Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ category
June 21, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 20, 2014
Depending on who you talked to God was in it or grieved by it!
The Independent Church Softball League was canceled after the sixth week of the season. Some said it was long overdue; others said it was a sign of secular humanism’s takeover of the world. Y2K was linked to it by some since most churches are about twenty years behind the times anyway.
It started with the Freewill Baptist Church Flames, who protested the fact that the Brethren Church Brethren were permitting a woman to play on their team. The Flames did not believe freedom extended to the opposite gender when it came to church softball. It did seem kind of odd that the Brethren would be the only team to have a female put a glove on.
The disagreements between league congregations didn’t end there. Torrential rains canceled all games during the second and third weeks of the season. It was either forget about them or plan for a few to be made on Wednesday night. The Apostolic Holiness Church could not allow that to happen. Many in their church believed that Jesus was going to come back soon…and it would probably be during their Wednesday night prayer meeting. Not many from their softball team attended the prayer meeting, but if Jesus did return on a Wednesday night, and they happened to be playing softball they were certain there would be eternal consequences. The Nazarenes weren’t too high on the idea either, but their make-up game was to be against Mercy Bible Church who hadn’t won a game since Jesus was here the first time. The Nazarenes couldn’t let a sure win slip through their fingers, all because of it being a Wednesday night.
And then there were the Independent Irregular Baptist Church, who no one much cared for. They voted not to let a new church join the league because several of the players had hair that came almost to their shoulders. They forfeited their game against the long hairs rather than be tainted by the association. Brother Rice of the Irregulars stated that long hair was the working of the devil, getting men to take on feminine characteristics. To quote him: “You let one little thing pass, and pretty soon a tidal wave of paganism starts arriving every Sunday to the church.” The manager of Mercy said he thought Brother Rice was splitting hairs.
The final straw of dissension amongst the league’s members was when a visiting evangelist for the church of the Flames was asked by his hosting church to give the prayer before their game with the Second Street Wesleyan Church team, and he preceded to pray that the Wesleyans would turn away from their wicked ways and be saved.
After long loud debate and accusations the league disbanded. Some of the best players from amongst the teams got together and made a new team that was sponsored by Rosie’s Bar and Grill and played in the City Tavern League. Most of them rediscovered that playing the game is fun!
Categories: children, Christianity, Community, Faith, Freedom, Grace, Humor, Pastor, Prayer, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Brethren, church, church softball, independent church, Nazarenes, secular humanism, softball
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June 18, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 18, 2014
In my youthful years I lost a lot of young ladies. They would disappear as a result of my cluelessness, being clumsy, and uncertain as to what it meant to court a young lady. One of my friends, who was a bit of a Casanova, gave me some “lines” to use that he was sure would work.
One night I pulled one of them out of the hat. I looked at the attractive eighteen year old brown-haired blonde and asked her, “If I told you that you have a beautiful body would you hold it against me?”
She gave me a confused look that quickly cooled the temperature. If you’re going to use a line on someone make sure they are perceptive enough to understand it.
And then my friend, Jeff Slaga, invited me to a gathering of Young Life kids from Hinsdale Central. He added, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
The night of the gathering we gathered in the living room of Bud Bylsma’s house to meet and greet the number of high school students who showed up. As we stood around in conversational groups I noticed a young woman with long brown hair arriving, and being instantly greeted by Jeff. She looked very young, and yet I could tell she was not just another one of the high school girls.
To this day I swear that she was scanning the room trying to figure out which one I was. I know…I’m certain…that she had been briefed on the prospective male who would be there that evening.
With all my “lost romances” that night was the beginning of a found relationship as I met Carol Louise Faletti for the first time. She was funny and welcoming. We chatted for most of the evening after that, lost in the new finding.
The funny thing is that we dated for a couple of weeks, decided to date other people, became good friends, and then about a year and a half later found each other again in a new way. The second time around in our dating relationship resulted in an engagement two months after we started dating again, and marriage four months later.
Now our thirty-fifth anniversary is coming up in another month. Three children, two grandkids, and two son-in-laws have come along.
Now two sixty year olds continue to find each other each day, as we walk in the evening together and discover who each of us is, the ideas we think up, the moments of laughter.
