A Few Good Men: The Grocery Store Oxymoron

Introduction

If you have read many of my stories, you already know that grocery shopping and I have a strained relationship.

Yes, I am that husband—the one who cannot return home with the simple items on a short shopping list prepared by his ailing wife. It doesn’t matter if she includes photographs, brand names, aisle numbers, or detailed directions. Somehow, I still come home with the wrong items.

Over the years, my grocery adventures have become legendary.

I have fallen on my face while carrying a watermelon. I have found myself in the middle of a “Wine and Roses” encounter while attempting to separate an alleged shoplifting scuffle. I have argued with a self-checkout machine, forgotten the coupons, stumbled and spilled a carton of milk, and even managed to drop an entire dozen eggs.

At this point, I am beginning to wonder if I’ve been unofficially banned from both the grocery store and my wife’s angelic assistance team.

Today, however, I have a few questions.

Why aren’t all the ingredients for a recipe stocked on the same aisle?

Why does there always seem to be one indecisive shopper standing directly in front of the fresh fruit display, carefully examining every apple while the rest of us age noticeably behind her?

Why does a man always park his shopping cart sideways across the canned vegetable aisle while loudly talking on his phone and pointing toward random shelves?

Actually, I know the answer to that one.

He is talking to his long-suffering wife, who is wondering—for perhaps the thousandth time—how she ended up marrying an idiot.

And while I am asking questions…

Why do motorized shopping carts always travel in pairs? Why do they double-park in the narrowest aisles? And why is there always one driver barreling through the store like a runaway truck with failed brakes?

Move—or be maimed.

Here is another issue that troubles my soul.

If the store trusts me enough to scan and bag my own groceries, why do they station someone at the exit to inspect my receipt before allowing me to leave?

Feature Focus

Every self-checkout eventually announces a problem with your activity:

Unexpected item in the bagging area.

Those six words have probably caused more public humiliation than my seventh-grade buzz haircut administered by my dad when I returned home from the barbershop trying to pass for one of the Beatles.

Without warning, the self-checkout register flashed its accusatory message:

I froze.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Unexpected item in the bagging area.

The glowing red beacon atop the machine erupted like a miniature police cruiser hiding behind a billboard waiting to catch a speeding motorist. In one humiliating instant, every shopper within fifty feet knew that Register Four had a problem—and apparently, so did I.

I tapped and jabbed all around the touchscreen with growing desperation, alternately removing and replacing groceries as if I were James Bond or MacGyver trying to deactivate a ticking timebomb in the closing seconds before ignition.

Nothing.

The machine remained unconvinced of my innocence.

The loudspeaker crackled to life.

“Attention, shoppers. We have a suspected shoplifter at Register Four. Please guard your carts and calmly relocate to the frozen foods section until the situation has been contained.”

The older gentleman behind me sighed heavily, and the mother with the crying baby looked at me angrily, as if was … well, an idiot.

I raised my hands in surrender and shrugged helplessly.

In my mind, someone shouted, “He might have a weapon!”

A security guard moved closer. “Sir, please drop everything. Place your hands on your head so I can clearly see you. I do not want to handcuff you, but I will. The store associate will arrive shortly.”

There I stood, under the spotlight of public embarrassment, waiting for assistance that seemed to be traveling from another time zone.

Apparently, the attendant was performing a price check on Aisle Four.

Every step toward me was completely devoid of urgency, which raises another question.

How does someone rush slowly?

Yes, I know that’s an oxymoron.

But so is an innocent man standing beneath imaginary prison lights while a checkout machine loudly questions his integrity.

I asked if I needed to call a lawyer…

Perhaps this is a good time for a brief literary timeout.

An oxymoron joins two seemingly contradictory words into a single expression that reveals a deeper truth. Rather than canceling each other out, the opposing ideas create a richer meaning than either word could communicate alone.

The word itself is delightfully ironic. It comes from the Greek words oksus (“sharp”) and moros (“dull” or “foolish”). In other words, an oxymoron is literally a sharp dullness—making the word an oxymoron all by itself.

Which, if I’m being honest, perfectly describes me.

I can play the role of a remarkably sharp, stupid shopper.

Guilty Innocence

Thus began the saga of my guilty innocence.

The Sound of Silence was suddenly interrupted by a nearby shopper who managed to loudly whisper a rather unflattering description of yours truly.

She skipped the “oxy” part.

I briefly considered asking if she was Legally Blonde. Hey! I thought that was seriously funny.

Instead, I let out a silent scream.

Even the service dog accompanying a blind gentleman began to whine. A frightened kid climbed down from the counterto pick up his shattered plastic glasses.

At that moment, reality became strangely surreal. I felt less like a customer and more like an actor watching himself from the audience.

The approaching store assistant certainly wasn’t the Urban Cowboy riding to the rescue. He looked more like a Keith Urban impersonator strolling toward me while softly singing,

“Blue Ain’t Your Color… when it is Somebody Like You.”

For the record, I think constructive criticism is an oxymoron. We should call it what it truly is … destructive criticism.

At that moment, I certainly doubted my life calling.

As absurd as it sounds, I was a living oxymoron suspended somewhere in intense apathy.

Sometimes life does not simply place us in difficult situations. It places us between opposing emotions that somehow coexist in the very same heart.

These are all True Lies.

Like Augustine, I found myself confessing, “I have become a puzzle to myself.”

Whenever I feel trapped in life’s contradictions, I remember Shakespeare’s magnificent avalanche of oxymorons from Romeo and Juliet.

“O brawling love! O loving hate! O anything of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! Serious vanity! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health…”

Only Romeo could make confusion sound poetic.

Personally, I preferred Juliet’s confusing conclusion from the balcony:

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

At that moment, I was more than ready for the sweet sorrow of leaving the store.

I simply wanted to escape—with or without my groceries.

What did I have to fear except fear itself?

I was, after all…an honest thief.

Controlled Chaos

The store assistant finally arrived. Calling his pace methodical would have been generous.

If Slow Help had a mascot, this guy was wearing the costume.

With the deliberate precision of a bomb squad technician, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the barcode lanyard that would supposedly rescue me.

First, he had to untangle it.

Then he carefully examined it.

He swiped the scanner.

Missed.

He stared thoughtfully at the screen as though waiting for divine inspiration.

He sighed.

Swiped again.

His movements pictured the urgency of a North Atlantic glacier. The Titanic sank faster than this.

Meanwhile, the checkout line behind me continued to grow—not only in length but also in hostility.

How does a routine trip to buy groceries become controlled chaos?

You would have thought I was a gladiator in the Roman Coliseum who had forgotten to scan the lion’s dinner. The blood-thirsty crowd wanted action.

The Interrogation

I resented the attendant’s phony authenticity as if he were some book character from The Catcher in the Rye.

In contrast, I acted naturally.

Instead of clearing the error message, the assistant began conducting what felt like a criminal investigation.

How does a simple misunderstanding evolve into a public trial?

“Did you scan the beans?”

“Yes.”

“The peaches?”

“I believe so.”

“The cupcakes?”

At this rate, I expected him to interrupt the ABC Nightly News.

“Breaking Update… Authorities have released the complete grocery list recovered from the suspect at Register Four.”

Suddenly, I felt like this was a scene from the movie, A Few Good Men, where a frustrated Jack Nicholson shouted his reaction to Tom Cruise’s intense interrogation.

“Sir, do you want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!”

Then came the question that nearly broke me.

“Do you have the original receipt showing the price of the item?”

I blinked. “The original receipt?” I certainly doubt it.

He nodded thoughtfully, apparently unconvinced.

I was tempted to ask whether an exact estimate would suffice.

Instead, I made the tactical error of asking, “Do you have any noodles?”

I have discovered that serious SARCASM cannot be exchanged for store credit—with or without a receipt.

[Note: Where are the Few Good Men? Suddenly, my mind went wild like a grocery store reenactment of the final dramatic courtroom scene.]

The young man stared at me. “What did you say?”

A lady called out, “You don’t have to answer that question?”

“I’ll answer the question. You want answers?

Son, we live in a world that has self-checkout machines, and those self-checkout machines mess up. Who is going to fix it? You? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly imagine.

You don’t want the truth because deep down in places you don’t talk about during break time, you need me on that self-checkout. You want me on that self-checkout.

I use words like honor, scan code, loyalty shopper.

I have neither the time or the inclination to explain myself to someone who gets paid because of my purchases and then questions the items on my list. I would rather you just said, “thank you” and go on your way to the deli.”

“Did you scan the item code before placing it in the bagging area?”

“Yes, I did! I scanned the code. I scanned the Red Code, the White Code, and the Blue Code. I am an American and I have a right to make a perfect mistake.”

There was a deafening silence. Everyone was stunned. It was time for truth.

Perhaps I had unknowingly pressed the wrong button. I choked while searching for the mysterious “Skip Bagging” option

I think the self-checkout machine simply sensed weakness.

I could not handle the truth! I do not have a clear memory of what happened at that point. I panicked. Everything in my mind became hazy and crazy.

I might have called the attendant an oxymoron.

Cruel kindness can sting almost as much as freezer burn.

I did not curse but I might have shouted a litany of grocery oxymorons, at least in my mind.

  • Jumbo shrimp. Bittersweet chocolate. New-old fashioned freshly baked.
  • Boneless ribs. Buffalo wings. Canned fresh vegetables. Naturally artificial flavors.
  • Meatless meat. Non-fat ice cream. Gourmet fast food.

The grocery business, it seems, has built an empire on oxymorons.

Maybe that is why I fit in so well. Sometimes, I can’t handle the truth.

I longed for Lord Byron’s “melancholy merriment.” Instead, I shared Charlie Brown’s famous sigh, “Good grief!”

The Voice Above the Noise

Then it happened.

No sirens. No flashing lights. No dramatic announcement over the store’s loudspeaker.

Instead, there came a Voice.

It was not loud. It was a still, small voice.

In fact, it was so gentle that it seemed to rise above every other sound in the store. It sailed past the crying baby, beyond the grumbling shoppers, and over the anxious wail of the service dog.

Yet it struck its target with the precision of two guided cruise missiles.

Two words.

Gentleness. Patience.

The message landed with far greater force than all the embarrassment, frustration, and imaginary police reports that had occupied my thoughts.

Its echo continued long after the checkout machine was silent.

It penetrated the protective bunker surrounding my heart.

Suddenly, the grocery store was not my greatest problem. Not the checkout machine. Not the slowly rushing attendant. Not the grumbling crowd.

I was the problem. And I knew it. This was not about my inefficiency to scan and bag grocery items.

Jesus said, “Blessed are the gentle (the meek), for they shall inherit the earth” (Matthew 5:5). They will go home with everything of value.

Biblical gentleness is often misunderstood.

It is not weakness. It is not timidity. It is not surrender. It is not allowing people to walk over you.

Gentleness is strength under control.

The word was used to describe a powerful stallion that had been trained for its master’s service. The strength was still there. The power had not diminished. This was a greater strength–power under control.

The strength had simply been surrendered to a higher purpose.

Gentleness shows up whenever love is strong enough to choose restraint.

The #1 Textbook reminds us, “A gentle answer turns away wrath” (Proverbs 15:1).

My grandchildren often remind me of one of the simplest—and best—definitions of patience.

Patience is waiting with a smile.

Longsuffering Love. That is far more difficult than waiting with a complaint. Patience requires greater strength and a higher purpose than throwing objects and shouting insults.

The two words continued to echo through my mind.

Gentleness. Patience.

Clothe yourself with gentleness and patience…above all, put on love…and honor God in whatever you do (Colossians 3:12-17).

Oddly enough, gentleness and patience were not on my shopping list. Neither was love.

Somehow, I remembered my wallet. My keys. My phone. My American Express card.

But I had walked into the store without love and the two things I needed most from the love collection.

Gentleness. Patience.

The “Skip Self” Button

Isn’t that true of so much of life?

We pack our schedules. We organize our calendars. We guard our possessions.

Yet we often leave home without the very qualities Christ longs to produce within us.

When life suddenly flashes an unexpected warning…

When someone blocks the store aisle…

When traffic stalls…

When technology refuses to cooperate…

When self-checkout checks out self instead of groceries…

Our first response is often frustration and anger.

Perhaps that is because following Jesus is the greatest oxymoron of all.

We spend our lives trying to preserve ourselves. Jesus calls us to surrender ourselves.

We give to gain; we lose to win; we serve to reign; we die to live.

We speak and live words that matter forever. Words like love, faith, hope. Words like honor, humility, service.

Then the ultimate worldly oxymoron shines in the spotlight of our skipped bagging … celebrate suffering.

Why? How? It is a spiritual oxymoron.

“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me…” (Galatians 2:20).

The Christian life is, in many ways, a lifetime of learning to press heaven’s “Skip Self” button.

Only then can Christ’s life be seen in ours.

I began to come to my senses. I was back in reality. I can only hope the oxymoron rant was a mindless dream.

The grocery assistant’s voice began to get my attention. “Do you need anything else, sir?”

I replied, “No thank you, kind sir. Love is all I need.”

LOVE IS ALL I NEED.

Hop on the Struggle Bus

The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, all through the town.

Hop on the Struggle Bus. It is crowded but there is a seat reserved for you. This is probably not your first ride. We all struggle with difficult situations and people.

Suffering, sickness, and sorrow do not announce their arrival. Cancer does not schedule an appointment. Grief does not check your calendar. They do not show up with an instruction manual on how to navigate the wreckage of interrupted plans and crushed dreams.

Unwanted circumstances and toxic people simply have a way of showing up at the most inconvenient and difficult times. The future you imagined suddenly disappears in the rearview mirror. And before you know it…you’re climbing aboard the Struggle Bus.

Nobody planned to ride this bus. No one wakes up and says, “Today seems like a wonderful day for a personal crisis.”

Suddenly, your bags are packed. You’re ready to go. Backpacks overflow with fear, disappointment, loneliness, or unanswered questions.

At this point, we all face a critical crossroad. Run away in despair? Or regroup in hope?

For many people, the first reaction is confusion. “How did I end up here?”

Then comes frustration. “Why is this happening?”

Then fear. “What if things never get better?”

Eventually, almost everyone asks the same question: “God…where are You?”

That question does not shock God. In fact, the Bible is filled with people asking it. Perhaps, like many, you believe that genuine faith means pretending everything is fine. It doesn’t.

Biblical faith is not denying reality. It is bringing reality to God. There is a huge difference. The #1 Textbook never tells us to paste a fake smile over a broken heart. Instead, it repeatedly invites us to bring our pain, confusion, disappointment, and even our questions to the Lord.

What do you do now? Do you run away in despair? Or regroup in hope?

The destination sign on the front of the Struggle Bus does not read Despair City.

It reads: 2 Corinthians 1:10

You are not sure where or what that place is, but you just need to get away from the hurting place where you are now.

The wheels on the Struggle Bus go round and round, round and round, all through the town.

You may wonder why God allows us to ride this bus at all. Couldn’t He simply remove every hardship? Of course He could. (Check out the Mercy Me song, Even If…).

But if God removed every struggle, we would never learn to trust Him. We might admire His power while never experiencing His comfort. We might know about Him without truly knowing Him.

The Struggle Bus is not the detention center for the wayward; it is the classroom where we discover His faithfulness.

As you settle into your seat, look around. Here is a trustworthy statement. You thought you were the only one having a difficult day. I already used that argument. We are surrounded by ordinary people trying to make sense of difficult circumstances.

Look up and look around. Did you notice the woman quietly wiping tears with her last tissue? The man staring blankly out the window? His body is on the bus, but his mind is still in the hospital waiting room.

What about the grieving lady fidgeting with the wedding ring around her finger? The seat beside her has been empty ever since her husband went home to be with the Lord.

The bus is full. Not with perfect people. With hurting people.

You simply did not notice them before because your own pain was blocking the view.

One of suffering’s greatest lies is this: “I’m the only one hurting.”

That is not true. You may be the only one carrying your burden, but you are never the only person carrying a burden.

Every seat has a story. Every smile hides a chapter. Every heart has scars.

The Struggle Bus has no first-class section. No VIP seating. No “I’ve-got-my-life-together” compartment. Just ordinary people learning to trust an extraordinary God.

You are on the right bus.

As the bus rolls along, something becomes painfully obvious. Your biggest problem is not the bad circumstances or imperfect people in your life. Beneath every struggle is a deeper question.

Can I trust God?

The wipers on the Struggle Bus go Swish swish swish. Swish swish swish, all day long as a constant reminder that your tears and fears stem from a struggle with yourself…your unmet expectations, insecurities, regrets, resentments, and bitterness.

Can I trust God? The greatest struggles in life are the ones that you and I have with God, the driver of this Struggle Bus.

The horn on the Struggle Bus goes Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep, all day long.

Do you hear the Struggle Bus horn beeping in your mind as you complain about other people? It is trying to get your attention. Most of your struggles with other people and most of your struggles with yourself are caused by doubts about God’s wisdom and goodness.

Admit it. You want to drive the bus. You want to control the agenda and the circumstances. You want to control all the people in your life.

That is the real battle. Adam and Eve were the first passengers on the Struggle Bus when they rode out of Paradise into a broken world. Since then, every trial in life has whispered the very same lie: “Maybe God is not as good as you think.”

We listen to the soundtrack replaying the same argument. “If God loved me… If God knew…If God cared.”

The Struggle Bus does not create those questions. It simply turns up the volume…and squeezes two familiar passengers into your bus seat.  Mr. Shock and Miss Sorrow. They might as well be attached to your hip. You refuse to move around without them.

They love to dominate your attention. “I can’t believe this happened…Life will never be the same.”

Then, just when you think there is no more room in your mind for any more of this pressure, other passengers squeeze into your seat.

Fear. Regret. Bitterness. Control.

Yep. You want to drive the bus. You packed a plan and a map for your life. You even set up a time schedule. Unfortunately, no one else received your itinerary…not even God.

As the Struggle Bus hits another pothole, you notice something strange. The bus driver never panics.

He has perfect vision around every curve. He already knows every bridge, every detour, every storm, and every destination. There is nothing on this route that surprises him.

This is where many bus riders become confused about life and faith. God is not offended by honest tears nor intimidated by sincere questions. He already knows every anxious thought before you speak it.

He simply wants us to bring them to Him instead of running from Him.

The people on the Struggle Bus go up and down, up and down, all through the town.

As you look toward the front of the bus, you notice a familiar verse posted above the Driver’s seat.

“Cast all your cares on Him because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7).

Not some of your cares. All of them. Again…and again…and again. Bring your cares and your complaints to the bus driver.

Bring your complaints as well as your cares. Surprisingly, it is alright to complain to the bus driver. It never helps you to complain about the bus driver.

You hopped on the bus because you do not like what is going on in your life. You want to complain about it.

“My life is falling apart. Why is this happening? Why don’t you do something about this? What are you doing to me? Don’t you care about me? I have lost all hope.”

Wait. What? Is Complaining wrong? Sometimes. But not always.  

Here is some encouragement. You will not be the first bus rider to complain to the driver. David complained three times every day. His memorable moaning provides motivation for us.

Evening and morning and at noon I utter my complaint and moaning (Psalm 55:17). God listened to these constant complaints and still declared David to have a heart like His.

Why? David never forgot God’s character. Everything God does is wise, right, and good.

Sometimes, you board the Struggle Bus to be reminded of that great truth. You look out the windows of the bus to see everything going on. Things are not working right. People are not acting right. Circumstances are not lining up right.

Then you look at the good driver of this Struggle Bus. He is not worried, not afraid, not confused.

There is a world of difference between complaining to God and complaining about God.

The Bible calls the first lament. The second is grumbling.

Lament says, “Lord, I don’t understand what You’re doing, but I’m bringing my pain to You because You’re the only One who can help.”

Grumbling says, “God, you’ve failed me, and I don’t trust You anymore.”

If you ever wondered whether you are allowed to pour out your heart honestly, take a stroll down the aisle.

David is sitting near the front. He just blurts out what he is actually feeling. “How long, Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long must I wrestle with sorrow every day?”

Then, almost before the tears have dried, he remembers who the Driver is. “But I trust in Your unfailing love.” (Psalm 13)

That is biblical lament. Honest pain. Growing trust.

The change in perspective did not happen because David suddenly felt better, but because he remembered God was still good.

Across the aisle sits Jeremiah. If anyone earned frequent-rider miles on the Struggle Bus, it was Jeremiah. He faithfully served God. People ignored him. Mocked him. Threatened him.

He finally asked, “Lord…why do the wicked prosper?” (Jeremiah 12)

Have you ever wondered about that? Jeremiah asked difficult questions. But he asked them while facing God, not walking away from Him. He learned about everlasting love and mercies that were new every morning.

Then there’s Job. No one, absolutely no one wanted to sit anywhere near Job. He did not just have a bad week. He had the kind of year that makes everyone else grateful for their own problems.

He lost his children. His health. His wealth. His reputation. His “encouraging” friends scolded him to get his act together.

Sometimes the Struggle Bus is easier than listening to bad advice.

Job asked hard questions. Lots of them. Yet through tears and confusion he finally declared, “Though He slays me, yet I will trust Him.” (Job 13)

That was not blind optimism. It was stubborn faith. It was blessed hope.

Job rarely says much anymore. He spends most of the ride looking out the window, gazing at the stars and the rising sun. Not because he has given up. Because he has learned that some complaints do not get an answer, just a reminder the bus driver can be trusted no matter how bumpy the road.

Job eventually discovered something remarkable. He did not need an explanation for everything that happened. He received something better. He encountered God, the Creator and Controller of the Struggle Bus.

Sometimes God does not answer your every question. Sometimes He answers with His presence and the still small voice that can roll like thunder when you read His love letters in the #1 Textbook. Just check out the Cares and Complaints section.

Learn to complain to God…in faith.

Does that sound wrong? Stupid?

The babies on the Struggle Bus go Whaa whaa whaa. Whaa whaa whaa, all day long.

The rider in Psalm Seat 88 closes with one of the saddest lines in Scripture. “Darkness is my closest friend.”

No miracle. No light of hope. Just honest sorrow spoken to a faithful God. God preserved those words in the #1 Textbook given out to all Struggle Bus passengers.

Why? You do not need to have it all together to get to your destination.

This is just a suggestion from me, a frequent passenger on this Struggle Bus. Just talk to the bus driver. You do not need to use theological vocabulary, not even King James version only words.

“Lord, help.”

God never measures prayers by their elegance or their length, but by their dependence. Every cry for help is heard by your Heavenly Father whose heart is infinitely kinder than you imagine.

Call to the Lord for help; plead with Him. Bring all your complaints to Him; tell him your troubles. Tell him you are ready to give up and that you want off the Struggle Bus. Tell the driver you will trust what He says you should do (Psalm 142).

At some point, the ride does not feel quite as lonely. The road is still rough. Nothing outside the windows has changed. But something inside the bus has changed.

Hope has climbed aboard.

I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit (Romans 15:13).

As you settle back into your seat, you notice something tucked into the pouch in front of you. A worn copy of God’s Word. The Driver calls it the Passenger Handbook.  

Its pages aren’t filled with fairy tales about perfect people. They are filled with real people who rode this same Struggle Bus. People who doubted. Cried. Failed. Waited. Wondered. Discovered that God never abandoned them.

The #1 Textbook explains why these stories were preserved:

Hope.

Faith is more than a reminder of what God promised. Faith reminds us of who God is. Faith is confidence in the Bus Driver.

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope (Romans 15:4).

Endurance and Encouragement.

Read the #1 Textbook out loud to the bus driver. Read it during those stormy days outside and those darkest nights inside. “God, you said” … pick out one of the six-thousand-plus promises of good you are encouraged to trust.

The bus driver points to some of the seats on the bus close to where Job once sat shellshocked.

Jacob wrestled with everyone including the bus driver. Jacob wrestled with life. He wrestled with his brother and with his father-in-law. He wrestled with his fears.

Then one unforgettable night…he wrestled with God.

By morning he walked with a limp. But he also walked with a blessing and a reminder he never walks through life alone.

Joseph was depressed in the pits of life, lonely and confused. Read about his ride on the Struggle Bus. It was not the journey he would have chosen, but what God taught him was priceless.

Joseph learned God is always driving the Struggle Bus. Years later he could honestly tell the brothers who betrayed him,

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good.”

Only God can weave betrayal into blessing. Only God can turn prison cells into classrooms. Only God can redeem years that appear completely wasted.

Read about the babies on the Struggle Bus. Moses would laugh if you called him fearless. He argued with God at a burning bush. He told God to get someone else. When he eventually got in the front seat to lead his extended family using God’s directions, everyone complained. Every day. Food. Water. Weather. Direction. Dissatisfaction.

If there had been online customer reviews back then, Moses would have needed counseling. He was hated by the people he tried to help. But he continued to lead his family in love. It was not always what they wanted, but always what they needed. There is a difference as well as a cost to faith.

Ruth stared out the window as she remembered leaving a silent, empty home and everything she had known. She joined Naomi on the Struggle Bus. Two widows. Two broken hearts. One uncertain future. At first glance, their story looks like one long funeral procession.

Loss. Poverty. Loneliness. Goodbyes. Even some give-up moments.

Yet quietly, almost unnoticed, God was arranging a family tree that would eventually lead to King David…and centuries later…to Jesus Christ.

While Ruth gathered leftover grain in a field, heaven was writing history. Never underestimate what God is doing on ordinary days.

David tried to hide from everyone. Solomon looked under every seat in search of something already in his backpack.

Jeremiah cried…a lot.

Peter was disappointed in himself. Paul was dragged onto the bus badly beaten and left for dead.

Where are you struggling in life? Is there some circumstance not turning out the way you prefer? Are you worried that you cannot control the situation or the other people? Are you afraid of not being the bus driver for your life…and for everyone else?

Are you struggling with other people? Are you struggling with your own fears, flaws, and failures? Are you struggling with trusting God’s wisdom to plan your life?

You may not understand every twist in the road. But you can clearly see that you never traveled alone. You are on the right bus.

The road is rough and the ride is bumpy, but the Struggle Bus always arrives at its intended destination. Where is that?

2 Corinthians 1:10.

The Lord rescued us from troubling circumstances; He will rescue us again.

We have placed our CONFIDENCE in him, and he will CONTINUE to rescue us.

Notice the three time zones of God’s faithfulness. He has rescued. He is rescuing. He will rescue again.

THAT IS HOPE. That is not wishful thinking. Not positive vibes. Not crossing your fingers.

CONFIDENCE IN A FAITHFUL GOD TO DRIVE THE STRUGGLE BUS.

You and I are not in control of our circumstances or the people around us. We do not know or control the future. The best thing to do is to trust the One who is in control. And save a seat for someone who needs a ride.

My struggling friend, you have arrived at your destination point for your current cares and complaints. 2 Corinthians 1:10.

“Our God has rescued us…He will rescue us again…In Him we have placed our hope.”

The kids on the Struggle Bus sing, “Trust, trust, trust. Trust, trust, trust, all day long.

Life Can Be a Stinky Situation

Life can be messy. Sometimes it stinks. Even in the most hopeful days, we are forced to deal with awkward situations and annoying people. Some things cannot be avoided.

Life paints its pictures on the canvas of our souls. It might be a peaceful walk in the park, a pick-up-the-pieces nightmare, or time to face the music showdown. There are always lessons for life in anything you encounter. Always.

It was a sunny morning, unusually warm. I stood at my door overlooking the backyard. Birds chirped their lovely songs. The sky was clear. The cat was in the cradle, the silver spoon in the sink, and a man on the moon.

This felt like the beginning of a good day as sounds of Louis Armstrong filled my mind.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white

The bright blessed days, the dark sacred nights

And I think to myself

What a wonderful world

Oh yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world!

Today was the day—I would finally clean up the dog poop in the backyard. I prefer to leave it for fertilizer. My wife thinks the dirty piles affect the aesthetics. The fact that our dog had a visitor for the past week swung the viewpoint in my wife’s direction.

Somedays, you just need a little motivation to get going to clean up the stinky messes in your life. Motivation—your reason for behaving a certain way; your influence, incentive, or stimulus for action. It is the driving force for a desired goal.

I was armed with my shovel, a bucket. and a look of grim determination as I ventured into my backyard wilderness. This was not my first rodeo.

I have early childhood memories of stepping in cow manure while walking with my dad through high grass fields on our way to a fishing pond. I froze and started to gag. You can wipe off your shoe, but the smell lingers.

My allowance job was to feed our family birddog and clean out his pen. Cassius was on his last legs. He became so old and so weak that he could scarcely stand. He spent his days in the backyard dog pen. He could barely crawl away from his own poop.

I shoveled and gagged while Cassius dragged his body to a new area. You can trash the poop but the smell lingers.

I realize I have reached a new low by writing about shoveling dog do-do. Proceed with caution, as reading this may be as unpleasant as the task itself.

I will interject one of my favorite Uncle Derwin stories. It continues to amuse me despite its inappropriateness. You might think it stinks.

A young Native American boy came to his father with a question. “How did you decide your kids’ names?”

The chief responded, “When your older brother was born, the first thing I saw was a Little Bear. When your sister was born, the first thing I saw was a Running Deer.”

“Why do you ask Pooping Dog?”

Ok, I am sorry, but you have no idea how many times I repress that response when others ask me a “why’ question. Back to my shovel story.

Our boxer dog and my son’s older retriever watched from the window, tails wagging with enthusiastic glee as I stepped into their stinky maze. I slowly began the search for fossilized relics while avoiding the surprise of fresh deposits.

I muttered motivational quotes from the #1 Textbook while avoiding direct eye contact with the messy minefield.

Step one: Locate the poop. Easier said than done. Jada spreads hers around, kind of a walk-off finish, as if she is marking a trail back to the house. Dez manages to distribute his “larger gifts” with military precision. Some are artfully hidden under bushes, others strategically planted in tall grass like camouflaged landmines.

I moved with the cautionary slowness of a bomb squad.

Step two: The pickup. With each shovel payload, I fought my gag reflex. The smell was… let’s call it “robust.” The stench created permanent damage to my sense of smell.

At this point in the cleanup process, my thoughts always go to that infamous quote from my ministry associate and friend, Jeff, who once pined that he believed this would be his future role in the next life…Heaven’s Pooper Scooper.

If Poop Patrol is an occupation in the higher kingdom, then I was flunking my audition. Thoughts of throwing the “stuff” over my neighbor’s fence had to be squashed. My stinking good time attitude was horrendous.

Step 3: Guard your steps unless it is too late. Why would I say that, Pooping Dog?

Halfway through my scoop, I discovered a hidden landmine with my shoe. I froze in disgust. Then I hopped around on one foot like a deranged flamingo. Dez barked with enjoyment. I glared at both the dogs. I thought their high five paw exchange was excessive celebration.

At this point, one can curse, sulk, or let the mess ruin your day. I do not curse, but I am every experienced with the other two reactions.

As I hobbled to the nearest patch of grass to scrape my shoe, I started to reflect. Life, much like my walk, is unpredictable. Sometimes, you march into the day full of confidence, and then—splat—you step into a mess you never saw coming.

Wipe off your shoes, hold your head high, and keep moving forward. Always, always watch your next step!

I cycled through all five stages of grief as I hosed off my tennis shoe.

After thirty stinky minutes, the backyard was clean but the smell lingered. The dogs could hardly wait for their victory lap. They bounded outside, sniffed around, then promptly squatted in the exact spots just cleaned.

They did not even wait for my high five celebratory approval from Babe. Instead, I received the customary evaluation, “You missed a couple of spots.”

I could not escape the smell from my brown stained tennis shoes. I gagged on my stinking dignity just as in those adolescent days. The smell lingered.

I sat down on the patio chair and thought of those days from long ago. No, not the similarities to my preaching! I began reminiscing about my dad’s prize birddog. The costly canine lives on forever in family lore, but not for the dog’s hunting prowess. Cassius was a lover, not a fighter.

Dad loved to hunt. Because of his busy coaching schedule, hunting was more of a pastime than a passion. His occasional adventure was hunting quail.

A year-end bonus gave Dad the opportunity to purchase a champion bloodline bird dog. I don’t know if Mom ever knew how much this dog cost. It was a small fortune for their budget.

The dog training went well. Cassius was obedient and a quick learner. He was fast and fierce. He would go and stop on command. He showed off as an excellent retriever.

Unfortunately, Cassius had an Achilles Heel. It was not a bad leg. It was a fearful fright of the sound of a shotgun. With one loud shot, the champion-bred bird dog sped into the background. AWOL.

