Nana the Warrior

Nana the Warrior

My grandmother, Bessie Evelyn Swofford, passed away early yesterday morning at the age of 93.

Some of you know her as Evelyn.

When I was growing up in East Atlanta, my brother Scott and I, and my cousins, Greg and Andy, called her Nana. A little later on, for a while we thought we were too big to call anyone Nana, so we called her “ELV” which was a nickname my Grandfather called her. Over time, she eventually became “Nana” again.

My Nana was a blessing from God for every one of the 19,665 days of my life that she was here with us. Today, as we celebrate Nana’s life, I thought it might be appropriate to tell a story about Nana that I remember from my childhood.

I don’t have any grandchildren but I have two sons and a mother and father. Through that, I understand that there is something special between grandparents and grandchildren. When grand kids act up, most grandmothers are willing to look the other way and are reluctant to scold their grandchildren except in extreme cases.

Nana was different….You see, Nana liked to be in control.

Unfortunately, I do too and this made things between us "interesting" at times.

At a young age I quickly learned that My Nana was not one to mess with. Nana had a backhand and an uppercut like “Smokin” Joe Frazier and she would not hesitate to use them.

Still, I knew that the only way to fully understand where the limits were with Nana was to test them. One afternoon mama and daddy left me with Nana while they went to Sears and Roebucks. This was my chance to test her tolerance threshold and the scope of Nana’s power.

I’m told that as a child I made a lot of noise. Because I knew that Nana was deaf, I believed that this was probably irrelevant. But I needed to know for sure. I waited for about 5 minutes to make sure mama and daddy was really gone and then I set out on a mission to make the mother of all noises. I hooped and hollered for about two minutes before Nana finally exploded and dragged me across the floor to a kitchen chair and told me to SIT DOWN AND SHUT YOUR MOUTH!

Through this it appeared to me that in spite of what I had been told about Nana’s hearing, that my Nana could actually hear on some level. Still, I had to be sure. So I looked her in the eye and I boldly went where no man has ever gone before (or since that day) and I said… "MAKE ME".

She did....

To my credit, I quickly patched my wounds and pulled myself together. In spite of the overwhelming defeat that Nana delivered to me in the first round, I wasn’t about to let one setback railroad my plans to test Nana’s limits. I waited a few minutes and I began to Chirp…I sat in the chair exactly like she said and I began to chirp with an occasional caw of a crow tossed in...

"Chirp” “Chirp” “Chirp” “CAWWWWWWWWWW”  "Chirp” “Chirp” “Chirp” "Chirp” “Chirp”

On the 7th or 8th” chirp, Nana came after me like a Saturn rocket on the way to the moon.

I TOLD YOU TO BE QUIET. NOW I MEAN IT …NOT ANOTHER WORD.

Still undeterred from my quest, I stood up and looked Nana in the eye and without making a sound, my lips formed the words...

“MAKE ME”.

When I regained consciousness, I was sitting in the same kitchen chair. I don’t know if she put me there or if I somehow I managed to crawl back to the chair under my own power. All I know is that on that afternoon I discovered that not only could Nana hear on some level, but that she could also read lips.

At that point I had an important decision to make. Things were not looking good for me. But my family has always been baseball fans and true baseball fans know that you’re only out after three strikes, not two. I decided to swing for the fence.

So after a few minutes of silence, I began to buzz…softly at first…and incrementally louder until Nana finally looked at me. Bracing myself for the worst, I found myself a bit off guard by what happen next. I was approached by a kinder, gentler, Nana who laid her hand on my head and with a half chuckle she smiled and said “Please be quiet or go out in the back yard and you can make all the noise you want to”.

I really liked my Nana’s smile and I wanted to be good. I really did, but I didn’t really know if I could help myself. Finally, my heart melted and with my mouth closed tight; I turned my eyes up toward Nana’s and smiled. I looked at her that way for what must have been all of fifteen or twenty seconds when suddenly a little voice inside my head said ...

“MAKE…”.

Before I got to the “ME” part, Nana’s hand was already upside my head.

That day I learned not only that could Nana hear sounds and read lips, she was also a mind reader.

Pastor Tew called me last night to discuss today's service. Mama had told him that I had asked to take Nana’s Bible home with me for a few days. When I asked her for the Bible she handed me not one, but a sack full of Bibles. In our conversation, Pastor Tew asked me if I knew of any scriptures that was a favorite or meant a lot to Nana. I couldn’t answer that last night however I can answer that today.

The answer is ALL OF THEM.

What I found is that Nana’s Bible was more than a center piece on her coffee table or something to keep pencils from rolling around in a drawer. Nana’s Bible is a living journal of her life and her walk with God, where she took all of her pain, sorrows, stress, and worries and laid them at the feet of Jesus. Her Bible was also where she praised and glorified God for the things He has done in her life and the in the lives of the ones she loved. I was blown away when I realized that this simple girl from the farm, who married my grandfather when she was in the 8th grade, has taken the word of God, turned it upside down and inside out and marked daily readings for years on years .

She constantly prayed for every one of us, daughter, son, sister, brother, grandchild, niece, nephew. If you knew Nana then you are mentioned in Nana’s Bible.

So is Bill Clinton.

Written on the back page of a green Living Bible are the words “See my old Living Bible for more notes. I wore it out and had to get this one."

