Category: Southern born

Posted in Family, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, Integrity, life, Military memories, pride, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Meddling

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Yet we hear that some of you are living idle lives, refusing to work and meddling in other people’s business.”        2 Thessalonians 3:11

Her name was…no wait, on the possibility that she is still living, I had better change it.  So, let’s try again. Her name was Mrs. Luzerno, and I can tell you two things about her. She was a good teacher, and she was a bit stern. Back in the days when my wife Judy and I were newlyweds, and trust me that was a while back, we had one car. I was in the Air Force and for one of the few times in our marriage, Judy was working at a local jewelry store.  All that meant, either she had to find a ride to work…or I did.  I was elected.  It turns out, there was a lady, Mrs. Luzerno, who worked as the secretary for one of the commanders of the aircraft maintenance group which was right down the road from my office. Her route to work happened to take her right by the apartment where Judy and I lived. I asked her if I could catch a ride with her and she agreed.  We also agreed to the price of $5.00 a week.

Now before you take that as an absolute confirmation of my tightness with money, this was 1976 or maybe 1977 and not only was $5.00 worth a lot more than it is now, but gas was also still about 32 cents a gallon.  And, if you are feeling sympathetic, my sergeant’s pay didn’t go too far.  In fact, even with a tight budget we had about twenty dollars a week after paying rent, electricity, and a small car payment.  That left just enough to get a haircut and go out once every two weeks on a date night to Shoney’s. Anyway, the deal was set and every morning and every evening, we got to spend some time together.  She was quite a bit older than me and like I said…all business.  That’s probably why I never called her by her first name…it was always Mrs. Luzerno.

As I said earlier, she was a good teacher and one day she taught me a lesson about good manners…and to this day I have never forgotten it.  One day, when she picked me up, she was driving a nice, shiny, new car.  Now this wasn’t new to her…it was brand new.  Cars have always caught my eye and this one did.  It was loaded with 1970’s gadgets and I knew enough to know that it was not cheap.  Unfortunately, I didn’t know enough to not ask how much.  So, and you’ve already guessed this, I asked her, “Mrs. Luzerno, how much did this cost?”  To this day I can still see her face look sterner and her lips grow tight.  I knew I had crossed some sort of invisible line.  I was in trouble.

Here’s what she said, “Young man (I didn’t even rate a Sergeant) that is none of your business.” Done. Settled. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, one of us broke the ice.  I don’t think she held it against me but trust me it was a lesson learned.  Don’t pry into other people’s business.  I’m sure my Momma mentioned that in my growing up, but I must have skipped class that day. And to be honest, it is something I must watch to this day.  It has been said that no one really likes a busybody or people who stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.  Take it from someone who learned, and still occasionally needs a refresher course, don’t go where you don’t need to go.

One of those practical verses in the Bible is 2 Thessalonians 3:11. It says, “Yet we hear that some of you are living idle lives, refusing to work and meddling in other people’s business.” Not only is that verse true, I bet it was one of Mrs. Luzerno’s favorite verses. If you suspect you are close to meddling around where you don’t need to meddle, be sure and check in with your Dearest Daddy. He offers anti-meddling lessons all the time.  He just might save you from painful encounters of the Mrs. Luzerno kind.  He’s got this.

Posted in Family, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, loving others, Military memories, pride, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Me and Major Hobbs

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

I knew the outcome…I thought.  The list of the things I enjoyed while serving in the Air Force is long and varied.  Somehow, which I’m sure God arranged; I was assigned to work in the command section at all my duty assignments.  It all started when a guy named Master Sergeant Johnson picked me up at the small airport in Minot, North Dakota and casually said, “I think I’m going to let you work for me.”  He worked in the command section of the Combat Support Group and so it began.  Each new duty assignment found me working for the commanders and first sergeants of each unit.  It was awesome. So many of those leaders left their fingerprints on my life and helped mold me into the person I am today.

1973 found me assigned to the command section of one of aircraft maintenance squadrons at Moody Air Force Base. My immediate supervisor, the first sergeant and even the commander became friends of sorts—within the parameters of military protocol.  All that leads to the point of this story.  After joining the service, I learned to play racquetball and loved it.  I suppose I was even pretty good at it.  Well, my commander, Major Hobbs, also played.  Normally, our path probably wouldn’t have crossed at the gym, but this young buck airman kept egging this 20 year my senior, slightly overweight, Major… to play him in racquetball.  I assured him that I could take him and then one day, he said, “Ok.”

