life – Page 102 – Grits with Grace

Family, fear, friends, gratitude, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Ride a Cock Horse

Posted on February 2, 2022February 1, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

Most important of all, continue to show deep love for each other, for love covers a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8

I was chosen to ride a horse. When I was in the third grade, our school was going to put on a musical. Back in those days, being a part of something like a school musical was cool. Today, in most circumstances, mention a musical to most boys and all you can see is the dust from their feet as they run away. But this was a different time and being chosen wasn’t only cool…it was an honor.

I think the show was a variety thing and two other boys and myself were going to sing a song about riding a “cock horse” to “Banbury Cross” to “see a fine lady” who rode a white horse. She wore rings on her fingers and bells on her toes and she had music wherever she went. Well, anyway it was something like that. Our costume consisted of the three of us wearing white shirts with white pants. They made us a hat like the one’s the soldiers wore in “The Nutcracker” and a cardboard white horse that we slipped over our heads and around our waists, so it appeared we were riding it.

An important part of the costume were the shoes. According to the director, we were to wear white buckskin shoes…and that was the problem. I had a white shirt, and a pair of white pants were easy enough to come by but buckskin white shoes? No way. It is safe to say that no one who lived at 6008 Carlton Road ever owned or wore white buckskin shoes. I also think it is safe to say they were out of our price range. The best Momma and Daddy could do was a pair of white canvas tennis shoes. I was mortified. I knew, and I was right, that the other two boys would have on white buckskin shoes, and I would be the only one who didn’t and I was embarrassed.

As always, I should have known that Momma and Daddy had done the best they could do and that should have been enough but from my small world perspective it wasn’t. I’m sure there was a fair amount of pouting and applying an unfair guilt trip on my parents. I’m sure they felt bad, and I am sure it was my fault. The truth is…I was being very selfish. Something like selfishness is easy to see in the rearview mirror when enough time and distance has passed. And I’m sure that was not the only instance.

Well, the show must go on…and it did and guess what? Not one person said anything about my white canvas tennis shoes. Nope…we sang and danced our little cock horses across the stage and everyone clapped. Of course, looking back, I shouldn’t have worried about the shoes but rather about the whole idea of prancing around a stage with a cardboard horse around my waist. Perhaps part of the humor in all of this is I still remember a lot of the words and the tune to my “Cock Horse” song.

I’m not sure when but somewhere along the journey I realized that what I thought was a big deal was not. And, trust me, that was not the only time. I’ve learned that we humans tend to made mountains out of molehills. And I’ve also learned that too often it revolves around relationships. Too often relationships with family and friends are scarred or shattered over the smallest of things. And, sadly and ironically, sometimes people don’t even remember what the deal was. Walls were built and no one knows why, and no one has the courage to tear them down.

Got any walls in your life? Still mad about something as silly as buckskin shoes? If so, why not let today be the day when the walls come down? Why not let today be the day when that relationship is restored? Why not be the one to take the first “whack at the wall?” As a pastor, I do a lot of funerals and sadly, there are often walls in the families and just like that…it is too late to fix it.

Peter, one of the guys that followed Jesus, wrote in the Bible, “Most important of all, continue to show deep love for each other, for love covers a multitude of sins.” He knew that love makes a great sledgehammer for tearing down walls. God knew that too because He loved us even though we weren’t close to being worthy. It takes courage to take the first whack. God willingly took the first swing to bring us home and it involved a Roman cross and His Son. Need a little help swinging that hammer? Not a problem…just ask because, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Family, forgiveness, friends, Grace, life, loving others, Scripture, thankful

This is God

Posted on February 1, 2022January 31, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

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 7:5

I got to play God once…no, really. One evening, and it must be at least 15 years ago, I got to play God…or at least the voice of God. It was one of those evenings when you didn’t need air conditioning. It was about 10:30 at night and I was lying in bed. Next to the bed was a window and since it was such a nice evening it was open. It was so close that I could reach out and touch it. Because we live basically downtown in our small town, night noises are common. I hadn’t yet fallen asleep, so I was just lying and listening to the night sounds. Then I heard it.

The alley that runs right next to our property and our house is paved with oil and chip…a covering of small pieces of rock that gives a nice crunching sound when a car drives over. It is not an uncommon sound unless it is late at night and the car stops right next to your house. As soon as the car stopped, I could hear the sounds of giggles that can only belong to young teenage girls. I eased out of bed and knelt next to the open window. From my second-floor window I had a bird’s eye view of what was unfolding belong me.

Like the poem, The Night Before Christmas, I looked and “what to my wondering eyes did appear” not one, but two young teen girls gleefully covering my back yard in toilet paper. The young ladies attended the church where I pastored and one of their moms was driving the getaway car. I smiled a slow smile just wondering what to do with this. And then, it occurred to me. Since I kinda work for God why not speak for Him? So, I did.

