Category Archives: inspiration

Bobo

Three balls for $2 or nine for $5 — man after man, boy after boy, redneck after redneck, stepped up from a large semi-circle of spectators around the dunking booth at the Brazoria County Fair, Texas.

Sitting in the dunking booth surrounded by carnival rides and loud music, the little clown face painted man was easily heard above it all.  “Ayayayayayaya!“, Bobo hollered into a microphone.  He had no shortage of insults for anyone who dared pick up a ball trying to drop him in the water.

They’re only prize was to see Bobo drop in the water, but he and his worker were making money hand over fist.  His abrasive voice rang out over loud speakers and like flies to a spider web, one by one he lured guys in to plop down their money.  As soon they stepped in his web, Bobo started. His constant chattering, challenges and chastising made you laugh hysterically at times, wince at others.

The nature of young men is to battle, in one shape or fashion, to show their dominance, and Bobo capitalized on this — all the way to the bank.  Everyone knew what was in store as some overconfident ego filled guy stepped up like a gladiator to throw a ball.  In most cases, the gladiator walked away humiliated.  For spectators like me, it was hilarious. Continue reading Bobo

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At The Foot Of The Cross

At the foot of the cross,

Where dirt gives way and rugged wood is revealed,

Where sweat, blood and tears drop from above,

Where laughter, jeers and taunts are heard,

Where only a faithful few remain, overcome in pain as they look on…

At the foot of the cross,

Where the blood mud puddles,

Where evil raises its hands in victory unaware it just lost the war,

Where one death births life for all… Continue reading At The Foot Of The Cross

The Dove’s Flight

Through the air, gliding the winds in silent solace seeking a place that may, or may not yet, be there.  Peace and hope comfort my spirit as I wing along seeking a land that only the meek shall enter.

All I see is water, waves upon waves, moving and massaging, yet erasing.  Somewhere is a promise, and to find it is my goal.  For this, my boarded, protected wings were set free to fly in search of the promise which will release the confined, and set free humbled souls.

It feels good to fly freely.  Yet on the other hand, a journey’s labor is rarely worth it during flight.  The fun, the pleasure comes in the landing, where the destination is safely enjoyed.

So on I fly through daylight, then the dark night, searching, seeking, straining to see by moonlight that virtuous destination where I may land, yet all that’s there  is water. Continue reading The Dove’s Flight

The Bride’s Dance

The bride was beautiful. It wasn’t just her dress, makeup or natural beauty. It was the radiance of her heart from the inside to out. To top it off, she wears beauty, both the inside and out, with a genuine, sincere grace and humility. Her face glows. Her heart shines.

It was the day she’d always dreamed about, and it was glorious. The groom is a top of the line guy, and soon after they met, their spirits danced. They fell in love and quickly grew into soulmates.

Any time you’ve lost a close family member though, there’s always a certain yearning that rustles the memory of those who won’t be there. The bride’s father was a good man, and marked her life profoundly well. He passed away unexpectedly after her 5th grade year, and making it even harder, she and the rest of her family were with him on vacation.

It’s hard for children who can’t touch, hear or talk to their hero. Some children respond negatively and grow up cold, hard and calloused. On the other hand, some choose otherwise. Continue reading The Bride’s Dance

Smiling Eyes

It was a short run into the grocery store before work for a few apples and coffee creamer, but the only checkout line was long, too long.

The lady at the front of the line was an elderly lady and the bagger said something I couldn’t understand, then walked out with her to put her groceries in her car.  The next person checked out and was on the way out when the bagger returned.

The man bagging was probably 65 years old and had a round face with sharp features and a big pleasant smile.  The lady in front of me checked out ten or twelve items and the man’s face seemed locked into a smile.  He’d grab a couple of items, glance at the checker and customer, as if searching for something in their faces, and then bag the next items.

After the lady paid, the man handed her grocery bags to her and said something, but again, I didn’t understand him.  She smiled, spoke back to him and he laughed out loud beaming a huge smile.

I wasn’t paying attention when the checker checked me out.  I swiped my card, spoke to the checker and turned to grab the plastic sack from the bagger.  I caught a glimpse of his hearing aids just as he said in garbled words like someone severely deaf….at least I think he said, “I love eat apples!  And coffee!”  Continue reading Smiling Eyes

They Said

No doubt her hands were shaking when she wrote her suicide note.  Her heart was in a million pieces, pieces that apparently no one noticed, or maybe, cared to notice.

