We've all been subjected to it. That stamp on the back of your hand that guarantees re-admission to an event. Once stamped, have you ever had the lingering question of what if the stamp fades?
We were in Washington visiting Mea and went to a craft show. Paid our admission, entered and stamped.
Later in the day, after leaving and re-entering once or twice for the food concession and bathrooms, I left for a rest stop. As I left, I smiled at the woman at the exit - no doubt a volunteer from the women’s auxiliary that sponsored the show -- and told her that I'd be back in a few minutes. True to my word, I re-entered a few minutes later and the same woman asked to see my stamped hand.
The stamp had faded. Earlier, I had heard some other people remarking that the stamps were not holding up well as they were waved back into the show-space. My vigilant volunteer guard of the gate was determined to see the stamp. She didn’t and told me I could not re-enter. I reminded her that moments before I had told her that I would be back shortly. She said that she didn't see the stamp when I left. I told her that I left so, obviously I had gotten in at some point. I showed her the catalogue that I had received upon admission. She scoffed and blocked the entrance.
Finally, I said “OK, my wife is inside waiting for me, what would you suggest that I do?”
“You can make a donation.”
“I already paid for my admission and have been here all day. I would like to get back inside.”
She looked at me and said “I hope you are a man of faith” and stepped aside.
As I walked back, I passed other entrances and smiling faces of volunteers waving people with faded stamps through. I was not smiling.