Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Aunt Betty's wedding ring had been in the family for three generations, and it's been passed down to my wife. There's probably no piece of jewelry that she treasures more than this one. But she couldn't wear it because Aunt Betty's ring size was a lot larger than my wife's little fingers. My wife identified a jeweler whose craftsmanship she trusted and she entrusted this heirloom to him to be downsized. To be honest, she was a little nervous leaving it with anyone, but she did commit it to this jeweler. When he called that the ring was ready, she could hardly wait to see what he had done with it. Well, the diamonds were intact, the ring looked the same, but it fit her perfectly. He didn't make it into a necklace or a pendant. He didn't change the setting of the stones. Of course not. He took what was entrusted to him and he made it better.

Monday, May 14, 2007

The setting was a beautiful Christian conference center, nestled in this idyllic spot in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Now Rocky Mountain fans won't be impressed, but some of the mountains around the conference center rise to five or six thousand feet. I had been speaking there, and the director began to tell me some interesting stories from their last few months at the center; like the man they had to go looking for at the top of a nearby mountain in the middle of the night. See, he'd gone too far, and he'd stayed out too long. I asked the obvious question: "Well, was he lost?" The director said: "He didn't think he was."

Friday, May 11, 2007

He may have been the greatest American hero of his time; his name was Meriwether Lewis. When President Thomas Jefferson bought the massive Louisiana Purchase from Napoleon, the size of this young country was more than doubled overnight. The land stretched from the Mississippi to the Pacific, much of it known well to Native Americans but largely unknown to white Americans. Well, Jefferson tapped his personal aide and a distinguished war veteran to lead the incredible adventure we know today, of course, as the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Following the long and winding route of the Missouri River, Lewis led his expedition all the way from the point where it ends near St. Louis to its headwaters in Montana. His longtime dream had been to find the source of that river and to drink from it. He got his dream. If only it had satisfied his thirst.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

A local pastor told me about an incident that reportedly happened when a world-famous professional golfer was playing in Saudi Arabia. Apparently, the King was so impressed with this man's playing that he said to him, "I'd like to give you a gift of appreciation." Now this renowned golfer told the King that no gift was necessary; he just appreciated the opportunity to play in his country. But the King was insistent, not only that the golfer receive a gift, but that he could name any gift he wanted.

Monday, May 7, 2007

This grandparent thing can be an expensive proposition. Without grandchildren, you can walk past hundreds of cute toys and never miss a step. But when you have a grandchild, you keep seeing your grandchild's name on those toys. Which means you must buy toy with name on it. Right? Well, not all of them, but probably too many of them. We happened to be in a store not long ago with our little one-year-old granddaughter, and I happened to see this great stick horse that I thought would be entertaining for another grandchild, our nearly three-year-old grandson. When you squeeze the ear of the head of this horse, the William Tell Overture (otherwise known to us non-intellectuals as the "Lone Ranger Theme") starts playing, and the horse starts whinnying and snorting, and its nose starts twitching back and forth inside its halter. Well, I walked up to the grocery cart that our one-year-old granddaughter was riding in, and I turned it on for her to see. Her reaction was interesting. She reached in the direction of that twitching steed, wanting me to bring it closer. So I did. But as I brought it near her, she pulled as far back as she could, laying her head against her mother's shoulder. So much for my field test.

Friday, May 4, 2007

It's really a beautiful area of the Southwestern United States, except for this one horrendous eyesore. It's a graveyard for cars. Acre after acre, and you've seen them, they’re covered with cars that have been discarded, wrecked, crushed, and stacked several cars deep. And every time I pass this one and see all these trashed and mashed cars, I can't help but thinking to myself, "Just think, one day that car was somebody's dream come true." Someone probably wished for that car, got that car, and showed everybody this car they were so proud of. Look at it now!

Monday, April 30, 2007

One of our team members is quite the woodsman and the hiker, you know. And one foggy Saturday morning, he volunteered to lead a group of men who wanted to go hike to this distinctive rock formation called Hawksbill Crag. He had the book on the trails in that area; a book written by the man considered the expert. My friend kept consulting the book as they went along, pretty confident that they would soon end up at Hawksbill Crag. They ended up lost in a poison ivy patch, and the fog wasn't helping much. As they tried to retrace their steps, they passed a house set back in the woods and they happened to see its owner outside. My friend called to him and asked him if he would help them get "un-lost." That man went above and beyond. He actually came to where they were, helped them make sense of the map that they had, and pointed them right to the trail that got them to their goal. Of course, it turns out he was the man who wrote the book.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

