If I had a twenty-dollar bill for every time I have eaten at the “golden arches” I would have enough money to by my own franchise. If cheeseburgers are bad for you, my days are numbered. I’m probably about half cheesburger myself. I can tell you our families MacOrder from memory:
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I’m Tough, I’m Tough
Chuck was working with me at the little country church where I pastored at the time. He was just a little guy, about three. He left his books on the floor of my study and made his way to the restroom. He was gone a little longer than I thought he should be so I went to check on him. The restroom door often stuck at this time of the year, due to the humidity. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t stuck.
As I approached the door I could hear him singing while he washed his hands. I decided to have a little fun with him. I held my foot against the door. In a minute I felt the weight of his little body pushing against the door. I didn’t budge. Then I heard him say “I’m tough, I’m tough.” He must have backed up and run at the door because there was a little interval of quiet and then a thud on the door. It didn’t budge. Then at the top of his lungs he cried out desperately; “Daaaaaaaaaad.”
The fear in his voice touched my heart and I quickly pulled open the door. We laughed. But I had that feeling again. The feeling that God is breaking though to my heart with a lesson. When I come up against a difficult problem I threw all my weight against it.
I say “I’m tough, I’m tough.” And sometimes when I give it everything I have I find that problems give way. But there are those times when every ounce of strength I can muster, every bit of creativity at my disposal, every talent I can apply leaves me helpless with my problem. Then I remember to cry out “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad” and my Heavenly Father’s heart is stirred by the desperation of my cry and He comes to my help. The Father heart of God is tuned to my cry! “The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart and saves those with a humble spirit.”
Brothers on the Road and On the River
This spring the men of the church planned a campout and a canoe trip for Fathers and sons. God has given me four sons. I didn’t want to leave any of them, but little Wes was far too small. Dan is six and he was eager to go. Chuck is twelve and Kyle is sixteen. We loaded our SUV with tent and gear and fell into the formation with the others guys from the church made the trip north through a beautiful stretch of National forest. It was a mellow spring evening and the dogwoods were in full bloom where the petals just lay open on each stem in brilliant white against the dark green of the pines. The deciduous trees were just starting to bud in pale green. With every mile I left behind more of what had burdened me throughout the day and by the time we were about thirty minutes north of town I was beginning to feel refreshment in my spirit.
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I Got a Bug in My Eye
Some people find it hard to express emotion. I’ve never been that way. It always made my eyes moist when I accidentally stepped on a colony of ants on the way home from school. It seems axiomatic in life that those of us who find it easy to express emotion are usually attracted to those who don’t. My wife is a stoic gal. She doesn’t waste a lot of tears on nonsense.
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Road Kill
When I was a boy we lived in a wide spot in the road called Logansville. My dad was the parson of the Congregational Church there. Friday was payday and in good weather I rode my bike up the hill west of town to Huber Rhorer’s house to pick up Dad’s check. It was eighty dollars a week. Friday nights we all went to town.
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Regular Maintenance
The house was quiet. There were sound that children make when they are sleeping, there is the gurgle and bumping of the water travelling through the heater pipes. I’m in the upstairs master bedroom. Lois will join me soon for a long winter’s nap and set the fan to whirring. But right now things are quiet. An occasional car purrs through the neighborhood, only a few an hour this late in the evening.
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