He told me to get a court time and I did.  Now everything assured me that this was going to be a no match…and it was…but not like I thought.  On the appointed day and at the appointed time we met to do battle.  I was sure I was going to show my commander what a real racquetball player looked like.  I served first and I may have scored a couple of points.  Then, it was his turn, and that is when I began to learn that the race doesn’t always go the swiftest…or the youngest.  Major Hobbs would serve and then move to the center of the court and proceeded to beat me like an unwanted tom cat.  He virtually didn’t move because he didn’t need to.  He totally mastered the ball with his racket and put the ball, almost every time, wherever I wasn’t.

Well, a set-in racquetball is three games…if needed.  We didn’t need them.  He finished me off in two games.  One player left the court drenched in sweat and exhausted and one left the court without a drop.  One player left the court dragging and exhausted while the other left with a strange bounce in their step.  You can probably guess which was which.  The young buck airman was taught a good lesson that day and it is one that I still remember today. It is not always about how light you move on your feet and how fast you can move.  Sometimes it is about strategy…how you play the game.

And so, it is with life. A wise man, woman or child will know that you need to have a plan, a strategy if you will, if you are going to win the game of life.  And the crazy part is the best strategy doesn’t depend on talent, wealth, or opportunity.  It leans, it is driven by, a close relationship with Creator God. Now don’t miss that.  Religion is nice, church is a great idea, but neither are the answer—a personal relationship with God through faith in His Son and the wisdom and guidance of the Holy Spirit is. It is a power team of three and yet One.  Amazing. With Him calling the shots, well, life just goes better…a lot better. Jesus invites us to come and do life with Him…and that is an invitation we need to accept.

That day, we left the court differently but there was one thing we shared…a smile.  The older, wiser Major smiled because he had helped a prideful, young airman learn a lesson in humility.  A lesson, honestly, he needed. And the airman, well, he smiled too because someone wiser than him took the time to teach.  God really does want to help us do life and honestly, we need Him. Don’t be pushed away by all the hype in religion.  Go ahead and schedule some court time with God and you just might discover how much He loves you and wants to help.  You might discover that no matter what…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, prayer, school days, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

What Lurks Beneath the Surface

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts!     And see if there be any grievous way in me.” Psalm 139:23-24

There was something stinky right below the surface.  There were a lot of things I just didn’t know or understand growing up, but that was ok because my world was low key.  Looking back, maybe, perhaps those were some of my favorite memories in this journey called life. This was especially true in the years before junior high.  As an elementary age kid, it was sunup to sundown adventures. Little did I know that something was brewing right beneath my feet.

We lived in the country which meant no city water or sewer.  In fact, I think I can safely say I didn’t even know there was such a thing.  We had a well and pump in our backyard and that is where our water came from, and I thought that is what everyone did.  We also had something called a septic tank.  That handled all the, uh, waste, from the Taylor Tribe.  There were two things I didn’t know. First, I didn’t know we had one and second, I didn’t know it was right under our back porch.  All that changed when one day a big truck pulled into our yard.  It turns out they were there to “pump out our septic tank.”  Now anything that was big and mechanical I was all about.  I watched in amazement as they moved some dirt and pried this huge, heavy slab of concrete off an equally huge tank thing.

It was just about then, I decided to back up because whatever was in there was not cool.  They put a big hose in that tank thing and began to suck it all out.  Now I know this is a bit gross but stay with me.  So, the tank was empty, and they slid the lid back in place and off they went. Well, soon I forgot the big truck and forgot about the thing under our porch.  Months later, I was playing in our backyard, and I noticed that water was bubbling up from the ground…not in one place but several.  Soon, my nose took me back to what was under the porch.  It turned out that thing under the porch had what was called a drain field…and it wasn’t working. And because it wasn’t working…what was hidden beneath the ground soon wasn’t. The stinky was revealed.

