"Thank God And Greyhound"

After 43 years of marriage the day finally came. The day my wife announced that she was moving back to her mother’s house…going home to mother...moving out…leaving… and I was OK with that.

It wasn’t like Roy Clark’s “Thank God And Greyhound she’s gone”. While I am pleased that she is leaving it’s for an entirely different reason. Her almost one hundred and four year old mother needs her. Almost blind and almost deaf she still lives at home but someone needs to be there and I am pleased it can be my wife.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a loving mother-in-law and her daughter.
For such a wonderful and undeserved gift is not fodder.
I will miss her…and it’s only a pittance to pay for the hereafter.
Thank you, Roy Clark, for making me chuckle and all of the laughter.

12/23/10… Happy 43rd Anniversary… Mary Owen…I love you.

The Shortest Day

On the shortest day of the year…the winter solstice…I pedaled into a strong headwind and struggled to make the 6 AM Mass. It was T-shirt weather and the brisk breeze carried off the heat and sweat generated by the vigorous turning of the crank. After the readings I was able to catch my breath and listen to what Monsignor Harold said. “Christmas makes no sense…nothing about Christmas makes any sense,” says he. Finally someone admitted what I had been thinking for a long time. Christ coming into the world the way he did is not what I would expect God to do. If I were God I would have flown in on Air Force ONE, had a big limousine and a bunch of Secret Service men waiting to take me to a four star hotel. But God chose to come as a baby…born to an unwed mother in some retched barn full of stinky animals.

What do I know? I do not understand why, but I am glad He did it. I am glad he came for the poorest of the poor, for the lowest of the low…for me.

I’ve decided that it does not have to make sense. I am comfortable being the most foolish of the foolish…the fool of fools…a fool for Christ.

God’s nonsense makes more sense than the wisdom of the wisest men.

As usual, my preparing for Christmas was limited to eating lots of Christmas cookies and Christmas candy. So again this year you will not receive a Christmas card or gift from me.

Merry Christmas to all

Some Things Never Change

As I sat on my tailgate…I lifted the tab to the rim and pulled back slowly…per the instructions on the can of Van Camp’s Pork and Beans which had spent the morning on the dash of my truck warming in the December sun. I wiped off my spoon with the clean underside of my shirttails and dug in. The taste of that first spoonful took me back to my childhood…just as if it were yesterday…the memories flooded back…memories of a blissful time when all was right with the world. It was a simpler time before fast foods…before TV…a time when the family all ate dinner together. Those pork ‘n beans found their way on to our table with amazing frequency and I loved them. They were especially good on the family vacations when Mother would put the can in the back window of the car…by noon we would find a roadside table and enjoy that wonderfully warm tomato sauce and pork flavored bean. My dad referred to those beans, as “the musical fruit” and he would recite his favorite limerick. “Beans, beans the musical fruit…the more you eat the more you toot.” What great times. Our caring parents kept us kids on a short leash and well sheltered from an ugly outside world. Life was not so messy back then. As a “grown up” I tend to do what I want to do…and that’s what gets me in trouble.

Well…some things never change…our Father’s love and Van Camp’s pork ’n beans.

Dear Father God…give me the wisdom to stay on that short leash, listen to your words, follow your rules and enjoy this blissful life as a child. Amen

Burr...

The Weather Channel reported thirty-three degrees Fahrenheit, calm winds and a clear sky. So I jumpstarted my day with a bicycle ride to morning Mass. It was a wonderfully refreshing morning with a heaven full of stars. I was able to locate the “Big Dipper” high in the northern sky…inverted with its outer rim pointing down toward an indistinguishable North Star…supposedly lower down in the haze toward the horizon. I couldn’t help but wonder how the old sailing ships ever got to their destination without a Tom-Tom, Garmin or Magellan. Fortunately I knew the way to church and then on to the “W” for breakfast…breakfast with the old men who sit around drinking coffee and discussing the world’s problems (myself not old enough to drink coffee).

As I pedaled home the sun’s rays pierced a crystal clear blue sky and glistened off of the snow white frost covered roofs. I took a deep breath of cold morning air and thought…this is a day the Lord has made.

You’re the star and guiding light
You’re the one who lights the night.
Thank you Lord for this day
It is You that shows the way.

Amen

Mental Health Days

Monday I decided to take a mental health day. It seems that if I go to work too much…I start taking everything too seriously and get all bogged down in stuff that isn’t even my concern…and that diminishes my productivity. So I was going to hang out at home and work on my writing…hone my skills as a serious writer. After several hours of staring at a blank page, sharpening every pencil I owned and making multiple trips to the fridge to look in…I decided I could never be a real writer. Fortunately the phone rang and a customer called with an emergency…so I gathered up my tools and spent the day doing stuff I was more comfortable with.
Today is Friday and my wife wanted to know how many mental health days I was going to take. Well…that’s the beauty of being self-employed…working for yourself. You can make your own rules about mental health days. As long as my belly button is not touching my backbone I can take as many days as I want.

You are the one, who answers my plea,
Thank you Lord Jesus, for taking care of me;
Back in the day, when I had not even a clue,
Now I realize that it was you.

For all of the times when things were fine,
For all of the times when I was blind;
Thru all of the trials and all of the test,
Now I realize you’re the best.

Amen

Alpine Art Walk

As I sat on the steps of the Brewster County Courthouse whittling away at my time, the autumn breeze rustled the golden yellow leaves of the Cottonwoods and dispatched the fragrance of outdoor cuisine quaffing up from the street vendor’s booths. A parade of art cars that you wouldn’t find on exhibit at “du Louvre” meandered down the main drag amidst the “oohs” and “aahs” of the crowd (my favorite was the giant “cockroach” car). The streets filled with the music of Matt Skinner’s Walk’n, Talk’n, Fingerpick’n …while Ray Wylie Hubbard had us “up against the wall”. It was a weekend of smelling the leather at the Big Bend Saddlery, ingesting burgers at Alicia’s Burrito Palace and stargazing at the McDonald Observatory. It was the Marfa lights, the blown-out tires, the adobe Church at Ruidosa on the Rio Grande and the drive down Pinto Canyon Road. I am now confident that my wife’s new Camry and I are ready for the Paris-Dakar 2011 Rally. The moonset at sunrise in Lajitas, the home-make music and the austere beauty of the Big Bend Park was magnificent. The fact that it was all enjoyed with friends will not soon be forgotten.
Thanks to our hosts, the tall lanky cowboy and his stunning wife…their hospitality would make any outsider fit right in. Thank you for inviting us, taking us into your home and feeding us; a rowdy bunch of college kids on the verge of retirement.

There is no place like Alpine
The air is fresh, the weather fine
The mountain views they are sublime
I hope to visit one more time.

Up and down the city sidewalk
Cluttered with drawings of charcoal and chalk
Photos and paintings are the big squawk
November is the time for the Alpine Art-Walk.

And so I am blessed with all of the best
But having good friends is the test
Then there is no need for all of the rest
And so it is...out there in the West.

Amen

Tofurkey Day?

Thanksgiving is a one of my favorite holidays. I totally enjoy the family gathering together for a meal…a meal at my mother-in-law’s house. She has become the focal point. At the age of 103 she still lives at home…her house is the gathering place for the entire family and any homeless folks you might care to invite…all are welcome. Most everyone brings a dish, a dessert or a delectable treat. While I am not a professional eater, I do feel like an “Olympic class” amateur who is constantly training for just such an event. My strategy is to start with the pies first…making sure I test each and every one…I would not want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Then on to the main course…again making sure to try all the different entrées and side dishes. This year a “Tofurkey” stuffed with wild rice in the most attractive presentation found it’s way onto the menu. While I’ve never had any vegan tendencies…my curiosity peeked at the thought of anything made from tofu tasting like food. I feel that I have matured a bit in my eating habits…it no longer bothers me that the peas touch the mash potatoes… I’ve decided it is all going to the same place. But the Tofurkey…what can I say…to put it politely there was no need to go back for seconds. I’m quite sure I will never be a vegetarian. While I enjoy many vegetables I can’t see banning all foods that have or have had eyes from my diet. Bacon, burgers, butter and bread, especially white bread, are essentials and a necessary food group.

Thank you Lord Jesus,
You know how to please us.
For the family and friends,
And all of the grins.

At One hundred and three
She is amazing you see.
For how can it be
Such a blessing to me?

Thank you so much
For your loving touch
For all the malarkey
And even Tofurkey

Amen.

Technically Frustrated

Dear Diary;
I am literarily, metaphorically and technically Frustrated. Wave after wave of the latest technology washes over me as I struggled to catch my breath. I cannot get my antiquated PDA/smart phone to scroll and therefore perform any application. I am awash in a sea of three and four “G” know-how, drowning in a deluge of high tech gadgets that I have no idea how to operate and do not want to learn. I am ready to throw in the towel along with my dingle berry of a Blackberry. Following numerous doctoring of the little mouse ball with alcohol and no success…it appeared the little mouse was sick and would not recover.

Then I remembering what grandson Cameron taught me, I “Googled” it. I typed in "how do I clean my Blackberry mouse ball". Bingo…there it was… instruction illustrated with pictures.

