Journal of a Living Lady #113
Nancy White Kelly
It just registered with me that I am quite registered. A registered teacher. A registered school administrator. A registered counselor.
I am also a registered pilot as well as a registered driver.
I am licensed to hunt, though I never do, and have a life-time fishing license. I am registered with state and federal authorities to carry a gun.
In addition, I am a registered voter. I am a registered tax payer and a registered home owner.
And let us not forget the animals. I am a registered goat owner. A registered dog owner. A registered cat owner too. The list goes on and on.
I registered for first grade, second grade…all the way through high school. I would have registered for the Navy if my daddy hadn’t thrown such a fit. I am now glad he did or my life might have taken an entirely different course over hill, over vale into the wild blue yonder. Instead, I anchored away at college registering each semester along the way.
I was registered at birth. Our marriage was registered. After fifteen years, Buddy and I were on at the top of the adoption registry for a baby. Soon thereafter God blessed us with a son and he was registered.
Nothing is truly finished until the paper work is done. Upon my death, I will no doubt be registered once more.
Undeniably I am thoroughly registered. Couldn’t be anonymous if I wanted to be.
Yet, there are quite a few registries that I am not on. I am definitely not on the social register. A debutante I wasn’t. Didn’t even finish finishing school. Actually I didn’t even start. Somehow you knew that, didn’t you?
Thankfully I am not a fugitive on the F.B.I.’s Most Wanted list. Neither am I on the organ transplant registry. It is a little late for spare parts to do me much good.
The only register I really care about is mentioned in Revelation 20:12. That verse says, “And I saw the dead, small and great, standing before God and books were opened …the Book of Life.”
That, my friend, is the registry to be on.
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May 17, 2001
