LOVE FIRST…LOVE MOST

Winsday Wisdom 306

I love seeing pictures of my grandchildren dressed for their first day of school. I love hearing about their school projects, sports, and funny moments.

However, I do not remember a lot about my time in grade school. I must have been in a School Daze!

What are the things you remember most from elementary school?

I fell in love on my first day of school, sort of. It was the first day of first grade. I saw this cute little girl crying out in the school hall with a teacher trying to console her. My heart went out to her.

That night I was interrogated by my parents, both school educators. When Mom asked if I made any new friends, I mentioned the teary-eyed little girl. Mom asked if I knew her name. “Yes, Joan. She is going to be my girlfriend.”

Dad asked if I thought she was pretty. I replied, “Yes.” The questions continued until Dad asked about the color of her eyes. I shrugged, “I never saw her eyes. She was crying all the time.”

Dad told me I could not have any girlfriend without knowing the color of her eyes.

So, I went through Miss Solomon’s first grade class without any girlfriends. That trend continued throughout my elementary years.

In fifth grade, I was disciplined for disrupting class because I was making Donna laugh. Miss Sharp’s “punishment” was to sit the students in the hall and wait for Principal Noblet to talk to them. Unfortunately, my mother passed by before the administrator. That did not go well.

She took a double-take glance followed by the Michael Jackson moonwalk back to where I was. Then came the pointed finger in my face. I think she actually said she hoped I had a broken leg because that was the only acceptable reason for being on the floor in the school hall during class time. During the next two weeks, I missed more time playing with my friends than if I had broken my leg.

Sixth grade was an emotional roller coaster. My parents and I wanted me to be in Mrs. Nance’s class. She was a very nice and accomplished teacher.

My mother, a high school and college English teacher, wrestled with another idea. Mom always pushed education more than sports. Mom pushed more weight through school than any Olympic lifter. The great Pusher never stopped even though Dad became a Hall of Fame coach and her sons all preferred sports.

Mom decided my education would benefit from the very strict and rigid classroom instruction of Miss Peck, the prototype for the most feared and hated elementary teacher ever portrayed in film or literature. No kid wanted to be in her class, but half of us would be assigned to the torture chamber. I mean, she was already a legend before I ever met her.

That is correct. She was a legend, not in the sense of a celestial icon, or fabled falsehood, or infamous myth. She was more like the feared Wicked Witch of the West or the contemptible Cruella de Vil. There was a schoolyard whisper rumor she had changed her name from Lizzie Borden, the Fall River axe-murderer.

Sometimes, her class would not go to lunch in the cafeteria. They were not on a class trip with a picnic basket; they were sitting at their desks in piles of classwork. Every grade school kid knew that her class would regularly be absent from recess time. Throughout the earlier grammar school years on the playground, we could see Miss Peck’s students still imprisoned in their classroom.

What was the most common saying heard on the playground during those elementary days? It was not what one would suspect from little kids during recess…”This is fun” or “Let’s play ball” or even “I need to go to the restroom.” Throughout the schoolgrounds, one collective moan drowned out all the laughter…”I never want to be in Miss Peck’s class. That would be torture.”

Why would my mother subject me to this regimen? Learning is supposed to be fun, right? Apparently, it is also designed to be hard, boring, and void of enjoyment. Preparation for life.

Miss Peck was noted for her extensive lessons, heavy homework, and beautifully classic cursive handwriting. Mom called my handwriting some form of scribbling. She wanted me to learn the elegant flowing cursive script.

My wife has beautiful cursive writing. My handwriting preference is to print unconnected block letters. My sentences are barely legible. I think I am still protesting sixth grade.

Mom convinced Dad I would benefit from the challenge of imprisonment in Miss Peck’s classroom.

My biggest emotional baggage from sixth grade came from the recess periods. Our class was never allowed outside while the other kids were frolicking on the playground equipment and throwing a football around in the schoolyard.

However, Sally and I were granted recess period for our completion of the assignments while the rest of the class remained inside. It was also while all the other students were inside. Miss Peck’s actions would now be called Cruel and Unusual Punishment.

Sally was a very cute blonde. She was smart and very competitive both scholastically and athletically. I tried to discern her eye color, but we just never connected in the heart department. I probably talked to her more than any other girl I have ever known before I was married.

We spent hours and hours on the playground…alone. We were in a schoolyard wasteland. It felt more like a penitentiary. Well, I was never in a prison yard, but it could not have been more restrictive than what we experienced with the warden, Miss Peck, watching out her window, monitoring every step.

I was a sixth-grade boy sitting for agonizingly long hours on the swing set with a girl who did not like me.

The killer part was seeing my friends watch me on the playground. Todd stared out the huge windows as if he had lost his best friend and favorite dog. Gary would make finger gestures and stick his tongue out at me. Charles always had his head buried on his desk.

Miss Peck showed her humanity during the sixth-grade sports challenge against Mrs. Nance’s class. Our team had one student on base but was behind by one run in the last inning of the softball game. That is when Miss Peck whispered in my ear. It must have sounded like Marlon Brando in The Godfather. She made an offer I could not refuse.

Miss Peck offered me an “A” in art in exchange for a game-winning home run. What a deal! Do you think this is how Michaelangelo got the prestigious assignment to paint the ceiling of the Sisteen Chapel?

For one brief shining moment, my mental camera caught the image of Miss Peck doing her best preview of a Taylor Swift celebration at the Kansas City Chiefs football game.

After the victory, Miss Peck made me promise two things: (1) secrecy about the deal based on something she called “ethics” (the statute of limitations has run out on that confidentiality agreement) and (2) a promise I would never go into any profession connected to “the arts.” Roden and Raphael benefitted from my absence.

Elementary school. I witnessed the televised accounts of the first American astronaut, Alan Shepherd. I listened to the radio reports of the dramatic seventh game walk-off home run by Pittsburg Pirates’ Bill Mazeroski to win the World Series against the highly favored New York Yankees. I watched the black and white televised Billy Graham Evangelistic Crusades and the John Kennedy-Richard Nixon presidential debate.

Mostly, I was a good kid throughout grade school. I occasionally terrorized my younger brother, Bill, as Todd and I guided him through the brutal challenges of astronaut training. I was only seeking to prepare him for greater things in life.

My late life reflections leave me wrestling with the question of why I went to grade school. Recess was never long enough. My class lecture attention span matched that of a fruit fly. Social contact with the opposite sex was mostly limited to games of Red Rover.

As one person wrote, each class had a cool kid, a nerd with glasses, a non-stop talker, a silent shy type, a pretty girl, some mean girls, a loud-mouthed rebel, and a drama queen. The personalities of Grumpy and the other Seven Dwarfs also made daily appearances. That was just the teachers!

Did grade school teach me necessary disciplines for life? Or instill in me the love of learning? Did I develop social skills or a life of avoiding eye contact? Did I ever realize that the music teacher had me playing the triangle so I could not sing in the choir? Did Sally become a psychiatrist because of her sixth-grade playground experiences?

How did I turn out? That is still to be determined, but my mom marveled that I could simultaneously do homework, eat a snack, watch TV, talk on the phone, and play with my brothers. Apparently, grade school taught me how to multi-task.

Oh, the good old School Daze! I am more grateful for teachers than ever before. God bless the ones who invested their lives into the hope of the future.

I do remember this about my early School Daze, meeting Jesus, my Savior and Friend. When I mess up, He cleans up. When I am confused, He is my guide. When I am down and out, He is the Hope on my Horizon.

In anxiety, Jesus is my peace. When sorrowful, He is my Comforter. When weak, Jesus is my strength. I could list hundreds of things Jesus is for me.

For this School Daze memory session, this I know, Jesus is my greatest Teacher.

This I know, Jesus loves me.

This I know, the most important thing in life and eternity is to love God and love others.

This I know, Jesus lives inside of me to lead me to others He intends to love through me.

This I know, but still learning how to love first and love most.

My prayer for you is shared from the inside cover of the Bible my parents gave to me as I went far away to college.

“Whatever course of study you pursue, we pray this will always be your #1 Textbook.”

That is good counsel for all first-grade students and to those who, like me, are in the last classes of life.

WINSDAY WISDOM 304

It was a cool Saturday morning that I now recall as the Days of Wine and Roses.

Just a passing breeze filled with memories

Of the golden smile that introduced me to

The days of wine and roses… and you

—Days of Wine and Roses (Academy Award Oscar winning Song of the Year, music by Henry Mancini, lyrics by Johnny Mercer, sung by Andy Williams)

I had just purchased a bouquet of a dozen red roses for my wife. It was not a special occasion like Valentine’s Day, just a romantic gesture from a husband needing a lot of grace for his most recent mishap. (Yep, another one.)

As I walked to the parking lot, a man carrying a large bottle of wine came running in my direction. Another man was chasing him while screaming, “Stop that man!”

I was temporarily frozen as I tried to take in the scene invading my space. We live in a time where it is best not to get involved in others’ disputes. However, there is some gallantry to helping someone in desperate need. My deliberation was quickly decided for me. This was unavoidable.

The chasing man continued to yell, “Stop him. He stole my wine.” As the fleeing man with the wine bottle rushed closer in my direction, he glanced back at the wild man in pursuit. Suddenly, he veered off course and slammed into me.

The collision temporarily halted him. He appeared stunned and afraid. There was no doubt he was trying to escape the angry screaming man. As he rerouted his flight around me, I reached out with one arm and grabbed him. 

The wine toting man screamed for me to let him go. As he pushed my arm away, the second man crashed into both of us, crushing the roses. I was definitely involved and very upset at both of them. They invaded my safe zone.

