Tag Archives: Christianity

People Patchwork

I bought a bust on clearance at Hobby Lobby.  At 90% off I snatched the last one up like a large mouth bass after a Carolina rig.

It wasn’t until I got home that I realized my new purchase was damaged at the shoulder.  In fact, it had a really big hole in it.  At first I started to leave it like it was because looking straight at it, you couldn’t see anything wrong.  But turn it ever so slightly, and there was the gaping hole.

With a little bit of plastic cement and some poor, ragged patchwork, the hole was fixed, even though it’s obvious it’s been repaired.  After a couple of coats of spray paint, it was all the same color and not as blaringly obvious.

Now it’s on my desk in our home office. The pleasant, gently smiling woman looks like all is good, but on close examination, there’s “patchwork” hidden in plain sight. Continue reading People Patchwork

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Cabbage Pot Love

They were young newlyweds, but he was already wise enough to be quiet.

She grew up a daddy’s girl, a tomboy in every way. She could fish, feed cows, bail hay, but at the time, she couldn’t make toast in a toaster to save her life!

She decided to make her groom a special supper of some of his favorite foods, including cabbage.  She’d never eaten cabbage before, much less cooked it.  Nonetheless, she wanted to be a “good wife” and learn how.

In life, hindsight is always 20/20.  Looking back now she laughs saying she should’ve asked a few questions, read a recipe, something!  But then again, how hard could it be to cook cabbage? Continue reading Cabbage Pot Love

Riding Shotgun

As a boy I couldn’t wait to get up before the crack of dawn.  My Dad and I had a spot we fished about an hour’s drive away and the best time to get there was at dawn’s early light.

He had snacks and peanut butter sandwiches ready.  I’d ride shotgun in the old pickup held together by rust and bondo. About the time the sun rose, we’d get to the lake.

Crappie, that’s what we were fishing for, and when they were spawning, we were certain to catch them.

Carefully hooking a live minnow in the back with a big gold rim hook, we’d drop 4 or 5 cane poles and couple of rod and reels.

Looking back, I realize I’d bait the first line I dropped in, but after that, Dad patiently rigged up the rest so I could fish right away. Continue reading Riding Shotgun

Fires of Life

Janet and I have eleven children between the two of us, and the count’s at 9 on grandchildren. We’re thinking there’s plenty more to come, especially since 5 of the kids aren’t married yet.

We bought a place last year that was right for family and grandchildren.  I built a standard wooden swing set from a hardware kit.  Easy peasy. But it needed more!

We looked at playground ideas and my imagination ran as wild as an East Texas roadrunner.

Then a blast from the past popped up on Pinterest, a firetruck.  I grew up around that!  My dad was a volunteer fireman for years, and two of those years I was the official “mascot” of the fire department. That’s pretty cool for an elementary age kid!

I knew about an old fire truck which had been sitting in a field rusting the last 22 years. I got permission and scavenged pieces and parts.  Continue reading Fires of Life

Ba,Ba,Ba,Ba,Ba

Jared, my second son, was diagnosed as severely deaf in one ear and profoundly deaf in the other when he was two years old. He grew up with multiple ear infections, hearing aids and speech therapy. He could, and did, what every other kid did, but it was harder for him, like soccer, for instance.

Jared would be on a dead run dribbling the ball down field while simultaneously adjusting his hearing aid so it wouldn’t fall off.  When the whistle blew, he kept playing until other players stopped.

Crowded rooms with multiple conversations made focusing on a single voice or sound impossible. Jared never complained, and despite everything, even learned how to play the guitar. Amazing!

When he was twelve, Jared had a cochlear implant. The surgery wasn’t covered by insurance, so a home equity loan, negotiated cash prices with the hospital, surgeon, anesthesiologist and provider for the device put the price tag just below $50,000.

Part of his skull was drilled out behind his ear and a computer device the size of a quarter was implanted in the crevice behind his ear. A wire implanted in his skull runs into the cochlea where it stimulates the auditory nerve going to the brain.

