These Parents Had No Clue

   On this date, March 30, 1962, a momentous date in the course of our family history, a baby boy was born. A red-headed boy, that inherited from his maternal grandmother, the most photogenic and brilliant child born to that date.

   He grew up to be a renowned football star in his grammar school, wearing the white and green of Bright School with distinction.

   Today is his birthday, 54 years to the day.

   These parents are, of course, not old enough to have a baby this age, but time compression must have helped out in this regard.

   This baby, boy, man has accomplished much in his time on earth. Graduation from various schools with honors, multiple jobs around the country, and a successful school venture.

   But his three major achievements:

   1. He over married and his wife Karen, his keeper extraordinaire.

   2. His son, Sawyer, following in his footsteps.

   3. His daughter, Sydney, a whiz in her own right.

   And all of this, through the grace of a loving God, from the line of Parents who had no clue, way back in 1962, of what they were doing, and what they had gotten themselves into.

   But we are blessed, and proud of our No. 1 son…

   Happy Birthday

   Dwayne

Does Monday Matter?

   Easter Sunday was a good day.

   The Crowds flocked to church.

   The Azaleas were in bloom.

   The Music was outstanding.

   The Sermon was spot-on.

   The Word proclaimed "Christ is Risen"..

   And He was Indeed.

   Every Sunday, from the beginning of time, till the earth will be no more, has had, or will have a Monday.

   The question for the day after is what word will we use in it, or what word will describe adequately our reaction to it?

   Will it be "Alleluia"?

   Or will it be "Whatever"?

   My true attitude toward the events, both past and present, of Easter will be shown in how I live in the Mondays after.

   May my life be characterized by a continued song in my heart and not by a shrug of the shoulders.

   Monday does matter.

   It matters a lot…

   The tomb was empty…

   And still is on Monday...

 

Christ Is Risen

He Is Risen Indeed

A Glorious Day

Amen

Life In Prison

   Now, I know that not very many of the readers of this blog may have the need to communicate with an inmate in our prison system, but I have done this for a few years.

   Back in the 90s, I had the privilege of going into a state prison here in Georgia, and working in a Christian program called Kairos. This is a non-denominational weekend retreat that ministers to inmates in several correctional centers here in our state, and, indeed, all around the world.

   I became friends with an inmate who went through the program, and, by the way, is still active in it on the inside. We began writing back then and continue to this day. Communication with a friend on the outside I believe has given him the feeling that someone cares about his life, and that he is just not a number in a system.

   A few days back, I got a letter from him. In it he said that he was going to be able to contact me via email because the state prison system was making a tablet available to him for certain selected purposes, one of which was email. He would also be able to download music and some games for his entertainment.

   These tablets are limited in their usage capabilities, and they can only be accessed from a designated kiosk, probably in the dorm of the inmate. They cannot be used to surf the internet on a free wifi system on a when-desired time frame, and all of the messages, both incoming and outgoing, are supposed to be monitored by the prison officials.

   I have tried to read up some on this new development in prison systems, but there are still questions for me. Who pays for the tablets? Who owns the tablets? Is the system there to be abused, or can it help the inmate to serve his or her time more productively? Can the various costs be a rip off to the inmate, and who will gain from the monies paid into the whole project?

   I tried it out yesterday. Since I knew the ID of my friend, I put that into the system, and was able to email him. The cost of the message to me was less than that of a first class postage stamp, and I did not even have to have an envelope, or paper, or walk to the mailbox.

   I even had a reply before the day was over.

   There is a lot that I do not know about the whole project, the possible ways to abuse it by inmates, or gouging companies, the benefits to the prison staff in fighting boredom, the interaction between the inmates in the use of the devices, but I can see some advantages to giving it a try.

   There will be some who will jump all over it to move toward a new start in life, and then there will be those who won't, and will try to game the whole system.

   The ability of families to stay connected easier which seems to be a key to staying out of prison after serving time, the actual connection to new technology which might make reentry less demanding, the educational opportunities available for those who could and would take advantage; all of these could help to rehabilitate those incarcerated, keeping men and women out of lockup, and reducing the costs to all of us.

   I am not sure how all of this will turn out, and I know that there can be many potential upsides and downsides, but it is an interesting development that could bode well for those in the prison system, both residents and keepers.

   Let's pray for all the good that can happen and work to minimize all the pitfalls.

   Being concerned about the lives of all involved is a good place to start.

   Inmates are real people, with real lives, and not just a number.

 

TERROR ANYWHERE

   Down on the southern end of our Island, there is a lighthouse.

   When grandkids come, or even adult visitors sometimes, they want to go to the top. It used to be a lot easier to climb than it is now days, but I still get the same "weak-in-the-knees" feeling when I step out that door onto the landing and look down.

   Now I know that this is not an apt definition of "terror", but I still do not want to live all the time up there and have to continually visualize the drop to the ground.

   The headline of the local paper literally screams this morning:

   TERROR STRIKES BRUSSELS

   After the shock of seeing the news reports yesterday, and getting by the first reactions of fear for what it all means, my next thought was along the line of "we are going to get that here, too".

   So what defines my reaction to the mass killing of innocents there in Belgium?

   Shock, Dismay, Fear, Retribution?

   The troubling aspect of the whole scene is the sensation that the law enforcement people, as good and as brave as they may be, seem powerless to keep those attacks from taking place.

   One minute you may be thrilled about flying somewhere and the next scared to death, and it is all out of your control.

   I can sit here in South Georgia and blithely state that I will put my trust in God whatever may come our way. Easy to say from a few thousand miles away from the action.

   From Psalm 91:

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High

Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
2 I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust!”
3 For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper
And from the deadly pestilence.
4 He will cover you with His pinions,
And under His wings you may seek refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.

5 You will not be afraid of the terror by night,
Or of the arrow that flies by day;"

   It may be easy to live this psalm out from our position of relative safety here, but what if it happens in Jacksonville, or Atlanta, or Brunswick?

   Or takes place in a spot where our kids are?

   Will our trust hold strong?

   God's Word does not stumble or change, but will I still believe it so?

   My prayer is:

   God, in time of trial, whatever it may be, keep me strong,

   Please

 

 


 

 

My World Is Just Too Small

   The other day when I wrote about a book I was into at the time, a friend mentioned another series, the first book of which was The Land Breakers by John Ehle, that she felt I should read.

   So I got it on my Kindle, and now I am reading.

   As I looked at the chapter heading where I stopped reading yesterday, I noticed it was a specific date, 1781. That was it, just the date.

   When I think of that date, I think Revolutionary War, and there my knowledge of the time stops.

   Isn't that the way it is? From a historical perspective that is all I get, just that struggle of the colonies to be free from British control.

   But does that define the year for people in America? All the people?

   That particular war was fought almost exclusively within a limited number of miles from the Atlantic Ocean, but there were other folks who lived out of that narrow zone.

   This particular book, at least as far as I have read, deals with a few families who are trying to tame the wilderness in what is now western North Carolina. Their existence is lived out in just trying to survive, to keep their families safe, and to give their children a chance at a future in a challenging land.

   What was the probability that those living in Philadelphia in 1781 were even aware of those on the frontier, much less caring what their lives were going through? Unless they had family out there on the edge, probably not much.

  How about me in 2016?

   Our access to information and events is unprecedented, and that is good, but do I even understand, or try to get a handle on, what others not in my circumstances are thinking or doing or putting up with?

   My world is just too small.

   My geophysical world and my personal world.

   God help me to see the world, not only through my own personal lens, but to at least try to understand how others see it.

   And to care.

 

A Proper Perspective...

   For a few days now, I have wanted to sit down and write something, anything, maybe about the NCAA basketball tournament, but I have been unable to get past the last blog post I wrote early this week.

   Each time I have begun to think about something else, something that might be of importance in my life or in my world, I seem to come back to the subject of a life and a death, or even just death or life in general.

   I have gone back and reread the blog posts of the songwriter, and, as I read, the raw emotions of the first reading came back. I wished I could go to that Maury County, Tennessee farmstead and stand at the graveside of the lady and ponder, on site, the whole meaning of a early passing and a man left with a big hole in his heart.

   And I wonder this morning if it isn't some kind of justice that a smaller school in Middle Tennessee, MTSU, a 15 seed, just knocked off a No. 2 seed in the Big Dance.

   But even that victory will fade away from minds, as I found it did in mine, as I read the latest post from Rory Feek, an ongoing tribute to a woman and a town that raised her.

http://thislifeilive.com

   I encourage you to take a Kleenex box and read all of the posts over the past couple of years. You will be blessed.

   And I am blessed again to have discovered this story.

   I may have stumbled onto it one evening, looking to get away from the evening news, but it has impacted me.

   Two Sundays from today it will be Easter.

   My favorite Easter hymn is Christ the Lord is Risen Today,

   And I pray that this Tennessee family may be able to look past the grief and sing it with gusto as they worship the Son that makes life (and death) worthwhile.

   And the significance of a busted bracket will be put in its proper perspective.

In LIfe and In Death

   A few nights ago we had been watching the evening news. At one point we decided that we had had enough of the political scene that was capturing the whole TV news, and we reached for the remote to look for something more.

   As the channel search rolled along, I noticed a couple on one channel singing a song. It was an old hymn, and we stopped to watch and listen. One song led to another, and we watched as the life story of Joey and Rory Feek played out on the screen in the midst of a Bill Gaither program.

   Joey Feek died the first part of this month from cancer.

   Rory has been writing a blog for the better part of the last couple of years that documents their struggle, both the highs and lows, a young couple dealing with the effects and trials of this terrible disease. You can read it here:

http://thislifeilive.com

   Joey did not want to die. She had a two year old daughter that she wanted to help raise. She had a music career that was a blessing to many, and she had a man that she loved deeply that she wanted to grow old with.

   But it was not to play out that way. God had a different plan, and she accepted that, in the midst of her own desires and those of her husband.

   All of us come to the end of our lives one day, but it is how we do it that is on my mind this morning.

   I remember a tombstone on a Caribbean island.

   The inscription on it said, "She showed others how a Christian woman ought to die"

   Do I look at death as an opportunity to be a blessing and an example to others?

   Looking at how this couple, Joey and Rory Feek, reflect God's will and His glory, I want more and more to be that kind of example.

   Both Joey's in how she handled her own mortality, and Rory's as he cared for her.

   God should be exalted by both.

God's In His Heaven, And….

   Did you know?

   That the famous line, quoted in the title of this blog, came from Robert Browning in a poem entitled Pippa Passes.

   The year’s at the spring,

And day’s at the morn;

Morning’s at seven;

The hill-side’s dew-pearled;

The lark’s on the wing;

The snail’s on the thorn;

God’s in His heaven—

All’s right with the world!

   That there is even a town in Kentucky named Pippa Passes.

   That I have even been to that town and stopped to visit.

   That this blog has nothing to do with that town or that trip.

   But the line came to my mind as I walked early in the dark of a Daylight Saving Time's Monday morning.

   You see, I was going over in my mind the final episode of Downton Abbey. One that we watched last night. After all those episodes in those years of seasons of the show, episodes that were fraught with tragedy and broken dreams and other drama, the show ended on a high note, a note of "it all works out in the end" and "all's well that ends well".

   And I like Happy Endings.

   As I walked this morning with the sky dark, but lit with many stars, the Heavens seemed to say that God was still in control, even though the world around seemed to be spinning out of it.

   Man's control, yes, but not God's.

   So I smiled to myself as I thought of the characters in the TV show and how the last episode had put all of them in a happy state. That, to me, seemed right.

   And as I open the freezer door to get something out for our breakfast, I realize that that last line of the poem has struck again..

   "All’s right with the world!"

   A "feel good drama"

   A star filled morning sky

   And a half gallon of Blue Bell in the freezer

   Life is Good

   God is Good

Is Dr. Carson Smiling?

   People tuned in to see a fight and a debate broke out..

   The image that sticks out in my mind, one that I woke up this morning seeing in my mind, was that of Marco Rubio speaking and Donald Trump raising his hand to indicate he wanted to respond.

   But I could not find such on the Internet, so I settled for this shot of Ted Cruz Speaking and Donald Trump listening.

   My takeaways from last night's Republican debate can be summarized like this:

   Ted Cruz had the dogmatic principles

   Marco Rubio had the passion

   John Kasich showed the experience

   Donald Trump had the votes

   And Civility was the big winner

   I wonder how it will all show up on next Tuesday.

   Dr. Carson might be smiling this morning.

 

Grumble, Even When Blessed…. Nah, Not Me..

   Maybe I should start this out in some chronological order…

   I walked along this morning and met a lady with a large dog. Her comment, "Sure is a pretty morning", and I reply "You are right, but the gnats are already out".

   At the end of that same short walk, as I prepared to enter our condo, our neighbor came out his door to get the morning paper. "Good looking morning, another pretty one for us, I think". And I reply, "and the gnats are already out waiting for you".

   Fast forward to my reading this morning from Exodus 15 and 16, and the words that struck me as I read:

" And the people grumbled "

   Those spoiled people. God had parted the sea. He had made the bitter water sweet and fed them with manna and quail. Couldn't they remember?

   Here the sun came up and lighted the steeple at Lovely Lane Chapel this morning..

   And I was more concerned with a few pesky gnats..

   Me grumble?

   Nah, not me...

It Is No Secret...

   It is no secret that I like to read. A good book is hard to put down. Fact or Fiction, both can hold my attention for hours or for days on end.

   Maybe it is the fact that reading is a quiet activity, but a good book also informs. The author can fill me with details of events of history that give me a deeper understanding of the hows and whys of what has happened in the past.

   And an author can make me look within myself, to see how I might have handled a situation. The best fiction books for me let me see myself and cause me to ask the question, in the quiet of reading, "What do these characters, or these lives, show me about myself?"

