What's wrong with old fashioned Ice Cream?

Greetings Ellenwood!

We just got home a few hours ago after taking a few days off for a much-needed vacation. Until now, we didn’t realize how bad we needed it. For several years we’ve spent any vacation time we had visiting Dede’s Dad and stepmother and Dede’s mom who also lived in a nursing home in Palm Coast, Florida. Now that both mom and dad are both gone, we didn’t really know what to do with ourselves this year when vacation time rolled around. We still have family and strong ties to Palm Coast and look forward to our next trip there. But it sure felt good to be alone and to  be able to do whatever we wanted to do, whenever we wanted to do it.

Each day, we got up early and after a full day, we fell asleep much earlier than we usually do. It couldn’t have been a better trip – a perfect drive, perfect hotel room, perfect weather, at a perfect beach. Before this week, I’d never been to the gulf coast in October but I highly recommended it. 

Besides the beautiful weather and sparse crowds there are other advantages. When you go to the beach in October, other than an occasional rotten grandchild, there are mostly old folks like us in town. You can trust me when I tell you that no matter what you do, wear, or say, you won’t stand out as the goofiest person there. For all practical purposes you can spend the week incognito. 

Until this week, I’ve never experienced what if feels like to be one of the skinniest people on the beach.

When we planned this trip, we knew that with our current circumstances that it might not work out. So, we hesitated to get too excited about it. In fact, we weren’t even sure where we might go until Saturday afternoon. But on Monday morning, after meeting all our commitments over the weekend, we decided to go for it! We packed our clothes, my guitar, my cameras, and every photo and video accessories currently available to man.

Just before we turned everything off and stepped out the door, the TV news caught my eye. I don’t remember what the story was but…It was more of the same…The far right says “this” and the far left says “that”. The news is a 24-hour cycle of accusations.  I’m sick of it.

There are good reasons why I purposely avoid any public conversation about these issues. I have an opinion but there is a very small circle of people I would share it with. For one, I have people who mean very much to me that I suspect are here illegally. I also have friends…that hate them for it. I want my friends to follow the law. I also want my friends to live in peace and love one another. My opinion would only serve to further muddy the water. I only want to love and serve and let God change people and circumstances.

 Sometimes that seems like an impossible position to stand on. So, just before I walked out my front door to leave for vacation, I decided to tune out all the issues and accusations and leave them behind.

For this trip...no left, no right, …just love. 

I had no idea if I’d happen across a chance to display love. But I formulated some guard rails that I thought would help me focus on that and stay in the center instead of veering to the left or right.

Here are some examples.

Statues and Monuments:

When travelling to the gulf coast of Florida, you will drive through several small towns in southeast Alabama and the Florida panhandle. Though I’m not positive, I would bet that every town along the way has at least one statue or monument commemorating some individual seen as a hero by some and represent hate and oppression to others. Regardless of any opinion I may hold, a statue is not more important to me than love so I choose to ignore them. Stone is not my enemy. Anything that threatens the peace of God in life is.

However, there are exceptions to every rule. The exception to my statue rule is the statue of “Big Guss” which stands in front of Angelo’s Steak Pit in Panama City Florida. Each year, thousands of steak lovers make a pilgrimage to Angelo’s to honor “Big Guss”

I realize that “Big Guss” may very well offend some individuals, particularly vegetarians. But I humbly submit to you that I simply love a good steak. I don’t hate vegetarians or cauliflower. I just think you’re weird, perhaps emotionally impaired in some way. Maybe you’ve just never eaten a steak at Angelo’s. Let me buy you a steak and I'll try some rutabagas. We may have more in common than we know.

Restrooms:

While the subject of restrooms as they relate to gender identity is a hot button issue in the media, I did not personally encounter any one named Florence or Dorris in any of the many restrooms I visited while on vacation.

As I suspected, this was a non-issue and is likely another over inflated media balloon that will eventually float away with the winds of time. Should I ever encounter an awkward restroom situation at anytime in the future I will remain respectful, remembering that there have always been one or two good ole boys I’ve known through the years that I wasn’t so sure about…I refuse to be angry over something that hasn't happened or hate you based on your potty preferences.