Well, afford it or not, like it or not, they came and dug up a big part of our backyard and replaced the old clay tile pipes with new ones. It was all pretty interesting and soon the holes were covered up and the equipment moved on and magically, the stink was gone.  Looking back, I think it was funny that something so funky and yucky could be right there beneath my feet and I never knew it…until it came to the surface.  And once it started to bubble up…what was hidden no longer was.

I’ve lived long enough now to know what was true in my backyard is true in life.  So often we allow some foul stuff to hang around in our lives.  You know, secret sins, bad habits, and destructive addictions—stuff rolling around in our minds or banging around in our hearts.  We manage to keep it all under control, “under the ground,” until one day…it bubbles to the surface, and you find yourself wondering, “Where did that come from?”  Worse than that, people start wondering about the same thing.  You can take it to the bank that secrets often don’t remain secret.  Moses, yup, the guy who led God’s people out of Egypt, said that we can be sure our sin, or our habits, or our addictions will be found out…they will eventually come to the surface.

What I learned about septic tanks as a kid is true today too.  They needed regular maintenance and sometimes repairs to function correctly.  We need the same.  We need to regularly examine our heart and our conscience to see if there is anything we need to get “pumped” out.  If we are God followers, we need to have the courage to ask Him to check out what lurks below the surface of our lives.  One of the writers of the Psalms in the Old Testament part of the Bible said, “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me.”

Some prayers are harder to pray than others…and this is one of those.  Search me, know me, try me…know my thoughts.  Giving God permission (though He really doesn’t need it) to pry into your stuff is hard but profitable. I mean, the prying isn’t for Him…it is for you.  It helps you be a better you.  Oh, and don’t worry…you can’t surprise Him.  The big surprise is when you hear Him say, “Oh all that stuff, no problem.  I’ve got this.”

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

They Drove Us Batty

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

He will again have compassion on us; He will vanquish our iniquities. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea.” Micah 7:19

It was years ago but trust me…it is still fresh in my memory. We had made one of our journeys to the land of grits and collards to see family.  We enjoyed some good southern cooking, some great times of fellowship and revisited several places from Judy’s childhood and our days together before God and the Air Force sent us on the next chapter of great adventures.  There’s no place like home, Dorothy said it and I agree.

We decided to do something different so rather than stay with the relatives, we rented a nice Victorian home in Valdosta at a very reasonable rate.  It was wonderfully decorated, and we had the whole house to ourselves.  The location was great, the hot tub in the backyard was great, everything was just great…and then I looked in the sink. Something was moving.

After we arrived, we were still checking out the place and my wife Judy and I went into the kitchen and happened to look in the sink and there were some rotten banana peels lying there.  Well, that wasn’t too cool.  Who would leave rotten banana peels in the kitchen sink of a nice rental house anyway?  The answer—no one.  You see, about that time one of the banana peels moved!  Yikes—they weren’t banana peels after all—they were—BATS—five of them.

Well, I mustered my courage and threw a towel over them, scooped them up and tossed them out the door.  There—gross but end of the story—nothing could be worse than that—right?  Wrong.  That evening we were watching some TV and I stepped out of the room to hear Judy holler “Dewayne, here’s another one!”  Sure enough, one was walking across the floor, so out he went.  Then I looked and one was hanging on the fireplace screen—out he went too.  Well, surely it can’t….don’t bet on it. We went to bed that night and I dozed off quickly…Judy didn’t.  Soon, I heard, “Dewayne, there’s one flying around in the room!”  Well, she was wrong…there wasn’t one–there were two.  The batman (that’s me) knocked ‘em down and hauled them out and called the owner.

The next day a bat removal guy came. He told us he had been there the previous Saturday and had patched a couple of entrances he assumed the bats were using. I guess he missed one…or two.  Well, he searched the house and came up with seven more bats. Can you believe this?  He patched and sealed some more entrances and we thought that was the end of problem—finally!  Well, that is what we thought.  Long story short—by the end of the week we had removed 25 bats from the house. He caught and released them somewhere.  It turns out they were endangered…more so than they knew.

This is one reason I said, “There’s no place like home.”  The only bat at 217 W. Poplar is a ball bat! So, by now you are wondering, “Why didn’t you guys leave?”  Well, the landlord did offer us a partial refund and there was a bed and breakfast down the road, but the bottom line was twofold.  First, we really, really liked having the whole house to ourselves and in such a good location.  Second, I didn’t know on day one that there were 25 bats in the house—I always thought the last one was the last one. I was wrong.

