Archive for the ‘Humor’ category
August 19, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. August 19, 2018
Our oldest daughter, Kecia, and her husband, Kevin, ran in “The Beast” this weekend in Breckenridge, Colorado. The Beast is about a half-marathon, but includes a multitude of obstacles and challenges throughout, like climbing walls, jumping through mud, and walking on hot coals! Okay, just kidding on the hot coals part!
Meanwhile Grammy and Granddad did another form of The Beast at home. We kept the three grandkids- ages 3, 7, and 10! Like our daughter and son-in-law we also had a multitude of challenges and obstacles. Our challenges included keeping the house from looking like a war zone, teeth brushing time, meltdown moments, and striving for most of the food on their plates to actually be eaten.
It’s Sunday morning and I’m “on break” at Starbucks at 7 AM before heading back to the fray and facing the next obstacle of getting everyone in the car to drive 45 minutes to Simla, Colorado for church. The ride home from there will be comparable to coming down the home stretch of our “marathon grandparenting” race! I’m doubting that there will be a water station and available Powerade at the finish line! That’s okay, we just need a bed!
Carol and I love our “grands”, even hoping for more! We also recognize that we’ve both been like “grandparenting sprinters”, not marathoners. We’re used to two hour stints, not 48 hour ultra events. Like an actual marathon it has been a weekend of exhilaration and exhaustion.
Like the three year old singing with revised lyrics as she played with Play-Doh.
“This old man, he had three; he had three on my knick-knack…and a knick-knack patio, give a dog a home, this old man comes running home.”
Or our ten year old grandson watching an international fencing competition on TV and figuring out the scoring system they use.
And our seven year old helping her little sister, and playing “McDonald’s drive-thru lane” with her.
On the exhaustion side there was bedtime! But bedtime at the grandparent’s house is seen as being more like a sleepover, full of giggling and getting their second wind. There’s a lot of movement and talking..and movement…and “I want a drink of water”…and movement…and threat of being duct taped to the bed…and crying…and finally…finally sleep! During the night, however, like chess pieces, there’s a rearranging of where each of the slumberers ends up by Saturday morning.
Last night Carol looked at me and said “I don’t remember being this tired when we were raising our three kids.”
“We’re out of shape, dear! A bit flabby in the grandparent mid-section!”
On the positive, we took them to Noodles for Saturday night dinner and each one of them ate EVERYTHING on their plates…well, except for what the three year old dropped on the floor beside her chair! I ordered an extra plate of pot stickers because they were still hungry!
When I was growing up my parents would take my brother, my sister, and me to our Mamas and Papaw Helton’s for a week in the summertime. They had a farm in the eastern part of Kentucky. If nothing else this weekend has given me a new appreciation for their stamina, patience, and strength.
And they had 12 grandkids! I feel a bit wimpy and weak being exhausted by three!
I’ll try to be in better shape for the next “Beast”. Kecia and Kevin are doing another race for insane people in a month. They’ll be gone a little longer next time, so for us it will be like doing the grandparenting “Ultra Beast”!
One thing’s for certain for that next time! We’ll be at Noodles again!
Categories: children, coaching, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: bedtime, grandchild, grandchildren, granddad, granddaughters, grandfather, grandkids, grandma, grandparents, marathons, meltdowns, Noodles, Play-Doh, sleepovers, Starbucks, The Beast
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August 18, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. August 18, 2018
School began again this past Wednesday in our area! At Timberview Middle School four hundred or so sixth graders waited outside the doors that first day. Seventh and eighth graders came back on Thursday.
The school staff waited inside the doors and cheered them on as they entered the building for their first middle school experience.
And I was one of the cheering high five-ing staff members!
I’m a substitute teacher, but had been asked to teach the first three days of school by a teacher back in April because of a family wedding she would be attending out-of-state.
Other staff members asked the question: “Mr. Wolfe, subbing already?” Yes, in fact, out of 13 August school days I’m scheduled to sub 10 of them for 7 different teachers.
I often have people ask me why I substitute teach? Am I a masochist? Is it the appropriate level for how mature I act? Will no one else hire me? Am I reliving my junior high days?
Truthfully, I substitute teach because I enjoy it! I’m serious! One of the best months of my life was when I was asked to do a long-term 7th Grade Social Studies teaching position. I had to work like crazy that month preparing for each day of instruction and interaction, but I was a bit sad when the new teacher was hired. She’s a great teacher (who I have subbed for several times since!), but I missed the kids who I was privileged enough to teach, challenge, and converse with each day.
That experience has probably influenced my feelings on substitute teaching more than anything else. It imparted confidence in me and brought me to the point where each school day was seen as being an opportunity to influence and educate, as opposed to enduring and dreading.
I don’t substitute teach because we need the income. We’re okay regardless of whether I decide to take the month off or appear in a classroom every school day of that month. The pay, in my mind, is simply a side benefit for doing something I enjoy doing.
I substitute teach because of the relationships with staff, parents, and students. A few of my best friends are now teachers, who are on staff at Timberview. One of them has been on two mission trips with me. I officiated at the funeral service for another teacher friend who succumbed to cancer two years ago.
I substitute teach at middle school because it’s an impressionable time for the children who enter there and three years later exit as teenagers. It’s an uncertain and confusing part of their life journeys. I remember my junior high days. They were not that pleasant. I was the smallest kid in my whole class. Other boys in my eighth grade class were beginning to sport facial hair and armpit hair that was dense and long enough to take a weed whacker to. I didn’t even have peach fuzz! I was still like a facial hair desert, void of signs of adolescence!
As a sub I have the opportunity to give a word of encouragement, bring a class to laughter, and grace students with nicknames. I have the opportunity to make a school day more than just books and study sheets. I’m able to make it an experience.
It’s a bit flattering to hear good things being said about me. I’m scheduled to teach 8th Grade social studies for two weeks at the end of October and beginning of November. The teacher came up to me on Thursday and told me she had shared with her classes that I’d be subbing for her during that time.
“They were so excited!”
Wow! Putting the pressure on me! But, you know something? I’m also excited! I am a blessed man!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Humor, love, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: adolescence, adolescent, influencers, influencing, influencing kids, middle school, middle school boys, middle school girls, middle school students, middle school teachers, middle schoolers, substitute teacher, substitute teaching, teaching, teaching middle school, teenagers, thirteen year olds
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August 14, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. August 14, 2018
It was an optional practice day so the other coaches and I were a bit surprised that about 25 middle school students showed up for it. “I thought there would be four or five!” exclaimed Coach Barry.
But here they were! About 25 sixth, seventh, and eighth graders wondering what the next hour and a half would hold for them, their lungs, and their legs!
“I’m Coach Wolfe, and it’s great to see all of you here this afternoon!”
Some smiled back at me. Others looked down at the ground like they feared a sudden sinkhole would open up and swallow them down into the depths. One girl with shaking knees was hoping for a sinkhole!
A hand shot up.
“Coach Wolfe, what will we be doing in our cross-country practices?”
“Well, let’s see! We’ll watch some Justin Bieber Youtube videos, have Fudgesicle eating contests, and finish each day with some tug-of-war competitions.”
He looked at me in disbelief.
“No, that’s a different sport I’m thinking of! In cross-country we’ll…RUN! We’ll run long, we’ll run fast, we’ll run easy and hard, up hills and down hills, on paths through the woods and sidewalks around the neighborhoods. We’ll run down to 7-11 and get Slurpies and to Boriello Brothers and get pizza…okay, strike the pizza idea! Basically, we’ll run in a variety of ways!
“Coach Wolfe!” This time the girl hoping for a sinkhole had her hand up.
“Yes.”
“How far will we run?”
“Some days further than others. Roughly three miles a day.” Her eyes opened as wide as the sinkholes she hoped for.
“Just three miles?” asked a new sixth grader. “I’ve been on a running team that competes in the nationals each year and we usually do six to seven miles a day.”
“Go for it! When we get done with our practice you can do a Forrest Gump and just keep running!”
A young man with blonde hair and a heavy dose of anxiety raised his hand halfway and looked at me.
“Yes, sir!”
“I just moved here from Texas. Do you think I’ll have a hard time with the altitude change?”
“Yes.”
“Oh!” he replied with a facial expression that resembled when the time his mom told him Santa Claus doesn’t ride in a sleigh.
“It will take you a while, but you’ll get used to it.”
“Thank you,” he said as he bit his lower lip.
“Each of you is at a different point than everybody else. Some of you have been running since you were about the size of a ladybug and others are brand new. Your coaches will seek to help each of you get better as a runner and also understand how to run. We’ll expect you to work hard, but we also want you to have fun!”
At the mention of having fun a few eyebrows went up, like I was saying that it was fun to go to the doctor and get a flu shot, or it was fun to wear underwear inside-out and backwards!
But it will be fun! In fact, today…Day 2 and another optional practice before the first official practice on Wednesday…I’m getting popsicles for the end of practice. For a popsicle I bet the one young lady would even jump over a sinkhole!
And I’ll high five each of them and joke with them and then send them all home thinking, “This is going to be awesome!”
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Humor, Parenting, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: athletics, coaching middle school, Cross-Country, Forrest Gump, middle school, middle school athletics, middle school boys, middle school cross-country, middle school girls, middle school sports, middle school students, middle school track, middle schoolers, popsicles, Running, running long distance
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August 11, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. August 11, 2018
It laid there in the grass, like it was trying to hide in the midst of all the apples that had fallen from the backyard apple tree. I caught sight of the out-of-place visitor and picked it up.
What is a peach doing in our backyard? I muttered to myself. Was it getting too ripe to eat and so Carol had tried to toss it from our deck all the way to the compost spot in the back of the garden? She couldn’t have missed by that much!
We don’t have a peach tree. Our youngest daughter, Lizi, and her husband have two of them in their backyard, but we have zero. “Carol, did Lizi bring some of her peaches over?
“No!”
“Well, we had a peach in our backyard.”
“Really!”
Weird, we both thought!
And then it happened again the next day, and then again two days later. Whereas, the first two backyard peaches had a bite taken out of each of them the third peach was perfect- no bruises, no bites, no scars from being tossed from a long distance away.
We looked at each other with investigative expressions. I put my best Hercule Poirot face on. “Sacrebleu! This can not be! We have no peach tree, but we keep discovering peaches!”
“Maybe a squirrel is bringing them to us!” Carol offered.
“It makes no sense!” I exclaimed with a Poirot Belgian accent in my tone. “Could it be that our apple tree is producing two types of fruit?”
“And that happens…often?” she asked in a way that sounded like she was wondering about my thought process.
“What other explanation could there be, my dear? I find it hard to believe that our youngest child is traveling over here at night, sneaking into our backyard, and planting a peach just to confuse us?”
“Probably not! Driving your parents mad does not seem to become her!”
“And I do not believe that one of our friendly resident rabbits is trying to pay us rent with a “prunus persica”!”
“Oh, good Lord! Have you been on Wikipedia again?”
“Yes, my darling! I’m trying to find out as much as I can about this unique type of fruit, 56% which is produced in China!”
“Nice to know, but it does not help us come any closer to solving the mystery.”
“What about the rabbits?”
“If you can find a rabbit that can carry a peach to our backyard without putting any teeth marks in it, we need to catch it and call “Ripley’s Believe It Or Not?”
“There must be some explanation, my dearest!”
“Perhaps we may never discover it.”
“What if I put some security cameras around our backyard and get some video footage. Then we might discover the answer to this tantalizing riddle!”
“You want to spend a few hundred dollars just to find out why three peaches landed in our lawn?”
“Is it not the quest of our curious natures to discover the answers to such mysteries?”
“I am content to read of mystery solutions in Agatha Christie novels.”
“But, my dear, how can this blog post end without a solution?”
“Easy. Just ask your readers to offer solutions to the puzzle of the peaches. Maybe one of them can lead you to the light bulb moment.”
“That would be peachy!”
“Ugh!”
Categories: children, Community, Humor, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Agatha Christie, finding answers to mysteries, Hercule Poirot, mysterious events, mystery, peaches, solutions, unanswered questions
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August 9, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. August 9, 2018
There is a plethora of television channels that I can flip through on my cable system. Most of them are worthless! Just sayin’!
In the midst of this chasm of blah-blah-blah there is a noticeable void. Well, maybe more noticeable to me as I creep further into the amazing 60’s of my life! The gap is the absence of a television network devoted to senior citizens. Maybe they thought we wouldn’t notice…or we’d simply forget!
There are 46 million people in the United States who are 65 years of age and older! 46 million!!! There’s a lot of beans in that pot!
I got to thinking about the programming possibilities and the ideas flowed through me smoother than my last bottle of Ensure.
Here’s the sample Monday programming lineup:
7 AM- The Iron Skillet- Cooking the old way! My Mamaw Helton would be proud! I can smell the bacon…and the eggs frying in the bacon grease!
7:30- The Cholesterol Physician- An actual doctor who specializes in treating people with high cholesterol because of their tendency to consume bacon and eggs for breakfast.
8:00- Old News!
8:30- Senior Discounts- The deals that go unnoticed, like free foot massages on Mondays and the cheapest places to get your hair colored.
9:30- The Andy Griffith Show! Self-explanatory.
10:00- Gunsmoke! Even more self-explanatory
11:00- Wyngate- A reality TV show based on the actual senior adult independent living complex my dad lived at the last three years of his life. Drama, humor, field trips for the residents, slow fire drills, groans and gripes with an amazing cast of real characters.
12:00- New Old News
12:30- Senior Bowling League- The best geriatric bowlers in the country compete for fame and glory.
2:00- As The World Turns- Got to throw one of those soap operas in. I remember that some of my aunts revolved their days and lunch hours around “the soaps.”
3:00- The RV Reverend- Reverend Roger ministers to the elderly residents of an Arizona RV park.
4:00- Senior Scambuster- Mr. Smith investigates, informs, and exposes the growing number of scams aimed at senior folk.
5:00- World News Tonight for Seniors
6:00- America’s Got Mature Talent- Sometimes talent doesn’t emerge until a person passes sixty. Who will be judged to be the most talented elderly performer?
7:00- Penny Mason- The niece of the great defense attorney continues her uncle’s legacy of defending the falsely accused and revealing who the real murderers are.
8:00- Snowbirds in Paradise- What happens when a retired couple from North Dakota decide to spend their winter months in the south Texas town of Paradise. The plot line of every episode revolves around the couple not understanding what their new Texas neighbors are saying!
9:00- Slowing Down- In a world where people are infatuated with speed the stories from the other side, how people are going slow to do amazing things.
10:00- Octogenarian Odysseys- The amazing life journeys of those now in their 80’s, stories to give hope to those of us approaching that period of life.
11:00 Symphony Music for Insomniacs- Just the music, no picture!
And that’s just one day! I haven’t even gotten to “Gaming From the Rocker Recliner!” and “Replacements Who Are Really Hip!”
As you can see, the possibilities are almost as endless as the throbbing pain in my knees and hips. By the year 2060 the senior population is estimated to be 98 million! We desire our place, our station!
Categories: children, Community, Death, Grandchildren, Humor, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: elderly, elderly parents, Ensure, geriatrics, Growing old, Gunsmoke, octogenarians, Perry Mason, senior adults, senior citizens, senior folk, senior living, senior living complex, Seniors, TV networks, TV programming
Comments: 1 Comment
August 6, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. August 6, 2018
Our neighborhood has more rabbits than people and pets combined. Rabbits are not pets on our block. They are the new neighbors who have moved in, but always keep their blinds drawn and garage door down…distant and suspicious, but always close! For our city block they are as common as sunny eighty degree July and August days.
Each morning when I leave around 7:00 to head to Starbucks for some morning java I’m watched by at least three pairs of bunny eyes as I proceed down the street. Sometimes I feel like I’m the suspicious visitor and they’re the Neighborhood Watch.
Last week, as I mowed the backyard, two rabbits kept hopping around from one side to the other. It was weird! Like a Hitchcock remake of Birds, but the sequel Bunnies! Although we have no film footage evidence, we’re pretty sure the zucchini that was growing in a pot on our deck has hare teethmarks. In fact, our backyard seems to be their Sprouts produce section.
A few days ago, however, our neighbor did see a hawk swoop down for dinner! We need a few more swoops, like a sale…grab one and get one!
Side point! I remember my mom serving delicious chicken one night when I was about six years old. The drumstick seemed smaller than usual, but I said “Mom, this is really good chicken!” She replied, “Thank you, Bill! But it’s not chicken, it’s rabbit!” Huh!!!
Of course, my life has its rabbits! They change positions and hop around in my life, but they are always there. Some of my rabbits are cute and cuddly, but others are irritating and invading.
There’s the rabbit of my financial obligations…every month! Many of them are now automatic bank drafts that I only see when I go online, but when I do…there they are! Every month I am incredulous as I view how much CenturyLink is charging me for “bundling” cable TV, internet, and a land line together…but then I see the other rabbit of Sprint trying to hide in the high grass of my bank statement. And it seems that these two bunnies of my existence seem to be getting bigger as they munch away on the assuredness of their necessity.
There’s the rabbits shaped like my grandkids! They hop around and bring joy to my soul. There is the growing of their minds and bodies and their life perspectives that amaze and humor. Sometimes we miss seeing the important rabbits in my lives because we’re focused on how fast the grass is growing. If, however, there was suddenly a drought in our relationships such as these we would regrettably realize the lost moments that are no longer retrievable.
As I age I experience the rabbits of aches and pains each day. They seem to relocate from one spot to another…hip to knee, neck to back. My definition of “feeling good” has been reworked in recent years, although I have one personal rabbit who is known by the name “Stiff!” My pill box of prescriptions reminds me of this new way of life. When my dad passed away a few months ago he had a “prescription litter” in his kitchen cabinet.
Life has its rabbits! We live with them. We become accustomed to them. We mow around them! But thank God, as far as I know, there aren’t any Monty Python killer rabbits in our lives launching themselves at our jugular veins!
Categories: children, Community, Death, Freedom, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Alfred Hitchcock, bunny, Century Link, financial obligations, Hitchcock's The Birds, life situations, Monty Python, Monty Python's killer rabbits, rabbit population, rabbits, sprint
Comments: 2 Comments
August 6, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. August 5, 2018
On Friday I reached my summer running goal of 200 miles. It’s a challenge that I gave to my middle school cross-country runners at the end of their school year, and since I challenged them I took it up myself.
Yesterday, the first day after reaching my goal, I found myself struggling with any motivation to run even three miles. I did, but the drive wasn’t there.
I realized that I had reached the “Now What?” moment. Goals are great and result in significant achievements being made, but after the conquered goal where does one go? It’s like a clear path through the woods that suddenly seems to fade. You can look behind you and see with clarity where you have come from, but now you’re not sure where you should be going.
The “Now What?” isn’t just a running situation. When I retired from pastoral ministry after 36 years I reached that “now what?” moment. Think of it! We look towards retirement as that goal we strive for, but when it’s reached many people flounder in the aftermath. The way has been paved through forty hour work weeks…week after week after week…and then the Monday morning after handing in the keys to the office arrives. Through the exhilarating sense of being freed the question rises within us: Now what?
In the midst of every success and milestone the question looms. Someone’s new CD goes gangbusters, a team wins a major championship, a company reaches a new sales record, a politician wins a race for office, the last child leaves home and it’s now officially an empty nest…the list goes on and on.
As I contemplated my attitude of apathy yesterday it made me go deeper. Why run? What are the benefits of continuing? Is it something that I simply go through the motions with, or does it answer a need I have? If I continue putting in the miles it needs to be because I want to, not because of a goal I’m running towards…or should I just set another goal to run towards?
When I pastored the “now what?” came up quite often. We spent so much time focused on Christmas and Easter that the question surfaced right after those energy-draining ministry times. It surfaced every year around budget preparation time. If the congregation had been spot on with their giving the question was raised in the midst of a group of optimists and pessimists. Depending on one’s view of life and the church, the “now what?” was answered with either holding steady or taking that next step of financial faith.
So I’ve had to battle the dual attitudes of optimism and pessimism within me about the next “leg” of my running journey. Why keep doing it? Well…because I am physically in better shape than I have been for some time, and because it’s part of my quiet time. As I huff and puff I pray and ponder, think and consider. And like in life, some days are more difficult than others, and other days have me more motivated than others.
Finally, I reach that “now what?” moment every time I write a blog post. It’s done, so now what? What can I possibly write about next?
Funny! God always seems to spring up something in my mind.
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Freedom, Humor, marriage, Pastor, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: life questions, life transitions, transitions
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August 3, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. August 3, 2018
Our friend from Michigan, Janet Smith, was with us this past week as we went through Purgatory. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about Purgatory, but it was pleasant enough…mild temperature and, actually, a bit on the cool side!
We noticed pictures of a recent Purgatory marriage ceremony with confused faces of delight in the midst of torment.
Oh, I should mention that we were in Purgatory, Colorado, not the place of torment that Catholics believe is like a holding corral as departed souls wait for their acceptance into heaven. However, I did notice that no one was using the hot tub at our place of lodging! My morning cup of coffee there was an experience in liquid torture!
Golf is a game of suffering. I wondered if golfers at the course right beside our lodge received an extra dose when they played the Purgatory 18? Did their golf balls always go to the right or to the left to remind them of their location? Were there hidden dangers in the rough? Did playing the course bring them to their knees? Did repentance come at no extra cost?
All kinds of theological questions came to our minds as we strolled through the location. Just like Hell, Michigan, there are many puns and plays on words with Purgatory. Janet was familiar with Hell already. A sign as you enter the Michigan town, located just about twenty miles from Ann Arbor says “Welcome to Hell!” Janet was hoping to take a picture of a sign that said “Welcome to Purgatory!”, but there was not one. I guess people aren’t welcomed to Purgatory, they just arrive and leave again.
We noticed that we weren’t able to get cell phone service in Purgatory! There’s probably some spiritual parable that goes along with that.
My wife tossed and turned all night. I, however, slept soundly! I’m not sure what that says about us. She, being raised Catholic, may have been wrestling with memories of her confirmation classes growing up! I, on the other hand, being a lifelong Baptist, have become comfortable with Baptist guilt and the fear of hell. Purgatory was no big deal! I had sat through hundreds of worship services that were long-suffering!
Janet leaves to begin her drive back to Michigan this morning. She may be longing for a return to Purgatory about two o-clock this afternoon because she’s driving through Kansas today!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Death, Faith, Humor, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: catholic belief, confirmation classes, hell, Hell Michigan, purgatory, Purgatory Colorado, road trip, souls, torment
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July 29, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 29, 2018
It was a hot day in Clarendon Hills, Illinois when Carol and I stood at the front of Community Presbyterian Church and said our wedding vows to one another. It was July 28, 1979 and the baby of the Wolfe family was marrying the middle child of the Faletti clan. I had graduated form Northern Baptist Theological Seminary less than two months before that, began a ministry position at First Baptist Church in Davison, Michigan, and was entering a new phase of my life that could optimistically be entitled “New Discoveries”, but more accurately be called “Clueless!”
We said our vows to one another and headed down the aisle towards the exit. When a bride and groom leave a wedding ceremony they never know what they’re headed into. No, I’m not referring to the reception and honeymoon. I’m talking about the journey of walking into life together. The starry eyes of saying “I do!” soon enter the planned and unplanned happenings of a shared life.
39 years later Carol and I have said goodbye to each one of our parents, my dad being the final one to depart this past February. We’ve had one dog and five cats. In order of their stays with us there has been Eusebius (C.B), our only experiment into the canine world, Tickles (who lived to be 20 and a 1/2), Prince Charming Kisses, Duke, Katie Katie Cocoa Puffs, and Princess Maliboo (Boo). Our daughters always named the cats, in case you’re wondering!
We’ve lived in two apartments and four houses in the 39 years. We still remember the couple that lived in the apartment beside us the first few months of marriage. They were rather loud as they engaged in their romantic activity. Carol and I thought that maybe there was something wrong with us since we didn’t make noises that sounded like someone was in pain. We soon got over it!
The journey took us to three different hospital delivery rooms to experience the incredible blessings of God upon us of three children. The birth of our child, Kecia Corin, involved a Code Blue as she had swallowed some fluid. I stood beside Carol’s bed in the delivery room holding her hand and praying as they worked on our first-born just a few feet to the left. To hear that first scream trumpeting from her lungs was an answer to prayer and reason for praise.
We’ve lost friends that have gone on to Glory, walked the final days of life with several of them, and cried the tears of heartache. We’ve also said goodbye to so many people because of relocation from one place of ministry to the next. The toughest part of ministry is leaving, knowing that the people whose lives have been intertwined with yours for so long will no longer be those that you walk with. We moved from the certainty of what was to the uncertainty of what is to come.
Carol and I have journeyed together for so long that we know the story that is about to be shared by one of us without even a clue as to what is about to be said. We know our tendencies and our bad habits- my desire for Starbucks coffee in the morning and her Diet Coke from Kum and Go, with a few ounces of regular Coke mixed into it; my snore and her punch in my side; her desire for something sweet while I like something salty.
When we exited that church sanctuary 39 years ago we didn’t know the valleys we would have to cross or the exhilaration of the mountains we climbed. We weren’t thinking about 39 years when we galloped down the aisle. I wasn’t thinking about much at all except what was to come later on that night!
It has been 39 years where we’ve trusted in the Lord, but, quite frankly, at other times we haven’t trusted in the Lord. The grace of God has been a dominant part of our journey.
And we love each other more today than every before. Thank you, Lord!
Categories: children, Community, Death, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: 39 years of marriage, anniversary, journey, mountains and valleys, Northern Baptist Theological Seminary, Wedding, wedding anniversary, wedding ceremony, wedding vows, Weddings
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July 27, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 27, 2018
I only knew one of my grandfathers. The other, my dad’s dad, died in a mining accident in the southeast corner of Kentucky long before I was even a possibility.
My Papaw Helton, however, was distinctive in personality, the governor of his family’s domain, and the source of various opinions that were mostly anchored to common sense…mostly!
My sister made me a DVD copy of an interview Papaw Helton had done with my cousin, Matthew Helton, back in 1989. Papaw was 89 at the time of the interview and lived another couple of years. He had been born on the eastern Kentucky farm in 1898 where he lived almost his entire life. In fact, the front sitting room where he was delivered was also the same room where each of his six children were born. Knowing my Mama Helton she went to the chicken coop and killed a chicken for a celebration dinner a few hours after delivering. No epidurals were used in Oil Springs, Kentucky back in those days, although there was probably a bottle of bourbon whiskey somewhere close…for medicinal purposes!
When you haven’t heard your Papaw’s voice for thirty years it’s causes a flood of emotions to rise up from the reservoir of memories. My Papaw was a proud and stoic “feller” (his pronunciation). He was suspicious of any new inventions that were meant to improve the quality of a person’s life. (I think I was ten years old when he and Mamaw decided to finally get indoor plumbing! Until then you battled the spiders in the outhouse, which caused you to “hold your water” a bit longer before seeking relief!)
I remember the story of a salesman stopping by the farmhouse looking to sell a satellite dish…one of those huge ones that stuck out like a sore thumb! He explained what the dish could do, how many TV channels it could pick up, and all. Back in those days Mamaw and Papaw had a little TV that could pick up two stations, and one of them so fuzzy you weren’t sure if you were watching a baseball game or “The Price Is Right”!
The salesman thought he had a good prospective sale and then my Papaw asked him how much this “deesh” cost?
“Mr. Helton, it’s only nineteen ninety-five!”
“Nineteen ninety-five?” He relayed that conversation to us with the comment, “Good Lord, son! He made it sound like a twenty dollar bill!” No sale was made and my grandparents continued to receive two television stations. They never ever saw Ed Sullivan with good complexion on TV!
On the DVD Matthew keeps peppering Papaw with questions about politics, life, his siblings, where he worked, who his favorite president was, his only plane ride ever, and the fearlessness of Matthew’s father, my Uncle George, on the trip they all took together by auto to California and back.
“Your daddy wanted to stop at every place we came to on the way!” Papaw exclaims, not in an affirming way. “And he wanted to go to the top of Pike’s Peak. Lord God, there weren’t any guardrails along that road and I just about put my foot through the floorboard on the way down and wore out my britches! I said, Lord God, if you get me down from here I’ll never go up again!”
The sound of his voice is like eating comfort food. It’s satisfaction for the soul, a return to an earlier time that was uncomplicated and certain. With Papaw life wasn’t gray. Things were mostly black and white. Either you were or you weren’t…there wasn’t any “almost.” A person was either right or wrong, and, of course, what was right depended on my Papaw’s view of things.
And I realize that who I am today still has his definite imprint upon it, and that’s a very good thing!
Categories: children, Death, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: common sense, Eastern Kentucky, Ed Sullivan, farm life, grandparents, opinionated, Papaw, satellite dish
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Words from WW Blog 