Whenever I think I'm perfect and everything is going fine, I’m set up for something to go horribly wrong. Believe me, it happens to me all the time. If I could accept the fact that I'm not perfect, maybe my life would be just a little bit better. I’m working on that.

Every once in a while, The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage will say to me, "Are you crazy?"

The fact that she asks that question indicates that she doesn't really know the answer. Of course, I always answer in the negative. When I do, she looks at me, shakes her head, and walks away.

After all these years (we will celebrate our 55th wedding anniversary this year) she doesn't really know if I'm crazy or not. I'll give her another 55 years to figure that one out.

The other day, I began thinking about this idea of being crazy. I'm not quite sure I understand what "crazy" means, and I'm not going to look it up in the dictionary because you can't believe everything you read in that dictionary. At least I can't.

I began thinking of my relatives all the way back to my great-grandmother. We used to have yearly get-togethers, but that seems to have passed. I began thinking about those relatives of mine and realized that some of them actually were crazy.

I got up from my chair, went over to my library and pulled out my family photo album. I sat down and began to look through my album. I haven't done this in quite a few years, so I had forgotten a lot about my relatives. I looked at them and began to think about them and what I remembered about them.

The more I looked through my photo album, the more I saw that some of my relatives were actually crazy. There is no way I would have to ask them, "Are you crazy?" I knew they were crazy and remembered some of the evidence that proved it.

As I was looking at these photos, I was chuckling and sometimes even laughing aloud, and then The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage walked by. She looked at me and said, "What are you laughing about?"

I looked up and said, "Remember the other day when you asked if I was crazy?"

She nodded her head and said, "Yes, I remember that and I'm still asking that question today."

Looking at her, I laughed some more. I said to her, "After looking at the photo album of my family I have come to the conclusion that crazy is contagious."

Then I showed her a couple of photos of one of my cousins and said, "This cousin is the model of what crazy is all about." Then I told her the story of that cousin and all of the crazy things he did back in "the day."

As I was explaining to her, she finally said, "Well, that sure does explain a lot of things."

I went on to show her other pictures of my relatives and told their stories and how crazy they really were, from my point of view. Although she did not know all of my relatives, she began to understand why I was so crazy.

"So," The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage said, "when will this contagious craziness stop? With you?"

Thinking about that was a very serious consideration for me. Am I going to be the last of the craziness in my family, or will I pass it on to my children and grandchildren?

I looked at her and said, "Well, my dear, you married crazy I didn't."

"I know I did,” she replied, “but at the time I didn't think it was so contagious."

Both of us laughed, realizing that craziness is quite contagious and runs in my family. It is impossible for one relative in a family to be crazy and not pass it on.

For a moment, I thought about asking about her family and whether there were any crazy people in it. However, I did not want to jinx my day. From my casual observation, a few of her relatives, including her siblings, showed signs of being crazy. I sure did not want to walk down that path of thorns.

I guess being crazy is inherited and in some cases, craziness is contagious among the people around.

My primary agenda in life is to use my craziness to my benefit. I'm not just going to be crazy and let it go. Rather, I'm going to use it to profit in any way I can. I can't profit from my intelligence, which isn’t there, but I can profit from my craziness, which is there.

I'm not sure what that means, but I'll spend some time figuring it out and not waste any time.

I thought of some scripture along this line. “See then that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, Redeeming the time, because the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:15-16).