Quarter til Twelve

It was the evening before Christmas, about a quarter til twelve
I was sitting alone on the couch;

Remembering our many blessings and enjoying

Our thoughtfully decorated house.

 

Grandmother had long retired for the night

And I’d have gone too, but I was enjoying the fireplace dying light

And the silence that one only finds late, late at night.

 

My stomach was still full from a great evening meal

And our company had gone home early because some of

The parents still had stockings to fill.

Suddenly I spied movement just below the wood box door

A tiny mouse squeezed under it, then jumped

Ever so quickly to the living room floor.

 

He sniffed the air, twitched his nose,

Then scampered past the hearth,

Practically running over my toes.

 

About the same time, quicker than an elf can wink

Another tiny mouse scampered from under the kitchen sink.

He sniffed the air and twitched his nose, ran across the tile floor,

Scampered under the dining table, took a sharp right ,  then

Stopped, right in front of the grandfather clock’s door.

Then, he just sat there quietly on that cool hardwood floor.

 

The other mouse soon joined him and together they sat silently,

Watching the hands move slowly and listening as the pendulum's swing

Created the clock’s soft tick, filling the still night air.

 

Then, as the Westminster chime began to strike twelve

Those two tiny mice could well have been elves.

For they stood on their hind paws, twirled in tiny circles

Dancing with joyful purpose, as if they were by themselves,

Sharing a joyful moment on that new Christmas Day.

 

 

As the last chime sounded, each mouse ran for the wood box door,

Disappeared under it and I’ve not see them any more.

 

The fire was nearly gone, except for a few smoldering embers

And I thought to myself, “Granddaddy, this is a night you must remember!”

Christmas is special and you cannot forget!

It’s not about giving or about the things that you get.

It’s about family, good memories and more

It’s about remembering when God opened Heaven’s door.

God’s true gift from Heaven for the world’s many parts,

Brought the Christmas spirit to dwell in men’s hearts.

 

So those two tiny mice, dancing with joyful purpose

 Reminded me again of a truth that’s so clear…..

That the joy of Christmas should last the whole year!

 

May Christmas bring you the gifts of  God’s Spirit

~ Joy, Peace and Hope & Love ~

An Unexpected Gift

The receiving of gifts, especially in childhood, ranks as one of the high points of life.  The anticipation of receiving a gift on one’s birthday and at Christmas generates some of the highest emotional peaks in the short years of childhood.  As a general rule, we expect those gifts.  We know they are coming and often know what the gift will be because we put in a request or gave “Santa” a list of our wants and wishes.

As we grow older, the excitement of receiving gifts loses some of the emotional power, but it still pleases us to be the recipient of a gift.  As adults, we begin to think more about the giver of a gift and their motivation for giving it.  Sometimes we wonder if there is a hidden message attached to the gift.  We begin to ponder our options related to the gift.  If I don’t need or like it, can I exchange it without hurting the giver's feelings?  Gift giving becomes more complicated as we grow older.

But what about gifts we receive that are unexpected?  Those gifts that come to us with no strings attached, no special occasion, they simply appear out of the blue.  I’ll have to admit that I’ve received very few gifts like this, but when I have, they spiked my emotions and caused me to think about all the possible ramifications associated with the gift and the giver.

A few years ago, my great aunt Francis died.  Her husband, Uncle Ed, was my grandmother’s brother.  Uncle Ed died some years before his wife, thus his estate was left to Aunt Francis.  It was not until her death, many years after his, that some of his possessions and assets were distributed. 

Aunt Earle, my mother’s sister, was the executor of their estate and after settling all the details she delivered two items that uncle Ed had designated that I receive.  She handed me a small box and said, “Uncle Ed wanted you to have these.”  Inside the cotton lined box I found an Elgin pocket watch, given to him by his mother upon his high school graduation and his college ring from the University of Tennessee Pharmacy School.  Accompanying the objects was a small hand written note that simply said, "Give these to Phillip."  Two very personal items left to a great nephew that last saw him over 30 years before his death.  The small box with its contents had been sitting in a bank safety deposit box all these years just waiting to be given as “an unexpected gift”.

I had lots of questions about these unexpected gifts.  What was the motivation of the giver?  Why was it given to me and not someone else?  Had uncle Ed meant for me to receive it sooner, hoping it might be a motivational symbol for a younger man? The mystery and unexpectedness of the watch and the ring prompted my thinking for some time.

From personal experience I know that giving to others brings me pleasure.  So, I have to assume that uncle Ed enjoyed leaving the watch and ring to me.  As my aunt gave me the items, uncle Ed’s spirit probably smiled as he saw the surprised, but puzzled look on my face.

The Elgin pocket watch was rather ordinary, but as a high school graduation gift in 1927 it was probably a significant gift.  So, what meaning does a pocket watch have for me today? 

