Category: school days

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, Grace, school days, Scripture, Trials

Crash, Grind, Bummer!

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.” Romans 8:38 (NLT)

It happened just like that.  I was new to the game…too new to the game.  I had had my driver’s license just a few weeks or at best a couple of months.  I can honestly say I wasn’t one of those cocky kid drivers, in fact I was probably scared to death. I had a job at a Food Fair a fair distance from where we lived at 6008 Carlton Road, and someone had to take me to work. Then my Daddy did it. He trusted me. One day he said that I could take the car and drive myself to work. They weren’t going anywhere, and it would save them from going and coming and coming and going.  I couldn’t believe it.

I remember the first time I carefully backed out of the driveway heading toward Ricker Road.  That day, and for several other days, things went well.  Again, I was careful, I didn’t break the rules and I wasn’t a speeder. Of course, our 1961 Plymouth station wagon wasn’t exactly a race car anyway.  There and back, I went and all was well…until it wasn’t. One day, like several other days, I was going to drive to work.  Daddy car-pooled and wasn’t home yet.  I backed out of the driveway like every time before and headed for Ricker Road just like every time before…but it wasn’t like every time before.

Apparently, I had opened the back door on the driver’s seat to put something in the backseat and didn’t close the door all the way. As I pressed the gas pedal, the rear door swung open and that is when Mr. Inexperience took over. I heard the road noise, look over my shoulder and saw that the door was open. Well, instead of stopping and closing the door I tried to turn and reach over my shoulder to close the door.  When I turned and reached, I accidentally turned the wheel and, gulp, I ran right into—or actually over—one of our neighbors’ mailboxes. Crunch, grind, bummer.

I hit the brakes and sat there in total shock.  The mailbox was one of those that kinda sat on a little arm and that little arm had hit my windshield and cracked it.  It seems the mirror took a direct hit too. I was so afraid and I didn’t know what to do…so I ran.  Yup, I was a hit and run driver but I didn’t drive away…I ran away leaving the car running, my driver’s door open and the mailbox lying dead on the side of the road.

Since I hadn’t made it very far, our house was just a few dozen yards down the road, and I ran all the way. I ran into the kitchen and right into my Momma’s arms. She wanted to know what had happened and the best I could I explained it and then she asked where the car was and the best I could I explained that too. We went back to the car and brought it home and I’m sure Momma and I made a trip to the neighbor’s front door to explain what happened.

Let me tell you what didn’t happen.  Though I was certain it had—the world didn’t come to an end.  After a short while, Daddy came home, and I told him what had happened.  He wasn’t happy but he didn’t disown me…after all I was his son…before and after the accident.  I don’t believe there was any punishment either but I am sure there was some instruction about how to close a door when the car is moving. “Stop. Close door.”  I also imagine there was some instruction about not leaving the scene of an accident.  And the neighbor…I simply don’t remember but I guess he didn’t press charges. Smile.

I’m sure my little accident cost my Daddy and Momma more than they could afford…even without repairing the mailbox.  I am sure it was money that could have been better used paying an electric bill or buying groceries for our “not too small” family.  But my best memory of all was the fact that Daddy and Momma loved me regardless and anyway.  Oh, I guess you could say it was because I was the baby of the family and their favorite (smile) but the truth is love ruled the day that day.

Looking back I realize that was one of those times when my Daddy reminded me of my Dearest Daddy…my Heavenly Daddy. My Daddy could have extended wrath but He extended grace and love—just like my Dearest Daddy…my Heavenly Daddy. I think I learned that day that my Daddy wasn’t someone to run from but to run to—just like my Dearest Daddy…my Heavenly Daddy. Paul, the one in the Bible, said that nothing can ever separate us from the One who loves us most.  How about that?  We have a Dearest Daddy…a Heavenly Daddy that is always there and always willing to whisper, “I’ve got that.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in food, life, school days, Scripture, travel

Steak and Shake

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.” Romans 8:28

We met when I was just a kid. A long time ago and in a galaxy far, far away (think Star Wars) one of my favorite things to do in the summer was to go and visit my sister and brother-in-law in Daytona Beach.  I lived in Jacksonville and they were kind enough to invite me to spend a week with them.  Trust me…it was like a different world.  Our West Jacksonville neighborhood was half town and half country and the most exciting thing that ever happened was if and when there was a fire call, and we would chase the firetruck.  I’ll write more on that one day.

