Today was the Christmas party at work. Not many people were there anyway, but people did bring lots of food. Just before lunch I was asked to the office and was told that due to cost cutting measures I was being let go. That's right - laid off.
So now I am wondering what God has planned for me. I have a real peace about this though. I believe God is in control and has plans for me which are for good and not for evil - plans for a future and a hope. I know that in Christ I am more than a conqueror, and that I am a royal heir of the Creator of the universe. The glass is way more than half full for me! Not only is the future part of God's plan for me, but so is what happened today - getting laid off.
So on this Christmas Eve Eve, let's focus on the Christ, the Son of the living God. I thought of a new aspect of the Christmas story that relates to my day. I was thinking about how excited Mary must have been to be the "chosen" mother of Jesus, but what kind of face did she make and what did she say when Joseph told her they would have to go to Bethlehem when she was nine months pregnant? It was something totally unexpected that probably wasn't anywhere on her radar. But it was part of God's plan. And how did she feel when she laid her newborn baby in a feeding trough? I bet she felt sad at not being able to lay him in the bed Joseph had been working on. But it was part of God's bigger plan. Am I worried? Not now. And I'll try to not worry a month from now either. What happened today, as well as all that God has planned for my tomorrows, is part of God's good plan for me.
Merry Christmas,
Johnie
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
A Pure Language Once Again
This morning our pastor preached on the Tower of Babel. Not that he was on the tower of Babel, but he preached over the tower of Babel. Not that he was flying over in a plane either, but his topic was the Tower of Babel. There! I hope that didn't confuse anyone! But speaking of confusion, the languages of the world were confused there at the Tower of Babel. God didn't want things to keep going in the direction they were, so he ended the tower's construction by mixing up the languages!
But half-way through the sermon, I remembered a verse that said the world would one day have one language again. It is Zephaniah 3:9, and it says, "For then I will restore to the peoples a pure language, that they all may call on the name of the LORD, to serve Him with one accord." When Christ reigns on the earth, He will restore a common language to His people. It will help unify them as His people in all things, especially in worship.
Praise God for His marvelous plan!
--Johnie
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Anthony Family History, Part 2
I found a note written by my great aunt Valera sharing her memories about my father's mother, Lou Alice Anthony Levell. As I read these letters, I connect more with my past, seeing the more real side to people I've always just thought of as "ancestors". One day, people will see my name on a page and just think of me as "an ancestor" too. That is if they even see my name. I wonder where old blogs go when time has passed by.
Think of all the things you do each day and how little those things will be remembered. I encourage you, and as well I ought to do the same, to print out anything that you type that you really want to remember. Who knows when all the things you send into cyberspace will be deleted by a perfect stranger who is just trying to make more room on a busy and over-taxed server! Everything you've written will be viewed not by its content, but by how much space it takes up. And actually, that's not far from how things have gone for thousands of years.
The elderly die, and there houses must be cleaned out before a week is up because the grown children have to go back to work, often times in another city. Bookshelves full of notebooks and journals and hand-written poems and stories - all are boxed for the auction or thrown in the trash because it would take forever to properly sort through them all. Every now and then one or two tid-bits gets saved and handed down from generation to generation. Well, here is one of those tid-bits written about my grandmother by her sister. Enjoy!
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BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES FOR LOU ALICE ANTHONY LEVELL
Written By: Valera Anthony Tindall
My first remembrance of Lou Alice was the year I was five. I have just a faint memory of anything up until then. That was the year 1922. We had moved from Kemp about 12 or 15 miles out in the country. I remember yet how I enjoyed living at that place. Our house set off the main road a few hundred yards. There was a deep creek that crossed the road and since the mail man passed that way it was necessary to have a good bridge over that creek. Papa and some neighbor men built a good, new bridge there and that was the gathering place for us kids on Sundays to get together and play. Also Lou Alice and Johnie and their friends took a lot of pictures sitting on that bridge. (I wish I had them)
Lou Alice was 15 years older that year and that was courting age. One of the boys in the community started calling on her. She was real pretty. With such blue eyes, wavy brown hair, very out-going but of a quiet nature, and I loved her very much.
This young man was several years older than Lou Alice. I think he wanted to marry her but she discouraged him. She had a date with him one Sunday evening and Mama & Papa made us kids stay outside and play. Everybody was very formal in those days.
We couldn't go in while they were courting. That young man spent the whole evening with her. Ree was 8 years old and full of mischief. She got tired staying outside and slipped into the house. She went into the room through a door to his back and crawled very quietly under the bed. She was right behind his chair where she could reach out and pretend she was going to pinch his legs. Lou Alice got tickled, but pretended to be laughing at their conversation. I don't know if Papa and Mama ever found out about that or not.
Beside the big house we lived in was a small two-room house with an up-stairs. Papa kept hay and peanuts in the upper room. That was also our play house. We would go up stairs and hold our meetings or play school. I remember one Sunday evening we were having a church service and Johnie was the preacher. He started calling for mourners. We all got up to go to the mourners bench and Ree bumped her head. She really did start crying and was fixing to turn and go to the house, but Johnie and Lou Alice said "no" go on. That's good, 'cause you are supposed to cry anyway.
That fall when crops were gathered we moved from that place a couple of miles and a family by the name of Levell moved in. There was several boys and some girls. They all got acquainted and it wasn't long until one of the boys became "smitten" by Lou Alice. He turned out to be Oather. She fell in love with him right away too. And before long they became engaged. That broke my heart because I was really foolish about her, and she was my sleeping mate. Cayce & I both cried at the thought of her getting married and leaving us.
Mama had a lot of pretty sun flowers that year and Lou Alice would stand among them and count off each petal -- "this year, next year." She said which ever it ended on told when she would marry. Each time it would end on "this year." She would become estatic and I would be heart broken. So they really did marry that year and she moved back to the place she had moved from just the year before.
Lou Alice had a beautiful voice. She sang a love song called "Tommy Don't Go." Another one called "The Great Divide, " was very popular in those days. It went something like this -- "Away out on the breast of the wonderful west, Across the great divide. With someone like you a pal good and true, I like to leave it all behind and go and find, A place that's known to God alone, Just a spot to call our own. We will build a little nest, Somewhere way in the west and let the rest of the world go by." She sang those love songs with Oather in her heart and mind. Their love for each other was very special and few people are blessed to find a love such as their's was.
Oather came courting Lou Alice in a Model "T" Ford. It didn't have a top. That is the first car I remember except our mail carrier. On Sunday evening he took Lou Alice for a drive. But he brought his widowed sister Rosa along that time for it was not proper for her to go off alone with him. I remember Rosa sat in the front seat between them even. After Oather and Lou Alice were married that summer -- in July I think, they came to visit us in that Model "T". Us kids could hardly wait for the weekend. Cayce and I would pretend we were Oather and Lou Alice and we would sit out in the car till it got so dark we were afraid to stay out any longer.
That fall they moved into a house of their own just around the curve from his family. They lived there several years and that's where you children were born, except Helen. Cayce and I spent a lot of time with them and that's when I met Leona. We were about the same age and so we would plan to visit them at the same time. Lou Alice had a lot of patience to allow us to spend so much time with them.
I was spending a week with them once and Oather went to Kemp that Saturday. He came home with the prettiest pink veil dress for Lou Alice. It was too large (She was about size 8) and he had to take it back.
Lou Alice had two little pet Bantams she was crazy about. Oather sold them to someone who was looking for Bantam chickens. When he told her, she broke down and cried. He was so sorry and promised to get her some more. I remember how he tenderly held her in his arms. She wasn't angry just sad. I never remember them being angry at each other.
I remember the Tabernacle across the field from where we lived. In the summer during their protracted meetings, we could sit on our front porch and hear the beautiful singing. A couple of songs I still seem to hear Lou Alice sing. One was "I was sinking deep in Sin." The other one was "Higher Ground." It went like this -- "Lord, lift me up and let me stand, by faith on Heaven's stable land, a higher plain than I have found, Lord, plant my feet on higher ground." She sang it with so much feeling I believe I could, at my young age, detect the seriousness she felt. I believe she helped to inspire my love for singing. I learned to pick up tunes easily from hearing her sing.
Lou Alice worked hard. In less than four years after she was married, she had her third baby. But she never complained. Just to be by Oather's side was heaven to her.
In the fall of 1927 our good times ended. That fall, the Levell family all moved back to Hubbard, and Papa had rented a place at Eustace. I don't remember for sure but I think they all stopped at our house the night they left. I can remember Maud and Opal kissing Papa good-bye and said he looked so much like their own Daddy, who had died about a year earlier. We were all so sad about being separated.
We didn't see Lou Alice again till the next summer of 1928. Lou Alice & Oather came for a visit. You children had grown so much and what a thrill it was for all of us to be together again, except for the fact Little Jack had just passed away a few weeks earlier. Poor Lou Alice, only 21 years old and so much living crowded into her short life. We never saw her again. "As I write this the tears are falling, and my throat is choking." The beautiful memory I have of her will last forever. She died the next year 1929.
She wrote us often before she died and sent pictures so we could see how fast the children were growing. They were planning to visit us that summer again. They were anxious for us to see the new baby girl (Helen). But Lou Alice became real sick. They sent for Papa. We were all heart broken. He said she told him she wanted to go home.
You children had a wonderful Mother and Father. They were beautiful inside. I wish you could have known your Mother too, but it was not God's will. Someday though you will understand and be satisfied. Then you will all be re-united and can shout together, for God has truly planted her feet on Higher Ground.
(Valera Anthony Tindall)
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I can't imagine how hard that must have been on my father's family with his mom dying so young. By the way, I was named after my father's father, Johnie Oather Levell.
--Johnie
Think of all the things you do each day and how little those things will be remembered. I encourage you, and as well I ought to do the same, to print out anything that you type that you really want to remember. Who knows when all the things you send into cyberspace will be deleted by a perfect stranger who is just trying to make more room on a busy and over-taxed server! Everything you've written will be viewed not by its content, but by how much space it takes up. And actually, that's not far from how things have gone for thousands of years.
The elderly die, and there houses must be cleaned out before a week is up because the grown children have to go back to work, often times in another city. Bookshelves full of notebooks and journals and hand-written poems and stories - all are boxed for the auction or thrown in the trash because it would take forever to properly sort through them all. Every now and then one or two tid-bits gets saved and handed down from generation to generation. Well, here is one of those tid-bits written about my grandmother by her sister. Enjoy!
--------------------------------------------------------------
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES FOR LOU ALICE ANTHONY LEVELL
Written By: Valera Anthony Tindall
My first remembrance of Lou Alice was the year I was five. I have just a faint memory of anything up until then. That was the year 1922. We had moved from Kemp about 12 or 15 miles out in the country. I remember yet how I enjoyed living at that place. Our house set off the main road a few hundred yards. There was a deep creek that crossed the road and since the mail man passed that way it was necessary to have a good bridge over that creek. Papa and some neighbor men built a good, new bridge there and that was the gathering place for us kids on Sundays to get together and play. Also Lou Alice and Johnie and their friends took a lot of pictures sitting on that bridge. (I wish I had them)
Lou Alice was 15 years older that year and that was courting age. One of the boys in the community started calling on her. She was real pretty. With such blue eyes, wavy brown hair, very out-going but of a quiet nature, and I loved her very much.
This young man was several years older than Lou Alice. I think he wanted to marry her but she discouraged him. She had a date with him one Sunday evening and Mama & Papa made us kids stay outside and play. Everybody was very formal in those days.
We couldn't go in while they were courting. That young man spent the whole evening with her. Ree was 8 years old and full of mischief. She got tired staying outside and slipped into the house. She went into the room through a door to his back and crawled very quietly under the bed. She was right behind his chair where she could reach out and pretend she was going to pinch his legs. Lou Alice got tickled, but pretended to be laughing at their conversation. I don't know if Papa and Mama ever found out about that or not.
Beside the big house we lived in was a small two-room house with an up-stairs. Papa kept hay and peanuts in the upper room. That was also our play house. We would go up stairs and hold our meetings or play school. I remember one Sunday evening we were having a church service and Johnie was the preacher. He started calling for mourners. We all got up to go to the mourners bench and Ree bumped her head. She really did start crying and was fixing to turn and go to the house, but Johnie and Lou Alice said "no" go on. That's good, 'cause you are supposed to cry anyway.
That fall when crops were gathered we moved from that place a couple of miles and a family by the name of Levell moved in. There was several boys and some girls. They all got acquainted and it wasn't long until one of the boys became "smitten" by Lou Alice. He turned out to be Oather. She fell in love with him right away too. And before long they became engaged. That broke my heart because I was really foolish about her, and she was my sleeping mate. Cayce & I both cried at the thought of her getting married and leaving us.
Mama had a lot of pretty sun flowers that year and Lou Alice would stand among them and count off each petal -- "this year, next year." She said which ever it ended on told when she would marry. Each time it would end on "this year." She would become estatic and I would be heart broken. So they really did marry that year and she moved back to the place she had moved from just the year before.
Lou Alice had a beautiful voice. She sang a love song called "Tommy Don't Go." Another one called "The Great Divide, " was very popular in those days. It went something like this -- "Away out on the breast of the wonderful west, Across the great divide. With someone like you a pal good and true, I like to leave it all behind and go and find, A place that's known to God alone, Just a spot to call our own. We will build a little nest, Somewhere way in the west and let the rest of the world go by." She sang those love songs with Oather in her heart and mind. Their love for each other was very special and few people are blessed to find a love such as their's was.