Here are a few excerpts:

Sept 28, 1996 - Ted (Nana’s Sister) died today.

June 7 1997 – Jacob (my Son) graduated from Stockbridge High School – (a true miracle)

March 11 1998 - Bobby Martin died today. (my aunt from the other side of my family)

November 20, 1996 - Sandy (daughter in law) had surgery – Betty (my mother) was sick all week and
Greg (my cousin) was burned bad on the job

March 20, 2000 – Rocky (Nana’s granddog,- also my baby brother if you ask mama) died today

May 2nd 2002 - Jacob (my son) in Hospital in Athens - ICU

May 3rd 1992 - Little Lee (my son) went to Sunday school for the first time

Jan 18, 2000. - xxxxx came home today.  Praise the Lord! - Thank You Lord Jesus!

Jan 23, 2000 - Little Lee Joined First Baptist Ellenwood

Feb 20, 1992 - Little Lee was baptized

May 11, 1992 – Don (my Father) fell out of a tree into the creek.

May 14, 1992 - Don came home from the hospital. Thank you Jesus

Sept 13th 1993 Allene died today (my other grandmother who may as well have been Nana’s sister)

Dec 25th 2000 - xxxxx was home for Christmas - Thank You Jesus

Easter Sunday, 2001. Ruffin (My grandfather) is so sick so we read this at home today - 1 Corinthians

November 3rd, 2001 – Our car was stolen

Sept 3, 2001 – Ruffin (My grandfather) went home to be with the Lord at 5:15 am. I loved him all my life and I always will.

November 2, 2001 - I am packing to move today. This is not home anymore without Ruffin. I miss him so much

November 16, 2001 - I am living with Betty and Don and I am so thankful they took me in. I am trying not to be so much trouble but it is a big chore for me.

and hundreds more...

________________________________

Long after Nana couldn’t write anymore, she kept praying and praising. At my house while we battle leukemia, we always knew that though she might be bed ridden, Nana was still praying for us.

So if you ask me, "Are you sad that Nana’s not here?...

I am.

It breaks my heart and I know that we are all going to miss her in our own way. But through this example that Nana left for us, certainly we know where we can find comfort on the hard days in our lives and our worries, no matter how big or small.

I found something I thought was very interesting in Nana’s Bibles. There are places where squares of scripture have been cut out of a page. Sometimes you find them somewhere else in one of her Bibles with other clippings from the Bible or other sources.

I mentioned earlier that Pastor Tew asked me if Nana had some favorite scripture. I’m not sure but I found a clipping and I believe that this scripture was important in her life. It comes from 1 Corinthians, 13. It says:

"Three things will last forever--faith, hope, and love--and the greatest of these is love.

" So some may have called her Nana, some Evelyn, and some “Elv” but last night I gave her a new name.

Nana the Warrior. ...

and I one hundred percent believe that without me even knowing, that many of the blessings in my life are a result of my Nana’s relentless faith and prayer.

Well, it's been a while. Sometime ago, I finally broke down and got myself a Facebook page and I have been posting there for the last year. Someone suggested that I put some of those posts here for safe keeping. I logged into the site and they have upgraded the enviroment with some cool new features, including a format suited to mobile devices. I decided that I would give my blog another try.

I must warn you in advance that there is a possibility that these post contain names that have not been changed to protect the innocent. Having said that, nothing here is worth hurting anyones feelings over and I have made efforts to anonymize the characters mentioned in my blogs. You'll especially appreciate that if you look funny or have any unusual ticks.

At this point I'm not sure if I can date these post to appear in the order they were written, thus I will keep the original name, "Random Thoughts" for this blogesphere.

blogesphere is a cool word I saw on the Internet. If I spelled or used it wrong I will claim creative rights, thus inventing a new word.

There aren't any members here yet and you won't see a lot of comments. Don't feel obligated to join or make any but feel free.

(I have elected to violate your right to free speech and have my blog set so that I can censor your comments before they appear on my blog.)

So.... Enjoy!

or not....

 Daddy Sang Bass.      

A few days ago I was on the web looking at worship songs. It’s a regular thing for me to go online and locate scripture references or scriptures that relate to a characteristic of God expressed in the songs we sing at my church. It’s just part of the way I prepare to lead worship in our weekly services. This particular night the song I was looking at was “I am nothing without you” by Bebo Norman. I launched Google and keyed in the phrase “I am nothing”

 

The results that came from that search broke my heart.
Included were hundreds of links to random message boards where people in despair from all over the world were crying out to anyone for answers to some pretty tough situations.

Here are a few samples:

I'm 21. I'm living in the basement of my in-laws with my husband and 3 month old daughter. I have zero self-esteem and self-confidence. I'm not very attractive and I have no talents. In fact, I'm not good at anything. I don’t trust anyone and I don't know why. I can’t concentrate, which makes me appear to be stupid. I can't afford a counselor so I will never be able to get help and I'm too much of a coward to kill myself. I'm a total loser who should have never been born. I am nothing...

I have an addiction and as a result I now have a ton of other physical problems. I think perhaps that my guilt and shame about myself may be creating many of them. BUT: when I even think of stopping I feel really empty and I have nothing inside. If I am not distracted by the drug then I feel nothing but misery and pain....AND EMPTY!! The truth is that without the buzz I am nothing...

My husband of 19 years died. Now I am a 39 year old single mother of four teenagers. I realize he’s never coming back but I didn't think it was possible to think about someone as many times a day as I think of him. It's been almost two years but it never gets better. I almost cried in front of my boss today. My husband was a part of me. Actually, there was no me. We were us and now, I am nothing...

I also found a Facebook page named “I am nothing without my friends”

Have you ever felt like this?

I have.

There was a time when I measured my value by things like my social status, where we live, my friends and relationships, my job, or the kind of car I drove. I became resolved that there were limits in my life that were set by my biggest mistakes.

Let's just say that after blasting off like a rocket after High School for the next 20 years, I finally ran out of rocket fuel and found myself in a free fall for a while.

But through my Lord Jesus Christ, I have come to realize that even though I still know pain, I still get hurt, I fear (not any of you of course!). I experience grief and disapointment... and all sorts of other despair. But in these things I also understand that I am far from being nothing. I know that I am always worth something to God.

That goes for you too. We're all the same.

One of my favorite singers sings a song that says:

If you judge us by our elements then you might think He failed.
We're not copper for one penny or even iron for one nail.
And a dollar would be plenty to buy 20 of us
until true love is added to these handfuls of dust.

God’s love makes the worthless - priceless.

and he Loves all of us.
 
Through God’s very own words we learn that we are so valuable to the God of the universe that he would lay down his own son to save us so that we can be with Him forever.

Read John 3:16 and see for yourself.

And we also learn that not only does he save us….when we honor God with our lives, He honors us.

Those who honor me I will honor
1 Samuel 2:30

Think about that….God will honor you.

What does that mean?

Psalm 91:14-15 reads:

Because he has set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him; I will set him on high because he has known my name. He shall call upon me and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him and honor him.

God promises to honor us by delivering us, by lifting us up, answering our prayers and being with us when we are in trouble.

I don’t know about you but after reading that I can hardly wait to get into trouble!

Part of our worship of God  is a celebration of our deliverance from our nothingness to a fellowship with the Almighty God who offers us far more than anything we seek.

BUT WAIT... There’s more!

God also celebrates this fellowship with us.

Zephaniah 3:17
The Lord Our God is with us, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you and he will quiet you with his love. He will rejoice over you with singing.

I think it would be really cool to hear God sing.

Cover of Paul Baloche's "Your Name" (click play button to listen)
Bass Guitar, Piano, and Synth Track were purchased from Lifeway Worship.

Acoustic Guitar is my Seagull S6
Vocals - Chris and DeDe Mason
Background Vocals - DeDe Mason
We didn't like Lifeways drum tracks so we recorded a replacement kit.

The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders;
where morning dawns, where evening fades,
you call forth songs of joy.

Psalms 65:8

How about a New Year’s Resolution?

I was hoping to lose a couple of dress sizes in 2013. After I thought about it, I knew the reality is that I probably won’t do it. After all, I haven’t kept other resolutions I’ve made… like learning to control the weather or inventing shoes that tie themselves.

Then I found this. This is a good resolution for people like me.

Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland.
Isaiah 43:18-19

God never wants us to look backwards. In fact, He gave us a way to erase those “things” in our past and replaced the blues with new songs and thoughts of hope.

Still sometimes we don’t seem to be able to help it. We remember all the failures and regret our mistakes.

Sure, I would do a lot of things differently if I could go back in time. But it’s really time to look at the road ahead rather than in the rear view mirror.

Seems God wants to do a new thing in our lives anyway.

Cheers!

My Friend Jethro

Edited 12/30/2012

Jethro was the first of several family dogs. We adopted Jethro for free through an ad in the local paper. I use the term "free" loosely because in reality Jethro quickly became a financial liability. He had several altercations with automobiles and was involved in a scandal with the neighbors registered Alaskan Husky. He developed heart disease and had several emergency surgeries. 


For many years he was my constant companion. He loved the outdoors and became my fishing partner. Jethro was a faithful friend and would have readily given his life to protect our family. Jethro was old enough to get his drivers license and just shy of registering to vote when he died.


Jethro wasn’t particularly handsome and when it comes to brains...lets just say Jethro was "special" if you know what I mean. Like myself, Jethro also had a sinful nature.


Jethro had many bad habits like fighting and eating the neighbors chickens to name a few. Many moons ago he and I both were known to drink a little bit on the weekends. I had to bail Jethro out of jail more than once in our seventeen year friendship.


Jethro could make me as mad as I can get but I loved Jethro. I loved Jethro enough to do anything I could to protect him from his own demise. I spent countless dollars and time over the years to contain Jethro and respect my neighbors right to illegally raise farm animals in a residential area.  On one occasion I drew plans and spent four days constructing a state of the art, high security prison complex to incarcerate him in. On the day I introduced Jethro to his new environment he made it back to the house before I did. Nothing seemed to deter the wilder side of Jethro.

In a final attempt to end Jethro's life of crime I purchased and installed an electric fence charger. In his first encounter with electricity Jethro danced around like a Holy Roly preacher at a late July tent revival. In a few hours Jethro was transformed in to a model prisoner. He never attempted a jailbreak again. Within a few days I unplugged the charger and gave it to a friend.

