The recent flap at NCSU over 'hate-speech' graffitti on the Freedom of Expression Wall is causing me to put on my bigot hat...again. And that's OK, I'm comfortable as a bigot. It's a lot less stressful than pretending to like or care about miserable people with fragile egos.
Sure, what the students wrote on the wall on election night is hate speech. But so is Jeremiah Wright's sermons for the past twenty years. If anyone hates, he does. I'm just as bothered over his 'Not God bless America - God damn America' remarks. The Reverend William Barber, the state's NAACP president, wants the students expelled from school and charged with hate crimes. What crime? Are our thoughts now illegal - whether they're spoken or written?
The only difference between the NAACP and the KKK is that the former wear suits, the latter wear sheets. The NAACP is led by hateful, past-dwelling ministers and the KKK is led by Democratic Senators and Congressmen. There is more racism today that there was in the 50's when I was growing up. The reason is that black 'leaders' keep their citizens focussed on the past and coming up with excuses for their failures; and the government wants to keep an entire segment of our citizens in poverty so they can stay in power.
A recent episode on TV focused on the difficulties that a trans-gender female-to-male had finding acceptance in his community. Why do we have to accept people simply because they are different from us? Does a parent in that (wo)man's community have to teach her kids that it's OK to hang out with someone who doesn't know who he/she is, simply because the law says we can't discrimiate against she/he?
Can any hate speech, non-discrimination, equal rights law override my feelings of discomfort and distrust when I have to sit beside a Koran-toting Middle Easterner on the airplane or ride the subway with a gang of Bloods or Crips in my car? At what point do I stop trusting my instincts and give anyone who has ever been victimized by someone else the right to blow me up, shoot me, stab me, rob me and threaten my family and my country?
Common sense and reason are fast becoming a thing of the past; as is our freedoms. The next generations are being brainwashed into believing wrong is right, good is bad, truth is irelevant and justice is only for the whiners and losers?
For examply, did you know that the dictionary has changed the definition of n****r? It used to be someone who was shiftless and lazy, mean and stingy. Now the word means: Slang: Extremely Disparaging and Offensive. a. a black person.
b. a member of any dark-skinned people.
2. Slang: Extremely Disparaging and Offensive. a person of any race or origin regarded as contemptible, inferior, ignorant, etc.
3. a victim of prejudice similar to that suffered by blacks; a person who is economically, politically, or socially disenfranchised."
Excuses, excuses, excuses. I long for the day when people said what they meant, even if it meant a fist in the face for your remark. Today they want to destroy you for exercising your freedom of speech.
Now on Facebook
OK, I'm now on Facebook. Maybe I'll get on Twitter once I figure this one out.
Been married about two and a half weeks and still happily married!!
The Honeymoon In a Nutshell
Pam and I were married on Sunday, November 2nd, 2008. We spent the night at the Crystal Key B&B in Newman Grove, Nebraska. On Monday morning, we got up early, packed the car and met Bernice (I love this lady) at the bowling alley for breakfast. After breakfast, we went by Pam's house to clean it before leaving. The plumber came by to winterize the pipes while we wait for the house to sell.
I was sad as we drove out of Newman Grove. The people there are really special. They had done so much for us preparing for the wedding and wishing us well. I'll especially miss Bernice and Alta. As hard as it was for me, I can only imagine what leaving was like for Pam. Her family, everyone she knows and loves is in Nebraska.
Most of the day was spent driving to Hannibal, Missouri. We stayed downtown in an old brothel - the Lula Belle B&B, right next to the Mississippi River and a train track where every hour a train would pass and blow it's whistle outside our room. I'm sure they thought it was funny, but we were not amused. Our room was above a restaurant and boasted a heart-shaped jaccuzzi tub and a toilet separated from the bed by one narrow partition. We had to turn up the TV volume when we had to use the toilet - but we did have a good view of the train track from the window next to the toilet...and the tub was nice, if loud and powerful. It shot jets of water two feet higher than the tub.
On Tuesday morning we toured the town, climbing to the top of the hill Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer played on in Mark Twain's stories about the Mississippi River. We also visited Molly Brown's birthplace (closed). She was the feisty millionaire aboard the Titanic when it went down (played by Kathy Bates in one movie).
The weather was perfect our entire honeymoon. After leaving Hannibal, we drove south to St. Louis where we toured the St. Louis Arch and the museum under the arch, Gateway to the West. Around dusk we headed out of town and stopped at a Best Western - the nicest motel we stayed at on our trip. That night we talked and decided that it was too ambitious to try to include Memphis, TN in our trip. The next morning we woke up and ate breakfast at Crackle Barrel (for the second time), consulted our atlas, and chose a route southest towards Nashville. Little did we know it would take most of the day to get there.
We drove through Missouri and entered the lower part of Illinois in the town of Chester. Chester is known as the home town of Popeye the Sailor Man. It was a cute town. Being the home state of our new President-elect, we were surprised to see a lot of McCain/Palin signs in yards. A tiny building in downtown Chester was the local Republican headquarters...a sad place the day after the election.
From Chester we drove further into Illinois and came to Metropolis - home town to SuperMan. A giant steel replica of Superman stood at the back of the courthouse, so Pam and I paused for pictures and to visit the Superman museum/souvenir shop. After leaving Metropolis, we passed through Kentucky and made it just outside of Nashville after dark.
Thursday morning we visited the Opryland Hotel and Conference Center in Nashville. It was decorated for Christmas and looked beautiful. The place is huge! Opryland Hotel is the largest non-casino hotel in the world. We're going back to stay at the hotel at our first opportunity. Lunch was at Finney's Pub, an Irish pub inside the convention center. We also took the riverboat tour of the hotel and learned about the Presidential suite where Dolly Parton likes to plop down $3,500 a night to stay there.
We wanted to see the Grand Ole Opry auditorium and museum, but it was closed. So was the General Jackson paddlewheel boat. Just our luck. We got married at the wrong time...
We did visit the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Rhyman Auditorium where the Grand Ole Opry got it's start. I wasn't too impressed with the Hall of Fame, but the Rhyman was great. We had our picture taken at the microphone where Minnie Pearl and Johnny Cash once stood. After touring the Rhyman, we had ice cream in a downtown Nashville store and walked past dozens of bars with loud bands and the occasional street performer.
We left Nashville around dusk and drove to Sevierville before stopping for the night at another Best Western. The following day we drove out to the Odom farm - original settlers in the Gatlinburg area. We spent most of the day walking up and down Gatlinburg streets, enjoying lunch at an Italian restaurant and fudge from one of the many fudge shops in town. We also visited two Thomas Kinkaid galleries. After that we drove back to Pigeon Forge and located Dollywood after driving around forever looking for it. Dollywood was closed - no surprise - but we drove around the ticket booth and followed the road to the front gate where employees were decorating the park for Christmas. Pam and I snuck in and took photos. It would be nice to go back and see the Christmas shows, including a 4D version of Polar Express.
Late Friday afternoon we drove up on the Gatlinburg bypass and took photos of Mt. Leconte rising above the town. Then we drove the scenic route from Gatlinburg to Cherokee. Clouds were low by the time we reached Newfound Gap and we drove down the back side of the mountains in a cold drizzle.
Cherokee was dead. We stopped at one of the cheezy souvenier shops and I wondered what my parents thought when they brought my brother and I there when we were kids. Cherokee is a fairly depressing tourist trap, surviving mostly on Harrah's casino on the east side of town.
We continued on Friday night to Maggie Valley. I had hoped to stay at the Heart of the Valley motel, but it was - you guessed it, closed. My dad had intended to buy the motel when I was about 10 years old, but someone got there first with a down payment. It was a dream of mine to grow up in the mountains, playing in the streams and exploring caves. Heart of the Valley was a cool place to have grown up. Instead we stayed at some place I forget and had dinner at Logan's Bar next door. The 12 oz ribeye steaks were good and they were only $9.99.
Saturday morning we rose early and headed to Asheville to visit the Biltmore. The place was already crowded and we had a timed entry into the house of 10:45, an hour wait. We took photos outside and then spent the next two hours tourning the house. It was just decorated for Christmas and there were probably about 30 Christmas trees scattered throughout the house. Down in the old kitchen area, the staff had built a cale model gingerbread Biltmore. The windows were opened, allowing the delicious smell of the gingerbread to filter throughout the basement. I've always liked the staff quarters and kitchen/laundry areas best.
We had lunch at the stables next to the mansion and later visited the winery for a wine tasting. Actually we stood in line for an hour, took one sip of wine from the first glass, and decided to leave. The line waiting outside the winery was probably three hours long by then. I'm conservatively estimating that the Biltmore took in over a million dollars last Saturday. The staff is very efficient, passing 180 visitors through the front doors every 15 minutes at $54 a pop for adults.
We left Asheville and headed east for home. It took us six days to cover the 1400 miles from Newman Grove, Nebraska to Creedmoor, NC. The weather was perfect, the country in between is beautiful, and now we're trying to settle two households into one home; making adjustments for my kids and for Pam's furniture due to arrive tomorrow.
I'll find a way to post more pictures online. You have to see to appreciate how wonderful our honeymoon was. Pray for us as we start our lives and build our dreams together. It's going to be a wonderful journey.
I was sad as we drove out of Newman Grove. The people there are really special. They had done so much for us preparing for the wedding and wishing us well. I'll especially miss Bernice and Alta. As hard as it was for me, I can only imagine what leaving was like for Pam. Her family, everyone she knows and loves is in Nebraska.
Most of the day was spent driving to Hannibal, Missouri. We stayed downtown in an old brothel - the Lula Belle B&B, right next to the Mississippi River and a train track where every hour a train would pass and blow it's whistle outside our room. I'm sure they thought it was funny, but we were not amused. Our room was above a restaurant and boasted a heart-shaped jaccuzzi tub and a toilet separated from the bed by one narrow partition. We had to turn up the TV volume when we had to use the toilet - but we did have a good view of the train track from the window next to the toilet...and the tub was nice, if loud and powerful. It shot jets of water two feet higher than the tub.
On Tuesday morning we toured the town, climbing to the top of the hill Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer played on in Mark Twain's stories about the Mississippi River. We also visited Molly Brown's birthplace (closed). She was the feisty millionaire aboard the Titanic when it went down (played by Kathy Bates in one movie).
