Inclusive or Exclusive

A little reading, a little verse, and a little rambling.
On first glance, 1Cor 12 looks to be concerning gifts, and specifically, gifts parceled out amongst the members of the church. We've all heard it preached this way, but the more I look at it, the more it appears to be speaking of something more. First, I'd like to put in perspective that the church is not a building, the Church is God's people. We are the Church. 1Peter 2.5; 1Corinthians 3.9 For we are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building. Disjointed though it may be, I am leading up to something here. 

Wherefore I give you to understand, that no man speaking by the Spirit of God calleth Jesus accursed: and that no man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost :1Cor 12.3. 
That is an extremely broad statement, possibly encompassing many more than we like to give credit to. There are many that profess to be Christians, and thus profess Jesus as Lord. I am not singling anyone out, my intention is quite the opposite. I am simply pointing out that we might need to take a broader view of humanity if we are to spread the will of Christ. We proclaim oneness, but our words and actions are divisive. 1Peter 2:16,17; As free, and not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the servants of God. Honor all men. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the king. Sorry Aaron if I took that out of context :).

I borrowed the following paragraph. Overlooking that this guy is talking about the trinity, I liked the way he put this comment together so well, that I didn't think I could do it any better. The title to his commentary was... Many Voices, One God. His concept was good, but in the end,he failed to come to a proven ending. So, definitely taken out of it's intended context, I think I can fit this train of thought in here:   
There is much that we need to learn about the whole emphasis on unity, on oneness. How do you arrive at oneness by rejecting what does not belong? That's how we Christians have tried to achieve unity: arriving at truth by refutation. That's why we have so many heretics in our history. We want to say so many things are wrong in order to establish what we think is right. We cannot handle plurality. Plurality is a very big problem for the monotheistic religions..[insert Churches, Denominations here]

1Co 12:4-11  “But there are differences of gifts, but the same Spirit. And there are differences of ministries, but the same Lord.  And there are differences of workings, but it is the same God working all things in all.  But to each one is given the showing forth of the Spirit to our profit. For through the Spirit is given to one a word of wisdom; and to another a word of knowledge, according to the same Spirit;  and to another faith by the same Spirit; and to another the gifts of healing by the same Spirit;  and to another workings of powers, to another prophecy; and to another discerning of spirits; and to another kinds of tongues; and to another the interpretation of tongues.  But the one and the same Spirit works all these things, distributing separately to each one as He desires.”
The Douay-Rheims Bible substitutes the word gift for graces, which can put a little different interpretation on these verses....
4 Now there are diversities of graces, but the same Spirit;.....And God indeed hath set some in the church; first apostles, secondly prophets, thirdly doctors; after that miracles; then the graces of healing, helps, governments, kinds of tongues, interpretations of speeches. Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all doctors? 30 Are all workers of miracles? Have all the grace of healing? Do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret? 31 But be zealous for the better gifts. And I shew unto you yet a more excellent way.

A piece of fiction(also borrowed....
The story is told of Yuri Gagarin, the first Russian Cosmonaut and the first person to have gone into orbit and in outer space. When he came back to the earth, there was a reception for him in the Kremlin. During the course of the reception, Nikita Khrushchev, then the general secretary of the Communist Party and the head of state, slowly led him in the study and said, "Comrade Yuri, you are the first man to have gone into space. I want to ask you a question, and I want an honest answer from you. Out there in space, was there a heaven? Were there gates of pearl? Streets paved with gold? Angels? God? Did you see anything like that?" Yuri became very grave in his face and said, "Comrade, I cannot tell you the lie. Unfortunately, there is a heaven. I saw the gates of pearl and the angels there." Khrushchev said, "Well comrade, this is what I always feared. But you know that you cannot say this to anybody else, because the Communist Party depends on NOT having heaven up there." Then he was taken on a world tour to further propagate this great achievement of the Russian State. He also came to the Vatican, and he was given a reception in the Vatican and a private audience with the Pope. The Pope also took him aside and asked, "Brother Yuri, you are the first one to have gone into outer space. Now tell me, did you see a heaven and God and angels and Peter standing at the gates of pearl?" Yuri was reminded of the warning given by Khrushchev, so he said, "Holy Father, I am so sorry to tell you but there is no such thing up there." And the Pope said, "This is what I always feared. But you know you cannot talk about this outside."
 
 It is possible that we take a very narrow view when we adopt the sectarian blinders. I just hope that we haven't taken such a narrow minded view, and made ourselves so lofty, we are using our liberty for a cloak of maliciousness. I am particularly drawn to 1Cor 12, verse 31 here, where we are being told that if we seek better gifts, God will show us a better way.
  If you think I am trying to arrive at some misguided conclusion that gives me some particular wide birth to not living both a clean, and upright life, seeking God's will, I'm not.
 