Yep. Cassius was a pacifist. A conscientious objector. Maybe he wanted to change his name. Dad would find his scaredy-cat prize champion bloodline bird dog waiting back at the truck.

This fear of loud noises was never remedied. Things got to the point where Cassius would hide whenever he saw his owner loading the car for the hunt. Eventually, Cassius stayed home with me while Dad went quail hunting.

Dad’s Best Buy Bird Dog was a Bust. He remained the family pet and my cleanup project in his last days.

Dad expected to find Cassius dead every morning. Crawling over to eat his food was about the only exercise the old bird dog would get.

One morning. Cassius was gone. Not dead. Not in the dog pen. Gone. Vanished. He was not worth stealing. That would have been a blessing in disguise.

A search of the neighborhood revealed no clues. Cassius had disappeared. The next morning, Cassius was lying beside our back door. The rejuvenated bird dog jumped up and pranced to his pen for breakfast. What happened?

Well, whatever happened, would reoccur several times each year for the next three years. The weak-legged, shotgun-fearing champion bird dog looked as if he could not survive another night. We expected Bird Dog Heaven at any moment.

But then, Cassius would mysteriously disappear and then unexpectedly reappear like a frolicking pup. No lie. No exaggeration. He danced around the yard.

Dad was determined to find out how Cassius escaped the dog pen. There was no evidence of a hole in the fence. No indication of Cassius digging a hole under the fence. Cassius could not jump the six-foot fence because he was so feeble he could not hop over his water bowl.

One morning, Dad looked out the window to watch Cassius climbing the fence. Yes. Climbing. One weak paw into a square piece of wire followed by another until he ascended to the top of the fence. As he wobbled at the top, he eventually fell out into the yard on his face.

Dad put Cassius back into the dog pen. The old pet could barely stand. As soon as we were out of sight, he began another climb. This time, our entire family stood in amazement at Cassius’ weak but determined adventure.

The dog on his last legs tumbled from the top. Cassius did not float like a butterfly or sting like a bee. This was a knockout! The champion was down for the count as his face hit the canvas turf.

As Cassius recovered his senses following his fall from the top of the fence, he hobbled out the backyard, down the alley, and headed for the next block. Dad got into his car to follow and retrieve the wayward canine.

The pursuit ended with a revelation of the motivation that moved Cassius from the wings of the undertaker to the fancy prancing return of a conquering hero.

Cassius found Bird Dog Heaven here on earth! He had a girlfriend just three blocks away!

I will just leave it at that.

Cassius may not have been a champion bird dog, but his legend lives on in our family memories. Cassius has left the building!

What does shoveling earthly dog poop and Bird Dog Heaven have to do with our mission to love first and love most?

We can make excuses for how bad we feel or how hard life is. We can complain about circumstances and criticize others. We can crawl in a hole and wait for everything to be over.

Or…we can find some motivation that is greater than our weaknesses and problems!

For most of us, we do not lose the desire to love. We do not quit. We just become complacent.

Complacency—unaware or uninformed self-satisfaction. We feel content with our spiritual condition while unaware of our deficiencies and dangers.

We just do not clean up our daily messes. Eventually, our attitude stinks.

Our spiritual complacency results in us drifting back into selfishness and worldliness. We go through the spiritual motions of loving others, somewhat satisfied if we do not love worse than others on this journey.

Complacency loses sight of the goal. It no longer responds to motivation, the driving force to a desired goal.

Love needs motivation to pursue its goal.

Whatever your situation, you are not too old or too weak or too poor to love others. You just need some motivation to clean up your act.

Keep your eyes on Jesus, our leader and teacher. He loved us enough to die a shameful death because of all the joy to come later (#1 Textbook).

Jesus’ amazing love for us is our motivation to love others. He has stepped into a lot of messes in your life. Then He cleans you up …

Our negative thoughts, anger, jealousy. or bitterness clutter our hearts, Life becomes a mess, but we get complacently comfortable with the stinky smell of selfishness. When we allow God to clean us up, our hearts become full of fresh joy and love.

This is no time to be casual or complacent about loving God and loving others. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me (Psalm 51:10).

We are all nearer to Heaven than we would like to admit. There is a Heavenly Love awaiting us.

How about some Heavenly Love now?

Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of stinky self-centeredness. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you (Ephesians 4:31-32).

Jesus lives inside you to lead you to others He intends to love through you.

Now is the time to Love First and Love Most. Little acts of love can rejuvenate your heart.

Follow our leader. There is someone to love first and most today.

Do not stink up someone else’s life.

CLIMB THE FENCE. GET BACK IN THE GAME. PICK UP THE PACE. SHOW SOME HEAVENLY LOVE NOW.

I heard there are auditions today for Heaven’s Pooper Scooper Squad!

Yes, I think to myself

What a wonderful world

THIS LIFE IS UNFAIR!

I am just going to wing this with a goal of helping myself and, hopefully, some others struggling through this thing called life.

I have been working for months on a revised Bible study through Ecclesiastes. I am not sure it will ever see the light of day. Here is a summary of my thoughts.

This life is UNFAIR! And this is NOT a joke!

I screamed my protest last week. I spent the last three weeks counseling and consoling others who are lamenting or venting about the unfairness of their situation.

Do you ever feel as if life is unfair? Have you ever wondered what if things were different in your life?

Sure, you have. It might have resulted from the loss of a loved one, a health diagnosis, financial setbacks, emotional stress, being overlooked for advancement when you were better qualified, a messed-up relationship.

Unfair– marked by injustice, partiality, favoritism, deception, inequality.

“That is not fair!” All of us have thought and said this. Children and adults cry “unfair” when we do not get what we think we deserve … or get what we do not deserve. We blame others or simply feel sorry for ourselves, sulking into disappointment, anger, and bitterness.

Is there a better way to live in an unfair world? The #1 Textbook has an answer.

Look at the answer from the Preacher in Ecclesiastes followed by my REXplanation thoughts.

  1. The Preacher’s Thesis: Life is vanity (literally, a God-given breath), even Vanity of vanities (the Lifegiver’s Breath of breaths).

Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity (1:2).

REXplanation: Every ‘breath’ of this earthly life is (i) God-given and (ii) Brief.

The traditional interpretations often define vanity as “meaningless, fleeting, empty, worthless.” I do not think that communicates the author’s intent.

The original Hebrew word literally refers to ‘breath,’ using the name for Abel, the son of Adam and Eve. Every ‘breath’ is brief and God-given just like Abel’s life.

Abel honored God with his brief earthly life which was abruptly and cruelly ended when he was murdered by his brother Cain who did not live to honor God or love his brother first and foremost.  

Cain’s name meant “to gain or own something of earthly substance for yourself” (selfishness).

Abel is “empty” of everything except what God gives him. Cain gained everything this world had to offer. Was that UNFAIR?

  • The Preacher’s Study:

Is there any benefit (gain) in how one lives this brief, God-given life? What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun? (1:3).

REXplanation: Is there any benefit (gain) in how one lives this brief, God-given life if life is unfair? Is all of this earthly life about Cain’s self-centeredness? Or Abel’s God-centeredness?

Big Question: Who won in the end? Cain or Abel? Who had the best earthly life? Which life was more eternally significant? Which life had the greatest benefit?

What does it profit a man to gain the whole world, and lose his soul? (Mark 8:36).

Ecclesiastes explored, studied, and concluded the difference in life is not one’s chosen profession or earthly pursuits (Chapter 2). The difference is not measured by what someone acquires or loses in life? The distinguishing mark is enjoyment of a God-given life that honored God and loved others.

Was the Preacher correct? Yes. Abel trusted God and is listed as the first in the heroes of faith (Hebrews 11:4) who followed Jesus, the giver and finisher of faith (Hebrews 12:1-2). Do not go the way of self-reliant Cain (Jude v. 11).

In the end, it does not matter how much you accumulate, how big your accomplishments, or how great the applause. You will exit this life with nothing.

All that lasts is love for God and love for others as you stand before God with faith that the sacrifice of a lamb pleases God.

All of life is the way of Abel. Nothing else matters except faith in God.

  • The Preacher’s Observations:

(1) Every life is connected (vs. 4-11).

  • By God-given breath, by Time (days, seasons, generations) and by Nature (wind, rain, human experiences).

REXplanation: There is a repetitious similarity to all life experiences.

(2) Wisdom is needed for life in this world (v. 12-14).

  • Life is lived in a Man-centered mess of unhappiness, unfairness, brokenness, chasing the wind and running in circles searching for something missing (vs, 15-18).

REXplanation: Wisdom is the God-given ability to see, understand, and live life from God’s perspective according to God’s playbook (#1 Textbook).

I think the wisdom given throughout God’s Word and specifically addressed in depth in Ecclesiastes points us past the actual events and changing circumstances of this earthly life. Wisdom reminds us that social media success can be deceiving.

We do not and cannot control circumstances and other people. This earthly life is transient, temporary, brief, a fleeting vapor. It is unfair and cannot be fixed. We need God’s wisdom to navigate uncontrolled circumstances and interact with imperfect people.

(3) Life is enjoyed in God-centered trust (love, joy, peace).

I have noticed one thing, at least, that is good. It is good for people to eat, drink, and enjoy their work under the sun during the short life God has given them, and to accept their lot in life…To enjoy your work and accept your lot in life—this is indeed a gift from God (5:18-19).

REXplanation: The Life Jesus gives is forever and unaffected by the brevity of earthly unfairness.

Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31).

  • The Preacher’s Conclusion:

(1) Trust God, love others, enjoy your God-given life.

The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. For God will make all things right (12:13-14).

There is nothing wrong with time spent in pursuit of art, agriculture, architecture, athletics, amusement, or any activity from A-to-Z. However, none of that matters most or will last forever… Not even the greatest, highest, best, or most achievements or acclaim (Ecclesiastes 2).

What matters most and lasts forever is what is learned from Abel, the ‘breath’ and Jesus, the Life-giver ‘Breath of breaths.

Love God and love others. Everything else in life depends on that (Mark 12:30).

(2) Trust God to make everything right.

Love, Peace, and Joy are everlasting and ever-increasing.

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REXplanation Counsel:

  • Life is unfair. Get over it and enjoy your brief, God-given life.

No one chooses birth, family, privileges, opportunities, or hardships. No one chooses or prevents unwanted circumstances or their timing.

  • People will mess up. Get over it and enjoy your brief, God-given life.

Do not expect this world or its people to be what they can never be … perfect.

  • Some people will do you bad. Get over it and enjoy your brief, God-given life. Life is unfair, but our response to that unfairness is ours to choose. We can respond to unfairness with love and compassion which treats others the way we wish to be treated … fairly.
  • Disappointments are part of life. So are failures. Get over it and enjoy your brief, God-given life. In every unfair situation, God is with you and for you. Live with more gratitude than complaints.
  • Success, struggles, sorrow, setbacks, sickness, and suffering have expiration dates. Get over it and enjoy your brief, God-given life. Do not question God’s goodness because of your circumstances. Everything God does is wise, right, and good.
  • Keep reminding yourself there is a Forever Agenda to this earthly life. Eternity is longer beyond our imagination. Earthly life is shorter than anticipated. Get over the unfairness and enjoy your brief, God-given life.
  • God is teaching and developing Christlike character in your life. Study the life of Joseph, Job, and Jesus. Look at Ruth, Esther, and the Samaritan woman. Consider Abel.

