Archive for June 2014
June 15, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 14, 2014
Most Saturday mornings I leave the house about 7:00 to lead a men’s Bible study group at church. Today was no different except…when I opened the garage door I discovered that I had been pranked.
It was a harmless prank, a trail of styrofoam cups leading up the driveway from the street and continuing all the way to the front door. Hansel and Gretel should have used styrofoam cups instead of bread crumbs. No chance of them being eaten.
On the first step by the front door the styrofoam cups ended right beside an empty donut box and milk carton.
I’m not sure what it all meant but it was creative. I never would have thought of pranking someone’s house with those three ingredients. In my day toilet paper was as creative and risky as we got.
My wife heard the “styrofoamers” about midnight and looked outside the window. They were hustling away and she was more tickled than upset. In fact, she left the cups and stuff for me to see the next morning. We’re pretty sure it was girls from my high school basketball team. The voices were suspiciously soprano-ed. I just wonder what happened to the donuts. You would think that they would have left one in the box, but no!
Over the years we’ve been pranked several times. One year some of our youth group “forked” our front yard. Plastic forks…about two hundred of them! Another year some of our youth “candy-caned” our yard. I was still finding candy canes four months later. A long, long time ago some of our youth group TP’ed our house and got caught in the act. They went ahead and came inside and we served them Pepsi’s. They left the unused rolls of TP for us to use.
About four years ago our youth group “sticky-noted” my office. They put sticky notes all over the place. I’m still finding them. I’ll get a book off one of my shelves, turn to page 121 and there will be a sticky note saying “Looking for something?”
I don’t mind the pranking, especially if we can use the pranking materials afterwards. Carol was cutting out the bottoms of the styrofoam cups to use for a Children’s Church craft tomorrow morning. We’re resourceful people!
What the pranksters don’t realize is that we have a secret resource. Our next door neighbor has surveillance cameras, one of which shows our front yard. I’ll be viewing film footage tomorrow…perhaps with a donut and glass of milk.
Say cheese!
Categories: Bible, children, Community, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: donuts, practical jokes, pranks, pranksters, styrofoam cups, TP, TPing, youth group
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June 13, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 13, 2014
I don’t know which aunt brought it, but it was always there, sitting on the counter in the kitchen just waiting to be sliced into.
I don’t know who came up with the idea of fruitcake, but it was partially good. I didn’t much care for the candied cherries and pineapple pieces that invaded its goodness. The pecans and top side crusts were my favorite parts, but I had to take the good with the bad.
One time I pilfered the exposed inners of the circle of all the pecans I could see. My sin was discovered and atoned for by having to sit in a chair for almost a lifetime before I was paroled.
Fruitcake was always a part of our Christmas. I believed it was one of the Magi gifts brought to the Baby Jesus. I didn’t know what myrrh and frankincense were, so I figure one of them was a foreign name for fruitcake presented on a platter. That’s the only reason I could come up with that it only appeared at Christmas in our house.
It was also the only time during the year that I was allowed to have cake for breakfast, not much of a treat since the pieces of pineapple made my face twitch. A glass of milk and a piece of fruitcake got the day started.
When we weren’t able to go back to my family’s roots in eastern Kentucky at Christmas my mom would whip up a fruitcake at home. I knew when it was coming. The kitchen counter would be layered with the ingredients, all ready to fulfill their purpose. It also was the indication that Christmas wasn’t going to be held in a different state. We wouldn’t be traveling up river past Pomeroy and Gallipolis heading for the crossover into West Virginia and then Kentucky. An absence of pecan bags at home was a sure sign we were going to do some piling in the car.
Fruitcake was a symbol of the mixed blessings of Christmas. It was a gift, good and bad, like opening a box filled with Matchbox cars, and then the next opened gift containg socks and underwear. I never understood why underwear had to be wrapped up…kind of like why fruitcake had to have those pineapple pieces.
I would have been fine with a “fruit-less cake!”
Categories: children, Christmas, Community, Humor, love, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: candied fruit, Eastern Kentucky, family, fruitcake, Gallipolis, Magi, pecans, Pomeroy
Comments: 3 Comments
June 13, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 12, 2014
(Today’s writing assignment in WordPress.com’s “Writing 101” challenge for June was to write a post involving three people- a man, a woman, and an older woman knitting a sweater sitting on a park bench. The story was to offer three different perspectives of what was happening, beginning with the man and ending with the elderly lady. Tough task!)
He thought of things past, points of reference in a life that had taken several turns. As he walked with Sue along the park path they had journeyed several hundred times he remembered the conversation they had shared about Johnny.
“He’s no longer a boy, Sue. He’s a young man dressed up like a boy. It’s time to let him go, to let him be.” He felt her hand tighten on his in anxious disagreement. Ever since Johnny had received his high school diploma at the football stadium adjacent to the park he had become more and more determined to join the military forces. Bob understood. He had wrestled with the same decision when he turned eighteen almost three decades ago.
They walked in silence. Most of their walks these past two years had been in silence. He often got lost in his thoughts as he viewed the white rocked cliffs to his right, thinking about when their son left home for basic training. His face was still not much of a threat to the electric shaver he had received for a graduation present, but he saluted his father as he departed that day.
Sue unconsciously clamped down hard on Bob’s hand as they walked. She saw an elderly lady up ahead knitting something red. Red was the color of their son’s hair, but it also the color of his blood that spilled out at a roadside bombing in Afghanistan. She knew that when Bob saw the red garment he would breakdown emotionally. It was still so painful. She didn’t fault him for encouraging their son’s decision for military service, but she knew he blamed himself. No words could lessen the pain…so they walked in silence…grieved and bereaved…empty shells whose lives would never be the same.
Mrs. Jones didn’t know this as she knitted. The sweater was for her great grandson who was yet to be born, still tucked away in his mother’s womb. Her grandson was coming home on leave in a month, just about the time that the baby was due to be born. She wanted to make sure it was ready. Her grandson was her hero, fighting in harm’s way for his country’s freedom.
She noticed the couple drawing close. They looked like the walking dead, and then she noticed tears running down the cheeks of the man’s face, and she knew they had lost someone dear. The woman gave her a nod that seemed to carry a blessing with it. It was as if the passing lady who looked so sad was wishing only good things for Mrs. Jones.
Categories: Community, Death, Freedom, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: memories, park bench, park trail, walking
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June 11, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 11, 2014
(Today’s writing assignment was to watch something, or a group of people, and write about what you saw. The twist was to attempt to write it without using adverbs.)
They come with sagging diapers, perplexed facial expressions, and short attention spans.
This morning I was watching a group of pre-schoolers at our Vacation Bible School be dazzled by the play parachute. The wonder on little faces, the squeals of delight. One two year old screamed through a wide smile. His happiness was erupting like a volcano.
A three year old girl scooted away from the little boy who was standing too close to her. She examined her sparkled shoes to make sure they were still attached to her feet, and then she allowed herself to laugh.
The woman in the middle used all of her faculties to keep the attention of the distracted. Her voice became gentle and then excited. It worked…for most of them.
One little boy who had just turned two became a balloon whose air was spitting out. in the midst of an instruction off he went. One of the leaders would corral him for a moment longer.
Pre-schoolers are sometimes like chickens with their heads cut off, colliding with one another…trains unable to yield.
And then I saw the faces of a couple of pre-school moms who were there watching. They were even more delighted than their offspring, seeing the gifts that God had blessed their lives with, the cherub faces of children who are lost in the moment.
Categories: children, Faith, Freedom, Humor, love, Parenting, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: attention spans, cherubs, childlike, pre-schoolers, two year olds, vacation bible school, VBS
Comments: 2 Comments
June 10, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 10, 2014
It’s Vacation Bible School week at the church I pastor, an experience in contained hyperactivity. Somehow I got roped into being the focus of the kids bringing their coins and dollars bills to support the mission cause of the week- buying chickens for farmers for the southeast African country of Burundi. The Evangelical Free Baptist Church of Burundi is coordinating this project to help raise people out of poverty.
It’s a great cause, seeking to give farmers a starting point in establishing an ongoing more dependable income and living.
But…as I said, somehow I got roped into being the focus. There are two glass jars at the front of our sanctuary where we begin the VBS gathering each day. One glass jar has a name plate underneath it that says “Yoda”, and the other jar has a name plate that says “Princess”.
At the end of our VBS week the money will be counted and which ever jar has the most money…that is what I will have to dress up as!
What a contrast! Yoda or a princess…and not just an princess, mind you! As the week has progressed the princess has now become Anna from the movie “Frozen”, which I have not seen, but my three year old granddaughter has the words to all the songs memorized for.
And now I am to sing “Let It Go!”
Being Yoda would be a lot easier. After all, I look a lot more like him and am just slightly taller in height.
The campers have been scurrying to put their coins and one dollar bills in the princess jar. I countered today with a twenty dollar bill for Yoda. It looks like this is going to be an expensive week if I manage to be “Yodaized!”
Excited kids are running up to me with their costume suggestions…for a princess! I’m afraid glitter is in my near future!
There will be several thankful farmers in Burundi who will have no clue what it cost me for them to raise chickens.
And I guess I’m okay with that…although I’m bringing two twenty’s with me tomorrow !
Categories: children, Christianity, Faith, Freedom, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Burundi, chickens, collecting money, dressing up, Frozen, helping, missions, princess, Princess Anna, raising chickens, vacation bible school, VBS, Yoda
Comments: 2 Comments
June 10, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 9, 2014
She greeted us with a smile. The smile arrived shortly after her walker did. Anne was her name, and she had realized quite a while ago that she couldn’t do the gardening, weeding, and outdoor grooming that she had done for decades. So she called us.
