January 19 – “Cheeseheads, a washtub, hats and some Mennonites”

I had a couple of really nice things shared with me after our worship service yesterday.   It was an unusual service, to start off with.  Among the visitors from Fort Worth and Houston and Dallas, we also had five older ladies who had made the trek down her from Wisconsin to escape the 40 degrees below zero weather they had been having.  They weren’t so impressed with the 40 degrees above zero bone chiller we were complaining about.  Balmy Spring day to them, I guess.  It’s not so unusual for us to have visitors from all over the United States, but there were two funny things about their presence yesterday.  One was the fact that the Green Bay Packers were the ones to knock the Cowboys out of the playoffs last week.  And they were quite proud of their home team– and vocal.  Can’t beat a sweet little 80-year-old lady trash talking football.   

Our computer guy was held up getting here, so we didn’t have the music in the computer yet.  I was walking around greeting people when one of our Seasiders came up to me and made an offer.  His Dad was in town with him, and the offer was for the two of them to play some worship music for us.  He said they knew a few hymns and such that might just get us started.  I knew the son had told me before that he could play, so I jumped at the chance for a father-son team.  I knew the Seasiders would welcome them happily, and they did.  The thing was, when Tom went out to the car to get the guitars, he only came back with one.  I was a bit puzzled until the second trip.  He walked in with a big washtub and a stick with a rope tied to it.  Yep.  His Dad played guitar and Tom accompanied him on the washtub bass.  The teenagers were fascinated, and every time he started up, they stood up to watch him.  It was great. 

So the rest of the service was kind of a typical Seaside one.  We did do a Visual Verse, and there was a lot of audience participation.  Especially in the teaching intro.  The teaching was about the kinds of things that might have gone through Peter’s head as he waited in the courtyard after Jesus had been arrested.  So I brought along several of my hats and asked what I might do wearing a hat like that and what kinds of things I might say.  I had a cowboy hat, a construction helmet, a fireman’s helmet, a motorcycle police officer’s helmet, an Astros cap, and … yep, I couldn’t believe how appropriate this would be to our five little old football-lovin’ lady visitors … my cheesehead hat.  They couldn’t believe it.  Made for a lot of fun to get started, and helped with the intro wearing Peter’s hat to see what it was like to be him.

OK.  Now to the nice things.  Another one of the guests was a couple from Kansas.  He was a family farmer.  And they were Mennonites.  They actually dressed the part, too.  They sat next to Chris during the service, and I saw Chris talking to the wife quite a bit.  After the service the husband came up to me and said, very simply, “We very much enjoyed the worship today.  You have a gift.”  That was pretty much it.  I wasn’t sure what the gift was, but I thanked him for the encouragement.  The only other thing he talked about was how I did the Visual Verses.  He seemed fascinated by that approach.  I found out later that he had expounded a bit more to Chris.  He was impressed with the way even children were welcome into our worship experience.  The gift he was talking about was “How your husband seems to be able to communicate with the children as well as with people as old as us.”  I was thinking more in terms of my gift being the children and old people and all those in between that God draws to the church every week. 

The second great encouragement came indirectly.  It was perhaps the greatest complement any communicator can ever receive.  It seems one of our young girls leaned over during the teaching time and whispered something to her Mom.  Mom told me about it after worship.  Ella’s whispered sentiment? “The more I hear him talk, the more I want to hear him keep talking.”  Wow.  Now, that’s humbling. 

Psalms 150:3-5 says, “Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre, praise him with tambourine and dancing, praise him with the strings and flute, praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals.”

Father, thank you for the unique “strings” we had to help us worship yesterday.  Thank you for the willingness of Tom and his Dad to share their talent with us.  Thank you for sending to us believers from Wisconsin and Kansas and Dallas and Houston.  Shows that you are at work all over the country.  And thank you for Ella to remind us that you are still at work right here.  Amen.

January 18 – “Waco Wars”

Chris and Christi were beside themselves all weekend.  Seems HGTV was filming an episode of Fixer Upper right down the street from where Josh and Christi live.  Christi told us she had even seen Joanna Gaines at some point in the process.  She didn’t mention Chip, though. Guess he was working inside.  We did have to drive by there.  They were setting up that huge photo on rollers of what the house used to look like before they started on their massive reno project.  Then on reveal day they roll it out of the way so the homeowners can see the new house.  I’m sure we’ll have to be on the lookout for that episode now.

