Category: school days

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, prayer, priorities, school days, Scripture, Southern born, spiritual battles, Trials

Sand Spurs from the Past

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west.” Psalm 103:12

It was a voice from my past—and it was singing the blues.  A while back we were in Southwest Florida on vacation, and I tried to keep up with my morning routines.  That included, first and foremost, coffee.  After coffee and a look at the weather came God time.  After God time came Judy time.  After Judy time came—exercise time.  The problem with all these times is they all take time.  Before I knew it, the sun was up, the humidity was up, and the temperature was up.  Regardless, I had to get up and get going.

The first morning we were there I was still learning the lay of the land and wasn’t exactly sure where I should walk.  So, I headed toward the way in and out of our condo property.  This led to the highway and so I took a left and decided to walk on the edge of the road.  It was safe but it was miserable.  There was no shade and soon it was just plain hot—very hot— “why am I doing this” hot.  I was determined to go my 3.6 miles, but I began wondering if this was such a good idea.  After a little while longer I was sure it wasn’t.  But you know how men are—do or die and in this case, death might have been an upgrade.  Ok, I’m exaggerating.

In my misery, I met an old foe.  There was a point when I had to cross a bridge across a channel.  They had built a walkway but to get to the walkway you had to go behind a guardrail through the weeds.  Without breaking stride, I charged on and then I saw them.  Sand spurs.  These were old foes from my childhood.  They are a type of weed and have sharp, spine covered balls of pain at the ends of long stems.  They will grab anything that gets close and if that happens to be your skin…you are done.  If they don’t get you when they attach, they will get you when you try to detach them. Ugh.

Like I said, they were old foes from my childhood.  When I was a kid, we would run barefoot all the time and without fail we would step on them. They would hurt…bad.  Well, this time, even though I tried to avoid them, they found their way onto my shoes and socks, but I didn’t find them till I got back from my walk.  As I was sitting by the pool trying to recover from a 145-heart rate and the 100-degree humidity, I found them. And, just like the old days, they made sure to give me a “stick and an ouch” as I tried to remove them.  Just.Like.The.Old.Days.  Though it was years ago, the whole sand spur scene was painfully fresh.

I find that sand spurs aren’t the only painful thing that loves to bump into our present.  Often, too often, unpleasant memories and regrets sneak back into our lives and cause us pain all over again.  Try as we may, sometimes, it seems they reattach themselves to us and we relive the whole hot mess again.  It could be a similar situation or maybe a repeat performance, but all the pain and remorse come flooding back.  I hate it, you hate it, but how do we avoid it?

Well, I tried to avoid the sand spurs on my walk.  I saw them, I knew they were there, but in my rush, my determination to exercise, I simply didn’t give them the wide berth they deserved.  I should have made it a higher priority. I realized that when I was trying to remove them.  When you sense or when you feel your ugly, painful past creeping into the present, do whatever it takes to change the scenario. Don’t allow yourself to relive the “sand spurs” of past failures. Trust me—they will attach themselves to your present with all their former pain.

There is one more thing that is even more important than that.  Should you find yourself reliving that regret, run straight into the arms of grace.  Remember and relive the forgiveness that came after the failure.  The Bible tells us that God casts our failures as far as the east is from the west.  I love that because it doesn’t say as far as the north is from the south. You see if you go north long enough you will find the south.  But not so with east from the west.  You can travel east forever and never find the west.  And that dear friend, is what God does with our failures and sin if we ask Him for forgiveness and help. It is gone—outta here and that is really good news.

Well, I couldn’t wait to show Judy my sand spurs, not because I liked them but because they reminded me of an important part of my past and the fact that I knew they were not going to be a permanent part of my future.  I may have bumped into them, but I wasn’t going to live with them. And that is a good thing. So, as you are speed walking through life, remember to give your painful past a wide berth and keep Jesus close by your side. You’ll find Him a mobile “rest stop,” there to make every step, every day survivable and “thrive-able.” And never forget, He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, school days, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, spiritual battles, thankful, Trials

Proximity Promise

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

For I am the Lord your God, who holds your right hand, who says to you, “Do not fear, I will help you.” Isaiah 41:13

I just needed to know.  This may cost me my man-card, but it is the truth. When I was a kid—I was afraid—a lot. I was afraid of what might happen, I was afraid of what did happen—or at least the consequences. I was afraid sometimes in broad daylight and many times in the dark—especially in the dark. It was not uncommon for me to lie in bed on a hot Florida night (with no air conditioning), covered up to my nose, listening and waiting for the monsters of the night to come and devour me. Every sound outside my window, every creak on the floor was certainly a sign that they—whoever they were—were coming to get me.

