Tag: memories

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, school days, Scripture, thankful

God and Graders

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

This is My command—be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9 NLT

It was a boy’s dream come true. One thing I love about being born in the fifties was the world in which we lived. Things were so much slower and simpler.  Television consisted of three channels and the big news was the day we had four.  And hang on, no toys I owned required batteries or had a screen. All I had to do was look around at what was laying around and boom…welcome to toy land. One of my favorites was a piece of chain that quickly became a train. I would drag it through the sand and as the links cut through the sand it and at least through my eight-year-old eyes and mind…it looked like train tracks.

As my wife Judy and I were recently traveling through South Georgia, the land of grits, butter and salt (no sugar, thank you) we saw a road grader doing its grader thing. This magnificent machine  had six large tires and a blade the size of Texas.  With the right operator, they could quickly turn a rutted, dirt road into a silky country highway. Now, and especially back when I was eight, it was a boy’s dream come true.

When I saw the grader that day, my mind flashed back to a time when they were grading the dirt road in front of my house. Later on they would pave it but before that it was dirt and one day the county decided to pave it. This was big excitement for me so I ran out and watched with fascination as the operator carefully and skillfully operated the grader and then something happened.

The man stopped the grader right in front of where I was standing and invited me to join him in the cab. While this probably would never happen now, back then it could and did. He idled down the motor and hollered, “Do you want to ride for a while?” So, with a wave of his hand, I joined him in the cab. He shot the juice to the giant engine and off we went. It was amazing. I may be dreaming but it seemed he even let me steer the massive machine. Too soon, he had to get back to work and I had to come back to reality.  But it was a dream come true.

That was a memory to remember but there is one that is so much bigger than that and that is the time God invited me to come and sit in the cab of life with Him. Just as the grader was changing the local landscape, so God invites us to change the landscape of life and lives. With His hands on the controls, we have the opportunity to allow Him to guide us and we have the privilege of helping others and serving Him. It is a game changer and adds so much meaning and purpose to our lives.

Let me encourage you today to move from the roadside and join your Dearest Daddy in the cab. There is no limit to what He and you can do together. You don’t have to have degrees or zillions in the bank to be used by Him.  All it takes is a willing heart and saying yes to His great adventure for your life. Remember, don’t be afraid to climb on board…He’s got this. Bro. Dewayne

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

Thank You

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

 
I always thank my God for you.” 1 Corinthians 1:4

It was a day to remember. The time finally came. After a whole bunch of praying and pondering Judy and I came to the decision that it was time for us to start writing a new chapter. So, to start something new we had to regretfully leave the current chapter. It was one of the hardest things we have ever done…and over 42 years we had to do it four times. God allowed me to pastor four churches over the past forty-two years and and each one was a wonderful blessing and each one was easy to love and hard to say goodbye by to.

We joyfully served at Dorrisville Baptist for the past twenty-four years and what a bouquet of blessings it has been. They were a graceful church family which was good because I am one of those pastors who needed a lot of grace. We learned to laugh together, cry together, succeed together and, yes, fail together.  It was a pretty good snapshot of life. Well, in typical Dorrisville style they planned a wonderful day of celebration. And believe me…it was both wonderful and a celebration.

We worshipped and I preached and then for the next thirty minutes or so the church honored Judy and me in a way that lodged in our hearts for the rest of our days. A special friend sang a special song, several gifts were presented and then Judy and I had the opportunity to try and say thank you thank you. I rediscovered two things.  First, yes, there are times when words escape me. Tried as I may there weren’t words to say thank you to all the wonderful people who attended that day. There were even a bunch of folks from Cobden First where I was pastoring when we came to Dorrisville. Second, I am convinced sometimes 26 letters in our alphabet are just not enough to make the words we sometimes need.

Well, despite some terrible weather, despite it being Memorial Day weekend with more than a few families on vacation, we were so blessed and so grateful. In the movie, “Mr. Holland’s Opus,” at his retirement from a fruitful teaching career he was honored with a grand celebration. Well, move over Mr. Holland, because this is one preacher who felt so honored, loved and appreciated, well, he just can’t get over it.