Sometimes it is necessary that we lose some people, some young ladies who don’t pick up on our pick-up lines, in order to find the one to walk the journey with.
Categories: children, Humor, love, marriage, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Casanova, Courtship, dating, Hinsdale Central, pick-up lines, romance, Young Life
Comments: 4 Comments
June 17, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. JUNE 17, 2014
My physician applied the freezing treatments. My head experienced brain freeze that only usually when I took a humongous bite of ice cream.
I had lived my life in easy denial…hatless…a sun-basker! I would lay by the pool, lather up with sun tan lotion, get brown. Summers were meant for baking!
My older brother was starting to lose his hair on top and I felt sorry for him. He was getting a crown on top that seemed to get bigger every time I saw him. Like one of our grandfather’s cultivated fields for a corn crop, his scalp was looking more plowed and less populated.
When I looked in the mirror I saw a forest staring at me just above my forehead. I had been blessed with the hair my brother was now missing, like a double blessing compared to his hair poverty.
My brother was following the barren pathway that my dad had traveled before him. What he was lacking up top he made up for with humility, grace, and wisdom.
And then one day my wife started talking about the fact that I was getting a little bald spot on top! I didn’t believe her because I couldn’t see it. Each morning after showering I’d have to comb my mop-on-top like always. I was about to learn that bald spots don’t descend on you, they slowly creep in.
Life went on! People started talking about something called sun screen and “covering up.” I didn’t take notice. Spending time in the sun was as normal for me as brushing my teeth. It was part of my lifestyle.
I had coached a basketball game and a mom of one of the players had taken some pictures during the game. One of the pictures was taken from the bleachers behind out team bench.
The “crown” could not be ignored! It stood out like young newly-weds on a bus with senior citizens. I was speechless. I started wearing hats outside, more to hide my spot than to protect my head.
When I went for my annual physical I told my doctor that I had a couple of places on my head that seemed to be more sensitive to touch. He examined my noggin, warned me to protect myself whenever I’m in the sun for more than a few minutes, and then he did the freezing on several pre-cancerous spots.
Since then my dad has had three different rounds of radiation treatments for cancerous spots and growths on his head and one of his ears.
I’m more wise now. Less wisdom is a recipe for destruction. Meanwhile my bald spot is growing into becoming a bald plot. It’s a sign of maturity, of advancing on down the road of life. I still can’t see it when I look in the mirror, but my family reminds me that it’s there! The good news is that most of my friends carry the same age signature. It’s like a symbol for our brotherhood!
Categories: Grace, Humor, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: Aging, aging signs, Bald, baldness, crown, hair loss, losing hair, sun screen, sun tan, sun tan lotion
Comments: 4 Comments
June 16, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 16, 2014
There are some families who are well acquainted with dirt. It is welcomed into the house like the family dog, reclining wherever it pleases and shaking itself into a cloud of castoffs.
My family was different. Dirt, mud, and the other suspects were expected to stand at attention at the door and not advance from there. Our house was clean. The bald head of Mr. Clean was featured prominently in the closet, ready for action.
I wasn’t that into it! You might say that it was mandated to me to be clean. A bath at night, brushing my teeth, even cleaning my plate…those were like Biblical commandments. My underwear and socks always needed to be clean, also, because the threat of being in an accident and being found with dirty underwear was always a dreaded possibility. So every morning I had to make sure I put on a clean pair of Towncraft tighty-whities! My mom worked at Penney’s, so Towncraft was the only option for our family in those days.
My dad was clean…in a different way! Yes, his clothes were always neatly folded, but his cleanliness could be seen in tasks. When he sliced a tomato or an onion it was almost always a clean cut…a perfect slice ready to grace the top of one of his hamburgers. When he cleaned the grill it shone! The inside of the family car was always pristine. The lawnmower was seldom dusted with grass clippings, because Dad would keep it clean.
