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

Time for a Switch

 “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 birthday, Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful

Toys-R-Me

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, fear, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, priorities, Southern born, thankful

Me, Mama, and Mrs. Crabtree

When He saw the crowds, He had compassion on them because they were confused and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Matthew 9:36

I went just a little too far.  When you are an overactive six-year-old, church can be quite difficult.  My pastor was one of my favorite people but when you’re an overactive six-year-old, preaching can be, well, a little boring.  I’ve always loved church music but when you’re an overactive six-year-old, well, the best singers just aren’t enough.  Mama tried to keep me busy.  Her favorite tool was to give me the bulletin and a pen or pencil and I would color in all the little circles.  You would be amazed how many different little circles there were each week.  Well, that would work for a while, but you know, when you are an overactive six-year-old, nothing is going to work for long.

Well, one particular Sunday, the circle thing didn’t even make it past the song service.  By the time they were passing the plates I was out of things to do.  The service was always very predictable.  There would be an opening song, the announcements, a couple of more songs, then the offering, a special music thing, and then the preaching.  After the pastor finished, we would have one more song and call it a day.  Of course, there were always a couple of prayers thrown in for good measure.  So, I knew it was just about time for the preacher to start preaching when I heard Mrs. Rosalyn Crabtree start singing.

Now let me tell you right now, Mrs. Crabtree could flat sing.  I don’t know if she had voice lessons or not, but she sounded like one of those opera singers.  When there was a solo in the choir it was usually Mrs. Crabtree who sang, and more often than not, she sang right before the preacher.  She and her husband Jake were two of my favorite people too.  They taught me in the youth department when I got older and we even had Rosalyn sing at our wedding when my wife and I were married.  They were great folks.

But this Sunday, well, it was just destiny that I was going to get in trouble.  I was bored by the time the offering was done, so I started poking Mama in the side.  She had her girdle on and it always amazed me just how tight that thing was.  Well, she finally had enough of the poking and said so in a way that I knew if I continued, it wasn’t going to be pretty.  But then Mrs. Crabtree started to sing.  Well, while she was singing, I decided to cover my ears with my hands. Why?  Well, I guess that is what overactive-six-year-olds do.  Well, when I took my hands down there was obviously a big sound difference.  So, I put them back up and then took them down.  I had discovered a new game.

I found out if I did this fast it made a “wa-wa” sound in my ears.  The faster my hands covered and uncovered my ears, the faster the “wa-wa.” I thought this was pretty grand entertainment. Mama didn’t think so. I stopped for a minute but decided it was worth the risk. It wasn’t.  Before I knew it, she and I were heading out the door. I had crossed the line and me and Mama had a little “come to Jesus” meeting.  And do you know what?  That urge to put my hands over my ears strangely disappeared and has never returned.  I guess you could say that Mama discovered a vaccine for that like the one for the COVID virus and it was highly effective. Very.highly.effective.

I am glad that I had a Mama who knew how and when to administer a little discipline…even if it meant taking me out smack dab in the middle of church.  And I am glad that we had a church where no one smirked, and no one said I shouldn’t be there.  We had a church where families and kids were more than welcome and I have tried to make sure that at the churches I pastor, the same is true today.  Rich or poor, black, white, or brown, young, or old—everybody is welcome.  I know that is the way it ought to be because that is the way that Jesus did it. I figure if that was the way He did it—we should do it too.

One time when Jesus was teaching, He looked at the people and had compassion on them because He saw them like a flock of sheep needing a shepherd. Compassion—love in action.  Compassion—love that says come on in, you are welcome here.  I like that.  You see, God is an inclusive God.  He even invites overactive six-year-olds like me and you into His presence.  And He’s always ready to help, always ready to love and always ready to say, “Don’t worry…I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne