Take Me Out To The Ballgame                                                      

by reginald daniel                         

We raided the concession stand, turned on the lights, ate candy, popcorn, and twinkies and drank pop and played baseball at the little league park until midnight. It  was our park. We were having the time of our life. How dare they try to lock us out! We had a plan. And, it worked.


The secret was that we figured out a way to break in and take over. One interesting aspect was that even tho an occasional police car came by and neighbors could easily see that the lights were on, everyone assumed the lights were SUPPOSED to be on. No one called the police. The neighbors did not call the police and the police did not call the police. :)
 
It was a bit tuff to play ball because we were laughing so hard at our sneaky “attack” on the electrical box and the snack attack on all those leftover concessions. We thot we had died and gone to heaven. We were almost delirious over the spoils of our serendipitous endeavor. “Free” fast food and playing baseball forever on a real diamond, instead of in the street.

What we had done was illegal and what you could rightly call sinful. I guess the good side of it was that we were not doing drugs breaking into houses, nor stealing hubcaps.                                     
Does this youthful breaking and entering remind you of anything? Or anyone?
 
What we did is certainly not a holy analogy by any means, but there is an allusion to another event that is quite pure and powerful, indeed.
When Jesus came, He destroyed the bondage and slavery of the devil. He spoiled the principalities and powers of evil. He feasts with His children as we bask in the light. The gigantic fellowship banquet has not started but the appetizers are startlingly scrumptious. Jesus does not simply serve food and provide light. He IS food and light.

Local tax money and donations ultimately paid for our stolen food and electricity at the ball park. Our enjoyment was quite real but short-lived. Jesus paid for our banquet with His blood. And the effects are forever. He had a plan and it worked. The law and onlookers cannot stop the party. Get into the game.    wreg

                            

What A Relief !!!
        by reginald daniel

Melissa Nelson of Fort Dodge, Iowa got fired recently by her employer, Dr. James Knight. While rather disconcerting to Melissa, it has been such a blessing to me. This oddity has brought drastic psychological relief to me. 

Let me explain. Melissa was fired for being too attractive to Dr. Knight, a long time Fort Dodge dentist. The oddity factor kicks in because Melissa has worked for the good doctor for 10 years. This does not speak too well for Dr. Knight. Would you want a doctor analyzing your molars and root canals in a few moments time when it took him 10 years to discover that Melissa was just too pretty?

So, what does all this mean to me? Well, thine truly has been looking for a job. It is sorta weird, because most all of the job searching is done on the internet. I never get to talk to a person. No interviews, no face time whatsoever. And then there are other factors. For example, I am a senior citizen, white male. Tonz of prejudice out there! 

I had begun to think that the reason it is so tuff to get a job is my age, gender, and technologically-challenged liabilities. But, alas, thanks to Melissa's good looks and the slow dentist's discovery, I am off the hook.

Let's face it. I am just too good looking to get a good job. :)

wreg     

God, Grannie, & the Grandson

reginald daniel

Susannah Wesley had a peculiar prayer closet. Her most frequent prayer place was sitting up with her apron pulled up over her head. With so many children and no alternative privacy, she simply retreated to the under-the-apron-sanctuary. And the kids learned not to disturb her during her quiet hour with God.

Moses and Elijah both prayed on mountain tops, Peter prayed on the housetop, Jonah prayed in the belly of a whale, Stephen prayed under a shower of rocks that were thrown to kill him, and Jesus prayed on a cross.

An electrician was performing some work in a church office while three preachers were discussing the subject of prayer. As he worked, he overheard them speaking about the proper physical posture for effective prayer.

"I believe that kneeling is the best posture for prayer," said the first clergyman.

The second disagreed, "No. I have found that standing upright with my arms and hands stretched up to heaven is the best posture to assume for prayer."

The third minister took issue with them both. "I think you are both wrong. I feel my prayers are getting through best when I lie prostrate on the floor."

At this point the electrician could not restrain himself any longer, "Fellows, the hardest, most earnest praying I've ever done was when I was hanging upside down from a telephone pole." God looks at the condition of the heart, not the place nor position of the body.