Watches symbolize time as well as keep time for us.  Did uncle Ed mean for me to be aware that relationships are timeless, that past times are linked to the present and future.  Did he simply mean for me to have an object that was given to him by his mother, my great grandmother?  Did he know that I didn’t have many tangible links with my family’s past and left these personal items hoping they would be a meaningful family link for me?

Uncle Ed's UT Pharmacy class ring was worn smooth from many years of daily use.  I could barely make out the "University of Tennessee" inscription on the crown of the ring.  I know it must have been very special to uncle Ed, but what does the ring mean to me? 

Rings have a powerful symbolism of linkage.  They can be links to institutions, links to marriage partners, links of friendship, and they provide a circular imagery of things that never end; like love, friendship and family. 

Although time, distance and even death separates us from others;  our family, love for others and friendships continue on like an unbroken circle.  They linger in hearts and minds and yes, even in objects like a gold class ring and a graduation pocket watch.

My gifts of a watch and a ring did not arrive at Christmas, but they prompted me to think of another gift this world received 2,000 years ago.  That gift was expected by some people and a total surprise to others.  It is strange that many of those who were expecting the gift didn’t recognize it when it arrived.  It didn’t look like the gift they wanted.  It wasn’t the gift they’d put on their list.  Others found that it was a free gift with no strings attached.  Man could accept the gift or reject it.  The gift was perfect, it was complete and yes; it was on time.

Many have rejected the gift.  They want to draw a circle that shuts God out; but God draws a circle that takes us in.  Those who have received the gift have been taken into the circle of God’s love.  God’s love is timeless.  It stretches from before creation, throughout the history of the world, into the present and streaks faster than a lighting bolt toward eternity.

A gold ring and a pocket watch, unexpected gifts that held a special meaning for me and perhaps now, for you.

 

 

Two Unexpected Gifts

A Gift from the Elders

A few years ago during the Christmas season, I agreed to chauffeur my wife Becky, her mom, Alga Watts, and two of her sisters, Aunt Mary Bell and Aunt Lucille, on a day trip to visit with their “baby brother”, Horace Teague, age 80.  Aunt Lucille is actually the baby of the family, she was still in her 70’s at the time, but the other three were all 80+.

It was a cold and raw Christmas Eve day with cloudy skies, a slight drizzle of rain with the possibility of snow later in the day.  We picked up Aunt Mary Bell at her home in Chestnut Hill, then Aunt Lucille in Newport, just off the Cosby highway, then on to Clifton Heights to get Mrs. Watts.  From there we headed toward Greenville to visit Uncle Horace.

Uncle Horace was a retired Freewill Baptist Preacher.  His wife had died some years prior and he lived alone, but his son Jim and wife Evelyn lived nearby.  Horace had limited mobility and poor vision, but he still had his booming “preacher voice” developed from years of preaching in small churches without a sound system.

He was so glad to see his sisters and was obviously moved emotionally as he hugged and greeted each one.  He talked at length about how all of them had “been blessed by the Lord.”  They all had tolerable good health, had children who could help take care of them when they needed help, and all had "good church-going, Bible-believing, Christ-focused "families.

It was soon clear that although Horace had retired from the pulpit, he had not given up preaching.  After talking a few minutes about his old church and why he’d left it recently and begun to form a new church family, he said….. “Now girls, (he’d forgotten I was sitting there too) I’m going to have to preach a little” …..And he commenced to hit what I call the “preacher talk” cadence.”   Uncle Horace probably built a good ten minute sermon as Alga, Mary Bell, Becky and I listened.  Lucille was nodding her head and saying “That’s right….that’s right” as she encouraged Horace’s preaching.

After the sermon, he talked about the new young families that were gathering to form up the “new church” and how they were committed to doing what “the Bible says we are supposed to do…..getting back to the word.”  Everyone finally shared some family talk about their children, grand kids, and Horace talked about his good neighbors from the nearby Mennonite community.  After about an hour and a half of visiting and remembering days gone by, everyone decided it was time to head back toward home.  Each sister said her goodbye, gave him a hug and we left Uncle Horace to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day alone.  Jim and Evelyn were out of town visiting their own children.

We delivered everyone home and made it back to our home in New Market without incident.  Rain was falling now and the temperatures were near freezing, but the roads remained clear of ice. 

A few days after Christmas, when life had settled back into some sort of routine, I was thinking about the Christmas Eve day spent with these special elders.  I jotted down some thoughts, actually gifts of insight, the elders shared with me that day.

·        These sisters truly loved their brother and showed it in many ways, some tangible, some not.  (They took Horace a special cake which he’d requested.)

·        Sisters will listen to a short sermon without saying a word.  They may not have wanted to be “preached to” but they didn’t let their brother know it.  They listened with encouragement and respect.

·        None of these elders complained about the hardships of age (loss of mobility, loss of hearing, poor vision and lapses of memory), but gave thanks for the good things of life.

·        Elders like to visit others and to be visited themselves.  It is the relationships that are important as we get older.  It is not things you can give or what you get….it is the people and the relationships that are built over a lifetime that matter.