Oather came courting Lou Alice in a Model "T" Ford. It didn't have a top. That is the first car I remember except our mail carrier. On Sunday evening he took Lou Alice for a drive. But he brought his widowed sister Rosa along that time for it was not proper for her to go off alone with him. I remember Rosa sat in the front seat between them even. After Oather and Lou Alice were married that summer -- in July I think, they came to visit us in that Model "T". Us kids could hardly wait for the weekend. Cayce and I would pretend we were Oather and Lou Alice and we would sit out in the car till it got so dark we were afraid to stay out any longer.
That fall they moved into a house of their own just around the curve from his family. They lived there several years and that's where you children were born, except Helen. Cayce and I spent a lot of time with them and that's when I met Leona. We were about the same age and so we would plan to visit them at the same time. Lou Alice had a lot of patience to allow us to spend so much time with them.
I was spending a week with them once and Oather went to Kemp that Saturday. He came home with the prettiest pink veil dress for Lou Alice. It was too large (She was about size 8) and he had to take it back.
Lou Alice had two little pet Bantams she was crazy about. Oather sold them to someone who was looking for Bantam chickens. When he told her, she broke down and cried. He was so sorry and promised to get her some more. I remember how he tenderly held her in his arms. She wasn't angry just sad. I never remember them being angry at each other.
I remember the Tabernacle across the field from where we lived. In the summer during their protracted meetings, we could sit on our front porch and hear the beautiful singing. A couple of songs I still seem to hear Lou Alice sing. One was "I was sinking deep in Sin." The other one was "Higher Ground." It went like this -- "Lord, lift me up and let me stand, by faith on Heaven's stable land, a higher plain than I have found, Lord, plant my feet on higher ground." She sang it with so much feeling I believe I could, at my young age, detect the seriousness she felt. I believe she helped to inspire my love for singing. I learned to pick up tunes easily from hearing her sing.
Lou Alice worked hard. In less than four years after she was married, she had her third baby. But she never complained. Just to be by Oather's side was heaven to her.
In the fall of 1927 our good times ended. That fall, the Levell family all moved back to Hubbard, and Papa had rented a place at Eustace. I don't remember for sure but I think they all stopped at our house the night they left. I can remember Maud and Opal kissing Papa good-bye and said he looked so much like their own Daddy, who had died about a year earlier. We were all so sad about being separated.
We didn't see Lou Alice again till the next summer of 1928. Lou Alice & Oather came for a visit. You children had grown so much and what a thrill it was for all of us to be together again, except for the fact Little Jack had just passed away a few weeks earlier. Poor Lou Alice, only 21 years old and so much living crowded into her short life. We never saw her again. "As I write this the tears are falling, and my throat is choking." The beautiful memory I have of her will last forever. She died the next year 1929.
She wrote us often before she died and sent pictures so we could see how fast the children were growing. They were planning to visit us that summer again. They were anxious for us to see the new baby girl (Helen). But Lou Alice became real sick. They sent for Papa. We were all heart broken. He said she told him she wanted to go home.
You children had a wonderful Mother and Father. They were beautiful inside. I wish you could have known your Mother too, but it was not God's will. Someday though you will understand and be satisfied. Then you will all be re-united and can shout together, for God has truly planted her feet on Higher Ground.
(Valera Anthony Tindall)
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I can't imagine how hard that must have been on my father's family with his mom dying so young. By the way, I was named after my father's father, Johnie Oather Levell.
--Johnie
Friday, November 27, 2009
The Killing Section
I have been reading the book of 2nd Kings at night with the kids and right now I would say we have been in the killing section. It is about how Ahab's family got wiped out for disobeying God and encouraging Baal worshipping in Israel. Last night we read how Jehu killed Ahaziah's 42 brothers and then killed all the Baal worshippers by calling them all together for "a great sacrifice" to Baal.
It wasn't too long ago that he had commanded Ahab's 70 sons be beheaded, and he stacked there heads in 2 heaps by the city gates. And it seems like only yesterday that Jezebel (Ahab's wife) was throw out the window and eaten by dogs. Well, we read of Jehu's death last night and I can't remember what comes next, but I have to keep telling the kids "no" when they want to act out the story! I mean what would we play: Okay, now you be Jehu and kill everybody! Then we'll each take turns! I mean the questions I've been asking the kids are pretty gory anyway. Stuff like, what was left of Jezebel? Who got shot through the heart?
The bottom line is that God hated sin, and loved Israel, and would command such things so that His people would turn back to Him and serve Him. The Creator of all things is jealous of our affections. It is a sobering reminder of how jealous He is and of where our affections lie. He wants my whole heart, not just my Sunday morning heart. Not just my "squeeze you into my busy schedule" heart.
Even though we are learning a lot about the kings of Judah and Israel, Christmas is coming up. I think I'll replace reading 2nd Kings with our advent readings through December. Everything has its season, even 2nd Kings. I just want focus on Jesus' amazing birth and God's amazing plan of redemption!
--Johnie
It wasn't too long ago that he had commanded Ahab's 70 sons be beheaded, and he stacked there heads in 2 heaps by the city gates. And it seems like only yesterday that Jezebel (Ahab's wife) was throw out the window and eaten by dogs. Well, we read of Jehu's death last night and I can't remember what comes next, but I have to keep telling the kids "no" when they want to act out the story! I mean what would we play: Okay, now you be Jehu and kill everybody! Then we'll each take turns! I mean the questions I've been asking the kids are pretty gory anyway. Stuff like, what was left of Jezebel? Who got shot through the heart?
The bottom line is that God hated sin, and loved Israel, and would command such things so that His people would turn back to Him and serve Him. The Creator of all things is jealous of our affections. It is a sobering reminder of how jealous He is and of where our affections lie. He wants my whole heart, not just my Sunday morning heart. Not just my "squeeze you into my busy schedule" heart.
Even though we are learning a lot about the kings of Judah and Israel, Christmas is coming up. I think I'll replace reading 2nd Kings with our advent readings through December. Everything has its season, even 2nd Kings. I just want focus on Jesus' amazing birth and God's amazing plan of redemption!
--Johnie
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Anthony Family History, Part 1
I have so much family history stuff on our shelves! It came to my attention that a lot of people that read this blog also would like to know it. What I'm about to write is not from me, but from Phyllis Price Terry Maynor about her grandpa George Washington Anthony. He married Ollie Elizabeth Spurgen and they had six children, one of which was Lou Alice Anthony. She was my father's mother. So enjoy these memories of some distant cousin recalling the life of George Washington Anthony.
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MEMORIES OF GRANDPA ANTHONY
Written by: Phyllis Price Terry Maynor about George Washington Anthony
When I was a little girl I took Grandpa for granted. I unknowingly assumed that all Grandpas were loving and kind and could fix just about anything. When I got to be a teenager I thought Grandpa was so old fashioned and square (which he was, thank God). When I was twenty, grandpa went on to be with the Lord. Now that I am 51, I remember my Grandpa as just about the most perfect man who ever lived. How I wish I had had the wisdom to have listened to him more because he was a walking treasury of knowledge and understanding.
We always lived with my Grandparents or very near them when I was a little girl. How our lives were enriched by them and we were not even aware of it at the time.
I remember Grandpa carrying me around in his arms when I was little and picking mulberries off the trees around our house. How I loved them! Then we moved away from that place when I was six and I never had mulberries again in all these years until this year when I found a tree growing on the country estate that my husband Jimmy and I just bought and built on last year. I found the tree as I was making my Spring rounds looking for birds and their nests (I am absolutely wild about birds and anything to do with nature, thanks, I believe, to grandpa's blood coursing through my veins). Well I found a tree just loaded with green mulberries. I had no idea how long it would take for them to ripen, but I watched it closely and in two or three weeks the mulberries had turned from green to red to black. I picked the first one and with anticipation put it into my mouth. Surely enough, it tasted exactly the same as those Grandpa fed to me so many years ago. I had forgotten the taste. But it all came back to me with such an overwhelming joy. Thank you, Grandpa, for teaching me about the joys of nature.
Grandpa went to the woods and cut white oak splits and made baskets--all sizes and shapes. He made little ones to give to us kids, and bigger ones for Mother and Mama (our name for Grandmother). And he made real big ones to use at the barn for corn and cotton and such things. He made baskets for friends, too.
And Grandpa had a workshop that he had built and it was such a delightful place to look at (but not touch). In it were a home-made firebox and bellows. I've seen him so many times build a fire in the firebox and blow on it with the bellows until the coals were almost white hot. Then he would put in a plow or other metal farming instrument. When it was red hot he would bend it to whatever shape he was aiming for. Then when it was just like he wanted it he would douse it in cold water.
In the shop, too, was an iron anvil, and a homemade press (I think he had another name for it) where he pressed the twisted plugs of tobacco that he had grown himself. I guess his only vice was a love for chewing tobacco and snuff. I never thought of it as wrong, though. And he had shoe lasts, which he used to repair the family shoes. There was a different last for each size shoe. They were iron too, and were interchangeable on an iron post of some sort that held them stationary while he slipped a shoe over one and repaired it.
(This is Johnie talking for a minute. I have some old family tools and I may just have one or two of those shoe lasts that she is talking about. If they weren't his, then they were from approximately the same time period. Now back to the story.)
Grandpa had very nice handwriting and he could draw quite well, too. Once when I was about twelve he drew and colored with crayons a country house and gardens for me. Silly me, didn’t realize what it would have meant to me now, and I misplaced it and it was probably thrown out in the trash. No, that's not right, paper trash was not thrown out but saved to light fires with. How it twists my heart now to think that precious work of Grandpa's probably was burned on a cold winter morning.
And Grandpa could sing and play a fiddle. He knew how to read notes and sing "old harp". Mama could sing, too, and she played the guitar. They did not have music in their churches, but they really loved music at home. In their Church, which was Primitive Baptist, also known as Hardshell, they often sang the notes of the songs rather than the words. I can just hear them now, the church full of them singing, "Do, re, mi, mi, do, re, fa, fa, la, ti, do", and the parts harmonizing.
Grandpa loved his Church. He loved his Bible. and he loved the Lord. Until his eyesight became so poor in his later years, he spent much, much time studying the Bible. He could quote so much scripture. And he had such an understanding of it. He really felt a duty to share his understanding of it with as many people as possible so they would be enlightened, too, concerning the things of the Lord. After Cayce moved away from Europa, Mississippi, to West Point when Grandpa was about 80, Grandpa was not able then to do much work around the place. So EVERY morning, weather permitting, he walked the few blocks to downtown West Point and he would stand on the street corners and stop any man who came by who WOULD stop and question him about his relationship with the Lord. Rarely did he get an answer that was satisfactory to him, so he would proceed then and there to educate that man on the truths of the Word of God. He told us of so many of those encounters. Sometimes he would talk with someone who really appreciated him, but more often his captured audience would be squirming to get away, or would become argumentative, poor thing. It did no good to argue with Grandpa about the Bible because he could out-quote anyone I ever knew. And if he was not able to persuade the other party of his beliefs, he would at the very least so thoroughly confuse him that he was not able to argue at all within a few minutes. Grandpa enjoyed these little daily mini-crusades so very much.
My family lived only one block from the very prestigious First Presbyterian Church. On the Sundays when Mama and Grandpa could come to spend the day with us, often Grandpa would go down to visit with the Presbyterians. He would be wearing clean, but very likely faded, work pants, a clean chambray shirt and suspenders. He would walk down to that church filled with that bunch of high-minded people and he would sit on the front pew. After the choir had sung their selections and the Reverend had delivered his sermon, Grandpa would stand up and ask for a few minutes of their time. Then he would point out to them with all sincerity and gravity the error of their doctrine. He did not do this to embarrass them, but he honestly thought he was doing them a service. He would always be hurt because they were so ungrateful for his services. Finally, after this had happened several times, his physician, Dr. Tom Braddock, who himself a faithful Presbyterian, had a little private talk with Grandpa and explained to him that the Presbyterians were really not unkind people, but they would prefer to just go on in their unenlightened state. Grandpa never went back. Poor Presbyterians.
Grandpa knew all about herbs and their uses. He could always go to the woods and return with a root, or bark or leaf that would help alleviate the the symptoms of whatever malady had attached itself to one of his family. I remember one particular incident when I was about three or four and Joe Boy, being sixteen months younger than myself, was about two or three. Candy, and indeed any sweet, was a rare treat. But Mama, bless her heart, always kept huge quart size bottles of Milk of Magnesia tablets setting around. She took two or three of these tablets after every meal to alleviate a real, or imagined, sour stomach. At some time I had been given one of these tablets and they tasted pretty good to me. (We know now they are very much like peppermint candy). Well, on a particular spring day, right after lunch, when all the men had gone back to the fields and all the ladies had "lain down for their afternoon nap" as was the custom then, I was feeling mischievous (as usual). I spied Mama's Milk of Magnesia setting on the mantle, and I remembered their wonderful taste. So I climbed up on a chair and got the big bottle. Then I invited little Joe Boy to come with me for a little "Phyllis style" tea party. I must have known that I was misbehaving, because I led us out the back door and under the high back porch. There we sat ourselves down around our little imaginary tea table and I poured Joe Boy a bottle-cap full of the candy-tasting tablets. He ate them gleefully, then I treated myself with a capful. I graciously served him again, then myself again; and this went on I don't know how long. By and by, the ladies of the house (Mother, Mama and Aunt Valera--we all lived in the same big house) awakened from their siesta and looked around for their little charges. I heard them calling, but kept quiet as a mouse. I expect I knew a spanking was coming shortly. Well, they finally found us under the porch with the incriminating empty Milk of Magnesia tablet bottle. I don't remember getting that much-deserved spanking for they were all so mortified that we might be quite ill from partaking of so much of the medicine. Grandpa was summoned, and I remember he went right away to the woods and came back shortly with a bitter tasting root (I believe it was Calamus) that completely nullified all the joys of the former merrymaking. It was awful, but other than a few hurried trips to the outdoor toilet for the next couple of days, we were not the worse for our adventure.