A certain Grannie used to go into the bathroom and sit on the "throne" as her chair and place of connection with the throne of Almighty God. Makes a lot of sense. Quiet, private, and disturbed only by an occasional sheer necessity.

The ole Grannie in this story did not realize that sometimes another family member would overhear her worship and intercession.

One of the over hearers was one of Grannie's grandsons. When Grannie thought no one was home or listening, she left the prayer room door open. Thus, the open door to her throne room and God's drew both intentional and accidental earfuls.

Grannie's young grandson would hear her worship and also hear her call names to God. One of the names she called was her grandson's name. I have interviewed the grandson. He says it was the single most impactful prayer event in his entire life. He said no other prayers affected him like those of Grannie's in her own special prayer closet.

As a matter of fact, when the grandson was 16 years old, and under tremendous conviction to get right with God, he actually knelt in Grannie's throne room and called on God. Without even thinking that this was Grannie's prayer place, the grandson simply asked for mercy. He did not turn his life over to God that night, but he prayed that God would not let him die nor the rapture happen until he got into a right relationship with Him. The grandson soon surrendered his heart to the Lord. Sorta gave new meaning to "the throne of mercy".

I am positive about the facts of this story. For you see, I am that grandson.

Thanks, Grannie. And God. wreggy

A Song at Walmart
by reg daniel

I hum and sing out loud. At home and in public. I know parts of hundreds and hundreds of songs. Ok, not all the songs are gospel, but most are. I do this to bless me and God.

Humming and singing out loud is not only a communication between God and me, I use it as a subtle way to witness. Amazing sometimes how folks listen to part of "Amazing Grace", "Oh, Happy Day", "Jesus Loves Me" etc. What choice do they have if their ears are fairly close to my dispersing mouth and vocal chords?

A few nights ago I was standing in line at the Walmart pharmacy to get 90 tablets of lisinopril to help tame my high blood pressure. As I stood 4 1/2" behind the third person in line, I quietly launched into Dottie Rambo's "He Looked Beyond My Fault". It was very low volume but rather distinct and in the perfect key for me. I watched for signs of life in the woman in front of me. She did not flinch, squirm, tap her foot, sing with me, stare me down, nor ask me to be quiet. She simply stood there like a bored manikin, staring straight ahead, waiting to hear "# 47". I wondered if she were taking a nap or just tuning me out. We were both in line long enough for me to sing the whole song.

Just as I was thanking God that I could worship Him and enjoy the song, regardless of anyone else's response, the woman responded. I was on the verge of checking her pulse or trying to give her CPR when the stranger turned around, flashed a sweet smile and with tears in her eyes, said,"That is my favorite song."

mmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!

(Or is it huuummmmmmmmm?)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkWg3L_K1F8&feature=player_embedded

Remembering The Refuge Barn

by reg daniel

My mother told about the exciting times of the Mississippi River floods of yesteryear. No warnings. A few levees here and there. Neighbors helping neighbors. Getting around by boat. Crops ruined for a year. No food stamps---and not much food.

Mother and her family, like gobs of Arkansas folks, were poor as church mice in those days. Mother's family had one of those in-disguise-blessings. It was the blessing of high ground. As a matter of fact, they had the highest ground in the area. At the pinnacle of high ground was an old barn.

So when those long-ago floods hit their stride, all the neighbors and their animals made their way to the high ground barn. And there they all lived for several days. Since mother's house was on a lower elevation than the barn, they, too, had to join the barn camp out.

Well, it was not exactly a camp out. At least not a planned camp out. Not much space, no video games, no electricity, and no deodorant. Smelly animals and smelly people.

Like the rest of the kids, mother enjoyed chasing chickens, trying to milk the cows, and sleeping on hay. It seems to have never crossed their minds that if the rain kept up, they would wind up on top of the barn, instead of in it.

Mother was not real big on plain ole vanilla adventure, but she loved those almost arky experiences of her childhood. And I loved hearing about those episodes.

A few lessons from the high ground barn have wafted their way into my plain vanilla mind. 1. Difficult times often cause people to pull together. 2. Even the poor have something to offer. 3. You can endure tuff times when you must. 4. We all need a refuge sometime. 5. The Refuge you need is not a barn with a sheep in it, but is rather the Shepherd Himself.

