Category: Southern born

Posted in Family, forgiveness, friends, Grace, Integrity, life, love, loving others, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials, wisdom

Your Slip is Showing

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

A good person produces good things from the treasury of a good heart, and an evil person produces evil things from the treasury of an evil heart. What you say flows from what is in your heart.” Luke 6:45

Pardon me, but your slip is showing.  Change is everywhere.  I can well remember my Momma getting dressed for church.  In those day she always wore a couple of extra “accessories.”  First, she was a big fan of what I guess was called a girdle.  As I remember, these things were designed to hold things in place around a lady’s waist.  I never saw Momma put one on, but I know she wore one.  How?  When we were sitting in church, I would get bored and start doing “things.”  Things are anything that helped me pass the time.  So, I would poke my Momma in the side, only to find that it was hard as a rock.  As impenetrable as the Great China Wall, there was something firming things up.  I suspect it was “the girdle.”

The other thing was something called a slip.  As best as I could tell it was worn under a lady’s dress to ensure that nothing was seen through.  Now I know more about this because my Momma always wanted to be sure her slip wasn’t showing.  It was important to have the slip shorter than your dress by a couple of inches.  Well, since she couldn’t see behind her (we didn’t have a full-length mirror), she would say, “Dewayne, is my slip showing?”  I would get behind her and give her the report.  I think in our early years of marriage, slips were still in vogue.  I’m pretty sure Judy asked me to give her the “slip” report too.

Nobody, and I mean nobody, wanted to get to church and have their slip showing.  How many times did we get somewhere public and there in front of us would be a lady with her slip showing? Momma would sadly shake her head and say, “Oh my, her slip is showing.  She should have had someone check.”  Well, some time ago slips went out of vogue and so also went the way of the slip report.  No slip…no report.  But the saying still lingers.

When you hear someone say, “Your slip is showing.” it means that something they intended, or perhaps should have intended, to be hidden is there for everyone to see. Well, here’s a news flash.  Someone needs to tell everyone that their “slip” is showing in social media.  Now I am not a social media person.  I use it to post Grits, to make a couple of church announcements and wish people happy birthday.  But beyond that, it just isn’t my thing.  But even with that limited exposure, and thanks to folks who sometimes tell me what they see, well, there are a lot of “slips” showing.

I’ve almost stopped being shocked at what people write on social media.  It seems people confuse the privacy of their journal with things like Facebook.  Things that should never be written or spoken spew on the pages like a bad case of the stomach flu.  Hurtful, painful words too often fill the screen of our devices.  I remember one time a lady who attended our church at the time wrote some very un-Jesus like words.  I asked her about it, and she said, “Well, I didn’t know the whole world would see them.” What? Duh?”

So, I think when we see someone being unkind and harsh in social media we should just say, “Pardon me, but your slip is showing.”  Now “showing your slip” with unkind words is never right.  You know your Momma taught you, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”  Well, Jesus gives us another perspective and warning.  He tells us that out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.  In other words, what comes out of our mouth is simply revealing what is in our hearts. And if hurtful, unkind, and sometimes untrue words flow from our mouths, or our fingers, according to Jesus, it is just revealing what is in our hearts.

I know, if you aren’t a Jesus follower that doesn’t make a lot of sense but hey, kindness is really in vogue these days even in the secular world.  It might be selective kindness, but it is there.  Now, if you are a Jesus follower, God gives us a word for this kind of practice.  It is called sin.  No matter the circumstances or the way we attempt to justify it, it is sin.  If you feel the need to express your displeasure with someone, why not try praying.  God is always up for an authentic prayer on behalf of someone and you also won’t be surprised to hear “your slip is showing.”

I happen to be one of those people who too often speaks without thinking but I am learning to hit the pause button.  They say the older you get the more you lose your filter. You say things…and write things…that are just not right, or kind or both.  Then, you end up telling God you are sorry and experiencing that regret thing.  Of course, you may not have any remorse…and that is the saddest of all.

