I don't know if this is real, but it is worth reading.

This will give you the chills.......
GOOD chills. A young man had been to Wednesday Night Bible Study.

The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice. The young man couldn't help but wonder, 'Does God still speak to people?'
After service, he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message.
Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways...

It was about ten o'clock when the young man started
driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, 'God...If you still speak to people, speak to me. I will listen. I will do my best to obey.'

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk. He shook his head and said out loud, 'God is that you?' He didn't get a reply and started on toward home. But again, the thought, buy a gallon of milk.

The young man thought about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli.

'Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk.' It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started off toward home.
As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, 'Turn Down that street.' This is crazy he thought, and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street . At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, 'Okay, God, I will.'

He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semi- commercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either. The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people were already in bed.
Again, he sensed something, 'Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street.' The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were either gone or they were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat.

'Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid.' Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.

Finally, he opened the door, 'Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something, but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here.'
He walked across the street and rang the bell. He could hear some noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, 'Who is it? What do you want?' Then the door opened before the young man could answer.

The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep. 'What is it?'
The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, 'Here, I brought this to you.' The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway.

Then from down the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying. The man had tears streaming down his face.

The man began speaking and half crying, 'We were praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was praying and asking God to show me how to get some milk..'
His wife in the kitchen yelled out, 'I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?'The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put it in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face.

Are we truly listening for the urging of the Spirit in our lives?  

Dynamic Worship

Dynamic worship is from the heart and as individual as the relationship we have with God. It is a mature time of devotion to the creator carefully developed and practiced like a long daily walk over familiar ground. The more you do it, the better you become at the journey. GM and Jeanne both imparted great wisdom for us in their posts on the last blog, and I appreciate it very much. However, if this is all true (which I believe it is) what do we do for the young or spiritually young? How do we harness this wonderfully mature perspective on worship and translate that into something a spiritual babe might find appealing. I have heard many a mature Christian say something like "Oh, it doesn't really matter that the lesson or the song service is good, it only matters that your heart is right". Amen, but that type of a "worship service" doesn't always speak to our searching visitors or even to some of our less grounded, less mature members.

So let me go back to my original question and refocus it a bit. What are the key ingredients of a successful, dynamic, effective worship experience (here's the tricky part) that will draw people from the community and draw our fringe members closer?

I'd like to take a second to highlight some of what GM posted last time because I think she's right on the money, but she also illustrates the difficulties. Here goes:

I think a dynamic worship service comes down to, basically, having a JOY in sharing the WORD. I don't want an 'entertaining' preacher-I can turn the TV on to be entertained-I want a preacher who is COMPELLING! And I don't think a song leader has to have a lot of talent....but enthusiasm is good, along with a nice mix of old and new, fast and slow hymns. The prayers should be spoken for everyone present.....if they're too personal it feels like we're eavesdropping and if they're too bland, then it's difficult to have that 'connection'.

For the record, I agree 100% with everything listed above, but let's consider it for a moment.

Premise: Dynamic worship = Joy in sharing the WORD!!! Amen, amen amen! We can really stop here and be technically correct, but there are people out there who have difficulty finding that joy, so there must be something more to do.

Preaching: Not entertaining, but rather compelling. Amen again. I agree totally. I often use the word "Engaging" rather than compelling when saying the same thing, but I think both are good. My problem is that what compels me or engages me is someone who is skilled at one of two things, orating a well delivered lesson, or imparting some insightful Biblical information. What that does for us is to garner and keep our attention. It captivates us and holds us and doesn't let go until the end, and if he's really good, he'll leave us wanting more. The tricky thing is that if I was talking about a book, movie or TV show when I made that last statement, you could say it was an "Entertaining" book, movie or TV show. So even though in our worship services "entertaining" has a bad taste attached to it, when push comes to shove, it still applies. I'll admit that that term mostly holds a feel good, positive (cushy) connotation, whereas "compel" or "engage" can be cut to the heart convicting and still be effective. I've been compelled by something that wasn't so entertaining. Point? This too takes maturity to wade through the differences. We have many who are capable, even adept at this wading, but also many who are not. We must find a way to reach those who are not.

Songs: Not a lot of talent needed, but a good mix of old and new, fast and slow hymns. Please allow me one more Amen. Amen! Still though, I have a little difficulty here. I'm a song leader at church. I'm by far not the best song leader you've ever heard, but I can read music and carry a tune if you give me a big enough bucket. I think I have a relative feel for tempo, and I try (try very hard) to mix the songs up (old, new, fast, slow). Can I just take a moment and say that this is a fairly difficult task. By the time I get the time signature, the key note (or at least the starting pitch) find it and blow it on the pitch pipe, remember that tone and modulate to and sing the starting note, follow the music and the words, making sure to move my hand in the proper beat pattern in the proper tempo, oh and I have to also make sure I'm worshipping while all this is going on, it's no wonder that there are times I break out in a cold sweat. Oh, and then we can add in the option of running a power point thing for the overhead projector. At this point, can I say that I've far exhausted the small bit of talent that I have. I do my best and hope for the best. I pray that the congregation will overlook my sour notes and accept what I do in the worshipful manner in which it is given. For the most part, I think they do, but here's the kicker, what about the new Christian, the visitor, or the person who needs that extra something to hold them to their seat? I'm quite sure I've not lead too many song services that inspired a visitor to return. I've had song services that inspired members to come to me and thank me for singing a certain song or a certain type of song, but I've also had members complain about my singing of the same song or type of song. How exactly do you spell "Arrrrrgggghh!"?

