WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: If Street Sweepers Can Smile Then I've Got No Right To Feel Upset

I was partially awake when my phone dinged at 5 a.m. recently with a text from my oldest son. One of our favorites had died earlier that night. I knew Jimmy Buffett had experienced some recent health issues, but his passing caught me off guard. He was 76. If, as he claimed, he was "living and dying in 3/4 time", then I guess he was 100. My son and I had talked about attending one of Jimmy's concerts together at some point, but that's no longer a possibility. The closest we came was a pre-game shindig before a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball game when a Jimmy Buffett impersonator (he looked and sounded amazingly like Buffett) performed before a raucous, tropically clad bunch of Parrotheads outside the stadium. I got my picture made with the impersonator as well as a few silly poses with my son. I have found me a home in North Carolina but our Pittsburgh excursion remains a blissful memory. Some of you reading this may have already raised an eyebrow wondering how a tropical party hearty like Jimmy Buffett could be the main subject of a devotion column. I get it. I debated whether to write this. Bubba (Jimmy's nickname) was no saint. Some of his songs were at best inappropriate and at worst, vulgar. He made it clear he was not a Believer. Never did it appear that using his incredible talents for the glory of his Creator was a goal of his and he had no use for religion. (Note: If religion is believing that we achieve salvation by obsessively following all the institutional religious rules imposed upon us instead of trusting in God's Grace, then I have no use for religion, either). But God can use anyone for His purposes. He did it quite often in the Bible and I'm sure He does it now. For starters, JB's music was the impetus for several bonding experiences for me and my wife as well as each of my three sons. On our first official date, my girlfriend (future wife) and I attended a Buffett concert at the Carowinds Paladium near Charlotte. We wore matching shirts and sang along with Jimmy as he serenaded his rabid fans: a cult-like set of followers known as Parrotheads, whose loyalty sustained Buffett through many years when none of his songs were making the charts. Each of my boys had a favorite Buffett song or two that we could sing along with as father and son. On Saturday, the day of his passing, I knew my boys knew a part of us would never be the same. I also knew that come Monday it would be all right, because life goes on and we still have the memories. The aforementioned oldest son often had trouble going to sleep as an infant. As a remedy I quietly strummed my guitar and softly sang Buffett’s “Little Miss Magic” to entice the child to close his eyes. Within a few minutes he went to Paris or wherever babies go when they’re chasing dreamsicles and such in their tiny minds. Even though I changed the lyrics to be appropriate for an infant boy, JB’s tribute to his baby girl provided some special moments in the Stroupe household during those times that will always be special. I had enjoyed a number of Buffett songs growing up and during my early college years but my first step to becoming a Parrothead occurred in the summer of 1984 when I was twenty and fresh off completing my sophomore year in college. I was still undecided on a major and my future career path was uncertain at that point. It was unsettling to say the least and I felt like I was stranded on a sandbar. A friend where I was working as a camp counselor had copies of every Buffett album ever and that's all we listened to all summer long. I'm not recommending you add all of Jimmy's music to your playlist, but if you want to sample just one, I have a recommendation. It's not "Margaritaville", nor is it "Come Monday" or "Changes in Attitude"- those had their moment in the spotlight. Like many of Buffett’s best offerings, the song I’m recommending was not a blockbuster. It peaked at #57 on the pop charts and recently an oblivious Parrothead columnist ranked it #240 on his list of favorite JB songs. I became familiar with what is now my favorite Buffett tune that fateful summer and I remember thinking that I wanted my life to be like that song. It's called "It's My Job" and in it Buffett describes encountering a street sweeper late one night who is cheerfully doing his job with a smile. When asked why he is so happy, the street sweeper replies that it is his job to be the best street sweeper he can be and that fact alone is enough reason for him to keep going. Buffett compared the street sweeper's attitude to a wealthy uncle of his who owned a bank but was miserable. Though Jimmy didn't intend to make a spiritual point, the song reminded me then and reminds me now of the wisdom in Colossians 3:23 that tells us to "work at whatever you do with all your heart, as if working for the Lord." And by doing so, you will reap the rewards of satisfaction and contentment that come from recognizing purpose and meaning in everything you do. I decided in the summer of ‘84 that whatever I chose to do with my future would not be financially motivated but rather would be intrinsically motivated. I would work for the Lord and trust Him to take care of my needs along the way. By the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to be a teacher and a coach. I had been warned that teaching and coaching dulled in comparison to most other professions financially, but nonetheless I would choose to make a difference in the lives of others through the field of education. And if I wasn’t destined to become rich, that was okay. As Jimmy says in the song, "If street sweepers can smile then I have no right to feel upset". I am not God so I don't know where Jimmy Buffett's change in latitude transported him in the moments after his passing. He may be incommunicado now but I know the rhymes he rhymed, the writings he wrote, the songs he sang, and the philosophies he philosophized, made a difference in at least some of our lives. And regardless of which particular harbor Jimmy Buffett is spending eternity in, I believe God used at least some of his talents to influence people positively. A few hours after learning of Jimmy Buffett's passing, I headed out on a fulfilling adventure with my youngest son that ended with us enjoying a meal together. I wished lunch could last forever but ultimately we parted ways and I set out for home in my truck with a rather long drive ahead of me. I listened to "It's My Job" over and over again as I drove, belting out as loud as possible the lyrics from the song I've known by heart for so many years now. And the words still hit home. Be the best you can be at what you're doing and your cheerful optimism will inspire others. Thanks for the memories, Jimmy, we’ll miss you so badly but it’s been a lovely cruise. I don't know your eternal fate, but my hope is that somewhere out there, that Caribbean soul you could barely control is enjoying its very own special cheeseburger in paradise.

WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Simplicity Never Changes

After a recent morning of yard work which included tree cutting, tree planting, dirt digging, and dirt dobbers, I ventured inside to clean up and see about some lunch. I scrambled around in the fridge looking for some leftovers but nothing jumped out at me. I opened the pantry door and thumbed through some of the cans and packages, but nothing looked terribly appealing. Then I saw it. Right there in front of me the whole time. A jar of peanut butter. Immediately I remembered the presence of grape jelly in the fridge, so my decision was made. It was time to go simple. And simple means a good old-fashioned peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Most all of us have munched on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at some point, especially when we were young. As I enjoyed my PBJ along with some cheese crackers and a glass of milk for good measure, I thought back to the days of my youth. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were made then the same way they are now, easy and simple. Time moves quickly and the things of yesteryear tend to get lapped along the way. People enter our lives and people exit our lives. Things are always changing and we’re left to try and sort it all out. Meanwhile, "New and Improved" steps in to replace the things of the past. But throughout all the changes, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich has remained largely unchanged. Two pieces of bread, some peanut butter, jelly (usually grape but you can choose as you wish) and a butter knife. Choosy mothers discovered long ago that if you spread the peanut butter on both slices of bread, the jelly then spreads easier and doesn’t soak through the bread. I suspect the PBJ was pretty much the same a hundred years ago as it is now. And if God is willing, my great grandchildren will enjoy a good PBJ a hundred years from now. In the Bible we are told in Hebrews 13:8 that “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever”. I’m glad to know that. He doesn’t change with the times. He’s never new and improved. His Word always has been and always will be powerful, active, and steadfast. He will never change. He is constant, reliable, consistent, dependable. One of my favorite characters on the timeless Andy Griffith show is Leon. As a small child, he strolled throughout the streets of Mayberry, his messy face covered with food remnants as he offered locals a bite of his half eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I think Leon was on to something. Make your life as simple as possible, and even if it gets messy, offer to share it with others. As complex as we like to make it at times, a fulfilling life has really always been the same, like a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Three ingredients, wonderfully combined. For us that’s Faith, Hope, and Love. Like Jesus, these three are never changing. When this rapidly changing world threatens to overwhelm you, I would recommend that every once in a while, you take a moment to open the pantry door, reach for the peanut butter, and keep it simple. Leon would be proud.

