Long, long ago and far, far away...

I remember a day when one would get in trouble for passing handwritten notes in class!  I also remember the first time a girl passed me one—be still my heart!  Yes, I also remember black and white TV with a dial for 13 VHF and UHF channels if you were lucky enough to “receive” any with aluminum foil-enhanced rabbit ears.

I remember cars with no air conditioning or cruise control and only AM radios.  I remember being sent to my room when “Laugh-in” and “Love American Style” was on.  I also remember our first color TV, an RCA, and when it “gave up the ghost” one summer—what’s a guy to do!!!  Well, my parents had bought a full set of World Book Encyclopedias, so I started in “A”.  I didn’t read every word and it certainly did not help me on my SAT score later on!  But my eyes were open to a whole wide world (the first www) that had before been so far away.  For a fifth grader those transparency drawings in “H” for human body began to really educate me.

I remember Algebra, Trigonometry and Calculus fondly.  I was quite good with math and formulas were solved “long-hand” and on paper.  As a senior in high school I was introduced to the marvel now vaguely remembered as a slide rule.  I am still amazed how that thing actually worked.  Who figured that thing out?

I remember college chemistry class and having to formulate and calculate before I had a calculator.  In fact, it was Christmas of my freshman year of college asking for a pocket calculator with scientific notation.  You would think I had asked for a Corvette Stingray.  Those little gems, manufactured by Texas Instruments, cost a fortune.  Luckily Santa Claus found a Montgomery Ward model of the TI calculator for about half the price and I passed the last half of Chemistry.

I typed many of my college papers on a portable manual typewriter.  In seminary I was allowed to use the church’s IBM Selectric typewriter with backspace correction.  And, let’s not forget Kate Turabian?

I remember meeting my future father-in-law who had his very own Apple MacIntosh computer in their home.  I remember the first PC I had in my office in a church—it had the most impressive dark green screen on which bright light green letters would flash up when I typed!

Fast forward now into the twenty-first century.  (I remember when I thought it was so far, far away, too!)  I have a PC and a laptop computer in my home, my wife has an iPad, and we both carry on our hips “smart phones”—all of this keeps us instantly connected to our world.  If we have a question about a topic or wonder where an expression comes from, we “Google” it and obtain the knowledge desired.  We post on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and other social media our updates and we send and receive our emails—instantly.

I have caught on to the craze.  I’m hooked.  I have expanded my sphere of influence, or those who know what I’m up to, a hundred-fold with my posts and updates.

This morning I found it interesting that Twitter CEO announced enhancements to come as a result of users wanting their profiles to be more personal.  I say, “Duh! Read my update.”

I have to remind myself constantly that even though this world is flying by, God still whispers, “Be still and know that I am God.”

This post originally ran on the ABPnews Blog (link to www.abpnews.com/blog & DEALingwithmyworld.blogspot.com.

Tweet this, Facebook that

What is my life worth?  Is it all based on the perception of “friends” who read my posts on Facebook?  Do I need to be sure they know how I really feel about my LORD or politics?  And, what if I don’t “copy and paste” into my status to prove my love and submission to God?

I find it interesting to read posts on Facebook these days.  Yes, there are friends who I envy because of the life of leisure they are now able to live (or that’s all they choose to post about.)  There are those who pass along helpful posts and links from renowned authors.  Friends let me know about the significant life milestones going on.  I read and cherish each one; really I do.

There are also a myriad of political and pseudo-spiritual diatribes being espoused as well.  While I support the right of everyone to have feelings, thoughts and opinions about the happenings of our world, I am growing weary of posts which fane the sickness of one political party or philosophy over another; the “we are better than you are” mentality of one thought-process over another; the “world is going to hell in a hand basket” if you support the other candidate opinions.

Some of this is to be expected during an election year.  I joined “Facebook” four years ago and wondered about this then.  In fact, reading some of the posts then influenced my stating my political views in status as the Nike brand’s “Just Do It.”  Yes, I am concerned about our nation and who is leading it; but short of a new revolution, I’m not sure much will change.  I am more convinced that expressing my opinions on Facebook will not actually influence a change.

