CHRISTMAS GIFTS 2014

Christmas morning at home; just saying that phrase, just you reading those words; brings warm, happy feelings to mind.  Smells of fresh baked “goodies”, “snuggly-ness” (is that really a word) from the cold outside world, family (whether large or just two of you), ornaments on the tree, lights twinkling like the stars in the December heavens are all part of those “mind pictures” you recall.

Well this Christmas morning was no different.  I usually learn a lesson or two around Christmas time.  Let me share what I learned with you.   

Christmas morning at our house is a time when Keva and I are alone now.  Once there were kids and Granny and sneaking presents under the tree or in their special place where they sit and watching the sparkle in their eyes when they open their treasures. But now it’s just Keva and I.  Oh, don’t start feeling sorry for us!  We are the happiest when it’s just her and me. We are weird that way.  If you know us at all you already know that’s a true statement.

Actually we are not totally alone.  This year there is Gracie, my faithful, loving dog who just wondered up to the back door of our house a few years ago and we sort of “fell in love”.  And there is Sissy the old gray cat who has been with us for years.    

Well you know Keva can’t let a Christmas go by without getting presents for the “critters”.  So this year she got Gracie a nice chewy toy so we can play “tug-o-war”.

“She will just love this toy.”, Keva said. 

Sissy got some toy rats with catnip inside.  “Surely she will like these.  All cats like this kind of stuff."

Well, you probably have already guessed what happened, but I’ll tell you anyway.

As we sat in the living room and opened our presents to each other, Keva got Gracie’s gift and gave it to her.  She totally ignored it.  And Sissy, well she would have nothing to do with the little toy rats.  She simply sniffed and in her “better than thou” attitude walked away. 

But you know what they did?  Sissy just walked over to me and started rubbing her head on my hand.  And Gracie jumped up in my lap and wanted to be petted.   Here comes the lesson.  Our pets, and our children and our loved ones don’t want the gifts we buy them.  Those things are nice but not what they want for Christmas.  They simply want to be loved by us.

A toy rat with catnip is nothing compared with a good scratch behind the ear.  A store-bought “tug-o-war” toy is just trash compared to being able to sit in your buddy’s lap.  Computers, Play stations, new cloths, gadgets are nothing compared to simply sitting down with you loved ones and sensing their true love for you.  When they give their time and attention to just you. 

Oh, if I could learn this lesson.  Oh, if I could forget about spending so much money and buying all the newest contraptions and just put my arms around the people I love and look them in the eye and listen when they talk to me.  If I could just give “me”.

The Father knew this.  He demonstrated this to us in order to teach us how to give.  You know the verse.  You have it memorized I’m sure.  “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son”.  And if you believe in the Trinity you know that the Father and Son and Holy Spirit are one.  When He gave Jesus He gave Himself. 

I hope Gracie and Sissy taught me a lesson this year.  I hope that all year long I will remember to give you the Christmas gift of “me”.  I know that sounds frightening but I hope you get my meaning.  I hope I will look at you when you are talking.  I hope I will pay attention to what you are saying.  I hope I will love you enough to give you what you want.

Merry Christmas. 

DROPS OF LOVE ON THE WINDOWS

You don’t see it much anymore.  But it was a quite common sight in my childhood.  The winter months would bring a season of cold to the normally warm Alabama country side.  Firewood which had been cut and stacked and allowed to cure during the hot summer month was brought in and placed in the fire place.  A roaring fire would warm the home and make it nice and cozy. Or perhaps you may have heated with gas space heaters or a floor furnace.  At any rate, the outside cold, the whipping Canadian wind, hindered only by a barbed wire fence somewhere along the border of North Dakota was somehow warded off by the warmth of the fire inside. 

The memorable sight which I am thinking of this morning was made even more prominent in the kitchen.  Mom would be cooking something.  Isn’t it funny how the kitchen will always bring about memories of Mom?  The warmth coming from the stove would enhance the warmth from the heater or fireplace and on the windows of the kitchen would form the familiar sight of condensation.  Drops of warmth, love and home ran down the window panes of those old houses.  It stood as a sign for all to see that the inside of this house was warmer than the cold on the outside.

We’ve come a long way in residential heating and cooling in 2014.  Insulated windows, central heat and air, hermetically sealed cubes of heating efficiency are where we live now.  No drafts of cutting frigid air, no single pane windows.  We are warm and safe and cozy.  We have done away with the condensation on the windows and threat from the outside cold.  Or have we?

Somehow I think the love and warmth of those old houses, some of which were so drafty with fissures in the doors, windows and walls so large you could “throw a goat through the cracks” has been left behind. Oh yeah, we have houses heated by all the luxuries modern man can imagine but where did the warmth go?  Back then you could look at the frost or the condensation on the windows and know that it was colder on the outside than it was on the inside.  In many of our homes today there is no difference in outside and inside. And in some cases our children feel “warmer” and feel more love outside the home than they do inside.  These things ought not to be. 

Our homes should be sanctuaries, strong-holds of love and safety to our children and grandchildren.  They should be places where memories of family, friends and God can grow.  They should be the safest place South of Heaven. I hope it’s so in your house.  I pray it’s so in mine. 

I hope this year during the cold winter months that your house will be warm.  I hope that your children will feel that warmth and love and that there will be condensation on your windows.  I hope there will be a visible, “feel-able” difference between the warmth and love in your home and the cold world outside.    

IF IT LOOKS LIKE A PIG AND SOUNDS LIKE A PIG

Anyone who has ever had the opportunity to attend a military "boot camp" will no doubt have many hilarious stories to tell.  I've sat around the table with those who have been there and done that and we have shared numerous anecdotes and yarns that happened to us there.  Can I tell you one of them?

I was in the U.S. Coast Guard boot camp on Government Island in Alameda, California.  It must have been around January 1971.   It was a small island in what they called the estuary.  I had no idea what an estuary was at the time.  To me it looked like we were in the mouth of a river.  That river was full of nasty water and slimy mud.  You could run from one end of the island to the other.

There are strange customs that are followed when in Coast Guard boot camp.  One is the custom of being inspected prior to eating a meal.  As a company (usually about 80 or so men) you must pass by the Officer of the Day (OOD)and be checked to make sure that  you were clean enough to eat at his "mess hall".  There are uniforms of the day that must be worn.  Everyone must be in the same uniform and that uniform must be neat and clean.  If one man, just one single man is not neat and clean and in the proper uniform then everyone else must wait on him to correct his problem before they can eat.