So, what do you say?  Let’s start a “Pardon me, your slip is showing” campaign.  It is a gentle way of letting someone know that their communication, whether it be social media or spoken, shall we say, is embarrassing. They may not thank you now but maybe, just maybe, they will later.  And if you are like me and sometimes wrestle with putting your mouth in gear when you shouldn’t, ask God to help.  He will, trust me.  This is a big deal to Him.  The good news is that like everything, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, gratitude, life, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

The Antlion

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.” 1 Peter 5:8

Where I lived growing up, I could go fishing and lion hunting every day. It was such an adventure living at 6008 Carlton Road.  All the people who lived in the new subdivision being built across the street had no idea.  Imagine…lion hunting and fishing every day, any day, and it wasn’t my imagination.  You see, our house, like many older houses in northeast Florida was placed on blocks leaving a couple of feet of space between the house and the ground.  And that space was where lions lived, and fishing happened.

No, I wasn’t hunting the king of the jungle and my fishing didn’t involve a pole or water…for that matter. Living under our house was the fierce larva of the predatory antlion…and they were just waiting for me to come along and challenge them.  You see the antlion lives in and loves soft sand…just like we had under our house at 6008. They had a tricky way to catch their food.  They would burrow in the sand and make a cone shaped pit and then hide in the bottom.  Ants or other insects would come along, fall into the pit, and the antlion would reach up from beneath the sand and grab them with their long pinchers and…well, it was game over.  Rarely did an insect survive the pit or antlion. And rarely did an antlion escape from Dewayne the lion hunter.

To catch an antlion, you simply found a spider web, and trust me there were plenty, and twist it into a sorta thread thingy.  You would then attach that to a small stick and then…just go fishing.  I would crawl under the porch (one of my favorite spots) and look for the cone shaped pits of the antlion. After finding a good one—the bigger the pit, the bigger the prey—I would take my stick and ever so gently, and slowly, drag the spider web around the bottom of the pit.  The old antlion would think it was a poor trapped insect and latch hold of the spider web and I would “reel” him in by raising the stick and out would come the antlion. Now what’s really cool is that they would put up a pretty good fight.  Some of these guys were a half-inch long so it was pretty exciting!

What was kind of funny was that even after I pulled the antlion from out of the sand, he just kept hanging on. I’m not sure if he was just really hungry or half blind but rare was the day that he just let go of the spider web.  Now, the story does have a happy ending.  This was strictly a “catch and release” thing. I would study him a while and let him dangle a while before putting him back in the sand. If you are a regular Grits reader you know not everyone got off so easy. Many a “love bug” and ant suffered very different fates.

I was always amazed how easily these fierce hunters became the hunted and fell for the same old trick but then I realized how often we do the same thing.  Every day, or at least it seems that way, we are tempted to do something that just isn’t good for us or wise and yet time and again we fall for it.  Whether it is a food choice, a decision to put something in our brain that doesn’t need to be there, or to say something that is covered with barbs, we simply seem to fall for it time and again. Like I was intentional in my fishing for antlions, the Bible tells us someone, something is intentionally tracking us…hunting for us.

It was Peter (not Pan but the guy in the Bible) who talked about the devil being like a “roaring lion” and his mission is simple…find lunch.  Peter says that he prowls around “seeking someone to devour.”  No, he doesn’t actually eat us, but he does devour our character, our integrity, our legacy, our marriages, our careers and that is just the short list.  The good news is that there is a lion hunter who wants to be on our side…and His name is Jesus.  Lions can be scary but the fear quickly flees with your Lion Hunter, never loses and never misses, walks by your side.

So, if you find yourself like the ant who wandered around under my house and slipped into the pit, just know help is nearby.  Whisper a prayer or shout one out and the great Lion Hunter will be there.  He is never far away and always one step ahead of the antlions in our life.  Yup, you can rest assured, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

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

Ride a Cock Horse

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Gap

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daddy’s Babies

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toys-R-Me

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted in Family, gratitude, Integrity, life, Southern born, thankful, wisdom

Ricky…and I Don’t Mean Ricardo

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in Me will live, even after dying.” John 11:25

His name was Ricky. We lived on the fringes of a large city but were more country than city.  For a young boy finding his way it was the perfect place to grow up.  Snyder’s Grocery was about a half mile from our house and Owen’s Lawnmower Shop, who had the best penny candy around, was through the woods a ways.  The big day was when they opened “Jackson’s Minute Mart” just down the road from our house.  We were now in the big times.

Since we were in the country it was only logical that there were always a few pets around.  We had several dogs, all but one were mixed breeds.  The one was a beautiful red Irish Setter we named, “Satan.” Go figure. I’m pretty sure we were the only family around that had a dog with that name and the funny part is he was very gentle.  We also had a cat, and his name was Ricky. I’m not sure if we ever had more than one cat but maybe that was because one was enough.  Ricky was a tom cat, a tabby cat, and let’s just say, all cat.