SPOILER ALERT: Their lives end up as a masterpiece lesson of God’s inherent and limitless goodness. What others unfairly intended for bad, God designed for good.

All these things about their earthly lives were recorded to give us INSTRUCTION FOR ENDURANCE and ENCOURAGEMENT TO HOPE IN GOD’S GOODNESS (Romans 15:4).

HOPE is the confident expectation of experiencing all the good God has promised … Somehow … Someway … Sometime.

  • We all need Jesus…every breath.

All of the #1 Textbook is literally God-breathed (2 Timothy 3:16). Breathe it into your life.

The Creator God breathed life into the first man and every person since (Genesis 2:7). Every single breath is an ongoing gift sustained by God.

In the new creation, Jesus breathes on His followers and gives them His Holy Spirit for spiritual empowerment to fulfill their purpose in this unfair world (John 20:22).

Jesus declared, “I am the Resurrection and the Life. Even if a man dies, but believes in me, he will still live” (John 11: 25-26).  

Let everything that has breath, praise the Lord (Psalm 150:6).

In everything you do, it is essential to breathe. Exercise, relaxation, work, play, anxiety, excitement, running, resting. Breathing becomes more awkward with anxiety. It is more difficult when treated unfairly or exposed to words of toxic people.

How do you learn to breathe while dealing with unfairness? The Wisdom of Faith.

  • God has a better view of your life and future.

I do not know all you have to wrestle with or worry about or how you have been wronged. I am unaware of how much you have been hurt or how deeply you might be plunged into despair. Life is never easy; it might even feel unfair.

Be careful when you drown in thoughts about the unfairness of life. That is the danger zone. Your present circumstances might not be easy. They may be very difficult, and appear to be very, very unfair. Do not entertain the lie that somehow you would be better off if things were different.

  • God has not shortchanged you when it comes to goodness. Unfairness has not robbed you.

There is not one good thing that God ever withholds from us” (Psalm 84:11). No good thing has been kept away from you.

You were chosen by God for a planned life of abundant and unending goodness…before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1:4).

You have been God-designed and God-planned to be God’s child, the recipient of immeasurable and limitless goodness. It will take all the coming endless ages of time for God to show you the greatness of His goodness to you (Ephesians 2:7).

Change your perspective. Do not lower God down to your explanations about life or complaints about its unfairness. Raise your view of God.

The greatness of God’s goodness is far higher than you have yet to imagine. Look to the heavens from where your help comes. Listen to God‘s Word. It will change your attitude regarding this earthly life. It will give you HOPE.

  • BE THANKFUL FOR HOPE, EVEN WHEN LIFE FEELS UNFAIR.

The unfairness of this brief, God-given earthly life does not take away any of God’s planned and promised goodness to you.

“Oh, what a wonderful God we have! How great are his wisdom and knowledge and riches! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and his methods! For who among us can know the mind of the Lord or know enough to be his counselor and guide? Everything comes from God alone. Everything lives by his power, and everything is for his glory. To him be glory evermore” (Romans 11: 33-36).

Follow Jesus, love others, and enjoy your time here in preparation for perfect forever. Leave the unfairness with your God and trust Him to do what is wise, right, and good.

For God is pleased when, conscious of his will, you patiently endure unfair and unjust treatment … For God called you to do good, even if it means suffering, just as Christ sufferedfor you. JESUS IS YOUR EXAMPLE; FOLLOW IN HIS STEPS.

JESUS LEFT EVERYTHING IN THE HANDS OF GOD AND TRUSTED THE ONE WHO ALWAYS JUDGES FAIRLY (1 Peter 2:19-24).

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Life is unfair. You either face that unfairness God-centered or self-centered.

Let’s be real and honest. We are still shocked and upset when treated unfairly. We complain, get angry, and become depressed. We plan ways to expose and avenge the unfairness. We are ready to fight.

Do you refocus on God-centered breaths? Do you move on in life with faith, hope, love, joy, and peace? You can. How? Take another breath and thank God.

Unfairness did not stop Jesus from fulfillment of his divine purpose. Unfairness marked Joseph and Job and Ruth, but it did not define their lives or hinder their purpose or diminish their blessings.

WHEN LIFE IS UNFAIR. TAKE A BREATH AND HOLD IT IN HOPE.

Take another breath and another until your life gets back in rhythm. Yes, you will have to go back through that Breath of Hope cycle many times until the bitterness about that unfairness is uprooted and your life story moves on to a new chapter.

This world is UNFAIR. Unfairness never wins. It just runs in circles chasing the wind, generation after generation. Every brief, God-given breath of Hope overcomes this self-centered world.

All is vanity, the vanity of vanities. This is a brief, God-given life. You either live it self-centered like Cain, grabbing as much of it as you can only to lose it all at the end OR you live God-centered like Abel even when life is unfair.

THE LIFE JESUS GIVES IS FOREVER AND UNAFFECTED BY THE BREVITY OF EARTHLY UNFAIRNESS.

WITH EVERY BREATH, OUR LIFEGIVER PROVIDES STRENGTH FOR THE MOMENT AND HOPE FOR THE NEXT.

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ONE SMALL BACKYARD: The Home of Legends

I hope this nostalgic trip to my childhood backyard might ignite gratitude and fond memories of your favorite places and times.

I grew up in a house with a small backyard, the ordinary kind found behind a home on a city lot. Looking back now, I realize it was anything but ordinary. It was one of those simple places where God quietly tucked away some of His sweetest blessings.

Somehow, that modest patch of ground became a full athletic complex for three boys, a crowd of cousins, and more laughter than any scoreboard could ever measure. We did not know it then, but those ordinary afternoons were gifts of grace.

In the beginning, I was the only player. I threw baseballs against the house and caught tennis balls as they bounced off the roof.

Saturday afternoons became imaginary football games in which I was quarterback, receiver, defender, referee, and, when necessary, the TV sports announcer.

I even tackled myself until fourth down. Then came the game-winning drive where I dodged imaginary defenders, sprinted into the end zone, and celebrated like a stadium full of people had just witnessed greatness.

As the home team added two brothers and more cousins, the games grew with it. Cousin Jimmy was the oldest, so he designed the teams, the rules, and the boundaries. The cousins tackled harder than my imaginary defenders.

The backyard field became more congested. You practically had to step out of bounds to change your mind.

My brother Bill played “lonesome end,” mostly because there was nowhere else for him to line up. Dad said we had to let him play, which was probably the first official commissioner ruling in our family sports league. There was never an agreement about whether Bill lined up in or out of bounds. He was just not allowed in the huddle. That probably contributed to why he is so comfortable on the sidelines now as a coach.

One Christmas morning, a basketball goal replaced the small swing set, and life in the backyard changed forever. Hours of Hoops, almost every day through my prep years. I thought I had received a basketball goal, but in truth, I was given a gathering place for dreams … and brothers.

That small backyard hosted contests in football, basketball, baseball, and occasionally even track, especially when my best friend Mike ran circles to escape my little brother chasing him with a plastic baseball bat.

Through survival skills and Bulldog tenacity, Mike became our other brother. Mom finally got the doctor she hoped for.

Cousin John’s speedy race came to an abrupt finish when he was literally clotheslined in our neighbor’s yard. It was dangerous but memorably funny to everyone. Even throat-slashed John grinned as he declared, “I didn’t see that coming!”

Football was played on every surface the yard offered—rain-soaked grass, blankets of snow, brown winter grass, or sunbaked dirt. Every square foot of turf was important, every obstacle became part of the game, and every contest felt epic.

The victors jumped, the defeated slumped, and all of us went inside carrying grass stains and life lessons like medals. It is better to compete and lose than just live life as a spectator. Effort and encouragement are more inspirational than the unwillingness to face the fear of adversity.

“The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly… at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.” — Theodore Roosevelt

Our dust, sweat, and blood were not the only casualties of the backyard contests. Baseball brought changes after several home windows were broken. One neighbor’s window also became collateral damage. Another neighbor’s garden, located across the alley behind left field, suffered from our constant retrieval of homerun balls that left our yard.

At some point, baseball shifted to the plastic version, another commissioner mandate. The change saved the windows but not the garden. Nor did it lessen the noise.

One constant nuisance slowed those plastic baseball games: the overhanging telephone wire. Bill had the perfect arm angle to pitch into it, and Joe could hit it just as easily when he batted. If Bill’s throw missed the wire, Joe’s crushing hit found it. The youngsters grinned, the older players groaned, and somehow, we never thought to move the location of home plate.

Strategic thinking was not our strongest attribute.

The dog pen and basketball goal guarded the left field hedge. Center and right field were protected by the neighbors’ towering trees. Still, plenty of home run balls left the backyard, and nothing could quiet the laughter, cheers, shouts, and occasional sarcastic taunts. It was not a perfect place, but God never required perfection to fill a place with love.

The annual backyard fireworks show grew from sparklers and Roman candles to cherry bombs and small rockets fired through a PVC pipe. We blew up toy soldiers, model planes, and T-shirts, and occasionally startled a passing motorist. The next generation was wisely sent to larger, safer spaces. Naturally, they burned the school track.

The backyard also had quieter evenings, when croquet became the older boys’ game of choice. A few times, the contest was played under the stars. Bill earned lasting backyard fame after surviving a heavy croquet ball launched into his chest. I thought that thud might be the last sound he ever heard.

I had no idea how we would explain it to Dad. Mike did ask Bill if he could see in the dark. Crack! Thud! Down goes Frazier! That was the evening when we found out Bill needed glasses.

Even now, I smile at the mercy hidden in that moment: a bruise, a laugh, and a family story that somehow became part of our inheritance.

As the years passed and the cousin count grew, the older players took to playing football on their knees. The plays got more creative, the competition stayed fierce, and the laughter only grew louder. We were aging, technically, but not surrendering.

Basketball moved from the dirt court to the concrete driveway, where a ball always seemed to be bouncing. Anyone driving for a winning layup could expect a rim-protecting shove into the nearby hedge, which gave the bush a long and distinguished defensive career.

A smaller Tyke-sized basketball goal was added to serve as a secondary court for the younger set. After-dark croquet was eventually banned by the commissioner.

In time, the backyard welcomed the grandkids. The games changed as we reluctantly, but happily, handed the playing field to our children and retreated inside to their video games, where our opponents were just as unskilled as we were.

It was comforting to know our athletic limitations had simply gone digital. It was even more comforting to see that joy can pass from one generation to the next when backyard love has been planted deeply.