While I surveyed the damage to the flowers, the chaser knocked the first man to the ground in an attempt to wrestle the wine bottle back into his possession. As he stood up to race away with the wine, he was tackled by the first man.

The competing shouts were confusing.

“Give me my wine.”

“No! You stole it. You are a thief.”

“No! You stole it from me.”

“You cannot shoplift.”

“I paid for that wine.”

“You are a thief and a liar.”

The rest of the argument was filled with prolific profanities competing in both volume and vulgarity.

In the wild melee, three roses fell from my bouquet to adorn the two wine wrestlers on the ground of the parking lot. A small crowd of inquisitive onlookers gathered to gawk.

I stood there not knowing what to do. This was not really a fight, more like a sorority scuffle. The flailing fists hit nothing but air. The only damage produced by the leg kicks was the disturbance of the air flow in the parking lot.

Separating the two men struggling for control of the same wine bottle had not crossed my mind at that point. My first concern was for the welfare of the remaining roses. The flowers got the worst of the escalating situation. They had more damage than the two guys rolling around in the parking lot clutching the same bottle of wine.

My second thought wondered if this might be how the Wars of the Roses started in England. (Note for those who are as disinterested in English history as I once was: The Wars of Roses involved two families in a civil war for control of England’s throne in the late 1400’s.

The hometown Lancasters wore red rose badges, and the Yorks dressed in the visitors’ colors with their white rose badges. The red team was led by Henry VI and the advisors he could trust whenever he took a timeout for insanity.

However, the York family had different plans for the control of England’s destiny. The ambitious Richard, the great-grandson of King Edward III, rode the white horse for the York clan.

France got involved because of a woman. Mother Margaret’s ambitions were riding on her infant son, Edward, as her choice for future king.

The result was a horrific, manipulative, scheming, treasonous, bloody, thirty-year battle for the throne of England. Heavy taxation, arranged marriages, corruption (of course), deception, spies, turncoats, meanness, madness, imprisonment in the Tower of London, and beheadings marked the more civil part of the war.

They also fought over stolen wine bottles.

The almost unbelievable chain of events which ended the Wars of the Roses took a page from the legendary Hatfield-McCoy family feud and Shakespeare’s account of the rival families of Romeo and Juliet. Two youngsters from the dueling banjo players of Lancaster and York decided to marry.

Their House of Tudor union began a new royal dynasty. The Tudor team flag ushered in the English Reformation as a religious break from Catholic control, the golden age of English literature (Shakespeare and friends), and the famous reign of Queen Elizabeth I.

The House of Tudor social media marketing strategists superimposed a red rose on a white one for the team colors. Brilliant!

I don’t know whether to say, “Voila!” or “By Jove!” or “Heaven’s to Betsy!” or “What in the Sam Hill?” but I highly recommend a binge watching of the TV miniseries, The White Queen and its sequel, The White Princess.)

Sorry, I digressed from the squabble over the wine bottle, still playing out on the big screen of the store’s parking lot. It was also deserving of some binge-watching television.

My biggest scare came when a large pickup truck turned down the parking lane. The guy was very annoyed at me for blocking his path. He did what any angry redneck would do. He laid on his horn and shouted some curse words for me to move.

That only intensified the chaos as both liberal millennials and conservative senior citizens began to scream at him and bang on his truck. It felt as though we were at a political rally.

I stepped aside so the driver of the truck could see that there were bigger roadblocks ahead. Fast and Furious described the men rolling around in his path, not his truck stalled in its tracks. Blazing Saddles did not generate more chaos.

I guess the loud horn sounds alerted the store security. The armed officer did what our pleas and pulls could not do. He separated the fighting men and stood them upright.

That moment redefined the entire situation.

Apparently, the man running toward me with the bottle of wine was the store manager. He had chased down a homeless man who earlier shoplifted the bottle of wine. The manager was running back into the store for safety but was halted by his run-in with me. The homeless man in angry pursuit claimed he had bought the wine.

The vulgarities continued. Eventually, the accused man agreed to leave the premises to avoid a charge of theft. The store manager sarcastically directed my gaze to his name tag. Was it really necessary for him to point?

I was questioned by security about my interference in the process which caused the store manager to end up with some scratches and bruises. Somehow, I worked into the conversation that my flowers suffered more damage than either of the men in the powderpuff pileup.

Lessons learned. Try not to get involved in other people’s affairs and do not use sarcasm around police officers.

As I drove away from the store, I saw the homeless man sitting under a tree smoking a cigarette. I stopped and asked if he were okay. My mind said not to get involved, but my heart was thinking about what Jesus would do.

I inquired if the man wanted something to eat. He replied that he was just thirsty and asked if I would get him something to drink. I instinctively said, “Surely.” 

(That is correct. I replied, “Surely.” I know that sounds a little weird, but my use of “surely” honors the remembrance of my English teaching mom who preferred the adverb as the formal response. The adjective version “sure” is more of an informal casual expression similar to what might be acceptable common lingo down in the hood.

Both “sure” and “surely” are considered as correct. However, Mom said if we ever met the Queen of England, we should respond with “surely.” 

Well, that bucket-list item is not going to happen. So, I addressed the homeless man as if he were English royalty. Maybe, he was one of the Rose clans. I think he thought I was just uneducated.)

I asked the man with the parched throat if he preferred coffee, tea, or coke. His eyes brightened when I mentioned ‘coke.’ I could read the disappointment on his face as he realized that I surely was not offering the sure thing he was thinking about.

Instead, he answered, “I really need some wine, like the kind that Jesus made out of water.” Then the begging man continued his plea, “Afterall, Jesus was a friend of sinners like me.”

This wine-loving man acted as if he were better acquainted with the Bible and Jesus than I was. Suddenly, my mind raced with the thought this guy might be an angel in disguise.

You have to admit that a homeless wino smoking a cigarette would be a good disguise for an angel! No one would suspect there to be a halo, wings, and harp under those clothes.

Water into wine? Nice try. I will take the bait. Let’s get some water, pray, and see what happens.

Oh, ye of little faith! I am talking about me, not the wino.

New dilemma. I was pretty sure he would surely not listen to my reasons for him to forego the wine. I usually give some money with the understanding that it will probably not go for food.

Since I was no longer a Baptist pastor by trade and not really bothered by the righteous opinions of others, I offered to take him into the store.

My #1 Textbook version says that Jesus was a friend of sinners whose baggage included drunkenness, theft, cursing, and immorality.

Inside the store, I felt a little guilty. Not so much over the wine purchase, but over the price! The homeless man picked out an expensive bottle of wine. I asked him if he thought he could get by with something a little less costly.

He mumbled, “Sure.” I did not think it was an appropriate time for an English lesson. He picked up a different bottle which appeared very similar to the one involved in the wrestling match with the store manager. He mumbled again, “Is this one alright?”

I said, “Sure.” I just thought that was how a friend of sinners might say it.

On the way out of the store, I waved a receipt in the direction of the still angry store manager. Even then, I was not sure I was free from a potential shoplifter shakedown.

It probably did not help the tense situation when I used two fingers to point to my eyes and then back to the manager’s name tag, the old “I’m watching you” gesture.

This was definitely a new approach by me. I am not suggesting you follow my example. There are better ways to help the down and out.

However, I will say that if you had the misfortune to be a homeless wino, I would be the one guy you would hope to meet. I think the word is out on the streets. Every time I drive by a person in that condition, he waves for me to stop.

Days of Wine and Roses was the title of a movie about two souls in love who lost their way in an ocean of booze. One never recovered.

I offered the homeless man some food and housing assistance. More importantly, I pointed him to help and hope beyond the wine bottle.

For God so loved the world that He gave His only beloved Son that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have everlasting life (John 3:16).

I wanted to teach the man about love first and love most. I caught myself second guessing how that might look in his life. He would have to offer me the first sip of wine and then give me most of the bottle. I thought that might be too much information for one session.

I pray and hope he will find the Friend who never abandons us. But for the grace of God, I would be sitting beside the road with a bottle of wine instead of walking into a warm house with some slightly crushed roses for a beautiful bride.

The bouquet was missing the three smashed rosebuds in the parking lot and the one rose I left with the homeless man to celebrate our Days of Wine and Roses.

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

I am looking forward with hope to those good days that will never end.

Those were the days, my friend
We thought they’d never end
We’d sing and dance forever and a day
We’d live the life we choose
We’d fight and never lose
Those were the days, oh yes, those were the days
La la la la…

Those were the Days–(Welsh singer Mary Hopkin, first artist signed by the Beatles Apple Record label. This song was produced by Paul McCartney)

Those were the days of wine and roses… and you.

WINSDAY WISDOM 303

Have you ever been rolling along feeling pretty good about life when suddenly the wheels fell off?

I talked to a new friend who was having his best professional year. That was late summer last year. In September, he had eye surgery which required a three-week recovery. An injury during his first week back at work necessitated knee replacement and another several weeks of physical therapy.

He contracted Covid before Thanksgiving with some complications. Just before Christmas, he ran a late-night errand to set out the stinky trash forgotten by his vacationing son who lived nearby.

He got out of bed dressed in his Pj bottoms, a light jacket, and flipflops for his short trip of mercy. On the way, his car hit a deer, sending the vehicle tumbling down an incline. He waited in the wintry cold for a police and wrecker. The Pjs and flipflops were a nice touch which led to a sobriety check. The car was totaled but he was not seriously injured. The real hurt came later when he was informed his auto insurance had been canceled while he was in the hospital. 