To the four churches who trusted me to be their pastor, to the hundreds and maybe thousands of people I was honored to serve with, to the families we laughed with and sometimes cried with, thank-you. While this chapter is closing, the memories will always be alive and well. And while this chapter is closing, those who walked with us over the last four decades will never fade from our memories.  We love you.  Oh, and don’t ever forget…no matter what…He’s got this.  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, food, Grace, gratitude, life, love, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Gentle Father

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

He protects His flock like a shepherd; He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them in the fold of His garment.” Isaiah 40:11

I’m sure it happened more than once…probably on an “as needed” basis.  Perhaps this is a memory you can share…maybe not.  I was probably eight years old, and it was somewhere in the middle of the night…and I had the stomach flu.  As always, it came out of nowhere and I was sick…real sick. The only thing I can say good about the stomach flu is that it usually doesn’t stick around too long.  But I can also say that one minute or one hour is too long.

So, there I was feeling like I was dying (from my eight-year-old perspective), lonely and miserable.  It was just about that time that Momma heard me being miserable, got up from bed and started doing her Momma thing.  She may have found me in the bathroom and that may have been what awakened her.  Somehow, I remember her wiping my mouth and gently rubbing my head.  Then we went to the living room, and she settled into a rocker we had there and then she invited me, lifted me, into her lap. Her holding me somehow had the effect of healing.  I just felt better…not normal…but better.

I treasure that memory and ones like it.  I treasure the thought of the one who gave me life making my life better…especially when I needed it the most.  I treasure it too because it reminds me of my Dearest Daddy as He does what she did.  He invites me into His lap where He holds me and assures me that it is going to be alright. The One who gave me life cares enough to make my life better.

One of the most famous Christians of the 19th century was named Hudson Taylor. He was a missionary to China, and he was a spiritual giant. In his old age, he lost his health and became very weak. He wrote a letter to a friend that said this: “I am so weak I can no longer work. I am so weak I can no longer study. I am so weak I can no longer read my Bible. I cannot even pray. I can only lie still in the arms of God like a little child in trust.” I like that a lot.

You know, sometimes in your life, you will be so weak you can’t even pray, read the Bible, or go to a Bible study. You can’t work. You can’t do anything. Have you been there?  I have. So, what do you do in those moments? You rest in the strength of the Lord, in His gentle yet strong arms like a little child, and you trust. As you rest there, you can be assured that, “He’s got this.”          Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, Grace, gratitude, life, love, school days, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Rescue and Redemption

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” (Psalm 34:18)

Tears streamed down my face as I raced after the car.  So many childhood memories are lost through the fog of time.  Depending on the memory…that can be good or bad.  A tragedy, a broken heart, a traumatic event, are all best left in the fog.  Others, though, need to be remembered.  And then, there are those that are both and this story is one of those.

It all started one day in elementary school.  It had to be the third grade.  The teacher had given us an assignment and to emphasize the importance, she said that if we came to school the next day without it…there would be consequences.  I don’t know what those were, but it probably involved a trip to see the principal or being fed to the sharks.  At any rate, it worked.  I was terrified.

Well, somehow, some way, it happened.  I got on the bus, got to school, and got to class.  Shortly after we said the pledge to the flag, sang our patriotic song for the day and then recited the Lord’s Prayer (yes, we really did that), she called for the assignment. Just about then, the Lord’s Prayer took on a new meaning.  I was genuinely scared…to death.  Well, in a moment of grace, she allowed this repentant sinner to go to the office and call my Momma and Momma came to the rescue. We agreed that I would meet her in the circular drive…where the buses dropped us off each morning. Since it was going to be a few minutes, I went back to class.

A little later, the teacher let me go and meet Momma.  I got to the drive just in time to see the back of our car leaving the driveway.  Either I was later, or she was early—either way I was in deep trouble. So, I did what any insecure, deep weeds third grader did back in the early sixties—I burst into tears and started chasing the car.  As they drove off, I remember running as fast as I could, crying out, “Momma, Momma.” Somehow, some way the brake lights came on and the car pulled over.  It turned out my brother was driving, and Momma was in the front passenger seat.

