My previous blog espoused the theory that organization was the key to productivity and also a promise that I would resume my daily/weekly blog. I checked the dates and as of today it has been 6 weeks since I posted anything at all. So, what happened?
Now I must come up with all kinds of excuses to justify my failure to organize and keep my word. Of course there were the holidays. I spent 2 weeks with my boys and their families. That was a great time. It was a very special time as well. The grandkids are growing up and each trip is an adventure; new things to learn about them, stories about their latest escapades, and lots of hugs, laughter, and fun. Then of course there was the dreaded “crud.” I am beginning my 6th week and the fifth round of antibiotics. Yep, you heard right. So, I guess that explains what happened.
Even though the last few weeks have been kind of tough, physically, the time spent with family and friends made the trip a lot easier and enjoyable. God is a good God. He provides what we need when we need it, even in the midst of the hard times. Just like He did those many years ago in Bethlehem. God provided what we needed in the hard times. Thank you, Lord.
Grams
The highway ran right down the middle of the pecan grove, straight as an arrow with only an occasional hill. If there were ever a road that invited drag racing, this was it. And the invitation was accepted just about every weekend. However, there was one hitch. It was a public roadway, other vehicles traveled that road, and it was frequently patrolled. But, those factors would never deter a bunch of south Georgia boys.
On this particular night, a sizable number of Tift County high school boys were at the pecan grove, or it seemed that way. Cars, but mostly trucks, were pulled onto the side of the road so their head lights could light up the “drag strip.” Now, every race needed someone to start the race, so that was Brian’s job. Good move on his part.
The cars were lined up, with motors racing, and Brian standing between them. When he dropped his arms, the race would officially begin. Suddenly, without warning, kids began running to their vehicles and tearing out of there. The two racers backed around and headed toward home. Brian had not heard the sirens, but by the time the sheriff’s car lights topped the hill he’d figured it out. But there was no place to run. There he stood in the spotlight.
Brian walked to his truck and waited for the sheriff. The sheriff asked the usual questions and then asked, “Son, you been racing?” “No, sir, I haven’t.” The sheriff gave him a knowing look and said, “Go on; get out of here and don’t let me catch you out here again.”
I learned of this several years later, long after he was too old and too big for me to discipline. Did he heed the sheriff’s advice? I really don’t know, but I doubt the sheriff’s visit completely stopped the weekend drag races. I bet they’re still going on.
Grams
“Oh, that my people would listen to me, that Israel would walk in my ways! I would soon subdue their enemies and turn my hand against their foes. Those who hate the LORD would cringe toward him, and their fate would last forever. But he would feed you with the finest of the wheat, and with honey from the rock I would satisfy you” (Psalm 81:13-16).
Those verses were part of my devotion this morning. All through the day, I’ve returned to these verses. I want to see all God has for me before moving on to other Scriptures.
When people refer to confession and repentance for God’s people and a way back to Him, they usually go to 2 Chronicles 7:14. Here we have basically the same thing stated again.
God tells us that if we will listen then He will subdue our enemies and turn our foes away from us. Even those who hate God will cringe before Him and will receive no reprieve, not ever. What a simple request–just listen. What is so hard about that? Simply listen to what God says.
You see, the problem goes beyond the act of listening; one is to act upon what he or she has heard. Now, that’s the hard part. You know why? That means you will have to change; change what you think, what you do, where you go, who you hang around with, and how you treat other people, especially Jesus, God’s Son. And we just don’t want to do that, now do we? I mean, change.
Change is hard; it requires effort. It calls for a person to look beyond himself and consider how his life impacts the lives of others, either good or bad. And we just like our lives the way they are. We’ve carved out this little niche for ourselves, gotten things like we want them, and we certainly don’t want someone messing things up.
But consider what God has promised us just for listening. He will feed us with the best of the best and completely satisfy us. Do you have the very best there is right now? Are you completely satisfied with your life as it is this very moment? Then maybe you should consider a change. Maybe you should start listening. Things can only get better.
Grams
The man we rented from had put a sow with some little pigs in the pasture next to our house. That was the biggest pig I’d ever seen. I’m not sure why they were separated from his other pigs, but there they were.
One Saturday morning I looked out the front door and the pigs had gotten out. Somehow the mother pig and her piglets had gotten through the fence and were roaming around our yard. I knew they needed to be back inside the fence but I had very little experience with pigs; actually, no experience. So, what were we going to do? Surely we could get a momma pig and her babies back inside the fence. I called Brian and Chris.
We all got out in the yard and tried to round them up and head them toward the gap in the fence. Just about the time we thought we’d made it, one of the pigs would decide to check out something in another part of the yard. While we were getting that one started back toward the others, another one would get loose. Finally, the old sow was back inside the fence and the little ones were making their way toward her. Once inside, then we would shore up the hole in the fence so they couldn’t get out again.
We had been at this for the most part of an hour when the last little pig started across the gap in the fence. Out of frustration Brian put his foot under the pig and lifted him across into the pasture. Now, that was the wrong thing to do. That ole momma pig gave a snort and out through that hole she came, right in behind Brian. She had eyes for no one but Brian.
Brian took off running with that ole sow close on his heels. Chris and I were laughing so hard we could barely hear Brian’s calls for help. After about three laps around the house, Brian hollered, “Mom, bring me a hoe or a shovel. Anything the stop this pig.” I sent Chris for the hoe, handed it to Brian as he came past me, and watched as he turned on the sow. Threatening her with the hoe, he gradually headed her back through the fence to where her piglets waited for her.
While he was fixing the fence, Brian glared at me. “I don’t see what was so funny. How’d you like to have a mad momma pig chasing you around the house?” I was still laughing. I’d heard people talk about being as mad as an ole wet hen. I didn’t know if this was the same sort of thing, but I can’t imagine a wet hen being any more annoyed with someone than that ole sow was with Brian that morning.
Grams
Brian, Chris, and I were all in school at Free Will Baptist Bible College at the same time. Chris and I lived on the second floor of what is now President Pinson’s home, behind the boys’ dorm. Brian lived in the dorm. Naturally, we saw quite a bit of each other.
Brian was walking toward me and I could tell he was upset. Well, that’s not exactly the word for it. He was furious. I’d better see what this was about, so I stopped to wait on him. When he got even with me, I asked what was wrong. Seemed to me like he was late for class. He replied through clinched teeth, “Yes, I’m late because of a bird.” He turned and pointed to some wires that stretched across the drive right where everyone had to walk. “Just about the time I got under those wires, a bird decided to bomb me, right in the top of the head. So, I had to go back to the dorm and wash my hair. Then no sooner had I gotten back to the exact same spot, I got bombed again. So, I’m just now getting back from my third hair washing for today.”
I grinned and then I laughed. Wrong thing to do! “Mom, it’s not funny. I have missed my first period class and what kind of excuse am I going to give?” All I could advise him was to tell what happened. It was so far-fetched I’m sure his professor would never believe he was making that up. With that he walked off, fuming that the day was probably going to go downhill for sure.
I grinned again and I’m grinning now. Sometimes I miss that thick mane of hair. Oh well, the army took care of that for sure.
Grams
On this night the community center was open for local talent, singers and musicians, to perform. Billy’s country music band was going to play. The night was hot and humid, just like late June or early July evenings are supposed to be in Mississippi. People grouped together, laughing and talking, enjoying time together. Some even listened to the music, but mostly folks just liked getting together.
All of this made for a good time, unless you happened to be eight months pregnant with an excited five year old who refused to stay where you put him. Billy’s mother had offered to help me with Brian that evening so I could go. Her help proved invaluable. Between the two of us surely we could keep a small boy corralled. What were we thinking?
About half way through the program, Billy’s mother told me she couldn’t find Brian. So the search began. We checked every place we knew to look, even asking some men to check the men’s restrooms. No Brian. By this time people were walking the halls and the grounds in search of Billy and Dianne’s boy.
Mrs. Sargent and I were standing just outside the door to the community center when we heard a snicker. Wait a minute! That was coming from above us. As we both looked up, Brian’s straw-colored hair peered over the edge of the roof. “Brian, what are you doing up there? How did you get up there?” The questions just poured. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Can you get down?” “Oh sure, Mom. See!” And down he came. The building was made from block and brick. At the corner of the building, the bricks stuck out in a crisscross pattern, making perfect little places for a boy’s foot. Brian had climbed up to the roof, using these bricks as stepping stones.
When he reached the ground, Brian darted into the building and headed straight for the men’s room. I looked at Mrs. Sargent and she was boiling. She told me between clinched teeth, “You wait here. I’m getting that young man.” Somehow she managed to get him out of the men’s room. That night as we drove home, she shook her head, and said, “Boy, I’ve never seen a kid yet that could outdo me, but tonight was close to being the first.”
Grams
What is that noise? Sounds like one of the kids. They knew not to wake me. I’d worked from 6 p.m. until 6 a.m. the night before and needed to rest. I heard Brian tell Chris not to wake me. “Chris, please don’t wake momma. She’ll bring the alcohol.” About that time my bedroom door opened with a bang. “Mom,” Chris yelled, “Brian’s hurt.” “What’s wrong with him? What happened?” “He fell out of a tree.” Now I’m wide awake.
I headed for the front door. There Brian sat on the edge of the porch, his legs sticking straight out in front of him. When I got to where I could see the damage, he looked like he’d been peeled from head to toe. Dressed only in cut-off jeans, there was hardly any place that did not have a scratch, bruise, or cut. Tears rolled down his face, dripped onto his chest, and continued their journey, leaving tracks in the dirt on his belly.
“Son, what have you done? How did you get hurt like this?” He looked up at me and through the tears he said, “I was after a lizard.” “A lizard?” “Yes, Ma’am.” Sure enough, still clutched in his hand was a green lizard. The tail moved, so it was still alive. “Well, Brian, how did you fall?” He pointed to a tree at the edge of the yard. “I climbed up that tree after him and when I started back down, every limb I stepped on broke with me. I fell down through the tree, sliding all the way down the trunk. But I got the lizard.”
“You know I’ve got to clean these cuts and scratches, don’t you?” “Yes, Ma’am, I know.” I turned to tell Chris to get the alcohol, but he already had it, cotton balls and all. As gently as I could, I swabbed all the cuts and scratches and put band aids were needed.
I got him inside; mother fixed a hot lunch and then he piled up on the couch. Soon he was asleep. Now if I could get back to sleep.
Grams
Dinner was the time of the day when we all were together, a time for everyone to tell what they had done that day or what had happened to them during the day. There was no prescribed order; just general conversation around the table, laughing about some things and asking questions about other things. Now there’s six years between the ages of my sons, so the conversation could include anything and it usually did.
Chris looked across the table at me and said, “Mom, how fast have you ever been in a car?” I answered him back, “Oh, close to a hundred miles an hour one time with your dad.” I knew there was something else behind that question, so I asked him, “How fast have you ever been in a car?” He grinned really big and said, “164 miles an hour.” All of a sudden everything got really quiet.
I looked around at Brian and he was just sitting there trying to act like he hadn’t heard what Chris said. I turned back to Chris, “When were you in a car going that fast and who were you with?” Brian was squirming now. Then there were sounds coming from underneath the table. Brian was trying to kick Chris to be quiet, but it was too late.
Chris proceeded to tell me about his ride with Brian and one of his buddies who was driving a race car he and his dad had been working on. Brian chimed in with, “We were just testing out the motor to see if it was fixed. We didn’t go that fast very long and then we went back to the shop.” While Brian glared at Chris I proved myself a faithful parent and gave the expected lecture about not driving like that, how unsafe it was, and particularly when you’ve got your younger brother with you. If I were a judge of older brothers there would be no more rides for the younger brother. That turned out to be true, at least for a while.
Grams
I pulled into the driveway. Mom and the boys were sitting on the front porch. Even though it was a hot summer day, there was a slight breeze blowing. Brian sat on the edge of the porch. When I walked up to him I realized his cut-offs were soaked. Sweat trailed down his belly, leaving tracks. His breath was coming in gasps. “Son, what’s wrong? What have you been doing?” He looked up at me with a strange glint in his eyes. “See that rabbit over there?” I looked in the direction he pointed. A large rabbit sat just in the edge of our yard, looking back at me. “Yeah. So?” “I aim to catch him.”
Did I hear him right? “Son, you can’t catch that rabbit. I don’t care how fast or sneaky you think you are, you will never catch that rabbit.” Brian took another deep breath and said, “You just watch me.” I just shook my head and went on in the house. It was time to start dinner. Ever so often I’d look out the door or window to see Brian run past as he chased in behind that old rabbit. Just about the time Brian would get close to him, the rabbit would hop a few feet, staying just beyond his reach. He’d just sit there looking back at Brian who, undaunted in his pursuit, continued to chase after him.
About an hour later I called Brian in to dinner. After the blessing I asked him, “Son, did you ever catch that rabbit”? “No,” he answered. “Not yet, but I will.” I had to admire his determination, however unguided it might be.
Did he ever catch that rabbit? What do you think?
Grams
It had been a good day. Christmas usually is that kind of day. Gifts had been exchanged and opened, the wrapping paper picked up, and the family was sitting around just enjoying being together. Soon it would be time to sit down to the family Christmas meal. Sometimes I think that’s the most enjoyable time of the holidays. There’s something about eating together that brings people closer, makes the time together special.
Then there is the one gift that just makes your day. It may be something you’ve wanted but just never got around to getting for yourself. The gift might even be a family heirloom, something passed on at this time because it was just the right time in your life to receive it. Whatever the gift may be or the reason for receiving it, that one gift absolutely made this Christmas especially memorable for you.
This particular Christmas, Brian was 4 years old. Why they did it, I’m not really sure, but my parents, his Mawmaw and Poppa gave Brian a Timex watch. I can tell you that a Timex watch was not on his Christmas wish list.
The adults were sitting around talking and Brian was playing with his gifts. Somewhere in all the activity, Brian went outside. Now that was not unusual for him so no one took notice of it. Then the front door opens and Brian walks in holding his new watch up by the band. He looked at me and said, “That man lied.” I could only stare in consternation. The watch no longer looked like a watch. What had been a usable timepiece was now only a twisted piece of metal. “What did you do?” Brian looked at me out of the most innocent looking blue eyes and said, “That man on TV said it could take a licking and keep on ticking. But he lied.”
Well, there was nothing to say. He had smashed the watch between two rocks; no, it did not keep on ticking. His Mawmaw informed him she would never buy him another watch. To my recollection, she kept that promise.
Grams