A Thank You Note

May 24, 2013

Friday morning 4:30am

Dear Lord Jesus,

Here’s just a short note to thank you for getting me through last week’s drama, confusion and chaos.  It was a bit more than I could handle by myself.  It seemed the mountains of worries and problems were just too much, too high, too large of an obstacle for me to deal with.  But looking back at those molehills…it is a different story.  It shores up my belief that nothing is impossible when I allow you to be in charge of my life.

So thanks…thanks again…you are a constant source of amazement.  

Sincerely,

Me

 --------

I’m tired by this life

And sick of the strife

I’m making a mess

Of taking this test

I want to go home

And no longer roam

I want to be at a place

Where I can see your face

So when I need your help

I will let out a yelp

You always come through

When I know not what to do.

Amen

A Night On The Town

In an effort to celebrate the 40^th birthday of our #2 son we decided to eat out.  As fate may have it we settled on a sports bar, which I assumed was named for an untamed bison with appendages for flight. 

We were seated at a table…a table with legs that did not reached the floor at the same time.  That made the entire meal a sports balancing challenge.  Our waiter?/waitress?...a tattooed version of Pat from the original Saturday Night Live…was apparently in training.  With each and every menu question posed, the answer had to be retrieved from some mysterious place like from behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz.  Wanting to expand my epicurean repartee I finally decided on the veggie “Black Bean Burger” with two slices of bacon…after all I’m not a vegetarian. 

With eight million TV screens flickering and music blaring the clock ticked off the minutes…it became obvious that management had not fielded their “A” team wait staff.  We had to request napkins, then silverware, then plates…plates that were a little paper food tray like you would get at some sports event.  When the food arrived it was almost what we ordered…but not quite.  The missing condiments were brought out in a squeeze package.  The missing bacon was brought out on a little bit of paper.  Normal restaurants take the order back and correct it in the kitchen.  The service seemed to lack an element of class or sophistication.  It was more akin to “C” rations being served in a bivouac atmosphere.

 

I could not suppress my desire to be judgmental.  I am sure a real food critic would probably have written a scathing review.  Admittedly most of my “eating out” is at the Sonic or Burger King…not classy places. So, Hey! It is what it is…a sports bar.  Furthermore, I was neither inebriated nor intoxicated...a factor that changes one's perception. 

After leaving I continued my journey down the gastronomical yellow brick road with a stop at the Sonic for one of their famous peanut butter/bacon flavored ice cream milk shakes (½ price after 8pm).

Bon Appétit

Let’s see…where did I put that pink Pepto-Bismol?

A Mother's Day Prayer

For this I pray

On this special day

For all of our mothers

Both with us and others

I ask You bless

Who fills the nest

With God’s little peeps

And His little sheeps.

In all kinds of weather

You knit us together

In our mother's womb

From which we bloom

Rain down Your love

From way up above

As we sing the psalms

That bless our moms

In Jesus name we pray

Amen.

Nepotism

My company biggest problem is nepotism…nepotism complicated with a communication problem.  The split personalities do not talk to each other...literally the right hand doesn't know what left hand is doing nor does the left brain have a clue as to what’s up with the right brain.

The other two employees are totally worthless and extremely lazy. I have to do everything myself.  Being self-employed has its challenges.

Company Group Photo

Left to right:  
me, myself and I

Creatures And Critters Of Habit

Everyday I sit in the same place…the same pew…the pew right behind the one with the split inside support.  Everyday all the daily regulars sit in the same places. 

Many times I drift off into my little daydream world and don’t focus on what is going on.  But every once and again I experience a shiver…a shiver that goes to the core of my being…a shiver that tells me that there is a reality to this unbelievable God…this Jesus.  He is more than just some super hero in a book…He is real and He loves me.  That’s when it becomes difficult to keep back the tears.  I hold my breath and bite my lip so that no one will think I'm a crybaby…but I am.

Thank you, Lord Jesus,

For letting me know that YOU are real.

Please help me diminish my bad habits

And increase my good habits.

Amen.

The Beach Is A Bitch

In spite of my protests...my wife insisted on my presence at the beach for the required weekend vacation with all the grandchildren, assorted friends and cousins.

After setting up the canopy...I washed the sand from my feet and rode the elevator to the sixth floor…took a refreshing shower then I spent the day on the couch in the air-conditioning.  Occasionally I looked out the window at the beach-goers sporting their lobster red sunburns.  I couldn’t help but think that I was also young once and had no idea how much time I would spend sitting in the dermatologist's waiting room.   

My view of the beach differs from most of those who crowd the sandy shores and don't seem to mind the nasty contaminated salt water.  Personally…I don't like sand in my shorts.  Furthermore…I spend most days working outside in the heat, dirt, sand and sun...dripping with perspiration and the thought of spending the day on the beach is not my idea of fun.

After a weekend of being a total jerk…I've been excluded…unceremoniously drummed off the beach.

A Brer Rabbit smirk crept across my mug as I contemplated my punishment…banned from the beach…barred from that briar patch of seaweed, salt, sand and sun. Uncle Remus would be proud.

Thank you, Lord,for answering my prayers.

Amen.

Life Beyond White Bread

The doctor told me that I had to change my diet…not to eat white bread nor anything with high fructose corn syrup.  I remember thinking that life is not worth living without white bread.  But I’ve had to rethink that thought…for time has validated the doctor’s theory.  As I count the months until my 70th birthday…the little aches and pains are starting to take their toll. The ladder is harder to climb; the muscles no longer have the strength they once did, the endurance is no longer there. The 14-hour workdays are no longer possible.  I have to keep reminding myself of a brighter future…the beginning of another life and eternal life.

It seems so sad,

That white bread is bad,

And it makes me mad,

That I can’t eat just a tad.

Into my mouth I may not shove,

as I am forbidden that taste of,
nor do I dare even think of,

The white bread that I love.

So it makes me blue,

Just between me and you,

That a loaf or two,

I cannot chew.

Now that the years are not so few,

Time has proven it to be true.

That what once I found easy to do,

Now it seems is taboo.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all the good times and good eats. I’m looking forward to an even better life...where white bread is on the menu.

Amen.

God's Cake

I spent $300.00 of God's money for a cake at the Church auction.

It was D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S...but, then I began to worry about not being such a good steward…after all, it was HIS money.

Ninety-Nine To Life

If words could kill I would be doing “99 to life”.  But, words do kill…they kill the spirit. 

I have sailed through life leaving a wake of careless insensitivity.  I can’t help wonder how many boats I have swamped.  I’m quite sure many of my words have impacted people’s lives in a not so positive way. 

If I have swamped your boat...please accept my apologies for any anguish I may have caused.  I’ve often thought of and recalled those moments with disappointment and regret. 

My words were shape, many a day

They cut and killed, in an awful way

Now I am regretful, old and gray

Forgive me Lord, for this I pray

Amen.

Artist Or Autist

Artistic or autistic…one little letter makes a lot of difference.  I am definitely not artistic…my suspicions are that I fall into the latter category.  I feel as if I am trapped in a body that can't express itself…trapped in a mind with thoughts that run amok.  I’m living in an alien world, unable to communicate…lacking in all manner of social skills.  I am unable to really get a handle on the situation.  My brain is bombarded with millions of unrelated and unimportant thoughts.  I live in an imperfect world but desperately want to be in a perfect world…a world where every tool has it's own spot on the pegboard and a white line denoting its profile…a world where ragweed and pollen won't make me sneeze…a world in which I never misplace my car keys. 

I am just one little letter off.

But the good news is that it doesn’t matter to my maker.  No matter if I am one brick short of a load, half a bubble off, or one letter off…it makes no difference.  I have been rescued.  I must stop fighting and flailing…He will not let me drown if I just relax and allow Him to drag me to the other side…to that peaceful shore.

Thank you, Lord Jesus,

You did it all, You took the fall.

You made it right, without a fight.

You made the way, You did the pay.

You made me see, not just for me.

Amen.