Remembering What's Her Name

When Melva visited our church in Virginia for the first time, I thought she said her name was "Nova." I thought of Nova Scotia and said, "It's nice to meet you, Scotty." She was known by that name in our church from that time on. She was a sweetheart.

Diane was a delightful young lady in our church in Ohio. After a year or so she said to me, "I have been meaning to tell you that my name is not Diane."

"You’re kidding," I said.

"No," she said, "It’s Ruth."

In that church also, a young lady tutored me that her name was not "Joe-wis."

"It's not?" I asked.

"No, it's Joyce, one syllable, pronounced 'jois.'"

One evening during a Wednesday evening Bible study in our West Virginia pastorate, I was beginning an overview of the book of Genesis. I said, "Adam and Eve had three sons, Cain, Abel, and Seth."

"What were the names?" I quizzed. Varied voices answered correctly. "Good!" I said.

Continuing, I said, "Noah also had three sons, Japheth, Shem, and Ham."

"What were their names?" I asked.

"Japheth!" someone answered. "That’s good!" I said.

"Shem," another called out. "Very good!" I applauded.

For a moment it was silent.

"So who was the third son?" I asked.

To my left, I saw a dad whisper into his spunky little girl's ear.

"Baloney!" she called out.