My Mother told us that when she was growing up Mama and Grandpa were good and loved them, but very strict. She was not allowed to dress in the latest styles (of the 20's), and even though she was a star basketball player for her High school, she was not allowed to play in the revealing short uniforms the rest of the team wore. Mother had to play in a dress, because Mama and Grandpa believed in modesty. Mother began to raise her own children in much the same manner. Ah, but she had not counted on the recalcitrant Phyllis. I wanted to be like the other kids. Finally, when I was about twelve, Betty nine, and Winnel seven, I wore her down. She agreed to making us some little shorts and short-cropped top sets to wear at home in the country only. She made these from large scraps left over from other sewing she had done for she did all the sewing for herself and us girls, making all the clothes we wore. Well, the day came when all three of us girls had our new short sets on and over to Grandpa's we went right after lunch, as usual. Grandpa was sitting on the porch swing and he took a look at us and said, "Well, I see Ree has made you girls some Summer-Town-Cool-Suits." That's all he said to us, but he did have a little talk with Ree (Mother). He was not able to prevail, though, and from then on Mother dressed us much like other kids.
Grandpa used to make wine in the summertime from elderberries, his own home-grown grapes, and I think peach (brandy). I remember that he was very careful in making it just right and was always satisfied with it, but I really don't remember ever seeing him drink any of it. I know us kids were given a little at times when we were sick, and I suppose the adults took it when they were sick, too. I never thought too much about his wine-making, but now that I am back in the country with my own grapes, I think I would like to try to make a little myself, for medicinal purposes, of course. So I checked with Cayce and he still has Grandpa's old family recipe, which has been handed down for generations from the time that grandpa's ancestor Perry Antonio left Italy hundreds of years ago. I hope to make some of Grandpa's wine this summer (1990).
Grandpa was quite a gardener, and grew all kinds of good things to the delight of us grandchildren. He grew peanuts and popcorn and watermelons. He grew an unusual fruit called "vine peach". I never heard of them before or since. But best of all he grew strawberries. When the strawberries were ripe, he would "hire" us grandkids to come over and pick them. He paid us a dime for each dish-pan full that we picked. It was wonderful to get the dime, because money was scarce for us in those days, but best part of all was we could eat all the strawberries we wanted as we picked. I've never had strawberries that good since.
Grandpa was never idle, except for a rest in his hammock or his front porch swing during the hottest part of the day after lunch. He was either busy in his orchard, or garden, or shop, or he was studying his Bible or crusading. But at times, he would be caught up with his work and he would make us little homemade toys. He made each of us a little rocking chair. And of course the little baskets I mentioned. But he made all sorts of little whirly-gigs and things, too. One time he made my little sister Winnell a cute little wishing well with a windlass to raise and lower the little bucket.
Grandpa was a great carpenter. His house and ours was full of his tables and chairs. He had made them for friends and neighbors, too. When my Mother and Dad got married he made Mother a pretty little Settee and washstand. But he also had done some real building in his younger days. When his own children were young, the school in the town they lived in in Texas had burned down. Grandpa contracted and built a new school for them. My Aunt Valera says that it was the finest building around, two story, brick. He had made a concrete block and set in the front of the building with the name of the school -- INDEPENDENCE HIGH SCHOOL. She said people for miles around talked about that fine building.
Oh, Grandpa could do just anything he wanted to. Really. He was so talented. And he was so understanding and wise. I'm so proud to be his grandaughter.
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I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did! What a wonderful story!
--Johnie
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MEMORIES OF GRANDPA ANTHONY
Written by: Phyllis Price Terry Maynor about George Washington Anthony
When I was a little girl I took Grandpa for granted. I unknowingly assumed that all Grandpas were loving and kind and could fix just about anything. When I got to be a teenager I thought Grandpa was so old fashioned and square (which he was, thank God). When I was twenty, grandpa went on to be with the Lord. Now that I am 51, I remember my Grandpa as just about the most perfect man who ever lived. How I wish I had had the wisdom to have listened to him more because he was a walking treasury of knowledge and understanding.
We always lived with my Grandparents or very near them when I was a little girl. How our lives were enriched by them and we were not even aware of it at the time.
I remember Grandpa carrying me around in his arms when I was little and picking mulberries off the trees around our house. How I loved them! Then we moved away from that place when I was six and I never had mulberries again in all these years until this year when I found a tree growing on the country estate that my husband Jimmy and I just bought and built on last year. I found the tree as I was making my Spring rounds looking for birds and their nests (I am absolutely wild about birds and anything to do with nature, thanks, I believe, to grandpa's blood coursing through my veins). Well I found a tree just loaded with green mulberries. I had no idea how long it would take for them to ripen, but I watched it closely and in two or three weeks the mulberries had turned from green to red to black. I picked the first one and with anticipation put it into my mouth. Surely enough, it tasted exactly the same as those Grandpa fed to me so many years ago. I had forgotten the taste. But it all came back to me with such an overwhelming joy. Thank you, Grandpa, for teaching me about the joys of nature.
Grandpa went to the woods and cut white oak splits and made baskets--all sizes and shapes. He made little ones to give to us kids, and bigger ones for Mother and Mama (our name for Grandmother). And he made real big ones to use at the barn for corn and cotton and such things. He made baskets for friends, too.
And Grandpa had a workshop that he had built and it was such a delightful place to look at (but not touch). In it were a home-made firebox and bellows. I've seen him so many times build a fire in the firebox and blow on it with the bellows until the coals were almost white hot. Then he would put in a plow or other metal farming instrument. When it was red hot he would bend it to whatever shape he was aiming for. Then when it was just like he wanted it he would douse it in cold water.
In the shop, too, was an iron anvil, and a homemade press (I think he had another name for it) where he pressed the twisted plugs of tobacco that he had grown himself. I guess his only vice was a love for chewing tobacco and snuff. I never thought of it as wrong, though. And he had shoe lasts, which he used to repair the family shoes. There was a different last for each size shoe. They were iron too, and were interchangeable on an iron post of some sort that held them stationary while he slipped a shoe over one and repaired it.
(This is Johnie talking for a minute. I have some old family tools and I may just have one or two of those shoe lasts that she is talking about. If they weren't his, then they were from approximately the same time period. Now back to the story.)
Grandpa had very nice handwriting and he could draw quite well, too. Once when I was about twelve he drew and colored with crayons a country house and gardens for me. Silly me, didn’t realize what it would have meant to me now, and I misplaced it and it was probably thrown out in the trash. No, that's not right, paper trash was not thrown out but saved to light fires with. How it twists my heart now to think that precious work of Grandpa's probably was burned on a cold winter morning.
And Grandpa could sing and play a fiddle. He knew how to read notes and sing "old harp". Mama could sing, too, and she played the guitar. They did not have music in their churches, but they really loved music at home. In their Church, which was Primitive Baptist, also known as Hardshell, they often sang the notes of the songs rather than the words. I can just hear them now, the church full of them singing, "Do, re, mi, mi, do, re, fa, fa, la, ti, do", and the parts harmonizing.
Grandpa loved his Church. He loved his Bible. and he loved the Lord. Until his eyesight became so poor in his later years, he spent much, much time studying the Bible. He could quote so much scripture. And he had such an understanding of it. He really felt a duty to share his understanding of it with as many people as possible so they would be enlightened, too, concerning the things of the Lord. After Cayce moved away from Europa, Mississippi, to West Point when Grandpa was about 80, Grandpa was not able then to do much work around the place. So EVERY morning, weather permitting, he walked the few blocks to downtown West Point and he would stand on the street corners and stop any man who came by who WOULD stop and question him about his relationship with the Lord. Rarely did he get an answer that was satisfactory to him, so he would proceed then and there to educate that man on the truths of the Word of God. He told us of so many of those encounters. Sometimes he would talk with someone who really appreciated him, but more often his captured audience would be squirming to get away, or would become argumentative, poor thing. It did no good to argue with Grandpa about the Bible because he could out-quote anyone I ever knew. And if he was not able to persuade the other party of his beliefs, he would at the very least so thoroughly confuse him that he was not able to argue at all within a few minutes. Grandpa enjoyed these little daily mini-crusades so very much.
My family lived only one block from the very prestigious First Presbyterian Church. On the Sundays when Mama and Grandpa could come to spend the day with us, often Grandpa would go down to visit with the Presbyterians. He would be wearing clean, but very likely faded, work pants, a clean chambray shirt and suspenders. He would walk down to that church filled with that bunch of high-minded people and he would sit on the front pew. After the choir had sung their selections and the Reverend had delivered his sermon, Grandpa would stand up and ask for a few minutes of their time. Then he would point out to them with all sincerity and gravity the error of their doctrine. He did not do this to embarrass them, but he honestly thought he was doing them a service. He would always be hurt because they were so ungrateful for his services. Finally, after this had happened several times, his physician, Dr. Tom Braddock, who himself a faithful Presbyterian, had a little private talk with Grandpa and explained to him that the Presbyterians were really not unkind people, but they would prefer to just go on in their unenlightened state. Grandpa never went back. Poor Presbyterians.
Grandpa knew all about herbs and their uses. He could always go to the woods and return with a root, or bark or leaf that would help alleviate the the symptoms of whatever malady had attached itself to one of his family. I remember one particular incident when I was about three or four and Joe Boy, being sixteen months younger than myself, was about two or three. Candy, and indeed any sweet, was a rare treat. But Mama, bless her heart, always kept huge quart size bottles of Milk of Magnesia tablets setting around. She took two or three of these tablets after every meal to alleviate a real, or imagined, sour stomach. At some time I had been given one of these tablets and they tasted pretty good to me. (We know now they are very much like peppermint candy). Well, on a particular spring day, right after lunch, when all the men had gone back to the fields and all the ladies had "lain down for their afternoon nap" as was the custom then, I was feeling mischievous (as usual). I spied Mama's Milk of Magnesia setting on the mantle, and I remembered their wonderful taste. So I climbed up on a chair and got the big bottle. Then I invited little Joe Boy to come with me for a little "Phyllis style" tea party. I must have known that I was misbehaving, because I led us out the back door and under the high back porch. There we sat ourselves down around our little imaginary tea table and I poured Joe Boy a bottle-cap full of the candy-tasting tablets. He ate them gleefully, then I treated myself with a capful. I graciously served him again, then myself again; and this went on I don't know how long. By and by, the ladies of the house (Mother, Mama and Aunt Valera--we all lived in the same big house) awakened from their siesta and looked around for their little charges. I heard them calling, but kept quiet as a mouse. I expect I knew a spanking was coming shortly. Well, they finally found us under the porch with the incriminating empty Milk of Magnesia tablet bottle. I don't remember getting that much-deserved spanking for they were all so mortified that we might be quite ill from partaking of so much of the medicine. Grandpa was summoned, and I remember he went right away to the woods and came back shortly with a bitter tasting root (I believe it was Calamus) that completely nullified all the joys of the former merrymaking. It was awful, but other than a few hurried trips to the outdoor toilet for the next couple of days, we were not the worse for our adventure.
My Mother told us that when she was growing up Mama and Grandpa were good and loved them, but very strict. She was not allowed to dress in the latest styles (of the 20's), and even though she was a star basketball player for her High school, she was not allowed to play in the revealing short uniforms the rest of the team wore. Mother had to play in a dress, because Mama and Grandpa believed in modesty. Mother began to raise her own children in much the same manner. Ah, but she had not counted on the recalcitrant Phyllis. I wanted to be like the other kids. Finally, when I was about twelve, Betty nine, and Winnel seven, I wore her down. She agreed to making us some little shorts and short-cropped top sets to wear at home in the country only. She made these from large scraps left over from other sewing she had done for she did all the sewing for herself and us girls, making all the clothes we wore. Well, the day came when all three of us girls had our new short sets on and over to Grandpa's we went right after lunch, as usual. Grandpa was sitting on the porch swing and he took a look at us and said, "Well, I see Ree has made you girls some Summer-Town-Cool-Suits." That's all he said to us, but he did have a little talk with Ree (Mother). He was not able to prevail, though, and from then on Mother dressed us much like other kids.
Grandpa used to make wine in the summertime from elderberries, his own home-grown grapes, and I think peach (brandy). I remember that he was very careful in making it just right and was always satisfied with it, but I really don't remember ever seeing him drink any of it. I know us kids were given a little at times when we were sick, and I suppose the adults took it when they were sick, too. I never thought too much about his wine-making, but now that I am back in the country with my own grapes, I think I would like to try to make a little myself, for medicinal purposes, of course. So I checked with Cayce and he still has Grandpa's old family recipe, which has been handed down for generations from the time that grandpa's ancestor Perry Antonio left Italy hundreds of years ago. I hope to make some of Grandpa's wine this summer (1990).
