Tag: momma

Posted in Family, food, friends, Grace, gratitude, Holidays, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Thanksgiving

Thanks-Giving Living

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

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

Everything seemed bigger then.  I liked being a kid.  I know there were times I didn’t, but overall things were pretty cool.  For one thing, there were fewer responsibilities.  There was always someone bigger and more important than me to handle things.  I didn’t worry about where the food came from, who was going to pay the electric bill or what would happen if the wrong person got elected and lived in something called the White House.  My house happened to be white, so my world centered around that white house. Of course, there were only three channels to tell me about the world outside my small world so, yeah, l liked being a kid.

When I was a kid, the holidays were just a big thing and the two at the top of the list were Thanksgiving and Christmas. These were the mammoths of all holidays.  Thanksgiving, of course, came first and was like the kickoff for the Christmas season. Thanksgiving meant that it was ok to start doing Christmas stuff.  Now days that has been assigned to the Fourth of July. Smile.  But anyway, these two special days shared two things that made them special.  They were all about family and they were all about food. Family and food.  They were big then and they are big now.

Of course, big was relative…not relative like my grandmother or my Uncle Hardy…but relative in the sense of perspective.  You see, as a kid, everything was bigger.  A while back I went back to where I was raised. The house, though slightly remodeled, was still there and about the same.  But when I saw it that day, I remember thinking how small it seemed.  I mean it was never big, but it certainly seemed bigger.  The difference wasn’t the house but how I saw it.  Enter Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was so exciting because it meant that anyone who was related to the Taylor tribe was going to be somewhere together.  Most often it was home…the white house on the corner of Carlton and Wheat. It was a big deal because we had quite a big tribe.  Momma and Daddy had eight kids and they probably would have had more but I think they finally figured out what was causing it.

And then…there was the food.  Momma would cook the biggest turkey we could find…usually right around twenty-five pounds.  There would be dressing, plain and oyster, giblet gravy, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, ambrosia, and a bunch of other stuff.  There would be several kinds of pies including the infamous “minced meat pie.”  Best I could tell that was a pie for the adults because I think it really had meat and only an adult could like that.  Then after the vast spread was spread, we would all gather around the kitchen (we wouldn’t fit around the table) and someone would pray…usually my oldest brother because he was a lay preacher.  And then…we would eat…a lot.

From my kid perspective it was good, and it was fun.  I probably didn’t think much about what giving thanks was all about.  I mean, my big brother talked about being thankful when he was talking to God in the prayer, but really, I probably didn’t get the whole thanksgiving thing…then.  But now, well, I certainly understand it more.  As I grew up and some of that responsibility that my parents bore fell on me, I began to understand.  When I started to realize that things I took for granted didn’t just happen, that they took hard work and a lot of love, well, I started feeling grateful.  The more I understood, the more I appreciated all that my Momma and Daddy did for me as a kid.  They worried so I didn’t have to. They provided so I could have food to eat, a place to sleep, clothes to wear and a life that was…fun.

So, this week, I’m going to remember and be thankful.  I’m going to do my best not to grumble about what I don’t have and choose to be grateful for what I do. Somewhere this week I will play the role of my big brother and pray, and I will thank God for all the blessings He has given to me and my family.  This week I will celebrate that there is food to eat and family to enjoy…just like when I was a kid.  God is good…always has been, always will be.  Paul, the guy who wrote most of the New Testament Bible said, “Giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” I think he was telling us to be sure and celebrate Thanksgiving, not one day, but every day.  Oh, and when you are thanking God for being God be sure and thank Him because, each day and every day, “He’s got this.” Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, life, love, prayer, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

I Heard You

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and discipline.” Proverbs 1:7

Rule number one—it is never a good time to curse God. A while back as I sat out by a fire crackling in our outdoor fireplace, my neighbors were teaching their young son how to ride a bike. He is quite the young man, and he did well. Judy went over to help encourage him. There were cheers and yells as he took off and rode maybe fifty yards or more before he gently crashed into the grass. It all took me back almost sixty years.

