Look Who's Laughing!

by Selected by Ann Spangler and Shari MacDonald

• ISBN13: 9780310246923
• ISBN10: 031024692X
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2003-03-01
• Publisher: Harpercollins Christian Pub

Summary

This delightful new collection whips up another winning recipe of laughter and inspiration--a delicious blend of faith and fun for readers famished for more assurance that God can help them find joy regardless of their foibles, failings, and fears.

Table of Contents

Preface	9	(3)
Men Are Funny, Women Are Hilarious . . . Together We're Hysterical
One Man's Treasure	12	(5)
G. Ron Darbee
Light His Fire	17	(3)
Becky Freeman
Egg Money	20	(1)
Anonymous
Pearly Gates	21	(1)
John Ortberg
Pause for Concern	22	(3)
Dave Meurer
Showdown at the Hoedown	25	(4)
Becky Freeman
A Day at the Beach	29	(4)
Chonda Pierce
The Offering	33	(1)
Anonymous
Slapstick	34	(6)
Becky Freeman
Just for Laughs
Insurance Claims	40	(1)
Anonymous
Takeoffs and Landings	41	(2)
Anonymous
Courtroom Follies	43	(3)
Anonymous
They Said It in the Church Bulletin	46	(2)
Anonymous
Strictly Classified	48	(2)
Anonymous
Born to Laugh: Of Humor and Kids
Kids: The Original Workout	50	(4)
Chonda Pierce
Pearls of Wisdom by Assorted Kids	54	(2)
Masterpiece	56	(1)
Anonymous
God Is Watching	57	(1)
Anonymous
Ultimate Sacrifice	58	(1)
Anonymous
Dear God by Assorted Kids	59	(2)
``Bet I Can!''	61	(2)
Marilyn Meberg
``Yes, Ma'am!''	63	(2)
Sheila Walsh
Kids Say the Craziest Things by Assorted Kids and Adults	65	(2)
Birthday Countdown	67	(5)
Barbara Johnson
For Wives and Moms Only
You'll Never Have to Dust Again	72	(4)
Chonda Pierce
What Part of ``Ten Items or Less'' Don't You Understand?	76	(5)
Chonda Pierce
Gourmet Napping	81	(3)
Becky Freeman
Chatting with Martha Stewart about My To-Do List	84	(6)
Chonda Pierce
Lookin' So Good!
The Bra of My Dreams	90	(6)
Cathy Lee Phillips
Step Right Up	96	(3)
Patsy Clairmont
Face-lift	99	(1)
Barbara Johnson
To Bean or Not to Bean	100	(3)
Marilyn Meberg
Snaggletooth	103	(3)
Luci Swindoll
Look Good, Smell Good!	106	(4)
Chonda Pierce
Big Hair Day	110	(4)
Cathy Lee Phillips
Nothing to Do but Laugh: Life's Most Embarrassing Moments
Slippery Slope	114	(2)
Betty Malz
A River Runs Down It	116	(2)
Charlene Ann Baumbich
Gourmet Goodies	118	(2)
Patsy Clairmont
Putting on the Ritz	120	(5)
Cathy Lee Phillips
The Trouble with Peanuts	125	(3)
Barbara Johnson
Raising Laughs: Humor and Parenting
Bare Witness	128	(3)
Phil Callaway
Good Grief!	131	(4)
Karen Scalf Linamen
Bite My Tongue!	135	(5)
Sue Buchanan
Diamonds and Dump Trucks	140	(2)
Judy Carden
What Did You Do Today?	142	(4)
Phil Callaway
Questions, Questions	146	(3)
Chris Ewing
Payback	149	(3)
Veda Boyd Jones
And If I Die Before I Wake	152	(6)
Ken Davis
Four-Legged Fun
What's That Smell?	158	(5)
Chonda Pierce
Help, Lord, There's a Cat on My Face!	163	(2)
Sheila Walsh
Hey, Dude!	165	(2)
John Ortberg
Anything for a Laugh	167	(1)
Marilyn Meberg
Cat Lovers Beware!	168	(4)
Patricia Wilson
A Little Bit Weird, a Whole Lot of Fun
Air Bags, Seat Belts, and Change	172	(3)
Ken Davis
Coloring the Night Away	175	(2)
Marilyn Meberg
Pacified	177	(2)
Patsy Clairmont
Peculiarity Breeds Content	179	(4)
Becky Freeman
Traffic Ballet	183	(2)
Marilyn Meberg
Drunk without Drinking	185	(3)
Barbara Johnson
If I Were in Charge of Voice Menus	188	(4)
Chonda Pierce
Peanut Butter Yogurt and Raspberry Sauce	192	(2)
Marilyn Meberg
Live!	194	(2)
Luci Swindoll
Notes	196