While we’re on the subject of public restrooms and the law, I’ll take this opportunity to voice my full support for House Bill SERAA55, which is also known as the
“Seniors Emergency Restroom Access Act”

SERAA55 simply states:

“Relative to urgency, all individuals reaching the age of 55 or older will be granted access to the closest restroom regardless of the gender designation of said facility”

Please contact your representative and voice your support for this important piece of legislation.

Dress Codes:

One of my favorite things about going to the beach is that casual attire or swimwear is acceptable dress for anywhere you want to go. You can decide to go somewhere at the spur of the moment and wear whatever you happen to have on.

If I wore the clothes I wear at the beach in public anywhere else on planet earth I would surely get my photo posted on Facebook under the heading “THE PEOPLE OF WALMART”. But in a beach town, I am essentially invisible.

But, again, as I found out, there are exceptions to every rule.

Until this week, I did not know that the state of Alabama has a dress code for travelers who visit one of their many Official Rest Area’s that are located all along the highways and byways of this progressive state.

Somewhere between Lake Eufaula and Dothan Alabama I needed to take a break…as in right NOW.

I was about to enter the facilities when, fortunately, I noticed a sign on the door, clarified by a corresponding graphic that read:

PANTS UP - SHIRT ON – SHOES ON

or NO ENTRANCE

I panicked and ran around the corner of the building as fast as I possibly could. Luckily, I was able to tuck my shirt in and get my pants adjusted to the required level before I was spotted by a member of Alabama Law Enforcement.

Whew! That was a close one…

The Constitutional Rights of Other Americans

My commitment to take only love to the beach was not as easy as I thought it might be.

During summer, other than the beach, the main attraction for families are the amusement centers that roar to life at night. There must be ten go cart-tracks and at least as many miniature golf courses. There are also the thrilling rides with descriptive names like the “The Paratrooper” or “ The Vomiteer” as well as a host of arcade games.

But in October, the main event for an older crowd is the Gulf sunset. Every afternoon around 5:30 pm an otherwise empty beach suddenly fills with people who come to watch the most amazing show on earth.

Wednesday night, I went down to the beach an hour before sunset to setup my chair and my cameras so that I would be ready to capture the entire event with images and video. With the sun low in the sky, I started my video cameras and begin taking still photos at regular intervals. The sky gradually exploded into colors that even Crayola has no name for. You could literally hear people gasp as the sky changed colors and shapes, much like a kaleidoscope.

Around 6:03 pm, I leaned into my viewfinder and steadied my camera waiting for that one money shot when the sun kisses the sea when suddenly…. 

...everything went completely dark as the largest woman I have ever seen walked between my camera and the sun, causing a total solar eclipse. I fumbled around in the darkness and grabbed a Nikon point and shoot camera and ran west as fast as I could. About 100 yards down the beach, I broke out of her shadow…but it was too late.

In disappointment, I walked back to my chair with my head hanging low. When I passed her, she turned to me and smiled and said “was that not the most awesome thing you ever saw? I tipped my Panama Jack Beach hat to her and tried to smile back as I mumbled “yes mam…that was truly amazing”. 

It’s a good thing that love also includes forgiveness.

I had better luck Thursday night but when I went back to my room and viewed the results of my efforts I concluded that no video or photograph can ever adequately capture the experience when you witness the handiwork of God with your own eyes.

____________________________________________________________________

The trip was truly awesome in so many ways. As I drove up and down  beach road, I saw familiar places from my childhood. I smiled a lot as I thought of my aunts and uncles, my cousins, both sets of grandparents, my brother, and my parents and the good times we had on vacation. To this day, I’d rather ride down beach road with my dad to get the morning newspaper and an Eskimo Pie than travel anywhere else in the world.

Last night as our weekend in Paradise was coming to an end I was in a happy place. Over three or four days, I had experienced something that I don’t often let myself experience…I was RELAXED. 

Somewhere around 9pm I got the bright idea to take my sweetheart up the beach to get an ice cream.

That's When It all Fell Apart

About 5 miles up the beach road, we pulled in to the parking lot of a well-lit, colorful building with a bright flashing sign out front that read: “DipInDots Ice Cream”.

YES! Ice Cream.I parked the car and we headed inside. When we got inside we walked up to the serving counter. Directly behind the glass was a long freezer containing 15 to 20 cardboard ice cream drums. The first few drums contained various combinations of brightly colored beads about the size of BB’s. I thought to myself, “Okay…there’s the toppings” and I slowly strolled down the counter peering in to each container.

When I got to the end of the counter I looked at the sales girl and said, where’s the ice cream?

She smiled at me and said these words that I will never forget:

“That is ice cream. It’s the ice cream of the future!”

And then she pointed to a sign on the wall that read:

“In 1988, microbiologist Curt Jones used his knowledge of cryogenic technology to invent Dippin’ Dots – an unconventional ice cream treat that’s remarkably fresh and flavorful, introducing the world to beaded ice cream.”

I paused for a moment and took a deep breath, gathering my composure...and then I politely asked:

“So wait…you’re trying to tell me that Doctor Frankensteins mama worked 3 jobs to put him through college to learn how to deep-freeze tissue, organs, and the bodies of dead folk, hoping that as science advances they can be revived in the future, and his contribution to mankind is the perversion of Ice Cream?

I continued:

“Where is the respect in that? Do you have any regard at all for men like Baskin, or Robbins…and the other forefathers of ice cream?”

She smirked at me and said, “just try it”

So I did

And as I suspected, this concoction has nothing to do with Ice Cream.

First, it suspiciously has the texture of a dense Styrofoam…the kind you would spray on the ceiling of apartment building. Perhaps the future plan is to eventually do away with spoons and bowls altogether and instead, you'll just walk by with your mouth open and a cryogenic technician will shoot it in to your mouth from some sort of hopper.

Second…it NEVER MELTS. You cannot lick a cryogenically frozen Ice Cream pellet and melt it with your tongue. It takes hundreds of these cryogenic miracle beads to fill a spoon. What happens if you spill it on the floor? IT BOUNCES - How would you ever find all of it? It’s not even sticky!!!!

This is NOT Ice Cream! This is a bowl full of frozen synthetic boogers.

And yes…you can freeze a booger but that don’t mean you ought to eat one.

Unlike this so-called advanced form of Ice Cream, you can’t load real ice cream into a shotgun shell and go quail hunting with it. Nor do you ever need a toothpick after you eat real ice cream.

But she insisted - “ See…It’s Ice Cream.”

...I don't know what to say....

I know I said I was leaving all of this behind but here’s the real story behind this lie.

DipInDot is not ice cream…I know it…and she knows it… and as bad as I hate to say it, the truth is...

This is another attempt by the far left and mainstream media to control the hearts and minds of the American people that started with ”Vanilla Oreos” and now it’s Ice Cream…

What’s next?

Please…if there are any rational people left…let’s leave Ice Cream to great Men like Ben and Jerry and tell Curt Jones to go get a real job.

Creeping Charlie

 If you sit at our kitchen table and look out the patio door you’ll see that much of our back yard is covered with a bright green ground cover, that when mowed or stepped on, smells like chewing gum.

The plant is fairly common in North America and is known by several different names.

We call it "Creeping Charlie".

Creeping Charlie first showed up in my backyard around twelve years ago after my wife, DeDe, had spent the day with her mama at the family farm in Palmetto, Georgia.

That afternoon, after I got home from work, I walked out in to the back yard and saw a dirt covered Dede, down on her hands and knees, hacking the ground with a garden spade. The yard was littered with 150 feet of garden hose and every yard tool I’ve ever owned. After analyzing this scene for a few moments I finally asked,

“Why are you planting weeds in my back yard?”

I don’t know why but she seemed offended by that. Her head turned a full 360 and an unfamiliar voice growled out “my mama gave these plants to me"

And for the next five minutes she just stared at me with...
"THE LOOK"

Guy readers will know what I'm talking about. For all others, "THE LOOK" is a look you get from someone and you instinctively know that it’s probably not in your best interest to say another word.

This day was the beginning of Creeping Charlie's reign of terror.

And for the next eleven and a half years, when I was sure no one was watching, I've set the mower blade to it's lowest setting and mowed Charlie until there wasn’t anything left but dust.

But the next morning Charlie always looks greener than ever and had clearly spread.

Over the years, I've poured all matter of liquid on Charlie, not excluding salt water, solvent, paint, and anything else that I thought might be toxic. But nothing has ever had any effect on Charlie.

Getting rid of Charlie became an obsession and I've lay awake on countless nights, pondering as to how I could, once and for all, rid my yard of what google calls:

“an uninvited guest” and a “perineal broadleaf weed that demands attention”

This past spring, after thirty years of trying to grow grass, I threw in the towel and let Creeping Charlie have his way. As of this week, Charlie controls around twenty five percent of our back yard and clearly has it's sight set on total world domination.

But in recent days, I’m gradually warming up to Creeping Charlie.

It’s much more attractive than mud, mows easily, and now that I stopped spraying it with carburetor cleaner, it’s a very nice shade of green. In fact, it’s beautiful in some ways, especially after a rain.

On Thursday, July 6th, a few hours after my mother in law, Joe Ann, passed away, I opened the back door and walked out into the back yard.



As I looked out over our yard, I couldn’t help but think of her and her passion for gardening.

But my thoughts of her that afternoon soon drifted far beyond her love of gardening. I realized that her gardening was also representative of another gift that she had.

You see, Joe Ann could look at something that anyone else might see as undesirable, or worthless… just a weed, and see beauty in it.

And that’s the same way she saw her family, as well as those she claimed along the way just because she loved them.

It didn’t matter to her what condition we happened to be in, or what anyone else thought about us. Our value to Joe Ann was based on the unseen. She possessed an ability to dig us out of whatever mire we were currently planted in and transplant us into better soil where we could heal, grow, and eventually thrive again.

In her lifetime, she has turned many weeds into gardens.

I met Joe Ann when I was 17 years old. I went to the family home for the very first time for courting purposes and met Joe Ann and 5 other young ladies who lived at the house in Rex Georgia.

I sang, played guitar and some of the worst banjo picking you’ll ever hear and THEY LOVED IT! ...Especially the banjo picking…

I could do no wrong! I was like a one-man boy band and I was positive that I had found the promised land!

At the time, I wasn’t quite sure which one of the girls I would eventually marry but I knew pretty quick that Joe Ann would someday be my mother in law.

On the night that Dede and I were married, our pastor referred to some scripture from the Book of Ruth during our wedding vows. It didn’t occur to me until this past week that this story of devotion is also about mother in laws.

The story begins in Jerusalem and centers around a Husband and Wife named Elimelech and Naomi. They had two sons. The Bible says there was a great famine in Jerusalem so Elimelech moved his family to the country of Moab where living conditions were considerably better.

Sometime after the move, Elimelech died and the two sons married girls they met in Moab. One married a girl named Orpah, and the other married a girl named Ruth.

Ten years later, both sons died, leaving Naomi and her two daughters in laws to fend for themselves. After some time passed, Naomi got wind that the famine was finally over and decided that she would return to Jerusalem.

As Naomi sat out on her journey, the daughter in laws followed her. Somewhere along the way, Naomi turned to them and said:

“Go back to your mothers’ homes. And may the Lord reward you for your kindness to your husbands and to me. 9 May the Lord bless you with the security of another marriage.”

So, just like any other family when on a road trip, they pulled over to the side of the road to argue for a while. Eventually, sister Orpah said goodbye and left.

Ruth, on the other hand, stood her ground and made this vow to her mother in law:

“Don’t ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.

My wedding vows were modeled after this vow that Ruth made to Naomi and in general, this is the way that Dede and I have always rolled.

And it took a while, but over time, Joe Anne, along with everyone else in her extended family, became my people.

But of far greater significance to me is that - I became one of Her people.

A Big Ole group of brothers, sisters, children, step children, foster children, friends, and all of their families, ...and some folks that we honestly don't know where they came from...

We are her people.

Her love for us is our common bond. We might disagree on anything else but all of us knew that Joe Ann loved us.

We are also connected because we’re all wounded in some degree by this loss...by this thing that has happened to us.

Her four children have had to say a long and difficult goodbye over the last 7 years. Each, for their own season, have bore the responsibility of looking out for Joe Ann's well being while continuing to be everything they needed to be for their own families.

Brothers and sisters and their families, many of whom I feel like I know well… not because of time I have spent with them, but because they were so often the topic of stories and conversations. Joe Ann clearly and dearly loved all of them.

