Posted in Family, gratitude, life, prayer, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, wisdom

Bang, Bang

Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; wait, I say, on the Lord!” Psalm 27:14

I waited and waited and it seemed like it would never come. People say that good things come to those who wait.  I’ve heard that a lot but I’m not sure I believe it.  In fact, I’m not even sure I know what it means.  But one thing is sure…I know what it means to wait…especially if it involves the government and a by-pass.

When I came to Harrisburg in 2000, we bought a house on West Poplar Street. Now back in those days that was THE main drag.   Every car and truck going East and West through Harrisburg had to travel down Poplar Street.  When we looked at the house we were told that a by-pass was on the planning board and would be done within five years.  Well, that sounded pretty good, so we bought the house and waited…and waited…and waited.  As it turned out it was a little longer than five years.  In fact—it was almost twelve.

Now in our 20th year at 217, I am grateful, very grateful, that the by-pass finally came. I know some folks weren’t sure we even needed one and some went another way so they are indifferent.  You might ask, “What’s the big deal about the by-pass?  Well if you have ever lived on West Poplar Street…you would know.

You see, Mr. Bob, my neighbor back in the days before the by-pass, told me that he counted in one day, and 60 semi-trucks went by his house in one hour–that is one per minute.  In those days there were probably more coal trucks, but believe me there were  still plenty of trucks.  You kinda wondered where in the world they were all going.

Now check this out…for the first seven years…count them 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 years or 2,555 days, there was a hole in the road right before my house. Every time a semi-truck went by it would hit that hole with a resounding “BANG.”  Allowing for 60 trucks an hour and 12 driving hours in a day that equates to 1,839,600 bangs. Remember how people say if you live by a railroad track long enough you stop hearing the whistle?  Trust me…that does not apply to bangs.

Now do you understand why I was so excited about the bypass?  Oh, and did I mention waiting two or three minutes just to get out of my driveway?  So, we waited and finally in 2012, the bypass opened and traffic was drastically reduced. Oh, and gravy on the mashed potatoes…they even fixed the hole.

I guess it is true, good things come to those who wait.  But waiting is hard.  There was a lady in the gospels who was sick for twelve long years…about the same time I waited for the by-pass.  She had been to doctor after doctor and the only thing that left her was all her money.  Then she met Jesus and He changed everything. She was overwhelmed with gratitude.

I supposed that is the one good thing about waiting. When, and if, what you are waiting on comes to pass, you are usually pretty grateful.  She was, I am, and you would be too.  The psalmist writes, “Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; wait, I say, on the Lord!” (Psalm 27:14)

Down in the South we say, “a watched pot never boils.” Well that isn’t true…it will boil, but it sure seems to take longer. So, if there is something in your life and you are praying and you are waiting, be patient.  Wait on the Lord and who knows, your “by-pass” may come too.  All this COVID hot mess has definitely stuck around longer than I ever thought. I still believe, though, that it hasn’t come to stay…it has come to pass.

I think this afternoon I will go sit in my quieter front yard and take a rest with the God who made all of this.  He even had a big hand in the by-pass! After that, I’ll just remind myself that no matter what…He’s got this.

Posted in Family, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, wisdom

Here’s a Tip

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 (NLT)

You’ve got to be kidding me.  I started working real jobs when I was fifteen.  Back in those days you had to be at least fifteen to get a work permit and a social security number.  When that happened, I started working at a restaurant as a dishwasher for 75 cents an hour.  Later I moved up in the world working as a “bag boy” at a grocery store.

It’s funny how certain memories stay with you from your early years.  I remember mom and dad driving me to and from work since I wasn’t old enough to drive.  A little later I finally got my license and I remember the thrill and anxiety as I drove myself the six or seven miles to the “Food Fair.”  My responsibilities were to bag the people’s groceries and carry them to their car. I can’t remember how much I made per hour but I believe it was bumped up from the restaurant gig to a whopping $1.25 plus tips. The standard tip, if you got one, was a quarter.  It was a big day, like “ring the bell” big, if you got a dollar.  It was a rare thing—something akin to winning the lottery. Well, one Saturday “it” happened.  No, not that “it.” It was this bag boy’s worse nightmare.

Saturday was the big shopping day at the grocery store so we were busy.  All the lanes were open and we were bagging like crazy—cans on the bottom and bread on top. It wasn’t uncommon to scan the lines to get what appeared to be the best bagging gig.  You wanted a customer who looked generous with an order big enough to get a tip but not too big.  You know, the whole balance of the universe thing.  Then I saw her. A lady was in line and she had four or five carts full of groceries. She must have only shopped for groceries once a year.  This one was a gamble but it could be the golden dollar tip or even more.  I was in.

