House of Horrors

Downstairs in the family room, my daughter Cassie (17 at the time) and her friend Devin were beginning a girls’ night of chick-flicks and popcorn. Upstairs in the dining room, my husband Tim was taking my prosthetic arm apart to replace a broken cable.

The girls decided to go upstairs to get some drinks. They bopped through the dining room to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of Mountain Dews. Tim talked to them briefly about the movie they were watching before they headed back downstairs. Fifteen minutes later, Devin said timidly, “Uh, Cassie, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?” Cassie replied, looking at her curiously.

Devin continued, “What is your dad doing?”

Puzzled, Cassie asked, “What do you mean?”

Devin stammered nervously, “He has an…uh…an arm on the table.”

Cassie giggled, “Yeah, Mom has a prosthesis and Dad is working on it.”

Devin’s mouth dropped open. “Really!” she exclaimed. “I never noticed!”

Just call our house “The Alexander House of Horrors.” I suppose all houses have a horror or two within. Can you identify yours? Maybe it’s those forgotten leftovers in the very back left corner of your refrigerator. Maybe it’s that friendly family mouse who always manages to evade capture. Perhaps it’s the not-so-pleasant smell in your son’s room that cannot be identified. Possibly it’s a closet door that no one dares open.

These “horrors” are part of our scary, marvelous, comical lives. We should enjoy them to the fullest! Take a picture of the moldy leftovers and post it on Facebook. Give your mouse a name like “The Green Arrow” or “James Bond.” Offer a reward to the family member who finds the source of the smell in your son’s room. But good grief, clean out your closet, will you?


Please don’t squander one bit of this marvelous life God has given us. 2 Corinthians 6:1 (MSG)

House of Horrors

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