Prayer: Not too personal or to bland. GM, I agree once again, but again, I find difficulty in the application. I realize that this isn't exactly a tightrope that we have to walk, but most men have difficulty at first simply getting up to pray in public. Often they get over this fear by practicing and getting up with a fistful of phrases like "guide guard and direct" or "our most gracious heavenly Father" or "until the next appointed time" and then we often find ourselves listening to canned prayers that are passed down through the generations. (Please don't be upset with me for posting all this, I'm talking about myself and my difficulties, and not pointing fingers or throwing stones at anyone else).

I guess what I'm saying is that when you take this "Worship" thing out of its box and examine it closely, it gets pretty tough. When you further try to make it effective for everyone in the building regardless of their preferences or spiritual level it becomes even harder. And when you try to do all of that within a certain time frame ... well, good luck!

Both GM and Jeanne gave good advice on worship last blog. GM, thanks for letting me use your suggestions for this post. The last one I'll use is also the first one I used. Joy! This is personal! God has made it personal. I have come to know that the best I can do regardless of what I'm doing up front is to truly and deeply attempt to worship. If I mess up a song, God will forgive me. I'll keep worshipping. If I goof up the beat pattern, I'll stop waving my arm around altogether (half the people in the congregation couldn't care less anyway) but I'll continue to worship. If I stumble over a prayer or get choked up in emotion, I'll keep worshipping and hope everyone else does the same. At best, I'll get a few things right a couple of times. At worst, you'll see me for the failing but forgiven man that I am with my neck out there on the public forum, but I pray that what I do (that what we do) reaches to God in Spirit and in Truth. If it does, I'm sure he is willing to accept it.

Dynamic Worship

Do you have a dynamic worship service at your congregation?

What makes it dynamic and effective? This question has come up quite a lot lately. As we seek to worship our wonderful God, is there a practical way to manufacture a meaningful worship experience for the majority of the congregants? Does it simply take a really good song/worship leader, or is it something more? Let me propose a short list and let you add to it what works at your congregation:

What makes a dynamic worship service?

1. Entertaining minister

2. Very talented Song Leader

3. Everything fitting within the 1 hr. time frame

4. A good devotional talk at the Lord's Table

5. Short prayers

6. Heartfelt prayers

What combination of these or other things makes up a dynamic worship service for you?

Merry Christmas like it or not?

Ah, it's that time of year when things seem just a little bit sweeter, when hustle and bustle are good things, and when every small child has a glint of hope behind his or her eye. I love Christmas. I know that we can't exactly pin down the day that Jesus was born. I know that we aren't told specifically to celebrate his birth on a certain day and I understand that there are many who don't celebrate this at all. I'm very sorry. I don't, however, hesitate to hold the door of Wawa open for, well, just about anyone and heartily wish them a "Merry Christmas". I do it all the time. I am usually met with some surprise and then a smile and then the greeting is reciprocated in some fashion. If "Merry Christmas" is offensive to you though, let me take this time to say I'm truly sorry. If my saying "Have a Merry Christmas" bothers you, then please take it this way. We traditionally celebrate Christmas on December 25, (just in case you live under a rock) and I truly wish "Merriment" (or just plain "Happiness") for you on that day and all the days of the Winter Solstice.

I would honestly prefer that you understand and accept that the God who made the world and everything in it set forth a time when he would send His only Son. On that day, whenever it was, the Angels sang out the news. The news wasn't just that a baby was born. It wasn't even to tell that there was something miraculous about the birth. The news was that He would be the one capable of saving us from ourselves. He could remove the stain of sin and take on himself the death that waited for us all. So the angels sang because a monumental event had occurred. God had finally sent salvation into the world. This salvation is for everyone without limit or exclusion; and its free.

So when I say "Merry Christmas" what I mean is "God Loves You and Jesus Died For You", but if you don't want to hear that, then let it mean "Have a nice day".

Sincerely,
Tom

David Phelps O Holy Night.

Okay, if you don't know who David Phelps is, I'm sorry. This is he, and this is my absolute favorite Christmas song. One other note, Dawn and I (along with the Baldwin's) were at this concert on about the same row, though we were ver far to the left of whoever was taking this video.
Enjoy! Let me know what you think. By the way, the sound is soft early, but it builds (wow does it build).
Tom

Gone the Sun

Night falls out of the sky tonight leaving pinpricks of dim light where the mighty Sun had recently shone. His nightly demise places a peaceful sadness on my soul, but with in that sadness there is the ability to reach into the sky with my spirit and reach for God.

A toddler reaches to his father, far beyond his own ability to climb or fly, yet within the child's eye there is a certainty of success. There is success because there exists a promise from above. The promise of a loving father who will reach across a distance which the child is incapable of crossing, and those fatherly arms will bear the child over. The child's success isn't in the climbing or the flying, but simply in the reaching. The father does the rest.

Night falls out of the sky leaving pinpricks of dim light where the mighty Sun had recently shone. I look to the stars and search behind them for the Father. His power is all around me; in the stars, in the yard in the trees and in my heart. My success in reaching exists in my Father's promise to reach across the gulf that I can not cross. He'll reach and he will draw me close.

"Come near to God and he'll come near to you."

Thank you God for drawing us to you. I pray in Jesus name. Amen.

The Age Old Question

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?

Why did the chicken ever cross the road? Here are the responses of some well known people...

KINDERGARTEN TEACHER:

To get to the other side.

PLATO:

For the greater good.

ARISTOTLE:

It is the nature of chickens to cross roads.

KARL MARX:

It was a historical inevitability.

TIMOTHY LEARY:

Because that's the only trip the establishment would let it take.

SADDAM HUSSEIN:

This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.

JACK NICHOLSON:

'cause it wanted to. That's the reason. You want the chicken? You can't handle the chicken!

RONALD REAGAN:

I forget.

CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK:

To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.

HIPPOCRATES:

Because of an excess of phlegm in its pancreas.

ANDERSEN CONSULTANT:

Deregulation of the chicken's side of the road was threatening its dominant market position. The chicken was faced with significant challenges to create and develop the competencies required for the newly competitive market. Andersen Consulting, in a partnering relationship with the client, helped the chicken by rethinking its physical distribution strategy and implementation processes. Using the Poultry Integration Model (PIM), Andersen helped the chicken use its skills, methodologies, knowledge, capital and experiences to align the chicken's people, processes and technology in support of its overall strategy within a Program Management framework. Andersen Consulting convened a diverse cross-spectrum of road analysts and best chickens along with Anderson consultants with deep skills in the transportation industry to engage in a two-day itinerary of meetings in order to leverage their personal knowledge capital, both tacit and explicit, and to enable them to synergise with each other in order to achieve the implicit goals of delivering and successfully architecting and implementing an enterprise-wide value framework across the continuum of poultry cross-median processes. The meeting was held in a park-like setting, enabling and creating an impactful environment which was strategically based, industry-focussed, and built upon a consistent, clear, and unified market message and aligned with the chicken's mission, vision, and core values. This was conducive towards the creation of a total business integration solution. Andersen Consulting helped the chicken change to become more successful.

LOUIS FARRAKHAN:

The road, you see, represents the black man. The chicken 'crossed' the black man in order to trample him and keep him down.

MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.:

I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives being called into question.

MOSES (via Monty Python):

And God came down from the Heavens, and He said unto the chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road." And the chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing.

FOX MULDER:

You saw it cross the road with your own eyes. How many more chickens have to cross the road before you believe it?

RICHARD M. NIXON:

The chicken did not cross the road. I repeat, the chicken did NOT cross the road.

MACHIAVELLI:

The point is that the chicken crossed the road. Who cares why? The end of crossing the road justifies whatever motive there was.

JERRY SEINFELD:

Why does anyone cross a road? I mean, why doesn't anyone ever think to ask, What the heck was this chicken doing walking around all over the place, anyway?"

FREUD:

The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.

BILL GATES:

I have just released the new Chicken Office 2009, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook.

BILL CLINTON:

I'm going to say something important. And I'll say it again to make sure you understand. I did not have sexual relations with that chicken. I did not.

OLIVER STONE:

The question is not, "Why did the chicken cross the road?" Rather, it is, "Who was crossing the road at the same time, whom we overlooked in our haste to observe the chicken crossing?"

DARWIN:

Chickens, over great periods of time, have been naturally selected in such a way that they are now genetically disposed to cross roads.

EINSTEIN:

Whether the chicken crossed the road or the road moved beneath the chicken depends upon your frame of reference.

BUDDHA:

Asking this question denies your own chicken nature.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON:

The chicken did not cross the road .. it transcended it.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY:

To die. In the rain.

COLONEL SANDERS:

I missed one?

Harvest Time

I had previously said that I wouldn't be blogging very often during harvest, but that when I did I'd have some fresh pictures. Well, I am nothing if not a man of my word so here they are. This first image is of the gathering crew in a beautiful red ring of berries. I was blessed to be in some waders on today when I took this and so I was very close to the fruit.

Next we see from a week or so ago the hands of Santa (seriously) in so

me fresh picked cranberries.

When we flood a bog to get ready for picking, millions of little (and some not so little) spiders scamper away from the water and end up making webs on the sides of the dam. Here is a picture depicting such an event.

and finally, Beauty and the beautiful beast. This is a wonderful picture of a spider on the berries (ergo the beauty and the beast reference), but take a close look at the back of the spider and you'll notice that this icky critter is actually a mommy walking away from danger with all her icky babies on her icky back. How wonderful; icky but wonderful.
More to come...

Tom

For better and worse

Dawn is both a little better and a little worse. The treatment increases in dosage every couple of days. Yesterday was her first increase and it nocked her a little further into woozyville and added a bit more to the nausea with which she's been dealing since beginning these treatments. As for the "better," she mentioned this morning that the pain seems to have lessened a little. We're not doing backflips yet, but our prayer is that the easing of the pain will continue through the coming days.