Of late, everywhere I turn I see ladies that remind me of a lady of the church named Ramona(No, she can't possibly have that many sisters). There is something extraordinary in the appearance and modesty of this duplicated lady which sets her apart from the crowds. I have seen men which possess this appearance as well. Obviously Christian, no doubt. I have said before that the purity these people exude is a beautiful thing. The joy and liberty they have is enviable, and I believe that this setting apart is not due to some hobbling tutorship in doctrine, but as verse 31 says, they have sought better gifts, and have been shown a more excellent way, inclusively.  Your thoughts are always welcomed. 
 
 

Home

On Wednesday, May 27th, 2009, our sweet sister and her husband, Jackie Carroll, laid to rest their prematurely born infant child.
To my knowledge, she has not before now, known exactly how she was going to bear to part with this sweet child, who came to be known to us as her "beanie baby". The gender unknown for sure, this child was called to me by the proper name "Bambino", which, when translated, literally means, "little boy", or "little child". In art, it is used to refer to the the to the image of the infant Jesus in swaddling clothes.
The very fact that she has held on to this child for so long without knowing when and where she would give him a final resting place speaks volumes to me. It speaks of the sincerity in her heart and in her belief that all life is sacred. It speaks to me of her knowledge that life is given, and life is also taken away. The purposes and means of this is not always in our understanding,  so we trust in our instinct, in belief that there is a special place we can call "home".  This is Faith.

To this end, as the words fail to pass my lips, I am compelled to write this psalm, so that even though speech may elude me, my heart does not.  

Home
I've laid two souls to rest today and how reluctantly,
 for if I had another wish, they would still be here with me.
For into me the seeds of life had bloomed so vibrantly,
 this little life that glittered, like a star so brilliantly.
How seldom do we get this chance of opportunity,
 to have a child to call our own for all eternity.

And how the time has quickly come, to send him on his way,
 there are children there awaiting, where he can run, and play.

I know you loved your children, your grandchildren were your prize,
 so into your arms I've laid this one, while you close your eyes.
I cannot give a greater gift than this last child of mine,
 to take him home to Jesus, where he can truly shine.
I know he's not a burden, you loved your children so,
 so into your grasp I'm trusting, to heaven he will go.

Into your hands I've placed my child for all eternity,
 to take him home to Jesus, where he will wait for me.
Take and show our Father, the gift he gave to me,
 the seeds of life within me, how briefly that may be.
Tell him I will miss him but this is best you see,
 the little child that was once here, can now my angel be.  

And how the time has quickly come to send him on his way,
there are children there awaiting, where he can run, and play.

In loving memory of our
beanie baby Bambino, 'John'
and Ma Betty Carroll
© 2009 byronc

Kailani's 5th Birthday

Once again this year, April 21, 2009, no birthday party celebration for Kailani. I do not understand why, and never will. I hope that she is not bitter and hurt when she grows older in realizing that her Mom never chose to honor her birthdays as a special day. She has had only one planned birthday party that I know of, this one on her 3rd; http://tejasmidget.multiply.com/photos/album/139/April_Birthdays ..All of the rest were either skipped, merged into some cousins party some other month, or on her brothers birthday in August. We always try to do something for her, http://tejasmidget.multiply.com/tag/birthdays but never exclude her brother to keep the hostilities down. There seems to be some sort of confusion that dictates what is, and isn't to be done. Perhaps there is some recollection of her third when her mother insisted that presents be brought for Cody also, then incredulously, as his punishment for some unknown reason to us, his were put in bags and put away.
Darrell and Heather are going to church regularly since Easter. She wants him to give up drinking, which is a good idea. Perhaps she will hear a sermon or two on cleanliness. She blames the unkempt condition of the house on these two children. Darrell has resigned himself from his angry bouts of house cleaning and states that his temper is their only problem. I wish this were the case. They have wedding plans for July 25th, 2009. You are invited.

Off to mow/trim the yard as per my instructions :)

Of Cows and Gold Ñ

For most of my adult years, I've been chasing the American Dream of having a good job, owning one's own home, and being affluent, or at least comfortable. Instead, what I've figured out, and passed along to a co-worker, I'm sharing with you here.
The co-worker was spouting visions of grandor, and non-sensical tales of money making endevors, and pretty much grasping at delusions.

er go:
You've heard of the goose that laid the golden egg, right? Well, for the last 50 odd years I've been  chasing  cows waiting for them to lay a golden turd. I've been following very closely and paying attention to all the rules, but all that ever came out was what? Yep, cow turds. So you've got to stay grounded in reality, sure, keep your vision, but just understand that all cows don't lay gold.


Moral of this story: Don't follow the wrong cow.

open letter

Open Letter to my Son

April, 2004

My First Born.

Congratulations my dearest son.

You have discovered all the things,
which make life beautiful. Its not the cars, the houses, or the boats, which bring
pure happiness, but the miracle of birth and creation.

This newness of life starts out small,
even though you have chosen to start your own family with super-size, and
blossoms into all that you are, all that you have, and all that you will be,
and this life will bring you much needed joy and fullness.