From the raised window, and in my best God voice, I said, “This is God. What are you two girls doing?” Oh, my goodness…it was incredible. In an instant, both girls went into total panic mode. Paper rolls went flying, arms were flailing in the air and mom was racing the motor in the car. In total chaos, they both tried to get into the car at the same time. It was priceless. After several attempts they finally made it and off they went speeding down the alley. I was rolling on the floor.

Well, if I remember right, that was a Saturday night and the next morning at church I said something like, “Good morning, ladies. How are you today?” Their response was a combination of eyes wide open, eyebrows raised and a mischievous smile. I don’t remember saying anything more…except maybe in a sermon several weeks down the road. I mean, who could pass up an opportunity like that?

I think it was ok that night to do a kind of impersonation of God. My voice really isn’t deep enough but I gave it my best shot. Impersonating God is a very common occurrence…too many of us do it all the time. It usually isn’t a voice from a second story window but rather the voice of a judge speaking from the bench…pronouncing some sort of judgment on another poor soul. It seems we get pleasure from judging others. I think it might make us feel bigger while making them feel smaller.

It’s certainly not a new thing. The Bible is full of words and warnings about playing judge in place of God. My favorite is when Jesus uses an illustration about some guy who has a big log sticking out of his eye. That guy walks over to his buddy and says, “Hey dude…you need to get the splinter out of your eye.” Jesus was certainly the master storyteller and in this case His point was clear. Who are we to judge anybody when our faults are often bigger than theirs? And besides that, aren’t we supposed to leave the judging to the Judge? Uh, that would be a yes.

Well, if you are ever given the opportunity to use your God voice to scare a couple of young teens, aw, go for it. It was a blast. But the next time you are tempted to cast a stone or take a seat on the Judge’s seat…you might want to resist the urge. The same Bible that talks about leaving the judging to the Judge talks about if you judge others…you might just find yourself being judged by your peers. And some of them aren’t too kind. And if you’ve been judged, tried, and convicted by one of those unlawful judges don’t worry about it. There is only one Judge that matters, and He is on your side. So, rest easy…He’s got this.

Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, Scripture, thankful, Trials, wisdom

It Wasn’t Pretty

Posted on January 31, 2022January 30, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his foolishness.” Proverbs 26:11

It just wasn’t pretty. When we arrived in Cobden, Illinois in 1986 they provided a home for us. The only problem was the church was “L” shaped and the house sat right in the middle of the “L.” The reason that was a problem was whenever someone needed something, they knew right where to come. We might as well have had a billboard in our front yard advertising where the preacher lived. Every person needing some gas or baby diapers knew right where to come. That was all fine except I do believe they watched to see when we were eating supper before they rang the doorbell.

Sometimes it was a church member needing in the building. Early, oh, about 6:30 am, one Saturday morning my wife Judy and I were still snuggled down in our bed. About that time, we heard someone first pulling on the front door of the church and then hollering, “Where’s that preacher and why is the door locked?” Well, the preacher was still in bed, after all it was Saturday, it was just after daybreak, and the door was locked for that reason. It was just about that time when Judy said, “Dewayne, we need to move.” So, the church said OK, and we found an older Victorian home, made a ridiculously low offer (because that is all we could afford) and to everyone’s surprise they said yes. Holy moly.

We moved and began life as homeowners. Homeowners meant that we were responsible for everything. Things like yard stuff. Things like trimming trees. Things like getting stuck in a tree while trimming it. Yup, that’s right. In our backyard was a large and old Redbud tree. While it was still alive, it had seen better days. In fact, there were several dead limbs up in the tree. Mr. Homeowner, that’s me, decided to trim it up. I didn’t have a ladder, so I found a bucket, or a stool, or something to stand on and managed to get up in the tree. I sawed away with my handy pruning saw and soon I was ready to get back down. It was then that I discovered the laws of climbing a tree using a bucket or something. It wasn’t pretty.

I decided it would be best to go down backwards facing the tree. It sounded like a sound idea. It wasn’t. With one foot in a crook of the tree, I gingerly lowered my other leg to the stool or bucket or whatever it was. And, as fate would have it, my foot landed not in the middle but on the edge of whatever it was and yes, it tipped over. And what happened next still causes me to groan. As the bucket or stool or whatever it was tipped over, I found myself with one leg caught in the tree and my other leg on the ground. In other words,…I was in trouble. My foot with my leg attached was over my head and I was in pain. For a gymnast…no problem. For a ballerina, no problem. For a slightly out of shape preacher, homeowner…big problem.

It was so bad I have managed to block out the details of the rescue. I think it involved me hollering, Judy hearing and coming, and her somehow freeing my leg from the crook of the tree. I was grateful…boy, was I grateful. Like Jacob who left an encounter with God with a limp, I left the tree with a hip that holds grudges. To this day, whenever I raise my leg to do something, I am not so gently reminded of that day. I did something to something, and it was a lifetime reminder to not use a bucket, or a stool, or some other something other than a ladder to climb into a tree. I. Learned.