The view from the waiting room holds a nice angle of Billy Penn as the early Sun pushes its light over the tall buildings. This picture is of Mr. Penn's statue, but I didn't take it and the angle isn't from the waiting room window. Still, you get the idea.

Tom

Dawn's Procedure

Good morning to all. Here is a Dawn Update. She is doing alright. We've now been to two of her many Ketamine treatments and is a bit groggy for her efforts. She has had to go to Philly for the treatments where she stays recumbent for 4 hours in a recliner while they administer Ketamine intravenously. She comes out of it a little nauseous and woozy the first day she had some strange and vague dreams. All in all she's holding up well under the circumstances. Today is my first day back at work away from her and I miss being there. I didn't do much but sit, pray and read while trying not to hear the television (Good Morning America, Rachel Ray and The View aren't really my cup of tea). She's there now without me. Wonderful people from the church family here are pitching in to help us with all her back and forth travels, and I love them all. Of course Dawn's parents are extending their considerably wonderful helping hand with the kids through this. Kayleigh is getting some really cool Pop pop time and Mom mom is coming over daily to help the kids get off to school. Today Christian is at home with a slight fever. We think it might be a sinus infection. We'll get him up and running (not just his nose) soon, Lord willing.

Thanks to all for the prayers. Needless to say that all of this happening at cranberry time couldn't be much worse. Still though, I'll thank my God for the blessings I have.

Tom

Coupon

We'd like to extend our apology to everyone who may or may not have stopped by this blog over the past couple of weeks. You see, things here have been very busy. We've had new school issues and exciting church happenings as well as a cranberry harvest to get ready for. We are sorry that the tech resources have been diverted to other functions. Please bare with us as we get our heads above water again. I may not be able to blog often in the coming weeks, but I'll try to put pictures of cranberries and such on here so as to make amends.

Thanks,
Blog Management

Please accept this coupon as a token of our appreciation.

A Big Step to a New World

I watched her with confidence step out beyond anything she'd ever done before. I observed as she took brave new steps onto a stage larger than any she had hitherto endeavored. She held her head high and walked with powerful confidence and charming certainty toward a nebulous destination. The smile on her face, infectious as it was, calmed my momentary concerns. The easy tone of her voice made me aware that things were going to be alright. Her ability to laugh in that moment of challenge, gave me the sense that no matter what pitfalls she meets, she will take them in stride. I rest assured that the day will be good if some part of it rest in her hands. Her eyes show the clarity of her desire to learn and make the changes she needs in order to grow. They show determination and eagerness. They seem incapable of giving up or quitting, and they reflect the spirit that resides in her heart.Last night I watched Sarah Palin give her first big speech before a packed RNC. I really thought she did well, but I'm not talking about Sarah Palin. No, I'm talking about another brave young soul who is also taking big steps today.   She, like Sarah is beholden of a go-get-em spirit and doesn't know how to quit.   Her name is Audrey, and today she's off to her first day of Kindergarten.

Snubbed Kiss

Did she do this on purpose or not?

A Riddle

A Roscoe will be awarded to the first person with the answer.  (Riddle provided by Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Calendar)

I can sizzle like bacon, I am made with an egg, I have plenty of backbone, but lack a good leg.  I peel layers like onions, but still remain whole.  I can be long, like a flagpole, yet fit in a hole. What am I?

Have at it then.  It's been a while since I've given a Roscoe out to anyone.

Tom

What are the odds

Both of these come from my Uncle John's calendar:

 

Somebody upstairs likes Billy:

In 2004 nine-year-old English soccer fan Billy Harris had a dream that Middlesbrough, his favorite team was going to beat Bolton 2-1 and win the English League Cup and that a specific player, a gent named Zenden, would score the wining goal.  Billy's dad, who had never bet on a game before put the equivalent of $27 dollars on the team.   On February 29th the game was played and Middlesbrough, a 60-to-1 long shot, beat Bolton and won the cup.  The score was 2-1 ... and Boudewijn Zenden scored the winner.  Dad won $1,600 and mom gave Billy a notepad to write down all his dreams.

Somebody like Rolla?  Not so much...

In 1949 Rolla Primarda of Taranto, Italy, was struck and killed by a bolt of lightning.  According to weather experts, the odds of that happening to anyone are about, 600,000-to-1.  Having said that, what makes Primarda's fate so amazing is that his dad had been struck down by lightning 20 years earlier in the exact same spot.  Spooked yet?  3o years before that, his grandfather had died ... in the same place, in the very same way.   

Is there a blurred line between destiny and luck?  Are there forces behind some of these occurrences or  simply the law of averages stretched out through the ages?  In the coming blog postings I'd like to look at some of these types of things.  You are welcome to play along.

First of all, are these coincidences or not?  

Tom 

Both the silver and the Bronze medals were lost in the men's 200 meter sprint last night, and not only by those too slow to keep up with the leaders, no they were lost because two runners stepped on the white line on the inside of their lane.   So, while Uusain Bolt performed his "I'm #1," "Whose the Fastest Man" happy dance, Churandy Martina and Wallace Spearmon had the visage of, slightly diminished, elation wiped from their exhausted, vein extruded faces as each man in turn heard that his quest for a shiny circular prize had fallen just short.  You see, the rules state that if a runner steps on the inside line (even just a little bit) they will be disqualified; end of the line, take your shoes off and sulk while your lawyers protest the IOC's ruling.  Personally, I feel bad that these two men worked hard and lost, but at least we've finally found in this, a moment of absolutes; a hard line not to be crossed, or even stepped on.     In a time when wright and wrong are mixed into shades of grey and responsibility is something victims push off on their parents, their bosses, the government and society as a whole, here stands one clear moment of absolute.  You step on this line and you're out.  

Wouldn't those lines be better applied in the legal system, in government, and in - well - life? Let's draw a white line on the inside lane of marriage and call it "till death do we part" and remain true to that.  Let's draw a line on the lane of parenthood that says "I'll be here for your son and daughter" and let it stand.  Let's draw a line on the track of honesty and integrity and not trample it underfoot.  Let's paint a white boarder down the narrow lane to God and dare not cross it for fear of disqualification.  Ah, but we're human, we mess up and we stomp all over these lines.  We are automatically disqualified and told that we may as well hang up our shoes and pay the consequences.  Thankfully, we have an authority greater than the IOC.  We have Jesus who took himself out of the race on our behalf.   He sees where our feet hit white paint and he takes on our disqualification.  

So today I'll run.  Lord let me run valiantly.  If I sacrifice integrity for a short cut, rebuke me.  If I exchange honor for accolades, instruct me.  If I trade your will for my want, correct me.  If I lose, let me congratulate those with fleeter feet and truer training. And if I win, let my happy dance be about you Lord.

Tom

New School Prayer:

WRITTEN BY A 15 yr. Old SCHOOL KID IN ARIZONA:

Since the Pledge of Allegiance and The Lord's Prayer are not allowed in most public schools anymore because the word 'God' is mentioned, a kid in Arizona wrote what follows: 

New School Prayer:

 Now I sit me down in school where praying is against the rule

For this great nation under God finds mention of Him very odd.

If Scripture now the class recites, it violates the Bill of Rights.

And anytime my head I bow becomes a Federal matter now.

Our hair can be purple, orange or green, that's no offense; it's a freedom scene.

The law is specific, the law is precise. Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice.  

For praying in a public hall might offend someone with no faith at all.

In silence alone we must meditate, God's name is prohibited by the state.

We're allowed to cuss and dress like freaks, and pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks..

They've outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible.  To quote the Good Book makes me liable.

We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen, and the 'unwed daddy,' our Senior King.

It's 'inappropriate' to teach right from wrong, we're taught that such 'judgments' do not belong.

We can get our condoms and birth controls, study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles.

But the Ten Commandments are not allowed, no word of God must reach this crowd.  

It's scary here I must confess, when chaos reigns the school's a mess.

So, Lord, this silent plea I make: Should I be shot; My soul please take!

Amen 

This was sent to me in an email and at some point along the way was tagged with one of those lines that try to guilt me into forwarding it.  I promptly deleted the guilt and posted the story here.   Is this really how we've let our society develop?  Are we in the process of pushing God right out of everything public?  One can only wonder where this will end.  Come Lord Jesus.

Tom

Mythical Mysteries

Two things used to scare the bejeepers out of me when I was the impressionable tender age of 6 (or thereabouts).   The first and probably the worst thing that scared me was Army Ants.  While I was over at a friends house, I saw a movie I would have never been alowed to see at home about gigantic, truck squashing, human eating ants.  My Mommy had to contend with all the nightmares I had after seeing these mammoth creatures ravage towns and villages, eating whatever was in their path.  I believe the movie may have been the one pictured on the right, but I'm not sure.  While I wouldn't condone seeing a movie titled thusly if it were made in the past few decades, I believe this one was made somewhere around the early 50s and so is less likely to be as revealing as the title suggests.  I can't recall seeing anything I wasn't supposed to see, but I was too busy hiding from the ants to worry about whether or not there were scantily clad people on the screen.   I just knew that these giant ants would seek out my house and my window to be their next target for pillaging and human flesh consumption.  I somehow managed to survive those years without these critters finding me.  I did develop a liking for killing as many ants as I could, regardless of the size of the ant or the size of their army.  

The second thing that gave me nightmares of the same ilk happened to be another movie; "Big-foot" which I saw in the theatre.  Oh, and don't you know that the big screen makes nightmares even bigger in your mind.  I'll not forget the scene where some girl was sitting in her living room watching tv.  There were a couple of windows behind her and a large shadowy figure kept moving about the porch outside.  It was when she heard a noise and went to check it out at one window that a gigantic arm broke through the other window and a frantic struggle for life and death ensued.  It was also at the moment of the window crash and the accompanying musical climax that I spilled a large movie soda all over myself.   During the sticky ride home my big sister did her level best to convince me that we had just seen a true story with live footage.  Aren't sisters wonderful.  Years later, I would finally put together that if there were camera men in the room filming the live footage of the monster crashing in the window, they would have surely warned the little girl about his presence.  

Last week, the inner child I am possessed of, was momentarily appeased.  Last week some guys in Georgia found Big-Foot dead.  They say they have him in a freezer there and are providing DNA and Photographic evidence of their story.  They also say the there were other Big-Foots (or is it Big-Feet) meandering about the area, so while I can take some solace in the passing of a terror, there is still the looming possibility of a Mrs. Foot and Junior Foot out there to give me pause.  

