November 19 – “Peeling Pictures”

We had a visit from Chris' parents today.  Vern and Dub.  I like that name, Dub.  His initials are A.W.  Dub is short for "W."  Anyway, they were going to an insurance seminar at Moody Gardens, so they came by here first.  After the seminar they wanted to stop by our house in Galveston and see the destruction.  We had a good visit and even had a roast on a day other than Sunday.  Chris cooked it in our "Ike" crock pot – the one with no lid.   While they got all informed about insurance and Chris and Mom went to a Wednesday Club thing, I got dropped off at the house to do – whatever I could find to do.  I thought about carrying the deck furniture back up to the deck.  That would require help with the table, though, so I nixed it.  The next thing in my field of vision was the plastic table full of stuff right by the back door.  Why not take the Chris approach and begin there?  I cleaned off a book about feet by Dr. Seuss.  Then two others about dinosaurs.  A big book about baseball.  A paperback of quizzes on baseball trivia.  A few packs of Christmas stationery.  And then I came to a stack of pictures.    Now I really didn't expect much there.  I had seen what water did to pictures already, and this stack even had some old polaroids – the kind that popped out of the camera and developed right before your eyes.  Much to my surprise, the polaroids were fine.  They were still damp on the back, but I even wiped off the front and nothing messed up.  I tried that on some of the "newer" photos that we had sent off to be developed, and the ink ran everywhere.  I guess that's why the Polaroid concept didn't last that long.  The process was too good.    Anyway, I was faced now with the prospect of peeling pictures.  The polaroids were easy, and they did fine.  The first one was a kind of short guy from Woodland Baptist Church everybody called Peanut.  Hadn't thought of him in years.  And there was Mrs. Williamson.  Her tall, gangly son went by the name "Stick."  Mixed in with these easy-to-peel photos were some from way back in my Langwood days – the 70's.  They were stuck tight together and hard as a rock.  I almost threw them away right off, but thoughts of what I would tell Chris stopped me.  I had to be able to say I at least tried.  So peeling pictures became the order of the day.  There was Big Danny.  And his brother Jumping Jack, the kid who loved basketball.  There was Binky, always talking.  And even little Kim, who was called Red because of her hair color.    What a find!  Now some were in bad shape.  Some were curled up like our bathroom cabinets after the flood.  But I could see who the people were.  And I could remember.  I guess that's the purpose of pictures, isn't it.  To remember.  And as I remembered, it hit me that many of these guys had great names - well, nicknames.  And their nicknames reflected something about them.  The only nickname I ever had was in Jr. High basketball.  I was called Joker.  I don't know if it was because I looked like a character from Batman or I just grinned a lot.    God has a host of nicknames.  King of Kings.  Lord of Lords.  Jesus.  Prince of Peace.  Jehovah Jireh.  Jehovah Nissi.  Messiah.  Good Shepherd.    The list goes on and on.   I like the "Christmas" one from Matthew 1:22-23.  "All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: 'The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel'-which means, 'God with us.'"   Father, that "God with us" name of yours is really important to us right now.  Thank you for being there ahead of us.  Amen.