Off we went.  The cashier was ringing it up and I was bagging it. On and on it went.  Finally, after what seemed hours, the last item was rang up and in the bag.  The order was somewhere over $140.  Keep in mind this was 1970 and that was a lot of money and a lot of groceries. Payday was in sight.  And then she said it, “I think you overcharged me. I want to see the manager.” Well, this was not going to be good.  He came over and the decision was made to re-ring the entire order. Bummer.

I began to take each item out of the dozens of bags and the cashier began to re-ring the order.  After a year or so (ok, it only seemed like a year) the new total was in and it was actually more than the first time. Good grief.  Well, she wasn’t happy but she did pay the bill. Off we went with a “wagon-train” of grocery carts and I filled the back of her “ark” sized car and back seat.  All I could think of was dollars…that was a mistake.  She gave me the grand total, the whopping amount of—nothing.  Zero. Nada. All that was given was a curt thank-you and I was left standing there. No tip. No big payday. Nothing. I was disappointed and devastated.  I had taken the gamble and lost.  Like Kenny Roger’s song, I should have known when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em, and when to walk away”.

Well, that story wedged its way into my memory.  I know she wasn’t pleased, but it wasn’t my fault. Yet the kid who’s “take home” was hugely supplemented by quarters was left holding the bag—no pun intended.  That might be the reason that I have learned to be sure and thank the ones who serve me.  Just like me back then, those who serve us today are largely dependent on our generosity.  I remember my daughter worked at a restaurant for a time.  She has one of those really good personalities and I know she did a great job.  But she told me one day how the ones who tipped the least were the Jesus crowd.  I said, “Are you sure?”  And she affirmed what she said. Hmmm.

A friend of mine told a story of a customer who had a $36.00 tab and left a dollar tip.  Too many times there is nothing.  By now you are saying, “Dewayne, have you lost your mind writing about tipping?”  I’m not writing about tipping…I’m writing about generosity.  You see, if anyone should be generous it should be the Jesus people.  We have experienced the generosity of the greatest giver of all—our Dearest Daddy—who gave His Son so that we could become family.  If we have experienced such grace, shouldn’t we extend such grace—such generosity?  I think so.

It has been said that we Jesus people are the only Bible some people will ever read. It just seems to make sense that we should make sure we are turning to the right pages in that Bible as we do life.  And by the way, that mixed up order, that slow order probably rests on someone besides the server.  And by the way, God doesn’t just show His generosity when we get it right—He’s generous regardless.  So, Jesus person, Christian, believer—whatever name you go by, let’s be sure that the example we set for those around us—whether they serve us at a restaurant or pick up our trash—point to Jesus. When that seems hard—just rest in Him.  If it seems impossible—don’t worry, do it anyway, He’s got this.

Posted in Family, gratitude, life, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel

Divine Rescue

Taste and see that the Lord is good. How happy is the person who takes refuge in him!” Psalm 34:8

It was a close call.  It all started several months ago when I received an email from a website called “Travelzoo.”  Each Wednesday they send out a “Top 20” list of their best travel deals.  Well, in June that list included a really, good deal at a really nice hotel in Naples. Now you probably ought to know that one thing trumps all else when it comes to me and hotels:  PRICE. I love a good deal.  But this one had a great price along with a nice pool, hot tub, great decor, good location and a free shuttle to the beach. I talked it over with Judy and we began making plans for a trip to Southwest Florida.

Well, as time went by, I arranged our flight to and from Naples and of course the now famous car rental—a Mustang convertible.  Well, as the days got closer, and for a reason I don’t remember, I just started wondering if we should look at another place to stay—something with more space, perhaps a kitchen—you know, a small condo.  So, we started looking and low and behold we found one—actually me, Mr. Price Trumps Everything, found one.  Yes, it was a bit more expensive and it wasn’t in Naples but rather Fort Myers Beach.  But it seemed to be saying, “Rent me.”  We did.

Now there are lots of ways I can tell this story but perhaps the shorter version is the best version.  I apply this often to my sermons—NOT.  As we get to Fort Myers, we find this condo is a home-run, grand slam.  It overlooks this large, beautiful bay with a fabulous view from the seventh floor.  It had a large balcony and the living room wall was floor to ceiling glass.  It really was amazing.  Fish and dolphins were jumping in the bay, birds were everywhere, boats zipped up and down the channel, and each morning a beautiful sunrise greeted us.  Paradise.

Ok, so now, fast forward.  We left there on Wednesday and drove down to the keys in our Mustang convertible (can someone say, “cool”) and stayed for a couple of days before returning to Naples on Friday, to spend the night and fly home on Saturday morning.  So…we spend Friday night in the hotel we had originally booked for the first six nights of vacation.  Now, it was nice, but there were no restaurants nearby, the beach was several, and I do mean several, miles away.  The room was small with no fish or dolphins jumping anywhere, no birds, no boats, and no morning sunrise to say “Hi.”