Now compare that with Daytona Beach.  Can someone say, “Night and day?”  Daytona Beach was a happening place and there was always something to do.  We would drive over to the beach, cruise the strip, and go out to eat.  One of my favorite places to go was Steak and Shake.  Back in the early and mid 60’s, it was not a new establishment, but it was still up and coming.  They were famous for their steak burgers, skinny fries, and milkshakes.  For a ten year old from the westside of Jacksonville, it was heaven.

Steak and Shake was different than most fast-food places.  There, you could actually go inside, be seated and be served, and through the years that is how it has remained.  When I grew up, it was only natural that Steak and Shake was one of my “go to” places to eat.  Oh, it wasn’t an every week event, but we did go about once a month.  The routine was always the same.  Park, go inside and be seated, order, eat, and leave.

Now at almost every location, when you walk in, there is not a hostess to seat you and no counter to order at.  Instead, there are several kiosks (computer touch-screens) and from there you can order your food.  Then…you just sit down…wherever you want.  Feel free to go up and get your drinks from the drink station and finally someone would bellow out your order number and you would walk up and get your food.  Boom—just like that burgers and fries were flying into hungry mouths washed down by delicious milkshakes.  It was new, it was different and I loved it.

I am sure the shortage of workers was at least partially responsible for their new system, but it also shows that not all the changes are going to be bad. Someone from ancient times (I’m not talking about 1950!) said the only thing constant is change and they were right.  Some of the changes are not good.  In fact, some of the cultural changes might be considered dangerous.  But we need to work to accept the good and temper the others.  It gives us a great opportunity to be the salt and light that Jesus talked to us about.  People all around us have lots of questions which should lead to lots of opportunities to talk about faith…and Jesus.

Romans 8:28 remains one of the most popular verses in the Bibles.  It says that for those who love God, He can bring good out of every situation.  We sure like to quote that, but I wonder if we are willing to trust it?  Hey, I’ve been writing three small words since the beginning of Grits—“He’s got this.”  So, as things morph around us, let’s be courageous enough to address the dangerous, but flexible enough to embrace the other.  It might not be easy but if He is in control and we trust Him…it’s gonna be fine.  And, can I say it one more time?  He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in gratitude, life, school days, Scripture, spring, thankful

Treasure or Trash

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “You must not covet your neighbor’s house. You must not covet your neighbor’s wife, male or female servant, ox or donkey, or anything else that belongs to your neighbor.” Exodus 20:17

I hardly could believe my eyes.  It was a bright, warm morning and I was on my way to school.  This particular day I decided to walk and since it wasn’t that far it wasn’t a big deal.  Our house had been enveloped by one of those new fangled suburban sub-divisions consisting of dozens and dozens of near alike houses.  The shortest way to school was to cut between two of those houses so…I did.

On the other side of my cut-through was a cul-de-sac—a street that ended in a circle—one way in and one way out.  As I emerged from my path and stepped onto the pavement—I saw it.  There, clearly in someone’s trash, was a blue ten-speed bicycle. It was about twenty yards from where I was and from there—it looked brand new.  My bike wasn’t that old but it only had three speeds and what was that compared to ten? I decided to do a “fly by” before I left the scene so I turned left and strutted over.  I didn’t touch it, I didn’t pick it up, I just took a quick look and determined one thing right then. If by some miracle this treasure was still there on my way home from school it was going home with me.

All the way to school I could think of nothing but that blue bike and the more I thought about it—the bigger and better it got.  My day dreams only continued to grow as I spent my day at school. I was dreaming about how great it would be to have a new ten-speed bike. I just couldn’t wait to clean it up, check the tires, and take off.  Well, as soon as school was over, I started trekking home and toward that blue bike. So, soon I was back in the neighborhood, back on that street and heading toward the cul-de-sac. As I neared the place where the bike was,  I looked, and it was gone.  No, just kidding, it was still there.

I immediately went over, picked up the bike and started toward home.  As I walked, I began to look and it was about then that reality set in.  You see, the fact was that the bike was not nearly new.  There were parts missing and parts broken.  The tires were flat, cables that were supposed to shift those ten speeds were either missing or a mess.  The bottom line was this.  It became quickly apparent that there was a reason why the blue bike was in the trash.  The reason?  It was trash.