I suspect, too, that whatever I choose to express will put me in the “de-friend” category from some of my closest Facebook friends.  So, why risk it?  I’ve just found a bunch of them after many years of separation and I rather enjoy catching up.

On the other hand, Twitter keeps life simpler—or shorter as the case may be.  If I “tweet” I am limited to 140 characters.  I couldn’t even finish this blog with that limitation.

I would rather live my life attempting to please the LORD; and to do that I don’t need Facebook, Twitter, or email (although many times I wish He would send my answer this way.)  I don’t need current technology to report to Him my downfalls—He sees all and knows all.  I don’t need to report to Him that I agree with or disagree with the current popular “right” way of thinking.  What I suspect I DO need to do is treat every person I meet with respect, dignity and love.  They need to see and hear Christ living through me.  “They’ll know we are Christians by our love.” 

“No, nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our LORD.”  (Romans 8:38-39)

I’m going to eat my tuna fish salad sandwich on my back porch now.

This post originally ran on the ABPnews Blog (link to www.abpnews.com/blog & DEALingwithmyworld.blogspot.com.

Time Keeps on Slippin' Into the Future

24 hours = 1 day

168 hours = 1 week

627 hours, 720 hours, 744 hours = 1 month depending on calendar (except leap year)

8,760 hours = 1 year (note above)

495,670 hours (approx.) = my life thus far

Time Management.  What did I do today?  Did I earn my pay?  Have I wasted time?  How has my productivity been?  Did I give ample, adequate and quality time to my wife?  My children?  Prayer?  Bible study?  Service to others?  Recreation?

I do not punch a clock—for that I am grateful.  I admire those who do; they know that to do their “job” they must log certain amount of time.  It may be 9 – 5.  It may be split shifts.  It may be rotating shifts (oh the sleep deprivation!) 

Others’ “job” is to accomplish certain tasks and they may or may not use a calendar or time piece to gauge their work.  Farmers, for example, know that the ground must be tilled and prepared at a certain time, perhaps with a certain amount of moisture or temperature.  Seed should be planted at the “appropriate time” to better the chances of a successful crop.  During the growing “time” or season care must be given to the crop by weeding, pest control, and irrigation.  And then at the most very-right time, harvest!

My “work” is a mixture of things nowadays.  I affectionately call it “spinning plates in the air.”  Much of what I “do” relates to each other; so I struggle over assuring I give each one all the appropriate time and attention they deserve.  It is not much different than being fully engaged in local congregation employment (those of us who do or have done know that to be true!)  But one of the struggles I have been dealing with has been managing my time.

The song that is on “repeat” in my mind is the Steve Miller Band’s Time Keeps on Slippin’ Into the Future.  With every beat of my heart, the clock ticks and this second is no longer the last second, and so forth.  Jim Croce recorded another song Time in a Bottle in which he sings, “But there never seems to be enough time, To do the things you want to do, Once you find them.”

So, I am working hard to relax in the day, do what I can, consider the things I missed and re-evaluate how much stress I place on myself to get it all done.  I am reading back over this now and just got tired.  I think I’ll take a break now!

ABBA, Father, Dad, Daddy

Having just participated in yet another “Hallmark-inspired holiday” I am reminded how fortunate I am that God gave to me the parents that He did.  In all of the male and female homo sapien combinations that have come together, I was blessed beyond measure to receive the best parents ever.  (You can’t argue with me; this is My Blog and my opinion!)

Like millions of others, I phoned my Dad and wished him a “Happy Father’s Day!”  I told him that I love him and am thankful for all he has done for me.  I, too, was the recipient of such affection from my two sons.  A Dad couldn’t be prouder of his offspring than I am of mine!  (Again, My Blog, my opinion!)