Post-Christmas, he had a bad case of flu that sent him back into the hospital. On the last day of the year, a nurse delivered his wife’s newly filed divorce papers. Somewhere, the wheels fell off.

Can you identify with the feeling of the shock?

I had a different experience. It was the day the wheels fell off….literally.

As I turned the corner in my car, I marveled at the strange sight of a large tire rolling past my sideview mirror and into the road lane ahead of me. I think I was in shock when Rafe, my passenger, mused that he thought the wandering wheel was from our vehicle.

I can honestly say that the only time I had witnessed something similar was when a high school friend and I changed the flat tire on the band director’s car. That was my first experience at tightening the lug nuts on a wheel. We watched the back tire wildly wobble as the car pulled away. It was the first time I saw a wheel fall off while the car was in motion. It seemed funny at the time.

I guess our band director did not think it was very hilarious. As I was introduced at the next school football pep rally, he had the band play Taps instead of the school fight song.

When the wheels fell off this time, it was very embarrassing. Rafe came to visit me in Tulsa. He is one of my preacher sons. We planned to grab something to eat and then see a Tulsa University football practice.

He marveled at how well my 2000 GMC Yukon had been holding up. The SUV had been a generous gift from the Shreveport church I pastored for twenty-three years. The vehicle was a Godsend. It made many family trips to Tulsa and Florida through the years.

The Yukon was also a beautiful reminder of God’s resurrection power. It just kept going and going, just like the Energizer bunny. Snow, wind, ice, beach sand, storms, and blistering heat never stopped it from reaching its destination. It has even been stolen twice and crashed
twice, only to find its way back home.

It is now a twenty-four-year-old model that can still outrun some of the fancy speed cars racing down the turnpike. Not that I have ever proven that to an arrogant young man who flipped me off.

The odometer currently records just a little over 418,000 miles. That is right. 418k. The thieves left it in poor outward condition. Front glass cracked. Bumper dented. Both front door handles hang loose. The interior is faded and torn. The exterior paint is showing its age. The Michelin tires are worth more than the car.

It looks and feels a lot like its owner. Because of insurance, I am worth more dead than alive. I hope my faith will hold up as well as the Yukon.

During Rafe’s visit, there was a strange grinding sound coming from the left front tire. I had taken the SUV to the auto shop for an inspection the previous day. The mechanic said it looked as if a bearing needed to be replaced.

I drove Rafe to see the new Riverwalk Park. The grinding sound caused me to pull over into the parking lot. I decided to continue the trip to the University campus to get there in time for practice before I called for a wrecker to tow the car to the garage.

As we made the last right turn in front of the campus, there was a strange sound, then a thump. Rafe and I watched as the front left tire slowly rolled past us.

The wheel had come off…literally.

Rafe remarked as if he were the WKRP news reporter, Les Nessman, describing the infamously ill-fated turkey drop from the helicopter onto the Pinedale shopping center parking lot. “Oh, the humanity.” Instead of the Les line, “The turkeys are crashing onto the ground like bags of wet cement,” Rafe reported, “I think that is your tire rolling down the street.” 

I sighed. “Yep, I believe it is.”

Rafe continued to gaze in astonishment at the wheel on its breakaway roll into freedom. “I have never seen anything like that before.”

The rolling tire made its way down Eleventh Street before ending its journey on an adjacent sidewalk. The SUV was now down on its left front scraping along the road. Sparks flying. Spectators gaping with open mouths. Fingers pointing.

I drove the car into the parking lot of a closed sandwich shop. I retrieved the wheel and then went to visit the players at practice. I left Rafe in the car, laughing and hiding his face from the embarrassment.

“Till the wheels fell off” is an idiomatic expression. I certainly get the “idiot” part. The phrase generally refers to some difficult problem that ends up with disastrous results.  

My free-wheeling tire would qualify as a difficult problem with disastrous results.

The metaphor. “Keep going til the wheels fall off,” can be used in a positive manner to describe persistence and relentless determination until the action can no longer be done. A never-quit attitude.

The phrase. “He should have quit before the wheels fell off,” can also be used as a negative expression regarding someone’s stubborn unwillingness to stop what he is doing even when faced with disastrous consequences, often sudden failure.

Again, in this true story, the idiom and the idiot have both been appropriately identified.

Have you ever had one of those days where the wheels just fell off?

I am sure you have…or will have one in the future. What can you do?

Life is life…for each one of us.

We all love the mountaintop times. The highlight moments and celebratory gold stars are welcomed visitors. We smile. We sing. We dance. We live as if those moments will never end. In reality, they are few and far between.

We are better acquainted with the low moments, even if they are scarce. Grief. Loneliness. Defeat. Loss. Suffering. Financial crisis. Personal disappointments. Private pain. Those days do not last forever; they just feel as if they do.

Most of life is spent coasting down the road. We hope to run into a high note or discover a hidden oasis. We fear the hard bumps in the road. We never expect the wheels to really fall off. When they do, then what?

When the wheels fall off, God is there. When the trial is beyond what you can handle, God is there. When the darkness hides all hope, God is there. Even when you have made a mess of your life by foolish decisions or indecision, God is still there.

God specializes in giving help and hope to those who lost their wheels and wrecked their lives.

Consider one of the most messed up lives in all the historical encounters with Jesus. At his worst moment, the world just called the misery man, “Legion.” (You can find his story in Mark 5:1-20.)

He was a man well-acquainted with the drama and conflict of a messed-up life. In fact, in the soap opera world, he would be a mega star.

His wheels fell off. The result is more important than the reason. Legion lost everything that mattered in life. He destroyed his family, shipwrecked his career, and blew up his friendships. His good name became the stuff of demons.

The slippery slope story became a nightmare. He was a physical monster, an emotional wreck, and a social outcast. The plot development was saturated with drama inside and outside.

Frightened people practiced social distancing from his personal pandemic. He was Sleepless in Graveyards and Hopeless in Seattle or any other place on the planet.

Legion’s life was stranger than fiction. The stories about him were a bigtime ratings-grabber. He was a mean, mad man, like a scary monster in the movies, only the tales were real.

The consensus opinion saw him as beyond all hope.

Jesus brought His disciples to love this scary man who was no longer loved or loving. That encounter transformed Legion’s heart, soul, and mind.

God’s love gives hope to soap opera lives. Many lonely people go through life like Legion dwelling in the graveyards of greed, gripes, and grumbling. Their wheels fall off. They are among the Walking Dead who fight with family members, wrestle with addictions, and star in social struggles.

They feel desperately alone, alienated, afraid, and ashamed. They hurt and hate. Self-destructive bitterness and self-inflicted misery know them well.

Legion was the poster child of a soap opera world without God, without help, without hope. He was driven by the unrest that was in his soul, running in never-ending circles of nothing but misery. Socially alienated, spiritually unfit, culturally unacceptable.

It was humanly impossible to love him. He was the most hated soap opera victim/villain of all time.

Jesus searched for the miserable, messed-up man. Jesus loved him first and most. That was the teaching point for the first disciples and anyone else following Jesus. There is no one beyond the help and hope of love.

Do you feel as if you are the most messed-up hopeless person on the planet? The Lord knows how to get you rolling again.

Legion is one example of so many hopeless causes transformed by someone’s action to love first and love most. Transformed by love, Legion went home packing the most important thing in life, loving God and loving others.

You can, too.

When the wheels fall off, and they will at some point in life, the internal spiritual condition of your heart will most affect your response. You will either sit on the side of life’s road and quit for a while, or you will cry for help from above.

Legion ran for the cover of deadness and darkness. Chicken Little reacted with the ominous, but mistaken, warning, “The sky is falling.”

Winnie the Pooh’s friend, Eeyore, did not want to get his hopes up, so he would never be let down. Instead, the depressed donkey shut down from anxiety and fell into a pity party.

Perhaps, you have chosen to reside at Eeyore’s Gloomy Place. “Could be worse. Not sure how, but it could be…End of the road. Nothing to do and no hope of things getting better…I will stay here and be miserable.”

Look up! You are not as bad off as Legion, Chicken Little, or Eeyore, Even if you are, Jesus proved there is a happy ending in store for you as well.

Read God’s Word. It introduces you to God and then reminds you of who He is when your wheels of life fall off.

God’s Word leads to faith, the full assurance and strong conviction that God is still in control and God is always good.

Faith in God always leads to Hope—the confident expectation that you will still see all the goodness God has promised…somehow…someway…sometime.

What can you do?

Live in your hopes, not your fears. No one is hopeless. Our failures do not define us. Our problems do not disqualify us. Our drama does not frighten away the restorative love of God.

Faith in God is the spare tire when the wheel falls off. Life’s journey is not over; it is about to get better.                 

WE ARE ALL ROUGH DRAFTS OF THE FINISHED STORY.  

THANKFULLY, GOD ALWAYS WRITES THE LAST CHAPTER. It will always be more glorious and filled with greater goodness than you can even imagine.

Do you live with or around someone who acts and appears to be beyond all hope? Jesus has a word of faith and hope for you and them.

WHEN YOU GIVE LOVE, YOU GIVE HOPE!

Decide to love first and love most. Develop a plan of how that would look in the relationship.  You do not need to take a ten-year or even a ten-week psychological or theological course before you can go home or go to work for the purpose of loving somebody else.

In any circumstance and in any relationship, a definite decision to reset the future purpose is always made from three possible options available:

1. We can give up and quit because things are hard or look hopeless.
2. We can keep things the same and ride out the season of life, just going through the motions while dying on the inside.
3. We can change the relationship for the better.

Give up. Stay the same. Change for the better. What will you do?