I wrote this with hopes that you get something from it. And to remember mother. She died one day before Edith's birthday, 2009.

Blessings, wreg

P.S. May you receive some blessings that are not in disguise.

Sometimes When It Rains

Yesterday. June 16.

Yesterday she would have been 63. Shackled. Limited. Struggling. Working. Worrying. Wondering. Waiting.

Instead, she is waltzing and soaking in the awe.

luv wreg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4dfghJNTDI

Our Christmas

by wreggy daniel

Hay. We now have access to a new busline, called Megabus. They are nicer & better priced than Greyhound. I caught one in Iowa City & it took me right down to the heart of Chicago. It dropped me one block from where Derek works (formerly called the Sears Tower). Derek met me at the bus stop & we then boarded a nearby train & zipped up to Evanston where Derek lives.

Omar---the dog---goes wild when he sees me. He actually goes ga ga over anyone who pets him, but I really think he goes ga-ga-er over me. (Just think, if Lady Ga Ga goes ga ga over someone, it would be a Gagapoloosky. Or something.)

Nicole joined us on Christmas Eve & we ate out---at a place called Oscar Wilde's. Great atmosphere & food. Sat by the fireplace. Uncrowded. We later watched a few DVD's of Seinfeld & played cards. On Christmas Day Nicole joined us again later in the day. Played music, games, & ordered Chinese food.

Sun. a.m. I went to a church where I went last last Dec. It is a small Baptist church. Multi ethnic. The pastor & family are Filipinos. Cool music (not too loud). Good service last yr & this.

Sunday afternoon we tried to go ice skating. Derek succeeded. But I immediately got a severe cramp in my leg & could not skate. I think the car accident left fear in me---fear of falling/crashing & getting hurt again. Couldn't shake it.

We contemplated going downhill skiing on Monday. Decided to go. 1 1/2 hrs from Chicago---over in eastern Wis. I knew I would face the fear & cramp issue again. Prayed & asked the Lord to help me. I was tense at first & fell a few times but I worked thru it. We really enjoyed ourselves. Skiing was always the funnest thing we did as a family. Our last downhill ski time together was about 3 yrs ago. Edith, Derek, Nicole, & I went skiing in Galena, Illinois on a super sunny day. Watched fireworks outside the restaurant window where we were having an after-ski meal.

While in Chicago, we got 3-4" of new, fluffy snow. Since Omar the Lover Dog loves new snow, I took him out for a romp. When I took Omar out, he went beserk in it. He totally loves new snow. It was a grand opportunity to run, jump, zig, zag, bite the snow, bury one’s face in it, & just squeal with delight. Omar seems to have enjoyed it, too.

New year's eve I was home alone. New year's day I ate chili at the Rock's house . We visited & then we guys watched some football. I watched one game & came home. They could watch the other 5 games without me. I needed to ease my mind & ease into a sermon.

We had a heat wave recently. 50F for 2 dayz. Then it plunged fast. Zipped down to zero in a few hrs. It is nerdcurling.

That's the newz from the frozen tundra---where all the women are strong, all the kids are good looking, & all the preachers are above average.

luv, wreggy

P.S. Since my dear neighbors shoveled/blew the foot of snow away while I was away, I plan to go away each time we get a big snow.

P.S.S. I enjoyed zipping & slipping around Chicago & Evanston in a snazzy BMW. Boosted my appreciation for the skilled driver I taught to drive & it boosted my prayer life.

LAKE MCBRIDE AND OTHER MEMORIES



by reginald daniel

Seems like yesterday that Edith and I sat on an inviting bench on a Swiss mountainside and I proposed to her. Being sorta thoughtful and wanting to give Edith some serious time to think it over, I told her she could take 4-5 minutes to think it over if she needed a lengthy time to consider such a vital, life-altering decision. Good thing Edith had her analysis-decision-ometer switched on. Lucky me, she said yes. Over the years we had some good laughs over the ever so considerate 5 minute time limit to decide Deal or No Deal. Good thing we were ahead of Minute To Win It.