I probably knew in my young mind that monsters weren’t real. I probably even knew that there were no chainsaw murders lurking in my neighborhood. I knew that we had probably remembered to lock our doors and that would probably keep us safe.  Probably. And I guess it was all the probable’s that caused the problem.

Because of all that, and a whole bunch more, sometimes, many times, I would sneak in my parents’ bedroom and quietly lay down on the floor where I would fall asleep. You see, just knowing that daddy was close by made everything better. I somehow managed to believe that no matter how big the monster, the threat, my daddy could and would keep me safe. There was never any doubt that he would do his best to protect us—me. Why? Well, in my limited world, that was just what daddies did. Even if I was bad—he was still there for me.

That all seemed so logical because I believe it. Now for the question that really matters. If I believed that, why do I wrestle with trusting my Dearest Daddy with my present—and future. Why is it that somehow, I struggle to believe that if I fail Him—He will fail me. Why do I believe that my performance determines His proximity?  Now there is the root of the problem. Too often we believe that God only sticks around because we get it right and should we not get it right—He is gone.

Well, the truth is that is a lie. You see, God loves us with absolute perfection. He is constant and steady in His affection for us. There is nothing we can do to make God love us more or less, and furthermore there is nothing that we can do to cause Him to abandon us. Once again—His proximity to us is not determined by our performance.  It is based solely on His character as a loving Father.

While we probably won’t be totally free from fear this side of heaven, we can find peace in knowing that our Dearest Daddy is close by—very close by—and nothing is going to change that. So, when the unknown rattles your world, when darkness closes in around you, lay down and take a nap knowing that your Father is close by. No matter what the threat—no matter what the fear—He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, gratitude, life, school days, Scripture, Southern born, spiritual battles, thankful

Money Tip

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.” 1 Timothy 6:10

I never considered myself an entrepreneur but looking back…maybe I am.  Fortunately, I was raised by a Momma and Daddy who believed in a strong work ethic.  While they weren’t overbearing about it, I grew up knowing that I should get a job and go to work. It must have worked because over all my working years I have always managed to have a job and go to work.  I consider that quite a blessing. Looking back, I think my working career really started when I was about ten years old.

In the early sixties, we had an old lawn mower or two that had seen better days but my Daddy, ever the mechanic, managed to keep them running.  And then, he was willing to let me borrow the mower and go around the neighborhood offering to mow people’s yards. Today, that is big business but back then…not so much.  I would grab the lawn mower, the gas can and start going door to door.  My business plan was simple.

I would go to the door, knock, or ring the bell and wait for someone to answer.  When they did, I would simply say, “Hello.  Would you like your grass mowed for $2.00? Now, most of these yards were a pretty good size so even back then that seemed like a fair price to me…but guess what?  That $2.00 then is equal to $27.40 today.  What? Ok, I must admit I was surprised to learn that.  That might explain why more often than not, the answer to my question was a polite, “No.”  You see, it turns out that $2.00 was a sizable investment back in ’64.

But there were plenty of folks that said yes, and there were a few repeat customers.  The bottom line is it was enough to give me some spending money and, of course, keep the gas can filled.  At the end of the day there was always a trip to Jackson’s Minute Market that was down the street from my house.  There I would pull out one of the wadded-up dollar bills and trade part of it for a RC cola or Icee and a honey bun.  That would set me back a quarter.  The rest of my earnings stayed in my pocket or in a safe place back home just waiting for a trip to Pic-N-Save or some other store.

Speaking of Pic-N-Save, that is one thing I wrestled with—saving.  If memory serves me right, I did a whole lot more spending than saving.  It seems I remember my Daddy saying something about that money, “burning a hole in my pocket.”  Well, he was right.  While money didn’t come easy for me in ’64 it sure went easy.  Me and my dollars were all about me.  I never thought about giving or sharing…only spending.

Well, I am glad to let you know I have learned a little more about money since those days.  First, I learned (well, actually I’m still learning) that Jesus was right…it is more blessed to give than to receive.  Me and Jesus (and my wife Judy) came to terms a long time ago about giving back a part of what He gives to me. I’m even learning that everything belongs to Him anyway, so it only seems right to give some back.  And that isn’t all.

