Friday, December 23, 2005

It was Christmastime and two-year-old Timmy was sitting on his aunt's lap. He was ready to get down. His Aunt Gayle gave her usual requirement for letting him go, "You can't get down until you say the magic words." In case you've forgotten, the magic words are "pretty please with sugar and honey on the top." Except for this time. Timmy turned to his aunt and simply replied: "Unto you is born this day a Savior which is Christ the Lord."

Thursday, December 15, 2005

They are the busiest people I know at Christmastime - the men and women in those brown trucks that fly through our streets this time of year. The UPS people - along with countless Post Office carriers - are carrying so many packages to so many places in such a short time! They must sleep well (but not much) this time of year. As important as their service is, we don't make a big deal of the deliverer when he comes to the door. "Oh, delivery person, you are the greatest! What a guy! You are awesome, dude!" Or "dudette," as the case may be. No, we know he didn't make the gift. She didn't buy the gift. They only delivered the gift!

Monday, December 12, 2005

It was two weeks before Christmas. Our whole family was returning home from a Christmas party when a drunk driver decided that he liked our side of the road better than his side. In a split second, he swerved right in front of us. The next second, I was looking at a hood that was folded up almost to the windshield. A few hours in the emergency room showed that - miraculously - none of us had been seriously injured. Our car didn't do as well. It was totaled.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Our children got together and gave us a special gift for a recent milestone wedding anniversary - a couple of nights in the beautiful place where we honeymooned years ago. Part of their gift was a picturesque, horse-drawn carriage ride through some of the area's beautiful scenery. At one point, our carriage was headed up a relatively steep hill and another carriage was starting down that hill, full of people. It had to be a real workout for the horses. Our driver pointed out something that I found intriguing. He said, "Notice that the driver is holding the brake on as they come down the hill. That's to keep the horses from bearing a load that's too heavy for them to bear. With the driver holding the brake, they still feel like they're on level ground."

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

My wife grew up on a small farm where her Mom and Dad and she and her sister were all the hands they could afford. It was a lot of hard work and it was a struggle to survive. So even though I'm a city boy, I care about the struggles that so many independent farmers face today. In many cases, it seems like a struggle to survive, especially with so many large, corporate-type farms coming on the scene. But I was heartened to read in a recent USA Today article a new idea that some are trying with a fair degree of success. Basically, these farmers have customers who pre-order what they would like to buy, and the farmer then plants it and sells it to them later. So if I wanted so much corn or so much beans, I'd order that and even do some pre-paying for it - which takes some of the pressure of upfront expenses for the farmer. In a sense, it's buying a share of the harvest before it comes in - and then enjoying the fruits of your investment when it does.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

He invited Jesus Christ into his house, and things were never the same again. That's the picture actually portrayed in a classic old Christian booklet called "My Heart, Christ's Home." As the story unfolds, the man whose life is symbolized by a house, begins to let Jesus move beyond the front parlor and into the various rooms. In each room, Jesus changes things. Like some of what's in the library that doesn't belong in a house where Jesus lives. Some of what's done in the recreation area. Ultimately, he even lets Jesus clean out the garbage in this closet that's been sealed shut with several locks. But the picture I remember most is the one that portrays the man having personal time with Jesus in his study every morning - until one day when he's running late. He races out the door thinking he'd be there as usual the next morning. Didn't happen. For some time, he just ran out the door in the morning without ever stopping in his study. Until one morning when he hurried in there to find something, and there to his shock and surprise, was Jesus, sitting in a high-backed chair. Awkwardly, the man asked, "Jesus, what are you doing here?" Jesus' reply goes straight to the heart: "I've been here every morning - waiting for you."

Monday, October 17, 2005

Two roller coasters. Only one seemed like a real option to me. I should point out that I don't do roller coasters much. "Because you're chicken," you say. No, because I'm too short. I just don't measure up to that little height chart they have at the entrance to the coaster. I have a friend who declines roller coaster invitations by saying, "I can't. I have an inner ear problem." I like that. I might use that. For whatever reason, my rides on roller coasters are few and far between. But at this particular amusement park I visited a few years ago, they had two roller coasters side by side and two lines to get the to them. Over one line was a sign that said, "Forward." Over the other line, a sign that said - you guessed it - "Backward." You can ride looking forward or looking backward. Like this is a choice?

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

They're a family of superheroes with super capablities that normal humans don't have. And they're the subject of an animated movie hit. They're called "The Incredibles." And because of the powers they have, they are incredible. Or they could be. But the movie shows them living a very un-super life; just going through the motions of everyday life, living in the same kind of mediocrity everyone else is. They're the "Incredibles," but they're sure not living like it.