When friends were happy, Joe Ann had joy for them. In grief, she grieved with them. For Joe Anne, any line between family and friend quickly blurred.

And finally, her grandchildren…What an awesome grandmother. She had an amazing ability to easily tolerate 110 decibels of goofy as if it were a whisper. In a chaotic room full of twenty screaming children, Joe Ann could make every one of them feel like they were special, all at the same time.

In the last few days, many have spoken about Joe Ann’s “open door policy”. You may be down on your luck with no where to stay, no food, and no money, but you were never homeless. There was always room for one more.

Indeed, we are all wounded.

But we know what happens when we don’t properly treat a wound. Just ask cousins Jake and Mitchell what happens when you wreck a motorcycle you aren't supposed to be riding and punch a 2” deep hole in your leg and don’t tell anybody because you don’t want to lose the motorcycle that you never had to begin with.

Our wounds can become infected. Our wounds can overcome us. We scar.

So, our legacy is not to suffer together, rather, to begin a healing process together through our memories. We can lift each other up through photographs, stories, and songs. We can do this the way that Joe Ann would want us to do it.

And we can rejoice and celebrate over the blessing that our great God bestowed on each one of us through Joe Ann's life.

As difficult as it may seem to grasp, Joe Ann’s life on earth went according to God’s plan. At times, I personally wanted to pick up the remote control and change the channel and watch some other plan.

In fact, a year and six months ago when we came down for my father in laws funeral, I challenged God face to face.

When we arrived at Palm Coast for the funeral, we went over to Grand Oaks, a nursing home, where Joe Ann was being cared for, to see her. It had been around six months since we had last visited.

It was a difficult day for her and I was frankly shocked at what I saw. I sucked it up for as long as I could and then I excused myself and headed for the car. I made it about half way to the car before I began to sob. When I finally got to the car I asked God, point blank, to show me the purpose of one more day for Joe Ann’s life.

I got my answer the next day.

Several of the Grand kids had gathered in Palm Coast for the funeral (and God only knows what else) and were planning to go visit their Mammy. I felt like I should try and gently prepare my boys for what I thought they were about to see so I did my best, choosing the best words I possibly could.

The next day, everyone arrived and when we walked into her room Joe Ann was 100% Mammy... as if it were 12 years ago. She was smiling from ear to ear. She talked and laughed and, just like any other grandmother, asked all of them nosy questions. She knew everyone by name, including my granddaughter who she had only heard about and never met.

It was a very special day for all. And after that there were other special days that followed. “My plan” would have cheated myself and others out of some real blessings that God had in store for us.

In the Apostle Paul’s Letter to the Galatians, he speaks of the Fruits of Spirit. This is a biblical term that sums up nine attributes of a Born-again believer, empowered by the Holy Spirit, that reflect the characteristics of Jesus through our lives.

It reads:

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

These fruits were easily recognizable in Joe Ann’s life.

In Acts Chapter 16 a Roman jailer ask Paul and Silas a simple question.

“Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” They replied, “Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved”

In Romans 10 Paul Writes:

If you openly declare that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by openly declaring your faith that you are saved.

In the last few years, every time we saw Joe Ann she talked about Jesus and going to Heaven. She has openly declared the essential Gospel as defined in these scriptures.

In later days, she often spoke of this time without dread, without fear, and with confidence and expectation. In her final hours, she verbally called out to God.

Today, through this evidence, we can find joy. We can grieve with confidence…A confidence that our Mammy lives today as a receiver of God’s eternal promises. She is pain free, reunited with others who have also left us behind, and knows life, splendor, and riches that we cannot imagine.

And through a relationship with Jesus, we can look forward to the fulfillment of the same promises for our own lives and know that we will see Joe Ann again someday!

In the meanwhile –

“Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.”
John 13:34

Peace

I Hate Lawn Mowers

Last week, during prayer time at my weekly men’s group meeting, I mentioned my next door neighbor’s daughter who underwent a quadruple heart bypass this past Monday.

After days and days of some scary complications,she finally seems to be on the road to recovery.

After getting home from work last Friday evening, I decided to cut my grass. My plan was to get all my work done so that I could enjoy the rest of the weekend.

I finished mowing my front yard and was resting for a few moments before moving on to the back yard when I noticed that my neighbors grass also needed cutting. I hadn't seen my neighbors in several weeks as they kept a nonstop vigil at the hospital. It occurred to me that the last thing they need to be worrying about is grass. These are good folk and have been great neighbors for many years.

I believe that these sort of thoughts are the way God speaks to us when He wants us to do something. My neighbors yard  is fairly small and I recently got my riding mower running again, so I readily said “yes” and headed next door to make it happen.

I made two laps across their yard when my mower suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. The engine ran fine but it stopped all forward movement...(reminds me of my sons)

I got off the mower and quickly determined that something had happened to the rear drive and it appeared that it wasn’t going to be fixed any time soon. (If ever)

My original intention was to help. But now my neighbors yard looked like your head when you get a bad haircut. At this point I had to do something, lest my neighbors think “what kind of idiot does that?”

Fortunately, I also have a push mower!

 A few weeks ago I was “bush hogging” with it when I hit a root and the blade came off and went sailing off into the woods like a ninja star. I pulled the rope and it started easily and everything else looked okay, so I put it in the shed. Seems it would live to ride another day.

I stopped Friday at lunch and bought a new blade and a blade screw.

So I grabbed a socket set and got the new blade and screw out of the car and headed out back for the push mower. I figured I’d zip the new blade on there and then I could finish my neighbor’s yard. I turned the mower on its side… only to discover that the blade screw was broke off inside the blade shaft.

"GOSH!", I exclaimed with a hint of disappointment in my voice.

To make a long story short, after an hour and a half and a yard full of drills, bits, center punches, hammers, and a magnet I grabbed off the refrigerator (I don't know why), I finally got the broken screw out of the main shaft.

I put the new blade on and pulled the rope and she fired up like a brand new mower. I engaged the self-propelled drive and took off for the neighbor’s yard.

I had barely taken 3 steps when I heard the loudest clap of thunder I’ve ever heard in my life. Instantly, it began to rain.

Please understand that I’m not talking some light drizzle or a sprinkle…I’m talking about the kind of rain that makes frogs run for cover. If I had only known this was coming, I wouldn't have sold my boat and trolling motor.

I ended up mowing my neighbors yard in a cyclone but, never the less, I finally got their grass cut.

When God put it on my heart to help out my neighbors, I must admit, I felt pretty good about myself. I sincerely wanted to do something to help them and their yard seemed like my opportunity to easily do one of those “Jesus things”...

But when I said “yes”, it’s now clear that I did not completely understand the cost of the mission.

You see, I heard “Hey dude, while you’re at it, it would be mighty nice of you if you rode over next door and cut Vernon’s grass.”

But while I was saying “yes”, I didn’t hear God when He said 

“Oh by the way…I want you to do it with your broken push mower… in the middle of one of my awesome thunderstorms. WATCH OUT FOR THAT LIGHTNING BOLT!...just kidding...."

Forty Five minutes later, I started picking up the wet tools, and 3 gas cans while i tromped around wearing my wet shoes, all while trying to keep my 50 pound wet shorts somewhere close to a waist level that would not  violate any county or state indecency ordinances.

Right before I went inside, I figured it best if I rolled my riding mower around to the back yard. Just for giggles, I started the engine and climbed on board.

I put the mower in gear and it took off like the cat that lives across the street when I let Maynard out of the house. In fact, I cut the back yard Saturday with it without a single issue.

Go figure that…

Luke 14:25-35 
The Cost of Being a Disciple

25 A large crowd was following Jesus. He turned around and said to them, 26 "If you want to be my disciple, you must hate everyone else by comparison—your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even your own life. Otherwise, you cannot be my disciple. 27And f you do not carry your own cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciple.

I reckon those folks listening to Jesus knew what it meant to carry their own cross. When Rome sentenced someone to die, they executed them outside of the city gates. You were forced to carry your cross to the place where you would be killed. This represented submission to Rome and warned everybody else that they had better submit too.

I think Jesus was trying to teach the crowds to think through their enthusiasm for him. He encouraged those who are superficial to either go deeper or to turn back. Seems that following Christ requires total submission to Him

28 “But don’t begin until you count the cost. For who would begin construction of a building without first calculating the cost to see if there is enough money to finish it? 29 Otherwise, you might complete only the foundation before running out of money, and then everyone would laugh at you. 30 They would say, ‘There’s the person who started that building and couldn’t afford to finish it!’

When a builder doesn't count the cost or estimates it inaccurately, a project may be left half completed. Will my life be only half built and then abandoned because I did not count the cost of my commitment to Jesus? What are those costs?

Hmm...Following Christ does not mean a trouble-free life. It does not mean my lawn mower will start should I again decide to take it on the mission field.

31 “Or what king would go to war against another king without first sitting down with his counselors to discuss whether his army of 10,000 could defeat the 20,000 soldiers marching against him? 32 And if he can’t, he will send a delegation to discuss terms of peace while the enemy is still far away. 33 So you cannot become my disciple without giving up everything you own.


I hate lawnmowers. 

As some of my friends know, I have often said that lawn mowers are the single greatest threat to my testimony.

And I hate them...

I always have and I always will. 

But not near as bad as I HATE weed eaters.

My weed eater is somewhere in the woods behind my house. It’s been there since that day two years ago when I pulled the starter rope one too many times…

So I’m really glad things are looking up for the neighbor girl. 

Trimming weeds with scissors is not my idea of fun.

He Saw Another Mountain

One of the things about life in your mid-fifties is that you tend to rethink a lot of things. Things that were once important to me don't matter very much to me these days.

I remember a time when come every spring, my sole purpose in life was to make grass grow.

I was determined to push the limits of the amount of Ammonia Nitrate I could safely pour on my yard without exploding the fiberglass Igloo that my dog lived in.

My secondary goal was to obtain a perfect soil pH level for southern grasses.

But these days, I continually look for legal ways to stunt growth of all plant life in my yard. My enduring hope is that through my extensive research, I will be able to cross cultivate a type of low maintenance "super weed" that grows just enough to help keep down the mud.

In the meanwhile, I get through each week by fantasizing that I’m going to look out the window and find that some nice young man is outside mowing my grass.

Each night, I have a reoccurring dream of the day when I can finally afford enough concrete to pave my yard.

In my dream, on that final glorious day when the last square foot of concrete is poured, I take my finger and write the words “It is finished” in the wet concrete. It will serve as a memorial for all of eternity of the last day that I ever pulled the rope on a lawn mower. Afterwards, I load my lawn mower on to the back of my pickup truck and drive it to the Clayton County Landfill. I say a quick “goodbye” and try my best to appear sad.  But as I drive away, I smirk as I take a quick glance at my lawn mower for the last time through the rear view mirror.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…………..If dreams only came true….

It’s not just that I hate cutting grass…I despise lawnmowers. In fact, I HATE their greasy guts.

I've said this before as I say it now; 

Lawnmowers are the single greatest threat to my testimony.

But if you like yard work and a nice lawn, I’m glad for you.

No….I’ll go past “glad” and say that I’m DELIGHTED!

You see, I enjoy the oxygen you help create. In fact, I’m chemically addicted to oxygen. And your passion for grass helps offset the harmful carbon emissions of the power generating plants that are essential to running the air conditioner that I like to stand in front of while I watch you mow your grass. So we are not enemies! We are partners in life, despite your obvious physiological issues.

I've also spent quite a few hours researching another issue that negatively impacts the quality of my life after age 50.

I can’t begin to tell you how excited I was on the afternoon that I sat down in front of my computer, went to Google, and with nervous anticipation, I typed a one sentence question whose words had the potential to change my life forever.

“HOW DOES ONE STERILIZE A SWEET GUM TREE?”

BAM!!!!!       It can actually be done!

But…at a price of $250 - $350 every 3 or 4 months. Regretfully, I learned that you can’t just have a tree’s tubes tied and then spend the rest of your life enjoying the shade.

I could buy a chain saw but…chain saws are a lot like lawn mowers, only different. While chain saws are useful for cutting off hands and noses, lawn mowers are more suitable for toe removal. I don’t think a chain saw is a good solution for me…

So for now, I’ll have to settle for being extremely careful when I walk out to the car or the mailbox. When it gets really bad, I’ll invest the 5 or 6 days it usually takes to get the lawn mower running and then I'll use it to grind up as many of those nasty little balls as I can.

If the plans I made as a young man had worked, I’d be retired by now. But so it is, it seems that I’m going to be working for the foreseeable future and likely past the point where I still have a clue as to what I am doing, or remember that I went to work, or how to get home.

But I think I'll be okay as long as there is air conditioning at my job.

Recently, I read an article by a financial planner titled:

“The Downhill Stretch: Preparing for Retirement”.

In this article it is suggested that I change the focus of my financial investment from earning maximum returns and growing capital to that of preserving the funds that I have already accumulated.

First, let me say that some of this somewhat makes sense…

So, I took the “Geyser Springs” water bottle I found behind the Walmart that contains the bulk of my life savings and moved it from the floor beside the bedroom dresser to an inconspicuous place in our closet, behind the clothes that I’m going to wear when I lose weight. Except for dusty, my savings may not grow much, but at least it will be safe until I need it.

I don’t really worry about money.

It’s been said that money is the root of all evil. I’m not entirely sure about that but I do find an uncanny resemblance between the faces on money and crackheads.

The one exception to that is the image on the front side of a quarter. "George Washington" looks more like a side profile of the Quaker Oats guy, minus the hat.

The other day, one of my younger coworkers referred to me as “experienced”. A few minutes later he called me “seasoned”.

In response, I used some of my “experience” and we had a chat about life. I first explained the impact that “seasoned” wood could have on the human skull. Then we talked further for a bit about “experience”.

“Experience” is a word that always means something different than it did five minutes ago.

For example, until today, I had never eaten the worst double cheeseburger that I've ever tasted.

If you ever accused me of being a salesman I might go ape.

But if I were in marketing, I would name this particular double cheese burger something clever…something similar to…oh say…maybe the “MacHurl”.

Perhaps in a few weeks, after I've siphoned some gas out of the truck for my lawn mower (not that I really expect it to run) or licked the inside of a  wet work boot…I'll eventually get that taste out of my mouth.

It’s likely that my “experience” will lead me to be more cautious the next time I indulge in a this type of culinary experience. Even so, it’s entirely possible that I will go where no man has gone before and eat another“MacHurl”. 

I'm even optimistic that it could be an entirely different experience.

(DISCLAIMER:) I still vow that I will never eat another sandwich bearing the name MacRib or any combination meal designated “Number 2”)

My point is that, “seasoned” and “experience”… are teachers who have taught me well.You might say that they are also my tools.

But they are not unchanging, nor are they the final word. And "seasoned" and "experience" don’t retire and move to the beach.

I’m reminded of a song we sang in Boy Scouts at the end of a long day of rigorous activities, such as chopping up logs the size of popsicle sticks with a double bladed axe. (The kind serial killers normally use)

The song, though really simple, is quite good and has been enjoyed by thousands, if not millions, of children during their booger eating years.

The first verse goes like this:

The bear went over the mountain,

The bear went over the mountain,

The bear went over the mountain

and what do you think he saw?

The second verse IS NOT:

From there, everything else was downhill,

From there, everything else was downhill...

No, It's...

HE SAW ANOTHER MOUNTAIN!

You may find it strange that I thought about church when I started writing this post.

When we have worked hard in Kingdom service for many years, we can find ourselves in a place where we may believe that our service to God should move from high yielding years to preservation mode.

So, we step back and surround ourselves with only the things that feel comfortable to us and spend our time cherishing and ministering to the relationships we have built over the years through our ministry.

Before you know it, if we go outside at all, we proceed with extreme caution, less we slip on a Sweet Gum Ball and bust our butts.

But isn't the general idea  for “seasoned” and "experienced" believers to take our blessings from God and all the love that has been shown to us and continue to make new relationships that mirror what we mirror?

Jesus died on a cross because I helped put Him there.

Then He was buried…and then He got up.

I got up with Him.

So I’m not running out of time. And I’m still receiving maximum returns on the RIGHT Investments. Yesterday and today is not a predictor of tomorrow… 

and it also appears that I’m not quite done with grass or Sweet Gum Balls either…

HE SAW ANOTHER MOUNTAIN!