I pried off the retaining ring with my pocketknife and exposed the tiny directional rollers, which were impacted with a six-month supply of belly button fuzz. My wife’s toothbrush was the perfect tool suited to the task. I brushed and cleaned everything until it was shiny new…snapped it back together and “voila”

“Life is good, God is great and people are crazy.”
Amen.

Note to self:
I must remember to put her toothbrush back.

Fall Days

It was another gorgeous fall day, and now the sun was low and the shadows were long as I drug myself, pick axe and shovel back to the house. It had been a physically exhausting day of digging…digging up an electronic probe for a customer’s automatic gate opener. I should have known that I was out of shape…just this morning I had to come up twice for air as I tie my bootlaces. I enjoyed the physical activity for the first few hours but, after not finding “the treasure”, the fun wore off. I commandeered a backhoe and effortlessly dredged up the defective item…in no time.

Thank you, Lord Jesus,

For a beautiful day spent outdoors,
A perfect place to do my chores.
I must admit it underscores,
A sharp contrast to when it pours.

For holes to dig, it never bores,
A few blisters here and muscle sores.
I won't complain or make those roars,
On days like these my spirit soars.

Amen.

White Bread

Yesterday my wife brought home a loaf of white bread. Communications being what they are… I assumed it was to eat and immediately tore into it. Little did I know it was to make little sandwiches…finger sandwiches with the crust cut off...sandwiches for her high tea women’s club meeting.

When I was a child my mother always bought white bread. It was the thing…it was the rage. Maybe it was the only type of store-bought bread available. White flour was what everyone wanted…refined white bread, refined white flour. Who knew the refining process got rid of all the good stuff. I grew up on white bread and loved it…good stuff or not. Bologna on white bread, PB&J on white, pimento cheese on white, whatever on white was the standard of the day. Childhood was great, in spite of all warnings, you could run with a pair of scissors and not put your eye out, fall from tall trees without breaking your neck and eat white bread to your hearts content without dying…those were the days. But now it’s different…we know better. My wife being the kind, caring person she is will not allow me to eat white bread because it’s bad for me. Well, apparently she does not care as much for her “high tea” buddies.


Thank you Lord,
For a caring wife,
Sometime it’s hard,
And full of strife.

But this I know,
About this waif,
When it’s time to go,
You will keep me safe.
Amen.

Pedaling The Pyrenees

I could feel the burning muscles in my thighs as I exhaled another breath laden with moisture. Cresting the last hill...with most of the kilometers behind me…I visualized the finish line and donning the yellow jersey. Reaching my destination I put aside the Tour de France daydream, went inside and took up my usual seat in the last pew. The physical exercise of riding the bike to church gets my blood flowing and makes me more alert for the spiritual exercise. It’s unfortunate I don’t take my exercise more seriously...for it seems I am developing a midriff bulge…both body and soul.

Thank you Lord Jesus,

For the legs that can pedal,
For a mind that can meddle,
For the words that I pen,
So I thank you again.

The yellow jersey I may not win,
For my goal is to be your friend.
Crossing your finish line is a must,
So I will not be left in the dust.

Amen.

Winter Texan

A cold drizzle and a sharp north wind make the gray overcast day seem as if I were back in Alaska. I went to the armoire and withdrew my favorite plaid flannel shirt…the same shirt that makes my wife role her eyes in disgust. Like an old friend it comforts me…I would wear it on all occasions if not for the moaning and groaning of the one who has impeccable taste. But on cold days…when we will not be seen together, in public…I am allowed to indulge my fetish. I am a winter Texan at heart but stuck here year-round. So when cooler weather comes I get excited and dream of Alaska, Campbell’s soup and hot chocolate.

Today’s gospel reminds me that we all have our crosses and I must take up mine and follow if I am going to be counted as a disciple.

“Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple”.
Luke 14:27


Thank you Lord Jesus;

For letting me carry such a small cross,
Not to follow would be my loss.
While Texas heat may be intense,
I know your words you do not mince.

A tiny cross though it may be…but yet…
A reminder of just how hot things could get.
The Texas summer is a trivial cross,
And I am so glad you are the boss.

Amen

One Of Those Days

It was one of those days…one of those mornings when the sun’s rays danced and glistened off the propeller as it spun…it spun in a crystal clear blue sky. I pushed the black throttle knob forward and unconsciously pressed the right rudder to keep the alignment straight down the runway. As the air speed wound up I pulled back on the stick and climbed into the cold dense morning air at 2,000 feet per minute, pegging the VSI. At 5,000 feet I relaxed on the controls and let the nose settle back to the horizon then watched the airspeed build up to the top of the green. The visibility was unrestricted and the view was unbelievable. I could see the patchwork landscape of greens and browns in all directions…I could see until it disappeared beyond the curvature of the earth. At almost a mile up the world looks so peaceful and serene. What a shame that it really isn’t that way with all the bickering and fighting. We need a Jonah to come and warn us to straighten up. But then again we need to be like the people of Nineveh and listen. Even their king listened. Apparently most of us do not want to listen…least of all our “king”.

There is nothing like tearing up the sky on a cold, calm, clear day when all is right with the world. Too bad the whole world isn’t right with God. Too bad I can’t stay up here all day.

Dear Jesus,
I could fly way up so high, in a clear unclouded sky.
Such a notion excites the emotion, and makes me want to try.
If the price of fuel were not so cruel, this dream I would pursue.
But it is not me that can clearly see; it is You that makes the view.

Woe is me, who tends to flee your each and every decree.
Your only goal is not to scold, but remind a forgetful me.
It’s time to flee evil’s plea; it’s time to take a knee.
For you my Lord are the only one I really need to see.
Amen.

“It was pride that changed angels into devils; it is humility that makes
men as angels.” Saint Augustine

On Marriage

Yesterday was one of those challenging days...although I can't remember exactly what the heated discussion was about…it escalated into a very uncomfortable situation. For some reason I was unable to communicate my point of view and it lead to a total meltdown in the exchange of logical ideas. It turned into a hissing contest. Meooooow! She can be such a pain in my “beast of burden”.

I had to stop and think. I tried to remember, to recall why...just why I did get married? What was I thinking? Was I thinking with my brain or some other not so vital organ? There is a lot of give and take in a marriage but you have to be prepared to do all of the giving... or so it seems. I have learned (the hard way) it is best to just keep your mouth shut and let the plan unfold.

In hindsight I realize it was God using her and leading me through those dark days when my thinking was clouded with testosterone. He paired me with the right wife. He gave me a wife who has been my moral compass and guiding light. She has kept me on the straight and narrow even when I did not want to be. She has integrity, sincerity, and honesty. She is a loving, kind and caring person who has never met a stranger. For the most part she is even-tempered and steady, not given to emotional outbreaks. She is the most normal person I know. All in all it has turned out very well.

I need to be a little more patient, show a little more kindness and look at the big picture.

“The man who finds a good wife finds a treasure, and he receives favor from the LORD”
Proverbs 18:22


Lord Jesus,
Thank you for a good wife,
Thank you for a treasure,
And thank you for good life,
It's more than I can measure.

Thanks for the one you sent,
My words cannot explain,
To me, what she has meant,
For this blessing I must exclaim.

Amen.

The Texas Mile

In my youth I always harbored an interest in “scary fast” cars and airplanes. So I decided to spend a day with my son and grandson doing something we might all enjoy. It was an amazing day of meandering though the pits, looking at and drooling over the fantastic assortment of vehicles. We visited the start line and then made our way down to the finish line. Just as we reached the end of the one mile course…right before our eye we all stood there watching a beautiful Lamborghini cross the finish line, pop his parachute and become air born. My son describes it best in his words.

“duuuuuuude!!
you would not even believe what we saw if I told you! have you ever seen a Lambo Giallardo?
have you ever seen one pull a "dukes of hazzard" at 235mph..............FREAKING AWESOME!!!!!!!!
$350,000 for a brand new Lamborghini
$100,000 in race and performance modifications
$5,000 matching fire retardant race suit/ shoes/ helmet
$2,000 food and drink
launching your car 20 feet in the air at 235 mph...........priceless
MASTERCARD...........”

How any one could survive that crash is nothing short of a miracle.
Thank you, Lord Jesus, that no one was injured and for an exciting day spent with my kids.
Amen.

Summer's over

Under a dark morning sky dotted with twinkling stars, the cool air rushes over my face and I breath in the smell of autumn. Finally the miserable South Texas summer is over and fall weather has arrived with the most beautiful fresh mornings, magenta sunrises, high wispy white clouds, and a light breeze out of the north.

I imagine this is what heaven must be like…without the hay fever… of course.

For the last two weeks I’ve watched the snowbirds heading south to the Rio Grande Valley where they will nest for the winter. Each morning as I pedal my way to church I observe the Wal-Mart parking lot cluttered with motor homes and travel trailers belonging to the endless migrating flocks. Imagine how unbearable it would be if our weather were like this the year around. The tourist would be so thick you couldn’t stir them with a stick.

So, maybe, those agonizingly hot summers do have an upside. They keep the tourist at bay and also remind me that I definitely do not want to spend the next life in a hot place.

There is something intuitively apparent about it, the autumn mornings, something that tells me that there has to be a God, a wonderful powerful God to have put all this awesome beauty together.