The truth is that after I unplugged the electric fence, Jethro could have bolted for freedom at any time of his choosing. Nothing had changed. Jethro could still dig as deep and jump as high as he ever could but he never tried to escape again. All I had to do was deceive Jethro into believing that that there was nothing he could do and then I was able to move on to other challenges.

Satan often uses the same tactics.

Satan convinces older people that they are too old to serve and that we won’t listen to them anyway. Satan tells Deacons that they cannot teach or lead us in prayer. Satan tells Christians that they are more suited to behind the scene tasks and that others are better equipped to sit down with someone and lead them to Christ. Satan tells the small neighborhood church that they don't have the resources to effectively reach the community.


Don't let the lies of Satan make you an inmate in an artificial prison.

OH NO! I Blew My Tweeter.

Over the holidays, I've recorded a perfectly played acoustic guitar track (well...perfect for me) at least 7 times. After every take I play the track back and no matter what adjustments I make, the result is the same.The track sounds like I probably sound sometimes....hollow and lifeless.

This is especially frustrating to me because over the years, I've built myself a decent home studio. I have a couple of vintage microphones, a respectable vacuum tube pre-amp, and a pretty nice collection of instruments. In recent years I have acoustically treated a room so that I'd have some good space to work in. I've acquired enough gizmos that should make capturing that magical guitar moment of a lifetime a sure thing. (if it ever happens.)

Man...if only it didn't sound so hollow and lifeless.

In an effort to identify the problem I've established some known facts.

The problem is not the song. The song is far from hollow and lifeless. The song is one of my favorite praise and worship tunes. I share a common inspiration with the person who penned this song and I want to record it because it speaks to me.

I know what you are thinking BUT It's not the player either. Oh sure there are technical issues like the fact that I can't really play guitar or sing for that matter, and that I have fat arthritic fingers. But on the inside, I'm all about this song.

Last night, after a week of looking for it, I finally learned the source of the problem. I have a bad tweeter in one of my studio monitors.

Go figure....

So....
The song is good. I'm inspired by the words and their source of inspiration. I played the song close to the level I wanted to. I used a decent guitar played into a very desirable microphone, patched into my retro/ pre-civil war style vacuum tube type pre-amp, PLUGGED INTO!...get this...
A/D converters set to record at 96 bazillion khz at 24 bit audio!!!!!!

I amplified the playback through a studio reference amplifier connected to.....

a speaker with a blown tweeter. Man......

Despite the song, my attitude, my efforts, my abilities, and my totally cool stuff, it all fell apart at the very last link of the chain. In the end it all boiled down to what my ears heard.

I'm sure my blown tweeter is a result of a mistake I made somewhere along the way.

I likely left a microphone open when I pulled the headphones off my big ole head and switched the speakers on, thus sending some insanely nasty frequency through it.

That happens from time to time and you might get away with it. But if you ever mess up bad enough and send something extreme and ugly enough through a speaker, anything else you try to sing, play, or say will never sound the same.

Despite all of the previous warnings, I was thinking......

An audio speaker is kinda like a mouth.

I can read the Bible and learn how I'm supposed to live. I can listen to good songs that inspire me to get to know the only One who can make be a better man today than I was yesterday. I can give money to the church and others who need it. I can do my best to make my body a good environment for the Holy Spirit to live in. I can tell my story and encourage others to get to know Jesus....

But if I'm not really careful.... I can make one mistake and blow my tweeter.

And then I might never sound the same again.

I really need to be more careful!

_________________________________________________
James 3:2-10

2 Indeed, we all make many mistakes. For if we could control our tongues, we would be perfect and could also control ourselves in every other way.

3 We can make a large horse go wherever we want by means of a small bit in its mouth. 4 And a small rudder makes a huge ship turn wherever the pilot chooses to go, even though the winds are strong. 5 In the same way, the tongue is a small thing that makes grand speeches.

But a tiny spark can set a great forest on fire. 6 And the tongue is a flame of fire. It is a whole world of wickedness, corrupting your entire body. It can set your whole life on fire, for it is set on fire by hell itself.

7 People can tame all kinds of animals, birds, reptiles, and fish, 8 but no one can tame the tongue. It is restless and evil, full of deadly poison. 9 Sometimes it praises our Lord and Father, and sometimes it curses those who have been made in the image of God. 10 And so blessing and cursing come pouring out of the same mouth. Surely, my brothers and sisters, this is not right!

Olympic Spirit

Well, it’s almost over. I have truly enjoyed the 2012 Olympic Games. Competition seems to bring out the best in some people. I think the excitement of the games probably speak louder to me than some due to the fact that I am a bit of an athlete myself. If you’ve watched the Amazing Wonders Aviation video I posted on Facebook then you already knew that.

I would never say that I’m particularly good at any of the events.

In fact, I wouldn’t even say that I like many of the events. But historically speaking, sport events become more and more enjoyable to me. I’m really glad that over time mankind has embraced sports like BMX bike racing and as silly as it is, water polo, and long forgotten other events such as lions eating Christians and that sort of thing.

I can’t really explain why I like the Olympics.

I don’t really like running. It hurts. If you ever see me running it might be a good idea for you to run too because if I’m running it means there is something really bad not too far behind me.

I like water. I like to be wet. But I don’t like swimming. I like soaking. In the last ten years I haven’t done much of either. I like big swimming pools but they are usually full of loud little kids. Loud little kids are like drunk people. Water has the same effect on kids as liquor does on adults. They lose all sense of volume and speak at volumes that would get you an O.S.H.A. citation at work or disturbing the peace citation if you had a party at your house that got out of hand.

I like to jump into water. As for diving, I not jumping head first into anything other than a plate full of crab legs.

My favorite event this year is Beach Volleyball. I feel a kindred spirit with volleyball players. They fall down a lot. Lately I fall a lot too. The only real difference between me and a volleyball player is that when a volleyball player goes after a ball and falls down…people cheer. When I fall down…people laugh.

I don’t get it.

With all that has been good about the 2012 Olympic Games there is something that really bothers me about the entire event.

First let me say that I understand all the hoopla about Calvin Clean (whatever his name is) and Olympic clothing made in China.

But come on! Couldn’t you find something made in the good ole USA other than your underwear to wear to the competition? Did you even bother running by Wal-Mart just to see what they might have?

Obviously not because for two solid weeks there have been scores of athletes running around all over London wearing nothing but a pair of drawers.

It’s not that it is terribly offensive to me.

It’s downright dangerous. and there are several other potential consequences.

Trust me. I Know.

I know the appeal of doing what you like or need to do while doing it wearing nothing but a pair of underwear. When I was self-employed there were days when I was out in the field and wore business casual when visiting customers or potential clients. There were other days when I was out in the studio repairing equipment or making sales calls when I went to work in my underwear.

That all ended the day I dropped a soldering iron into my lap.
I woke up that morning singing bass and I went to bed that night as a soprano.

There’s also the potential for emotional injury when you run around in your underwear or the wrong swimwear.

Case in point?...

The only time I’ve ever attempted to water ski could have easily been a day that would have destroyed my pride forever.
I got out of the boat, put on the skis and waited. The driver idled forward and tightened the ski rope. He looked back and yelled “are you ready?”

I yelled “I reckon”.

He kicked the throttle and tore off across the lake. I held the rope tight and went with him.

The water skis and my swimming trunks and underwear stayed behind.

Fortunately for me, my swimsuit and underwear are similar in size to a parachute. I was able to breast stroke back and recover my clothing.

THEREFORE…

I have to ask. What reasonably sensible grown man would put on a pair of panties, walk out in public while on international TV coverage, climb a 40 foot ladder, and dive head first into a swimming pool?

You’re just asking for it.

I like to walk on the beach; however I do not like sand in or on my underwear. A wet suit, flippers and a welding helmet seem like the better choice for beach volleyball.

I get it…I really do. I don’t like Calvin Klein clothes either. I guess it’s a good thing because they don’t make anything in XXXL anyway.

Actually I don’t like any clothes that have somebody else’s name on them. I’ve been that way since I was eleven years old when I came home from Boy Scout camp and discovered that I had on a pair of underwear with the name “Calvin” wrote on the waist band with a sharpie. I freaked out.

You would have too had you ever met Calvin. That was one of lifes bleachable moments.    

On another subject, I really do wish that some designer would make some cool clothes for big folk. Clothes that fit me look like the National Flag of Argentina.

I’m fat, not colored blind.

Fat people want to be incognita. They don’t want to wear something that cries out “look at me! Look at me! I’m fat!”

How come all the models in catalogs for big men clothing look like a yellow m&m or like they just appeared in a Fruit of the Loom commercial and wear their hair like Wally Cleaver?

Bottom line…

PUT ON SOME BRITCHES.

And if you insist on competing in boxer shorts let somebody besides your mama pick them out. Guys, you looked ridiculous.

Tonight I’m writing for two purposes.

I’ve said enough about the first one.

The second reason I am writing is to announce my intentions to go to Rio in 2016 and compete in the Olympic Games.

I’ve given up hope that Chicken Wing Eating will become an Olympic Event in time for the 2016 games so I have decided to petition the International Olympic Committee to allow me to compete under the IOC flag with an independent Synchronized Swim Team made up of Dan Holley, Marc Cassabon, Steve Jones, Jose Perez, Bobby Smith, and myself.

We will begin training as soon as we find a facility with a suitable privacy fence.

While our best shot will be as independent competitors, we will be as American as it gets when we get there. The choreography is already underway and our trade mark routine will be performed to the soundtrack “My Baby Is American Made” by the Oakridge Boys.

See ya in 2016!

 

This is a must read

I support 350 computers and their users at a school. School starts Monday so you might guess that I’ve been pretty busy with getting ready, making sure everything is running at its best, and getting rid of the remains of last year’s crop of boogers which are now securely adhered to the monitors and keyboards of the student computers. (The last school year produced a bumper crop.)

Actually, I like my work. I suppose, like anybody else’s job, mine has its moments but folks are fairly nice to me and I must be pretty good at my work. Like lawn mowers, computers are one of the greatest threats to my testimony but at the end of the day it’s all good.

Other people are good at their work too.

Sometimes I’m quick to criticize others. In particular, many of you have probably read some comments I posted about McDonalds a few months ago involving a meal I had and my policies concerning menu items with the designation of “number two”.

Today, I’m not writing to revisit my viewpoint on that atrocity again. If you want to know my thoughts on this important subject you can scroll down towards the bottom of this Facebook silliness called a “Timeline” and read my comments there.

While it’s true that I am passionately opinionated about many things in the world, today I am actually here to praise someone.

Oddly enough, this posting is also centered on an experience at McDonalds.

Two days ago I was covered up to my ears in work. For every support ticket I closed I got 6 new ones. Around 1:00 p.m. the diabetes medication caught up with my blood glucose and I knew I had to eat. I needed something quick so I jumped in the Ranger and headed for McDonalds.

I pulled up to the ordering kiosk where you pretend to understand what the words coming out of speakers with sound quality that reminds me of a movie at the old Thunderbird Drive In. I sucessfully fought off the high pressure up sale attack and finally convinced the voice that there wasn’t going to be any “go large” or 2 fried pies for a dollar.

I ordered a number 5. I wanted a number 4 in reality but number four is a multiple of number 2 and I just wasn’t in the mood to defend myself for anything that could even remotely be construed as selling out my life long pledge to never eat anything identified as “number two” EVEN if “number two” and “number four” are only distant cousins.

I pulled up to the first window to pay where there stood the most…how can I be nice…UNUSUAL looking young man I’ve ever seen. He relieved me of the biggest part of a ten dollar bill.

When I say unusual I mean--- at birth the doctor turned around and slapped his mama- unusual.

It wasn’t the cocked eyes or the 10 speed bicycle chain that pierced his bottom lip. It was more than the way he looked, rather the way he looked at me. I can’t explain it. It was like - the little chills and goose bumps you get when you see a flash of light in the corner of your eye that you can’t identify or when a great poet like Billy Ray Cyrus steps up to a microphone and the words “Achy Breaky Heart” spill off of his tongue….*SHIVERSSSSSSSSSS

We criticize McDonalds for their shortcomings but for the most part they are as fast at fast food as fast food gets. (Say that 10 times if you can!)

I pulled up to the window, got my cup and my happy sack and rolled out into the parking lot. It was only when I reached into my golden arched treasure chest did it occur to me what had actually taken place just a few moments ago.

The young man was not the serial killer I had first suspected him to be. Nor did he have a thing for middle age fat guys.

It was so much more than that.

Theres no other way to say it. This young man is GIFTED.

This young man is nothing short of a fast food prodigy, comparable to Einstein in his field of expertise.

While I was busy misinterpreting his scrutiny as something sinister this young man..this…..GOLDEN CHILD was quickly evaluating my needs as a customer and custom tailoring a culinary solution to match my specific needs.

OK..I’ll prove it.

I was in a hurry. BUT....I did not tell him I was in a hurry.

Yet, he instinctively responded to the urgency of my day in the following ways that I can only describe as phenominal.

#1 - I received a refrigerated Hamburger instead of a hot sandwich, thus eliminating the time it would have normally taken for enough reduction in temperature before my sandwich was safe to eat.

#3 - Instead of trying to drive while fishing French Fries out of some greasy cardboard container this wonderful young man had the foresight and customer service skills to put my French Fry container in my happy sack Upside Down…YES…you read it right. UPSIDE DOWNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.

AND EVEN THOUGH I really didn’t even need the box he never even considered shorting me any of the value included in the meal. I received the empty box anyway.
Napkins? He obviously determined I couldn’t afford the time it takes to wipe ones mouth.

#4 And last but not least, I got a FREEBIE!

I ordered a soft drink but I was apparently upgraded to their latest fancy beverage. I think its called a “Mc’Boil”. It’s a 16 ounce cup of hot, flat, iceless Coke Zero.

In closing, I just wanted to publicly thank this young man for his devotion to the needs of the consumer. You see, I didn’t ask for anything special yet this young man took it upon himself to become a bright spot for me in an otherwise crappy day.

With his brand of work ethic and natural ability I’m quite sure that he can expect a long and less than rewarding career in the fast food industry.

 

Bieber Fever?

It's...fair to say that I don't post often. When I do, it's usually when I am moved in a significant way.

I read a news story today which states that Justin Bieber is wanted for questioning after an "incident" with a photographer that was making unauthorized photos of him and his main squeeze. From what I've read, the "bieb" alledgedly roughed the guy up.

BOLOGNA! (pronounced Bah-lone-eee)

This is obviously yet another ploy to get the 'bieb" in the headlines. Apparently his addiction to squealing has reached a new level.

You don't have to be from EllenHood to recognize that Bieber couldn't beat himself out of a wet paper bag.

And the photographer? What self respecting heterosexual male would cop to being man handled by Justin Bieber? If there is any truth to this I will personally fund a scholarship to a tae kwon do summer camp where hopefully, with hard work, he can rise to an acceptable level of manliness.

It hasn't happened yet but if I ever show up with black eyes and butterfly stitches you can bet my story is going to begin with "there was at least 20 of em".

Come on "bieb". I'm a little low on cash.....

But not THAT low.

Cuisine ( not your parents siblings children)


Those who know me best know that I'm not a picky eater. Basically, if it’s not an organ I'll eat it. Many also know that there are a few exceptions to that.

This is a decision I made long ago after much thought.

It's a matter of principal. I simply refuse to eat anything called "number two"

In the first place, I feel as though the use of this particular numeric designation is unnecessary. It's not as if there is a shortage of usable numbers.

I've always heard that high rise buildings often skip "floor 13" when identifying suite numbers due to the belief by some that the number "thirteen" is somehow related to misfortune. I believe this illustration further strengthens my position regarding the use of "number two" to identify an item on a menu. IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THIS WAY.

The issues I have with his atrocity have nothing to do with the taste of the food or the food source. In fact, there are fast food combos that I often crave but will not eat because of the stigma placed on the entree by the use of this identifier. Before Mickey D's changed their menu to its present order, I ate my fair share of Quarter Pound Combos. (go LARGE of course!).

While I am a man of principal, I am also a man of compromise.

Today I decided to try a M*c Rib combo. I don't know why. Perhaps I let my guard down and fell prey to the clever marketing campaign with all the "ooos and ahhhs" and finger licking.

I did not enjoy this meal.

I'm not positive what I ate was meat at all but I know for sure that it wasn't hog. For me, this immediately disqualified this sandwich from having anything to do with a “rib”. The Listerine based sauce the sandwich was drenched with was the deal breaker. A few desperate minutes ago I rinsed out my coffee cup and poured myself a shot of Tidy Bowl Cleanser (Now With Scrubbing Bubbles!) and I STILL taste that sandwich…………..

I’m kinda mad about it.

I’ll eventually get over that and find forgiveness and…

AS I said.....I am willing to compromise but…

There are a few things that must happen.

I intend to call Ronald M*c Donald personally and demand that:

1. The Quarter Pounder Combo be released from the unfounded and unfair distinction of being labeled "number two".

2. The M*c Rib Combo be immediately moved into the "number two" slot on the menu to help the consumer more accurately identify what they will actually be receiving.

I ask you to join me in this call to action.

Thank you for your support

 

Good Ideas Gone Bad.

When I got home from Emory Hospital tonight where I was visiting my baby (who will be home soon), I sat in the bathroom floor and scrubbed the tile grout with a tooth brush. It worked pretty good but it sure does taste funny now.

One Of The Best Purchases I ever Made

I did it....I bought a mop.

You may wonder, "what's the big deal? It's a mop".

This isnt just any mop and it isn't a sissy mop like you buy at the dollar store or kroger. This is a Whoopi Goldberg mop. This is a mop that would make a church custodian jealous. In fact, it's more mop than most men can even handle. But in the hands of a skilled professional, this mop is...devestating. Dirt trembles at the sight of this mop.

I'm so excited! While it's true that I just can't afford one of those cool mop buckets with the handle thingie yet, I can lay it in the bath tub and take my shoes off and wring it out quite well with my feet. I admit that after a few wrings my feet were getting sore. Tomorrow i might try wetting my mop and then laying it on the drive way and backing the truck over it back and forth until I get the excess water out of it.

I absolutlely love this mop.

 

Essential To The Cause

Okay, after some hesitation I finally decided to join the masses and create an Internet presence. Most everybody I know has joined the "social networking scene". Not me... I just don't get it. That's probably because I'm just not all that social when it comes down to it. So I decided to create a blog instead. I have no idea of what a blog actually is but I'm tired of being humiliated every time someone ask me if I'm on Facebook., They look at me like my zipper is down. Now I can at least say "no, but I have a blog!". I have zero expectations of the blogging experience but I run little risk of anyone actually reading it, and I don't think anyone can "defriend" me from my own blog so I'm pretty comfortable with giving this a try for a while.


I am a part time staff member of a struggling church. We are presently without a pastor. We are experiencing a sharp decline in attendance and membership. In recent days there have been few baptisms and people coming for church membership. Visitors come and go. We have a shortage of people willing to teach or work in our nursery. We cannot deny the absence of growth nor can we deny that we have some serious financial and leadership issues. We currently do little as a church to impact our community or the rest of the world.


Does any of this really matter?


 Since I'm the one who asked the question and so far I am the only subscriber to my blog it's only fair that I chime in and attempt to answer the question.


Yes it matters because the success of the local church is essential to the cause of Christ.


Bear with me while I make a case for this.


If Jesus has saved you then you and I share some things in common. For one, we know that we share the same Father. We know that our Father created the world and we know that our Father created us. We also know that our Father is the only one who can offer redemption from sin and eternal life through the blood sacrifice of His own son, Jesus Christ. Therefore we can conclude that our Father loves us very much. Because our Father demonstrated his love for us in this way, you and I also share the hope that is found through Jesus Christ.


Life is hard and it’s even harder when you have no hope.


Life is hard for Christians too. We still lose things and people we love. Some of us will be betrayed, some of us will fail in relationships and jobs. We will face disappointments. We will make mistakes and there will be consequences for our actions. Our hearts are going to be broken. Some times we even do this to each other.


The first time I ever experienced a broken heart it was delivered through a girl in my church youth group. Her name was ******. She invited me to a Church youth group social and shortly after that I became her “pookie man”. ****** had long dirty blond hair and a snout on her like an ant eater. When ****** spoke her nostrils flared out like she was running the Kentucky Derby but to me she was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes own. Our relationship lasted two weeks before she suddenly broke up with me. I literally thought I was going to die. I've always been known for the analytical way in which I approach problems. First, I give my self time to calm down. Then I collect all available data before I begin to analyze the problem. In this situation I waited a few days and then I scheduled what I will call an exit interview with ******. In this exit interview I learned that the mistake I made was my failure to kiss her during those 2 weeks. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to kiss her. I just couldn’t quite figure out how to maneuver around that snout. I learned what I needed to learn from this romance, moved on, and you can bet I never made that mistake again. In fact, we had a fairly large youth group and there were 15 or 16 other girls just like her and in the months to follow I reckon I kissed every single one of them. To this day, I kiss first and ask questions later.


When bad things happen to the Christian the hope that you and I have through Jesus Christ comforts us and guides and heals our wounds no matter how bad it hurts. He puts people in our path to love and care for us until we are strong again. We don’t have to rely on our own strength because God is our strength. If it ours to struggle every day of our life on earth we still have the assurance that when we draw our last breath that the party is just getting started!


The lost have no hope. For the lost, things end badly and then they get worse.


In John 14:6 Jesus says that he is the truth that leads to the father. Truth is a step beyond belief. Belief alone does not connect one directly to the truth. We don’t just believe in Jesus. We know the truth because Jesus is the truth and we have seen Jesus.


The lost are blind to the truth. Many lost people believe that there is something greater than themselves. In fact, millions of lost people believe in our God but they don’t know the truth. They don’t know the truth because they have not seen Jesus.


Jesus is in heaven at the moment so for now the only way the lost can see the truth is when Jesus becomes visible to them through you and me. As Christians, our time has come. It's a time for us to let Jesus walk and talk and live His life through us. It's time for us, through the Holy Spirit, to do the works that Jesus did so that the world can see Jesus through us. This is our lap of the relay race.


We don’t look much like Jesus when we are first saved so we must receive a spiritual makeover to make us look more like Jesus.


This is a key purpose of a church. We learn to look like Jesus by practicing on each other. Our church is our boot camp where God uses each one of us in the spiritual makeover of the other members, just as he uses the other members in our own spiritual makeover. During our makeover we begin to display joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. It is when we bear these and other spiritual fruits that we begin to look like Jesus. It is when the lost look at us and see Jesus through us that they encounter truth for the very first time.


Sometimes when we go out for the cause of Christ we come back all dinged up and discouraged. The church is the garage where we take ourselves for repairs and a tune up. Other members assist in our maintenance and restoration, providing wisdom and encouragement and a Christ like concern and love for us. We are strengthened and our spiritual appearance is touched up so that when we go back into the world we are bearing more of the fruits that make us look like Jesus. And the blind see the truth.


The local church is our opportunity to serve one another. Our service to one another is another important part of our makeover.


Let me try to say this in a different way. Let’s suppose you are the person who taught me to read. Because you taught me to read I can read my bible and grow in knowledge. Later on you lose your sight and can no longer read your bible. Further suppose that while I’m reading the word of God the Holy Spirit leads me to read the bible to you now that you can no longer read it for yourself.


I have the ability to serve you in this manner because you served me.


The life and actions of Jesus set the example for us. When we follow His example we become an example of Jesus.


When I am taught by example I learn to teach by example.
When I am served by others I learn how to serve others.
When I am loved by others I learn how to love others.


This makeover I’ve been talking about is also called discipleship.


A church whose members are discipling others while becoming disciples themselves is essential to the cause of Christ.

True Honor

Over the 20 years that I worked for a well known manufacturer I attended quite a few retirement gatherings.

Some of my coworkers retired with the love and respect of all and the admiration of management. When it came down to the party we sent them off with speeches, stories, handshakes, and sincere appreciation, along with a nice check and a gold watch.

Then…. Grumpy Dwarf retires. You know the kind. He’s got the personality and people skills of a sock. Ole Grumpy did nothing more than the absolute minimum in 40 years of service. Over time he got pretty heavy as the rest of us carried his load.

You ‘d think he’d know that he probably wasn’t doing that great of a job when on the day you announce your retirement, company stock closes with a record gain.

Despite all this, we had a retirement party for grumpy too. Secretly relieved, we sent grumpy off with the traditional speeches, stories, handshakes, along with a nice check and a gold watch.

The difference is that we did this out of a percieved duty rather than a desire to honor him. It was really just an obligation.

In Matthew 15 Jesus was in a confrontation with the Pharisee and teachers of religious law when he quoted Isaiah and said:

Isaiah 29:13 (New Living Translation)

13 And so the Lord says,
“These people say they are mine.
They honor me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me.
And their worship of me
is nothing but man-made rules learned by rote.

I don’t really use the word “rote” so I looked it up in the Webster’s Dictionary.

rote  pronounced [roht]
1. routine; a fixed, habitual, or mechanical course of procedure: the rote of daily living.
    the rote of daily living
2. by rote, from memory, without thought of the meaning; in a mechanical way:
    to learn a language by rote.

Throughout the Bible, Worship always involved action. The main word for worship in Hebrew means “to bow down.” Worship was performed in bowing, lifting the hands, kneeling, singing, praying, reciting Scripture, etc. All this can be called worship. But all this can also be done when the heart is far from God.

My prayer is that as we worship together as a church this Sunday we can lay aside all the things in life that distract us and that our hearts will truly be on Jesus. Let us give genuine honor to the one who saved us from ourselves.