It's Friday...It Must Be Miller (County)

   Don't look for any great revelations of truth today, if you were so inclined. This is a travel journal  for the last couple of days.

   We wanted to go to the funeral of a dear friend of many years over in Blakely, which is near the Alabama border, in the extreme southwestern section of Georgia. In looking at the map of possible ways to get there (no interstates here), I noticed that there were several counties on the routes that we had not visited in our quest to photograph older county courthouses in our state.

   So we set up travel routes to hit as many of these as possible, considering that you really have to have a reason to be in that area. By going west to the funeral site, we could get several county seats covered, and coming home by another route, there were some more.

   Friday, going over, we hit Nashville, Adel, Moultrie, Camilla, Newton, and ended at Blakely.

   Coming home on Saturday, our stops were: Donaldsonville, Colquitt, Bainbridge, Cairo, Thomasville, Quitman, Valdosta, Statenville, Lakeland and Homerville.

   Sixteen county seats, sixteen courthouses, many photos later, we finally got home. We remarked that we probably should not be having so much fun coming and going from a funeral. It did not seem right, somehow.

   Looking back, even though it was only yesterday, it is hard to keep the counties and courthouses in some kind of order, but we found that we could remember the people that we met.

   In Moultrie, we stopped at the courthouse, toured around and then decided that, since it was already 2:30 in the afternoon, we should find a spot for lunch. Surely there would be something right on the courthouse square. M. L. saw a man approaching, looking for all the world like a native, and stopped him for some information.

   All it took for her to get into a longer conversation was finding out that he was a pilot, and all the restaurants closed up. He was not even a native, but his wife was from there, and he had flown her down for a get together with some old high school classmates. Knowing that the eatery that he had just visited for lunch was closed, he suggested a bakery across the square. As we walked in, the girl informed us that it was 3:05 and they closed at 3. Interestingly enough, she was from Australia, had married a boy from Moultrie, and they settled back in his hometown.

   We got lost in the town of Newton, looking for the county courthouse. We could not even find the town, it was that small. We took the right road in, even found the city limit sign, but missed the town entirely. After driving through and seeing the speed limits gradually increasing, we knew we had missed it. In turning back the way we had come, on a different road, we spotted an old building with the name Newton Precinct. Going in we found we had entered the old courthouse, which was now the library. Here was another stranger in our path:

   This good Samaritan wanted to show me how to find the new courthouse, so we went outside to better understand his directions. He then wanted to tell me about the flood that had almost wiped out the whole town. The courthouse and one store building was all that once had been a thriving courthouse square. At least that is what he said. Since he never gave me the same date for the flood twice, I haven't been able to ascertain the history of that event. If anyone knows where the courthouse is in Newton, GA, let me know.

   On Saturday, we left our motel pretty early to begin the trip home. At Colquitt, county seat of Miller County, I walked around the square, looking at murals and just sightseeing. I saw a man. standing outside a store, and walked across to talk.

   This man had come to the United States 20 years ago from Vietnam. I realized later that I had forgotten to ask him how he happened to end up in Colquitt, but I'm sure there is a good reason. Regardless, he had opened a small business on the square and we talked business and the economy for a few minutes. Customers were few on that Saturday morning, but he did let me know that the courthouse that I had been taking pictures of was a newer vintage, that the older one had burned down a few years back, not an uncommon thing to happen to those old buildings from the turn of the century.

   When we pulled into Bainbridge and found the courthouse, (by the way you can almost always spot the courthouse from the outskirts of town, because the clock tower can be seen over the top of the other buildings), we parked on the square and spent some time listening to a choir from the Morningside Baptist Church practice for a Christmas program they were to give that evening. They were quite good, and we enjoyed chatting with the narrator of the event.

   Sixteen courthouse, almost all with stories, all important in the lives of the people who lived in those places, but the most important statistics have to do with the individual men, women, boys and girls who grew up around them, some of which I met.

   I didn't have time or room to show shots of all the people that I had to stop and ask directions of, that would take entirely too much time, but I will show The Lowndes County seat of government.

   Merry Christmas from Valdosta, GA

Over the River and Through the Woods to.....

   Today we go a traveling, traveling toward a reunion with old friends , traveling toward a celebration of a life lived for God and family, traveling a new route on the map, toward new sights and new experiences. In short, we are moving toward living a day that we have not done before.