I was about seven or eight years old. I’m thinking that I had already mastered the bike riding thing, though I can’t be certain. For one reason or another, I decided I wanted to ride my brother’s 26-inch Schwinn bicycle. Now, if in-fact I had already learned to ride a bike, and this was just a greater challenge—then that’s pretty cool. If I hadn’t mastered riding any bike—well, then this was a recipe for disaster. The bike was way too big for me, but I was stubbornly determined.

We had a road that ran in front of our house and that was where I was going to attempt this daring feat. Unlike my little neighbor next door, Momma and Daddy weren’t home. Neither were any of my brothers and sisters. It was just me—and God. So, the best I could, I straddled the mammoth bicycle and promptly fell over. I got just a little mad. I tried it once again and this time the bike rolled forward a few feet and once again—it fell over—on me. I got just a little madder. By now I am muttering to myself—probably condemning myself for failing.

The third or fourth try, by now I had lost count, resulted in another series of crashes and the frustration, the anger, and probably more than just a little shame boiled out. I shook my fist at God and yelled something like, “God, why won’t you help me.” What followed next is blurred in my memory, but I am pretty sure it came out something like, “God, I hate you.” It was spoken—it was shouted—hurled at the God of the universe. As far as I know it was the only time, I ever cursed God. Somehow, in my mind, all of this was God’s fault. It didn’t matter that the bike was way too big for me, or that I lacked the experience to ride such a large bike. All that mattered was in my mind God intentionally let me down—literally—at least four times.

It was about then that I heard a voice. It wasn’t God, but that probably would have been appropriate since I had just offended Him in a big way. It was a female voice. At first, I thought it might have been Mrs. Job. If you remember the story she told her husband, “Why don’t you just curse God and die.” But it wasn’t Mrs. Job. No, it was Mrs. Taylor—Mrs. Alston Taylor to be exact, and I was about to die. From behind the hedge that encircled our front yard came, “Dewayne Taylor, I heard that. Don’t you ever talk to God like that again.” When Momma called you by your first and last name at the same time—you knew you were in trouble. When she was talking about disrespecting God—you knew you were in double trouble—with her, with Daddy and with God. I was in deep weeds.

Well, once again the end of the story fades from memory. I am sure it didn’t involve me winning the war with the bike. But I am sure, pretty sure that there was more than a verbal rebuke from Momma. I am certain that I learned a big lesson about God that day. That lesson is that God demands and deserves our respect—whether we are seven or seventy. The Bible teaches us that “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and discipline.” The fear that the Bible talks about is not the kind of fear when you think God is about to zap you. No, it is talking about respect. God is worthy of our respect—He is deserving of our respect. Period.

The verse goes on to say that a foolish person despises wisdom and discipline. Another verse I’ve grown fond of is Psalm 14:1. It says, “The fool says in his heart, “There is no God.” I mean, I think it is foolish to write God off, but there is something more here. The words, “there is” were added by the English translators to make the verse flow a little smoother. The verse in the Hebrew literally says, “The fool says in his heart, No, God.” Whoa. It is a bad idea to tell Momma no, but it is really bad idea to tell God no. We need to write that one down.

When I told Judy what I was going to write about today, she asked, “So what did God have to do with you and the bike?” That’s a great question. But you know and I know we blame God for just about everything we don’t like—including when we fall off a bike, even one we had no business trying to ride. So, let’s learn a big lesson from seven-year-old Dewayne.

One, don’t try something that is clearly a recipe for disaster. I mean trying new and adventurous things is awesome—but keep them in reason. And, never, and I mean never—curse God—especially when your Momma is anywhere around. Just kidding. That is never a good idea. After the bike deal, I’m sure I was worn out and worn down. I hope I had the good sense to take a rest—in Him. And I hope I had the good sense to simply believe that He’s got this—but always in His way and in His time. Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, loving others, Scripture, Southern born, thankful, Trials

Switches and Sand Spurs

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” Hebrews 12:11

Well, I suppose it worked. Overall, I’m pretty sure I turned out ok. I’ve only had one speeding ticket, had one accident, and have never spent a night in jail.  Of course, that may have to do with the fact that I am a pastor. That doesn’t mean I’m too good to go to jail, it only means that church people don’t take too kindly to their preacher being arrested and going there.