I had always thought of California being a nice warm place to live.  In January of 1971 that was not the case.  The uniform of the day was our "wool blues", pants, jumpers and white hats.  We stood there in the cold as the OOD walked among us making sure we were not a health hazard to the rest of the camp. 
,,
As we stood waiting, we notice in the company up ahead of us that there was some commotion.  The OOD must be very upset.  He was screaming, yelling, and using words that a good Christian boy from Alabama was certainly not use to hearing.  It turns out that one of the young men in the company ahead of us had a dirty ring around the inside of his white hat.  This was a total disgrace to the Coast Guard and very disturbing to the OOD.  So everything and everyone stopped while he sent this recruit running back to his barracks to obtain a clean hat. 

The smell of the food from the mess hall drifted between the building and down the streets.  The cold from off the Alameda Bay water crept into our bones as we stood at attention, waiting and waiting.  Finally the young man returned with a "different" white hat.  Now, now we will get to eat.  Oh no.

This hat was not clean enough either.  And so, you guessed it, back again, as we all stood at attention in the cold, ran the young Coastie.  But apparently none of his hats were clean enough.  This greatly disturbed the OOD. 

"If you are going to look like a Pig" the OOD screamed "then you will act like a pig".  There was a puddle of water standing near the roadway where we were waiting.  "Get over there in that puddle Mr. Pig and act like a pig" The young man quickly made his way to the puddle and with his wool blues and his "not white enough hat" lay down in the puddle and begin to wallow.  It was all we could do not to look and not to laugh.  But this wasn't good enough. 

"If you are going to look like a pig and act like a pig then you are going to sound like a pig", the OOD yelled to the top of his voice.  Obediently, the young man begin to make "pig" noises.  "Oink, oink, oink", apparently this was the only pig sounds he knew.  I don't know how long he had to stay there, looking, acting and sounding like a pig. But it was getting darker and colder by the minute and the rest of the companies were allowed to continue to chow. 

Is there any possible good, other than a good laugh we can get from this story?  Well, I've always said that the reason we can't get the world to want to be like Christians is because the Christians look too much like the world.  I am convinced that if the world could see a difference in us they would be more inclined to want to BE like us.  Are you looking like the Christian you claim to be? 

If you look like the world and act like the world and sound like the world, then like Mr. Pig you may be really late or even miss The Supper. 

THE CALL OF GOD

When any of us "old heads" who have been in emergency services of any kind, get together and start telling "lies" someone always says, "We ought to put this stuff in a book".  Well, I thought I would, at least some of the more interesting ones.

I wasn't on this particular call but my boss and fellow paramedic Keith was and I have heard him tell the story and I have told the story many times.  Her is how it goes.

Keith was the director of the ambulance service in Chilton County back in the mid to late 70's.  Keith worked the day shift, another senior medic named Jimmy worked the 3-11 shift and I worked the 11-7 shift.  On Monday morning, Keith and his driver got a call reporting a man stuck under a house.  It sounded interesting at the onset.....it got better.

They drove out into the rural, I mean rural, areas of Chilton County.  These folks didn't even get the Grand Ole Opry on the radio until Wednesday. (Only the old folks will get that joke). So they arrive at an old beaten down wood frame home.  It was built up on rock pillars. You may have seen the type.  You could bend down and see all the way under the house from one end to the other.  The occupants of the home were an elderly man and his wife.  Living with them at that time was their 20 something year old son Johnny. 

Now I don't want you to think that I am making fun of anyone.  Those who know me know that I would NEVER do anything like that.  But Johnny was, how shall I say this....special.  He wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box.  I'm not sure why.  He may have been born that way but we speculated that it was probably because of the amount of drugs he was inclined to enjoy.  At any rate, Johnny had enjoyed the weekend much too much.  He had left the home sometime on Saturday and had spent the weekend out in the woods. Lord knows there was nothing else around that place but woods.

Come Monday morning, after calling and looking for Johnny all weekend, the old man and woman decided to call the sheriff's office and get some help in rounding up Johnny and getting him back to the house or somewhere he might get some help.  After much searching and calling the sheriff's deputy had finally found Johnny.  He was hiding way up under the old house and he wasn't coming out. 

After much coaxing and cajoling with no success the sheriff's deputy called for the ambulance service.  You Chilton County folks have to understand that this was the beginning of rural fire/rescue units and there were not many available in the rural areas.  The ambulance service got called on everything that wasn't law enforcement related.  And I guess it really wasn't against the law for Johnny to be under the house. 

Keith and his partner arrived and were briefed about the situation.  Keith walked over to the edge of the house, bent down and yelled under the building to Johnny.  "Hey, Johnny, this is Keith with the ambulance service.  Come on out from under the house now.  We just want to help you". 

"No way"!  Johnny said firmly.

"Ah, come on Johnny".  Keith called out,  " No one is going to hurt you". 

"I'm not coming out".  Johnny replied. 

Keith was desperate.  He knew that if Johnny didn't come out someone was going to have to go under that old house and get him. Keith had an idea that no one there was going to volunteer and that he would be the one crawling under the house to get Johnny.

"Johnny why are you under the house, man?  Why won't you come out"?  Keith asked.

"God told me to come under here".  Johnny said empathically.

There was a long pause.  You could almost see the gears turning in Keith's head. Then softly, gently, Keith said, "Johnny, this is God.  Come on out from under the house". 

"Ok God" said Johnny  "Be right there". 

Johnny crawled out from under the house, dirty, hungry and tired. 

"Johnny"?  Keith said.  "Yes God".  Johnny answered.  "Johnny get up on this stretcher so we can take care of you".

"Yes Sir God" and Johnny climbed onto the stretcher and was taken to the hospital for treatment. 

There are probably many applications we could take away from this story.  One that comes to mind is from I John 4:1 where we are told "Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world". 

I believe Keith for one is glad that Johnny didn't try the spirits that morning.  I don't think Keith had many more miracles left in him. 

PERRIN SAYS THE BLESSING

A number of years ago when my Mom Louise Collum was still with us, she suffered a stroke.  This was one of many medical problems that she had to endure throughout her later years.  Because of this stroke she lost much of her ability to speak.  She was unable to put together simple phrases or ideas. 

The doctor ordered speech therapy for her, for which we were thankful.  The sweet, kind therapist would come to our house several times a week and go over words and phrases with her.  She would teach her things like little songs and simple sayings.  They would count together and say their ABC's and then she would leave us with “homework” to do with her until her next visit.