One thing that most living animals have is the ability to learn. Bucks get to be big bucks by learning when and where to go and not go. All the family dogs know who to beg for food from. His name is Papa. You get the idea. So, assuming you don’t die from climbing a tree without the proper tools, at least you learn how not to do it…and that is valuable. As we journey through life, God usually gives us a chance to learn. The important thing is to…wait for it…learn. Everyone makes mistakes but it is simply foolish to keep making the same ones over and over again. The author of Proverbs says it this way, “As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his foolishness.” Sometimes the Bible just lays it out there, doesn’t it?

Well, that was a one-time experience. I can’t say that is true for everything I’ve done, but it was true about that one thing. There are some things in life that once is enough. But what do you do if you find your leg hung in a tree above your head? Well, you holler and pray. If you are lucky someone might hear you. The good news is that God will hear you and while I don’t know if and how the rescue might come, I do know He won’t laugh at you. He will just whisper, “I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Family, friends, life, Scripture, Southern born, thankful

The Gap

Posted on January 28, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

“I remember the days of old; I meditate on all You have done; I reflect on the work of Your hands.” Psalms 143:5

I’m not sure why…but there’s a gap. When I started school in Jacksonville, Florida there was no kindergarten. It was like one day you were at home and the then you weren’t. My first four grades of elementary school were at Wesconnect Elementary School and the last two were at a brand-new school—Jacksonville Heights Elementary School. Unlike Wesconnect that required a bus ride, the new school was only several blocks down the road from my house.

Wesconnect was an old…real old. It was all brick with no air conditioning. It was hot. That is one reason why we didn’t start school till after Labor Day. I remember it having large paned windows, oak floors and tall ceilings. Hundreds of footsteps would echo through the halls. And, to a little kid like me, it was big—like huge. It was at Wesconnect, that I met and fell in love for the first time. She was an older than me—my first-grade teacher—Mrs. Jones. And, like the song from the seventies says, “we had a thing going on” or at least I did. She was pretty (at least from my seven-year-old perspective) and she was pretty nice. I became her number one eraser cleaner. But soon, it was time to move on. So, I passed first grade and it was so long Mrs. Jones.

By second grade I was a veteran. A lot of the insecurities were gone and I met Mrs. Webb. She, like Mrs. Jones, was a kind teacher. I think, though I am not sure, that my sister and I had our tonsils out about then and she had all the kids write me get well cards. I can still remember how special it was to receive that big envelope from my classmates. Thank-you, Mrs. Webb. Third grade meant yet another teacher…this time Mrs. Wilson. Now I don’t mean this in a mean way but she kinda reminded me of one of the witches from “The Wizard of Oz.” She was an older lady, and wore her hair in a tight bun and was quite stern. I didn’t clean Mrs. Wilson’s erasers. But looking back, she was a good teacher and she helped us learn and that is what mattered. I managed to pass again, so soon it was so long Mrs. Wilson.

Fifth grade meant a new school (with air conditioning—smile) and yet another new teacher and her name was, get ready for it, Mrs. Slappy. She was rather short, had bright red hair and was rather snappy. Today I think I would use the word, “feisty.” As I remember her class, it was fun and I had a new responsibility. She selected me (and a couple of others) to be trained to run the film strip projector and the movie projector. It was a big deal. When we were going to see a film strip or movie in class, one of us would go down and check out the equipment, set it up and operate it. Wow…what responsibility and to think, she trusted me. That was a big deal. Thank you, Mrs. Slappy.

My final year in elementary school, sixth grade, was a landmark year. I had my first male teacher, Mr. Perry and was selected to be a “patrol boy.” Mr. Perry was, as you can imagine, a little different from Mrs. Jones in First grade but I remember him being imposing but fair. He was a “rules” guy but as long as you followed the rules, you did ok. That served me well then and really for the rest of my life. I know it started at home but Mr. Perry reenforced it…a lesson well learned. Well, there you go my parade of teachers. The end. Thanks for reading.

Well, not quite. You see there was a reason I walked you through all of that. Did you notice something? Well, if you noticed that there is a gap…you are right. You see, for some reason, and who knows why, there is a total gap for the fourth grade. I have absolutely no memories of my teacher, classmates, or surroundings. I know it was Wesconnect but beyond that…zero…and that intrigues me. I don’t know or believe it was anything bad…there is just a gap. In fact, it means that there was probably a really good teacher who taught me, good friends that I met and played with and a whole year of great memories that, for some reason, I have forgotten. I.Have.Forgotten.

And that made me think. How many other incredibly good things have I forgotten? It seems we have no problem remembering all the bad stuff but sometimes we tend to sometimes forget the good stuff, the great stuff that comes our way. I love writing about my days as a kid but I wonder how many good stories I could write if I remembered all the other adventures that came my way. How many more adventurous things came my way that slipped away. Hmmm.