He was kinda legendary around the home place. I remember that he wasn’t a “sit in your lap” cat but rather one that preferred to have the run of the place.  He, Satan, and the rest of the dogs seemed to get along just fine.  Since he was a real cat, we didn’t buy cat food for him…he simply ate what he could catch and what the dogs ate which were scraps from the table.  Yup, Ricky was a “John Wayne” cat if there ever was one.  And then…it happened.

One day, Ricky died.  Now my brothers and sisters might remember more details, but I don’t. I don’t know if he was sick or tried to chase the chicken across the proverbial road, but he was dead.  For some reason I can remember us burying him out back.  We had a backyard and at the back of the backyard we had this big row of bamboo bushes and beyond that was the wilderness…or at least it seemed that way.  It was often grown up with weeds and it seemed like a good place to bury Ricky.  So, we did.

Well, and you are not going to believe this, but something happened that seems almost impossible.  The day after we buried Ricky, sometime during the day, we found him sitting in the backyard, a little dirty but other than that none the worse for the wear.  As I remember it, we went out back to the wilderness and found his grave open.  Apparently, he had dug his way out.  Now none of us were veterinarians and we didn’t do an autopsy, but I am pretty sure I can vouch for the fact that he was dead. So, I guess I am telling you that Ricky the cat came back to life. And it seems to me, though I can’t verify it, that it happened another time…or two.  It seemed that Ricky did indeed have nine lives.

I know you are thinking, you must be thinking, that this just can’t be true, but I promise you it is. Ricky was one unusual cat…very unusual and the story is still circulating around the family today.  It was legend, it was myth, it was truth.  And that dear friend is true about someone else…and He wasn’t a cat.  A couple of thousand years ago they nailed a man named Jesus to a Roman cross and He died—not accidentally but with a purpose—to pay the price for the sins of the whole world.  After the bad guys made sure He was good and dead, His friends buried Him and guess what?  Three days later He came back to life. You might doubt Ricky’s story, but you can’t doubt this one.  He was dead and then He was alive.  Amazing.

I know there are a lot of skeptics about God today and too many have decided He just can’t be real.  Let me challenge you to get a copy of His story, the Bible, and check it out for yourself and then decide.  It is worth reading and believing.  Millions and millions of people have chosen to investigate…and then believe and them…it is a game changer.  Ricky did eventually die and not come back but not Jesus. He’s alive today and forevermore. In fact, He said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in Me will live, even after dying.”  Go ahead, check it out and you might discover what so many already have.  It’s the real deal.

As I have journeyed, especially over these last couple of years, I have seen, and I have experienced many difficulties.  We all have.  And a whole lot of people have talked about discovering or rediscovering the reality of God.  Maybe it is your turn to do so.  One thing I know.  No matter what, how big or how small, He has been a faithful friend.  And no matter what, how big or how small, He always says, “I’ve got this.”  And…He does.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful

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

It’s tucked away in the memories of my mind…a snippet in a sea of remembrances.  I’ve said it so many times by now that some might say it is overkill, but the bottom line is my Daddy and Momma went so far to make special days…special.  The king of the hill, of course, was Christmas but they also tried to make each birthday special. They couldn’t afford it but somehow, they did it. And one of those sacrifices is the center of the snippet.

It was probably 1959.  I was about five years old growing up in a world so different from today you would think that we moved to a different planet. It was a dozen days past Christmas, and it was my birthday. I’m sure there was cake, I’m sure there was a family celebration but what I remember most is the present.  I’m not sure how you decide what to get a five-year-old but Daddy and Momma sure knocked it out of the park that year.

Since there were no K-Marts or Walmart’s, I can only imagine that Daddy and Momma went down to the local Western Auto to shop.  If you don’t remember they were a neighborhood store that was part appliance store, part general store and part household store.  They also had a selection of toys…especially at Christmas and maybe that is why they had what I got.  That year my parents bought me an ice cream truck.

Well, it really wasn’t a truck, and it really didn’t hold ice cream but it was something special.  It had three wheels, like a trike, but behind the seat it had large metal box with decals that said, “ice cream.”  The handlebars had those plastic streamers on each end, the front wheel had a fender and of course, it had a bell.  I can remember driving and peddling down the road in front of our house.  There was little traffic so there was also little danger of getting run over.