Limitless love is always an option on the table when the wheels fall off. You can pause the soap opera. Be a difference maker.

It is time for you to get back in the race.

Faith. Hope. Love. 

God lives inside of you to lead you to other hopeless persons He intends to love first and love most through you.

WINSDAY WISDOM 302

I recently came across a Reddit blog on the subject: Phrases men hate hearing from women. Apparently, it touched a nerve as well as the funny bone. The comments were as hilarious as they were diverse. Many responses from the readers became rants…from both men and women.

I suspect these phrases transcend all linguistic, cultural, national, and geographical distinctions.

I decided to list my version of the Top Twenty hated phrases I heard a woman say somewhere.

Suggestion: Turn this into an interactive game. There are three parts to the game. Here are the rules and scorekeeping. (I listed some rules because I know some women who insist on reading the rules first even if it is a game of checkers. I know some guys who make up their own rules during the game and I know persons from both sexes who cheat on the score.)

Part One NAME the PHRASES men hate hearing from women“ from my personal Top Twenty list. No peeking. (1 point for each correct guess.)

Part Two SUGGEST the SCENARIO which might have caused the need for each PHRASE. (1 point for a good answer. 2 points for a situation in which you have said or heard the phrase. 3 points for creativity of a possible scenario where the phrase might be used in a mystery novel, Hallmark Christmas movie, or History Channel documentary.)

Part Three DESCRIBE the MAN’S UNSPOKEN THOUGHTS when he hears the hated phrase: (1 Point for a good answer. 3 points if your answer causes a smile. 5 points for an answer you think would go viral on the internet.)

Note: Scoring is on the Honor System like the game of Golf. You may also opt to play my personal version of Grace Golf which allows adjustments to your score via gimmee putts, close enough shots, mulligans, foot wedge out of sand traps, hit any ball found in the woods, kick back in bounds (maximum twenty yards), and “I’m going to act like you did not see that.”

This game is for entertainment purposes only. The game creator is not liable for any laughter or arguments.

When I heard the subject, What Men Hate to Hear Women Say, this is what came to my mind in the first eighty seconds, listed in no particular order.

_________________________________________________________________

PHRASE 1: We need to talk. (If this is on your list, 1 point)

Part Two Share a Scenario for “we need to talk.”

(Examples): *Husband walks into the house from work (1 point). *Woman just concludes phone call with her mother (2 points). *Woman reaches for the TV remote and turns off the ballgame of man’s favorite team (3 points).

Part Three Describe the Man’s Unspoken Anxious Thoughts when he hears “we need to talk.”

(Examples): *I should have gone to the bathroom earlier (1 point). *This is not going to end well (3 points). * Oh no, I did something wrong (5 points). *Can we wait until this show is over? (minus 2 points)

PHRASE 2: I don’t care. (If this is on your list, 1 point)

Part Two Share a Scenario for “I don’t care.”

(Examples): *Husband asked, “Where do you want to eat?” (1 point). *Man says, “I don’t feel good.” (2 points). *Man states he is thinking about leaving the relationship (3 points).

Part Three Describe the Man’s Unspoken Thoughts when he hears “I don’t care.”

(Examples): *I guess she does not care, so we will go to my favorite restaurant (Rookie blunder, minus 2 points). *I will just keep naming more diners and dives until she prefers one (Stupid mistake, 1 point). *This is a trap. Do not take the bait. (Veteran reaction, 5 points).

PHRASE 3: I said, I’m fine. (Continue to share answers and assign self-scoring points for Parts Two & Three of each correct Phrase.)

PHRASE 4: That is not going to happen. Maybe, never again.

PHRASE 5: Guess who is coming to dinner tonight. (Negative points for hurting your opponent’s feelings with answers for Parts Two and Three.)

PHRASE 6: I am not very hungry so I will just share some of what you order.

PHRASE 7: Is that all you think about?

PHRASE 8: You NEVER listen.

PHRASE 9: Never mind, I will just do it myself.

PHRASE 10: I’m not in the mood. You do not want to know what mood I am in. And for the record, I’ll tell you IF I am ever in that mood again. (Double Points)

PHRASE 11: Do you know what we need to do?

PHRASE 12: You are not going to like this, but…

PHRASE 13: What did you say? (She heard you but is giving you a chance to change your mind and your attitude.)

PHRASE 14: Now, what is that look for? (Time is up for changing your attitude. No points.)

PHRASE 15: Why? (Any variation of the question counts, such as: Why did you buy this? Why did you go this direction? Why didn’t you ask first?)

PHRASE 16: Is that really what you are wearing tonight?

PHRASE 17: Well, that was very disappointing.

PHRASE 18: None of this would have happened if you had listened to me. (Triple points)

PHRASE 19: Are you writing that in your post? If you are, that might be the last thing you do.

__________________________________________________________________

Signing off. I need to go. I don’t have time to finish the list.

Pray that your words will be kind and loving, especially if they might be your last words!

_________________________________________________________________

Kind words bring life, cruel words crush the spirit (Proverbs 15:4).

Careless words cut the soul; wise words can heal it (Proverbs 12:18).

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer (Psalm 19:14).

__________________________________________________________________

Postscript: Coming soon…Phrases women hate to hear men say

#1. “I forgot.“

__________________________________________________________________________

SNOWED-IN BONUS ADDITION OF WINSDAY WISDOM

Have you ever gone “Cold Turkey?”

Cold Turkey is a colloquial phrase used most often to describe the sudden and total stoppage of some activity or habit.

The term is usually associated with the abrupt cessation of taking a drug to which one is addicted or complete withdrawal of substance abuse. The resulting sudden behavioral change, rather than a gradual cessation of some habit, often causes unpleasant experiences.

People try to go “cold turkey” from smoking, alcohol, drugs, dating, social media, soft drinks, sweet desserts, or television. Sometimes it involves the cessation of a favorite activity or unhealthy relationship.

The term might have originated from the goosebumps people sometimes get in the days after they quit a bad health habit, causing them to look like the skin of a “cold turkey” in the fridge.

I am more familiar with the cold turkey sandwich served straight from the fridge rather than heated in the oven. (forced smile)

I had a serious addiction to club sandwiches, but I quit cold turkey. Now I only eat BLT’s. (drum roll rimshot)

It could also be a reference to the temperature conditions of a middle eastern country, such as “Istanbul is experiencing a cold Turkey winter.” (groans)

My research points to the cold turkey phrase evolving from the idiom “talk turkey,” a reference to plain and direct conversation. Lay out the facts and get down to the truth of the matter.

Why cold and why turkey and what do they have to do with suddenly and completely ceasing to do something?

The meaning associated with the idiom is similar to other expressions which have no connection to what they sound like they would mean, such as “letting the cat out of the bag” or “dog days of summer” or “break a leg” or “beating around the bush’ or “give someone a cold shoulder.”

Well. Let me “shake a leg” and “spill the beans” on my most memorable experience with going cold turkey.

Years ago, I wanted to lose some weight. The primary nemesis was my enjoyment of cokes and chocolate donuts, especially as driving companions and late-night snacks. I decided to go cold turkey.

No gradual change. No weaning away. No diet drinks. No substitute sweets. Cold Turkey.

The success was directly connected to my determination. I do not recall getting goosebumps, the shakes, or dry sweats. I did miss the sheer enjoyment.

Water and fruit became the go-to snack. Several months lessened any desire to return to those savory delights. The change was becoming deeply imbedded into my routine…until.

Until the time I did a Bible conference in Altus, Oklahoma. Their pastor was a true hero of preaching. I was humbled to be asked to return for a second conference. The Sunday morning service was packed. The response was encouraging.

There was good attendance for the Sunday evening session as I preached about the life and love of Jesus. At the conclusion, two young college-aged guys approached me with a question. They introduced themselves as actors with the parts of Jesus the Savior and God the Final Judge in the church-sponsored “Haunted House” promotion set up across the street for the rest of the week.

The inquisitive young man asked, “Were you saying the Bible teaches that Jesus Christ is God?” I replied, “Definitely.”

He shook his head and then lightly popped himself on the jaw as he blurted out, “I did not know that.”

Then he smiled broadly and loudly declared to his buddy, ‘Hey, you are God, and I am God. We are both God! That is so cool!” Then they high fived and hugged one another.

I was a little taken aback that the young men did not understand the basics of their character roles of God the Father and the divine Jesus who said, “If you know me, you know my Father; from now on, you know Him through me and you see him in me” (John 14:7).

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…The Word became flesh and blood to live among us, and we saw his glory as the Son was the same glory of the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:1, 14).

I was happy for their God-given revelation of Jesus’ identity as “Immanuel, God with us.”

That was not the deal breaker for my cold turkey reversal. That would happen the following night.

The Monday night Bible study attendance was very sparse. I feared that my teaching had been boring and ineffective. The pastor sought to encourage me by informing me that almost two hundred of their members were involved in the Haunted House evangelistic extravaganza about to begin.

Bible study or Haunted House? The #1 Textbook claims to be the sole power to save a soul and transform lives. The Haunted House promises to be a “sure-fire-attention-getter” and maybe even a “scare your pants off” experience. (Those idioms also have no connection to what they sound like they mean.)

Participation in Bible teaching or Haunted House scare tactics is a matter of preference. I do not condemn those who chose the latter. Their intentions were good. I did privately question the wisdom of simultaneously scheduling the events.

What shook my soul all the way to its cold turkey inner chamber was what I saw as I left the church that night. The long line of people outside the Haunted House wrapped around five blocks. I would have talked to more people that night if I had been a ghost.