Isn't it amazing how different your second child can be from your first child? Just when you think you've got this parent thing figured out, God sends you a totally different kid. For example, food has always been sort of a necessary evil for our son's oldest, our granddaughter. She can take it or leave it. Since infancy, she hasn't cared much about whether or not she had food. Not her brother! Oh no! This kid is an eating machine. He's only about a year old, but he's been Food King much of his little life. When he was still supposed to be only having milk, he was following every bite any of us put into our mouth as if to say, "So when do I get some of that stuff?" How did he graduate to crawling? One thing that helped was putting some food across the room. He took off on all fours like a firecracker had gone off behind him. The other day, his mom was mixing up his next meal, and he was watching and complaining. As she continued to get it ready, he continued to escalate his expressions of impatience and displeasure. By the time his food was ready, we were dealing with a very loud, very insistent protest.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

It was a wonderful/awful day in my life - the day my mother took my hand and walked me the two blocks over to Park Manor School in Chicago. It was the day I went to school for the first time. Kindergarten, here I come! It was exciting, but it was hard, too. We didn't do any pre-school stuff back then; my family didn't even go to Sunday School. So here was little Ronnie leaving the safety of his apartment, leaving his mother, leaving everything that was safe and familiar for a place I had never been. It sounds a little silly, knowing what I know now. Still, the fears and the feelings were very real then. But if I hadn't left home and stepped into the unknown called school, I would have missed so much!

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Lake Cumberland is a nice place to go in central Kentucky. It's not a nice place to have come to you. And that's what the Army Corps of Engineers has been concerned about. The Wolf Creek Dam holds back millions of gallons of water from Nashville and other communities along the Cumberland River. And the Army engineers have expressed some growing concerns about a possible dam break. They said a break could kill many residents and cause over three billion dollars in damage. A Corps spokesman said that failure of the dam wasn't imminent but that evacuation plans would be a good idea. They're lowering the water level in the lake and they're trying to fortify the dam, because that dam is all that stands between a lot of lives and a major disaster.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Okay, I don't mind winter. It's a good thing since God seems to have assigned me to the North most of my life. I also don't mind snow. It's beautiful! It's even driveable if you know how to handle it. But ice - now I can't think of anything nice to say about ice. And, after the winter of '98, neither could the folks in New England and Canada. They got walloped with a mega ice-storm that left two inches of ice on everything. In Montreal, for example, power lines and poles and trees just collapsed under the weight of the ice, and thousands of people were without power for days; which means many were without heat in the middle of a Montreal winter. In one neighborhood, one man got pretty resourceful after shivering for five days. He marched across the street with a lot of orange extension cord and asked his neighbor if he could plug into their outdoor outlet. The people on one side of the street were without power and very cold. The people on the other side of the street had power and were very cozy.

That power from across the street was enough to start that man's furnace. And within a few hours, from one end of the block to the other, you could see long orange extension cords crisscrossing the street from the cold side to the warm side. Those who had no power were supplied by those who did and then everybody was warm!

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Tommy Rieman was a teenager pumping gas in Independence, Kentucky, when he enlisted in the United States Army. Today, he wears the Purple Heart and the Silver Star of an American hero. He was, in fact, introduced to the nation during President Bush's 2007 State of the Union Address. There's been much disagreement about the war in Iraq, but there's no disagreement about the heroism of soldiers like Sgt. Rieman. The day his squad was ambushed by enemy fire in the midst of a reconnaissance mission, they were outnumbered ten to one. Their vehicles kept moving as Sgt. Rieman dove into the backseat and used his body as a shield to protect his gunner. As they sped away from the ambush, they found themselves ambushed again by some 50 enemy attackers. Rieman was shot in the right arm, he was shot in the chest, he had shrapnel wounds to his chest and stomach and ear, and his squad was out of ammo. In spite of his wounds, Tommy Rieman began firing away with his grenade launcher at their attackers. Finally, the enemy's guns fell silent. Then Sgt. Rieman began tending to his wounded.

Monday, April 16, 2007

When you have a commercial flight to catch at a major airport, it's important to pay attention. There are so many flights, so many gates, so many people, and there's only one plane you want to board; the one that's going to your destination. I guess folks must have made mistakes over the years. That must be the reason the boarding agent or flight attendant gets on the plane and often says something like this: "This is a destination check. You're on Flight 88 to Atlanta. If Atlanta is not your destination today, this would be a good time for you to deplane." Yeah, I guess. In other words, this buggy isn't going where you want to end up!