Thursday, October 6, 2005

There's nothing I appreciate more than a good night's sleep, maybe because sleep is something I don't get a lot of. Frankly, if the bed is decent, I don't care too much about the surroundings. A night's sleep is a night's sleep and the whole time I'm asleep I don't know where I am anyway, right? So much for my philosophy of sleep. Apparently, some nights' sleep are a big deal to some people, especially if it means sleeping in the historic Lincoln bedroom in the White House. There's been a lot of, shall we say, discussion about major contributions to Presidential campaigns and those who have given a lot, being given the privilege to spend the night at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue; or as one senator called it, Motel 1600. I guess if any place to sleep is special, being in the White House, just down the hall and the President and the First Lady, that would be it. People come away from that experience, even rich and powerful people who have seen and done it all, really impressed by being in that historic, powerful place for just a night. I've never stayed at the White House, but wait until you hear where I just came from!

Wednesday, October 5, 2005

I had the cutest little guy join me on my hike. I was out in the country exploring the trail that wound along the creek. First I just saw this little flash of black and white fur toddling along through the grass, not far from me. He was heading in the same direction I was. I told you he was cute; he was all black except for a nice white stripe all the way down his back, a big bushy tail, a cute little almost kitten-like face. I had been joined by a skunk! Two problems: one little spray and nobody would get near me for the next week. Secondly, it was daytime and skunks are nocturnal animals. If they're out in the daytime it can mean they have rabies! So, what did I do? Go pet him because he was so cute? No! Try to scare him off? I'm not suicidal! I did the only thing a guy with any brains would do, I walked quickly in the other direction and I didn't have to bury my clothes!

Monday, October 3, 2005

We had been shopping for the place where God wants us to build the radio studio that we desperately needed. And we were looking at a possible location - this big barn of a room with a high ceiling and it was totally bare. Well, I saw a big, bare room, but not Kasey. No, no, no. He's a carpenter and he started talking about this wall here and that partition there; the control room in that corner where the doors would be, and how we could soundproof the floor. It was amazing! He was seeing all kinds of things in that room that I sure couldn't see! But, then, that's the great thing about carpenters!

Friday, September 30, 2005

Our plane was racing down the runway, preparing to take off from Nashville. I was so exhausted, I was already drifting off into la-la land. Then came those jolts as the front wheels left the ground. The team member who was with me said, "Have you ever felt anything like that before?" I said, "No." And I dozed off. I wouldn't sleep for long; the flight attendant suddenly was announcing that we had blown a rear tire on takeoff and we were heading back to Nashville. For the next 45 minutes or so, we were circling the area, burning up as much fuel as possible for what could be a crash landing. I called my wife from the plane. I asked her to get people praying. My team member joined me in committing this whole situation to the Lord. The flight attendants went into emergency mode to begin to prepare us for the landing. They demonstrated how to brace for the landing. They had us pull out our emergency instruction card from the pocket in front of us - something they had asked us to do before we took off - something hardly anyone did. But as the attendant began her briefing she prefaced it with a simple exhortation, "This time I want you to really listen." Believe me, we really did.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Sometimes you see hitchhikers by the side of the road. What are they usually holding? A sign, usually crudely lettered, and it doesn't have the name of the car they want to ride in on it. It has the name of a place on it; the place they want to go. On Indian reservations, hitchhiking is a way of life. I asked one of our Native American friends recently about her hitchhiking experiences. She told me she asked only one question before she got in a car. She didn't care about the make of the car, the driver's IQ, or where the driver was from. She only had one question, "Where are you headed?"