Now that was fine for one night.  However, I looked at Judy and she looked at me and we both realized we had been blessed and rescued.  That small room could have been our home not for one night but six nights and every meal would have meant a hunt for a restaurant.  And anytime, and I mean anytime, we were outside our room and in the building, a mask was required.  The whole tenor of the vacation would have changed. It would have been away but that was just about it.  Away.

Let me tell you that we firmly believe that our Dearest Father acted on our behalf.  He knew we would not have been happy for six nights in that hotel and He whispered and nudged at just the right time and gently moved us in another direction…a direction that exceeded our needs and expectations.  It occurred to both of us that God had sent us a love note.  God knew what we needed better than we did.  He knew that saving a few bucks paled in comparison to what He had picked for us!  It was so cool.

We had a great time.  And over and over, throughout the time we were there, we kept saying, “God rescued us” and we knew it was true.  And here’s the best part—while we got to recognize this one, I wonder just how many times and how many ways does He do it over and over again?  He works behind the scenes, silently changing plans and directing our steps towards His blessings and away from our disasters.  I believe when we get to heaven it is going to be crazy good. We will see Jesus and our loved ones who knew Jesus and have gone before us. It’s gonna be awesome. But until then the Psalmist says we should just keep tasting, keep discovering just how good God is and that will keep us busy for a long time.

I think one of my favorite things about heaven is going to be the fact that we will finally see all the ways that God acted on in our behalf.  I can imagine the walls of heaven covered with sticky notes—love notes from our Dearest Daddy to me and you—all saying in a million different ways, “I love you.”  Oh, I know it won’t be exactly like that but I also know in heaven I will see all the things He did for me.  I can’t wait.  Till then I’m going to have to be satisfied with the times I see them and the times we get to sit together and rest in our love…especially His for me.  Oh, and then there are the times when I realize, I know, that He’s got this.  And that is in everything and every day.  How about that?

Posted in Family, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, Scripture, Southern born, travel, wisdom

Dog Beach

So God created human beings in His own image. In the image of God He created them; male and female He created them.” Genesis 1:27

Southwest Florida has gotta be a great place to live.  For the first time in a long time, Judy and I headed back to Southwest Florida for a visit. I am a Florida boy—born and raised in the Northeast corner of Florida in Jacksonville.  Judy is a Georgia peach raised in Valdosta. If you’ve driven to Florida down I-75 you have been through Valdosta.  So being from Florida and close to Florida, it is naturally a place we like to visit.

We spent the week down in Fort Myers Beach and had a great time.  With the exception of Labor Day weekend it wasn’t too crowded and even then we were able to find space to avoid the crowds. Several times we hopped in our rented Mustang Convertible and drove around.  Fort Myers Beach is built on a narrow strip of land and there is only one main road that runs through it.  We would turn out of our condo and either go left or right—there were no other options.

On Saturday of Labor Day weekend, we would see these places where dozens of cars would be parked beside the road and of course that peaked our curiosity.  We just had to know what all those people were doing.  Did they know something that we needed to know—to see?  Well, that Saturday evening we decided to drive down to one of those spots.  Earlier that day it was just packed with cars and we imagined it had to be a beautifully secluded beach.  It might even be worth exploring the next day.  So off we went.  It was lightly raining and when we neared the spot where there had been dozens of cars and now there were only a few.  Paradise was within our grasp.

We parked in the small sand parking lot and noticed there was a sign that said Dog Beach.  We figured that was the name of the beach.  Maybe it was shaped like a dog or dog’s leg or something.  Even without an umbrella we started walking.  It was a rather small path, wet from the rain.  Then we came to an opening to what appeared to be a large bay.  We met some folks who were heading back to their car and we asked where the beach was.

They told us we would have to wade through the water, follow a small path and then go around a small peninsula and there would be a beautiful beach.  So…off we went wading through water, carrying our shoes, and walking a path through the woods.  Along the way, we came upon a few folks heading to their cars and they all had dogs.  How about that?  We normally aren’t slow to figure things out but today wasn’t one of our better days.  We kept walking till finally we came upon a small, not particularly beautiful beach.  It wasn’t on the Gulf but rather on the bay.  There was a person with, you guessed it, a dog.  There was also a couple out in the water with, you guessed it, a dog.  Hmmmm…I was starting to connect the dots.

I asked the couple with the dog if they were from there and they said no.  And I asked them about what was so special about this place—that we had seen dozens of cars here and thought it must be special.  And it was…if you owned a dog.  You see, it was in fact a dog beach.  All those dozens of cars with many more dozens of people were there for one reason—it was a place where their dogs could be dogs.  That was it.  It was only paradise if you had a dog that enjoyed playing in the water.  And, for a lot of people, that hit the spot.

