January 12 – “Shake it”

One of the things that is really important to us at Seaside Church is that we worship in a family atmosphere.  That means children are welcome to move around the room as much as their parents will allow.  We have a children’s table off to one side stocked with crayons and blank paper and children’s worship guides.  Kids can stay there or go back and forth to check on their parents if they need to.  And sometimes those parents do need checking on.  Our worship leaders Wes and Jim are really good at welcoming children to join the praise team, especially for the faster worship songs.  They often grab one of the tambourines that rest on the keyboard or step up to the conga drums and become the percussion section. 

Last Sunday we had a somewhat different and highly inspirational display of worship by one of our youngsters.  Six-year-old Korty came into the worship center obviously with a purpose.  Carrying what appeared to be – yes, it was – a Minion in his arms, he raced right over to one of the tithe and offerings boxes.  That Minion was his piggy bank, and he had decided to give some money that day.  He had a bit of a problem, though.  The only way to get money out of the minion was to shake it until it fell out of the hole.  I sure remember those days.  Except when I did it, I was trying to get money to buy baseball cards. 

The difficulty and the determination continued.  Soon the service began, but was Korty deterred in any way?  Oh, no.  The shaking continued.  The cutest part about the whole thing (other than the fact that he was doing it in the first place)?  He began to shake the bank - and his body - in time to the music.  Hey, who needs a tambourine when you have a full Minion piggy bank?

1 Peter 5:8-9 says, “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.”

Father, thank you for the example Korty set of being excited about giving.  Amen.

January 11 – “Wait. What?”

I had an “interesting” encounter before church got started yesterday.  I have to say it was unlike any I have ever had in all my years of ministry, and I have had a few doozies.  Like the guy who came to church on a tractor.  That was here in Galveston, by the way.  He was headed to work and decided he had enough time to come to church first.  Yesterday we even had a guy ride up on one of those spider motorcycles with three wheels.  Not to mention the little lady staying at a condo a couple of miles from the church.  She walked to church (well, she got about half way before someone picked her up and gave her a ride the rest of the way). 

Then there was the clean-cut, sharp looking gentleman from a few years ago who had never been to church before.  He was fascinated by the message of the gospel, and found that he couldn’t leave his seat when we were done.  He started weeping and poured his heart out to God.  And the couple who were on their way to Houston from Alabama for cancer treatment.  They knew no one, except for the name of “a friend of a friend who lived somewhere in Houston.”  After church they introduced me to the couple they had just met sitting next to them.  It was the very couple whose name they had been given back in Alabama who “just happened” to be down at the beach this particular Sunday. 

So … I was loading up the computer with the Scriptures I would be teaching on, placing them in between the songs already entered.  The praise team was going through some of their songs.  Chris was making her last-minute rounds of making sure trash had been empties and toilets had been cleaned.  In other words, it had all the makings of a typical Seaside Sunday morning. 

And then an older couple walked in.  I welcomed them and began to introduce myself when the lady interrupted me rather abruptly with a question, “Do you have Sunday School?”  I explained that  we did not have a class meeting at that time (Two reasons for that, by the way.  One is the holidays.  The other is that for whatever reason, people don’t come to it out in the West End.  Not that I had a chance to continue that part of the explanation, however).  Again she interrupted me, “Oh, that will never do.  He (pointing to her husband, who had yet to say a word) made a promise to God when he was a boy that he would always go to Sunday School.  Do you know how to get to First Baptist Church?  Is it very far from here?  Do they have a Sunday School?” 

Whew.  That was a mouthful.  I understood her concern that he fulfill his vow, so I tried to be helpful.  I explained that our worship service would begin shortly, and that my teaching style would very much help her feel like she was in Sunday School.  And that’s when she said something that absolutely stunned me speechless.  Ready for this one?  “Worship doesn’t matter.” 

Really?  It took me a long few seconds before I could muster up an appropriate answer.  Best I could come up with at the time?  “To get to First Baptist Church, you follow this road …” 

Worship does matter. 

Psalms 22:3 says, “But you are holy, O you who inhabits the praises of Israel.”