I’m also learning about saving.  I’ve always said that I was a spender and not a saver but now I can honestly say that I’m a pretty good saver. In fact, sometimes it is hard for me to let go of those hard-earned dollars.  That might explain why I don’t go to the grocery store too often.  Judy will send me looking for a can of beans.  When I get there, I find out that there are all kinds of beans, and some are cheaper than others.  So, it might take me a couple of days to decide which one to buy.  Hmmm…how about that?

Another thing that I have learned is that money isn’t good or bad…it is just money…a tool that we can use either wisely or foolishly. One of those verses in the Bible that is often misquoted says that money is the root of all evil.  Turns out that isn’t what the Bible says at all.  It says that the love of money is the root of all evil.  In other words, when we start worshiping money or when greed becomes a monster in our lives…we are in deep weeds, and the answer to all of that is—generosity.

So, it turns out what to do with money is one of those lifelong lessons.  I’m grateful the ten-year-old Dewayne was taught to work but I wish he had learned a lot earlier about giving, sharing, and saving. But the good news is that it is never too late to change.  One of the greatest joys in life is sharing with others.  I think it must be a Jesus thing because He always shared with those around Him.  If you need some help, why not ask the One who owns it all…and chooses to share with you.  Take it to the bank (pun intended) He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne 

Posted in birthday, Family, food, friends, gratitude, life, loving others, priorities, school days, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel

Cheese Grits and Turnip Greens

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when He adopted you as His own children. Now we call Him, “Abba, Father.” Romans 8:15

It was a good gig.  It was my daughter Jennifer’s 40th birthday and her husband Matt decided to do it right.  He booked them on a Disney cruise and then to top it off a couple of days at Disney.  They asked Judy if she could come down and stay with the kids and of course she said yes.  So, after some adjustments with her calendar and making sure everything at 217 (our Airbnb) was covered…she was on the road again.  And me…well…I stayed back, watered the plants, filled the fountains, and did work stuff.

Well, by Thursday night I was ready for a visit, so I loaded up the car and headed south to Murray.  It is funny but when you cross the bridge into Kentucky, you can tell you are in the South.  After a couple of hours of driving I found myself with my favorite big person and two of my favorite smaller people—my wife, Judy and two of my grandchildren, Ellie and James. All three of them are pretty keen on me and that always makes me feel so special. After a night of riding around the neighborhood with the windows down and the sunroof open, we headed back to the house and before too long…bed.

The next morning, after we took them to school, we eventually ended up back in Murray and it was time for lunch.  There are plenty of options in Murray, but we ended up at a place we had tried before and really enjoyed.  As we walked through the door, the sign said the special of the day, since it was Friday, was fish.  That sealed the deal.  Now the special sounded good for a couple of reasons—lots of food and a great price—$10.99.  So here is how it played out.  For my $10.99 I got four large fillets of fish.  Now, I’m pretty sure they weren’t farm raised catfish, but they were still plenty tasty.  So, plenty of fish…check.  Then it came with French fries…hot and plenty…check.  Three hushpuppies…fried golden brown and very good…check.  Three onion rings…these also were very good…lightly battered and fried just right…check. Whew. That was a lot of food…good food.  But we weren’t done.

The special also came with two more sides.  Now this place listed about twenty-two different sides, and they were not just sides…many of them were southern sides.  I won’t list them all, but I will tell you what I ordered.  First, I had a bowl full of cheese grits.  They were delicious with lots of cheddar cheese.  My final side was a bowl full of southern seasoned turnip greens.  Well, by now I am in hog heaven.  I mixed up a mound of tartar sauce and ketchup and started eating and it was just good.  Believe it or not, this food eating preacher didn’t even come close to eating it all.  I was forced to leave some it behind…too full to even think of carrying some home.

Now that you all are wanting to know the name of the place in Murray and you are drooling over yourself, here’s why I wrote this.  First, I just love a good deal.  I love it when I go to a place to eat, and it is a good value…plenty of good food for a good price and this place nailed it.  Second, it spoke to my heritage.  Everything from the hushpuppies to the cheese grits to the turnip greens just tasted southern.  And since my roots go deep in the South, all of it said one thing…home and we all know there is no place like home.