This fullness is made complete with a
good dose of Christianity, and with the help and grace of God, and never
forgetting that without him, all is for nothing. So, take your family to
church, as often as you can, and acknowledge his greatness as it will give you
purpose.

Ask for his guidance everyday so you can
lead your children in the best ways and instill in them their source for
strength.

Do the best that you can, for in a few
short years it will be their turn to guide their children, your grandchildren,
and you will be able to say without hesitation,

“I have done all that I know,

I have done all that is good and right,

I have done well”.

with love,

Dad

fiance

moon&stars

One of the things that I like most about this new place is the
unobstructed view of the night sky. Before, the trees crowded over the
lawn, the drive, and the house so that when you stepped outside, hardly
anything was visible.


I can't help but notice how the stars seem to form deliberate patterns
in the sky, almost like a picture book, or hieroglyphics, or a code of
some sort. Many shapes seem to be pointing at something, like
directional signals, but what they are pointing to is just beyond our
view. If you look away, your peripheral vision picks up even fainter
signs and the stars just out of your central vision are brighter than
when looked at directly. It is a beautiful view, best seen around 4
A.M. when the moon is furthest and the sky is dark. If it is possible,
they seem to have drawn closer than when I was a boy.


Some may say that it is just gravitational pull that aligns the stars
in such a unique and precise display, others may look and say it's just
random.Yes, I've seen the movie, "a beautiful mind" and it's not like
that. Astrologers and seamen see them for what use they may serve.
Ancient peoples may have seen them as gods. There seems to be something
mathematical, and logical, about the placement of the stars, but the
scale is so grand, that we cannot comprehend.


Whatever is the answer to this mystery, I can't help but believe that
there is reason in this picturesque scenery, that it has been put
there for a purpose, that it is writing in the sky. Whatever the
motive, it is deliberate and well placed, and can be enjoyed by
skeptics, and scholars, and laymen alike.


For centuries, man has looked to the sky for answers, but has not been
able to come to any significant judgment, only hypotheses, and theory,
all vague, and inconclusive. I believe it is more simple, that is why
it escapes us, it's splendor overwhelms our senses and we try too hard
to unbelieve. When my
grandchild is here, we enjoy pointing out the moon, and the brightest
stars, and they bring wonder to us both, as she seems to accept them
more easily as they are, without prolonged explanation.

morality

some of the memories that i have of visiting my grandpa & grandma's
house were of the childhood spankings that were sometimes unavoidable
by my dad. grandpa was a gentle man, at least toward us as he was well
up in age by the time of my collective memories. grandma was as nice as
any grandma could ever be, and one or the other would always take up
for us and say "Now Charlie, you shouldn't hit those babies". sometimes
he would listen, but sometimes he would just say that we were
his kids, and if we needed a whipping, he would give
us one. and one we got. over, and over, and over again until we were
just too big anymore. many whippings were born of just plain anger, and
the receiving end of one was not a good place to be.

i will not go any further into how this affected us psychologically,
all of us in different ways, but it definitely had an effect on our
personalities. it's perhaps one of the biggest reasons that i chose not
to whip my children. so much for the violence begets violence theory,
which usually does hold true.

i also recall a particular incident in which i probably needed some
sort of behavior adjustment and didn't get it;...i was standing in
front of the television program of something that my uncle, my dad's youngest
brother, really wanted to watch( i wanted to watch something else) and
no matter how much he pleaded, i wouldn't get out of the way, so he
asked grandma to make me move. my dad, being the short tempered sort
that he always was, overheard and chased his own brother out of the
house with a hammer and down the street. it's a good thing he could run
faster. later, after things calmed down, we all had to load up in the
car and go looking for him, i felt so bad for him because of my
mischievousness, that i still haven't forgotten it. i loved my grandpa
and grandma, they were such a positive influence on our lowly lives.

moral of this story? don't hit your babies, it hurts more than you will ever know, and you will learn to regret it in the end.

