Category: Southern born

Posted in Family, food, friends, gratitude, heaven, life, pride, Scripture, Southern born, thankful

Pennies from Heaven

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “Then a poor widow came by and dropped in two small coins.” Luke 21:2 

 It was just like finding money. When I was a kid growing up in Florida, I used to love finding money. Back in those days, you didn’t dare pass up any money. I know, today, we often will leave pennies just laying on the street.  After all, what will a penny buy these days? Well, back in the good old days a penny would buy plenty—like a piece of Bazooka or Swell bubble gum, a bunch of different kinds of penny candy, you know, Kits, Sugar Babies, Now and Later, Mary Janes, Squirrel’s, Bit-O-Honeys, those fake wax lips that you could wear and chew and on and that’s just the short list. So with the kind of variety, you just didn’t pass up those shiny pennies.

But there was something more. Back in those days, when sodas were sold in glass bottles, they came with a two-cent deposit. In other words, if you found a bottle by the road, you could take it to the store and get two cents which equated to two pieces of candy. It was just like pennies from heaven. So we would regularly walk the roads around our neighborhood or at Grandma’s house looking for bottles and on a good day—you could make quite the haul. It wasn’t uncommon to find ten or fifteen bottles—each worth two pieces of candy.

So you might wonder, “How did those bottles get there?” The answer was almost always some adult, who could care less about two cents or littering for that matter, would toss them out the window.  Ultimately, their loss was our gain. We got two cents and cleaned up the roadside to boot. It is kinda sad that this treasure hunt has gone by the wayside—no pun intended. While some people do walk the roads looking for cans, you you noticed you rarely see a kid putting in the effort? Today we live in such an “easy come, easy go” society. In so many cases, what used to be considered valuable…no longer is. In far more cases, what used to matter doesn’t.

I know the days of penny candy and pennies from heaven mattering are long gone. Let me encourage you, though,  to make sure the lessons of those days don’t disappear too.  Somehow, we need to teach our kids the power of “picking up bottles,” that strange satisfaction that comes from not just getting something sweet from the store but making the money to do so. All I know is this. There was something about hunting the treasure and then cashing it in. There was something about getting “paid” for hunting and working for those bottles. That part may be out of vogue but the value of teaching our kids to earn a “paycheck” is as needed today as yesterday. So why not get creative, find a way to help you kids and grandkids find pennies from heaven. It will take some wisdom but I know someone who is more than willing help us with that. He is our Heavenly Father and He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne 

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

Me and Fred

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get a Job!

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Farmer’s Market

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others.” 2 Corinthians 9:8

 The Taylors were on the prowl. We had stayed in Fort Myers long enough to find out it can get cool this far south.  So we moseyed around the house one morning but finally decided to go out and try to find some lunch. We went to the main highway and turned left. If you turned right you found plenty of traffic but not many restaurants. For some reason left meant a little less traffic and a whole bunch of places to eat.

Since I wasn’t very hungry—yet—and because I was driving I turned most of the restaurant scouting over to my wife Judy. As we cruised along, any place I noticed I would call to her attention and trust me there were plenty. There were all the fast food places and most of the more common sit-down chains. I would call them out and she would give her opinion.  As it turns out, fortunately her opinion was a thumbs down.

Well, as I was being rejected, she was looking—beyond. I saw what I could see but she was willing to look beyond the obvious. Well, I’m not sure how but after a while she began reading the online menu for a local place. It was called “The Farmer’s Market” and as the name suggests it was next to the Farmer’s Market. It presented itself as  restaurant that served southern comfort food. My ears perked up. As Judy went down the menu, followed with more than a few reviews, I put it in the GPS and we left the main drag and headed for what sounded like “southern heaven.” And guess what? That is exactly what it turned out to be.

When we arrived at the place, it was exactly as described. Kinda in an industrial part of town, and like its location—certainly nothing fancy. When we opened the door two things were immediately obvious. First, it was a local, mom and pop place and two—it smelled like southern heaven—and it was. The special was chicken and dumplings but that was long gone but that just didn’t matter. You see, the three page menu was filled—and I mean filled—with southern delicacies. From fried chicken to meatloaf, from fried pork chops to fried fish, from livers and gizzards to country fried steak—it was all there. 