Three of our neighborhood churches join volunteer help together on a Saturday in the Fall and a Saturday in the Spring to help some of our neighborhoods out. Most of them are elderly or disabled in some way.
That’s how we met Anne. A door-to-door offer to help with simple tasks around the houses of the community had resulted in her call, so we went.
As our work team trimmed bushes and pulled weeds Anne engaged us in conversation. She leaned on her walker as she pointed out certain things to our crew members.
Sometimes we assume things about the people we meet. We see their inability to do certain things and we take a mental leap in thinking that they were never able to do much of anything.
We may have thought that about Anne, until she began sharing life experiences. She holds a doctorate in education. She is extremely well-read, and familiar enough with current events and politics to debate the person she is talking with.
Life has dealt her some hard blows, including multiple hip surgeries and the inability to stand but just for a few moments.
Perhaps that’s why she was so grateful for our help. Her backyard was filled with numerous kinds of plants, bushes, and flowers, but it was obvious that its glorious seasons had passed. Anne’s sadness about that was easily sensed, but there were new flowers roaming in her yard for a few hours. Some were Presbyterian, some Mennonite, and some American Baptist.
There are people who thank you because it’s the polite thing to do, and then there are people who thank you because they are filled with heart-felt gratitude.
Dr. Anne fell into the later category. We were blessed for having met her.
Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Jesus, love, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Community service, helping, neighborhood, serving neighbors
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June 6, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 6, 2014
Some of my posts this month will seem a little different than the usual. Okay…maybe more different than different…like a Baptist pastor looking at a multitude of approaching rabbit trails. Each one takes me in a different direction. The reason for this is that I’m doing a month-long writing challenge through the blogging site, WordPress. Each day it gives the writer a theme to write about. Today’s post evolves out of their seed thought of discovering a life-changing letter on a path and wanting to get it back to the writer. the added twist for today is trying to keep it brief
School done!
My seventh grade textbooks were tucked under my arm as I headed home by the usual path. Twenty paces into the woods a piece of paper was pinned to a tree by a cropped off branch. My name was written in emphasized magic marker. I discerned that it was for me. I was the only Jethro that I knew.
The unclipped note in my hand was turned over to reveal the message:
“I really like you. Do you like me?”
Signed,
The One Sitting Beside You in Social Studies
My heart rate sped up. Leslie Palmer! My hands sweat just sitting beside her in class. And now she wanted to know if I liked her.
That was a stupid question.
Yes!!!
She lived just a couple streets over from my house. I slowed my pace and headed in that direction, not wanting to beat her home from school. A few houses from her two-story I saw her walking. I ran ahead and shouted her name.
“Leslie!” She turned and looked at me curiously. I sprinted to the spot.
“I just wanted you to know that I do.”
“You do what?”
“Here’s your letter back. I do like you.”
Her face distorted, and she let loose with a loud “Ewwww!”
It was at that awkward moment that I realized that my secret admirer wasn’t the girl who sat on my right, but rather the one who sat on my left in Social Studies.
It was Lucy, not Leslie…and I immediately let loose with an even louder…
“Ewwww!!!”
Categories: children, Humor, love, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 7th Grade, adolescent, girlfriend, infatuated, Jethro, love letters, middle school, secret admirer
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June 5, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 5, 2014
“Lost In Translation (Part 1)”
I will be the first to admit to you that I am clueless on a lot of things, and in a number of ways.
But, in many ways, I’m clued in to the fact that I’m clueless. If someone starts talking techie stuff I’m present in the body but absent in the mind.
My life has been punctuated with clueless moments and conversations. One that stands out to me happened during my junior year of high school. It was Homecoming Week, that one great week in the fall of the school year where the popular students get picked to be on the Homecoming court, and the rest of us find out we’re not nearly as cool. (I’m not bitter!)
I had asked a beautiful young lady who I will fictitiously call Bridget to go to the Homecoming dance with me. She said yes and I was elated! I wasn’t quite sure what sexy meant yet, but she seemed to be leaning in that direction. Of course, most sixteen year old boys get excited just by looking at Betty Crocker. Bridget, however, was a ways on up the gauge meter from Betty.
We danced together and I can remember the scent of apple blossoms resonating from her body. She had long dark hair and the latest style in eyeglass wear. I wore my varsity jacket, which I hoped would give me some resemblance of being important and studly!
The evening went well until I lost the translation. It happened as I walked her to the front door of her home. There was a porch light on and Bridget looked at me and asked me if I would like for her to turn the light off.
My masculinity suddenly took a vacation and before I knew what I was saying I replied, “No, that’s okay!”
Clueless! Idiot!