For some reason I can remember about a quarter of mile down the road a man was building a small box house.  He was singlehandedly taking on this project, and I decided to peddle down there and he was working away.  I “pulled up” and asked if he would like an ice cream and the reason I remember him, his house and that day was that rather than brush me off…he played along and if I remember correctly, almost every day I would peddle down the road to see my new customer and friend.  The ice cream was pretend, but his kindness was not.  Looking back at this snippet of a memory, it still makes me smile.

Hanging over the fireplace in my wife’s “keeping room” is a quote by Maya Angelou.  Something she said says so much.  She said, “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.” And that is the very reason I remember this man taking time from building a house to talk and befriend a five year old boy.  I don’t remember his name, but I do remember his heart.

What about you?  What about us?  I wonder will we take the time to be kind…to treat someone with an extra measure of kindness and implant a “snippet” in their hearts? In those days when I was five, kids were supposed to be more seen than heard.  There seemed to be the adult world and the kid’s world and while there weren’t walls there were boundaries and this kind man chose to move beyond the boundary.  He made me feel…important.  He made me feel like I mattered.  Perhaps today, we should try to do the same.  Today, perhaps we should choose to be like…Jesus.

Jesus was famous for seeing the invisible people and touching the untouchable.  He even said one time, “Let the little children come to Me.”  He would have said to that little five-year-old boy with an ice cream truck, “Let Dewayne come to me.”  And I want you to know that no matter how invisible you feel, no matter how insignificant…you are not either to Jesus!  Tattoo that on your hearts…you matter, and you matter a lot to Him.  So, if life seems overwhelming, or maybe underwhelming, just remember you’ve got a friend in Jesus.  He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, forgiveness, Grace, life, loving others, missions, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel, Trials

She Just Wasn’t Herself

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

For from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” John 1:16

She just wasn’t herself. We had been in Panama City Beach on Florida’s Gulf coast for several days.  We were blessed to have a condo right on the beach and five stories up.  The sights and sounds of the Gulf were just amazing.  We have been here many times over the years, but this year was a little different.  You see, I was raised over on the East Coast of Florida where the Atlantic Ocean lives.  There the water is grey and is in constant motion from the waves as they made their way to shore.  Usually, the Gulf is just different.  Here the water usually has just a slight chop and it is not uncommon for it to be a bluish-green color.  In a word…it is beautiful.  All of that is especially true in the winter months.  While the water is too cold for me, I never grow tired of its beauty.  But this year…well, it was different.

From the get-go, the water was much more boisterous.  The waves were constant and large…especially for the Gulf.  The sounds of water tumbling toward the shore filled the air.  The red flag flapping on the pole said, “Stay out of the water” but not many needed a flag…especially not today.  Today the turbulent water said it all—stay clear…stay on shore.  And while the air temperature was a pleasant 72 degrees, the grey clouds, matching the color of the water, echoed that message.  The bottom line was the Gulf just wasn’t herself.  The old girl was stirred up about something.  What, I didn’t know, but she wasn’t herself.

The strange thing is that even though she was not herself, even though she was something totally different, the beauty was still there.  There was something about the waves and the grey water that was still beautiful.  Perhaps it was the power and majesty of nature and knowing that it was all there by Divine design.  Perhaps it was knowing that sometime in the future I would be back…and so would she.  I knew that those three or four days didn’t dictate her permanent nature…it was just a moment in time.

At that moment, it occurred to me that what is true with the Gulf is true with us.  You see, we all have our days.  We all have times when we are just not ourselves and instead of calm and peaceful, instead of a thing of beauty, we act the opposite—turbulent and troubled—more “beastful” than beautiful.  And, like the Gulf, we and perhaps not even they, can explain why they are struggling that day, week, month or perhaps year.  And probably, most likely, you don’t need to tell them…they know it.  You are on the shore looking in, but they are in the midst of the waves…struggling.  And hopefully, soon the time will pass, and the calm and color will return to their lives.