it's about me, a poem

It's about me

I hurt my child again today, but that's all right you see, she was talking very loudly, and irritating me.
So I whacked her pretty smartly, across the arm or face, it doesn't really matter, to me it's no disgrace.
I've done this so many times, it just comes naturally, just like my mother raised me, it's the fool in me, you see.
I've told her not to spill her milk, about a hundred times, never mind the floor is filthy, I don't have to make it shine.
So I slapped her very smoothly, and made her cry once more, I'm immune to her whining, she makes it such a bore.
You've gotten ketchup on your shirt again, don't look at me and pout. I don't know how to get it off, I can always throw it out.
Washing clothes is not important, I have better things to do, if you weren't such a messy eater, if you would only chew.
There'll be no more food for you today, I'm really bothered see? Can't you understand simple English? I said get away from me!
I care about my child, I do, and I'll prove it in a minute, why just last week a playmate pushed her, and skinned her little knees, and boy I was so upset, I put my two cents in it!
I was yelling and screaming, it's the teacher's fault, you see?
She didn't watch the other kids, all much bigger than she is, she can't take care of herself because she's not yet three.
Don't let the children hurt her, that's reserved especially for me.
I hurt my child more than anyone, but it never dawns on me,
I'm hitting my own children, I'm the mother, can't you see?
She cries when she is hungry, or if she's cold or wet, I swear she's getting on my nerves, I'll have to beat her yet.
Sometimes she reaches out her little arms, begging to be held, but since I mustn't spoil her, a slap is what she'll get.
I'll put her in her little crib, she can't get out of there, and I'll just turn out the lights and leave her crying there,
when she's too tired of crying, we won't hear her anymore, if she wakes up again, I'll have to close the door.
Spare not the rod and spoil the child, is what my mother said, I think God made her an expert, I must listen to what she says.
It must be right, just look at me, it doesn't hurt a bit, this is the way that I was raised, and nothings wrong with it.
I am immune to those weak cries, and surely God don't care, I was also beaten as a child, and no one raised a prayer.
One day when social service comes knocking at my door, I'll make up some excuses, it's the neighbors, nothing more.
They spoil my child, they pick her up, they give her what she wants, she laughs too loud and plays too long, she's happy all at once.
They just can't stand my discipline, I can see it in their face, every time that I hit her, while we're over at their place.
Somehow it gives me pleasure, to be in such control, its perversion at it's finest, I'm enjoying this I know,
they better not say anything, we'll just get up and go.
I wont let them visit her, that'll teach them, yes it will, then they'll start to see things my way, it's my way or the hills.
Who are these people anyway, who raise their kids so kind, and do they think that they are perfect, that their children always mind?
They've never spanked their children, or maybe once or twice, all of their kids are well behaved, their son is very nice
He hasn't ever hit me, I wish he would sometimes, then I could get attention, and this would be just fine.
I may have Munchausen by proxy, sometimes my child is ill,
if another child has fallen sick, mine will too as well, but I don't know how to fix it, its a very bitter pill.
I'll have to call my mother, she'll answer right away, doesn't matter if I call her, thirty times a day.
I wouldn't have to call so much, every time I try, if only she had picked me up, and held me when I cried.
My child hit a teacher, and I spanked him very hard, I yelled you can't hit people, this is what I said.
My child then hit a playmate, just like I showed him to, I then had to hit him, and remind him what to do.
I don't know where they're learning this, it's from the other kids, I said you can't hit people, you're not people, don't you know?
You're just my little angel, and now it's time to go.
This poem as I have read it, has made me very mad, they're sick the ones that read it, and are smitten very sad.
There is only one thing more, that's left for me to do, I must stop that incessant whining, they don't have a clue.
Although the sun's still shining, I can see it through the door, I must put my child to bed, because my hands are sore. It's about me.

 Its about me, a poem©Copyright Dec 2005, byronc, All rights reserved.

Katrina

Hurricane Katrina

In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, I have spent long
hours at work, working my days off, due to the influx of guests which arrived
ahead of the storm. The hotel’s services have really been taxed. Food, ice,
drinks, the elevators, emergency generator power, and the plumbing have all
been tested, as well as our patience. So far, with only a few glitches, we have
done exceptionally well.

The number of people with pets, mostly dogs, but one snake
that we know of, has caused management to re-think our pet policy, i.e., no
more accepted. This is in large part due to the constant peeing of all the dogs
in close proximity, and the inconsiderate guests who just let them go where
ever they want, the G.M. with a low tolerance for stress and a short fuse, and
one manager who seems hell bent on overdosing him with exaggerated and constant
complaints.

I have seen a good share of good and decent folks in bad
situations, and we are doing our best to accommodate them. The displaced and
homeless, with nowhere to go, the guests who wait in the lobby for a chance of
a room, the lady who hasn’t stopped crying for days, the girl who hasn’t heard
from her father, or a brother who’s conversation ended with his cell phone battery
was running low, the hillbilly lady, who looks like she’s straight from the backwoods, but has
money to burn. Oh, and the rude guests as well.

We locally breathed a sigh of relief as Katrina turned
eastward and narrowly avoided New Orleans, we were anticipating winds of 100
MPH as far as 200 miles inland, that would be us. The refugees are continuing
to trickle in, some from the west side of New Orleans that was not devastated
by floodwaters but are now feeling threatened in their own homes by the lack of
civility and the necessity to arm and barricade themselves in their homes. They’ve
decided it’s not worth it. We have experienced a run on our gasoline, there are
shortages and long lines everywhere, with prices now at an all time high of
$2.99 for regular, and rising. There is no such thing as ice. Eggs, and
beverages of all kinds are spotty with lots of empty shelves.