Later, Dad built a large rock patio behind the house. Mike and I helped haul the heavy stones from Tahona Creek, behind my mother’s childhood homeplace. It was a back-breaking labor of love.

Stone by stone, Dad built more than a patio. He built another place for family to gather, and God blessed it with voices, stories, and sweetness.

That patio hosted Floyd family reunions on rocks where mom’s siblings had walked decades earlier. It was also the landing spot for our family’s near-weekly summer nights of homemade ice cream, where the laughter rose with the heat and the memories settled in forever.

Eventually, the backyard commissioner moved the dog pen to right-center field, and his small garden claimed left field. Strawberries and tomatoes replaced bats and balls, which was probably better for the neighbors’ windows. The American pastime was limited to T-ball for the newest team members.

This backyard has hosted celebrations, heartbreaks, and burnt hamburgers. It has served as a playground, a sanctuary, and a place for reflective thoughts. Despite its smallness of size, this backyard enshrined every version of me … carefree, lonely, happy, hopeful, victorious, defeated, and, most importantly, the dreamer.

Backyard playgrounds become gardens, noise becomes memory, and God keeps teaching us that growth often comes in small, almost unnoticeable steps. One small step for a boy, one giant leap to become a man.

One sad day, as the host team prepared to permanently relocate, Dad led his three grown sons to the small shed now standing in deep center field. The backyard had changed, but somehow every baseline, basketball goal, and boundary marker still seemed to be there.

Memory has a way of keeping sacred ground marked long after the lines have faded.

One by one, Dad pulled out dusty, faded treasures from those early years: gloves, balls, caps, helmets, shoulder pads, jerseys, and memory after memory from a time that had passed far too quickly.

Each item looked smaller in size but larger than life in memory.

I understood then that keepsakes are not really about things. They are reminders of people, seasons, and blessings we were too young to fully recognize at the time.

My favorite football stadium is not the largest Ivy League ones or those of the Sooners, Cowboys, Golden Hurricane, and Fighting Irish. It is not the home of the Buckeyes, Wolverines, Trojans, Nittany Lions, or Bayou Tigers.

That backyard was not overshadowed by the ballparks highlighting the Cardinals, Yankees, Red Sox, Cubs, Rangers, or Astros. It had as much nostalgic glory as the basketball courts housed in the Forum, Madison Square Garden, Boston Garden, or Hoosier Gym.

One little backyard hosted the legends of my past and the glory of my best memories. It was a small place, but grace has never needed much room to do something lasting.

I can still see that little backyard. I still see the kids. I still hear the laughter. I still feel the love.

One small but glorious backyard, filled with wonderful memories and the love of God.

“Those were the days, my friend; we thought they’d never end.”

MY FIRST IRONMAN TRIATHLON

I can still hardly believe it. After months—and, truthfully, years—of mental preparation, casual stretching, and many sincere thoughts about getting in shape, I finally completed my first triathlon. Like many of life’s milestones, it reminded me that finishing well often begins long before the starting line.

For anyone unfamiliar with the sport, a triathlon is a demanding endurance event that combines swimming, cycling, and running in sequence—for people who apparently tried one exhausting activity and thought, “Why stop there?” It also offers a useful picture of the Christian life: one stage at a time, one step of faith after another.

Races range from Sprint and Olympic distances to Half-Ironman and Full-Ironman events. Even the transitions—from the water to the road to the final stretch—can make or break the day. In the same way, life’s transitions often test our patience, faith, and ability to keep moving when the path changes.

On race day, I slept well, stretched thoroughly, and prepared myself for the challenge ahead. I even took a deep breath, which I believe counts as cardio when done with enough conviction—and perhaps as prayer when done with enough gratitude.

This was not merely a race against the clock. It would require strategy, stamina, courage, and sound decision-making. Like all great triathlons—and many walks of faith—it began with the water portion.

THE SWIM. I started with twenty intense minutes in the jacuzzi, where the jets roared like a determined washing machine. The pressure pounded my arms and legs as the currents pushed against me. I stayed mostly upright, though a few near-slips required the recovery skills of a seasoned aquatic professional and the quiet mercy of God.

This is where many competitors lose focus. One moment they are athletes; the next, they are relaxed procrastinators leaning into the bubbles and questioning whether goals are really necessary. Comfort is a subtle opponent, and it rarely announces itself as a threat.

But I refused to let comfort win. Warm water, therapeutic bubbles, and the temptation to declare it “recovery day” would not defeat me. My eyes were fixed on a greater prize.

This day demanded more than relaxation. It called for discipline, focus, and the determination usually reserved for opening a stubborn pickle jar. The Lord often uses ordinary moments to remind us that perseverance matters.

THE BIKE. With the water portion complete, I sprang from the tub, grabbed a towel, preserved the dignity expected of an elite competitor, and hurried to my ride. I chose the four-wheel version for the grueling three-mile journey to Braum’s.

To preserve precious time, I used the drive-thru, a tactical decision that separated me from the amateurs. I ordered a double-dip hot fudge sundae with pecans and displayed remarkable discipline to save time by skipping the extra whipped cream. Self-control, after all, is a fruit of the Spirit.

Then came one of the most difficult portions of the race: carefully balancing the plastic dish during the final lap home without losing a single pecan. This required faith, focus, and both hands firmly committed to the mission.

This is where lesser competitors give in to temptation. Some would park, sit, and refuel right there in the Braum’s lot. Others might panic and request a spoon immediately. But I would not take the easy way out. It was Ironman or Rust—and I was determined to press on toward the goal.

THE RUN. The final leg was a brutal race against the summer heat. I moved swiftly from the car to the house, carrying the sundae like an Olympic torch made of hot fudge, fragile hope, and the kind of urgency that makes a person pray without ceasing.

I reached my chair before disaster struck, settled into position, and completed the Ironman portion with a spoon, a smile, and the quiet confidence of a champion who knows every good and perfect gift comes from above.

With deep satisfaction, I quoted the Author and Finisher of the most important race in life: “It is finished!” In my case, this applied both spiritually and to the sundae, though only one of those victories was eternal.

Official time: 2:08 PM.

TRAINING MAY BE OVERRATED.

Fulfillment, however, is what keeps me motivated.

True fulfillment is never found merely in crossing a finish line or finishing dessert, but in walking faithfully with the One who gives strength for every mile of the lifelong race.

I do not mean to sound boastful. Not everyone has the inner strength, refined athletic instincts, or coordination skills required to complete a triathlon of this magnitude.

Still, I feel compelled to share a few lessons to encourage you in your own race of faith.

Keep your eyes on the prize. Always do your best. Never quit. Run with endurance the race set before you, even when the course is not what you expected.

And if your earthly prize happens to come with hot fudge and pecans, receive it with thanksgiving—but remember that the greatest reward is found in Christ.

Begin slowly. You might start with a warm bath, a short shower, or perhaps simply standing near a lake and thinking athletic thoughts. Braum’s even offers one-dip cones that can be safely enjoyed in the car by beginners.

The important thing is to start where you are and trust God with the next faithful step.

Do not worry about the clock at first; the goal is to finish with joy, gratitude, and, if possible, without dripping ice cream on your shirt.

Faithfulness is measured less by speed than by obedience.

Whatever you do, enjoy the journey, laugh along the way, keep your eyes on Jesus, and give all the glory to God.

THE ROCKETS’ RED GLARE

This summer marks America’s 250th Birthday celebration as the United States of America. Ironically, our nation stands divided over which rival organization, America250 or Freedom250, headlines ‘The Rockets’ Red Glare’ concert party.

Let the fireworks begin!

July 4, 1776, is Independence Day. The words which became our National Anthem were penned on the misty dawn of September 14, 1814, as the War of 1812 raged with the outcome still in the balance.

Francis Scott Key was a prisoner on a truce ship in Baltimore Harbor. He stood on the deck with his eyes strained toward the battered silhouette of Fort McHenry. The night before, British cannons had unleashed a relentless barrage, thunder echoing across the water, flames illuminating the sky.

Imprisoned by circumstance, Key was powerless to aid his countrymen, his heart heavy with dread for the fate of the fort and the nation. Yet as the morning sun crept over the horizon, the smoke cleared, revealing a miracle: the grand, tattered American flag still flying above Fort McHenry.

The sight struck Key with a surge of profound relief, hope, and pride. In that moment, the fortitude of the defenders, the resilience of the flag, and the promise of the young republic ignited his soul.

Fueled by the emotion of that hope on the horizon, Key seized a scrap of paper and began to write. Words poured from his pen—a question, a celebration, a testament to hope: “O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light…”

“And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;

Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

With each verse, he captured the awe of survival, the gratitude for freedom, and the enduring spirit of hope for a nation under siege but unbroken.

Yes, the stirring anthem known as The Star-Spangled Banner was born in a heart-experience of a night of darkness and a dawn of glory.

Let our hearts be truly thankful for our God-given freedom, but do not rest there.

Let every picture and sound of this American birthday celebration remind us of where we stand spiritually with the eyes of our faith fixed, not on our nation’s freedom but on the flag of our everlasting Hope.

We are standing as prisoners on this world’s ship anchored in a hostile harbor. The battle sounds are terrifying. The rockets’ red glare highlights the bombs bursting in air.

This world is destroying itself as kingdoms rage against kingdoms, people against people. Hate and Hurt fly their flags over every household. The darkness is suffocating; the clouds on the horizon appear fearfully dreadful.

How can anyone survive this coming catastrophe? Do we surrender to the chains of this ungodly culture? Do we sign a worldly compromise sealed with silent lips and closed eyes?

The truly victorious Kingdom is established. The flag is flying. It will never fall; but it is opposed. Our part is to stand true with a sure hope until the dawn.

What is it about Jesus that stabilizes our hearts during the darkest circumstances of life?

Jesus pointed to his cross as our flag and said, “Father, glorify your Name.” Then the heavens roared with affirmation of the victory. The onlooking crowd thought they heard the heavens thunder. Then Jesus made a promise of victory to all His followers, “When I am lifted up, I will draw all men to myself” (John 12:27-32).

Jesus spoke words of exhortation to all His followers engaged in their cultural wars. “Look at the dawn’s early light…Trust in that light” (John 12:35-36).

Jesus won the War for our Souls with his UNDYING LOVE.

In the dawn’s morning light, the Coming King will stand as the banner of Hope for our salvation…He will raise a flag for His people among all the nations, and His place of rest will be glorious (literally, glory) (Isaiah 11:10).

Is that the power of hope that keeps your heart alive? Here is the place to lay down all your fears, all your anxieties, all your pessimism. Here is the place to pick up your banner of hope and courage.

His kingdom wins. If you do not feel that hope, keep looking. The cross of undying love is still there. It will wave forever; it marks the future home of the free and the brave.

It surpasses the heart-moving scenes of America’s flag at Fort McKinley or on the hill of Iwo Jima or any gold medal ceremony of the Olympic Games.

The flag of our Hope stands on full display throughout the four gospels about Jesus. Every word in the #1 Textbook calls attention to that flag of undying love. The victory banner flies for the eyes of every trusting soul. Jesus forever lives as the King of Glory.