Grandpa was quite a gardener, and grew all kinds of good things to the delight of us grandchildren. He grew peanuts and popcorn and watermelons. He grew an unusual fruit called "vine peach". I never heard of them before or since. But best of all he grew strawberries. When the strawberries were ripe, he would "hire" us grandkids to come over and pick them. He paid us a dime for each dish-pan full that we picked. It was wonderful to get the dime, because money was scarce for us in those days, but best part of all was we could eat all the strawberries we wanted as we picked. I've never had strawberries that good since.
Grandpa was never idle, except for a rest in his hammock or his front porch swing during the hottest part of the day after lunch. He was either busy in his orchard, or garden, or shop, or he was studying his Bible or crusading. But at times, he would be caught up with his work and he would make us little homemade toys. He made each of us a little rocking chair. And of course the little baskets I mentioned. But he made all sorts of little whirly-gigs and things, too. One time he made my little sister Winnell a cute little wishing well with a windlass to raise and lower the little bucket.
Grandpa was a great carpenter. His house and ours was full of his tables and chairs. He had made them for friends and neighbors, too. When my Mother and Dad got married he made Mother a pretty little Settee and washstand. But he also had done some real building in his younger days. When his own children were young, the school in the town they lived in in Texas had burned down. Grandpa contracted and built a new school for them. My Aunt Valera says that it was the finest building around, two story, brick. He had made a concrete block and set in the front of the building with the name of the school -- INDEPENDENCE HIGH SCHOOL. She said people for miles around talked about that fine building.
Oh, Grandpa could do just anything he wanted to. Really. He was so talented. And he was so understanding and wise. I'm so proud to be his grandaughter.
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I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did! What a wonderful story!
--Johnie
A Field Trip
Last night at the Matt Redman/Casting Crowns concert there were over 100 children "adopted" through World Vision. I am so thankful I was able to be a part of it.
A lot of people that came to the adoption table wanted a child with a particular birthday, and that was a lot harder to find than one might think. Others wanted a boy. Others wanted a girl. Some wanted a child from a foreign country. Some curious people came by to find out more about the organization and how it all worked.
In the chaos of the crowd one guy stood out to me. He wriggled his way to the table and picked up the adoption packet closest to him and said with sincerity, "Can I adopt this child?" He wasn't picky or particular. He didn't have a "type" of child in mind. He just wanted to help, and that child will never forget him for it. He will make a difference.
The Casting Crowns lead singer, Mark Hall, said that he and the band got to go visit their sponsored children and it really opened his eyes. He said one good field trip for the American church would change the way we look at the world. There are real people with real needs all over the world. I am glad that there are organizations like World Vision who can reach people half a world away. On top of sponsoring though, we need to see the needs that are right where we are. Wherever we work and wherever we go there are needy people who may only see the love of Christ in us.
Dear God, please open our eyes to the needs that are right around us as well as the needs that are over the world, and work through us to show the love of Christ.
--Johnie
A lot of people that came to the adoption table wanted a child with a particular birthday, and that was a lot harder to find than one might think. Others wanted a boy. Others wanted a girl. Some wanted a child from a foreign country. Some curious people came by to find out more about the organization and how it all worked.
In the chaos of the crowd one guy stood out to me. He wriggled his way to the table and picked up the adoption packet closest to him and said with sincerity, "Can I adopt this child?" He wasn't picky or particular. He didn't have a "type" of child in mind. He just wanted to help, and that child will never forget him for it. He will make a difference.
The Casting Crowns lead singer, Mark Hall, said that he and the band got to go visit their sponsored children and it really opened his eyes. He said one good field trip for the American church would change the way we look at the world. There are real people with real needs all over the world. I am glad that there are organizations like World Vision who can reach people half a world away. On top of sponsoring though, we need to see the needs that are right where we are. Wherever we work and wherever we go there are needy people who may only see the love of Christ in us.
Dear God, please open our eyes to the needs that are right around us as well as the needs that are over the world, and work through us to show the love of Christ.
--Johnie
Saturday, November 21, 2009
The Kitchen Is My Canvas
I like to cook and I like to think I'm a pretty good cook. This morning I made an omelet (sauteed peppers, onions, mushrooms, and cheese). Joyce will give me free reign in the kitchen as often as possible because she doesn't really like to cook. That's fine with me. I get to be creative in the kitchen. Do I use recipes? Sometimes I do just to get started, but I don't think I've ever followed a recipe in its entirety. After all, the joy in cooking is the creative possibilities. A cook is just like an artist or a musician, but the work is very temporary and can be eaten.
I love to watch cooking shows and I sometimes fantasize about being on "Chopped" or "The Next Iron Chef". My kids watch them with me and often at the dinner table they say, "Dad, you survive to cook another day." So do you have what it takes to be the Next Iron Chef? Here's a test: Pick three random ingredients out of your kitchen and then make a meal out of them. This is often done for you through natural selection if you're a couple days from payday and the pantry offerings are meager. I say "natural selection" because all the food you naturally like gets eaten first, and then when you're staring hungry into the pantry everything becomes clear. You ask yourself, "Why did I buy all this labor intensive food?" I mean, who wants to soak beans when everybody wants a snack now? Why did I ever buy all those beans when I hate soaking them? As I'm writing this I'm thinking, "Maybe I should go soak some beans right now just to face my fears."
I like to cook, but I like to keep it simple. I've made bread, but that too is labor intensive. I know what you're thinking: Bread Machine. But what's creative about that? If you asked my wife what my favorite way to cook is, she would undoubtedly say it's the with the skillet. If I could only have one thing out of my kitchen I would pick my skillet...and my spatula. Okay, so two things. They are kind of connected. I like my skillet and spatula so much I took a picture of them and put it as the blog header. I rue the day when my spatula breaks, because it is the best spatula I've ever had. "It's a heavy duty Paul Revere" that I got for about $6 bucks at Walmart about 5 years ago. I even went back to get another one, and they stopped selling them. I guess they thought it was too high of quality, so they recalled them all. The skillet is a Log Cabin brand with low sides. I can make just about anything with my skillet and my spatula.
If I was to go on a cooking show, I would take my skillet and spatula. But since you have to cook five courses on Iron Chef, I think I would have to take five skillets and five spatulas. I can hear the judges now...."Wow! He really knows his skillets! Such super skillet skills! And what a spatula!" Well, if you're going to dream, dream big! If you are not a cooker, then I hope you get a skillet and a spatula and begin seeing that your kitchen is your canvas. And if you're not a cooker, definitely don't buy dry beans!
--Johnie
Monday, November 16, 2009
7th Grade Relativity
Tonight we toured the first of the Wichita Falls Junior High schools - McNiel. That's where I went to Junior High, and I hated it for the most part. I hated the bullies and the peer pressure and the popularity contests and how I always felt geeky. Well, walking the halls tonight I remembered some of the good things. Why is it that the bad tends to stick in our minds more than the good? I really did have some good memories buried deep within, but it took being there to feel it.
I remember learning wood-working and getting shocked for fun by a simple gas engine. Those were some good times. But seeing it from where I am now helps me to appreciate it more. Back then I was always worried about how I looked and if any girls liked me. I am glad to be where I am now. I wouldn't trade my life now for anything from back then, but hey, I still do have some good memories. I just had to find them.
--Johnie
I remember learning wood-working and getting shocked for fun by a simple gas engine. Those were some good times. But seeing it from where I am now helps me to appreciate it more. Back then I was always worried about how I looked and if any girls liked me. I am glad to be where I am now. I wouldn't trade my life now for anything from back then, but hey, I still do have some good memories. I just had to find them.
--Johnie
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Blind Follow the Leader
I've been reading through the book of 2nd Kings with the kids at night. It is exciting to see their faces when they hear a Bible story they've never heard before. A couple of nights ago I read the story of the Syrian army that came to capture Elisha. He prayed that God would strike them with blindness and God did. Then Elisha led them on a wild goose chase to find himself. Finally he led them straight to the king of Isreal and prayed that God would open their eyes that they could see and God did it.
Can you imagine the surprise on everyone's faces? The king then asked Elisha if he should kill them and he said no, you should feed them! So instead of killing them, he threw them a great feast! Then the Syrian raiders stopped coming into Israel, at least for a time.
I wanted to help the kids remember the story, so I made a game out of it. I pretended to be Elisha and the kids were the Syrians. I told them that when I said "Strike them with blindness" that they had to close their eyes. I had already turned off all the lights in the house. Then I had them follow me around the house by listening to my voice say, "This way!" or "Over here!" I also said stuff like, "Watch out for that table!" Then whenever I got to the other end of the house I said, "Then Elisha said, 'Open their eyes that they may see, '" and I flicked on a long candle lighter that I had been carrying around with me.
Honestly, I still can't believe how big of a hit this game was! The kids were so giddy when ever the lighter lit up. They laughed and said, "I just love this part!" We played it three times over the last two nights and they still wanted to play it again.
I have been teaching them about God's plans for Syria and how they will be one of three chosen nations in God's bigger plan. During Christ's 1000 year reign there will be a highway from Egypt to Assyria that goes straight through Israel. In Chapter 19 of Isaiah it says, "In that day there will be a highway from Egypt to Assyria, and the Assyrian will come into Egypt and the Egyptian into Assyria, and the Egyptians will serve with the Assyrians. In that day Israel will be one of three with Egypt and Assyria—a blessing in the midst of the land, whom the LORD of hosts shall bless, saying, 'Blessed is Egypt My people, and Assyria the work of My hands, and Israel My inheritance.'"
If you have children then try this game with them and teach them this story. Acting out Bible stories is one of the best ways to learn them. Have fun!
--Johnie
Can you imagine the surprise on everyone's faces? The king then asked Elisha if he should kill them and he said no, you should feed them! So instead of killing them, he threw them a great feast! Then the Syrian raiders stopped coming into Israel, at least for a time.
I wanted to help the kids remember the story, so I made a game out of it. I pretended to be Elisha and the kids were the Syrians. I told them that when I said "Strike them with blindness" that they had to close their eyes. I had already turned off all the lights in the house. Then I had them follow me around the house by listening to my voice say, "This way!" or "Over here!" I also said stuff like, "Watch out for that table!" Then whenever I got to the other end of the house I said, "Then Elisha said, 'Open their eyes that they may see, '" and I flicked on a long candle lighter that I had been carrying around with me.
Honestly, I still can't believe how big of a hit this game was! The kids were so giddy when ever the lighter lit up. They laughed and said, "I just love this part!" We played it three times over the last two nights and they still wanted to play it again.
I have been teaching them about God's plans for Syria and how they will be one of three chosen nations in God's bigger plan. During Christ's 1000 year reign there will be a highway from Egypt to Assyria that goes straight through Israel. In Chapter 19 of Isaiah it says, "In that day there will be a highway from Egypt to Assyria, and the Assyrian will come into Egypt and the Egyptian into Assyria, and the Egyptians will serve with the Assyrians. In that day Israel will be one of three with Egypt and Assyria—a blessing in the midst of the land, whom the LORD of hosts shall bless, saying, 'Blessed is Egypt My people, and Assyria the work of My hands, and Israel My inheritance.'"
If you have children then try this game with them and teach them this story. Acting out Bible stories is one of the best ways to learn them. Have fun!
--Johnie
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Family Picture Day
This month in Wichita Falls has been weather-wise perfect! November in a lot of places is cold and dreary, but not here - not now. Instead it should be promoted for the beautiful weather when things get cold and nasty up north. Around here most people get drained of all energy in the summer. The heat just sucks the life out of you from June through mid-September. So what do north Texans do? They go to Durango and Eagle's Nest and just about anywhere else because it is usually cooler than Wichita Falls. So if you want to visit, come in the fall because it's like a nice summer in most "ideal" vacation spots.
I say all that to set the stage for blogging about our trip to the park this morning. A close friend of ours who is a very good photographer was taking our family pictures in this nice fall weather out at Lucy Park. Lucy Park is the biggest and best park in Wichita Falls. It has lots of tall trees, two playgrounds, a city pool, a log cabin for parties, and a long walk path along the Wichita River which ultimately leads to a climactic grand finale at a large three-tier man-made water fall that seems to come from underneath a cemetery up on the hill above it. Just don't think about that too hard. Okay, so it's a little cheesy, but around here you take what you can get in the way of family fun.
It is very nice and lots of people get their pictures taken there. And I mean lots! Everywhere we turned this morning there were families in matching clothes with a photographer. Photographers like this weather, and they were out today. "There's one in a grove of trees! Hey, there's one on the bridge!" This park is well-known for its many squirrels, but in a strange twist I saw photographers out where once I saw squirrels. When we were leaving it struck me as funny me when Joyce said, "Look there's a photographer in those trees! They are really out today."
So if you're an avid nature lover, take a trip out to Lucy Park and enjoy the falling leaves, the rare squirrel, and the annual parade of photographers. P.S. - Don't forget your camera!
--Johnie
I say all that to set the stage for blogging about our trip to the park this morning. A close friend of ours who is a very good photographer was taking our family pictures in this nice fall weather out at Lucy Park. Lucy Park is the biggest and best park in Wichita Falls. It has lots of tall trees, two playgrounds, a city pool, a log cabin for parties, and a long walk path along the Wichita River which ultimately leads to a climactic grand finale at a large three-tier man-made water fall that seems to come from underneath a cemetery up on the hill above it. Just don't think about that too hard. Okay, so it's a little cheesy, but around here you take what you can get in the way of family fun.