·        The elders enjoyed the moment.  A simple drive of about 120 miles round-trip with conversation, a visit and a meal were pure enjoyment.  Enjoying life at the moment is important.  Today is all you’ve got, so enjoy it.

·        Each sister was glad to get back to her respective home.  Familiarity, security, your own chair and good neighbors make coming home the best part of any trip.

·        Horace and his three sisters were all surviving spouses from long-time monogamous marriages.  For them, death didn’t end long-term relationships.  They each talked about “talking to their spouse” often.  Uncle Horace said, “Now I don’t believe in talking to the dead or spirits, but I talk with Beulah every day…..you girls know what I mean.”  They all nodded their agreement and said “Yes, they talked too.”

·        The elders lived in expectation of an ultimate reunion with loved ones.  They talked about their “reunion with their spouse” in Heaven.  “It is going to be wonderful,” Mrs. Watts said….”I think more and more about it every day.”

It has been a number of years since Becky and I spent that memorable Christmas Eve day with the elders.  Uncle Horace and his three sisters (Alga, Mary Bell, & Lucille) are all deceased.  I’m still not as old as these elders were on that special day trip and I certainly don’t consider myself young any longer.  But you know what; the truth is that no matter how old you are, you can always learn something about life from those who are older. 

Our elders are a just a little further along on the journey, surviving much of what life has to offer, anticipating the future, and enjoying the gift of each new day. 

My visit with the elders reminded me once again that sometimes the best gifts are not wrapped in bright paper with fancy bows, but simply come from someone’s heart.

Christmas is almost here! 

Share a gift with someone from your heart.  

A Gift with a Story

It is always nice to receive a gift.  Gifts touch our emotions, making both giver and receiver happy, thankful, and fulfilled.  For children, receiving a gift is just plain exciting and fun. 

Gifts are tangible symbols that give evidence of our expressions of love, remembrances and celebrate our relationships with each other.  Birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries and other special times provide opportunities to give such symbols to each other. 

Sometimes, on rare occasions, we receive gifts that can trigger our deeper emotions.  And, as we grow older, it is sometimes the story behind a gift that amplifies its meaning and seals the gift to our heart….forever. 

Such was the case on a Christmas-Birthday a few years ago when Becky received a gift from my aunt Earle Stair.  Becky’s birthday is December 27^th and this gift was unexpected, very special, and was forever sealed in our hearts by its story.

Over the years, as we’d visited with aunt Earle and uncle John, Becky had noticed a set of silverware that Earle used from time to time.  To me, a fork is a fork and a spoon is a spoon, but not so with Becky.  Becky thought the silverware was pretty, interesting looking and had asked Earle about when, where and how she had acquired it. 

You can imagine how surprised Becky was that December birthday when Earle gave her that particular silverware of eight place settings and five serving pieces.  But as Paul Harvey used to say,"This gift is really a special one, but only if you know the “Rest of the Story.”

Aunt Earle and uncle John were married on December 24, 1941 and in those days folks didn’t give many bridal showers; wedding gifts tended to be kitchen ware, towels, washcloths and sheets.  Earle didn’t have the privilege of picking out fine china and silver. These were the days of World War II and times were lean for most folks.  Earl’s “fine silver” came from the local  5 & 10 variety store.  Back then we called them “dime stores.” 

By 1945, John and Earle were living in Middle Valley, near present day Chattanooga.  John had felt called to the ministry and Earle felt that she should have good china and silverware since a minister’s wife would be having guest into the home for meals and other occasions.  However, with money tight, she couldn’t afford to just go and buy the silver she would like to have. 

At the time, there was a radio program on the air that was called “Heart’s Desire.”  Earle listened to it each day as she ironed clothes and did housekeeping chores.  The program was built around the idea that listeners would send in post cards to the radio show telling of their “heart’s desire.”  Each day, the master of ceremonies would draw three cards from the thousands sent in.  If your card was read on the air, you received “your heart’s desire.”  Of course you know what Earle did.  Yep, she sent in several cards telling of her desire as a young minister’s wife to have some lovely silverware to grace her dining table.  As you might guess, none of Earle’s cards were ever drawn.

At some point, Earle told her mother, Zena Johnson, about what she had done; sending the cards into the radio show in hopes that they’d be drawn.  I don’t know that Zena made any comments at the time Earle related the story, but some months later she visited Earle and John and presented them with an eight place setting of silver, accompanied with these words, “Honey, most things in life that you get, you have to work for.”

On that day, Earle got her “heart’s desire,” not from a chance drawing, but from a mother who loved her and wanted to give an unexpected gift as a symbol of that love.

So you see, Becky’s birthday gift that December was far more than the physical value of the gift itself.  The gift she received, was really the story……the story of a young preacher’s wife and her desire for better things; the story of a mother’s love; and the story of an unexpected gift shared with another generation.

