March 7 – “Two-below”

Zakary and Caleb recently concluded a basketball season up there in Waco.  Fine winter sport, that basketball.  Keeps you indoors while the rest of the world is playing soccer in the cold.  Or beginning to practice for that most wonderful of SUMMER sports, baseball.  Or, as we have most recently discovered through Jachin’s participation, playing flag football, that league sanctioned version of the two-below street football we played when I was growing up. 

Of course “two-below” is a designation of how a runner is considered “down” when a defender touches him with two hands at the same time below the waist.  That’s opposed to its not as difficult little brother, “two-anywhere.”  And who can forget house rules spoken in two or three words that everyone understood the meaning of.  Like “Three completes,” indicating the only way to get a first down is to make three complete passes.  Or “Five seconds,” defining the amount of time that had to pass before the defender could rush the quarterback.  And of course those seconds had to be counted out loud with that ever-popular, “One Mississippi … two Mississippi …”  Other than those qualifiers, the only other thing you had to know was the boundaries.  Out of bounds was easy.  Just stay in the street.  Goal lines varied depending on how many people were playing.  “Light pole to back bumper of the blue truck” or some variation thereof usually worked for us. 

Start times for games were pretty simple as well.  Basically, whenever we could get together enough guys to make up two teams.  That could mean as few as four or as many as wanted to play, up to eleven, of course.  You couldn’t go over what the pros used.  Oh, and as long as the teams had an equal number of players.  Well, you could get by with just three guys, or with an unequal number, if that really good athlete would agree to be “All-time Quarterback.”  Of course that really good athlete usually wanted to play defense as well.  Otherwise how could he gain glory from making interceptions?  So the next choice (and the inevitable one) fell to that not-so great athlete who just really wanted to hang around and be one of the guys. “All-time center.” Somebody’s little brother often worked well in this capacity.  With the “Five seconds” rule in effect anyway, even if he rolled the ball to the quarterback, there was still time to get a pass off.  And if the kid was allowed to play, that made all of us look good to the kid’s Mom.  After all, we let her baby play, too.    It was one of the few times that we could bypass the other rule that said “No little brothers.”  And if one started hanging around after the teams were even, he could count on hearing those endearing words, “Go tell Mommy she wants you.”  (Don’t try this at home.  It’s not a pretty picture when he actually does it and Mom figures out where the instructions originated).

Some of the policies and procedures have carried over into our continuation of the family football Turkey Bowl at High Noon (The usual designation for game time.  Note: just two words) on the Saturday after Thanksgiving.  Now the restrictions that once held for little brothers could be applied instead to the old, decrepit grandpa who thinks he can still mix it up with the youngsters once a year.  Full time QB worked for me last year (just so I got rid of the ball quickly), as did full time middle linebacker on defense (he’s the guy who just stands in the middle of the street and guards against the run and short pass). 

Wow.  Just talking about this subject has made my back start hurting.  Think for the time being I’ll stick to watching the grandkids.  I still have nine months until the next Turkey Bowl.  I could get in shape …

Psalms 16:5-6 says, “Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure.   The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.”

Father, thanks for the imagination-laced rules and commissioner-less decisions of childhood.  Amen. 

March 6 – “Kudos to GFD …”

Chris just discovered this letter to the editor well-buried in today’s Galveston Daily News.  Gotta do my part in getting things like this out in the open.  

“Kudos to GFD for a job well done

            We recently held Fire Safety Training classes for our team members and would like to publicly thank the Galveston Fire Department for their professionalism and support throughout this process: Fire Marshall Gilbert Robinson, inspectors Mike Varela, Sr. and Herman Hilton, and administrative assistant Nora Garcia, along with the fire truck team, who coordinated the training.  We appreciate their efficient planning of the program as well as the knowledge and expertise they shared with our team members on the importance of fire safety.

            They planned a program that included lectures, training videos, and testing of the material learned.  They even created a controlled setting fire which allowed our team members to actually use a fire extinguisher on a real fire.  This hands on experience was very valuable and created a unique learning opportunity.

            Galveston is really blessed to have such a proactive and professional fire department.  Thanks to the GFD team for all you do for our community.”

Theresa Elliott

General Manager of Casa del Mar Beachfront Suites

Galveston

Thanks for the words of encouragement to the fire department family.  Wish this could have been on the front page where it belongs.

Proverbs 18:10 says, “The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe.”

Father, thank you for the tower of protection you have given us in your name.  And under the awesomeness of that tower, thank you for the safety and protection we have through our Galveston Fire Department.  Give them strength and energy as they carry out their tasks every day.  Amen.

March 5 – “St. Vincent’s House”

The other day we delivered the canned goods that Seaside has been collecting for our February mission project.  I checked with our local Food Bank expert, and she recommended that we take it to St. Vincent’s House in Galveston.  They have a Food Bank ministry up and running, and it would eliminate the middle man so to speak.  We had never been to St. Vincent’s, although we have driven by and seen the outside.  It has been painted in some wild colors and designs, so the building really stands out.  I was excited to see what it looks like on the inside. 

That became a bit of a problem, though.  We couldn’t find the front door.  Every open door we came to led to a hall way with closed and locked doors.  Oh, except for the one room that had a group of children in it.  We found out later that the room was a site for some state testing.  I finally ended up looking up their phone number on their website and giving them a call.  I think they need some better signage outside.

Once inside and relieved of our bags of cans, we were given the grand tour of the facility by the Food Bank manager.  The lady was very sweet and carried herself as a consummate professional.  Their Food Bank not only feeds families, but they also prepare special goody bags for homeless people with things like Vienna sausages and easy open tuna fish, crackers, fruit cups, and energy bars.  Very well thought out packets.  The organization also runs a clinic in the same building.  They have several exam rooms, and they are even working on an area for dental work.  It seemed to be staffed by a nurse practitioner and nurse assistant along with office staff.  I would say it was a clean, safe place for the ministry taking place. 

Chris asked if there were ever occasions where they needed outside groups to come in and do work for them.  She explained about our retreat center and the questions regarding local ministry opportunities that we field all the time.  Smart thinking by my wife, there.  That is definitely an option.  They have a coordinator for projects like that, doing everything from freshening up paint (and there is a lot of that) to various odd jobs around the facility.  I would imagine in the summer their needs would also expand to children’s ministry programming as well.  All in all, it was a great experience, and I would like to follow up to find out about how they cooperate with other groups like Galveston Urban Ministries.

Psalms 16:5-6 says, “Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure.  The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.”

Father, bless the ministry at St. Vincent’s House.  Meet their specific needs so that they can be as effective as possible in meeting the needs of their community.  Amen.

March 4 – “On sizing”

We got one of those phone call requests that cannot possibly be ignored yesterday.  Cailyn wanted to know if we could be the ones to pick her up from school and bring her to … not her house where her Daddy was suffering from some bad back pain … but instead to our house so she could just come over and play.  Not a request a grandparent can easily say no to, so of course we agreed. 

Just as we were preparing to go pick her up, I received an email from a lady at Seaside.  Seems her husband had been at work (He’s a tech in the cardiac unit at UTMB) when he suddenly collapsed.  As it turned out he had some kind of virus that attacked his heart.  What better place (if you have to do it) to have a cardiac event than on the actual cardiac floor of the hospital?  They were still at the ER and she had forgotten my phone number.  I hastened to change clothes, since I also needed to make a quick trip to station one to check in with one of the guys who had a tough call the other day.  Chris took me over to Nathan’s house and I picked up the truck and headed on to the hospital.  That left her and Cailyn a full afternoon of Nani-Granddaughter Day. 

The one anecdote Chris shared with me from their day involved looking at the Target ads from the newspaper.  Cailyn was excited to see that bathing suit section had been highlighted.  Chris explained that she needed to go check those out, because she had a few bathing suit tops, but just one bottom.  That brought a full on chuckle from Cailyn.  Once she recovered from her giggles, Cailyn got done to some serious business.  “What if they don’t have anything that fits, Nani?”  A true concern, and apparently and OK question among just the girls.  I would never tread on such thin ice myself, of course.  Chris assured her that she would then just have to look elsewhere.  Still concerned that Nani get in on this incredible sale at Target (Cailyn’s favorite store, by the way), She then asked, “Well, what size do you wear?”  As I said, totally taboo topic as far as I was concerned.  Chris handled it well, though.  She was honest.  So she countered with, “I don’t know.”  Well now, Cailyn just couldn’t have that.  She reached up and grabbed the back of Chris’ t-shirt, right at the neckline, pulling it tight in front and nearly cutting off the blood flow to the brain.  All in a good cause, though.  She then read out, “Oh, here it is.  Size 50/50.”  Not sure how that translates into the small, medium, large realm, but it’s a start. 

Proverbs 3:3-4 says, “Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.  Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of God and man.”

Father, thank you for the special girl time Chris had with Cailyn yesterday.  And would you give Darrell’s doctors some wisdom to figure out exactly what it was that took him down?  That would be a scary thing to live in anticipation of.  Amen.

March 3 – “into the woods”

We took another flying trip to Waco this past weekend.  First since we got word that Zakary hit a 10 foot jumper on an out-of-bounds play in his last basketball game of the season.  Wish we could have seen that one.  But this time we were going up for the children’s music concert/musical at his church.  And it was well worth the trip.  Caleb and his age group sang a few songs to warm up the crowd before the musical segment began.  The Agape Squad was the name of it.  All about superheroes with powers granted by the Holy Spirit that sounded strangely similar to the fruit of the Spirit.  Zak was part of a guys’ dance group, so he had opportunity to show off his amazing moves.  The kids all did a great job.  Truly a most entertaining evening.  And after the performance we joined the group heading to an impromptu cast party of sorts at a local restaurant.  Great fun to watch the kids interact with each other.

The next morning we had some time to engage in a rousing game of Star Wars monopoly.  Well, the Zak version of the game.  The rules were oddly similar to those of children’s Monopoly, but had present enough input by the older of our grandsons to make it a uniquely Zak version.  He did forget a time or two that I can actually read, so he had to back-pedal on his interpretation of some of the game’s commands.

We took a detour on the way home to see some old, long-time friends.  Yeah, it’s one of those situations where both adjectives kind of apply.  Nancy was in junior high when I started at the first church I was ever youth pastor at.  Her husband Bo came later when they both were in high school.  Her parents, the Scoggins’ were some of those incredible, substitute parents to both Chris and me throughout our college careers.  It was really great to see Mary Scoggins again.  She is now bed-ridden and suffers from some dementia issues.  We were blessed to hear some of her signature comments, though.  “Why, don’t that beat all?’  “As I live and breathe.”  “Well, I never.”  At one point she asked me to tell her “something, just anything.”  So I said, “Jesus is still, well, Jesus.  Some things never change.”  She quickly agreed to that one.  Finally she went back to watching Howie Mandel and we retired to the other room to wait for Bo and Nancy to arrive.

While waiting for supper, I played Go Fish with their six-year old granddaughter.  Won one and lost one.  She let me know that I could always know how to spell her name because it was written on her shirt.  Indeed it was.  A-V-A, Ava.  She also wanted to know the ages of my granddaughter and grandson.  By the time I went through all eight of them, she was kind of in awe.  She reverently asked, “Am I your granddaughter, too, or just a friend?”

Her four year-old little sister Emma came up to me at one point and gently tugged at my shirt sleeve.  When I finally realized that there was a real human connected to the yank, I looked at her.  She very sweetly said, “Hello.  My name is Emma.  What is yours?”  Very disarming.  And quite cute. 

After a great grilled chicken supper, through which I was inundated with requests to play some more Go Fish (We did manage to sneak in a few rounds of rock, paper, scissors before Mom realized what was going on and reminded us to finish our supper), we thanked our hosts and got back on the road to Galveston.  Their final word of warning was, “Watch out for deer and wild hogs crossing the road.”  Oh.  Did I mention we were out in the middle of nowhere in the country?  Somewhere in Waller, I think, relatively near a Bucees.  No deer and no hogs, but I now have an all-new respect for the hot dogs at that particular Bucees.

Psalms 16:2 says, “I said to the Lord, ‘You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing.’”

Father, thank you again for friendships that remain alive over years of geographic separation.  Walk with Nancy and Bo and their girls as they continue to care for Mary in her waning time here on the earth.  Thank you for the moments we had with her yesterday and the hours we had with her over the years.  Amen.

March 2 – “Both days count”

I understand there is some discussion over whether Texas should celebrate its Independence Day on March 2^nd or March 3^rd.  From what I have read, it seems the delegates at Washington-on-the-Brazos approved the document on the 2^nd, but the signing process didn’t begin until the next day.  And even then, a lot of the delegates trickled in for the next few days to add their signatures.  Sounds very much Texan to me.  I don’t have the definitive answer.  Both days “count.”  But I would think if a celebration is involved … in Texas … why not fly the Texas flag both days, eat some barbeque, and maybe go to the rodeo.  That should pretty much cover it.

I know for us in Galveston, we never declared anything to anybody.  We just are.  Independent, I mean.  Oh, you didn’t realize that?  Then you haven’t lived on the Island for very long.  You see, we’re certainly nothing like people from north of the Red River.  And though similar in many ways, we are not exactly Texans.  Oh, we will allow the Texans to consider us part of their state.  I understand it helps them accumulate more dollars from the all-powerful federales.  We will even fly the Texas flag on the appropriate holidays.  We’ll fly them on both days, for that matter.  Like I said, a celebration is a celebration.   But there is just something about living on a barrier island that makes you a little … different.  Did I mention barrier island?  You understand that means we stand in the gap for the entire city of Houston when it comes to killer hurricanes.  And in the aftermath of the worst of them, we make our way back to our beloved pile of sand and start over, rebuilding with whatever scraps we have left, making ready for the next Big One.  It just takes an “even more so” kind of Texan to live in Galveston.  BOI’s (Born on the Island) or IBC’s (Islanders By Choice), it doesn’t matter.  You are something special. 

Psalms 11:4 says, “The Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord is on his heavenly throne.  He observes the sons of men; his eyes examine them.”

Father, thank you for the great people who surround me here on your little Island near Texas.  Keep them safe and draw them close to you.  Amen.

March 1 – “What day is it?”

I had to do a double-take when I looked at the clock on my desk this morning.  It shows the date and day as well as the time, and the date that was showing was February 29^th.  Now at first it didn’t register with me what was wrong.  It just seemed that something was off around me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I even read through the Sunday paper wondering about it.  But it wasn’t until I had to type in the date for this blog that I realized that my little clock just didn’t understand that February 29^th only comes around every four years.  The whole leap year concept appears to be beyond its comprehension. 

Now the reason I got the thing was because it purports to be one of those atomic clocks that can read the radio waves or something and automatically adjust itself to the correct time and date.  In fact I have its big brother sitting on a bookshelf in my office, and the older sibling seemed to have handled the change with aplomb.  (Like that word?  I’ve always wanted to use it in a sentence.  I think it means something like, “quite well” or “with assurance”).  Guess I’ll have to figure out how to change it manually.  But then, that would mean searching for the instructions (we do keep things like that around here somewhere) or pushing button combination after button combination to find the secret code leading to the correct mode, where then you have to push more buttons to actually get the date correct.  The former would befit someone of my generation – OK, my advanced years.  The latter is more of a reflection of the younger set, the ones who were born with a touch screen in their hands.  The older generation fears doing something that might break the apparatus.  The youngsters crave the information.  If the machine can’t take the heat, it ought to be put out to pasture anyway.  Wait.  No.  They would say “put out to pasture,” would they?  The imagery would have little meaning to someone who had never seen a pasture, much less been involved with farm life.  For that matter, they would wonder why I even have a clock on my desk when my cell phone is sitting right there alongside it.  There’s just that one amazing factor with the clock that cell phones just don’t have the battery to duplicate.  It is always on.  Every time I look over at it, the display continues.  No buttons to push.  No screen to swipe.  My fingers can stay busy typing or, heaven forbid, holding my place in the actual book I am reading.  Ah, well.  I guess I should hurry on to correct the date snafu.  I do have church this morning, and I need to go over my teaching notes.  Which are typed out on a piece of paper, by the way …

Psalms 8:3-4 says, “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?”

Father, thank you for all the amazing technological advances that make our lives easier.  I do appreciate them.  Don’t understand many of them, but I do appreciate them.  Kind of like how I’ll never understand you, but oh, do I appreciate you.  Amen.