What do you do when you bump into someone who is acting like a turbulent Gulf?  I think we should do what God does for us…extend a little grace.  Grace is defined as unmerited favor and that is what He extends to us and encourages us to extend to them.  Grace receivers should always be grace extenders.  I like the way John, the one in the Bible, puts it.  He says, “For from His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” Jesus, so full of grace, went about splashing grace on everyone He met—including us.  And it just seems right that we should do the same.  First, understanding God’s gracefulness to us, be full and then splash it on everyone we bump into—especially the ones who need it the most.

So, tomorrow we are heading home.  We will leave the Gulf and according to the forecast she will still be turbulent but not forever.  Calmer days are ahead for her and for me and for you.  And that person that is struggling right now, go ahead and splash a little grace on them.  It just might be the thing that brings a return of calm and beauty.  And whether you find yourself in the turbulence or on the shore looking on, remember this.  No matter if you need grace or need to extend some, He will be there.  He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Christmas, Family, Grace, gratitude, Holidays, life, love, loving others, Military memories, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel

Memory Trees

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy.” Psalm 30:11

Just a heads up. Christmas trees. They all have their own time to be setup. They all have their own design and style.  They all have their time when they are trashed or stowed.  There is a common denominator.  Those three things are determined by the creators, the admirers of the trees.  That is what makes every tree special. At our house, we do something just a bit different.  We have four trees that make a small, enchanted forest of sorts.  The tallest is about six foot and the smallest is about 30 inches.  It was an idea that I came up with several years ago and we love it.  They are decorated with a wide variety of ornaments and keepsakes from over the decades…and we love that too.

On one tree, we have a styrofoam snowman’s head that was made by my sister when she was in the third grade…and trust me…that was a really, long time ago.  There is a glitter covered cross from when my wife Judy was in the fourth grade.  Of course, there are three “baby’s first Christmas” ornaments—one for each of our daughters.  There is a 3×5 index card with two buttons on it.  Written, by my oldest granddaughter when she was about 5 years old, is her name over one button and Papa written over the other.  It is priceless.  We were buddies…we are buddies. And on and on it goes…families, friends, and special memories all gathered in one place.

So, by now you are wondering, “Why are you writing about Christmas trees after Christmas has passed?”  It’s a bit of a story. When we were in Germany in 1979, we lived in base housing.  They were large, four-story apartment buildings, with three stairwells—all full of military families.  We were on the top floor, and we had one neighbor across the hall, and they actually had a phone in their home.  One year, near Easter, I needed to use the phone, so I knocked on the door and his wife came to the door.  I asked if I could use their phone and she was kind enough to say yes.

As I entered their apartment, I noticed one thing right away.  Sitting in their living room was their Christmas tree in all of its splendor.  Now, keep in mind it was right before Easter.  I made my call and just had to ask the obvious question.  I politely said, “So why do you still have your Christmas tree up?”  And, without missing a beat, she said, “It makes me happy.”  I never forgot that simple answer and the great truth it taught me.  It.Makes.Me.Happy.

I love the fact that this sweet lady made a decision not based on popular opinion, not on what the masses did, not the usual.  She decided based on what was good for her—for her mental health.  I didn’t think her odd at all—rather, I thought her strong and wise.  I wonder how many decisions we make every day that are not based on what may be good for us but based on what the Smith’s or Jones might think of us? I wonder how many things we wear, or eat, or watch, or do, that are based on the opinion of others?  I wonder how many of our faith decisions are based on the same.  Church—no church. Kindness—no kindness. Love—no love. Jesus—no Jesus. Hmmmm. I just wonder.

Well anyway, if you live around Harrisburg, Illinois you need to know something.  For the next few weeks or so, you might see a small, enchanted forest in our front bay window.  It will be four trees starting at about six feet tall and going down to 30 inches.  If you could get close enough you would see the trees covered with special ornaments—and almost everyone would represent a special memory or event.  And why will they be there?  Well, it might just be a reminder that we have so much to be thankful for. They will not be Christmas trees but memory trees…trees of gratitude.

In those coming days, we will drink coffee and do our Jesus things like reading the Bible or praying and occasionally we will look up and be happy—happy for all the blessings that God has sent our way.  Someone writing about God in His Book said that God had turned their mourning into joyful dancing. He had taken away their clothes of mourning and clothed them with joy. I couldn’t agree more.  Even in these different days, even in a year that rivaled 2020 for challenges and conflict, and even when a future is still not very certain, we will have happy moments.  We will pause and thank God that in the past He always showed up and today and all the today’s yet to come…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne