The Stranger

A friend shared this story through email last week. It's cute, but for our family it's also "amen!"

A few years after I was born, my Dad met a stranger who was new to our small Texas town. From the beginning, Dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family.

The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on. As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family. In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors: Mom taught me good from evil, and Dad taught me to obey.

But the stranger...he was our storyteller. He would keep us spellbound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies. If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the future! He took my family to our first major league ball game.

He made me laugh, and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking, but Dad didn't seem to mind. Sometimes, Mom would get up quietly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace and quiet. (I wonder now if she ever prayed for the stranger to leave).

Dad ruled our household with moral convictions, but the stranger never felt obligated to honor them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home. Not from us, our friends, or any visitors. Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush.

My Dad didn't permit the liberal use of alcohol. But the stranger encouraged us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars manly and pipes distinguished. He talked freely (much too freely!) about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive, and generally embarrassing.

I now know that my early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked... And NEVER asked to leave.

More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved in with our family. He has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into my parents' den today, you would find him sitting in his corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him paint his pictures.
His name?

We just call him 'TV.'

We are coming up on our five year anniversary of being "tv free." It has made a huge difference in our lives!

We still physically have a tv but there is no network access so nothing is coming in that isn't "approved". The only things we watch these days are encouraging and faith building and the "poor quality" of some of these doesn't bother us anymore because we have nothing to compare it to. We've been deprogrammed!

We have our evenings free for family devotions because we're not waiting for a favorite show or the game of the week to come on. Our children are unaware of the latest and greatest "stuff" they are deprived of because they're not being saturated with manipulative advertising. We have time to read and explore and just talk.

Does this mean there is no draw? I wish. We were at one of our favorite burger joints the other night for dinner. There were tv's in every corner of the restaurant. I think there was a basketball game on. After we prayed for our meal, AJ confessed, "Mom, my eyes were open when we were praying. I was kind of watching the tv!"