We are beginning to feel the effects of 1 ½ million
displaced people, the first wave being the people who heeded the call for
evacuating, and those who had the transportation and money to run, our roads
were jammed with travelers. We now are getting some of the less desirables,
those who would take advantage of anyone with a greater venerability than their
own. There are stories of weapons displayed at the gas pumps, peoples shopping
carts snatched from them in the parking lots. The super Walmart closed for
several hours due to one incident. The delivery trucks have armed guards while
they unload their goods and I have seen the local police keeping order at the
BP station and others on the main highway. There are thugs breaking in homes in
Natchez, and police friends say gang members are up looking for new territory.

I have tried unsuccessfully to acquire a diesel tank and
fuel for the hotel’s generator so we would not be caught without emergency power
due to a lack of fuel during outages, we had about a four hour period when all
of south-west Mississippi and east-central Louisiana was without power due to
the loss of the last one of the 5 power grids went down. I suspect we will lose
power again on several occasions as they attempt to bring up the downed power
lines. I have learned from an acquaintance that the government has commandeered
all of the tanks, tankers, and fuel in the area. The Natchez mayor must have
spoke prematurely in the paper when he said no one would be allowed more than
one tank of gas at a fill-up. The following day, he retracted his statement and
said people would be allowed to buy up to $100 worth at a time. I suppose this
is to avoid some of the chaos that people are capable of if we think there is a
shortage of something.

I have had little time to watch more than a few glimpses of
the news from the coast, mostly just catching a little news and commentary on
NPR on my way to & from work; people are dying in the streets, looting/crime
is rampant, the government is too slow too respond, they have rehearsed this
scenario for years, the people who are abandoned in New Orleans are
disproportionately black, and poor, and unemployed, etcetera.

I don’t know the answer to any of this, and I don’t care to
think one-sided, but sometimes I wonder if this seemingly disastrous evacuation
plan couldn’t be the plan, gone awry, of course. New Orleans has been crime
ridden for years and getting worse. What could be better than a natural
disaster flooding the overcrowded east side crammed with poor, uneducated,
non-productive, socially problematic citizens? Damn those survivors hanging out
on those overpasses hollering for food and water!

Only God knows why the storm turned to avoid a complete and
swift flooding of tsunamic proportions. Only God knows why there aren’t just
100,000 bodies floating in the ocean, rest their souls. What more can make the
American people wake up and see that we are unprotected and don’t have enough
foot soldiers? What will it take to bring back the draft?

If
this sounds like sci-fi, I have the script all wrote down in my head, waiting
for the movie. Meantime, my family is taking extra precautions. I can’t let my
wife go to the mall alone anymore, I can’t let her go out at night by herself
to pick up the boys from a church function. The home that we have recently
acquired and has taken us years to get only makes us look affluent (we’re not),
and therefore a target for the unlawful. We hear reports of a policeman shot
for a jug of water, a brother shoots his sister over a bag of ice, and for the
first time the dog is out. We are not alone though, our neighbors are wary as well.
There will be years of consequences. 

 

Familial ties:

I ran across an interesting story this evening, and I've included a
link to the article just in case some of you have the time.

I was looking for
a suitable image to borrow to convey the image in my mind of the family
that stayed at the hotel last week, the image I was looking for is not there, so I can only try to convey it
with words. I've debated with
myself whether or not to write such a post as this one, but I can't
seem to let it go. This is the second time I've decided to write this article.
...A father and his son, a little guy of about 10 were
walking ahead of mom and daughter and were easily out distancing them,
they were already ahead on the sidewalk by probably 20 paces or so,
their laughter and chatter was pleasant, and as they approached the
entrance, the father paused to look back and seemingly satisfied, they
went on their way. Behind them was a daughter, who looked to be about
17, and pretty, but modestly so. She looked just like any other teenager
that you might see in the mall, with long blond hair and jeans, and
blossoming into early womanhood, except that on her arm was her
mother, who was
slowing her down, as she was bent nearly 90 degrees forward at the waist, and leaning heavily on this
young girl's arm. She was thin and frail, her skin stretched tightly
over her very visible bones, yet she was easy to look at, and I didn't
feel as though I was staring impolitely. I  sensed a pride to this
woman, even in her obviously handicapped body, and there was something
about this whole family that showed character and strength. I knew
instantly what I was looking at, it was love, and there was no shame.


"The story of severely disabled people is as
much about love and understanding as it is about sickness or sorrow." angelashouse

Bently again

spent all day at the bentley in alexandria today, familiarizing myself
with the equipment, and trying to help the GM get his air condition
going in his vacant bldg. managed to get much of it running but
returned to the boiler room to re-try the equip we skipped over because
there was no power, and we didn't know if power was controlled from
another piece of equip or not.

turns out the breaker that i pointed out when we first started that was
tripped went to one of his motor control centers and everything that had
no power was running from there. it had a short in the buss bars and
I spent a couple of hours educating the electricians that I had him call
in. and no, it is not the $1,200 breaker.

who cares you say? well I took my camera to capture this picture for
you of a
sculpture that i found interesting. if it looks like a bunch of old a/c
ducts of various sizes bolted together thats because...well, I don't
know what the artist was thinking, but he managed to sell this big pile
of scrap to the city for a nice chunk of change i'm sure. goes to show,
Dad was right, people will buy anything.      
 