The sight of the large crowds across the street hurt my pride more than my spiritual discernment.

I stopped at the nearby convenience store on my way back to the hotel. I bought a two-liter bottle of Coke and a box of chocolate donuts. I turned on the second half of Monday Night Football. I went into some trance as I emptied both the bottle and the box before midnight.

Relapse could not begin to describe what I did that night.

I am thankful I was not a recovering alcoholic, gambler, or former druggie. I certainly identify with their struggles. I would have been a no-show for the next day’s Bible study. Somehow, I made it to the senior citizen luncheon with some dried chocolate on my cheek.

Most of the overheard energetic conversations centered around the costumes and scary experiences designed to “scare the holy h-e-double-hockey-sticks” out of its participants!

Since that time, I have gone cold turkey on haunted houses.

Do you have anything in your life which would be better if you stopped it cold turkey?

I have a truck load of wrongs which need some cold turkey resolve. Impatience, anger, bitterness, irritation, SELF-CENTEREDNESS. Sadly, I have lifelong struggles of cold turkey resolutions and relapse moments.

The #1 Textbook describes this journey to love first and most as a continuous struggle to “put off” the wrong stuff and “put on” the life and love of Jesus (Ephesians 4:20-32).

Jesus lives inside of us to lead us to others He intends to love through us.

Life is not about what other people do or do not do, say or do not say. It is about each one of us pressing on to love God and others at ever higher levels.

ALL OF LIFE IS A STEWARDSHIP.

I encourage you to talk turkey with God. ‘Shake off some cobwebs” on the spiritually unhealthy habits. Take some “baby steps” to be better this week.

Love first, love most, and “do the locomotion with me.”

Everybody’s doing a brand new dance now
(Love first, love most)
I know you’ll get to like it if you give it a chance now
(Come on, baby, do the loco-motion with me) 

–The Locomotion, sung by Little Eva, written by Carole King

WINSDAY WISDOM 301

Do you ever feel as if life is unfair? If you ruled the world, what would you change?

I wonder if hippos ever complain that God was a little unfair to them during the whole creation process? Yep, I was thinking this week about hippos, not hippies. I would make a ‘Baptist Bet’ you have not been thinking a lot about hippos this week.

Now my definition of a ‘Baptist Bet’ is an explanation of the extra casino charge you wanted to be marked gratuity, not gambling losses, since you just went there for the good food.

The strange hippo-happy subject occupying my thoughts was generated by a picture of a hippopotamus sent to me years ago by Lauren Semmes. It remains a favorite.

Does the hippo worry why things are not different in his life?

Does the hippopotamus hate it when his picture is posted on social media? Surely, he watches Wild Kingdom. I worry about the hippo’s self-esteem.

Does the hippo ever look at a holiday picture and bemoan its ugliness when standing next to a peacock adorned with those beautiful, colored feathers?

Does the hippo see the Facebook picture of Bambi, the deer, and get depressed over his need to lose some weight? Or does this solitary stick in the mud battle jealousy over the flight of a bird enjoying time with a flock of friends?

After an unhealthy stint observing social media, I imagine the hippo gazes back at his cousin, the hog, and dishes some dirt, “Sorry, little pig squirt, I wish things were different. But take heart, little buddy. We might be stupid, but some human scientists discovered that hippo sweat is a very effective sunscreen. However, their marketing strategy needs a little tweaking. Get a great tan at the beach. Look like a hippo.”

God has something to say about hippos in His #1 Textbook. It should not be a surprise that God designed the hippopotamus to teach us a lesson about life.

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

Sure, you have. It might have resulted from the loss of a loved one, a health diagnosis, financial setbacks, emotional stress, a messed-up relationship.

What if you ruled and controlled your world? Do you believe your circumstances would be happier, healthier, easier, and wealthier?

Let’s just say what we really think about but are afraid to voice out loud. What if you were God of your life, if only for a day? What would you do differently?

What would you command everyone to do and say to make your life better?

God asked that question of Job, the man who suffered the most in this life, except for Jesus.

What would you do differently if you were the Almighty God of this universe?

Just a quick refresher of Job’s story. He trusted God. God blessed him greatly. In the heavenly world, God praised the faith of Job. The great adversary, Satan, challenged the validity of Job’s faith as well as the genuineness of God’s goodness.

Satan declared that Job only pretended to trust God because of its benefits. He also accused God’s pretense of goodness was just a bribe to get people to worship Him.

God allowed those fallacies to be challenged.

Unaware of events going on in heaven, Job’s earthly life fell apart. He lost everything in one day. His family. His possessions. His health. His reputation.

Surely, he wished things had turned out differently. This was not how he expected God to rule his life. He doubted himself and questioned God.

Is everything God does always right, wise, good? Is Job’s faith real? Is yours?

The #1 Textbook is clear that all these things about Job and others were recorded to give us instruction for endurance and encouragement to hope in God’s goodness (Romans 15:4).

So, let us seek to learn something from God’s conversation with Job.

God knows Job is thinking God messed up his life.

God asks Job several hypothetical questions which could easily be directed to each one of us wanting to be God for a day.

Question 1:

“If you ruled the world, what would you tell God to do?”

What if you changed places with God? How different would your life become? What would you change if you were God for a day?

God says you and Job have been playing the part of faultfinder while God rules your world. If you could exchange roles, what would you tell God to do? (Job 40:2)

Question 2: “If you ruled the world, what would you do better than God?”

If you believe your way is right and God’s actions are wrong, what would you condemn, cancel, correct, and change? What would you do differently from what God considered to be wise, right, and good?  How would you make things the way you want them to be? (Job 40:8)

Okay, it’s time for you to answer. Next week, we will consider how God connects the hippo to our thoughts about wishing things were different.

Life is not easy because we live in a world of sin and selfishness and pride and wickedness.  I certainly 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 deep you are plunged into despair. Your life has not been easy; it might even feel unfair. But I sincerely doubt your unwanted circumstances match Job’s difficulties.

However, I will ask you the same question God posed to Job.

If you were Almighty God, what would you do differently? What would you do better than God? If you ruled the world, what kind of God would you be? What would you do differently so as not to do anything wrong or unfair or unjust to anyone?

God is listening to your answer. Don’t you want to give God some guiding instructions? Isn’t that how you pray sometimes?

God is going to hang around, so just say what you are thinking.

Sit down with a picture of a hippopotamus and compare thoughts about what is unfair or wrong about this world in which you live. Write down your complaints and hand your requested changes to God.

I hope to be back for your summary. I’ll give you a week to talk it over privately with God.

More thoughts to come. God has a few more questions for those of us ready to rule our world.

Until then, make your “if I ruled the world” list. And be thankful God did not create you to be a hippopotamus.

You could look like a lumbering lump of fat.  Walking blubber with short, stocky, strong legs.  A long snout, big bulging eyes, and sharp teeth are complemented by a relatively short curly tail. Bellow loudly when displeased and ready to fight when irritated.

You would spend most of the night eating and most of the day sleeping. Essentially, worthless and useless, but stubbornly thick-skinned.

Just big, ugly, stupid, and somewhat pathetically amusing.

Hey, wait. That sounds like a description of me!

No comments, please. Just make your list.

Hope to join you for some hippo-happiness next week.

LAUGHTER IS GOOD MEDICINE FOR THE SOUL (#1 Textbook).

ESPN does a year-end segment on the Bottom 10 plays of the year. This is the WINSDAY WISDOM #1 Bottom story for last year.

Embarrassment. It happens.

I encountered an embarrassing incident at the bank. I went inside to request a cashier’s check. What should have taken a few minutes turned into a twenty-minute wait.

It is embarrassing when you do not have enough funds to cover a check or debit card purchase. I have been there. However, that was not the case with this transaction. I was being helped by a new teller who had great difficulty providing this service.

That was frustrating, but not embarrassing. In the first few minutes of my wait, a woman teller appeared from around the corner. As she took her place at the drive-thru window, it was obvious that something was not right.

Her short skirt was caught up in the back, tucked inside of her somewhat large panties. Apparently, she made a hurried exit from her bathroom break without checking the mirror.

The coup de gras of the wardrobe malfunction was the three-foot-long white toilet tissue paper following her. It appeared much like the tail of a kite waving in full flight.

For some unknown reason, my thoughts recalled the opening lines from Charles Dickens’ famous novel, A City of Two Tails…I mean, A Tale of Two Cities. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

As my mind raced to erase the image of what I just saw, the memory chip noted the undergarments did not appear to be panties. They resembled biker compression shorts…with a tail. I know that is too much information. That is exactly what my mind was thinking. How do I delete this image?

Have you ever been where you wish you had not seen something?

Have you ever seen something and wish you could erase it from your memory?

Have you ever seen something you wished you had never seen and then, you look again? Just to make sure that you saw what you thought you saw?

Have you ever looked more than twice just to see if what you saw had changed?

Note, there was absolutely nothing sexy or erotic or even pretty about this picture. I was embarrassed for her strange, oversized undergarment with skirt tucked inside and toilet paper stuck backside.

“It was the winter of despair…we had everything (behind us) …in the superlative degree of comparison only” (more Dickens).

I tried not to look. I kept looking around to see who else noticed.

The lady with her dress stuck in her ‘xxxx’ was working the drive-thru so she had her backside turned towards me and the growing line of customers at my incompetent teller’s window.

Who was going to tell her? The other tellers were guys. The woman manager walked right by her and asked if she needed help with the drive thru. Did she not notice? Was this standard dress for that woman? It was not even Casual Friday.

Part of me wanted to gawk and point out this fashion faux pas to others. Did you see that? Part of me acted like nothing was amiss in the teller’s garments and maybe no one else would notice.