One thing that we all wanted back then was for Mom to get back her ability to pray.  I know there is an old song somewhere that says, “If I could hear my mother pray again”.  Well, at that point in time I really wanted Mom to learn to pray again because it was always so much a part of our family gatherings.  Oh, I’m not saying that Mom was some kind of great orator.   Her prayers were not the kind you would hear in some great cathedral or some big evangelistic service.  Usually she prayed a little prayer she had learned in her early years.  I can hear her pray it now.

 “Lord, make us thankful for these and all of the blessings bestowed upon us.  Bless this food and sanctify it to the nourishment of our bodies and our hearts to thy service.  Amen.” 

I know it was a “learned” prayer because bestowed and nourishment were not words that were normally in my Mom’s vocabulary.  But to us it was important for Mom to pray again because we knew, to use another old phrase from a song, “When Mama prayed, Heaven paid attention”. 

So we started Mom out saying a simple prayer.  She would work day after day trying to say “Thank you Jesus for the food”.  It didn’t come easy.  Many times we would have to help her.  Many times she would forget the next word.  Sometimes she would just stop and shake her head and smile.  She knew what she wanted to say but it just wasn’t coming out right. 

I guess you know it was exciting for us the day Mama could actually sit down at the table and by herself, without any help, bow her head and say “Thank you Jesus for the food. Amen” 

That little event was brought back into my memory this weekend.  My brand new grandson, William Monroe (Liam) Collum was born.  He is grandchild number eight for Nana and Grump.  What a beautiful, active young man he is.  As I write this little story, he has just arrived at his home in Calera.  Actually it is the same house where my Mom, and his great grandmother lived for many years.

While Liam and his parents were at the hospital his big brother Perrin came to spend the weekend with us.  Perrin’s little cousin Kinsley also came to give Perrin someone to play with besides his grumpy old grandpa. 

Nana prepared the meal and we sat down to eat.  In the past we would have to remind these two little ones to stop, bow their heads and fold their hands and “say the blessing”.  Today was different.  Perrin wanted to say the blessing. 

So as we bowed our heads and closed our eyes (well, not all of us closed our eyes) Perrin said, “Thank you Jesus for the food.  Amen”.  Kinsley broke out into applause.  "Good boy, Grump" she yelled.  I don't know why I was getting positive reinforcement, it was Perrin who prayed the prayer.  Nana said, “Good boy Perrin”, and Grump patted him on the back and told him how proud of him he was.

And I don’t know if this actually happened or not but it’s my story so let me run with it.   Somewhere, wherever heaven is located and wherever the saints of God go when they leave this place, there is one of those saints named Louise Collum looking over the rails of heaven and smiling that big ole smile.  You know, I think she recognized the prayer. 

THE LEGEND OF DENZEL SMOOT

From my view atop the stump today, he wouldn’t look that old.  But in the late 60’s he looked old to me, at least 35-40. By today’s standards he might not even be listed as overweight.  One would describe him as “carrying a few extra pounds”.  But then, to me, he was fat.  But his voice in either time zone would still be about three octaves higher than most men of his age and statue.  It was a shrill, nasal like voice that made him seem much weaker than he was.  His name was Mr. James Tubbs, may he rest in peace.  Lord knows we dealt him enough misery while he was here with us and taught in old Calera High School. 

For many years the junior and senior classes that he taught had made him the brunt of their jokes and pranks.  One would think that once those classes graduated and moved on that Mr. Tubbs would be safe.  But not so.  As new classes of snotty nosed kids moved up, the tomfooleries only worsened.  I had my hand in some of that, I guess I should be ashamed.  But honestly I don’t think any of us ever meant any harm.  We were just dumb kids.

It was registration day for the 69-70 school year.  Each kid with his parents would go into his assigned home room, pick up a registration form, fill it out, turn it back in and then were free to leave.  The next day would be the first day of school.  Mr. Tubbs’ room was to be the home room for the senior boys that year.  One just had to know that something was going to go wrong with this scenario even though there couldn’t have been more than a dozen of us in the class.  The graduating class that year was only 20-25 strong.

I walked into the room and picked up my form.  I sat down at a desk and filled out my form with name, address, phone number, etc.  Then for some strange reason, God only knows why, I went back and picked up another blank form.  This time I filled in a fake address, fake phone number and fake name.  It was on that day and in that place that Denzel Smoot was born.  I turned in Denzel’s registration form and went on my way.

The next day, opening day of school, Mr. Tubbs stood in front of the class and begin to call roll.  “Joe Blake”.  “Here Mr. Tubbs”.  “Bill Collum”, “Here”.  “Kyle Duncan”. “Here”. “Michael Halford”. “Here”.  “Kenny Hay”.  “Here”.  “Michael Milstead”.  “Here” and on and on through the names on the role. 

“Ricky Ousley”.  “Here”.  “Rick Plaice”.  “Here Mr. Tubbs”.  “Roy Lynn Robinson”.  “Here”.  “Denzel Smoot”…..no answer.  “Denzel Smoot”….still no answer.  “Does anyone know the whereabouts of Denzel Smoot”? 

Oh no.  He opened the door and a flood of impromptu answers came flooding from the class room.

“Oh, he can’t be here today, Mr. Tubbs”, one said.   “No, he may be out a long time”.  Said another.   “I think his mother is very sick”.  Someone else chimed in.  “She might even die”.  Now that was stretching it.

“I’m very sorry to hear that”, said Mr. Tubbs sounding compassionate for this family he had never met.

He went on with the roll call and we went on with our day at school.  It happened like this, day after day, week after week.  Mr. Tubbs inquiring about Denzel and the mischievous boys making up tall tales about his situation.   Until finally, Mr. Tubbs just stopped asking about him.  He even stopped calling his name at roll call.  I guess he eventually got the joke.

During those years in school, we not only had roll call in the mornings but we also had roll call after lunch.  Yes, we all ate together.  This was a small town, single “A” school.  So one day about mid-year we all gathered in home room class after lunch for afternoon roll call.  But that day one of Rick Plaice’s cousins, I believe his name was Price. (Of course if you know anything about the Jemison / Thorsby area in that time, 75% of the people who lived there had the last name of Price.)  Anyway, Price had stopped by at lunch and decided to sit in on our classes. 

By this time, Mr. Tubbs did not call roll, he simply looked across the room, looked down at the roll book and made his mark.  As he looked across the room, up and down the rows, back and forth at the roll book checking off everyone’s name and suddenly stopped.  Something was wrong.  He looked straight at Price. 

“Young man, who are you and why are you in my class”.  Mr. Tubbs’ squeaky voice sounded threatening.

“Oh, Mr. Tubbs, he is on the roll.  This is Denzel Smoot”.

Mr. Tubbs looked like he had been hit in the face with a pie. 

“Don’t you move”.  He said.  “Wait right there”.  He grabbed his roll book and headed out the door and up the hallway to the principal’s office.

Denzel, I mean Price, wasted no time.  He raised the window, jumped out, ran to his car and left the parking lot in a cloud of dust.  We all resumed our normal, sweet, innocent faces and awaited Mr. Tubbs’ return. 

The door swung open and Mr. Tubbs stood there tall, strong and defiant.  He was shadowed by Mr. Willie Akridge the school principle.

“There he is, right there, just like I said”.  He pointed at the now empty desk.

I swear his voice dropped 2 octaves. 

“Where is that boy”?  He asked.

“What boy, Mr. Tubbs”?

“Denzel Smoot, you know what boy. He was sitting right there”.

“Mr. Tubbs, there was no one there.  We don’t know Denzel Smoot” everyone agreed.

Mr. Akridge shook his head and walked slowly back to his office. 

Mr. Tubbs sat down with an extremely puzzled look on his face.  The bell rang and Denzel was gone forever. 

But was he?

Fast forward 35-40 years.  I am working for a company, part time, doing training and exercises for emergency service units.  We sit up scenarios of armed intruders, hostage situation and terrorist in courthouses and schools around the state.  I dress up like a bad guy, have my fake guns and bombs and put the “real cops and S.W.A.T. teams and emergency people through a situation as real as I can make it.

On this day the fake bad guy is holding hostages at the end of the hall way.  We are barricaded behind school desk and book shelves.  On the other end of the hall way are the real good guys.  The local S.W.A.T. team is trying to save the day.  (I’ve always said this is like old people playing cowboys and Indians). 

“Throw out your weapon and come out with your hands up”.  The good guys yell.

“No way, Copper.  Get out’a here or I’ll blow their heads off”, the fake terrorist yelled back. 

The real cop decides to use a different tactic.  He will try to develop a little rapport with the bad guy, soften him up a bit. 

“Hey, I’m Captain Carter with the Dallas County S.W.A.T. team.  What’s your name”?

There was a long silence.  Then from the end of the hall came the answer.  It was more of a roar than a statement. 

“My name”?  My name”?

“My name is Denzel Smoot”!

The legend lives on. 

ONE ACCORD

Many of these folk had been together for about three years.  They had experienced some miraculous moments and witnessed some horrifying happening during that time.  They had been following a man called Jesus and that in itself was more than they could fathom.  Now He was gone.  Many of them had been there when He was “taken up” out of their sight as they stood there in the dirt road just outside of Jerusalem.  They had all returned to the “upper room” and remained there, together, until ….

 Well, if you have any knowledge of the Word, you know what happened next don’t you?  I always thought I did.  This is what we read.

 Acts 2:1” And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place”.

And this is the way I always thought about it. 

These 120 people stayed in that second story room, kind of locked up, hiding, not knowing what to expect.  They talked about Him. They shared stories about Him.  They told of their individual experiences with Him.  They prayed together.  And when they finally came into agreement with each other….then the Holy Spirit, the Promise of God, entered their hearts and entered the room and great things happened in their lives, and in their world. 

That may not have been the way it was taught to me, but that is the way I always understood it.  I’ve taught that precept as well.  “When we get our hearts and minds together, when we pull together as a church or as a body of believers, then the Holy Spirit will come and be with us”.  It was almost like, you and I have to agree and be in one accord with each other before the Promise will come.  But I don’t think that is what this means.

I believe this is what the “accord” thing means.  I think that my being in agreement with you and your beliefs has very little to do with the infilling of the Holy Spirit.  I believe that the precept on which the promise hangs is this:  That my spirit (my mind, my emotions, my will) become one with the mind, emotions and will of God.  When that happens, when that precipice is reached and that step taken, then and only then do we become one with God and His will becomes our will. 

What an experience!  When I come to the place where all of my desires and wants and dreams are no longer based on my selfishness but instead are based upon what God intends…..then my heart becomes His heart and my spirit becomes His Spirit and I can be filled with that Spirit.  That will take you a while to absorb.  But let me encourage you to spend as much time as you need until you understand it. 

When I no longer function, act, react or think because of what I want but am driven by His desires…..then His Spirit will fill me.  His love will empower me and His peace will wash over me. 

That’s what happened in the upper room.  I really don’t think they all agreed on everything. They all liked different colors, different foods, different music, different people.  But I do believe they all agreed with God and His will for their lives.   Does that make any sense to you dear reader? 

When my focus is on what “I” want, when my drive is dependent on “my” desires, when what pushes me and makes me tick is my will…..then I can’t be led by the Spirit of God.  It is only when my “self” dies that I can live by His Spirit. 

I don’t know what will have to take place in your life before that truth snags into your inner being and opens your eyes.  It took a long time for me( fighting self, doing my will, being beaten up by satan and temptations, not understanding “why” I was always wanting to do right and still doing wrong) before I understood that I must be in “one accord” with God.  My will must be His will. 

How can I serve God with all my heart when I am serving “me” with part of it?  God will not accept some of you.  He requires “all” of you.  You cannot serve God and……anything else, especially “you”.

Just after this experience happened to the 120 in the upper room, Peter stood before the crowd and told them this: “..the promise is unto you and to your children and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call”. (Acts 2:39) He is talking about us, here, today. 

You and I can not only be freed from the guilt of sin through salvation but we can also be freed from the chains of sin and the habits of sin by the surrender of our will and the infilling of the Holy Spirit, call it whatever you will. 

I pray that you will come to that place in which you are in “one accord” with God.

THIS SAME JESUS

They walk with Him that day slightly over a mile East of Jerusalem to a small ridge of mountains and a place called Olivet. I can’t imagine how that walk felt for them.  They had thought He was lost to them forever.  They had seen Him beaten to the point of death.  They had seen Him struggle through the streets of Jerusalem, half carrying, half dragging that harsh instrument of death. They had watched as His last breath from the cross escaped his tortured lungs and drifted away over the now God forsaken land. They had watched the end of His life.