She tried to write her last words, words that would explain, words that will tell all and clarify her actions. She wanted to describe her feelings, and try to explain why she did what she was about to do.

Her heart spilled out of the pen onto the paper as she wrote her last words.  She tied a rope to a ceiling beam in her apartment, stood in a chair, tied the other end around her neck and kicked the chair aside.

They Said story

The police found her several days later when a neighbor became concerned.  Her suicide note explained nothing, yet said it all.  Her note contained two words…….“They said”.

Tragically, this true story happened in California and no one ever discovered who, how or what they said.  One thing, however, was certain, they said it.

The tongue, and the pen, can wield amazing power to make people laugh or be encouraged. Words can cause one to believe and hope, yet words can bring devastation, heartache and despair.

Words can be of instruction, construction or destruction.

There’s the power of life and death in words.  They can heal, or they can kill.

Look for opportunities to shut up. Converse wisely.  Talk gently. Speak life.

Too bad that’s not what “they said”.

They Said story

Fighting Goliaths

In college one of my roommates signed up for “Fight Night”, an annual two night event featuring boxing matches between college students.

I should’ve said no when he began talking smack.  He’d already talked me into some really bad ideas before. Somehow I let him convince me to sign up “for fun”.

My “trainer” was a college buddy.  His training regiment was simple: pizza and Rocky movies.   I even called him, Mickey. It just seemed right.

When Fight Night rolled around, there were 800 to 900 students surrounding an honest to goodness, real life, professional boxing ring.  After a dozen fights, it was time to get the gloves on.

Mickey said “we” had drawn a fight against the second string tight end for the SFA (our University) football team.  I was nervous because I had zero, nada, zilch boxing experience, and all the sudden I wished we’d done more than eat pizza and watch Rocky movies. Continue reading Fighting Goliaths

Dirt Road Drive

It’ll be dark in an hour. I jump in the pickup and start driving aimlessly in the country. After a sweltering hot day, it’s cool.  With both windows rolled down, it feels like heaven on earth air conditioning.

Smells of a freshly cut grass, honey suckle patches on fence rows and the scent of distant rain clouds permeate the air.  Red dust flies up behind the truck. It envelops the branches of the trees looking like a Picasso painting in the rearview mirror.

A little further down a pickup pulling a trailer is in a field being loaded with hay bales from last week’s cutting.  Just past that is a house where a boy rides his bike in a big circle over and over. He finally gathers his courage to take another shot to go airborne off the ramp he made from two 5-gallon buckets and a stiff piece of plywood.

It’s the South. It’s the country. It’s rural living.  It’s a culture where most folks like a slower pace of life, and not being crowded in at the gills by neighbors. Continue reading Dirt Road Drive

To Who Knows Where

A few weeks back I was leaning on the rail of a cruise ship sailing the inside straits of Alaska.  Miles away were large, looming mountains on the Alaska coast.

It wasn’t the land that was intriguing though, it was the hundreds of birds on both sides of the ship. They were a species of seagull and they were everywhere!  Some sat on the water riding out the waves.

Most, however, flew about a foot above the water and didn’t miss a flap of the wing.  Occasionally, one would scoop down to pick up some tasty morsel of food flying at break neck speed.

To Who Knows Where

There were so many over the water, yet it seemed they flew with organization, almost marching band style.  They were like a symphony of different instruments playing different notes that make no sense alone, but all together play beautiful music.  The birds darted and dodged, skillfully avoiding mid-air collisions, moving in groups in their beautiful, living maze of feathered music. Continue reading To Who Knows Where

I’m Kind of HIS Father

Dear Mom,

I hope this letter finds you doing well.  In your last letter, you asked me to describe more about Jesus to you.  I’ll do my best:

As you know, I am his father, at least in name.  His existence has literally nothing to do with me. He would have been here, one way or the other.  I know that.  Really, I’m just lucky, blessed that I get to be where I am.

The angel told me what happened, and part of what would be.  I knew then my part in His life was an honor and privilege.

Some people frown at me, particularly some of the high and mighty people around here. They look down their noses at Mary and I and sometimes say cruel things.  We just keep going.

I want to react, to fight back and tell them how the camel eats the grapevine.  Instead, Mary quietly reminds me to relish today.  After all, the end is the prize, not the present.

Continue reading I’m Kind of HIS Father