The weather was perfect our entire honeymoon. After leaving Hannibal, we drove south to St. Louis where we toured the St. Louis Arch and the museum under the arch, Gateway to the West. Around dusk we headed out of town and stopped at a Best Western - the nicest motel we stayed at on our trip. That night we talked and decided that it was too ambitious to try to include Memphis, TN in our trip. The next morning we woke up and ate breakfast at Crackle Barrel (for the second time), consulted our atlas, and chose a route southest towards Nashville. Little did we know it would take most of the day to get there.
We drove through Missouri and entered the lower part of Illinois in the town of Chester. Chester is known as the home town of Popeye the Sailor Man. It was a cute town. Being the home state of our new President-elect, we were surprised to see a lot of McCain/Palin signs in yards. A tiny building in downtown Chester was the local Republican headquarters...a sad place the day after the election.
From Chester we drove further into Illinois and came to Metropolis - home town to SuperMan. A giant steel replica of Superman stood at the back of the courthouse, so Pam and I paused for pictures and to visit the Superman museum/souvenir shop. After leaving Metropolis, we passed through Kentucky and made it just outside of Nashville after dark.
Thursday morning we visited the Opryland Hotel and Conference Center in Nashville. It was decorated for Christmas and looked beautiful. The place is huge! Opryland Hotel is the largest non-casino hotel in the world. We're going back to stay at the hotel at our first opportunity. Lunch was at Finney's Pub, an Irish pub inside the convention center. We also took the riverboat tour of the hotel and learned about the Presidential suite where Dolly Parton likes to plop down $3,500 a night to stay there.
We wanted to see the Grand Ole Opry auditorium and museum, but it was closed. So was the General Jackson paddlewheel boat. Just our luck. We got married at the wrong time...
We did visit the Country Music Hall of Fame and the Rhyman Auditorium where the Grand Ole Opry got it's start. I wasn't too impressed with the Hall of Fame, but the Rhyman was great. We had our picture taken at the microphone where Minnie Pearl and Johnny Cash once stood. After touring the Rhyman, we had ice cream in a downtown Nashville store and walked past dozens of bars with loud bands and the occasional street performer.
We left Nashville around dusk and drove to Sevierville before stopping for the night at another Best Western. The following day we drove out to the Odom farm - original settlers in the Gatlinburg area. We spent most of the day walking up and down Gatlinburg streets, enjoying lunch at an Italian restaurant and fudge from one of the many fudge shops in town. We also visited two Thomas Kinkaid galleries. After that we drove back to Pigeon Forge and located Dollywood after driving around forever looking for it. Dollywood was closed - no surprise - but we drove around the ticket booth and followed the road to the front gate where employees were decorating the park for Christmas. Pam and I snuck in and took photos. It would be nice to go back and see the Christmas shows, including a 4D version of Polar Express.
Late Friday afternoon we drove up on the Gatlinburg bypass and took photos of Mt. Leconte rising above the town. Then we drove the scenic route from Gatlinburg to Cherokee. Clouds were low by the time we reached Newfound Gap and we drove down the back side of the mountains in a cold drizzle.
Cherokee was dead. We stopped at one of the cheezy souvenier shops and I wondered what my parents thought when they brought my brother and I there when we were kids. Cherokee is a fairly depressing tourist trap, surviving mostly on Harrah's casino on the east side of town.
We continued on Friday night to Maggie Valley. I had hoped to stay at the Heart of the Valley motel, but it was - you guessed it, closed. My dad had intended to buy the motel when I was about 10 years old, but someone got there first with a down payment. It was a dream of mine to grow up in the mountains, playing in the streams and exploring caves. Heart of the Valley was a cool place to have grown up. Instead we stayed at some place I forget and had dinner at Logan's Bar next door. The 12 oz ribeye steaks were good and they were only $9.99.
Saturday morning we rose early and headed to Asheville to visit the Biltmore. The place was already crowded and we had a timed entry into the house of 10:45, an hour wait. We took photos outside and then spent the next two hours tourning the house. It was just decorated for Christmas and there were probably about 30 Christmas trees scattered throughout the house. Down in the old kitchen area, the staff had built a cale model gingerbread Biltmore. The windows were opened, allowing the delicious smell of the gingerbread to filter throughout the basement. I've always liked the staff quarters and kitchen/laundry areas best.
We had lunch at the stables next to the mansion and later visited the winery for a wine tasting. Actually we stood in line for an hour, took one sip of wine from the first glass, and decided to leave. The line waiting outside the winery was probably three hours long by then. I'm conservatively estimating that the Biltmore took in over a million dollars last Saturday. The staff is very efficient, passing 180 visitors through the front doors every 15 minutes at $54 a pop for adults.
We left Asheville and headed east for home. It took us six days to cover the 1400 miles from Newman Grove, Nebraska to Creedmoor, NC. The weather was perfect, the country in between is beautiful, and now we're trying to settle two households into one home; making adjustments for my kids and for Pam's furniture due to arrive tomorrow.
I'll find a way to post more pictures online. You have to see to appreciate how wonderful our honeymoon was. Pray for us as we start our lives and build our dreams together. It's going to be a wonderful journey.
It's Official
Our wedding cake! 11/2/2008
Friends in Nebraska
No rice...but plenty of leaves!
Bed & Breakfast in Newman Grove, Nebraska
The happy couple - appearing live on stage at Ryman Auditorium, Nashville, TN.
Obama's Legacy
Should Barack Obama win the election this November, I will not lose any sleep over it. In fact, I will pray for him and for our other elected officials. Most of all I will pray for America, because regardless of politics, we do live in the best country on God's earth.
I'm a staunch conservative politically, but there is little to be excited over this election - other than Governor Sarah Palin. But if polls are right, Obama will squeak by McCain and become America's first black President. Obama may not want to be labeled as a 'black' President, but indeed if he's elected it won't be because of his qualifications but because of his color. He is a novelty to some, a hopeful change in Washington for many, a cause for millions. Some in his own party won't vote for him because he's black; most of his party is black, so they will. (89% of black Americans supported John Kerry in the 2004 elections).
The way he performs his duties as President will be filtered through many lenses. Should Barack Obama perceive himself as a servant of all Americans, he will become a sell-out to many Afro-Americans and at the same time ensure that the Democratic Party remains the largest political party in America. However, if he caters to his biggest supporters, the legacy that Obama leaves will reflect not only on himself, but on blacks as a race.
How we process our identity says a lot about who we are. Obama claims that he was led to the Lord and discipled by Reverend Jeremiah Wright. Disciple means 'reproduce yourself'. What did Jeremiah Wright reproduce in Barack Obama? Martin Luther King dreamed that some day a person would not be judged on the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I don't know if America is there yet. Black 'leaders' and the Democratic party have much to lose if that day ever comes. Obama can either be an inspiration to black Americans, or he can be like his mentor and flame racial hatred and further divide our nation.
I do believe that Barack Obama is concerned what kind of legacy he will leave behind, both personally, and as America's first black President. I think he will not risk being treated poorly by history. At the same time, Barack Obama - a professed follower of Christ - has repeatedly voted contrary to biblical mandates. He will give an account to God some day for the way he led the greatest nation on Earth. And as voters, we must give an account for how we entrust our future to leaders who oppose those mandates.
Our faith, if we have faith, cannot be entrusted to political parties but to Godly leaders who value His values, who love His people. There is no place in America for racial hatred, especially in churches and in the offices of our elected officials. America needs change, and I pray that Obama will at least begin the process of reuniting our nation. It is a difficult task for any man or woman, regardless of race. His legacy can be greatness or failure, divinely led or spiritually dead. We should all pray for divine greatness. His term will either unite America or insure that a true conservative wins the next election.
Go Palin/Gingrich in 2012!
I'm a staunch conservative politically, but there is little to be excited over this election - other than Governor Sarah Palin. But if polls are right, Obama will squeak by McCain and become America's first black President. Obama may not want to be labeled as a 'black' President, but indeed if he's elected it won't be because of his qualifications but because of his color. He is a novelty to some, a hopeful change in Washington for many, a cause for millions. Some in his own party won't vote for him because he's black; most of his party is black, so they will. (89% of black Americans supported John Kerry in the 2004 elections).
The way he performs his duties as President will be filtered through many lenses. Should Barack Obama perceive himself as a servant of all Americans, he will become a sell-out to many Afro-Americans and at the same time ensure that the Democratic Party remains the largest political party in America. However, if he caters to his biggest supporters, the legacy that Obama leaves will reflect not only on himself, but on blacks as a race.
How we process our identity says a lot about who we are. Obama claims that he was led to the Lord and discipled by Reverend Jeremiah Wright. Disciple means 'reproduce yourself'. What did Jeremiah Wright reproduce in Barack Obama? Martin Luther King dreamed that some day a person would not be judged on the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I don't know if America is there yet. Black 'leaders' and the Democratic party have much to lose if that day ever comes. Obama can either be an inspiration to black Americans, or he can be like his mentor and flame racial hatred and further divide our nation.
I do believe that Barack Obama is concerned what kind of legacy he will leave behind, both personally, and as America's first black President. I think he will not risk being treated poorly by history. At the same time, Barack Obama - a professed follower of Christ - has repeatedly voted contrary to biblical mandates. He will give an account to God some day for the way he led the greatest nation on Earth. And as voters, we must give an account for how we entrust our future to leaders who oppose those mandates.
Our faith, if we have faith, cannot be entrusted to political parties but to Godly leaders who value His values, who love His people. There is no place in America for racial hatred, especially in churches and in the offices of our elected officials. America needs change, and I pray that Obama will at least begin the process of reuniting our nation. It is a difficult task for any man or woman, regardless of race. His legacy can be greatness or failure, divinely led or spiritually dead. We should all pray for divine greatness. His term will either unite America or insure that a true conservative wins the next election.
Go Palin/Gingrich in 2012!
Prayer Request from Pastor Rick Warren
Below is an email I received from Pastor Rick Warren about his daughter-in-law Jaime who's battling cancer. Her story is much like my own 25 year old daughter's battle. Please pray for Jaime and for Kay, Rick's wife who also has cancer.
October 17, 2008
Dear Saddleback Family,
Kay and I, and our entire family are deeply grateful for your prayers for Jaime and her battle with a brain tumor. Below is a brief report of this past week along with the scripture verse I've focused on each day. Thanks for sharing this burden with us. You might want to save these verses for when YOU need them.