When I got to the car, Momma opened the door and I fell into her waiting arms.  Now this may seem a little dramatic and traumatic to some of you but then you didn’t have Mrs. Wilson for a third-grade teacher. There was not a sermon about how I shouldn’t have forgotten the paper—though that would have been appropriate. There was not a chastening—though I deserved that too.  There was only compassion for a young boy who thought for sure his world was about to end.  There was only love.

Well, first it turned out, she had already dropped the assignment off at the office.  Second, right or wrong, I just couldn’t go back to class, and I asked if I could just go home—and she agreed.  Apparently at the moment it was the right thing to do. Honestly, I was a mess and embarrassed that I was a mess.  The story ends with another chance.  The office must have sent the assignment to Mrs. Wilson and the next morning when I got to class everything was ok.  She extended some grace and I believe I learned a lesson about rescue and redemption.  It was a lesson that I would see played out over the years for the rest of my life…not by a teacher or my Momma—but by my Dearest Daddy.

You see, God is in the rescue and redemption business. Did you know that?  He is always looking for a lost cause to redeem and rescue and that’s all of us since we all have messed up. And the amazing part, He never grows tired of it.  I think it must be His incredible love for us. When I decided to become a Jesus follower, I didn’t become perfect…no one does. I still managed to “forget my homework”…again and again.  But each time He was there with a bucket full of grace and love. That’s just what He does.  Oh, and I don’t ever have to chase after Him for He is always chasing me.

So, today, if your day or your life is going south like a fast freight train, just remember this.  There is a God, He does love you and He wants to redeem and rescue you.  He’s chasing you to do exactly that.  No matter what it is, just know and believe, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, heaven, life, love, loving others, Military memories, prayer, priorities, Scripture, sovereignty of God, thankful

Baits, Hooks, and Bill

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

A friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in time of need.” Proverbs 17:17

His name was Bill, and he was an investor—in people.  When Judy and I landed in Warrensburg, Missouri via God, and the Air Force we began attending First Baptist Church.  For us, God and the church thing was an all-in deal so soon we were singing in the choir, attending church, and going to Sunday School. Our Bible Study teachers were Bill and Edith Hensley, and they were a class act.  The time we spend in their class was rich in every way imaginable.  We build friendships and did life together.  It seemed that whether you were in the Air Force like I was or a professor at the local university or a lawyer, it just didn’t matter.  We were pilgrims journeying with each other and with Jesus and it was good.

Bill was a lawyer by trade and a disciple-maker by faith.  He believed in Jesus, believed the Bible, and believed in people—including me.  I’m not sure how it happened but he kinda adopted me and began investing in me by teaching me about fishing, hunting, and growing in my faith.  He loved to fish.  He would often call the house and say, “What time is it?”  Now it might be time to wash the car or time to mow the grass, but I knew what the answer was.  “It’s time to go fishing” I would reply and in about 30 minutes I would be in his pickup truck heading to some pond to see if we could catch a bass or two.

That was the case one late summer evening.  We had the boat out in a small pond.  Things had been slow, and the sun was just about to call it a day.  Bill suggested that I make a cast or two more toward the shore.  He pointed out a log that just broke the surface about three feet from land.  I gave the rod a swing and amazingly that ole hula-popper landed right up next to that log.  A hula-popper is a soft lure that sounds just like a wounded frog when you pull up on the rod.  I pulled up on the rod and heard the familiar gurgling sound.  Nothing happened.

I gave it another tug and two things happened.  First there was a small splashing sound and second the lure stopped dead in the water.  At first, I thought I had snagged the log but I soon realized I had hooked a pretty good size bass.  Now since it was late summer the water was a bit cool so there wasn’t this epic battle—you know, man against whale.  Instead, it was like reeling in a big piece of wood.  Of course, there was a tug here or there but whatever was on the other end of the rod wasn’t up for much of a fight.