I left that day only a little impressed with the beach and more than a little wet and that was ok.  What made that beach special wasn’t for me, but it was for a lot of other people.  It taught me fresh and anew that the beauty of something really is in the eyes of the beholder.  With that came the renewed lesson that I should be slow, real slow, to judge another person’s opinion. Hmmm…that just might be a game changer.

I know now that when I go by the Dog Beach and see all those cars that there are a whole lot of people just beyond the tree line that love their pups.  And being a dog lover who just happens to be dog-less for now, that is pretty awesome.  Instead of going by and thinking “Look at all those beach lovers,” I will go by and say, “Look at all those dog lovers.”  Maybe before we assume or think we know all about a circumstance or relationship, we need to explore and figure it out and we may come to a whole different conclusion.

Need some help?  Well, the One who made us all has it all figured out.  In fact, He reminds us in the Bible that every person is made in His image and He wants each of them to come be a part of His family. And then, He made that possible by sending His Son Jesus to pay for our sins. When you find yourself befuddled with someone or a particular situation, just check with your Dearest Daddy…leave it resting with Him.  You can, because He has this.

Posted in Family, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, wisdom

Settled

For you are saved by grace through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is God’s gift—not from works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9

Well, the issue is finally settled. It is really a difficult thing to be the baby of the family especially when it is obvious that after seven previous tries mom and dad finally got it right.  Yup…that was me.  Number eight in a litter of eight.  Sometimes, because I was the baby of eight, my other brothers and sisters got a little jealous.

One of the stories that I was raised with was the fact that I really wasn’t a natural born part of the family.  In fact, they told me that mama and daddy had found me in a ditch in the poor part of town and felt sorry for me and brought me home.  Now I understand how that story got started.  I mean I was so much cuter and smarter than my brothers and sisters it seemed pretty apparent that I was an outsider. Yup, they would rag on me big time but it didn’t bother me. I knew I was special.

I grew up and the story about me being “found” kind of faded away. I knew it was all a joke, but every once in a while, it give me pause.  Hmmm, what if, I wonder, could it be?  Naw…I was pretty sure, it was not true.  As time passed and technology grew, someone started a company that would allow you to check your DNA.  The results would tell you where you were from and where your ancestors lived.  One of my older brothers decided to spend the money and have his checked. The results were lack luster.

I always envisioned being related to William Wallace or some other great hero.  But when his results came in it turned out that we only had a 17% chance of being from Ireland or Scotland. That means there was about a one in five chance that I had an Irish brogue hidden somewhere in me and that was not enough for me to go and buy a kilt! A whopping 83% was plain ole English.  Yup…right there in Northern Europe.  I guess my ancestors got mad at the king or queen and took a ship to America.

But then I thought, “Well, those are his results but are they my results?”  I mean if the “we found you in a ditch story” was true then his story couldn’t be mine.  So, guess what?  For Father’s Day, Judy spent the money and I was able to spit in a tube and send my DNA off in the mail.  It took several weeks but guess what?  Yup, you guessed it.  My results were exactly the same as my brother’s.  What that really means is that we had the same father and mother and I was the best looking and smartest because mom and dad finally got it right.  Smile.

I’m really just pulling your leg.  I knew I was part of the family, there is a whole lot of family resemblance in me.  I also knew that old story was just a joke but I always enjoyed playing along.  It made me feel kinda…special.  As you have heard before…my brothers and sisters called me “precious”—mainly because I was.  Smile.  But I want you to know that you are special too.  We all are.  We are all wonderful creations of God.  Like someone said, “God doesn’t make junk.”

I was born into the Taylor clan by an act of God’s grace.  Period.  I could have been born anywhere or at anytime, but by His grace I was born to Alston and Leslie back in 1954. That wasn’t the only time I experienced His grace.  I was born another time too, back on October 26, 1976.  That was the day I was born again and adopted into the family of God.  You see, each person who trusts Christ is in the family by a new birth (that’s where we get our spiritual DNA) but also by the power of adoption. That’s where we get all the rights and privileges of a full grown son. From the moment I believed in Jesus, I had all the rights of a person who has known Jesus for decades.  Amazing.

So, I’m a Taylor down to my core…my DNA proves it.  But I am also a “tailor-made” (I couldn’t resist) child of God.  Born again by His grace and adopted into the family as His son.  There is no higher privilege than that.  And it is an open invitation.  God invites each and every person into the family if they are willing to believe and trust in His Son.  It is all a matter of faith and His grace.  His Book says, “For you are saved by grace through faith, and this is not from yourselves; it is God’s gift—not from works, so that no one can boast.”

I know I use that verse often, but it just never grows old.  I am a child of God and He is my Dearest Daddy. Not because of who I am, but because of His love for me and His amazing grace.  How about that?

If you should ever wonder who you really belong to, can I make a suggestion?  Why not settle the issue and become a child of His?  You will never wander or wonder again.  He’s just waiting for you to come to Him and rest.  He wants you to know He’s got this, for now and for all eternity.