She had opened the door for a goodnight kiss and I had closed it shut in just a few oblivious seconds.
I called her the next week to ask her out on another date. There seemed to be an air of coldness as I tried to have conversation with her, and then I popped the question.
“Would you like to go out on another date?”
And then the words of rejection!
“No, that’s okay!”
Lost in cluelessness! I’m still haunted by the words!
Categories: children, Humor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: clueless, dates, front porch, Homecoming dance, missing the kiss, translation
Comments: 3 Comments
June 5, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 4, 2014
As a pastor I get tired of the “music wars”, the battles over how many hymns, praise songs, and contemporary music selections we sing in worship on Sunday morning. I doubt that David envisioned the polarizing that music would bring into a worshiping community when he sat with the sheep and composed Psalms as he strummed his harp.
The thing about music is that its eternal…if we allow it to be. How foolish it is to use music as a battlefield! We all have preferences. I’m not into rap, but I can still envision the Almighty tapping his toes to a song that has more rhythm than I could ever harness.
As I look back over my life I see songs popping up at different times that have stayed with me, and have melted into my spirit. Here’s three:
“Pass It On!” After my sophomore year of high school I spent a week of my summer vacation at church camp at Judson Hills Baptist Camp in northeastern Ohio. It was a great week that included living in a teepee, having a girlfriend, Clara, who lived across the street from me back in my hometown (A little awkward after we broke up a few days after returning to civilization!), and learning about God. At our evening campfire we would sing “Pass It On!” Forty-plus years later I can still hear the mix of the soprano voices of the young lady campers and the strange voices of the boys who weren’t sure if they were heading to the “bass section” but weren’t committed to being tenors either.
It was a defining summer that headed me towards considering the idea of one day being a pastor.
“Color My World!” My high school prom theme was also the Chicago hit. I can remember strolling through the gym with Mary Cronacher on my arm dancing to the soft music and realizing that young ladies smell good! Underarm deodorant became a friend of mine about that time. A guy couldn’t be a jock and be able to dance closely for very long with a young lady who had a scent of apple blossoms blessing my nostrils. I can still hear the brass of the band as they played that song.
“Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music?” Larry Norman’s song that was rocking and rolling as I was graduating from high school. Nothing like that had ever come close to the ivory keys of the church’s piano, and Norman’s long flowing blonde hair made it even more radical for our Baptist young people’s group. That summer after high school I learned that it was okay to not look stoic as you sang in church. Some of the parents of our youth group members were not so sure, and I would lay money on it that our church’s deacons’ meetings included some serious discussion about the road paved to hell by rock and roll!
Three songs that still sing to me and remind me of where I’ve been, the boy I once was and the approaching of manhood that they hummed me towards.
Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Humor, Jesus, love, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Chicago, church camp, Color My World, Judson Hills Baptist Camp, Larry Norman, music, Pass It On, praise songs, prom, Psalms, Why Should The Devil have all the Good Music
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June 3, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 3, 2014
I sometimes enter it early in the morning to be saturated by its quiet. I take a seat in the third pew on the right and settle in. In my world of changing agendas the sanctuary offers me one constant agenda.
To be still.
It is a hard thing to learn, to incorporate. The rest of my day is not based on my stillness, but rather on my movement. I move from meeting preparation to hospital bedsides to answering emails. Movement can sometimes take over our lives and push the stillness out.
Towards the end of the forty-sixth Psalm God whispers his desire to David. “Be still, and know that I am God.” (Ps. 46:10a, NIV)
Perhaps people have a hard time finding God these days because we have “ants in the pants” of our lives. We have un-learned stillness.
I sit in my pew and take in the room. The cross hanging on the front wall…empty…steady…reminding me of the One who conquered death itself; the cross that blesses me with a hope deep within my soul of what my life is about.
The stained glass windows echo stories of people’s lives…the great cloud of witnesses that have gone before. As I take each one of them in I glimpse the glory of days gone by and lives that impacted future generations.
The pews are solid in their weighted wood. To move one is a recipe for back problems. Their weighted anchoring reminds me of a faith community that has a foundation that can not be shaken. Through tempests and turmoils our anchor has held.
And then my eyes settle on The Lord’s Table, the place where two days earlier each of the sinners had taken a piece of freshly-baked bread and a little cup of grape juice and been told that these two elements were to remind us of the price of our spiritual freedom. Some folks cried tears and others stared with stoic expressions on their faces, but each had been freed.
Sitting in my pew I recall the moments of blessing and forgiveness, repentance and testimony.
My room gives me a view for the rest of the day. It allows me to breathe in and breathe out…
…And be still!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Jesus, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: be still, communion, communion table, forgiveness, pews, Psalm 46, quiet, repentance, sanctuary, stained glass windows, stillness, the Cross, The Lord's Supper
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Words from WW Blog 