Recently, I told my oldest sister that the older I get, the more I appreciate my Momma and Daddy.  I’m pretty sure that so many of the things I get right are because of my upbringing and of course, they were responsible for that.  Momma and Daddy shared the discipline part of child rearing.  Momma was more the “go get a switch from the bamboo bush” and Daddy was the more “wait a minute while I get my belt off” kinda guy. But you know, never was their discipline out of balance and more than once…I got off scot-free.

One time I chucked a rock at a car and Daddy promised me a lesson I wouldn’t soon forget.  When we got home, I ran inside and hid under the dining room table. For whatever reason, he chose to extend a boatload of grace and I know two things.  First, I was plenty grateful and second, I never chucked another rock at another car.  Lesson learned.

Every once in a while, Daddy would get more creative.  While I can’t remember the why or the frequency, he had one special way of helping me learn.  You see, in Florida we had these prickly things called “sand spurs.”  They could and would grow anywhere but they seemed partial to our front yard.  Well, one of Daddy’s ways of dealing with them is also one of the ways he dealt with me.  When I did something that was punishment worthy, he would take me to the front yard and have me pull the sand spurs up and out of the yard.  Like a goat mowing the yard, I would work my way over the right side, it was always the right side of the yard pulling every sand spur I could find.  I really, really didn’t like it and I am sure whatever crime I committed, I learned quickly to not do it again.

The Bible, God’s book, also teaches us about discipline.  It says, “No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way.” We don’t know who wrote the book of Hebrews but whoever it was seemed to know a lot about switches, belts, and sand spurs.  And do you know what else?  They were certainly right.  Discipline is never, ever pleasant.

So, looking back I am glad that my Momma and Daddy cared enough to try and raise me right.  And I am glad that my Dearest Daddy in heaven does too.  He knows when I’m wrong and He knows when and what is needed to put me back on the straight and narrow.  And even better than my parents, He is never excessive and is always graceful. I like that…a lot.  No matter the crime, His actions toward me have one purpose—redemption. I can trust Him no matter what and when I need some correction, like everything else, I know for sure, “He’s got that.”  Bro. Dewayne 

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

Taking Care of Family

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

If you help the poor, you are lending to the Lord—and He will repay you!” Proverbs 19:17

I know I didn’t know them…but I felt I did. As a pastor I occasionally receive a call from either a funeral home or a family that has experienced the loss of a loved one and they don’t have a pastor that can help them.  Well, that happened recently.  A mother had died and her sister, on behalf of the family, contacted me.  Could I help them?  I agreed but I had a request.  I try and make every service personal and special and since I didn’t know her or the family, I asked they provide some personal memories of their mom.  Graciously they did, and in so doing they painted a picture.

She and her husband were blessed with five children—a challenge and a blessing. As they sent the comments to the sister and then to me, it became painfully apparent that life had been financially hard.  Their mother had worked at a local manufacturing plant but was constantly being laid off.  When she was, she worked as a cook at one of the local restaurants.  It finally reached the point where the inconsistency of the one job made the other more attractive and she began working all the time at the restaurant.

She appreciated the consistency of the restaurant job, but it made for an even tighter budget at home.  I was moved by the comments of each one of her children.  They were so appreciative for a Momma that did everything possible to provide for them.  They spoke of gratitude for a roof over their heads, food for their stomach, and heat in the winter.  One spoke of the fact that regardless of the fact that Momma and the family were broke, somehow, someway, she made sure there were presents at Christmas and on their birthdays. That meant a lot to me.

At the service I rhetorically asked, “What does success mean?” It was one of those questions that I didn’t expect an answer…but I got one.  Quietly, one of her sons said, “Being comfortably full.” When he said that it moved me…it still moves me.  In a world where it seems everyone one has so much, in this family’s world abundance was a roof, some heat, food for their stomach and on a real good day, being comfortably full.

After hearing from her son, I went on to say that to me success is owning the things that money can’t buy…the things that don’t come from Walmart or some other store.  Success is five kids who at their Momma’s funeral talk about the sacrifices she made, the hard work she did to make sure they had a roof over their head, some heat, and food in their stomachs.  I then read a story paragraph that someone wrote about success.  It said, “What is success? Success is living well, laughing often, and loving much. Success is gaining the respect of those who know us best; finding and living our purpose and leaving our world better than we found it.” I finished that service in deep appreciation of a 72-year-old mother who did that and so much more.  She gave her five kids a home.

I’ve written several times that money was pretty thin when we were growing up, but I am sure we had more than this family and these kids.  I’ve written before how much I appreciated the fact that Momma and Daddy always made Christmas and birthdays happen.  It may have been courtesy of the local finance company, but it happened.  Now I am reminded that there were and are plenty of people where even that would not have been an option but somehow—they make it happen.

So, I’m just writing to say thank-you to someone I never knew—but felt I did.  I want to say thank-you to five grown up now kids who taught me to appreciate even more deeply what my Momma and Daddy did. They too made it happen whether it was a roof over our heads, or fuel oil in our kerosene tank or food on the table.  Let me encourage you to take the opportunity to thank the ones who made it happen in your life—whether it was years ago or yesterday.  Maybe take the time to whisper a prayer of gratitude for those in your family—or maybe even outside your family—that made it happen.

Maybe, just maybe, you can be one that helps make it happen.  Maybe you know someone who could use a little help.  Maybe God has given you a little more so you can share with those who have a little less. Proverbs 19:17 says, “If you help the poor, you are lending to the Lord—and He will repay you!” I like that.  When we share, we are being the hands and feet of Jesus and that is always a good thing.  You may be the one that your Dearest Daddy uses to whisper in someone else’s ear—someone who is struggling to make it happen.  And what is whispering? “I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne

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

Crash! Grind! Bummer.

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love.” Romans 8:38 (NLT)

It happened just like that.  I was new to the game…too new to the game.  I had had my driver’s license just a few weeks or at most a couple of months.  I can honestly say I wasn’t one of those cocky kid drivers, in fact I was probably scared to death. I had a job at a Food Fair a fair distance from where we lived at 6008 Carlton Road, and someone had to take me to work. Then my Daddy did it. He trusted me. One day he said that I could take the car and drive myself to work. They weren’t going anywhere, and it would save them from going and coming and coming and going.  I couldn’t believe it.

I remember the first time I carefully backed out of the driveway heading toward Ricker Road.  That day, and for several other days, things went well.  Again, I was careful, I didn’t break the rules and I wasn’t a speeder. Of course, our 1961 Plymouth station wagon wasn’t exactly a race car anyway.  There and back, I went, and all was well…until it wasn’t. One day, like several other days, I was going to drive to work.  Daddy car-pooled and wasn’t home yet.  I backed out of the driveway like every time before and headed for Ricker Road just like every time before…but it wasn’t like every time before.

Apparently, I had opened the back door on the driver’s seat to put something in the backseat and didn’t close the door all the way. As I pressed the gas pedal, the rear door swung open and that is when Mr. Inexperience took over. I heard the road noise, look over my shoulder and saw that the door was open. Well, instead of stopping and closing the door I tried to turn and reach over my shoulder to close the door.  When I turned and reached, I accidentally turned the wheel and, gulp, I ran right into—or actually over—one of our neighbors’ mailboxes. Crunch, grind, bummer.

I hit the brakes and sat there in total shock.  The mailbox was one of those that kinda sat on a little arm and that little arm had hit my windshield and cracked it.  It seems the mirror took a direct hit too. I was so afraid, and I didn’t know what to do…so I ran.  Yup, I was a hit and run driver, but I didn’t drive away…I ran away leaving the car running, my driver’s door open and the mailbox lying dead on the side of the road.