I tried to think up conversation starters. “How’s your day going? Have you seen anything interesting today? Have you watched Stuck in the Middle?

The young lady was extremely cordial with the drive-thru clientele. She was much more efficient than the young man assisting me. He was fixated in some death stare at his computer screen. He never moved for several minutes which only heightened the temptation to see if the woman with the dress dilemma had reacted to the strange breeze flowing up her back.

I noticed several of the lady customers behind me whispering and occasionally glancing her way. Surely, one of them would discreetly help her correct the situation.

The half-dressed banker turned to help the woman in line behind me. The customer made her deposit and exited the bank without a hint or clue to the exposed teller.

I kept reminding myself this was not MY problem.

The smiling flasher returned to the drive-thru window. It was impossible not to look. I tried not to look. Every time I stole a glance, I regretted it.

So how does one tell a woman her skirt is tucked into her underwear? Should I pass her a note? Would they mistake it as a bank robbery? What do I write?

“You need to check your assets.”

“Do not say a word. Just turn around and put your hands behind you. “

“You made a deposit in the wrong place.”

“Can you make a withdrawal of your skirt from your panty account?”

My mind continued to race with suggested comments.

“Whom should I ask about temporary cheeks…I mean checks?”

“Do you always wear your fanny-pack that way?”

“Could you see if your bottom drawer was left open?”

“When was the last time you looked at the security camera footage?”

I would steal a brief glance, then entertain myself with another weird remark.

“Have you ever used the rear wipers in your car?”

“Is there a rear-view mirror in this place?”

“Excuse me, I think you accidentally butt-dialed me.”

I even thought of leaving my comatose teller and going around to the drive-thru while loudly playing the song Stuck in the Middle With You. “Well, I don’t know why I came here tonight. I got the feeling that something ain’t right.”

I could pass her a note, “I know you are busy, BUT would you please look to see if there is anything caught in the backside of your drawers?”

Maybe I could tell her a joke. “Do you know what they call it when a teacher assigns homework to the bottom of the French class? A derriere-check.”

How and when do you help someone caught in an embarrassing situation?

We have all been there on both sides. Sometimes, we are the one in an unknown but embarrassing moment and, at other times, we are the one watching a relative or friend unaware of their embarrassing event.

It might be green stuff caught in their teeth. Or green stuff dripping or hanging from their nose. Or green stuff stuck to their hair, fingernails, or clothes.

Do you tell them or just act like the green stuff is not there? Do you rub that area of your body, hoping they will imitate you and unknowingly knock it off their body?

Do you try to lead them in front of a mirror? Or just let them wait until they get home to discover their embarrassment and wrestle with the question, “I wonder how long that has been there”?

Last week, my wife and I were with a friend who missed her mouth with the dipping sauce. It slowly dripped down her cheek. She continued with her storytelling while I tried to look away. But I had to look again. I glanced at my wife in wonder why she did not say something.

We should have handed the lady a napkin, but we both tried the “wipe our own face” routine, hoping she would take the hint. I was embarrassed for her, but I also enjoyed monitoring the slow progress of the dip moving down her cheek.

Embarrassment is the feeling of humiliation, shame, or awkwardness witnessed by others. You’ve acted like a fool, hopefully unintentionally.

Vicarious (secondhand or empathetic) embarrassment is the feeling of embarrassment for another person’s embarrassment.

Embarrassment is unavoidable. It should not destroy us for days or weeks or years. We should never be embarrassed about embarrassing situations.

Most of us carefully construct our lives so as not to be caught looking like an idiot. That is much more difficult for some of us than others. Alas, we just do stupid things!

Love endures all things…Love believes and hopes the best for others…Love conquers all things (including embarrassment) —#1 Textbook.

Love covers a multitude of stupid things. So does laughter.

Laugh more, even at yourself. It would be good if we could laugh at our own stupidity the way we can howl with delight at the unfortunate events in someone else’s embarrassing moment.

Be compassionate. You do not have to mock. Minimize the shock.

Let it go. That embarrassment does not have to haunt you throughout life.

I really wanted to be there when the teller realized her embarrassing situation. Don’t we all want to enjoy embarrassment at someone else’s expense? I resolved not to look again. The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak…Okay. I stole another glance.

I quickly turned to see if anyone noticed my illicit look. Why did I feel so guilty? This was not pornographic. If anything, it should have been WARNAGRAPHIC!

Hey kids! Do not look over there at the bank teller with her skirt up her underwear. I watched as other customers noticed the wardrobe malfunction. One gasped and covered her mouth as she continued to stare. One woman looked and then turned to her husband with silent head nods and eye movements to move his attention to the drive-thru window. She became frustrated when he whispered, “What do you want?”

She pointed. His expression went into shock as he muttered, “Oh my.”

Another lady saw the incident and quickly looked away to see if anyone saw her. Our eyes met. I smiled. And looked again…for the last time.

I rushed out of the bank. I did not want to stay around to see THE END.

As I departed the lobby, my mind sang the Roy Rogers/Dale Evans classic goodbye, “Happy Tails to You, Until We Meet Again.”

This incident was awarded the #1 ‘BOTTOM’ story of the year.

GOD WITH US…FOR US

by Rex Blankenship

Meditation Part 1: Silent Night...Think about God

God with us.                                                                                                                                The God of LOVE.                                                                                                                                        The God of HOPE.

The God of Love.                                                                                                                                                     So loved us.                                                                                                                               Gave His Son of Love.                                                                                                                                         To us.

Embrace Him.                                                                                                                        Never perish. Never.                                                                                                                 Life and Love…                                                                                                      Everlasting.

Oh, the Love of Christ!                                                                                                        Without beginning.                                                                                                        Without ending.                                                                                                             Without interruption.                                                                                                     Without limits.

Amazing love.                                                                                                              Relentless.                                                                                                           Uncontainable.                                                                                                       Inexhaustible.                                                                                                        Overflowing.
 
Share LOVE.

The God of Hope.                                                                                                                     So good.                                                                                                                                        God’s Word of Hope.                                                                                                       To us.

Embrace His Word.                                                                                                Confident expectation.                                                                                                            All the promised goodness.                                                                                           Someway…                                                                                                               Somehow…                                                                                                                Sometime…

Hope brings Peace.                                                                                                                 And Joy.                                                                                                                                 Hope abounds.                                                                                                                   And Overflows. 

Share HOPE.


Meditation Part 2: Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia...Praise God

God for us.                                                                                                                                The God of LOVE.                                                                                                                       The God of HOPE.


LOVE.                                                                                                                                    Sleeps in a stable.                                                                                                      Sits with sinners.                                                                                                  Hangs on a cross.                                                                                                         Perfumes an empty tomb.                                                                                                                                                     

LOVE.                                                                                                                                                                                   Shines on every face.                                                                                                              Of every race.                                                                                                                     Living at every pace.                                                                                                                     In every space.

LOVE.                                                                                                                                           Fills the mind with wonder.                                                                                        Yet surpasses understanding.                                                                                                  Its width exceeds the immeasurable distance of east from west.                                                                       Its length stretches far beyond infinity.                                                                                Its height transcends incomprehensible.                                                                                  Its depth plunges lower than unfathomable.

LOVE.                                                                                                                               Forgives the guilty.                                                                                                                 Leaves no blemish.                                                                                                                   No trace.                                                                                                                                   Floods the heart.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Stretches for higher levels.                                                                                                    Incessantly overflows.                                                                                                     Beyond all boundaries.                                                                                                         

LOVE.                                                                                                                              Engulfs families.                                                                                                               Extends friendships.                                                                                                    Embraces differences.                                                                                           Encompasses enemies.                                                                                                                

LOVE.                                                                                                                               Heals hurts.                                                                                                               Breaks barriers.                                                                                                               Brings home the separated.

LOVE.                                                                                                                                             Compassion for the Suffering.                                                                                                 The Sick.                                                                                                                                    The Sad.                                                                                                                                    The Sorrowful.

HOPE.                                                                                                                                       Shined in the heavens.                                                                                                   No longer a Silent Night.                                                                                                    Angels announcing.                                                                                                               Shepherds watching.                                                                                                                        Wise men following.                                                                                                            Cattle lowing.                                                                                                                      Heaven and nature singing.

HOPE.                                                                                                                                      Divinity becomes a child.                                                                                                                                          Glory hides inside humility.                                                                                                        Majesty dresses in meekness.                                                                                                     Supremacy stoops for lowliness.                                                                                                     

Perfection covered by shame.
Sovereignty nailed on a cross.                                                                                                                                   The Creator in a tomb.                                                                                                  Redeemed sinners around the heavenly throne.

HOPE.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     The storm clouds dreaded.                                                                                                         Break with blessings on our head.                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Showers of Goodness.                                                                                                                      Unsurpassed.                                                                                                             Unending.

HOPE.                                                                                                                                         The Last are made First.                                                                                                      The Least are most favored.                                                                                                                         The Lost are mercifully found.                                                                                           From every kindred.                                                                                                         Every tribe.                                                                                                                    Every nation.

The God of Love and Hope.                                                                                                   With us…For us.                                                                                                                             Inviting us to dance.                                                                                                                 Two steps.                                                                                                                  LOVE FIRST.                                                                                                                                                                                              LOVE MOST.

The God of LOVE and HOPE                                                                                                        With us…For us.

Alleluia.                                                                                                                                   Awe.                                                                                                                         Amazement.                                                                                                           Admiration.                                                                                                              Adoration.                                                                                                                 Appreciation. 