There were baked potatoes, mashed potatoes and baked sweet potatoes which was served with lots of butter and brown sugar. The list of southern seasoned vegetables was as long as my arm. You were then tempted by homemade pies made by a 25 year baking veteran. Well, they say the proof is in the tasting of the pudding and that was certainly true here. I had the fried chicken, baked sweet potato and black-eyed peas and all of it was just incredible. Judy followed suit but traded the black-eye peas for fried okra. Can someone say, “Hallelujah?”

Now you might be wondering where I am going with this and here is the answer. Sometimes to get the biggest and best blessing you have to be willing to leave the known for the unknown. Sometimes you just have to take the road less traveled. Sometimes you just have to leave the comfortable to risk being uncomfortable. Well, I am so glad that we left the familiar behind to go someplace new—adventurous. Granted we had to trust the opinion of others and what the restaurant said but here is the good, good news. That isn’t so with God. He can always be trusted and even when He asks us to leave the familiar for something that isn’t—we can have the confident assurance that it is going to be good…real good.

So if you are Fort Myer’s be sure and Google “The Farmer’s Market.”  You won’t be sorry. And if you find yourself on the prowl for something, Someone you can trust—-just turn to the Heavenly Father. He never fails, He can always be trusted and always, “He’s got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in communication, Family, friends, life, loving others, Scripture, Southern born, travel

I’m Al from the Bronx

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.” Philippians 1:6

It was a fresh breeze from decades ago. One of the things we have enjoyed in our latest foray south has been seeing friends—some from where we live now, some from where we used to live and some from a long time ago.  It has all been very special. A week ago we had lunch with one of those more ancient voices. It was 1983. I was still in the Air Force and pastoring my first full time church. I had about eight months to serve in the Air Force and had began the process of stepping out so I could step into something even bigger—God’s big plan for my wife Judy and I.

As the time for my separation came, the Air Force and I decided that I would leave my current position working directly the the Wing Commander and head down to the Security Police Group to head their administrative area.  It was there that I met Alfonso Pinzonfonseka. Now that spelling is probably not exactly right but you can also probably see why we just called him Al Pinzon. One day he arrived to work in the office I managed and according to him I asked him, “Do you listen to that rock music?” This was followed by an “Aw Son” and probably a “Shoot that thang.” He was a kid from the Bronx and I was a Southern boy so you can see how we instantly hit it off.

Well, the short story is I invited him to church. Since he didn’t drive, and since the church was about eight miles from the base, Judy and I invited him to come and spend the weekend with us. Pretty soon that was a regular routine. Al was kinda tall and our couch was kinda short so it was common for his feet to stick out. To keep this story short, before long I had the privilege of leading Al to become a Jesus follower. Raised Catholic this was a big step for Al. In fact, his New York momma was convinced He had joined a cult.

Like I said, Al didn’t drive, so I taught him and then sold him an older Orange Pinto that we owned to boot. So Al had Jesus, had wheels and soon had a girl friend. Our church pianist was Anita and believe it or not this kid from the Bronx and this girl from rural Missouri hit it off, fell in love and later were married. There is a whole lot more to this story but since our tag line is “short stories with big truths” we had better leave it there.

Now, fast forward thirty-nine years. We find Al and Anita in Fort Lauderdale…just about an hour and a half from where we were staying and decide to meet for lunch—Al and Anita’s treat.  See, that proves some things never change…I can always find a free lunch.  So, we visited for about three hours and it was just wonderful. Perhaps the best part was when Al said, “Dewayne, you literally changed my life. If I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have met Jesus. And, I guess you could say he might not have met Anita either. There is so much more to the story but I told Al this, “If this story, your story, was the only one, all these years of pastoring would be worth it.” And that friend is the truth.

So, guess what? Each of us, all of us, probably have a story like this tucked away in our lives. We all have probably made more of a difference than we could ever imagine. So if you ever wonder if it has been worth it—it has. Whether you are a preacher, teacher, factory worker, coal miner and just an ordinary Joe…our lives have touched other lives and only eternity will tell all of the story. If you get discouraged, just have a chat with your Dearest Daddy and asked Him to share what you might not be able to see. He will and then He will remind you that “He’s got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, gratitude, life, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful

Biscuits, God and You

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “Then Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died. Yet even now I know that whatever You ask from God, God will give You.”  “Your brother will rise again,” Jesus told her.” John 11:21-23

Biscuits…hot, with butter and syrup.  There are certain foods that almost act like a time machine and one of them is a good, southern biscuit.  My Momma was a good cook but her biscuits were like they own food group.  She would clear off the counter, get out the lard, flour and milk (and I guess a couple of other things), mix them together in a bowl, plop out the mixture on the counter and roll it out with her ancient rolling pin.