 

As I write this BLOG, aunt Earle is approaching her 92nd birthday.  Aging has stolen a lot of life's joy and much of her vibrant memory and stimulating conversational skills have disappeared.  But the legacy of her unexpected gift still resides with Becky; sealed in her heart and waiting to be shared with the next generation.

 

 

Christmas Lights

                Christmas Lights 

 

This year, December 1st ushers in the Advent Season, a time when we focus on the traditions of Christmas and the “reason for the season,” the birth of Jesus. 

Counting down the days until Christmas we often get distracted from its real meaning by the frenzied pace of Christmas preparation;  parties, shopping for presents and even church activities can dilute our focus from the true meaning.  So in my pre-Christmas ramblings, the "Lights of Christmas" got me to thinking about light and how the scriptures use it as a metaphor for God.  Here is what rambling thoughts fell out of my head this week.
 
Attempting to describe God with words is always a struggle, given the limitations of language.  God has been described in many ways, but one of the most powerful word descriptors for God is found in the Holy Scriptures.  In these passages, God and Christ are referred to as “light.”  I got to thinking that perhaps that is why Christmas lights have become such a big part of our religious as well as secular Christmas traditions. 

High school and college physics about the properties of light was a little fuzzy in my head, but a quick Google search assured me I'd remembered correctly.  I was astonished how the ancient Biblical writers, without benefit of scientific insights, had used the metaphor of light in characterizing God.

Consider the physics of the God & Light Metaphor

We cannot see light with our eyes, but only see objects as light reflects off of them.      

• Just as we’ve never seen light with our human eyes, we have never seen God, but
• God’s indwelling spirit allows us to “see” or understand the true meaning of life.
• It allows others to see God as we reflect his love through our lifestyle.

In the absence of light, darkness surrounds us.

• People, who live without God, essentially “live in darkness” and are “blind” to life’s real meaning.
• Even when our faith is weak, somewhat like a small candle in a large dark room, God’s presence pushes the darkness away, creating a circle of light around us.

Light is multi-faceted, composed of different wavelengths which when separated by a prism reveals many different colors.

• God is like that.  He is multi-faceted and touches each life in a unique way.  He is not limited to any social status, race, color or creed of humanity.

Light transmits through things unless they are opaque.  Depending on the substance, light may transmit as translucent or transparent.

• Like light, God’s spirit can shine through us as well.
• This Christmas ask, “ Is God revealed to others through me?”

§         Am I transparent (transmitting a clear image of God),

§         Am I translucent (projecting a fuzzy image of God), or

§         Am I opaque (totally blocking out any image of God)?

 Consider the Scripture's use of the God & Light Metaphor

I John 1:  5-7 (21^st Century King James Version)

5)  This then is the message which we have heard from Him and declare unto you:  that God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all.  6)  If we say that we have fellowship with Him, and walk in darkness, we lie, and do not the truth.  7)  But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.

Isaiah 60:3 

3)  All nations will come to your light; mighty kings will come to see your radiance.

II Corinthians 4:4 (New Living Translation)

4)       Satan, who is the god of this world, has blinded the minds of those who don’t believe.  They are unable to see the glorious light of the Good News.  They don’t understand this message about the glory of Christ, who is the exact likeness of God.

 Becky and I are already enjoying the lights of Christmas this year as we decorate our own home and as we drive around our town.  Join with us this Christmas season in the hope that the lights of Christmas will remind us of God’s true light. 

 

God is the light source that can illuminate a dark world or a dark heart,

but only if we seek him.  May we all be seekers.

God bless you,

may His light shine on

and through you this Christmas Season!

Prayer of Thanksgiving 2013

 

My rambling thoughts have stumbled about some this week,  but I have been thinking about the many things for which I am thankful.  I've read a lot of my FaceBook friends posts, counting down the days until Thanksgiving by listing their many "Thankful for" items.  From what I read, some folks are thankful for things like the "right shade of lip gloss" or "getting tickets" to a favorite event.  These may be okay, but my thought went back to my spiritual roots and I thought a "Thank You" prayer might be the best way to BLOG on this Thanksgiving week.  So, here is what "fell out of my head" for this post.

 

 

Dear Lord,

Wow, it seems that things change so quickly in our world; so many complex problems that seem to have no immediate solutions.  I am perplexed and challenged as I try to live as a citizen of an earthly kingdom, knowing all the while I am also a citizen of an eternal Heavenly Kingdom.

Life can be difficult and although I sometimes suffer, I am blessed and have much for which to be thankful.  I live in a land of freedom with abundant resources and enjoy a lifestyle far beyond what most world citizens enjoy.  Forgive me when I sometimes get fooled by society into believing I don’t have enough, even in the midst of plenty.  Deliver me from the world’s temptations and renew again my HOPE in Christ.