Excerpts

Look Who’s Laughing!Copyright © 2003 by Ann SpanglerRequests for information should be addressed to:Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication DataLook who’s laughing! : rib-tickling stories of fun, faith, family, and friendship /compiled by Ann Spangler and Shari MacDonald.p. cm.ISBN-10: 0-310-24692-XISBN-13: 978-0-310-24692-31. Religion — Humor. 2. Conduct of life — Humor. I. Spangler, Ann.II. MacDonald, ShariPN6231 .R4 L66 2003818 ’.60208 — dc21 2002155410All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible: NewInternational Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society.Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrievalsystem, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy,recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the priorpermission of the publisher.Interior design by Michelle EspinozaPrinted in the United States of AmericaWe want to hear from you. Please send your comments about thisbook to us in care of [e-mail]. Thank you.Man is the powder, woman the spark.— Lope De VegaWomen like silent men. They think they are listening.— Marcel AchardMen Are Funny,Women Are Hilarious . . .Together We’re HystericalOne Man’s TreasureG. Ron DarbeeI suppose I should have seen it coming, should have recognized thesigns, picked up on the subtle hint. But after so many years ofmarriage, I really didn’t want to believe it was true. Oh, she sent allthe right signals, I guess. She even threatened a time or two. MaybeI loved her too much, trusted her too completely. When it finallyhappened — when all that trust shattered and her veil of secrecylifted — there was no one left to blame but myself.I went to bed early, consistent with my usual routine, but ratherthan falling directly to sleep, I waited. Because of my morning commute,it’s not unusual for me to retire before Sue, anyway. I didn’tthink she knew of my suspicions, but later she claimed she did. In away, I think she wanted to be caught, to get it out in the open andend the sneaking around.About an hour later, Sue poked her head in the door, ensuringherself I was out for the night. I heard the fumbling of keys in herpurse and the sound of the back door creaking before I rose and followedin pursuit. Stepping into the garage behind her, I caught herred-handed.“Ah!” I said, in the manner of one who has just caught his spousered-handed. “So what do you have to say for yourself?”Sue spun around quickly, startled and caught off guard. Followingher first impulse, she feigned surprise and pretended to gaspfor breath, all the while attempting to hide something in the small ofher back. I didn’t fall for the clever ruse and demanded to see whatshe held behind her.“It’s nothing,” Sue said. “Really . . . nothing.” Her face displayedonly guilt, and shame shone through the facade of shock.“Nothing, is it?” I said. “We’ll see about that. What have you gotthere? What are you hiding behind your back?” “Don’t make me show you,” she pleaded. “Please, can we just goinside and forget about this? Pretend it never happened?”“I don’t think so, Sue. It’s gone too far. I’ll be seeing what you’rehiding there now, if you please.”Slowly, cautiously, she pulled her hand around. I knew whatto expect even before I saw it. “Those are my baseball cards, aren’tthey?” I said, my heart nearly pounding through my chest. “You’vebeen cleaning out the garage again, haven’t you?”“Yes!” She said it defiantly, holding her head up high, ready tostand her ground. She had done it, yes, and she was glad.“And you’ve been rummaging through my things?” I asked. “Isuppose you’ve thrown away some of my stuff?”“Yes,” she answered, “and I’d do it again if I had the chance. It’sall junk. Somebody had to clear it out of here.”So there it was, a turning point, a roadblock in our marriage.We could take the easy way, like so many other coupleswe knew, orwe could try to work it out. Our life together was too important toboth of us; we had made a commitment, a lifelong commitment.“We can work this out, sweetheart,” I said, in the spirit of reconciliation.“Let me see it all. We’ll do this thing together.”That was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. Sue,like many women, doesn’t know the first thing about memorabilia.She sees a box of baseball cards, an old ball glove — and immediatelyheads toward the trash pile. And the whole time our houseis cluttered with real junk: photographs, old letters, and hand-medownsdisguised as family heirlooms.“Show me what you’ve thrown away so far,” I said, wanting tominimize the losses. She pointed toward a trash can nearly overflowingwith my possessions. “Not my first ball glove!” I yelled asI extracted the crown of my earthly treasures. “You couldn’t havemeant to throw away my baseball mitt.”“It doesn’t even fit you anymore,” Sue said. “You couldn’t possiblyget your hand in there.”“But it has Ron Swoboda’s signature on the thumb, Sue! Howcould you do this?”“I don’t see a signature on it,” she said, squinting in the poorlight of our garage.“Well, it used to be on there,” I said. “You can sort of make it outif you know what to look for.” I continued rummaging through thepile. “Now wait just a minute. Do you know what this is?” I asked.“Do you know what you’ve thrown away?”“Old baseball cards,” Sue said. Accurate guess, but she obviouslydidn’t get the whole picture.“Not just old baseball cards, Sue. This is Mickey Mantle, ‘Mickthe Stick,’ one of the greatest baseball players of all time. Do you knowhow much this is worth? I’ll tell you. Several hundred dollars!”“I apologize,” Sue said. “I never would have thrown it away if I’dknown how much it was worth. Can we sell it?”“Sell it! This is my youth we’re talking about, Sue. How much ismy youth worth to you?”“How much can we get?” she asked.Determining that we were getting nowhere following thatcourse, I switched gears slightly and attempted to gain the upperhand. “How much of your junk have you thrown away, sweetheart?”I asked.“Over there by the shelves,” she pointed in the direction of thewashing machine. “A toilet brush that’s seen better days, some slippers,and that cookbook your mother gave me.”I couldn’t believe my ears. “The cookbook my mother wrote withher own two hands?” I asked. “You threw away Mom’s Chronologyof Darbee Cuisine? How could you?”“It’s not even a real cookbook, just a list of ingredients,” Sueargued. “She didn’t write down any amounts. What am I supposedto do — guess?”“Okay, fine,” I said. “Why are we saving this then?” I picked upan old encyclopedia volume and thrust it in Sue’s direction. “Openthe book, Sue, and you know what you’ll find? Dead flowers. MayI ask why we are saving dead flowers?”“Those happen to be the first flowers you sent me,” Sue said, asthough that revelation was supposed to make a difference.“They’re still dead, Sue,” I said. “And, quite frankly, I don’tunderstand. Mickey you toss away without a second thought, anda dozen carnations get immortalized between the pages of WorldBook.”“Roses,” she corrected. “They were roses, and I thought it wasbetter to save them than expect new ones on occasion.”Immediately recognizing that this, too, was not a course Iwanted to take, I changed directions one last time. “Sounds like wecompromise,” I said. “I’ll tell you what, I don’t mind if you keep thedried flowers.

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Excerpted from Look Who's Laughing!: Rib-Tickling Stories of Fun, Faith, Family and Friendship by Ann Spangler, Spangler
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.