By Jodi Rae Ingstad 

Mother always referred to it as “necking when really it was nothing more than some good, old-fashioned kissing.   
We spend our childhood years anticipating the first one and fearing it too. Would I be able to effectively kiss someone? When my first kiss actually happened I immediately felt accepted.  Someone thought my lips were good enough to kiss and so he did.
We were at Lake Ashtabula with other people our age. That kiss at the lake turned into a date and I was on my way.  The first few dates we necked and then I met his parents.
When we necked we parked in some pretty peculiar places. Places like behind an implement dealer or in someone’s pasture. When young people kiss they don’t want the world to see but I guess we didn’t mind if a cow or two watched on.
His mother must have had a Christian intuition about us necking because on our next date she sent along a Bible.    She had written out scriptures we should study together. The Bible was sitting on the dashboard of the car. We were parked behind an old railroad building in the dead of the cold winter kissing away.
It’s difficult to kiss with a Bible sitting on a dashboard and I invite you to try it.  A train had passed loudly but we were somewhat oblivious to it in our passion for our new found necking abilities.
Just then a bright light shone into the car and a loud knock hit the window. It was a police man.  
We sat up mighty quickly. The officer asked all of the normal officer-type questions to which of course we had all the answers. And then he asked, “Is that a Bible on your dashboard?”   
My date told him that after we were done necking (kissing) that we were going to Bible study together. The officer told us to not stay on the railroad property too long. He drove away as we laughed at being caught.
In life you never want to be caught by your mama, the police or a man of the cloth doing anything wrong. As of this week I’ve accomplished all the “never want to be’s” all by my ownself.
Someone I know passed away last week. As I listened to all of the complimentary, kind, edifying comments about her I wondered, “But did anyone ever tell her all those good things while she was still living?”   
Mama might have given me my energy but Dad gave me my sensitivities. I was so sensitive about this that I decided to make an announcement in the break room at my work. I asked everyone to tell me what they think of me. I told them I wanted to know before I die if I made a difference, if I mattered, if I did anything good.   
People opened up and shared and I reciprocated. And then I asked a Chaplin sitting at my break table, “How did it get to this point where we dare to say really good things about a person after they die but rarely in life do we share those thoughts and insights with them verbally?”  
Her answer was short and to the point. “Humanity,” she said.   
Just then I put on an armor of war.  I declared, “I am on a mission then to change all of humanity!”
As the words came out of my mouth a priest walked through the break room on his way to visit someone. He heard my comment, laughed and wished me luck.
I don’t anticipate ever being caught necking behind a railroad building with a Bible on my dashboard again. But if I do and you’re the cop, please tell me I made you laugh.  
I want to know that I brought some Jodi-joy to your night before I die. Tell someone something nice about themselves today. Tomorrow might be too late.