Category: Southern born

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

More Notable than a Two-Dollar Bill

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are My disciples.” John 13:34-35

I have three. Sometimes money can be quite a rarity. In fact, when I was in the military and was paid every two weeks, sometimes it became quite rare indeed. The other day, I decided to display a couple of bills I have—one rare and one pretty rare.  The rare one is a one-hundred-dollar bill printed and hand dated from the Civil War. It is dated 1862 (which makes it 162 years old) and promises to pay the bearer $100 dollars, and 2 ½ cents per day in interest within six months of the end of the war—if the Confederate States won.  Oops. Perhaps the strangest thing is the fact that no one know where it came from. I found it in my mother’s Bible but beyond that…it seems no one knows how she acquired it.  Hmmmm.

The second bill I have is not nearly as old but still has an interesting story. It is a United States two-dollar bill. I read that while they are still printed in limited numbers, they are usually snatched up and stuck away. I have several—most of them received at a store or bank. I gave one to one of my grandsons. He spent it. Now what is most interesting about this two-dollar bill is the story of why it exists in the first place.

Here’s the story I heard. I read many years ago that the government wanted to measure the impact of a military base on the local economy and at the same time let the people see that impact. So, they would pay (keep in mind this is long before direct deposit) the soldiers, sailors and airmen in two-dollar bills. As the money entered the local economy, it was a ready reminder of the difference the base, or bases, were making there. In Jacksonville, Florida, where I was born and raised, we had four naval bases in the area so you can imagine there were quite a few of these two-dollar bills floating around. Whether it is true or not, it brings up a good point to consider.

If you think about it—it was a smart way to measure impact. It also made me wonder if there is a way we can measure another kind of impact—the impact of believers and churches in our communities. I remember being asked the following question at a pastor’s conference. The speaker said, “If your church closed tomorrow, would the people in your community even notice?” That was years ago but it still rings in my heart. In my years of pastoring, I always tried to lead our church to be a church that was active in our community. Here’s another tough question. If you stopped praying tomorrow would anyone besides you or those in your immediate circle know, notice or care? You see, sometimes we tend to pray—and live with a limited scope.

So, what do you say—let’s be Christ followers that don’t need a two-dollar bill (or a shirt, or a hat, or a bumper sticker) for people to notice that we belong to Jesus. Let’s let our presence be so impactful that the sweet aroma of Jesus goes wherever we go. Let’s let our words, actions, values and attitudes be so different they are noticed. After all, that is why we are here—to impact our world for His kingdom. Need a little help? All you have to do is ask. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

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

Be You

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful

Sweet Magnolia

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

As for that in the good soil, they are those who, hearing the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience.” Luke 8:15

After all,…it is Southern Illinois.  I was born and raised in the Southeastern corner of the United States and almost ironically—in the Northern corner of Florida.  Some people from the South want to downplay Florida almost like it is a Southern stepchild.  Anyway, I love the South and am proud of my Southern genes.  And just for the record—that doesn’t mean I am proud of everything Southern—if you follow me.

Now, with that said, there are plenty of things “Southern” that I love.  As an example, how about a hot serving of grits—no sugar ever.  Or how about a big slice of pecan pie or some collards, or turnip greens with side order of field peas. My goodness can someone say, “Amen.” And of course, you have to wash it all down with a big glass of iced sweet tea.  Anything else? Sure. How about an afternoon rocking on the front porch waving at people or maybe the kind of thunderstorm that shakes the windows and rattles the doors?  Oh yes, there’s plenty of the good life in the South.

Should I keep going? Well, there are peach orchards and those trees that produce the pecans for those pies. There are giant oaks and tall slender pines and yards filled with azalea bushes in full bloom and blanketed in Saint Augustine grass.  And of course, every imaginary image of the South needs a tall and beautiful Magnolia tree. There are two things that Judy and I can do to think of the South.  We can cross the bridge and visit Paducah “where they talk right” and we can just glance around town at the fine selection of Magnolia trees that grow right here in Southern Illinois.

I read in an article recently that the Magnolia is widely considered one of the most beautiful and fragrant trees of the South and I certainly agree. Its large, white and fragrant blossoms often dot main streets and gardens across the South—and I guess that includes Southern Illinois. But what I didn’t know is that its soil – when healthy – produces an equally wonderful aroma. They say the soil smells like a mix of cinnamon and fresh fruit—but there is more!

That good smelling soil around a Magnolia is a sure sign that the tree is in good condition. In other words—a tree in good condition smells good and so does the soil but the opposite is also true. When the tree is diseased or decaying, the soil around it produces a rancid, putrid smell that’s unmistakable. You might say the unseen is a good indicator of the health of what is seen.