We did manage to fit in our traditional Mexican food trip.  I know.  That is a weird place to have a Mexican food dinner.  But the tradition started years ago when they lived in Mansfield.  There was a Panchos near their house, so we went there every time we visited, for old time’s sake.  (When our boys were growing up, that was one of the few places we could go that they could get filled up for cheap.  Actually there’s more nostalgia than that.  Chris and I used to go there on dates when we were in college.  The full buffet back then was 99 cents.  Yep.  We’re that old).  Then they moved to San Antonio, so our options for Mexican food were a bit more varied, and they made more sense, with the hugs Mexican population there.  There was a long wait at the place we went. Didn’t bother young Luke, however.  He indicated his desire to be released on his own recognizance.  His Dad obliged with the stipulation that one hand still remain in custody at all times.  Satisfied with those terms, Luke proceeded to take his Daddy directly over to the bar to check out the babes and the football game while we waited.  They didn’t pick up any chicks, though.  Luke was way too cool for that.  And Josh?  Well, Josh knew better.

To say that Caleb was excited about his birthday party would be an understatement.  He had selected a World War II theme, so Christi, in her Masterful Mom way gathered decorations all in camoflauge.  I was worried the kids might not be able to find them, but apparently they had been well-trained to spot instruments of mass consumption and any paraphernalia that made such consumption possible.  Josh created a tank and a machine gun outpost out of some old cardboard boxes, paper, lots of duct tape, one of the clear plastic drawers from one of Christi’s shelving units (don’t tell her, though), and several old cans of spray paint. 

All the games were set to go.  Create your own dog tags.  Pass the hand grenade (a version of hot potato.  It went slow until Josh grabbed two more and literally threw them into the mix).  Paper airplane competition (And at this point the Dads began to get involved).  Find the enemy soldiers (Apparently the enemy had infiltrated the camp and 100 of the tiny green soldiers were hiding all around the room, thanks to Josh’s pre-party preparation).  Medic (During the skirmish two of our own had been injured.  Zak and his friend, both older party-goers, had to stand still while the younger ones bound up their entire bodies with toilet paper).  Target practice (Each kid was issued a created by hand, Josh V. hand gun for shooting marshmallows.  Christi had a huge bowl full of ammunition.  The object was to shoot the captured army men off the deck railing.  The action was beginning to get intense.  Here one of the Dads pulled out some of those little tiny poppers that make the shooting sound when tossed to the ground.  Gave some instnse sound effects to the target practice).  The final game was the battle royale in the back yard.  Christi set the entire bowl of marshmallows on the ground, each kid had his or her gun and the opportunity to hide in the tank or machine gun nest, and she turned them loose.  At first it was supposed to be on each other, but it soon became a battle between the short kids and the taller kids (aka Dads).  The Dads gave it their all.  Josh pulled out his machine gun version of the marshmallow gun.  Two other Dads had a secret weapon to ensure they couldn’t be found … smoke bombs.  But it was all to no avail.  The kids realized they could bypass the issued weapons and become weapons themselves.  They started grabbing handfuls of ammo and pelting the old guys with it.  The ammo was finally exhausted (as were a few Dads), so that game ended and we went back inside for presents and a piece of the amazing birthday cake.

The cake was a true work of art.  Made by (to quote Miss Kay Lynn, who warned me to never misquote her) “Caleb’s future mother-in-law,” it was a depiction of an aircraft carrier, complete with radio tower, flight lines on the deck, and the U.S.S. Caleb designation on the side.  It even had the distinctive angled-in sides.  Quite an impressive decorating job.  Oh, and it even had the kind of icing that you can actually eat, not to mention a good-tasting cake underneath.  Very good stuff.

Whew.  I think back now to that brief moment before the party began, when everything was all set up and I for one sat down to wait for the impending onslaught of young recruits, Caleb had one final word of caution for me.  “DadDad, don’t fall asleep or people will laugh at you.”  Granted, I’m pretty good at sleeping on the go, but no one could sleep through that party.  Happy birthday, Caleb.

Psalms 95:1 says, “Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation.”

Father, thank for the fun that the Dads had at the party.  Their kids will remember that Dad was there and was laughing and playing with them long after they forget the cool tank and the marshmallow guns.  Amen.

January 17 – “A birth and a death”

I love how God sometimes balances the events of life.  We went to the funeral of the last of a generation of Chris’ family.  Her Aunt Becky died.  And while we were on the road after the funeral, I received word that Travis and Alyssa Hill (Travis is a fire fighter) were rejoicing over the birth of two healthy twin boys, Loghan and Lawsen.  A death, yes.  But new life as well.  Amazing how he works that way.  Even spiritually.  You have to die to really live.  So, farewell, Aunt Becky.  Enjoy your new life with Jesus.  And welcome, Loghan and Lawsen.  May God’s goodness and mercy surround each of you as you walk through life, not just as the brother of a twin, but as an individual loved by God.