Remembering the good always feeds gratitude and dwelling on the bad tends to feed the opposite. And, trying to filling unexplained gaps, well, can do the same. Why don’t we celebrate the good, let the hard stuff stay in the rearview mirror and those gaps…just let them be. I like what the writer of Psalms 145:3 said, “I remember the days of old; I meditate on all you have done; I reflect on the work of your hands.” In other words, whether it was good, whether it was difficult or whether there is a gap, we know and celebrate one constant, “He’s got that.” Bro. Dewayne

Family, friends, life, priorities, Scripture, thankful, Trials

And the Winner Is

Posted on January 27, 2022January 26, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

So I run with purpose in every step. I am not just shadowboxing.” 1 Corinthians 9:26

It was a whale of a deal—I think. Three or four months ago my wife Judy and I were at HomeGoods. She was shopping and I was sitting. HomeGoods is a great store if you are looking for things for your house. After checking my email and winning several hands of Solitaire, I decided to at least look around. If you know anything about me you know there is a word that draws me like iron to a magnet, like a moth drawn to the flame, like water seeks lower ground—well, you get the idea. And what is that word? CLEARANCE.

Different stores use different colors of signs announcing their clearance but I can spot any of them a mile away. That particular night it was in a pretty obvious place, so I decided to check out the clearance aisle. Now I need to be candid and let you know I see clearance stuff like I see Dairy Queen. You see there is nothing I need at Dairy Queen, but DQ isn’t about needing it is about wanting. I want ice cream…I don’t need ice cream. Yes, I know it feels like a need, but it isn’t. Ice cream isn’t like air…we can live without it…I think. Anyway, when it comes to the clearance aisle it isn’t about needing it—it is about being a good deal. Who can pass up something that is like 90% off? Well, apparently, I can’t.

I wandered back to the clearance aisle and started poking around. Nothing really caught my eye until right before I was about to walk away. There was a flat box about fifteen inches square and it looked intriguing. Something was stacked on top of it which is probably why it was still there. On the cover it showed a round circle with about 25 red balls sitting in small indentions. It was beautiful…I think. It was imported from Italy and made of beautiful, and I am not exaggerating, alabaster. It felt expensive, it looked expensive, and the original price was rather pricey. It was marked $39.99. Nice.

So, I looked around on the box and found the clearance price. It was…get ready…three dollars and ninety-nine cents. “What?” I said. “Can it be?” I said. “Ninety percent off?” I said. I mean I was amazed. I couldn’t wait to show it to Judy. I covered it back up and went to find her. She was already in line, but I pulled her out to show her my prize. When we got to the aisle, I showed it to her. She was impressed and then she popped the question, “What is it?” I told her I wasn’t sure, but I thought it was some sort of game. There were no rules and no indications that’s what it was but hey, it was $3.99. We bought it.

We proudly set it up first on a table and then in our bay window. I checked the internet but couldn’t find any information on the item. I did find the company and they were sellers of fine alabaster but our treasure remained a mystery. Enter the grandkids. Judy made the mistake of showing this treasure to Will, one of our grandsons. She explained it was sorta like checkers (really?) and you would jump the balls like you do in checkers. However, since the “board” was round there were logistical problems. So, they started to “play” and then he popped the question. He asked, “How do you win?” And Judy said, “I don’t know.”

I thought that was great because so often in life we play the game and have no idea how to win. And, truth be known, it affects all kinds of areas in our life. How do you win in your career? How do you win in your marriage? How do you win in choosing your potential mate? How do you win with church? With Jesus? You see, without knowing how to win you are sure to either get bored or get lost. As much as I believe there is joy in the journey, I also know that there has to be goal, a measuring stick, a finish line. Success needs to be measured. If it isn’t you might find yourself stuck in a rut and as someone said, “a rut is a grave with the ends knocked out.” So, what are we to do?

It seems to me that we should approach life with a goal—what do I want to see happen today? Regardless of the arena, try and define what would be a win for that day. And the best part? You can start stringing those days together and before long you have a life of wins. Now when you are defining a win, I believe you should set the definition in line with an authority, and I can think of no better authority than the Word of God. Even if you aren’t a God-follower you will find that the Bible is a Book worth reading, knowing, and following. Go ahead and give it a read. And if you are a God-follower, well, you probably already knew that—we just need to do it.

Paul, one of the writers of a chunk of the New Testament said that we should run with a purpose and not be like a shadow boxer. We shouldn’t run like Forest Gump, aimlessly, but rather like Jesse Owens. We should box like a man in the ring making every punch count. Run with a purpose, fight like it matters…because it does. Anyway, Judy and I are going to keep the game even though we don’t know how to play or win. But tomorrow, I think I’ll wakeup and have a chat with my Dearest Daddy, my Trainer, my Coach and get His opinion on how to win in life. After all, He never loses, and He’s always got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, Scripture, thankful, Trials

Unwanted Legacy

Posted on January 26, 2022January 25, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

Do not be deceived: “Bad company corrupts good morals.”