I love my Dad.  He was a good provider and mostly a good example of life, love and consistency.  My relationship with him is such that I call him the affectionate “Daddy” and “Dad” with enthusiasm.  No formal “Father” for me.  In fact, he would probably stumble wondering who it was calling him that!  Daddy taught me a lot.  He probably won’t admit it, but he did!  To borrow inspiration from an article I read in Sunday’s paper, here are a few things my Dad taught me:

• Dad taught me how to tie a tie—a full Windsor knot.  A classy dresser, he always knew how to dress up.
• Speaking of dressing up, he taught me how to shine my shoes.  (Which I don’t do quite as often as I should!)  Saturday night I pulled out the shoeshine kit and did a number on several pairs of shoes and strolled down memory lane of many Saturday nights on Shell Road shining shoes and watching “Lawrence Welk.”
• He taught me that a well-manicured yard communicated that you cared—for your surroundings, your neighbors and the world.
• Dad took care of his cars so that they would take care of him.  A well-maintained auto drives many more miles than one not so well-maintained.
• A clean car even rides better.
• It is better to give than to receive.  Dad was invested in his community.  The fire department and rescue services in my hometown are a result of his, and others like him, desire to help his neighbors in time of crisis.
• Church attendance, active participation and mostly being a follower of Christ is paramount to getting through this life and ready for the next.
• Consistent, persistent unwavering love for wife and family is important enough that nothing should stand in its way.  Thank you, Daddy, for loving Momma, Cheryl, me, your grandkids, brother, sister, parents, in-laws, cousins, etc., etc. in such a wonderful way!

I don’t feel pressure by the greeting card industry to share my affection for my father.  Although we live miles apart, we speak regularly on the phone “just to hear” each other’s voices.  We don’t wait until the annual opportunity to send a card to say “I love you.”  We say it often each time we talk.  He always insists that I share “his love with the family.”  To which they know Papaw means what he says!

I love you, Dad!

Feasting on Elephants

Having started out on many journeys I have learned that if I kept thinking about how long it will be, it will not be fun at all.  Whether it is a long drive across many states, or a hike up the nearest mountain trail, to begin is an arduous task unto itself. 

Yes, before the ignition is started or the first step taken one must know what the final destination is.  This is paramount to set the course.  My mantra on a “journey” is becoming “one step at a time.”  Or as one wise sage once queried, “How do you eat an elephant?  One bite at a time.”

I went for a walk the other day around our neighborhood.  The path I chose was one I had done several times before.  I began down a slight decline of the street we live on, then a slight incline followed by another longer decline.  Oh, this is easy, I thought.  Then, I reached the bottom and remembered, I live at the pinnacle of this “mountain” and I will have to get back up there!

Like I said, I’ve done this path before and the climb was not a memorable one.  I recalled the strenuous steps it required and the conscientious sucking for oxygen.  I looked up and thought I would never make it back to the top.

This time instead of looking ahead at the “out of reach” goal, I began to look to my right and to my left observing the woods and the creek below.  As I took the steps up the path, I watched birds, squirrels and rabbits going about their routines.  A neighbor drove by and we both raised a hand in greeting.  Before I knew it I had once again returned to the pinnacle.  Oh, I was still sucking for air, but the journey became more than getting from point “a” to point “B.” (Capitalization intended for emphasis of the climb!)

Too many times in my going about “living” I have missed “life” as it has gone by.  Is it my age?  Is it my new surroundings?  Or the paradigm shift I am experiencing?  Regardless, I am living into the “stopping and smelling the roses” right now.  This is hard, very hard, for a task-oriented person.  It is hard to justify checking off the to-do list “enjoying life.”  It may not generate income or impact my little world, but it is helping me to experience God’s creation in a new and refreshing way.

The elephant will still be eaten, and since I can’t swallow it whole, I might as well savor each morsel of the feast…one bite at a time.

Blue Bloods

There are TV shows that I have come to enjoy some for their content, some for their humor, and mostly all for their entertainment.  Those which are my “favorites” I set up the DVR to assure I don’t miss them.

One of my favorites now is “Blue Bloods” starring Tom Seleck.  It is a typical Cop show which I have always been a fan of.  It is in New York City which I enjoy seeing the scenes after spending some time there.  It is about somewhat real stories of real people in the profession of law enforcement in a big city.

In fact, its stories are centered on a whole family who are involved in all levels of crime fighting.  One son is just beginning as a rookie cop.  Another is a tenured detective.  A daughter is a prosecutor in the District Attorney’s office.  The father, played by Seleck, is the Police Commissioner.  Oh, and if that isn’t enough, his father is a retired police commissioner.