Snow?

Today is a good day.

Heard from two long lost friends that haven't been much in touch for a
while. First, my boy Darrell, who thinks he's all grown up and doesn't
need to call, write, or stop by anymore, since he's moved so far away (9
whole miles). Then my brother Charles surprised me with a call. He
happened to be eating out at a mexican restaurant and something must
have reminded him, "oh yeah, I do have a brother".

Quotes are mine for emphasis.

In any case, it was kinda nice to hear from both of them, and I have a
tentative agreement for a home visit (aw, shucks), one for tomorrow,
and one for Juneteenth bah, humbug day.

So, I'll hang around here and wait and see, and as always for either of them, "I'll leave the light on for ya".

Mama still knows best

When helping move Saturday, I stopped by the Handipak and bought a pack
of smokes so I wouldn't run out. Somehow, Mama spots them on the
dashboard and picks them up, we have no idea what she intends to do
with them. After a few minutes of watching her when I could, It 
seemed that she was looking for a place to dispose of them but had not
yet crushed them as I kinda expected. I finally walked over and asked
her to "let me have these, Mama", as she still clutched them in her
hand and was about to let go, she looks me in the eyes and says, "You
are dying too soon". I told her "I know Mama".

Anyway, today is my first effort to kick the habit. I finished the pack
in question and haven't bought another.

Once upon a blue day, re-visited

My baby boy Darrell is moving to Clayton this weekend. I will be at
work so I cannot help him. Eleven years ago, my Dad helped me move in
here and with painting & repairs.

He is thrilled
about a nicer place, but, I will miss him. Personal conversations are rare, his
life partner doesn't trust him talking privately with his dad much.

They (Darrell
& Heather) have lived next door for two years so they
could get a head start, and he has not yet worn out his welcome. This may all seem so
trivial compared to all that many of you have been through, but, I wish my boy the best.

There
are so many different emotions I cannot say. I will be praying for my
boys mental health and happiness, and Son, "I'll leave the light on for
ya".

Once upon a blue day

My baby boy Darrell is moving to Clayton this weekend. I will be at
work so I cannot help him. Eleven years ago, my Dad helped me move in
here, and with painting & repairs.
At first he seemed thrilled about a nicer place but now he doesn't seem
too happy with this and has briefly expressed his concerns. Personal
conversations are rare, his life partner doesn't like him talking
privately with his dad.
His living arrangements appear to be this;
her mother has bought a trailer & property in Clayton, and Darrell
will be paying for it for 15 years, with no say over what he can or can
not do there. In my view, essentially a renter. I wish I could say that
they are looking out for their daughters, my grand babies, and
Darrell's best interests, but these are not good people who are honest
and a handshake would be as good as gold. These are evil selfish people
that have no qualms about who they can use and squash, in fact, they
relish it. They (Darrell & Heather) have lived next door for two
years rent free so they could get a head start, and he has not worn out
his welcome. My heart aches for him. I have higher hope for my boys.
This may all seem so trivial compared to all that many of you have been
through, but I worry that I see bigger heartaches down the road. I wish
my boy the best.
There are so many different emotions I cannot say.
I will be praying for my boys mental health and happiness, and Son,
"I'll leave the light on for ya".

In Remembrance of

In Remembrance
My wife's uncle, Edmund Dobson, was laid to rest
today, December 30, 2004, at the age of 76 years old. He succumbed to
cancer, a battle that has been ongoing for at least the past 28 years
that I have known him, as I can remember him applying a prescription
acid, which smarted quite a bit, to the skin melanoma that he had on
his arms and hands.

He was a hard working individual, and quite a
character, also anytime there was a death in the family, close or not,
you could find his face in the crowd, dutifully paying his last respects.

Around 26 years ago, while there was a short lull in the
wildcat drilling in the area, I worked for him on a roust-a-bout crew.
The pay was not good, and the work was hard, and this was when he
seemed to be at his finest. Often as we toiled alongside another crew,
and they would be taking extended card playing lunch breaks, we would
be painting walking beams, spraying diesel, and using sling blades to
clean up around the tank batteries. He said, "We have to earn our paychecks".

Earn it we did, as we waded knee deep in oil slicked
waters, covering the oil with bales of hay so that the wildlife
management personnel would not see it as they flew over in airplanes
and impose hefty fines. We made up pipe lines and tightened them as
quickly as you could walk from one connection to the next, the sun
taking it's toll as your vision clouded over with darkness, seeing
nothing but floating white spots, which cleared as you walked to the
next joint, only to repeat the process. We filled sand bags and
wheellbarrowed them to the edge of a gully 50 yards away then threw
them into a washout when the dump truck delivering the sand could have
easily unloaded within 20 feet from the gorge. "We have to make a day
of it", he says. When I reminded him of this on occasion throughout the
years, he only smiled with pride. I also learned a new meaning for the
term "pipe dope", and in no way was it entertaining.

