September 7 – “Chalking one up for old school”

I was awakened early this morning.  3:01 a.m. to be exact.  My phone had made an unusual sound, and the light on it was still on.  So, awake now and curious, I picked it up to check out the odd intrusion.  It was a voice mail notification.  But wait.  The phone did not ring.  Why would there be a voice mail?  Now intrigued, I cautiously listened to the message, worried that perhaps one of our kids was calling or maybe one of the Seasiders or fire fighters needed me.  But, no.  Strangely enough it was the voice mail connected to a call that had been made about the middle of the day before to remind me of my hearing aid appointment, which by the time I got the voice mail had come and gone.  Good thing I had it written down on my paper calendar book.  Chalk one up for old school.

After said hearing aid appointment (where I found out, by the way, that my warranty is about to run out, so I guess they will be the next things to break down), I headed to fire station number one.  Trish had emailed and let me know that someone had delivered a box full of New Testaments.  “That’s your department,” she told me, so I was going to pick them up and see what the best use of them would be.  The crew got back shortly after I arrived, so I hung out talking with them for a long time before three of them joined me to go up to Trish’s office.  Of course she wasn’t at her desk when we first got there, so one of the battalion chiefs joined our banter.  Before long a lady walked in and rather sheepishly asked if one of us could possibly come with her and help her out.  Now, the lady was pregnant, so the guys slowly began to shift into EMS mode.  But then she continued.  “We are smelling something in the break room around the corner.  It smells kind of like burning rubber.”  And in an instant the transition was made right before my eyes.  The faces of the fire fighters immediately reflected their concentration.  Their brows furrowed.  Their eyes narrowed.  One of them gently assured the lady that they would come with her, and they left, walking quickly down the long hallway to the city offices side of the building.  When they reach the turn, they recognized the smell, and a haze was filling the hallway.  One called back to the battalion chief to please get a thermal imager.  He rushed to comply.  He also informed the city’s director of facilities to get him involved as well.  I stayed back out of the way until the chief told me I needed to go on down there and check it out.  I told him it would be exciting to be able to tell my wife that I had been to a fire all morning.  He said he wanted to be able to put my name in the “official” report.  Right.  By the time I arrived the smoke had pretty much dissipated, but the smell was still quite evident.  The fire fighters were in full-on efficiency mode.  It appeared that the problem was in the motor of one of the coke machines, but if so, it had stopped smoking.  The guys were double-checking the other machines in the room as well as the ballasts in all the lights and the electric outlets in the walls.  I had to leave shortly after that, but the headlines this morning didn’t read, “City Hall and Fire Department Station One Burns to the Ground,” so I guess the guys did their jobs … again.  Nice job, fellas.  I’m proud of you. 

Yesterday afternoon we got a phone call blast from the past.  Some good friends from way back in our Arlington days were on their way to a weekend in Crystal Beach, and the wanted to stop by our house on their way.  Absolutely.  We haven’t seen Steve and Susan in years, although we did follow their recent trip to Germany on FaceBook.  We talked about hurricanes and house renovations and of course grandchildren.  It was a great time of reminiscing.  Can’t beat the old friendships that just refuse to go away. 

Psalms 97:10 says, “Let those who love the Lord hate evil, for he guards the lives of his faithful ones and delivers them from the hand of the wicked.”

Father, thank you for early morning phone messages (I suppose).  Thank you for fire fighters who absolutely know their job.  Take care of them as they do it.  And thank you for great friends.  Be with Steve and Susan as they enjoy their weekend together.  Amen.

September 6 – “Ah, the romance of it all”

We finally got it done right.  We went for our walk yesterday.  About a mile in, it started to pour down rain.  Undaunted, we kept going.  Finally, a romantic walk in the rain where we were actually together.  Well, it was romantic for a time at least.  A short time.  I honestly think we would have finished at least three miles, but we had a problem.  Our phones (aka step counters) were getting quite wet.  Now we have never had a phone dropped in a puddle or in the toilet before, although I have heard of that happening.  But we have had one begin to act somewhat strangely after a bout with a thunderstorm.  So we cut the trip short and headed home, drenched, but still together.  That’s a good thing …

I spent the rest of the day working on the teaching for Sunday, then on a wedding I have scheduled for Saturday on the beach.  Those are always romantic affairs.  The weddings on the beach, not so much the sermon prep. 

