentiary.”

I wanted to die right then and there.

But then, from the other end of the line, came a tentative voice. “Oh, I see. Well, this is the Baylor University Alumni Association. I was just wondering if Dr. Brooom . . . bug is still the pastor of Central Cities Church.”

I have never seen my husband turn so white. “Uhh, yes. He is.”

“Okay, thank you.” Click.

What goes around comes around, wouldn’t you say?

Often when I answer the phone, it is a recording. Now that drives me crazy. When that happens, I just hang up. I don’t even try to listen to the message. Maybe that’s not the good, kind, loving thing to do. But I have to tell the truth. I’ll probably keep doing it.

I’m so glad God never hangs up on me. He always answers, every time I call. He’s never too busy or too distracted to hear what’s on my mind and in my heart. Not only that, but He’s always glad to hear from me! He is delighted to listen to every word I say, no matter how small or petty.

And He always responds with patience, wisdom and love.

Zechariah 13:9 “They will call on my name and I will answer them; I will say, ‘They are my people,’ and they will say, ‘The Lord is our God.’”