You might be wondering how I was able to see one thing when the reality was totally different. You might be wondering how I could see treasure when in fact it was trash.  Well, the answer is really quite simple.  We all see what we want to see.  When I saw the blue ten-speed bike, my discontentment with what I had quickly grew.  What I had seemed to be so much less than what I saw—or thought I saw.  Only when I got what I thought I wanted did I realize it was so much less. So.Much.Less.

This is a big truth. Often what we don’t have, what we can’t have, what we shouldn’t have just naturally looks bigger and better than what we have. Sadly, we don’t realize it till we have thrown away the better for the bad.  It is true in careers, it is true in friendships, it is true in marriages and it is true in a hundred other situations. Stop and think how much regret and remorse we have to own because we chased something that we thought was better than what was in our hands.

Our world can easily become one of mirages and not reality so be careful what you chase.  Remember the grass is not always greener on the other side of the fence. It probably just appears that way because that is what we want to see—and believe. One of God’s big ten makes it clear—we shouldn’t covet.  Put another way—we should be satisfied with what we have. So if you are walking down the road and see a blue bike in the trash, you might want to think it though carefully before you take it home. A second look, a pause, might save you a ton of regret. Need a second opinion, I know just where to go…my Dearest Daddy. He will know just what to do…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in friends, Grace, life, loving others, school days, Southern born

Me and Fred

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “For you were called to this, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in His steps.” 2 Peter 2:21

The same kind of different as me. It was 1965…I was about eleven and he was probably 18.  I’m not sure how we bumped into one another.  As I remember it, I was out in the field that was part of our property and he rolled up in his golf cart.  Well, hey, that was an ice breaker if there ever was one. He gave me a big smile, a friendly wave and said, “Hi.”  I could tell from that first hello that Fred had a speech issue and later it became apparent that he was one of God’s special creations…someone the world would call broken but God would call absolutely perfect.

Despite the age difference and his perfection and my lack of it, we seemed to hit it off. Almost immediately we were off on the first of many rides in his golf cart.  He loved it and I loved it and even though it wasn’t meant for off the road…that is exactly where we went. I assume his family bought him the golf cart to help him get around the neighborhood. I believe he lived in a subdivision, a gathering of the nicest homes in the neighborhood, at the end of the road I lived on. I don’t know if he was living there or visiting there but for the time I knew him…we were buds.

There are a lot of things that I have forgotten about that summer and early fall but there is one thing I remember—Fred loved baseball.  I’m pretty sure the team didn’t matter as long as it was baseball. He would carry around a portable transistor (that’s a throwback for my older readers) and we would listen to the games together.  It was September and time for the World Series, and we would sit in his golf cart like it was a front row seat right there in the stadium. Even now that memory makes me smile. In our simple world…all was well.

I think I began to learn something that summer and that lesson was about us—all of us.  In the world today we seem to search for things that cause us to focus on what divides us…what makes us different instead of what can draw us together.  I know it made no sense for Fred and I to be friends but his ultra-cool golf cart and his kind and outgoing personality overcame whatever differences there were.  He was the same kind of different as me.  That sentence is the title of a book and movie about two men who came from totally, and I mean totally, different backgrounds and yet managed to forge a friendship that would last for the rest of their lives.

You see, the truth is we can overcome our differences.  Our decision to allow skin color, language, social and economic differences, religion, or politics to divide us is a choice not a destiny.  This is especially true for Jesus’ people.  As followers we are choosing to align ourselves with Him and love others…regardless.  Really.  It is true.  It is in the Book…all over the Book and when decide to let the Book, and the Jesus of the Book, call the shots…well it is a game changer.

I’m thankful for that summer of 1965. If you know anything about that decade you know it was more than turbulent.  People were wondering if we as a nation would survive.  Well, by the grace of God, we did.  And guess what?  We can survive this mess today but if we do it will also be by the grace of God and Jesus people who decide to act like Jesus. Peter, the guy in the Bible who fell flat on his face and denied Jesus said, “For you were called to this, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in His steps.”  In other words,…we are called to be like Him.  No matter how difficult that might sound to you, don’t forget that today and always—He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne 

Posted in food, friends, gratitude, Integrity, pride, school days, Southern born, thankful

Get a Job!