Now that I think about it that is what I like about Jesus too.  When I think of Him…when I spend time with Him, I always feel at home.  I never feel like a stranger, I never feel like a visitor.  It’s like He invites me in and tells me to sit back, relax and stay a while.  And when I am with Him, I know I am experiencing my new heritage.  Every day with Him my roots grow deeper and deeper.  On one side it is like spending time with my best friend and on the other it is like being with a special family member.  Maybe that it is…after all, when I asked Jesus to forgive me of all my sin, His Father became my Father…my Dearest Daddy and that is all so very special.

So, if you are planning a trip to Murray, Kentucky, let me know and I’ll point you in the right direction.  And if you are looking for a place that sure feels like home, well, just ask Jesus and He will invite you in to stay.  But like those southern sides…it gets better and better.  When you get Jesus…you get the Father…one that invites you to call Him Dearest Daddy.  It’s true…it’s in the Bible.  And He will be glad to help you as you do life.  Take it from me, I know, He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne 

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, heaven, life, love, loving others, priorities, school days, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Be You

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

God saw all that He had made, and it was very good indeed. Evening came and then morning: the sixth day.” Genesis 1:31

It was a profound statement.  It was 1967, and I was in junior high.  In Jacksonville that meant grades 7-9 and it meant a whole different world from elementary school.  For the first time we went to separate classes and got to choose some of our food for lunch in the cafeteria. I remember, for a dime, you could buy a bowl of French fries. While they weren’t anything like McDonald’s, I do believe they were potatoes, and they were long and skinny.

It may have been the sixties, but there were rules. For the girls skirts and dresses had to be of a certain length. For the guys your hair could only be so long and then there were the big three: shirt tucked in, wear a belt, and socks.  Break those and you and the principal had a date.  By the time I was in the ninth grade, things were relaxing a little and that included the big three.  On Fridays, boys were allowed to untuck their shirts, not wear a belt, and not wear socks. Holy moly, what was the world coming to?  Looking back, the cool thing was to take the socks that you weren’t wearing and put them hanging out of your rear pants pocket.  Every Friday, my shirt was out, my belt stayed home, and my socks were flapping in the breeze.  Do you know why?  It was cool…and I wanted to be cool. I wanted to be in. I wanted to be accepted.

As you know, over the years the trends have changed, styles have come and gone, and so have the labels.  In high school Gold Toe socks were coveted and so were Gant shirts. We couldn’t afford it either but when I joined the Air Force and could shop at the Base Exchange, they carried both and both became part of my world.  I was cool. I was in. I was accepted. Some things never change, and this is one of those.  There was always something that someone was wearing that if you had it, you just knew you would feel cool…accepted…part of the “in” crowd.  When I came to my current church, it was shirts with ponies and shoes named “Crocs.” Whatever the newest label, and there was always one, peer pressure and the desire to be cool, accepted, and in, pushed and pulled.  It seemed I always wanted to be what someone else was.

Thankfully, some of that has changed.  Ponies and crocs aren’t really that cool anymore, and I’m starting to realize that a label doesn’t define who I am.  I.Am.Me. In fact, my four favorite shirts are from Walmart and cost a grand total of $9.88 each. There’s nothing on the pocket—they are just plain shirts which is cool, because I define them…they don’t define me.

I read something one morning that was just profound.  Here it is. Are you ready?  “Each person was born an original; no one should die a copy.” Wow.  It goes like this.  Somewhere in heaven, God came up with a design plan for me.  He wrote the design and then declared it an original, and just right. In fact, in Genesis 1:31, the Bible says, “God saw all that He had made, and it was very good indeed.” And do you know what?  That includes me and that includes you. There is not another me or you, anywhere, and that was intentional. I don’t need to be you, and you don’t need to be me. We just need to be who God made us. Sure, fashion labels are fine, and I’m even sure there is a perfect weight and height, but those don’t dictate who we are…God does.

In the years that God gives me, I hope I will remember this.  When the clock stops ticking, the heart stops beating, and you are having a chicken dinner somewhere in my honor, I hope someone will be able to say, “That Dewayne, he was an original. God broke the mold when He made him.”  I don’t want to die a copy…I want to die an original.