Seems like yesterday that we were both overjoyed to see Derek sliding into the world, our arms, and our hearts. Well, I was overjoyed. Edith was relieved and then overjoyed.

Seems like yesterday that we started a 30 year tradition by engaging in a fall leaf walk at Lake McBride. A twenty minute drive took us to a spectacular splash of autumn beauty. It only took that first trip to tell us we wanted to go there every fall, more times if possible. The Lake McBride fall adventure quickly became the most romantic little ritual in our lives.

This Saturday, Sept. 4, I and a few friends will visit a park where we have planted a tree in Edith's memory. Then we will go to the lake, walk along the trail, soak in the beauty, and have a little picnic. We will share each others' love and friendship while remembering a gift that we have "lost" for a short time.

Sept. 4, 2009 seems like yesterday. And it still seems surreal. On the brightest day yet to come, all our yesterdays will seem like, well, yesterday---as we are absorbed into the unutterable eternal ethereal tomorrow.

Thank You, Lord, that I and we had Edith down here for a while.

By the way, the folks who live at Lake McBride can still burn their leaves---and they do, providing a delicious smell. Ironic how the same lovely leaves leave a stupendous splash of color in our eyes and a lingering, redolent fragrance floating interminably through the canyons of our minds.

A Penny's Weight

by reginald daniel

She arrived July 13 around noon. Came all the way from Mexico. Glad she came home. After all, she was born here. Born blind & totally naked, from an egg smaller than a jellybean, she could fly out of her tiny nest in three weeks. By the end of summer, the iridescent little beauty can fly 500 miles straight across the Gulf of Mexico, heart beating 1250/min. and wings flapping to the tune of 70-80 times/sec.

How do you suppose this fine-feathered blip, weighing less than a penny, drums up the energy to fly so far? How does she know where she is going? When she takes off for Mexico, she goes to a place where she has never been. Takes a lot of faith to be an atheist.

Edith and I sat on our deck many Saturday mornings each summer and enjoyed to the hilt these blue-green marvels. We had an unofficial contest to see who could see the first hummer of the season. They would come and dart all around us, as they flashed in and out of the many flowers we placed on our deck to attract them. Hummingbirds are friendly, fearless, and bold. So bold that they will come right up to you and even try to drink from your coffee cup if you don't move.

The first hummingbird sighting of the season competition has ended. But the memories linger. Now the smiles are accompanied by salty sweet tears that momentarily blur the birds.

There have been several blurrings in my heart during the last 9 1/2 months. Eventually many of the blurs become more clear. But not all.

This hummingbird observation strangely reminds me of the biblical story of Eliezer's looking for a bride for Isaac. He asked Rebekah to believe in a man she had never seen and to go to a place where she had never been. Eliezer would guide her---because he knew the way. Apparently God puts something into a hummingbird's heart and mind that leads her to that previously unvisited home.

Edith believed in a Man she had never met. She went to a place where she had never been. God put Someone in her heart that led her to that unvisited forever home. God has a perfect, unflawed GPS. The many gifts that Isaac had sent to Rebekah helped her believe in the man who would take her as his bride. God's gifts to Edith helped her to believe and to make the journey.

The One Who is preparing a place for us has given us many gifts, too. One of those gifts was Edith. His best gift is Himself.

For me, Edith is in a winter home, but for Edith she is in an eternal springtime. An indescribable paradise. Do you suppose there are birds in paradise?

BTW, a hummingbird can flap its wings 200/sec. in a courtship dive. Sorta like the twinkling of an eye.

16 to 16

Four months ago my next door neighbor asked me what had attracted and endeared me to Edith. I jotted down a few thoughts about summarizing a person's life and then I sent my friend a copy of Tribute to Edith, found on this blog site.

Here is what I wrote as part of my answer to my friend Steve:

Hay, Pilgrim.

You asked what endeared me most to Edith. It reminded me of how folks TRY to write some highlights about a lost loved one in an obituary/eulogy. The loved one has worn many hats, touched numerous lives, & they have more hidden characteristics that most people have no clue about. And when they die, we are expected to summarize their life in a paragraph or 2. Quite a challenge, huh? Even more difficult than the obituary is the epitaph that some put on grave stones. The brevity of an epitaph is a challenge, indeed. Epitaphs are sorta disappearing because of costs & because people do not know what to say about their loved one.