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.” Genesis 2:15

It was time to go to work. It may sound out of date…and maybe it is but I was counting the days till I turned 15.  Not because I was eligible for a learner’s permit, not because I was on the edge of moving on to high school but because, wait for it, I could get a work permit.  You see in Florida when you turned 15 you could get your social security number and get a work permit and…work.  I was ready and I had an in.

Sue Lovell was a neighbor who lived catty-corner from us at 6008 Carlton Road.  She lived in one of the nicer homes in the sub-division that had surrounded us, and we lived in our “used to be” army barracks.  I can remember Sue well.  She was a little different but at the same time very kind.  Well, she worked at this small restaurant called the Village Oven and she offered to try and get me a job if I wanted.  Well, I wanted and next thing I knew I was hired.

My job was not working on a computer or running a business and making life changing decisions. No, I started by serving people…sorta. Looking back it probably was a little challenging especially for someone just getting their feet wet in the working world.  First, I was the busboy which meant it was my responsibility to clear all the tables. As soon as someone left, I rushed out and cleaned the table.  Second, I was the dishwasher which meant I scraped the plates and then loaded and ran the commercial dishwasher that was tucked out front under the counter.  Of course, I also unloaded the dishwasher and made sure there was a constant supply of plates, bowls, glasses, and silverware.  But wait there is more.

I was also head of the cleaning crew—which consisted of—me. After our customers left, I was to mop the restaurant floor and clean the bathrooms. Looking back it seems that besides the cooking and waiting, I had my hands in just about everything.  There was always plenty to do…time passed quickly and it taught me responsibility. I was beginning to get the feel of helping and serving others. The best part of the job, of course, was getting paid.  My hours varied from a few to a lot and I made a whopping, jaw dropping seventy-five cents an hour. Since this was about 1969, I suppose that was a fair wage and that seventy-five cents went a long way.

I can remember my largest paycheck was around $23.  It must have been during the summer, and I worked somewhere over 30 hours.  I always felt a little rich when I got my check, but that week—I felt more than pretty rich—I felt like Mr. Rockefeller. There is a certain pride in a job done well and getting paid “certificates of appreciation” as Rabbi Daniel Lapin calls them.  Most of us call them dollars and they did make me feel appreciated.  I can’t remember exactly how long I worked at the Village Oven but I worked long enough to appreciate the value of bringing home a paycheck.  I worked long enough to spread my wings a little and fly the friendly skies of growing up.

I’m grateful to Sue Lovell for helping me get the job and I am grateful that my Momma and Daddy drove me the six or seven miles to work and picked me up…sometimes late at night.  I know now that often it is the small things that people do that should and do get stuck in our memories.  It is also the small things that can make a big difference later on.  My first job taught me about serving others, commitment, responsibilities, respect for my bosses, and teamwork at an early age. I can’t measure the entire value of that work experience, but I know I sure learned a lot about how the adult working world operated. 

God gave us work even before sin came along.  He knew the value of a man, woman or young adult getting their hands dirty.  He knew the value of working and making a difference and while it may seem hard at the time, the benefits can last a lifetime.  Genesis, the first book in the Bible, says, “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.” The God who made us knows what is best for us.  I’ve heard it said that we should bloom where we are planted, and I think that means caring for the garden around us too.  If you find yourself a little overwhelmed with this work thing or any other thing, just ask God and He will lend a hand…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, forgiveness, friends, gratitude, life, marriage, priorities, school days

Happily Ever After

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in Your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” Psalm139:16

Cinderella and happily ever after.  Most of us grew up knowing at least something of fairy tales. Mr. Disney was just getting started and there were few animated films but slowly things changed.  Over the years, what was once only printed on the pages of a book became alive on the screen before our eyes…and it was amazing.  For years there were the classics, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Pinocchio, and Peter Pan to name just a few.  And the list has grown and grown.  When we watch them, we often want to be them. As the story plays out and ends with the dramatic “happily ever after” we sigh and long…if only.

Each fairy tale, every animated story begins with a “once upon a time…” It sets the stage for the story and then slowly, and almost invariably, the plot develops and oh so often there are plenty of bumps and bruises along the way.  There is usually a bad guy or guyette and they slosh their mess all over the screen, hurting and wounding.  And then, right when it seems that they are going to win…things turn around.  Good overcomes evil, the weak become strong and the impossible becomes…possible. Just about then the “happily ever after” music begins and we smile at the end, we savor the redemption, and we leave feeling good but knowing that story could never be our story.  Or can it?