Keep your eyes on Jesus. He is the source of our faith. He endured the cross because of the future joy for Him and for you…Think of this so you will not get tired and give up (Hebrews 12:2-3).

EYES UP!

Oh, say can you see the undying love of Jesus on the cross?

The earthly skies are darkened by his death, the dawn’s morning light shines with the hope of his resurrection. Every morning since that day, God has raised the flag of hope with the morning sun.

The war is not over, but the victory has been won.

Undying love has won the war. Our flag is still there. Hope is alive.

Trust God. You can never trust him too often or too much. You can never celebrate his victory too often or too much. In fact, the best time to stand and sing the anthem of hope is now.

Our celebration will outlast America’s 250th freedom celebration by endless ages upon endless ages.

[If you are able to stand, please rise as the flag is raised and the anthem played. If you are unable to physically stand where you are now, then please rise in your heart and join in with your voice.]



Awake, my soul and sing
Of Him Who died for thee,
And hail Him as thy matchless King
Through all eternity.

Crown Him the Lord of life!
Who triumphed o’er the grave,
Who rose victorious in the strife
For those He came to save.

His glories now we sing,
Who died, and rose on high,
Who died eternal life to bring,
And lives that death may die.

Crown Him with many crowns,
The Lamb upon His throne;
Hark! How the heav’nly anthem drowns
All music but its own!

Awake, my soul and sing
Of Him Who died for thee,
And hail Him as thy matchless King
Through all eternity.

(Crown Him with Many Crowns—Matthew Bridges)

PAINFULLY PURPOSEFUL

I FEEL YOUR PAIN

Surely you have seen a cartoon of some man unexpectedly stepping on the edge of a rake which catapulted the handle into a direct and painful impact with his face. Funny.

What an idiot! Well, it happened to me this week.

I was the idiot trying to finish some yardwork before an approaching storm. My wife let the dog out of the house for the same reason. Finish your business before the rain keeps you inside for the night.

Jada trotted over with wagging tail, big eyes pleading for attention. Carrying a tennis ball in her mouth, she signaled it was time for a spirited game of fetch.

Unable to resist her charm, I paused my dirt work for some playtime. I leaned the shovel and the rake against the fence. Let the game begin!

I threw the ball. Jada quickly retrieved it. We would wrestle over the ball before the next fetch attempt. In one of the wilder moments, the dog knocked over the gardening tools.

I picked up the shovel and leaned it back against the fence as Jada returned for another round of how to agitate your owner.

I took a confident step to grab the ball. Unfortunately, as I turned around, I did not notice the rake lying in wait, perfectly camouflaged with the grass.

As if by divine design, my foot landed squarely on the teeth of the rake. In a split second, the handle rocketed upwards as if powered by a hydraulic jackhammer, smacking me right in the face with a “whack!”

Startled and dazed, I staggered backwards, seeing stars. I bumped into the shovel leaning precariously against the fence. Like a slapstick symphony, I grabbed the shovel to gain my balance. As I fell helplessly to the ground, the shovel swung down and gave me a second, perfectly timed bonk on the other side of my face.

Somewhere, a neighbor has already submitted the security images of this entire incident to America’s Funniest Videos TV show. Rubbing my sore cheeks and blinking in confusion, I looked up to see my dog standing over me with the ball in her mouth. She was mocking my pain.

The dog knew I could not blame her. My wife has given her what every husband longs for–absolute immunity!

There have been quite a few times in life that I did not see the pain coming right before the storm broke over my head.

It might not be stepping on a rake or falling off a ladder, but we all experience unexpected and seemingly unfair blows which leave us feeling hurt, confused, and even mocked.

PAIN COMES TO US ALL. Physical. Emotional. Social. Spiritual. It usually surprises us.

How do you deal with the pain? And the person responsible for your pain?

How do you handle the pain when it introduces stormy conditions which trouble and darken the soul?

I encourage you to live with your EYES UP!

This is where I find my help, my healing, and my hope. This is where I see the blessings in the storm and wait for the purpose of the pain.

Here are some priceless painful lessons from the #1 Textbook.

  1. GOD IS ALWAYS IN CONTROL … OF EVERYTHING.

Whatever God sends or allows, it has passed through His hands. Nothing touches me without that assurance from my Heavenly Father. When the pain happens, God approved it. When the storm comes, God will use it.

I will probably be like Job who never understood why all these things happened to him, but God did (Job 2:3-6). Hopefully, I will have the faith of Job to realize that our God created and controls this universe (Job 1: 21 and 2:10).

My pain is no accident to God who orders the steps of my life, even the foolish step onto a rake!

The rake in the face is symbolic of much that happens in this life. Life is messed up. It is full of shocks and surprises. We get slapped in the face. We get poked in the eye. We get tripped up over trivial things. We get hurt over seemingly avoidable situations.

However, this truth holds firm. Before any trial ever reaches me, it must first pass through God. Everything I endure must go through the hands of my God who is always wise, right, and good in all He does. Everything…. EVERYTHING!

I do not walk and stumble through this life alone. Neither do you. Never alone. Never forgotten. Never without divine power and purpose.

That leads to the second confident reason to expect help, healing, and hope in my moments of pain and stormy darkness of circumstances.

2. EVERYTHING HAS A DIVINE PURPOSE … EVERYTHING!

There is a purposeful plan to any and all pain, no matter how little or how large.

God is preparing me to live and love like Jesus so I can love others first and most in their moments of pain and stress.

My struggle is not meaningless. Note how God used my stupid rake collision to be the genesis of my note of prayer and encouragement to you. I do not know all your suffering, but God does. I do know that many of you are struggling with unbelievable pain at this time. Many are experiencing emotional pain far greater than physical.

YOUR CURRENT STRUGGLE IS NOT MEANINGLESS. IT IS PURPOSEFUL PAIN.

No, it is not preferable pain, but that was not left to your choice. God planned it with a purpose.

Most pain comes unannounced. Its presence is unwelcomed. It hurts. The pain can be long-lasting or reoccurring. Its severity can range from mild to unbearable. It can leave scars. We did not ask for the pain.

We can fear pain, but we cannot prevent it. We can hate it, but we cannot hide from it. We can cry about it, but we cannot stop it. You can live with pain, but you cannot live without it.

Every relationship suffers pain. It might come from spoken or unspoken words. It might be experienced through disappointment of your expectations or loss of their presence.

No one is exempt from PAIN or its PURPOSE.

How do we learn to love without being around someone who is difficult to love? How do we learn to care without being with someone who needs care? How do we learn to heal without having been hurt? How do we learn to forgive without having been mistreated?

We have a Heavenly Father who understands the value of painful experiences.

God comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. For the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. Even when we are weighed down with troubles, it is so we can comfort others. (2 Corinthians 1:3-7)

Every pain has been purposed for greater good to you and to others.

How amazing are the deeds of the Lord! All who delight in him should ponder them. Everything he does reveals his glory and majesty. His righteousness never fails. He causes us to remember his wonderful works. How gracious and merciful is our Lord! (Psalm 111:2-4)

I close with the exhortation I quote so often: EYES UP!

Ye fearful saints fresh courage take

The clouds you so much dread

Are big with mercy and soon shall break

In blessings on your head

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform

He plants His Footsteps in the sea

And rides upon the storm

Deep in unsearchable mines

Of never failing skill

He treasures up His bright Design

And works His sovereign Will


Judge not the Lord by feeble sense

But trust Him for His Grace

Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face

His purposes will ripen fast

Unfolding every hour

The bud may have a bitter taste

But sweet will be the flower

Oh fearful saints fresh courage take

The clouds you so much dread

Are big with mercy and soon shall break

In blessings on your head — (William Cowper)

I pray God’s blessings fall on you soon and abundantly! EYES UP!

MY BIGGEST LETDOWN

(A FATHER’S DAY TRIBUTE)

Dr. Seuss wrote, “When something bad happens, you have three choices. You can either let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you.”

This week is a special time to honor my father whose memory brought a smile as I reminisced of how he handled one of the biggest letdowns in my life.

Webster’s dictionary describes letdown as “disappointment, discouragement, unmet expectations.”

Dr. Seuss also wrote, “Don’t cry because it’s over. SMILE because it happened.”

Every kid knows that the author of such classic books as Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham must be right.

We have all experienced the soul-crushing pain of that last letdown or that worst letdown.

Letdown days can be dreadful. Others can be hopeful. Most lie somewhere in between. A few experiences can be brutal. Some can leave a bitter taste in your mouth as if you started the day sucking lemons.

Today I find myself reflecting on a vivid sad memory. It was the day I let my dad down. Of course, I rightfully blame it on my brother, the weakest link in the story. The incident defined Bill and destroyed me. Somehow, it strengthened our dad. The memory does make us all SMILE.

My dad is my hero. I am sure there were many times I let my dad down, but he never showed it.

This one day was very different.

I let my dad down, literally. It was unfortunate and unforgettable.

Let me set this up.

I am one of three brothers. Our mom often stated, “Your dad thinks you boys are perfect, but I know better. I birthed you.”

Then the next minutes would be filled with Mom’s critique and instructions for better choices or better grammar in life’s daily grind.

Dad certainly did not think we were perfect. He just acted as if we were. Dad was our coach in life. At some point, he discreetly and imperceptibly changed into our cheerleader. I imagine the heavy load caused Dad’s heart to weaken.

Dad’s perspective of his heart-health and his sons’ perfection was put to the test one day. The memory helps me moan with the worst of the crowd of critics.

I am not sure where I picked up this trait. My mother was not a moaner. She was a coal-miner’s daughter and proud of it. Things could always be worse. So, you do not complain. You just find a way to make things better.

Dad grew up with three brothers under the care and direction of a single, uneducated mom. They were all abandoned by their alcoholic father.

I do not remember Dad moaning…except at the ineptitude of a football official or a basketball referee. I still believe Dad was surprised to find some of them in heaven.

Dad was not a complainer. He most definitely was not a quitter. Whether it was sports, math, or life, Dad studied the situation and found a solution.

I am not sure when I became a Moaner. I always liked to sleep late. I was not born until two minutes past noon. That DNA stayed with me. My prime time is late, late night.

I think my moaning began when my brothers joined the family. Until then, I was king of the court. The family revolved around me.

Sharing can be overrated.

But I share some of this blame with my brother, Bill.

When Dad was diagnosed with heart failure, he was assigned home hospice. That soon became unsatisfactory to Dad. He finally relented to allowing his sons to help him get up each morning and get into bed for the night.

Helen would fix his requested breakfast: Gravy. That’s right…gravy. Every meal. She would ask him if he wanted some biscuits. “No. just gravy.” Maybe some eggs? “No, just gravy.”

Occasionally, Dad would enjoy a chocolate milkshake, smuggled in by one of the brothers.

Dad’s health (increased weight, increased energy, great attitude) during this severe medical prognosis amazed and confounded his cardiologist. Dad survived and thrived on that diet for almost two years.