Thank you, Lord Jesus,

For autumn mornings, and hot summer warnings.
For antihistamine, and fields of green.

For Your promise and pain, all to my gain.
For blessings and gifts, that constantly lifts.
In an effort to please, I fall to my knees
For You are the One, who gets the job done.

Amen.

Comments from Malta

Father Tito's comments are always insightful. Here is what he write from his home in Malta. May God Bless him... for he is a friend of God.

Who can understand God. All we can hope for is to be one of his friends and that is not easy, due to the fact that it is different from human friendship. God has to take our heart and transforms it to his own likeness, and that's not easy. It takes a life time and we will never understand how God in his foolishness chooses human beings and begs them to be his friends. Often we never think of God being our friend. Because his friendship is not human friendship. Love Fr. T

A Foolish God

Blind faith must be a wonderful gift. My blind faith is constantly peeking through one eye trying to see the “how” and “why”. To me it all seems like such foolishness. The three persons in one, the being born to a unwed teenage girl, the dying a horrible death, the bread and wine, the body and blood thing…all of this makes no sense…and why? I can put no logic to it. Yet…I can put no logic to the numerous little miracles in my life that have warmed my heart and confounded my brain.

For me nothing in this world makes any sense unless it is looked at through the foolishness of God, the foolishness of love.

“For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.” 1 Corinthians 1:25

Therefore I must conclude that if God is God he can do whatever he wants…even if it does not make sense to me. Thank goodness for a foolish God.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for blind faith. For it is by faith I am allowed to accept your love and look forward to the promise I have in YOU. Amen.

Scribbling

As I stare at the tiny flame in the red glass beside the tabernacle and I realize that I can’t write, I am not a writer…I am just an inept scribe, a scribbler of thoughts…thoughts God puts in my head. My job is to bring the pen and paper…to make some feeble attempt at recording the thoughts and feelings he puts in my head and heart. A busy summer has made me lax in my scribbling. I have not taken the time to sit down…get quiet…I have not taken the time to be alone with you Lord.

Give me the thoughts you want me to think,
Give me the knowledge to put them in ink.
Give me the wisdom to bring the pen,
And give me the heart to do it again.

Amen.

Stepping Over The Line

I went to bed with a heavy heart and an awfully sick empty feeling. One of my grandsons who spends a lot of time at our house has grown extremely familiar with my generally “whatever” attitude about following the house rules that my wife has placed in effect. Last night…He stepped over the line. After she told him…he was not allowed to play his violent and disgustingly brutal video game that day…I observed him doing just that. I gave him a one-minute warning to stop before I would turn it off. To which he responded, “as soon as I am finished”. At the end of the one-minute warning period…I turned off the power to his X-Box, which ignited a volcanic response. In one motion I grab him up and pinned him against the wall, explaining that breaking rules leads to irreversible consequences…many of which are extremely painful. After a “Yes Sir” response to the question “do you understand?” I released him. Apparently, that got his attention.

I prefer being the grandfather not the father. I fancy the warm fuzzy feel of being best buddies not the haunting responsibility of being a conscientious father, trying to raise up a God fearing child. I can only imagine how our heavenly Father feels when I step over the line. It really hurts and there’s no getting around it.

Forgive me, Father God, for ignoring your rules,
Even if done by scores of fools
I think now, I get it, through Your life-skill schools.

The choice to love can break a heart,
I must admit I don’t like that part,
But all in all, I think it’s smart.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for the lessons learned,
Thank you for a grandson spurned,
Thank you for Your love…unearned.

Amen.

A Near Miss

Our shopping carts crossed paths, in what pilots refer to as a “near miss”. We almost crashed somewhere in the produce section near the apples and oranges. I spoke a one-word apology and as we exchanged smiles I felt a definite electric tingle pass through me. She was not the typical Wal-Mart shopper…she was stunning. Tall and slender with a classic pixie hairdo and wearing a red and white floral print sundress that left no doubt she was female. She was a perfect picture and I surmised she had the power to jumpstart anyone’s imagination.

Dumbfounded, I continued to gather groceries…then spotted her in the poultry department, later on aisle 5 and finally at the far check out counter. All the time I am thinking I should say something clever or pay her a nice compliment. Fortunately, I could not think of one intelligent thing to say…other than “Duh….”

I worry that somewhere deep down inside my soul that it is the devil making eyes at me. But, on the other hand I get the same electric tingle when I see a shiny classic car…like a 57 Chevy with lots of chrome, a West Texas sunset or newborn puppies.

Thank you, Lord Jesus:

For all the beauty You have made.
For the price that You have paid.
For so much more than I deserve.
So, Lord, teach me how to serve.

Amen.

I Miss Her

I miss her not being here…but I understand she needs to be five hundred miles away at her mother's. I am glad she is there…with her mom…holding her hand.

Each day I read her emails on the status of my mother-in-law chronicling the use of supplemental oxygen, the new “hospital” bed, the wheelchair, the edema, the restless waking at night. When I read between the lines I can feel the worry and anxiety of my wife. Each day we are one day closer to the inevitable…one hundred and three years, five months, nineteen days and counting. I can only imagine that it is as painful as giving birth. Like the labor pains, each day is an emotional and physical challenge. It is painful but will be worth it. The end result will be as joyful as a new birth and in some strange way will be a birth into eternal life…a joyful life indeed. All the tears will be wiped away…all the pain and heartache gone.


So for this I pray

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

if I die before I wake,

I pray for God my soul to take.
Amen.

Bad Habits?

We’re all creatures of habit…so…be careful with whom you hang out. It all starts innocently enough with those people. You begin hanging around those who hang out at church. The first thing you know, you’re hanging out at the same places. Then you start going to an occasional Mass. Before you know it you’re going on a regular basis. Then you find yourself showing up for daily mass, partaking of the sacraments, listening to the WORD, and on and on. Without realizing it you’re hooked. The mold is set…the die is casted. You’re caught in an ever-tightening spiral that sucks you in. You are helpless. You give up and you give in.

Dear Lord Jesus;

I know it’s been a long, long fight,
It didn’t happen over night,
But I’m so glad I finally caved,
Thanks to You I‘ve been saved.

Thanks for all the people sent,
Who knows where I would have went,
But now am hooked from above,
Addicted to Your awesome love.

Amen

Bad Choices

To my beloved grandson;

Cameron, Please forgive me. I was wrong making you choose between playing your X-Box and going to church. After returning from Sunday Mass I realized that God never forces anyone to love him. It’s a free choice and the choice is entirely yours. Regardless of your choice God will always love you and I will always love you.

But believe me it really hurts to see you making the same mistakes I made as a child. Those choices have consequences…I can assure you…the consequences are not fun.

So…words to the wise…learn from others mistakes, don’t make all the same old mistake I did.

Love always
Dado

Dressed Up

I dressed up in my Sunday suit…actually my only suit…white shirt and red tie. As of late, I’ve been wearing this same outfit, each and every Sunday. This is all part of a new strategy, a new and long-range strategy. While I am a bit uncomfortable I feel the sacrifice is well worth it. My plan is to wear the same suit every Sunday and then on Judgment Day…in an attempt to be recognized. For nothing would be worse than receiving the “Depart from Me, I never knew you” speech. At a minimum, I’m hoping for “Don’t I know you?” or “Where have I seen you before?” So I might answer “Yep! That was me, at your Fathers house." I think the plan might work. There is a method to my madness.

These days wearing a suit to Sunday Mass definitely makes you stand out. I am even considering sitting in the front row. I need to take advantage of every opportunity I can.

Actually, I am counting on a lot of forgiveness and God’s infinite mercy.

Perhaps I need to reconsider my actions when I am not wearing the suit.


Dear, Lord Jesus,

In this world of grand, to be a Dapper Dan
It is the clothes that flatters
It’s often said, that when you are dead
There’s nothing more that matters.

But when standing alone, before the throne,
I question this worldly notion
As I face my wrong, without one stitch on
It seems a foolish potion.

If ever my needs outweigh my deeds
This would be the instance
For this is the place, for God’s mercy and grace
And I accept with no resistance.
Amen.

Memory Card

I removed the 1 GB memory card from my broken camera, stuck it in the iMac and hoped for the best. Amazingly the images displayed onto the screen…images of the Alaskan trip. Looking at all the faces and places took me back…back in time…back to my college days. It was all the same faces, all the same friends; it was just as if time did not exist. Yet, there we were all on a once in a lifetime trip.

We laughed, we joked, and we enjoyed each others’ company. We did all the touristy stuff. At Fairbanks, we did the paddle wheel steamer, the abandoned gold dredge, and panned for gold. Then we rode the train to Denali, day tripped through the park and motor coached to Seward to board the ship for Vancouver.

We sailed across the Gulf of Alaska to Glacier Bay with its mountain of ice. We tied up at Haines and took the ferry to Skagway where we rode the train to the top of White Pass. I wondered how the Gold Rush Stampeders could have each hauled two thousand pounds of supplies up and over the pass in the dead of winter.

My best friend, my wife, and I rode up the tramway and viewed Juneau from the top of Mt. Roberts. We zip-lined down through The Tongass Forest and repelled down to an awaiting boat. At Ketchikan she again ventured out of her comfort zone and we kayaked to the island of Tatoosh where we observed bald eagles in great numbers and harbor seals (all within a stone’s throw). Only later back in our cabin aboard the ship did she admit how much she enjoyed it. Each night we all sat around the big table and shared a meal and stories of the day’s adventures.

After two days of meandering the city Vancouver, visiting Stanley Park and walking the Capilano Suspension Bridge we packed up and headed to the airport for our flight home.

Thank you, lord Jesus,
For good sights
For good times
For good friends
And the good sense to enjoy them.
Amen.

Land of the Midnight Sun

Travel log Date: 7-2-2010
Fairbanks, AK
Time: 4:30 am (Alaska time zone)
Temp: 62deg F -- Dew point: 57 deg
Wind: SSW @ 7
Sunrise: 3:14am -- Sunset: 12:38 am

If I were home it would be 7:30am and I would have been up for 2 hours. But here, not even the locals are awake. I sat alone on the outdoor deck at the hotel enjoying the solitude and looking at the incredible array of colors that populated the plethora of flower boxes with delicate poppies, buttercups and forget-me-nots. No one stirred in the early morning still…the streets were quiet…neither a tour bus nor tourist moved. The maudlin Fairbanks sky faded from a dark gray in the east to a crystal clear blue in the west. The sun’s rays pierced through holes in the clouds like a laser that burned through to the frozen tundra.

This was my third trip to the land of the “midnight sun”. Alaska is a place that has always beckoned me with its stark rugged landscapes and majestic beauty. The thought of surviving its harsh and unforgiving weather has a mysterious appeal that I cannot explain. But, this time it was different. I was a prisoner of the tourist industry and I knew it. My worries were not about…being eaten by a bear or surviving a forced landing, but were about retrieving my lost luggage from the airlines or which coat and tie I should wear to dinner.

I was unaccustomed to this type of adventure, this type of travel. Tipping all the bus drivers, tour guides, waiters, bellhops and doormen was far from what I was familiar with, at least, not in Alaska. I didn’t bring any survival gear; no sleeping bag, no hiking boots, not as much as a pocket knife for fear of airport security taking it. My only means of surviving was a VISA card and a handful of cash.

Yesterday, we witnessed a team of Alaskan huskies pulling a muddy 4 wheeler and a “real” Athabascan Native Village from the deck of an “authentic” riverboat paddle-wheel steamer; complete with diesel engine and hydraulic drive motors, bow and stern thrusters. It would have made Walt Disney proud.

Later, we visited the abandon Gold Dredge #8 and then actually panned for gold. After an exhausting few of minutes of backbreaking work…sifting, separating and washing gravel and dirt from a couple of tiny gold flakes…we were ushered into the gift shop where we left all of our hard earned money…just as the Stampeders did in days gone by.

All I could do was try to melt into the crowd and be lead aimlessly from gift shop to gift shop. Attempting not to get swept up into the buyer’s excitement…I looked in vain for an Alaskan souvenir that was not made in China.

The following day it was a bus trip around the city of Fairbanks, then the train to Denali National Park, another six-hour bus ride thought the park to see “The Tall One” which was hidden by fog.

After Goggling Mass times on my Blackberry only to find places that were unreachable and at times that were unacceptable…I was really starting to feel trapped by the system. I was uncomfortable with the “you’re traveling” excuse and felt a tremendous urge to attend Sunday Mass. As we returned from our stimulating school bus ride through the cloud obscured Denali Park Mountains, we stumbled into a Saturday Vigil Mass in the Park’s theater. Thank you, Father Jack, for traveling the three hundred miles each weekend to serve your mission churches. Call it coincident or a mini-miracle; I just love it when God makes things happen that I can’t.

The next day it is Wasilla for lunch, through Anchorage, past Turnagain Arm (with it’s 40 foot tidal changes) and down the Kenai Peninsula to Seward. Planes, trains, and buses…every stop was crowded with people and that seemed to water down the awesome beauty of the landscape. The bus drivers/tour guides pointed out tiny dots on far away mountains identifying them as moose, bear, Dall sheep or caribou. I personally believe one would have needed the aid of an observatory class telescope to actually identify anything at that distance. I suspect that wildlife would shy away…far away…from the stream of motor coaches that clattered and cluttered the highway.

Tomorrow we sail. Across the Gulf of Alaska to Glacier Bay then down the Inside Passage to Haines-Skagway, Juneau, Ketchikan and finally Vancouver. I am looking forward to an adventure on the high seas and to visiting Southeastern Alaska…an area, which I have never seen.

“There are strange things done
in the midnight sun
by the men who moil for gold”…by R.W. Service


Thank you, Lord Jesus
For the mysteries,
For the miracles,
The land magnificent
And the midnight sun.
Amen

Wildlife

Alaskan Wildlife can be dangerous "especially during the rut"

A Comforting Comment

This is too good not to share.

Gene,
I am glad to hear that I am not the only person a little short on knowledge of French cuisine. On my first trip to France to startup a new refinery I went into a nice restaurant near our apartment and the only thing I recognized on the menu was "Steak Tartar" which I ordered. What I got was a pile of raw hamburger meat garnished with chopped up raw onions. On another occasion I ordered Burger Cheval. What I got was a horsemeat hamburger and actually it was pretty good except the idea of eating “Trigger” was hard to get over.

Bill

Thanks, Roy, I mean Bill

Adventure On The High Seas

I wasn’t sure what I was getting into when I signed on for the voyage. I envisioned sailing the seven seas and washing down stale hard-tack with a bitter rum grog while waves crashed over the fo’c’sle. I pictured myself returning a seasoned and salty seaman. But, after seven days at sea it was all I could do to waddle down the gangway. I struggled with my land-legs under the additional burden of fifty pounds. The fifty pounds I had gained from the non-stop eating at various food bars, cafeterias and dining rooms on the ship.

Each evening, in the formal dining room, it proved to be a challenge and an educational experience for myself...an accomplished “over the sink eater”. Dressed in my Sunday best I ordered from a menu coded with French words. I knew I was in trouble when the menu had no pictures nor were the items numbered. I’m more comfortable ordering the #2 with mustard, tots and a DP. No such luck.

Turns out “Vichyssoise” means cold potato soup and “ox tail soup en croute” means runny beef pot-pie. Apparently, it’s all about presentation. The food was picture perfect...I wanted to photograph and frame it...but had reservations about eating it.

The fear of the unknown worked in my favor and it helped to curtail some of my caloric intake but somehow in spite of my fear I still managed to bulk up.

I’ll start my diet tomorrow; but until then, “Bon Appetit”

Thought For the Day

Life is like a day at the beach…it is a wonderful experience with all the salty sea smells, sights and sounds. At the beach…like in life…you are going to get a little burned and a little sand in your shorts. As wonderful as it is…once is enough for me.

I look forward to an eternity without sand in my shorts.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for the sun, sand and surf.
Amen

Job App

Filling out forms, answering questionnaires and paper work in general are not my forte. Yet, here I am…doing something that was my wife’s idea…applying for a volunteer job. I have never had to fill out so many forms…not even for a real job. The most interesting of all the forms was the “Personal Death Awareness Worksheet”. Some of the questions were very confusing. Such as “which do you fear most?” Do you fear death more that dying or dying more that death?
That seems a bit nebulous to me. Shouldn’t the question be…Do or don’t you fear dying and death?

I don’t like the subjective questions…you have to think. Multiple choice or true/false questions are much easier to deal with and require only the skill for picking a loosing lottery number. So I did my best to give ambiguous answers to the ambiguous questions.

Another question was estimating my remaining life span…I Googled that one. The life span of the average overweight white male in the USA is 80.2 years. So that became a simple math problem. I subtracted my age and got 14.8 years. Surely I will get this answer right.

What death I would prefer? My answer: To wake up dead. The death I would not prefer? Hum…that’s going to be a long list.

And there were a jillion other questions that I was unprepared to answer. I’ve concluded that I will have no say-so in the matter and I prefer it that way. I am convinced that God is in control and he alone knows what is best for me.

I am confident that I will die…statistically 100 percent of all people die.

I believe living is more difficult than dying, especially if you are trying to follow Christ. So I will take whatever He gives me…and I look forward to my undeserved reward. It is not always obvious to me…but I’ve learned…that God only gives me good things and he will not test me beyond my strength.

So I guess if I can pass the written test I will become a member of that elite group of Hospice volunteers. Hopefully I will discover the attraction for those folks who spend all their time pursuing this work that yields such bountiful rewards.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a wife that always challenges me to do your will.
Amen

Boring

I watched my grandson, Cameron, as he moped about the house with a forlorn expression, mournful sighs and muttering the word “boring”. It took me back…back in time…when I was a child. A child trapped in an intolerable situation…trapped like a prisoner and unable to escape the imagined bonds and bars in my head. I was forced to eat three meals a day and wear clean serviceable clothes and shoes. Worst of all, I was required to get an education. I was not allowed to do what I wanted to do because my parents were strict and unbending people with high moral standards.

Perhaps the purpose of children and grandchildren is to remind me just how foolish I was. What a great childhood I had. It’s a shame I did not appreciate or enjoy it at the time. A childish mind and heart is easily led astray. While I was bemoaning the fact that I was not allowed to “do it my way” I missed some of the joys of childhood.

Maybe the apple has not fallen that far from the tree. Fortunately my grandson is an extremely bright child and I suspect he will figure this all out in a much more expedient manner than I.

Thanks Mom and Dad for all you did. Forgive me for the aggravation I put you through.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for not letting me miss out on the real joy of life.
Amen.

A Note to My Father

Thanks Dad for being the father I needed…a person I could look up to. Sorry it took so long for me to realize that fact. Hope you are enjoying your day, as I am sure it must be wonderful hanging out with Our Heavenly Father.

Thanks for a sample
Of a fine example
For this I pray
Happy Father’s day
From your son
The prodigal one
Amen

Radio Shack

I sheepishly slunk up to the sales counter and asked if I could return the Ethernet cable that I had purchased earlier in the day. I handed it over in the original package along with the receipt. As I answered the litany of questions and signed all the required documentation… I hoped and prayed they would not ask me the reason for its return. That would be far too embarrassing to explain in front of all the other customers.

I had stewed over the loss of my antiquated Ethernet cable for days. I knew I had one and I wanted to hook up my new computer to my antiquated non-wireless router that I had used for years. I stubbornly refuse to go “wireless” even though the computer is capable. Surely the missing cable must be my wife’s fault…she puts stuff everywhere…her schoolteacher style of organizing I have never understood and never will. So finally…I had to bite the bullet and buy a new one.

Upon returning home I examined my router for a vacant port but found none…what were all these wires plugged into? Duh!!! There’s my cable…at that instant I recalled who was the responsible party.

So, Thank you, Radio Shack…thank you for not embarrassing me. Not a soul will know what an idiot I am… not even my wife. I will carry this secret to my grave.


Dear Lord please
Remind me to
Pray before I eat
Look before I leap
Think before I speak
Amen

The Sky Is Falling

I’ve developed an ostrich mentality and prefer to bury my head in the sand as opposed to being well-informed of all the “Chicken Little" news. I’ve given the bird to all the soothsayers and shamans. These clairvoyants and fortunetellers masquerade as experts doing nothing but upsetting and causing stress to the gullible and naïve…like me. For it is always the end of something…if not the end of the world…the end of a nation, the end of a great society, or the end of prosperous times. Whatever! If it is just the end of the day or the end of “our days”…it matters not.

In spite of all the doom and gloom, I was encouraged by Father’s words as he elaborated on Friday’s reading (1 Peter 4:7-13) “The end of all things is at hand. Therefore, be serious and sober for prayers. Above all, let your love for one another be intense, because love covers a multitude of sins…..”

It is a sobering thought that there is NO END to eternity…and in eternity...I will spend most of my time. So when that ship sails the only question is…where will I be assigned?...in the boiler room or on the bridge with the captain. I need to be more serious about my praying.


Dear Lord Jesus,
Let me walk with You amidst the jeers.
Please hold my hand and calm my fears/
And stand with me to wipe my tears.
Comfort my soul throughout the years.
Amen

5/28/2010

Sitting On the Back Porch

The altostratus clouds stretched out in drifts like sand on a deserted beach. Random waves of wispy white lie against a backdrop of baby blue. They appeared motionless, frozen in an abstract painting of ghost white smeared on a canvas of Bleu de la France.

A light breeze rustled through the trees. The sparrows, doves, and pigeons chirped, cooed and warbled as they found their roost for the night. The temperature was perfect…while the thermometer said eighty four it felt like seventy two and the air was as fresh as if it had just rained.

The early evening’s sunlight pierced the atmosphere at a low angle and the suspended particles filtered out the shorter wavelengths leaving the longer ones to illuminate the underside of the clouds in shades of crimson and pink.

I sat there mesmerized until the last ray of light had faded and a mosquito whispered in my ear “it’s time to go inside”

It was that magical hour before sunset…the perfect end to a perfect day…the Lord ’s Day.

News Flash

Here is another breakthrough in solar technology. The solar clothes dryer is most economical of all appliances known to date. Its low initial cost and zero cost of operating make it the most efficient renewable energy and eco friendly device yet to be invented. Construction of this device should the restricted to the serious DIYers. Parts are readily available at Wal-mart (bag of 50 wooden C Ps for 97 cents)

The Spiral Notebook

I opened my single subject wide-ruled spiral notebook and paged through the scribbling and scrawling looking for a blank page on which to write. It occurred to me that I had been derelict in my duties of transcribing the notes and atrocious penmanship into a readable and logical sequence of events. Now, I must go back through all these pages of nonsense and try to figure out what I was thinking or if I was thinking…searching for some special nugget of wisdom in my incoherent rambling and writing. The editing process is like panning for gold…a laborious and painful process…there’s a lot of worthless silt, dirt and gravel that must be tossed aside.

Upon finding a blank page I realized that I had absolutely nothing to write about. So…there I sat in the wee hours of the morning, in the last pew, in an almost vacant chapel staring at the golden monstrance that holds the Lamb of God. It’s kind of humbling to be in the presence of the One who is responsible for all of my undeserved blessings. We all have different gifts…undeserved blessings, graces and charisms. I must recognize that they are not for me to hoard, but to share…to share with others. They must be given away if they are to be of any benefit to me.

This part is easier said than done…for me…someone who is a bit possessive with stuff and has some difficulty swallowing when it comes to pride. My preference would be to receive credit when it’s not due and enjoy the proverbial pat on the back…never acknowledging the true source of my gifts but rather to wallow in the admiration of the wide-eyed fan. Truth be known… it is you Lord Jesus that deserves all the credit…you are the One who is responsible for all I have.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all the wonderful blessings, graces and charisms.
Please give me the courage to acknowledge their true source
As I look forward to the best and most undeserved reward of all.
For nothing compares to the promise I have in YOU.
Amen

Solar Project Update

Received my heat transfer plates today…how exciting!! Now, I can complete the construction of the "third generation" solar panel. I had no idea how much fun could be had with such a simple project…at least in theory. Turns out I have learned many things “Not To Do”. So many things it would be impractical to include the list here. The biggest accomplishment was overcoming the mountain of skepticism from a member of my family who does the washing, cooking and child bearing. Comments like, “I can’t take a hot shower any time I want?” have subsided as the refinement to the system have improved.

My next challenge will be selling her on the yard art and roof decorations. I feel that all the piping, pumps and panels add a certain abstract quality to the house that breaks up the tidiness and stuffy straight lines. Besides…who wants to live in a house that derides their neighbors?

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all of my blessings.
Not just for the sun that warms us and heats our water
But for You who warm our hearts even on the cloudiest of days.
Amen

Maybe, It's Not Over

My wife was out of town so I took advantage of the opportunity and went to see an old friend. It had been a long, long time. Upon opening the door and seeing her…I was amazed…how good she looked. Her mere presence fanned the fires of my fantasies and my memory burned hot with recollections of the wonderful times we had spent together. I pulled back the sheets that covered her and ran my fingers over her skin…the excitement was far from absent and my emotions pulled me back into the past. It was hard to know what to say.
So I applied a coat of Turtle wax and spent the afternoon polishing and remembering the beautiful cloud-filled skies and magnificent panoramic vistas from on high. To view the world from two miles up gives me an entirely different perspective…it’s a chance to back away from the everyday rat-race and take a more detached and uninvolved look at life. Perhaps the feelings are best captured by John Gillespie Magee, Jr in his poem, High Flight.

“Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.”

Dear Lord Jesus, perhaps my affair with flying is not over.
Please allow my flying to be a way to get just a little closer to You.
Amen.

Being Tested

I remembered to go through the pockets before taking my laundry to the cleaners and found a page I had torn from the Missalette on Palm Sunday. It was marked with my scribbling and folded up neatly. Now I remember why I did it. I wanted to capture those words that had jumped off the page. Normally, I nod off during that long reading of the Passion or get lost in some daydream that’s totally irrelevant. But for some reason the words Jesus spoke to the disciples in the garden found a chink in my armor. “Pray that you may not undergo the test.” Then he comes back and tells them again, “Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray that you may not undergo the test.” Twice Jesus said it. Surely, that means it is important.

I for one do not like tests. I do not like being tested. I freely admit that I am a spiritual wimp and I want life to be easy. So…for me…it appears that this would be very good advice. I am confident that Jesus would not say anything he did not mean. Therefore, I am going to add this prayer to my daily repertoire.

Dear, Lord Jesus, I pray that I may not undergo the test.
Amen.

Sports Fan?

I had to confront the reality that I’m not a hardcore sports fan when I attended an out-of-town softball tournament with my 5th grade grandson last Saturday. I found myself either people watching or hanging around the concession stand…eating. The small town treats…fresh cooked breakfast tacos, hamburgers, cheeseburgers and bakery goods…cried out to be evaluated by my discriminating palate.

Cheering for the wrong team, sitting in the wrong bleachers and not being able to comprehend the rules and subtleties of softball seemed to be my strong suit. In my defense it did seem like every team was wearing the same blue uniform. Why does the ball cross the plate in the vertical plane? Fast Pitch? Slow Pitch? Softball? Baseball? Why? Why? Why does this it all seem so foreign to me?