Monday, September 26, 2005

How did we know it was a stupid question? Our family was in Alaska some years ago and we asked some of the folks there what seemed like a reasonable question, "Where can we go to see a moose?" The only moose we'll ever see in New Jersey are those guys at the lodge hall. You know? Most folks just laughed at our question. Turns out seeing a moose is really no big deal in Alaska. In fact, some people we talked to had hit one recently! So, they're everywhere. Sure. While I was busy speaking, my wife and kids drove all over the countryside looking for some moose. Nada. Maybe people hit them all! They even went to the Moose Sanctuary and they saw no moose there; frustrating, tired of looking, and pretty sure those moose were only in pictures in the tourist brochures. One morning we walked out of the house where we were staying, we piled in the car, and we started driving down the driveway. Suddenly, one of the kids shouted, "Moose!" And sure enough, there were three members of the antler gang right there at the bottom of our own driveway! What we'd been looking for all that time was right in front of us.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Jerry and I were best friends in high school, and then we didn't see each other for several years. But we were able to get together again when we found out that he and his wife had moved to an apartment in New York City. He was training to become a 747 pilot for a major airline. My wife and I went in to have dinner at their apartment, and we realized that Jerry and Gail were making the big bucks. They had an exclusive apartment, expensive furniture and a brand new Cadillac. Jerry took us down to the high-security garage to show the Caddy to us with a lot of pride. A couple months later, they drove out to our little apartment in a New Jersey suburb. We didn't live in a fancy neighborhood, but you know, it wasn't a bad neighborhood. Jerry had to park his Cadillac where we parked our un-Cadillac - on the street. We prepared a nice dinner, but Jerry couldn't enjoy it. He couldn't enjoy the conversation we tried to have after dinner. The whole time he was really nervous. Every five minutes or so he would leave the conversation, go over to the window, and check on his Cadillac! I assured him it would be OK, but no, no. He spent the whole night worrying about losing his expensive car. At first, I though Jerry owned a Cadillac. It turned out that a Cadillac owned Jerry!

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

People in the real estate business will tell you that three things really matter when it comes to the value of any property: location, location, and location. Apparently, the President's White House team believes that, too. After Bill Clinton's re-election, "Newsweek" described the efforts of various officials to get the best office spaces at the White House. It happens with every administration. The article was named, interestingly enough, "The Geography of Power." What makes an office at the White House a good office? Well, if you had a choice about your office, you'd probably want the one with windows and plenty of space. But that's not what matters most in the White House office scramble. It's how close are you to the Oval Office! You must be near the President! The way they put it is this: "proximity is power." Yes, it is.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

We lived in the same town for over 25 years, so I could almost drive our town blindfolded. And sometimes I acted like it. Then one day, I suddenly realized how casual I was cruising the streets close to home - too casual, really. When I'm in an unfamiliar situation; both hands on the wheel, all eyes and ears. I'm intent. I'm focused. But, hey, these streets? I've driven these a thousand times, so I just sort of would go on automatic pilot, and frankly sometimes I didn't pay much attention. For some reason, one of those National Safety Council factoids popped on the screen in my brain: the vast majority of accidents take place within a few miles of home. Interesting - it's when you feel the safest that you're really in the greatest danger of all.

Friday, September 16, 2005

For a long time, I've been fascinated with the story of the Titanic. The sinking of that seemingly "unsinkable" ship after a collision with an iceberg is filled with human drama that has inspired endless movies, books, and documentaries. Finding the Titanic at the bottom of the Atlantic fueled greater interest - and greater information - than ever before. Some of the drama of those discoveries has been within our reach as the Titanic artifacts exhibit has been on display in some of America's leading museums. You can see many personal items recovered from the Titanic's debris field along with displays that recreate the feeling of being a passenger on that doomed ship. When I went in, I was given a boarding pass with the name of a real person who had been aboard that awful night. At the end of the exhibit, there's this big wall with the names of everyone aboard - first class, second class, third class, crew. Every person is either on the list that says "saved" or "lost." I looked hard for my name - and I discovered that I was one of the few crewmen who was "saved."

A pastor I know, who I had told about my experience there, well, he went to see the exhibit for himself. But he told me about it. He looked me in the eye and said very soberly, "Except I was lost."

Thursday, September 15, 2005

There are some decent, even values-oriented things on television for children these days. But, as you know very well, there's a lot of garbage, too. And in between those two extremes, there are shows that are mostly good but have some words scattered in them that little ears shouldn't be hearing - or big ears, for that matter. Along comes a service called TV Guardian - which automatically replaces a naughty word with a nice word, thus removing what could be bad for your child. Occasionally, the replacements are actually a little amusing. Like the word "sex" for example. The new word is "hugs." Which gets a little interesting when someone asks, "So what will be the hugs of your baby?" But I do think TV Guardian is a pretty good idea.

Friday, September 9, 2005

Years ago I heard a friend tell about a scene from his childhood that he never forgot. My friend was around on that black day in 1929 that marked the beginning of the Great Depression. One of the great traumas of America's financial collapse was that many banks went under almost overnight. My friend remembered seeing a neighbor at the locked gates of his bank - and he was literally pounding his fists bloody on those gates, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Give me my money! Give me my money!" There was no money to give.