Independence Day Wisdom: Proud and Free

      I always enjoyed writing assignments in high school. Of course I would never let on to my teammates on the football, basketball, and baseball teams on which I played. If I had, surely I would have been the object of much teasing. It wasn't all that cool to be sensitive and expressive. Yet that's who I was and what I enjoyed. 

     So when each member of our junior class was assigned to construct an inspirational quote with the English teachers selecting the best quote to be displayed in the hallway, I was eager and ready. I had a way with words and immediately two or three quotes I had constructed over the years came to mind. Most everybody else rolled their eyes at the assignment but secretly I was excited. 

     On the day the "winner" was revealed, I was shocked. Not so much because my quote hadn't won, but more because of whose quote had. I barely knew the guy whose words were prominently displayed not only in the hallway, but in every English classroom in our school. 

     He had never been in any of the honors or college prep classes. If I remember correctly, the highlight of his daily schedule was Auto Mechanics. He didn't play any sports. He didn't go out with any of the school cheerleaders. He seemed to be a decent guy but to be honest, I knew who he was but hadn't really had a significant conversation with him despite our school being a small, "everybody knows your name" sort of place. 

     My classmate had decided to go simple as it pertained to the quote. He figured a patriotic angle was the appropriate approach. His quote was unspectacular and unsensational, while at the same time it was compelling and profound. Quite simply, he expressed his gratitude for being able to live in America and the freedoms he enjoyed as a result. 

     Scripture tells us in John 8:36 that "if the Son sets you free, you are free indeed". Because of the Son, I am no longer a slave to sin. I am free to live with His Spirit to guide me. The chains that once bound me have been broken. And the country I live in, the United States of America, affords me the freedom to worship and express myself regarding the faith in God that guides my existence. That's worth celebrating. 

     My classmate captured that sentiment in his quote all those years ago. I have no idea if he realized what a stir his quote would cause when he quickly jotted it down and turned it in that day, but it served as a lesson to all of us. Sometimes simplicity works best and he instinctively knew that. 

     So on this July 4th Independence Day, take some time to reflect on how fortunate you are to be a citizen of the United States. And if you're not exactly sure how to express that, you're welcomed to borrow my classmate's prize winning quote: "It's a beautiful day. I'm an American, proud and free".

WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Where You Go, I Go- Flash Forward

    If you’ve ever had a pet you loved, please read this all the way through to the end. I promise you’ll be glad you did. If you’ve never had such a pet, then don’t waste your time. Scroll on to something else because to be honest, you won’t get it. If you’re one of those who’ll say: 

“You should be writing about people and honoring them, not an animal”, then please don’t read any further. You’ll be disappointed. But if you’ve ever had a family pet that you believe God placed in your life for a purpose, read on. And if after reading this, you feel it could be of some value to someone else, please share it. You don’t even have to tell them who wrote it. 

   I won’t keep you in suspense. Our family’s medium-size girl brown dog- My Famous Dog Flash- is no longer with us. She died peacefully last week. And we miss her deeply. 

   It’s possible I’m using this Wacky Wednesday Wisdom devotion as personal therapy. Perhaps I just need someone to listen to a story about a dog so I can feel I’ve done justice to the life she lived. But there’s also no doubt this writing qualifies as a devotion because of the presence of God in Flash’s story. Please bear with me while I explain. 

   I’m quite certain God uses animals, especially our cherished pets, to help teach us about the fruits of His Spirit mentioned in Galatians 5. I truly believe God placed Flash in our family to model the fruits of the Spirit so that we wouldn’t forget what they looked like and so that we could demonstrate them more abundantly in our own lives. By sending Flash into our lives, perhaps God was allowing us to witness a daily reminder of loyalty. And by doing so, He was saying to us “Be more loyal”. When we daily witnessed Flash’s faithfulness, perhaps God was beckoning us to “Be more faithful”. When we daily witnessed Flash’s availability, perhaps God was reminding us “Be more available”. When we daily witnessed Flash’s unconditional love, perhaps God was telling us to “Love unconditionally”.

   Flash was all about unconditional love. During all those years of me being a college baseball coach, Flash never gave a fat rat’s tail whether we had celebrated a dramatic win or endured a gut wrenching loss when I arrived home afterward. No matter what the result of the game or no matter who was mad at me for making the wrong move or upset at me because their son didn’t get to play, Flash greeted me as I entered the door with a wagging tail and a desire to be petted. Her eyes told me the same story every time: “I don’t care what kind of day you’ve had, I’m here to help make it better. I love you no matter what. Where you go, I go”. 

   Sometimes as Flash and I endured the evening news in the family room, she listened patiently as I vented out loud, griping about the media, politics, politicians, the state of the union, the state of the state, and the state of the world. And when I asked her what she thought, she would glance in my direction and her eyes clearly said: “It’s all okay, love wins in the end, and that’s all I care about”. 

   Flash wasn’t perfect. She drank from the toilet, shed, and counter surfed- once eating an entire two-pound package of raw ground beef intended for the Stroupe spaghetti dinner. She loved people but for some reason, she had some pent up negativity toward UPS delivery men and Jehovah’s Witnesses, which led to occasional confrontations. (Eventually the Jehovah’s Witness folks gave up and quit coming). I guess even a doggy who practices unconditional love has a nemesis here and there. 

   But her good far outweighed her bad. We never had to rinse the food gunk off the plates or bowls before placing them in the dishwasher. She licked everything clean to prepare the dishes for the wash cycle. And if you accidentally passed gas in the family room, you could claim it was her and she gladly accepted the blame without complaining.

   She had a different greeting for each family member when we entered our home, altering her personality to fit whatever family member she was with at the moment, instinctively understanding our individual needs during those times. How? It can only be that God equipped her to be His agent of comfort, encouragement, and joy- individually catered to each of us. 

   There’s no doubt first and foremost, Flash was a Mama’s girl. Their special and unique bond was unlike anything I’ve witnessed in my 57 years of life. To Mom she was the girly girl who got ribbons put in her hair and played dress up to the amusement of others.When Mom went upstairs to bed each night, she went upstairs to bed too, situating herself on the pad on the floor at the end of the bed. When she woke up during the night needing reassurance, she went to Mom’s side of the bed and demanded to be rubbed and stroked. When Mom ventured to her little closet/room to put on makeup on Sunday mornings, Flash demanded to have her face stroked with the little makeup brush, too. Flash was always saying to her mom- “Where you go, I go”. 

   But she was also a Daddy’s girl who loved to go on outdoor exploration adventures. To me she was a hunting, tracking, trailblazing, squirrel chasing, exploring, Queen of the woods, possum treeing, nature-loving dog. Our property is located mainly in the woods with a downhill slope that leads to a swamp area. Flash loved being my partner on our ventures to the swamp. But it was quite an uphill climb getting back so Mom didn’t always want Flash to accompany me, especially as she got older. So I would try to sneak out of the house and head to the swamp without Flash knowing. But it never failed that a few minutes into my trek through the woods, a medium-sized, brown furry creature would come sprinting past me, eager to blaze the trail and lead me to our special place down by the creek- just in case I had forgotten how to get there. Apparently within a few minutes of me leaving the house, she would pitch such a conniption fit that Mom would have to let her out. And as she caught up with and eventually passed me, she would fire a glance my direction, her eyes saying: “I’m here. We’re doing this together. This is our thing. My job is to look out after you and get you there and back safely. Where you go, I go. Don’t go trying to do this without me”.

   The same was true any time I opened the drawer to get my truck keys. She ran to the door and barked, ready to leap to her spot in the middle of the back seat of the truck, always facing forward and looking ahead so she could see where we were going. It didn’t matter to her the destination, she was a willing passenger. “Where you go, I go,” she said with her eyes as she barked her approval. Since hanging up the coaching shoes in 2019, I have become ordained and have served interim pastorships at a few different churches. On our truck rides, Flash became my congregation as I practiced how to deliver some of the stronger lines I would be sharing on Sundays. She patiently listened without criticism and without falling asleep.

   Flash’s greatest gift was her presence. She never got tired or bored being around me, Mom, or any of our three boys, who all grew up with her but have moved away now. She was always there for us. During the pandemic, when my teaching job required me to interact with my college students online from our upstairs bedroom, she laid on the floor and listened to every lecture. She learned more Sociology than the majority of my college students and she could have made at least a B+  if I had ever allowed her to take one of my exams. When I strummed my guitar and sang a few choruses in that same room, she never complained about a missed chord or me singing off key, which was annoying to family members and various neighbors, but not to her. 

   In the Bible in Ruth 1:16, Ruth declares her allegiance to Naomi even though she could have easily and understandably walked away to restart her own life. “Where you go, I go” declared Ruth. Flash must have heard me quote that verse at some point and decided it sounded good to her.

   A week or so ago, at about 11:30 in the evening, Flash and I were home alone as Mom was out of town visiting her parents. Before going to bed, I noticed Flash had uncharacteristically moved to a couch in a front room and was lying quietly on it. When I beckoned her to come to bed, she also uncharacteristically didn’t move. I could tell she didn’t feel good so I stroked and rubbed her for a while then tried to help her down from the couch so we could head toward the bedroom. As soon as her paws hit the floor, I knew something was wrong. As the minutes passed, my sweet little medium-sized girl brown dog became more and more listless and her breathing became more labored. I begged her to hang on so that I could get some help but it quickly became obvious she was experiencing her last moments on Earth. With her lying on the floor and me on my knees holding her tightly,  Flash began to fade away and her gaze became distant. But we were able to lock eyes at one point and for one brief moment, she seemed to be saying to me: “Where I’m going, you can’t go . . . at least not now.” I’ll keep the rest of our last few moments together between us, but suffice to say, as I felt the breath of life leave her and she eventually slipped painlessly away, I was distraught. I looked heavenward, stretched out my arms and asked God- “Is this all there is? Is this the end”?

   Immediately Isaiah 11:6 came to my mind where, when speaking of a future Heaven, scripture says: “In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard will lie down with the baby goat. The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion, and a little child will lead them all”.

   Some will claim my comfort was born in the heat of that moment, or that I was merely falling victim to sappy sentimentality- that I was having an emotionally based idealistic wannabe experience. But what I was simply doing in that moment was turning to the Word of God to guide me in my time of hurt. 

   So the question may be asked: Does God care about our pets? Did God care about Flash? 

When speaking of two sparrows in Matthew 10:29, Jesus reminded listeners that “not one of them shall fall to the ground apart from your Father”. Does God have time in the midst of everything He’s got to take care of in the world to be concerned about animals and pets? According to the Gospel of Matthew, apparently He does. 

   As I Flash forward to that time in the future when I go to meet my Maker, and after I’ve met up with my relatives and spiritual heroes who have entered before me, I can imagine another scene.  One that my newly acquired Heavenly eyes will allow me to witness. One where the Wolf and the Lamb are lying down together, where the Lion and the Calf are cozied up next to each other, and in their midst patiently waiting to greet me, will be a medium-sized girl brown dog with a wagging tail . . . eager and ready to go where I go. 

   And all will be right again.

WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Treasures in Heaven

      I've never been a part of anything like it. Funerals can go lots of directions. Sometimes they involve a lot of crying. Or they may include a lot of reverent hushed and soft voices in the congregation. Occasionally the pastor doesn't know exactly what to say about the deceased, which can lead to an awkward atmosphere. But the day of my friend Don Carpenter's funeral, there was little of any of that. It was filled with laughter. It was filled with praise for the Lord. It was filled with love and remembrance. It was truly a celebration of life. It was exactly what Don would have wanted because he was a bigger than life man who absolutely loved people and truly loved the Lord with all his heart. 

     As the interim pastor at his church, I was honored to lead the service. But one never knows how these things are going to go so I was prepared for all types of reactions during the service. It didn't take but a few moments to realize this event was to be a celebration. A celebration of a man who loved his Savior, loved his family, loved sitting in his front porch rocker in his overalls, and loved pretty much everyone he met. 

     Don's wife Amy was the pillar of strength. Even on the day of her husband's funeral, she was sharing with others what God had taught her during her daily morning devotion. She was ministering to others when by all rights, others should have been ministering to her. I was amazed and inspired. Don's daughters and son were the same way, as well as the rest of his family. 

     The church was full thirty minutes before the service started. Eventually the crowd filled the church, the fellowship hall, and the picnic shelter- where they listened via radio technology. And here's what they heard:

     They heard songs of praise, they heard stories about how Don had blessed their lives. They heard two women claim that had Amy not married Don, they certainly would have. One of the other speakers sang a line or two from Peter Pan about how he didn't want to grow up. Everyone said it described Don perfectly. Not to be outdone, I sang one line of the Commodores song "Brick House", the song Don summoned to lower the stress and tension in his family during those few times when there was stress or tension. (Lionel Richie need not fear as I'll be sticking to my day job). 

     The last sermon Don ever heard was a sermon I shared about Grace a week before he went to be with the Lord. The last song Don ever sang in a church was that same Sunday when we closed the service with Amazing Grace. Fittingly, we closed his funeral service with the entire congregation singing Amazing Grace a cappella. It was spine tingling. 

     A day or two before the funeral, Amy had taken me into Don's bathroom (yes, she wanted me to see his bathroom!) to show me where he spent his last moments before a sudden heart attack claimed his life as he was preparing to come to church that fateful Sunday morning. The radio was tuned to his favorite Christian radio station and there's no doubt in his last moments, Don was praising the Lord through song. 

     She showed me his mirror in the bathroom and the entire chapter of Matthew 6 was posted where he could read it every day. Matthew 6 reminded Don daily to "Seek first the Kingdom of God", and to "lay up treasures in Heaven, not on earth". So of course, his funeral service ended at the graveside with the reading of Matthew 6:19-2, which says- "Do not store up treasures on earth where moth and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also".

     Like other Christians who lived their lives to the fullest, Don lived a spirit-filled life that impacted others. And he leaves behind a family whose members are so strong in their faith, they're spending their time even now trying to figure out ways to minister to others instead of the other way around. 

     I'll miss Don, but I won't miss out on Don. Because even though he spent his life storing up treasures in heaven, he leaves behind a treasure chest of memories that those of us who knew him will enjoy for the rest of our lifetimes. 

WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: Pill Containers Don't Lie

      Pill containers don't lie. I didn't have "one slot for each day of the week" pill containers in my bathroom when I was young. But as I've gotten older, not only do I have pill containers that have a slot for each day of the week, I also have the obnoxious ones that like to remind me I'm getting old. How so, you may ask? Because the older I get, the bigger the containers get. Mine now even have separate compartments for morning and evening. Someday if I'm blessed to make it into my 80s, my pill containers will likely be the size of bricks. 

     I remember writing something a few years back about how time seems to pass more quickly as we age. It seems that I had been staring at an empty weekly pill container and was certain I had just filled it up four days earlier. But indeed a week had passed and I didn't even realize it. Flash forward to a few days ago. Once again I stared at an empty weekly pill container yet I was certain I had filled it just two days previous. To my horror I realized it had been an entire week since I had filled it but my internal clock had indicated that only two days had passed. Pill containers don't lie. Time really does move faster as we age. 

     My wife and I dropped our youngest son off at college recently and two weeks later he graduated from that same college. I was certain it had only been two weeks but a look at the calendar corrected my assumption and quickly I realized it had been three years. 

     It took forever for Christmas to arrive when I was a child and nowadays, it comes and goes in a blink and it's July 4th before you know it. Time really does move faster as we age. And pill containers don't lie. They supply one day at a time for one week, no more no less. But I would almost swear (though I don't swear) they are cheating me out of some days along the way, because I'm filling them up every other day, it seems. 

     On the day I graduated high school in 1982, I couldn't even comprehend being old enough to attend my children's high school graduations one day. But now I have attended not only their high school graduations, but all three of their college graduations as well. 

     Loretta Lynn once walked off stage during the middle of one of her concerts, claiming: "Things are moving too fast in my life". I know how she feels. Why doesn't time have a pause button like a DVD player? Then we could take a moment, catch our breath, regroup, and take a break from filling up the pill container for the upcoming week. 