If I remember right she would grab a ball of the dough, flatten and shape it in her hand and then put it on the pan. Then, for whatever reason, she would take a finger or her thumb and put a little dimple in the top.  After a few minutes in the oven, out they came, heaven in a pan.  While still hot, we would add butter and just like that—a timeless, priceless southern delicacy. Need dessert? No problem, just add butter and syrup and you have southern dining at its best.

When we recently traveled south, we visited with my three sisters and two of them made…biscuits.  I’m not sure if it was Momma’s recipe or not but what I can tell you is that they were delicious. While both served real butter, not that fake stuff, one served them with orange marmalade. My, my they were good.  But wait…there is more.  We also visited with Judy’s brother and his wife Sandra also made biscuits.  I am sure somewhere down the line we must be related because the biscuit DNA was a perfect match. Awesome…pure awesome.

My oldest biscuit making sister sent me an article about prayer that just happened to mention biscuits and I knew I needed to share it here with all my grits and biscuit loving friends.  The story goes like this. “One Sunday morning at a small southern church, the new pastor called on one of his older deacons to lead in the opening prayer. The deacon stood up, bowed his head and said, ”Lord, I hate buttermilk.”


The pastor opened one eye and wondered where this was going. The deacon continued, “Lord, I hate lard.” Now the pastor was totally perplexed. The deacon continued, “Lord, I ain’t too crazy about plain flour. But after you mix ’em all together and bake ’em in a hot oven, I just love biscuits.”


“Lord, help us to realize when life gets hard, when things come up that we don’t like, whenever we don’t understand what You are doing, that we need to wait and see what You are making. After You get through mixing and baking, it’ll probably be something even better than biscuits. Amen.”

I just love that story and isn’t it so true? If we took the ingredients for biscuits, or most any other thing and tasted them individually, we probably wouldn’t eat much. But when mixed together…well good things happen.  We have a loving Heavenly Father, our Dearest Daddy, who can and will masterfully mix circumstances and events in our life.  Sometimes, perhaps often, by themselves they make no sense and leave us wondering what God is up to.  But, if we are willing to wait, if we are willing to trust, we will usually find that God had a surprise for us…better even than hot biscuits.  Now, I need to be fair and say that some of those surprises might be on the other side of the last heart beat but regardless…He can be trusted.

So the next time, you are enjoying a good homemade hot biscuit smothered in melted butter and perhaps a big baptism of syrup, remember that biscuit only happened when the biscuit maker put everything together.  And, when the circumstances of life don’t make sense, well, just hang on.  When the heavenly “Biscuit Maker” gets done, well, it will be worth it all, worth the wait.  Don’t you worry…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

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

Fruit Salad and Potlucks

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “Among the prophets and teachers of the church at Antioch of Syria were Barnabas, Simeon (called “the black man”), Lucius (from Cyrene), Manaen (the childhood companion of King Herod Antipas), and Saul.” Acts 13:1

Fruit salad anyone? I love food. I love all kinds of food and yes, occasionally I love a lot of food. I don’t know if it is because of my southern roots or my forty-two years of a pastor but the bottom line is food is a big part of my life. But wait…there is more. You see there are certain foods that I like a lot but I know that if my entire diet consisted of just one or two things, things would get boring pretty fast. That is one reason I love a potluck at church.

What is a potluck? Well, it is when all the folks at any given church put some food in a pot, brings it to church and shares it. And, with any luck at all, you end up with a really great meal.  When I was growing up we also used to call it, “dinner on the grounds.” That usually happened for a special occasion such as homecoming. In the South, the weather was usually pretty warm. At the church I was raised at, we had a long outdoor table covered by a tin roof. When the appointed day and time came, we would go outside, put on the food on that long table, pray, and then feast. I really never thought of it before but I guess I am grateful that we really didn’t have dinner “on the ground.”  Once again, some of my favorite memories is of sharing food at church. Call it potluck or call it dinner on the grounds—it was always good.