Given my bent to be a people pleaser and desire to be cool, accepted and in, I’m sure that will be a challenge. Gratefully, my Dearest Daddy will be with me along the way to remind me that I am a custom-made job, and you are too.  And, if I am wise enough to ask and listen, He will help me be me.  Oh, and if I struggle, and I will, and you will too, just listen as He reassures us that, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, prayer, school days, Scripture, Trials

Scars are Stories

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

When Jesus stood up, He said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” “No one, Lord,” she answered. “Neither do I condemn you,” said Jesus. “Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.” John 8:10-11

It’s a great setup.  I’ve written several times about my early morning routine. It involves coffee, the weather report and Jesus.  I am a creature of habit, when something messes with my habits, and it messes me up. But sometimes I do something a little different that just works better.  Last year I tripped and fell as I was going onto our patio and messed up my hand, my wife Judy donated a little lap desk to help me study and write.  Well, I liked it so much I bought one of my own. I also found out that this little desk made a great addition to my routine as it is a great place to put my iPad and my coffee cup. Boom.  Things just got better.

Well, one morning I was sipping coffee and using my iPad to read a couple of devotions.  The guy I was reading wrote about scars and as I was reading…I was looking.  You see, my hands have several scars, and each one is a story.  On my right thumb is one that reminds me of the ten-year-old (or so) Dewayne who was cutting watermelon and ignored his daddy’s advice about how to use a knife. On my middle finger of my right hand, right on the knuckle, is an inch long scar caused by my careless use of an X-Acto knife I was using to build a model car or plane.

Let’s look at my left hand.  On my index finger are two scars…close together.  One was when I was riding with my sister and her then boyfriend in his car.  The car in front of us stopped…and he didn’t.  This was before seatbelts and when I headed for the windshield, I threw my hand up to protect my head.  I guess it worked, but I did cut my hand up in the process. The other scar was a woodcutting thing.  I didn’t cut it with the saw, or you might be calling me “Three Fingers.”  No, a piece of wood that I was cutting was in a bind. It slipped and whacked my hand leaving a nasty gash.

There are a couple of smaller scars on both hands, but their birth didn’t garner a memory.  I do have a couple of scars in other places, like the one by my eye which happened on a racquetball court.  A guy hit me with his racket on that one.  But by and large most of my physical scars are on my hands because that is where all the action is.  In other words, whatever you put out there in life will probably get scarred…like our hearts.  All of us probably have some scars left when we put our heart out there and someone wounded us.  It’s just life.

But now for the bigger story.  Remember that scars may be a sign of a painful wound…but they are also a sign of healing.  The scars that are on my hands were bleeding and painful when they happened but gradually, the bleeding stopped, and they healed over. That’s a good thing.  Now you know and I know that wounds on our heart are a whole different animal.  They may heal but it often takes more than some antibiotic cream and a Band-Aid. They say that time heals all wounds and that might be partially true.  Time does help but time can’t always heal.  The good news is there is something…Someone…who can heal, and His name is Jesus.

My friend Jesus is a healer of hearts.  When He walked the earth, He amazed the people in many ways…twice He gave everyone a free lunch.  But countless times He would take the broken, the castaways and lovingly put their lives back together.  I love the story when a woman was caught in adultery.  The religious people wanted to stone her, but Jesus chose to love her.  I suppose in my life, and in yours, there have been some stoning opportunities but here is one thing I know.  Jesus isn’t a rock chucker—He is a heart healer, and He wants to help heal yours today.

So, how about it?  Do you have some wounds on your heart that time just hasn’t taken care of? Are you still hurting from a train wreck in life years ago?  Why not give Jesus the opportunity to help?  “How” you might ask?  Well, why not try asking?  It is called prayer and trust me it is worth a shot.  The other key element is faith—believing that He is there listening.  Don’t be surprised if one of the first things you hear is Him asking you to forgive. Why? Because forgiving others always helps heal our own wounds.  So, when you are done reading, why not start praying.  He is waiting and He is willing.  He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, school days, Scripture, thankful, Trials

I Hated Him

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

And be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving one another, just as God also forgave you in Christ.” Ephesians 4:32

His name was Richard Jackson and I hated him. I know, I know…hate is a strong word, and you aren’t supposed to hate someone or anyone.  But lying is wrong too and the truth is…I hated him.  Besides all that I was in the eighth grade, so it was a long time ago. I’ve wanted to write this story before, but I’ve always put it off. Not anymore.

Anyone who knows anything can tell you that junior high, or middle school as they call it now, can be difficult…and mine was.  I never was in the cool crowd at school…I just didn’t make the cut. And add to that I was a little too short and a little too pudgy and I guess that just made me a target. Richard Jackson wasn’t in the cool group either he was in that nether land where people go who aren’t nerdy but aren’t cool either.  In another world, Richard Jackson would be a target like me…but he wasn’t.