1 Corinthians 15:33

It was an unwanted legacy. My wife Judy and I have three adult daughters. It is a standing joke in our house that anything that is bad or negative (weight, cholesterol, heart issues, blood pressure, etc) always come from me…the dad. The good stuff invariably is attributed to the mom. Now there can be no doubt that our daughters get their good looks from her, but I think there might be a little prejudice about this other stuff. I am sure it all can’t possibly come from me. Or can it? You see, sometimes I think that I might, accidentally, unintentionally pass on an unwanted legacy. Let me give you an example.

So back in August of last year I went dancing with my worse girlfriend, Corena. In case you don’t know that was my nickname for the COVID virus. Yes, I had been vaccinated but regardless she asked if I wanted to dance and apparently, I said yes. It wasn’t fun. As COVID cases go, might wasn’t too bad but it was enough to make me glad when the dance was over. Fortunately, as far as I know, no one, including my wife, came down with it. After a week or so, it was all over and in the rearview mirror. No harm, no foul just a bump in the road of life.

Well, late this past fall I started feeling crummy again. I checked in with my doctor and friend and he quickly diagnosed me with the flu—let’s nickname that “Flo”. Now this wasn’t the stomach flu…this was the real deal. I’m not sure if it was Type A or Type B but I do know it was the kind that made you want to die. It, like Corena, lasted long enough for me not to want to have it again and I was glad when she waltzed out of the room.

Well, it all started on a Friday evening. I developed a cough and just started crashing. Unfortunately, three of my grandsons were spending the night and not knowing what the deal was…they just cuddled up with “Papa.” As the night went on it was apparent that I had something, but we just didn’t know what. The next day they all loaded up and went home and I went to bed. At the time I didn’t know what I had but I hated that I might have infected them. My diagnosis didn’t arrive until Sunday and the bad news came on Monday.

Yup…my daughter called and two of the three had an unexpected, unwanted legacy. It wasn’t high blood pressure, or cholesterol, or hair loss…it was the flu. Fortunately, there weren’t any complications, but they sure felt lousy for several days. I can remember Judy talking on her phone to our daughter with the speaker on and I could hear one of coughing and it just broke my heart. Unexpected, unintentional, or not…I had infected, impacted them. It was an unexpected, unwanted legacy.

Well, all that thankfully is in the rearview mirror but the whole deal left me with an important lesson. Whether it is a health deal or some other sort of deal, we need to understand and realize that we are all impacting those around us. And, often, it is the ones closest to us…the ones we love the most. Of course, there are plenty of good legacies and for those we can and should be grateful and proud. But there are others…actions and words that scar or habits that hurt…that we need to arrest so we can avoid passing them down and around. Perhaps it would be a good idea to take our “legacy temperature” frequently. Perhaps we should ask and honestly answer the question, “Is there something that might be a story, a memory, a habit that might be an unwanted legacy?” If there is, we should take action to stop it or change it. The good news is- rarely is it too late to stop before there is an unwanted impact or infection.

It’s probably not the best verse for this story but it sure rings true. Paul, the one who wrote a bunch of the New Testament Bible said, “Do not be deceived: “Bad company corrupts good morals.” Usually, bad company is intentional, and unexpected and unwanted legacies are not…but the outcome can be same. So, starting today, ask the hard questions and make sure what you are leaving behind is not only worth sharing but a story that would make others smile. Need a little help? I know just the one…my Dearest Daddy. He is always there, always willing to help. He’s got this too. Bro. Dewayne

forgiveness, friends, Grace, life, loving others, prayer, Scripture, Trials

That Love Your Neighbor Thing

Posted on January 25, 2022January 24, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

You have heard the law that says, ‘Love your neighbor’ and hate your enemy. But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven.” Matthew 5:43-45

“You’re nothing but a little Hitler.” The life of a pastor is always interesting. You really never know what is going to come your way. I’ve been doing this pastor thing for 40 years now and I know two things. First, generally speaking, the sun will come up tomorrow. There is no guarantee, but it has a pretty good track record. Second, you (pastor or not) are going to step in someone’s mess today.

Her name was Karen. Her mother attended our church and she and her two boys would occasionally visit. I decided one day to go by and just let her know that we enjoyed having her visit. I mean it sounded like a good thing, it sounded like the right thing. What could possibly go wrong, right? Well, I pulled into her driveway and went up to the door. I did my gentle, nonthreatening knock and she came to the door. I gave the standard, “Hi Cindy, I just wanted to come by and let you know we are so glad you are visiting with us” spill. It was pleasant…it was sincere.

I don’t remember everything she said that day. It could be “pastoral amnesia.” That is a defense mechanism that pastors must use to guard their hearts when someone decides it is their spiritual gift to break them. It might be PTSS (Pastor Traumatic Stress Syndrome) where the event was so traumatic that you block it out. Anyway…she cut loose and the two things I do remember included something about me running a cult and brain washing people. The last thing I remember was when she said, in all seriousness, “You are nothing but a little Hitler.”