Since I hadn’t made it very far, our house was just a few dozen yards down the road, and I ran all the way. I ran into the kitchen and right into my Momma’s arms. She wanted to know what had happened and the best I could I explained it and then she asked where the car was and the best I could I explained that too. We went back to the car and brought it home and I’m sure Momma and I made a trip to the neighbor’s front door to explain what happened.

Let me tell you what didn’t happen.  Though I was certain it had—the world didn’t come to an end.  After a short while, Daddy came home, and I told him what had happened.  He wasn’t happy but he didn’t disown me…after all I was his son…before and after the accident.  I don’t believe there was any punishment either, but I am sure there was some instruction about how to close a door when the car is moving. “Stop. Close door.”  I also imagine there was some instruction about not leaving the scene of an accident.  And the neighbor…I simply don’t remember but I guess he didn’t press charges. Smile.

I’m sure my little accident cost my Daddy and Momma more than they could afford…even without repairing the mailbox.  I am sure it was money that could have been better used paying an electric bill or buying groceries for our “not too small” family.  But my best memory of all was the fact that Daddy and Momma loved me regardless and anyway.  Oh, I guess you could say it was because I was the baby of the family and their favorite (smile) but the truth is love ruled the day that day.

Looking back, I realize that was one of those times when my Daddy reminded me of my Dearest Daddy…my Heavenly Daddy. My Daddy could have extended wrath, but He extended grace and love—just like my Dearest Daddy…my Heavenly Daddy. I think I learned that day that my Daddy wasn’t someone to run from but to run to—just like my Dearest Daddy…my Heavenly Daddy. Paul, the one in the Bible, said that nothing can ever separate us from the One who loves us most.  How about that?  We have a Dearest Daddy…a Heavenly Daddy that is always there and always willing to whisper, “I’ve got that.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Christmas, Easter, Family, friends, Grace, gratitude, Holidays, life, love, loving others, priorities, Scripture, Southern born, thankful

Remembrance

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

Do this in Remembrance of Me.” Luke 22:19b

They hang on my wall…365…one above the other.  As I have grown older, I have found that certain memories are just…well…precious.  That seems to be especially true at this time of the year.  My memories growing up of Thanksgiving and Christmas always cause me to smile.  Two memories that I especially cherish involve two simple things that now are two of my most prized possessions.  The first was made possible by the generosity of my oldest brother.  A couple of years ago I wrote a story about a 410 shotgun that had belonged to our Daddy.  It was a family heirloom.  I didn’t who ended up with it, but it turned out it was my brother and he in an incredible act of generosity chose to pass it to me.

It now hangs on the wall in my home office, and it is fired only once a year. You see, Daddy or one of my brothers, used to fire the old 410 on Christmas morning as a sort of wakeup call for my two sisters and me.  So now, starting with last year, on Christmas morning, the old 410 once again comes to life and calls us to leave our beds and celebrate. Every day, I glance up at that old 410, and every day it reminds me of days gone by and I am overcome with gratitude.  I am thankful for a Daddy and Momma who loved me and a family that could gather with one another and celebrate.

The other thing that hangs on my wall…365…is a plastic Santa Claus face.  It has a LED bulb in it that allows it to burn 24 hours a day…and I remember…and I am grateful.  You see, when I was a boy, my family had a Santa face just like this one…just.like.this.one.  It hung up on our roof attached to our small chimney and it announced that Christmas time had come.  I’m sure it came from one of the local stores and probably cost just a few dollars. Well, that old Santa disappeared but I was able to find one on eBay and trust me it didn’t cost $4.50 but do you know what?  It was worth every dollar because every day it too reminds me of a Daddy and Momma who made sure, somehow, that we had a wonderful Christmas. It reminds me of a family that could and would gather with one another and celebrate.

So, those days are gone and all but one of my brothers are gone too, but guess what?  Those days and those loved ones live on in my memories and in my heart and those two things, an old 410 shotgun and a plastic Santa face from my boyhood days remind me to remember and be grateful.  I’ve said more than once if I could remember everything from my childhood, I would have enough Grits’ material to write forever. Smile.  I’ve discovered that things can sometimes help us remember and that is important because while some things probably need to slip away…many…perhaps most…need to live on.