Admittedly, it was exciting when my grandson caught the ball and when he made a good throw to first base. So I will remain a vicarious participant and enjoy the game through his stimulating enthusiasm and try to look at it through his eyes.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a grandson who is thrilling to watch play sports.
Sincerely, Your Fan
Amen.

The First Spring Cutting

The green haze of oak pollen boiled up around me like some scene from a horror movie. This is the only time of the year that I’m not in love with the huge live oak trees that clutter my "estate". As I methodically circled the yard…not one of the eleven horses balked as the blades of my mower pulverize the numerous toys hidden in the tall grass. Apparently all the pleading, scolding and cajoling was to no avail. I cannot count the number of times I ask the grandchildren to pick up their toys from the yard or how many times I have picked up after them. Now it was too late…for all the little balls and toys left over from Happy Meals or branded with Sonic and Burger King names were gone. Now they resembled vermiculite or some form of confetti with a Mettel quality. An evil sneer came across my face as if to say I told you so. But I knew deep down in my heart this was not the end of it. There would be hell to pay…there would be weeping and gnashing of teeth…and I would be the one who suffered.

I don’t remember leaving my stuff every where when I was a kid…but that was a long time ago. It’s amusing that you never grow up until you have kids, and you don’t recognize that fact until you have grandkids.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for children that have grown up and grandchildren that will.
Amen

Waiting for the Sunshine

After making several improvements and modifications to my solar water heater and spending $22 for plumbing fittings to hook up my $29 pump...I let out a sigh of disappointment…for it was then I noticed that I could not see my shadow. Oh, well! Surely it will not remain overcast forever.

The improvements were removing the black hose from the trampoline and encasing it in an insulated glass cover box...built entirely from scrap parts...installing the 12 VDC pump to circulate water to the holding tank and wiring the photo-voltaic panels to the pump. I even propped the collector box up on a patio chair at a 30 degree angle to match latitude of the earth in South Texas.

Now for the waiting…like waiting for Christmas with the same excitement and anticipation of all the wonderful gifts and blessing…such as hot water.

Life is good, God is great

Wildflowers

Accompanied by my daughter and grandson we followed the ribbon of asphalt as it undulated and snaked its way through the Texas Hill Country. We drove the five hundred miles from South Texas to the high plains city of Lubbock…on our way to grandmother’s house. It was Easter weekend and we were to fetch my wife who had spent the last two weeks visiting and caring for her mother, the family matriarch, whose descendants now numbered one hundred and three…equaling the number of candles on her birthday cake. She has lived a life as colorful and vibrant as the wildflowers that carpet the Texas roadsides in spring and early summer. As we motored our way along the hills and dells we marveled at the numerous Yellow Daisy, Desert Marigolds and Buttercups…the Bluebonnets, Mountain Laurel and Purple Vetch…the White Bull Nettle, Wild Azaleas and Prickly Poppy…the Crimson Clover, Wine Cup and pink Indian Paint Brush. The flora and vegetation seemed particularly vivid and intense this year.

I couldn’t help but think of this remarkable, energetic woman who lead such an amazing life on the west Texas high plains…no stranger to a buckboard, hunting rifle or one room school house…she married late in life…birthed and raised ten children…mostly by herself after her husband died while the youngest was still in diapers. She taught countless second-graders to read…until retiring…well into her seventies.

Each year the flowers bloom in the spring and fade in the summer heat and die in the fall.
My mother–in–law is in the autumn of her life and fading. She is slowing down with each passing day…getting closer to the inevitable that we all must face. Each day bringing us all closer to the unavoidable reality…whether we want to accept it or not…each day brings us all closer to the reality of death…life’s strange paradox…living to die and dying to live.

Whoever thought of celebrating Easter during springtime had a good idea…life renewed…I see the resurrection of new life blooming all around me.

It all sounds so simple from an unattached intellectual standpoint but it’s not…when you know and love someone who mean so much to you it’s impossible to even think the unthinkable without tearing up and gasping for breath. It will be a sad day…sad for us because we will miss her, but a joyous day for her. A new life in a better place. She will finally leave her beloved old pink brick ranch style house…she will be in God’s house…God’s house with no plumbing problems. Hallelujah!

Someday…maybe someday…we will all line the roadsides of heaven each adding a glimmer of beauty to God’s highways and byways.

For this I pray
Amen

Energy Crisis

Thanks to our country's current economic conditions, my energy had ebbed and my positive outlook had sailed with the outgoing tide. I knew I had to get off the couch, turn off the depressing TV news and get busy doing something...doing anything…anything to get my mind off all the doom and gloom that was being reported by the media. My concerns about a green earth and wasting resources were outweighed by concerns of not being able to afford the lavish lifestyle of hot showers and refrigerated air-conditioning that I currently enjoy. In my mind the exorbitant price of 10 cents per kilowatt hour seems like usury. So I visited the local plumping store and secured a length of black plastic pipe and a sack full of valves and fittings.

After laying out some 400 ft of black poly pipe on top of the old trampoline in the back yard and covering it with glass left over from a remodel…I plumbed it into the existing water line that served the master bath at the rear of the house. I picked up the plethora of tools and put away the other supplies that were gathered for the project…went inside…and took a hot shower. I was amazed by the steamy 130 degree water and had to add cold water to it...in order to make it comfortable. It was even more remarkable considering the outside temperature was only 68 degrees. Energized by my success and the fact that only $143 was spent for the entire system...turning off the power to the other water heaters seemed prudent.

I must confess that my wife was out of town…a factor making this entire experiment possible. After several days of hot showers it became evident that the thermo-siphon (hot water rising) effect I had hoped for was nonexistent. This was due to no difference in elevation between the solar heating coils of black pipe and the storage tank (a.k.a. the existing electric water heater). There was no transfer of heat to the storage tank and during the night it dissipated from the heating coils. This only made hot water available during daylight hours.

While I was OK with my camping mode existence…it would not be an acceptable situation once the wife returned. After searching the internet I found a small 12 volt, 6 watt hot water transfer pump…a perfect solution to my problem for only $30. Now all I needed was a photovoltaic solar panel to supply electrical power to the pump during the day. Just what the doctor ordered…Harbor Freight had a 45 watt panel on sale for only $199. Power to spare…I couldn’t help but run around the house checking the wattage of all the appliances, computers and assorted electrical stuff. After some math it became quite clear how nonchalant my attitude had become toward the use of electrical power. My taking for granted the availability of such a resource was a serious oversight. The 1800 watts I can get out of one single outlet in my house would take 40 panels costing $8000 to supply the same amount of power.

My enthusiasm now totally deflated, I plugged the TV into an AC/DC inverter, using the power from my new solar panel and sat down to watch the evenings news with my FREE electricity. Life is good...living off “The GRID”

Thank You, Lord Jesus, for my...oh...so many blessings.
Amen

The Purple Haze

I tried desperately to claw and climb my way out of the blue funk/information hangover that I had fallen into. It seems that the continuous and contemptuous ranting and railing of our “rule makers” left me feeling less than optimistic. Irregardless of the color…red or blue…no matter the species…pachyderm or equine…they all behaved like cats and dogs. I believe Samuel Clements said, “There are three kinds of lies…lies, damn lies, and statistics.” Well…I’ve never heard such conflicting statistics. I know figures don’t lie, but…liars figure. I am appalled by the fact that our “rule makers” seem to know what is best for the underlings…yet THEY will not have any part of it for themselves. They make rules for us… but the rules do not apply to them. I find that most discouraging…but, apparently…it’s nothing new for scribes, Pharisees and tax collectors. While I agree with much of what they say I don’t agree with what they are doing. It sounds as if nothing has changed in two thousand years.

In Matt 23:1-5 Jesus speaks to the multitudes and to His disciples saying, "The scribes and the Pharisees have taken their seat in the chair of Moses. Therefore, do and observe all things whatsoever they tell you, but do not follow their example. They preach but they do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men's shoulders; but they will not lift a finger to move them. All their works they do to be seen by men."

For over two thousand years nothing has changed in the world of scribes, Pharisees and tax collectors. Nothing has changed in the world of the peasants, serfs and slaves. It is still the hand-to-mouth business of staying alive one day at a time. Nothing has changed in the world of rich men who go out to admire their stables of oxen, asses, and sheep.

So, why should I be surprised? I go out to my barn…I look at my Ram and the 245 horses under the hood and thank Cummings for the 505 ft-lbs of torque.

In this world I cannot let my circumstances change my faith in you, Lord Jesus. It is my faith that determines my fate.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for nothing compares to the promise I have in You.
It is in Your world I find peace and hope.
Thank goodness God’s world is unchanging.
Amen

Worrying

Today worrying seems to be my strong suit. While I know it is totally unproductive I can’t seem to kick the habit. All the “what-ifs” and “how-comes”…trying to live in the future…that’s what I squander my time on. I could get off my duff and do something positive…now. I worry about our country’s economy…which has affected my personal economy substantially. I worry about our country’s leadership. Even more so, I worry about a nation of stiff-necked people who have elected our troublesome leaders. Apparently there is a majority who wants to change God’s rules or make new rules that somehow supersede God’s rules. It is one thing to break the rules but totally different to change the rules and pretend that it is all OK. This is the road to ruination, tantamount to lying to yourself. God’s rules cannot be superseded or changed. You simply can’t change the rules to suit yourself. God’s rules are unchangeable. Just like the rule that makes water run down hill…always did and always will…no matter how bad you want it to go up hill…it ain’t happ’n.

Just as I began worrying about how I was going to earn my keep for today, I got a phone call from a customer wanting a frayed rope on his flag pole replaced. So I rescheduled my worrying and squeezed in a service call.

After rounding up tools and material, studying the situation and formulating a plan… I completed the job. As I unfurled the Stars and Stripes and hoisted the flag up by its new rope…a touch of pride came over me. I couldn’t help but think how blessed I was to be born into such a well-to-do, prosperous place and to have a God who cares for my every need.

Dear Lord Jesus, please give me the wisdom to NOT worry but to put my faith in You…for You have met my every need…many times...before I have had the sense to even ask. Please help me trust in your word, follow your example and live in the present.
Amen

Invent’n Winton

Remember these ram air window coolers?

For me it was 3rd grade, Wink, TX. (circa 1953) My father, for whatever reason, did not buy one. He came up with his own design…sort of a “Tim (the tool man) Taylor” idea…bigger, better and badder than anything Sears and Roebuck sold. His design was a ram-air plenum that extended over the top and spanned the entire width of the car. It stood nearly 12 inches high and the inlet, the entire front side, was opened and fitted with a porous pad.

Built from galvanized sheet metal the long box, with a “u-turn” shape at one end, brought the ram air from the outside of the car down and around into the passenger side front window.

At highway speed the oncoming hot dry air would be forced into the box though the inlet passing over a wet mat…which cooled the air by the evaporation process…then into the car.

It was held on the top of the car with four pairs of suction cups and straps with hooks...borrowed from his car-top luggage rack. Everybody had a car-top carrier back then and every car had rain gutters (drip rails) to hook onto.

The water reservoir, for wetting the pad, was a 5 gal can located in the trunk and somehow through an elaborate system of piping, plumbing and pumps it got to the box on the roof.

Evaporative type coolers work well in dry climates. The larger the spread between the wet bulb (dew point) and dry bulb temperatures the better they worked. And it worked great in the dry West Texas town of Wink.

There were a few drawbacks. First, it only worked at highway speeds because the air supply stopped when you stopped. This made sitting at red lights problematic. Second, in my father’s massive design, it allowed water to collect in the large roof top plenum. During a left turn the same forces that opened doors...flinging the unsuspecting out into the street...acted upon the lake of water producing a tsunami that would surprise and almost drown the front seat passenger.

That very summer my father was transferred to Southern California where we enjoyed the constant 72 degree temperature…and that’s the last I remember of that experiment.

Apparently my "Invent'n Winton" interests for tinkering, building and inventing were inherited.

Thanks, Dad, for the memories.

Birthday Cake

Today, 3/2/2010, marks the completion of the 65th year of my existence on this planet…admittedly…it seems a bit anticlimactic after returning from my mother-in-law's 103rd birthday celebration. The two days of driving was worth the three days of partying. Seeing all the in-laws and listening to their stories of being raised in a large family living in rural West Texas was interesting and entertaining.

It is amazing how those seemingly tragic events magnified by the intensity of childhood become fodder for the most hilarious anecdotes. These historical and hysterical yarns, like fine wine, become better with age. In my wife’s family there seems to be a genetic trait for such narratives.

My sides still ache from three days of non-stop laughing.

So, today, I suppose I can officially retire from my do nothing job and enjoy the benefits, rewards and pleasures of doing nothing. My birthday wish is to be taken out to eat at some lavish restaurant. I just hope Burger King still has their double meat double cheese on the value menu.

How blessed I am to have my cake and eat it too.
Amen

A Lubbock Morning

Everyone was still sleeping as I sat in my mother-in-law's kitchen looking out into the dawn's twilight. It was a clear cold Lubbock morning and no one stirred as I ate part of a leftover roasted chicken Panini with stale edges, some oatmeal cookies and a diet coke. It was the perfect breakfast to start a perfect morning. That magical hour is the best time to just sit and think....to think of how wonderful, amazing and beautiful the world is and how blessed I am to be somehow plopped down right in the big middle of it all. Right in the middle of my mother-in-law "Big Red's" family, married to one of her one hundred descendants. Literally, the last count brought the number to 100. And today, right in the middle of her 103rd birthday, in the middle of her kitchen.
As the rays of sunshine penetrated the window and warmed my face I could hear relatives beginning to stir in preparation for the big party. Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all my undeserved blessings. Amen

Fish Story

I take courage in the fact that God told Jonah to go to Nineveh not once but twice.

Today I made a special effort to pay close attention to the readings (Jonah 3:1-10 and Luke 11:29-32) but found myself thinking about my past, thinking that Jonah…as I…was not really excited about doing what God told him to do. But God did not give up on him; God went to extreme measures to show him the light. Just like Jonah …I was swallowed up…not by a fish but by the ways of the world. Only out of misery did I cry out to God. From the pit of despair I called to the Lord to save me from drowning is a sea of secularism and relativism.

Then I thought about the citizens of Nineveh and how they all listened to Jonah’s warning…how even the king listened and complied with the warning…they repented and turned away from their evil ways. Then I thought of our people, our congress, and our king and thought how nice they would look in sack-cloth and ashes.

Dear Lord Jesus,
Help me, in this season of repentance,
to truly comply with your wishes.
Give me the wisdom to do what I’m told.
So you don’t have to tell me twice.
Amen

Latin Scholars

Today’s readings were 1 Peter 5:1-4 and Matthew’s Gospel 16:13-19 which talked about the chair of Peter, the first shepherd of the church. “Ubi Petrus, ibi ecclesia”, Father started his homily. He explained that the old Latin saying translated to “Wherever Peter is, there is the church”.

That was the last thing I heard. Kidnapped by my own daydreams and transported back to the past, back to high school in LA, back to Latin class, back to the summer I spent working in the Big Bear Mountains with George Oller. George was the older brother of my older sister’s best friend, on leave from the seminary. He, several years my senior, invited me to spend the summer working odd jobs at Big Bear Lake where his older brother had a cabin. A real cabin, a cabin you had to hike the switchbacks to get to, a cabin without running water, electricity or an inside toilet. We spent the summer scraping paint, raking pine needles and making miscellaneous repairs for the locals. When we were not working we hiked and swam, explored old abandoned gold mines and generally investigated the mountains in his old ‘38 Ford pickup. Breakfast was usually biscuits…biscuits with a surprise ingredient…such as the leftovers from the previous evening’s supper. Peas and corn…were not unusual. I’m not sure if it was the work, the play, or the high mountain air that did away with any thoughts of a squeamish appetite…perhaps all the above…but “not eating” never crossed my mind.

George was one of a kind. Always a smile, always up beat, always ready to lend a hand. His crazy stories and silly one liner jokes went non-stop…he would say things like “If your nose runs and your feet smell then you are built upside down”. Without a doubt he was the goofiest, kindest, most compassionate, up front guy I’ve ever known. Subconsciously I learn a lot. He planted seeds that I would only come to fully appreciate much later.

After three years of high school Latin and many years later…the only Latin that I can remember is what George taught me “Ubi O’ ubi es meum sub-ubi” (where O’ where are my underwhere).

Dear Lord Jesus,
George is camped out with you now.
I am sure he is keeping you entertained.
I can’t wait to see you both,
around the ‘ole campfire.
Me

Amen

Daydreams and Delusions

I daydream of being a writer. The truth be known, I am no more than an anal retentive, obsessive compulsive scribbler of notes desperately trying to document my journey through the labyrinth of empty halls that make up the gray matter in my head.

Sometimes I wonder if it is wise to be recording and documenting each and every thought especially when I consider the possibility of this information falling into the hands of the prosecutor come judgment day. But on the other side of the coin…hopefully the converse is true. If I were to be put on trial and accused of being a Christian it might be used as evidence to convict me.

As for being a writer it is just a delusion…wishful thinking. It would appear pointless to call any of my English teachers to the witness stand...as they have already cast their vote by penning a plethora of D’s and F’s on my each and every report card.

Perhaps I scribble and scrabble in some futile effort to prove them wrong. For whatever the reason, I seem to have become…late in life…intrigued by the process and uninhibited by my grammatical shortcomings.

So thank you, Lord Jesus, for whatever gifts it is that you have given me.
Please help me to share these gifts and use them for Your glory.
Amen

The Morning Meeting

Each day we meet at the orange and white striped roof to plan our day and I make notes of any good ideas that could be parlayed into a workable business plan. I turn over a placemat to record any stroke of brilliance we might concoct. Today, I even brought a pen. After some discussion we eliminated the seemingly interesting and lucrative businesses we felt were not acceptable; i.e. liquor stores, bars, and houses of ill repute. They all seemed to have an element of danger...both physical and moral...that we were not prepared to embrace.

Our criterion is that it has to be interesting, it has to be legal, it has to be moral, and it can’t be too much work. Maybe that last item is what always makes the train jump the track.

Each day at the close of our meeting I throw away the blank sheet of paper along with the empty paper cups and soiled paper napkins. We always conclude that God is in charge. He has written his plan on our hearts. We just need to follow his plan.

Lord, help me Jesus,

When on judgment day
What do I say?
For nothing I‘ve done
Deserves even one*

*Of the kindness You’ve shown

Fat Tuesday

I took full advantage of the day’s namesake and tipped the scales at my all time record high. Right then and there I made up my mind to pull off a really good lent this year…for it was evident I had overindulged myself by pleasuring my taste buds. So, I started Ash Wednesday with Mass, the traditional ashes and a determination to do better in spite of my past failures.

I know fasting, abstaining from food, is a good way to focus on spiritual growth. By denying myself of this physical pleasure I can become more open to the blessings God want to give me and in some small way begin to understand what Christ went through.

In the food and fasting department I seem to have some problems. I have come to believe that I am a food-a-holic…I can’t seem to stop at one bite…it is one, then two, and the next thing I know I am in a chow stupor or food coma. I realize the focus of fasting is not to lose weight. But if I could develop some self-discipline I probably would not have such food issues.

So…I washed my face and combed my hair so no one would know I was fasting…not that anyone would make that mistake by looking at my horizontally challenged physique.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for another lent
Please help me focus on what is meant
By your example and what you are asking
Help me live a life of prayer and fasting
Amen

Valentines Day

My wife called me and asked if I wanted to go to the church Valentines Day dinner/dance. Fortunately I knew the answer to that question. The years of marriage training was starting to pay off. That evening came and she told me what to wear and when to get dressed.

We arrived and the ambiance was wonderful. It was a great meal with great service by the parish youth group and all served on the finest plastic flatware with real paper napkins.

I always marvel at how much my wife enjoys the social stuff, the visiting and talking to each and everyone. I love the fact that she seems to have no inhibitions…an absolute and total disregard for the possibility of making a fool of herself on the dance floor. While I prefer to hide among the wallflowers…I danced every dance she asked me to dance.

We are so different. My preference would be to not attend any function with people…people scare me and I lack in social skills. But I realize that is not healthy. We are like different sides of the same coin, like night and day, total opposites in every respect except for one. We both know that Jesus Christ is our Lord and Savior.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a sweetheart different than I
Thank you for a wife who makes me more than I am
Thank you for giving us an example of a perfect marriage.
Amen

A Snow Day

I decided to take a “snow day”…there were no jobs pending and no real reason to leave the warmth of my abode. It made me think and wonder if cavemen had the same option. Could they just hold up in the cave next to the fire being lazy and drawing on walls? I suspect the only thing that would force them outside would be hunger pains. Hunger pains…that’s a sobering thought…not that I have ever really been hungry but just the thought of it gives me reason for concern. Business has been scary slow. What if the phone never rings? What if the economy gets so bad that no one needs their stuff fixed? How would I survive? I’m not a hunter and the only gathering I’ve ever done is gathering eatables from the grocery store shelves.

Just as I settled in to write on the walls of my cave the phone rang with a request for help. Saved from a day of worrying…I bundled up and headed out into the damp cold to see what was wrong with my customer’s air compressor.

Dear Lord Jesus,
Thanks for the reminder,
That You are my minder,
There is nothing to fear,
When I have You so near.
Amen

WABAC Machine

Some days I wish I could put on my horn-rimmed glasses and join Mr. Peabody & Sherman in their “WABAC (wayback) Machine”, set the date to the years of my childhood and escape this crazy world. Accepting the present state of affairs is difficult and disheartening.

The world has changed from the world I remember as a child. I went to Catholic school and to church every Sunday…it was not an options, it was not by choice. Perhaps it was an ugly world even then, but I never knew the ugly existed. I remember when we were the only family in town that did not have a TV…and we lived in Los Angeles. Perhaps I was naive or just sheltered by my parents.

I also remember that I wanted to run away from home, to join the circus and live the life of Riley. I wanted to eat cotton candy and hot dogs as opposed to all the nasty vegetables and perfectly balance meals my mother made three times a day. I remember being attracted to the seedier side of life. I wanted to be able to cuss like a sailor. I learned all the words early on but could never seem to get a smooth flow going and eventually gave up the pursuit of using such vernacular. Much like golf, I had no natural ability in that area and gave up on it also. It was just too much effort, and for what? On the other hand if I had kept at the golf I probably would have developed my cursing skills.

My father was a product of the depression and a survivor of the 2nd World War. He was very conservative, to put it mildly, and invested his hard earned money in the stock market. I remember him saying that General Motors stock was as good as gold and if General Motors ever went broke the entire country would be broke. What prophetic words. Today, I feel we are on the brink of financial disaster. I, personally, would rather have a car with a stuck accelerator than a GM (Government Motors) car. I know that’s crazy but I honestly feel that way.

There are so many things I just don’t comprehend: tattoos and body piercing just to name a couple. It’s a strange world and getting stranger by the minute. The language on TV is enough to make a sailor blush and that’s the girls talking. For some reason I don’t find that to be an attractive quality in women. Then they add smoking, tattoos and piercing to the equation, stir in a heaping measure of selfishness and they wonder why they are having relationship problems. GO figure. Comedians are not funny anymore. Since when is vulgar funny? Maybe it is my age or just the normal maturation process. Perhaps it takes a life time to figure this out. Enough poking around in the past…“Sherman, set the WABAC machine to the year 2010.”

Going back and do-overs are not an option and I ready don’t want to go back to being so ignorant. In spite of all of my mistakes, I am excited by the fact that the road in front of me is shorter than the road behind me. I’m comforted by the thought that God is in charge. My only salvation is in the hope that I have made the right choice: picking Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. As it seems any other choices lead to chaos and disaster.

Dear Jesus, at the risk of making a terrible pun...feed this line(lion) to the Christians.
Amen

Bake Sale

I stood over the sink looking out at the cold gray winter sky as the sleet showered down and thanked my lucky stars I didn’t have to be outside. I dug in the pan with a big spoon, against my wife’s instructions, and ate the cake that I told her not to purchase from the church bake sale. My reasoning was that pies are much better than cakes. I finally relented…after all…it was in support of the church.

It turns out…after picking off the pecans…that the pineapple, the coconut and the sugary glaze all bonded together and produced the most delightful texture and flavor. My taste buds danced and giggled with delight as they poked fun at my ego.

How was I going to explain the missing contents? Maybe she wouldn’t notice? Yeah, right…maybe she wouldn’t notice me passed out in the middle of the floor unconscious and in a food coma. I’ll just throw the empty pan into the garbage outside. Oh…who knows what evil lurks in the minds of men.

Ok, I’ll just admit I was wrong and take my scolding like a grownup.

Thank you Lord Jesus,
For all those church bake sales
And forgiving my rants and rails
For the multitude of pies and cakes
And the forgiving of my mistakes
Amen

Letter to #1 Grandson

Dear Cameron

I am writing this letter because I want you to know how much I appreciate you. My life would be boring if not for the joy you bring into it. I am so proud of you. I marvel at your talent and ability both in your academic and athletic skills. These are important attributes to possess but are not the most important. Integrity is the most important of all. Without integrity you have nothing. Always seek the truth, always live the truth and always speak the truth.

All of us are watchers but few are observers. Everyone is looking but not many are seeing. While it is exciting to be in the limelight it is difficult to get a realistic prospective on life with all it’s subtleties…so remember…sometime it's better to step back and be an observer.

A word to the wise: don’t be blinded by the limelight…always pray for wisdom…all the other truly good stuff will automatically follow.

I wish you wisdom and an eternity of happiness. May God bless you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Amen

Love Dado

Cooking Stuff Up

Someone asked me how I come up with the stuff I write. As usual, I did not have a good answer but it made me stop and contemplate the question. Generally I start with some lame inspiration much like a cook starts with a poor cut of meat. The first step is to marinade it over night then tenderize it. Next, rub it with a generous amount of seasoning and then simmer for hours. Usually…more flavoring is required before the anecdote is palatable. Then the entire repast is served up with a generous portion of embellishment and a side of poetic license. As always the presentation is of the utmost importance.

Many of my recipes end up in the garbage because my number one critic finds them distasteful. But even if these crumbs, tidbits and morsels are not appetizing…I do hope they will be edible and nourishing to someone.

Dear Lord Jesus
I think of you when cooking up stuff.
Even when the stuff is ruff
It’s pretty much the best I can do
But always my prayer is to glorify You
Amen

Public Apology

Dear 小巨蛋 ;

Please accept my apology for making light of your comment on my BLOG.

要持續更新下去喲!!祝你心情愉快

My tongue in cheek sarcasm and ignorance of all languages has again gotten me into an embarrassing situation. While I cannot tie my shoe without coming up for air I am still able to easily get my foot into my mouth. Rest assured that I sincerely appreciate your well wishes and encouragement. I can assure you I will continue to update and I too wish you a happy mood.

Thank you

News Flash

How exciting! I finally garnered a comment on my BLOG. It gave me a feeling of notoriety unequaled in my literary career. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so proud of myself.

I must share it with you.

COMMENTS:

小巨蛋 said...
要持續更新下去喲!!祝你心情愉快 .........................................
JANUARY 28, 2010 2:11 AM


Thank you, Lord Jesus, Surely this is a good thing. ???????
Amen