I wonder if my reluctance to leave explains why some people continue to have a bad habit or a sin even though everything in the world is telling them to get out. It becomes obvious that we like habits or sin.  Sin can be pleasurable but mark it down—it not only offends God, but it is also expensive (on a couple of different levels) and it can wreak havoc in your life (or your vacation). Secondly, sin will take you further than you want to go and make you stay longer than you want to stay.  I kept thinking the last bat was the last bat but there was always one more.  Finally, the week was gone and if nothing else I became an expert at bat removal.

So, if you need a house to stay at in Valdosta and you don’t mind bats let me know.  I can promise you it will be an interesting visit to say the least. Personally, it just about drove me batty…pun definitely intended.  Oh, and if you need someone to help you remove some of the “bats” from your life, I know just the One.  He is my Dearest Daddy, and He would love to help you out.  He will cast those pesky “sin bats” to the bottom of the sea. You can trust Him…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, food, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, school days, Scripture, Southern born, travel, Trials

Self-Made Messes

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

For the mountains may move and the hills disappear, but even then, My faithful love for you will remain. My covenant of blessing will never be broken,” says the Lord, who has mercy on you.” Isaiah 54:10

We were somewhere in Texas.  It was probably in the early sixties, somewhere around 1962 or three.  We were on vacation, which meant we were going to see my brother who lived in Texas. We are driving in our 1957 Plymouth, no air conditioning with Momma and Daddy up front and the “three little ones” spanning and filling the backseat.  It was very early in the morning and best I can remember we had driven all night—probably to save time and probably to save the cost of a hotel.  Well, in the very early morning, right when the darkness is fleeing, Leslie told Alston that we should stop and eat breakfast. So…we did.

It was a “mom and pop” place. Places like McDonald’s and the like didn’t exist and if they did, they were rare.  However, this was a roadside diner and for the Taylor tribe it was a treat.  Momma turned around and stirred us into some sort of consciousness as Daddy pulled into the parking lot.  We were soon settled into a large booth and breakfast was ordered.  I was going to write how I had the traditional breakfast of eggs and bacon, but I think I remember that Momma had given me a choice and I chose pancakes.

Soon our food came and still a bit sleepy, I drowned the pancakes in sweet, sticky syrup. And it was right about then it happened.  In my mostly still asleep state, I tried to cut the pancakes with my fork when quickly and promptly the whole plate fell in my lap.  Pancakes and syrup filled my lap…and I began to cry.  It really wasn’t as much about the loss of the pancakes, as it was about the loss of my dignity. Even at that young age I knew I had made a big mess and it felt like every person in the restaurant was looking at the kid who had messed up.

Of course, that wasn’t true.  The ones in the booth knew and I can’t remember their response.  The other two little ones, my sisters, weren’t known for being generous with kindness so I, and perhaps unfairly, assumed they had something to say about their baby brother.  And Daddy, well, he probably was like a lot of other Daddy’s and wondered what happened, how it happened and most of all, why it happened.  But then there was Momma.  As I remember, there were no words of condemnation for this mess I had made but rather a helping hand to begin cleaning up the mess. It seems I remember kindness when I deserved a “shaking down.” In other words, it seems she showed grace when I deserved none. It seems she showed mercy when I didn’t deserve that either.

Looking back, that seems like one of those times when Momma was a whole lot like God. Her child had made a mess and rather than judge she extended kindness. Now to be fair, Momma’s don’t always get it right…and neither do we. But that time…she did.  And guess what? We have a Dearest Daddy, who gets it right every time.  When we make a mess, He doesn’t chasten or belittle…no, He loves and gently helps us clean up the mess…a mess of our own making.  So today or tomorrow when you find yourself with a lap full of pancakes and sticky syrup, just remember the Father sitting by you is waiting to help.  You can rest assured that, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

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

Backyard Cars

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

But Peter said, “I don’t have silver or gold, but what I do have, I give you: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk!” Acts 3:6

Sometimes it seemed like a parking lot.  We have all seen it, but I experienced it.  As I have often said, there were certain benefits to growing up in an urban county.  We weren’t country like horses and cows, but we were country like room to run, places to play and cars in the backyard.  What?  Yup. I know we have all seen yards where there are old cars hanging around the yard.  I know each time I drive to Paducah down Route 145 in Southern Illinois I pass a house with an old Capri parked in the yard…permanently.  Over the years that I have seen it, weeds and green algae have slowly grown over it.  I’m not sure about the story behind the old Capri, but it is there year after year.

