Citizenship

 Went to our court house Thursday afternoon to pay the property taxes. I like to do this in person so I can personally thank the treasurer and the office staff for the services they provide to the community as I regard them as a sample of all the good workers in the public sector whom we support with our means. Fulfillment of a duty which I hope I do cheerfully.

Upon completion of the task I walked a few paces down the hall to the site of early voting. I usually take advantage of this service as one never knows what election day may hold either weather-wise or health-wise.  The room was occupied by two poll workers and two voters occupied in their civic duty.  I stopped at the doorway and noticed that the ballots were posted on the wall just to the left.  I read them carefully. And completely. Turned, smh, and walked to the stairway where I carefully lowered myself to the ground floor and exited the building.

Sorry; that was rude.

Aeronautics

1910, the first airplane flight by a U.S. President was taken in St. Louis, Missouri. Theodore Roosevelt, ex-president and not yet the Bull Moose candidate for another term, was taken aloft by pilot Arch Hoxsey in a Wright Brothers plane.

It is said that the Wrights, by whom Hoxsey was employed, were inclined to fire their pilot for having "endangered" a personage of such stature.

On New Year's Eve that same year, Hoxsey died in a crash in Los Angeles in which he was attempting to set a powered aircraft altitude record.

Archibald Hoxsey 1884 - 1910 RIP

Image: Wikipedia

Desert Pete

My sister read Sunday's post, then forwarded the story to me.

“Desert Pete”

Some years ago, a seldom used trail in the Amargosa Desert in California, there stood a rundown hut. Nearby was a well, the only source of water for miles around. Attached to the pump was a thin baking powder can with a message inside, written in pencil on a sheet of brown wrapping paper. This was the message...

This pump is all right as of June 1932. I put a new sucker washer into it and it ought to last five years. But, the washer dries out and the pump has got to be primed. Under the white rock I buried a bottle of water, out of the sun and the cork end up. There‘s enough water in it to prime this pump, but not if you drink some water first. Pour in about 1/4, and let her soak to wet the leather. Then pour in the rest medium fast, and begin to pump. You‘ll get water. The well never has run dry. Have faith. When you get watered up, fill the bottle, and put it back like you found it for the next feller. Signed, Desert Pete
Ps. don’t go drinking up all the water first! Prime the pump and you can get all the water you want.

Don’t be selfish. Deny yourself. Seek God’s kingdom first, and God will care for you.

In a Birthday Frame of Mind

 

  

Yep, that would be today.  I start my ninetieth year on this planet.

I have been blessed beyond measure, and way beyond anything I deserve.

God is Good.

God is Faithful.

Let everything that has breath praise The Lord.

Praise ye The Lord

John 21 #T

Note: This is a work in progress; it may be amended and/or emended from time to time.

Here we have an episode involving seven of the disciples and the resurrected Christ. It is so chockablock with amazing things it has probably yet to be fully grasped by most followers of Christ. These men know at this point that Jesus has risen from the grave.  They know that He has told them they have a date to meet him at a certain place, but they do not know the time.  "Let's just sit around and wait until Jesus tells us what to do next."  This is definitely not what they were thinking.  "I'm going fishing," Peter says, and he headed to his boat. 

I have read some commentators who say that when Jesus called these people to follow Him, they dropped their tools of livelihood and did as bid, and now we see that with Jesus no longer among them they return to their old ways.  The implication that there is something amiss here is wrong.  Yes, Jesus left them temporarily to their own devices, but they know who He is, and they know He is alive. But rather than sit around waiting for marching orders, they take advantage of the time, they redeem the time, by engaging in useful activity. This, I think is what Christ expects of us, absent a mission assignment, that we engage in useful activity.

It's daybreak now.  The fishermen have toiled all night.  They spot someone standing near a low burning fire on the shore.  "Hey, fellas," the man hollers, "catch anything?"  "No," they reply.  "Then cast your nets on the other side of the boat. You'll catch something!" cheerily spoke the figure on the beach. "Why the heck not?" the men said to one another. "The hold is empty, and night is gone.  What do we have to lose?" so they shifted their nets and behold! the catch was so great they could not draw the net in, yet it did not hreak.  The disciples in the other boat came alongside and helped them drag the catch ashore.

John is the first to recognize Jesus. "It's the Master!" he exclaims. And what does Peter do? He grabbed his fisherman's cloak and put it on, belting it, for he had been working without his outerwear. naked, the scripture says, and I leave it to you to discern the meaning of that in this context.  At any rate, the man did not want to appear before the Master less than properly clothed. (Hint, hint.) Then he stepped into the water and rushed to shore to greet Jesus. Can you picutre this without recalling another instance in which Peter stepped out of a boat onto the water?

What a catch! And big fish, too!  153 great fish! Now that is interesting; they count the catch.  And why would they not?  They are businessmen.  Theologians and writers have puzzled over this and much has been written about the significance of the number 153, some of it quite convoluted. I lean to the position that they were doing that which was normal and logical in the plying of their vocation.

Now Jesus has this fine bed of coals, just right for broiling fish!  "Come and dine!" He says, if we read the King James, or any one of several others.  Many translations have Jesus saying, "Come, have some breakfast." I am not a scholar of the Greek, but I really wish I knew how John originally wrote this line.  As nearly as I can tell, much as I would like it to be the former, the oldest manuscripts seem to be better translated to the latter.  "Dine," to me, suggests a celebratory occasion, whereas an invitation to breakfast by a friend suggests a casual time of open fellowship.  Oh, perhaps the latter is the better; no need to rent a tuxedo here. At any rate, Jesus shares his fire and his bread, Peter, John, and the others share their catch, and for a time it seems a good time was had by all.

After they had eaten and wiped their hands, the conversation took a serious turn when Jesus asked Peter, "Do you love me?" And it turned out that Jesus asked him thrice, to the point that Peter was offended. (How many times did Peter deny knowing Jesus on that fateful night of the Master's arrest?) The upshot of the interchange was that Jesus finally told Peter, "Feed my sheep." (Reinstatement and commission.) Then Jesus foretold Peter's cruel death as a follower of Christ. So, then Peter, jerking his thumb at John, said, "What about him?" and Jesus's rejoinder was basically, "Not your concern; his fate is in my hands."

And so it is with us.  It is our task to chasten, to encourage, to work alongside our fellow Christians, but how God determines He wishes to use them is none of our business.

Cf. Luke 5 in which a similar yet different fishing event is recounted, an episode in which Jesus commandeers Peter's ship and calls his first followers to discipleship.

Older is Better #T

 Some things are improved by aging. Cheddar cheese comes to mind.  I can attest to that.  Whisky, it is said. No personal experience with that. Nor with wine, which is supposedly also one of those things that improves with age. Leather boots, and that is a fact.  Here is a pair of mine which are now two decades old and getting better and better.

You probably have a treasure trove of "things" that improve with age. Think about it while I continue with my list.  Women.  I have been blessed to know these marvelous creatures over time and observe them as they age.  If the subject is naturally sweet, loving, and kind, time only polishes and enhances those attributes.  If she is acerbic, sharp-tongued, and bit on the side of skepticism, time only makes her more shrewd, open and honest in her interactions with others, and knowing where she stands has its definite advantages. Wins all around.  Women get better with age.  

Men, not so much. No matter what heights of success he has achieved, the little boy inner insecurities never leave him, and as he ages the same bluff, bluster, and aggression; or the same timid, reluctant, introversion that got him to this point in life perpetuates itself into old age. Except for the fact that there is likely a hole in his marble bag, and the glassies and aggies are dropping into the dirt as he shambles along the tail-end of life's highway such that at the end of the trail he is tired and worn, and perhaps has an empty marble bag.

I am not at all sure this is where I intended to go when I started this thing, but it seems to have taken on a life of its own.  Good thing, too, because I'm not so sure I have all that much "life" to contribute anymore. One more tidbit.  I was reading the other day someone's analysis of the "benefits of old age."  Old people, the writer asserted have the ability to slow down, adopt patience, and analyze things more completely.  Ability to slow down?  It's a choice? I can decide whether or not I can slow down? Right.  Takes me two hours to do a ten-minute job; takes me twenty minutes to walk around the block.  And I choose to do this? Person who wrote this is probably still on the sunny side of sixty.

Whatever milestone you may be nearest to, carry on, and keep the faith!

Oops!

A successful lesson well-taught is one in which the student achieves the target set by the teacher, or to put it another way, the proof is in the pudding.

I have a friend who is a master of martial arts.  He is a large man, an inch or two taller than I, and by his testimony he weighed 255 pounds at the time of this incident.

Kirk, I use that name because it is his name, was instructing a class of tykes in the technique for escaping the grasp of a stranger.  He was holding the wrist of a six-year old girl, somewhere between 40 and 50 pounds in weight. He told them, "If you are caught in the grasp of a stranger, to free yourself, stretch his arm out, hop back, and sit down. " She did, and my friend was flat on the floor before he knew what happened.  When he looked up, his little student, garbed in her white judo gi, looked down with a big grin on her face and reached out her hand to help him up.

Good teacher.