It is very nice and lots of people get their pictures taken there. And I mean lots! Everywhere we turned this morning there were families in matching clothes with a photographer. Photographers like this weather, and they were out today. "There's one in a grove of trees! Hey, there's one on the bridge!" This park is well-known for its many squirrels, but in a strange twist I saw photographers out where once I saw squirrels. When we were leaving it struck me as funny me when Joyce said, "Look there's a photographer in those trees! They are really out today."
So if you're an avid nature lover, take a trip out to Lucy Park and enjoy the falling leaves, the rare squirrel, and the annual parade of photographers. P.S. - Don't forget your camera!
--Johnie
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Change of Mind
I hope I'm not disappointing anyone too much, but I am not going to finish the End Times series I started for two reason:
- One, I don't do so well with planning something that long term, and
- Two, I don't think I'm the best person for the series.
Oh, well.... I guess I can just enjoy blogging again - freestyle. A lot of stuff has happened this summer in my world. Joyce and the kids have all started back to school. Things got busy really fast. We went on vacation to New Mexico around July 4th. It was really cool weather compared to Wichita Falls. We went and stayed with some good friends in Royce City east of Dallas for a weekend. We bought another van that is more reliable, so now we have two. We have been calling the old beat up van the Blue Whale, but we can't get a consensus for what to call the newer white van. Any suggestions? The "White Whale" was my old pickup, so I would personally be confused if we called the van that. We went hiking once in the Wichita Mountains, going farther with four children than we've ever gone before.
A lot has also been going on in the news. Healthcare reform is the predetermined headliner until they pass whatever they can. Michael Jackson died. Bill Clinton went to North Korea to free some Americans. The most incredible and heart-breaking story is the one of Jaycee Lee Dugard, who was found alive with two daughters after being kidnapped 18 years ago at the age of 11.
What a mixture for her family of happiness and sadness, of joy and pain. I was thinking how do you counsel someone like that? Where does one being? What kind of a person was I when I was eleven, and would I have been able to endure unthinkable captivity? And what is next for her and her daughters? Jaycee's parents lost a young daughter and now have her back as a grown woman with two grand-daughters. Their saga will be far from over, with long term healing taking time, but it is still an incredible story of tragedy for how low some people can be, and hope for a better day. One of the scariest parts of this story is that for 18 long years, not one neighbor or passer-by knew that anything was amiss. They all just went their way while this injustice and abuse went on right in their neighbor's back yard.
I know that the sinister man who kidnapped Jaycee, Phillip Garrido, is bound to give Christianity and homeschooling a bad name. He was a real nut-job, but vocally told everyone that he had an inside track from God, and that God talked to him through a box. He was also proselytizing his strange religion all around his community. Also most of the people who saw the young girls with him at least thought he home schooling the girls. Now people will be second guessing the sincerity of evangelists and the intentions of homeschoolers. I know that some parts of the country are already tough on homeschoolers, but I think this case will invite more call-ins of legitimate home schooling families and more suspicion. I also think this may bring a suspicious backlash against the mentally ill, which should be addressed.
I think the best thing any of us can do is pray and ask God to uncover such injustice and to protect the innocent people involved. Eighteen years of what Jaycee endured is unimaginable, but God, the one true God, is the only one who can heal such a scar. I am praying for her.
--Johnie
Sunday, June 14, 2009
The End is Coming - The Big Picture
This old world is dying, not from any other reason than the sin of man. Man's sin brought death to the world (Romans 5:12). Sin broke man’s fellowship with God. God has since allowed the whole of creation to suffer the effects of sin (Romans 8:19-22), but He has always had a better plan that is just as unexpected and just as mysterious as how He sent His Son Jesus to be the sacrifice for mankind (Jeremiah 29:11). His plan goes beyond forgiveness.
In His plan, God the Father is thinking ahead for a bride for His Son (Ephesians 5:25-32). The New Jerusalem shall be the Beulah land (married land, (Isaiah 62:4)) – a place for the bride and the Groom to live forever in the presence of the Father. The bride is the redeemed church in the New Jerusalem, who as individuals recognized their sin, and believed on Jesus’ “once-for-all” perfect payment and ultimate act of love for fallen man. Christians have been bought out of the grip of death and evil. All Christians are the servants of the living God, and are currently displaced citizens of heaven, eagerly awaiting our Hero’s return.
Just imagine a huge mural hundreds of feet long and fifty feet tall. If you were right up close to it, what you saw might not make any sense at all. There’s a horse down here; a cloud up there. But if you backed up enough to see the whole thing, then you could see the story the mural tells from beginning to end. Seeing the Big Picture is the starting point for thinking about the end times. The Tree of Life was there in the Garden, and it will again be there in the New Jerusalem in the New Earth in the sunless New Heavens. God never changed His mind about it. Man would live forever in his sins if he ate it after sinning in the garden. But in that place we will be holy and able to eat of its fruit. His salvation has been woven throughout our history for our good.
Most people are very curious about what is going to happen in the future. This is the part of prophecy that still hasn’t happened yet, and it is exciting just knowing a piece of the future. Some people have spent their entire lives being extra sensitive to the end signs and whether or not Armageddon is right around the corner. I absolutely do think it is good to study and know about what is going to happen in the future, but it is not essential to salvation (1 Corinthians 13:2). It is for our comfort (1 Thessalonians 4:18) and encouragement, so when times are tough we can keep everything in perspective. If we don’t understand something, it’s okay, but be encouraged by what you do know. Jesus has not forgotten His own. He is coming back, and He has already overcome.
Jesus introduces Himself to John in the Revelation saying, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.” (Revelation 1:8) In other words, He is in control, has always been in control, and will finish everything His way. The Tribulation and the Antichrist and the Battle of Armageddon are all “done deals” in His book. None of those things are a threat to Christ’s kingdom because HE WON EVERYTHING when He rose from the dead!
Since the beginning of man, there has been a spiritual battle going on between Satan and God the Father. The land of the living is the battleground for this spiritual battle. It’s not animals or plants or land, but it is the souls of people that are fought for (Ezekiel 18:4 & 13:18). Satan has never ceased luring men to follow his destructive path. “The End” includes the end of Satan and his defeat and his treasured weapon, Death. Satan’s capture ends the Great Tribulation, and Christ will repair the world (Romans 8:19-22; Isaiah 2:4 & 11:6-10) and be High King for 1000 years (Revelation 20:4). When looking from one end of the Big Picture to the other, remember God has never forgotten His intentions of holy fellowship with pure-hearted men and women with sin nowhere to be found. Yes, this world and universe will end (Revelation 21:1), but what is coming is so much better! NO more sin, NO more death, no more evil. “Game Over” for the devil and death (Revelation 20:10,14). But for God’s redeemed people, all things are made new (Revelation 21:5).
Time is running out for this earth, this universe, and for people bound in chains of sin and death. But knowing this gives God’s redeemed people more reason to invest in what is eternal and spiritual (Matthew 6:19-20). The days leading up to the Tribulation will be marked by overwhelming self-centeredness, hatred, and godlessness in the world (2 Timothy 3:1-4). Yearning for God’s truth and looking forward to His glorious appearing, we will survive the tough times and persecutions. In such times our God and Savior will be with us, working His will through us and giving us unexplainable peace and joy. Take comfort that the end is part of God's plan, just like the beginning.
Next time's Blog: Dark Horizon - What will the world be like before Christ's return?
--Johnie
In His plan, God the Father is thinking ahead for a bride for His Son (Ephesians 5:25-32). The New Jerusalem shall be the Beulah land (married land, (Isaiah 62:4)) – a place for the bride and the Groom to live forever in the presence of the Father. The bride is the redeemed church in the New Jerusalem, who as individuals recognized their sin, and believed on Jesus’ “once-for-all” perfect payment and ultimate act of love for fallen man. Christians have been bought out of the grip of death and evil. All Christians are the servants of the living God, and are currently displaced citizens of heaven, eagerly awaiting our Hero’s return.
Just imagine a huge mural hundreds of feet long and fifty feet tall. If you were right up close to it, what you saw might not make any sense at all. There’s a horse down here; a cloud up there. But if you backed up enough to see the whole thing, then you could see the story the mural tells from beginning to end. Seeing the Big Picture is the starting point for thinking about the end times. The Tree of Life was there in the Garden, and it will again be there in the New Jerusalem in the New Earth in the sunless New Heavens. God never changed His mind about it. Man would live forever in his sins if he ate it after sinning in the garden. But in that place we will be holy and able to eat of its fruit. His salvation has been woven throughout our history for our good.
Most people are very curious about what is going to happen in the future. This is the part of prophecy that still hasn’t happened yet, and it is exciting just knowing a piece of the future. Some people have spent their entire lives being extra sensitive to the end signs and whether or not Armageddon is right around the corner. I absolutely do think it is good to study and know about what is going to happen in the future, but it is not essential to salvation (1 Corinthians 13:2). It is for our comfort (1 Thessalonians 4:18) and encouragement, so when times are tough we can keep everything in perspective. If we don’t understand something, it’s okay, but be encouraged by what you do know. Jesus has not forgotten His own. He is coming back, and He has already overcome.
Jesus introduces Himself to John in the Revelation saying, “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.” (Revelation 1:8) In other words, He is in control, has always been in control, and will finish everything His way. The Tribulation and the Antichrist and the Battle of Armageddon are all “done deals” in His book. None of those things are a threat to Christ’s kingdom because HE WON EVERYTHING when He rose from the dead!
Since the beginning of man, there has been a spiritual battle going on between Satan and God the Father. The land of the living is the battleground for this spiritual battle. It’s not animals or plants or land, but it is the souls of people that are fought for (Ezekiel 18:4 & 13:18). Satan has never ceased luring men to follow his destructive path. “The End” includes the end of Satan and his defeat and his treasured weapon, Death. Satan’s capture ends the Great Tribulation, and Christ will repair the world (Romans 8:19-22; Isaiah 2:4 & 11:6-10) and be High King for 1000 years (Revelation 20:4). When looking from one end of the Big Picture to the other, remember God has never forgotten His intentions of holy fellowship with pure-hearted men and women with sin nowhere to be found. Yes, this world and universe will end (Revelation 21:1), but what is coming is so much better! NO more sin, NO more death, no more evil. “Game Over” for the devil and death (Revelation 20:10,14). But for God’s redeemed people, all things are made new (Revelation 21:5).
Time is running out for this earth, this universe, and for people bound in chains of sin and death. But knowing this gives God’s redeemed people more reason to invest in what is eternal and spiritual (Matthew 6:19-20). The days leading up to the Tribulation will be marked by overwhelming self-centeredness, hatred, and godlessness in the world (2 Timothy 3:1-4). Yearning for God’s truth and looking forward to His glorious appearing, we will survive the tough times and persecutions. In such times our God and Savior will be with us, working His will through us and giving us unexplainable peace and joy. Take comfort that the end is part of God's plan, just like the beginning.
Next time's Blog: Dark Horizon - What will the world be like before Christ's return?
--Johnie
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The End is Coming - Preface
The end is approaching quickly. Is it from global warming? Will it be from a giant meteor causing atmospheric chaos? What about a "Mega-Earthquake" that changes every mountain range, and every shoreline? Well, it is one day closer with each passing sunset, but it seems so far away. People have been talking about for thousands of years, but what is it the end of? When I say "The End" I am referring to the "end times" as they are described in the Bible. It includes the time period immediately before the Return of Christ, and then His Return. I used to think that when Christ returned, that that would be the end of the earth. The dreaded "End of the World". I want us to walk through the scriptures that deal mainly with seven topics, which will be seven separate blogs.
- The Big Picture - A basic outline discussing the events before the Tribulation through to the new heaven and new earth.
- Dark Horizon - What will the world be like before Christ's return?
- The Coming Storm - The Antichrist's world and the Tribulation.
- The Rapture - The dead in Christ rise first, and then the living Christians meet Christ in the air.
- The Millennium Kingdom - Christ reigns as supreme King on this earth for 1000 years.
- The Last Deception - Satan is released from his prison and Gog and Magog are deceived.
- All Things New - The marriage of Christ and the Church, a New Heaven, a New Earth, and the New Jerusalem.
Although it is kind of cheesy, I wanted seven topics because of the great emphasis the scripture puts on the number "7". It is the number of perfection. I'm not claiming that anything's particularly special about the series, but I will keep it at seven just because....mostly because I need boundaries.
I feel I have to also add that I am not looking for trouble by starting this series. I know that some people have very strong feelings - very strong - about "being right" when it comes to these topics. Some folks are hard core, no holds barred, when it comes to the timing of the rapture and anything pertaining to The End. (i.e. - pre-trib. rapture, post-trib. rapture, pre-millennialism, post-millennialism, etc..., etc...) I know that my thoughts on the subject have changed over the years, and I'm not nearly as dogmatic as I used to be. We'll just stick with the scriptures. The Bible was given to us as a love letter from our Maker and Saviour, who has overlooked so many things in each one of us. In all the things that are disputable, I hope to approach the subject ready to learn, overlooking differences and instead keep asking God for understanding. Jesus is coming soon. Let's be ready.
--Johnie
Monday, June 8, 2009
June 8, 2009
This world will not last. Invest in the eternal. God likes us. Let's let that encourage us. While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
Johnie
Johnie
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Demonic Distortions
Our enemy is Satan, not people. Let me just point that out before I go any further. What I'm about to say will offend some people, but the truth always does. And honestly, I am saying it because the truth is the standard that we are measured against. The topic: How Satan distorts and uglifies the good thing called marriage that God established.