SATURDAY
Jaime was hospitalized for blurred vision, instability, and headaches. A CT Scan revealed a massive tumor at the base of her brain.
"Lord, when doubts fill my mind, when my heart is in turmoil, quiet me and give me renewed hope and cheer." Psalm 94:19 (Living)
SUNDAY
My 25 year old daughter-in-law, Jaime, (Josh's wife) is facing her second life-threatening health crisis in less than two months. Seven weeks ago, Jaime went into labor five weeks early. They discovered the baby was in the breech position and an emergency C-section was ordered because the baby's heart rate began to drop. Cole was not breathing when he was born, and it took great skill from the medical personnel to resuscitate him.
MONDAY
A day for testing. The MRI revealed a very serious and complex vascular tumor and hydrocephalus. There is debate about the type of tumor and much concern about the best procedure to use.
"God will shield you with his wings! They will shelter you. His faithful promises are your armor. Now you don't need to be afraid of the dark any more, nor fear the dangers of the day; nor dread the plagues of darkness, nor disasters in the morning." Psalm 91:4-6 (Living)
TUESDAY
After getting 3 professional opinions on the nature of the tumor, we've moved Jaime to Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. The UCLA chief of neurosurgery has taken Jaime's case because of its risk and complexity. An angiogram today provided more information but because of the tumor's location and connection to vital blood supply, doctors are unable to perform a procedure they hoped to do before the surgery.
"The righteous do not fear bad news; they confidently trust the Lord to care for them. They are confident and fearless and can face their foes triumphantly." Psalm 112:6-8 (NLT)
WEDNESDAY 10 AM
Jaime was just rolled into the operating room for her 16 hour brain surgery. We now know the premature birth and emergency C-section of Cole likely saved Jaime's life. She could have died pushing in a normal delivery. What we often think is a problem (at that moment) is often a protection.
"Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord is the one who goes before you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor forsake you." Deut. 31:8 (NLT)
WEDNESDAY NIGHT 11 pm
Hour 13 of Jaime's surgery. We are told the tumor is tangled with all of the nerves on the left side of her brain, pushing its way into the brain. We are praying that Jaime's life will be spared, the tumor will be successfully removed, and there will be no damage to her eyesight or permanent loss of movement.
"The prayer that is said with faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will heal that person." James 5:15 (NCV)
THURSDAY 6 AM
After almost 20 hours, Jaime leaves the operating room. She'll now be in recovery for several hours. She may sleep for a couple of days due to the strong anesthesia given.
"When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown! When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you." Isaiah 43:2 (NLT)
THURSDAY 10:30 AM
VERY BAD NEWS. A post-op CT Scan shows that Jaime is bleeding internally and building pressure on her brain. This is life-threatening, so doctors must go back to the operating room, reopen the wound, find the cause of the bleeding, and stop it. This will take another 4 ½ hours.
"We do not know what to do, but we are looking to you for help." 2 Chron. 20:12 (NLT)
THURSDAY 3 PM
The second surgery stops two areas of internal bleeding. The doctor frankly discusses the possible long term damage.
"Lord, you know the hopes of the helpless. Surely you will listen to their cries and comfort them. Psalm 10:17 (NLT)
THURSDAY 5 PM
Josh just got to see Jaime for the first time in 32 hours. It was only 30 seconds but she opened her eyes. She is on a breathing machine and can't speak but can move all four of her extremities. The next 24 hours will be extremely critical. Our family is all worn out too.
Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28 (NLT)
FRIDAY AM
Please pray that Jaime will have a full recovery, with no long-term complications. Pray that her life will be an example of the truth that God's purpose for our lives is greater than any problem we face. Pray the doctors and nurses will be touched by the witness of her life.
"If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer." Matthew 21:22
"Pray that our Lord will make us strong and give us peace." Psalm 29:11
"Pray for us that God will give us an opportunity to tell people his message." Colossians 4:3
"I pray that God will take care of all your needs with the wonderful blessings that come from Christ Jesus!" Phil. 4:19
"As for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the Lord by failing to pray for you." 1 Samuel 12:23
"This is my prayer for you: that your love will grow more and more; that you will have knowledge and understanding with your love." Philippians. 1:9
I love you and I'm grateful for you.
Rick Warren
Saddleback Church
Purpose Driven Network
October 17, 2008
Dear Saddleback Family,
Kay and I, and our entire family are deeply grateful for your prayers for Jaime and her battle with a brain tumor. Below is a brief report of this past week along with the scripture verse I've focused on each day. Thanks for sharing this burden with us. You might want to save these verses for when YOU need them.
SATURDAY
Jaime was hospitalized for blurred vision, instability, and headaches. A CT Scan revealed a massive tumor at the base of her brain.
"Lord, when doubts fill my mind, when my heart is in turmoil, quiet me and give me renewed hope and cheer." Psalm 94:19 (Living)
SUNDAY
My 25 year old daughter-in-law, Jaime, (Josh's wife) is facing her second life-threatening health crisis in less than two months. Seven weeks ago, Jaime went into labor five weeks early. They discovered the baby was in the breech position and an emergency C-section was ordered because the baby's heart rate began to drop. Cole was not breathing when he was born, and it took great skill from the medical personnel to resuscitate him.
MONDAY
A day for testing. The MRI revealed a very serious and complex vascular tumor and hydrocephalus. There is debate about the type of tumor and much concern about the best procedure to use.
"God will shield you with his wings! They will shelter you. His faithful promises are your armor. Now you don't need to be afraid of the dark any more, nor fear the dangers of the day; nor dread the plagues of darkness, nor disasters in the morning." Psalm 91:4-6 (Living)
TUESDAY
After getting 3 professional opinions on the nature of the tumor, we've moved Jaime to Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. The UCLA chief of neurosurgery has taken Jaime's case because of its risk and complexity. An angiogram today provided more information but because of the tumor's location and connection to vital blood supply, doctors are unable to perform a procedure they hoped to do before the surgery.
"The righteous do not fear bad news; they confidently trust the Lord to care for them. They are confident and fearless and can face their foes triumphantly." Psalm 112:6-8 (NLT)
WEDNESDAY 10 AM
Jaime was just rolled into the operating room for her 16 hour brain surgery. We now know the premature birth and emergency C-section of Cole likely saved Jaime's life. She could have died pushing in a normal delivery. What we often think is a problem (at that moment) is often a protection.
"Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord is the one who goes before you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor forsake you." Deut. 31:8 (NLT)
WEDNESDAY NIGHT 11 pm
Hour 13 of Jaime's surgery. We are told the tumor is tangled with all of the nerves on the left side of her brain, pushing its way into the brain. We are praying that Jaime's life will be spared, the tumor will be successfully removed, and there will be no damage to her eyesight or permanent loss of movement.
"The prayer that is said with faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will heal that person." James 5:15 (NCV)
THURSDAY 6 AM
After almost 20 hours, Jaime leaves the operating room. She'll now be in recovery for several hours. She may sleep for a couple of days due to the strong anesthesia given.
"When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown! When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you." Isaiah 43:2 (NLT)
THURSDAY 10:30 AM
VERY BAD NEWS. A post-op CT Scan shows that Jaime is bleeding internally and building pressure on her brain. This is life-threatening, so doctors must go back to the operating room, reopen the wound, find the cause of the bleeding, and stop it. This will take another 4 ½ hours.
"We do not know what to do, but we are looking to you for help." 2 Chron. 20:12 (NLT)
THURSDAY 3 PM
The second surgery stops two areas of internal bleeding. The doctor frankly discusses the possible long term damage.
"Lord, you know the hopes of the helpless. Surely you will listen to their cries and comfort them. Psalm 10:17 (NLT)
THURSDAY 5 PM
Josh just got to see Jaime for the first time in 32 hours. It was only 30 seconds but she opened her eyes. She is on a breathing machine and can't speak but can move all four of her extremities. The next 24 hours will be extremely critical. Our family is all worn out too.
Jesus said, "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28 (NLT)
FRIDAY AM
Please pray that Jaime will have a full recovery, with no long-term complications. Pray that her life will be an example of the truth that God's purpose for our lives is greater than any problem we face. Pray the doctors and nurses will be touched by the witness of her life.
"If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer." Matthew 21:22
"Pray that our Lord will make us strong and give us peace." Psalm 29:11
"Pray for us that God will give us an opportunity to tell people his message." Colossians 4:3
"I pray that God will take care of all your needs with the wonderful blessings that come from Christ Jesus!" Phil. 4:19
"As for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the Lord by failing to pray for you." 1 Samuel 12:23
"This is my prayer for you: that your love will grow more and more; that you will have knowledge and understanding with your love." Philippians. 1:9
I love you and I'm grateful for you.
Rick Warren
Saddleback Church
Purpose Driven Network
Early Voting
Today is the first day for One-Stop Voting in North Carolina. I went by the Creedmoor City Hall on the way to work this morning to cast my votes. I'll be on my honeymoon on election day and will have other things on my mind.
I was surprised at how many people were standing in line waiting for the doors to open. In a way, it's a good thing that people are more involved this election than they have in the past. I'm not too thrilled with either candidate for the Presidency, so this election for me is more about our leaders closer to home than Washington D.C.
If what I saw this morning continues throughout the election cycle, Barack Obama will have succeeded at getting out the votes in my state. John McCain seems to be losing support as the 'moderate' Republicans go over to Obama because Sarah Palin is more conservative than they like. I like conservatism. I like Sarah Palin. In four years, she's getting my vote; and I think she will win - because with either McCain or Obama, we're getting four more years of the same mess. People will be ready for a real change in 2012.
I've decided not to buy into the doom and gloom this year. I'm getting married and we've determined that our future is going to be bright in spite of talk radio and CNN.
Regardless of who's in office, I've done my civic duty and voted. Most importantly, my faith is not in a political party, but in God. If Christians will call on Him, regardless of which political party they belong to, our nation will become better than we've ever been.
Get out and vote - it's the least you can do. Just remember, it's "In God We Trust". God bless America.
I was surprised at how many people were standing in line waiting for the doors to open. In a way, it's a good thing that people are more involved this election than they have in the past. I'm not too thrilled with either candidate for the Presidency, so this election for me is more about our leaders closer to home than Washington D.C.
If what I saw this morning continues throughout the election cycle, Barack Obama will have succeeded at getting out the votes in my state. John McCain seems to be losing support as the 'moderate' Republicans go over to Obama because Sarah Palin is more conservative than they like. I like conservatism. I like Sarah Palin. In four years, she's getting my vote; and I think she will win - because with either McCain or Obama, we're getting four more years of the same mess. People will be ready for a real change in 2012.
I've decided not to buy into the doom and gloom this year. I'm getting married and we've determined that our future is going to be bright in spite of talk radio and CNN.
Regardless of who's in office, I've done my civic duty and voted. Most importantly, my faith is not in a political party, but in God. If Christians will call on Him, regardless of which political party they belong to, our nation will become better than we've ever been.
Get out and vote - it's the least you can do. Just remember, it's "In God We Trust". God bless America.
Weekend Trip
My daughter Laura and I took a trip to the mountains this past weekend. It was a chance to reconnect and do what we used to do before I started working two jobs. Laura needed some time with her dad and we both needed a break.
Saturday was a washout. We went to Blowing Rock,
http://i33.tinypic.com/2s94pic.jpg
before heading on to Boone and then on to Grandfather Mountain.
On Sunday the skies were sunny so we went to Chimney Rock and Lake Lure.
It was at Lake Lure that we enjoyed a boat tour of the lake and learned some of the history and lore of the area. The guide stopped our boat in the middle of the lake and pointed out an island in front of us, nicknamed "Millionaire Row". It was named not because the properties cost over a million dollars - all of the lakefront lots are over $1M. The island was called "Millionaire Row" because of the million dollar view the owners enjoyed.
While sitting there in the middle of the lake the guide informed us that there was 85 feet of water beneath us. Directly beneath us was a church and a cemetery in a community once known as Buffalo, North Carolina. It seems that when the dam was constructed back in the early 1900s, the small farming community near Buffalo Mountain was inundated. Divers went down several years back and reported that many of the windows in the church still have their glass, and that the bell is still in the bellfry. The water is below freezing at 85 feet and everything is preserved the way it was back almost 100 years ago. The divers did find an old truck, called an REO Speedwagon (I thought it was a rock band). They used baloons to float the truck to the surface. The upholstery was shot, but only one tire was flat. When they hooked a battery up to the engine, the magneto fired; so they decided to restore the vehicle to working order. The truck was painted fire engine red and "Buffalo Fire Dept" was stenciled on its side. It was really a farm truck, but they thought it was cooler to turn it into an old fashioned fire truck. It now appears in local parades.
Another legend has it that some nights residents claim to hear the sound of a church bell ringing. The guide pointed out the first house built on the lake, long before the dam was built and the water level was known. The owner guessed where the water would rise and built a small house and dock. Today the water sits at the bottom of the dock. Back then there was nothing within miles of the settler. He rowed supplies in by canoe and walked up the hill to construct his house. I'm sure there were many evenings where there was nothing but dark sky, dark mountains, and dark water surrounding him. It must have been chilling to sit on his porch at night and hear the sound of a distant church bell.
Chimney Rock park and Lake Lure are about 3 hours from Raleigh; about 22 miles south of Asheville, NC. It is a beautiful area. Someday, when I've struck it rich in the lottery, I'm going to build a house on that lake and sit in my boat in the middle of the lake listening for that church bell.
Saturday was a washout. We went to Blowing Rock,
http://i33.tinypic.com/2s94pic.jpg
before heading on to Boone and then on to Grandfather Mountain.
On Sunday the skies were sunny so we went to Chimney Rock and Lake Lure.
It was at Lake Lure that we enjoyed a boat tour of the lake and learned some of the history and lore of the area. The guide stopped our boat in the middle of the lake and pointed out an island in front of us, nicknamed "Millionaire Row". It was named not because the properties cost over a million dollars - all of the lakefront lots are over $1M. The island was called "Millionaire Row" because of the million dollar view the owners enjoyed.
While sitting there in the middle of the lake the guide informed us that there was 85 feet of water beneath us. Directly beneath us was a church and a cemetery in a community once known as Buffalo, North Carolina. It seems that when the dam was constructed back in the early 1900s, the small farming community near Buffalo Mountain was inundated. Divers went down several years back and reported that many of the windows in the church still have their glass, and that the bell is still in the bellfry. The water is below freezing at 85 feet and everything is preserved the way it was back almost 100 years ago. The divers did find an old truck, called an REO Speedwagon (I thought it was a rock band). They used baloons to float the truck to the surface. The upholstery was shot, but only one tire was flat. When they hooked a battery up to the engine, the magneto fired; so they decided to restore the vehicle to working order. The truck was painted fire engine red and "Buffalo Fire Dept" was stenciled on its side. It was really a farm truck, but they thought it was cooler to turn it into an old fashioned fire truck. It now appears in local parades.
Another legend has it that some nights residents claim to hear the sound of a church bell ringing. The guide pointed out the first house built on the lake, long before the dam was built and the water level was known. The owner guessed where the water would rise and built a small house and dock. Today the water sits at the bottom of the dock. Back then there was nothing within miles of the settler. He rowed supplies in by canoe and walked up the hill to construct his house. I'm sure there were many evenings where there was nothing but dark sky, dark mountains, and dark water surrounding him. It must have been chilling to sit on his porch at night and hear the sound of a distant church bell.
Chimney Rock park and Lake Lure are about 3 hours from Raleigh; about 22 miles south of Asheville, NC. It is a beautiful area. Someday, when I've struck it rich in the lottery, I'm going to build a house on that lake and sit in my boat in the middle of the lake listening for that church bell.
The Preacher and Satan
He's wearing a long-sleeve blue shirt with white tab, black pants, and a baseball cap. Above his heavy beard, his skin is bright red from sitting in the sun all day. It's the same place he's sat for the past two weekends - the intersection of Ten-Ten Rd and US Hwy 401 in Garner. He sits in a folding chair, surrounded by cardboard and plywood signs, the most prominent - the one he wants everyone to see if they read none of the others - reads, "Preacher. Need job to help family survive. NOW!" On a sheet of plywood he's taped pictures of his family, the reason he's willing to make himself a spectacle if that's what it takes to support them.
Around his neck is a large wooden cross. It usually hangs on the bedroom wall, but scripture tells him to take up his cross and follow Jesus. That's why he's here. He knows he's called to preach the Word to the lost. People are dying and going to hell; someone has to tell them about Jesus.
A couple of months ago he was laid off from a job that barely supported his family. After the initial shock, he perceived it was a move of God preparing him to enter into the ministry and fulfill his life's purpose...but that was weeks ago. The rent hasn't been paid, there's practically nothing in the house to feed his family of six, and if he doesn't come up with some money soon they're going to turn off his electricity.
He's put out all the feelers at churches in the area; none need an associate pastor or there's no room in the budget to pay for one. God must want him to plant a new church...but where are the people coming from? Maybe if he stands on the corner of a busy highway, God will send the people to him. So he stands there in the late summer sun, sipping on a large sweet tea he bought at the McDonalds directly behind him. Maybe today is the day. He's not hearing God speak specifically, but this is just God's way of testing him to see if he's faithful. "I'll show Him how serious I am about serving Him." the preacher thinks. "I can suffer this heat; and when God does show up with my reward I'll have a story to tell my grandkids about." That's what he thinks at 10 in the morning, before the temperature starts creeping up and hundreds of cars pass him with barely a glance; and those that look stare at him like he's a freak. "A Jesus freak, that's me." be tells himself.
By mid-afternoon the doubts begin to creep in. He tries to rebuke them, but they keep coming. Unseen, Satan has stopped by to revel in the man's misery. "Maybe I should help him come to his senses." Satan muses. Leaning in to whisper in the preacher's ear Satan speaks in a voice that sounds remarkably like the preacher's own. "Did God really say that I was going to preach, or did I miss Him somewhere along the way?"
"Of course I'm called to preach. It's what I've wanted to do since I was saved. People need to hear my story so they will have faith and trust Him for salvation."
"But what if I'm supposed to go out and find the people instead of waiting on God to lead the people to me?"
"I don't have time to build relationships. My family is going to starve if I don't get a job soon!"
"Maybe it's not about me. Surely God will take care of my family even if I can't."
"No! God gave me my wife and He gave me our children. I'm the man. It's my job to provide! As long as I'm seeking the Lord with all my heart, He's going to take care of us. I just need to wait on God's timing."
"Maybe I missed God's timing. Maybe I should have applied for some jobs just in case."
"But if I'm working, I don't have time to find a job as a preacher. I'll end up in the same situation I was in before - depending on man rather than on God."
"But look at all these people driving past me. Surely some of them are Christians. Maybe even a pastor or a deacon. Somebody has to be tuned in to what God is doing and will stop. Not one soul has even offered me money....not that I'd accept it. God will provide."
"Times are tough for everyone. I know people care. They're bound to be praying for me, even if they don't stop and help."
"But why did God have to send Hurricane Gustav at this time and drive up the price of gas so that people who might have helped now have to use that money to fill their gas tanks. Doesn't He care about me and my family? Couldn't He have done this later?"
"There are some people who are in a lot worse shape than me."
"But there are many, many more who are better off. Godless people who have stolen my inheritance. Damn them!"
"I wonder what people think when they see me? Can't they see I'm on fire for God?"
"Or do they see me as some wierdo with a stupid wooden cross hanging around my neck, wearing the same clothes I've worn every time I've been out here. And what kind of people would be attracted to me? Probably the ultra conservatives, less educated, someone older; people who live frugally. They probably don't earn a lot and they won't want their pastor living high on the hog if they can't live that way."
"But all I want is a living wage. I've got a big family to take care of."
"This isn't what I promised my wife when we got married. I'm not setting a good example for the kids, especially if I can't buy them clothes and shoes. If my wife wasn't home schooling, things would be far worse."
"God! What am I supposed to do? I'm trying to listen and obey. Please God. Have mercy on me and my family. Please don't make them suffer for my sins God. Tell me what I've done wrong so I can repent and be forgiven. Please help God!"