On a side note, they've also captured police footage of the Mexican legend Chupacabra.  What's next, Loch Ness?

Have a great day

Tom

Long term church goals?

What is your congregation's long term vision? Do you have one? Is it generally known by the whole of the membership? Is it effective?

As most of you know, the congregation I attend is beginning a new phase with a new minister. There has been a lot of emotion in this process and a lot of confusion in the mix. Pulling back together after a set of events surrounding a change like this is difficult. Add to the normal difficulties a group of nearly 30 men who stepped in through that time to try (very difficult though it was) to fill the previous minister's ample shoes, and you have a tired, disgruntled group of people at best.

Now infuse a "new guy" and hope that all the folks who've been working hard for this long lag time don't throw their collective hands in the air and say "okey-dokey new guy, its all yours!" More than that, try and draw those tired Christians into a cohesive core to continue keeping on keeping on.

To this end, do you feel that a long term vision would be beneficial? What type of vision would you suggest? Does a church dare set a numbered goal; i.e. "We want to reach 1000 members in 10 years"?

I'll take any thought and any comments.

Tom

I've been converted (at least at work)

I'm sorry to disappoint everyone. I know that there are some traditions that need to be held close to our hearts. I realize that there are some points upon which we must stand regardless of the pressure. I understand that many will no doubt disown me for my decision, so I thought it best that I come out here on the blog and publicly acknowledge my departure.

Almost my whole life I have been loyally doing my best to stay on track and on the path that I knew to be the only way. I've often fell short in my knowledge and have been able to learn more and more as the years have passed. I'm far from complete in my knowledge, but I've come a long way. In recent years I've been able to take what I know and teach others as well as help them through the difficult times. I've been there when many had become corrupt and near the point of no return. I've even been fortunate to help some come back from the brink of darkness. There were times when I wasn't so lucky and the situation was beyond my ability to help. Still though I've taken it upon myself to believe and to help as many as possible. Until now.

Sure I'll still try to help when and where I can. I don't want to see people suffer needlessly, but it's different now. Now a time has come and things have changed that have made me challenge the core beliefs I have held to for so long. Things at work have caused me to look in a new direction and operate under a different system. I know it will be difficult at first. This will surely take some getting used to. For the foreseeable future I will be living a double life as things at work and things at home will conflict. I wish I knew which I will stay with. The future is so uncertain. The two will no longer be compatible.

I'm very sorry to disappoint many of you, but at work I'm getting a new computer; it's a Mac. I'm even now waiting for it to come FedEx.

What did you think I was talking about?

Tom

Wednesday Worship (part 2)

Jeanne M. wrote some very profound things in the previous posting, here is one:

Just as I eat more than one meal a week - or a day - so I need more "meat" from the scriptures than is given in one - or two - hours on Sunday. But then I want to be with the brothers and sisters every opportunity that is presented to me. Study alone is good, but study with others helps me learn from their thoughts, just as reading blogs from those I admire and know have well-thought out ideas to present does, too.

Thank you Jeanne for that wonderful insight. What you said rings very true. Would any of us - I mean any - dare suggest that the spiritual food we receive from 2 hours a week is enough to sustain us? Yet, so many people try to survive on that or less. Granted, someone one will say that they don't need to come to church to get spiritual food, they can read their Bible at home. This is very true, you can read your Bible at home. I'll go a step further and say we should absolutely read our Bibles at home, frequently. I'm not sure how we can truly survive without this study time. But let's take this food analogy a little further.

How would our meals fare if our moms choose to not be involved in them. Speaking for my house, we would be hungry a lot because I'm not the best cook. Moms involve themselves in our meal time gatherings because if they aren't involved, we probably wouldn't eat. Now I can imagine the objection; the preacher is there to feed the people who come on Wednesday night, so why do they need me? Even as a very small child I remember sitting around our table at home. When my Dad asked me to pass the salt, I passed the salt. He could have gotten it himself, but I'm part of the family and it was my part to do for him. I may not be the preacher or the song leader, but I can still pray. I can still share in someones sorrow. I can still pass the salt. We are family and we gather together as all families should. When one of us weeps, we all feel sorrow. When one of us celebrates, we all feel joy.

There is internal Christianity and there is external Christianity. Internal is a spirit thing that is between me and God. It is very personal and very powerful. It is the place where my spirit and His Spirit communicate and where the Holy Spirit takes my heart and gives it to the Father. External Christianity is when I take that relationship that I have with God and the Spirit through Jesus and share it with people around me. I'm not just talking about preaching, but rather living. Doing what I can to take care of the needs of others. Being a shoulder to the crying, a light through the darkness or an echo in times of joy. External Christianity is born from Internal Christianity. It gives back though because External Christianity when given from the heart is a gift not only to the person you help, but also to God. In our efforts, we come near to God, and when we do that He comes near to us.

We may feel we don't need Wednesday night worship (or Sunday night), but maybe Sunday and Wednesday night worship needs us. How much greater impact would the service have for everyone involved if everyone was involved.