   I guess each day that we live is one of those new days. No matter the routine, the sights that we see each and every day are brand new. Sometimes it is only in the planning for a completely new set of circumstances that we begin to realize the uniqueness of the day before us.

   The purpose of the day's travel is to go to a funeral over in the western portion of our state, but there is also a side purpose, to visit some county seats and take some photos of courthouses. These will be places that we have never set foot into before. There will be roads that we have not traveled before, people that we have never seen, and opportunities for God to work in our lives in some way, as we try to keep our eyes and ears open for His leading.

 

   If I can keep this thought in my mind as we travel, no telling what might happen. Are there people out there in these towns that we can encourage, maybe just with a smile or a word? Are there sights that God can use just to refresh our souls and give our lives purpose and meaning? Can God use our time on the road to help us see His plans, both in the past and for the future?

   I can see the possibilities as I sit here waiting to begin. God help me to remember to look as we travel the backroads of Your landscape today. Open my eyes, I pray, to what You have done in the past, what You are doing right now, and what You can do in the future, and help me to be a part of all of it. The Scripture from Psalm 31:

   " I trust in you, O Lord;
I say, “You are my God.”
My times are in your hand;"
   Amen....

 

Fretting...

   I must have needed this statement badly, because it came up at least 3 times in the Psalm for today. This from Psalm 37:

   "Fret not yourself; "

   Then I got to thinking; what do I have to worry about?

   I am not a worrier. I guess I tend more to the "it will all work out" model. I know who is in control, and it is not me, so when I start to list some things that are worth worrying about, I include:

   Our country, our leaders in the political realm, the weather, the church, family health issues, education or lack thereof for our society's kids, the recession, government controls, loss of freedoms, jobs and the economy in general. Then I can look at the issue of sin, personal and corporate, global warming, the Middle East and my golf game. There is just no lack of things that I can fret about.

   So why do I have to be reminded not to do this?

   Our culture puts a high value on being sure, of saying that I know how something will pan out, that the end of any process will be good, but underneath are their sneaky little ideas floating around that ask the question, "are you sure?"

   We got an email yesterday, telling us that an old friend from Chattanooga days, had passed away. The funeral is to be on Saturday over in the western part of our state. The drive is long, but we wanted to show our concern for the family and our appreciation of the friendship that our families enjoyed together, so we are going on Friday.

   But all that got me to thinking about death and dying. I remember that that my folks, in their latter days, spent a lot of time going to hospitals and funeral homes, because they were outliving their friends.  If that is to be our lot, we too will face this end of life thing several times in the years ahead.

   I don't much worry about the end of my life. My trust is in Jesus Christ and His Word tells me that when I pass on it will be to an eternal land with Him. But I do think about, not fret about, what will become of my wife without my help. I have the assurance that we will be together again one day, but for the days in between, I want to know that she will be OK.

   Fret, no, but concern, yes.

   God, please help me to do all I can to prepare us for that separation, whichever way that it happens, and to rest in the assurance that You have it all under control if we only trust You.

   "Fret not yourself; "

Routines and Priorities

   This morning my routine was interrupted by a 7AM meeting. I guess I am a creature of habit and, although I have plenty of discretionary time on my hands each day, I feel better doing some things at the same time each day if possible. That fact pertains especially to my study and meditation time. I like it early so my mind is not so easily distracted, and my focus seems to be better.

   The meeting this morning at church was primarily devoted to prayer. Individual prayer in a corporate setting with others doing the same. The time was filled with prayers to God for the church in this particular season of the year, Christmas, and with all that goes on with that.

   One of the other men in the group told us about a mother and son that he had talked to last Sunday before the 11AM service and the problems they faced in their lives right now. As I listened, my mind wondered how many of the people who came into our church on any given Sunday were weighted down with cares and problems, some seemingly insolvable. How many went away as they came, burdened with that same sense of foreboding, hearing words of encouragement from the Christmas story, but still seeing no practical way out of their mess.

   On the Sundays that I count the offering for both services, I have a routine in going through the foyer of the building, emptying the boxes that contain the tithes and offerings. I do this one time after the early service has begun, then again after that service is over, repeating this procedure for the later service at 11. There are 6 boxes around the back and side of the auditorium, and each is emptied and recorded after each pickup time.