The afternoon sun sinks behind the trees on the other side of the road. Less than a quarter of a mile away in either direction are two thriving churches; but the preacher is all alone. God is silent. The preacher looks at his watch and sees that it's time to leave. He promised his wife he'd be home by seven thirty and that he would bring the family something for dinner. The preacher folds his chair and grabs a sign and takes them to his car, then returns and gathers the other two. They fill the back seat of his old car. He reaches into his pockets and pulls out his money. Six dollars. Not near enough to feed his family; so he searches under the seats and in the glove box for loose change. Nothing.
The preacher collapses into the front seat of his car. "I'll have to go home empty handed." he ponders.
"But I promised my wife something for dinner. I was sure someone would stop and help me on a Sunday of all days!"
"I can't go home without something for the family. I wish I'd never bought that drink earlier. I could have brought a jug of water from home. That was $2.00 that was wasted. No wonder God isn't speaking to me. I can't even steward the little I have."
Satan grins. "He sounds just like me now." he thinks. Seeing the agony in the preacher's face, Satan knows he's got the preacher where he wants him. Just one more push. Leaning very close and imitating the preacher in the most pitiful of voices, he whispers, "I guess I will have to beg and see if someone will give me food for tonight."
The preacher's eyes swell with tears as he attempts to hold back his emotions, but they come anyway. "God, why are you doing this to me? I'd don't know what else to do. How am I going to share the Good News if all I do is struggle all my life? Where's the victory you promised Lord? I don't mind sacrifice, but where's the peace you promised? Do you really know what we're going through. Do you care? I've staked everything on you because I thought you loved me; but now I'm not so sure."
The preacher weeps until he can't cry any longer. Satan sits back and laughs at the pathetic creature. "Go beg, you dog!" he shouts. He laughs again as the preacher opens his car door. "Go ahead and beg. I'll be here when you get back so I can rub it in some more."
Preacher walks slowly, hoping that God will perform some miracle at the last minute so he doesn't have to beg for food. There's only two people in line, but the preacher waits until they've gotten their food and sat down before approaching the cashier.
"Yes sir. What can I get for you today?" she asks cheerily. Easy for her to be cheerful, she's got a paycheck the preacher thinks.
"Uh, is your manager in?" he asks. "I can't believe I'm doing this." he thinks at the same time.
"Yes sir. I'll get her for you."
"Lord, give me the words to say because I've never begged before." the preacher prays.
The manager walks up and asks what she can do to help the customer. The preacher explains how he's lost his job and that he's been looking but nothing is working. He tells her that his family is hungry and asks if she can give him some food - any thing extra that they might be ready to throw out - that he can take to his family. She sees the pain in the man's eyes, his sunburned skin, the sweat stains on his blue shirt from where the cross has hung. Normally she would say she's sorry but she can't help him. Regulations prohibit her from giving away leftovers. But he's a man of God. How can she deny him? What would that say about her?
"You just tell me what you want and it's on the house." she offers.
Preacher tries to protest. His pride still battles against his need to take care of his family. He offers her the six dollars. At first she tries to get him to keep it, but he insists so she relents and tells the cashier to take care of the customer. He orders from the value menu and the total comes to a little over seventeen dollars. He declines the offer of sodas. They can drink water at home, he tells them.
"Thank you so much for this. May God bless you. I'm going to come back tomorrow and repay you by working this expense off." he promises.
"That won't be necessary, sir." the manager replies.
"No. I'm not a pan-handler. I pay my debts." the preacher argues.
"There's nothing wrong with mercy and grace is there?" the manager asks; though she has no idea where that came from.
The preacher hesitates for a moment; his eyes fill with tears again. "No, nothing wrong with that. Thank you so much!" he says.
Leaving the restaurant, the preacher is torn by shame and gratitude. He places the food on the front seat, starts his car and heads home.
Unseen is the passenger in who's lap the bags of food sit. It's not the same passenger who was there earlier. This passenger rides along quietly for awhile, looking lovingly at the man. "I know you can't hear me." He says. "The enemy has you so confused you wouldn't recognize my voice if you could. But that's OK. I'm here. I know. I care. You don't have to hear me or beg me to keep my promises. Everything is in hand. What I've started, I'll finish - even if it's nothing like what you think I'm doing. I love you Preacher. I'm not going anywhere."
Around his neck is a large wooden cross. It usually hangs on the bedroom wall, but scripture tells him to take up his cross and follow Jesus. That's why he's here. He knows he's called to preach the Word to the lost. People are dying and going to hell; someone has to tell them about Jesus.
A couple of months ago he was laid off from a job that barely supported his family. After the initial shock, he perceived it was a move of God preparing him to enter into the ministry and fulfill his life's purpose...but that was weeks ago. The rent hasn't been paid, there's practically nothing in the house to feed his family of six, and if he doesn't come up with some money soon they're going to turn off his electricity.
He's put out all the feelers at churches in the area; none need an associate pastor or there's no room in the budget to pay for one. God must want him to plant a new church...but where are the people coming from? Maybe if he stands on the corner of a busy highway, God will send the people to him. So he stands there in the late summer sun, sipping on a large sweet tea he bought at the McDonalds directly behind him. Maybe today is the day. He's not hearing God speak specifically, but this is just God's way of testing him to see if he's faithful. "I'll show Him how serious I am about serving Him." the preacher thinks. "I can suffer this heat; and when God does show up with my reward I'll have a story to tell my grandkids about." That's what he thinks at 10 in the morning, before the temperature starts creeping up and hundreds of cars pass him with barely a glance; and those that look stare at him like he's a freak. "A Jesus freak, that's me." be tells himself.
By mid-afternoon the doubts begin to creep in. He tries to rebuke them, but they keep coming. Unseen, Satan has stopped by to revel in the man's misery. "Maybe I should help him come to his senses." Satan muses. Leaning in to whisper in the preacher's ear Satan speaks in a voice that sounds remarkably like the preacher's own. "Did God really say that I was going to preach, or did I miss Him somewhere along the way?"
"Of course I'm called to preach. It's what I've wanted to do since I was saved. People need to hear my story so they will have faith and trust Him for salvation."
"But what if I'm supposed to go out and find the people instead of waiting on God to lead the people to me?"
"I don't have time to build relationships. My family is going to starve if I don't get a job soon!"
"Maybe it's not about me. Surely God will take care of my family even if I can't."
"No! God gave me my wife and He gave me our children. I'm the man. It's my job to provide! As long as I'm seeking the Lord with all my heart, He's going to take care of us. I just need to wait on God's timing."
"Maybe I missed God's timing. Maybe I should have applied for some jobs just in case."
"But if I'm working, I don't have time to find a job as a preacher. I'll end up in the same situation I was in before - depending on man rather than on God."
"But look at all these people driving past me. Surely some of them are Christians. Maybe even a pastor or a deacon. Somebody has to be tuned in to what God is doing and will stop. Not one soul has even offered me money....not that I'd accept it. God will provide."
"Times are tough for everyone. I know people care. They're bound to be praying for me, even if they don't stop and help."
"But why did God have to send Hurricane Gustav at this time and drive up the price of gas so that people who might have helped now have to use that money to fill their gas tanks. Doesn't He care about me and my family? Couldn't He have done this later?"
"There are some people who are in a lot worse shape than me."
"But there are many, many more who are better off. Godless people who have stolen my inheritance. Damn them!"
"I wonder what people think when they see me? Can't they see I'm on fire for God?"
"Or do they see me as some wierdo with a stupid wooden cross hanging around my neck, wearing the same clothes I've worn every time I've been out here. And what kind of people would be attracted to me? Probably the ultra conservatives, less educated, someone older; people who live frugally. They probably don't earn a lot and they won't want their pastor living high on the hog if they can't live that way."
"But all I want is a living wage. I've got a big family to take care of."
"This isn't what I promised my wife when we got married. I'm not setting a good example for the kids, especially if I can't buy them clothes and shoes. If my wife wasn't home schooling, things would be far worse."
"God! What am I supposed to do? I'm trying to listen and obey. Please God. Have mercy on me and my family. Please don't make them suffer for my sins God. Tell me what I've done wrong so I can repent and be forgiven. Please help God!"
The afternoon sun sinks behind the trees on the other side of the road. Less than a quarter of a mile away in either direction are two thriving churches; but the preacher is all alone. God is silent. The preacher looks at his watch and sees that it's time to leave. He promised his wife he'd be home by seven thirty and that he would bring the family something for dinner. The preacher folds his chair and grabs a sign and takes them to his car, then returns and gathers the other two. They fill the back seat of his old car. He reaches into his pockets and pulls out his money. Six dollars. Not near enough to feed his family; so he searches under the seats and in the glove box for loose change. Nothing.
The preacher collapses into the front seat of his car. "I'll have to go home empty handed." he ponders.
"But I promised my wife something for dinner. I was sure someone would stop and help me on a Sunday of all days!"
"I can't go home without something for the family. I wish I'd never bought that drink earlier. I could have brought a jug of water from home. That was $2.00 that was wasted. No wonder God isn't speaking to me. I can't even steward the little I have."
Satan grins. "He sounds just like me now." he thinks. Seeing the agony in the preacher's face, Satan knows he's got the preacher where he wants him. Just one more push. Leaning very close and imitating the preacher in the most pitiful of voices, he whispers, "I guess I will have to beg and see if someone will give me food for tonight."
The preacher's eyes swell with tears as he attempts to hold back his emotions, but they come anyway. "God, why are you doing this to me? I'd don't know what else to do. How am I going to share the Good News if all I do is struggle all my life? Where's the victory you promised Lord? I don't mind sacrifice, but where's the peace you promised? Do you really know what we're going through. Do you care? I've staked everything on you because I thought you loved me; but now I'm not so sure."
The preacher weeps until he can't cry any longer. Satan sits back and laughs at the pathetic creature. "Go beg, you dog!" he shouts. He laughs again as the preacher opens his car door. "Go ahead and beg. I'll be here when you get back so I can rub it in some more."
Preacher walks slowly, hoping that God will perform some miracle at the last minute so he doesn't have to beg for food. There's only two people in line, but the preacher waits until they've gotten their food and sat down before approaching the cashier.
"Yes sir. What can I get for you today?" she asks cheerily. Easy for her to be cheerful, she's got a paycheck the preacher thinks.
"Uh, is your manager in?" he asks. "I can't believe I'm doing this." he thinks at the same time.
"Yes sir. I'll get her for you."
"Lord, give me the words to say because I've never begged before." the preacher prays.