Before long the fish was beside the boat and Bill got the net and bought him on board.  It turned out to be a good-sized fish.  It was a 6.5-pound largemouth bass.  I couldn’t believe it,  Bill couldn’t believe it and I am pretty sure the bass couldn’t believe it either.  Well, we snapped a couple of pictures and headed for shore with the bass safely in the fish well.  I asked Bill if I should have him mounted but he said no because I was sure to catch a bigger one someday in the future.  Well, I haven’t and honestly, I believe he knew (because I didn’t know) my Air Force salary couldn’t handle the cost.

Bill and I enjoyed many more fishing trips before I finally moved out of the area and over into Southern Illinois.  I slowly lost touch with Bill and Edith and now they are both in heaven.  I am sure they heard, “well done.”  I can only imagine how many lives they touched.  I do know that night I learned a couple of good lessons.

The first lesson came thanks to that old bass.  I wonder how many “almost” nights he had laid up by that log.  You don’t get to be 6.5 pounds in a few nights or by making bad decisions.  So many a night there he lay and each of those nights he was wise enough to say no when a fisherman came by with a tempting bait.  For some reason that night was different.  It wasn’t that I was an expert, and it wasn’t that the bait seemed that real.  More than likely he just let his guard down and bit the bait.  That night at the cost of his life he learned a valuable lesson.  As Bob Goff puts it, “It is always better to resist the bait than struggle on the hook.”  Now that is good advice. So, in these days that take way too much energy just to do life, don’t get too lax and make a really bad decision.  Resist the bait.

The other lesson was from Bill…the man who invested his time, his wisdom and even some of his resources in a young Air Force sergeant. Bill was simply a good man who loved Jesus.  He was busy but he wasn’t too busy to pour his life into mine.  The Bible says, “A friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in time of need.” Bill was that to me and I know that I am a better person for knowing him.

In days like these when it seems the chief topic is survival don’t get so self-absorbed that you can’t invest in the folks in your world.  There are plenty of people like me who need someone a little wiser to speak into their lives.  Why not be that voice?  That voice may be whispering, “Don’t take the bait” or it might be encouraging someone to trust in the One who is worthy…to trust and rest in the God who made it all.  I think Bill was one of the ones who spoke into my life and helped me believe that I could trust God because, “He’s got this.”  Thanks, Bill. 

Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful, Trials

The Old Clock

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day.” Genesis 3:8

I have a clock.  Well, the truth of the matter is I have lots of clocks.  Throughout my adult life, starting in about 1978, I have had this love affair with things that go, “tick-tock.” Then, somewhere along the way, I even began to love clocks that didn’t.  That doesn’t mean they were broken it just means they were electric.  One of the things that I love about clocks is their tenacity—like the Energizer Bunny—they just keep going.  I have some “tick-tock” clocks that are well over a hundred years old, and they are still ticking and tocking. Something that is almost equally impressive as that are some of the electric clocks that are almost that old and they are still humming along.

And that brings up the clock.  About thirty years ago, I was at a friend’s antique shop on a Sunday afternoon.  I had been there many times before.  As I browsed around, I came across a camel back electric mantle clock.  I instantly recognized it…not because I had seen it before, but one like it.  It was a General Electric, Model 414, Westminster Chiming clock.  The reason I knew it so well was because my grandfather and grandmother had one like it and every time I went to their house, I listened to the song of that clock.  And this clock sounded just like it because—it was.

The song transported me back in time…to a different era when life was slower and to some extent easier.  Well, the clock in the antique shop that day found a new home.  It went first to 319 E. Poplar Street in Cobden and followed me to 217 W. Poplar Street in Harrisburg.  For the last 35 years or so, it has filled the place where it sat with song.  I loved it. Well, about two months ago, I heard something and realized it was coming from my beloved friend.

A very distinct noise, more than a hum but less than a grind, was coming from the clock.  The long and short of it is the old motor, after more than sixty years, was showing signs of death.  When the noise started, I immediately did some research and landed at a site of a man who works on this kind of motor…a Telechron.  I told him what my songbird was doing, and the prognosis was grim.  He said the noise meant that the motor was nearing the end of its life, and the only answer was to replace the motor.

Well since the clock was still working and because the rebuilt motor was far from inexpensive, I decided to try and live with the clock…noise or not.  But I need to be honest and let you know it is not going well.  Now instead of hearing and loving the beloved song, all I can hear is the sounds of a motor dying…getting louder by the day.  And the problem is the sound of death has drowned out the song of life.  Oh, the dear old clock is still singing its song but for some reason all I can hear is the noise it is making…not the song it is singing.

Somehow, almost unintentionally, I have decided to listen to the noise and not the song.  While the noise is louder it is not louder than the ticking.  The noise only wins the day because I choose to listen to it.  Try as I may, when I walk into the room, the first thing I hear is death and not life.  I wonder, actually I know, that this happens in our lives.  In a world filled with wonder and life, if we are not careful, we only hear a world heading south. Instead of hearing a baby’s first cry or a robin’s spring song, we choose to listen to brokenness, loss, and death.

I know I have a choice with the old clock, I am just struggling to choose wisely.  It must have been that way for Adam and Eve when God came to the garden each day to visit.  Genesis, the first book in the Old Testament part of the Bible, says that they would hear God walking in the garden in the cool of the day.  It was a sound they used to run to but now it had caused them to run away.  Sin, their sin, had gotten in the way.  If you find yourself running from what you used to run to, maybe just maybe, something has gotten in the way. Perhaps you are hearing the noise of dying instead of the song of living.

The answer for the old clock is a new motor and the answer for us is new heart or maybe a new or adjusted perspective.  If you’ve not discovered the joy of believing in God, check Him out.  You will find a song you’re sure to like.  For some of us, it might be an adjustment to our hearing, choosing to hear the song and not the noise.  Regardless, we have one confident assurance…He loves us and cares for us and no matter what, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

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 Christmas, Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, Holidays, life, love, loving others, Scripture, Southern born, sovereignty of God, thankful

I Love Christmas

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

I said it before, I’ve written it before, but I’ll say it again, I’ll write it again.  Once again, it is almost Christmas Eve.  I have celebrated Christmas Eve sixty-nine times. Granted I don’t remember some of the earlier ones and I guess to be honest I don’t remember a lot of them, but I remember enough to know that each one was special.  When I was growing up it was all about family, food and presents.  My Momma and Daddy did such an incredible job of making sure each Christmas was electric with excitement.  While there are several special memories, some were just bigger than others.  One particular Christmas, my sister had asked for a chord organ.  Now that was a big gift and yet I can remember lying in bed…all three of us little ones in one bed for that special night, and hearing through the thin walls the magical sounds of that organ.  Santa had come.

The next morning, with a house filled with family, we would celebrate with gifts, some large, some small, but all given and wrapped with love.  Later would come a big meal and prayers of gratitude for a good God who loved us and blessed us.  Many more Christmas Eves have come and gone.  Some were challenging, like when my Daddy was still recovering from a heart attack, some were much smaller like when it was just my wife, Judy and me sitting in a small village in Germany serving our country.  The crowd was smaller, but the love was just as big.

Later, we had children and Christmas began to take on a whole new dimension. Judy and I became more the giver than the receiver.  We had the opportunity to do for them like my parents had done for me.  We watched with joy as their faces lit up with happiness as each gift was unwrapped.  Clothes and toys with an occasional bike or hamster thrown in the mix are all part of the memory.  But through it all, one thing remained a constant…love…love for each other and experiencing the love of a God who won’t, who can’t stop…loving.

Now, well, the Christmas journey continues.  Our children have grown up and all three of them have kids of their own and Christmas isn’t less…it is more.  At some point and despite busy schedules, we will get together and love, and celebrate and be thankful for each other and for the One who makes it possible.  In my experiences of Christmas, I have discovered that it isn’t the circumstances that make Christmas Eve or Christmas morning special or not.  It is not the bounty of presents or the location, no, it is love.  My favorite Christmas verse from the Bible says it all, “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” Now that is a Christmas verse.

God doesn’t want anyone to miss Christmas with Him and that is why He threw open the front door and hung out the welcome sign.  He simply says, “Ya’ll come home for Christmas.” No matter who, no matter what, you are welcome home for Christmas.  I know growing up things weren’t always perfect in the Taylor tribe but for the most part we did manage to love each other and I’m glad we did.  Looking back on those Christmas Eve’s there are many more good memories, and the reason why is the choice to love.  He chose to love us, so maybe, just maybe, we can choose to do the same.  If you listen this Christmas Eve, you may just hear the Whisperer whisper, “Merry Christmas, I love you and I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, friends, gratitude, heaven, life, love, loving others, prayer, priorities, Scripture, thankful, Trials

Short Stories…Big Truths

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in Me, even if he dies, will live.” John 11:25

Short stories with big truths.  It all started on a Saturday morning.  We were a few months into writing stories on Facebook, and then decided to take the next step and build a website where our stories could be more easily accessed.  Many of our friends suggested compiling the stories into a book.  Well, that dream hasn’t happened and may not.  But the website did.  We decided to call it Grits with Grace.  Grits spoke of our Southern heritage and grace of the most powerful thing we have ever experienced.  Next came the tag line, “Short Stories with Big Truths.” Judy staged the picture in our backyard and, well, you probably know the rest.

Short stories with big truths.  Hmmm. That came home one morning as I was walking.  Sometimes, maybe once a week, I take my walk through our local cemetery.  It is rather large and if I make a couple of laps around the outside coupled with a shorter one, I end up with about two miles.  As I have written before, I love this walk because of all the life stories you can find on the headstones.  I take the same route each time…I am a creature of habit.  What I saw this morning I had seen many times before but this morning it spoke to me.

His name was Keith.  I could give you the last name but for privacy I won’t.  He was born on July 3, 1956, just a couple of years after me.  In other words, I was two and a half years old the day he started his life journey. We could have gone to the same school, played on the same ball team—except he was from here and I was from the south.  Anyway, it was the next date that always caught my attention. It was the date that he died.  Keith drew his last breath on May 31, 1964, at the too young age of 7 years, 10 months, and 29 days. I don’t know the cause of his untimely death…only that it was a too short story.  Was it a car accident, a bike accident?  Did he fall while playing?  Perhaps it was one of too many childhood illnesses.  Even polio could be a possibility.  Well, like I said we don’t know.  The only thing we know is that something unexpectedly stepped in and stole his years away.

Short stories.  The cemetery is full of headstones that tell short stories.  Walk a while and you will see that truth played out and that is why I am writing this story.  You see, Keith is a reminder to me, as all the headstones are, of a big truth.  The number of our days is a closely guarded secret of the One who created us.  He, and only He, knows when we will step into eternity.  Death is certainly no respecter of race, color, creed, or economic status.  Death doesn’t care about age.  We only know that one day it will come but don’t let that deflate you or scare you because Jesus took care of death two thousand years ago when He resurrected that first Easter morning.

I’m almost certain that Keith didn’t know he was going to have such a short story, but I hope he knew the One that could make a difference.  I hope he knew Jesus.  I hope you know Jesus.  When Jesus is entered into any equation, well, it changes everything, but especially death.  With Jesus death is not the end but the beginning and no matter how many years we live here—the life on the other side is so much more…so much longer.  Keith teaches us that some stories are short, very short and some stories are long, very long.  Jesus teaches us that it isn’t the length of the story that matters, it is what we do with Him.  He is what matters…not church, not religion, not religious stuff—just Jesus.

I really like what Jesus said in John 11:25—one of the books in the Bible that tells the story of Jesus.  He says, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in Me, even if he dies, will live.” The her is a woman named Martha and her brother had just died with a too short story.  Jesus is just letting her know that death doesn’t have to call the shots because He has.  Short stories…those will always be with us but so will big truths—like the one that says, “I’ve got this” because He does.  Bro. Dewayne