The vast variety of food was one thing that made the meal so special and I think it helped us learn an unintended lesson. Variety in life, and especially in the church, is not a bad thing.  In fact, it is a blessed thing.  When God designed the church, He designed it so that it was made up of many different people. Paul, the guy in the New Testament, wrote about the fact that just like our body needs different parts—so does the church. In fact, often the greater the variety, the stronger the church. There is a scripture found in the New Testament book of Acts. In chapter 13 and verse 1, we read, “Among the prophets and teachers of the church at Antioch of Syria were Barnabas, Simeon (called “the black man”), Lucius (from Cyrene), Manaen (the childhood companion of King Herod Antipas), and Saul.”

Talk about variety, we learn that among the leaders of the church at Antioch there was a guy named Barnabas.  His named means encourager and that is exactly what he was. If you were a little blue he was the guy to see. Next we learn that this church certainly didn’t have any problems with race because Simeon, a black man, was invited into the leadership.  They didn’t see color—and we shouldn’t either. But wait—there is more. The guy named Lucius wasn’t a local guy—in fact—he was from out of town—way out of town—all the way from Cyrene. Perhaps most unusual was Mamean who was a childhood friend of King Herod Antipas and we all know he was a bad guy. Finally we have Saul, who later became Paul, who was a Jesus hater turn Jesus lover and someone God used to literally change the world.

Amazing isn’t it? It is humorous that we can’t even agree on the simple things like what translation of the Bible or what kind of music to play in church. It would seem that if Antioch in Syria could get right, maybe we should too! You see, God puts people in the Body, the church, as He sees fit and since He never gets it wrong we should learn to love the church like Jesus loved the church. So think about it.  Who is there in your church that you struggle to love? How about asking God to help you love them and accept them. After all, with His help all things are possible. He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, Scripture, Southern born, Trials, wisdom

Time for a Switch

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 “No discipline seems enjoyable at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.”  Hebrews 12:11

 I guess I just got bored.  When I was growing up in North Florida it was just easy to get bored.  It was a different time.  There was no internet, no satellite or cable television, and no electronic games.  Then, you have to add to that there just weren’t a lot of toys to play with.  While Daddy and Momma loaded us up at Christmas, by summer a lot of them had suffered from rough play. So, you had to get a little creative!  And that’s when I got into trouble.

One of my favorite things was to make rubber band guns.  It was really quite easy.  They were building houses across the street from where we lived (slowly our place in the country was becoming suburban). Like at any construction site there were lots of wedge shaped sticks sticking out of the ground.  I later learned they were surveyor sticks.  Oops. Anyway, they had lots and I needed one, every once in a while, so I would, uh, borrow one…or two.  Well, Momma had the local newspaper delivered to our house so we got a paper every day and it came wrapped with a rubber band.  You simply collect a few rubber bands (they were discarded in the yard), drive a nail in your stick and tada…you had a rubber band gun.  See…creative.

Well, that was bound to get old, so I came up with another idea.  In North Florida, the soil (at least where we lived) was very sandy.  I discovered that if you take a water hose and start forcing it against the sandy soil it will act like a drill.  As the water forced the sand away, the hose would slowly sink into the sand.  Well, it was fun. Before I knew it, the hose was a foot in the ground, then it was two, and then it was three and it was just about then I wondered how I would get it out.  So, I gave it a tug.  It didn’t budge.  I gave it a pull—nope, it didn’t give an inch.  I was in trouble.

What happened next is lost to time and history, but one of two things happened.  Number one.  I left the hose stuck in the ground.  Daddy came home and wanted to water his rose bushes.  He found the hose stuck in the ground, asked me and I told the truth, and I was sent to the bamboo bushes to get my own instrument of correction.  Think a thin bamboo switch.  It was effective…every time.  Number two.  I realized that the hose was stuck in the ground and I realized that Daddy would be coming home soon, and he would water his rose bushes.  So, I went in the house and got a knife and cut off the hose.  The end result was the same. He asked, I told, bamboo switch. By the way…another sign that times have changed.  I looked up switch and was told it turned electricity off and on and was an electronic game that kids play.  Mine was neither.