But then… the rolled away stone, the empty tomb, the garden encounter and the upper room visit.  Now He was back in their company.  But as they walked that day I imagine they just had to know something was about to happen; Kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

He talked with them, and knowing Him, He wanted to make sure He spoke the right things in the right way so that His words would make a lasting impression on them.  And while they stared at His face and focused on His words He was taken up into a cloud.  What!!??

 If I would have been there I would have been doing the same thing His disciples were doing.  Standing there in the middle of the road with my mouth wide open and a thousand questions that I wanted to ask dangling from the tip of my tongue.  But their attention was soon captured by two men, dressed in white who said (In Chilton County terms) “What are you lookin at”? This same Jesus will come again, just like you’ve seen Him go”.

They probably didn’t understand it then.  I doubt that we understand it now. 

·         But if you are facing sickness, remember the one who spoke to the lame man and he sprinted away on previously worthless legs.  This same Jesus can do the same for you.

·         If you are facing the death of a loved one, remember Mary and Martha at the death of Lazarus This same Jesus will come to comfort you just at the right time.

·         In a storm today?  So were the disciples and they yelled out “Don’t you care if we perish”?  He whispered to the winds and seas and they became as still as a gold fish pond.  Know that this same Jesus will still the storms in your life. 

·         You may be faced with doubt. So were His followers.  He spoke to them “Let not your hearts be troubled.  You believe in God, believe also in me”.  This same Jesus wants you to know Him in a personal way. 

I have been in sinking ships and burning buildings, overturned locomotives, and crashed aircraft.  I have walked among the dead and dying and through it all He never left me.  Can I tell you this morning this same Jesus will walk with you through the trials of your life?

Tempted to do your own will and not His?  Been there, done that.  But He, with the temptations I faced also provided a way of escape.  This same Jesus will not allow you to fight your temptations alone.

Go ahead, pick up your Bible and read about all the stuff He did for the people in “the old days”.  He provided, healing, power, security, love, comfort, guidance, wisdom, friendship and as the Word tells us so much more that the world could not contain the accounts of all He did.  And today, in your world, this same Jesus stands ready to provide for you as well.

Jesus knew first hand that living a holy life in this world was going to be tough.  He told the people of that day, “In this world you will have tribulations, but be of good cheer.  I have overcome the world”. 

This same Jesus wants you to hear that message today.   

It’s your choice.  You can choose to do things your way, try and be tough and make it on your own.  Depend on your skills, knowledge, craftiness, endurance, abilities and guts.  Or, you can accept Him as your savior and give your life to Him.  When you do that, this same Jesus will become the Lord and Master of your life. 

And one day, in a place I’ve never been and in a place my mind  can’t even imagine, I will walk through gates made of pearl and sashay down streets paved with pure gold.  I plan on sitting down beside the river of life and hanging my old tied feet in its cool waters.  I think I may just reach up and grab a bite of fruit off of the tree that’s planted there.  And as the angels sing in four part harmony and their melodies echo off the walls of jasper, I just believe my friend will walk up to me and give me the best hug I’ve ever had.  You know who that will be don’t you?  It will be this same Jesus. 

Will you meet me there? 

INVITING GOD TO MY MEETING

The sun apparently had a rough night.  Its flaming head didn’t seem to want to get out of bed this morning.  I was up over an hour ahead of it.  I tolerated my bowl of Cheerios by sprinkling a few chopped dates over them, soaking them with a little 2% milk and pretending they were bacon, eggs and toast. 

Gracie was anxious to get out and kept pushing me, her nose poking against my leg as I strapped on my boots and headed toward the kitchen door.  As I stepped off of the porch I reached for my walking stick which I keep next to the steps.  (I’ve begin to call this old stick my prayer stick. Almost like a little kid, I feel like I am Moses with his rod as I take it along to the tabernacle each morning).

This morning I was on a mission.  While I always go to meet with God when I go into the woods and walk the covered trail I call my tabernacle and although I always expect Him to hear my prayers as I kneel at the little pile of rocks I call my altar,  this morning was different.  I had determined that today I wanted to focus on God and hear what His Holy Spirit had to say to me.  I wanted to “be still and know”  that I had been with God.

I stopped at the edge of the little rise just before entering into the woods, closed my eyes and listened as if I expected God to give me a big “Good Morning”.  It’s amazing what you can hear when you close your eyes. 

There were two crows, one toward the Southeast and one somewhere in the trees of to the Northwest.  They seem to be “squawking” out warnings to each other of my presence.  I noticed what seemed to me, a larger number of cars and trucks than normal, on the interstate off to my east.  Somewhere down toward the south of town a worker dropped a large rail, wheel, or other object and I could hear its echo resonate through the trees.  But I didn’t hear a word from God.

I opened my eyes and walked on trying to focus on God’s presence.   A bushy tailed squirrel scampered up a tree on the trail just ahead of us.  Gracie’s attention must have been somewhere else because she didn’t even see it.  More birds, flittering from tree to tree sang to welcome the morning and warn that there were intruders walking in their world.  My eyes wondered to an opening between the branches and I saw a carpet of already fallen leaves.  “Autumn is only a few weeks away”, I thought to myself.

A few more paces and my mind traveled 30 or so miles to the North where my oldest son was most likely getting in his old Chevy truck and preparing to drive to work in Birmingham.  Across the field my middle son would be staying home today, “The gout” has taken up residence in his feet and he has decided to take a few days’ vacation in order to rid himself of his unwanted visitor.  I thought of my daughter there in Danville.  The kids would be up in a little while and Matt would be making his hour long drive to work.  Her day, as always, would be full of babies and all they have to bring to the table.  Still, there was no word from God. 

Gracie sniffed at the leaves where an old armadillo had been “rooting” around last night.  She has such a nose; she can smell something a mile away.  Way off in the distance, it has to be more than two miles; a train whistle blew as it neared a crossing.  I can picture some engineer sitting in the cab of the engine with his cup of coffee as he pulled his load toward Birmingham. 

After a short walk I arrived at the altar.  Surely God will be waiting here for me.  Surely He will welcome me and give me some word for the day.  I dropped the stick and knelt in the spot where my knees usually come to rest.  My eyes considered the small stones lying all over the altar and around it on the ground.  I touched them and reminded myself of the people they represent and the problems and needs they have.  I closed my eyes and bowed my head.  I prayed for them, calling them by name.  I waited for the heavens to part and God to walk out in all His majesty.   But when I opened my eyes there was no one there but “old faithful” Gracie, standing in her “watch dog” position as she “protects” me from any “buggers” that might attack me when I pray. 