I have read the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis and they are quite thoughtful and enlightening. Two demons are corresponding about how to sucker people into falling into Satan's traps. I don't know what demons really say to each other, but I have seen a pattern lately of how Satan is working in the area of marriage. Men and women who reject loving the opposite gender have been fighting for the ability for a long time to get gay marriage legal at least in the law of the land. However at the same time, there are more and more young men and women who are choosing to live together and not get married. Satan is crafty! Satan can convince a a man and a woman that God intended for marriage to reject His holy ways, while at the same time tricking people caught up in the sin of homosexuality that they deserve to get married. Both things dishonor God. Both things are rebellion against His holiness.
Now I must say that there are a lot of folks who are seeking to please God. There are young men and women that are waiting til they are married to be physically intimate. There are homosexuals who fight their urges and reject that "lifestyle". They deserve our encouragement and support.
I have heard it said, "I was born gay" or "God made me this way." I honestly think the first answer could be yes. We all struggle with sin. Sin is passed down to us from our fathers and it is in us at birth. If it were possible to raise a child without any influence of sin around them, they would still sin. And that sin could be anything! I think most parents will agree that their infants are self absorbed, and as they grow up, they are pretty selfish and often rebellious. Hitting a little closer to home, I think all my sin is encapsulated in pride, selfishness, and outright rebellion. It's that way for all of us. But when folks say these sorts of things, they are trying to justify their sin. The sin has them bound as a prisoner, and it owns them. Sometimes, the rebellion gets to the point where God just gives them over to their sin and lets it rule their lives. (Romans 1)
I just wanted to share this because I see this as a clear pattern of how Satan distorts God's ways and mocks his Maker in the process.
Johnie
I have read the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis and they are quite thoughtful and enlightening. Two demons are corresponding about how to sucker people into falling into Satan's traps. I don't know what demons really say to each other, but I have seen a pattern lately of how Satan is working in the area of marriage. Men and women who reject loving the opposite gender have been fighting for the ability for a long time to get gay marriage legal at least in the law of the land. However at the same time, there are more and more young men and women who are choosing to live together and not get married. Satan is crafty! Satan can convince a a man and a woman that God intended for marriage to reject His holy ways, while at the same time tricking people caught up in the sin of homosexuality that they deserve to get married. Both things dishonor God. Both things are rebellion against His holiness.
Now I must say that there are a lot of folks who are seeking to please God. There are young men and women that are waiting til they are married to be physically intimate. There are homosexuals who fight their urges and reject that "lifestyle". They deserve our encouragement and support.
I have heard it said, "I was born gay" or "God made me this way." I honestly think the first answer could be yes. We all struggle with sin. Sin is passed down to us from our fathers and it is in us at birth. If it were possible to raise a child without any influence of sin around them, they would still sin. And that sin could be anything! I think most parents will agree that their infants are self absorbed, and as they grow up, they are pretty selfish and often rebellious. Hitting a little closer to home, I think all my sin is encapsulated in pride, selfishness, and outright rebellion. It's that way for all of us. But when folks say these sorts of things, they are trying to justify their sin. The sin has them bound as a prisoner, and it owns them. Sometimes, the rebellion gets to the point where God just gives them over to their sin and lets it rule their lives. (Romans 1)
I just wanted to share this because I see this as a clear pattern of how Satan distorts God's ways and mocks his Maker in the process.
Johnie
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Cleaning Up the Lost
When I was at McNeil Jr. High I remember getting “on fire for the Lord.” I remember telling a few of my lost friends that they should stop cussing. Instead they should start going to church. I was never received well. Usually, I just felt more isolated and alone. But I at least did the right thing. To me, that was what mattered most – being right, but boy was I wrong!
I feel humbled to know that it was me who went around trying to change my lost buddies. I didn’t have any understanding of grace or the power of Christ. Grace was just a pretty word that followed the word “Amazing” and the power of Christ was something I believed I could conjure if I tried hard enough. My thoughts of salvation weren’t about Christ, but sadly instead about me. I sought to be a mover and a shaker that would make God really proud. I now see my efforts were meant to build up me and not Christ. I was a Christian, but what an ugly picture of Christ I painted.
In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul addressed some Christians about the sad and distorted beliefs they preached and practiced. In Chapter 5 starting in verse 9, he wrote:
None of us has “arrived”, but it is an awesome and overwhelming thing when one realizes that there isn’t a single thing a person can do to earn God’s favor. Everything a child of God has is wrapped up in our free and unearned favor from God. On the cross Jesus did all the work to make us acceptable in God’s eyes. We are all sinners and that won’t change until we shed this body of flesh. I’m not justifying sin, but I acknowledge it is Christ who has taken away ALL my gunk and sin - past, present, and future. And for His great love I serve Him. God knows us inside and out, and accepts us solely because of Jesus.
It is not our job to clean up the lost. The most effective witnesses merely tell what God has done in their lives. They publicly give God glory for His grace! We are called to love and not judge, but there is a fine line between loving the sinner and accepting their sin. It is a painful thing to see someone you love in the process of screwing up their life, but if they are spiritually dead, you must focus on showing them the love and grace and forgiveness of Christ working in your life. Don’t focus on trying to change them. They may hear the gospel at church if you invite them, but it is a sad thing to see a lost person who has been duped with the appearance of a changed life and not the real deal.
I once told a lost friend who was living with his girlfriend that they really ought to get married. The Bible said so. I told them that what they were doing was sin. So after they had lived together for a few years and had a couple of kids, they had a super big wedding. What a relief! Now they were official, and would finally find favor with God. That’s not true, but in essence that’s what I told them. Why didn’t I just tell him what God was doing in my life? What I did wasn’t for him, but for me. I felt justified in knowing I had preached the Word! I felt like God would favor me more since I did His work. I took the easy way out. Well, they got divorced within two years, and we hardly talked after that. I think he felt like I was a liar. He didn’t feel a change, but instead a disappointment.
Yes, my friend needed a changed life, but I gave him an impossible task. “Clean yourself up!” is what I basically told him. “Try harder! God might accept you then.” That was the gist of what I told him, but now those words hurt for me to hear them. I wasn’t introducing him to the God who found me a stinking filthy sinner, and picked me up, and cleaned me up. I was telling him of an impossible God, who would never be happy with him. Try harder! Try harder! Dear Reader, I am using myself as an example for your benefit.
It is Jesus who must change us. Only Jesus can change us, and He does it from the inside out. When I was lost, I knew it and I loathed myself for it. I knew I was full of evil and darkness. I didn’t need someone to rub it in. It is not our job to clean up the lost, but to love them the way Christ loves us all.
I feel humbled to know that it was me who went around trying to change my lost buddies. I didn’t have any understanding of grace or the power of Christ. Grace was just a pretty word that followed the word “Amazing” and the power of Christ was something I believed I could conjure if I tried hard enough. My thoughts of salvation weren’t about Christ, but sadly instead about me. I sought to be a mover and a shaker that would make God really proud. I now see my efforts were meant to build up me and not Christ. I was a Christian, but what an ugly picture of Christ I painted.
In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul addressed some Christians about the sad and distorted beliefs they preached and practiced. In Chapter 5 starting in verse 9, he wrote:
“I wrote to you in my epistle not to keep company with sexually immoral people. Yet I certainly did not mean with the sexually immoral people of this world, or with the covetous, or extortioners, or idolaters, since then you would need to go out of the world. But now I have written to you not to keep company with anyone named a brother, who is sexually immoral, or covetous, or an idolater, or a reviler, or a drunkard, or an extortioner—not even to eat with such a person. For what have I to do with judging those also who are outside? Do you not judge those who are inside? But those who are outside God judges. Therefore ‘put away from yourselves the evil person.’”
None of us has “arrived”, but it is an awesome and overwhelming thing when one realizes that there isn’t a single thing a person can do to earn God’s favor. Everything a child of God has is wrapped up in our free and unearned favor from God. On the cross Jesus did all the work to make us acceptable in God’s eyes. We are all sinners and that won’t change until we shed this body of flesh. I’m not justifying sin, but I acknowledge it is Christ who has taken away ALL my gunk and sin - past, present, and future. And for His great love I serve Him. God knows us inside and out, and accepts us solely because of Jesus.
It is not our job to clean up the lost. The most effective witnesses merely tell what God has done in their lives. They publicly give God glory for His grace! We are called to love and not judge, but there is a fine line between loving the sinner and accepting their sin. It is a painful thing to see someone you love in the process of screwing up their life, but if they are spiritually dead, you must focus on showing them the love and grace and forgiveness of Christ working in your life. Don’t focus on trying to change them. They may hear the gospel at church if you invite them, but it is a sad thing to see a lost person who has been duped with the appearance of a changed life and not the real deal.
I once told a lost friend who was living with his girlfriend that they really ought to get married. The Bible said so. I told them that what they were doing was sin. So after they had lived together for a few years and had a couple of kids, they had a super big wedding. What a relief! Now they were official, and would finally find favor with God. That’s not true, but in essence that’s what I told them. Why didn’t I just tell him what God was doing in my life? What I did wasn’t for him, but for me. I felt justified in knowing I had preached the Word! I felt like God would favor me more since I did His work. I took the easy way out. Well, they got divorced within two years, and we hardly talked after that. I think he felt like I was a liar. He didn’t feel a change, but instead a disappointment.
Yes, my friend needed a changed life, but I gave him an impossible task. “Clean yourself up!” is what I basically told him. “Try harder! God might accept you then.” That was the gist of what I told him, but now those words hurt for me to hear them. I wasn’t introducing him to the God who found me a stinking filthy sinner, and picked me up, and cleaned me up. I was telling him of an impossible God, who would never be happy with him. Try harder! Try harder! Dear Reader, I am using myself as an example for your benefit.
It is Jesus who must change us. Only Jesus can change us, and He does it from the inside out. When I was lost, I knew it and I loathed myself for it. I knew I was full of evil and darkness. I didn’t need someone to rub it in. It is not our job to clean up the lost, but to love them the way Christ loves us all.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Ready, Set, Summer
Get ready. Summer is almost here, and for Wichita Falls, Texas, that means hot, hot, hot! .
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I really like Wichita Falls. The people are mostly friendly. The traffic is light. And the climate is mild for 8 months of the year. From June to September though, it is extremely hot! It only gets down to about 79ºF at night in mid-summer. Call it good, call it bad, but there is also no humidity, so it's a dry heat - with little to no rain, and mostly clear skies.
During those sweltering hot days, the heat just drains me. I find myself dreaming of moving to cool places. Literally cool! I have researched different climates and rainfall and have decided that I don't know what I want. I like it here most of the year. Winter is usually pretty nice. In the winter, if you want to call it that, it gets really cold for about 28 days, but that's not four weeks straight. It's spread out over October through April. February is usually the coldest month with some freezing rain.
We don't get much snow. It might snow twice in a winter. When it does snow, kids will be covering the whole yard carefully scooping the thin layer of snow off the ground just to make a two foot tall snow gnome. On one of those days, kids could probably sell their snow drifts like a commodity to some poor child that wasn't lucky enough to get a 4" snow drift! Also don't be fooled by the messed up school definition of summer. September gets really hot most afternoons of the month. The mornings start off cool though. And also it gets windy in September.
I love Christmas! Sometimes when it is 115ºF in late-July, I like to bust out the Christmas music and dream of better, cooler days. If you want to psych yourself out on one of those melt-your-shoes kind of days, just take a trip to Hobby Lobby and hang out in the Christmas in July display area for an hour or two. The smell of plastic Christmas trees might not be healthy to breath, but if it gets your mind off the summer heat, it could be just as good as swimming.
Let's talk about swimming. Now if you know me, you won't be wondering this, but some of you may be thinking, "Why not just go to the pool?" Reason: I really hate swimming. I don't see the point in it. I'll go a couple times a summer because Joyce and the kids like it, but if I had my "druthers", I'd never go. Joyce and my sister Penny have taunted me before saying that I couldn't swim, but I showed them! I just don't like getting my head under water, and consequently I am opposed to water-boarding and believe it is torture, akin to swimming.
If you've never been here to Wichita Falls in the heart of summer, then you really have no idea what it's like. Once our whole family went out walking in the cool of the evening in Holliday when we lived there. We were so grateful for the sun going down. It was noticeably cooler! We passed the bank and the digital sign flashed the temperature: 106ºF!!! Yeah. Pretty sad, huh?
I try to make the best of it though. When I started at Howmet, I remember putting a meat thermometer in the car to see how hot it was after work. It was usually about 175-190ºF. I decided I could use the car like a slow cooker on a typical sunny day. Now if you try this, please make sure there are no clouds in the forecast, because if it clouds over then you just end up with a slightly heated up version of what you started off with.
One of the funniest things is how much hotter Wichita Falls gets than other places around here. On the news weather map we're usually about 5-10 degrees hotter than all the other towns around us. Just drive an hour in any direction away from Wichita Falls, and enjoy!
Today is not that bad - rainy and cool. But I know what lies ahead. And if anyone knows of any "cool" places throughout the year that they would like to share, then please do. I don't think I'll ever make it to Seattle or Eureka, California. Also I would like to hear what other folks from here do to battle the heat. In the meantime I guess I'll just keep on developing my imagination through daydreaming of cool places.