I did want to say a little bit about the funeral.  It was in Ganado, Texas.  Don’t even ask where that is.  It shows up on the GPS in my phone, so we found it with no trouble, but it is one of those places that you have to be going to or you’d never find it.  The service itself was an interesting blend of traditional Catholic ritual and contemporary guitar-led praise and worship.  Catholics don’t normally do open casket funerals, but in this case, the casket was open – in the foyer right as you walked into the front door.  Never seen that one before.  Well done.  Aunt Becky would love to be the one shocking everyone, not to mention being in the middle of the action. 

The start to the service proved a point I have been making ever since I switched over to Baptist life from my Episcopalian heritage.  If I had known what some of the rituals meant, I might have stuck around, because they can be really beautiful.  Kind of pointless, though if you don’t know what’s going on.  So, they did close the casket when it came time for the service to begin.  As the priest talked about being covered with the Holy Spirit, several grandkids draped a cover over the casket.  As he said something about the Word of God, one of them placed a big family Bible on top, and as he talked about Jesus being the savior of the world, they placed a small crucifix on the casket as well.  Now, not many people could see all that, and of the ones who could, it didn’t seem that many of them made the connection to what he was saying, but it was pretty cool nonetheless.

The service itself had all the required elements of the Catholic mass, right down to a time of communion.  It was interlaced with some singing, though, that was quite contemporary, although the tempo was pretty slow.  The guy on guitar had written some catchy music for the required responses by the congregation.  Nice job with that.  Kept the group engaged and not so much on auto-pilot.  Speaking of which, there was obviously a lot of auto-pilot going on.  You could tell who the Catholics in attendance were by the way they “just knew” what to say and when to say it.  I hope I can be successful in communicating why we do what we do at Seaside.  I really want the worship experience to be meaningful to everyone there.

Graveside was pretty traditional, except that the wind was blowing and the little munchkin trying to hold the book for the priest wasn’t tall enough and his hands weren’t big enough to hold on to the book and keep the pages open as well.  Made for a challenge for the priest.  He handled it well enough, though.  He took the kid’s hands and placed them where he wanted them.  Probably wasn’t too comfortable for the kid, but that’s why they call it “serving” when you are an acolyte.  Yes, that’s the voice of experience. Remember, I was an altar boy back in my Episcopalian days.

Psalms 116:15 says, “Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.”  Certainly so was the case with Aunt Becky.  May she be remembered in that light.

And Psalms 22:10 says, “From birth I was cast upon you; from my mother's womb you have been my God.”  May Loghan and Lawsen’s Mom and Dad learn to cast the boys upon God so that they may always have a sense of his protection and love.

Father, thank you for the sense of victory at Aunt Becky’s funeral.  And thank you for the joy and excitement at the birth of the Hill boys.  Amen.

January 16 – “Down. Set. Omaha”

So you have to watch what you kids watch on TV, right?  I saw some great evidence of that the other day when Christina brought her kids over after a trip to the library.  First they all had to have something to eat, of course.  That’s kind of the thing when you go to Nana and DadDad’s house.  Walk in the front door and say, “Mom, can I have …” fill in the blank with whatever array of goodies they can imagine that Nana might have in her cupboard (And usually does).  Pop tarts, fruit snacks, crackers, raisins, and if they are really lucky, root beer floats or even candy.  Christina told us that the other day they decided they were going to have some pizza for supper, and Noa immediately wanted to know when they were leaving for Nana and DadDad’s house.

So after their bellies were satisfied, the boys decided to head outside for a quick game of street football.  Just three of them, mind you.  Jachin, who is eleven versus Micah, who is eight.  And Josiah, who is four, would play defense for both teams.  A grand solution for street football.  I bundled up and went out to watch the action.  Yes, it was still way too cold for Galveston.  Low forties.  Real football weather, I guess. 

I was immediately fascinated when Micah had the ball.  It sat on the street waiting for the imaginary center to grab it and snap it to Micah, the waiting QB.  He walked up like he was about to pick it up, then backed away suddenly, looking over each shoulder and gesturing with his hands, obviously resetting the offense in preparation for an audible.  With his team finally set he bent down and picked up the ball, holding it as if suspended in mid-snap.  He made several calls of “Hut” in different cadences, then took off running.  He didn’t get very far in his first attempt.  Must have seen me watching, his antics, though, because at the next snap he looked over and saw me grinning.  I hastened to tell him he reminded me of Peyton Manning and his famous call of “Omaha” when he makes his snap count.  That’s all it took.  Omaha easily joined the routine, as did Galveston and Houston.  Still didn’t help him gain many yards, though, on his actual run.  Until third down. 

Jachin lined up on one side of the ball/street.  Josiah covered the other side.  Micah went through his quarterback routine.  Approach the ball, back away, look around at your offensive set.  Wave a wide receiver to a different spot (still amazes me how those wide receivers can never seem to find their correct position).  Finally the snap count begins.  “Down.  Set.  Hut.  Hut.  Galveston.  Omaha.  Omaha.”  And then Micah added a call of his own, one that can only be appreciated by true aficionados of street football.  After a brief pause he looked up and yelled, “Car.” 

Now everybody who has ever played the fine game of street football knows that call.  It’s the signal to vacate the playing surface and head for the safety of the nearest sidewalk or front yard.  Immediately Josiah and Jachin turned their heads to see how much time they had to avoid the impending interloper of game play.  And just as their heads turned, Micah took off running, unobstructed to the goal line for a touchdown.  Now that’s some creative Omaha-ing.  I’m sure even the Manning brothers would shake their heads in awe.

Acts 2:21 says, “And everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

Father, thank you for making the important call one that is clear to everyone.   Amen.

January 15 – “A Mother’s Dream”

Noa and her brothers came over for a visit yesterday.  She and I worked on drawing some pictures together.  I would start an image and then she would put her hand over mine and “complete the masterpiece.”  We completed portraits of Mommy, the face with long hair that I thought would be easily recognized as Noa, herself, because I included a little pigtail poking up from the side of her head.  But then, I don’t suppose Noa spends much time looking in the mirror.  There was one of Daddy that she didn’t want to color over once we finished it.  That was the one with no hair whatsoever.  She just touched it lightly with the tips of her fingers and whispered over and over, “Daddy.  Daddy.”  You would think the little one might have some kind of special spot in her heart for her Daddy.  The third picture was going to be a bunny.  You know, the big ears and long whiskers.  I just had the face drawn when she noticed my scrawling.  After a point and a ponder she announced, “Doggy.”  Well, OK.  My drawings have been misunderstood before, as anyone who has seen my visual verse goat can attest to.  She helped with the body from that point one, and it was the fattest rabbit I have ever seen.  That’s when Micah showed up.  He of course had his own interpretation.  He assumed it was supposed to be a sheep.  So what was it?  Bunny-sheep?  Sheep-bunny?  Shunny?  We finally settled on Beep.  New creation in the animal kingdom.  Speaking of Micah, gotta do a little bragging here.  He won second place in his age division for art at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.  How’s that for an accomplishment?  Way to go, Micah.

When I returned from the church yesterday Chris told me we have some new neighbors.  I tried to picture in my mind which house on our street she might be talking about.  Then she added, “the kind that comes over to borrow a cup of sugar or a glass of milk.”  Realization was slowing dawning on me when she finally confirmed it, “I’m talking about Nathan and April.  They borrowed our crock pot and then came back for some brown sugar.”  “Really upset you terribly, didn’t it?” I sarcastically mumbled.  And she smiled.  Finally.  The kind of neighbors a mother dreams about.

Psalms 46:1 says, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”

Father, thank you for “needy” neighbors.  Great to have them closer.  Amen.

January 14 – “Familiar ground”

Ah, affirmation.  It is a sweet thing.  Particularly when it relates to spending money on car repairs.  We took the car in to Dennis for an oil change and general “we’re taking a trip farther into Texas than usual” checkup.  Chris’ last surviving aunt died, and the funeral is Thursday out near Bay City.  Then we are going to Waco to Caleb’s birthday party.  Gotta have that car running smoothly.  While I was there I asked Dennis about the Firestone recommendation to get an immediate alignment.  The way they put it, if we didn’t let them do an alignment right then, our new tires would fall off and the car would explode.  He asked me two questions:  “How is the car running?”  That was easy.  It’s running just fine.  Then he asked “How bad was the wear on the old tires?”  Well, they were definitely worn, but not down to where you could see those metal strands sticking out.  I have had them get that bad before.  His final assessment?  Let it go until you have a different answer to those two questions.  I asked about the printout they gave me.  He chuckled and said, “Do you know what they call that printout in the business?  It’s called a marketing upgrade tool to make the customer think he needs more service than he really does.”  Well, there you go.  I love having a mechanic who can be trusted.