The manager walks up and asks what she can do to help the customer. The preacher explains how he's lost his job and that he's been looking but nothing is working. He tells her that his family is hungry and asks if she can give him some food - any thing extra that they might be ready to throw out - that he can take to his family. She sees the pain in the man's eyes, his sunburned skin, the sweat stains on his blue shirt from where the cross has hung. Normally she would say she's sorry but she can't help him. Regulations prohibit her from giving away leftovers. But he's a man of God. How can she deny him? What would that say about her?
"You just tell me what you want and it's on the house." she offers.
Preacher tries to protest. His pride still battles against his need to take care of his family. He offers her the six dollars. At first she tries to get him to keep it, but he insists so she relents and tells the cashier to take care of the customer. He orders from the value menu and the total comes to a little over seventeen dollars. He declines the offer of sodas. They can drink water at home, he tells them.
"Thank you so much for this. May God bless you. I'm going to come back tomorrow and repay you by working this expense off." he promises.
"That won't be necessary, sir." the manager replies.
"No. I'm not a pan-handler. I pay my debts." the preacher argues.
"There's nothing wrong with mercy and grace is there?" the manager asks; though she has no idea where that came from.
The preacher hesitates for a moment; his eyes fill with tears again. "No, nothing wrong with that. Thank you so much!" he says.
Leaving the restaurant, the preacher is torn by shame and gratitude. He places the food on the front seat, starts his car and heads home.
Unseen is the passenger in who's lap the bags of food sit. It's not the same passenger who was there earlier. This passenger rides along quietly for awhile, looking lovingly at the man. "I know you can't hear me." He says. "The enemy has you so confused you wouldn't recognize my voice if you could. But that's OK. I'm here. I know. I care. You don't have to hear me or beg me to keep my promises. Everything is in hand. What I've started, I'll finish - even if it's nothing like what you think I'm doing. I love you Preacher. I'm not going anywhere."
The Man Who Predicted 9/11
Last night, on the seventh anniversary of the terrorist attacks on America, the History Channel ran a one-hour documentary on Rick Rescorla, the head of security for Morgan Stanley bank in the World Trade Center. A couple of years ago I read a book about him and Daniel Day Hill - Heart of a Soldier by James B Stewart. The two men were former mercenaries who joined the U.S. Army during the VietNam war. If you saw the movie, "We Were Soldiers" starring Mel Gibson, these two men were officers in the company pinned down by the Vietnamese at Ia Drang (although they weren't mentioned by name in the movie so the producers wouldn't have to pay them royalties).
Rick Rescorla was referred to by some in the VietNam war as the best recon officer in the military. He learned much of his craft while a mercenary in Northern Rhodesia and Cyprus. Following the war he went to work in New York at the WTC and was there during the attempted bombing by bin Laden years before 9/11/2001. Following that attack, Rescorla began to petition the city and Port Authority to adopt tighter security precautions. His friend, Daniel Hill, a security consultant for the government by this time, told Rescorla that it was almost impossible to defend the WTC from attacks from the air. Because of the congestion around the Manhattan area, our Air Force could not fire on an unidentified aircraft that close to habitation. Escape, rather than prevention was the only realistic response to such an attack. Rick had Daniel help him draw up a plan to keep safe the people under his protection.
For the most part, Rick's pleas fell on deaf ears, so he took it upon himself to create an emergency evacuation plan for Morgan Stanley. Employees were drilled over and over on how to quickly exit the buildings and where to go should an emergency occur. Many thought Rick was nuts and overly cautious.
When the planes hit in 2001, Rick's evacuation plan was put into action for real. Despite the police and Port Authority telling people to remain where they were until help arrived, Rick made sure his people got out of the building, saving almost 3,000 lives. Then he went back inside to help people who weren't his responsibility. The last he was seen, he was on the 10th floor going stairwell to stairwell making sure peole were leaving. A few minutes later the South Tower crashed in around him. His body was never found. Rick was 62.
Rick Rescorla led an amazing and exciting life, and he died doing what he spent most of that life doing: protecting others. Most of us lead unextraordinary lives, Rick lived an exceptional life and left behind a legacy. If you didn't get a chance to see the special, there is supposed to be an encore presentation on Sunday night. The DVD is available at the www.history.com store for $24.95 or from Amazon for $29.95. Never forget our heroes.
Rick Rescorla was referred to by some in the VietNam war as the best recon officer in the military. He learned much of his craft while a mercenary in Northern Rhodesia and Cyprus. Following the war he went to work in New York at the WTC and was there during the attempted bombing by bin Laden years before 9/11/2001. Following that attack, Rescorla began to petition the city and Port Authority to adopt tighter security precautions. His friend, Daniel Hill, a security consultant for the government by this time, told Rescorla that it was almost impossible to defend the WTC from attacks from the air. Because of the congestion around the Manhattan area, our Air Force could not fire on an unidentified aircraft that close to habitation. Escape, rather than prevention was the only realistic response to such an attack. Rick had Daniel help him draw up a plan to keep safe the people under his protection.
For the most part, Rick's pleas fell on deaf ears, so he took it upon himself to create an emergency evacuation plan for Morgan Stanley. Employees were drilled over and over on how to quickly exit the buildings and where to go should an emergency occur. Many thought Rick was nuts and overly cautious.
When the planes hit in 2001, Rick's evacuation plan was put into action for real. Despite the police and Port Authority telling people to remain where they were until help arrived, Rick made sure his people got out of the building, saving almost 3,000 lives. Then he went back inside to help people who weren't his responsibility. The last he was seen, he was on the 10th floor going stairwell to stairwell making sure peole were leaving. A few minutes later the South Tower crashed in around him. His body was never found. Rick was 62.
Rick Rescorla led an amazing and exciting life, and he died doing what he spent most of that life doing: protecting others. Most of us lead unextraordinary lives, Rick lived an exceptional life and left behind a legacy. If you didn't get a chance to see the special, there is supposed to be an encore presentation on Sunday night. The DVD is available at the www.history.com store for $24.95 or from Amazon for $29.95. Never forget our heroes.
Elvis! Elvis! Elvis!
I became an Elvis fan at a young age, but my parents wouldn't let me buy his records until my 13th birthday when they gave me his 'How Great Thou Art' album. My side of the bedroom when I was growing up was filled from wall to wall with pictures of Elvis. I'm not gay; Mama just wouldn't let us stick pin-ups of women on the walls (but I did have the poster of Raquel Welch in '1,000,000 Years B.C.') upstairs in the pool table room.
Last night I sat on the living room floor and inventoried and boxed up my Elvis records. There's a guy in Apex who's interested in buying them. Those records have survived three divorces and 24 years of military service. I used to say that I was going to have my Elvis records buried with me when I die...but since I'm going to be cremated I don't want to ruin perfectly good vinyl.
Boxing those records up was bittersweet. Sweet because I remember playing every one of them. I used to know the words to every song in the order they appear on the album. My Girl Happy and Girls! Girls! Girls! album covers are the most worn because I played those over and over again. Somewhere along the line someone has stolen a few of my albums. My King Creole and I Got Lucky albums are gone. I had a Sun record that my brother sold while I was stationed overseas. I enjoyed looking at the pictures on the back of the album, especially if the co-star was Raquel Welch (Roustabout), Ursula Andress (Fun In Acapulco), and Mary Ann Mobley (Girl Happy & Harum Scarum). The movie soundtracks are forgettable for the most part, but the women were almost always beautiful (except for Barbara Stanwyck (Roustabout) and Carolyn Jones (King Creole)
It was from Elvis that I learned to say "Yes Ma'am" and "No Ma'am", which won me "Most Courteous" in my senior year of high school. I wore pink shirts and black trousers to school, which should have won me "Best Dressed".
I can still remember the stereo console with the turntable, radio and 8-track tape I purchased with my own money as a teenager. I'd stack five or six of Elvis' records on the platter, crank up the volume, and sing along with Elvis. When I was shipped off to basic training at Ft. Jackson, SC, Elvis' step-brother, Billy Stanley. I would stand up in the back of the deuce-n-half on the way to the rifle ranges and sing 'Wellll, Well, Well, Well, Well, Wellll, I gotta woman, way across town, who's good to me, oh yeah! Said I gotta woman, way across town. She's good to me, oh yeah. She's my baby, don't you understand? I'm her loving maaannn, Well, I gotta woman, way across town, she's good to me!" just like Elvis. Now I can't sing like him anymore, but I can do Elmer Fudd singing Love Me Tender.
I really hate to have to sell these records. There are 80 albums and 26 of the 45- RPMs and 1 78-RPM EP (extended play). They're worth more than the $750 price I put on them. In fact, if I take them home tonight I won't be disappointed. I hate to think that I hold on to any possession too tightly; for after all, they're just things, and I haven't had a turntable in over twenty years. Still, it's not so much the music as the memories I don't want to let go of. I'm not the Elvis fan that I used to be, but he's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.
Last night I sat on the living room floor and inventoried and boxed up my Elvis records. There's a guy in Apex who's interested in buying them. Those records have survived three divorces and 24 years of military service. I used to say that I was going to have my Elvis records buried with me when I die...but since I'm going to be cremated I don't want to ruin perfectly good vinyl.
Boxing those records up was bittersweet. Sweet because I remember playing every one of them. I used to know the words to every song in the order they appear on the album. My Girl Happy and Girls! Girls! Girls! album covers are the most worn because I played those over and over again. Somewhere along the line someone has stolen a few of my albums. My King Creole and I Got Lucky albums are gone. I had a Sun record that my brother sold while I was stationed overseas. I enjoyed looking at the pictures on the back of the album, especially if the co-star was Raquel Welch (Roustabout), Ursula Andress (Fun In Acapulco), and Mary Ann Mobley (Girl Happy & Harum Scarum). The movie soundtracks are forgettable for the most part, but the women were almost always beautiful (except for Barbara Stanwyck (Roustabout) and Carolyn Jones (King Creole)
It was from Elvis that I learned to say "Yes Ma'am" and "No Ma'am", which won me "Most Courteous" in my senior year of high school. I wore pink shirts and black trousers to school, which should have won me "Best Dressed".