 During this season, I especially give you thanks for……

·        Life and Health (BP meds, cholesterol meds, vitamins, & ice cream)

·         Love of Family and Friends (in-laws, neighbors, fellow pilgrims & former work friends)

·         Liberty and Free Will (although sometimes I wish you’d just tell me what to do)

·         Peace in our Homeland (never had to pick up a weapon to defend myself)

·         A Christian Heritage provided by those who raised and nurtured me (All those Godly people who preceded my generation and kept the faith.)

·         Food, Shelter, Clothing & Transportation to sustain daily needs ( I am overweight, have a warm house, never been naked, and have three cars in the garage.)

·         Your promise to be with me until the “end of the world” Matthew 28: 20  (Judging from what I see on TV and read in the media, we must be getting close.)

With all that you have given me, help me to be a good steward of your abundant gifts.  May I have a giving heart, sharing from my abundance with those who have less. 

 Please accept this prayer of thanksgiving in Jesus name.        Amen

Destinations

I've never really understood poetry.  Seems to me it is a rather complicated literary form and most of what I read today doesn't make much sense. I subscribe to an e-mail service that delivers a "Poem of the Day" to my inbox.  Guess I may learn something, but I'm afraid at my age it is probably too little too late.

Reflecting back on freshman composition class at Carson-Newman I remember we had to pen a few lines of poetry as part of the learning process.  After working on that assignment for about a week with some of my best and most inspirational thoughts, I turned in my "poetic masterpiece."   My instructor, Miss Henrietta Jenkins, brought it clearly to my attention ( with her red pencil) that I did not have much talent for writing poetry.  Despite her harsh critique of my poetic talent,  I loved Miss Jenkins anyway and took her for British Literature the next year.  In my adult years, living back in Jefferson City, Miss Jenkins became a good friend and role model.

Despite my less than stellar experience with trying to write poetry,  there are times when you still want to put words down that rhyme or at least fall into some sort of short verse.  That is what I've done this week. 

The older I get it seems I ponder more of the unanswerable questions of life.  These few lines of verse "fell out of my head" as I approached a recent birthday and touch a bit on those things that I've been pondering that are linked to faith, not fact.

Walking along a river under a blue November sky

Floating leaves of red and gold swirl so quickly by

Riding gravity’s downward flow, bouncing to and fro

Scurrying toward a destination they cannot possibly know.

 

Again I walk along a river under a gray December sky

The leaves are gone, but icy twigs float and bob nearby.

The water’s flow has lessened, grasped by winter’s icy brakes

Slowing briefly, continuing the journey, no matter where it takes.

 

Three score and ten I’ve walked along this river under God’s expansive sky

First it was my children, now its grand children that swirl so quickly by.

I ride the inevitable current of aging; it has such a powerful flow

But unlike the leaves and twigs, there is a destination that I know.

 

Sometimes I wonder what the days of winter hold for me,

Times of testing; times for resting; times with grand kids on my knee.

Like the icy waters of winter, I’m not as fast as I used to be,

But there's no doubt about my destination; that’s assured by God’s grace you see.

 

So as you walk your own river path, in any season of life,

Pulled to and fro by life’s currents, pondering the great question of life,

Put your hope in Jesus, master boatman and anchor supreme

He will steer you clear of danger and bring you home for all eternity.

Revelations from a November Moon

This story recalls the visual images I experienced during a drive home from Seymour, TN on a November evening in 2003.  I’d spent that day helping my Aunt Earle move her furniture to a condo and was driving home.  I was so impressed by the visual experiences of that evening, I had to write it down that night before I could sleep.

After a full day of helping my aunt move to her new home, I was relaxing as I drove toward home along a familiar route.  My old pick-up truck seemed to follow the road as if it knew the way since we’d traveled it many times.  As I headed east on Boyd’s Creek Road, twilight was just beginning.  It was that time between the last rays of sunlight and the first darkness of night, a time I’d enjoyed many times before.  Something about twilight is always calming and peaceful, signaling the end of daily chores and a time of rest. 
 

To the south, my view of the distant Smoky Mountains was fading from sight and I began to see only the silhouettes of houses along the sides of the road.  The architectural details visible in the light only minutes before had now disappeared and all that remained were the hulking silhouettes of a few old Victorians, the straight lines of ranchers, and the box shaped two bedroom bungalows.  As darkness obscured the landscape, new lights began to capture my attention.  Glowing lights, coming from the windows of houses.  The soft, yellowish incandescent glow offered a reassuring message that “folks were at home” resting from a days work; perhaps enjoying an evening meal.  Occasionally, within the warm glow of window light, I’d catch flashes of white light accompanied by dancing flashes of color; the dancing, ever changing signature glow of a color television.  No doubt, folks were watching a TV show, the evening news, or just napping; bathed in the light and sound of that hypnotic box.