Mom was like an army sergeant inspecting the barracks. She would come in the living room right when the latest episode of Combat was at its tense climax and tell me that my room looked like a tornado had hit it. I was beg for a few minutes of “clean leave”, but would always be denied. Down the hallway I would run only to discover that the extent of the bedroom tornado damage was a bedspread slightly uneven in its slope down the side, and a closet door halfway open. To Mom “clean” was a state of utopia that could not be allowed even the hint of chaos.
My hair was clean…not from shampoo but rather from the barber. I was buzzed clean until I was in high school. Sometimes a few hairs in front were given amnesty, but the rest of my head resembled Mr. Clean.
When I look back on those days I realize that our family didn’t have much, but our house was always so spic and span we just thought our lack of clutter was because we were neat freaks.
Cleanliness was next to godliness, and our house was so clean we could touch godliness with a white glove!
Categories: children, Death, Faith, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: clean, cleanliness, cleanliness is next to godliness, Combat, dirt, dirty underwear, godliness, Mr. Clean, order, shaved head, tight whities, Towncraft, underwear
Comments: 3 Comments
June 15, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 14, 2014
Most Saturday mornings I leave the house about 7:00 to lead a men’s Bible study group at church. Today was no different except…when I opened the garage door I discovered that I had been pranked.
It was a harmless prank, a trail of styrofoam cups leading up the driveway from the street and continuing all the way to the front door. Hansel and Gretel should have used styrofoam cups instead of bread crumbs. No chance of them being eaten.
On the first step by the front door the styrofoam cups ended right beside an empty donut box and milk carton.
I’m not sure what it all meant but it was creative. I never would have thought of pranking someone’s house with those three ingredients. In my day toilet paper was as creative and risky as we got.
My wife heard the “styrofoamers” about midnight and looked outside the window. They were hustling away and she was more tickled than upset. In fact, she left the cups and stuff for me to see the next morning. We’re pretty sure it was girls from my high school basketball team. The voices were suspiciously soprano-ed. I just wonder what happened to the donuts. You would think that they would have left one in the box, but no!
Over the years we’ve been pranked several times. One year some of our youth group “forked” our front yard. Plastic forks…about two hundred of them! Another year some of our youth “candy-caned” our yard. I was still finding candy canes four months later. A long, long time ago some of our youth group TP’ed our house and got caught in the act. They went ahead and came inside and we served them Pepsi’s. They left the unused rolls of TP for us to use.
About four years ago our youth group “sticky-noted” my office. They put sticky notes all over the place. I’m still finding them. I’ll get a book off one of my shelves, turn to page 121 and there will be a sticky note saying “Looking for something?”
I don’t mind the pranking, especially if we can use the pranking materials afterwards. Carol was cutting out the bottoms of the styrofoam cups to use for a Children’s Church craft tomorrow morning. We’re resourceful people!
What the pranksters don’t realize is that we have a secret resource. Our next door neighbor has surveillance cameras, one of which shows our front yard. I’ll be viewing film footage tomorrow…perhaps with a donut and glass of milk.
Say cheese!
Categories: Bible, children, Community, Humor, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: donuts, practical jokes, pranks, pranksters, styrofoam cups, TP, TPing, youth group
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June 13, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 13, 2014
I don’t know which aunt brought it, but it was always there, sitting on the counter in the kitchen just waiting to be sliced into.
I don’t know who came up with the idea of fruitcake, but it was partially good. I didn’t much care for the candied cherries and pineapple pieces that invaded its goodness. The pecans and top side crusts were my favorite parts, but I had to take the good with the bad.
One time I pilfered the exposed inners of the circle of all the pecans I could see. My sin was discovered and atoned for by having to sit in a chair for almost a lifetime before I was paroled.
Fruitcake was always a part of our Christmas. I believed it was one of the Magi gifts brought to the Baby Jesus. I didn’t know what myrrh and frankincense were, so I figure one of them was a foreign name for fruitcake presented on a platter. That’s the only reason I could come up with that it only appeared at Christmas in our house.
It was also the only time during the year that I was allowed to have cake for breakfast, not much of a treat since the pieces of pineapple made my face twitch. A glass of milk and a piece of fruitcake got the day started.
When we weren’t able to go back to my family’s roots in eastern Kentucky at Christmas my mom would whip up a fruitcake at home. I knew when it was coming. The kitchen counter would be layered with the ingredients, all ready to fulfill their purpose. It also was the indication that Christmas wasn’t going to be held in a different state. We wouldn’t be traveling up river past Pomeroy and Gallipolis heading for the crossover into West Virginia and then Kentucky. An absence of pecan bags at home was a sure sign we were going to do some piling in the car.
Fruitcake was a symbol of the mixed blessings of Christmas. It was a gift, good and bad, like opening a box filled with Matchbox cars, and then the next opened gift containg socks and underwear. I never understood why underwear had to be wrapped up…kind of like why fruitcake had to have those pineapple pieces.
I would have been fine with a “fruit-less cake!”
Categories: children, Christmas, Community, Humor, love, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: candied fruit, Eastern Kentucky, family, fruitcake, Gallipolis, Magi, pecans, Pomeroy
Comments: 3 Comments
June 13, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 12, 2014
(Today’s writing assignment in WordPress.com’s “Writing 101” challenge for June was to write a post involving three people- a man, a woman, and an older woman knitting a sweater sitting on a park bench. The story was to offer three different perspectives of what was happening, beginning with the man and ending with the elderly lady. Tough task!)
He thought of things past, points of reference in a life that had taken several turns. As he walked with Sue along the park path they had journeyed several hundred times he remembered the conversation they had shared about Johnny.
“He’s no longer a boy, Sue. He’s a young man dressed up like a boy. It’s time to let him go, to let him be.” He felt her hand tighten on his in anxious disagreement. Ever since Johnny had received his high school diploma at the football stadium adjacent to the park he had become more and more determined to join the military forces. Bob understood. He had wrestled with the same decision when he turned eighteen almost three decades ago.
They walked in silence. Most of their walks these past two years had been in silence. He often got lost in his thoughts as he viewed the white rocked cliffs to his right, thinking about when their son left home for basic training. His face was still not much of a threat to the electric shaver he had received for a graduation present, but he saluted his father as he departed that day.
Sue unconsciously clamped down hard on Bob’s hand as they walked. She saw an elderly lady up ahead knitting something red. Red was the color of their son’s hair, but it also the color of his blood that spilled out at a roadside bombing in Afghanistan. She knew that when Bob saw the red garment he would breakdown emotionally. It was still so painful. She didn’t fault him for encouraging their son’s decision for military service, but she knew he blamed himself. No words could lessen the pain…so they walked in silence…grieved and bereaved…empty shells whose lives would never be the same.
Mrs. Jones didn’t know this as she knitted. The sweater was for her great grandson who was yet to be born, still tucked away in his mother’s womb. Her grandson was coming home on leave in a month, just about the time that the baby was due to be born. She wanted to make sure it was ready. Her grandson was her hero, fighting in harm’s way for his country’s freedom.
She noticed the couple drawing close. They looked like the walking dead, and then she noticed tears running down the cheeks of the man’s face, and she knew they had lost someone dear. The woman gave her a nod that seemed to carry a blessing with it. It was as if the passing lady who looked so sad was wishing only good things for Mrs. Jones.
Categories: Community, Death, Freedom, love, marriage, Parenting, Story, Uncategorized
Tags: memories, park bench, park trail, walking
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June 11, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 11, 2014
(Today’s writing assignment was to watch something, or a group of people, and write about what you saw. The twist was to attempt to write it without using adverbs.)
They come with sagging diapers, perplexed facial expressions, and short attention spans.
This morning I was watching a group of pre-schoolers at our Vacation Bible School be dazzled by the play parachute. The wonder on little faces, the squeals of delight. One two year old screamed through a wide smile. His happiness was erupting like a volcano.
A three year old girl scooted away from the little boy who was standing too close to her. She examined her sparkled shoes to make sure they were still attached to her feet, and then she allowed herself to laugh.
The woman in the middle used all of her faculties to keep the attention of the distracted. Her voice became gentle and then excited. It worked…for most of them.
One little boy who had just turned two became a balloon whose air was spitting out. in the midst of an instruction off he went. One of the leaders would corral him for a moment longer.
Pre-schoolers are sometimes like chickens with their heads cut off, colliding with one another…trains unable to yield.
And then I saw the faces of a couple of pre-school moms who were there watching. They were even more delighted than their offspring, seeing the gifts that God had blessed their lives with, the cherub faces of children who are lost in the moment.
Categories: children, Faith, Freedom, Humor, love, Parenting, Story, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: attention spans, cherubs, childlike, pre-schoolers, two year olds, vacation bible school, VBS
Comments: 2 Comments
June 10, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 10, 2014
It’s Vacation Bible School week at the church I pastor, an experience in contained hyperactivity. Somehow I got roped into being the focus of the kids bringing their coins and dollars bills to support the mission cause of the week- buying chickens for farmers for the southeast African country of Burundi. The Evangelical Free Baptist Church of Burundi is coordinating this project to help raise people out of poverty.
It’s a great cause, seeking to give farmers a starting point in establishing an ongoing more dependable income and living.
But…as I said, somehow I got roped into being the focus. There are two glass jars at the front of our sanctuary where we begin the VBS gathering each day. One glass jar has a name plate underneath it that says “Yoda”, and the other jar has a name plate that says “Princess”.
At the end of our VBS week the money will be counted and which ever jar has the most money…that is what I will have to dress up as!
What a contrast! Yoda or a princess…and not just an princess, mind you! As the week has progressed the princess has now become Anna from the movie “Frozen”, which I have not seen, but my three year old granddaughter has the words to all the songs memorized for.
And now I am to sing “Let It Go!”
Being Yoda would be a lot easier. After all, I look a lot more like him and am just slightly taller in height.
The campers have been scurrying to put their coins and one dollar bills in the princess jar. I countered today with a twenty dollar bill for Yoda. It looks like this is going to be an expensive week if I manage to be “Yodaized!”
Excited kids are running up to me with their costume suggestions…for a princess! I’m afraid glitter is in my near future!
There will be several thankful farmers in Burundi who will have no clue what it cost me for them to raise chickens.
And I guess I’m okay with that…although I’m bringing two twenty’s with me tomorrow !
Categories: children, Christianity, Faith, Freedom, Humor, Jesus, Parenting, Pastor, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized, Youth
Tags: Burundi, chickens, collecting money, dressing up, Frozen, helping, missions, princess, Princess Anna, raising chickens, vacation bible school, VBS, Yoda
Comments: 2 Comments
June 10, 2014
WORDS FROM W.W. June 9, 2014
She greeted us with a smile. The smile arrived shortly after her walker did. Anne was her name, and she had realized quite a while ago that she couldn’t do the gardening, weeding, and outdoor grooming that she had done for decades. So she called us.
Three of our neighborhood churches join volunteer help together on a Saturday in the Fall and a Saturday in the Spring to help some of our neighborhoods out. Most of them are elderly or disabled in some way.
That’s how we met Anne. A door-to-door offer to help with simple tasks around the houses of the community had resulted in her call, so we went.
As our work team trimmed bushes and pulled weeds Anne engaged us in conversation. She leaned on her walker as she pointed out certain things to our crew members.
Sometimes we assume things about the people we meet. We see their inability to do certain things and we take a mental leap in thinking that they were never able to do much of anything.
We may have thought that about Anne, until she began sharing life experiences. She holds a doctorate in education. She is extremely well-read, and familiar enough with current events and politics to debate the person she is talking with.
Life has dealt her some hard blows, including multiple hip surgeries and the inability to stand but just for a few moments.
Perhaps that’s why she was so grateful for our help. Her backyard was filled with numerous kinds of plants, bushes, and flowers, but it was obvious that its glorious seasons had passed. Anne’s sadness about that was easily sensed, but there were new flowers roaming in her yard for a few hours. Some were Presbyterian, some Mennonite, and some American Baptist.
There are people who thank you because it’s the polite thing to do, and then there are people who thank you because they are filled with heart-felt gratitude.
Dr. Anne fell into the later category. We were blessed for having met her.
Categories: Christianity, Community, Faith, Grace, Jesus, love, Story, Teamwork, The Church, Uncategorized
Tags: Community service, helping, neighborhood, serving neighbors
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Words from WW Blog 