Oh, at lunchtime we had another stab at the whole being romantic together thing.  We had lunch and watched the final episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.  That final season must have been frustrating to watch.  It was like a 12 part season finale.  And the further in that whole series got, the weirder it was getting.  We were glad to get to the conclusion.  Now we have to find that last Star Trek spinoff.  It’s called Voyager.  Another seven seasons as I understand it.  That’s the one with the lady captain and another Vulcan.  Can’t beat those Vulcans. 

Psalms 97:2-6 says, “Clouds and thick darkness surround him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.  Fire goes before him and consumes his foes on every side.  His lightning lights up the world; the earth sees and trembles.  The mountains melt like wax before the Lord, before the Lord of all the earth.  The heavens proclaim his righteousness, and all the peoples see his glory.”

Father, thank you for our brief romantic interludes, even if they are just a lunch or a walk in the rain.  It’s nice to just be with Chris.  Amen.

September 5 – “Some de-stressing family time”

The tropical storm has landed.  It is onshore and barring a real freak of nature occurrence, it won’t be heading this direction.

We were visited by a thundering horde of grandchildren again last night.  Kel was off and the kids were going stir-crazy after being stuck in the house for two days.  So they all packed up and headed to the library … which was closed because of flooding.  Hadn’t heard that one yet.  With no books in hand they then trudged over to Nana and DadDad’s house to … eat, of course.  Christina brought along some pulled pork for sandwiches.  We provided the ice cream and sodas for floats for dessert.  Good stuff. 

So the evening was spent with a Galvestonopoly game going at the table, swinging outside in the backyard, a floor full of toy tools and kitchen equipment, and the Astros game playing on the TV.  And I never once turned off my hearing aids.  The din was steady enough that I managed to discern bits and pieces here and there.  I remember at one point I thought I heard my name being called upon for assistance, but by the time I located the source of the cry (I’m pretty sure it was Noa), she had moved on to something else.  I did get to “interact” (read here tickle-monster) with Noa and Josiah a time or two when they crawled up in my lap at the same time to hang out.  And Ezra was always good for a “DadDad, DadDad, DadDad” every time he toddled in my direction. 

The talk of the evening between Jachin and Micah and their Dad, other than the inevitable baseball references that pepper every conversation when Jachin is in the room, concerned a new Monopoly game Kel saw online.  It was the Cheaters edition.  He was pretty sure he and his brothers had played that one all the time when they were growing up.  And now that I think about it, we did hear more than an occasion, “Hey, that’s cheating” when they were involved in brothers’ play together (Not just Monopoly, but that would be another story).  Kel texted a picture of it to his brothers, and later last night Josh responded … “I already won.  Don’t bother opening the box.”

Psalms 97:1 says, “The Lord reigns, let the earth be glad; let the distant shores rejoice.”

Father, thanks for some relaxing family time.  Great way to relieve some hurricane watching stress.  Amen.

September 4 – “Labor Day Flood of 2018”

Our own personal little tropical system poured 5-12 inches of rain over Galveston yesterday.  And not only that, we are carefully watching Tropical Storm Gordon.  That one just left the Florida coast and is loose in the Gulf.  Right now it looks like it will make landfall on the Louisiana/Mississippi/Alabama coast sometime in the next day or so.  Of course anyone who has lived her longer than a few hurricane seasons knows that anything can happen with a storm in the Gulf.  We’ll carry on our day with one eye out there. 

Meanwhile, people are cleaning up from the Labor Day Flood of 2018.  I guess that’s officially a “Thing” now.  Lots of the Island experienced high water, especially when the high tide came in.  The Strand was impassable.  Several whackos were driving down Broadway videoing the wakes they were causing to flow into businesses.  One reporter from channel 11 found a group of people trying to get to the cruise ship in time for departure.  The bus they were on refused to drive through the high water, so they were walking through at least knee deep water.  The reporter befriended a 71 year old lady and was carrying her suitcase for her.  A local resident in a pickup truck finally stopped and offered to give the lady a ride the rest of the way.  Best part of this feel-good story?  The three or four times the reporter had to stop and empty water out of his rain boots. 

Needless to say we didn’t get our walk in in the morning.  Instead I snuck in some computer work (I know.  I know.  It’s supposed to be a holiday), and then we binge-watched a little Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.  We are in the last season and they have a run of episodes going.  We made it as far as Part Five.  That’s a new record for “To Be Continued.”  Oh, and the Astros had a Labor Day afternoon game on TV as well.  The sky did clear out enough for us to go walking after supper, though.  Got in those three miles.  I think I’ve actually lost a few pounds with all this trekking.

Psalms 96:12 says, “Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them.  Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy”

Father, would you protect those who will be in the path of what will be Hurricane Gordon by the time it hits land?  Grant them peace and protection.  Amen. 

September 3 – “Peace in the storm”

Yesterday was a good day.  I mean in spite of the tropical system sitting over us dropping rain in buckets and the tropical system approaching later this week which is expected to have time to become at least a tropical storm.  It’s not supposed to hit us head on, and we are at this point projected to be on the “clean” side of the bad wind and tidal issues, but this is a Gulf system.  You never know what they will do …

So, back to the good day.  We were unstacking chairs again to accommodate all the people who came to worship.  The four families from India who are staying in the retreat center joined us.  As did young thirteen-year-old Benjamin and his mom and aunt, who were there for his baptism.  That’s right.  With all the rain we still were looking at a baptism at the beach.  I told Benjamin’s mom that the only thing that would prevent me from heading out there would be lightning.  She readily agreed, and Benjamin was chomping at the bit to get it done.

As the service ended the rain was coming down pretty steadily, but we had heard no thunder.  I gave Benjamin and his mom one last chance to call it off, but they would have none of it.  We were on, and we were headed to the beach.  She did ask that I tell the congregation they really didn’t have to come out to the beach with them.  She didn’t want to put anyone out.  I chuckled to myself, but dutifully reported her offer.  With the final chord complete, we opened the doors and headed on to the beach.  Some folks went in cars.  Others drove golf carts.  By the time I had walked down there (Hey, I figured, “I’m gonna get wet anyway.  Why worry about the rain?”) I was met by a sea of umbrellas (Get it? Sea?).  A few folks even tried to make sure I was adequately covered, even though I was already drenched.  As we stood around, chatting and waiting for the last few folks to show up, suddenly a clap of thunder woke us all up.  Without me saying much of anything the circle began to close up.  I called for the rest to huddle up, we had a prayer, and Benjamin and I, as well as Josh, my baptism helper for the day and Walt, one of our great laymen who decided to become Benjamin’s own self-appointed cheerleader for the event headed into the Gulf.  When Benjamin came up out of the water, Walt literally screamed in excitement for him.  So the first sounds Benjamin heard after his baptism, were words of encouragement and enthusiasm.  How great is that?  We all made it back to the church, some wetter than others, but all of us intact and protected from the storm raging around us. 

Psalms 96:11 says, “Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let the sea resound, and all that is in it”

Father, thank you for the spiritual lesson of peace through obedience in the midst of the storm.  Amen.

September 2 – “R.I.P. Daisy and Donald”

Our friends Lauren and Ed from church brought over a real treat for us the other day.  Duck eggs from his pet duck.  Yep.  Ed is a sucker for injured wildlife, so when the duck wandered their way (They live at the State Park here in Galveston) he scooped it up and began the rehab process.  It now has a happy home with Ed (and Lauren), protected from the park’s predators, well-fed, and producing … duck eggs.  The other day Chris brought me a plate of scrambled eggs.  As she set them down in front of me she said, “Here are Daisy and Donald.  Enjoy your breakfast.”  Ouch.  Take that, Walt Disney.  Now, understand.  She just used two eggs.  Two.  Daisy and Donald.  And they covered the entire plate.  Two duck eggs made an entire meal.  I was amazed.  Thanks for the bounty, Lauren and Ed.  Take care of that young’en.  I’m looking forward to Daffy and Honk and Waddle and …

I made it through three miles on my walk again.  I’m getting there.  Much of our walk-n-talk centered around my pain levels (The dreaded 1-10 scale).  After a few miles I settle in at a comfortable 4 or 5.  That’s after the 5-7 it takes to get started.  It has been tempting to try and get a sooner appointment (right now we are looking at the end of October).  The next level of treatment is that other shot that supposedly coats the tips of the bones with a cartilage substitute sort of substance.  But, I’m not one to waste time and money and effort on untried medical stuff like that (Although I’m not at all averse to it, either, as long as it works).  I say, if a partial or even a full knee replacement will do the job, then I don’t see why we should wait.  I just wonder if my newfound relationship with Medicare would see fit to agree with me on that …

Yesterday afternoon we went to the park at Jamaica Beach for a fundraiser event for TableTalk Ministries.  This group does home repair work for widows and others who can’t do it themselves.  Unique idea for this one.  They had a corn hole tournament.  That’s a game kind of like pitching washers where you try to toss a beanbag (originally filled with corn, I suppose) into a hole cut into a board 20 or so feet away.  I tried it.  I guess with a lot of practice it could get to be fun, but some of those folks out there were pros.  One guy was practicing.  He threw eight bags and seven of them either landed on the board or went into the hole.  Just for fun, I chided him a little about the one that fell off the board.  He started giving me excuses about the bag being too light for competition.  That’s when I knew I would be in way over my head.  So I made the easy transition into spectator-hood.  There seemed to be a pretty good turnout.  They had a bounce house and face painting for the kids (They tried everything to get me to paint my face, but I was sweating so much it wouldn’t have lasted very long).  Two food trucks were on hand to provide nourishment.  In fact when we first got there a tiny little old man (Seriously, he was less than five feet tall and must have been 90 years old) approached me.  Someone had told him I was in charge and he needed to talk to me because he was from the health department (Really?  Do I look that much like “the one in charge.”  Maybe it was the Seaside T-shirt I was wearing).  I corrected his and directed him to the actual coordinator.  I guess she answered all his questions, because we tried something from the trucks a while later.  In fact it was a new one for both of us.  Something called a Cuban Sandwich.  Ham and pulled pork and some kind of cheese and mustard.  All that was really good, but the bread was the best ever.  I would try one of those again any time. 

Oh, they also had a silent auction going on.  I haven’t heard how they did money-wise, but I hope it went well for them.

Psalms 96:10 says, “Say among the nations, ‘The Lord reigns.’  The world is firmly established, it cannot be moved; he will judge the peoples with equity.”

Father, please bless the efforts of this ministry as they touch the lives of folks who really do need help but can’t afford it any other way.  Amen.

September 1 – “A Hero’s Touch”

Wow.  September 1^st.  I guess that makes it officially not summer any more.  Well, it won’t be after this Labor Day weekend is over anyway.  One more weekend to deal with a major onslaught of tourists.  Of course it is raining this morning.  That might just put a damper on some people’s plans.  I hope we have a bit of a window tomorrow morning, though.  We are supposed to have a baptism as part of our worship at church.  Well, the baptism is not at church.  That’s at the beach.  A window of non-rain would be helpful …

Yesterday was Challenge Day on our walking course.  It was time to move up my distance from two and a half to three miles.  At the end of our first mile, however, we were distracted by a sight that was kind of frightening, actually.  One of our elderly neighbors (See how I did that.  We’re certainly NOT the elderly ones around here) was trying to hang a wind chime on her front porch.  The husband uses a walker and can barely get around even with that.  So the wife was going to handle it.  As we glanced in her direction she was stepping up onto one of those little stools with no handle or anything.  Not even near a wall to steady herself.  She had a tiny little hammer in one hand and a big nail in the other.  One attempt to complete the step and we knew we had to stop and render aid before we had to stop and render aid.  It really wasn’t that difficult a job once she found some appropriate tools and I pulled over one of their sturdy metal porch chairs for me to stand on.  I got the hook all screwed in and the wind chime hung so it could allegedly play the first verse of Amazing Grace (Hey, that’s what she was told when she bought it).  She thanked us with a bottle of water each, and we continued our stroll.

Now, why was that particular rescue mission such a big deal to me?  Wouldn’t I have done the same for any of my neighbors?  Well, sure I would have, but as it happens, this particular couple are the parents of my childhood basketball hero.  See, I was never into such superstars like Michael Jordan or LeBron James or whoever the hot name is now.  When I was in elementary and junior high school in small town Galveston, my hero was on the high school basketball team.  His name was Mike Tamalenus, and he could do things I had never dreamed of.  Oh, not dunks or flashy stuff like today.  He could make a shot underhanded.  He played defense like a madman.  My favorite memory of watching him play was the time his coach told him to foul intentionally to stop the clock, a typical basketball strategic move.  But instead of just slapping the nearest offensive player, Mike ran in front of the dribbler, established position in front of him, then oh, so subtly grabbed his jersey and pulled the guy down on top of him.  Hey, why not go for the offensive foul?  You never know what the ref will see.  In that particular case Mike picked up the foul, but I was duly impressed. 

Now the sad thing about Mike is this.  Several years after he graduated he was working at a grain elevator when an explosion him and others.  He was among those killed in the disaster.  I suppose helping Mike’s mom hang a wind chime is my way of saying thank you to Mike for the hero’s touch of inspiration he gave a shrimpy little junior high kid back in the day …

Psalms 96:9 says, “Worship the Lord in the splendor of his holiness; tremble before him, all the earth.”

Father, please watch over Mike’s mom and dad.  And grant them continued peace.  Amen.