Posted in Family, food, Grace, life, loving others, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, wisdom

Salty Watermelon and Sweet Grits

Now as we have many parts in one body, and all the parts do not have the same function, in the same way we who are many are one body in Christ and individually members of one another.” Romans 12:4-5

It just doesn’t make any sense.  I am from the South and we know how to do food.  There are two foods that are mainstays.  They are grits and watermelon.  From my perspective you don’t mess with Texas and you don’t mess with grits and you don’t mess with watermelon.  Yet, there it is as plain as day.  And, for goodness sake, it is in my family.

My wife Judy, has long been a fan of watermelon.  I mean she isn’t friends with watermelon, she loves it.  And just like me, she loves a sweet watermelon.  When we were growing up, watermelons were just about the size of a small blimp, weighing up to 30 and 40 pounds.  Most of them were as sweet as sugar water.  There was not a question if a melon was going to be sweet, it was just a matter of how sweet it was going to be!  Those were the days.

However, somewhere along the way watermelons changed.  Most of them are now the size of basketballs and weigh-in at a feather weight of 12-15 pounds.  And it seems the only way to get a sweet watermelon is to inject it with sugar water.  Perhaps that might be the reason Judy has gotten confused about how to make a melon taste sweeter.  Someone has cast an evil spell upon her.  For many years now, she has been convinced that putting salt—that’s right salt—on watermelon somehow makes it sweeter.  What?  Listen, I’ve tried this, and the only thing salt does to watermelon is make it salty.

I’ve tried to remove this evil spell but to no avail.  And she even uses it against me.  She will sometimes cut up a watermelon and then sprinkle…or dump…salt all over it.  She knows then that the melon is all hers.  It is a devious plan indeed.  But that is what happens when you mess with melons.

Now the second problem is as bad.  Everyone knows that grits are not cream of wheat and not oatmeal …so you do not…and I repeat DO NOT…put sugar on grits.  It is a travesty of justice and some would say very close to a sin.  If God had wanted grits to be sweet, He would have made them that way.  I have a very good friend who has been mesmerized with a spell and he is convinced that sugar goes on grits.  It is a sad tale indeed.  And the crazy part is, he is wonderful cook.  I think it just goes to show that even the best cooks can be deceived.

You might ask, “Well, what goes on grits?”  That would be salt, pepper, and butter and lots of all three.  A good bowl of grits should slide down your throat like shoes on melting ice, raise your blood pressure by 10 points, and have a nice pepper burn.  But they should not be sweet…ever…never.  Now there are other acceptable variations such as cheese (oh, yes) bacon bits (I can taste it now!) and of course shrimp.  If you have never had cheese grits or shrimp and grits, you need to repent right away and go try it.  You won’t regret it. It is as fine as frog hair…and that is pretty fine.

Now I have learned (actually, I am still learning) that someone can believe that you need to put salt on watermelon and sugar on grits and still be your friend.  That becomes really important if you happen to be married to them.  You see, we need to learn that we don’t need to agree on everything.  If we would practice that, the world would be a better place for sure.  Now, not that I have ever had this problem, but sometimes people tend to get a little stubborn.  We tend to think that there is only one way and that is our way.  You know, kinda like when you think you don’t put salt on watermelon or, gulp, sugar on grits.  Oops, I think I just shot myself in the foot.  I knew if I wrote long enough it would happen.

The Book tell us, “Now as we have many parts in one body, and all the parts do not have the same function, in the same way we who are many are one body in Christ and individually members of one another.” In other words, it is ok if Judy likes salt on her watermelon, as long as she keeps the salt on her side of the plate.  And my friend who likes sugar on his grits may need to go to rehab, but he can still be my friend.  Let’s not make mountains out of molehills, especially in these difficult days.

I’m probably gonna have to try this salt and sugar thing at least one more time.  If nothing else it will show that I am trying to understand. That’s what Jesus would want me to do and that’s what He does for me.  When I come up with some strange combinations in life, well, He just smiles and tries to show me the right way.  He keeps me from doing something too crazy…like eating chili and eggs.  It’s good to know that if I do, He’s got that too.

Posted in Family, food, gratitude, life, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, wisdom

Food Fix

Jesus spoke to them again: “I am the light of the world. Anyone who follows me will never walk in the darkness but will have the light of life.” John 8:12

What do you mean food doesn’t fix everything?  Well, I don’t know if it is because I am from the South or because I am a Baptist but I just know food makes everything better.  There is nothing like a healthy (uh, perhaps unhealthy) dose of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, well seasoned {hog jowl or some other appropriate grease source} green beans, and a large portion of bread) to make everything better. And, of course, don’t forget dessert.

