read this story recently. Coming out of church, Mrs. Smith asked her husband,
"Do you think that Johnson girl is tinting her hair?"
"I didn't even see her," admitted Mr. Smith. "And that dress Mrs. Tate was wearing" continued Mrs. Smith, "Really? Don't
tell me you think that's the proper outfit for a mother of two."
"I'm afraid I didn't see that either," said Mr. Smith. "Oh, for heaven's sake," snapped Mrs. Smith. "A lot of good it does you to go
to church." There, just over there, sat a man. He was blind as a bat since the day he was
born. Never saw his mother’s face. Never saw, well, anything. So his other
senses were probably pretty keen, by now. He could hear very well. And he had
surely heard a lot of stuff from a lot of people by now. Some stuff you can’t
repeat in mixed company. Some directed at others, some at himself.
Like the day he was sitting by the road when he heard the thunder of
footsteps from a large crowd of folks. “Must be something special going on today
at temple,” he thought, listening to the people coming toward him. “Wait ‘til
they’re closer to stick out the hand and the basket for a few coins. This may
turn out to be a good day, after all.” “Wait…. Wait… they’re almost here…Wow,
there’s a lot of talking going on. Sure do hope they hear me, or see me. Maybe I
better stand up. Hey…. The footsteps have slowed. They’re quieter now.”
Then he heard the question. “Who sinned, this man, or his parents…” You kind
of expect him to say, “Hello up there. I’m blind. Not deaf!” . . .
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