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Posted in life, Military memories, Scripture, Trials, USA

A Day That Will Live in Infamy

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “If a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand.” Mark 3:25

“December 7th.  A day that will live in infamy.” Though it was before my time I know the story well. It was a beautiful morning in Pearl Harbor.  Those who weren’t painting the ships or swabbing the decks of the powerful U.S. Navy Pacific Fleet were home enjoying a round of golf or a tropical breakfast.  And then, at 7:55 in the morning local time, without warning or provocation, bombers, fighters and torpedo bombers of the Imperial Japanese Navy swept in.  They began to systematically destroy the American fleet and its supporting aircraft.  That morning over two thousand sailors, soldiers and civilians lost their lives and thousands more were wounded.  Over eleven hundred sailors died instantly when a single bomb hit the ammunition magazine on the battleship Arizona.

In an hour and fifteen minutes the attack was over, and the United States was drawn into a global war.  The nation had long been divided over what role the United States should take in the war that raged in Europe.  However, it was all settled when, after the attack, Japan declared war on America and Hitler as an ally of Japan did the same.  Like it or not, the United States was embroiled in a war that would last for almost four years and cost the lives of 407,316 Americans with another 671,278 wounded.  But by the grace of Almighty God, in the end, America and her Allies were victorious in defeating the tyranny of the fascist governments.

Thirty-eight percent of those who served were volunteers and sixty-one percent were drafted.  The average enlisted person was paid $71.00 per month while the average officer was paid $203.00  Drafted or volunteer, officer or enlisted, they were all willing to put their lives on the line for the cause of freedom and the cause of defeating countries bent on oppressing those weaker than they.  Many valuable lessons were learned during that time—lessons that we must not forget.

First, is the power of unity.  Before the Pearl Harbor attack the nation was clearly divided over the war.  After the attack, the nation pulled together on a unified front to protect and defend—first the United States, and second, the millions of innocent people being oppressed by Germany, Japan, and Italy.  It is tragic that it took a Pearl Harbor to bring the nation together but if America had entered the war divided the outcome would have been much different.  Today, we need to understand that it is time to come together again.  We have allowed politics, racism  and many other things to divide our country. Jesus said that a house divided against itself cannot stand.  Neither can families.  Neither can churches.  We must come together, or we will fall apart.

Second, is the power of owning it.  As in any national tragedy, the event happens and almost immediately the finger pointing begins.  Pick the historical event and the pattern is sadly the name.  Political parties and even ordinary, everyday people will use a tragedy to promote their cause.  We have seen it on the national front.  We have seen it on the local front.  We have seen it in churches.  It is not a time to point fingers, but rather a time to rise to help solve what is broken.  Eighty-four years ago this Sunday, December 7, America rose to the challenge.  I wonder if we will have the wisdom to do the same today?

Last, is the power of wisdom.  There is not much debate that storm clouds were gathering in the days leading up to December 7th.  Some would say that there was blatant evidence that an attack was coming.  Sadly, those warning signs were largely ignored, and the cost was horrendous.  Today, right now, there is something we need to remember.  There is one enemy, and it is not our neighbor, not our brother or sister in church, and not even the person who belongs to another political party.  The enemy is Satan, who wants nothing more than to destroy us. Jesus said, “The thief comes to steal, kill and destroy.”  It was true when He said it…it is true today.  The second part of that verse is filled with hope. Jesus said, “I have come that you might have life and have it more abundantly.”

You see, God is for us.  He is very aware of Satan’s tricks and schemes, and He wants us to be victorious over him.  That is what Christmas and Easter were all about.  God became flesh and lived among us and then ultimately and deliberately died on a Roman cross that all people, regardless of nationality, race, or economic station, could be forgiven and have eternal life.  With the wisdom of God, we don’t have to have a “spiritual” Pearl Harbor. With God’s help we can come together.  With God’s help we can be victorious.

You see, it’s not about religion.  It is about a relationship with the God who made it all. And with the relationship comes hope, comes peace, comes forgiveness, comes unity.  If we are wise enough to believe what God says, and act on what He teaches, our best days won’t be in the rearview mirror but rather ahead.  During this Christmas season and beyond, let the Prince of Peace bring His peace into your world.  Rest in Him.  He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne.

Posted in Family, food, Holidays, life, Scripture, Southern born, travel

Southern Cuisine–The Real Deal

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “He says, “I am the Lord, and there is no other.” Isaiah 45:18b

I discovered the difference between the real deal and everything else.  My wife Judy and I travel south to see family.  Before I retired, she was usually our representative to our southern family.  She would make the circuit, sitting and talking and visiting, all of which is right up her alley.  But that was then and this is now.  Now we make the trips together.  I was soon reminded of the value of family and in the process rediscovered the value of good southern cooking.