Have you ever wondered why Jesus on the night before He died did something crazy like serve supper?  If you are familiar with that story, you know it was a pretty simple meal…bread and wine but the meaning was anything but simple.  The next day He was going to die on a Roman cross, and He wanted to make sure the guys who followed Him would never forget what it was about. He explained how the bread represented His body broken on that cross and how the wine represented His blood that was shed so that any of us…all of us…who chose to believe could have eternal life.  That’s why He said, “Do this in remembrance of Me.”  It was His way of saying we should always remember and never forget.

So, what is it in your life that helps you remember?  A simple, or elaborate, wedding ring? A watch? Family pictures? Whatever it is, it is there to remind us and cause us to be thankful.  Christmas this year falls on a Sunday and we are going to celebrate the Lord’s supper that day at our church. I know it is almost a month away, but I am already looking forward to it.  It is going to remind us once again what Christmas and Easter are all about—a God, a Father, a Dearest Daddy, who loves us so much He gave His Son to a stable, a broken world and a Roman cross. Be sure in the hustle and bustle of the holidays to take time to remember and reflect.  For me it is an old 410 shotgun, a plastic Santa and an old rugged cross and a heavenly Father who always reminds me, “I’ve got this.” Bro. Dewayne

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

One Thing I Know

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them.” Romans 8:28

Momma always knew best.  I was blessed to have a good Momma and Daddy.  They were everyday people but in so many ways they were anything but every day.  Willing to take on the task of raising eight children, they gave up a lot for us.  Daddy worked hard as a jet engine mechanic and Momma mostly stayed home and took care of us.  Momma was always there when we needed her.  I remember one time I was sick with a stomach virus.  It was the middle of the night and Momma sat down in an old wooden rocker we had and then invited me up into her lap.  There she gently held me.  It didn’t do much to ease my unhappy stomach, but it sure made my heart feel better.

Momma had her own brand of medicine.  As best as I can remember, Momma was a big believer in “family herd immunity.”  In case you are not familiar with that, it is where a certain illness is almost intentionally shared with members of the family, especially siblings. I guess Momma thought it was best to get it all over with at one time.  And it seemed to work.  I remember one of my sisters came down with the measles.  Rather than isolate her from my sister and I, Momma just put us all together in the double bed in the spare bedroom and waited.  Sure enough, we all promptly got the measles and we also all got well about the same time.  I’m not sure modern medicine would approve, but that’s ok.  It worked for us, and Momma was always there to help us get better.

However, Momma didn’t always use herd immunity.  When I was about nine, there was a pretty serious flu outbreak in our north Florida city.  I really don’t remember too much about it.  I also don’t remember if I became a patient or not.  But there is one thing I do remember—I knew what we had in our family wasn’t good and I felt I needed to do something—so I did.  I found a piece of paper and a pencil, and I made a sign warning other people to stay away.  The sign said something like this, “Warning.  We have the FLEW.  Don’t come in.” Even if my spelling wasn’t the best, it still got the message out.

When I was in the second grade, Momma’s brand of herd immunity took on a different look.  My sister Kathy was not feeling well so Momma took her to the doctor, and I tagged along.  Dr. Smothers was our ears, nose, and throat doctor.  He checked my sister out and it was determined that she had tonsillitis.  That was something a lot of kids back then seemed to get. Well, Dr. Smothers suggested to Momma that perhaps it was time for my sister to get her tonsils out.  Again, back then that was the standard treatment.  So, Momma agreed and then said to Dr. Smothers, “Why don’t we take Dewayne’s out too?”  Hmmmm.  Herd immunity strikes again. So, the doctor says, “Well, Dewayne, what do you say?  Would you like to get your tonsils out too?”  Now I had no clue what in the world he was talking about.  But I think he said something about all the ice cream you wanted, and I was in.  A few days later I found myself in the hospital with my sister and the world’s worst sore throat.  I’m still not sure if that ice cream was worth it!

I’m sure there are many more stories about Momma’s medical skills and judgement, but they have slipped from my memories.  But let me tell you one thing that hasn’t slipped away, that is the concrete knowledge that my Momma loved me.  Whether it was the measles, the flu, or getting rid of some pesky tonsils, Momma always did what she thought was best for us.  Some people probably wouldn’t agree with her medical practices, but I know everything she did was for our good.  For my good.

And do you know what?  I think that is just another way my Momma was like God.  You see, God is constantly working in my life for my good and His glory.  I mean He is working out His purposes but at the center, at the core of it all is—my good.  The Bible verse that is so poplar is so true.  It goes like this, “all things work together for good, for those who love God, the ones who are called according to His purpose.”  Like I have said so many times that doesn’t mean that everything is good, but that God can bring good from all things.  I know Momma loved me a lot but even her love must pale to the love that God has for me—for us.

Now I am certain if you asked me in the middle of encounter with measles, that truth might have been a little clouded.  If you asked me after the surgery to remove my tonsils, well, I probably would have doubted it.  But in the long run, looking back—well, my Momma loved me and did her best to show that love.  So, today if you bump into a hot mess—today if things go south and it is hard…maybe real hard—just remember how much God loves you.  You can take it to the bank—it is a sure bet.  When life leaves you hurting worse than a bad stomachache, you just crawl up in His lap and let His strong arms ease the pain away.  Then, just nod off and take a nap.  You can safely do that because, “He’s got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

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

I Hated Him (part 2)

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

But when [Peter] saw the strength of the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand, caught hold of him.” Matthew 14:29-31

His name was Richard Jackson…and I hated him.  Of course, if you read the story from July 13, you already knew that.  He was a bully and for some reason he chose me to push around.  It was the eighth grade and Richard Jackson was bigger than every other eighth grader.  He was probably bigger than half of the Marine Corp.  Anyway, I was his target.

He and his lackey Mark Williams announced one day that they would be riding my bus to my stop and would then proceed to “beat me up.”  It was a long day waiting to get beat up, and they did board the bus, they did get off at my stop and sure enough, egged on by Richard Jackson, Mark Williams started the fight.  He popped me in the mouth and knocked me down.  I did my best to fight back but it was clear my best was not going to get the job done that day.  I wish I could tell you how I taught him a lesson but that would be fiction.  He was on top; I was on the bottom, and I was losing.

This is the part of the story that is very hard for me to write because every guy that ever reads this is going to write me off as a loser.  All I can say is before you do…you weren’t there.  Well, here goes.  My older sister was on the bus that day and while she was smaller than Richard Jackson, she was bigger than me and bigger than Mark Williams. So, she, well, she rescued me.  She pulled Mark Williams off me and proceeded to tell him to “leave my brother alone.”

Well, that broke the fight up and we started the long walk to our house which was about a third of a mile away.  Behind us, Richard Jackson and his lackey chided us and threatened us.  It was the longest third of a mile I ever walked and with every slicing word and insult from Richard Jackson, I felt smaller and smaller.  When we arrived at our driveway, my Momma just happened to be standing in the yard and when she heard and saw what was going on she made sure Richard Jackson and his lackey understood that they had better leave her son alone.

Now this is hard.  First, I knew I needed their help but to be rescued by, first my sister, and then my Momma destroyed any self-dignity I had…which honestly wasn’t much. But at the same time without them, well, it would have been even uglier.  You see, the truth is sometimes we just need help.  Actually, the truth is we need help almost every day. We are not built to stand or fight alone.  That is true for life and its ugly circumstances, and it is true when we fight the spiritual battles in life.

Even if you don’t believe in God, you must admit there is plenty of evil in this world and at the end of the day that will point you to a very real devil. And just like Richard Jackson, he wants more than anything to destroy you or at least make you feel like you’ve been destroyed.  Like it or not…we all need a rescue and the good news there is a rescuer, and His name is Jesus.  God took on Satan a long time ago and it was a no contest.  Read the Bible and you will see in the end—God wins and if we choose to follow Him—we win too.

