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