THANKSGIVING POSES A QUESTION OF CHOICE
The door to my office exploded as hundreds, at least it seemed like that many to me, of children surrounded my desk. My defenses were down and the merry mob held me captive. Wisely, I decided to surrender and throw myself on the mercy of the gang.
Simultaneously, and in hi-fi stereophonic sound, the children assaulted me with questions.
"Pastor, what's ya doin'?"
"Pastor, is that your computer?"
"Who's that in the picture?"
"Pastor, are you working?"
"Pastor, why? ... why? ... why?"
As soon as I dealt with one question, three more emerged and it seemed as though the supply was endless. Should the little crowd run out of questions, they could always begin all over again. Moreover, I believe they did