Father, help me to always remember that you inhabit the praise of your people.  That would be worship, right?  Amen.

January 10 – “Cold”

Chris and I went on a real date last night.  Just the two of us.  A real romantic “walk in the park” you might say.  Forgot we could actually do that every now and then.  Pretty strange not having to help keep up with eight youngsters.  Thanks to the generosity of one of our sons adding us to their family pass, we went to Moody Gardens.  I know.  Long drive.  We made it safely in about two and half minutes.  Left the house at around 5 and were back home by 7.  And we didn’t have to watch the second half of the Hoyer-led massacre of the Texans by the Chiefs.

Our first stop was the tent with the ice sculptures.  I have been curious about that ever since they started putting it up.  It was … cold.  Way too cold.  They said the temperature was always kept around 9 degrees.  It reminded me of going skiing in Colorado.  But at least there we had something to cover our faces.  Chris was complaining that she might lose her nose to frostbite.  There were some very cool carvings, though (Get it?  “Cool” carvings).  The main thing that struck me was the sheer size of everything.  They had a full sized pirate ship made of ice, not to mention a slide for the children.  Well, OK, not just for the children.  I succumbed to Chris’ urgings (it was all to please her, you understand) and went down that indoor slide made entirely of ice.  I can still feel it in my nether regions.

We didn’t stay inside the tent for very long.  No one does.  Did I mention that it was cold in there?  After our excursion into the indoor Coloradan ice bucket, we decided to take in the Festival of Lights a swell.  This is the last weekend for all of this Christmassy stuff, so we had to try it out.  We also wanted to compare it to Dickinson’s version that we went to when Josh and Christi were here. 

First off, the Moody Gardens version was certainly bigger.  More classy.  They reconfigured it from years past, so it was considerably longer as well.  Oh, and they even added a new little train ride.  Luke would have loved it.  On the negative side, though, there was nothing hands-on for the kids like Dickinson’s cookie-making booth.  Then there was the really long walk.  Oh, and the Jesus event was added like an afterthought.  Dickinson was more intimate.  The light tunnels in Dickinson were much more effective.  And it does help that Dickinson is free.

Oh, and did I mention that it was cold.  Not just inside that ice factory.  Outside it was 46 with a wind chill of 39.  And one of the trails was right on the water, allowing the wind to attack unimpeded.  We came back home to a cup of hot apple cider.  Perfect ending. 

1 Peter 5:8 says, “Be self-controlled and alert.”

Father, thank you for cold warm moments with my wife.  Amen.

January 9 – “Blast from the past”

Talk about a blast from the past … we had a surprise visit last night from some friends from another era of our existence.  Yes, they knew us back when there was a nineteen in front of the date.  Yea, even when the second part of said date began with a seven.  That’s right.  By our calculations, we met while we were in seminary back in the late 1970’s.  Chris and I were mere babies at the time, of course.  Well, OK, Kel was the actual baby in our lives, and he now has four children of his own.  Bob and Linda had two little boys, also now married with children.  I remember giving the one of the puppies when one of our stray dogs had a litter.  I think the puppy eventually escaped from their custody, but after spending the evening with Bob, I can see he absolutely loves dogs.  They now live in Taylors, South Carolina.  Their granddaughter, who lives in Katy, Texas, is cheering in a competition over at Moody Gardens.  Hence their appearance in Galveston.  Hey, you just can’t beat a cheap hotel room in Galveston, right?

Bob was a pastor (he just recently retired).  So am I (a pastor, though not yet retired).

Bob has had back surgery and has recently had some further problems.  So have I. 

Bob is extremely claustrophobic when it comes to MRI’s.  So is Chris.

Linda loves to sleep with a fan blowing on her, no matter the season.  Why?  Because she has a constant ringing in her ears.  So does Chris. 

They watched pretty much every Hallmark Channel Christmas special movie presentation.  So did … OK, I admit it.  Chris and I both did. 

The more we talked and got caught up with family news, the more it seemed like we were eerily looking into a mirror.  Linda attributed it to the generation we grew up in.  I’m still not sure.  Maybe there was something in the water we drank back in the 70’s there is Fort Worth.  Was the government undertaking some kind of secret experimentation on an expendable portion of the populace – pastors?  Or perhaps an alien race saw potential in cloning internal characteristics while allowing external features to remain different.  Yeah.  I think that must be it.

We went out to the church to give them the grand tour.  We also intended to eat at Jimmy’s on the Pier, but when we got there we discovered it was closed for remodeling.  McAllister’s Deli won out in the end.  I was supposed to have an initial marriage counseling session last night as well, but they were running late so it was beneficial to all of us to postpone that until another time.  Thank you for that, Cory and Sara.  It’s not often you get a chance to reconnect an almost-40 years ago friendship.

1 Peter 5:7 says, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”

Father, thank you for Bob and Linda and our friendship with them.  Keep them safe on their journey back home.  And walk with them through Bob’s back ordeal.  Amen.

January 8 – “Superwoman vs. Sears”

Many, many years ago, when I was just a lad, the current building that houses the Galveston Historical Foundation’s warehouse (the Mecca for people renovating old Galveston homes and wanting –or being required – to make all renovations match up to the historical time of the home) was home to a different organization.  They called themselves Sears, Roebuck, and Company.  Actually I think Mr. Roebuck had already gone his own way by the time they made it Galveston, but to my Mom and Dad and especially to my grandmother it was always “Sears and Roebuck.”  You just had to say the names together.  It was kind of like making the giant retailer WalMart something more than they already are by calling them “WalMarts,” another favorite of my grandmother and of Chris’ Mom as well – shows that endearing nicknames for huge conglomerates is not a strictly regional thing. 

So … many years ago I was at Sears and Roebuck with my Mom and no doubt my brothers as well.  We were walking along outside the store.  Mom was moving much more slowly than the rest of us.  I’m pretty sure she was doing some window shopping.  Now, the sidewalk along the outside of the building was covered by an awning that extended out six or eight feet, providing shade from the sun and respite from the rain.  Quite the amenity for stores in that time period, I’m sure. 

Except when the unthinkable happens.  I remember it as if it were yesterday (which is a malady of aging, so I’m told.  I can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday).  I turned to look back to see how far we had managed to lengthen our lead.  And just as I focused on Mom, she looked up.  Not at me, mind you.  I mean “up.”  Right above her head.  She apparently had heard a cracking sound.  After several long seconds she burst into a sprint, just as that portion of the overhang came crashing down in a heap – right where she had been standing.  I was too stunned to even move.  As warped as I already am, I can’t imagine how “eccentric” I would be right now if the debris had actually hit Mom with me watching.  Very scary stuff.

I suppose my parents could have sued old Mr. Sears for emotional distress.  I certainly was a victim of that.  But that was a day and time when lawsuits were not filed like handing out candy canes at Christmas.  Mom was fine.  The crashing ceiling had missed.  She was, after all, Superwoman.  How else could she have escaped but by using her super speed to outrace the falling mess.  Yep.  That’s my Mom.  Superwoman.

1 Peter 5:6 says, “Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.”

Father, thank you for protecting my Mom that day.  I’m sure I would be quite a different person than I am now without her.  Amen.

January 7 – “Pink scooter sidecars and giant red behemoths”

We did something yesterday that brought back a rather frightening memory for me.  we went to the Galveston Historical Society’s building to look at the old building materials they have for sale, stockpiled from old houses here on the island.  Now what could possibly be so scary about that?  Well, I’ll save that story.  Maybe for tomorrow.

On our way to look at the old stuff, we drove by an unusual sight.  There, parked on the side of the road was a scooter.  Now, in years past we probably wouldn’t even have noticed it.  But the advent of a scooter club among Galveston Fire Fighters, and its subsequent bleeding over into the family life of some of them (OK, read here April has a scooter and Cailyn got a junior sized one for Christmas – a pink one), has caused us to be more vigilant in our notice-taking of such creations.  So we noticed it.  Of course the fact that it was pink assisted in garnering our attention.  But even that could have escaped notice had there not been that one further detail – that one little something extra guaranteed to draw you in.  The scooter … had a sidecar.  Perfectly matched in the same pink color, just waiting for someone to lean back and enjoy the ride. 

I have to admit it awakened the daydreaming portion of my brain.  Picture this (I did) … A scooter.  Me relaxing in the sidecar.  Chris at the helm, hauling me around town in style.  While I was lost in my reverie, Chris noticed that several blocks away, fire engine one had pulled out from its barracks and was headed our direction.  Now a minute or two earlier, a quick glance at the fire department app on my phone had told me they were headed to a call on 22^nd Street, which happened to be the cross street nearest us.  Nearer and nearer came the thundering hulk as I insisted Chris back the car up just a little bit more so I could get a better picture of the scooter with my cell phone camera.  Nervously, she complied.  Still the engine came.  No lights were flashing, no siren blared, but yet it came.  And Chris once again checked and rechecked the rear view mirror.  I finally pronounced the photo a keeper, and Chris hastily pulled away, determined to be a good citizen and get out of the path of the oncoming behemoth.

And still it came.  She reached the corner of 22^nd Street and breathed a sigh of relief.  Finally she could turn and get out of the truck’s way.  I chuckled, for I realized then that I had neglected to tell her that the call that the engine was responding to was on this very street.  Sure enough, as Chris completed the turn, there, rapidly filling her rear view mirror until there was nothing but a mass of red, was the responding fire engine. 

Finally, just the tiniest bit flustered, she pulled off to the side of the road.  And as the engine passed us by, the friendly driver honked his horn, obviously thanking Chris for being such a good citizen and great driver.  Well, that and the driver looked vaguely familiar …

1 Peter 5:5 says, “Young men, in the same way be submissive to those who are older. All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, ‘God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.’”

Father, thank you for the fast responses of our fire fighters.  And thank you that they do such a good job of connecting with citizens.  Amen. 

January 6 – “Entertaining Canada”

We started our day at water exercise class.  We have a new time.  7:15 as opposed to 7:45.  I know.  Just thirty minutes.  How hard can it be?  And we actually made it with no problem at all.  But by the time we got there the pool was almost completely full.  One guy who is perennially late forgot about the new time and didn’t arrive until after 7:30.  I’m really glad Joe is in our class. 

 

Back at home … after racing to get some computer work done, I headed out to station one downtown.  Chris made some of her famous Amish friendship bread for Trish and Nora and Chief Wisko.  That made me the delivery boy.  They were all really thankful, though, so it was worth the effort. 

While there I met a fire fighter visiting Galveston from Canada.  What better way to spend your vacation on a warm tropical island than visiting a fire station?  One of our guys was showing him around.  They were comparing training and schooling notes, and he was comparing our engine with theirs.  If I understood correctly he was taking classes at College of the Mainland’s academy (the one Nathan graduated from).  They have to do three years of training.  As I understood it, the first year they put you through the physical wringer to see if you can physically do the job.  The next year is more of the same, but they begin mixing in some of the bookwork.  Year three is primarily learning the ins and outs of the job – lots of written stuff.  Oh, and they all have to be paramedics.  He seemed to really love the job.  Well, he said it was great unless it was in the minus degrees.  Then they are only allowed to fight the fire for about 30 minutes at a time.  Otherwise they would freeze to death.  Nice. 

Back at home Nathan came over to help us put our Christmas decorations back in the attic.  Chris and I usually end up taking on that daunting task, and it takes us the better part of an hour.  I just couldn’t bring myself to do the twisting and lifting when Nathan had already generously offered to help.  He crawled up in the attic, handled the twisting and turning while I handed up boxes to him.  Took maybe ten minutes.  I could get used to that.

1 Peter 4:10-11 says, “Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms. 11 If anyone speaks, he should do it as one speaking the very words of God. If anyone serves, he should do it with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.”

Father, thank you for the Canadian fire fighters that brave such ridiculously cold temperatures to keep people safe.  Watch over them.  Amen.