--Johnie
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Peppermint Palace Providence
When I was a kid growing up in Wichita Falls, my idea of a having fun was usually fishing or Putt-Putt mini-golf. I think Showbiz pizza opened up around 1981-82. My brother Harry worked there I believe for a short time in high school and he graduated in '83. Well, when my dog Ralph died, I remember that dad took me to Peppermint Palace to get my mind off of it. I really liked that place. I thought it was a lot better than Showbiz.
Also dad took me there after grandpa Hundley died. He really knew how to help me not think about death. He also took me there a few more times. During one of those visits, I remember how good I felt getting to be "the hero" by helping a couple of lost girls get out of the giant tunnel. Well, Peppermint Palace only lasted a few years before it went under.
A few years into our marriage I told Joyce about how wonderful Peppermint Palace was. She agreed. She said they went there several times growing up. She was likewise saddened when it closed down. She also remembered one specific time her and her sister got lost in the giant tunnel. Fortunately a nice boy helped them find their way out. Kinda makes you wanna say hmmmm......
I like to think it was her and her sister I helped that time. I feel glad to be a child of the God who can make a special moment even more special years later. I know that God is always working behind the scenes in ways we are clueless to. He is in control of it all. Was it Joyce and her sister I helped? I can't prove it, but I believe it.
--Johnie
Also dad took me there after grandpa Hundley died. He really knew how to help me not think about death. He also took me there a few more times. During one of those visits, I remember how good I felt getting to be "the hero" by helping a couple of lost girls get out of the giant tunnel. Well, Peppermint Palace only lasted a few years before it went under.
A few years into our marriage I told Joyce about how wonderful Peppermint Palace was. She agreed. She said they went there several times growing up. She was likewise saddened when it closed down. She also remembered one specific time her and her sister got lost in the giant tunnel. Fortunately a nice boy helped them find their way out. Kinda makes you wanna say hmmmm......
I like to think it was her and her sister I helped that time. I feel glad to be a child of the God who can make a special moment even more special years later. I know that God is always working behind the scenes in ways we are clueless to. He is in control of it all. Was it Joyce and her sister I helped? I can't prove it, but I believe it.
--Johnie
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Have You Ever....
I'm going way back to 1983, when I was king of the streets - on a bike that is. I had always heard the stories of how my older brother Harry had been a member of the local Hell's Angels bicycle gang as a kid. The stories were always fresh in my mind when the wind was blowing through my hair while standing high on my BMC. I was really a pretty good kid and I never broke any windows. But I remember one really bad thing about riding a bike - shoelaces. Maybe you can sympathize with me.
One particular day after it had just rained the night before, I had the pleasure of getting to ride my bike home early from school because of a dentist appointment. I would meet mom there and she would drive me. Now I was pretty close to the house on Parklane and my house was at the end of the street where it met Harbor. I was trying to think of how to best dodge getting splashed by the giant puddle in the drainage ditch that cut Parklane in half.
This is where a cold sweat of fear flushed over my body. I couldn't peddle or brake. My feet were stuck to the peddles. Both shoelaces had come unravelled and become thoroughly entwined on the peddles making my feet essentially tied down. I was sabotaged by my own poor ability of tying shoes. So I continued on down the sidewalk towards the puddle.
I say it was a puddle. It was about 9 feet wide, 5 inches deep and spanned the entire street connecting the alleys. I remember thinking, "I'm not going fast enough to make it through!" I wanted to put my foot down on the ground, but alas, my feet were glued to the peddles. As I reached the water my bike had slowed down enough so that I started to wobble. I reached down and tried to get a shoe off, but when I did I lost my balance and with a pretty big splash and a roller coaster scream, I went down. I was in the middle of the water.
That was bad, but the worst part was that I couldn't just get up. I was still tied to the bike. It took me at least a minute to get a shoe off. Even then I still couldn't get up because the other foot that was under the bike was still connected. Also, as if the fall hadn't scratched me up enough, I could feel the slow scratches I was giving myself just trying to get out from under my bike in the flooded street. I struggled for quite a while, angry and crying at the injustice and humiliation of this unbelievable series of bad luck. I cried for help, but no one was around. I kept thinking how stupid I was not to tie my shoes better. I must have looked like a flopping fish trapped in a tide pool at low tide.
I'm not really sure how long the whole thing lasted. It probably wasn't more than five minutes. But I remember a car passing by as a soggy downtrodden me pushed my bike that last hundred yards home.
My mom looked at me surprised with a "Where have you been?" But she cleaned me up and assured me that I was going to be alright. I guess we all have stories like this one. In the end I learned to not only tie my shoes, but to tuck the laces into my shoes, and eventually I learned the treasured "double-knot". But I figured I'd share for the benefit and possible amusement of anyone who might be having a bad day. I hope it cheers you up to know that it could be worse.
--Johnie
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Seven Miles from Emmaus
Remember the two guys who Jesus met on the road to Emmaus from Jerusalem? We are told that one of them was named Cleopas. When Jesus met them on the road, they didn't recognize Him. I've always wondered if He actually looked different. You know - different height, different face, different build. It says, "their eyes were restrained so that they did not know Him."
They actually were amazed at Jesus' apparent ignorance at asking about what they were talking about. I guess from this we should take note that even though we think we know a lot about something doesn't mean that we do.
Now these guys were trying to figure out what really happened when the tomb was found empty. They had a lot of doubt about whether or not He was really the Messiah. I have always thought calling Him "a Prophet" showed that they had almost accepted that they were wrong about believing He was the chosen one. They had also heard from some of the women who saw the empty tomb without seeing Jesus. So they explained all this to none other than Jesus Himself, who in turn rebuked them, and then explained from the old testament every reason why they should believe.
While all this was going on they were walking on a seven mile journey from Jerusalem. Now I have hiked seven miles before in the Wichita mountains and it is tiring work. My feet started burning after about five miles and my muscles started straining. Finishing that journey must have been quite a pleasure to these guys, but they didn't want the conversation to end. Emmaus is where they wanted to carry on the conversation with this "stranger" who was now their teacher. But they had finished their journey. Mission accomplished. But when Jesus blessed the bread and broke it and disappeared, they knew that it was Jesus!
I don't know if this has happened to you, but have you ever had a conversation about God or spiritual things that just made you soul burn and want more. A conversation that kept you awake late into the night because you knew that what you were talking about had taken you to another plane - closer to heaven than you had ever been before. It had enlivened you to spiritual things and wakened up your soul to what really matters. I can count on both hands all the times that I can remember those special conversations or prayer times. This was one of those conversations that you know you will never forget even while it's happening.
This is the part where only one thing matters now. Remember that these two men had just traveled a good seven mile journey through hilly country, and now that they've gotten where they wanted to go, they decide to turn around and go right back! I bet that they didn't care too much about how much their feet hurt. The joy of seeing Jesus and getting to tell the incredible news that they saw Him was a second wind for them to go at a good pace on this night journey.
Can you imagine the conversation they had on the way back to Jerusalem? "Now we know it's true! He really is the chosen one! Why didn't we see it there in the scriptures that this was all prophesied from of old! I can't wait to tell the good news to the others!"
Jesus wants us to know the joy of those two disciples on the road from Emmaus. All of their fears just dissolved away like waking from a dream. All the troubling thoughts they had earlier were replaced with pure elation and peace. Likewise, Jesus knows our troubling thoughts just like He knew theirs. He also wants to teach us from His Word, the Bible, the same way He taught these two men who were turning to their own reasoning instead of His eternal Word.
Happy Easter!
--Johnie
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
This Night Traveler
This Night Traveler
By Johnie W. Levell
March 24, 2009
This night traveler plods through misty shadows
Living fears and joys encased in the Mindworld
Where I’m the actor; I’m the audience -
Believing in something out of time and unpredictable.
Running through mud-thick air-
Pursued by dark enemies-
Shimmered skies with dragons’ wings
Forty feet from nose to tail,
Skullish faces with hollow eyes –
Sent to torture in an ancient plan.
Blank desolation and angel’s guidance -
Finding peace in the only house standing
Fearful for a sister trying to fight in vain
Crying bitter, bitter sobs,
Bound to my position.
Chopping air with an axe
Never hitting the target –
The brother speaking from the grave
Tombstone overturned,
Candle burning low
Tears stream for loss –
Sad to say goodbye,
I beg him not to leave.
Seeing Jesus beckon me from within the box,
Love filling my heart and nothing else matters –
And looking back to hear my father call my name
Ashamed of the choice I make;
But seeing floating on angels’ wings
A mansion for me!
A golden ark tall and long,
With windows on each side,
Blue sky beyond the wondrous sight!
The whirlwind strong over Iowa Park
Three miles from side to side
Twelve hundred miles per hour it spins
The lightning threads the perimeter
And cannot stretch out of it.
The ship fleet flying overhead
A half mile long
The undersides looking like the starry sky
Fearful when I learn they have been there
A long, long time.
The rolling ball chipped away
Christians making a difference
Until the ball wobbles, falters, slows, and stops.
Looking down at my body
I am floating up,
Watching the sun rise just over the treeline
Over the telephone poles
Away from the wreckage.
Meeting my dad and being glad
That we had more time to talk
Extra time to hang out
In a pickup that I sold
Going to the river that once was
Back in its glory.
Finding a box of gold rings in an unknown shed
Tossed and dusty with unfamiliar junk.
Following a trail of old rare coins through the grass
Outside the Rider gym
After a basketball game.
I am flying through the air
Arms outstretched and face to the wind
Defying gravity –
Vivid scenes of the country-scape fill my mind-eyes.
Where time meets eternity,
I experience and live and remember
History that never was.
For seconds they glimmer on the neural sands,
Then waves of dawn wash them out to sea,
And I wake.
By Johnie W. Levell
March 24, 2009
This night traveler plods through misty shadows
Living fears and joys encased in the Mindworld
Where I’m the actor; I’m the audience -
Believing in something out of time and unpredictable.
Running through mud-thick air-
Pursued by dark enemies-
Shimmered skies with dragons’ wings
Forty feet from nose to tail,
Skullish faces with hollow eyes –
Sent to torture in an ancient plan.
Blank desolation and angel’s guidance -
Finding peace in the only house standing
Fearful for a sister trying to fight in vain
Crying bitter, bitter sobs,
Bound to my position.
Chopping air with an axe
Never hitting the target –
The brother speaking from the grave
Tombstone overturned,
Candle burning low
Tears stream for loss –
Sad to say goodbye,
I beg him not to leave.
Seeing Jesus beckon me from within the box,
Love filling my heart and nothing else matters –
And looking back to hear my father call my name
Ashamed of the choice I make;
But seeing floating on angels’ wings
A mansion for me!
A golden ark tall and long,
With windows on each side,
Blue sky beyond the wondrous sight!
The whirlwind strong over Iowa Park
Three miles from side to side
Twelve hundred miles per hour it spins
The lightning threads the perimeter
And cannot stretch out of it.
The ship fleet flying overhead
A half mile long
The undersides looking like the starry sky
Fearful when I learn they have been there
A long, long time.
The rolling ball chipped away
Christians making a difference
Until the ball wobbles, falters, slows, and stops.
Looking down at my body
I am floating up,
Watching the sun rise just over the treeline
Over the telephone poles
Away from the wreckage.
Meeting my dad and being glad
That we had more time to talk
Extra time to hang out
In a pickup that I sold
Going to the river that once was
Back in its glory.
Finding a box of gold rings in an unknown shed
Tossed and dusty with unfamiliar junk.
Following a trail of old rare coins through the grass
Outside the Rider gym
After a basketball game.
I am flying through the air
Arms outstretched and face to the wind
Defying gravity –
Vivid scenes of the country-scape fill my mind-eyes.
Where time meets eternity,
I experience and live and remember
History that never was.
For seconds they glimmer on the neural sands,
Then waves of dawn wash them out to sea,
And I wake.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Skit: The Church Office, #1
The Church Office, #1
Door squeaks open, man #1 enters with brief-case in hand
Receptionist: "Hello. Are you here to see Brother Bob?"
Man #1: "Yes. I have something very important to show him. It is very urgent."
Man #1 looks over his shoulder, and then side to side.
Man #1: "Tell him it's about" (he leans down and whispers) "fur-ball."
(Receptionist calls Brother Bob on phone)
Receptionist: "Hello, Brother Bob. There's a man here who says he needs to see you."
(Receptionist shakes her head while holding phone to ear)
Receptionist: " No, sir. It's not Rick Warren. I'm sure you were." (she grimaces a little) "It's not James Dobson either, sir. I'm sure you were. No, sir, he says it's urgent -something about fur-ball?"
(The door slams open. Brother Bob bursts forth! Brother Bob, a portly man with awesome hair, wearing gray pants, white shirt, blue tie, dark suspenders, thick black rimmed glasses, and shiny black shoes)
Brother Bob: "Who hast sent thee, naive!"
Man #1 holds brief-case close with both arms
Man #1: "I think we should talk alone."
Brother Bob: "What thou hast to say, Let him who hast ears hear!"
Man #1: "I'm not so sure you mean that. What I have here" (patting brief-case) "is for your eyes only."
Brother Bob sticks thumbs in suspenders and saunters over to Man #1.
Brother Bob: "What do I have to do with thee, Man? What have you come here with in your citified suit-case? "
(Brother Bob saunters around Man #1)
Brother Bob: "So you brought something with you, did you? Wanting to get money from me no doubt."
Man #1: "Actually...." (he pulls at collar uncomfortably) "I was hoping to leave more financially secure."
