When I was twenty-three years old, I made the best decision of my life. I asked a beautiful, witty woman to be my wife, and she accepted, against the advice of her friends, her family and a goodly portion of the Western world. On our wedding day, the bridesmaids wore black.

    For eight years, I was the model of responsibility I worked hard. I dried the dishes. I lowered the toilet seat. Then my wife became pregnant. I attended birthing classes and learned to commiserate. When we brought Spencer home, I rose with her to feed him. And when he regurgitated on me, I bore it with good humor.

    Three months after his birth, Joan returned to part-time work. On the morning of her departure, she cautioned me to keep a close eye on our son. My feelings were hurt, and I said as much.

    “Please, honey haven’t I proven myself reliable?” Thus, I can only think it was the pain of mistrust which caused me to forget my son when I went to the grocery store that afternoon.

    I was on my way there and turned around to see him. He was missing! I raced home and found him in his crib, glowering, and I knew what he was going to say when he learned to talk. So I confessed to Joan myself, over a candle-lit dinner and a new silver bracelet.

    Being a Christian woman, Joan forgave me and offered me another chance. And the very next morning, after she handcuffed Spencer to me, she said, “Honey I trust you.”

    Reflection on this experience has taught me two things: First, having children causes irreparable damage to those areas of the brain having to do with memory; and second, uh, what’s the second point? Oh, yeah, the second point is this: We all feel forgotten sometimes.

We all feel forgotten sometimes.

    Actually, I’d learned that second lesson at an early age. My family drove off and forgot me once, too. We were on vacation-five kids, Mom, and Dad-and stopped to eat at a Stuckey’s. I was in the bathroom when they climbed back in the car and headed out. They went twenty miles before discovering they were short a kid. Took a quick vote and decided to come back for me. It was almost a tie, but at the last minute Mom changed her mind.

    So sometimes each of us feels forgotten. Saddest line in the Bible is when Christ asks God why he forsook him. If Christ felt left behind, how then can we avoid feeling forgotten and forsaken?

    Some Bible scholars say that isn’t what Jesus meant when he cried from the cross. They say he was quoting the first line of Psalm 22, because to quote the first line was to affirm that psalm’s victorious conclusion. I have a great deal of respect for Bible scholars, but they’re full of baloney on this one. I think Jesus felt forgotten.

    However, the empty tomb tells us he was remembered. And so are we all, which is what I’m going to tell my son, just as soon as I remember where I left him.

From the book Front Porch Tales, by Philip Gulley. © 1997 by Multnomah Pub., used by permission.

Title: "Why My Wife Bought Handcuffs"
Author: Philip Gulley
Publication Date: March 29, 2001

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