In this world, with all its craziness, I know it seems that evil is going to win.  I bet that day when Jesus was nailed to a Roman cross and died…Satan assumed the war was over and He had bested God.  Well, three days later proved a different reality.  No, he didn’t win the war and he didn’t win the battle.  He played right into God’s hands.  So, while I was embarrassed that day, I was also grateful for the rescue. You may think you don’t need rescuing; you don’t need God but trust me…without Him…well, hard just got harder.

Why not ask Him to rescue you today? When Peter was about to drown one day, he called out…and Jesus was there. Why not finally admit this thing called life and eternity is a battle we can’t win on our own? Why not give God a shot at being the rescuer you need?  If you do, if you will, you will never have to fight the bullies of life alone again.  You will always have…not a sister…not a Momma…but a Mighty Warrior by your side.  And, when the bullies of life walk up, you can be assured that He will whisper, “Don’t worry…I’ve got this.”  Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, Grace, gratitude, life, love, loving others, prayer, Scripture, thankful, Uncategorized

Open Hands, Open Hearts

Posted on by Dewayne Taylor

If you help the poor, you are lending to the Lord—and He will repay you!” Proverbs 19:17

It was part generosity and part tradition.  When I was growing up, Sunday meant going to church. My Momma would always make sure I had taken a bath, combed my hair, brushed my teeth (I think), had clean clothes, and had an offering.  There was something about going to church and taking an offering.  It almost seemed like either God would be mad if I didn’t or the people at church would think we were poor or something…which we might have been.

Now the offering wasn’t a whole lot, but it was more than the widow lady in the Bible gave.  Her offering was less than a penny, but it was really everything she had.  Momma gave me a quarter most times but sometimes it was a dime and on rare occasions it was a dollar.  Trust me, that was a rarity.  Anyway, I finally figured out that it wasn’t the amount that mattered anyway.  What mattered was that Momma thought it was important and it mattered that I didn’t pocket the quarter.  Jesus said something about it was more blessed to give than to receive and I’m sure Momma knew that.  So anyway, I gave the quarter.

I read a story the other day about a little girl who went to church just like me.  Her Momma gave her a dime and a nickel. The little girl asked, “Which one am I supposed to give?” and her Momma told her she could decide.  Well, when she came home from church, her Momma asked her which one she gave, and she said she had given the nickel.  When asked why she gave the nickel instead of the dime she said, “Well, the preacher said that God loves people who give cheerfully, and I was a lot happier when I gave the nickel and kept the dime.”  Smile.

I know that I am still a work in progress.  God started the project way back in 1975 and He’s still working today.  I’ve heard it said that His work isn’t done until He takes us home to live with Him.  I believe that is true.  One of the areas that He is working on with me is generosity.  They say that if you want to carve a duck from a block of wood you just cut off everything that doesn’t look like a duck. Well, that is what God does with us except He’s not making ducks. He is making Jesus followers. And one thing I know for sure is that Jesus was always generous.  He was so generous He gave His life away on a wooden cross to pay for everyone’s sin.  Now that is generosity.  Now that is love.

My point isn’t that you ought to give to the church.  The point is we should all learn to be generous to others.  A generous life is a happy life, and a generous heart is a happy heart.  In the Old Testament part of the Bible in the Book of Proverbs it says, “If you help the poor, you are lending to the Lord—and He will repay you!”  You know, I believe that is true.  I’m also sure that the repayment may not be dollars and cents but rather a deep sense of peace and joy in our lives—and that is better—that is priceless.  Remember this—God is more than willing to help you be like Jesus, but it all starts when we believe what He did and what He said. He died and came back to life and promised to forgive anyone who asked.  Need a little help with that?  Well, don’t worry, He’s got that too.

Bro. Dewayne

Posted in Family, fear, forgiveness, friends, Grace, gratitude, life, love, prayer, 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