I can still remember the stereo console with the turntable, radio and 8-track tape I purchased with my own money as a teenager. I'd stack five or six of Elvis' records on the platter, crank up the volume, and sing along with Elvis. When I was shipped off to basic training at Ft. Jackson, SC, Elvis' step-brother, Billy Stanley. I would stand up in the back of the deuce-n-half on the way to the rifle ranges and sing 'Wellll, Well, Well, Well, Well, Wellll, I gotta woman, way across town, who's good to me, oh yeah! Said I gotta woman, way across town. She's good to me, oh yeah. She's my baby, don't you understand? I'm her loving maaannn, Well, I gotta woman, way across town, she's good to me!" just like Elvis. Now I can't sing like him anymore, but I can do Elmer Fudd singing Love Me Tender.
I really hate to have to sell these records. There are 80 albums and 26 of the 45- RPMs and 1 78-RPM EP (extended play). They're worth more than the $750 price I put on them. In fact, if I take them home tonight I won't be disappointed. I hate to think that I hold on to any possession too tightly; for after all, they're just things, and I haven't had a turntable in over twenty years. Still, it's not so much the music as the memories I don't want to let go of. I'm not the Elvis fan that I used to be, but he's been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.
Visiting the Folks in Nebraska
I flew out to Newman Grove, Nebraska over the Labor Day weekend to visit my fiance and to prepare for our November wedding. Newman Grove is a tiny farm town of about 800 citzens, located about three hours west of Omaha. I'd never seen such large cornfields and granaries in all my life. Corn, soybeans, alfalfa and beef are the sources of income for most of the residents in the Newman Grove area.
Pam and I attended marital counseling on Saturday morning. Pastor Ken Purscell gave us four personality tests to see if we're compatible. I think he was surprised just how much we'd talked and how well we knew one another. We have the gender roles already worked out - we're sharing responsibilities. It was a fun morning getting to know Ken and going over the wedding ceremony.
Saturday afternoon we visited Pam's parents and siblings. They live a few miles down a well maintained gravel road about a half hour from Newman Grove. Her parents are gracious, quiet people. The first thing Pam's mom said to me was a plantive "It's a long way", meaning the distance from Nebraska to North Carolina. They didn't ask me a lot of questions; not wanting to pry, and satisfied that Pam knows me well enough for us to marry. They simply want the best for their daughter. The Doughty's are a strong family. They take pride in their children and grand children - often traveling to watch the grandaughter play volleyball or a grandson's track meet.
I sat on the front porch and soaked in the view of the sun setting over the family farm until Pam's dad started grilled burgers. Then I hung around him for awhile so he wouldn't feel alone, but I don't think it was a problem for Mr. Doughty. The only thing he asked me is if I was a football fan. The Corn Huskers were playing Western Michigan in Lincoln, and half the state was there to watch the Huskers win 47 to 24. The game was pay per-view, so we listened to the game on the radio while we ate.
We drove the trucks out to the 'back 40' with Pam's dad to turn off the irrigation pump and to see the family camping area next to the river. The Doughty's farm over 400 acres, just the two of them. There's been a drought this summer, so they've been in the fields quite a bit repositioning the irrigation pipes. It's hard work for a young farmer, but these two never complained. They've created a comfortable home with a beautiful view of corn and soybean fields. Our dinner came from the garden. The beds were covered with quilts made by my better half. The bathroom sported an oversized clawfoot tub, and there's a chicken house out back ready to receive a new brood of chickens. Pam's sister dropped by with her grandson, who wanted to camp out so we erected a tent in the front yard. The doors aren't locked at night, so if he got cold or scared he'd be able to come back inside. At eight, he knew how to make an ax out of a piece of broken flint, a stick and some duct tape. Pam's brother brought along his son and daughter with her boyfriend. The teenagers were as quiet and polite as the adults were.
On Sunday we attended the United Methodist Church, a beautiful country church in Newman Grove. Reverend Purscell presided over a sermon from Romans 12 about being transformed by a renewing of the mind. Pam and Ken sang a duet, "I Can Only Imagine". After church we all went to the City Cafe for lunch. Many members of the congregation are seniors; but these seniors are much healthier than seniors in North Carolina. They've worked hard and lived well all their lives, and they enjoy meeting and 'gossiping' with one another. 'Old' to them is someone in their upper 90's and there's some around who are over 100.
Sunday afternoon Pam and I drove to Humphrey for a picnic with her co-workers. There was a good turnout. The food was fabulous. It turned out to be a surprise wedding shower. Pam's friends were so thoughtful. They gave us a little cash and some gift cards so Pam wouldn't have to pack up more stuff for the move. Then we played 'Battle of the Sexes'. The ladies cheated, and the guys did surprisingly well; it ended appropriately in a tie.
On Monday we packed some of Pam's things and threw away quite a bit of stuff. Bernice, one of the nice ladies from the church invited us to dinner. The only place open on Labor Day was Newman Grove Bowl. The bowling alley only allows bowling and smoking after 7:30 PM. Before that, you can come in and eat and drink coffee, but no smoking.
Tim, the owner, brought us prime rib sandwiches as big as the plate. He's quite a character. He refers affectionately to Bernice as 'dumb ass', who smiles and scribbles on his order pad so he has to tear it off and start over. On one wall is a sign that claims, "This is not Burger King. You do not get it your way here. You'll take what I give you and damn well like it." The bowling alley is where the locals come to eat breakfast in the morning and to drink coffee in the afternoons. They don't serve sweet tea in Nebraska, but you can order a pop (Pepsi). The check for three meals came to just over $18.00. Bernice was not too happy that I wouldn't let her pay for it; so she made us come back for breakfast on Tuesday morning so she wouldn't 'owe' us anything.
There is a stong sense of pride and loyalty in rural Nebraska, whether it's over a football team or the family farm. If you break down on one of their roads, the next car to pass by is expected to stop and help, because the closest house might be three or four miles away. American flags fly everywhere. The few Democrats share similar values with Republicans. Neighbors help other neighbors. Were it not for the cold winters, Nebraska would be a great place to live.
As beautiful as the state of Nebraska is, with corn fields that stretch to the horizon, where the sky meets the ground rather than the treeline; it's the people of Nebraska that make it special. Southern hospitality may be a thing of the past here, but in our heartland are people who respect one another, who stand by their neighbors, who love and serve our country, who are passionate about God, family and football; people who are soft-spoken, gentle, determined, and hardy. I'm gaining a wonderful family and good friends, so I hope that Pam finds people here who are just as loving and supportive as those she leaves behind.
Pam and I attended marital counseling on Saturday morning. Pastor Ken Purscell gave us four personality tests to see if we're compatible. I think he was surprised just how much we'd talked and how well we knew one another. We have the gender roles already worked out - we're sharing responsibilities. It was a fun morning getting to know Ken and going over the wedding ceremony.
Saturday afternoon we visited Pam's parents and siblings. They live a few miles down a well maintained gravel road about a half hour from Newman Grove. Her parents are gracious, quiet people. The first thing Pam's mom said to me was a plantive "It's a long way", meaning the distance from Nebraska to North Carolina. They didn't ask me a lot of questions; not wanting to pry, and satisfied that Pam knows me well enough for us to marry. They simply want the best for their daughter. The Doughty's are a strong family. They take pride in their children and grand children - often traveling to watch the grandaughter play volleyball or a grandson's track meet.
I sat on the front porch and soaked in the view of the sun setting over the family farm until Pam's dad started grilled burgers. Then I hung around him for awhile so he wouldn't feel alone, but I don't think it was a problem for Mr. Doughty. The only thing he asked me is if I was a football fan. The Corn Huskers were playing Western Michigan in Lincoln, and half the state was there to watch the Huskers win 47 to 24. The game was pay per-view, so we listened to the game on the radio while we ate.
We drove the trucks out to the 'back 40' with Pam's dad to turn off the irrigation pump and to see the family camping area next to the river. The Doughty's farm over 400 acres, just the two of them. There's been a drought this summer, so they've been in the fields quite a bit repositioning the irrigation pipes. It's hard work for a young farmer, but these two never complained. They've created a comfortable home with a beautiful view of corn and soybean fields. Our dinner came from the garden. The beds were covered with quilts made by my better half. The bathroom sported an oversized clawfoot tub, and there's a chicken house out back ready to receive a new brood of chickens. Pam's sister dropped by with her grandson, who wanted to camp out so we erected a tent in the front yard. The doors aren't locked at night, so if he got cold or scared he'd be able to come back inside. At eight, he knew how to make an ax out of a piece of broken flint, a stick and some duct tape. Pam's brother brought along his son and daughter with her boyfriend. The teenagers were as quiet and polite as the adults were.
On Sunday we attended the United Methodist Church, a beautiful country church in Newman Grove. Reverend Purscell presided over a sermon from Romans 12 about being transformed by a renewing of the mind. Pam and Ken sang a duet, "I Can Only Imagine". After church we all went to the City Cafe for lunch. Many members of the congregation are seniors; but these seniors are much healthier than seniors in North Carolina. They've worked hard and lived well all their lives, and they enjoy meeting and 'gossiping' with one another. 'Old' to them is someone in their upper 90's and there's some around who are over 100.
Sunday afternoon Pam and I drove to Humphrey for a picnic with her co-workers. There was a good turnout. The food was fabulous. It turned out to be a surprise wedding shower. Pam's friends were so thoughtful. They gave us a little cash and some gift cards so Pam wouldn't have to pack up more stuff for the move. Then we played 'Battle of the Sexes'. The ladies cheated, and the guys did surprisingly well; it ended appropriately in a tie.
On Monday we packed some of Pam's things and threw away quite a bit of stuff. Bernice, one of the nice ladies from the church invited us to dinner. The only place open on Labor Day was Newman Grove Bowl. The bowling alley only allows bowling and smoking after 7:30 PM. Before that, you can come in and eat and drink coffee, but no smoking.
Tim, the owner, brought us prime rib sandwiches as big as the plate. He's quite a character. He refers affectionately to Bernice as 'dumb ass', who smiles and scribbles on his order pad so he has to tear it off and start over. On one wall is a sign that claims, "This is not Burger King. You do not get it your way here. You'll take what I give you and damn well like it." The bowling alley is where the locals come to eat breakfast in the morning and to drink coffee in the afternoons. They don't serve sweet tea in Nebraska, but you can order a pop (Pepsi). The check for three meals came to just over $18.00. Bernice was not too happy that I wouldn't let her pay for it; so she made us come back for breakfast on Tuesday morning so she wouldn't 'owe' us anything.