How about you? When people are around you does your life smell of the fragrance of Christ?  Can people tell you belong to Him—not by the message on your hat or your shirt but rather the message of your attitude and actions? If someone was to dig around in your life, would they find the soil smells of Christ or something that is dead or dying? Let’s make it our desire, our goal to be like Him so we smell like Him. Let’s live in such a way that people, no matter how much they dig into our lives, know we are planted in the rich soil of His love. Let our fragrance be a life that shouts our faith—that “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

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

Makin’ Grits

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”  Jesus in John 10:10b

It was time for some grits.  Well, after two weeks on the road traveling and doing God stuff it was so good to be home.  Dorothy (the one from the Wizard of Oz) said it best…there is no place like home…and she was right.  Over the last two weeks we did different things and slept in different beds and ate a lot of different foods. But for now, it was time for something familiar. It was time for grits.

When I woke up and had breakfast in this place called home, I wanted something that was normal…something that would remind me I was indeed home.  It shouldn’t surprise you that I turned to grits.  For me, if there is something that says home, it is grits.  Grits are more than food.  Grits are part of my heritage.  Grits are wholesome.  Grits are…grits.  This morning’s grits started with a bowl of “cheater” grits cooked in the microwave.  Trust me…grits on the stove or grits in the microwave are still stinking good.  So, in the bowl went the grits, an amount of water that varies from day to day, a good shaking of salt and pepper, a small handful of bacon bits and finally, a wedge of Laughing Cow Light Swiss cheese.  Can someone say, “Hallelujah?”  Well, from the first bite till I scraped the bowl clean…it was heaven…it was good…it said, “Home.”

While I love grits, I also am honest enough to admit that just plain grits are well…plain.  But when you add the good stuff, well, all I can say is “Shoot that thing.”  The good stuff can make something plain…sing.  It is true with grits, and it is true with life.  You see, life can be just life but when you add the good stuff, life sings like a happy opera singer.  What makes life sing is different for each person but for me the list is short and sweet.  First, you add God to the mix and not just any god but Jehovah God…the One who made it all.  The trees, the flowers, the mountains, and the rivers are just a few of His works.  Look up and the stars and the planets all sing of His greatness. You know, Jesus once said that He had come to give us life and not only that but a life worth living…and I believe He did. Now don’t confuse God and religion.  God is always good and religion by itself is just like plain grits…tasteless.

Another thing that makes my life sing is family and friends.  You see, I don’t believe grits were made to be eaten plain.  Grits are the foundation just waiting for the good stuff.  We were never created to be loners on a desert island.  No, we were made for each other.  Again, each life is different, but each life should include others…the kind that enrich and fulfill us.  For some it is a big family and for others it might be a family of one.  It might be ten close friends or only one or two, but we all need others.  Why not invite someone into your world today?  I know for me that can sometimes be difficult, but it is worth the effort.

The third thing that we need to make our life sing is a trio of treats.  They are love, gratitude, and contentment.  Just like the cheese, bacon bits, and salt and pepper bring my bowl of grits to life, so do these three powerful life ingredients.  Love is as essential as the air that we breathe and gratitude, being thankful for all we have instead of grumpy about what we don’t, is too. Oh, and when we are grateful…we are usually content.  Throw all of this together and you have a life that sings…a life that is worth getting up to everyday.

You see, to have a full life, a life that is as sweet as the sweetest love song, doesn’t require titles, dollars, and stuff.  No…a life that sings is so much more than that.  All we must do is be willing to start.  This morning’s breakfast of grits wasn’t hard…I mean that is one thing that even I can prepare.  But it did require a start…it did require a beginning.  So, today, let’s take that first step.  Let’s pour in the bowl of our life a big dose of faith, love, gratitude, and contentment and then let’s sit down to the table of life and feast. Don’t know where or how to start? Why not ask God, the one many call “Father?”  You will find Him there ready and willing to help. You can rest assured that, “He’s got this.”

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

Daily Reminders

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted in Family, fear, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, travel, Trials

Sharks, Riptides, and God

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but one of power, love, and sound judgment.” 2 Timothy 1:7

I am a Florida boy. I was born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida.  All my life I have made multiple visits to multiple beaches. I well remember making regular trips to Jacksonville Beach and spending the day baking in the sun and swimming in the ocean.  My sister Agnes and her husband Jim lived in Daytona Beach for several years and we would spend time each summer at their house.  Sometimes it was solo and at least once it was with my sister Kathy.  Again, more baking in the sun and more swimming in the ocean.  Later, after Judy and I were married, our vacations were often to Panama City Beach.  We would always wait till after Labor Day when the prices dropped. What did I do there?  Well, I bet you guessed I baked in the sun and swam in the ocean.  It was who I was…it was what I did.  But this Florida boy has just about given it up.  Why?  Well, here’s the answer.

First, but not most importantly, is the sunburn thing. We now know that over exposure to the sun can be a major contributor to skin cancer.  And trust me, I have enough time in the sun to be more than a bit overcooked.  It became some sort of twisted ritual where I would go with the full intention of getting a bad sunburn. It was like a rite of passage. So, I gave all that up.  The skin doctor told me if I didn’t, I would regret it. Oh, I know they have sun protection but enough was enough. I believe I finally wised up.

Now for the real reason.  Two words:  sharks and riptide.  Yup, that’s right.  You see, regularly and all too frequently, and especially in Florida, shark attacks are way up.  Recently, there were three shark attacks within six miles of each other. While all survived, one 14-year-old girl lost her hand and leg. I know the odds are supposed to be low, but I wonder if those that bumped into Jaws didn’t think the same thing?  I don’t know but I think I will be swimming more in the pool and less in the gulf.

Now riptide.  This weekend in Florida—six people became victims to this monster called riptide. Two young adults, as in under 25, checked into their hotel, changed into their suits and went to the beach and promptly drowned when they were caught in a riptide. What a heartbreak. What a difficult thing. Riptide is a current, often invisible from the surface, that can pull you away from shore. Now all of this and all of that is not supposed to be a “Debbie downer.” Rather it is meant to help you and me understand that sometimes the world, often the world can be a dangerous place—a place where we need help—we need God.

Now I’m only speaking for me and I’m not saying I will never swim in the ocean, but I sure plan to think about it before I do. It just makes sense to be careful. Now let me tell you about another ocean where none of this applies. What and where? It is the ocean of God’s grace and His faithfulness.  In that ocean you never have to be afraid. In fact, that ocean helps us deal with the oceans that cause us to be afraid.  Shannon Adler said, “Fear is the glue that keeps you stuck. Faith is the solvent that sets you free.” We should not walk in fear—rather we should live by faith. Faith and common sense can help us enjoy life as He wants us too.  If you find yourself drowning in fear and consumed by faith eating sharks, remember that your Dearest Daddy is greater than anything you might face. Oh, and never forget, He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

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

Lasting Words

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, heaven, life, love, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful, travel, Trials

The Boarding Line

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for You are close beside me.” Psalms 23:4a NLT


We all have spent time in line. I am not a fan of lines. Whether it is at a restaurant, an airport, or a port I don’t like lines. I have learned though that part of leaving is boarding and part of boarding is standing in line and part of standing is line is patience and I find that I sometimes battle with patience. I wonder if I will learn one day to appreciate lines? I don’t know about that.


My sister was standing in a boarding line as I wrote this. She was about to take the trip of a life time. About five months ago she learned, we learned, that she had a form of cancer that not only has no cure but is also aggressive and mean and takes no prisoners. In the last couple of days, it reared its ugly head in a way that told her, and us, that her time here was very limited. She found herself in line for the journey of all journeys—her journey to meet Jesus.


This is hard and yet because of her faith in Him it is a journey not to death but through death…to eternal life. She is sure of this…we are sure of this and somehow, that helps all of this make sense. That doesn’t make it easy but it does make it easier. As she slowly made her way to the boarding gate, while her time here grew short, she was leaving to a place where time is no longer even relevant. She was stepping not only into eternity but eternity in heaven. And for that she, and all of us who love her, can find gratitude for a God who promises to take care of her.
Sometimes it is difficult be grateful but if we wait and take a careful look, we will discover dozens, perhaps hundreds of dozens of ways to be grateful. Someone wrote, “The grateful heart is like a magnet sweeping over the day, collecting reasons for gratitude. A zillion diamonds sparkle against the velvet of your sky every night. Thank you, God. A miracle of muscles enables your eyes to read these words and your brain to process them. Thank you, God. Your lungs inhale and exhale eleven thousand liters of air every day. Your heart will beat about three billion times in your lifetime. Your brain is a veritable electric generator of power. Thank you, God.”

You see, we are surrounded by opportunities to be grateful…including those difficult and challenging times that involve separation and farewells. Before this could be published, on June 2, a bright Sunday morning, she took hold of the hand of Jesus and stepped through the gate. As Paul, the guy in the Bible wrote, she was absent from the body and instantly present with the Lord. You see, when someone we love, steps through the boarding gate of eternity, if they, and if you, know the Keeper of the gate, then it can be a time of gratitude…not for the leaving but for the promise that it is not a goodbye but a good-night.

So be encouraged that even in the most difficult of times, our faith in God can and will carry us through. He is faithful…He cannot and will not fail. No matter what you are facing, whether someone you love is in the boarding line or perhaps you are…rest in this…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

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

Salty Watermelon

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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 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 by 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, 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 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 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, if 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 days.

I’m probably must 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.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, Mother's Day, Mother's Day, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, spring, thankful, Trials

Remembering Momma

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Her children rise up and call her blessed; her husband also praises her: Many women have done noble deeds, but you surpass them all!” Proverbs 31:28-29

Well, it’s time. Enter Mother’s Day…a day to celebrate our mothers, our wives and other ladies who have poured their life into our lives, but time can make that harder.  Let me explain. You see, time can be a bane and a blessing. It is difficult to live with but we sure can’t live without it and as we get older, it can begin to fuzz the brain and our memories. Things that at one time were vivid and clear become a midst and sometimes disappear into the fog.

That seems to be true of so many of my childhood memories—my Momma memories. Things that I am sure were so valuable, so definitive at the time, are now simply not there. I am sure that is the case with my memories of my parents as a child. When that happens, I simply fill in the gaps with hints and clues from the things I do remember. As the pieces come together, it quickly becomes obvious that my Momma was one of my anchors and a huge blessing in my life.

As I scan the landscape of my childhood, as I piece the pieces together, I realize that I had a really good childhood, and it was largely because of my parents and in particular, my mother. As the baby of eight, by the time they got to me, two things were obvious: they had it down to a science, and I was pretty spoiled.

Because of our finances, we didn’t get everything we wanted (not by a long shot), but Christmas, birthdays, and usually even ordinary days were special. Momma was often the one who made that happen. She was a stay-at-home, hold the fort down, mom and was always there when I needed her. Perhaps you have heard of a Swiss Army knife.  It is one crazy invention where a simple pocketknife becomes an all-purpose, whatever you need tool. And that describes Momma. Whatever the occasion she was there for us…for me. Well, truth be known, while she didn’t wear a habit like Mother Teresa or a nurse’s uniform like Florence Nightingale or banish a sword like Joan of Arc, in my eyes she was that and more.

I wonder how many times I was sick, and she became Doctor Momma?  On so many occasions I can remember her pulling me into her lap and holding me. On one particular occasion, when I was over five and under ten, I was very sick— fever, nausea, and a young body that felt like it had been beaten.  I know now it was probably the flu and probably contagious and yet there she was in our old rocking chair, at two in the morning, cradling me and holding me.  That was Momma.

Sometimes Momma put on her Leonardo da Vinci hat and showed a designer flare. I can remember as a teenager I had a rather new pair of jeans—ordinary to some—valuable to me. I was horseback riding one day, and the horse cut a corner too sharply and ran me into a pole, ripping my jeans right above the knee. Bummer. My Momma simply cut the legs off the jeans where they were torn, put in some bright red cloth, and sewed them back together. There you go…good as new, and since it was the 70’s, it made a statement. I had a one-of-a-kind pair of jeans.

Two or three times a day Momma always put on her chef’s hat. A couple of years ago I made a thoughtless and inaccurate comment about Momma’s cooking not being “the best in the world.” Can someone say, “Dumb?”  Can someone say, “Really?” No, Momma was a great cook, and my waistline still proves it.  She had the amazing ability to take the ordinary and make it extraordinary. To me, her chicken and dumplings and blackberry dumplings were both legendary.  Oh, and did I mention her fried corn beef hash?  No, Chef Momma was amazing…and we loved her for it.

Yup, my Momma was amazing and the longer I live the more I realize just how blessed I was to have her.  It has been said that men often marry women like their mothers.  Well, that at least helps to explain the amazing wife that God has given me.  In so many ways she too is that wife, that mother, that grandmother that so many wish they had.  I don’t have to wish…Judy is my wish come true. Someone once said that a person who has one good friend in their life is blessed.  Well, without going any further than my home I know I have had two—Momma and my precious wife Judy.  Thank You, Lord…a bunch.

Remember, there is no such thing as perfect Momma’s but a lot of us have been blessed with great ones. At this time of year when we celebrate Mother’s Day, if Momma is still around, be sure and let her know how much you appreciate her.  And if she isn’t…well, be sure and thank the Lord.  And one more thought…be sure and thank your wife, for all she has done. Guys, trust me, we would be lost without them.  Oh, and do remember this, there is a God who loves you more than your Momma ever could or did.  It’s good to know that no matter what…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne