A Starfish and a Boy

   Quite often when we go to the beach we notice a starfish that has been brought in my the incoming tide. The scene almost always reminds me of a story:

"An old man had a habit of early morning walks on the beach. One day, after a storm, he saw a human figure in the distance moving like a dancer. As he came closer he saw that it was a young woman and she was not dancing but was reaching down to the sand, picking up a starfish and very gently throwing them into the ocean.

“Young lady,” he asked, “Why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?”

“The sun is up, and the tide is going out, and if I do not throw them in they will die.”

“But young lady, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and starfish all along it? You cannot possibly make a difference.”

The young woman listened politely, paused and then bent down, picked up another starfish and threw it into the sea, past the breaking waves, saying, “It made a difference for that one.”

   This morning, as I thought about Christmas, I saw a parallel in that story, and in what I needed to write a check for today.

   For the past several years now, we have sponsored a boy over in Kenya through the Compassion organization out in Colorado. But what does it matter that we sponsor one 11 year old boy? Peter is just one of many children in Kenya that need help.

   How about the millions all over the world, especially in developing countries, that live in dire circumstances? What about them?

   What does it matter that I send a small check each month to help someone?

   Well, just like the young lady in the story, we pray that "“It made a difference for that one.”

   When God prompts, and we respond, we leave the rest up to Him.

   

Let's talk Thanksgiving, and Let's talk Football...

   Yesterday was a big Day.

   Maybe my favorite Holiday.

   The three F's of Thanksgiving: Food, Fellowship and Football

   Now the food is an outstanding feature of this Day, from my Mom's, to my Wife's, to the Neighbor's next door who had us for dinner last evening. Always something good to look forward to.

   And the Fellowship, too: From family to Friends, always fun.

   But the Football has always stood high on the list. A tradition like no other…

   Now I don't really want to be old-timey like, but those of you who think the apex of a Thanksgiving pigskin tradition consists of watching the NFL on HDTV, need to get a grip.

   Let's talk about real Football, and some real tradition that is somehow becoming lost in the world today.

   I remember growing up in Chattanooga, at least in my memory this is real, Thanksgiving was big. A feast at the family table with all the trimmings was the start.

   But we did not just eat and then take a nap. No, it was into the car and headed to the University of Chattanooga down McCallie Avenue. Our destination was Chamberlain Field, the home field of the Moccasins, college football in our city, maybe 10 or 15 minutes away from home.

   Chamberlain Field, built in 1927, was where real football was played on Thanksgiving.

   Outside in the weather, on real grass, in the daytime, the way it should be.

   We could park and walk a short block to the stadium. All the seats were good, and we had season tickets. People we knew sat around us. It was a family atmosphere especially on this Holiday.

   A football field and stadium nestled in the midst of academic buildings, where folks who had access to these classrooms would go up to the third floor and watch the game out the windows.

   Where extra points and field goals would sail over bleachers into a field, or over a fence into a driveway, where younger kids had a place to play their own games while the big kids squared off on the lined field.

   Where you could leave home at 1:45, be in your seats for the kickoff, watch the game without commercial breaks, and still be home by 4 or so. All without the hassle of traffic, and long lines at the concession stand.

   Now that was a Time to be Thankful for

They Are Real People

   Several weeks ago I got curious about a Fox News show host. Greta Van Susteren was the lead on the weekly 7 PM show, On The Record, which she hosted for years. I am not sure of all the reasons, but she was let go, or she quit suddenly.

   Regardless of all that, I was curious as to what she was doing now. She had been at Fox News for 14 years after coming over from CNN. So, I found her Facebook page and began following her there.

   Right now it seems that she is traveling with Franklin Graham and his Samaritians Purse team around the world. She has posted from Burma and Jordan in recent days.

   But this post is not about Greta, but about a story that she posted on Fb the other day. It concerns another Fox News reporter, Catherine Herridge, who deals with intelligence and security.

   Again, this is not about her reporting, which is no nonsense and direct, but about her personally.

   We see a woman reporting on a News show and think that is all she is. But we know that a person is much more than that. She is a wife and mother with two children.

   Greta's story was about Catherine's second child, who is 10 now, and the fact that Peter was born with a serious liver aliment. The only hope for the newborn was a tissue transplant, and the donor he was matched with was his mother. The procedure was iffy for both baby and mother, but her comment at the time was that she was more than willing to risk death to see her son live.

   They both did.

   Now, when I see Herridge on TV, I don't just see a competent news reporter on a big TV News Channel, but a wife and mother who was willing to sacrifice all for her child.

   That is the real News.

   Thanks, Greta

  

Getting Off Main Street

   There is a road, a highway, that leads from Exit 3 on I-95 east into the town of St. Mary's, GA. It is Ga. Highway 40, and has a street name that I don't recall right now. So I will "name" it Main Street.

   The other day, deciding to take a short day trip, my wife and I drove into St. Mary's on this road. It heads east from the busy interstate and dead ends into the Atlantic Ocean right in the middle of "downtown".

   We had been there several times before, and I had duly taken photographs of the various churches of "Main Street".

   There was the Methodist congregation buildings old and new:

   There were the Presbyterians off to the south side of the street:

   There were the Catholics on the corner:

   All these churches had been around in that town for a long time, but as we drove into St. Mary's on that sunlit Monday this week, I noticed a small sign pointing the way to the Episcopal Church off the main drag.

   So we turned to the right, went down a block and saw that church building. It seemed to call out for its picture to be taken, asking to be recognized as a piece of the entity that was this little town.

   Christ Episcopal Church

   From the way the outside looked, both the older sanctuary and the newer one, it appeared that here was a church that was loved and appreciated by its people.

   Now I know nothing about the church except what is written on the sign out front. We don't know any of the people, but there is love and warmth in that place.

   And I am glad that we turned off the main street and found it.

Confessions of a Wardrobe Manager

   My wife has a closet full of clothes..All kinds and colors..All kinds of styles and seasons.

   On various trips she has admired and even bought different separates and outfits that show her own personal taste and style.

   So, what does she get to wear these days?

   What does one get to wear when one cannot use her right hand or arm to facilitate the putting on of clothes for the day or occasion?

   Right, she gets to wear what her wardrobe manager puts out for her.

   And what sort of items does he choose on a regular basis?

   Those that are easy to put on and take off. Those that are not burdened with lots of zippers, buttons or clasps. Things that have waistbands with elastic for easy exit.

   She is good about the choices, although I do find her in the closet looking wistfully toward some of her favorite outfits that do not make my practical cut these days.

   I find myself choosing the same pants, blouses and shirts a lot of the time. In fact, I could probably rotate the same ones from wearing, to washer and dryer, to closet and back to wearing, most of the time.

   Perhaps it is time to get out of that rut and use something that might give her a sense of ownership in her wardrobe.

   Could I put a smile on her face with a fresh approach to her clothes?

   But the rut is so much easier to stay in..

   Watch and see...

Whereto Does This Train Travel?

   I went to bed last night around 10 or so, long before any fireworks in the election, so when I woke this morning, I did not know anything. In fact, I was not sure I wanted to know...

   So I went out in the dark and walked. Not even the papers had been delivered yet.

   When I got back to the condo, I sat down the read, and did until I heard footsteps in the hall. Granny Lou was up, and I still hadn't gotten up the nerve to find out anything.

   So we turned on the TV and found out together.

   We had both voted for the winner, but, truthfully, we did not vote for the man but for the platform on human life in the womb, and for the direction of the Supreme Court.

   We "won", but what we won is unclear. The American people seemed to vote in favor of an unknown quantity, and how it will play out is uncertain at best.

   But, as I have said many times before in this election cycle, Two things:

      1. God is in control...

      2. Our responsibility is to pray for our country, pray for each other, and live to make a positive difference in the area that we inhabit.

   There was an analogy used in the election, The Trump Train.

   Well, we are all left to wonder, Where will it Go?
  
   Or as one amateur writer put it,

   Whereto Does This Train Travel?

Whose Definition of Good?

   When I walk out into the new cool of a November morning, I look up.

   True the Big Dipper is there in its allotted space. The Belt of Orion still shines brightly overhead with his sword hanging down.

   But something is out of order...

   As I settle into my reading chair and pick up my Bible, turning to the Book of Joshua where I left off yesterday, I read where the Children of Israel did what was evil in the sight of The Lord, and He allowed foreigners to rule over them.

   Then He heard the peoples cry and sent a person to rout their oppressors, giving them the peace and security they sought.

   Then a quote came to mind and I looked it up to make sure I remembered it correctly..

“I sought for the greatness and genius of America in her commodious harbors and her ample rivers – and it was not there . . . in her fertile fields and boundless forests and it was not there . . . in her rich mines and her vast world commerce – and it was not there . . . in her democratic Congress and her matchless Constitution – and it was not there. Not until I went into the churches of America and heard her pulpits aflame with righteousness did I understand the secret of her genius and power. America is great because she is good, and if America ever ceases to be good, she will cease to be great.”
― Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America 

   There is a lot of talk today about America and Greatness.

   Does the secret of greatness lie in goodness?

   How does our country rate on a scale of "goodness"?

   Greatness does not lie in our monuments or our government or our economy. It lies in the hearts of men and women who get their righteousness from their churches.

   Churches that proclaim the Word of God..in Truth and Simplicity.

   May it be, even for us, in this time..

2 Chronicles 7:14

¹⁴ if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.

   And we can be Great only because God considers us Good.

   Not our definition but His..

   Amen