There is a stong sense of pride and loyalty in rural Nebraska, whether it's over a football team or the family farm. If you break down on one of their roads, the next car to pass by is expected to stop and help, because the closest house might be three or four miles away. American flags fly everywhere. The few Democrats share similar values with Republicans. Neighbors help other neighbors. Were it not for the cold winters, Nebraska would be a great place to live.
As beautiful as the state of Nebraska is, with corn fields that stretch to the horizon, where the sky meets the ground rather than the treeline; it's the people of Nebraska that make it special. Southern hospitality may be a thing of the past here, but in our heartland are people who respect one another, who stand by their neighbors, who love and serve our country, who are passionate about God, family and football; people who are soft-spoken, gentle, determined, and hardy. I'm gaining a wonderful family and good friends, so I hope that Pam finds people here who are just as loving and supportive as those she leaves behind.
Cleaning Out the Cabinets
I was cleaning out the kitchen cabinets one evening this week. My refrigerator is just about empty since it's only me at the house for the time being. I found two cases of canned goods in the garage I was supposed to donate to charity last winter but now they've suffered through the summer heat and I have to throw them away. Inside my kitchen cabinets, I checked the dates on the cans to see if any are out of date. Most are; some expired back in 2005. Now my cabinets are empty.
Some of the canned food that I threw away came from when I moved into my house four years ago. They belonged to my mother. Somehow it didn't feel right just tossing away the cans she had bought with her social security check. Mama never liked to throw away anything. She kept the Country Crock butter containers to freeze the brunswick stew she made every year at Thanksgiving. Baby food jars held nails and screws and nuts. Dinner wasn't really planned; it was whatever cans Mama would open. We might have eggs, meatloaf, canned green beans, canned turnip greens, and canned candied yams for supper. Whatever was left over went into the refrigerator for the next day.
Growing up, Mama kept a can to hold the coins people paid her for sewing for them. That's how she made extra money. It never went to buy her something, usually it went on material to make our school clothes. She and my father grew up during the Depression and both had learned how to get by on little and to waste nothing. She sewed her own dresses and our shirts and shorts.
Mama also had a spit can. She dipped Society and Sweet Rose snuff when I was growing up. When snuff became too expensive for her, she switched to Beech Nut chewing tobacco. I really hated that spit can. Between her snuff and my dad's 'chaw', we were always knocking over somebody's spit can. Maybe that's why I never bothered with tobacco.
I didn't know it back then, but there were times we were struggling financially. Sometimes, the milk man would leave a quart of milk and two quarts of butter milk for Mama's biscuits; and sometimes we had powdered milk. We only had meat once a week growing up, with the exception of some fatback that seemed to go with anything. We had Kix and Cheerios growing up, but most often we followed my dad's lead and and ate chunks of loaf bread in milk with a little sugar sprinkled over the top. There was also rabbit and squirrel; sometimes pig tails and pigs feet (I never ate those). Once in awhile Mama would fry up a can of beef tripe. I didn't know what tripe was, but it was fun stretching it out like mozzarella cheese. About the only thing I refused to eat was chitlin's, and liver. Whatever we had to eat, I thought that everyone ate the same way so I never felt deprived or ashamed of our social standing.
I guess my mom was eco-friendly by nature. She learned from necessity, not from celebrities. In her latter years, my mom shrank from a size 14 to a size four. Her eyes clouded over and she couldn't see to read or sew anymore, but she could feel her way around the kitchen and find what she needed. She knew how far back in her cabinets she had hidden her purse, or a handsaw, the insurance policies, or the Claxton fruit cake.
Sometimes a simple can of Pocahontas Pure Corn Hominy can bring back memories. The older I get, the more memories I have. Hope I can hang on to my memories until I can once again see Mama and Daddy. Some day Laura will be cleaning out her old dad's cabinets. I hope she finds something to remember me by. Maybe a can of Pam olive oil shortening spray....
Some of the canned food that I threw away came from when I moved into my house four years ago. They belonged to my mother. Somehow it didn't feel right just tossing away the cans she had bought with her social security check. Mama never liked to throw away anything. She kept the Country Crock butter containers to freeze the brunswick stew she made every year at Thanksgiving. Baby food jars held nails and screws and nuts. Dinner wasn't really planned; it was whatever cans Mama would open. We might have eggs, meatloaf, canned green beans, canned turnip greens, and canned candied yams for supper. Whatever was left over went into the refrigerator for the next day.
Growing up, Mama kept a can to hold the coins people paid her for sewing for them. That's how she made extra money. It never went to buy her something, usually it went on material to make our school clothes. She and my father grew up during the Depression and both had learned how to get by on little and to waste nothing. She sewed her own dresses and our shirts and shorts.
Mama also had a spit can. She dipped Society and Sweet Rose snuff when I was growing up. When snuff became too expensive for her, she switched to Beech Nut chewing tobacco. I really hated that spit can. Between her snuff and my dad's 'chaw', we were always knocking over somebody's spit can. Maybe that's why I never bothered with tobacco.
I didn't know it back then, but there were times we were struggling financially. Sometimes, the milk man would leave a quart of milk and two quarts of butter milk for Mama's biscuits; and sometimes we had powdered milk. We only had meat once a week growing up, with the exception of some fatback that seemed to go with anything. We had Kix and Cheerios growing up, but most often we followed my dad's lead and and ate chunks of loaf bread in milk with a little sugar sprinkled over the top. There was also rabbit and squirrel; sometimes pig tails and pigs feet (I never ate those). Once in awhile Mama would fry up a can of beef tripe. I didn't know what tripe was, but it was fun stretching it out like mozzarella cheese. About the only thing I refused to eat was chitlin's, and liver. Whatever we had to eat, I thought that everyone ate the same way so I never felt deprived or ashamed of our social standing.
I guess my mom was eco-friendly by nature. She learned from necessity, not from celebrities. In her latter years, my mom shrank from a size 14 to a size four. Her eyes clouded over and she couldn't see to read or sew anymore, but she could feel her way around the kitchen and find what she needed. She knew how far back in her cabinets she had hidden her purse, or a handsaw, the insurance policies, or the Claxton fruit cake.
Sometimes a simple can of Pocahontas Pure Corn Hominy can bring back memories. The older I get, the more memories I have. Hope I can hang on to my memories until I can once again see Mama and Daddy. Some day Laura will be cleaning out her old dad's cabinets. I hope she finds something to remember me by. Maybe a can of Pam olive oil shortening spray....
Ad Sense
At the bottom of my blog you'll see a box with links to various ads. It's called Ad Sense and apparently it identifies what I write about the most and then tries to lure people to commercial websites that are 'supposedly' related to my interests. It's supposed to be a way to earn money on our blogs, though I doubt many of us do.
Anyway, I'm not trying to get you to click on any of those links. I was looking at them and they all are 'Christian' based ads. There's even one titled Money Prayer that promises $500 in four hours or four days. If I understand the concept right, it seems that I've lost focus of what I started this blog for. It was intended to help me get in the habit of writing so I could finish my novel Sea Tree. Somewhere along the line I started writing about my faith and that's where this blog has gone.
Sea Tree is not a Christian novel. The central character is a former pastor turned police chief, a man who struggles with the good and evil inside him. His role as police chief parallels his former pastor role as a protector; but his dark side seeks justice. Mercy is not his spiritual gift.
There are other characters who are less than Godly. There will be some profanity. Sea Tree will be real, even if it is a fantasy. There will be romance...because I'm a romantic guy despite what my pastor's wife thinks. There will be violence, just because. There will be discussions on politics, religion, maybe even about movies, because I have my own opinions and I can say whatever I want in my own book. That my central character has a picture of Ronald Reagan on the wall of his office rather than G. W. Bush or whichever liberal wins the 2008 election, is a reflection of the values that character shares. There will be some of me in every character. Maybe I'll find out something about myself that I didn't know.
Anyway, I'm not trying to get you to click on any of those links. I was looking at them and they all are 'Christian' based ads. There's even one titled Money Prayer that promises $500 in four hours or four days. If I understand the concept right, it seems that I've lost focus of what I started this blog for. It was intended to help me get in the habit of writing so I could finish my novel Sea Tree. Somewhere along the line I started writing about my faith and that's where this blog has gone.
Sea Tree is not a Christian novel. The central character is a former pastor turned police chief, a man who struggles with the good and evil inside him. His role as police chief parallels his former pastor role as a protector; but his dark side seeks justice. Mercy is not his spiritual gift.
There are other characters who are less than Godly. There will be some profanity. Sea Tree will be real, even if it is a fantasy. There will be romance...because I'm a romantic guy despite what my pastor's wife thinks. There will be violence, just because. There will be discussions on politics, religion, maybe even about movies, because I have my own opinions and I can say whatever I want in my own book. That my central character has a picture of Ronald Reagan on the wall of his office rather than G. W. Bush or whichever liberal wins the 2008 election, is a reflection of the values that character shares. There will be some of me in every character. Maybe I'll find out something about myself that I didn't know.
Jesus at Petra
I'm enrolled in a writing course which I hope will help me turn Sea Tree into a story people will want to read. Part of the course involves writing our own story. There's no way I'm going to finish Sea Tree in six weeks, so I though I'd write a back-story on one of the central characters in the novel. At the end of the course I'm going to post the end product online and ask friends and family to review it for me. This will be the first introduction you'll get to Sea Tree. It should set up the main character so that you'll understand him better once he appears in the story.
The name of the back-story is 'Jesus at Petra'. In a couple of months I'll post the story online for you to read. The link will be www.jesusatpetra.blogspot.com. There's nothing there now. I'll post the link again here once the story is done.
Here's the synopsis of 'Jesus at Petra': A burned-out pastor invites Jesus to visit his church, but when Jesus actually shows up one Sunday the results are nothing like he expected.
Stay tuned....
The name of the back-story is 'Jesus at Petra'. In a couple of months I'll post the story online for you to read. The link will be www.jesusatpetra.blogspot.com. There's nothing there now. I'll post the link again here once the story is done.
Here's the synopsis of 'Jesus at Petra': A burned-out pastor invites Jesus to visit his church, but when Jesus actually shows up one Sunday the results are nothing like he expected.
Stay tuned....
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