There were times when job duties required driving from one location to another,
and there was no use removing the work gloves as he sped down dusty
dirt roads or bumpy mud trails. On the drive home, though, there was
plenty of time as he never motored over 45 MPH at the end of the day.
It was frustrating but we grew accustomed to it as there was nothing to
be done to change his style.

I can assure you that I learned some valuable lessons from him
about work ethics and dedication, which has followed me to this day.
I say this as I pen this note while sitting comfortably at my office desk,
which, by the way, I earned.

So as the family is filled with sadness, and wife Maria, my father-in law's
sister, is in poor health herself, I think back and I am grateful to
have known this man, he has not left this world untouched, and I in
turn touch others because of him. Some may come away with bitterness,
others with important values and I am thankful that it is appointed
unto man only once to die, which insinuates that we live forever, and
dying is just a process somewhere in the middle, and that all the lives
you touch here remember you, and become a testament of your life and
how you lived it, for better or for worse.

Thanks Uncle Ed, from an old hand, fare-thee-well.
June 19, 1928 - December 28, 2004

The Miracle Nickel

The Miracle Nickel

I got back a nickel today, along with
some other change, forty-eight cents to be exact. This is no ordinary
nickel though, it's a well-seasoned nickel from 1952. Aside from the
obvious wear from many years of use, what sets this nickel apart from
the other change that I received, including another nickel, is
how it immediately caught my eye, even as it passed from the cashiers
hand to mine. Keep in mind that I rarely venture out from my job during
the off season for supplies due to a drop in revenue, that I waited two
days for the boss to briefly show up to ask for the unexpected expense
to rent a jagger pump to pump out the cellar of the hotel owners home
because of a burst water pipe, that this hasn't occurred in any winter
conditions we've had previously, and I just happened to stop at this convenience store for the gas for the pump, and well, you have quite an unusual set of coincidences. Not convinced?
It
has been one week since my oldest brother's birthday, and just two days
since I posted a belated birthday wish in his memory Adrian.
I
have contemplated much lately on how blessed I am and how I attribute
that to God, who happens to be the same for all of us, as there can
only be one, if not, we must change our definition and meaning of the
word God (almighty being) and when you change the meaning of the word,
the word God ceases to exist as it becomes an antithesis, and therefore
there is no God, and I refuse to entertain that folly.
There are
many misfortunes that befall us, there are tragedies and sorrow, there
is also joy, and peace. I remember one of my Dad's many favorite songs,
taken from the book of Job. Thou God slay me yet I trust him.
He had a beautiful singing voice and you couldn't help but notice when
he sang. There was also no way of ignoring when he prayed. When you
speak of faith, it is actually a very easy gift to have when you
realize that faith is synonymous with trust, and I can trust God
completely.
I passed by a man on the sidewalk yesterday, I noticed
him as he rounded the corner, and as our eyes met, his limp became
perceptibly worse. With my window down he had the opportunity to ask
for fifty cents, on my reluctance, it became one dollar, one dollar
fifty cents, "to catch the trolley, Sir". Boy, is he good, I
thought as I observed his attire. He was wearing a fashionable
full-length coat and a clean wool scarf around his neck. He was wearing
what appeared to be some well fitting alligator ankle boots, pointed
and heeled that I wouldn't mind having myself if I weren't so modest.
Still, I declined, and as he moved away he said a God bless you, so I
received a blessing anyway, in spite of my stinginess.
Then, leaving
from work, on the bridge in front of me was a car that looked like it
was slowing down, or maybe backing up because one of the lights on the
driver's side was white, like a backup light. I slowed and changed
lanes to avoid being run over by the cars behind me, which were in a
mad rush at 5 o'clock in the evening. As I passed by on the left I
could plainly see that it was a lady in a disabled vehicle with her
emergency flashers on, and she clearly looked distressed. In my rear
view mirror I saw the oncoming traffic having a terrible time of it
trying to avoid her vehicle and each other and I thought for a moment
about going back around and at least trying to slow traffic with my
liability insured only truck, then I thought better of it.
This morning, on my way back to work, there was a hitchhiker (sigh). He was walking hurriedly with his back facing the traffic, thumb out, and maybe late for work somewhere. I didn't pick him up.

There are many opportunities to do good that elude us, but it must be tempered with good judgment. There are too many needs.
One
can only hope that when we are weighed in the balance, there are enough
times we said yes to outweigh all the nos, and we don't come up
wanting.

Therefore, I give you my miracle nickel. God still smiles at me, and Adrian; God rest your soul.

byron 12-29-04

for dolly

Spent this weekend pulling & re installing the transmission in my
boys truck. Seems there was an overlooked problem with the replacement
motor as we left an alignment bearing in the end of the crankshaft
intended for a manual transmission and not an automatic. It had to come
out for the torque converter to slide into the end of the crankshaft.
If we did this for a living, we would have known it couldn't stay. I
saw it before installing the motor and wrongly deduced it could stay.
Big mistake as it made for plenty of work once the motor was in the
truck. Had to pull the transmission and chisel the bearing out while
laying on the ground all the while transmission fluid and rain running
everywhere. We are not done hooking everything back up as it gets dark
earlier now, at 5PM instead of the 8PM we can usually depend on in the
summer months, but we are way ahead of where we were.
It is difficult and frustrating to work in these conditions but as usual,
I managed to inject a little humor to let these young men (Curtis and
Darrell) know that we can do this in spite of these circumstances. I
tell them that I once had to do almost the same thing many years ago,
that is, pull a transmission, change a cracked flywheel, and put it
back, only that time all I had for a side kick was my sister Dolly, and
she managed quite well. She was instrumental in replacing the heavy
Plymouth transmission and bolting it up to the 383 cid engine that was
in Mamma's 1969 Plymouth Fury III that we boys treated like a race
car**. Of course, transmissions seem to gain weight over the span of 29
years and there is a difference between the nimble strength of 19 and
the determined brute force of 47. Of course, I only think we get better
at not banging our knuckles, and difficulty is no longer any excuse
anymore. Some people may call it hard headed, but I call it valor.

**In 1969, Plymouth claimed to have a "completely new Fury." The four door
sedans wheelbase was 120 inches, 1.5 inches longer than in 1968, and
there was more shoulder room in both front and rear. The 383 Commando 2
barrel, or the 383 Super Commando 4 barrel (i don't remember which) and
"special cam", the transmission was a heavy 3 speed A-727 Torqueflite
automatic.

A belated thanks Dolly for your help, you should do
well dealing with your present situations, you've always been a very
present strength in time of trouble.

The one resolution,
which was in my mind long before it took the form of a resolution, is
the key-note of my life. It is this, always to regard as mere
impertinences of fate the handicaps which were placed upon my life
almost at the beginning. I resolved that they should not crush or dwarf
my soul, but rather be made to blossom, like Aaron's rod, with flowers.
- Helen Keller

I Will Follow

I have just passed another milestone, my ninth year anniversary on my
present job. There was no fanfare, no bells, whistles, or confetti, not
even an acknowledgment of a goal seldom reached in the notoriously
revolving door of the hospitality business.
In my young and restless days, I would have strongly considered moving on
after five, so, how did this happen? Maturity, you say? Complacency?
Losing sight of a vision of always moving up and onward? I can tell you
now, those restless feelings are still there, but somehow, somewhere,
they are reshuffled to the back of the deck, to make room for the
different hand that has, more recently, been dealt. Impulse gives way
to reason, and desire yields to necessity.
If there is one bit of advice I have for the new generation, it is to make the most of the
spontaneity and vigor with which you envision life's challenges and
crossroads, for these are the moments that will define you as you
approach that "oh, so far off middle age".
Seldom is life so generous as to give you that second chance, which is in us all, to
start anew, and if by circumstance we do, we are not the same. There is
no fearless desire to run naked through the woods (although I've done
it a time or two at far, far, too old), there is no expediency to being
number one in the crowd. There is no longer "Me" and "Now". There is
however a different kind of boldness. I am not afraid of things that go
bump in the night. No longer do I fear hunger, or illness, or
unemployment, nor despair, because I have been visited by all these
things, and I have endured, and I know there will be tomorrow.
With our increasing age comes our greatest strength, and this is experience,
and the wisdom to pass it along to our children, and to theirs. In this
day and age there are many who may contemplate that there is no God,
or, there must be many Gods, but now, more than ever, I can fervently
say, and without a doubt, God bless my children, and keep them from
harms way, for where I lead them, they will follow.


The
direst foe of courage is the fear itself, not the object of it, and the
man who can overcome his own terror is a hero and more.
- -- George MacDonald

Re: Slowing Down, by Charles

slowing down
Yesterday, October 16, 2004

We are spending the day indoors, nothing pressing. Darrell & Heather
has gone to the Balloon Festival and flea market in Vidaila, he was in
charge of the river barge for the firewiorks show Friday night. My
grandbabies are with their other Grandma, i suppose. Anthony has chosen
to go to his Grandpa's house early this morning. My baby boy Curtis
spent the night with his friend and doesn't come home till late
evening. When he returns, I sing him a few phrases of the song "It's
Only the Wind" (your children are not at the door) by the Areno Bros.,
and ask him if he knows the song. He doesn't. We have slowed down
enough to watch the DVD 'The Passion' which we have had for a while.
Ah, melancoly.


A house so empty,
where have they gone?
Where are my children,
so far from home?
My heart is longing,
for thier voice so near.
No need for rushing,
don't shed a tear.
They will return
in a moment or two.
Meanwhile thou,
I feel so blue. Sigh.

bc