Well, that hurt—a lot. It hurt so much that 30 years later I can still hear her voice, still feel her words, and still wish I had never knocked on that door. Not too long ago I was asked to do her stepfather’s funeral and when I saw her all the hurt came flooding back. The anger was long gone but the scar ran deep. There is an old saying that is a lie. It says, “Sticks and stone may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Really? I wonder who came up with that one. They must have been deaf and blind. Words are an incredibly powerful tool or weapon—depending on the sender.

I am still amazed at the emotional energy that chance encounter had for me that day. But it wasn’t chance…it was somehow prescribed by my Dearest Daddy to help me grow to be more like Jesus. He knew (and He was right) that there would be many more awkward moments in the days ahead and I needed to learn about how to handle them…like Jesus. One morning, I listened to a devotional by one of my favorite writers, Bob Goff. He was talking about loving your enemies…or maybe folks who act like your enemies. He quoted Jesus and here’s what Jesus said, “You have heard the law that says, ‘Love your neighbor’ and hate your enemy. But I say, love your enemies! Pray for those who persecute you! In that way, you will be acting as true children of your Father in heaven.”

Wow…that is way powerful. Bob’s day job is being a lawyer. He told a story about a witch doctor in Uganda that he took to trial. This witch doctor believed in child sacrifice and practiced it. No one before had had the courage to take on these bad guys. Well, Bob did, and he won. Later, he decided to go visit this guy on death row. The former witch doctor, who had become a Christ follower, told Bob that he forgave him. That confused Bob because the other guy was the bad guy. But what is important is the former witch doctor was extending grace because he wanted to be like Jesus…like his Father. How about that?

This two year and running mess has been a breeding ground for more than germs…it has been a breeding ground for division, unkindness, judging, and hurting. I know it and you know. And, unfortunately, God’s kids have not been exempt. This world is watching and seeing and wondering if this God thing is real or a hoax. One way we can show them that Jesus is the real deal is by loving one another. Just because the evening news is filled with hate and bitterness doesn’t mean it should infect our Jesus world. Remember He said that the world would know we are Christians by our love…not our dogmatism.

I put something on the church sign a while back. It said, Jesus First. Before. Everything. Else. Period. I believe that. He is more important than COVID, masks, politics, and everything else. He is first and when we allow Him to be first…we all do better. Our world does better. Our marriages do better. Our churches do better.

Our challenge, as we continue this journey called life, if you are a Jesus follower, is to make sure you are following closely. Mimic His every Word and every step. And if you are not yet a follower, I hope you soon will be. I know sometimes we Jesus followers don’t get it right—but trust me He never gets it wrong. You can rest in Him. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful

Daddy’s Babies

Posted on January 24, 2022January 23, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

Dear friends, if God loved us in this way, we also must love one another.” 1 John 4:11

Daddy had eight children and a whole lot of babies. I was always amazed that Daddy and Momma had eight children. I’m not sure they ever figured out what was going on, but I sure am glad it took them as long as it did! If they had stopped a little sooner, well, I wouldn’t have made the cut. In the Taylor tribe we all know they were striving for perfection, and it just took a while—you know the whole saving the best for last thing. Honestly, and not kidding, maybe too they knew that the things that really matter in life can’t be found in a store. Maybe they realized that family, and lots of it, was better than fancy houses and nice cars.

Well, like I said, my Daddy had lots of other babies besides the ones he and Momma gave names too. You see, my Daddy loved flowers. He loved his amaryllises, and he loved his bromeliads. The first he would carefully cultivate and sometimes even guard. I remember he had a beautiful all white one that someone actually dug up and stole from our yard. He was not happy. The bromeliads were placed under the large oak trees we had and needed just a little care…until the weather changed. Since it was north Florida, it didn’t happen often but sometimes the temperature would drop near freezing and when it did, the call always rang out, “Dewayne, you need to bring in the bromeliads”. That meant carrying each pot into the breezeway or garage to protect them from the cold. They were scratchy and heavy but all that didn’t matter. He had to protect the babies.

His most favorite babies also needed the most care. They lived in the backyard in a large diamond shaped garden. It was his prized rose garden. I can’t remember exactly how many lived there but it was probably a couple dozen or more. These did have names and three that stick out in my memory are Mr. Lincoln, Peace, and Tropicana. I do remember that across the backyard these needy, sticky, bushes rewarded him and us with beautiful blooms throughout the growing season. But…they were needy.