Brother Bob: "So! That's your little game! Extortion!" (Bob points at him like he's drawing a finger gun)
Man #1: "No! I'm no extortionist!"
Brother Bob: "What you got in there? What's in your bag of tricks?"
Man #1: "Maybe I should just try to catch you at home later." (Man #1 turns to go)
(Brother Bob's eyes widened)
Brother Bob: "You're not going anywhere!" (His portliness blocks the way to the door)
Brother Bob: "What's in the case?" (He tries to take the brief-case; they struggle)
Man #1: "Not here, Sir! Then everything would be ruined!"
(They struggle more. Finally it busts open and about thirty toupees and wigs fly out everywhere causing Brother Bob to lose his also on the floor. He bends down and grabs one at random - a very silly one. He puts it on sloppily. The receptionist gasps.)
(Man #1 begins putting them back in the brief-case.
Man #1: "Reverend McLean said I might be of service to you since church pictures were tonight."
(Brother Bob sweeps long blonde locks off his forehead.)
Brother Bob: "Yes, please, please come right on in to my office. I think we're going to be good friends."
(Receptionist shrugs and turns back to computer typing just as Brother Bob's office door shuts.)
--Johnie
Door squeaks open, man #1 enters with brief-case in hand
Receptionist: "Hello. Are you here to see Brother Bob?"
Man #1: "Yes. I have something very important to show him. It is very urgent."
Man #1 looks over his shoulder, and then side to side.
Man #1: "Tell him it's about" (he leans down and whispers) "fur-ball."
(Receptionist calls Brother Bob on phone)
Receptionist: "Hello, Brother Bob. There's a man here who says he needs to see you."
(Receptionist shakes her head while holding phone to ear)
Receptionist: " No, sir. It's not Rick Warren. I'm sure you were." (she grimaces a little) "It's not James Dobson either, sir. I'm sure you were. No, sir, he says it's urgent -something about fur-ball?"
(The door slams open. Brother Bob bursts forth! Brother Bob, a portly man with awesome hair, wearing gray pants, white shirt, blue tie, dark suspenders, thick black rimmed glasses, and shiny black shoes)
Brother Bob: "Who hast sent thee, naive!"
Man #1 holds brief-case close with both arms
Man #1: "I think we should talk alone."
Brother Bob: "What thou hast to say, Let him who hast ears hear!"
Man #1: "I'm not so sure you mean that. What I have here" (patting brief-case) "is for your eyes only."
Brother Bob sticks thumbs in suspenders and saunters over to Man #1.
Brother Bob: "What do I have to do with thee, Man? What have you come here with in your citified suit-case? "
(Brother Bob saunters around Man #1)
Brother Bob: "So you brought something with you, did you? Wanting to get money from me no doubt."
Man #1: "Actually...." (he pulls at collar uncomfortably) "I was hoping to leave more financially secure."
Brother Bob: "So! That's your little game! Extortion!" (Bob points at him like he's drawing a finger gun)
Man #1: "No! I'm no extortionist!"
Brother Bob: "What you got in there? What's in your bag of tricks?"
Man #1: "Maybe I should just try to catch you at home later." (Man #1 turns to go)
(Brother Bob's eyes widened)
Brother Bob: "You're not going anywhere!" (His portliness blocks the way to the door)
Brother Bob: "What's in the case?" (He tries to take the brief-case; they struggle)
Man #1: "Not here, Sir! Then everything would be ruined!"
(They struggle more. Finally it busts open and about thirty toupees and wigs fly out everywhere causing Brother Bob to lose his also on the floor. He bends down and grabs one at random - a very silly one. He puts it on sloppily. The receptionist gasps.)
(Man #1 begins putting them back in the brief-case.
Man #1: "Reverend McLean said I might be of service to you since church pictures were tonight."
(Brother Bob sweeps long blonde locks off his forehead.)
Brother Bob: "Yes, please, please come right on in to my office. I think we're going to be good friends."
(Receptionist shrugs and turns back to computer typing just as Brother Bob's office door shuts.)
--Johnie
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Poem: Translated
Translated
Written By Johnie W. Levell
March 15, 2009
Energy emitted in puff of smoke
Flames shooting from sticks and grass
Translated matter into unseen reality
A final breathe, heartbeats fail
Released to rest
Beyond the veil
Spirit alive
Flesh decayed
Out of the body
Present with God
Written By Johnie W. Levell
March 15, 2009
Energy emitted in puff of smoke
Flames shooting from sticks and grass
Translated matter into unseen reality
A final breathe, heartbeats fail
Released to rest
Beyond the veil
Spirit alive
Flesh decayed
Out of the body
Present with God
Hurt by Anger
The following events took place between 6 pm and 7 pm.
I had just chastised our oldest son for spying on my conversation with my wife. I thought it would be a good time to talk about why eaves-dropping is wrong. It backfired. He started crying because I had taken all the fun things away. I explained that if it's not fun for everyone, then it's not really fun. I also explained that if he wanted to hear our conversation, then he should ask. I might not let him, but then he would know how I felt about him hearing it. He sulked for the next half hour.
I didn't really feel that great to begin with, and probably made a mountain out of a mole hill. Anyhow, I had started cooking some rice and vegetables, but then I realized that I hadn't turned the cooker to cook, but left it on warm. So I flicked the switch and decided that a little music might make the moment more enjoyable. So I sat down to the computer and began picking out some songs to play. I heard the kids scooting chairs around in the kitchen and I told to stop it and to put the chairs back and for them to stay out of the kitchen. So they all left the kitchen.
Then I heard a loud crashing, breaking sound in the kitchen. I yelled out, "Who's in the kitchen!" But the kitchen was empty. I went to see what the sound was from, and I quickly found the source. There on the floor lay a busted plate with some sausage and brisket under it. I had gotten it out to go with the rice. Our youngest had scooted a chair over to the counter and pulled the plate over the edge of the counter just enough to where it took it a while to fall. He was probably going to put the plate on the table, but when I told them to get out of the kitchen, he just put the chair back and vamoosed. Andrew had already been in trouble for turning off the computer, and here he was going to the corner again.
Well, we weren't going to be eating any meat with our rice, but it wasn't exactly contaminated. I looked it over for pieces of broken ceramics and it was clean. So I thought I would feed the brisket to the pets. Now, I'm sure that there's someone reading this thinking bad idea feeding them table scraps, but that's what I did. I just opened the back door and called them and they came. First came my giddy dog who hardly couldn't contain herself. She wagged her little corgi rear so furiously, you would have thought she was going to bust. I could tell she really wanted to speak English to me right then: "Oh, yummy, yummy, yummy! Throw it now! I need it!"
I didn't want her to gobble it all up though, so I threw her a couple of pieces and then I threw a couple pieces to the stupid cat. I'm not trying to be mean, but it's just that I could put a piece of food right under the cat's nose and it wouldn't find it and the dog would gobble it up. So I told Sara (the dog) to sit when I threw the meat to the cat. She didn't. I got mad and swatted her hard on the rear, and told her to sit again. She sat this time and suffered while the cat slowly picked at a piece of brisket. Then I told her "okay" and she could move. I was quite proud of myself for teaching the dog a lesson.
Back in the house I noticed my thumb hurting. It was blue. I hurt it when I hit the dog. I couldn't believe it. I even wondered if I broke it. I don't think so, but it hurts all the same. I figure it will take a couple of weeks for it to get back to normal. Next time, Johnie, just throw the brisket in the trash, and don't hit the dog.
--Johnie
I had just chastised our oldest son for spying on my conversation with my wife. I thought it would be a good time to talk about why eaves-dropping is wrong. It backfired. He started crying because I had taken all the fun things away. I explained that if it's not fun for everyone, then it's not really fun. I also explained that if he wanted to hear our conversation, then he should ask. I might not let him, but then he would know how I felt about him hearing it. He sulked for the next half hour.
I didn't really feel that great to begin with, and probably made a mountain out of a mole hill. Anyhow, I had started cooking some rice and vegetables, but then I realized that I hadn't turned the cooker to cook, but left it on warm. So I flicked the switch and decided that a little music might make the moment more enjoyable. So I sat down to the computer and began picking out some songs to play. I heard the kids scooting chairs around in the kitchen and I told to stop it and to put the chairs back and for them to stay out of the kitchen. So they all left the kitchen.
Then I heard a loud crashing, breaking sound in the kitchen. I yelled out, "Who's in the kitchen!" But the kitchen was empty. I went to see what the sound was from, and I quickly found the source. There on the floor lay a busted plate with some sausage and brisket under it. I had gotten it out to go with the rice. Our youngest had scooted a chair over to the counter and pulled the plate over the edge of the counter just enough to where it took it a while to fall. He was probably going to put the plate on the table, but when I told them to get out of the kitchen, he just put the chair back and vamoosed. Andrew had already been in trouble for turning off the computer, and here he was going to the corner again.
Well, we weren't going to be eating any meat with our rice, but it wasn't exactly contaminated. I looked it over for pieces of broken ceramics and it was clean. So I thought I would feed the brisket to the pets. Now, I'm sure that there's someone reading this thinking bad idea feeding them table scraps, but that's what I did. I just opened the back door and called them and they came. First came my giddy dog who hardly couldn't contain herself. She wagged her little corgi rear so furiously, you would have thought she was going to bust. I could tell she really wanted to speak English to me right then: "Oh, yummy, yummy, yummy! Throw it now! I need it!"
I didn't want her to gobble it all up though, so I threw her a couple of pieces and then I threw a couple pieces to the stupid cat. I'm not trying to be mean, but it's just that I could put a piece of food right under the cat's nose and it wouldn't find it and the dog would gobble it up. So I told Sara (the dog) to sit when I threw the meat to the cat. She didn't. I got mad and swatted her hard on the rear, and told her to sit again. She sat this time and suffered while the cat slowly picked at a piece of brisket. Then I told her "okay" and she could move. I was quite proud of myself for teaching the dog a lesson.
Back in the house I noticed my thumb hurting. It was blue. I hurt it when I hit the dog. I couldn't believe it. I even wondered if I broke it. I don't think so, but it hurts all the same. I figure it will take a couple of weeks for it to get back to normal. Next time, Johnie, just throw the brisket in the trash, and don't hit the dog.
--Johnie
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The Little Things So Far
This morning I got up grouchy because our oldest was wide awake and trying to wake up everyone else in a very cheerful way. I didn't set the alarm because I wanted to sleep in. We all stayed up late watching Disney's Pinocchio. The kids didn't remember seeing it, so it sounded like a fun thing to do. I fell asleep on the couch. Joyce woke me up I guess around 11 or 12 and I went on to bed.
I was only half awake when I heard our kids getting up. I was wide awake when I heard the cat fighting in the backyard. I think our cat's a boy, but it has always been a real sissy. Every night we leave it in the laundry room, and every morning I find it hiding in the front yard under the carport. This morning it was in the backyard and when it came to me it was covered in mud.
Our cat is white.
I picked it up the mud-ball by the scruff of the neck and carried it to the bathroom and ran some bathwater. The second I turned into the bathroom it started freaking out, clawing at me and hissing. Our cat is so pitiful when it comes to baths. Its long hair makes it look so big and fluffy when dry, but when it gets wet it just looks so funny I have to laugh. It looks like a muppet design that never made the final cut and got shelved.
The cat hated its bath and hated getting dried off even more. It clawed me once, but it was just a mere puncture wound. I couldn't get it fully dried off so I put it in its crate for a while to air dry, then later I used the blow drier. While the cat air-dried, I cooked bacon and cinnamon-sugar biscuits. While the bacon cooked I downloaded some old Geoff Moore and DC Talk songs. Since breakfast we've been dancing and playing and drawing.
Since then I've made one paper airplane and helped guide little hands at making pudding. I have a headache from staying up so late and throwing off my schedule. I just have to remember that this is a new day full of possibilities. If I keep my eyes open I might just see and recognize that all the little things that seem unimportant are some of the most enjoyable parts of life: The paper airplanes, dirty cats, and pudding.
--Johnie
I was only half awake when I heard our kids getting up. I was wide awake when I heard the cat fighting in the backyard. I think our cat's a boy, but it has always been a real sissy. Every night we leave it in the laundry room, and every morning I find it hiding in the front yard under the carport. This morning it was in the backyard and when it came to me it was covered in mud.
Our cat is white.
I picked it up the mud-ball by the scruff of the neck and carried it to the bathroom and ran some bathwater. The second I turned into the bathroom it started freaking out, clawing at me and hissing. Our cat is so pitiful when it comes to baths. Its long hair makes it look so big and fluffy when dry, but when it gets wet it just looks so funny I have to laugh. It looks like a muppet design that never made the final cut and got shelved.
The cat hated its bath and hated getting dried off even more. It clawed me once, but it was just a mere puncture wound. I couldn't get it fully dried off so I put it in its crate for a while to air dry, then later I used the blow drier. While the cat air-dried, I cooked bacon and cinnamon-sugar biscuits. While the bacon cooked I downloaded some old Geoff Moore and DC Talk songs. Since breakfast we've been dancing and playing and drawing.
Since then I've made one paper airplane and helped guide little hands at making pudding. I have a headache from staying up so late and throwing off my schedule. I just have to remember that this is a new day full of possibilities. If I keep my eyes open I might just see and recognize that all the little things that seem unimportant are some of the most enjoyable parts of life: The paper airplanes, dirty cats, and pudding.
--Johnie
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