A Tale of Three Dogs

   This portion of a verse out of Psalm 31, stood out to me this morning:

   "My times are in your hand;"

   I first thought of the old clock towers that grace many of the old courthouses that we had visited over the past months, and I knew I could draw some illustrations from those.

   But then, as I walked, I stopped and talked to a former neighbor as he walked his dog. I chided him for leaving his other dog at home, and only bringing one on this walking tour, but he gently and softly informed me that they had been forced to put the other part of that pair to sleep a couple of days previously. Chagrined, I politely asked about the second dog, and he related the trauma of having to put him down because of his medical problems.

   This all struck a chord in me because Mayre had, just the previous evening, had a conversation with a close friend who had done the same thing while we were on our trip north last weekend.

   Both parties had loved their pooches, and the dogs were like children of the family. Both were still grieving, and I felt bad for them in their trials.

   All of that reminded me of an incident many years ago, after our last son had gone off to college. We had a little dog that developed a back problem and could hardly get around, and it was painful for us to watch her try. We decided that, if the vet could not do anything to help the situation, we would have to put her down. After I went off to work the next day, Mayre took Corky to the vet and learned that she could not be helped. The vet asked if she wanted him to put her down, and, as the dog looked up at her with those big brown trusting eyes, she quietly told him that I would be along after work to let him know what we wanted to do. She could not even tell him.

   I went by, not being brave enough to even look at the dog, just told him to go ahead and put her to sleep, paid the bill and went home.

   Were the times of those three little dogs in our hands?

   What about the times of the three owners? Who controls those?

   The Psalmist wrote "My times are in Your hands", and I know that to be true. God, who is not bound by time or space, knows my length of days, I don't.

   We grieve when a pet or a person dies, how much more does God grieve when we live for ourselves and not use our times to honor Him.

   The grieving is real in both cases, only the importance varies.

A "What If" Thankfulness

   Is there a part of thankfulness that looks backward and asks the question "what if"?

   Things happen in our lives that, on the surface look bad, but as we take the time to look at the events that preceded, we find that God has been there, and it could have been much worse. Of course, bad, worse and much worse are all relative to the situation. What looks bad to me at this moment may seem like a piece of cake to someone whose life is filled with stuff that, at least to me anyway, appears like a very black day. There are so many variables in each life, that to classify an event as bad, or even a shade of bad, is dangerous or downright silly.

  So, I give a case in point. This from a blessed life, without a doubt, and an item that would not even fall on the scale of bad to a lot of folks. But it did cause me to look back and be thankful.

   Coming back from Gatlinburg and Chattanooga on Tuesday of this week, we decided to do another "courthouse run". We could leave Tennessee and drive through part of north Georgia, stop to visit a friend, and then continue on down through the central part of our state, stopping at various county seats to photograph some old courhouses. This idea was a "two birds with one stick" deal, as we could check off a few towns from our state's numerous counties, and miss the freeway driving at the same time.

   So we traveled to Chatsworth, Ellijay, Jasper and Canton before stopping for lunch in Cumming. We not only saw courthouses, but other sidelights in these towns as well. like these from Ellijay on that Tuesday morning:

   After a leisurely lunch with our friend in Cumming, we started south through Winder, Monroe, Madison and Eatonton, again catching courthouses and other miscellaneous stuff, such as these from Eatonton:

   By the time we finished a quick supper in Milledgeville, the sun had set and we still had many miles to go to get home. So we took off, down back roads, heading toward I-16 and the fastest way home. It was not all that fast and pretty late when we finally had a chance to sleep in our own bed.

  Now to get to the point of this long discourse. During all of the Tuesday driving, I had noticed the needle on the car temperature gauge keep creeping up when we were stopped in traffic and then settling back to normal as we drove at regular speeds. It never got bad,  just pointing out that something was amiss.

   Yesterday, as I drove to Brunswick for an appointment, I noticed a small clanking sound, accompanying this heating up again. After letting the car sit for a few hours, and trying the solution of adding some coolant to the engine, the sound was more pronounced. A couple of friends from the condo listened to it and deduced that I might have a water pump problem.

   Financially, this is not good, but when I look back at Tuesday, I realize that the situation could have been worse, a lot worse. I could play the "what if" game. How about all those hours on back roads, a lot of them in the dark? Even I-16 gets pretty lonely at night, and towns are few and far between. There were a lot of spots that we might not have liked to be if the pump went out and the car quit.

   So I look back and am thankful. Is this even a 2 on a scale of 10 "bad" events? No, but it does cause me to see how God can bless , even in a less than less-than-good situation.

   And I am thankful,

   AGAIN

Busyness is No Substitute

   We have spent the last couple of days on the road. Monday getting out of Gatlinburg and back to Chattanooga to spend the Memorial Day night, and then Tuesday getting back home from there while doing some "courthouse" work along the way in some counties we had not visited.

   Add those two days with the activities of the Gaither Fest days with their concerts and stuff, and life has been full of busyness, but as I sit here in the morning quiet, I realize what I have missed. There has been so little time for personal meditation and reflection on what is going on around me.

   Although the things that have taken hold of my life over these past few days are not bad in themselves, they take on the form of just busyness, as I look back on them from this quiet vantage point, and I realize more than ever, the need for some time alone with God. Even as I try to take some time this morning, reading Scripture and praying, I find that the things that have filled my life over these days are still there, trying to crowd out any thoughts of what God might have to say to me today.

   When I couple those thoughts with the realizations of what I have on my schedule for today, a schedule that must begin in a short time, God is pushed out of the way, and I am left with a feeling that there is much more to life than just busyness, however good and necessary it is.

   So I ask for forgiveness, and I ask God to work in my life this day, reminding me in my goings and doings, that He is there and that He sees my need. I confess my desire to hear from Him, even while not giving Him the time to speak, and I ask for open ears, eyes and heart to see His workings in my life.

   And I pray that this time of realization will not just be a substitute for the real thing, but be a catalyst for the allowing of it to happen.

   And I say "thank You" for the safety of the travel and for the need in my life that causes me to look to You in this time.

Music and More

   My kids will nod their heads rather profusely at this next statement, but it is still true nonetheless. "I am kinda opinionated about music styles, especially those that have to do with Christian music". I tend to equate what I like with the right way to worship through song. Because a certain mode puts me in a worshipful mood, It must be the right way. A case in point:

   We are in Gatlinburg, TN this weekend, participating in, what is billed as "The Gaither Family Fest. This is organized each year by Bill and Gloria Gaither and brings together Christian singers and groups for 4 days of concert and worship. Beginning on Friday night, continuing with 2 concerts on Saturday and another 2 on Sunday, culminating with the last one on Monday morning, Memorial Day.

   Friday night was good, a good blend of music coming from the groups and individuals that were on the program that night. Saturday morning was OK also with more of the same, with a little comedy thrown in. Then came Saturday night. The songs were loud and the words and melodies, if I could pick them out, were unrecognizable to me. I so wanted to leave early, and finally did leave at intermission, hoping that Sunday would be better.

   Sunday dawned grey, overcast, and with a sprinkle or two. It was not a good omen Since it was a Sunday morning, I thought that possibly we would be treated to a few hymns, with their respective recognizable tunes and words. Maybe we would even get soft instead of loud. Man, that would be good.

   And we did, a gentler kind of service, with songs I knew or at least could think about without having to sort through all the loudness. It was good.

   Sometimes, when I am in church and have listened to music that does not seem to do anything for my worshipful attitude, and then the sounds from the stage soften, and a melody comes out, I recognize a song that I know, and that I like to sing, but can't as I choke up and can't even sing at all. I hear the people singing around me and I can't, I just bow my head and say "Thanks".

   That happened to me several times this morning. It was a good worship time for me, and I came away saying "this is the way it should be, reverent and familiar".

   I compare the two services that I had just attended, one loud and boisterous, and the other quiet and reverent. Then I thought of the participants in both. Did God look on the acts of worship with acknowledgement that they were good? Both kinds?

   It is not the outward expressions of worship that are the important items, it is the heart of the worshiper, and that puts some of my attitudes to shame. It may not be my preference, but I should not put that down and vow that my way is the only way.

   God sees and hears, what the heart has to say in all of this. I pray that He will help me to catch a glimpse of this too, even when I "know" that I am right. Ho, Ho, Ho...

Did You Ever Wonder?

   Yesterday, we traveled from home up to Chattanooga to meet some friends and get ready for a Memorial Day weekend in Gatlinburg. As we do, whenever we have a window of opportunity, we made a side trip up through the middle of the state to visit some county seats and look at the courthouses. We made 4 of these stops before we ran out of time.

   At our second stop we landed in Wrightsville, the friendliest city in Georgia, according to the sign on the water tower, the county seat of Johnson County.

   The courthouse was an old one, having been built in 1895 and redone in 1940. As I looked around it and inside as well, I thought of all the things that must have gone on in there through all those years. The courthouse had been in the center of that town for 118 years, and I'm sure that those benches in the lobby could tell a multitude of tales

   Just think of the events that had swirled around and in that building. Spanish American War, WWI, Depression, WWII, JFK, Cold War, Vietnam, Korea, Iran and Iraq, and those are just the Historical eras.

   Then there must have been all the personal stuff that had gone on in peoples's lives through that time. What arguments had taken place there, what heartaches, what joys, what intrigues?

   Just to be able to sit there on those old benches and listen to the folks, to watch them as they walked past, into various offices and courtrooms, to see them as they exited the building, to hear their stories, now that would be the stuff of life.

   That is one of the beauties of these old buildings. The things that they have witnessed.

   I'm sure the newer, more modern, buildings have some things to tell also, but these just seem to shout it out all over town.

   Did you ever wonder when you stumble upon something like this?

A Change of Plans and Encouragement

   I was not going to blog today for various reasons, as stated here:

   I got up on time but had a 7am meeting at church, and that left little time to think or write

   I usually like to write pretty early in the morning when I can still think coherently, and, when that time passes, I usually decide to let it rest till another day.

   I like to write about something that has touched me in some way from what I read, and, when I don't have time to read, my source is unavailable.

   Then a few minutes ago I got a call from one of my friends, and, to paraphrase his words somewhat, he said, "Where is my blog today? I'm not sure I can go on with my day without it."

   I know he just wanted to rag me a little for being lazy, but it made me wonder if what I write does make any difference to anyone else. Most of the time I post my blog and don't think about anything more than what the reading has said to me, but there are times when I get some confirmation that they feel the same way, too.

   Yesterday, I got a note from a lady in our church who said that she often felt the same way (as the post she had just read), and she ended her comment with "Keep on Writing". Those two words gave me another reason to continue.

   So, there is nothing new here in this one, but I did write and I do have one thought:

   Whatever God gives you to do, "Keep on __________"

God Is Good

   How many times have I glibly voiced these three words, and how many times have I heard them mentioned or proclaimed in my presence? I believe them to be true in my life, but how about in the lives of others who live, as Thoreau puts it, "lives of quiet desperation"?

   Yesterday, we took a short trip up into South Carolina to see a couple who were visiting their daughter and her family. They are our age, but live under somewhat different circumstances. The husband has Alzheimer's, and she seems to be aging rapidly as the caregiver in that situation. She did not smile much, and, as I thought of her this morning, wondered if she would utter those three little words, and mean them, on this day.

   I thought of the people who have been ravaged by tornados over the past couple of days in the midsection of this country. Those who have been pulled from the wreckage and their families might indeed mouth these words and mean them, but what about others who were not so fortunate?

   As I read the words of Psalm 100 this morning, I thought about these different peoples:

   "For the Lord is good;"

   This psalm is a happy one. I can almost see the joy on the faces of the worshippers as they celebrate what God has meant in their lives.

   But I confess, that when tragedy strikes close to home, I do not really understand. At least in those early moments, I don't. I want to say to those hurting, "time will help you to know the good in this situation", but at the moment, time has not passed and the hurt is real, for all of us.

   So what do I do when I come face to face with the kind of situation that I saw in the eyes of those folks yesterday?

   Do I think the short sentence, given in these three words, to be true? Yes. Do I understand the full impact of it? No.

   So, what do I do? Trust in God's will, pray for those in need and wait for some time to pass and see how it works out. Maybe that is all I am called to do right now.

   Some questions take a long time to get answers, but I know that they will be, some day.

   God, please give me the trust and the patience to wait.