The other evening I came home from a rather difficult meeting.  I walked in the door and my wife Judy, who can read me like a book, instantly said, “do you need to self-medicate?”  I love her…she knows.  Off to the Dairy Barn we went and in just a few minutes I was feeling better thanks to a salted-caramel concrete.  Yup, the saying used to be “take two aspirins and call me in the morning.”  Now it is, “eat two chocolate cookies with a glass of cold milk and call me in the morning.”  Oh the joy.

We have this rose bush in our incredibly beautiful yard—which by the way is also due to Judy and her green thumb.  This rose bush is on an arbor by our back door which used to be a great spot.  It bloomed and as you walked through the arbor you were immersed in their sweet, lush smell.  It was good.  But over time the bush has grown not as healthy and doesn’t bloom nearly as much.

Judy and I were sitting in the yard yesterday morning and she made the comment that the rose bush had a single bloom.  So I casually mentioned that maybe she should feed it.  Remember, that fixes everything.  A good shot of rose bush food and bam here come the blooms.  But she told me I was wrong.  The problem wasn’t that the rose bush was starving for food—it was starving for light.  Here’s what has happened.

Just to the east of the rose bush where the morning sun comes in, two trees have grown—a dogwood and a redbud.  Both are great trees and they seem to be real happy.  But in the process of growing they have shut off a lot of the morning sunshine from the rose bush and it is suffering.  Judy said that the rose bush can survive the way it is but without enough sunlight it won’t and can’t bloom.  What we end up with is a rose bush that is just getting by and that will never really be what it was intended to be—a source of beauty with the sweet aroma of a new day.

So, somewhere in the future there is a good chance that the rose bush will probably have to be moved to a place where it can thrive and that means more sun.  It will be a dramatic change and it might even be difficult but unless we do something the rose will never be and do what it was meant to be and do.  Hmmmm.

I wonder if that is the problem with me—with you.  I wonder if we are growing in a place where the soil might be right but there just isn’t enough light.  I wonder if we need more Sonshine.  You see, we might believe that if our lives just had more stuff, more toys, more of this or more of that, we would be happy.  But the truth of the matter—we just need more of Jesus.

Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Anyone who follows me will never walk in the darkness but will have the light of life.” Wow.  First, He affirms He is the light we are looking for.  It might seem easier, even logical to just put a light bulb out by the rose bush, but that light would be insufficient and could never replace the light of the sun.  And trust me, the light we need in our lives can never come from religion, denomination or some other “self medication.”  We need the true light that can only come from Him.

But He says something else.  He declares that if we walk with Him two things will happen.  We won’t have to just survive in the darkness, or starve for light and in fact we will have the light that brings life.  Bam…just what we need…just what the doctor ordered.  And if that isn’t enough, since we walk with Him there will never be the need for a transplant because we walk with the Light—we move with the Light.  Because of that, no circumstances will ever be able to hurt us.

Well, it’s just a matter of time but we will have to move our friend to a sunnier place in our yard.  And I will feel sorry for the bush as we dig him up and prune him back but it will be for his good.  After the initial pain he will bloom again and that will make it worth while.  So, what do you need to do in your life to once again walk with the Son?  What things need to be pruned back or what needs to be given up so you will be free to walk with Him again?  Yup, it might be painful but just imagine your life as you are blooming once again.  Imagine the fragrant smell of life with Him.  Make that decision today.  Go ahead and rest in Him.  He’s got this.

Posted in Family, food, gratitude, life, loving others, Scripture, Southern born, thankful

Call Me “Precious”

The woman was convinced. She saw that the tree was beautiful and its fruit looked delicious, and she wanted the wisdom it would give her. So she took some of the fruit and ate it. Then she gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it, too.” Genesis 3:6

I remember it like it was yesterday…or a couple of weeks ago anyway.  I am the youngest of eight children.  Some call me the baby of the family…I call it the best. My brothers and sisters nicknamed me “precious”.  I used to think it was because they were jealous, but I later learned they were just right.  And, because I was so precious, well, I often was the target of pranks and other acts of terrorism.

The two sisters right above me and myself were called the three little ones.  That was because everybody else was several years older and therefore bigger.  My two youngest sisters were the main terrorists.  They loved to hold me down and tickle me mercilessly and then pull my ears till they were blood red. It’s because of them one of my ears sticks out further than the other. They were two tough cookies.

One time they pushed me out the door in my underwear and wouldn’t let me back in.  I banged and banged on the door ,all to no avail.  They, of course, will deny all of this but trust me, at the Judgement Seat all will be revealed and they will surely be grateful for grace.

I have always had an affection for sweet things and they even used that against me.  One day one of them came up and said, “Dewayne, do you want some candy?”  Well, my response was, “Well sure.”  It was a small box and in my excitement I didn’t take time to read the label.  Honestly, since I was only about eight, I probably wouldn’t have known the difference anyway.  So, I opened the box and found that it was filled with chocolates.  There were only three or four pieces in the box and before long…they were gone.

I did notice that they tasted a little different, but they were sweet, and they were brown so hey, that was close enough for me.  I should have been suspicious that the terrorists were being so nice but I always was a trusting soul.  Well, several hours passed and before long time wasn’t the only thing that passed.  You see, my loving sisters had fed me a whole box of Ex-Lax.  They would deny it, you probably can’t believe it, but trust me, I was there.  Oh, boy was I there.

Well, I learned a lot of lessons growing up and this is one of them.  You see, things are often not what they seem to be. I thought I was a getting a box of chocolates and instead I got a box of trouble.  It looked like chocolate, it even tasted like chocolate, but it wasn’t even close.  Did you know that the Bible warns us how the devil can disguise himself?  It says that he can disguise himself as an angel of light when in fact he is the angel of darkness.  Remember that…things are not always as they seem.

I also learned that not everyone who comes bearing gifts can be trusted.  I should have known better when they offered me that box, but my desire for chocolate overruled my common sense.  That is what how Adam and Eve got in trouble in the garden. The story is found in Genesis and it says, “The woman was convinced. She saw that the tree was beautiful and its fruit looked delicious, and she wanted the wisdom it would give her. So she took some of the fruit and ate it. Then she gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it, too.” And just like that…I found myself eating Ex-Lax.

It’s a tricky world out there…terrorists are lurking everywhere and sometimes they might be related, so be careful.  Be sure and use your good common sense if someone offers you a little box filled with chocolates.  You might be getting more than you bargained for.  Like I said, I probably wouldn’t have understood the label even if I had read it. But do you know what?  My mama would have.  In fact, if I had gone to mama this story would have been totally different.  But, well, I didn’t. As we journey through this upside down world, don’t forget to go to your Dearest Daddy with your questions and mysteries.  He is always there, and He is always watching out for you.  You can trust Him. His box of chocolate is always the real deal.  So have a seat, open the box and enjoy.  You can rest in Him.  He’s got this.

Posted in Family, food, gratitude, life, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel, wisdom

Change…or Not?

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” Hebrews 13:8

It was like I had lost a good friend. When this pandemic thing came up it messed with my life.  Needless to say…it is still messing.  It’s getting better but its not even close to normal. You see, one of the things that Judy and I enjoy doing together is dining out at a restaurant. We have several favorites that we go to pretty regularly.  We have our favorite in the burg, favorites in Marion, favorites in Paducah and even a couple in  Evansville.  Then we have favorite meals at each place.  At one we have a steak, at another grilled shrimp, at another a hamburger–and that is a seafood place…go figure.

But do you know what happens occasionally?  We decide to go “rogue.”  We decide to go to a new place or try something new at a familiar place. That is how we discovered the  “Pork  Belly, Pimento Cheese, Fried Green Tomato wonder of wonders”.  It still makes me drool. Regardless, the new adventure is always refreshing and usually quite good.  Every once in a while it flops—every once in a while we leave saying, “well, that didn’t work.”

A couple of years ago we were in Paducah and on a whim tried a Chinese place.  Everything said, “don’t” but we did.  Weeds in the parking lot, trash in the parking lot and a front door that looked like a herd of kids with dirty hands had just passed through all said, “get back in the car.”  Well, we didn’t and boy was it a bad experience.  But even so here’s what we have discovered—the sense of change—the sense of adventure is worth the risk of the occasional failure. Change can be challenging but it is also refreshing.

Someone once said that a rut is a grave with the ends knocked out.  By and large, I am a creature of habit.  I have the same thing for breakfast almost every day.  I drive the same way to work every day. But even if I like sameness, I also like change.  Isn’t that weird?  There is a reason. We need change to keep life fresh.   We need variety to make life interesting. I think that is one of the things the pandemic has forced our hand on.  We have to do some things differently—willing or not. While that is true in our personal journey, it is also true in our spiritual journey.

The one thing that gives me a confident assurance is that nothing is new to God.  He is never surprised and never caught off guard.  He never says, “Boy, I sure didn’t see that one coming!” It is great to belong to a God who is big enough to have everything under control. I love that in this world of constant change, He is a constant.  The writer of Hebrews said it best, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.”  That means no matter where you go in the past—He was there and He was the same.  That means no matter where you go today—He is there and He is the same.  And that means no matter where the future takes you and no matter what it holds—He will be there and He will be the same.  He. Is. The. Same.

Like I said, I enjoy a little variety—a little change adds spice to life.  But when it comes to my Dearest Father, well, I like the sameness that He brings.  My circumstances, my mess-ups, even my fickleness doesn’t faze Him.  He is always the same.  And that same—well, it is just the best.  A guy named John in the New Testament wrote and said that it is just amazing, this love that God has for us…a love that extends out and allows us to be called His.  Yup…you gotta love that.

