Passwords and Glass Birds
26 Jun

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The other day I was complaining to my husband about the problem of passwords. Obviously this is a first world problem, but it irritates those of us over a certain age because we didn’t have to deal with passwords when we were young unless it was the password to some kid’s clubhouse. Instead we worried about memorizing phone numbers, poems, spelling rules and combinations on our lockers. I told my husband the best passwords are scriptures (unless they’re popular ones like John 3:16), because they have capitals, colons (not the intestinal kind), dashes, and numbers.

Of course there’s the problem of saving them someplace and letting your loved ones know where, in case you get sick or die because of your advanced age. But here’s the real stickler (colon) changing them every 30 to 90 days. What I do is interchange them, which is a very bad idea because I usually forget to note that on my list, so I run through them all until they tell me I’ve tried too many times and I’m locked out of my account. Another problem is when I get the verse numbers wrong. For years I used one of my favorite verses as a password and then found out I had the wrong chapter number. Which brings me to glass birds.

Years ago when my children were little, I had one who was particularly spirited. He’s the one who suggested that my toddler twins try walking on the roof, the one who challenged our neighbor to jump off the deck (he broke his arm), the one who got caught gambling on a school field trip  -  you get the picture. We lived in a two family and our phone (that plugged into the wall) went out during an emergency. Our neighbor wasn’t home but I had her key so I grabbed it and ran upstairs. The little bugger who was two at the time got to her pristine, gorgeously appointed living room before me and immediately grabbed two glass birds and began banging them together while he laughed maniacally.

Fortunately, I reached my parents, the birds survived, and my son went on to create more havoc (and become an amazing man). The lesson? Things work out. When I looked up my botched scripture verses, they spoke to me, amazingly, lovingly, and prophetically. Too bad I can’t tell you what they said until I change my password in a year or two.

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