Poignant point to ponder: It is what is in your "dash" that really counts. We have a date of birth & a date of death. In between those numbers is our dash. What you do with your dash is what is significant. What have you done, how have you lived in your dash? Hopefully, your dash includes believing on Jesus as your Savior. And, it should include some giving & doing for others. The only stuff you can keep is what you give away. Kinda ironic. Jim Elliot, a young missionary killed by the Auca Indians in Ecuador in 1956 said, "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."

God gave us Edith for a time. She gave so much of herself. A generous and cheerful giver, indeed. The kind that God Himself gets excited about.

Edith made her dash count. Why not make your dash count, too?

The peculiar title of this article? Edith was born June 16 and died at mile marker 16.

We all meet our marker and our Maker.

reginald daniel 1944-

It Was All They Had

by reginald daniel

When we lived in east Tennessee, we met some rather sweet kids in our neighborhood. They were unchurched and also seemed a bit lonely. Edith and I did backyard vacation Bible schools for them. And we took them to the dairy queen or the grape vineyard, where they could eat their fill of a wonderful southern grape called muscadines. Our house was the hang out place when we were home.

Edith and I both won the hearts of those kids and they won ours. But they were especially drawn to Edith. One day they all dropped in with a gift for Edith. It was a small, soft, lovely piece of scarlet red cloth. I just imagine that one of the kids had found it in her mother's rag box of leftovers. Although one person had come up with the gift, it was truly from all of them. You should have seen their smiling gapped-tooth faces as they beamingly presented the little piece of throw away cloth to Edith. The kids had come up with the most precious treasure they had or could imagine. It was all they had to express their unabashed love.

To have seen the joy on those kids' faces, you would have thought they had just given Edith a new BMW, or a 3-carat diamond necklace, or a full-length sable mink coat. To have seen the tears and joy in mine and Edith's hearts, you would have realized that the kids' gift was worth more than a car, a necklace, and a coat. Combined. Strange how one of the best gifts ever given to us was a scrap piece of soft, scarlet cloth.

The scarlet cloth has traveled with us from state to state, from house to house over the years. It has been a reminder of abundant, spontaneous love from a batch of unforgettable little kids.

And the love cloth gift is a reminder of another precious gift. The scarlet cloth of forgiveness that Jesus wraps around anyone who asks. His robe of righteousness is not a leftover piece of cloth from the rag box. It is rather a deliberate, extravagant gift of love that covers our tattered, dirty rags.

Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. Isa. 1:18

He gave all He had.

Swish, Swish, Swish,
Swish, Swish, Swish

by reginald daniel

Swish Swash Swoof! Say that out loud for a smile and a refreshing sound. The wipers on the bus go that way, as I learned during a delightful reading and sing-a-long with 2 year old Derek about 30 years ago.

A year later, Edith and I had Derek on skis in his little green snow suit. It was the beginning of a family affair that has brought delight for three decades. We three learned how to downhill ski, but the cross country style is a style we enjoyed immensley.

For those of you have never been skiing, it is a tad tuff to describe the freedom and exhiliration that is part of the warp and woof of this activity. What makes cross country skiing so wonderful? The sheer stupendous beauty of the snow, some spectacular scenery, and the sweet serenity of almost silence. And friends who ski with you. Plus, there is the physical exercise, the shaking and scattering of cobwebbs, and the dusting away of winter cabin fever. Hot chocolate or a cup of hot apple cider caps off a satisfying stint of swishing around the trails.

Although I take pleasure in skiing alone at times, skiing has been my favorite activity with family and friends. It has been a highlight for our family. And after Derek grew up and moved away, cross country skiing was still a special time for Edith and me.

Today I skiied at mine and Edith's favorite park. The park is where we are having a memorial tree planted in the springtime. It was my first time to ski since Edith's death. I left some tears along the trail, but brought home some cherished memories.

Oh, the "almost silence"? When you cross country ski, there is always the swishing and crunching of skis and poles on snow. It becomes a sweet, melodic sound, rhythmically rhyming with the beat of your heart and the chirping of chicadees and sparrows along the path.

For me the song is still sweet, but it has sadly and stunningly shifted into swish, swish, swish.

As for Edith, she was swooshed away and stashed in an eternal springtime that defies description.

Her Place

She sat silently on the swing
Watching humming birds
Helicopter their way
In and out the red salvia

A hideaway of sublime solace
Serenely nestled among
Hostas, day lilies, and Alberta dwarf spruces
Planted for beauty and deer food

Sometimes I joined her
To be together, to talk
Or just to swing softly
In sweet silence

But it was really
Her swing, her place
For coffee, a book
Or profound worship

This year oddly meandered by
Without my neighbor's spectacular
October Glory maple tree
Which died unexpectedly, unexplainably

And the swing has been empty
For a while now
Except for the foot of snow
And the chickadee that visits

Today a delightful deer
Strode by the swing
And perhaps glimpsed the chickadee
As in a flash it flitted toward heaven

An Unnoticed River

The jet engines sang their steady whine of a song as folks tried to get a little shut-eye or at least comfortable. A few read the news or the SkyMall Magazine, while others played sudoko or read a book from their ancient "to read" list. One lady was using a large magnifying glass with a built-in light so she could see the fine print in her book.

As I tried to relax and reflect on the couple weeks' retreat I had just experienced, an emptiness resurfaced in the calm lake of memories. Little whitecaps began to ripple into severe choppiness. The choppy water of my mind soon turned into roaring waves, accompanied by deep dread. The two-pronged disturbance turned turbulant because my wife Edith is dead and also because I would be returning to an empty house.

Hot tears started to trickle down my face. The trickle was soon steadily coursing down my cheeks like a broken faucet that could not be fixed. This has happened many times since September 4, 2009. But most all the time it has happened when I have been alone. Now what? What if someone sees me crying? How could someone not see me? What if they think I am having a mental breakdown. If someone would have asked me a question, I could not have spoken any words. These tears have no words. I never knew tears could leave one speechless.

And I never dreamed that I could cry on a plane for 1/2 an hour and no one see me. I was not trying to be seen, but I did not think I would go unnoticed. But everyone in front of me was looking ahead or snoozing. Same with those behind me. The flight attendants were strangely still for 30 minutes, the couple on my right were asleep, and the two guys across the aisle to my left were totally absorbed in their books.

Besides feeling sad and lonely, I felt quite alone and distinctly disconnected from the sea of strangers who surrounded me. There was no American Airlines attendant who offered to relieve my distress. Nor could she. But, strangely, an invisible Flight Attendant walked down the aisle, read the fine print of my heart with His lighted magnifying glass, collected every single tear I shed and, of all things, put them in a bottle. (Psa 56:8) It also felt like He hugged me.

I hope that if someone I am near needs a shoulder, a prayer, or a kleenex that I will not be too occupied playing sudoko or flipping through SkyMall Magazine to notice.

A Heart Laid Bare

The curtain fell
Music stopped
And almost my heart
Darkness descended
In a flash
Upside down world
Full of emptiness
Faded songs
Echo faintly in the
Storm of storms
Where laughter flew far away
In a moment
In the twinkling of an eye
Flowers folded
Birds hushed
Cold rain drizzled
Groans and hot tears gushed
Faith wobbled

And then...

The Dove of Hope
Came and perched
In my heart

Edith, A Treasure

Sparkling burnt umber eyes

Raven hair

Sweet smiles

A mind quick as lightning

Wisdom above her years

Integrity never questioned

Epitome of a hard worker

A forever friend

Faithful, loving wife

Marvelous mom

Spectacular seamstress

Best barber a husband ever had

Always won at scrabble

German cuisine--authentic and delicious

Multi-talented, multi-tasker par excellence

Hands ready to help

Generous giver and forgiver

Left flowers galore in her wake

Elegant and graceful

Edith was a dazzling diamond

Best of all was her deep love of Jesus

Broken Heart

by reginald daniel

Repair and fix-it shops galore
Remodel, refurbish, restore
Trade the old for new
Try stitches, band-aids, patches, and glue

But where do you take a broken heart?
One that is shattered and battered
Filled with emptiness that seems it can never end
Maybe I can drag mine to The Carpenter to mend

Tho His hands are scarred and strong
The Carpenter's touch is gentle, kind, and long
A bruised reed He will not break
Life and death, eternity at stake

The flame has flickered shriveled and shrunk
Died to a failing ember
But He gave His word He will not quench
Somewhere in the sad, circling haze I faintly remember

The light in the Carpenter's shop seems dim
No sight, shadow, nor sound of Him
Somehow a soft, sweet touch brushes my broken heart
Could this caress make the healing start?