Meditation Part 3: The Dawn of Redeeming Grace...Thank God                                                                                                                

Be Thankful O my soul.                                                                                                              Every breath that makes this life dearer.                                                                        Every breath that brings heaven closer.                                                                                                                   Blessed in every way. 

Be Thankful.                                                                                                                               For the Hope of a new day’s light.                                                                                            God is here.                                                                                                                              For the darkness of night’s despair.                                                                                           God is there.

Be Thankful.                                                                                                                                       Renewed strength.                                                                                                         Occasional suffering.                                                                                                  Laughter of grandchildren.                                                                                           Languish of aging.                                                                                                                

Be Thankful.                                                                                                                        Every smile encountered.                                                                                                  Every tear wiped away.                                                                                                    Every embrace.                                                                                                                  Every longing.

Be Thankful.                                                                                                                    Wisdom from above.                                                                                                         Patience here and now.                                                                                                                                          Love that suffers long.                                                                                                   Endures much.                                                                                                                   Eagerly pursues peace. 

Be Thankful.                                                                                                                                     I am loved.                                                                                                                                 Every way.                                                                                                                                                        Every day.


Meditation Part 4: O Holy Night, Fall on your Knees...Talk with God

Praying.                                                                                                                                    Until He appears and the soul feels its worth.                                                                                             A thrill of HOPE the weary world rejoices.                                                                                          For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.                                                                                    Fall on your knees. O hear the angel voices.   

                                                                                                                                           Praying.                                                                                                                                                  To be changed by Christmas LOVE and HOPE.                                                                                                          Unchanging goodness to Change me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      To LOVE more like the One celebrated.                                                                                                           To HOPE more in the One coming again. 

Praying.                                                                                                                                        Be used by Christmas LOVE and HOPE.                                                                          Live in me.                                                                                                                             Lead me to others.                                                                                                                  Love them through me.                                                                                               Overflow in Hope for them.

Praying.                                                                                                                                            Walk in Christmas LOVE and HOPE.                                                               Immeasurably wider.                                                                                                  Increasingly longer.                                                                                                              Always higher.                                                                                                                  Forever deeper.

Praying.                                                                                                                                             Show Christmas LOVE and HOPE.                                                                                       Infinite.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Unlimited.                                                                                                                   Everlasting.                                                                                                         Unfathomable.                                                                                                           Perpetual.                                                                                                                          Beyond comprehension. 

Praying.                                                                                                                                           Become Christmas LOVE and HOPE.                                                                                   Give up self for welfare of others.                                                                                      The way Christ gave Himself up for me.                                                                      Sacrifice for others.                                                                                                                 The way Christ sacrificed for me. 

Praying.                                                                                                                                                             Go the second mile.                                                                                                                 Lift the heavy burden.                                                                                                       Cheer the success of others.                                                                                                

Praying.                                                                                                                                                    Love first and most.                                                                                                                                                            Every day…                                                                                                                           Every one…                                                                                                                                Every time…

Praying.                                                                                                                       Centered in God’s LOVE.                                                                                                                   Not my self-centeredness.                                                                                                        Filled with HOPE.                                                                                                                   Not my fears.

Praying.                                                                                                                                    Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus.                                                                                     Let all within us praise His Holy name.                                                                                 Christ is the Lord!                                                                                                                            O praise His name forever!                                                                                                                 His power and glory evermore proclaim.

God with us…For us.                                                                                                            The God of LOVE and HOPE.                                                                                                                                                     His power and glory evermore proclaim.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Christmas time can create or invoke precious memories. I can still hear my dad repeatedly singing “White Christmas” to my new baby brother. I even remarked that I thought the little bundle who interrupted my monopoly on Christmas gifts might be getting tired of hearing that song.

Christmas is a special time of the year. However, it invokes a wide spectrum of emotional responses from great joy to deep depression, festive celebration to family chaos, heartfelt love to heartbroken loneliness, compassionate generosity to commercialistic greed.

This Christmas Memory was written in 1974 by my mom as therapy for a lonely heart. I share it with you to spark good Christmas memories for your heart in times of loneliness or family chaos.

CHRISTMAS MEMORIES   l974

Christmas commercialized?  Never!  Never!  Never!  Some may call it that; but God forbid that my husband, children, future grandchildren, and I lose the heritage so lovingly passed on by Mom and Dad.

My earliest memories of Christmas were in a large rambling two-story white house sitting on a small hillside about threequarters of a mile from Peabody Mining Camp called Superior Smokeless Coal and Mining Company, Mine #29.  The post office was named Tahona.

We grew up on this small farm at the edge of town with the idea that we were someone special.  No, we weren’t taught snobbery.  We were taught to use the God-given intelligence and physical stature to get ahead in life through education and hard work. 

Never were we taught that anyone owed us anything but an opportunity.  Neither were we ever told this would make us lots of money.  Money was seldom the central issue. 

There seemed to be enough for our necessities, some for our dreams, and a little for the frivolous things in our lives.  Dad worked seven days a week to provide this setting while Mom worked seven days a week guiding us to goal-setting that we hardly realized were being set.

Consequently, uppermost in the plans for the future were more and more education and work experiences.  Even the trials of World War II did not deter these plans.  Strange ideals coming from a coal mining family of self-educated parents.  Few such ideas floated around the environment where almost every other house made home brew and sold it to the next house. 

I guess our house was the buyer–just Dad.  Dad, tired and weary of a l2 to l5 hour shift at the Tipple, relaxed with a bottle or few before winding his way home to face the trials of six kids and an over-worked Mom.  Let it be known that Dad did the drinking for the whole family and before he got home. 

Mom kept many of these secrets hidden from us. If Dad were caught on Christmas Eve drinking from a peculiar-shaped bottle with a peculiar aroma, we were hastily informed it was Dad’s cough medicine.  That satisfied me.  I wanted Dad  healthy for the big Christmas celebration. 

As I have already said, Mom kept many secrets (just like the Christmas secrets) which made life good to us.  We grew up feeling that there was a special magic in the Floyd family blood. 

Grandparents were never a big part of our Christmas.  Grandma and Grandpa Floyd were not around for these celebrations because they had gone on before I can remember.  Grandpa and Grandma Morrison shared many holiday seasons with us.  Somehow, they were not the doting grandparents who heaped gifts upon us or held us in their laps and hugged us tightly.  There was more of a standoffish respect, especially on my part. 

Therefore, I feel the magic must have begun with the mingling of Mom’s and Dad’s blood.  I still feel there was a magic not fully understood, but deeply beloved about our home the year around– but building to a crescendo around Christmas time.  

  

Commercialized?  Yes, Dad bought three tricycles one Christmas because we had not learned that we were not an only child.  Then he had to buy two saddles for the older boys. (I know now these purchases were dearest to his hearts–later he bought all grandchildren cowboy boots–boys and girls. He liked this sort of thing.) 

I think perhaps even Big Sister got a bedroom suite for her room.  Peabody must have had a good year and gave a large bonus that year.

Now, I am more inclined to feel that this, too, was one of those guarded secrets of doing without for a year for one big splurge at Christmas for those you love. This practice continued through Mom’s lifetime. She could not manage money. She had to spend it on someone else. 

I’ve inherited the urge to spend more than I can afford at Christmas.  But I’m willing to work the rest of the year to pay for the joys of giving at Christmas.  This I inherited from Mom.  

Santa was very real to us Floyd Kids–much longer than those who lived in the camp and knew the ways of the world. My elder brothers and sisters were not the kind to belittle such beliefs. It was such a good thing to hold on to that even they were reluctant to let Mom and Dad know their doubts. 

This dedication fostered a special belief in my little brother and me.  

Finally, the day arrived that I could no longer resist asking Mom if there really was a Santa Claus. Now much has been said about the New York Times’ answer to Virginia, but I’m here to tell you that their answer to Virginia was no more legendary or effective as Mom’s answer to me. 

When she finished explaining the magic and spirit of Christmas because of the Christ Child’s putting so much love into this world, the magic Santa was greater than all real Santas who had hither fore peeped through the dining room window to see if all good little boys and girls were in bed. 

No sadness or depression filled my heart. The magic of love had filled the Santa image, and Christmas went on as usual with all the happiness, unselfishness, and love it was meant to have. 

This was the love that prompted Mom to share with the bell ringers on the streets or the paper boy who trudged through the snow to bring news from worldwide. Dad shared his tender love for under-privileged children less fortunate than his own. He would pay their way into movies so they wouldn’t have to miss life’s little goodies.

During the hustle and bustle before Christmas , one Sunday morning, Mom’s oft overworked and strained heart gave way.  All the loving family rushed to her bedside. 

Using her last ounce of strength and devotion, she spoke to each one individually to let each know that she knew we were once more gathered together. Then she slipped into eternity. 

The sorrow and lack of readiness for life without Mom flooded our souls. Although the circle had been broken, thoughts turned immediately to Dad. 

Christmas must go on as usual. It had always been special. Mom would not want it otherwise. No sorrow for the grandchildren.

Finally, as we found courage to enter the once-a-year (Christmas Season) used bedroom, we found gifts sorted and waiting to be wrapped. No, we had no written instructions. Mom was never that organized. 

But somehow, we knew which gift belonged to which child, in-law, or grandchild because of the special love for each of those individuals. There was always enough to go around no matter how large the family grew.

Never had Mom finished her shopping so early. Perhaps as she grew older, she felt she needed more time to get ready for the mob’s invasion. But to get us by our first Christmas without her in body, I like to think that Mom was prepared to provide her special type of Christmas spirit for us as we lovingly opened those gifts on that special Christmas Eve.     

