My Prayer Today

Now that we all have double chins.
We look at life thru a different lens.
No mater how this adventure ends.
I thank you Lord for pardoned sins.

I wander back thru days of old.
And wonder how I was so bold.
To think that I was the one in charge.
Of all those things both small and large.

But now I know who runs this place.
And as I near the end of my race.
I so hope when we meet face to face.
Lord, I pray You pour out your grace.

Amen

The House on 46th Street

I drove passed the old house on 46th street and it brought back so many fond memories. Over fifty year of recollections came flooding back as I stared at the reddish brown brick ranch style abode my mother-in-law called home. 

There were so many countless good times that I experienced with my wife...from our first date, wedding reception, and numerous family reunions to the last day when we all said our final good byes.  Any excuse we had to travel back to "Big Red's" house was always a special occasion. Big Red was such an appropriate nick name for this little red headed Irish woman with a heart the size of Texas. I always felt special, her warm loving demeanor rubbed off on all her ten children and I always knew I was home around her and all her family.  It's hard not to get bleary eyed when I recall these memories. 

God bless "Big Red" and all her family. 

Amen

Third Grade-Wink, TX

Wink, originally named Winkler, got its beginnings with the discovery of oil in 1926.  The oilfield boomtown grew from nothing to an estimated population of 10,000 then to 20,000 in less than three years.

When our family arrived (circa 1953) in that dusty West Texas town the numbers were probable 1,500 people with an equal number of Jackrabbits.  

High school football was king and the Wink Wildcats were no exception.  The entire community would attend the Friday night extravaganza.  Television?  For all practical purposes there was no television back then.  To my knowledge there was only one TV set in the entire town and a test pattern was the extent of its programs.  Neither football nor TV was of much interest to me.  But it was a wonderful time for a nine year old in a small town…swimming at the city pool and exploring the world on a bicycle.

I don’t recall much that transpired inside the classroom therefore I considered it a good year.  No memories are good memories when it comes to my academic endeavors.  The teacher must have known how to deal with children learning disabilities…or perhaps just knew it was pointless to call on me.   Maybe I’ve just blocked out all the bad recollections.  Recess was remarkable…Dodge ball, Red Rover, marbles, tops and yoyos were the pursuits of choice.  The school assembles in the auditorium were fun and interesting.  The science stuff was fascinating…one time a man came and demonstrated how the properties of substances changed with a change in temperature…he froze a banana in liquid nitrogen, hammered a nail into a board with it, then pealed and ate the banana.  Now that got the attention of this third grader.   Another time the science guy showed up with the Van de Graaff generator…that was shocking.  Science stuff was always exciting.

It was a time before girls were a problem.  Girls were a non-issue.  They were just people that were rumored to have “cooties”…so guys kept their distance.  

Wink’s claim to fame was Roy Orbison who graduated Wink HS Class of 1954…nobody knew him then. 

I recall “the lake”, a brine water reservoir where they disposed of the unwanted salt water from the oil wells.  I fantasized about build a raft and Huck Finning it down the muddy Mississippi.

There was an old oilfield “doghouse” in our back yard that Dad converted to a playhouse where I spent countless hours playing with an American Flyer electric train with the track mounted on a 4 by 8 sheet of plywood. 

That un-insulated oilfield camp house built in the late 1940’s.  That back porch that my dad made into a bedroom.  The bunk beds where my brother and I spent those cold winter nights.   Each morning getting up to warm ourselves by that open flame gas heater with a little water compartment that added much need humidity to the dry west Texas air.  Christmas came and went but no BB gun.  I recollect how bad I wanted an official Red Rider lever action BB gun.  I even promised to never ask for anything else as long as I lived.  But I got a new bicycle.

The brand new Western Flyer that was massive with chrome fenders, front spring suspension system and extremely wide whitewall tires.  The facade of a gas tank housed an electric horn, which only work for the first two days.  The front fender sported a headlight, which I never used, as we were not allowed outside after dark. 

We would attach playing cards to the finder support for the sound effect of a motorcycle.  The new bike eliminated the chance of shooting my eye out and it replaced that legendary first grade bike (see 3/2/2009 blog: First Grade). 

It was the year my dad built his mega version of an automotive air-conditioner.  (see 3/7/2010 blog: Invent’n Winton)

So many vivid memories...