You see, all our lives begin with a “once upon time…” All of us have a beginning—even me.  On that day a grand story began to be written.  A little boy with dreams about a big future. A teenager trying to figure out what life was all about.  A husband and later a father trying to figure that out—still trying to figure that out.  Twelve years in the service of his country and forty-two years in the service of his King. Mountains and valleys, wins and losses, victories, and defeats—fighting monsters and dragons and loving his fair maiden and their princesses. Whew…what a journey.

And honestly, there were times when I would ponder how all this would play out.  Having watched a whole lot of “redemption” movies where the end is always exactly how we would want it, I wondered, “What about this story?”  Perhaps you have done the same.  Perhaps you have wondered how your story will end.  Perhaps you have longed for a different story…a different prince or princess, a different role, something, anything different.  Well, I have some good news for you.  The Playwright for your story never makes a mistake and never gets it wrong.  He has been writing stories since before the beginning of time.  In fact, the Bible says that He wrote every scene of your life before there was a “once upon a time.”  In Psalm 139:16 it says, “You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in Your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” Wow…how about that?

But wait…it might just get better.  So, every story, including yours, can be like every fairy tale.  A beginning, a story filled with up and downs, bumps and bruises, toads, and princes.  But here’s the best part—every story can have a “happily ever after.”  No, really.  You see the same book and the same God who promises that every day, every scene in your story has been written and planned promises a “happily ever after.”  Oh, it is not always here, though sometimes it is.  It is in eternity.  When we are willing to put our faith and trust in the Prince of Peace and the King of Kings we have the promise of an eternity that is beyond our wildest dreams.  Believe what He did and choose to follow Him and heaven is the end of the story.

It is nice when the story, our story, plays out like we want and wish. It would be nice if every detail was just as we would have written it. Perhaps, but maybe not, because the One who writes the story, our story, is far wiser than us.  We probably won’t be able to understand or see that entirely till the end but, well, that is what faith is all about.  So, trust Him for the grand finale. It is going to be a wiz-bang finish.  And until then…enjoy the show…savoring the good scenes and trusting in the hard ones.  He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in birthday, Family, gratitude, life, loving others, school days, Scripture

Snippet

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “But Jesus said, “Let the children come to Me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children.” Matthew 19:14

So, there’s this memory I have, tucked away in the back of my mind, a little snippet from way back. I’ve probably shared it a million times by now, but hey, it’s one of those moments that really stuck with me. It’s about how my parents went all out to make holidays and birthdays special, even though they didn’t have much. Christmas was the big one, of course, but they tried to make every birthday memorable too, even if it meant sacrificing something else. And this particular birthday? Well, it stands out for one really amazing reason.

It was probably around 1959. I was about five years old, living in a world so different from today that it feels like we were on another planet. My birthday was just a few days after Christmas, and while I’m sure there was cake and family, the thing that stands out the most is the gift I got. I have no idea how parents choose presents for a five-year-old, but my Momma and Daddy totally nailed it that year.

Now, there were no big chain stores like Walmart back then. I imagine my parents went to the local Western Auto store — you know, that old-school place that was part appliance store, part general store, and part toy shop. And somehow, they found the perfect gift for me: an ice cream truck. Well, not really a truck, and not one that actually held ice cream, but it was still something special.

It was like a tricycle, but with a big metal box on the back plastered with decals declaring it to be an ice cream truck. It had streamers on the handlebars, a fender on the front wheel, and of course, a bell. I can clearly remember pedaling down the street in front of our house, pretending to sell ice cream, with no cars around to worry about.

One day, I remember riding down the road to where a guy was building a little house all by himself. I stopped, asked him if he wanted some ice cream, and he actually played along! We ended up chatting a lot, and every day after that, I’d ride down to see him. I don’t remember his name, but I’ll never forget how kind he was to a little kid with an imaginary ice cream truck. That kind of kindness sticks with you, even years later.

It makes me think of this quote my wife has hanging up at home from Maya Angelou: “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” That’s exactly what this man did — he made me feel like I mattered, even though I was just a kid. I don’t even remember his name, but I’ll never forget how he treated me.

It makes me wonder: when was the last time we took a moment to show kindness to someone, especially when they least expect it? Back then, kids were supposed to be seen, not heard, so when this man went out of his way to talk to me, to stop what he was doing, it was something special. He stepped out of the adult world and made me feel important.

And it makes me think about Jesus too. He was always the one who noticed the invisible people, the ones others overlooked. He was the one who said, “Let the little children come to Me.” I bet if Jesus was there that day, He would’ve said, “Let Dewayne come to Me.” And the thing is, no matter how small or insignificant you might feel sometimes, to Jesus, you’re never invisible. You matter. You matter so much to Him.

So, if life feels overwhelming or like it’s just not going your way, just remember: you’ve got a friend in Jesus. He’s got your back, always. And maybe, just maybe, we should all try to be a little more like Him and spread some kindness along the way. Need a little help? Here’s good news…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in fear, life, prayer, school days, Scripture, Trials

Cross Country

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “Don’t you know that the runners in a stadium all race, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way to win the prize.” 1 Corinthians 9:24

 They called it a physical fitness test.  I called it Hades.  It happened every nine weeks. That was the length of the grading period at the high school I attended.  Every male who attended Nathan Bedford Forest High School and was breathing was required to take a physical fitness test at the end of the grading period.  It involved several things…pushups, pull-ups, and my personal favorite, throwing up.  What was ironic about this was for all the time before the test we didn’t train for it. We might play softball or volleyball or some other team sport, but we didn’t train for “the test.”  We also played something called battle ball where we gathered in the gym and played a sadistic form of dodge ball. There was a guy named Johnny who had abnormally long arms and could hurl the ball at incredible speeds.  The last thing on earth you wanted was to be the last victim on one side and Johnny on the other.  It wasn’t pretty.

Anyway, we were not prepared but that didn’t matter.  We had to take “the test.”  The worst part of this Gladiator style arena of horror was the cross-country run.  Let me see if I can set the stage.  Imagine you are in North Florida, and it is late May.  The temperatures regularly climb into the lower and upper nineties. The humidity is at ninety percent or higher.  Remember they call Florida the Sunshine State and that is for a reason…the sun is beating down unmercifully.  And, by luck of the draw, you have physical education (PE) class right after lunch. The day before, the coach announces that we would be running “cross country” tomorrow.  It was too late to train…it was too late for anything but a few prayers.

In an attempt not to throw-up, you eat a light lunch and then report to P.E.  You pray to stumble and break your leg on the way to class, but that prayer goes unanswered.  You change clothes and anxiously report outside.  They call the roll and then give the command to report to the starting line.  What lies ahead is two and a half miles of running in the heat of a hot day complete with “air you can wear.”  Like “sheep led to the slaughter” you line up waiting for the whistle.  Soon, too soon, it blows and off you go.

Now you really need to understand that cross country for those who have trained for it is a challenging, but somewhat enjoyable sport.  I’ve even heard reports of a runner’s high.  I never experienced that, but I did experience a runner’s low.  It happened about a hundred yards into the course when I realized that I was going to die—or wish I could.  I can still remember the course to this day.  It was two and a half times around the perimeter of the school property.  If you ever wonder what eternity is like talk to me…I ran it.  Actually, to say I ran might be a stretch. I sorta ran it.  Not soon enough and it was over. As you cross the finish line you hear people saying, “Don’t run toward the light…don’t run toward the light.” After about 15 minutes your heart rates goes below 600 and you can breathe again.  I hated that test.  A lot.

I never really understood the point of asking someone to do something and not preparing them for it.  We ran that distance and more in basic training in the Air Force, but we slowly prepared for it.  Again, it was challenging but doable because of the training. I think this is not just a lesson about running, but about life.  I’ve heard that life is a race and unless you are incredibly unfortunate, it is not a sprint but rather a marathon.  If you are going to succeed in life then you need to prepare, you must train and pace yourself.  Fail in that and you might well fail in everything you attempt.

Paul, a man from the Bible, wrote a letter to a bunch of Jesus followers in Corinth.  They had their own set of games and there were prizes to be won.  It was an open deal so anyone could sign up but if you were wise, you trained first and you ran with commitment.  In that letter to the church at Corinth he says, “Don’t you know that the runners in a stadium all race, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way to win the prize.” In other words,…train like you wanna win and run like you wanna win and do you know what?  You just might do it.  Regardless, you can finish the race knowing you gave it your very, best shot.