I told you I would share something that Patrick Mead said in his blog at www.patrickmead.net/tentpegs so here it is:

I confess: even though I understand that these times together aren’t a requirement, I find myself becoming legalistic when I think about them very long. They ARE good and, if done right, are highly beneficial… but God didn’t order us to attend them and elders overreach when they make a law God’s wisdom didn’t require Him to make. At the same time we must humbly realize that "daily and from house-to-house" was the pattern of the early church. We’ve cut that down to a couple of hours on Sunday and an hour or so on Wednesday and STILL we chafe under that "burdensome" duty! What a bunch of wienies we are!

What a bunch of wienies we are! (I think I'll end with that)!
Tom

Wednesday Worship

There is an apparent trend among American Churches wherein many congregations have ceased holding a mid-week service and a popular argument to accompany the move. Firmly ensconced on one side of the argument are those who adamantly proclaim the familiar mantra from Hebrews 10:25 which states, "Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another - and all the more as you see the Day approaching." A wonderful verse and an effective argument for getting together.

Others however are equally cemented within their view that the scriptures defining New Testament worship never call us to a specific mid-week service. There's is also a securely defensible position. Searching the New Testament will provide, to my knowledge, a gaping hole where the command to meet on a specific mid-week day should be.

In view of this, how do we handle Wednesday nights? Should we worry about the lag in attendance and view it as a less than favorable sign of the spiritual maturity of the absent congregants? Should we approach them concerned, pray for and with them and encourage them to more frequent attendance? Should we pull out the Hebrews 10:25 mantra and scold them for their shortcoming? Or should we back off, live and let live? As the trend toward skipping this particular service begins to take hold within a congregation and fewer and fewer come, is the only alternative to cancel the service?

I have further views on this, but I thought I'd toss it out there for your consideration. I've enjoyed reading a posting on this from Patrick Mead's blog and I'll bring up a couple of things he said in further postings.

Tom

I'm Back

We've returned from a wonderful (if not a bit too rainy) vacation camping in Massachusetts. What fun we had. From campfires and Smores to swimming in the lake, we had so much fun. The best part about being home is the dryness and comfort of our own wonderful beds. I'll post more details later, for now please accept these pictorial expressions of some of the fun we had.

First, Christian in his element. He loves the water!

Second, Audrey flying high on the trampoline at an Alpine Slide resort.

Thirdly, Kayleigh enjoying a moment in the water with a noodle.


More to come... Tom

WRONG E-MAIL ADDRESS

Got this in an email from a very good friend.

This one is priceless...A lesson to be learned from typing the wrong email address!!!!

A Minneapolis couple decided to go to Florida to thaw out during a particularly icy winter. They planned to stay at the same hotel where they spent their honeymoon 20 years earlier. Because of hectic schedules, it was difficult to coordinate their travel schedules. So, the husband left Minnesota and flew to Florida on Thursday, with his wife flying down the following day. The husband checked into the hotel. There was a computer in his room, so he decided to send an email to his wife. However, he accidentally left out one letter in her email address, and without realizing his error, sent the email. Meanwhile, somewhere in Houston, a widow had just returned home from her husband's funeral. He was a minister who was called home to glory following a heart attack. The widow decided to check her email expecting messages from relatives and friends. After reading the first message, she screamed and fainted. The widow's son rushed in to the room, found his mother on the floor, and saw the computer screen which read:

To: My Loving Wife
Subject: I've Arrived
Date: October 16, 2007
I know you're surprised to hear from me. They have computers here now and you are allowed to send emails to your loved ones. I've just arrived and have been checked in I've seen that everything has been prepared for your arrival tomorrow. Looking forward to seeing you then!!!! Hope your journey is as uneventful as mine was.

P.S. Sure is hot down here!!!!

From Uncle John

Read All About it!

Did you know that according to Uncle John's Bathroom Reader 2008 Calander, Goldilocks was originally named Silver hair?

or that...

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are really named Henry and Edward

Did you know that in the Oz books, the Tin Woodsman's name is Nick Chopper?

Also, some real bumber stickers...

"I'll bet you a new car that I can stop faster than you can!"

"Boycott shampoo! Demand REAL POO!"

"Everyone has the right to be stupid. Some just abuse the privilege."

"If you don't like the way I drive, stay off the sidewalk!"

"Preserve nature: Pickle a Squirrel"

Word origin...

The Lollipop was named after Lolly Pop, one of the most famous racehorses of the early 1900s. Now you know.

Tom

Camping again

In one week the family and I will once again head North for a camping destination. This picture is of me and Kayleigh at the campground last year. Audrey was sitting in the grass just beyond Kayleigh, so it was a good time for Daddy and his girls. There were many other pictures I could put on here, but since I haven't printed them for Dawn to scrap book yet I think it best that I not put many more on here for public consumption. We are looking forward to a great time of camping with family and friends. Everyone attending are "Church Folk" so the week does take on a happy spiritual demeanor.

Also I'm in Blueberry Season now, so I haven't had much time for blogging. Thanks for your perseverance.

Tom

Picnic on Friday, zoo on Saturday

The kids at the zoo.

Butterfly faces, what fun! These lasted until the girls wanted to play with Christian and his friend Justin in the sprinkler at home, then the butterflies were gone.