   I see people coming into the service when I pick up early and leaving the service when I pick up the later times. I try to at least nod and say hello to those folks, but then go on and do my business. Some I know, but many I do not.

   Then when I take these same tithes and offerings back upstairs to record them for the deposit, I see the names on the envelopes and on the checks, but again, some I know and most I don't. With the ones whose names are recognizable to me, their private lives are, for the most part, still a mystery.

   Each of those people that I see and each of the names on the checks that I record, are lives that are important to God. Important to Him because He cares for each one. He cares about their joys and their heartaches, their struggles and their victories.

   Could my routines be interrupted so that I might take time to notice the individuals in the masses? Could that be a beginning of caring about them as He does? Is the routine the priority or are they?

   I know the answers, whence cometh obedience?

The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat

   Back in the dark ages of TV, ABC used to have a Saturday afternoon show called Wide World of Sports. The opening clip showed some athletes on top of their game, and then one wiping out on the ski jump. The audio talked about the "thrill of victory and the agony of defeat".

   I have given a lot of thought about those concepts since I wrote of the high school football game of last Friday night. (if you missed that one, scroll back a couple and catch up) What was God's role in the outcome? Now, I understand that the only people I heard were those on the winning side, so my sample is definitely skewed, but here are some:

   "God truly showed up on Friday night"

   "I felt a holy shift in the air"

   "There are lessons to be learned in winning and in losing"

   "I give all praise and thanks to Jesus Christ, He alone gets all the glory for this"

   Most of the above could have been uttered in truth regardless of the outcome, but remember that all came from the victor's side of the field.

   What about the other side? Especially in the trauma of the moment, did they think that God abandoned them in the 4th quarter? They might have realized that there were lessons in losing that might really help them and their team, and they might have praised God for all the good things that went on during that game and its aftermath, but right then it was hard to even think that way.

   It is much easier to step back and take a look at the supposed "big picture" when you are smiling with victory than the other way around, when in truth it will take till the end of time for the impact of one small event or word to manifest itself. We don't really know what God purposed in all of that. We may just know that, at the moment, it was a pretty good time for some and pretty bad for others. The long term "pretty good and pretty bad" are unknown to us, regardless of which side we were on.

   What if a parent or a team member from the losing team happened to stay on our Island for the weekend and visited a church where several of the winning players attended? What if the statement was made "God really showed up on Friday night"?

   I went to the game. I came away thrilled with the resulting score. I celebrated with parents and team in the victory, but as I look back I wonder if I saw the whole picture, even the "whole picture" of that one night.

   It is right to be thankful for blessings that He gives us, but not to say that He was wearing green that night.

   God help me to not prejudge any of Your actions or motives, but just be aware that You are concerned about all of us and our lives. May I serve you knowing that You love each person and plan for the best for them, regardless.

Waiting...

   Sometimes a strange thought or question comes to my mind. Take for example, when I got a new camera a little while back, and looked around for subjects to photograph, I thought of the word waiting. My next question was "could it be that inanimate objects wait for something or someone?" Then it seemed that everywhere I went, I saw potential applications of this one thought. Some of these:

   Waiting for some special correspondence...or?

   Waiting for someone to enjoy the view..or?

   Waiting for that special child..or even?

   Now I know that something with no life of its own has the potential to think, or wonder, or wait, but it was fun to think about what they might be pondering even as they stood in their spot.

   Here are some verses I read this morning from Psalm 25:

   "none who wait for you shall be put to shame;"

   "for you I wait all the day long."

   "for I wait for you."

   It seems that waiting is a profitable occupation if I am doing it right. Why I wait, for Whom am I waiting, and with what Attitude am I doing this, are the keys. I may wait with joy and anticipation or perhaps with dread and foreboding, but it the reason that I wait that is important.

   Do I actively wait because God tells me to? Do I look to Him for answers, solutions and reasons? Or am I like the final picture above, just sitting there?

   God help me to appreciate waiting.

Do You Believe in Miracles?

   I know this is a quote from a TV announcer at the 1980 Winter Olympics in Lake Placid, NY, where the good guys (US) upset the bad guys (USSR) in hockey, but it is also an apt description of a football game played here last night.

   First let me set the stage for the game: Frederica Academy (designated "we" in the narrative below) were playing for the State championship in their division. Their opponents, Robert Toombs Christian School, from Lyons, GA, (designated "they" in the story) had been the loser in the regular season by a 28-0 score. Sounds like a ho-hum mismatch, right? Maybe.

   An aside; Mayre and I went to the game for a couple of reasons. We had not gone to a regular season game and several of the players from Frederica go to our church. It was a pleasant night for football and the game was only a few minutes from our condo.

 

   As the players came onto the field for the opening kickoff, I could not help but notice the difference in the sizes of the players. They wore white uniforms and looked like a really big high school team. We, on the other hand, wore all green and looked like a middle school squad, or smaller. The question in my mind was "how in the world did we skunk them the time before?"

   They kicked off, we fumbled on the first series, and they drove relentlessly down the field and scored, 7-0.

   They kicked off again, and again a fumble ensued on our next possession, and again they drove down and scored with little trouble, 14-0. Their big offensive line, and they were big, were just pushing the green team all over the field, and it looked bleak, and it was only the first quarter.

   In the second quarter, they scored again, but missed the PAT and led 20-0. The green boys got a long run and pushed in a score to make it 20-7, before the big boys in white got a field goal to make it 23-7 at halftime.

   Home and hearth looked good at that point, but we were sitting with friends from church, which included families of boys on the team, so we stayed in our seats. During the half, I remarked to two of my golfing partners, that it sure did not look good for the home team. Our boys were not going to gain any weight in the 15 minute reprieve, and the white guys were not going to shrink either. We were being overpowered. They were in our backfield for the whole half, and we were making tackles 10 and 20 yards down the field on most snaps.

   I confess, that when a lady came up to our part of the stands where several parents of players were sitting and asked them to join her in a prayer, I thought it was silly. Was God going to stop this slaughter just because some of the players and parents were Christian? After all we were playing a Christian school no less. I did not join in the prayer, but could hear some of it from where I stood. The prayer was essentially one of asking that "our boys" play up to their potential, not give up in the second half, and to let the result glorify Him. A good prayer, but underneath it all I heard, in my current state of mind, "please let us win". I was not thinking of miracles, just the obvious truth that were were over matched.

   The second half started with a continuation of the first, a score by the visitors that made it 30-7. The other side of the field was jumping and our side was pretty quiet. 23 points behind, going into the 4th quarter, now that is a hole.

   As the last quarter began, we scored one more time to make it a respectable 30-14.

   Another long pass, a score, a try for a 2 point conversion that failed, and the score was 30-20.

   The green defense was playing lights out, giving up some yards but stiffening when they needed to. The little boys in green were swarming the ball carriers, but it was already deep into the fourth quarter.

   Then another long run and the score was 30-27. Was it possible? By this time the clock was running down into the 5 minute area, but if we could get a field goal, the game would be forced into overtime where anything could happen.

   The little guys in green were playing hard and the big guys in white were seemingly a little tired, but it was down into the 2 minute area and the clock continued to run.

   The green team got a drive going but it stalled down near the opponents goal. It was 4th and 4 yards to go, but a field goal would tie it all up. Lo and behold, a white team player lined up in the neutral zone and was called for offsides before the kick attempt. After a 5 yard penalty, it was first and goal for the greens.

   TOUCHDOWN and the score was 34-30, home team.

   The stands where I stood were going wild, but the other side was pretty quiet. What seemed like a certain victory for the white team a few minutes before now looked bleak for the visitors. But there was still a minute and 40 seconds left. Anything could happen. There was still hope for them and they did not give up.

   But, alas, it was not to be. A long pass was broken up in green territory, and then the next one was intercepted. Two kneel downs and the State Championship came to St. Simons. The home crowd rushed the field and the celebration began. What seemed impossible just a few minutes back, was a reality.

   As I sit here this morning, going over all of this in my mind, I go back to that prayer at halftime. God knew the outcome of the game. He knew all the people involved. Did He answer one school's prayer and not the other? Was one school somehow better? Were there greater lessons to be learned by all that did not relate to the final score or how the game played out?

   I know there are some great theological points to be made from all of this. There is a life to be lived beyond football. Players and fans will remember the game and the emotions, but the great significance will be made up in how each lives, from that moment forward. That will be true for the winners and for the losers of this one game. After all, it is only a game.

   But what a game!