I went through three years of high school and had four nine-week periods per year.  If my math is right that equates to sixteen times that I had to line up to get ready to throw-up.  Guess how many times I trained?  That would be zero.  Sixteen times I knew it was coming and sixteen times I thought the next time would be different.  Hey, plant corn and you’re gonna get corn.  Every.Single.Time.  So why not start today to run for the gold—to live like no one else?  Why not start today to make the best of everyday and when race day comes…you’ll be ready.  There’s a great Coach who will help you train and run.  His name is Jesus, and He is on your side.  He’ll even run beside you…all the way, shouting words of encouragement.  Listen as He shouts, “You’ve got this, Dewayne.” “How?” I ask?  “Because I’ve got it for you,” He responds.  I like that.  Bro. Dewayne 

Posted in Christmas, communication, Family, forgiveness, loving others, school days, Scripture

Gifts and Lizards

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

“Love keeps no record of wrongs.” 1 Corinthians 13:5b

 It was a lizard but when you’re eight—it’s a dinosaur.  Growing up in North Florida, which is a somewhat, semi-tropical area, there were always all kinds of insects and reptiles to watch or capture.  One of these was a small lizard…a sort of dinosaur in miniature.  It seemed they were everywhere.  Sometimes they were brown and sometimes they were green but always they stirred my imagination and when that happened, they were always bigger and more vicious than they were in reality. But it is amazing what an eight-year-old mind can come up with when he has too much time on his hands. I know I captured more than a few…usually by grabbing them by their tail.  I was always amazed when their tail broke off and while he managed to scurry away, his tail remained…still wiggling.  I later learned that their tail would slowly grow back and I guess I’m glad they did.

As I grew older, it seems the lizards got smaller and soon became a sense of novelty and nothing more. Gone was the fear of what they could do to me as I realized what I could do to them.  I’ve found out that not only applies to lizards but memories from days gone by. About the time I was a chasing lizards and yet being a little fearful…something happened.  It was Christmas time and as the day approached, I knew I didn’t have anything to give to my Momma. Poking around the house, I discovered a plastic flower arrangement sitting in the corner of the breezeway that connected our house and a garage turned into a bedroom.  Partly out of desperation and party through the eyes of an eight-year-old, I decided I would wrap the well-worn and faded flowers and give them to my Momma for Christmas.  So, I put them in a box, wrapped it all up and put it under the tree.

Christmas morning came and as was tradition, we all gathered in the living room as the presents were handed out and I watched as Momma was handed the box and unwrapped it.  Probably speaking to no one in particular, I heard her say, “Well, these are those flowers from the porch.” I was devastated. I knew it wasn’t much but I was hoping that something ordinary would be magically transformed by Christmas.  Now, let’s be clear.  Momma wasn’t being mean or hurtful.  Her words that day were just a statement of fact, and she might probably was not aware I had heard them…but I had…and a scar was born.

For years and years, I carried those words in my heart…and with them came the rejection that only an insecure eight-year-old can feel.  A few words casually spoken left a wound that for years refused to heal.  Listen, I know my Momma and I know she loved me but sometimes the best of us can utter words that get stuck in our memories and like those lizards…seem to grow into monsters.  Probably all of us have them…probably all of us have said them…probably all of us regret saying them.

I can’t remember if I ever told Momma about that Christmas and those words, but I can tell you it is no longer a deal.  Yes, there is a small scar on my heart, but that scar reminds me of something important.  Scars are wounds that have healed.  As I grew older, I was able to let go of the hurt because I grew to understand that no matter what words she spoke that day, her actions over the years more than proved her love.  If nothing else, those words remind me that she wasn’t perfect…just like me, just like you and just like the last person who wounded us.

Remember this.   Christmas is about love and love is about forgiveness.  My favorite verse in 1 Corinthians 13 reminds me that “love keeps no record of wrongs.”  It turns out that love makes choices possible.  We get to choose what to do with the things that are tossed into our laps.  We get to choose what we do when someone else’s mess gets sloshed on us.  I’ve learned I can’t control others; I can’t always control the circumstances around me; but I can always control my response…and that is important.

