We
experienced a Texas Saturday yesterday.
No, I don’t mean we rode horses (we
used the car) or slapped on our ten gallon hats (Mine is a cap that reads Galveston Fire Dept) or tended our
personal oil wells (Got nothing on that
one. No oil well here). Nope.
A Texas Saturday just means we had to drive across the causeway and into
Texas. We left the safety and security
of the Island.
And
why would we dare to do something so dangerous?
Oh, a few reasons. First off, we
went to Ezra’s first birthday party. He was
actually born in December, but with Christmas and all, his party got shoved back
a month. Not sure how that plan will go over
when he gets a little older. It wasn’t a
huge affair (well, he has three brothers
and a sister, so just the immediate family makes a crowd). But the grandparents were there, a cousin or
two, and even one little guy from their church.
After
cake and ice cream, I left Chris on site and headed deeper into Texas territory
to visit Seasider Dave who is recuperating at a rehabilitation hospital after a
stroke just after Christmas. He had just
had a visit from his wife and his dog, so I was certainly well down on the priority
list of his Saturday log. He is doing much
better physically than even last week when I checked in on him. He still has a long way to go with physical
and occupational therapy before they can talk about when he can leave the facility.
After
we prayed together I headed back toward Ezra’s house. We were pretty low on gas, so I stopped to
fill up. That’s where I had one of those
philosophical moments. Scary, huh? Just walking from the pump to the cashier (no paper in the receipt generator), I had
no less than four people step aside or hold the door for me or quite pleasantly
greet me. Respect is an amazing thing,
and I don’t receive it lightly. My philosophical
moment, however, involved speculation on just why the respect occurred in the first
place. Was it just because sometimes you
can hit a pocket of nice people in Texas?
Maybe. Or was it the Astros
championship t-shirt I was wearing? Lots
of comradery there, for sure. I thought
perhaps it was the fire department cap.
People have a lot of respect for fire fighters, don’t they? But then I figured it out. At least I’m pretty sure this is where they
were coming from. Why the respect? Why the kindness? Because I’m a gray-headed, white-bearded, feeble-looking
old guy who may not be able to get that door open without help. Hmm.
OK. Philosophy never was my long
suit.
Just
as I arrived back at the house Kel was on his way to jump his car and take it
to WalMart to get a new battery. I
followed him and Micah and Josiah. After
the initial “It’ll be about 30 minutes” we returned to the auto section (We spent that time roaming the toy
department and the electronics wing. Big
WalMart). Upon our return we were
told that it was going to take “a while.”
Kel tried for a bit more specific answer, so he got one: “A long while.” Great.
Wish he had decided that 45 minutes ago.
We went on back to the house and had some of Christina’s great taco
soup. Christina’s Dad volunteered to
take Kel back up when the car was ready, so Chris and I finally headed back to Galveston,
our Texas Saturday at a close.
Psalms
25:4-5 says, “Show me your ways, O Lord, teach
me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and
my hope is in you all day long.”
Father,
thank you for young Ezra. Grant him a
happy life. Amen.
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