   One of my favorite authors is Charles Martin. A local boy, he writes fiction that takes place in our part of the world. His is not just entertainment, there is real meaning in the story, meaning that causes a reader to see how they fit into the narrative.

   I just finished one of his books yesterday, one that held my thoughts for days, as I followed the main character in his fight for redemption and release from the circumstances that had held him in limbo for most of the novel.

   This book, if you might like to read a good novel, is:

(You will enjoy all of his books)

   But it is also no secret what God can do.

   This old song was on my mind as I awoke this morning. I'm not sure why, I have not heard it sung for a while, but there it was, mentally playing as I got up. A Stuart Hamblen song:

The chimes of time ring out the news,
Another day is through.
Someone slipped and fell.
Was that someone you?

You may have longed for added strength,
Your courage to renew.
Do not be disheartened,
For I have news for you.

It is no secret what God can do.
What He's done for others, He'll do for you.
With arms wide open, He'll pardon you.
It is no secret what God can do.

There is no night for in His light
You never walk alone.
Always feel at home,
Wherever you may go.

There is no power can conquer you
While God is on your side.
Take Him at His promise,
Don't run away and hide.

It is no secret what God can do.
What He's done for others, He'll do for you.
With arms wide open, He'll pardon you.
It is no secret what God can do.

   Secrets are sometimes things that are not to see the light of day, but not these.

   I can heartedly recommend Charles Martin's books. You will get a good story with some insights into your life as well.

   And I can say also that there is real meaning in the old song.

   Some secrets are better off shouted to the world.

 

He Does Not Have to Shout..

   I stayed up last evening, as long as I could stand it, and watched the "debate".

   I'm sorta glad that Dr. Carson spared himself the agony of standing on that platform.

   I woke up this morning, way before the sun, with what I would term a "disquieted spirit".

   I still am partial to John Kasich.

   This was my reading in Psalms this morning:

Psalm 33:6-11English Standard Version (ESV)

6 By the word of the Lord the heavens were made,
    and by the breath of his mouth all their host.
7 He gathers the waters of the sea as a heap;
    he puts the deeps in storehouses.

8 Let all the earth fear the Lord;
    let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe of him!
9 For he spoke, and it came to be;
    he commanded, and it stood firm.

10 The Lord brings the counsel of the nations to nothing;
    he frustrates the plans of the peoples.
11 The counsel of the Lord stands forever,
    the plans of his heart to all generations.

   And I know who is in control.

   And He does not have to shout...

An Alabama Town That Might Be Calling My Name

      This story has a beginning, but, at this moment, I do not know the ending.

   Let me begin in this way, by describing a time and a situation where a name was recalled in my memory:

   Last year, at Thanksgiving, we decided to drive to Arkansas to be with our daughter and her family for that holiday. Since Tuscaloosa, Alabama is about the halfway point between our home and theirs, we made reservations at a motel there. The motel was located on Harper Lee Drive, and as we drove in, I told Mayre that I knew that name, but could not put it in context with anything else.

   Putting it out of my mind for a time, we registered and then went out to find some supper. On the way it hit me, Harper Lee was the author of To Kill A Mockingbird. I realized that the only way I remembered this fact was that we had worked a jigsaw puzzle some time back, a puzzle showing best selling books, and her book was one of those depicted.

   I was happy to have remembered, but did not think much more about it until one morning when Dr. Albert Mohler mentioned her in his weekday morning podcast, "The Briefing".

   I Googled her name and read some things about this woman, whose one published book had won a Pulitzer Prize for non-fiction. (It is also true that she had written another book previous to "Mockingbird", but it was not published until 2015 after being discovered by her lawyer in a safe deposit box.)

   Nelle Harper Lee, born in Monroeville, Alabama, died in Monroeville, Alabama at the age of 89. She had not lived all her life in that one place, New York City was her haunt for a lot of her life.

   As I read stories about this lady and her book, I came across this picture at the top of one article:

   It shows a sculpture of a young girl, perhaps Scout, reading "Mockingbird" on a bench with a distinctive building in the background.

   Although I have never been to Monroeville, Alabama, it is easy to determine that this is the county courthouse. I have seen so many of these buildings all over the state of Georgia, and they are not easy to miss. Those clocks on the four sides of the cupola give it away.

   Even in an old one in Washington County GA, where the clock is stopped.

   I also realized that I had never actually read the book. Watching Gregory Peck in the movie of the same name, I'm sure, is not quite the same thing as the reading. I need to do that.

   But, after looking at the picture above, I'm pretty sure that I would like Nelle Harper Lee's hometown.

   That old 1904 courthouse seems to be calling my name, and my shutter finger is itching.

   One Day

   This story is not ended yet, stay tuned...