Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord … Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her…
Ephesians 5: 22, 25
My wanderlust (boy, that really drove Mom crazy) finally caught up to me and I applied for a real editor’s position in Illinois. By happenstance, I was called for an interview … two days before Scott was born in May 1975. I respectfully declined, telling Belvidere Daily Republican Publisher Pat Mattison I had to be with my family. He said he understood and both Mom and I were sure that door was closed.
After Scott was born, I got busy building a front porch. I framed it out and ordered the concrete. It came out pretty good, although marbles did have a tendency to roll and Mom would gently remind me of my carpentry and masonry skills – or lack thereof – every time she walked onto the porch. I always claimed the pitch was for drainage.
Next was a fireplace we always wanted. We called the salesman. He came and measured the space. We picked out the style. We wrote him a check. Life was good.
As the salesman was leaving the phone rang. It was Pat Mattison, not offering me the editor’s position but a production manager’s position. I got off the phone and turned to Mom, “You won’t believe this …”
In her supportive way, she said I had to at least talk to Mr. Mattison. But she added, “You better stop that check. If we’re going to move, I don’t want to put in a fireplace for somebody else to enjoy.” I tried to assure her we were just talking and Pat hadn’t formally offered me a job nor had I accepted. Still, she insisted I at least put a hold on the fireplace order.
The poor salesman. He never knew what hit him. We cancelled the 
order before he even made it back to the office, which is ironic because we had questioned him at length while he was here whether we could cancel. I’m sure he though we were stringing him along, but, truly, that’s the sequence.
To be continued …
THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: There are no limitations in imagination.
