Archive for the ‘Parenting’ category
July 26, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 26, 2018
I’m not a complainer. I whine a little bit about the heat, overcooked beef, and wimpy water pressure in the shower, but other than that…and a few other things, I’m pretty mature and rational.
And so I let things simmer inside me…thoughts, rants, unanswerable questions, things that prick at me like when you find out that pinching in your butt was a wood splinter all along! (And then you start wondering “How did a wood splinter get inside my underwear?”)
My ranting and wondering this time around was ignited by recent experiences with American Airlines. In all of my checking in and gate experiences I never experienced a smile. In fact, I thought I had been transported back in time to the lunch room aides at Williamstown Elementary in Williamstown, West Virginia in 1961. They were ladies devoid of happiness and consumed with straight student lines as we walked towards our executions by way of the consumption of the worst mac and cheese ever created.
Perhaps they had flunked out of flight attendant college and had been offered positions terrorizing passengers before they boarded…I don’t know! All I know is they looked like they had been sucking on lemons.
That was a rant!
On my first flight from Colorado Springs to Dallas (The first of three flights! It takes some doing to get to Huntington, West Virginia!) I was amused by the instructional video that was shown before we departed…you know, how to put your seat belt on and what to do if the plane crash lands in water. The video was well-done, but what plane were they on? There was like three feet of space between each row! And no one in that video had ever been through a buffet line! They were all slim and orderly and probably don’t even eat pie ever. On my last flight back last night my seat was next to a man who flowed over on my side because of his size. He was a nice guy, but he definitely had not been in cast as a passenger in the pre-flight safety video. This morning I’m leaning to the right out of habit!
That was a rant with a small wonder!
My brother and I went to church last Sunday at the Southern Baptist church we were raised in back in Winchester, Kentucky. One question! Why do so many churches, Southern Baptist and other flavors on the conservative side, only have females in staff positions that deal with children or hospitality? The church we revisited (The last time I had been there was when I was 8!) had four pastors for pastoral care, youth, worship, and teaching…and then one female name at the bottom of the list for children’s programs!
That was something I was wondering about, albeit a confused wondering!
This morning a lady in front of me at Starbucks mentioned to Rhea, one of the baristas, that it seemed warm and humid in the place. I wanted to correct her, but I held back. I wanted to say “Honey, you don’t know what humidity is until you’ve been in Proctorville, Ohio, situated on the banks of the Ohio River, in late July. It’s so humid there I could squeeze juice out of my face!”
I didn’t say that, however. I just looked at her and smiled.
One last thing! Why does Bob Evans sausage taste so good? I had sausage patties and sausage gravy yesterday on the way to the Huntington airport. Before I met another round of American Airlines employees with sour dispositions I wanted to leave Huntington with a good memory- breakfast at the restaurant where Dad and I would dine. Bob Evans is also the only restaurant I know of where I can get fried cornmeal mush! Yum, yum!
And that, my friends, is a rave!
Categories: children, Christianity, Freedom, Grace, Humor, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: airlines, airlines check-in, American Airlines, Bob Evans sausage, gate agents, rants, raves, sucking on lemons, Whining, Williamstown, wonders
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July 24, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 24, 2018
It’s happened numerous times it seems! I’ve revisited towns and places of my childhood and someone has found a way to shrink therm in size in the 55 years or so since I last was there.
I noticed it first back in Williamstown, West Virginia. The streets had been narrowed since I was a kid in fifth grade living there. I remember the main street that ran through town being like a four lane highway. It ran between the community park and the grocery. I’d find a couple of pop bottles to turn into the store. The store would give me three cents a bottle, which I would use to buy a PayDay or similar sugared-up product. I’d sprint across that street, heart racing, since I knew it was against my parent’s rules.
In my revisit, however, the highway (in my mind) had been narrowed to where now it is barely wide enough for two compact cars to pass one another going in opposite directions.
And then my brother and I visited Central Baptist Church in Winchester, Kentucky- the church my family attended from the time I was an infant to the age of eight. We were in that sanctuary three times a week- Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday evening- but someone had shrunk it. A new sanctuary has been built that must seat a thousand or so. We navigated our way through the building that has been added onto a few times until we found the old sanctuary. It’s been repurposed and abused into a youth gathering room. (There’s something weird about that, by the way! Maybe because what once was has long since been changed into what now is!) I remember the old sanctuary being huge, but when we entered it what was once a large gathering place of God’s place on Sunday morning now seems more like a worship closet.
After church we journeyed around town and stopped at the first two houses I remember living in. Back in the day they were mansions, huge homes where a good game of hide and seek could be played involving small people. BUT once again someone had zapped each one of them with a reducer gun and turned them into Polly Pockets residences!
The perspective of our youth often gets a vision test in our adult years. Our view has been changed. The far-sighted imagination of our childhood gets replaced by the near-sighted skepticism of our aged eyes. What was larger than life becomes the small reality.
There’s a sadness in this change. Perhaps it’s the discovery that what was our “world” as kids, and the specialness of those times, now looks insignificant in the present. When we take our kids and grandkids back to those sacred places there’s yawns and indifference. The mansion we remember now simply looks like a small two bedroom house on a street populated with other small two bedroom homes.
In another generation they will experience the same thing with their kids!
However, whatever the reality now is the imprint of those times will remain massive upon us. Who I am today is a direct result of how large those days will always be!
Categories: children, Community, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Central Baptist Church, changing times, distorted view of life, family memories, growing up., memories, old memories, PayDay, perspective, reality, Williamstown West Virginia, Winchester, Winchester Kentucky
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July 23, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 23, 2018
Yesterday was a bit sobering. After attending my nephew’s wedding on Saturday in Frankfort, Kentucky I altered my route back to my sister’s house in southern Ohio to visit the cemetery where many of my relatives lie in slumbered peace.
This was my first visit to the well-maintained grounds a few miles outside of Paintsville, Kentucky since my dad was laid to rest there last February. It was the first time I had seen the grave marker with both of my parents’ names on it.
I stood there in silence taking in the depth of their deaths. It reached down and caused an aching in my soul. I let it hurt for a few minutes, tearing up in the reality of what lay before me.
And then I spent some time in the midst of my aunts and uncles who reside, so to speak, in the same area.
-My Uncle Bernie and Aunt Cynthia at the feet of my parents. My mom and Aunt Cynthia were always trying to outdo one another. It was sisterly competition that took in pie-baking, casserole-making, house decorating, hairstyling, child raising, and opinion-giving. They were like competitors in a game of “life checkers”. To have my mom laying with Aunt Cynthia under her feet would be considered, by my mom, as the final word on the situation. Uncle Bernie and my dad lay beside their wives once again not able to get a word in edgewise! When I think of cigars and pipes I think of my Uncle Bernie. As I stood there looking at his resting place I could hear his laugh which was unique and delightful. And I could almost taste my Aunt Cynthia’s raisin pie, the best there ever was…no matter what my mom said!
-Uncle Junior (Dewey, Jr.) and Aunt Grethel are just a bit to my mom’s left. Aunt Grethel has been there for a while now, succumbing to illness before any of the other aunts and uncles. Uncle Junior didn’t join her until he had pinched my leg a few hundred more times, usually as I sat on my Papaw Helton’s front porch with the men of the family. Uncle Junior made me squirm. My leg even twitched as I now viewed his permanent residence! Now when I see his daughter Annette she intentionally tries to pinch my leg. I’m not sure if it’s to honor her dad’s memory or she just likes to see me squirm again…maybe both!
-Uncle Millard and Aunt Irene (“Rene”) are just a bit to my dad’s right. Millard was a barber. In fact, he kind of resembled Floyd the barber on “The Andy Griffith Show”. I remember he chewed tobacco for a while and kept a spittoon beside his recliner to the chagrin of Aunt Rene. They never had any children, but were guardian parents for my cousin Johnny Carroll for a couple of years or so when he was a toddler. Uncle Doc’s first wife had died and he needed help raising his young son. He couldn’t be a physician and a single parent at the same time. Aunt Rene became Johnny Carroll’s mom. I’ll always remember all the pictures she had throughout the house of the little boy who she mothered. Compassion defined her. Before she passed in 1996 to cancer she gave a check to each of her nieces and nephews and asked us to use the money to do something that we would enjoy. She wanted to be able to see us enjoy it while she was still alive. My family planned a trip to Disney World- air fare, park tickets, staying at The Beach and Yacht Club on the property- with the funds. Aunt Rene was as happy as we were. To this day my kids still remember how awesome that vacation was!
Overseeing this horizontal family gathering are my Papaw and Mamaw Helton. Mamaw was the first to find her place in this cemetery, passing away forty years ago in 1978. She’d be 119 if she was still alive! She could cook up a storm and fry up a chicken fresh, mainly because she had just killed it and plucked the feathers out by their barn. Papaw governed the gathered wisdom and opinions of the front porch uncles. Without a doubt he was the family patriarch in every since of the term.
And now all of their daughters and one of their three sons are gathered around them. It is a family reunion of a different kind, and yet I can still hear their voices, complete with accents and emotions.
Emotions define this moment for me, also. It’s okay though, because I’m standing in the midst of lives that were well lived, well thought of, and now eternally well.
Categories: children, Community, Death, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Aunt Irene, aunts and uncles, cemetery, death, education, eternal rest, family, remembering, remembrance, reminiscing
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July 22, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 22, 2018
I traveled back to Frankfort, Kentucky for our nephew’s wedding this weekend. Other than his crazed belief that God created Ohio State football, and all others are poor attempted copies of God’s perfect gift, Thomas Wolfe is a great young man. Thank God he married a woman who is a University of Kentucky follower. It had to be true love! Jessica was even able to get him to go to a Kentucky football game!
Gathering for their wedding celebration also allowed me to see a couple of my cousins. John, a retired surgeon, who I’ve always known as John Jerry, taught me how to play chess. His mom, my Aunt Cynthia, was the aunt who would always try to sugar me up with candy, pie, ice cream, and then inconspicuously place a folded up dollar bill in my hand before I left. My first understanding of the concept of inflation was related to Aunt Cynthia when the dollar bill suddenly changed to a folded up five dollar bill. Years later she was putting “Jackson’s” in my kids hands.
Seeing John Jerry and his wife Debbie is a step back to a time in my life when the roots of family were going deeper into a soil rich in stories and traditions. How I view life now has the imprint of those days upon it.
Matthew Helton was one of the few cousins I had who were younger than me. Since I was the tail end of our family there weren’t many afterthoughts following along behind me. Now a high school teacher, he’s a guy I wish I could be a student of. With a great voice and a depth of information, he is fascinating to be around, much like his father, my Uncle George. I missed his sister, Kelly (always Michelle to me!), who could not be at the wedding. She, also, is a fascinating person!
Weddings and funerals. The last time I saw John and Matthew (and Kelly and Annette!) was at my dad’s funeral back in February. The time before that may have been my mom’s funeral a few years before that. Living in Colorado, I didn’t make it back for the funerals of Uncle George, Aunt Cynthia, Uncle Bernie, Uncle Doc, or Uncle Junior. I know, however, that my brother and sister were there, often filling the role as chauffeur for my mom and dad.
We come to a point in life when our own family way- our spouse, kids, and grandkids- trails off from the old highway of our roots. It’s like what I’ll do this afternoon after I leave Frankfort. I’ll be traveling back to Paintsville, Kentucky to visit the cemetery where my parents have been laid to rest, as well as most of my aunts, uncles, and grandparents. BUT I won’t take the road that we would travel back in the 50’s and early 60’s from my birthplace city, Winchester, to Paintsville. That road would require an afternoon and Dramamine. There’s a new way that does not resemble my three-year old granddaughter’s attempt at drawing a camel.
OR maybe I will go the old way! Why not? It will give me a lot of time to remember the old days! Although there is now a faster way to get there, it isn’t necessarily a BETTER way!
Categories: children, Community, Death, Grandchildren, Humor, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: aunts, aunts and uncles, family, family history, family memories, family roots, trade, welcome
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July 19, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 19, 2018
Today is different.
It is the first time I have traveled back to where I grew up in Ohio and neither of my parents are here. Translated into years that equates into 46 years of coming back home and seeing Mom and Dad…until today!
When Pops passed away February 15 things changed. I’ll be going to my nephew’s wedding in Frankfort, Kentucky this weekend, but I’m here in southern Ohio today with no father to eat lunch with.
It’s hard to explain or describe. The best that I can compare it to is that it’s like going back to your roots and seeing that the house you grew up in has been torn down in order to make way for a parking lot. Or, for me, when I went back to the town I was born in and realized that the elementary school where I attended first and second grade had been condemned. There’s something sobering about that!
My dad would have turned 90 on June 18, so it’s not like his passing was unexpected. However, when someone has always been there for you it is unbalancing. It’s unsettling…kind of a conscious disorientation.
