I.F.R.

 (I Follow Roads)

Tiny patches of blue peered through the broken layer of dark gray clouds in the noonday sky.  Watching the compass swing around to zero six zero I advanced the throttle and accelerated to cruise speed.  As I bumped along with a quartering tailwind beneath the clouds listening to the clatter of the diesel engine in my old pickup truck I dreamed of flying…flying to the out-of-town job that waited for me miles away.  I like responding to these emergency type jobs.  It gives me the feeling of being needed. It’s much more fun than regular employment…a job that you have to go to every day and do the same ole thing.  I never know what the trouble is going to be…all I really know is that the equipment is broken down and they are waiting for me to fix it.  I just hope and pray that I can figure it out. 

I removed the bologna and cheese sandwich from its wrapper and proceeded to inhale it…no time for a sit down lunch.  A diet coke would have tasted good, but I felt I had to give up something for Lent.

Thank you, Lord Jesus

For challenging jobs to do

For delicious meals to eat

For exotic places to visit

And most of all

For good health to enjoy it

Amen.  

Gumption

We sat around sipping our bitter coffee and discussing the two people we knew and admired that were not playing with a full deck.  We decided that it wasn’t a bad thing.  They seemed to be oblivious to the worldly worries and troubles that I harbor in my head.  They have gumption…the gumption that I lack…the gumption to get up each day and face the world, the gumption to do the right thing.  It’s OK to be different especially in a world steeped in relativism.

We concluded it wasn’t necessary to have all the cards as long as you have the right ones.  A winner needs only enough for a flush or a full house…sometimes only a pair.

Faith trumps gumption but without gumption faith is not faith.

Lord Jesus, I pray for the gumption to put my faith into action.

Amen.

Mama

We called her “Mama” because calling her “Grandmama” made her feel old.   As a small child my grandmother, my father’s mother, was the oldest person I knew.  She always seemed really old.  She limped along, one leg shorter than the other, as a result of childhood polio.  She always complained of aches and pains…her face and hands were wrinkled with age and she wore a worrisome countenance that was in need of a smile.

But she baked the best homemade rolls…rolls that we ate hot from the oven…covered in real butter and washed down with real milk from the cow behind the barn.  There were chickens in the yard and an old trash barrel…all black and burned.  I loved to run and play on the big covered porch that wrapped completely around the large antebellum house.   The porch was home to an old wringer washer that fascinated my mechanical interests. The tin roof carried rainwater to a covered cistern that playing in was not allowed.  We spent hours exploring the old barn that housed her Plymouth sedan with suicide doors that opened like a side-by-side refrigerator/freezer.  What great memories.

Lately, I’ve thought of my grandmother, Mama, a lot…each day as I struggle with all my little aches and pains and look at my wrinkles hands…I am beginning to understand what it means to be old. 

So with my bum knee

I began to see

What Mama meant to me

As I get closer to my goal

Life’s reality may be told

The understanding of getting old

Dear Jesus help me thru

The things that I must do

That draw me closer to you

I’ll bite my lip and not complain

For this is nothing like the pain

That You suffered for my shame

Amen

Fat Tuesday

I love Fat Tuesday with its almost obligatory gluttony.  The Mardi Gras atmosphere, the fried chicken and dirty rice, the gumbo and bread pudding…it is all soooo good.  Fat Tuesday gives you that unspoken permission to step over that overindulgence line without any residual guilt.  

But…now it’s Ash Wednesday and I must don my sackcloth, put on ashes and 'tuff' it out for the next 40 days. 

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for Fat Tuesdays and Lent…but…widening my phylacteries and lengthening my tassels, blowing my trumpet and praying on street corners will not get the job done.  Please give me the wisdom and the strength to do Your will not mine.

Amen.

Lent, Lent or Lint?

The Early Wednesday Morning Breakfast Club sat around munching on biscuits and discussing what should be done about lent.  No…not the past tense of “lend” and no…not the fuzzy stuff that collects on your dryer filter or in your belly button.

We talked about the “lent” that starts on Ash Wednesday, 40 days before the first full moon after the vernal equinox not counting Sundays or the last part of Holy Week…that “lent”…the 40 days of fasting “lent”. 

We thrashed out the traditional giving up stuff…stuff like chocolate.  Or maybe doing something positive or maybe doing nothing.  If you lived your life as if lent were everyday…then maybe there should be no need to improve yourself. 

I wanted to be in the “don’t do anything” category but I do recognize the need to improve my spiritual disposition.  So, maybe I’ll give up cokes…soda water…pop.  I can do that…besides that stuff isn’t good for me anyway.  I need to work on my self-discipline…self-denial…build up some spiritual character and integrity.

This Lent I shall take advantage of the opportunity and develop my self-control, but first I feel obligated to support the Fat Tuesday Church sanctioned benefit that offers a tasty world famous gumbo and bread pudding.

Dear Lord Jesus, I pray

The bread pudding won’t jeopardize

A chance for spiritual exercise.

Lent is an occasion to step up to the plate

And push away from the dinner plate.

I’ve not done so well in the past

But, now I must fast at last.

How can I expect to know what’s up

Unless I taste of Your cup?

If I do what you want me to

Perhaps...then, I can start anew.

Amen.

Quitting Time

Hands down…no contest…the best part of each day is quitting time. At the end of the day…after slugging it out with all the mental and physical trials and tribulations...there is nothing better than going home to a hot shower and washing away all the frustration, dirt and grit. Each day at quitting time I am worn out.  Each day I am glad I have a job that I can quit.  Each day as I slop through the mud and muck, I think, why wasn’t I born with a silver spoon in my mouth or rich and famous?

Oh…I know why.  Each day at quitting time I get a good feeling…a feeling of accomplishment. 

Thank you, Lord Jesus

For the ability to work

So...I shan't be a jerk

I’ll get rid of the smirk

And I'll do your work.

Amen

Rain

After many sunny days and a long drought, the rains fell, filling the barrow ditches to over flowing.  It was an answer to many prayers.  I have to admit that I was not helping much on the praying.  I know we need rain but I also know that with rain comes mud.  And it always seem I am working in the mud…mud that test my endurance and tries my patience.    I don’t mind the rain, it's usually gone in a few hours but the mud sticks around forever. It makes me want to stay inside and write or read...maybe I’ll just take a nap.

THE DAY is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

                              The Rainy Day

                                       By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Thank you,

Lord Jesus for the rainy break,

For a bit of oil and a little cake.

Of this day what shall I make?

From work a break I shall take.

Amen.

Wisdom?

Journal Entry--Thursday 2-9-2012

I’ve always heard of King Soloman and of his legendary wisdom but listening to the first reading (1Kgs 11:4-13). I couldn’t help but question just how wise was he?  

“When Solomon was old his wives had turned his heart to strange gods,”…

“By adoring Astarte, the goddess of the Sidonians,

and Milcom, the idol of the Ammonites,

Solomon did evil in the sight of the LORD;”…

“Solomon then built a high place to Chemosh, the idol of Moab,

and to Molech, the idol of the Ammonites,

on the hill opposite Jerusalem.

He did the same for all his foreign wives

who burned incense and sacrificed to their gods.”

How smart was that?  And how many foreign and/or domestic wives did he have?  I don’t see the wisdom in that.  There are days I question the wisdom in having one wife.  But then I must remember God has strange ways.  For it appears that: Noah was a drunk, Abraham was too old, Isaac was a daydreamer, Jacob was a liar, Leah was ugly, Joseph was abused, Moses had a stuttering problem, Gideon was afraid, Sampson had long hair and was a womanizer, Rahab was a prostitute, Jeremiah and Timothy were too young, David had an affair and was a murderer, Elijah was suicidal, Isaiah preached naked, Jonah ran from God, Naomi was a widow, Job went bankrupt, John the Baptist ate bugs, Peter denied Christ, The Disciples fell asleep while praying, Martha worried about everything, The Samaritan woman was divorced…more than once, Zaccheus was too small, Paul was too religious, Timothy had an ulcer, AND Lazarus was dead!

So maybe he has a plan for me…a sleepy, aging, daydreamer who worries about everything.

Thank you Lord Jesus for putting up with me,

For You are the one who paid the fee,

So this is my prayer…this is my plea,

Help me become who you want me to be.

Amen.

Obit

After reading Fr. David’s blog/homily I was challenged to write my obituary…so I decided to take crack at it.  

Gene T. Jeansonne at the age of 67 passed away peacefully at home.  He will be remembered by his wife as a loving husband and devoted father to their three children and grandfather of four. 

Ok!  Ok! …Let’s be a little more truthful.

Gene T. Jeansonne, born 3 score and 7 years ago, passed away peacefully today. He will be remembered as a husband who meant well and a father who was trying, very trying. 

If we learn from our mistakes, then it can be said that he was a learned person.

He was a self-described wallflower and late bloomer who had a soft spot in his heart and in his head.

Fortunately, Our Lord gave him not even one talent to bury.

This “Not so faithful” servant returned to his maker today for his unjust reward.

Final arrangements are pending.

The thought of a just reward worries me...I am not really looking for justice on judgment day but would prefer an oversized portion of mercy.   Perhaps it’s not too late. Perhaps I am not done yet…perhaps I need to analyze what is important in my life and get ready for my eternal life.

Dear Lord Jesus

I need to make some adjustments

Prior to the final arrangements.

I know I have little time to tarry

Before they write my obituary.

Amen

Wounded

A work related accident left a deep gash across the heel of my right hand. Fortunately no major blood vessels, nerves or any important stuff was severed. 

I figured why waste time and money having it stitched up by some over paid person who by definition was “practicing” medicine.  After all, it will heal by itself in a few days if I just hold the skin together with some super glue and tape. 

Besides…it didn’t hurt that bad after I recovered from the fainting spell caused by the sight of my own blood.

As I counted the days I noticed the healing process was not going as planned probably due to the fact that I continued to do all the normal activities that a person has to do who makes a living with his hands.  All the straining and movement was keeping the laceration open.   

After 10 days of my wife rolling her eyes and giving me that “I can't believe I married such an idiot’’ look…I had to gulp hard, swallow my pride and walk into the walk-in clinic.  There I confessed my discretions to a medical professional that snickered with amusement as she repaired the damage.  

So, once again, I’m counting the days until I can remove the splint and stitches and return to my normal activities.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for walk-in clinics

For expert medical professionals

And for a wife who is always right

Amen