So about sixty Christmas’s have come and gone.  Momma is long in heaven, and I am grateful that I can sit and click keys on my keyboard and smile at all the precious memories I treasure in my heart.  And some of those memories that used to be dragons are now simply little lizards.  In case you are wondering how that works…well once you’ve experienced God’s grace and His forgiveness…it is a no brainer.  After all, He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in communication, Family, friends, gratitude, life, loving others, priorities, school days, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful, Trials, Uncategorized, USA

Mama and Politics

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

“Everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world? Only he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God.” 1 John 5:4-5

His name was Bill, and he was running for county commissioner.  A long time ago when I was about ten years old, I had my first and only encounter with political campaigns.  Somehow, and I have no idea how, my Momma got involved with the campaign to elect a guy named Bill Basford as county commissioner.  And, when Mom jumped in—she jumped in all the way.  That meant a couple of things.

First, and totally embarrassing, was this thing they put on our car.  We were pretty much not rich, in fact, I’m sure we weren’t even middle class.  We drove a 1957 Plymouth and let’s just say 1957 was a long way in the rearview mirror.  Anyway, back in those days if a person was running for office, they had these triangle shaped signs that people strapped to the top of their cars.  Now if it had been a little triangle that wouldn’t have been nearly as embarrassing, but this thing belonged on the sands of Egypt with the rest of the Pyramids.  It was HUGE.  It loudly proclaimed, “BILL BASFORD FOR COUNTY COMMISSIONER.” We would drive around and advertise for Bill.

That wasn’t all.  We also had to go door to door asking people to vote for Bill.  We covered our neighborhood like the plague of locusts that cleaned out Egypt.  I am certain people saw us coming and quickly closed their blinds and pretended they weren’t home.  It turns out that was just practice for when I became a preacher.  By the way…I know you are in there.  We also had a big supply of bumper stickers which we would gladly stick on your car.  When you’re ten, you like to stick things on things, so I liked that part—a lot.

Well, election day came, and Momma waited for the big news.  Either by television or by telephone we got the word that Bill had won, and they invited Momma to come downtown to the headquarters to celebrate. Like Ma and Pa Kettle, we (as in Daddy, Momma, my two sisters and I) got in the 1957 Plymouth and off we went.  I only remember a couple of things about the celebration.  There was loud music, and the air was filled with excitement.

So that was it.  Momma was excited because her guy won.  She didn’t get a political appointment or anything, but we did have a bunch of bumper stickers leftover to stick on things.  But the best part of all was that our guy won.  Winning is always a good feeling.  Everyone wants to be on the winning side. Every contest has winners and losers.  Like the song says, “Some gotta win, some gotta lose.  Good time Charlie’s got the blues. Well, your name might not be Charlie, but maybe you’ve got the blues.  And I’m not talking about any election results.

If the truth be known, life can be pretty blue, can’t it?  And sometimes, it is because we lose…our health, our job, our family, our house, well, lots of things.  But I want to tell you something that is important.  There is Someone who never loses, and His name is Jesus.  If it was an election…He would win every time. If it was a game…He would win every time.  If it was a war…He would win every time. If it was a debate…yup, He would win every time.  Do you want to know the best part?  Keep reading.

Remember how mama got invited to the big celebration downtown?  Well, if we are willing to place our faith and trust in Jesus and follow Him, two amazing things happen.  First, because He wins, we win.  In a way, when Bill Basford won—Momma won.  And when we choose to follow Jesus, because He wins—we win too.  The Bible says, “Everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world? Only he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God.”  Then, the party starts.  Sometimes people think heaven is going to be one long boring church service.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  It is going to a celebration like no other…like a party without end.  And while we won’t be the center of attention—that’s Jesus’ place—we will be guests of honor.  How about that?

I don’t really know how things turned out for Bill Basford, but I suppose he was a good commissioner.  I also know it made my Momma feel pretty special to be a part of his campaign.  She felt included—we felt included.  We may have driven an old 1957 Plymouth but on that night with Bill’s name on the top, it felt like a Cadillac.  Jesus invites you to be a part of His campaign team too.  He’s not running for anything—He is already King of Kings. But there’s one thing for sure, He loves to invite people to come along for the ride.  He hopes, and so do I, that you will join Him.  When this campaign is over, we are going to celebrate Him forever.  Until then, He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne