Humility

Dear Diary,
Today was the most humiliating day of my life…OK, Ok…it was just another day of doing something stupid and humiliating. It all started when I pulled up to the pump to fill my gas-guzzler, inserted the credit card and began answering the litany of questions…debit or credit…Carwash…yes or no…etc, etc. Then comes the biggie…zip code? Well…in a senior moment…I inadvertently transposed the numbers. After several failed tries with the transposed number I canceled the transaction to retrieve my card before the machine ate it. Oh! No! My card…it’s gone. I marched into the store and confronted the manager with my problem. With a puzzled look he immediately accompanied me to the pump unlocked and opened it. Examining every nook and cranny he explaining that these machines unlike an ATM do not take cards but are only card readers. With a sinking feeling I felt in my pocket… there it was…the missing card. Who put that there?
After filling up I drove away crouched low in the seat with my hat pulled down low over my eyes in a funk of disgust and humiliation.

Thank you Lord of these lessons in humility.
It’s just what I need in my age of senility.
Amen.

Ponytails

I don’t know what it is about long hair pulled back into an equine like appendage that I find so fascinating. But, there is something about ponytails on tall, long legged girls that makes my heart lope. Before I get too carried away…trot off in the wrong direction…I must remind myself that ponies are just little horses and by definition horses tails are connected to horses asses.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for these sobering reminders.
Not to mention the much needed blinders.
Keep me focused on You, my pal.
Keep me safe in Your corral.
I know it’s better on Your side of the fence.
Where the meaning life makes perfect horse sense.

Amen.

A Public Service Announcement

Warning
To all homeowners, apartment dwellers and whoever has access to a refrigerator.

Do not under any circumstances look on top of or touch the top of your refrigerator unless you are HAZMAT qualified/certified and have the entire array of HAZMAT suits and clean up materials.

This morning I made the mistake of placing my hand on top of the refrigerator while talking to my wife. When I withdrew it, my hand was cover with a blackish-gray greasy matter incrusted with a fuzzy substance. After an hour of laborious cleaning I deemed the kitchen safe for habitation. I am debating whether or not to pull out the refrigerator and look in the back where that little dust-collecting fan resides.

I’m having a hard time rationalizing the “what I don’t know won’t hurt me” argument.

Cool Names

I tore each page of useless notes from my spiral notebook and found this dated (4/13/11)

I sat in my usual seat listening to the readings from the book of Daniel. King Nebuchadnezzar grilled Shadrack, Meschach, and Abendnego about their faith. And I thought “how cool would it be to have a name like that?”. Well maybe at my age…but probably not growing up…all the other kids would make fun of me. Then I thought…how cool would it be to have the faith that Shadrack, Meschach, and Abendnego had. In spite of all the fiery threats they refused to bow down to Nebuchadnezzar’s golden statue.

That’s a sobering thought…if I can’t take a little childish name calling…how will I ever pass the test when the furnace is turned up to seven.

Dear Lord Jesus
Thank you for all of your caring over the years.
Thanks for getting me through my childish fears.
Please give me the courage to walk in the fire.
Just don’t turn up the furnace seven times higher.
Amen.

Industrial Solutions

It was day nine of the countdown…the countdown to my wife’s return after a four-month absence from the house. In all the excitement about her returning I forgot that myself, my son and my grandson had been “batching it” and had paid little attention to the house cleaning chores…myself being the worst offender. My main concern was the shower, which I remember had white grout with light blue tile…not greenish brown grout. I searched the grocery store shelves for an industrial solution but found none. All the advertised scrubbing bubbles, foamy cleaners and sudsy solutions were a total failure. I went to garage and retrieve my 2500psi high-pressure sprayer, donned the proper attire (birthday suit) and charged into the jungle like enclosure.

Voila…clean white grout…what a difference and with very little effort. I'm sure my wife will be pleased with the results, I’m no so sure she would approve of the method. Well what she don’t know want hurt her. Now, for the dusting…lets see…where did I put that leaf blower.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all my blessings especially for the right tools to do the job.
Amen

Two-Lane Highways

As I drove the winding two-lane highway that followed the swells of the rolling hills and severed the green pastures…I passed through quaint little towns with names ending in “Burg” or “Ville”…towns with names that seem to have too many consonants and not enough vowels. I recollect making the same drive…down this same highway…numerous times in my youth. Back then it seemed like there were always some old people in some old car or pick-up poking along holding up traffic…keeping me from getting to my destination in record time. But today there were no such “old people” holding up progress. I enjoyed having the whole road to myself…life is good…I thought.

Glancing into my rear view mirror I notice a line of vehicles that disappeared over the last hill. At that moment I realized that I was the “old people” in my 14-year-old car…poking along. I looked down to make sure my blinker was not on. Well...at least I didn't have that embarrassment to deal with.

Life is good…it’s all about change. I‘ve changed my ways…I now recognize that sometimes you just have to pull over and let the rest of the world go by.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a changed life.
Amen.

Can’t Stop Smiling

Tuesday…as I drove to work I could feel a silly grin pulling the corners of my mouth upward into a smirk of a smile. My entire being was still giggling with delight at the thought of my weekend adventure. The flight up to Lubbock, on Friday, took three hours due to a miserable headwind. And the clear skies allowed the West Texas sun to warm the plowed fields…causing strong thermals to push up and meet me at 10,500ft. While the ride was a bit rough I considered it a small price to pay in lieu of a nine-hour, five hundred mile drive. Besides I was excited to visit my dear sweet Mary after a three–month separation and a few bumps were of little concern. It was sort of a two-day date. We even went out to a very nice restaurant…the kind without a menu…the waiter just tells you what they are cooking and you don’t ask the price. It was fun…the food was great and the company was wonderful. I didn’t have to share “the company” with anyone else…it was just the two of us and it was as exciting and as intense as our first date over 44 years ago. Sunday afternoon came all to soon. I check the weather for the return flight and found that the wind had picked up. While the official weather was for Visual Flight Rules (VFR) they also reported winds 240 degrees, 30 knots gusting to 45 with blowing dust. That was a direct cross wind for the little grass strip I was to depart from. Not to worry my wife I tried to show no concern while vision from the show “Flying Wild Alaska” entered my head. I kissed her goodbye and climbed into the cockpit. The take off went rather well…in spite of my rusty piloting skills…thankfully the grass runway was very forgiving. As I climbed out the blowing dust became an issue. While officially it was Visual Meteorological Conditions (VMC) I could not see the horizon…much less anything else in front of me. I instinctively went to my flight instruments and had to rely on my less that proficient instrument skills. Then there was that fuel stop with my less that stellar landing and the take-off…it was more across the runway than down the runway. After climbing over the dust storm into clear blue skies and smooth air the remainder of the flight was quite boring.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a wonderful weekend, an exciting flight, and a fantastic visit. Thank you for a wife to share with my “going to be 105 year old” mother-in-law. Thank you for a smile I can’t get off my face.
Amen.

Lent

Good Friday is right around the corner and I haven’t really given up anything except going down the “belly-bean” aisle at HEB. I do not know how much longer I can hold out…every time I pass by aisle # 8 my shopping cart turns toward the colossal belly bean dispenser like a forked peach limb or divining rod in the hands of a douser. The thought of scoring a bag of reds or yellows haunts me as if I were a drug addict. The thought of a bag of liquorice delights is almost unbearable. Then…I realize what a spiritual wimp I am when I think about how painful a nail through the hand must be.

Dear Lord Jesus

You ask so little
Still yet I piddle.
Even though it’s late
You fill my plate.

I have not a clue
Of all you do.
But what I see
You are good to me.

Amen

Return Trip

I set the altimeter to 30.15, leveled off at 7500 feet and let the air speed true out at 167 kts (192mph) while I turned to 130 degrees on the heading. Peering through the holes in the overcast I could see the patchwork of the Texas High Plains farmland pass beneath me as I returned home. The uneventful flight gave me to time to reflect on a weekend filled with mixed emotions. I was glad to be going home but unhappy to be leaving my wife. I was glad she was staying to care for her mother but a part of me was sad that she would not be taking care of me. I was happy my mother-in-law was better but sad knowing her time was limited. I was happy to be flying 192 mph instead of driving 70 mph. There are two sides to every coin and I am thankful that I have a pocketful of coins.

Thank you Lord Jesus
for all my blessings, those I have so many.
Thanks for all the gifts, these I have a plenty.
For a life sublime, there is nothing so fine.
It is Your example I must keep in mine.
Amen.

God's Best Work

Dear Father God,
Please be advised that I overwhelmingly approve of your handy work. It has come to my attention that you made man in your image and likeness but you really hit a home run on your second time at bat. When you made women you totally outdid yourself.
Of course it only makes sense. In my experience building stuff, the second prototype affords the opportunity to refine all the parameters; usually the first one has bugs in it. For example: testosterone or whiskers, which have no apparent use, other than to get man into trouble. Nevertheless, I am totally thrilled by your best work...women. I like the wiggle when they walk and the giggle when they talk. Their hair, their face, their voice…it’s poetry in motion…they are pleasing to the eye and they warm the heart. Everything is in the right place…they have a special symmetry and balance…a certain “je ne sais quoi”.
Detroit’s best work was the ‘57 Chevy. Your best work is women. And the very best part is the one you picked for me. I will be eternally grateful for that bit of Devine providence. I just wanted to drop you this short note to let you know, but I guess you already know that.
Sincerely Yours,

Your “not so” faithful servant