Desperate longing for healing and relief
Resolution for queries to rock-solid beliefs
Oh, to awake and find the horrific nightmare gone
Couldn't there be just one more earth-verse to Edith's song?

Please hurry, Carpenter, let healing start
Quickly stitch or staple our wounded, torn hearts
Swiftly the wine and oil pour
Can't You set the balm of Gilead at least near our door?

Then it dawns upon my feeble, tattered mind
Wafts it way from the Ancient of Days, from endless time
It is not healing the Carpenter from me is taking
He holds me and waits while my heart continues breaking

Remembering Edith
June 16, 1948-September 4, 2009

A Picked Flower

A weather website slips me an update---to my old email address--- of hurricane Ivan ever so often. This little aggravation is not bothersome enough to pull the plug on, although it was 2004 when Ivan blasted the gulf coast. It is only a five year old reminder that is simply stuck in the computer loop, my mind, and my computer ignorance.

Another website has sent me two promotions since our mother's recent death, The company is called ProFlowers and they have the flower promo on automatic in an attempt to help their finances and my memory. They even print out mine and mother's first name. Kinda folksy and friendly.

ProFlowers knows all the holidays and even mother's birth date. Although they have no idea that mother recently died, they did manage to assist my wife and me in sending several bouquets during the last few years.

The flowers by mail got started a few years ago. My wife, Edith, got this clever idea while pondering over what gift we could send mother on her birthday. The first bouquet might have been the first one mother ever received by mail. Fact is, mother had not received very many flowers during her lifetime. Boy, was she fabulously surprised! Flowers by mail were a real hit!

ProFlowers was already on their regular, reliable mission of pointing out that mother's birthday would roll around soon and that they have just the lovely flowers that would delight mother so much. To our sadness, God picked one more flower He needed for one of His bouquets.

The sadness is accompanied by joy and hope. Because His bouquets never wither.

I can probably get the flower promo deleted from my email. But maybe the sad sweetness will remind me to give a few more flowers along the way.
Perhaps this blog will remind you, too. Afterall, we don't know when we will get picked.

Going Down?

Don Stuckey was rather tall, strong, brave, and adventuresome. He grew up near my home town in Florida---around water, boats, and fishing, but oddly enough, Don had never learned to swim.

One day while boating alone on the lake, Don's boat took on so much water that it sank. The situation immediately became dangerous and desperate, for Don had no life jacket. Don was suddenly sinking and on the verge of having his young teenage life come to a stunning and tragic end. The water was was over his 6ft. 5in. lanky body and there was no one to rescue him.

Or was there?

Don quickly did what many desperate folks do. He prayed. It was serious prayer. Life or death prayer. After flailing, gasping, sucking in gobs of water and some powerful calling on God for mercy, Don Stuckey was suddenly and miraculously saved. God had formed a small mound of lake bottom that Don discovered with his feet. My friend could stand on this unbelievable, small diameter mound and keep his head out of the water. He did that for some time until someone came to his rescue.

When did God form this mound? Maybe when the lake was formed or just at the moment Don needed it. For God, it was a piece of cake---er---dirt.

There is an elemnet in this story that perhaps you have wondered about. You see, when Don's boat sank, he had no relationship with God. He knew ABOUT God but did not know Him as his savior and best friend. But Don knew to call on God. And in his desperate prayer, Don made a promise to God. It was a promise that he would surrender his life to God and serve him. Don is one of those rare people who followed through with his promise.

Made any promises to God?

Don Stuckey decided that if he is going to die, he would rather be going up.