Apparently new research is needed regarding the healthy-heart benefit of gravy and milkshakes! I have been advocating that for years!

Dad’s weakened condition made it very difficult for him to walk. One of Dad’s former players sent his coach a top-of-the-line wheelchair. It greatly helped Dad maneuver around the house.

There came a day when Dad needed to be transported to the cardiologist. Bill and I helped Dad to the car. We rolled him out onto the porch in his wheelchair. Now came the challenge to navigate the steps.

Bill and I lifted the wheelchair to carry Dad down the stairs of the porch. I picked up the front of the wheelchair while Bill raised it off the porch by the rear handles.

Something went wrong. Terribly wrong. The wheelchair went limp and began to fold up.

We did not know that the modern wheelchairs fold up when lifted. When you lift the wheelchair, it folds into a slender, easy-to-carry item. This allows for quick and easy storage in the back of the transport vehicle. Very clever invention.

However, in this situation, Dad was still in the wheelchair. We lifted. The chair folded.

Dad was squeezed like a bubble about to explode. There was a brief moment of fear that flashed across Dad’s face. He was falling and squeezed at the same time.

The brothers panicked because we were unaware of why the wheelchair was collapsing. We frantically searched for a reset button.

We did our best to protect Dad from falling out onto the steps. We made it to the front yard. We stood there in disbelief with the wheelchair suspended in air.

Dad looked as if he were folded and sealed inside an envelope. At that point, it would have been easier to mail him to the cardiologist office.

When we set our beloved occupant in the folded wheelchair on the ground, the wheelchair remained limp. We could not get it to reset into a steady chair.

We tried to let Dad down gently. His legs and arms were squeezed together across his body.

As the wheelchair sides caved in to swallow Dad, we slowly lowered it to the ground. There he was, sitting on the yard squeezed inside a folded wheelchair. As we turned loose of the wheelchair, Dad tipped over on his side . . .a wheelchair sandwich with one immoveable arm pressed to his side and the other arm helplessly extended above his head.

I never heard my dad curse, but this had to be his biggest temptation for bad language. His ‘perfect’ sons let him down, literally.

Bill apologized. I apologized for Bill.

Dad gave that faint smile and told us thanks for the ride.

Dad NEVER used a wheelchair again. NEVER!!!

We gave away the ultra-deluxe wheelchair to our rehab missionary working in Ukraine.

Dad slowly shuffled to the car, then into the doctor’s office. When the physician asked how he was feeling, Dad said he thought his heart must be doing better. He had just survived one of the most terrifying moments in his life.

The Dr. Seuss cardiologist responded with, “Well, at least you can still smile about it.”

It has taken years before Bill and I could smile about the big letdown. Angie’s eyewitness account can be summarized by our Uncle Derwin’s infamous phrase, “I was aghast!”

Circumstances did not define or defeat our dad. If anything, the challenge strengthened his resolve.

PERHAPS SOMEONE LET YOU DOWN PHYSICALLY, EMOTIONALLY, OR RELATIONALLY.

Circumstances do not have to be perfect for you to get through today or this week or any crushing letdowns. You have choices.

Attitude is a choice. A bad attitude is not the result of bad people or bad events. It comes from a bad choice in how you react to those bad people or bad circumstances.

NOTHING CAN HINDER OR STOP YOU FROM CHOOSING TO COUNT YOIUR BLESSINGS RATHER THAN YOUR BITTERNESS.

NOTHING CAN SQUEEZE HAPPINESS OUT OF YOUR LIFE.

TOUGH CIRCUMSTANCES CAN DEFINE YOU, DESTROY YOU, OR STRENGTHEN YOU.

IT IS YOUR CHOICE.

We all face big letdowns in life. Others let us down. We let down others. Here is a go-to verse from God’s Word, Isaiah 41:10:

Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be worried, for I am your God. I WILL STRENGTHEN YOU. I WILL HELP YOU, AND I WILL NOT DROP YOU.

1 Peter 5:10 reminds us that after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace will pick you up, set you firmly on your feet, and make you stronger than ever.

Dad reminded us of this truth. “People will let you down, but the Lord will never let you down.“

I am thankful we did get to share a few more milkshakes with Dad. I don’t cry over the wheelchair letdown anymore. I just SMILE and give God thanks.

I did my best, it wasn’t much
I couldn’t feel, so I tried to touch
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah —Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen

Don’t Be Stupid

“Stupid is as stupid does.”

Sorry. My brain is on vacation this week, Unfortunately, it could not afford to take my body with it; so, I am stuck here in Stupidville with Forest Gump.

I have moments where I do not think about anything. That is a little frightening!

There are times that the chains on my mood swing just snap. My mind plunges into greater depths of stupidity.

Thoughtless. Mindless. Scatter-brained. Moronic.

There are moments when my stupidity ventures to boldly go where no stupidity has gone before.

My childhood dream was to become an astronaut. Unfortunately, it was not in the stars. The only areas where I surpassed NASA standards were weight and stupidity. One was fixable through a better diet. The other cannot be fixed. Not even by the greatest minds in the known universe.

STUPIDITY. If you need me to provide a definition, then just consider yourself far above the minimal standard for ‘idiot.’

Stupidity is universal. We each exhibit some degree of it at various times in life. It does seem to come more naturally to some. I know a few people whose endless and effortless stupidity is actually admirable.

To help all mankind, I wish to offer these suggestions to avoid doing stupid things.

  1. Do not stand over a toilet with your eyeglasses on top of your head.
  2. Do not place your cell phone on top of your car.
  3. Do not place your billfold on top of your car.
  4. Do not place your mail on top of your car.
  5. Do not place your wife on top of your car.
  6. Do not close the car door before your foot is fully inside the vehicle.
  7. Do not try to walk on ice.
  8. Do not fall on ice without access to a cell phone to call for help.
  9. Do not come home with three Happy Meals when there are four grandchildren at the house.
  10. Do not use stupid phrases as computer passwords, such as Dumb and Dumber, or Dummy and Dummy2. I suggest using my favorite password, 2Dumb4U.
  11. Do not drive away from the gas station before returning the gas pump to its stored position.
  12. Do not stomp on the brakes when your Raising Cane’s sauce is open.
  13. Do not stomp on the brakes when your beverage cup is unsecured.
  14. Do not stomp on the brakes when your hot pizza box is in the front seat. (Seatbelt laws should be enforced.)
  15. Do not stomp on your brakes when your ride-along dog is standing in the back seat. (It is amazing how quickly a pet can become a windshield ornament.)
  16. Do not forget…anything (anniversary, birthdays, doctor appointments).
  17. Do not correct your boss.
  18. Do not correct your wife. (Sorry, that was stupidly redundant.)
  19. Do not leave the water running in your sink…in your shower…in your lawn sprinkler.
  20. Do not drop your cell phone into the Bermuda Triangle darkness between your car seat and console.
  21. Do not make impulsive internet purchases without checking the three figure return shipping costs to China.
  22. Do not get into the wrong car just because it looked similar to yours.
  23. Do not think that money in your checking account never needs to be replaced.
  24. Do not think that anything on the internet is ‘free.’ (You just signed up for a ten-year monthly supply with no customer service connection.)
  25. Do not use ‘old’ stupid phrases with your grandchildren.
  26. Do not call someone “Buddy” or “Bro” or “Idiot” just because you cannot remember their name.
  27. Do not reply to a “bless you” for your sneeze with “you too.”
  28. Do not scream at the traffic red lights more than three times in a row.
  29. Do not use hand signals to communicate with other drivers.
  30. Do not carry five sacks of groceries at one time so you can make fewer trips from the car.
  31. Do not place a water-filled ice chest on the hotel clothes cart.
  32. Do not leave your room key and ID in your locked hotel room.
  33. Do not be intimidated or stopped or made to feel guilty while enjoying a ‘family size’ bag of chips or cookies all by yourself.
  34. Do not type an angry text or email that you never intend to send. (Ooops! Did I just hit the ‘send’ button?)
  35. Do not binge on The Good! The Bad! And The Ugly while naming people you know who could play those characters.
  36. Do not give your honest opinion about someone’s recipe, clothing, haircut, or parenting technique…NEVER! NO MATTER WHAT!
  37. Do not show any signs of life when your friend asks for help to move a few rocks.
  38. Do not move your spouse’s keys to a better place to keep them.
  39. Do not open a pill box over the sink.
  40. Do not rinse silverware while the garbage disposal is engaged.
  41. Do not tell a caller you are not home before checking to see if their car is in your driveway.
  42. Do not leave your dinner meal unattended on the table stand next to your chair while you go to the garage refrigerator for something to drink. (Some dogs see that as a grand opportunity provided by their ‘stupid’ owner.)
  43. Do not make private comments on a group text.
  44. Do not set the table for the family dinner before you realize the dishwasher was never turned on. (At that point, it might be ‘stupid’ to even mention the slight discrepancy between people’s varying definitions of clean and dirty.)
  45. “Do not ever argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience” (Mark Twain).
  46. Do not ask a stupid question without expecting a truckload of sarcastic remarks from my family.
  47. Do not pause the washing machine so you can throw in your red shirts with your wife’s laundry.
  48. Do not continue driving to the next town while your car’s dashboard flashes ‘No Fuel.’
  49. Do not give a smart phone to a stupid person. (That is stupid!)
  50. Do not waste your time trying to teach a stupid person how to use their smart phone. (That is stupider than more stupid!)
  51. Do not try to convince a stupid person that what they are saying or doing is stupid. (That is the stupidest waste of time!)
  52. Do not honk your horn louder for stupid people. (They will not notice and, if they do, they will think you are celebrating with them!)
  53. Do not continue your obsession to look up pictures of your house on Google Earth maps or the internet. Just step outside and remind yourself what your house looks like.
  54. Do not drive slowly in the left lane...ever.
  55. Do not try to teach an older person how to use new technology.

The old wise Albert Einstein spoke about his Theory of Relativity in real life terms. “There are two things that are infinite: The universe and human stupidity, and I am not sure about the universe…The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has limits.”

Maybe there is an APP for stupid people. Surely, there is a market for it.

I do predict that Artificial Intelligence will be defeated by Natural Stupidity.

I am going to go along with Shakespeare on this one. “A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

DO NOT FORGET THERE IS BEAUTY IN STUPIDITY.

Others will have to put up with my stupidity because YOU CANNOT FIX STUPID.

I am proof that stupid people do not gain wisdom as they age; they just become old stupid people.

“Life is hard. It is even harder if you are stupid.” (John Wayne).

Doing stupid things is hard. I think doing stupid things gets easier as you get older.

“Every man is stupid and without knowledge” (Jeremiah 10:14). There you have it. Every woman will testify to that truth.

To conclude with a hopeful thought, it is worth noting that jellyfish have existed for thousands of years without possessing brains.

So, remember that the one who laughs last is usually the one who thinks the slowest.

EYES UP! LOVE YOU!….even when the chains on my mood swing snap.