Most families have events that remain in the collective memory that when seasoned with time produce laughter. In my family these events are often boiled down to a single phrase that simultaneously calls forward the memory while producing laughter. One such phrase is “there are no wires across the Pacific.”

In the early nineties, I had the opportunity to travel with my church to Hawaii for a two-week mission trip. This was to be the furthest I had traveled from home, thus my parents were naturally interested in what provisions I chose to pack. My mother requested I pack sufficient sunscreen, but for the most part, neither parent challenged my decisions as to what to take on my trip - that is until the issue of money came up.

I like to be right. Who doesn’t? It is a position of power and authority to be right. On the other hand, I hate to be wrong. Being right means that your actions are justified and correct. Being wrong requires repentance and discipline if not corrected.

My wife and I were once traveling through Atlanta long before the advent of GPS and navigation apps. It was late, and I was tired and ready to get home. For reasons that now evade my memory, we had gotten off the interstate and were entangled in the labyrinth of one-way downtown streets. I was driving and chose to rely on my own sense of direction while disregarding my wife’s gentle suggestions. I was sure that I knew the right way to get back on the interstate. After the next turn, stoplight, or block she would be forced to acknowledge that my choice of directions was right. However, after left and right turns gave way to more left and right turns, my level of frustration grew as I hopelessly searched for the interstate’s entrance that now seemed purposely eluding me.