Later in the day Chris managed to drag me away from the computer to go shopping with her.  OK.  There are two parts to that last statement.  “Drag away from the computer” is not a negative thing.  I tend to get on a roll when I’m preparing for a teaching and will sit there for hours.  Then when I do get up I can hardly walk.  She doesn’t particularly lie to listen to my groanings and creakings, so she reminds me every so often that I need to get up and move around.  Besides, it’s also doctor’s orders from my rheumatologist, so technically it is therapeutic. 

The second part about going shopping is not necessarily bad either.  We do enjoy walking through WalMart together.  She looks at the stuff and I look at the people.  But this time she wanted to go to Target.  Ah, a whole different type of people to watch and merchandise to peruse.  There for whatever reason the children don’t seem quite as out of control, and the adults are much more reserved in their shopping experience.  In other words, just not quite as “interesting” as WalMart.  But as it happened, we walked into the store right behind a little kid who must have been about two years old.  Cute little rascal.  I did manage a grin from him, but I couldn’t follow him as far as I would have liked.  Chris discovered the section she was looking for right at the front of the store.  Oh, she was looking at the swim suits that were on sale.  Swim suits.  In January.  When it is 41 degrees outside.  She didn’t do so well in finding one.  I can understand why.  Do bathing suits even fit the same when it’s this cold?  We did manage to find an excuse to stop by WalMart.  Needed some fruit.  Good to be back on familiar ground. 

Psalms 37:28 says, “For the Lord loves the just and will not forsake his faithful ones.”

Father, thank you for honesty in the business world.  It is so refreshing.  Bless those who make a commitment to integrity.  Amen.

January 13 – “The new tire ordeal”

We dropped the car off at Firestone the other day.  Needed two more tires.  Not that we have had a problem … yet.  We replaced the other two not quite a year ago.  Then we had to replace all the tires on the truck, so we have been working on paying that all off.  And … We did it.  Woohoo, right?  Now we can start over again.  The salesman tried one of those typical upgrade tricks.  I told him I wanted the comparable tire to the ones we just bought.  He pulled everything up on his computer, and then “couldn’t find” the exact match.  In fact, no one in their system even carried it any more.  The closest thing was $100 per tire more expensive than last time.  I told him to look again.  Finally, after an exhausting search (for him, anyway), he located the same tire.  And it was just a few dollars higher than last time.  I can handle that.  He told me, “They changed the name of the tire.”  I asked what they were calling it now, and he showed me the computer screen.  The name was exactly the same.  Everything was exactly the same.  Except for the number 2 they inserted right after the tire’s original name.  Seems like that would have showed up on the first search he ran … right after the old ones.  But what do I know?  I’m just the ignorant old-guy consumer making a purchase I know nothing about.    Sigh. 

I thought we had it down that all we wanted was the tires. Well, the new tires on the back and the ones on back rotated to the front.  Guess not.  About 45 minutes after the car was supposed to be ready, we finally got a call from them.  And he began his up-sell spiel.  “As we were putting your tires on we noticed a few things.  Your windshield wiper blades …”  I stopped him right there.  What possible reason could he have had to even look at the wiper blades if they were working on the tires?  I assured him that we only wanted the new tires.  He agreed to comply and said they were almost done.  He would call again when they finished.  Should be about fifteen minutes.

Sure enough, about an hour later, he did indeed call.  To let me know that the alignment was off and would like them to get that calibrated correctly?  “Only $79.99 for a one-time deal or $179.99 for a lifetime alignment.”  Well, at least this time it was something they were supposed to be checking related to the tires.  I asked him to print out the readings and told him I would bring the car back later to get that done when I could.  I’ll get my mechanic who I trust, Dennis, to check it out.  He doesn’t do alignments at his shop, but he’ll translate the readout for me as to its degree of importance.  Heading his way this morning anyway for an oil change.  Gotta get the car freeway ready for our trip this weekend to Caleb’s birthday party in Waco.

What an ordeal.  But then it’s one of those I don’t mind putting up with when I consider the alternative.  Safety first.  I guess that’s a bit of my Dad rising up from within me.  Like checking all my kids’ inspection stickers.  I still haven’t gone all the way over though.  I still let our gas readout get below half a tank before filling up.  I’ll have to start working on that one.

Psalms 16:1 says, “Keep me safe, O God, for in you I take refuge.”

Father, it’s good to know I can count on you for the protection that counts.  I’ll do my part and keep the car as safe as I can.  Amen.