What I have come to look forward to in each episode is the last few minutes.  At the end of every show the entire family has gathered together around the dinner table at the father’s (Seleck’s) home.  There is normal sibling banter going on; inquisitive young children trying to figure out some of the “code talk” the adults are doing; and grandpa usually has a calming word to offer.  What impresses me is they are being “family.”

Some of my best family memories revolve around the family dinner table.  Whether it was at Grandmamma and Granddaddy Daniel’s on Sunday afternoon, the Deal clan coming from all over to the Deep Creek Community Hall, or at Mom and Dad’s, eating a meal together brought us together.  There we would joke, share stories, learn about our family history.  There I learned table manners (after many, many failures, I am sure!)  There I learned I was accepted and loved, and that everyone around the table was part of my family.

The “Blue Bloods” family argues how to uphold the laws and sometimes differ greatly.  But, one thing is sure, differences do not divide them.  No one is divorced from the family, or sent to their rooms until they repent, because of their opinions expressed or views on how the world revolves or who is in an elected office.

I wish I could say that is true for my family.  Not my family of blood and marriage; my faith family.  I have witnessed too many times brothers and sisters who feast at the same table of our LORD Jesus Christ differ on issues of politics or interpretation of Scripture.  Sometimes we grow from these dialogues; most of the time we get up from the table still “family.”

However, there are times that sadden our LORD as He watches His family differ on issues yet cannot continue to love one another, cannot accept someone who is different than themselves, who cannot fathom that someone who believes that way can really be a Christ-follower.  In essence they subscribe to the “divorce-is-the-only-solution” philosophy and our collaborative witness to a world needing Grace is too often lost.

Isn’t the Christian faith one that is built around blood?  Isn’t it said, “blood is thicker than water?”  How is it that these “blue bloods” exhibit how to live with differences better than those of us who are washed in the red blood of Jesus Christ?

Nuts Don’t Fall Far From the Tree

Early in the ‘90’s we lived in the parsonage of Mount Hermon Baptist Church in Danville, Virginia.  The front yard was full of tall, mature pecan trees.  Many times now my family of four will recall the fall days when we would go out and pick up all the pecans we wanted.  However, we wanted more than those on the ground.  We wanted the ones that were still hanging on by a thin fiber inside the wide-opened black outer shell.

So, we got creative.  We would jump up and catch a limb and shake, shake, shake.  The boys were little and we made a game of running and picking up as many as we could.  Later we would desire ones that were even higher.  One of the boys went inside and got a football.  They would throw it up and hit one or two.  Then, Dad got rambunctious and began punting the ball up high into the tree.  Soon we were pummeled by dozens of hard shelled pecans.  Keeping the football theme the boys ran inside and got their football helmets to protect their heads from the hail-storm of nuts coming out of the tree.

Several things are for sure.  We had lots of nuts to eat, cook with and share.  And, without a strong wind all the nuts fell fairly close to the tree.

This week my family will celebrate the graduation from seminary of our second son William.  In a couple of weeks I will help him move to Boone, North Carolina where he will begin his first full-time position at First Baptist Church.  It will be like déjà vu all over again!  His older brother Ragan graduated just last year and I helped him move to Topeka, Kansas where he is now Associate Pastor of First Baptist Church.

To say that Susan and I are proud of our sons is an under-statement.  How can we cease to praise God for His blessings?  Some have quipped that they are just staying in the family business.  When they individually talked with us about their feeling “called to ministry” we did our best to talk them out of it.  Why wouldn’t we?  They had grown up in two ministers’ home; they had experienced the good, the bad and the ugly.  We encouraged them to do whatever they wanted to do and God would be pleased.

But, they each insisted that they knew God wanted them to go into full-time vocational ministry.  It just goes to show that no matter how much wind we, the parents, tried to blow the nuts away from the tree, God’s will and desire for them was much stronger.  And, without a doubt, we are so glad these nuts haven’t fallen far from the tree of their parents’ vocational journey.

TO GOD BE THE GLORY!