     But alas, time doesn't stand still and the pill container beckons. So what are we humans to do? We feel that time is whirling out of control similar to when an ice skater starts spinning more and more rapidly as she brings her arms closer to her body. But at least she (or he if we're being politically correct) can choose when to stop the spin. We can't.

     However, pity me not because I have discovered a solution to the above dilemma. It puts all this "time spinning out of control" and "pill container filling up and rapidly emptying" stuff into perspective. There's a simple solution: Focus on what is constant. Dwell on that which doesn't change. 

     The Bible says in Isaiah 40:8- "The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of our God will stand forever". Malachi 3:6 states: "For I the Lord do not change", and Hebrews 13:8 tell us that "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever". 

     Focusing on the constants in my life helps me survive the rapid spin of time. My "growing up family" has been a constant all my life. And my wife has been a constant for the last thirty-five years. My sons have been a part of my life from the moment the little crosses on the sticks told us my wife was pregnant with each of them. But the most constant, unchanging aspect of my life has been the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. They never change. They've always been there and always will be. There's no spin cycle with them. They just are. 

     I've convinced myself that people who complain about time passing too quickly are ones who have regrets. Ones who feel they have wasted time and life has slipped away from them somehow. And I vowed early on not to be one of those. Give me your best shot, Father Time. I'm not scared of you. I'm going to continue to seize every day and fall asleep at night knowing I didn't waste the day. So bring on the spin.

     But for now I must go. Gotta fill up the pill container for the week. I filled it up yesterday but it's already empty again. Go figure. 

WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: The Road Ahead Can Wait

      It happened a number of years ago but I can still remember the events of that day clearly. As you may know, I have three sons. The event in question took place in the life of one of them. I will not name him directly in order to maintain his pride and dignity. Plus he might concoct some sort of "get even" situation with dad if I revealed his identity in relation to this particular incident. 

     My first inkling that something unusual had occurred was when my gentlemanly neighbor Bob called my home phone and asked if my pre-adolescent son was okay. "Last time I checked he was fine," I answered, without realizing I hadn't checked on him lately. Father of the Year I was not. 

     Bob began to explain that he had witnessed my son crash head on into his (Bob's) mailbox while riding his (my son's) bicycle. Being the kind and gentle neighbor he was, Bob insisted that he wasn't concerned about the mailbox- which he claimed had been easily placed back in its proper position. "I'm not worried about the mailbox, I just want to make sure your son is okay," emphasized he. 

     After asking Bob to hold for a moment, I stepped into my son's room where he was playing some sort of video game and inquired as to the condition of his personal health. He seemed fine and claimed to be okay so I returned to the phone and shared the good news with Bob. 

    "That's a relief," declared Bob, "because he hit the mailbox going full speed." "How could that happen?", I wondered out loud. "Well," said Bob, "It could have something to do with the fact he was pedaling hard and looking through a pair of binoculars when the collision occurred. I don't think he ever knew what hit him. Next thing I know he, the bicycle, and the mailbox were all flailing around in my front yard. It was a sight to behold."

     I bet it was. I hate I missed it. 

     I think sometimes we, like my son, get caught up in looking too far ahead in life when what's most important is what's right smack dab in front of us in the here and now. We worry about the future, which is fruitless, because we can't control the future- we can only do something about the now. We overlook the lessons in the waiting room while impatiently anticipating getting in to see the doctor. Maybe our focus on the destination up ahead of us robs us of the miracles happening at our feet on the path beneath us. 

     The Bible says in Matthew 6:24 to "not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself" and in Hebrews 12:2, it says to "keep your eyes fixed on Jesus". 

     I don't know what the future holds in my life. I'm trying to enjoy every stage of life as much as possible, and not wish away any part of it by trying to rush toward the next phase. I have no desire to return to the past despite the many blessings it has afforded me. And I'm not counting down the days until my sons eventually marry and hopefully turn me into a grandpa. I look forward to those possibilities but to dwell on things like that in the meantime  wouldn't be productive. It would be like traveling around looking through binoculars. Not the best way to live unless you want to end up flailing around in your neighbor's front yard.