His only disappointment? He couldn’t head a soccer ball anymore because it might knock the implant loose.  Otherwise, everything was a plus and the possibilities were all butterflies and roses. Continue reading Ba,Ba,Ba,Ba,Ba

Help Wanted

The man sat on the bench in front of the Wal-Mart checkout lanes.  I thought he was waiting on someone, but he wasn’t.  He was just sitting and watching for a minute.

He was obviously a working man, about 65ish, and had a day-old shave.  He was a bit chubby, but not flat out fat.  He had draped a couple of plastic bags of items he just bought over his blue jeans.  He wore work cowboy boots and a free blood donation T-shirt.

His face was confident, like he knew he could pretty much handle anything that happened on the outside.  His eyes, however, looked like his heart had been, or maybe still was, wounded.  His eyes looked like muddy, shallow puddles instead of a deep, free flowing fresh water wells.

He got up and started for the exit limping with a distinct, weathered limp. Who knows why, but I suspect his limp was from a rugged injury such as a car accident, oilfield work injury, or getting his leg pinned against a chute while dealing with cows. Continue reading Help Wanted

No More Angel Tears

When the heart’s tap root hits pain, angels cry. Do you feel it?  Do you feel them, something, somewhere, swirling, moving, circling the soul as the root draws up pain watering the heart making it swarthy and bruised?

Some people, some personalities cannot get away from the pain. It’s not that they don’t deal with their own. They do. It’s that some can’t get away from other’s pain.

Sometimes out of the blue it can hit you, in the store, watching TV, hearing a story, understanding what has happened.  The person’s pain, both shown, and even more intense, the hidden pain, grabs hold with a dry ice-cold grip burning the very beats of one’s own heart.

It can’t be explained with words, for words don’t express it. Letters can’t convey it, and the alphabet becomes nothing more than scissors on the tongue.  You can’t get out what has gone in. Continue reading No More Angel Tears

Cobalt Didn’t Listen

~~I was driving and a bluebird flew into my windshield today.  Feathers went everywhere as the little guy toppled lifelessly in the road behind me.  I feel terrible about it.

I think it went down like this:~~

Several months ago, Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird worked daylight to dusk to build a nest.  Mr. Bluebird made sure the structure was strong enough for a brood of growing, rowdy chicks, while Mrs. Bluebird was sensational at finding just the right lining to keep her chicks comfortable.

Once the eggs were laid, Mrs. Bluebird took a two-week sabbatical to sit and keep the eggs warm.

When hatching day finally arrived, each egg started shaking within hours of each other.  From inside the shell, each hatchling broke loose and used all of its energy to escape the hard shell.  After breaking free, each hatching laid wet, exhausted and gasping for air. Continue reading Cobalt Didn’t Listen

10% Thankful

When Jesus healed ten people, only one returned to Him to say thank you. (Luke 17:11-19)  Jesus even asked where the other nine were. They were all blessed. They were all miraculously healed. They all gained life over a slow excruciating death, yet only one even bothered to come back and say thank you.

That’s horrible! It’s wrong on so many levels!  But then I cringe when I realize I’m not in the 10% of people who are truly grateful.  I don’t always go back and say thank you. I’m ashamed of that.

I once read it’s impossible for an ungrateful person to truly be happy.  Makes sense! A lot of sense! Continue reading 10% Thankful

It’s Always Been About The Heart

I, like you, feel deep compassion for the people of Santa Fe, and every other school, movie theatre, club, church and public location that has experienced a mass murder.

What to do? What do we do?

Well meaning people are now looking to, in fact, clamoring for the government to “fix” the problem and solve the dilemma. People are demanding legislation for sentences for “hate crimes”, creating programs to treat mental illness, gun control restrictions and regulating behaviors.

In my simple mind, it’s a paradox. It seems common sense that after planting plum trees, you get plums. You get the fruit of what you plant.

Stay with me.

Continue reading It’s Always Been About The Heart