Richard Jackson wasn’t a target because he was the one who targeted others.  By a twist of fate, he was big, real big.  I’m not sure if he was big because of his DNA or the fact that he probably spent too many years in the eighth grade.  Regardless, he was big and for whatever reason, when he looked for someone to push around and bully, he found me.  We didn’t share classes, we didn’t live in the same neighborhood, and we sure didn’t go to the same church.  Come to think about it, I’m sure Richard Jackson didn’t go to church.

Anyway, Richard Jackson, for most of my eighth-grade year made it his business to make me miserable. He would push and shove and threaten me almost daily.  To make matters worse, Richard Jackson had a lackey who would hang around him.  If Richard Jackson was big, Mark Williams wasn’t. He was skinny, almost scrawny, but all that didn’t matter because he belonged to Richard Jackson.  Well, Richard Jackson decided that Mark Williams should beat me up and one day he said just that. He promised to ride my bus and get off at my stop and pummel me.  That was a long day as I waited all day to get beat up.

Well, I got on the bus, they got on the bus and when it came to my bus stop…we all got off.  Richard Jackson instantly started in on me and at the same time encouraged his lackey to hit me.  Well, he did, square on the mouth and then we took to the ground and wrestled around a bit before it was all over.  Well, every day for months I would take my tongue and feel the large knot on my lip.  Every day for months I relived those few moments trying to make the outcome different.  It never was. To this day, I hate that day.

I think, though I am not sure, that soon after this Richard Jackson lightened up some.  In fact, by the time high school rolled around he was almost civil.  His lackey Mark Williams went somewhere…maybe parole school for all I know.  All I know is for a long time I allowed that day to define me.  For a long time, I allowed the fear of another bully showing up to cause me to live in fear.  And then finally, slowly, the fear disappeared but the scar remained.

As I write this, I still can feel the emotional pain that Richard Jackson and Mark Williams inflicted on me.  And, honestly, it wouldn’t be too hard for me to hate them all over again but then I realize that wouldn’t accomplish anything.  I’ve given them enough free rent in my brain already.  Besides all that since those days I had another important day—I met a Man who loved me enough to die for me.  I met a Man who forgave me of everything I had ever done wrong.  I met a Man who said since I have forgiven you don’t you think you should forgive him…forgive them.  And I realized He was right.  If I didn’t, I would be no better than they were.

Is there a Richard Jackson or a Mark Williams in your past…or present?  Is there a scar on your heart the size of Texas because someone decided to put it there?  Maybe just maybe it is time to let it go.  Maybe it is time to forgive.  I was watching The Chosen last night and one of the big truths was Peter’s unwillingness to forgive Matthew and Matthew’s failure to own his sin. It was a powerful moment. You see, if we are the offender we need to own our part and if we are the offended—well, we need to let it go.

As I wrote this, I was amazed at the emotion that still lingers in my heart and in my memories and I realized this forgiveness thing isn’t as easy as it seems.  But that’s ok because the One who asked me to forgive stands ready to help me to forgive.  He stands there ready to help, whispering, “It’s ok, I’ve got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, school days, Scripture, thankful, Trials

It Was an Accident

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Don’t be deceived: God is not mocked. For whatever a person sows he will also reap.” Galatians 6:7

I’m sure the doctor just rolled his eyes.  When I was eleven or twelve, you know about sixth grade, my Daddy and Momma got me one of the coolest Christmas presents ever.  Most of you have seen the movie “A Christmas Story” about a kid who wanted a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas. Well, this story isn’t like that, but it’s about something even better than a Red Ryder BB gun.  That year, wait for it, they got me a Daisy double-barrel BB gun.  It was designed after a real double-barrel shotgun.  It had two barrels (you probably figured that out), two triggers, and even broke in the middle to cock it. It was amazing.

I can remember going outside to shoot that gun…there was not another one like it in the whole neighborhood.  I wish I could tell you how well I took care of it…especially since, if you can find one now, they would sell for well over a thousand dollars.  But honestly, it was well used, and under cared for, and one day one of the barrels stopped working.  Well, I always enjoyed fixing things, so I just started taking things apart to work on it.  I figured out that the left barrel wasn’t working.  So, I took the “BB thingy” inside the barrel out, cleaned it good, oiled it, and then stuck it back in.