My loved ones, times will change whether we want it to or not. Conditions necessitated our moving the Christmas Eve Party to my house after a year or two when the strain became too great for Dad. 

How we enjoyed the phone calls from those who were unable to attend these get-to-gathers! Now Dad, too, has gone on to meet Mom and have even greater celebrations, but Christmas Eve parties continued.

This Christmas will only memories and mailed gifts bind the remnants of this magical family? No, that is not true.

Santa may not be peeping through the dining room window at brats too excited to go to bed or parents too tired to carry sleepy-eyed toddlers up the stairway so Santa’s finishing touches could be placed under the tree.

But you may rest assured that magic of love will be prevalent in each of the six houses as the Floyd Clan gathers in each respective home for this Season’s celebration.

Love and the proud heritage of having the “blood” will live on through tales told to each generation of what Christmas really means. 

L-O-V-E–for God and man. 

With this thought in our hearts, no way can Christmas be commercialized.  A special mission we Floyd Kids and descendants have on earth is to keep this travesty from happening.

**Written l2/l7/74 as therapy for a lonely heart by Bea Floyd Blankenship.

Merry Christmas and may the Lord bless you with lots of love to share with others.

LOVE FIRST. LOVE MOST.

Create some memories!

WINSDAY WISDOM 237

CAN A GOOD WOMAN CHANGE A MAN?

NO! NOT IF HE IS AN IDIOT!

As we transition from one year to the next, I want to chime in on the age-old question that has been debated since the time of Eve.

Can a good woman change a man?

This is just my opinion. And, of course, I intend to allow my wife to review and edit my opinion before it goes public and embarrasses her.

I am a man. I was born a male and I identify as a male. I have more dirt in and on me than Adam had.

I have counseled many men. I have trained many men. I have coached young men. My best friends are men. I am well-acquainted with a man’s ways, mannerisms, attitudes, and thinking process. I know the words to the song, Macho, Macho Man, and the country tunes about becoming A Better Man.

I think almost every woman enters a relationship with the belief she can change the man into what she wants him to be. In many cases, it is the same thing he wants to be, a better man.

A better man is not the same thing as a changed man. What is the magic measuring stick for a better idiot?

How many men out there have been called “idiot”? As the preacher says, “I see that hand…and that hand…and, thank you, I see you…multitudes of hands are up. Let’s pray.”

They say there is no cure for stupidity.

Being a man is not always easy. I know family men, fishing men and farming men. When I came to pastor a church in Shreveport, I became acquainted with southern men. At our first meeting, the circle of men began to introduce themselves.

When Bo Roberts drawled out his name, I asked what kind of work he did. He replied, “Far-men.” I asked what he farmed. He looked at me as though we were speaking two different languages. He repeated, “Far-men for over twenty years.” I asked again what he farmed. Bo shook his head and said, “I don’t farm. I fight fars.” He later became Fire Chief for the whole city. I don’t think he ever took up farmin’.

So, I have also known firemen. I have encountered councilmen, businessmen, handymen, hard-working men, hunting men, drinking men, and even some cowboys. Some lived in a mansion. Some in a tree stand. Some in the doghouse.

Women live with those men amidst much frustration and angst. They also are fairly unanimous as to the problem of the disconnect. The classic answer, “A man never listens.”

My wife said I never listen…or something like that.

I never listen? Really? Never? Are you saying I have lived with the best woman in the world for over forty-five years and I never listened even once? Never?

Just yesterday my wife asked if I would get two sacks of onion scraps from the garage refrigerator that needed to go into the trash bin to be set out for the next morning weekly garbage pick-up. I checked to make sure I listened for the first time in my life.

“Do you mean all the sacks?” Affirmative. I thought I had finally broken the long-standing trend. One for all the men!

As my lovely wife prepared tonight’s meal, she asked if I would get one of the yellow onions from the garage refrigerator. I replied that I had thrown all the onions into the trash, even the yellow ones.

She looked up in astonishment. “You threw away the good yellow onions?”

I replied, “They were in a sack.”

It was only a whisper under her breath. “Idiot.”

Why can’t a man lose the ability to listen when he needs to?

Sometimes, I just assume she is thinking out loud. It sounds more like elevator music, just providing background noise.

I probably should not have described her words as elevator music or background noise. If that statement remains in the final edition, you can be assured I heard the expression, “Idiot!”

I can speak for all men, everywhere. “Unlike women, we are not mind readers”….and I will speak for all women, “We men never listen.“

Apparently, some men do not even make an effort to pretend they are listening. How difficult is that? Idiots!

I tried to pretend listening with my mom. She would always finish the lecture with her analysis that her words went into one ear and came out the other side. I think she posted that warning on my back. My wife just reads the sign as I walk away from the discussion.

To all the women talkers pouring out their heart emotions and life struggles, please understand that every man is naturally equipped with a mute button. It is right next to his mixed signals button.

We also tend to take most things we hear literally and at face value. Men are more prone not to understand there might be a deeper meaning to a woman’s words. And unlike women, men can never read between the lines.

And for the record, I do not think you women say all that you think you say. Sometimes, a woman’s mouth moves but no words come out.

Non-verbal hints never arrive to the male mind. When a woman says she would never want such a thoughtful gift, we assume she means all thoughtful gifts should be off the shopping list. How about a new vacuum cleaner?

Yes, I think it can be male operated. The advertisement states it is idiot-proof.

Why do the minds of women and men work so differently when it comes to grocery lists? Stopping at the store is one way I enjoy helping out my wife. Our marriage version started out with verbal requests. She wanted one can of tomatoes for the soup.

That sounds so simple…to a woman! A man thinks in terms of not needing to go back to Lowes for a three-quarter-inch screw when he picked up a half-inch one. So, the efficient thinking man buys both, knowing he can use the other one in the future.

I did not know there were so many variations of canned tomatoes…peeled, diced, petite diced, fire roasted diced, diced with green chilies, whole, crushed, stewed, puree, even tomato sauce. We now have all of those in our pantry. Most canned tomatoes remain good up to two years. We have some expired varieties that only remain in the pantry to remind me that we already have that kind of canned tomatoes!

Verbal requests can be lost in translation. When the wife says to her husband that she needs some “flour” if he wants her to bake him his favorite cookies, do not be surprised when he presents her with some “flowers” that he proudly purchased on sale. Yes, that has happened. That makes sense to a man. Pro Quid Pro.

My wife switched to the written lists, both paper and text. I often missed she wanted “two” of the items. So, like Santa, I always make my own list and check it twice. Somehow, I keep returning home “Naughty” not “Nice”.

She thought it wise to number the items on the list. I interpreted the numerals as how many she needed of each item, So, I brought home (one) milk, (two) dozen eggs, (three) 10 lb. bags of sugar, and (four) 10 lb. bags of flour. I was out of breath just hauling in the supplies. In my defense, I thought she must be baking lots of cookies.

The “check with me if you don’t understand” system did not work any better. My wife got tired of answering the phone every five seconds.

Now she just sends me to the store with pictures and crayon instructions.

Many women spend more time wondering what men are thinking than men actually do thinking. And just for informational purposes to any newlyweds out there, “What were you thinking?” is a woman’s rhetorical question. Do not answer! You will only prove her point.

Apparently, a man needs a woman’s voice to tell him which direction to drive. Thanks Siri. I like to make different turns just to frustrate her. I’m a macho, macho man! Siri is a relentless woman!

A woman desires to discuss the problem, preferably, several times. A man just wants to fix the problem once he gets part of the facts. He might even interrupt the monologue of her concerns with a solution. What idiot would do that? I bet you know at least one.

Let me provide some clarification pointers to the women in the audience. Why the women? The men are not listening. Here is a major part of the problem as this one man sees it.

Women expect men to listen like, well…other women. But men don’t. Why? Why don’t men listen? God made us that way. The loss of a man’s listening ability is directly connected to the rib he lost.

My thoughts on that are somewhat shaped by one of the most classic romantic movie quotes by Tom Cruise to Renee Zellweger in Jerry Maguire, “You complete me.”

The duo also copied Adam’s classic comment used to stop Eve’s heartfelt monologue, “You had me at Hello.”

Whether it is “complete me” love or the “hello” kind, I admire all the wonderful women out there who have stayed by your man during the bad times…even if it is just to remind him that none of the bad stuff would have happened if he had listened.

God made man to be completed by a good woman. Not changed, just completed.

That is why I need My Girl. She has made me a better man. Still very flawed, but better.

I guess I should say something somewhat spiritual.

Be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to anger...If any man is in Christ, he is a new creation (#1 Textbook)

That is our only hope for changing a man. God has to do it.

Be thankful for a God-changed man. Be patient and hopeful. He is not yet perfect, but he is learning how to love you first and most. Complete him. Without a word, show him how.

OK, thank you for listening…or not listening.

I am thankful God has a sense of humor.

I encourage you to keep laughing together. I hope that never changes.

I hear the chorus of women out there whispering through their Renee Zellweger tears:

“I LOVE HIM FOR THE MAN HE WANTS TO BE, AND I LOVE HIM FOR THE MAN HE ALMOST IS.”

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: The views and expressions in this article are solely the opinion of just one man. He answers to the name, “Idiot!” These comments do not necessarily reflect the views of all idiots. Other men should not be held liable for the author’s sentiments.

The names, characters, places, events, and examples are fictitious or should have been. Any similarity to anyone you or the author might know is purely coincidental.

This information is not intended as professional advice, except for this counsel: Please continue to pray for God to change your “idiot” while you continue to love him for the man he almost is.