Let me suggest you occasionally try a new restaurant and or a new item on the menu. And if it has pork belly and pimento cheese on it—well, its got to be a winner.  But when it comes to choosing what god you will serve—there’s only one choice and that is Creator God.  Bigger than it all—ready and willing to handle our biggest problems and always ready to extend His grace our way—there’s no need to look any further.  Oh, and of course, as always, He’s got this.

Posted in Family, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, Military memories, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, wisdom

It’s a “Dippity-Do-Dah” Day

If we say, “We have fellowship with him,” and yet we walk in darkness, we are lying and are not practicing the truth.”  1 John 1:6

Dippity-do dah, dippy day, my oh my, what a wonderful day!  I joined the Air Force back in 1972 and in so many ways it was a different world.  At that time longer hair was still very much in vogue.  It seemed the only guys with shorter haircuts were either born in the 1920’s or in the military.  I was the latter.

It was also a different day in the way people view the military.  The country was coming out of the Vietnam era and sadly many saw veterans and the active military in a dark light.  I can well remember walking around town and getting the “one of those” look.  While I was never ashamed of being in the military, in fact, I was proud to serve, I did want to be cool—part of the in-crowd and short hair just wasn’t in.  But you know the old saying, “Where there is a will, there is a way.”  Hello Dippity-do.

It’s funny, I don’t remember anyone else doing it nor do I remember how I started.  I found this hair stuff called, “Dippity-do.”  It was a gel like product and depending on how much you applied, it would make your hair stay where you put it.  So I bought a jar and slowly I let the hair on the top of my head and sides grow out.  I would wakeup in the morning and put this stuff, in fact a lot of this stuff, on my hair.  I would comb it kinda on top of my head and toward the back.  The effect was—well, effective. The funny part is when this stuff dried out it made my hair as solid as a rock.  Of course, my mom always said I had a hard head.

I found that I could have the required white-wall around my ears and have all this hair glued down to the top of my head.  When I got off work, I would go take a shower, wash this stuff out and believe it or not have enough hair to totally cover my ears.  I looked like any other guy in the early 1970’s.  Even as I write this I’m saying, “What?”  But believe me it worked.  I looked like a military guy during the day and a regular off-the-street guy at night.  Looking back, it was weird.

Even stranger I worked in the command section of my squadron and to show how effective my ruse was, no one said anything.  It looked, and I guess was, regulation.  I remember one day walking in the local mall and coming straight toward me was my squadron commander, Major Hobbs.  We passed within five feet of each other and he didn’t even recognize me. Yup—G.I. Joe by day and a 70’s hipster at night. Looking back there probably was a word for it.  It was probably pretty hypocritical.

The word hypocrite means to “play the part” or to “wear the mask.”  It was used to describe actors in ancient Greece who were one thing on stage and another off the stage.  The one thing I remember is that I always felt a certain amount of fear while doing this.  There was always the “what if I get called in and don’t have time to plaster my hair down” thing.  What if my commander and my first sergeant saw me and did recognize me?  I knew they respected me and what would happen to that respect?  It’s the feeling you get when you are one thing one time and another thing later.

Well, finally I figured it wasn’t worth it and I’ll tell you that story another time, but the bottom line is I went and got a regular haircut.  Two things happened almost immediately.  First, I felt free.  The fear of the wrong person seeing me at the wrong time was suddenly gone.  It was like a weight was taken off my shoulders.  The second thing that happened was I discovered that in spite of what the culture said, I was proud to be in the Air Force and that haircut identified me as part of a special family and team.  It wasn’t something to be ashamed of…it was something to be proud of.  And the best part, the girl I was dating, who I later married, thought I was even cuter.  Now for the funny part. I have been out of the military now for 36 years and I never, not even once, grew my hair out.  I decided I like shorter hair.  More than that…I decided I like being real.

So, what about you?  What is it in your life where you “wear the mask?”  What is it in your life where you have decided to pretend—to be something you aren’t?  While you find that in every aspect of life, sadly it’s also common in the Jesus follower world.  People say one thing and do another—people who act one way on Sunday and another the rest of week.  If I learned anything from my Dippity-do world is that authenticity beats a plastic mask every time. 

John, one of the guys who followed Jesus in the Bible, said it pretty well.  He said, “If we say, “We have fellowship with him,” and yet we walk in darkness, we are lying and are not practicing the truth.”  In other words, if we say we are one thing and really are another—we are just living a lie.  It is better to be real than fake.  It is better to be authentic than counterfeit.  I may have fooled my commander that day but I never fool God when I choose to be one thing in public and another in private.  But the one thing I love about God is that He never rejects me.  He is never ashamed to call me His child. I can always rest in Him and more than that, He can handle who I am—Dippity-do and all.  He’s got this.