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

When I had the opportunity to visit the White House for a meeting with the President, I learned what everyone learns who is going to America’s Executive Mansion. They really check you out before they let you in there. There’s a background check. There are armed Marines at the door checking you out. You go through a metal detector to make sure you’re not carrying anything naughty with you. Believe me, you don’t just decide to drop by the White House, walk right in and make yourself at home!

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

When our friends got married some years ago, they decided they wanted to live and farm in a largely undeveloped area of the Ozark Mountains. They had some interesting neighbors - one in particular. He looked and talked and smelled like a true man of the mountains who had little use for "civilization." After they declined his invitation to dinner a lot of times, they finally consented. It was a memorable night. They stood on the porch of his cabin as he pointed to the hens running around the yard and said, "Tell me which chicken you want for dinner." They did and then they got to participate in executing the lucky winner. The conditions in which dinner was prepared would have given chest pains to any health inspector.

As they sat down at the table, they noticed a dark covering on one dish that they were about to eat. It turned out to be flies! After dinner, the two men sat in the living room and visited. My friend commented on the big holes all along the bottom of the cabin walls. His host explained that those holes were from the mice. "They must be mighty big mice and there must be a lot of them," my friend commented. The host smiled. "Oh, the holes are from me killing ‘em. I just sit here with my old .22 and shoot ‘em when they poke their head out!"

Monday, April 2, 2007

You can read about the Grand Canyon. You can see pictures of the Grand Canyon. But you can't begin to comprehend how grand a canyon it is until you're standing right there at the edge of it, trying to drink in how massive it really is. The moods, the colors, the vastness - it was really something impressive for our whole family that first time we went there together. You stand on the South Rim and you look at the North Rim in the distance - the far distance, realizing you can only look. It averages at least ten miles across! There's no way to get across that canyon. There's no bridge that will take you to the other side.

Friday, March 30, 2007

It was one of those disasters that riveted the attention of the nation. Nine Pennsylvania coal miners had been excavating when they inadvertently broke through a flooded shaft. An estimated 50 to 60 million gallons of water rushed in, trapping the men in this underground chamber. When the water rose over their heads, they had to swim to higher ground - still 240 feet underground. For two and a half days, rescuers didn't know if the miners were dead or alive. Once they made contact through a phone line they lowered into the flooded shaft, they established a line that would deliver compressed air and they began pumping out water. Seventy-seven hours after the ordeal began, rescuers brought the miners, one at a time, up to the surface in a cramped yellow rescue cage. As the last man was pulled to the surface, the Governor of the state simply said, "All nine. All nine."

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

A pastor friend of mine wrote recently and caught my attention with these words: "I'm thankful that the Lord has a sense of humor." He went on to tell about a Sunday some 55 years ago. He was in child care during the Sunday morning worship service with a friend of his, and they decided they wanted to find out what the "grownups" were doing in the sanctuary. So they devised an elaborate escape plan. They waited until the adult child care workers weren't looking and they made their break. At an opportune moment, they darted out of the kindergarten room, determined to see what went on in that morning worship service. Unfortunately, one boy got caught at the last minute, but he yelled to my friend, "Keep going, Paul! They got me!"

With adults in hot pursuit, my friend entered the first door he found into the sanctuary and found himself on the platform with the entire church looking at him. He had come in during the offering and both pastors were seated, doing nothing. To five-year-old eyes, it looked as if nothing was happening. The little explorer thought, "Is this all church is?" It was about that time his grandmother motioned to him to come down from the platform to her pew. In his words, "I was summarily grabbed, placed down next to her and told that I was in more trouble than I could ever imagine." Here's a fun footnote: for the past 25 years, the little boy who invaded that service has been the pastor of that church!

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Boys usually love foot races. It gives you a chance to show off how fast you are. Unless it's a three-legged race, in which case even an Olympian looks like a total klutz. They first roped me into a three-legged race at a Sunday School picnic when I was a kid. What they do is they tie each runner's leg to the leg of his relay partner. Then you get to see which team can round the track first, tied to each other. Speaking as a veteran, believe me, you stumble, you stagger, and you limp your way through this event where everyone looks dumb. What's really fun is when you go down and your psycho partner decides to keep running, dragging you along.

Friday, March 16, 2007

It was a TV show a long time ago, and it was resurrected again recently. The idea must still have some life in it! It's called "To Tell the Truth." Maybe you saw it. Three contestants all tell the panel their name and they all claim to be the same person. The host reads a little background on the person, and then it's up to the panel to try to figure out which one is the real one. The climactic moment comes when the host says, "Will the real Joe Slobotnik please stand up?" They all shift in their chairs, but finally one stands up. The real one!