In the midst of the new reality I’ll honor some traditions. Dad and I would always visit Bob Evans Restaurant for breakfast at least once during each of my visits. I’ll carry on that practice one morning during my week-long visit. I’ll go have lunch one day at Wyngate, the senior living complex he resided in his last three years or so. I’ll sit with Carl and Louise and soak in the old stories, visit with Robin, the residence manager who loved my father dearly, and try to talk to Chuck, who would visit Dad in the hospital but can’t hear squat!
And while I’m here I’ll drive down to Paintsville, Kentucky and visit the cemetery. That may be the moment that overwhelms me as I gaze upon the plot of ground where my parents now lay side-by-side. For the past five years or so each cemetery visit has had Dad standing beside me quietly staring at Mom’s resting place. Now I’ll stand by myself and long for his voice to say a few words.
One tradition I will not carry forward is taking Pops to at least one doctor’s appointment, radiation treatment, or hospital admission while I’m here. He had a “time share” at St. Mary’s Medical Center across the river in Huntington, West Virginia!
Life is populated with assumptions. One of those is that things will always remain the same even though we are fully aware that they won’t. I assumed that Victory Heights Elementary School would be there fifty plus years after I last attended it. I assumed K Mart would always be in business! I assumed I would always have hair and be able to run fast! And at some time in the journey what I thought would always be changed to”the way it used to be!”
I’ll miss watching my dad socialize with the Wyngate residents this trip. He could bring a smile to the face of the most sour personality. I’ll miss sitting in his living room and talking about what was and what is, as well as just sitting and watching NBC Nightly News.
I’ll miss seeing the respect that people had for him. He was Deacon Emeritus at his church. People still remember him as a gift from God. There’s still that respect, but his passing has reshaped that respect in a different way.
Carl, who was born four miles from Dad in a remote part of eastern Kentucky and turns 90 this coming September, will look me in the eye and say something like this: “I miss your dad. He was my friend and a wonderful person!” And then Carl will pause for a moment out of respect…and I’ll see a tear slide down his cheek. That’s when I’ll know that although Pops is no longer here…he is!
Categories: children, Christianity, Death, Grandchildren, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Bob Evans, cemetery, elderly, elderly parents, fathers, last visits, missing dad, respect, senior adults, senior citizens, senior folk, senior living, senior living complex, Seniors, St. Mary's Medical Center, Victory Heights Elementary
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July 17, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 18, 2018
I’ve done a few things in my life that required me to be a citizen of the land of Stupid! They were words uttered “dumbly!” Or actions that were void of all intelligence!
I remember telling one young lady, who I was enjoying a first date with, that she was nice…that she was small in certain areas of her body and nicely shaped in others. She took it that I meant she was small breasted and then okay in other body proportion. It was our last date together! I still slap myself as I think of how my words of flattery floated like a lead balloon!
We all have memories of our journeys to Stupid! Most of the time no one gets harmed in the episode, but sometimes stupidity leaves its mark on us. Like a few years ago when John Smoltz, who was pitching for the Atlanta Braves at the time, tried to iron his team jersey…while he was still wearing it! Can you hear the sizzle?
Or the young girl who thought Nair was a kind of hair shampoo! Oops! Can you say “Nice shine”?
There are some people in this world, however, who seem to enjoy living in Stupid. One gets the impression that they stay up late at night pondering how they can look like idiots the next day.
Every time you think LaVar Ball has moved to a room without a Stupid view he reemerges with something to confirm he’s still a resident. Last week he said that he could have beat LeBron James one-on-one back in his hey day. He said LeBron was too weak! Ball played one season of college basketball back in 1987-88 at Washington State, where he averaged just over two points a game.
LaVar Ball, however, has a way of convincing people to join his trek to idiocy. His Big Baller Brand sneakers were priced at $495. The Better Business Bureau, however, has given him an “F” rating on how he has handled the selling of those shoes. His Junior Basketball League for young men who seem to have been convinced to bypass college has been an expedition based on ambitious dumb ideas.
LaVar runs for re-election to be Mayor of Stupid about once a month!
What’s funny about idiots is that they often try to convince people that everyone else is an idiot except them! A friend of mine recently was offered temporary lodging by a family. He needed a place to stay, and a free place was even better, but the people who gave him a bed were “flat earth people!” They were staunch believers in the idea that the world is flat. All evidence to the contrary, including astronauts circling the globe, was seen simply as a government conspiracy to cover up the truth. My friend weighed the options: finding a place and pay rent or being provided a free bed tagged with the obligation to listen to the flat earth people. He could stand listening to it for a month and then he had to get out of there to save his sanity.
Idiots have their own version of what is true and what is reality. Don’t bother them with the facts and film footage!
There’s a difference between a dumb idea and a dumb belief. Years ago I had a carton of Coca-Cola stolen out of the backseat of my car. I hadn’t locked the car, so it was stupid of me to forget to do so. A former neighbor of ours, on the other hand, never locked his car or rolled up the windows. His reasoning? If someone was going to steal it he didn’t want them to break the glass and get it all over the inside of the vehicle! I stood there with my mouth wide open as I heard the reasoning!
I’m sure I’ll visit “Never Never Intelligent Land” a few more times before people stare at me in my casket, but I try to have my visits remain brief. Kind of like the Cedar Point Amusement Park ride, Top Thrill Dragster! Always reconsider getting on an amusement park ride that has bleachers alongside it for people to be able to sit and watch. It was stupid to ride it, but at least it was only 13 seconds long!
Categories: children, coaching, Community, Freedom, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: dumb decisions, idiot, LaVar Ball, stupidity
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July 16, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 16, 2018
People have gripes! I won’t list them here because of space, time, and the fact that I don’t want to be a “Debbie Downer!” Our days are peppered with people who look at the glass as being half-empty…with a good chance of leakage!
It’s gotten to the point that I ask myself if it’s okay to feel okay about life? Is it not okay to feel okay about where one’s life is right now? Should I feel guilty about not having issues that would have me sitting in one of those high chairs on Dr. Phil’s stage?
This does not mean that I have it all together and live a life void of any problems. I have physical therapy for my knee and hip pain later on this morning. I frequent the bathroom more than a bored eighth grader escaping math class. I read two paragraphs in a book and fall asleep. I have about five prescriptions! I often talk to speeding cars that rush by me on the highway, even to the point of showing them my middle finger…in my mind! Lord, forgive me!
But there is a wholeness in my life, a happiness…dare I say, a joy! The sadness in my soul is connected to the loss of loved ones…Dad back in February and Mom almost five years ago now, all my aunts, uncles, and Carol’s parents, dear friends and mentors who have gone on like Rex Davis…Greg Davis…Don Fackler…Ray Lutz.
I’m okay with the goals in my life that I did not reach, or have not yet reached…officiating a high school state tournament basketball game, running a marathon in my sixties, owning an ice cream truck, hiking the Grand Canyon, slam-dunking a basketball.
It’s the rhythm in my life that gives me a sense of peace and satisfaction. My life is spiced and seasoned with opportunities to impact young people. I’m blessed to be able to coach four teams in three different sports. I get all giddy at the opportunity to substitute teach middle school students. I have a good amount of time to write and (fingers crossed!) hopefully publish a novel in the next few months. I’m allowed to speak at a wonderful small town church that has about 20 saints each Sunday morning. I’m married to a wonderful woman. We’ll celebrate our 39th anniversary in a few days. We’ve got three great kids, but (Sorry, kids!) enjoy our three grandkids now even more!
The “feeling okay about life” is also connected to that deep sense within a person that he/she is in the midst of what God desires for him/her to be about. There is not any sense of unrest or frustration. The peace-within-myself understands that it’s not all about me. As I serve others and serve God, joy makes a home within my life.
Many people detour around contentment in their life because they think there should be more. There is grumbling about missed opportunities, usually blamed on something or someone else. Our culture seems to have been injected with a dose of disgruntlement, supplemented with pills to heighten a sense of entitlement.
I guess for me the glass is half-empty because I’ve enjoyed the beginning and will continue to be blessed by the ending. I’ve been used by God and still have some left in the tank to be used!
And I’m okay with that!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, coaching, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, marriage, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: a sense of purpose, contentment, discontent, happiness, joy, life direction, life goals, peace-filled, satisfaction, the glass is half empty, the glasss is half full, unrest, wholeness
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July 15, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 15, 2018
SATURDAY
Dear Journal,
I arrived at church camp safely this afternoon. Things looked normal.