The steel ring dad brought home I think is was a gasket from a blow-out preventer   we had great fun rolling it down the street with a stick.

The beer cans that littered the hwy between Wink and Kermit.

The first time the went to a movie show (no popcorn, no candy).

The play ground in the oil field camp.  With it high swings and slides.

The only Catholic Church was in Kermit, 10 miles away.  I remember going to catechism class and being drafted into alter boy service, having to memorize Latin prayers (Greek to me).  My parents were constantly tried to point me in the right direction, the straight and narrow, while I had more of a tendency to follow the crowd toward the bright lights of the big city.

Knocked out my brothers front tooth with the only solid line drive hit in my extremely short baseball career.  I’ll take credit for switching him from playing sports to writing about sports (John Jeansonne, famous sports writer and columnist).

This was a time of fun and perceived prosperity…a time of many fond memories.

Now as I approach the twilight of my life it seems my memory of long ago is for better than today…today I can’t remember where I left my car keys, the names of my children or what I had for lunch.

Life is good, God is great.

How Do I Know?

In spite of all the dumb things I've done. In spite of all the people I've hurt…family, friends and those I don't even know...God loves me. 

After years of trying to hide from God and thinking God couldn't possibly love me I finally realized how wrong I was. 

How did I figure this out?  Hindsight.  20/20 hindsight.

Riding motorcycles, flying airplanes and living on the edge have gotten me into many life threatening situations that were totally beyond my skill level.

Looking back over the decades I realized that I have been plucked out of harms way by some force greater than me…some supernatural power.   

Yes, at the time I attributed it to luck.  But, I have come to believe it was not luck.  I'm convinced there is some supernatural power out there that is watching over me and watching out for me.  I choose to call that supernatural power…God. The God of Abraham, the God of Jacob, the God of Isaac…the same God whose only son died for us.  For the first time in a long time I realized that “us” included me. 

God loves ME.  What a humbling thought.

Now, I'm not smart enough to prove any of this. It is just something I have come to believe and come to know in my bones.

Yes, I’ve decided to believe in an unbelievable God…an unbelievable God that does unbelievable things.  I also choose to believe his rules, commandments and recommendations…no mater how counterintuitive they seem to be.

It might seem that his rules are 180 degrees out of phase with what the secular world thinks.  But, for me, I know God’s guidelines for happiness, peace and joy do actually work. 

This is what gives me hope.

This gives me peace in this world of “crazy”, a world I can no longer make sense of. 

It is something worth considering if there is any irritation, unrest or unnecessary drama in your life. 

God loves all his children…even me…so I know God love you.

Jesus saves. 

Thank you; Lord, for all you’ve done.

Now I know that you’re the one.

The one who cracked my conundrum.

You were there when I didn’t care.

and save me from that deadly snare.

You’re the one who took the fall.

You’re the one who did it all.

Amen

June 11

I remember exactly where I was on this day in 1965.  Somewhere near Maljamar, NM…I was sitting in the back seat of Humble Oil’s green International crew cab, a winch truck.  There I was the “school boy” with four crusty old roustabouts.  The un-airconditioned truck was the only shade to be found in all of southeast New Mexico.  I had just finished lunch, closed my black lunch pail and shut my eyes for a quick nap when I got a strange fleeting notion about my parents.  No more thought was given to that idea and I returned to work applying silver paint to some nondescript piece of oil field equipment.   

That night I received a phone call inquiring about the flight plan that had not been closed.  Over the next few days it became apparent that the plane and my family were missing.  

Days and weeks went by that I don’t exactly recall…that summer was just a blur, blurred by not knowing what had happened.

The entire summer passed with no word of their whereabouts.  Then just before school started the burned out wreckage was spotted on a Utah mountaintop.

It was years later I recalled the strange feeling I had while sitting in that back seat of that old gang truck and connected it to the approximate time the plane must have gone down. 

To me this is just more proof that there is a supernatural world out there and that there is someone in charge of that supernatural world…a world I don’t understand…but a world that I know is very real.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all the little things you do that prove how real you are.  Amen.

John Fred Jeansonne, Genevieve Babin Jeansonne

June 11, 1938 married

June 11, 1965 (died)  27^th Wedding Anniversary

PS

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thinking about you.

Love, your son

So True Today...March 16, 2017

What struck me about today’s gospel was the last line “...if they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead” this is so true, true in Lazarus’ time, true in Christ’s time and true today. 

I know it is just a parable…just a story…there may not have been a rich guy dressed in purple, a guy named Lazarus or a dog named Spot.  But the truth is obvious, clear and palpable.

My other concern is that I have received what was good during my lifetime so…what do I have yet to come. 

Also, I worry about how many times have I ignored the Lazarus that showed up at my door.

Luke 16:19-31 

Jesus said to the Pharisees:

"There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen

and dined sumptuously each day.

And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores,

who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps

that fell from the rich man's table.

Dogs even used to come and lick his sores.

When the poor man died,

he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham.

The rich man also died and was buried,

and from the netherworld, where he was in torment,

he raised his eyes and saw Abraham far off

and Lazarus at his side.

And he cried out, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me.

Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue,

for I am suffering torment in these flames.'

Abraham replied, 'My child,

remember that you received what was good during your lifetime

while Lazarus likewise received what was bad;

but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented.

Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established

to prevent anyone from crossing

who might wish to go from our side to yours

or from your side to ours.'

He said, 'Then I beg you, father, send him

to my father's house,

for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them,

lest they too come to this place of torment.'

But Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the prophets.

Let them listen to them.'

He said, 'Oh no, father Abraham,

but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.'

Then Abraham said,

'If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets,

neither will they be persuaded

if someone should rise from the dead.'"

I Saw A Friend Today

I saw a friend today

Who’s not in a good way

When cometh his last day

The doctors could not say.

In spite of gloomy trials

That worldly logic beguiles

He sports the biggest smiles

That can be seen for miles.

I often wonder why

It has to be this guy

Does God just choose the best

To undergo the test?

I know it seemed not fair

So I said a little prayer

That there be no despair

For I know he’s in God’s care.

Amen

Grateful Or Greedy?

Every time I walk into H.E.B. and see the plethora of produce, the multitude of meats and the cornucopia of canned goods I am overwhelmed.  I am so grateful to be living in this land of plenty. 

Amazingly, all I have to do is load my basket, swipe my card and enjoy all these many blessings.

“Why me?”…I think, especially when so many people have nothing to eat and no place to sleep. 

God has blessed me with much more than I deserve and for that I am thankful…but at the same time a selfish part of me has trouble sharing. 

When my wife takes food to her elderly little friend each day, a twinge of selfishness comes over me.  Why is that?  I have much more than I need. 

Besides…I shouldn’t be eating that second helping…definitely not all of that pecan pie. 

Shouldn’t I be delighted about having plenty to share? 

Shouldn’t I be joyful about sharing a few scraps from my overstuffed refrigerator?

Dear Lord Jesus

Take away these selfish feelings

Rid me of my greedy dealings

I wish to be much more caring

And rejoice in the sharing.

Change my heart is all I ask

So in your glory I may bask

Hard headed am I, you know well

But hard hearted, I fear will get me hell.

So on this day, I do pray

That you may, my ego slay.

Amen

Letter To My Valentine

Dear Miss Mary

You lift me up when I am down

You’re always there to cure my frown

When we go out upon the town

You persevere when I’m a clown

But it’s much more than that, you know

It’s not that you just cure my woe

You stretch me up and make me grow

And when I stumble you never crow

When you’ve had a little wine

Or maybe lift an occasional stein

You’re smiling face looks so fine
So will you be my valentine.

Always yours

Shovel Ready Jobs

I clearly recall my father’s stern warnings about staying in school, studying hard and making something of myself.  He always concluded with the statement: “You don’t want to dig ditches for a living.”  Each summer he somehow wrangled a job for me as an oilfield roustabout…that meant spending a lot of time operating a shovel. Apparently his “show and tell” approach worked…because in spite of my inabilities and total lack of interest in all things academic I struggled though school and obtained the coveted “Sheep Skin”.

Today, as I count the few remaining years until my 80^th birthday, I find myself with shovel in hand digging the proverbial ditch that I was warned about as a child.

Thanks, Dad, for all you taught me.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for all my many undeserved blessings, especially, for giving me the good health to be able to do what so many can’t.

Amen