You know, I really didn’t intend to mess up the construction site across from my house and I really didn’t mean to get my Daddy’s hose stuck in the sand.  The truth was I was just naive.  But there is another truth.  My being naive didn’t change the fact that I shouldn’t have done what I did and in the case of my Daddy’s hose—it didn’t change the consequences.  You might be asking, “Did your Daddy really give you a “switching?”  And the answer is yes.  You might ask, “Do you think you deserved the “switching?”  The answer is yes.  Finally, you might ask, “Did you learn anything from the “switching?” And the answer is yes.

You see, I never, ever again, turned on the water and let the water hose get stuck in the ground.  I don’t believe I was ever even tempted to let the water hose get stuck in the ground. You see, the “switching” was not an act of anger or meanness, it was an act of love.  Daddy was teaching me about right and wrong and I am grateful for that.  Daddy had several ways to discipline and they were generally fair and not too harsh.  And I believe they worked because I’ve never been arrested or spent a night in jail—yet. Overall I am a compliant person but part of that might be because my Daddy (and Momma) cared enough to help me learn.

I never really bought into the thought that the “switching” hurt my Daddy more than me because I know it hurt pretty bad.  But I do know he didn’t enjoy it.  My Heavenly Father doesn’t enjoy it either and He loves me even more than my earthly Daddy. God’s Book, the Bible, says that no discipline seems enjoyable at the time, but painful. Well, that is the truth. But is also says that later on it yields a kind of fruit—the kind that teaches us right from wrong.  And that is profitable.

So, the lessons for today?  Don’t pull up surveyor sticks and don’t stick your Daddy’s hose in the dirt and above all…remember that your Father up in heaven loves you. In fact, He loves you enough to allow hard things in your life to help you learn right from wrong…to make better decisions with fewer consequences and regrets.  And don’t worry…He is loving and patient.  He never over reacts but rather responds in just the right way.  And as always, He’s got even this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, gratitude, priorities, Southern born, travel, wisdom

Watch Your Step

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 Make the most of every opportunity in these evil days.” – Ephesians 5:16

 There are times in life when you really need to watch your step—like when you’re walking through a cow pasture. Sounds simple enough, right? Well, here are two things to keep in mind. First, make sure it’s actually a cow pasture and not a bull pasture. If you see bulls, head for the fence immediately. Bulls are called bulls for a reason—they can be real bullies. Second, watch out for cow patties. Trust me, they’re everywhere, and stepping in one is never fun.

But there are plenty of other situations where it’s important to watch where you step. I had one of those moments one time while hiking at Bell Smith Springs. My wife, Judy, and I love hiking. It’s great exercise, and a perfect way to get outdoors and enjoy nature. So one day we set out for the Sentry Ridge Trail, a beautiful three-mile loop that follows a ridge and looks down on a canyon with a creek. The views are amazing, but that’s also the problem.

You see, parts of the trail are rocky. Some sections are paved with large stone slabs, but other parts are just a jumbled mess of rocks scattered all over the place. Most of them are firmly embedded in the ground, but they’re still uneven, which means you’ve got to watch where you’re stepping. Otherwise, one of three things will happen: 1) you’ll twist an ankle, 2) you’ll fall and hurt yourself, or 3) you might find yourself sliding down a steep cliff.

Now, here’s where things get interesting. As we were hiking, Judy and I had a bit of a difference in our approach. You see, one of us is all about reaching the destination—getting it done, checking off the box. The other one is all about enjoying the journey. Guess who’s who? Yep, I’m the one focused on finishing the hike and moving on to the next thing. Judy, on the other hand, stops to take pictures of every tree, every rock, and sometimes, even every bug. She’s constantly saying, “Look, Dewayne…” And as a “conqueror,” I’m more like, “Let’s just get this done already.”

But here’s the problem I’ve realized: When you’re focused on the destination, you miss the beauty around you. You can’t be looking up at the trees and down at the rocks at the same time. So, even though I’m in “conqueror mode,” I’m learning to slow down and appreciate the journey—and the scenery. Judy’s got the right idea. The joy is in the journey, not just the finish line.

That doesn’t mean I need to take a picture of every single rock or tree, but I do need to pause and appreciate what’s around me. I mean, who am I to rush through the amazing world God created? We all need to hit pause every once in a while and take in the view—then hit play and keep going.

If you don’t, you’re going to miss out on some of the best parts of life. Take the full moon a couple of nights ago.  It’s was called a “Beaver Moon” (not sure why, but hey, sounds cool). Earlier, while driving, Judy said, “Dewayne, look…” And I actually listened this time. I sneaked a glance at the moon, and it was magnificent. I could’ve made an excuse about driving, but you can actually sneak a quick look at the moon and keep your eyes on the road. The same goes for life—you can enjoy the sights around you and keep moving forward.