First, in Valdosta where she is from and where a bunch of her family lives, there is a family of restaurants that are excellent for two reasons.  First, they are all buffets and second, they all specialize in southern cooking.  The buffet is a spread of everything southern…fried chicken, ribs (both fried and smoked), fish, pork chops, chicken gizzards and livers, pot roast and the list goes on and on.  Then comes the vegetables…field peas, lima beans, baby lima beans, black-eyed peas, collard and turnip greens, cream corn, grits and…well, you get the idea.

Well, that was all good but then came Thursday night.  Her family decided to have a mini family reunion of sorts.  Now just like my family, her family is blessed with many queens of southern cuisine.  I admit I just couldn’t wait to taste what was going to be brought.  About thirty relatives showed up and each family brought several dishes. Now imagine with me.  Take the list above and double it and you will have a fair idea of how much food was there.  Now, take what we had at the restaurant, which was very good, and give it a multiplication factor of at least two and maybe three and you begin to understand the Allen family feast.  It was beyond delicious—and not just a dish here or there but every dish.  I won’t even try to describe the deserts.  Wonderful southern food with a wonderful southern family and well, I sure was glad I didn’t miss it.

I did learn something through my southern food experience.  You see, I was very content with the restaurant version of southern heaven until I tasted the real deal and suddenly, I was reminded of the difference.  The real thing made in someone’s kitchen with loving hands and hearts made the restaurant version somewhat of a cheap imitation. Oh, it was good till I had the real thing and then there was no comparison. The real thing trumps anything else every time.

That truth is worth remembering.  There are a lot of imitations out there in the world and they will try and make you discontent with the real thing.  They will try and steal your heart out of a good marriage or make you discontent and leave relationships that have satisfied for years. Like so many of the commercials today, they wave their plastic happiness and try to convince you that their “something” is better.  Don’t believe it—the real deal is better than a plastic substitution no matter how good it looks.  And by the way, that is definitely true when it comes to religion and God.  Don’t ever be tempted to trade the practice of religion for a God who loves you so much He gave His Son to die for you. Like He said in His Book, “I am the Lord, there is no other.”

I am grateful for my trips south, and I am grateful for the opportunity to learn once again about the importance of what is real and what is second place.  Never be satisfied with something else when you can have what is real and never trade what is first for what is second.  It is always a bad deal.

So, if you are blessed to have some southern relatives and you visit with them, make sure to sit-down with them for supper.  Chances are you will discover your own spread of southern delights.  And remember to be content and grateful for the spread that God has set before you.  He is a good, good Father and, unlike religion, He loves you so, so much and no matter what, you know, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in communication, forgiveness, gratitude, life, Scripture, Trials, Veteran's Day

Disney Encounter – Standing Strong in Hard Times

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13 

She stood against the wall in the crowded elevator.  On our trip with Disney cruise lines, there were two ways to go between decks.  You can take the elevator, or you can take the stairs.  Sometimes, maybe most times, my wife Judy and I would take the stairs.  With all the good food they served, every bit of exercise helped.  But sometimes, when we were on deck three and we were going to deck 12, we would take the elevator—and that is when I saw her.

She was probably about 45 and was using a cane. Her expression seemed to indicate that maybe just maybe she had a hard story.  Trust me, I don’t always do crazy things on elevators but this time I did.  I noticed that she was wearing a Nike shirt with the emblem for some sport, so I asked her, “So, I see you are wearing a sport’s shirt, so is that why you are using a cane?”  I know crazy, right? Sometimes I even surprise myself.  Well, what she said caught me totally off guard.  She said, “No, I was blown up in Somalia.” Ok, before I tell you what I said, let me say I meant it out of respect for her tenacity—her refusal to cave in to her circumstances.

Ok, now for what I said.  Out of my mouth came, “Wow…that is awesome.” Well, that didn’t come out right.  She replied, “Awesome…I almost died.”  Well, the elevator paused and she was about to get off and I had about 30 seconds to explain what I meant and I did and thankfully she fully understood. Well, the door closed but my unintentional insensitivity and my even greater respect for her service wouldn’t leave my mind.  I asked God for another chance to talk with her.  I didn’t have much hope since there were 3,000 people on the ship.  But…God honored my prayer.

Early the next morning, I was out on the top deck drinking coffee and telling God what a great job He did on the sunrise that day.  I glanced over and there, about 25 yards away, was a lady who looked like the lady.  She was heading back inside and I almost didn’t act. What if it wasn’t her, what if I said the wrong thing again? Well, God quickly reminded me of my prayer and I caught the lady right before she got on the elevator. It was her.

Well, I asked if she remembered me and she smiled (the smile that says, “how could I forget.”) I apologized again and she once again said it wasn’t necessary and then she told me her story. Turns out she was a Marine and was in a crowded public place doing some intelligence work when a mortar came in.  Another Marine who was with her, tried to protect her and instead pushed her right into the blast of the shell and its shrapnel. She was gravely wounded and spent too many months in rehab learning to do life again.  There’s much more to the story but the part, the Big Truth, that I want to leave with you is this—she didn’t give up and she didn’t allow it to stop her. She chose to move on.  So, she was medically discharged and though she was dealt a difficult life…like any good Marine she pressed on.

I really admired my new friend for that, and I am hoping I can learn from her. I am hoping I can remember that no matter what—we can be overcomers.  Let me encourage you to make Philippians 4:13 more than just a catchy verse in the Bible…make it your mantra.  It says, “I can do everything, through Christ, who strengthens me.” And do you know what?  We can because He can.  He is our enabling, powerful Friend who is always walking beside us.  Remember, no matter what, “He’s got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, life, Scripture, Southern born

Gator Mania

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “One Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God  and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.” Ephesians 4:5-6

It was Gator mania.  To say that Aunt Maryjo was a Gator fan is to say that the Pope is Catholic. Through and through, she loved everything that was University of Florida Gators.  I am pretty sure if she had a blood transfusion, the blood type would have to be UF.  I also am certain that if she was bilingual, she would speak Southern English and Gator.  When she went to heaven a while back, the Gator’s lost their number one 94-year-old cheerleader.

The family asked me to do a chunk of her memorial service and I was pleased to do so.  The service was all about Maryjo, the Gators and Jesus.  We stayed at a hotel in Gainesville, and something almost immediately caught my eye.  Virtually everything, and I do mean everything, was Gatorized.  The primary decorating colors were blue and orange and Gator flags, Gator plaques, Gator pictures, and Gator knick knacks filled the main lobby and sitting area.  They even had a ping pong table, and the net was not a net at all but a solid wall of sorts painted orange with a Gator carved in the middle.

Everyone knows you wear black to funerals and many folks did.  But there were also many blue and orange ties, shirts, dresses, and scarves scattered throughout the crowd. I noticed though several members of my family were not wearing blue and orange.  I was kinda surprised.  So, I asked one of my brothers-in-law, “Why aren’t you wearing blue and orange?” About the time I said it, I regretted it.  He boldly said, “I ain’t no Gator.”  Yup, there were several there who were Florida State fans and aunt or no aunt, they were not going to wear those stinking Gator colors.  Life…go figure.

As Judy and I were sitting in the hotel lobby visiting and drinking coffee and observing everything Gator, she said, “Isn’t it amazing what can happen when we are all pulling in the same direction?”  And do you know what?  She was absolutely right.  If I were to guess, probably 99% of the population around Gainesville were avid Gator fans.  The lived it, they believed it, and they were ready to fight for it.  They might be different social and economic classes, they might be different skin colors, they might even speak a different language, but one thing, one thing, pulled them together.  One thing managed to hold them together—they were fans of the Gators.  That singular thing overcame everything else.  Amazing.

I wonder what would happen if in a different world other than football if the same thing happened.  What if all the different denominations that say they believe in Jesus got together and pulled in the same direction?  What if all the churches in a town laid aside their insignificant differences and decided that they were going to pull together for the common cause of Jesus? I wonder how our community, or state could and would change, if we all decided to agree on what mattered—the Jesus essentials—and laid the rest aside long enough to live and share the Good News.  Why must we be like the football fans who attend rival schools and absolutely refuse to associate?  I wonder.

Well, there is one thing I can tell you for certain.  There is one who absolutely loves our division over the things that in ten years won’t matter and that is the devil.  Oh, how he applauds our pettiness and while he is smiling, Jesus is grieving.  I know He grieves because the Bible says we are not to grieve Him.  If we are not careful, we are going to lose…and I’m not talking about a football game.  I am talking about our communities, our cities, our counties, and our country.  I am not talking about losing a battle, I am talking about the war for the heart and soul of men, women, children—and the places they—we live.

Oh, I don’t know.  Maybe I’m overreacting.  Maybe somehow our holy huddles and frail fellowships can pull it off individually.  But that’s not how the Bible describes how our relationships should be.  There is one body and that is body of Christ.  I believe it says, “One faith, one Lord, and one baptism.”  One…there is real power when all the ones come together for the One and His soul (don’t worry…intentionally spelled that way) purpose.  Jesus came to seek and saved that which was lost, and it was something that He was willing to die for.  What about you?  What about us? Can we, will we, don the colors of the cross—red for His blood, white for our forgiveness and blue for our loyalty, not to a pastor, a church, or a denomination, but to the One who matters—Jesus!

Well, I was raised not too far from Gainesville and my Daddy and most of my family were Gator fans, but somehow I went rogue—I pull for Notre Dame.  Go figure—a Baptist pastor pulling for a Catholic team.  What’s up with that?  It’s simple really—I love tradition and I love college football and those two override the other.  I am hoping our common denominator—Jesus—will cause us do the same.  I am banking on the fact that we may lose a battle or two, but in the end—Jesus wins and I’m gonna rest in that.  After all, He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, forgiveness, life, school days, Scripture, Trials

Spilt Milk

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “I tell you that on the day of judgment people will have to account for every careless word they speak. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.” Matthew 12:36-37

It gets real hot in North Florida.  When I write these stories I always try and remember things that happened in my youth that were either funny or difficult or both. Sometimes though they are just hilarious.  When I was about eight years old, my Momma and Daddy were always looking for ways to save a little money.  I didn’t know if we were rich or poor and I don’t suppose it mattered. Sometimes it was more obvious but most times it was just life.

I’m not sure how we got started but we began to buy our milk from a family that lived about a mile from where we lived.  It wasn’t really a dairy farm it was more like three or four cows. We would go over twice a week and buy a couple of gallons in big half-gallon glass jugs.  And let me tell you…this wasn’t the pasteurized stuff we drink today.  It was straight from the cow.  And one more thing, it was NOT 2%, or 1% or skim milk.  No sir, this stuff came fully loaded with milk fat.  It was good.  We had an old ice cream churn, the kind you had to crank and that milk made the best ice cream you ever tasted.  It was always a special day when we went and got milk.  And then one day it wasn’t.

We were still driving that old 1957 Plymouth and it was time to get milk.  I think Momma was driving and one of my sisters was in the front seat and the other in the back with me.  Those were the days before seat belts and rules about kids not sitting in the front seat.  In fact in those days the dashboard was made out of metal.  Anyway, we got to the house where they sold the milk. Momma paid the lady and I was supposed to carry the milk to the car and carefully put it on the floorboard in the backseat.  It was a good plan…almost.

The milk jugs had little handles on the top near the neck of the jug.  I picked up the jugs, one in each hand and headed to the car.  I put the jugs down on the ground and opened the back door.  Then I turned around and picked up one of the jugs and set it on the floorboard.  Then I turned around to get the second jug and put it next to the other.  You know, next is a nice word.  It means close too.  Well, I swung that ole jug through the door and well, you might say I got it just a little too close to the other one.  There was a sound of glass hitting glass and one of the jugs busted wide open and that nice fresh milk spilled all over the carpeted (remember that) floorboard.  Bummer.

Momma came over and of course was upset about the wasted milk.  I was too, but you know what they say, “There’s no use crying over spilt milk.” That is true but things were going to get worse before they got better.  I suppose we bought another half-gallon of milk and headed for the house.  Once there I did my best to clean up the spilt milk. The problem was first there was carpet and then, like they did back then, there was a thick pad underneath the carpet.  You could do what you wanted to, but there was no way all that milk was coming out of that carpet and pad.

Remember I told you that it gets real hot in North Florida.  Well, by the next morning there was a strange odor in the whole car and it just got worse and worse.  By the end of the first day the smell of sour milk made it just about impossible to sit in the car.  We already had the windows down because there was no air conditioning but even that didn’t stop the odor.  It made it better but when Momma or Daddy hit a stop light, Katie bar the door…it stunk. So for days and days our 1957 Plymouth smelled horrible. I’m pretty sure I was not winning any popularity contests for about the next two weeks. That smell lasted a long after the accident…oh boy did we hate it.

Have you ever broken a jug of milk in your car before?  Well, probably not, but let me ask you this.  “Have you ever done something wrong, something that hurt someone, something that broke someone’s heart?”  You probably know that is really what this story is about.  You see when we get all fired up and make some bad choices with big regrets it doesn’t just go away…oh not…it lingers and lingers and lingers.  And you know and I know sometimes the scar just stays forever.  I know we shouldn’t cry over spilt milk but maybe we should shed a few tears over broken hearts, hearts that we have broken.

I sure wish I had been more careful that day.  I know I was just a kid but I was old enough to be careful.  My careless behavior caused a big stink and it was a stink we all had to endure.  I think we should be more careful with our actions and our words each day.  If we would it might save a few hearts and a few big stinks.  The Bible says that we will have to give an account for every word and every action that we say or do.  Do you know what?  If I would have asked, my big sister would have helped me that day…so would Momma but I thought I could handle it.  We think that way in life too.  Why not ask for a little help from your Heavenly Father before the milk gets spilt?  He is always ready to help you carry your milk. Two things are certain…you can count on Him and always, He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, Scripture, thankful, Thanksgiving

Leftovers

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead.” Philippians 3:13

One of the best things about Thanksgiving doesn’t happen on Thanksgiving.  Well, let’s be honest, for most of us blessed to live here in America it is a day to throw the diet out the window, to loosen the belt a notch, to forget trying to bend over.  It is the day after the feast. I know for the Taylor tribe we have perfected the feast to a fine art.

Each year there are certain items that just must be on the table.  There is the most incredible mac-n-cheese in the world, a sweet potato soufflé, oh, and strawberry pretzel salad. And that is the short list.  There is also green bean casserole, rolls, some sort of salad and, well, you get the idea.  Even a sampling of the feast will cause your belt to shrink a notch or two.  Thanksgiving food…you gotta love it.

But here is the best part.  Eventually, perhaps hours, but maybe the next day, there will be a hint of hunger.  As full as you feel after the feast, you will get hungry again and that’s when it happens.  You can go to the refrigerator and start unloading the leftovers. All that joy from the Thanksgiving feast is reborn right before your eyes.  And the amazing part is that some of the dishes taste even better than the first time.  A couple of minutes in the microwave will have you smiling just like the day before.  And the hits just keep on coming because some, not all mind you, but some will make it for day two. 

And then there is the turkey.  Mr. Turkey must be related to the cat because it seems to have nine or more lives.  After the initial onslaught of Thanksgiving and the day after, there always seems to be more turkey. What should we do?  Well, some might be given a quick trip to the freezer, but some will be reborn in a myriad of creative and tasty recipes.  Who knows the multitude of ways Mr. Turkey can be reborn in the days following Thanksgiving?  You see, in some ways, Thanksgiving is the holiday that just keeps on giving.  Just ask your waistline.

I realize that some folks aren’t fans of leftovers.  I knew one guy who simply refused to eat them and of course that is every person’s choice. But as for me, I say bring them on.  Whether it is a Thanksgiving feast or a leftover burger from some fast-food place, it is all waiting for a second chance to satisfy that hunger pain.  Now to be fair, sometimes those leftovers are better left alone.  What might have been a crunchy delight one day can be a soggy mess the next, so you must choose your leftovers carefully.  Sometimes, it’s better to let that tasty dish go on the first go around.

Do you suppose that is true in life too?  You know, our choices and actions can be like those leftovers.  Some choices are worth savoring for days, weeks, and months or maybe even a lifetime.  Trusting Jesus…now that was a good decision that will last forever.  Marrying my wife Judy…check.  Forty-nine years later and I’m still humming, “We’ve Only Just Begun.”  Having kids? That’s a good one too though there have been times in their teen years when I pondered checking the return policy.  The truth is all of us, if we look, will discover there are some great leftovers that spill joy into our lives every day.

Truthfully, and painfully, there are some leftovers that still cause our hearts to hurt.  A broken relationship left unattended, a harsh word spoken and left hanging without an apology, poor health decisions…yes, there are painful leftovers in every person’s life. While we can’t just make them disappear like fog burning off in the morning, we can do what we can do and that is to seek and receive forgiveness.  First, let it start with God.  Let Him know how you regret and repent or turn from whatever it was.  Then, if an apology is due, give it.  Even if the person is no longer around, you can apologize.  Maybe write a letter and then burn it.  And lastly, we need to forgive ourselves and that, by the way, might be the most difficult thing to do.  And then, take the sad leftovers and take them to the trash…where they belong.

I love what Paul the Bible writer said.  He said we should forget the past and look forward.  He wasn’t saying we should forget because that probably isn’t possible.  He was saying we should not allow a past that is forgiven to own us in the present. Quit giving those thoughts space in your brain. He was saying we need to get rid of those old, rotten leftovers and that is something we can do. So, savor the good and ditch the regretful. Sounds difficult? That’s ok because there is a Dearest Father who will help you.  In fact, listen carefully, even now He is whispering, “I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, friends, gratitude, Holidays, Scripture, thankful, Thanksgiving

Thanks-Giving Living

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “Giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Ephesians 5:20

Everything seemed bigger then.  I liked being a kid.  I know there were times I didn’t, but overall things were pretty cool.  For one thing, there were fewer responsibilities.  There was always someone bigger and more important than me to handle things.  I didn’t worry about where the food came from, who was going to pay the electric bill or what would happen if the wrong person got elected and lived in something called the White House.  My house happened to be white, so my world centered around that white house. Of course, there were only three channels to tell me about the world outside my small world so, yeah, l liked being a kid.

When I was a kid, the holidays were just a big thing and the two at the top of the list were Thanksgiving and Christmas. These were the mammoths of all holidays.  Thanksgiving, of course, came first and was like the kickoff for the Christmas season. Thanksgiving meant that it was ok to start doing Christmas stuff.  Now days that has been assigned to the Fourth of July. Smile.  But anyway, these two special days shared two things that made them special.  They were all about family and they were all about food. Family and food.  They were big then and they are big now.

Of course, big was relative…not relative like my grandmother or my Uncle Hardy…but relative in the sense of perspective.  You see, as a kid, everything was bigger.  A while back I went back to where I was raised. The house, though slightly remodeled, was still there and about the same.  But when I saw it that day, I remember thinking how small it seemed.  I mean it was never big, but it certainly seemed bigger.  The difference wasn’t the house but how I saw it.  Enter Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was so exciting because it meant that anyone who was related to the Taylor tribe was going to be somewhere together.  Most often it was home…the white house on the corner of Carlton and Wheat. It was a big deal because we had quite a big tribe.  Momma and Daddy had eight kids and they probably would have had more but I think they finally figured out what was causing it.

And then…there was the food.  Momma would cook the biggest turkey we could find…usually right around twenty-five pounds.  There would be dressing, plain and oyster, giblet gravy, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, ambrosia, and a bunch of other stuff.  There would be several kinds of pies including the infamous “minced meat pie.”  Best I could tell that was a pie for the adults because I think it really had meat and only an adult could like that.  Then after the vast spread was spread, we would all gather around the kitchen (we wouldn’t fit around the table) and someone would pray…usually my oldest brother because he was a lay preacher.  And then…we would eat…a lot.

From my kid perspective it was good, and it was fun.  I probably didn’t think much about what giving thanks was all about.  I mean, my big brother talked about being thankful when he was talking to God in the prayer, but really, I probably didn’t get the whole thanksgiving thing…then.  But now, well, I certainly understand it more.  As I grew up and some of that responsibility that my parents bore fell on me, I began to understand.  When I started to realize that things I took for granted didn’t just happen, that they took hard work and a lot of love, well, I started feeling grateful.  The more I understood, the more I appreciated all that my Momma and Daddy did for me as a kid.  They worried so I didn’t have to. They provided so I could have food to eat, a place to sleep, clothes to wear and a life that was…fun.

So, today, I’m going to remember and be thankful.  I’m going to do my best not to grumble about what I don’t have and choose to be grateful for what I do. Today I will pray, and I will thank God for all the blessings He has given to me and my family.  Today I will celebrate that there is food to eat and family to enjoy…just like when I was a kid.  God is good…always has been, always will be.  Paul, the guy who wrote most of the New Testament Bible said, “Giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” I think he was telling us to be sure and celebrate Thanksgiving, not one day, but every day.  Oh, and when you are thanking God for being God be sure and thank Him because, each day and every day, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in gratitude, life, loving others, marriage, Scripture, thankful, Thanksgiving

Unexpected Gratitude

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

I made a random turn…into the cemetery.  One evening my wife Judy and I were out on a mission.  A friend had given us some homemade ice cream and we were returning the container.  Oh, in case you are wondering, it was way beyond delicious.  It was peach and it was just peachy.  I’ve already put in a request for strawberry next.  We returned the container and just kinda started driving randomly.  As we went down the street the entrance to the cemetery came up on the right—and I turned right in.

Slowly we started driving down the lanes and just as slowly I started reading some of the headstones there.  First, though, on the left was Harrisburg’s “Little Arlington.”  It was dusk and the lights were on, and I was so impressed with all the work that went into honoring those who had served their country. It represented sacrifice. For some the ultimate sacrifice…the kind of sacrifice that means you don’t get to come home from the war.  I love what is often said, “All gave some, but some gave all.” For that, I was moved, and I was grateful.

Just down the lane was a grave that caught my attention.  It was a young soldier who went to Korea to fight for his country in what has been called “the forgotten war.”  He was 27 years old when he died on some battlefield, some hill in a country for away.  He was fighting and ultimately died for the cause of freedom.  I was moved and I was grateful.

In several places, Judy and I would stop as we saw a headstone that was personal because we knew, we loved, the ones buried there.  Sometimes both of the names were etched there in the stone, and it symbolized two lives joined into one story.  And for both the story had concluded.  Sometimes though only one name had the start and finish dates. The other story was still being written and there was a heart longing for heaven and a long-awaited reunion.  One stone declared and celebrated 72 years of marriage.  So many of those story writers had touched our lives.  I was moved and I was grateful.

There were also stones of tragedy.  There stood the stone marking the grave of two brothers tragically killed one night by a drunk driver.  Several other stones showed lives cut short by a tragic accident.  Over there was the headstone of one of the victims from the 2012 tornado.  Everywhere were stories of people who touched the lives of others. One stone showed an American flag engraved in full color—the grave of a proud veteran.  One grave was that of a pastor and a veteran of World War II.  So many stories, so many lives, so many contributions.  I was moved and I was grateful.

As we continued around the lanes inside the hallowed grounds, we noticed there were places where whole families were buried together.  Generations of fathers and mothers, sons and daughters lay in eternal rest together.  The stones often bore nicknames and tag lines of the one who lay there.  On one grave was a tattered flag that said, “#1 Dad.” Some graves though were barely marked.  The only indication that someone lay there was a rock or a stone.  In another part of the cemetery were the pauper graves.  I have stood at some of those graves as we laid to rest someone that almost no one knew.  Once it was the funeral director and me.  No one else came. I was moved and I was grateful.

“Wait,” you say.  “How can you be grateful?”  Well, the reason is simple.  Whether it was a family plot of many generations or a solitary grave of a person when no one came—Jesus was still there.  He is the unseen attendee of every funeral.  For many He is there as Savior and Lord. For others He is there as the Sovereign Lord who wishes all to believe but knows not all will.  But He is there.  He is always there.  When we need Him, when we want Him and yes, even when we ignore Him.  I am moved and I am grateful.

When you get some time, take a slow drive through the cemetery.  It is anything but morbid…it is in fact one of the most meaningful things we can do.  You will be touched, you will be moved, and yes, somewhere along the way you will be grateful.  Let each headstone with a start and finish date be a reminder that for you there is still time.  Still time to make a difference, still time to mend a relationship, still time to finish well.  But most importantly…there is still time to believe and trust in Him.  The Book says that if anyone will call on His name…they will be saved—forgiven—rescued. No story is so bad that He can’t change the end.  Once again, I am moved and I am grateful.

Many see the cemetery and think death.  For those who truly understand grace and Jesus they know the cemetery isn’t about death it is about life.  You learned it in Sunday School but now hear it again…like the first time.  “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever (that is you and me) calls on His name will not perish but have everlasting life.”  So, trust in Him and rest in Him.  For He has all of this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in food, Grace, gratitude, Thanksgiving

A Thanksgiving to Remember

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to what is ahead…” Philippians 3:13

It was a Thanksgiving to remember.  Throughout the years, Thanksgiving has been a big deal in our family.  Growing up it was a time when Momma would buy a huge turkey and cook it all night in the roaster oven that set by the stove for such an occasion.  It was a time when pies were baked, ambrosia was made, and giblet gravy simmered on the stove.  It was a time for two kinds of dressing—cornbread and cornbread with oysters. I’m not sure where that came from, but it was pretty popular.  Then, of course, it was a time when most everyone would come home, and we would feast on good food and fellowship with family.

When I graduated from high school and enlisted in the Air Force things had to change.  My first duty station was about 15 miles from the Canadian border in a town called Minot—Minot, North Dakota.  I arrived there in October, and it was already too cold for a Florida boy.  The holidays were looming ahead, and it looked like Thanksgiving was going to be a solo flight.  But then something happened.  Somehow, remember this is long before cellphones, my brother Jimmy, who lived in Amarillo, Texas, called and invited me to his house for Thanksgiving.

Again, somehow, someway, it happened.  My base pay of $320 per month didn’t allow for plane tickets so it meant a trip to the credit union to see if I could get a loan. They granted it and I bought the ticket, got my leave approved and had someone haul me to the airport. So, like the song says, over the river and through the woods, I was on my way, not to grandmother’s house but my brother’s.  I can remember flying down to Amarillo on that two engine, piston driven, plane feeling excited and afraid all at the same time.  What in the world was I doing?

Soon enough, I was on the ground and there was my big brother and a couple of his kids waiting for me.  The best I can remember he worked, maybe managed, a ranch of sorts.  It seemed we drove a long way out into the Texas countryside before finally arriving at his house.  The next day was Thanksgiving and it was so much like the one at home.  We ate well and enjoyed good family fellowship.  The thing that was so different was that in the past I was treated as the baby of the family—which I was.  But that day—I was his peer.  I was a man.

As much as I enjoyed Thanksgiving Day, the next couple of days were also awesome.  We went jackrabbit hunting.  It was cold with snow covering the ground, and we would jolt and bounce through the fields in his old Willis Jeep.  Back at the house we drank hot coffee as he would spin tales about his time in the Air Force.  Jimmy was always bigger than life and he was that day too.  We also put up the Christmas tree while I was there.  One of his favorite Christmas albums was Charlie Pride’s “Christmas in My Hometown.” We played it over and over again while I was there.  To this day it is still one of my favorites.

Soon it was time for me to head back to the far north.  We headed back to the airport and soon those piston engines were shaking and vibrating the old plane again as I flew back to Minot.  I’ve had many good Thanksgivings over the years but that one stands out for me.  It was a time when my brother made sure I wasn’t alone at a time when too many were.  That was back in 1972 so a lot of water has flowed beneath the bridge.  I’m decades older and he is now in heaven.  But I am left with the memories…memories that still refresh my soul and make me smile.

To be honest, there are other Thanksgivings that were not so easy…times when another brother and his family were not on speaking terms with the family, times when Daddy was sick and times when the family went separate ways. But I have grown to realize that each of us have a choice.  We can choose to remember and relish the good times, or we can remember and dwell on the hard times.  The choice is ours.  Paul, the guy who wrote about two-thirds of the New Testament in the Bible had plenty of hard memories.  He was a pretty bad guy before he met Jesus.  After Jesus, he began to write some new stories in his life, and he made the decision to leave the past in the past.  We should too.

I know holidays can be hard because of the past, or maybe the present. Let me encourage you to choose to remember the good and let go of the rest.  It’s not easy but it is possible—with a little help from God.  I know these days He’s getting a lot of bad press, but trust me, if you don’t know Him you should get acquainted.  He loves you more than you know, and He wants to help you do life here.  He can even help with those difficult memories.

One of the things that is a staple of mine in life is to eat and nap. This Thanksgiving, Lord willing, I will eat a very good meal, and I will take a very nice nap.  Try it—you’ll like it.  Also on Thanksgiving, I’m going to take a nap of sorts with my best friend Jesus. I’m going to pull aside, rest and just chat about all the ways He has blessed me.  It might take a while because I’m pretty blessed—and so are you.  We also will probably talk about some of the hard things going on now. He won’t judge me—He will just love me. You know that Thanksgiving so many years ago my brother treated me as his peer. Today Jesus treats me as a friend—a friend closer than a brother.  A friend that can handle my past and my future.  A friend I can trust. That’s why, He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, Grace, life, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Thanksgiving

Bring On The Gravy

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.” Ephesians 1:7-8

It just makes good things better!  Just imagine…Thanksgiving is right around the corner. For most it will be a time together with family and friends— to rejoice and remember.  I know from this side of the fence the Taylor cooks are off the scale good.  Our menu, especially the one that list the side dishes, is almost set in stone.  Homemade (is there any other) mac and cheese, sweet potato casserole, strawberry pretzel salad and other salads that makes you like salads, Apple pie…well you get the idea.  There is one thing that deserves more recognition at our Thanksgiving table and that is the gravy.

Now I am a Southern boy and gravy has always been a big part of my eating life.  Momma would regularly make both brown and white gravies for our supper and they were incredible.  I remember one time I was reminded that you can have too much of a good thing.  When she cooked a roast I loved to take two slices (one wouldn’t do) of bread and then smother, no drown, the bread in gravy.  Well, one time it got me.  I guess all the goodness in the gravy was too much and I got sick, real sick to my stomach.  It wasn’t pretty.

Momma also made a great giblet gravy at Thanksgiving.  She would take all those things that are tucked inside the turkey when you buy it, cut them up in tiny pieces and put them in her gravy.  Yup…it was incredible.  That’s when I began to learn the value of gravy.  It could take the driest dressing (never my Momma’s mind you) and make it the best dressing in the world.  It worked even better on leftovers.  You go back later that afternoon, fill your plate for round two of the feast, warm up the gravy and let her fly.  The dressing, the potatoes and the turkey all were reborn with a little gravy.

Gravy also can play the role of redeemer with biscuits.  Now even the best biscuits almost always need a little help to become great.  It might be a smothering of butter or butter and syrup and good becomes great.  By far the best soul mate of a biscuit is a flood of good sausage gravy.  On my goodness—that combination is its own food group.  Any good restaurant that serves breakfast is always sure to include that in its offerings. The bottom line is that gravy makes things better.

I know something else that does the same thing—even more so.  That is grace.  Grace is when we choose to extend something good to someone they really don’t deserve.  It might be an act of kindness, a measure of forgiveness or a kind word or two. When I was a pastor, people extended a measure of grace when they commented on some of my sermons.  “Best sermon this year, preacher!”  Well, truth be known it wasn’t that good—they were just being graceful.

Now hear this.  Just like a good gravy can make ordinary or less than extraordinary food taste incredible—grace can do the same thing for life.  Families are stronger, relationships are better, teams at work are more productive when grace is poured all over them.  You probably can remember how political opinions and COVID fractured relationships like crazy.  It divided families, friends and, yes, churches. Looking back, I know we needed to pour some gravy—some grace—all over it. 

If you are a Jesus follower then you should be a grace expert.  You know that God extended grace, His unmerited favor, to you and forgave all your failures, sins, and warts.  If you understand redemption right you know you didn’t deserve it—He just did it because of His love for broken people.  Grace makes the impossible possible.  Grace, like a good gravy, can redeem the worse and restore the driest.  God talks a whole lot about grace in His Book.  I encourage you to Google it and be amazed at grace—God’s grace.  It is so amazing they even wrote a song about.  Perhaps you’ve heard it—Amazing Grace.

Sometimes when I order at a restaurant I will order my gravy on the side. Let’s be honest—not every place can make good gravy.  But when it comes to God’s grace don’t ever get it on the side.  Just ask God to pour it on heavy—flood the plate of your life. The Book says that through faith in Jesus we have redemption through His death on the cross.  When we believe that God forgives our sins through His grace that He lavishes on us….wow bring on the gravy…bring on the grace. So if your life is like a dry biscuit take a break and ask God to pour on the grace.  And if you are overwhelmed by circumstances that have left you like a 3:00 pm pile of dry turkey, ask God to pour on grace and you will soon be revived because…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne