Archive for the ‘love’ category
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 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
Comments: Be the first to comment
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
Comments: Be the first to comment
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
Comments: Be the first to comment
May 13, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. May 13, 2014
“Driving Miss Reagan”
It started as soon as I entered the house through her front door.
“Granddad, I’m having waffles for breakfast.” (I won’t pepper my writing with her pronunciation, but breakfast comes from her lips sounding like “bweckfust.”)
I had volunteered for this chauffeuring duty, filling in for Miss Reagan’s dad, also my son-in-law, who was working out of town for a few days. Driving my three year old granddaughter around for a few minutes each morning sounded great.
For a three year old, Reagan can talk more than a stumping politician. Her “l’s” and “r’s” still sound like “w’s”. Last week when I showed her a scratch on my arm she asked, “Did it bweed?”
Without her older brother to share chat time with she is all out…constant…dizzying chatter!
“Granddad, would you cawwy my waffle…and be very careful, because if the wind gets it I will not be happy!”
“Yes ma’am!”
The twelve minute car ride to her other grandmother’s house has more topics of conversation than Time magazine has articles each issue.
“Granddad, do you like fire twucks?”
“Sure…it’s good to have a fire truck when there is a fire that is burning.”
“I was in a fire when we stayed at a hotel.”
“Oh…really!”
“It was scawy!”
“I can imagine!”
“I wike wooking out windows. Do you wike wooking out windows?”
“Yes. Windows are good.”
“Does Grammy like windows?”
“I suppose. We haven’t really had much conversation about it.”
From behind my driver’s seat I can hear her taking a long sip of apple juice from her sippy cup, ending with a faint “ahhh” sound of satisfaction.
“Granddad, there’s a Chick-fil-A!”
“Yes, there it is! Maybe we’ll go there for dinner this week. I think I’ll get a chicken salad.”
“Noooooo….not chicken sawad! You’re siwwy, Granddad!”
“Why is chicken salad silly?”
“You have to get chicken strwips!”
“Is that what you get?”
“Yes, with honey barbecue sauce and waffle fwies!”
“Oh…okay!”
“Do you like to dweam, Granddad?”
“Sure…I guess I do. You mean when I’m sweeping…I mean, sleeping?”
“Yes, I dweam about Puggles and wearing new shoes and cotton candy.”
“Oh…that’s nice. Are all those in the same dream?”
“Noooooo…….Granddad, don’t be siwwy!”
Being silly is a necessary element of a grandfather’s conversation with his three year old backseat passenger. The journey ends and Miss Reagan dances an original step in front of me to her “Nana” Hodges’ house.
I ring the doorbell and she bangs on the door. Nana greets her and Reagan is ready for the next conversation.
Granddad gets back in the car and leaves younger than I was fifteen minutes before!
Categories: children, Humor, love, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: Chick-fil-A, chicken salad, conversation, cotton candy, driving, grandchildren, granddad, Granddaughter, grandpaarents, grandparenting, Puggles, silly, three year olds, waffle fries, zippy cup
Comments: Be the first to comment
May 11, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. May 11, 2014
“Mother’s Day Without Mom”
This is the first Mother’s Day I’ve ever experienced without a mom on this side of Glory. Mom passed to the other side last September, the day after Labor Day. So today I’m in a new place just as she is. I’m walking through it with a mixture of grief and gratitude, a strange mixture…kind of like putting ketchup on top of your peanut butter, you’re not sure if it’s good or bad!
The last two Mother’s Day with Mom were grief in process. Her health had declined to the point that she wasn’t able to carry on a conversation. Calling here on the phone was a painful experience with me being in Colorado and her in Ohio. Her health difficulties had reduced her verbal capabilities to a bare minimum…and my mom was always one to be vocal!
I would send her flowers for Mother’s Day. It was the best I could do for her. She loved the floral arrangements and foliage plants that FTD would deliver…once they were able to find the house! That’s another story for another day!
I remember my mom for who she was before her afflictions took her health away. On this Mother’s Day I remember with a grateful heart the stories, the influence, and even “the look!”
“The look” could stop a freight train. It was convicting! I remember that look one afternoon when I was about ten. Mom had told me that I could go to the park in Williamstown, West Virginia where we lived, but that I could not cross the main street in town to go to the little grocery store. Back in those days before aluminum soda cans a kid could find empty pop bottles and return them to the store for three cents a piece. Two pop bottles could net me a Pay Day or Mallo Cup. But on this day my mom had explicitly forbidden me to cross that main street.
“No problem!”, I thought! What she doesn’t know won’t hurt…me! I made the journey and was munching on my Pay Day on the way back across the street when in the distance I saw a car coming that looked like our family car. I sprinted back into the park and hid behind a trash can until I was sure she had passed. Finally I raised up…and there she was…sitting there, and giving me “the look!” I was toast!
Besides the look, however, my mom would care for us. My brother and I always got new underwear for Christmas, just in case we were in an accident and they had to cut away our blue jeans. It was important to have intact pairs of “Towncraft tighty whities” on.
She could cook! And the thing is, she would cook dinner each night after working a full day at J.C. Penney’s. Not packaged meals, mind you! Home-cooked masterpieces…skillet cornbread… green beans that I didn’t appreciate back then, but now miss greatly…fried chicken…squash casserole…need I go on?
My mom had a certain scent. It’s hard to explain that, but it stayed in the nostrils of your memory. Recently I traveled back to Ohio to help my dad get some things taken care of in preparation for his move to a new senior adult independent living complex he’s moving into. Going from his three bedroom house to a one bedroom apartment has made these past few months a time of sorting for him. What will he take? What will he leave behind? What will he give away? My oldest daughter, Kecia, asked me to bring back a few specific items that she remembers about my parents’ house. A couple of the things she requested were some of MaMaw Wolfe’s dish towels and hot pads. Why? Because they have MaMaw’s scent that is special. When we would travel home to see my parents “the scent” would be a comfort, a welcoming, almost like entering a room with bread baking in the oven.
I’m grateful for “the look”, “the caring”, “the smells”, and “the scent.” Although Mom is gone, those things will stay with me…and on this different kind of Mother’s Day they make me happy!
Categories: children, Death, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: grateful, gratitude, grief, grieving, home-cooking, J.C. Penney's, memories, Mom, Mother's Day, mothering, scent, smells, tight whities, Towncraft
Comments: 2 Comments
April 24, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. April 24, 2014
My dad is moving. He’s under a month now. The house sold in less than two weeks after he listed it with a realtor…a happening that caught him a little off-guard…kind of like when a young lady I went to college with said yes to a date proposal!
“You will?”
The quickness of the house selling suddenly changed the game plan. It’s the difference between reading War and Peace versus reading the Cliff Notes of War and Peace.
Yesterday we were going through boxes of family photos. It was entertaining and amusing. To see my dad as a curly red-haired two year old (Although his red hair doesn’t really stand out in the black-and-white photo. You rarely think of your parents as kids, especially when they are just shy of 86!
And then there was the picture of my mom in a swimsuit when she was about twenty. That’s another picture I’m not sure about. Mom looked great in a swimsuit…is that okay? A son kind of wants his mom just to look okay for some reason. Call it generational unrest.
Another box had old Christmas card pictures. My parents would put a picture of the three kids on a Christmas postcard each year. You can see the progression each year as we grew and became less cute. The growing attitudes of “This is no longer cool!” can be slightly seen as each year passed by.
There was a few pictures of my Helton grandparents- Mamaw and Papaw Helton. Papaw was a stoic-type Eastern Kentucky farmer, who measured success on the basis on crops, chickens, and good-looking hogs. Seeing the pictures brought back the echo of his voice.
“Loooorrrdddd, have mercy!”
It look him longer to say “Lord” than it did for Jesus to say “holy, holy, holy!”
There was pictures of Feds Creek School where my dad went to school, and Oil Springs High School where both he and my mom attended. It made me realize that I failed to take pictures of the schools I attended, most that no longer are standing! Years from now my kids will think I was home-schooled since there will be an absence of brick and mortar shots to tell stories about.
Pictures of my aunts and uncles through the years were revealing. Each of them shows the ticking of time on their faces, the sagging of their jaws, and gray in, or loss of, their hair. For some of my uncles age was not kind. Most of my aunts, however, had “good skin.”
There was a picture of our Siamese cat “Caesar.” He ruled the roost until he started urinating in the entryway of our house. Mom did not take kindly to a cat who got confused. “Cat dementia” led to an absence of cat.
Finally, there were pictures of former pastors, all with stories attached to the film. Pastor Zachary at Central Baptist Church in Winchester, Kentucky…a great pastor and, I’m assuming, preacher…although I was too young to know what a good preacher was. That was during the period when I was a little envious of the Methodist children. Baptists had Sunday night church, but the Methodist took care of all the spiritual hunger on Sunday morning. Bottom line! They got to watch Walt Disney on Sunday night while we were going at it for a second time at Central Baptist.
There was Pastor Gale Baldridge who was a great pastor with a servant’s heart. He wore brightly colored suits that someday will come back into style…shortly after leisure suits arrive again.
The boxes are full of memories and history. Since cell phones are now cameras I;m not sure how things will be years from now. Will the history be evident? Will there be a richness in that time when our kids help us pack up for the move?
I don’t know. No one talks about “Kodak Moments” much any more.
Categories: children, Community, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Aging, aunts, aunts and uncles, black-and-white photos, Christmas postcard, Cliff Notes, Eastern Kentucky, Helton, Kodak, Kodak Moments, Mamaw, memories, moving, Oil Springs, Papaw, parents, pictures, red-haired, uncles
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 22, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. April 22, 2014
How appropriate for the Boston Marathon to be held the day after Resurrection Sunday! A year after the tragedy that impacted a city and rippled through the nation, the race breathed new life into the Boston Strong. Over thirty thousand runners jammed the streets to trudge through the triumph of 26.2 miles.
Calamity can create a lingering odor of defeat. It echoes with the senselessness of it, such as the loss of life and the vengeance of disturbed personalities.
A year ago we watched the reports on television of the chaos and shook our heads in disbelief. Our nephew worked about a mile from the blast site. I remember his mom calling his cell phone trying to find out if he was okay, but they weren’t able to make a connection. The heightened anxiety of those moments will stay with both of them for the rest of their lives.
So…it was appropriate this year, the day after we celebrate Christ rising from the dead… being the conqueror of death, not the conquered…that a nation would raise a race of endurance from the ashes.
It’s interesting that a marathon race is about perseverance and pushing through quitting points. A tragedy can derail the best of intentions, but not this time!
If there is enough resolve in a group of people to the mission unthinkable acts can be overcome.
The Apostle Paul uses the image of a runner in a long race to talk about following Jesus. In Philippians 3:13-14 he writes “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”
Our walk with Christ has its smooth stretches, nicely-placed slopes, but also a Heartbreak Hill every once in a while. The hills test our commitment. There are a lot of smoothy-committed Christians. Who, however, will struggle alongside Jesus?
Back to Boston! Yesterday was a different kind of resurrection. We applaud the resolve…the perseverance…and the tears of triumph!
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Freedom, Jesus, love, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Boston Marathon, death, overcoming tragedy, perseverance, race, Triumph
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 16, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. April 15, 2014
We live in turbulent times where going against the grain is often frowned upon. Just try doing the speed limit on the highway and see the extended middle finger get shown to you by drivers speeding by who have important places to be. Isn’t it interesting that going the speed limit is seen as being radical now.
Revolutions are occurring around the world in nations where governments are teetering on survival. Some of the revolutions are the rise of people against injustice, while others are radical revolutionaries bent on causing destruction.
Jesus was considered a radical by the religious establishment of his day because he questioned what was, and talked about a relationship with the Lord God Jehovah that was intimate and personal. He was seen as a revolutionary, and yet he was exactly on target. A peacemaker is seen as being a troublemaker if society is anchored to war and unrest.
I just finished Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas. it’s the biography of the pastor, teacher, writer, and mentor who was executed by Hitler at the end of World War Two, just a few days before the Allied Forces marched into Berlin. At his memorial service on July 27, 1945 Holy Trinity Church in London, Franz Hildebrandt used a quote from Bonhoeffer in his sermon. On his last visit to London he had said, “Why should it always have to be the bad people who make the revolutions?”
What an idea! What a life mission for anyone of us! To ignite a revolution of lovingkindness and service! That describes the early church in Rome. In the midst of a culture that exalted Caesar to being a deity there were the Christ-lovers who cared for those who no one cared about. An epidemic swept through Rome that was leaving five thousand people a day dead. Family members who were sick were abandoned to die alone. Many of them were literally pushed into the streets and banned from entering the home again…to simply suffer and die alone.
And in the midst of that miserable situation a community of Christ-lovers emerged. They were seen as being revolutionaries of lovingkindness. They ignored the danger of the spreading disease and took the sick under their care, attending to their needs. Most of the sick passed away, but they departed life with a sense of peace as opposed to being seen as discarded and rejected.
That early Christian community was taking the words of Jesus in Matthew 25 about caring for those in need as the gospel to be lived out. It was a revolution committed to Christlikeness.
What might the next revolution be? Right in the midst of one’s community? Across a sea to a distant place of suffering? A decision to give as cup of cold water to someone passing by that I don’t know? An invitation to a worship service where Jesus will be proclaimed?
As Bonhoeffer said, “Why should it always have to be the bad people who make the revolutions?”
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Community, Death, Faith, Jesus, love, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Bonhoeffer, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Erix Metaxas, lovingkindness, Matthew 25, Revolution, service
Comments: Be the first to comment
April 10, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. April 10, 2014
Our church has a great sense of humor…usually! Actually, most churches have a great sense of humor…you just may have to dig a little deeper to find it!
Years ago we had a couple of people from our congregation construct a wooden cross and a stand that it could be propped up in. It was heavy…and, forgive the term, a bit on the ugly side. Of course, it is difficult to make a cross look good, I don;t care how many Easter lilies you place around it!
The wood of this cross was rough and rigid. It was the kind of wood that takes the pounding of nails easily without stumbling. In the past few years we’ve moved it up the aisle and back to the rear of the sanctuary. Back and forth it has gone like a person without a home.
At Christmas it has crouched in the back corner so that the attention can be more focused on the fifteen foot Christmas tree in the front and a homemade livestock stall with a rustic wooden crib in the midst of it.
At Thanksgiving it disappears to make room for turkeys and canned goods.
But on Good Friday it trudges back to the front in order to have a dark piece of fabric draped over it and a handful of nails driven deep into its strength. Its meaning and significance has never waned, and yet we’ve never felt totally comfortable with its look of abandonment and sorrow either.
This past September we moved it outside. It has stood behind a fenced area behind out sanctuary, kind of like an oversized first-grader hovering over his classmates in the school picture. It’s been standing there through storms and excessive windblown snow.
Come Saturday, however, it is being moved back inside. We jest about it with statements like “It’s time to bring the cross back in” and “I think the cross has been grounded long enough. Let’s unground it!”
We say it with the lean towards humor, but, on the other hand, the cross makes us antsy and uncertain. Give us a manger scene with a dressed-up plastic baby doll laying in it and we’re fine, but a cross of wood is a remembrance for us of all the bad things God endured because of his love for us. It’s a reminder of our tendency to be wayward people of faith who sometimes are brought back to the reality of our fallible decisions.
This year, however, a number of people in our congregation are asking for the cross. It’s been the forgotten symbol long enough. On Palm Sunday it will be back at the front of the sanctuary. To temper the celebration of the palms it will silently stand at a distance in the foreground…alone…bare…reminding!
I think it will be a good thing to have it there without fabric or flowers to partially cover its frame. I hope we can even keep it inside for a while.
Categories: Bible, Christianity, Christmas, Community, Death, Faith, Humor, Jesus, love, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Christ, cross, crucified, crucifixion, Easter, Good Friday, Palm Sunday, palms, Passion, sanctuary, suffering servant, the Cross, uncomfortable, wooden cross
Comments: Be the first to comment
Words from WW Blog 