After I put everything back together, I cocked the gun and pulled the trigger, but as far as I could tell it still wasn’t working.  I decided that I would put my finger over the bad barrel to see if I could feel any air coming out.  Now, I know that sounds like a really, bad idea, and it was.  I know it was not smart or safe.  I know it was just pure old dumb.  But, regardless, I did it.  I sure wish I hadn’t.

Well, things wouldn’t have been so bad because as it turns out the barrel wasn’t working.  The problem was that I had my finger over the wrong barrel and pulled the wrong trigger and as I squeezed that trigger, the gun fired, and a BB went right into my finger…clear to the bone.  Oh, and yes, that was a dumb idea, and yes, it did hurt…boy, did it hurt.

I put the gun down and ran into the house holding my throbbing and bleeding third finger on my right hand.  Momma didn’t have time to give me a lecture or even holler at me.  We headed straight to the emergency room.  After checking in we saw the doctor who when he heard the story gave me that, “what a really a dumb idea” look. After numbing things up, he proceeded to dig around with a medical tweezer until he found the BB, got ahold of it and pulled it out.  Shot or no shot—it hurt.  I got a nice bandage and the opportunity to make a story up on what happened.  I wasn’t about to tell the truth…that was way too embarrassing.

If you look on my right hand and at my ring finger you can still see to this day a nice little dimple where the BB went into my finger.  It is there to remind me not to stick my finger over the barrel of a BB gun…or any gun for that matter.  It is there to remind me that there are consequences when we choose dumb over smart, or wrong over right.  It reminds me of that part of the Bible that says the rules of God are always right…whatever you plant, you harvest.  Do dumb and you get dumb consequences…every time.

I hope this Grits will help me and you both to think before we act…you know, to think things through.  Fortunately, God is more than ready to help us make the right decisions if we are willing to ask.  Uh, I didn’t ask that day and when we just don’t get around to doing that…well, He is still there to help us deal with the consequences too.  I’m glad He doesn’t act like the doctor, rolling His eyes at my mistakes.  No, He is too loving to do that.  In fact, if you listen, you will hear Him say, “Don’t worry, dumb or not, I’ve got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, heaven, life, love, loving others, school days, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel

Daily Reminders

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

“For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

It was a great adventure.  I don’t know what your experiences with going to grandmother’s house were like…but mine, well, it really was a great adventure.  Granddaddy and Grandmother lived in Gainesville, Florida and we lived on the west side of Jacksonville.  And, more than occasionally, we would load up in our car and drive down to Grandmother’s house.  It’s funny…it was never Granddaddy’s house…it always seemed to belong to her.

When we got there, we have our time of greeting and then, usually, there would be work to be done…at least for Daddy and me and our domain was the yard.  Grandmother had some beautiful flowers and my Daddy loved flowers too. We would walk around the yard admiring the handiwork of our Creator and planning what needed to be done.  And, before long, we would get to work.  There was weeding, mowing, picking up debris left over from the last Florida “frog strangler rain” and a host of other chores.  Fortunately, it wasn’t an all-day deal because there were adventures waiting.

Grandmother’s house was located on a main street but in a quiet neighborhood.  From the large front porch, with large white rockers, you could sit and watch the traffic go by.  If you went out the back door, there was the quiet world of the garden.  Beside the house was one of those narrow side streets that you only travelled on if you knew it was there.  We went down that road and the blocks behind the house to collect coke bottles for the two-cent deposit.  Two cents meant two pieces of penny candy…what a bargain. Besides the bottles, there was another treasure trove that we visited every time we visited Grandmother.

I remember we would go into the backyard and there was a trail of sorts going through some woods.  At the other end of the trail, on the next block, sat a small warehouse.  Today I suppose you would call it a large storage shed.  To my sisters and me it was heaven.  A man had a Jewel Tea franchise and that was where he stored his merchandise.  And right next to the building was a pile…a glorious pile of…stuff.  It was like having our own treasure chest except there wasn’t a chest.  It was all there, free, for the taking.

What was there?  Well, there were all kinds of items…things for the house or for personal care.  Honestly, you never knew what you were going to find…it was the great adventure.  It was not uncommon for there to be candy and snacks.  Now keep in mind this was in the sixties and everything was still wrapped up tight.  We would have a ball pilfering through the pile.  Sometimes of course there wouldn’t be anything but the anticipation of going to the Jewel Tea warehouse was so exciting.  The only thing better than finding bottles and collecting our two cents each, was finding the mother lode at the warehouse.