SUNDAY
Dear Journal,
Normalcy disappeared about 2:00. Kids of different sizes and ages arrived, most with their parents. Some parents were tearing up at the idea of missing Little Missy and Mini-Mike for a week. Others teared up at the temporary freedom they would be experiencing. One set of parents were taking a week’s vacation since the kids were gone. They would go back to work once the kids returned to the roost!
Young campers stared into the uncertainty of a whole week of following the instructions and schedule of adults who were strangers to them. What bizarre things would they be forced to do…eat roasted bugs, eat all of their vegetables, take a shower and brush their teeth every day?
Anxiety seemed to spread over the registration area like peanut butter on sliced bread!
MONDAY
Dear Journal
It’s amazing how easily it is to figure out which of the middle school boy campers has reached puberty and which haven’t! A couple of the boys have been following a group of girls around like flies on honey. Other boys are more interested in figuring out mathematical equations and different Rubik’s Cubes.
One boy, who has spent the first day salivating over the girls, wears tee shirts around that announce the fact that he’s a wrestler…a Samson in the midst of the group of Delilah’s, muscle mass more important than mental capacity.
I grabbed the attention of the middle school campers in my first talk to them by microwaving an egg that was still in the shell. A couple of other things done for shock value communicated to them that this was going to be a different week. I even got Salivating Samson to sit there with his mouth wide open out of disbelief.
TUESDAY
Dear Journal,
A couple of the boys are starting to smell like…middle school boys! They have not familiarized themselves with the showers in their dorm. The buzzing of flies around them is a clue that they aren’t picking up on. Thankfully we have a swimming time this afternoon. We just need to make sure they get in the pool and go all the way under the water…for a while!
I used shock value again this morning by throwing a full glass of milk on one of the counselors as I began a talk on serving others. She knew it was coming, but didn’t realize how cold it was! Oh well!
WEDNESDAY
Dear Journal,
Today we go rock climbing. For several of the campers who have never rock climbed before they’re wondering if it is going to be like climbing the monkey bars at their old grade school playground.
And then they saw the red rock formations at Garden of the Gods that they would be climbing up and there was a lot of gulping and eyes wide opened! Samson saw it as an opportunity to impress the Delilah’s who pretended to be interested.
A good number of campers who didn’t think they could do it were completely pumped when they DID do it.
THURSDAY
Dear Journal,
Today we climbed Soldier’s Peak…all of us! No one was left behind! One boy’s nickname is now “Crockpot” because that’s about how fast he gets things done. He would be the kid at the mall whose parent has one of those “kid leashes” attached to him so he doesn’t get lost.
But even he made it and delighted in the view from the top. I talked to all of them about mountain and valleys, and the fact that if there weren’t valleys we wouldn’t appreciate the mountain top experiences, and that God is closely beside us as we travel through the valley experiences of our lives.
Crockpot made it back down in time for lunch!
FRIDAY
Dear Journal,
The week is coming towards the finish line. A moose wandered through camp this afternoon and cooled off for a few minutes in the pond smack dab in the middle of camp.
At certain times during this week it seems like we’ve also wandered into a strange place, but then the cool waters of God’s grace have saturated our uncertainties.
In our last evening together the tears begin again. This time, however, they are tears because of departure, tears of sweet sorrow. They’ve become a “group of kids on a journey together.” Now they’re being asked to say goodbye.
Samson gets hugs from the Delilah’s he’s been hoping for all week. Crockpot gets bombarded with hugs so fast he can’t keep up. The Rubik’s Cube boys seek me out. They’ve always been seen as being weird and nerdy, but this week they were loved and valued. The middle school boys who had not frequented the showers smelled of Old Spice and Axe as they gave me high fives.
SATURDAY
Dear Journal,
And then it was over! The dust trails of the vans and wagons marked the departure of the campers. It was a week of memories, of laughter and tears, of hopes and the squelching of fears. The hopes were that everyone would be back together a year from now. Amen!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Jesus, love, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: church camp, church camp pastor, middle school, middle school boys, summer camp
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July 5, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 5, 2018
“For it is by grace you have been saved through faith- and this is not from yourselves-it is the gift of God.” (Ephesians 2:8, NIV)
I played “hide and seek” with my granddaughter a couple of days ago. Corin, who turned three at the end of March, doesn’t quite get the strategy of the game yet, which made it even more fun and funny.
She went to hide as I counted. As soon as I tromped up the steps to the second floor of her family’s house I could hear the giggling. She was hiding underneath the covers of her parents’ bed. Three year olds have a very difficult time not making any movements. The bedspread kept moving like a fan was blowing on it. I slowly made my approach, talking the whole time, until I lifted the covers to a bundle of screams and laughter.
And then she hid again! I went downstairs to count to some random figure.
“Ready or not here I come!”
Distant giggles.
My heavy feet thundered on each step to indicate my ascent up the stairs. “I wonder where she might be?” She was hiding…under the covers in her parents’ bed…again!
What does a granddad do when his granddaughter makes it so easy to find her? He pretends to not see her, to loudly announce that he’s looking in other rooms and places which causes her to giggle even more.
Slowly I narrow down my search to her special spot, and then I make mention of the lump underneath the bedspread (pause for more giggles) before throwing the covers back to reveal her again.
Third time…same hiding place!
Fourth time…you guessed it!
Fifth time…yes! Each time I tried my hardest to be blind. I even became more creative in my ability to not see, checking inside toilets, taking a peek inside a lamp shade, and gazing behind a picture hanging on the wall. Each look was announced to the giggler, before discovering her for the fourth time…fifth time in the exact same spot, even the same side of the bed!
That. not occurred to me, is a picture of the grace and forgiveness of God! He sees our hiding tendencies, our covering up of our secrets, and he still graces us with his forgiveness.
Never once did I say to Corin, “Again! You’re hiding in the same place again! This is getting monotonous!” I searched and found. When we hide our hearts God seeks.
Although God does not enjoy our hiding from him he will always seek us, always forgive us, and always respond to our staying away with grace-filled drawing close…even when we return to the same dark place again and again.
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Grandchildren, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Ephesians 2:8, grace, hide and seek, hiding, looking for, mercy, searching
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July 1, 2018
WORDS FROM W.W. July 1, 2018
I’m not sure where I got the idea or how it penetrated into my imaginative mind. I just know it was there as soon as I leaped into bed at night. In fact, it became a habit for me to leap from a safe distance away onto my bed, like jumping from one cliff to another.
I had never seen the monster, but I had convinced myself that he was there. I’m sure my older brother, Charlie, helped in the bringing me to that belief. We shared a bedroom and I often became the gullible younger brother in his pranks and schemes. Four and a half years difference in age can sometimes do that.
Common sense and logic would tell the typical person that the monster wasn’t real. All you had to do was ask yourself some clarifying questions, like “Where does he go in daylight hours?” Or “Why is he always under my bed, but never my brother’s?”
But when it comes to monsters in dark places and six year old boys, common sense and logic take a hiatus from the scene.
I slept with both hands and feet IN the bed. No body part could be hanging over the side. That would be like accidentally sticking your hand in the water at the lake and having an alligator latch onto it! I had heard stories…probably from my brother!
Monsters live in dark places, I had been told. They live in the shadows of our life, repelling any hints of being safe, always ready to devour.
My mom always made me make my bed in the morning. It made no sense to me. Orderliness didn’t alleviate my fears that the creature wouldn’t return. And, after all, I was going to mess up the bed again in about twelve hours. If I got sucked into the abyss that night would someone else make my bed the next morning? You don’t touch crime scenes, you know!
I’m not sure when it was that I stopped fearing the unseen monster and became more convinced in the presence of the unseen God. My younger brother-side tells me it might have been shortly after Charlie became bored with the terrorizing of his little brother, but I have no evidence that is true. I think my fears of the underneath dark began to subside when I discovered “the light” of God and the abundance of scriptures that talk of God being the light and the light shining into the darkness.
At some point in my childhood journey the fear of my fears was tilted by my faith In God. The courage to let a hand or a foot hang carelessly over the side of my bed became a nightly risk of my reckless faith.
Nowadays when the shadow of a fear draws close to my thoughts, causing me to be uncertain and hesitant about life, I remind myself of the Light…”The Lord is my light and my salvation! Whom shall I fear? (Ps. 27:1)
I don’t even leap onto the bed anymore…unless I’m playing!
Categories: Bible, children, Christianity, Death, Faith, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Prayer, Story, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: dark places, darkness, fearing the dark, fears, Jesus the light of the world, monster, monster under the bed, monsters, Psalm 27:1, the Light, The Lord is my light and my salvation
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Words from WW Blog 