About half-way down Boyd’s Creek, looking east, I began to see a surreal and gigantic yellow sphere emerging on the horizon.  The darkness of twilight had deepened and only accentuated the marvelous splendor of a rising November moon.  The air had cooled and the sky was crystal clear, letting the brilliance of the full moon’s celestial light reflect back to earth.  The earth’s lower atmosphere so magnified the moon that at one point it seemed to cover much of the distant horizon. But as the earth’s rotation sped along, the sphere lifted higher and higher and began to shrink into that familiar white circle of a bright full moon.  The sky was so clear that I had no trouble seeing the lunar landscapes crater-pitted surface.  It was easy to imagine the “man in the moon” formed by the peaks and valleys on the moons surface.  As I drove on eastward I could not help but think of the millenniums of other men who also gazed at this amazing heavenly display and wondered how it all happened.  Tonight that moon looked like something an artist had drawn in the sky, but I know it is real and tangible.  It was only 34 years ago that a man actually climbed from a lunar landing craft and stepped on to the moons surface.  Those of us who are old enough, remember it well; we were there with those explorers via live television.

As I neared Highway 66 a new glow began to wash out some of the moon’s brightness.  Man made lights casting their glow against the sky from the shopping malls, car headlights and street lights snaking their way from Sevierville to Pigeon Forge.  Turning north on Hwy. 66 and heading toward   I-40 I lost sight of the moon’s glow and faced instead the oncoming lights from a multitude of automobiles.  Driven no doubt by folks who motored toward their evening destination, some toward home, others to a hotel along the route to Gatlinburg.  Reaching I-40 and turning east, the bright light of the moon was again squarely in front of my windshield.  Although the interstate was busy with traffic, the moon had risen high enough now that the car lights could not diminish its dominance in the evening sky.  It was now about 6 p.m. and all hint of twilight in the western sky had vanished, all points of the compass were engulfed in the darkness of night except for the eastern sky which was totally dominated by a brilliant moon.

After arriving home and finishing supper, the clock was moving toward 7 o’clock.  About that time, our son Rob called and suggested I go out to see what was happening with the moon.  I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about until he explained that we were to have a full lunar eclipse that evening and it would occur somewhere around 8:00 p.m. As I stepped outside, the sky was unclouded and free of any haze.  The edge of earth’s shadow was just beginning to encroach on the left side of the moon.  As time moved forward, the shadow of earth eventually obscured the entire surface of the moon, canceling out the moon’s white glow.  Then, as the earth continued its predictable orbit, the moon began to reappear and finally resumed its full reflective light.

After some sixty years of living and having observed many full moons and other lunar eclipses, I think this was the most visually spectacular event I have ever witnessed.  It was such an "in your face" statement to the world of an amazing Creator!  It brought to mind two scriptural references, one in Genesis and one in the Psalms.
¹⁶ Then God made two great lights: the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night. He made the stars also. ¹⁷ God set them in the firmament of the heavens to give light on the earth, ¹⁸ and to rule over the day and over the night, and to divide the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good.       Genesis 1:16-18  New King James Version

Centuries later, the Psalmist was right on target when he said, “The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.”     Psalms 19:1

Almost coinciding with this lunar event, NASA had announced only a few days before that Voyager I, an interstellar exploratory satellite, was beginning to reach the outer limits of our solar system. It is hard to comprehend, but can you grasp this?  Voyager I was launched into space in September1977.  It has been traveling away from earth for all this time.  It is traveling at 39,000 miles per hour.  If you do the math, it is now 9.2 billion miles from earth.  It is projected that it will continue to travel away from earth into the vastness of space well into the 21^st Century.  Without today’s scientific data, the Psalmist didn’t have a clue about the vastness of the universe, but his ancient words ring true in the face of scientific exploration.  “The heavens tell of the glory of God.  Their expanse declares the work of His hands.” 

WOW, ain’t God big!

 PS  Since writing about this experience back in 2003, Voyager I  has continued to travel and is approaching 12 billion miles out from earth.  Just another testimony that God gets bigger and bigger and bigger!   As for a lunar eclipse, we didn’t have a total lunar eclipse this year, but in 2014 we will have two you can see in the United States,  April 15th and again on October 8th.  Get ready for it, now let's ramble!

THE CHICKEN STORY ~ An original story told to me by Ben Watts

My father-in-law, Ben Watts, was a quite and humble man.  He worked 50 years at the Stokley Van Camp plant in Newport, Tennessee.  He began working as a young boy hoeing various crops that Stokleys used to grow locally. Later he worked inside the plant and then for many years until his retirement, was the supervisor of the warehouse handling all the raw materials used in the canning operations.

Several years after his retirement, Becky and were visiting her folks in Newport.  It was a warm summer evening and after dinner Ben and I took a walk around their Clifton Heights neighborhood.  As we walked, Ben talked of different things, but the “Chicken Story” he shared with me that evening is one I’ll always remember. 

Ben told me that as a young man, he'd worked at the Stokley Van Camp plant in Newport.  He remembered that in those days, Stokleys had a large grassy fenced-in yard within the confines of the plant.  This grassed area was a place for men to take breaks, take a smoke, or eat lunch.

Stokleys also had a bunch of game hens and roosters that ran loose around the fenced-in grounds.  The chickens caught bugs they found around the yard as well as lunch scraps workers tossed to them.  They were pretty much tame with all the workers constantly around the area.

There was an elderly Black man who had worked for Stokleys many years and everybody knew him as “Old Bob.” Bob worked around the yard keeping it clean up as well as doing other odd jobs around the plant.  He was also the unofficial keeper of the game hens.  The chickens were so trusting of him that he could approach one easily, pet it or even pick it up. 

As was typical of that time in southern society, Old Bob was occasionally the butt of a racial jokes or racial slur from some of the white workers.  But things generally went along smoothly and without problems between the races. 

Despite the usual smooth relationships, one day during a lunch break, one of the work crew called “Big Amos” thought he’d have some fun at Old Bob’s expense.  Big Amos had somewhat of a bully personality and liked to be the center of attention.  On this day he waited until a good number of the work crew had gathered there in the yard eating their lunch and making small talk; then in a loud voice called Old Bob over to him and said, “Catch one of them thar hens and bring it over here.”  In the racially divided society of the 1930’s Old Bob knew it’d probably be best not to object to the request, so Bob obliged and easily caught one of the game hens.  He held it gently and walked over to Big Amos and the crew that had gathered around to see the fun.  “Nigger,” big Amos said slowly, “I’ll tell you what I’m ah going to do.  I’m agoin to let you do whatever you want with that old hen, but whatever you do to it, I’m going to do it to you!”   Big Amos crossed his arms, leaned back with a smirk on his face to see what Old Bob would do.  Ben said that Amos was probably thinking that there ain’t much a fella could do with an old yard chicken excepting to wring its neck or throw it up in the air or some other fool thing.

As the crowd of workers eagerly waited for something to happen, Old Bob just looked down at the chicken he was holding, studied it for a minute; and proceeded to take the following action.  Bob took that old yard chicken turned it upside down, tucked its head back under his right armpit, grabbed its feet with his left hand and the tail feathers in his right hand, bent that old hen over and planted a big kiss right on that chicken’s hinny-hole.

Ben couldn’t help but laugh as he recalled his memories of that event, but continued with his story by saying, “I’ll tell you one thing, that crowd exploded with laughter as the smirk quickly faded from Big Amos’s face.”  As you might guess, that was the end of the fun and you can be sure that Big Amos didn’t keep his promise to “do the same thing to Old Bob that he’d done to the chicken.” 

In the days and years that followed, Ben said that he didn’t recollect any other instances where any of the crew at Stokleys ever put Old Bob to the test again.  Following his lunch time victory over Big Amos, Old Bob was pretty much a man left alone, but respected as a quick thinking Black man around the Stokley Van Camp plant. 

When you think of all the possible things that could have happened when Big Amos challenged Old Bob that day, it could have been a bad scene.  But Old Bob’s quick thinking proved again the saying that a person’s “Actions speak louder than words.”  Without a single word, without any physical aggression, and with no harm to him self, Old Bob made his point and diffused a potentially explosive situation.   And to ramble just a bit further...... I think most would agree that it takes a man of courage to plant a kiss on the bottom part of a chicken.

What Rubs Off?

As the grandfather of four grandsons and one granddaughter, I have been thinking about a truth I first heard in a junior boy’s Sunday School class many years ago.

The truth was shared with a class of 12 year old boys by our teacher, Fred Moore.  Fred had our admiration and respect because he was a “Certified TSSAA Sports Official”.  He officiated many of the local area high school football and basketball games.  He was also a father, a deacon in our church and had a vast repertoire of personal stories he readily shared with our class.  Many of his stories grew out of his “rough and tumble” growing up years as a youth and young adult.  Each Sunday, as Fred taught our lesson, we listened.

I will always remember what he said one Sunday morning as he told about some of his experiences as a dock hand on the Great Lakes lock system. In his own unique way, he told of the excitement and energy required to move those giant freighters through the locks and the burly men who worked to keep the boats moving along.  Fred told of how he not only worked with these men, but also hung out with them after work and adopted some of their habits and language.  He admitted that he'd picked up some habits and language that were not things he was proud of in later years.

On that Sunday morning, after some vivid stories about his Great Lakes experiences mixed with a few scriptural references to the life of Joseph, Fred summed the lesson up by sharing this truth.  He said, “Boys, as you mix and mingle with people in life; some part of every person will rub off on you and some of you will rub off on them.  Sometimes it is good, sometimes it is not so good and sometimes it is bad, but it all goes into shaping you into what you become as a person.  Be careful what rubs off others on to you and be careful what rubs off you onto others.”

Now as I look back some sixty years later,  I think what Fred said that Sunday was pretty much right.  The whole of the person that is “me” is made up of many parts.  Of course, Fred didn’t get into genetics and heredity; not much you can do about that anyway.  With genetics, you just “get it’ without any dynamics of personal choice.  It is just in the genes.

But what you get from the dynamics of personal interaction is different.  You are able to filter some of it, analyze some of it, reject some of it; you’ll even forget a lot of it.  But in the end, you do keep a small part of every encounter and, want it or not, it becomes a part of you.

So, today as I spend time with my grandkids and they spend time with me, I am challenged as I think about Fred’s truth.  What little part of their Granddaddy are they keeping as they stick small bits of me to their one day adult persona.  Is what “rubs off” something that is good; not so good, or is it possibly bad?

I can only hope something rubs off their granddad that will make them better; something that will help, not hinder.  Will it be some truth that sticks, some belief or some action that will help point them in the right direction.  Let’s hope so. 

As Fred said, “Be careful what rubs off,” some of it is going to stick.

Busy Hands and A Caring Heart

When I think of my mother-in-law, Alga(Al-gee) Watts, I always think of her as a busy person, doing things for her family, her church, and her friends.  The old saying that “Idle hands are the Devil’s workshop” finds its antithesis in the life of Alga Watts. 

Throughout her life her hands were never idle and those busy hands most often were doing things that honored God and helped others.  She tended daily to the tasks required to maintain a household for her husband and five children.  When the required tasks of the day were finished, she’d use those hands to produce “gifts of love” for those around her.

As the young mother of a growing family she fashioned clothing like shirts, pants, blouses and dresses for her children.  Before she owned a sewing machine those hands cut the fabric and stitched it together by hand.  Later, a Singer treadle sewing machine was a blessing as she continued to sew and mend for a growing family of two girls and three boys.

She kept busy in the summer by breaking beans, canning fresh garden produce and cooking nourishing meals each day.  Today, many  would consider this a chore, but Alga found joy and fulfillment in such tasks and it kept her hands busy.  She delighted in having a house full of company, fixing meals and special deserts for special times.  I best remember the Christmas season when she prepared apple stack cake, coconut cake, egg custard and many kinds of special candies.  This extra work became just another special gift from those busy hands to those she loved.

As a mother who sometimes worked outside the home, those hands would often do a day’s labor for pay and then come home to work some more as she tended to her family’s needs.  During one of her working days as a young woman, the little finger on her left hand was crushed by a piece of machinery in the laundry where she worked and had to be amputated.  I don’t think she ever missed a beat.  Those hands just adapted to the loss and maintained a busy schedule. 

Alga was a pragmatic person, tackling life’s problems as needed, but totally relying on God to provide the direction and support she needed.  While some people are robbed of sleep by the demons of doubt and worry, Alga always slept well at night because she went to bed each night, “just leaving the world in God’s hands,” she’d say, simply trusting Him to take care of things.  She was devoted to God.  An old hymn expresses her theology perfectly; “Trust & obey, for there is no other way, to be happy in Jesus, but to trust & obey.”

Alga & husband, Ben, were married for some 63 years.  Before Ben died, Alga spent much time taking care of him.  In his final years Ben experienced a lot of health problems that challenged them both.  Ben had always been the spiritual leader of the Watts household; he’d been the primary bread-winner, providing stability and loving words and deeds for his wife and children.  I never heard anyone speak ill words about Ben and I reckon he was a “good man” by everyone’s account and Alga took care of this good man through some difficult years.

As the children left home and family responsibilities lessened, Alga had more time for other things like making craft items, ceramics, and of course those many quilts she pieced, stitched, and quilted.  Her patterns were many; some I remember were the wedding ring, circles, stars, Dutch Boys / Girls, Tulips, Birds-on-the-Wing, Flying Geese and the list goes on….every one a new challenge and adventure for those busy hands.  Alga’s hand-made quilts became her special gifts to family and friends throughout the year and especially at Christmas.  New grand babies and weddings always called for a special quilt.  No machine stitches for her, she believed that only “hand-stitching” made for a quality quilt.  At last count I think she had crafted well over one-hundred quilts; not to mention numerous pillows, lap throws and other fabric creations.  Alga was truly an artist with a needle in her hands.

Few people enjoyed the Christmas season like Alga.  Each Christmas would hardly be out of sight and she would be planning what to make for the Christmas yet to be; looking for ideas, shopping for materials, and making those “special gifts” for the people she loved.   Yep, the Devil never had a chance with those hands.  They were always busy, doing things for her family and friends; things that were made with her hands, but conceived in her heart.  For those of us who possess one of her hand-made items, we’ve got more than an artifact and a memory; we’ve got a piece of her heart.

Alga Watt’s lived to be ninety-five and her life was a lesson about how we ought to live.  The lesson is a simple one and it says to me that if I want to live a life that has meaning and purpose I need to keep things simple and do just three things:

1.   Trust and obey the Lord

2.   Work hard and stay busy

3.   Invest my energy in the lives and well being of others in my family, my church, and community.

The best gifts are always “free” and the legacy of a Christian woman is one of the best gifts any of us can receive.

Alga’s hands @ 94 years of age