Perhaps you can’t imagine rummaging through a pile of boxes left outside.  Perhaps you can’t imagine opening some candy someone had discarded but somehow, someway, it just seemed ok and normal back then.  It really was a great adventure. We didn’t have a lot and because of that we didn’t get a lot so when you could find bottles and get two cents or when you could get something for free…well, it was pretty good day.

Somehow, I missed those days…days of simplicity…days of being satisfied with little and needing less.  These days we are surrounded by so much and yet today, enough never seems to be quite enough.  What used to fill our cups seems now to be but a drop in the bucket.  I think we have lost our way…detoured down a road of discontentment where sunrises are ignored, and a beautiful flower missed as we rush by.  Love notes from our Dearest Daddy, strategically placed along our paths, go unread.  We need to slow down, we need to smell the roses, we need to read the notes.

Today, this day, why don’t we make a conscious decision to find something simple and marvel in it again and why don’t we start with a simple fact.  And what fact is that?  It is that God so loved this broken, crazy world we call home, so much that He allowed, He sent, His Son into it and made a promise. The promise is anyone who believes in Him can have eternal life.  Think about that.  Loved by God with heaven thrown in…now that’s a good day.  And if you need a booster shot of “feel good,” just remember this.  No matter what comes your way today…well, He’s got it.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, gratitude, life, love, loving others, prayer, priorities, school days, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, wisdom

Lasting Words

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Teach us to number our days carefully so that we may develop wisdom in our hearts.” Numbers 90:12

It wouldn’t cut soft butter today but back then it was cutting edge. I’m a tech guy.  I love the newest and greatest technology.  When a new something comes out, if I’m not careful, I am on my way to grab one.  Of course, the funny part is it usually ends up sitting around somewhere.  Even my iPhone is mad because of the hours it sits on the counter—unloved and unattended.  Frequently I must apologize for not returning a call or not answering a text…not because I’m ignoring a person—I’m ignoring my phone.

This love affair with tech began when I was a kid. When it came time for Christmas, I would browse the Sears catalogue and dream of the cool gifts that might come my way. And somehow, Momma and Daddy, with a little help from Santa, would pull it off.  Of course, sometimes they surprised me.  It would have been Christmas of, oh, 1966 and I received something totally unexpected and totally cool. It was a small, battery powered, portable reel-to-reel tape recorder.  This was before eight-tracks, before cassettes…before anything.  The size of large book, it gave me the ability to record something and play that something back.

One time I took my recorder to my grandparents’ house in Gainesville, Florida.  My grandfather (there was no “Papa” with him) was talking with my Daddy and was telling a joke.  I decided to start the recorder and record what they were saying. Sure enough it worked and later, I played the tape for everyone, and we all marveled at the ability for something so small to do that.  But here is the amazing part.  Somewhere in my stuff, is a small reel of tape and on that tape is my grandfather and Daddy’s voices…probably one of the few recordings to exist.  Even though they are gone…their voices live on.

Their.Voices.Live.On.  Think about that for just a moment.  Both men who influenced me so much have long since passed away. But through technology their voices can still be heard.  Oh, I know it is not a big deal now but back then…it was so unusual and that makes the recording valuable.  They are, if you will, speaking from the grave.

In one of those moments of clarity, I recently realized that I too, one day, will speak from the grave.  My life, my actions, my priorities, my values, sermons I have preached, and stories I have written, will all be left behind and all will speak.  And I wonder…what will they say of me and what will they say of who I was?  When my great grandchildren hear the stories of their great Papa, will those stories be stories worthy of sharing? Will the words encourage them to live right and do right, or leave them scratching their head like a batter thrown a good curve ball on a hot Saturday afternoon? We should all hope to leave a story that is worth telling…one that brings some light and laughter into their world.

There is a verse I keep coming back to time and again.  Moses wrote it thousands of years ago and yet is as fresh as today’s news.  He asked God to help him number his days that he could gain a wise heart.  He wasn’t asking for his math to be accurate when he counted birthdays.  No, he was asking that he be wise enough to make the most, the very most, of every single day.

Legacy.  It is a great word, and we are all leaving one.  The only question is, “What kind will it be?” That is up to us.  Five days a week I publish a short story with a big truth but in reality…I write one everyday…and so do you.  Let’s be sure to write one worth telling.  Fortunately, there is a publisher who is all about helping us and if we are Jesus followers, we call Him Dearest Daddy.  He is more than willing to help us write a best seller…after all, that’s just one more thing He does.  He’s got that too.  Bro. Dewayne