CHAPTER 7

A Day at the Museum

It doesn’t matter what our faith looks like; it matters what

it is.

Have you ever been to Madame Tussauds? It’s a wax museum. It’s

where all bees go to retire. There are several of these museums around
the world, and I’ve been to them all. Sometimes I ask the person selling
tickets where I can find a candlewick and some matches just to see the
response. But I’m not fascinated with the wax people. I love looking at
the real people who go to wax museums to look at wax people. Do it
sometime. Honest. It’s worth the price of admission.
Everyone’s there: Abraham Lincoln, George Washington, Elvis. It’s
like a reunion of the dead. If I were in charge of the wax museum, I’d
have an exhibit of a wax person with way too much body hair, waxing
themselves. Nobody would get it, of course, but I’d still think it was
pretty funny.
I was in Washington, DC, awhile back for some meetings. I had on a
black suit, a trench coat, and my best clip-on tie. With my white hair and
whiskers, I looked just like a senator. I had the kids with me and could
tell they were a little bored, so I asked them, “Hey, do you want to go to
the wax museum?” They’d never gone, so they jumped at the chance. We
got to Madame Tussauds and ran downstairs to where all the wax people
were. When we got there, just for fun, I struck a pose between the third
and fourth wax guys on display. I whispered to the kids, “Watch this.”
They all shook their heads, saying, “Dad, would you please act your age?”
I put my finger to my lips and whispered, “I am.”