Paul, who wrote most of the New Testament, told us to make the most of our time. That means working hard and doing life, but it also means taking time to enjoy the journey. And I’m really glad I’m married to someone who knows how to do that. Does it drive me a little nuts sometimes? Sure. But that’s part of the fun. So, be careful where you step, but don’t forget to take a few moments to enjoy life around you. You can do it. With God’s help, we all can. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in communication, Family, food, friends, gratitude, Holidays, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful, Thanksgiving, travel, Trials

Worth Every Mile

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Ephesians 5:20

It was crazy but worth every mile.  For years my side of our Taylor tribe held a family reunion. It all started after the death of both of our parents and just seemed like the right thing to do.  Fortunately for all of us, we had some very committed and caring siblings that made sure it happened.  While the date bounced around, for a while we held it on Thanksgiving weekend.  I know for us that was a good time.  Being a pastor, each year was a more of a maybe than a definite yes or no, so we didn’t make every one…but every one we did make was, well, special.

I remember one year someone in the church family had died and I needed to stay and officiate at their service.  To me honoring life after death is not an obligation but an honor so if I can I try to be there, both for the one who has slipped into eternity and especially for those left behind. That meant on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving that year, we had a service and rather than leave town on Tuesday, we stayed and held the service and left as soon as it was over…about noon.

Now everyone knows that the Wednesday before Thanksgiving is the biggest, the busiest, the craziest travel day of the year and that year—the Taylor tribe from Illinois discovered that truth firsthand.  We had no more gotten on the interstate highway—less than an hour from our home— and we ran into heavy traffic.  That song about “over the river and through the woods” was more than a song.  It seemed that everyone in the world, or at least the Midwest, was going to grandmother’s house and apparently, she lived down by Atlanta.

There was not a time that there wasn’t traffic and a couple of times there was just one of those standstills.  That is when, for no apparent reason, in the middle of nowhere traffic just stops. There was not an intersection, there was not an accident or a broken-down vehicle—it was like people just decided to press pause.  Now if you know anything about me, you know I don’t do traffic well but this time, well, I did better than average.  As the day pressed on, as the traffic got heavier, as day turned to night, as the clock ticked off the minutes and hours, as we got more and more tired…well, average disappeared.

By the time we were outside of Atlanta on Interstate 20 heading west, it was about 1:30 am.  1:30 am…think about that. I can still remember the fact that the interstate, every lane, was packed with traffic…bumper to bumper…at 70 miles per hour.  I didn’t believe it then and as my fingers press the keys…I can’t believe it now.  Where in the world were all these people going at that time of the night…uh, make that morning?  Of course…they were going to grandmother’s house.

Well, we finally arrived at John Tanner State Park at about 2:30 am.  We were tired.  We were exhausted but all that didn’t matter.  We were there.  We opened the car doors and stumbled out of the car and into the lodge. Waiting for us was a was a beautiful moment of clarity.  There in the “living room” of the lodge was a big chunk of the Taylor tribe.  Instead of going to bed, they had waited up to greet us and it was at that moment it was worth it all.  Just then I had an epiphany…this, this was family. While they couldn’t drive the miles for us they could be there and greet us and simply say “we are glad you made the drive.”

Well, we all quickly went to bed and woke up a little later the next day.  The morning was spent preparing the feast and what a feast it was.  We told stories, we laughed, we shared and we ate…a lot.  And I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was worth every minute in the car and every mile in traffic.  Well, that was many years ago and the family reunions don’t occur that way anymore.  And, too many—and even one is too many—of our family have changed their address from this world to the next. And while I wish I had more of those memories, I am so grateful for each and every one that I have.

While this Thanksgiving will be different than those and for many, different even from last year, let’s strive to make this one worth remembering too.  Let’s remember the key word in the holiday—thanks.  Paul, the guy in the Bible, said, “Give thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”  As always, he was spot on.  Like Bing Crosby sings in the movie, “Holiday Inn,” let’s remember we have plenty to be thankful for…because we do.  And, if you are struggling in the gratitude department, just take a look around and count your blessings, and then remember that no matter what, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne