Grits with Grace

Family, gratitude, life, Military memories, prayer, Scripture, thankful, travel

Welcome to Knob Noster

Posted on June 11, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9

We had to have the wrong address. Judy and I came home after living three years in Germany and headed to our new duty assignment. We stopped in Georgia to visit with family for a couple of weeks and then headed to Missouri. We were assigned to Whiteman Air Force Base near Knob Noster, Missouri. Yes, friend, there is a Knob Noster. We arrived there only to find out that the State Fair was being held about twenty miles away. There were no hotel rooms. Nada. None. Period.

Knob Noster only had a couple of small hotels and both said they were full. Judy was expecting and I was starting to feel like the Bible story of Mary and Joseph. You know, the whole no room deal. Well, the one place said try back that afternoon and maybe someone will check out. They did and we had a room.

First, you need to understand this was back in 1980 so there was no internet to check ratings and all of that. Second, the bottom line it was the only room in town. Third, it was bad—as in not good. Bad as in bugs. Bad as in bad. But still, we were grateful. It was a place to sleep. God is good. Probably though, I need to be more specific next time when I ask for a place to stay. I needed to learn from Judy.

The very next day we start looking for a place to live. There was a town called Warrensburg about ten miles from the base. It had a small university and was a nice midwestern small town. Unfortunately, housing options were very limited. The few places the real estate person showed us were small, dated and pricey. Now Judy had this prayer thing down. She had asked God for a house with a fireplace. My expectations weren’t that high. I had asked God for a house without bugs. She was much more creative than me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure God was going to pull off either one of our requests. And then he came along.

No, it wasn’t God but he was God’s delivery man. His name was Mario—like the brothers. He kinda looked like Danny DeVito. He too was a real estate agent and he had heard us talking with the other agent. He came over and introduced himself. He said, “You know, I have a house that I had built but haven’t been able to sell. I might be willing to rent it to you.” He gave us the address and told us go and check it out. It was just outside of town in a neighborhood called, “Valley View.”

We drove out and turned in and started checking addresses. At the end of the first road we had to go left or right on Valley View Circle. We went left and began looking for house number 209. Soon, on the right, was number 209. But wait…this couldn’t be the right place. It was a new, beautiful three bedroom split level brick home. We were shocked and said, “No, this can’t be right.” We went and peeked in the windows. “No, no way. Must have the wrong address.” And then we saw it. A massive chimney connected to a big fireplace.

Well, this was too much. Judy and I were beyond excited. This was more, so much more, than we ever expected in our wildest expectations. We immediately went back to the real estate office and hunted down Mario. “Well,” he said, “I’ve changed my mind. Sorry, no deal.” Naw…just kidding. He said he liked us, trusted us and would be willing to work with us. The bottom line is he rented it to us at below market value. He said he would need a security deposit and we told him we didn’t have anything saved up. He readily agreed to tack $25 a month onto the rent till we had that covered. Oh, and of course, it was refundable.

So, that is how Judy and I moved into our Cinderella castle at 209 Valley View Circle. Oh, and the yard needed landscaping, so he paid me to do that and took it off the rent. Amazing. You have probably already guessed that this is one of our favorite God stories. I still smile as I write this because it is just one example of how God has showered us with His love and grace. A fireplace? Really? New brick home? Yup. God is good.

Now God wasn’t good because He gave us a really nice house when there was no way we could afford one. God wasn’t even good because He gave Judy a fireplace. No, God is just good. Sometimes it is very obvious and sometimes it takes a little faith to see it. But He is good. Someone once said, “God is good and He is good at being God.” I was thankful for the Knob Noster Motel (bugs and all) because it was better than sleeping in our car. But I was also thankful for the time He gave us our wildest dream. 1 Corinthians 2:9 says, “But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.” I know that is probably talking about heaven but I think it has to apply here too. Over the years there have been some real winner mountaintops when God just showed off. But do you know what? There have been some valleys too. Hard times when we couldn’t see the next step. The big take away has always been, “God is good. God is faithful. God can be trusted.” So, I’m gonna lay my head down tonight and rest in Him believing that. After all, He’s got this.”

Family, life, Scripture, Southern born

Five-Eight or Seven…Just About Right

Posted on June 10, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

Be angry and do not sin. Don’t let the sun go down on your anger, and don’t give the devil an opportunity.” Ephesians 4:26

I think I have figured it out. From the time I could remember my mom always told me, “Dewayne, I think you are going to be six feet tall when you grow up.” I believe she based that on the fact that I kinda looked like my brother Joe and he was somewhere near that. Anyway, I grew up with the expectation that I would, well, grow up. Somewhere something got lost in the translation.

The bottom line is for all of my life I have been “height challenged”. Now, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been but it was apparent early on that mom had misjudged the gene pool. Unless a miracle was on the horizon the height expectations needed to be lowered…a lot. By the time I was in the eight grade I was still about five-six. I had managed to lose some of my pudginess but I just came up short (pun intended) on the height deal.

When I was in the ninth grade I was at the top of the pecking order grade wise. In Florida ninth grade was still in Junior High. I, we ninth graders were the kings of the campus…even if you were a tad short. Well one day in class the teacher stepped out of the room. A guy I knew, and he might have even been a friend, grabbed my pencil and said he was going to break it. “Don’t do it, man” I said in my deepest, tallest voice. He kept threatening to break it and I kept threatening to break him. He broke it and I exploded.

Now before we go on you need to know I was a pretty compliant kid. I am a conflict avoidance adult and I was a conflict avoidance kid. Something just snapped. I flipped the table over on him, put him in a head hold and proceeded to teach him not to break my pencil. Can someone said, “Stupid?” Well, the teacher walks in, someone breaks up the fight and we get a free trip to the principal’s office. Judgement was swift and right to seat of the problem. Two swats a day for five days administered by the athletic director. He was not five-six.

So for the next five days it was report first thing in the morning to his office, bend over and grab your ankles and two hard swats. Pow—pow. Swift, powerful and man did they hurt. And they worked. I always left with a strong desire to join the Peace Corps. I never got into another fight. Break my pencil? Sure go right ahead. I have a spare. I always wondered what sparked that outburst. I think I know. It was short man syndrome or SMS.

I found out that SMS is “an angry male of below average height who feels it necessary to act out in an attempt to gain respect and recognition from others and compensate for his short stature.” I’m pretty sure that is what happened that day. I was wanting some respect and was willing to act stupid to get it. Did I mention two swats a day for five days? So, that week, about day three and swat number six I got over my syndrome and a chunk of my anger. I was just fine at five-six. Fortunately the Lord gave me a couple of more inches and I ended up at a respectable five-eight. However, I think I am back down to five-seven now. You know, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Smile.

I really did learn a valuable lesson that day. You should never, and I mean never, let your anger get the best of you. Anger is not a sin when it is controlled and directed in the right direction. Jesus got angry at the people who were abusing His Father’s house. So the problem isn’t anger—the problem is control—or lack of it. Paul wrote about this when he said, “Be angry and do not sin. Don’t let the sun go down on your anger, and don’t give the devil an opportunity.” Keep your temper tame and don’t let it simmer over night. It’s great for a pork butt but terrible for anger. And every time we don’t, we give Satan the opportunity to win. And, when he wins…we lose. Every time. So, I’ve learned to be happy where I am. I think five-eight or seven is just about right. I’m still taller than Judy and she thinks I’m tall, or at least tallish, dark and handsome. Also, I’m learning not to lose it because I always lose when I do. And, I am learning to trust in Him. If someone breaks my pencil I just let God handle it. It’s much better than visiting the coach every morning for five days. There’s something else. I found out that when I’m not facing the coach in the morning, I rest better…especially in Him. I fall to sleep knowing, “He’s got this.” And He does.

Grace, gratitude, life, prayer, Scripture

Losing Your Grip

Posted on June 9, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

How can you think of saying to your friend, ‘Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,’ when you can’t see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend’s eye.” Matthew 7:4-5

It was definitely an “I need coffee” wakeup. You know sometimes you bound out of bed like an overactive gazelle and sometimes you just sorta fall out of bed. Well, today was somewhere in between. I am an early riser but today was earlier than normal…4:00 am. It wasn’t an overactive brain but an overactive bladder. “Wakeup sleepy head. Time to rise and shine.” Yeah. Right. Sure.

I went into my man-cave to tell the Keurig coffee machine I needed help…fast. As I was getting things ready, I looked on the floor and there was a small round thing. I recognized it as one of the mementos I had on a wall displaying memories from my stint in the Air Force. It was then I looked up. There was a gaping hole in the display. A large picture frame that had been the center piece for the display was missing.

So, I stumbled around, keep in mind this is still before coffee, and started finding things. First, there was the picture frame…not on the wall where it belonged but on the floor. Also lying on the floor and on my desk where several things that I had placed on top of the frame. It was like an avalanche of memories had fallen off the wall. What in the world?

Well, here’s the deal. I am (or used to be) a fan of Command Strips. It’s a product that allows you to hang things. You simply put a sticky thing on something and then put another sticky thing on the wall, press them together and ta-da you are done. Well, apparently make that almost done. Or, maybe done for a while. Or, maybe done till it decides it is done. Regardless…the picture isn’t on the wall. Of course there is that thing about cleaning the wall with alcohol before you stick it there. Did I do that? Hmmm. Probably not…the wall didn’t look dirty to me.

Anyway, there are a couple of things that made me think about this whole falling off the wall thing. First, I walked into the man-cave and noticed a little round medallion on the floor but didn’t see the gaping hole on the wall. Isn’t it amazing how we sometimes notice the small things and miss the giant ones? That’s what Jesus was talking about when He said we walk around with a 2×4 in our eye while telling someone they need to take care of a speck of dust in their eye. How weird is that? Or maybe not.

And then there is this whole falling off the wall thing. You see, that picture had been hanging on the wall for well over a year. The two sticky things were stuck together like white on rice. Then slowly over time they started to lose their grip. Little by little the one stuck to the wall became loose and then one day…it just fell. And when it did…it took several things with it. I don’t think it woke up and said, “Well, today is the day I’m going to fall off the wall.” Nope…little by little gravity pulled and tugged until it won.

I have had some pretty good failures in my life. And do you know what? Very few of them where planned. Most of them were just products of neglect. Stopped getting on the scale. Stopped exercising for a few days…weeks. Stopped having my time with God in the morning. Stopped telling my wife she hung the moon. And then one day…you just fall off the wall. You stop loving, stop believing, stop doing the next right thing. You suddenly find yourself in a hot mess. And rarely does it affect just you.

So what do you do? Well, I find that the Bible is a really good resource for avoiding the landslides of life. Jesus said in Matthew 26:41 “Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” He says we should watch out. Look for signs that you are losing your grip. Beware of pattern changes, attitude changes. Second, pray. Yup, prayer is a big one…but maybe not like you think. Worry less about being on your knees and using big words and just tell God what is on your mind. Then, get ready, trust Him with the answer…the solution. Last…be ready to acknowledge your own weakness. It’s ok to acknowledge when our “want to” doesn’t measure up to our “gonna do” or our “done”. That’s why we need God. Big time. So, I’m gonna put the picture back on the wall. This time it won’t be with a sticky thing. I gonna use a nice big screw. That way, it can’t lose its grip…the screw will do the work. And I think I’m gonna try that with me and God. I’m gonna stop trying to hold on to Him and let Him hold on to me. I bet that is a better idea. I bet I can rest in Him then. After all, He’s got me…and He’s got this.

Family, life, Scripture

One Big Earthworm

Posted on June 8, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned? Or can one walk on hot coals and his feet not be scorched?” Proverbs 6:27-28

That’s gotta be one big earthworm. It was a great spring morning. Judy and I were living in Cobden, Illinois and over the years we had put together a really beautiful yard. Judy can visualize how something is going to look and then has the knack to make it grow. I do the grunt work. I’m the yard man and she is the architect. That day we were putting some mulch around the flower beds.

Our yard had a retaining wall at one of the front corners and the yard sloped in that corner. I would mulch leaves (we had four large maple trees) and put them there in the fall. The next spring we would use it as free (and I love free) mulch. I would take my trusty pitchfork and our oversized trash can down to the corner, fill up the can and take it to wherever she wanted it dumped. Then we would spread it out. Great plan. Beautiful day. All is well. And then he showed up.

I went to the corner, loaded up the can, brought it to the middle of the yard to one of our flower beds and she said dump it. I dumped it. I was about to use the pitchfork to start spreading the mulch when I noticed the tip of an earthworm barely sticking out of the mulch. In order to appreciate this, you need to know that earthworms, in Judy’s eyes are held in very high regard. It’s something about they aerate and loosen up the soil making it better for the flowers. I thought they were just fish bait. Silly me.

“Hey, there’s an earthworm” Judy exclaimed with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. “Grab him and put him in the garden.” So, hey, I’m just the grunt man so I reached down and pulled on the little fella. The little fella didn’t move. I looked at Judy with a quizzical look. My thought was that if he wanted to stay that bad he could just go with the next pitch fork load. No…that wasn’t gonna happen. So I gave it another shot and this dude wasn’t moving. “Poud (that’s Judy’s nick name) this guy isn’t coming.”

I took matters to the next level and took the pitchfork and shoved it into the mound around the earthworm and gave it a lift and a flip. Well, shoot that thing, there was a stinking snake. It wasn’t some innocent “let me aerate your soil” earthworm it was a 14 foot boa constrictor. Ok, that might be a slight exaggeration. But it was a snake, it was about two feet long and it was moving and so was I. Now both Judy and I were a lot younger than but even for our age we were out of there. And I do believe the grunt man outran the pretty little architect.

You ask, “What kind was it?” Don’t know. Don’t care. There are only two kinds of snakes—living and dead and this one was definitely alive. Honestly, I have blocked out what happened next. I can’t tell you if we went back and he was gone. I can’t tell you if I got a shovel and in pure self-defense ended the life of the slithering creature or what. I can only tell you that he was no longer a threat and I never, and I mean never, looked at the pile of mulch in the same way.

If I learned anything that day…and trust me I did…it was to be careful what you decide to pull on because things are not always as they seem. Ask Eve. The Genesis account of creation and the fall of man says that the serpent (that’s Bible code for snake) was more crafty than any other beast of the field that the Lord God had made. The Hebrew language implies that the snake was beautiful, appealing. Intrigued she decided to strike up a conversation with him. “Bad idea, Eve.” Just run. But she didn’t and now we have this messed up world and it was all because Eve grabbed a hold of something she should have left alone.

There’s an old tale about a man who was walking up a mountain and it was getting cold. The man saw a rattlesnake and the snake said, “Please put me in your coat and take me down the mountain.” The man said, “No way, you will bite me.” The snake assured him he would not. He picks the snake up, puts it in his coat and goes down the mountain. As the temperature rises the snake gets a little more frisky and bites the man. The man, shocked, says, “You said you wouldn’t bite me.” And the snake replied, “You knew what I was when you picked me up.” So true. So tragically true.

The Bible also says this, “Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned? Or can one walk on hot coals and his feet not be scorched?” “What does that mean?” you ask. It means the next time a snake wants to strike up a conversation, run. It means the next time you are tempted to sin, run. It means the next time your wife wants you to grab the tail of an oversized earthworm, run. No…it doesn’t mean that but it does mean be sure you know what you are grabbing before you take hold. Fortunately, our Abba Father knows all about snakes and sin and grabbing hold when we shouldn’t. He also loves us enough to give us wisdom to know the difference. James, the half-brother of Jesus, wrote, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God.” With wise counsel like that we don’t have to fear oversized earthworms or the other stuff we are living through right now. No, we can rest in Him. He’s got this.

Family, life, Scripture, thankful

Ready. Set. Fire.

Posted on June 5, 2020June 5, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” (Hebrews 12:11)

I just couldn’t resist. All of us have stories that we don’t necessarily remember but are passed down through the years. Some are humorous, some are serious and some are the things legends are made of. Well, this one I believe qualifies as all three.

When I was quite young, probably six or seven, life was pretty good. We lived in a country setting that was rapidly becoming the suburbs of Jacksonville, Florida. There was a subdivision being built right next to where we lived. Some of the men who were working there would drive these cool wedge shape sticks in the ground at the corners of each lot. They had numbers on them. They were surveyor markers for the lots. We thought they made great rubber band guns so we would help ourselves. We had an endless supply of rubber bands because the newspaper came each day with one or two wrapped around it. We weren’t trying to be mischievous; we just trying to have fun. I bet it wasn’t fun for the guys who did the surveying.

Sometimes, our fun might become someone else’s pain. And, there is where the story really begins. Back in those days, going to the grocery store was the great adventure. My dad got paid every other Friday. Payday night we would load up in the car and go to buy groceries. It seemed we would always buy the stuff to make sandwiches for supper when we got home which invariably included a gallon of chocolate milk. It never saw the light of the next morning.

Well, one Friday night, we were at the grocery store and apparently I had a rubber band left over from my adventures that day. I must have reached in my pocket and found the small piece of rubber and thought, “You know, we can have some fun with this.” Well, I probably should have thought that through a little better, but when you are six or seven and mischievous by nature, anything is game. I started looking for targets.

Down the aisle was a rather large woman. And what happens next has been blocked from my memory but is stated as fact. As we got closer to the woman, perhaps as she studied what brand of mayo to buy, I took the rubber band, placed it between my thumb and pointer finger, moved my hand in close proximity to the intended target and let it fly. I can only imagine what happened next.

First, I am certain she was shocked. It must have felt like a killer bee had bit her but that wasn’t logical since she was in a store. So she probably spun around and looked only to see this smiling kid with a rubber band still in his hand. To me it was all fun. To her it was all pain. Lesson one. Don’t let your fun become someone else’s pain.

Second, I am certain my parents were devastated. Since this would have been about 1960 or 61 there were not the social rules about child discipline that we have today. Knowing my dad and mom, there was probably swift and lethal retribution. I can imagine one of them, both of them, making sure my bottom felt like her bottom. No one would have called Children and Family Services. They all would have said, “Let me help you with that.”

Third, I believe that this is when I began to really understand repentance. Repentance means to turn around and go in a different direction. If I could have gotten loose from Dad that night I would have definitely practiced repentance…I probably would still be running. The other meaning of repentance is to have a change in attitude. I am certain that happened. If you were to ask me how many other times I decided to pop a strange lady with a rubber band in the grocery store that number would be zero. So how the urge suddenly left me. I had repented.

This is going to sound hokey but it is memories like this that show how much my parents loved me. They loved me enough to teach me right from wrong, respect for other people, a strong work ethic and to believe in God. And they loved me enough to give me a swat or two when I needed it. It all came together to help me grow, and live and love.

God is the same way. My dad and mom loved me so much but God outshines even them. He loves me and teaches me to do life with fewer oops and fewer consequences. I never carry rubber bands in my pocket just to avoid the temptation. But He also loves me enough to discipline me when I need it. The author of Hebrews says it best. He writes, “No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” Spot on. He must have popped some lady too. So, try and show some grace. I shouldn’t have popped the lady and I haven’t popped any more. Don’t judge my parents for taking care of the problem. I am grateful for the way they raised me. And don’t be mad at God if He disciplines me or you. He is way too wise to make a mistake and way too loving to do the wrong thing. He is our “Abba Father,” our dearest Daddy so we can trust Him. We can rest in Him. Because…He’s got this.

Family, life, Scripture

Some Assembly Required

Posted on June 4, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

The instructions of the Lord are perfect, reviving the soul. The decrees of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple. The commandments of the Lord are right, bringing joy to the heart. The commands of the Lord are clear, giving insight for living. (Psalm 19:7-8)

I came so close but missed it by a mile. Last year I was checking out the WalMart clearance aisle and came upon a bike carrier thing for your car. Well, I happen to own two bikes and even occasionally ride them, so I bought it. I brought it home and put it on a shelf where it happily lived. And then, I decided to be cool.

Judy and I are regular exercisers but it normally is limited to her doing walking and Refit (something that involves dancing and rhythm so I’m out) and me walking. We both do some hiking. Well, we decided it was time to expand our horizons so we found a bike trail down at Fort Massac and decided to load up the bikes and give it a try. So I went and found the bike thing and proceeded to try assemble it. Note the word try.

I dumped the parts on the kitchen counter (first hint that I am not a mechanic) and then it happened. Because it involved attaching this thing to my car and the fact that it involved two bikes being attached to this thing and the fact that I didn’t want to get sued if they fell off the thing—I read the directions. That is the miracle. Everyone knows that men don’t stop and ask for directions when driving and we don’t read the directions when we are putting something together. That is not manly. Ask for directions or read the directions and it is almost an automatic surrender of your man-card.

I decided to risk being disbarred and read the directions anyway. Now let me say it proved that we men are justified in not reading them in the first place. Whoever wrote these directions obviously didn’t have a clue about the bike thing or the English language. But I gave it due diligence and proceeded to assemble it. It only had about six major parts, so hey, it couldn’t be that hard. Right? Wrong.

After about an hour, yes, I said an hour, the six parts where assembled. Judy and I take this thing out and try to strap it to the back of our car. I have used one of these before and this one just didn’t make sense. There was one part of the rack that had some sharp parts and I could see this thing doing some serious damage to the car. Well, after an hour, we had it sorta mounted and even put the bikes on it. Something just didn’t seem right. My final thought was, “What did you expect for $15 bucks. So I took the bikes off, threw the thing in the garage and called it a day. I didn’t want to ride the bike anyway.

I go back in the work room (aka the kitchen) and began picking up the mess. When I grabbed the box this thing came in I looked inside. And there, wedged neatly inside, was a part, a really big part, a really important part. Oops. As I thought about it I did remember reading something about this middle brace thing but I thought the guy in China was probably on a rant or something. I pulled out the part and had an epiphany…my ah-ha moment. I brought the thing back in, disassembled too much of it, and attached the new found part. Ta-da—it all made sense. Amazing. Miraculous.

Now the crazy ending to this crazy story is that we put the thing back on my car, put the bikes back on the thing and I still didn’t feel like it looked safe. I could hear the lawyer calling. “Yes, we are calling to sue you for everything you have because your bike fell off of this thing attached to your car. Will you be paying with cash, credit card, or your left arm?” So, the bottom line the thing is still in the garage and the bikes are still parked. Stupid directions. They must be related to the watermelon.

Here is what I learned. Man-card or not, it is beneficial to read the directions. I know it goes against everything we men hold dear but we just need to be over-comers and read them. But, and it is a big but, you really need to read them carefully and then do what they say. I halfway read them and ended up leaving a big, important part in the box. That cost me time, frustration and a chunk of my pride. Bummer.

I asked myself, “If reading the instructions on putting a bike thing together are important, I’m wondering if it is important to read “the Instructions,” you know, the Bible.” I mean the Bible is like the most important instruction manual of all time. And the answer was a clear yes. I should, we should, read it carefully and apply it fully. There is probably a paragraph on the instructions for the bike thing that tells me how important they are…to ready them carefully. I didn’t read that part.

Well, the Bible has a lot to say about, “Hey, read this…it is really important.” It goes like this, “The instructions of the Lord are perfect, reviving the soul. The decrees of the Lord are trustworthy, making wise the simple. The commandments of the Lord are right, bringing joy to the heart. The commands of the Lord are clear, giving insight for living.” And somewhere it should say you will have fewer calls from lawyers if you read it. Fewer regrets, fewer consequences, fewer disasters. Yup. Read them and apply them. So I’m gonna give the bike thing another shot and I’ll tell you now I’m not going to follow the directions. It might not turn out well but I have to redeem my man-card. I’ll let you know. But one thing is for sure. If you choose to read, follow, and apply “the Instruction manual” you won’t regret it. It says in there that if we follow the instructions we can rest in Him. Oh and it also says, “I’ve got this.” He does.

Family, gratitude, life, Scripture

The Underwear Fairy

Posted on June 3, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.” Song of Solomon 2:15

She did it again. I know you have heard about the Tooth Fairy and probably your Fairy Godmother but have you ever heard about the “Underwear Fairy?” I am pretty certain this is not a one house deal. I haven’t researched it extensively but from what I can gather this behind-the-scenes, mythical being shows up in houses across America and possibly around the world.

So it goes something like this. Everyone has routines and mine looks something like this. Wakeup, coffee with the weather lady on our local channel, quiet time with God, more coffee, exercise, breakfast, nice hot shower and get dressed for the day. Part of that getting dressed thing involves the unmentionables of the underworld—underwear. And here is where it gets amazing.

Everyday I open a drawer in my bathroom and behold there are underwear in there. I grab them up, put them on and bam out the door I go. Amazing. As the days pass, the supply gets lower and lower. And then out of the clear blue sky the drawer is full again and the process starts all over again. I couldn’t really figure this out till one day it dawned on me. There must be an “Underwear Fairy” who washed, folded and put my unmentionables right in my drawer. Without reward, without asking, day after day and week after week it happened.

It took a while but I finally decided to find out who this mythical person was. So I camped out in my shower behind the curtain like a kid waiting on Santa Claus. And sure enough, I heard the sound of a drawer sliding open and jumped from behind the curtain and yelled, “Got you!” And what did my wandering eyes should behold? An old guy in a red suit with eight tiny reindeer? No, that would have been weird. A bunny rabbit with a basket? Weirder. Nope. It was my wife Judy.

Yup…all along it was her. She would go and get the dirty clothes basket out of my closet, carry those clothes down three flights of stairs, throw them into the washer, go back down later and throw them in the dryer, go back down later and get them out of the dryer and take them upstairs and fold them. She would then sneak into my bathroom and quietly fill my drawer with my drawers and tee shirts. Amazing. And here is the crazy part. She has been doing this for almost 44 years. I can’t believe it took this long to catch her.

Well, that is how I came to discover the “Underwear Fairy” and that is also how I came to begin to learn something. While all of us appreciate the big things people do for us, sometimes, maybe a lot of the times, it is the small things that matter. Since this discovery it is not uncommon for me to say my wife, “Judy, the “Underwear Fairy” came.” And hopefully that is followed by a thank-you and maybe even a kiss.

I really had to weigh it carefully if I could write about underwear. I even asked the fairy herself if she thought I could. She wasn’t sure. Well it wasn’t a matter of could…it was a matter of should. Each day our lives are filled with the small things that people do for us…things we take for granted. Why not take a moment today and say thank you. If your husband takes out the trash, or the kids pickup the house, or one of the guys at the office buys donuts or any of a thousand things…say thanks. Learn to appreciate the small things.

Tucked away in the Song of Solomon in your Bible (That is one of the books the preacher never preaches from. You might need the table of contents.) are these words, “Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.” The little foxes can be those missed opportunities when we take others for granted resulting in ingratitude. Relationships can grow stale and love can whither on the vine if we fail to water them with gratitude. Remember that. So you might need to stop and look for the fairies and foxes in your house, your neighborhood or where you work. Be sure and thank those around you that make your life just a little easier. And for sure if you see the fox of ingratitude—“shoot that thing.” Oh, and on your list, be sure you have God at the top of the list of things to be grateful for. Everyday from sunrise to sunset and beyond He is working behind the scenes and writing you love notes with acts of mercy and kindness. Things like letting you rest in Him. Things like letting you know, “I’ve got this.” And He does.

food, life, Scripture, Southern born

Stupid Watermelon

Posted on June 2, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

For I am conscious of my rebellion, and my sin is always before me. Against You—You alone—I have sinned and done this evil in your sight.” Psalm 51:3-4

I should have just stayed home. You probably don’t know there is such a thing as a stupid watermelon but if you live long enough you will surely run into one. In my case it happened just a couple of weeks ago at our local grocery store. Before I begin the story you need to know that I am one of those slightly older people who has “old people’s skin.” In case you don’t know “old people’s skin” happens as a person ages. The result is skin that bruises and wounds easily. Let me just say, “It ain’t fun.” It goes like this.

You are opening the storm door with one of those automatic closing things. The wind catches the door, banging into your arm. Congratulations…you are the proud owner of a new bruise. You are carrying a pile of limbs to the rubbish pile and one shifts in your hands and against, or rather into, your arm. You win again. You are going up the stairs…yes, I said up the stairs, and your foot catches on the riser and you fall against the wall. Double congratulations…you win a bruise and cut. Sigh.

And it is always the hand you use the most. In my case I am left-handed so my left arm continually looks like I play major league football or have wrestled with a full-grown lion. Either way…its’ not pretty. And mark my word, just about the time you get it healed up…bam…you start all over again. That, dear friends, is where the stupid watermelon comes along.

I don’t do grocery stores. I definitely do food…I just don’t do grocery shopping. Well, one evening I was feeling pretty jovial and decided to go to the grocery store with my wife Judy. We enter the store and get one of those cute (on no…I said cute again) mini baskets and off we go. We are heading back to the bakery so I am in a particularly good mood. I can already taste the greasy, fried dough. Then…it happens. There is a sign that says, “Watermelons – $3.99.” Judy loves watermelons.

We pause and begin to study the watermelons. She thumps them. She pats them. She caresses them. After several minutes the winner is chosen. “I want this one” she declares. Her galant, strong prince, hoists the winning melon out of the bin of losers and prepares to put it in the buggy. Because we have a mini-buggy, I decided to put it in the bottom rather than the top. That is where things got ugly.

I bend over and prepare to slide the watermelon into the too small bottom portion of the buggy. Just at the time of releasing the melon and removing my hand—it slips. As it falls into the too small bottom portion it rolls on my hand and catches my finger between the basket and watermelon. “Ouch,” I said. When I was able to maneuver my finger from between the basket and melon—I saw it. Not a bruise…oh no…but a nice ¾ inch skin laceration. It was bleeding. Badly. Profusely. It was then the true nature of the melon escaped my lips, “Stupid watermelon.” No wonder they were on sale for $3.99.

It seems at least they could have put a sign up that read, “Stupid Watermelons – $3.99.”

Well, I quickly became obsessed over the true nature of the evil watermelon. “Hey Judy, do you have a tourniquet to stop the bleeding from the stupid watermelon?” “Honey, do you want some cheese to go with the stupid watermelon?” On and on it went and the watermelon and I became mortal enemies. And the coup-de-grace? Not only was it stupid…it wasn’t even sweet. Sigh.

But no, I had to find out the hard way. About then Judy said something like, “Well, it really wasn’t the watermelon…it was the buggy.” I began to protest but I think she said something like, “And you know it happened because it slipped out of your hand.” By that I assumed she meant the one that was cut and bleeding. Somehow it didn’t make my hand feel any better and two weeks later I still have some healing to do. But…she was right.

It wasn’t the watermelon, it wasn’t the buggy it wasn’t even me. It was just one of those things that happen. I just needed to blame something because my hand hurt and 746 people were going to ask, “What happened to your hand?” Blaming it on a stupid watermelon just seemed easier. The truth is, it is easier to blame than it is to own. It has been that way since the beginning of time. In the garden, Adam blamed Eve and God for the hot mess they were in after they chose to sin. Eve, of course, blamed the serpent and the serpent, well, he just smiled. Whether it is broken skin or a broken heart; whether it is someone’s fault or not; whether you own part of the skirmish or all of it—why not take a moment and own it. Press the pause button, calm down and then just eat the watermelon. That way, you will get the last laugh. Then, tell God about it, all about it and take a rest in Him. He’s got that and this.

life, Military memories, Scripture, Southern born

I Said, “Sing”

Posted on June 1, 2020June 7, 2023 by Dewayne Taylor

“My sheep hear My voice, I know them, and they follow Me.” John 10:27

Bummer. I knew I should have listened. I have always liked music and I have always loved to sing. From the time my mother forced my oldest sister to allow me to sing at her wedding…I’ve been hooked. Not only do I like music I generally like almost all kinds of music. To me music is the melody of life. It often expresses emotions and feelings that otherwise might go unexpressed. So I sing…loud and all the time.

You know, some people says, “I saw you at the store the other day.” Not me. People will say, “I heard you at the store the other day.” Regardless of where I am there is usually a song somewhere close by. And the funny part is you never know what you will get. It might be “Amazing Grace” or Hank Williams’ “Your Cheatin’ Heart.” That’s really not an issue except for the fact I work at a church. It can be kinda strange.

I also have a hard time getting the words right. I know some of the words to hundreds of songs but unfortunately know all the words to very few. People used to correct me when I would get the words wrong. Most finally gave up. Now they just smile. I should have listened a long time ago when someone would try and correct me. Especially since that time in basic training.

Basic training in the Air Force is that time when they teach you the ways of being an airman. That includes knowledge and action. Clearly it involves learning to follow orders. I was raised in the South so saying, “Yes, sir” or “Yes, ma’am” came real easy for me. I was even a pretty compliant person. But one day, well, I just missed it.

For some reason I was in the barracks by myself and I was letting it go. It was an old hymn, maybe “Amazing Grace.” From somewhere a voice boomed, “Shut-up.” Well, I thought it was one of the guys jerking my chain so I kept right on singing at the top of my lungs. From somewhere the booming voice boomed again, “I said shut-up.” It was just about then that I vaguely remembered hearing that voice before. “Oh, that’s right,” I said, “that’s the voice of my drill instructor, Sergeant Catchings.” Oops. Game, set, match.

So he comes from somewhere and is madder than a hornet. “Taylor” he said, “didn’t I tell you to shut-up?” he boomed in his drill sergeant voice. I knew there was no use trying to explain that I didn’t know it was him so I just muttered a weak, “Yes, sir.” So he walks over to the mop closet, opens the door and invites me to step inside. Gulp. I step inside and as he shuts the door he said just one word, “Sing!”

So, with all its odors and in the dark, I start belting out “Amazing Grace.” After a few verses, he opens the door and says, “Do you know, “Rock of Ages?” “Yes, sir” I said. Once again came the one word command, “Sing.” The door closes and I sing. After a few verses, the door opens and he said, “Do you know…” and he named another hymn long forgotten now. “Yes sir” I said. You know what he said, “Sing.” Well, after a few verses the door opens and he says, “Get out.” I wasn’t sure if he meant out of the closet or out of the Air Force and I didn’t stick around to find out. I got out.

Well, I learned something that day. It is important that I learn to recognize and obey the voices around me…especially those that might be in charge. I never missed the voice of Sergeant Catchings again. When I heard that booming voice…I listened. No more mop closets. Listen to your sergeant. Oh, and even more importantly, listen to God.

You see, one day Jesus was describing His followers to a bunch of religious bad guys. He said, “My sheep (code for followers) know My voice. I know them and they follow Me.” That verse, in English, has 12 very important words. First, he said, “My sheep know my voice.” Check. We need to recognize Jesus’ voice. Amid all the noise of the world we have got to hear Him. Second, He said, “I know them.” Wait, what? He knows us. I like that. It means that He has a relationship with me. He is looking out for me. It also means He knows my quirky habits like singing too loud in the middle of WalMart…and loves me anyway. Last, “They follow me.” What He is saying is that followers follow. Plain and simple. Follow Him and you might avoid the “mop closets” of life. Trust me…I’ve been there and done that. It’s not the kind of place you want to visit or sing in. I’m sure Sergeant Catchings had my best interest in mind. He was there to teach me discipline and he did. Looking back, I’m sure he thought it was all pretty humorous. So do I…now. But that day, well, I just wish I had listened a little closer. Its’ important that you…. Wait, do you hear something? What’s that? Is it Jesus saying something? Oh, He’s whispering. “Rest in Me. I’ve got this.” “Yes, sir” I whisper. I believe you do.

Family, Grace, life, Military memories, travel

Three Days and a Wake Up

Posted on May 29, 2020 by Dewayne Taylor

“When the Lord brought back the captivity of Zion, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing.” Psalm 126:1-2a

We were coming home. From August 1977 to August 1980 we lived in Germany while serving in the United States Air Force. Our time there was incredible. We saw windmills in Holland, the alps of Switzerland, the famous horse-fountain in Salzburg, and ate real pizza in Italy. Where we lived was much like living in the middle of the Shawnee Forest—large rolling hills and lush green forest. We loved it.

Some hard times happened while we were there too. Those were the days of no internet, no cell phone and no overnight delivery from Amazon prime. Landline phone calls were rare and expensive and snail mail was all there was. I remember Judy receiving a letter that opened, “I guess you heard about your dad’s heart attack.” Turns out right after we left for Germany he had a massive heart attack and almost died. One night about midnight or so, a knock came at our apartment door. It was an officer from my squadron. He said I needed to call the Red Cross immediately. My mother was dying. They connected me to my sister-in-law in Florida. Her words were simple and direct, “If you want to see Mom alive you have to come now.” We made it home the day before she died.

So, our time in Germany was divine but difficult. The bottom line at the end of three years we were more than ready to come home. As the time neared and preparations were underway for our leaving and returning we started counting down. Everyone did. We would say, “25 days and a wake up. 13 days and a wake up. Three days and a wake up.” Finally, we woke up, got on a plane and came home. There was no place like home. There is no place like home.

I can remember picking our VW van at the airport (we had shipped it home) and driving. It was marvelous. We could read the signs and we could understand the people. Instead of four dollars for a gallon of gas it was 69 cents. I stopped at a market and got a fried apple pie. I can almost still taste it. For lunch we stopped at McDonald’s. No big deal right? Not at all unless you had spent the last three years explaining a cheeseburger and fries to someone who didn’t speak English. And, instead of a few dollars you paid almost twenty. As I ordered at the counter, speaking English and being understood…I wept. I apologized to the young lady and explained we had been away for three years. And I explained…there is no place like home.

Well, after too many weeks away, church families in Illinois will have the opportunity to come home. Sunday we will be gathering as a corporate body to sing, pray and preach. Now whether you are reading this in real time or months later it doesn’t matter. There is no place like home. My time in Germany taught me several things and one of them is you appreciate the simple things. A fried apple pie and a McDonald’s cheeseburger never tasted so good. My family never looked so good. Driving the roads of America never felt so good. Reading the billboards never seemed so interesting. By the way, did they ever find out who shot J.R.? Smile. Somethings were different but it was still…home.

So coming back to church is like coming home and I am almost giddy. When the Israelites realized they were coming home after 70 years in Babylon they were just a little more than giddy. Here’s what one of their songwriters wrote, “When the Lord brought back the captivity of Zion, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing.” In those words you can almost feel their excitement. Things were going to be different when they got there but that didn’t matter. They were going home.

So this weekend, and every weekend after, when you walk into your place of worship and things are just a little different, remember how it felt to come home and the different things won’t matter as much. When “Bob” irritates you at church after you’ve been back a while, just pause and remember how good it was him the first week. When the sermon seems too long, and the music too loud and the room too warm…yup…just remember how good it was…how good it is to be home. And, in a few weeks, when something fearful pops up or something rubs you wrong…just remember the time He brought you home, when you rested in Him, when you realized He’s got this. And dream. And sing. Be like the ones who knew the Lord turned our captivity. Because He has.