October 13 – “I’ve gone and done it”

Well, now I’ve gone and done it.  Chris and I were walking in the neighborhood yesterday morning.  It was one of those times when my back felt pretty good.  As we came upon the last street, Chris asked me if I was heading home or continuing on.  Not one to push things too far, I said I would head home and she could continue for her three miles or however far she wanted to go.  To my surprise, however, she eased over next to me, took my hand, and said if I would promise her one thing, then she would come home with me right then.  That threw me.  What in the world could she want from me that would require a battlefield promise like this?  Of course I agreed.  In my heart that decision was made over forty years ago.  If she wanted something, I would do everything in my power, however meager that attempt might prove to be, to do anything she asked of me.  Just one of those love things, I guess.

And what was this dire necessity that was encroaching upon our pleasant walk?  “Promise me you’ll go for a walk with me again this evening.”  There it was.  Sounds simple enough, I know.  And there was never any moment that I would have refused.  But understand, evenings are when my back usually starts hurting, even on good days.  That scenario flashed in front of my eyes before I answered.  And then a second … Earlier in the walk I had commented that I thought it was time for us to get a new couch and chair.  Maybe we could go do that instead.  Productive, yes.  But it would no doubt necessitate driving into Texas.  That is rarely a good idea.  She nixed it anyway.  Something about paying off my hearing aids and medical bills first.  And finally, option number three presented itself in the far reaches of my consciousness.  Was I going crazy?  Where could that idea possibly have originated?  Nevertheless, it was there.  And once it forced its way into my waking thought processes, I was doomed.  Before I could help myself, the words tumbled from my mouth, “I know.  Let’s go to WalMart.  We need some fruit, and while there we can get the boy version of your bike for me and tonight we can ride bikes together.”  There I said it.  Actually volunteered to ride a bike.  She didn’t really believe me, of course, but I was serious.  Let’s get this done.

And so we did.  After checking out a Schwinn that was made for an ape (required really long arms to reach the handle bars, but had a comfortable looking seat), and another brand that was very skinny and looked like a rocket ship, we spotted exactly what we were looking for.  The boy version of Chris’ purple-powered pedal pusher.  No, it wasn’t purple (at least I don’t think it was), but it did come with the same cup holder that hers did.  I personally wanted to hold out for one of those little push bells or maybe a horn, but you take what you get, I suppose.  I don’t think Chris really believed it until we loaded it into the car, but it’s a done deal.  I now have a bicycle.  I also have my eyes on a new seat that I saw there at WalMart.  And a horn.  And a cell phone holder.  And a light …

Hebrews 10:23 says, “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.”

Father, thank you for the inspiration my wife gives me to exercise in all sorts of unique ways.  Reminds me to be consistent in other areas of my life as well.  Amen.

October 12 – “What holiday?”

Hmm.  October 12.  Didn’t that used to be some kind of holiday or something?  Oh, I remember.  Columbus Day, right?  I used to be able to keep up with those things back when I was in elementary school and we got to color pictures of the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria.  Oh, and the February presidents as well, back when they each had his own special day.  I remember doing those silhouette pictures out of black construction paper of Abraham Lincoln and George Washington.  I was really sad for those guys when they forced them to celebrate their birthdays together like they were some kind of misplaced-in-history twins. 

I have figured out a way to cheat on the whole holiday thing, though.  Just visit any bank on Fridays.  If there is a holiday coming up, there will invariably be a sign on the door telling you all about how they will be closed to honor it.  Great profession, that banking.  Except for the whole dressing up to go to work thing.  But they seem to be getting away from that as well.  At least on Fridays … during football season.  Blue jeans and Texans football jerseys (and a few Cowboys jerseys in the mix as well).  My question is … What about them Astros?  There is a team poised to advance in the playoffs.  Why not have an Astros Day at the Bank?  Wear an Astros jersey.  Hang orange streamers from the wall.  Those you could leave up for the rest of the month anyway.  As the Astros advance, you are still honoring them.  Then at the end of the month your Halloween decorations are already in place.  Two birds with one stone.  Half-priced “Astros win” pizzas at Papa Johns.  Free “Astros win” slushies at Sonic.  Playoff paraphernalia available at Academy.  50 cents off Colby Jack cheese at WalMart for every home run Rasmus hits.  Free Dallas Keuchel paste-on beards with fill ups at Murphy’s gas stations.  75% off on flannel shirts for three days at Palais Royal after every Gattis the Lumberjack home run.  Assorted fanwear t-shirts available at Target, including: “The Astro Giant” (with a picture of Jose Altuve and his bat), “Springer Stinger” (with a picture of George Springer swinging his bat which is adorned with an image of an angry bee), “Rookie of the Year” (with a picture of Carlos Corerra), and even “1-2-3” (with a picture of all three of those guys).  Rumor has it there might even be available a limited edition t-shirt with “Manager of the Year” and A.J. Hinch’s photo. 

What can I say?  I’m just an overgrown ten-year-old kid with my Houston Colt .45’s cap on a little crooked, rooting for the home team.  But I have some great marketing ideas.  Go Astros.

Hebrews 10:22 says, “Let us draw near to God with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water.”

Father, thank you for holidays and banks and home town teams to root for.  Adds some more fun to life.  Amen.

October 11 – “A New Name?”

Ah, Fred.  Have I mentioned yet that she finally barked?  Yep (Or rather, yip).  She valiantly protected us from the incursion of the Evil Letter Carrier, AKA The Mailman.  But she made that new and piercingly annoying sound only after the ELC had already dropped off the mail and turned his back to leave the porch.  I guess one could consider the event an encouraging part in the ongoing development of Fred’s role in the family. 

Oh, and speaking of Fred and the family … not all of the family has had a chance to meet her in person as of yet.  Zak and Caleb and Luke have had a FaceTime session with her, though, and upon subsequent pondering, Caleb apparently became somewhat concerned.  Oh, not with the pup’s health or lack of verbal skills.  Caleb was more concerned with her emotional fragility. 

Reflecting upon our new little dog’s name, Caleb thoughtfully commented to his Dad, “But Fred is just not right for a dog’s name.”  Daddy Josh did his best to explain, “Well, Caleb, the name is really Freiderecke.”  That didn’t help, even though the moniker makes her the namesake of my grandmother (the original Freiderecke who warned us never to name a child after her lest she return from her grave to haunt us).  Perceptive young Caleb replied, “What kind of name is that?  That’s not a name for a boy or a girl.”  Sigh.  Caleb, you have no idea how much my Nani K. would agree with you on that.  So he and his brothers set out on a quest for a new name for the dog.  I understand the consensus so far is … Sally.  Sorry Fred.  The northern cousins may be calling you strange things.  Be kind when they do.

Hebrews 9:27-28 says, “Just as man is destined to die once, and after that to face judgment, so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many people; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.”

Father, prepare some hearts to meet you at church today.  Amen.

October 10 – “Pitter-patter”

We were just relaxing, lounging around the house watching some TV and getting ready for some supper.  That’s when we heard it.  Unmistakable.  The pitter-patter of little feet.  We looked into each other’s eyes.  No, not with the knowing joy of doting grandparents.  This pitter-patter was coming from above our heads.  So for just a second our thoughts might have been closer to the abject terror of a B-rated horror movie.  You know, the kind where deep down you know you know pretty much what the sound is, but the circumstance are so out of sync that the exact source escapes you for a fleeting moment and reality is replaced by a flood of possibilities.  Ghosts?  Nah.  Intruders?  Possible, but they would have to be pretty … well, short.  So, nah.  Critters?  Now were getting back to thinking correctly.  See we often have little critters race across our roof.  Usually squirrels.  Sometimes renegade cats.  Perhaps more often than we care to consider, probably rats and possums as well.  And then our eyes met once again, this time with realization.  The answer to the mysterious sound from the roof was … Fred.

We raced out the back door and up the stairs to the deck.  Well, “raced” might be a bit ambitious.  Perhaps “hurried as best we could” would be more accurate.  And sure enough, from well over onto the front side of the roof facing the street, came the youngster Fred.  The tell-tale pitter-patter of her feet as she approached confirmed our suspicions.  She came right over to us, anxious for our approval and for a pat on her tiny little head.  So what were our options now for keeping her off the roof and protected from a possible fall to her doom? 

We finally came up with an idea.  We found a roll of some plastic chicken wire in the garage.  No idea where it came from or why it has lasted in our garages, but it seemed the perfect fix.  We strung it up and tied it in place with those plastic ties (we also had a big jar of those.  They came with some other supplies after Hurricane Ike – a very helpful tool over the years, by the way, if anyone ever asks you what they can give after a disaster.  I think it will be enough to keep Fred confined to the deck.  And it’s eco-friendly for the neighborhood interlopers.  Cats and squirrels should be agile enough to leap it.  Possums and rats can easily climb over it.  Adventurous children?  Hmm.  Not so much …

Hebrews 9:15 says, “For this reason Christ is the mediator of a new covenant, that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance — now that he has died as a ransom to set them free from the sins committed under the first covenant.”

Father, watch over the Scoggins’ family today as they walk through the funeral.  Amen.

October 9 – “That Mary Scoggins”

We got word the other day that about the death of a dear friend, Mary Scoggins.  Mary opened her heart and home to a stray youngster who was doing his best to figure out how to be a youth minister with virtually zero experience even at being in a youth group.  In fact he had only been a Christian for about a year and a half.  Mary was the church organist, and her husband Scott was the music minister. 

Now Mary was one of the strongest ladies I have ever known.  I don’t mean strong in the sense that she could heft a car (although I have seen her come very close to picking up a burly son-in-law or two and slapping him silly when he needed it.  And she seemed to have no problem at all gently lifting the tiniest baby in her arms).  I mean Mary was a spiritual rock - to her family and to all those who considered themselves to be a part of the family.  Mary always seemed to grow just a bit taller when we managed to push one of her buttons on some issue she was particularly passionate about.  Mary was the consummate minister’s wife, too, always standing up for her husband and often restating (in perhaps a tiny bit louder tone) whatever soft-spoken Scott had said, just in case you didn’t hear it. 

I tried to come up with some of the other things I most remembered about Mary.  Best I could do was list a few of them:

Sunday dinners after church

Naps on her couch

Sunday dinners after church

Hearing her say (more than once), “Now what am I gonna do with you two?” after Connie and I took turns smushing each others’ dessert.

Sunday dinners after church

Watching her pantomime zipping her lips shut as she watched Nancy tame a certain runaway linebacker

Sunday dinners after church

Hearing her tune up the organ and belt out some of the grand old hymns

Sunday dinners after church

Watching as she encouraged my wife through nursing school “as one nurse to another”

Sunday dinners after church

Hearing the Mary we knew from the good ol’ days sneak through the Alzheimer’s fog during our last visit, when she said, “Well, if that don’t beat all.”

Oh, and did I mention, Sunday dinners after church?

That Mary Scoggins.  She was one special lady.  May she enjoy her eternity with Scott and Jesus, and may she forever be a guest for a change, rather than a hostess, at those banquet tables in heaven.

Hebrews 6:1-2 says, “Therefore let us leave the elementary teachings about Christ and go on to maturity, not laying again the foundation of repentance from acts that lead to death, and of faith in God, instruction about baptisms, the laying on of hands, the resurrection of the dead, and eternal judgment.”

Father, would you please walk with Mary’s family over the next few days in particular. Give them peace and joy as they remember Mary’s love and practice it on each other.  Amen.

October 8 – “Right in front of my eyes”

I went outside to get the morning paper the other day.  Not so different from any other day, I suppose.  It was somewhat early, perhaps just a little before six.  By most accounts the paper should have been here already.  It was not.  So I began my required gyrations in an effort to locate it.  Squat down on hands and knees to check under the car.  Now that is absolutely not an easy task with the present condition of my back.  Have to follow proper posture protocol to get down and back up.  Tighten the core.  Ease down.  Take a breath.  Lean over carefully to peer under car.  No paper.  Retighten the core.  Struggle back up.  Go back inside and continue my morning routine to give it some time to arrive. 

Get to a stopping place in that routine and head back outside again.  Paper is still not in its usual post-delivery area, just off the driveway on the lawn near the car.  Back inside to get a start on my morning blog.  Done. 

Finally, the sun rises.  I have an ally in my search, my one last-ditch effort before giving in and calling for a re-delivery.  Check in the garden.  Nope.  Walk down to the house next door to see if her paper has been delivered.  Yep.  It’s there.  Did he just forget me?  Where else could it possibly be?  I pondered those and other imponderable questions as Head down, I begrudgingly trudged back to the house to begin my workday. 

As I made my way between the car and the tree in the front yard something caught my attention, just out of the corner of my eye.  Slowly I turned my head, not certain that what I had glimpsed was anything more than a burst of blooms on the tree in the center of the yard.  I was partially correct.  It was on the tree.  It was not blooms.  Not unless the Galveston Daily News had contracted out with my tree to produce and print a newspaper.  Yep.  There it was, neatly snuggled in between two branches.  I walked past that tree any number of times, looking down at the ground, and never saw it.  Kind of like a lot of people do with Jesus.  Walk right past him, but they just aren’t looking in the right place.  I even knelt down right next to it as I searched under the car.  Kind of like some really good, church-going people who kneel down and stand up at all the proper places during church, but they never seem to get any satisfaction from any of it.  I walked completely away from it when I checked out the neighbor’s yard.  Plenty of people just walk away from their religious heritage altogether, totally disgruntled, searching everywhere else for peace and answers.  It wasn’t until I returned home, lifted my head up and opened my eyes, and took advantage of the light from the sun coming up that I located what was lost.  And there it is.  The answer is never very far away, because God is always pursuing us.  We just have to return to the basics – the good news that is Jesus, lift up our heads and open our eyes and take advantage of the Light that is right there.  And there it will be.  What we have been searching for all along.  Peace.  Fulfillment.  Purpose. 

Whoa.  I knew there was a teaching in there somewhere.

Hebrews 4:16 says, “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

Father, thank you for being a Pursuer.  I sure missed finding you for a long time.  Thanks for sending the Light.  It makes the search so much easier.  Amen.

October 7 – “Disarming barriers”

I met another one of our many different visitors to Galveston Island Paradise yesterday.  I was fishing.  He wasn’t.  He apparently just came over to say hello.  Actually I have no idea what he came over to say.  He was a nice enough fellow.  Probably a bit younger than me.  A lady on shore was obviously with him.  He kept turning back to her, waving, and hollering something.  No way she heard him, but at least he was consistently checking in.  He was very quiet as he approached.  I never saw or heard him until he was about ten feet away.  When I turned around to greet him he excitedly approached and pointed to my bait bucket, then to my catch well, then out toward the Gulf.  And all the while he chattered on and on with a big smile on his face.  And I had no idea what he was saying.  I couldn’t even place the language at first, although I kind of narrowed it down in my mind to maybe Eastern Europe or Russia.  As it turned out I wasn’t far from wrong.  When he realized that I was not understanding him at all, he smiled sadly, pointed to himself and said, “Ukraine.  Europa.”  Finally, something I understood.  I showed him the fish I had caught (not that many.  Some whiting and croaker), and he tried another six or eight times to explain what he was talking about.  I thought maybe he wanted me to bait the hook and cast further out to catch the big one.  But then I figured I was confusing him with another story I had heard.  Something about casting your nets over on the other side and catching a boatload of fish.  He finally flashed that big smile of his, tossed an English, “Thank you” over his shoulder, and made his way back to shore.  That has to be a tough situation, not knowing or even understanding the language of those around you.  I hope they enjoy their stay.

Hebrews 4:14 says, “Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess.”

Father, keep that Ukrainian couple safe while they are here in Galveston.  Give them a supernatural ability to communicate when they need to.  He’s already almost there.  His smile goes a long way toward disarming barriers. Amen.