Over the years I lived at 6008 Carlton Road, we had several cars parked in our backyard.  When my granddaddy Taylor died, we inherited his old Pontiac Sedan.  I’m not sure what year it was but it was old…probably the late forties if I were to guess.  I knew at least for a while it was a runner, but later on it became a sitter.  Regardless, it was a great place to play and hide in a good game of hide and seek.  This past week I was converting some old family movies to digital so we could watch them again.  There is one simply titled, Alston and Leslie Taylor and their children – 1960’s.  In the middle of the video there was my daddy, and he was working on the old Pontiac.  It was good to see him again.  It reminded me what a good man he was.

I have a feeling that there was a reason that he was working on granddaddy’s Pontiac.  You see I remember that our main driver, a 1957 Plymouth, blew an engine so it was parked under the tree in the backyard.  So, I think Daddy may have been working on the Pontiac so we would have something that would get us from here to there.  The Plymouth sat there for quite a while.  Motors were expensive and it would be a while before Momma and Daddy could scrape the money together to buy a rebuilt one.  I know they eventually did, but until then it was the old Pontiac.

And then there was the Sunbeam.  My brother Lee bought a car from somebody, and it was quite unusual.  It was a British made car and it almost had that James Bond allure about it.  I was trying to think how to describe it and simply put, it was cool.  Well, it was cool until it quit running.  You see, certain cars, and especially British ones, are hard to work on and expensive to repair.  Well, somewhere along the road (no pun intended) it died.  Rather than bury it, we just parked it in the backyard where it became one of the original storage sheds.  We slowly stuffed it to the gills with—stuff.

Well, eventually the Plymouth got fixed, the Pontiac got hauled off and the Sunbeam went somewhere, and our backyard looked a little less like a small junkyard and more like a garden.  Daddy had a love for growing roses, and I have to admit they looked a lot better than the old cars that adorned our yard for a season.  Thinking back, I wonder what people thought about the old-World War II barracks turned house with a car or two parked in the backyard.  I wonder if they, like me, like you, were tempted to judge the people that lived there?

I wonder if they ever pondered why the house needed painting most of the time or why there were old junk cars sitting in the yard?  I wonder if they thought the people who lived there were lazy or unkept?  Well, in the case of 6008 Carlton Road they would have been wrong in both cases.  My Daddy was a hard worker making sure the folks under his care had food and clothes.  He worked until his heart said no, and even then, he found a job as a security guard.  Momma worked hard taking care of us.  She poured her life into our lives and made sure there was supper on the table and clean clothes to wear.  I would suppose they both were too busy pulling it all together to worry what people thought.

I know this.  When I drive south to Paducah and pass that old house with the overgrown Capri in the front yard, it won’t be thoughts of judgement that pass through my mind. Instead, I will remember two people who worked hard to make life possible for me, and my brothers and sisters.  And then I will remember that until I have walked in someone’s shoes, I have no business looking down on anyone.  Most folks don’t wake up some morning and just decide to have their world go south.  Sometimes it just happens.  But what I do know is that Jesus, the Man a lot of us have committed to follow, wouldn’t cast a rock, rather He would lend a hand. 

One day a couple of Jesus followers were going to church, and they passed by a man who couldn’t walk.  The guy was begging and that was the honorable thing to do given there was no security net for help in those days.  He looked up and the two Jesus guys looked down.  They said, “You know, we don’t have any money, but we do have an answer.  And right there, right then, they reached down and in the name of Jesus they healed the guy.  He got up, did a little dance and they all went to church together. How about that?  So, who can you help today?  What house have you driven by so many times before but perhaps today you need to stop? I know in a world of risks, that can be hard but hey, I know Someone who will help make it happen.  His name is Jesus and He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne 

Read more stories on the blog: http://www.gritswithgrace.com

Posted in birthday, Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, priorities, Scripture, 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, the bought toys from my birthday and Christmas slowly disappeared. I know some kids take extremely good care of their toys.  I had an adult 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.

So, the question is, “What do you do when the toys from the store are scarcer than teeth on a hen?  The answer is, “You get creative.”  I wonder 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.  That 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 had to light 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 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 was fun.

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 soft Florida sand.   All you had to do was grab that chain and drag it through the sand behind you. As you did the sand got pushed aside and 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 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 would attach to a contraption that had a trigger.  It was made to spray liquids from a small glass container.  I discovered if you mashed that trigger the freon coming out would instantly make ice.  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 on, but you 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 you are discontented and bored with life?  Do you find yourself bemoaning what others have and what you don’t?  Could 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, friends, gratitude, life, love, priorities, school days, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful

Missing a Grade

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.” Psalm 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 then you weren’t.  My first four grades of elementary school were at Wesconnett Elementary School and the last two were at a brand-new school—Jacksonville Heights Elementary School. Unlike Wesconnett, that required a bus ride, the new school was only blocks down the road from my house. 

Wesconnett was old…really old. It was all brick and hot with no air conditioning. 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 those halls. And, to a little kid like me, it was big—like huge.  It was at Wesconnett that I met and fell in love for the first time.  She was 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 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 kind of 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 I 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 if 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 Wesconnett 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 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 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 fill 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, forgiveness, friends, Grace, Integrity, life, loving others, prayer, pride, Scripture, Southern born, Trials, wisdom

Oops, Your Slip is Showing

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

A good person produces good out of the good stored up in his heart. An evil person produces evil out of the evil stored up in his heart, for his mouth speaks from the overflow of the heart.” Luke 6:45

Honey, your slip is showing. Change is a constant in life, and I vividly recall my mother preparing for church back in the day. During those times, women wore a couple of additional “accessories.” First, she was a devoted user of what I believe were known as girdles – contraptions designed to keep things in check around a lady’s waist. Although I never witnessed her putting one on, I could tell when she was wearing one when I playfully poked her in the side during church. It felt as hard as a rock, suggesting the presence of the infamous “girdle.”

The other item was called a slip. A slip was worn beneath a lady’s dress to prevent anything from being visible through it. My mother was particularly concerned about her slip being visible, emphasizing the importance of keeping it a couple of inches shorter than her dress. Without a full-length mirror, she’d often ask, “Dewayne, is my slip showing?” prompting me to inspect and report. Even in the early years of my marriage, slips were still fashionable, and I’m pretty sure Judy also sought the occasional “slip report.”

Nobody, and I mean nobody, wanted to attend church with their slip showing. It was a social faux pas. However, as time passed, slips fell out of fashion, and with them, the need for slip reports disappeared. Yet, the saying lingers only with a twist. When someone tells you, “Your slip is showing,” it implies that something intended to be hidden is now visible for all to see. This phrase is applicable often in our conversations but even more so in the realm of social media today. Although I am not really a Facebook user myself, I’ve been made aware of the numerous slips on display.

The revelations on Facebook no longer shock me. People seem to blur the line between the privacy of a personal journal and the public nature of Facebook. Hurtful words are carelessly thrown around, much like a bad case of stomach flu. I vividly remember a church member writing un-Jesus like words on Facebook, only to justify it with, “Well, I didn’t know the whole world would see them.” Really? Duh.

So, when we witness unkindness on social media, perhaps it’s time to adopt a gentle approach and say, “Excuse me, but your slip is showing.” Unleashing unkind words is never justified. Momma used to say, “If you can’t say something nice…don’t say anything at all”.  She was always smart. So, whether following the golden rule of saying something nice or abiding by Jesus’ wisdom that words reveal the heart, the message is clear – choose kindness.

In the secular world, unkindness is sometimes almost expected but for followers of Jesus, such behavior is labeled as sin, irrespective of justifications. Instead of expressing displeasure with someone, why not try praying? God is always receptive to sincere prayers, and you won’t find yourself being told, “Your slip is showing.”

I admit, I’m someone who occasionally speaks without thinking, but I’m learning to hit the pause button. As they say, the older you get, the more you lose your filter. Uttering and writing things that are unkind or just not right may lead to regret and the need to apologize to God. Let’s start an “Excuse me, but your slip is showing” campaign – a subtle way of letting someone know that their communication, whether on social media or spoken, is, shall we say, embarrassing. They might not appreciate it now, but perhaps they will later. And if, like me, you struggle with putting your foot in your mouth, ask God for help. He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

Happy Birthday

This is the day the Lord has made; let’s rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24

Saturday was my birthday.  Now wait.  That isn’t a hint for a gift.  It isn’t an invitation for a bunch of comments.  It is a statement of fact—and fascination.  You see, 70 years ago I was born.  I don’t say that because I remember, I say it because I am here…now.  I am amazed that over seven decades have come and gone since Leslie, my Momma, said to Alston, my Daddy, “It’s time.”  She had already done this birthing thing seven times, so I suppose it was just another day at the office by then.

Since the day I was born, I have been alive 25,567 days.  That means that 25,567 times the sun came up in the morning and went to bed at night.  It means 25,567 times God faithfully gave me a wakeup call.  One of my favorite verses in the Bible is the one that says this is the day that the Lord has made, so we should find joy in it and be glad for the opportunity.  25,567 times.  25,567 love notes from God that said He thinks life should go on.

Now there are a bunch of those days that I don’t remember.  In fact, these days I don’t remember what happened yesterday. I find some humor that as a pastor I have to pause and think about what I spoke about last week.  Sometimes it just slips my mind.  Oh course, the good news is that most people can’t remember what I said either.  One day all I will need is one sermon.  Together we will just hit the replay button.  But that day is not today.

As I look back, I am so filled with gratitude with the incredible journey that God has allowed to play out in my life.  Not every day has been that good.  I mean, the days I woke up with the stomach flu didn’t make the top 1,000.  But it has been a great journey.  My childhood, or at least the part I remember, often causes me to smile.  The more I think of my Momma and Daddy, the more I appreciate them.  They were ordinary folks but at the same time they were just extraordinary.

I think about the night in 1974 when I walked into that church in Valdosta, Georgia and saw “the girl” and I am grateful.  I have shared almost 48 of my 70 years with her and boy am I glad I decided to go to that church that night.  Our journey has been and is one adventure after another.  I’m hoping God decides to let us grow old together—it’s gonna be a hoot for sure.  Throw in the mix the kids (including the ones who stole our daughter’s hearts) and the grandkids and, well, it is awesome.  Perfect? No.  But who said life must be perfect to be amazing?

And, then there are the everyday people I have met and bumped into, especially as a teacher/pastor. If life was a giant scoop of vanilla ice cream and people were the toppings, it would be one fantastic, multi-flavored, rainbow-colored sundae.  You know those things kids love to sprinkle on ice cream—all the different colors and flavors mixed?  Well, that’s life and that’s people and that’s what makes it wonderfully unique.  Yep, it’s been a good ride.

It seems that life is like a long stint in school.  Someone said all they needed to learn they learned in kindergarten.  I think that really is life—one big, long day in kindergarten—learning, playing, living—with a few skinned knees along the way.  I know this and yet I am still learning this.  Life is not a destination—it is a journey.  There is not some magic place we are going to arrive at one day and feel all warm and fuzzy and complete—well, unless you count heaven.  No, the joy of life is the journey.

There it is. That is why we need to wake up every day, thank God for another love note, another opportunity to make an impact and be impacted.  That is why every day, regardless of how it plays out, is a gift.  The hard days are opportunities to learn those hard, but very valuable, lessons.  The good days when things just go amazingly well are like recess—or lunch.  The trick is learning to be grateful for both, because both are valuable.

At any rate—I’m grateful that at t-minus nine months Alston and Leslie decided one more couldn’t hurt.  I’m grateful that they decided I was a keeper—even if the table was a little full.  And if it isn’t your birthday today, go ahead and celebrate anyway.  Today is God’s decision that life should go on.  Today is His way of saying I love you.  Today, regardless of the circumstances, is an opportunity to believe that He is good, that He is faithful and that He can be trusted.  It is just one more opportunity to believe, “He’s got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Please note each blog has a graphic which does not attach to your email. To view the blog with the graphic, please click on http://www.gritswithgrace.com to view the blog as posted each day.