Daddy would come home from work about four, have a cup of coffee with Momma in the backyard under the tree and then see what the babies needed. Sometimes, often actually, there was pruning to do. I know regular flowering bushes get “deadheaded” but that was much too common for Daddy’s babies…they were always pruned. They also frequently needed to be sprayed with an insecticide. It seemed bugs liked his roses as much as he did. Then, about once a month they needed to be fertilized. He would go from bush to bush, adding a small cup of granular fertilizer and then work it into the soil and pine straw that nestled at the base of every bush.

All that was pretty much left to the expert eye and care of my Daddy but there was one thing that often fell to me. I would come home from school and soon Momma would say, “Dewayne, Daddy wants you to water the rosebushes before he gets home.” Now I need to be honest and say that is not something I wanted to hear or do. The water hose needed to be placed at the base of each bush and the water slowly, and I do mean slowly, allowed to seep into the dirt. It easily took an hour and a half to complete the task and whining or not…I did it. One, Daddy said to do it and that was probably the biggest motivation but there was another. I was helping take care of something he loved and that was important too.

Well, eventually, I grew up and moved away, Daddy went to be with Jesus, Momma sold the house, and a lot of the babies were left behind. I’m sure some were taken and moved but others were just gone…all but the memories of a man who loved his babies and loved his kids. Looking back, I appreciate now those hours moving the hose from bush to bush. Looking back, I realize it wasn’t about watering bushes…it was about honoring him and pleasing him. It was about loving what he loved.

Did you know that is a lot of what serving God is all about? You see, God loves this old, broken world…always has and I always will. He loves each of His “babies” and longs for them to come into relationship with Him by faith in His Son, Jesus. He has even asked us to “water the garden” by sharing that good news with those around us who don’t know Him yet. I know it can sometimes be scary or maybe inconvenient. It might even be we figure some of them just aren’t worthy of His love and forgiveness. Well, the truth is that would be all of us because we are all broken and messed up but that never stopped God from caring and loving us. And because He loved us…we should love others.

In His Book, John wrote and said, “Dear friends, if God loved us in this way, we also must love one another.” So today, why not look for a way to “water” someone’s life with a little love, a little grace and a little kindness. That would make Him smile. And He is just waiting to help you. Daddy showed me how to water his babies and our Dearest Daddy will do the same. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Family, friends, gratitude, life, priorities, Southern born, thankful

Toys-R-Me

Posted on January 21, 2022January 20, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.” Philippians 4:11

You just had to look around. When I was growing up, somewhere and sometime between January and December, toys from my birthday and Christmas, slowly disappeared. I know some kids take extremely good care of the toys. I had a friend once who took me down in his parent’s basement and there on the shelves were toys from when he was a small boy…all in perfect condition. They looked new though they were fifty years old. Well, my toys just didn’t fair that well. I don’t think I was overly harsh with them, but I was adventurous, and I did enjoy taking things apart.

Then the question becomes, “What do you do when the toys from the store are scarcer than hen’s teeth? The answer is, “you get creative.” I am thinking how many times I wandered over to one of the building sites across the street from my house and “borrowed” a couple of the surveyor sticks they had put out. The shorter wedge cut ones made great rubber band guns and the thinner, taller ones made awesome “dirt clod” launchers. The technique was simple…you simply stuck the end of the stick in the dirt and gave it a swift kick. Instantly, a dirt clod was on its way to either a target or the kid down the street. Boy, was that fun though looking back I’m sure the surveyor guys didn’t appreciate their sticks disappearing.

Sometimes, a new toy was just laying around. It was the age of hula hoops and they made great “ant bombers.” All you had to do was check and make sure your sister wasn’t watching, find a way to cut the hula hoop in half, get some matches and you were all set. Then you would light the one end of the hula hoop which would begin to burn and melt. As the plastic melted, it dripped to the ground sizzling and burning…the perfect red ant bomber. I must confess a lot of good ants lost their lives that way but don’t worry. You see sometimes they got me with their stingers before I got them with my firebombs. Boy, that fun too.

Then, of course, you could make your very own train. There was always a length of chain laying around the yard and there was always plenty of good, ole Florida sand. All you had to do was drag that chain behind you and as you did the sand got pushed aside and the chain left a track in the sand. Round and round and up and down we would go leaving tracks everywhere. I can’t tell you how many times and how many hours we played making “train tracks.”

If all else failed, you could sneak into “Daddy’s tool shed.” It was attached to the house and honestly it was more of a junk shed than a tool shed but there was cool stuff laying around everywhere. I remember Daddy had a bunch of one-pound cans of either freon or something like that. It attached to a contraption that had a trigger. It was made to spray liquids from a small glass container that was attached. I discovered if you mashed that trigger the freon coming out would instantly make frost—freezing whatever it landed on. It was amazing. So, I found out that if you got tired of “fire-bombing” the ants, you could freeze them. Now, don’t call the animal rights people…it was just part of growing up.

I could keep going but you can probably get the idea that there was plenty to do around the old homestead…and it really was…fun. Back in those days television, especially during the day or early afternoon, consisted of soap operas or game shows…neither of which was exciting for a young boy. So, I could learn to like them…not…or get creative. I could have sat around and complained because I didn’t have what other kids had…or get creative. Well, I chose to get creative…and I am glad I did. Some of my best memories were out in the backyard just figuring out how to have a little fun.

So, how about you? Do you find yourself discontented and bored with life? Do you find yourself bemoaning what others have and what you don’t? Can I suggest that you look “in your backyard” and see what might be there? It might be an evening drive with the family. It might be sitting under the tree having some tea or coffee just sittin’ and listenin’. It might be playing with the kids or waving at the cars going by. Whatever, you might just find some unexpected pleasure…you might find a little peace…you might find a little contentment. My friend Paul from the New Testament said he had learned to be content wherever and whatever he was doing. I think that is something all of us need to learn. Need a little help? I know I do. That’s when my Dearest Daddy often shows up just to let me know that He loves me and that no matter what, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Family, fear, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful, travel, Trials

Life From Ashes

Posted on January 20, 2022January 19, 2022 by Dewayne Taylor

The Lord Himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.” Exodus 14:14

It was a night that will not be forgotten. For many years, my family has visited the Pigeon Forge, Tennessee area for vacation. It has not been every year – but occasionally. We love the trails and the mountains and, of course, all the places to eat. In some ways it is like a county fair because fair food and rides are everywhere. Several years ago, we began joining my daughter and son-in-law with the grandkids in the fall…usually in November. In a word, it is fun.

In 2016 something happened that changed that area forever. A fire started by human hands near Chimney Tops on November 28th of that year and quickly spread through the dry, tinder forests. The results were catastrophic and have been cited as the worst natural disaster in Tennessee history. Before it was all said and done, 14 people lost their lives, 2,460 buildings were destroyed, and 17,900 acres were burned. We watched on the news as it happened but also saw from a distance some of the devastation years later when we visited. There was safety in that, on television and from a distance, but what happens when the tragedy gets more personal?

A couple of years later we once again returned to the Gatlinburg area. Rebecca, my daughter, always makes the reservation, and she did again this time. As we were driving to the cabin, we passed through an area that had obviously been damaged by the wildfire. Judy made the comment that according to the GPS we were not too far from our cabin. We could look up on the ridge and see many cabins far above the valley floor. What we did not see was a lot of trees. Apparently, the fire had destroyed them.

As we made our turn on the road that would lead to our cabin, it soon became apparent that we would see the power of the fire from that night up close. The higher we climbed, the more we saw. There were trees scarred by the flames and only the foundations remaining where cabins worth hundreds of thousands of dollars had once stood. Some cabins had been rebuilt, some were being rebuilt, and some, well, stood as silent witnesses of destruction. It was harsh, it was sad, it was awakening. Suddenly the memories of what I saw on the news four years ago came to life like the dry bones Jeremiah saw in the Bible.

After an almost two-mile trip up the mountain, we came to our cabin. There it stood, looking strangely new in one of Gatlinburg’s esteemed older rental areas. It was indeed new because it, like almost every house in the area, had been destroyed by the fire that night. In front of the house was a twenty-foot section of tree that, while not alive, still sends a message. Carved into the massive trunk were the words “Smoky Strong.” I’m sure the tree was alive and well the night the fire swept the mountain, but even today it sends a message…we are not done.

All around the area were signs of destruction…of what used to be. But wait…don’t miss this. Also, all around the area were signs of new life, of renewal, of rebirth. New trees are replacing those lost, new homes are replacing the damaged, and many foundations will one day bear a new building. The pain and suffering of that night is being replaced by the hope of the future. I think we all can learn a lesson from Gatlinburg. Over the last couple of years, a fire of sorts has swept thru our nation. It bore several names, names like COVID, disunity, racism, and its flames were the flames of fear and hatred. The question is what will we do with this hot mess? That is a question we have been asking now for too many months.

I’m sure many have concluded that life will never be the same, and that is probably true. But why do we have to assume that this also means it won’t be better? Why do we have to assume that our best days are behind us? I know this. God is still God, and the last time I checked, He has not given up control to His enemy the Devil, or fear, or COVID. Moses, speaking for God, said, “The Lord Himself will fight for you. Just stay calm.” You see, He still reigns, and as long as that is true then the best is yet to come. The.Best.Is.Yet.To.Come.

I’m sure the house that once stood there was beautiful in its own rights. I never saw it, but I sat in its successor, and it was beautiful. I stood on the deck and had a clear view of the mountains and the valley below—a view that may have been obscured by the trees of the old normalcy. Perhaps the ability to see clearer is a gift. Perhaps the ability to trust God deeper is a gift from our Heavenly Father. No, as I have said before, COVID and all its side effects are not good, but God can and will bring good from it. For some of us, that means a deeper trust in Him. For some, it means a clearer view of what really matters in life. For some, it will be the realization that it is good to have a Dearest Daddy we can rest in—knowing He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne