Almost There

Well, we are almost there! SNL will be on Mississippi soil in a day or two. I cannot begin to tell you how excited, elated, overjoyed, and as my daughter put it "getting butterflies" we are to have him almost here.

This little blog post is to have you to continue to pray for him, and the men he has served with this last year. Some are coming home to families falling apart and some to spouses diagnosed with life challenging diseases. All of them will have to re-integrate into society again. Their families will have to adjust along side of them as well, when husband and daddy returns.

Although I am primarily concerned with him and his group, the war in Iraq is winding down and many will be coming home to the same situations. Multiple deployments have taken a toll on the family structure that our great nation is built around and as that crumbles so does the very being of who we are.

Specifically pray for patience (on everyone's part), for peace in their spirits, and for their safety as they take these last legs of travel to get home.

Thanks to all of you who have remembered them all this time and have helped in ways that cannot be counted here but will be in eternity.

Country Living

 I have been reading lately on worship and the relevance of our churches. This is not deep but I just thought I would re-post.

I have found that the older I get the more reflective I become. I am not quite sure if that is normal, but that is me nonetheless. This morning I woke up thinking about some of the places I have had the privilege to live. Until I married, all them but one were in the country ( outside city limits for you city folk).

Maybe some of you have heard your parents or at least your grandparents talk about the simpler way of life or the good old days. Growing up in the country is just that type of living. In those days there were many things you didn't have in your community. You didn't have drug problems unless of course you count smoking rabbit tobacco as a drug. It didn't alter you mind but it would burn your insides because it wasn't a processed product but right off the stalk. We didn't roll in paper but made our own corncob pipes from, you guessed it, corn cobs and hollowed out cane.

Another thing you didn't have was a supermarket. Oh, we had a little country store as most communities did that sold gas, and a few staples to tie you over until you could go to town. Today you might call them a convenience store. They always had a big jar on the counter with a pink brine that kept the pig's feet pickled. Yes, lots of folks ate pickled pigs feet, I am not one of them. If you wanted bologna, you would tell the store owner and he go to the cooler and get this big long loaf of bologna and take it the slicer and slice the amount that you wanted. Oh, and gas at his store cost $.32 a gallon. No kidding.

Another thing different was jobs when you were a teenager. Most of us guys, would help on the farms in the community. I remember there were six of us that worked together as a team hauling hay, and unloading feed and seed trucks, and a host of other jobs needed. When it came lunch time we would go the the store, get a pound of bologna and some crackers that we would share. We each would then buy our own quart size RC Cola and have ourselves a feast. The good old days. We were all the best of friends. We would work, play, and hunt together. We would get together and go to town on Friday nights to the movies. The good old days. Not hardly a care in the world.

An important part of all those communities was the church. Many had a couple, maybe a Methodist and a Baptist. Ours, just the Baptist. It was the hub of all that happened in the community. Here we gathered to worship, see friends that we hadn't seen all week, and on many occasions have a dinner on the ground. If you have never had dinner on the ground at a country church, you have missed one of the greatest eating festivals of all time. Everyone would bring their favorite dish and we would place them on tables and then everyone would walk through buffet style and help themselves. MMMMMMMMM good eats. The children would play games and the adults would catch up on things. The good old days.

On occasion, I have the opportunity to revisit some of the places I used to live. In most, the country store is gone. Gas is no longer $.32 a gallon. My friends have moved on to other places. That way of life is slowly being lost in our nation, one family at a time. But there is still one constant in those country communities, THE CHURCH. Yes some have died with their community, but many remain. They are still the focal point of spiritual renewal and fellowship. Like the old country communities, the church where we live plays the same important part of everyday life. Many do not recognize it's importance, but it is important just the same. They are the focal point of spiritual renewal, fellowship, and grounding of everyday life. Without them the basic moral teachings would be lost. Without them many of us would be alone in our spiritual journey.

As you read this, if you do not attend the local church in your community, go. They are not perfect, but there are those there that will become your friends. They will be there for you and show you the one who is perfect and has a perfect love for you.

I don't think being reflective is all bad. It allows us to see where we have been and maybe give us a glimpse of where we are going. It is how we get there that counts.

Intolerant

Intolerant, an adjective, to be unable or unwilling to endure. The first time I remember hearing the word was in the verb form, tolerate. I was in the sixth grade. My “homeroom” teacher was the principle of the elementary school. He would always say “I will not tolerate…..”, or “your… will not be tolerated, that would be some misbehavior on someone’s part. Out came the dictionary so that I would know what in the world he was talking about.That was a big word then.

Today, the word has become a brand to describe everyone who disagrees with your particular social or political agenda. It is used to beat you down and make you cower as soon as the word is tossed into the air. You are to tremble in fear if you are labeled as intolerant. It is used to degrade your opinion or knowledge and is an effort to make them irrelevant.

As a Christian, I have learned that we should be intolerant of sin. I have also learned that sin wants to be tolerated. Truth shows sin as it is. Sin seeks to redefine truth. God's Word, the Bible, is the truth that reveals that sin, whether through the words of the prophets of the Old Testament, or from the Gospels of the New Testament recording the words of Jesus. Sin viewed in this light is clearly seen, personal or societal.

Sin, individual or group, is not new in a society. From the fall of man to today's social agendas sin has worked to be acceptable. It has found ways and will continue to chip away at the moral fiber of our churches and the nation. Will we (I) continue to stand aside and watch as we flush ourselves down the toilet, or will we gain a backbone and stand against the assault, with the Truth, the real Truth.

I have found that being intolerant, in light of The Truth, a correct action and in that light  will accept being called intolerant as a compliment.

First Grade

Today my oldest grandson registered for the first grade. This is a huge deal. Kindergarten was big but this is really big.

I remember my first day, uh hum, 50 years ago. It was at Main Street Elementary school in Yazoo City Mississippi. I don't remember my teachers name because we moved during the Christmas break to a new town. What I do remember about that first semester, was my attempted escape from the school. I don't remember the circumstances but I remember getting to the outside door before I was captured and returned to my cell.... classroom.

We moved to Clarksdale, MS where I again enrolled in my first day in the first grade. My teacher there was Mrs. Jones. She was a great teacher and I can remember her well. Many years later I met her daughter who was attending Mississippi College.

It was in Mrs. Jones class that I met a boy that joined up a day after me. We instantly became inseparable friends for the next three years. That is when we moved again. I wish I could remember the names of all the kids then. I would Google them or see if they were on Facebook. But too many years have passed since those innocent days.

I remember the big fat pencils that you could really hurt someone with if you bopped them on the head. I remember the tablets with the lines and that dotted line so you could learn upper and lower case letters. I remember learning to read, "See Jane Run". I remember we had our own bathroom in the classroom so we didn't have to go down the hall and... escape. Later I wondered if they had them there because many of us were still not quite potty trained. Not me but some. I remember recess on the playground with swings, slides, monkey bars, chase, red rover, football and some crying. A few years ago I had the opportunity to go by that old school again. I looked through the door down the halls. The principle's office is still by the front door. The play ground is still there but more "safe" and in my minds eye I could still see us playing all those games.

Today made me think of Mrs. Jones and how she guided me that first year. She was stern but caring and I hope I will never forget  her.

 I learned today that Cayden's first grade teacher is a Mrs. Jones. I hope she can make the same impression on him as my Mrs. Jones did on me. If so, he will be alright.