The sun finally peaked over the horizon and wiggled its bright red rays in between the trees.  I continued to wait a while…… nothing.  So with the aid of my stick I walked back down the hill and across the little dry weather branch and headed toward the house.  The day was not waiting on me it was time to go. 

Some thoughts occurred to me though as I walked back toward the house.  Consider them with me if you will. 

·         Satan will do his utmost to distract you.  He will use good things, beautiful things, normal thing or whatever he has at his disposal to divert your attention from God.

·         If I can “take the wings of the morning” and go into the woods to be alone with God and still be distracted…..how much more will the diversions present themselves if I remain in the house, in the office, in my car, with the TV, radio or other people blaring out the noise of the morning and demanding my attention?

·         How often do I, like Elijah, look for God in the big things, flashes of light, majestic songs, strange occurrences, profound messages when instead He speaks in a still, small voice in the sweet chirp of a morning bird or the smell of decaying leaves or even the sound of a distant freight train? 

I can’t put God in a grocery sack.  I can’t orchestrate a meeting with the Omnipotent.  My time with God is not "my" time  it is His and if I listen He will speak and make Himself mighty to me, in His time.   

DON'T GO TO THE TABERNACLE!

Do you know, dear reader, that good, well meant, seemingly right things can have mediocre, useless or even bad results? 

Case in point. If you know me or have sat in many of my Bible study classes or read very much of the stuff that I write, you know that I have a habit of waking up early in the morning and walking in the woods back behind our house.  Gracie (my little dog) and I walk down into what I call the "tabernacle" (tent).  It is a place where the limbs of the trees form a tent like covering over the trails and provide us with a wonderful place to pray.

I have made a big deal in my teaching, over the years, about Christians needing to have a certain place and a certain time to pray.  I have said that a specific place like that is set apart (sanctified) as a place where you can meet with God and He can meet with you. Good stuff.

I have constructed a little altar upon a ridge there in the tabernacle.  It's made of 12 uncut stones (small as they may be) on which I place smaller stones that represent my family and friends and their needs.  I kneel there each morning, and reach out and touch "your" stone and pray for you and your need.  At times, when God has answered my prayers, I have felt I needed to let the person know that I have been interceding for them.  So I will take their rock and give it to them with an explanation of what I have been doing and more importantly what God has done for them. Admirable intents. 

But I've discovered that even when I do this meaningful and peace filled act each morning, sometimes I still have trouble staying as close to God as I want to be.

(Can I just chase a rabbit for a moment.  As I was praying a few days ago, I mentioned to God that I wanted to be closer to Him.  He seemed to say to me that I can be as  close to Him as I "want" to be.  Can you imagine one of my little grand kids coming to me and saying "Grump, I want to be close to you" and me pushing them away and saying "No, you have to stay at a distance from me today"?  It would never happen.)  Today, right now, you can be as close to the almighty God of the universe as you want to be.  Don't that just butter your bread this morning?  Where was I?

So I discovered some truths.

• Prayer must be more than a ritual, it must be a relationship
• Prayer must be more than habit, it must be honest communication
• Prayer must be more than copying what I've heard prayed before it must be compassionate (fervent)

I had become satisfied and complacent with my walking in the quiet tabernacle and kneeling by my altar and reaching out and touching those rocks that represented the needs but my personal, relational, passionate time with God had become stale. (Maintenance of your Christian relationship.  Does that speak to anyone this morning?)

So I will not walk to the tabernacle this morning.  I will kneel here at my chair and converse with a personal God.  I will call out to Him for the needs that I have and the needs of those I love.  I will stop going through the motions of prayer and try to really pray honestly and personally with my God.

No, I'm not going to throw your rock away.  And I still will enjoy my times in the tabernacle.  But I will remember why I am there when I go.  I hope you will remember this little lesson when you go to God in prayer. 

TWO BATTLES

As I was thinking and praying for my children a few days ago the thought came across my mind of how Jesus must have felt while He was preparing to die for us.  I have often wondered that if Jesus knew everything and knew how it would all turn out, why was He so fearful and in so much agony.  I know that His death on the cross was an awful event.  I know that it hurt terribly but He knew it would be over in just a matter of hours. He knew His suffering would be turned into glory and that He would not experience it any longer. 

In those last few hours, at least from what we are told in the Word, He was in anguish.  We know that he resorted to that special place where He would go to pray.  We know that He asked His friends, whom He loved and whom He knew loved Him, to pray with Him.  He tried His best to get everything arranged so that they would know what to do and how to do it when He was gone.  And yet still He stressed, and fretted and went through unbelievable torture in His mind. 

Jesus was no wimp.  He would undergo some of the worse torture that human beings could invent and do it without cursing his tormentor or saving Himself when He could. But Jesus was fighting a battle in two worlds. 

The human Jesus naturally feared the torture and humiliation and suffering that He would experience on the cross and He clawed the ground of Gethsemane because of that.  But it was the Devine Jesus who clawed the ground there outside the gates of Jerusalem and He did that for His lost children.

He knew which of them would make a choice not to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.  He knew which of them would refuse to accept Him and would be eternally lost in spite of all that He could do or that He would willingly go through for them.  It was the pain that the Devine Jesus felt for the loss of His children that caused Him to sweat blood in the garden.

It would be very difficult to lose a child or a grandchild to death.  But many have gone through that, many will go through that today.  Although I pray that I will not have to lose a child or grandchild I know God will give me strength when and if the time comes.  But I cannot imagine how it would be or how I could deal with it if I were to lose one of those loved ones eternally. 

My old evangelist, pastor Paul J. Stewart made a statement that went something like this:  “When I get to heaven, and look around and my children and grandchildren are not there, God will call a mighty angle to fly back down to earth and with a fiery finger write “FAILURE” across my tombstone”.  Brother Paul Stewart felt that if his loved ones missed heaven it would be a direct reflection on him and his efforts or lack of efforts and he couldn’t stand the thought of that happening.

I don’t want to let a single chance go by, not one minute that I spend with my children or grandchildren or any of the people whose paths I cross, that I don’t do my best to interject Jesus into their lives.  If I casually let them miss heaven they will die eternally and suffer in an unimaginable place but it is I too who will be a failure. I too will suffer because of their loss. I must do anything I can to reach them.

I think that is why the loving Jesus was in so much agony in Gethsemane and on Calvary.  He came for the lost. He suffered for the lost.  He died for the lost and He knew that some would not accept Him.

Can you just slide through this day without telling someone about Him?

CHOOSE TO OBEY

The numbers on the mail box are 1219.  The sign next to the driveway says "Double Six Farms" (that's a whole other story in itself).  Derek calls it the "Ponderosa".  You will have to ask him why.  When we drive in the yard, Kinsley simply says, "We home". 

It's about the most beautiful 30 acres I've ever seen, although I might be a bit prejudice. It is bordered on the East by I-65.  On the South by the REA high tension lines and their "right-of-way".  To the West is the creek and to the North is the deadly Poplar Springs Road.  It is there where many of our pets have wondered and died.  It is there that I have warned Gracie not to go. 

She can play anywhere on theses 30 acres but she is never to go toward Poplar Springs Road.  It's not because I'm being mean.  It's not because I don't want her to enjoy herself.  It's not because I just want to be "God" and tell her what to do.  It is simply because I know that if she wonders up there it will most likely mean death for her. 

Of course Gracie doesn't understand my reasoning.  She can't comprehend cars, trucks and asphalt. She just knows that I said "No" and she will be yelled at severely if she goes in that direction. 

So, I was working on the Ranger a few weeks ago.  The started went out and I was trying to be a good mechanic and keep from having to pay someone to replace the starter.  Things were not going smoothly.  The longer I strained and grunted and smashed my knuckles the more I thought paying that money to someone who really knew what they were doing would be a wise choice. 

Gracie was playing around in the front yard when suddenly she went ballistic.  She let out a shrill yelp and headed toward the road.  I yelled at her.  She didn't stop.  There was a big white dog walking down the road and Gracie knew he was not supposed to be there.  She charged up the hill, totally ignoring my yelling for her to stop.  It made me angry.  It made me afraid of what was going to happen to her.  It made me sad that she would not obey me.

I knew what most likely awaited her on the road.  I knew she did not understand but I expected her to obey.  She didn't. 

Does this story sound familiar? 

Man was established in a fine place to live.  Everything he wanted was given to him.  Nothing was withheld, nothing that is except these "two little trees".  "Don't go there", God said." Don't eat of the fruit of those trees"

He knew it would hurt us.  He knew it was bad for us.  He knew it would lead to our spiritual death.  He wasn't being mean.  He didn't do it because He didn't want them to enjoy themselves.  He didn't even do it because He wanted to be God......heck, He was God.  He did it because it was best for them.

But one day, as God was working out in the yard, an old black snake came down the path.  Suddenly, man was overcome with the temptation of doing what he wanted to do.  He ate of the fruit and he died. 

How angry, how sad and how afraid God must have been on that day.  Death was waiting on the man he had created and that he loved and even with all His warning....man ran after the thing that would ultimately kill him.  And because He is God, and because He gave man this wonderful, frightening, powerful thing called "choice".  God didn't stop him.  And man died. 

I realized what God felt to a small extent that day a few weeks ago.  I saw the little dog that I loved and cared for charge head-long toward something that I knew would kill her and I couldn't stop her. 

No, Gracie didn't get hit.  She finally listened to my yelling and came back into the safety of the yard.  She learned a lesson...I hope.  I learned a lesson about how God felt that day in the garden. 

I hope when you are tempted to do something that God has forbidden that you will remember Gracie's little experiment.  I hope you will realize that God says "no" for our own good.  I hope you won't run into the  road of sin.  There is death there. 

Mind your Master.  He knows what's best. 

GRACIE AND THE HORSE FLIES

I was mowing grass down by the creek last week and of course Gracie my little dog went along.  Sometimes it seems that she follows so close that if I ever stop suddenly Gracie runs into me.

So on this particular day, it was hot and down close to the creek the horse flies or deer flies were abundant.  I didn't pay a lot of attention to Gracie as I was cutting but she has a way of letting you know she wants to ride the mower.  She will run along side the mower and raise her head and look at you like "Can't you see I'm trying to keep up with you".  If that doesn't work she will run ahead and then turn around and just stop in front of you. That is her way of "asking" can I ride. Usually I'll stop and turn off the blades and allow her to climb on and sit in my lap and ride for a while. 

Several times on this day she would play her little game.  I would stop the mower and she would jump on and we would ride and cut grass.  But like I said, it was hot and Gracie (like her owner) could stand to loose a few pounds.  Her presence in my lap was making the mowing uncomfortable. So I would stop and put her down expecting that she would go and find other things to do. 

But in just a few minutes she would come back.  Give her little look, dance her little jig and want back on the mower.  Then I realized what she was doing.  The horse flies were getting on her and Gracie hates any kind of bug or fly or "critter" to get on her.  Sitting in my lap she knew that I would knock the horse flies off of her back and she wouldn't be bothered with them.  Once or twice I even let them get on my arm and I swatted them and killed them.  I was taking care of her little problem. 

This wasn't a life threatening problem for Gracie.  The worse that could have happened is that the horse fly would have bitten her and she would have had some discomfort.  She could have ran back to the house and the fly would have left her along.  But at that present time she was bothered by the old fly and she wanted me to solve the problem. So in her way, she came to me with her request.

I on the other hand had plenty of other stuff to concern myself with than swatting horse flies off a little black dog.  But you know what I did?  Every time she ran up to the mower and wanted on, I stopped and let her on, because I cared about her little problems and her discomfort.  It was then I realized something that Jesus said in Matthew 7:11.  Listen to this verse.

"If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in Heaven give good things to them that ask him?"

In Luke 11:13 this same statement is made but in that verse it is related that Jesus said, "how much more shall your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask Him?

Can I share my take on those two scriptures?  Luke said that when we ask The Father will give us His Holy Spirit.  This is a very important need that we all have.  Being filled with God's Spirit is of utmost importance in the life of a Christian.  It is not a trivial thing.  And Jesus says if we ask, The Father will give us the Holy Spirit. That's enough to make your day if you stop right there.

But Matthew says it a little differently.  He says "how much more will your Father in Heaven give "good gifts" to them that ask Him"?  Not necessarily life threatening things,  not necessarily important things, not things we can't live without but things we want, good things.  Do you see that?

Oh how we need to bring those horse flies to the Father.  I will admit that many times I will try to swat my own horse flies by myself.  I'll fret and worry and run back and forth trying to get shed of them when all I really need to do is to run to my Father and "ask".  And if I, being evil give good gifts to Gracie when she wants to ride the mower even though it's an aggravation to me,  how much more will a loving, Holy, perfect Father give good gifts to me when I come to Him with my request. 

TRIP WIRES

I believe one would be safe in saying that I am not much of a planner.  Although, in working with the Emergency Management Agency for many years, it has been a large part of my job to plan.  I have pretty much tripped and fell into most everything I've ever done. 

When graduation time was approaching in high school many of my friends had plans of what they were going to do with their lives. "I'm going to this college".  "I am going to work for this company".  "I am going to get married".  "I am going into the military".  Me?  I planned no further than graduation.  "Just get me out of here and I'll be happy". 

But there was this little thing called the Viet Nam war going on and God had an idea.  Without a plan of my own, God placed a "trip wire" in my path.  I stumbled over it and fell right into the U.S. Coast Guard. 

Boot camp in the Coast Guard was interesting to say the least.  At the conclusion of that little event they put us through a battery of test, questions and interviews to see what we were qualified to do in this outfit.  I had no idea what I wanted to do. I was a teenager who had done nothing significant but work on the family farm, tinker with hotrods, and play ball a little. I had no interest.  So God stretched out another "trip wire" and I stumbled into diesel engineman's school.  Upon the completion of this school I assumed that I would be on a ship or on a base somewhere with the primary duties of working on engines. But no, another trip and I fell into a search and rescue unit at a little place called Galveston, Texas.  It was an island resort of such where people went to vacation and relax and where there was a great shrimp fleet and a booming shipping business.  So with a splash, I found myself on a small boat with two other young men and we were suppose to save lives and property on the water. 

After I left the Guard, still with no plan, I found myself back at my home town of Calera as a member of the Calera volunteer fire department.  I guess because I had been taught to fight fire and save lives in the Guard, I thought it was something I could do at home.  One night a man named Neil Harkins came up to me at the fire department meeting and asked if I would like to go to EMT school.  I had no idea what and EMT was but said sure.  Another stumble, another fall and I find myself a few weeks later with a state of Alabama Emergency Medical Technician's license. 

Immediately, I was offered a job working for the ambulance service in Chilton County and fell face first into another rewarding and challenging job.  Working midnight shift with Bobby Martin as my driver I did a lot of on the job training and tripped and fell into EMT II school and Paramedic school.  I had always hated school but now I found that learning this stuff came easy.  I was offered a job teaching EMS and when I got up off the floor, found that I really liked sharing what I had learned with others. 

As good as God had been to me and as many blessings as He had given me, I still turned my back on Him and sinned against Him, my family and my loved one's.  I tripped again and found myself working as a Ranger on the river as far away from people as I could get.  I spent many lonesome days and nights just me and the river and the woods.

But a job came open and with the encouragement of Charles Cupp I tripped and found myself hired as Director of the Chilton County Emergency Management Agency.  I could go on and on with other examples of "trips" I have made.  Buying a home, extra jobs, more training, churches and friends I have met and worked with.  But honestly, none of it was planned, at least not planned by me.

And today I find myself at another "trip wire".  I have worked for Chilton County for thirty years and today will be my last day working for them.  As I walked back from the tabernacle this morning I realized that I had tripped over something else called retirement.  I certainly don't dread it.  When I have contemplated about it, it has seemed a good thing to do.  I think others have worried more about it than I have.  I'm not worried because you see when you have tripped as many times as I have you learn something. I have learned that there is a loving, caring God who is always there to catch you and soften your fall. 

Derek stopped by the garden on his way to work last week.  I think he was concerned that I might be concerned that I was getting old and feeble and useless because of my retirement.  As I tied up my tomatoes (which are doing great I might add) He said, "Old man, this retirement stuff ain't the end, it's the beginning".  I think I see that and I am excited to see where I land. 

SO YOU WON'T HAVE TO ASK

It's a common question.  You hear it all the time.  I've asked it myself over this past year, since I knew I was going to retire.  I would meet an acquaintance who had already retired and I would say "Well, tell me how are you liking retirement"?  Some would share a positive response but most would admit that they are bored and would go back to their old job if they could. 

I am not even officially retired yet, that happens on June 30th, 2014, but Derrick Wright the young man who was hired to replace me told me he  would call if he needed anything.  I think that's just his nice way to say " Go home old man and get out of my way".  So for several weeks now I have pretty much enjoyed myself cutting grass, bush-hogging, and working in the garden.  (The best garden I've had in years.)  Those who know me know that is the way I have fun.  But let me share a few more things I have done that should keep you from having to ask the old "How are you liking retirement question". 

One evening, after Keva got off from work, we drove up to Lloyd's on 280.  I ate their fantastic salad, a BBQ plate, and topped it off with lemon pie.  It was great.  That food has tasted the same for I know over 35 years. Since the time coach Danny Alverson and the Calera Eagles allowed me to work with them and enjoy that weekly experience during each football season.  The waitress told me that the same cook had been working there for years.  Nothing beats a good meal with a wonderful friend and a beautiful lady especially when they are one in the same. 

Another afternoon, Derek, Lauran and Kinsley came across the field and ate burgers with us.  After dinner Kinsley and I decided we needed to go out and put a little water on the garden.  She accompanied me there dressed in her little pink sun dress and her Dora The Explorer shoes. After a good time in the garden giving the plants a little drink, I returned her to her parents, wet, muddy and with her princess shoes covered with crud.  We both enjoyed our little task, and mom and dad didn't even yell.

Two large trees crashed in our front yard a few weeks back. So last Saturday as James Sanders cut them up with his big chain saw, I swung the old log splitter and loaded firewood on the truck then unloaded it and stacked it under the wood shed for the winter.  At almost 63 I put in a very long, hot day and slept like a baby.

We have spent time with Chris, Juli and their family watching them slide down the homemade slip and slide,  made of a large sheet of plastic covered with Dawn dishwashing soap and water.  We shared a meal together under the big Black Walnut trees at the old farm place. 

Perrin spent the night not long ago.  He work up about 5:00 a.m. and climbed into the bed beside me. After Nana went to work the next day he and I rode the "big tractor" and the "little tractor", we made a boat out of tree bark and sailed it down the creek (which he called a river).  We sailed that "ship" over and over again. Out in the barn, he found some old toys that his dad use to play with and spent a long time enjoying them.  I planted a maple tree, given to me by Betty Cofer, while he was playing and took his picture next to it.  We laughed and played like two little kids. 

"You are going to be bored", they said.  "You will go crazy the first week", they predicted.  But just in case you are one of those who feels like I won't make it.  Just read my short list of activities above.  You can save your breath and not have to ask the old retirement question.  Cause this old guy is having a blast.