Fourth of July picnic at the house. Good food, good friends, good fellowship, a pool for the kids and most of all, no rain. What a wonderful day we had to spend with our church family.

In need of prayer

What follows is a letter from a missionary in Venezuela. It is getting very bad down there. Please add these people to your prayer list. Tom

Dear brothers and sisters
My family and I are sending a warm greeting to all you.
I would like to say that everything in my country is fine but the true is everything is going worse every day. The crime is increasing very fast, the government has not the capacity to stop the crime and many people are killing by deliquescent , during the weekend the crime increase , we have more people killed than the Iraq's war.
A group of the Harding University came to Venezuela to help San Antonio Church ( 30 minutes from Caracas)They had a campaign for two weeks, my daughter Karen came with them to work in the campaign , one night after finish the conference a lady RosaVirginia where Karen and one American girl called Kelly were stayed decided to stop on store to buy some food, there were four men in same place, those men start to follow the girls , when they are entering in the building where they are staying , they were stopped with those men and three of the came into the car and the other one stayed in their car, those men forced the girls to go with them in the girl´s car and the men put their guns in the head of the girls for three hours, they kidnapped the girls, here in Venezuela the criminal people take people to ask for money to their family, that is called express kidnap , They ask Karen who are I am, where I work, where we live and those questions they asked to all of them , they want to take one of them to another stated , my daughter was praying and also the lady, those men started to shout to Kelly she was crying, she cannot understand what they say to her, they kept the girls for three hours and they decided to release the girls in a dangerous place, they took the girl´s car and all the bags with the things of the girls, Kelly´s passport was taken by the men, thank God they did not do any physical damage to the girls. Karen is very affected with that situation, I have had to take her to doctors, she felt very bad, her health is no fine, we had to talk to the Harding university to stop her study, we are planning to send her back to Harding university in January in the next year, the doctors recommended it. My wife is affected, that hurt us very much but we trust in God. I beg you to pray for us , we are having hard time in this moment.
Venezuela is not safe for people, the corruption is increase everyday and the price of everything is expensive.
We are baptized five persons last month, I am sending pictures of them, I continue working in a city called San Juan De Los Morros, we have bible study every Tuesday and also there is another city close to Maracay called Cagua, we have Bible study every Monday
We have many people in Church who have many emotional problems, I am helping them, I go to Los Teques Church ( two hours from Mararcay driving) to help members with this problem, I spent all day working with them that is Thursday .
I would like to know if you receive this e-mail please let me know
God bless you
We are God´s soldiers for this world
Jorge Perez

Spiritual Significance?

I'm not sure what caused me to do this with this picture. It was after all a cool picture of a turtle before I messed with it. The turtle's under-shell had a fire red tint to it which I think inspired the edits. Does anyone see a spiritual significance to this photo? Thanks, Tom

Pop-Tarts and such

As I sit here Tuesday morning I have my cup of Wawa freshly brewed coffee in front of me and I'm eating a Pop-Tart. I don't want you to confuse this with a Toaster Strudel or a generic "Toaster Pastry," I'm eating a boneifide genuine, often imitated but never duplicated Pop-Tart (with milk). Okay, I can hear everyone saying a collective "So?". My favorite Pop-Tart is Blueberry unfrosted. You remember, the original one from years back. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find those now-a-days. Dawn finally found them at Target and bought two boxes. I tend to stretch them out to make them last, but if Christian runs out of his favorite (blueberry frosted) he will eat mine, so it doesn't benefit me to save them too long. Dawn and the girls like the Brown Sugar and Cinnamon variety Pop-Tart. I've seen them bring home the Smoores kind as well, and while I like brown sugar and Cinnamon in my oatmeal and love actual over the campfire Smoores, I don't want that in a Pop-Tart. You may call me a purest if you'd like.

So here are the questions:

1. Obviously, what is your favorite type of Pop-Tart?
2. What is your least favorite type of Pop-Tart?
3. What do you drink with breakfast, OJ, milk, coffee or other?
4. Finish this phrase with specifics. I like __________ with peanut butter.
5. Do you toast your Pop-Tart of eat it right out of the box?

Enough for now. Thanks for playing.
Tom

Still more ancient notbook (are you tired of these yet?)

What I have done for you

The stars are silently placed in their high perch in the heavens, with a thought the sun begins to glow and the earth is formed. In a beautiful garden, life is breathed both into a man, and into a world and in a whisper on the new wind, words are spoken, “This is what I have done for you.”

Time is created and rolls swiftly on its course and blessings cascade on the world one after another like cool waves of the sea on a sunny shore. A heavenly smile is continuously cast upon earthly children and in a cheerful exalted voice that rides on a sunbeam again it is proclaimed, “This is what I have done for you!”

Then the world falls and the life given becomes stagnant in disobedience and offensive in sin. The gift of life is horribly abused and the only possible true punishment is the loss of that gift. Thus enters death into the world and sorrow finds its way into the heart of the Creator.

Time again passes on the on the blue ball and though some continue after the true and the right, others become self-absorbed and gods unto themselves. With the penalty of death still hanging over their heads the people continue on in their own designs without pause or prayer to Him who Is. Yet in his forbearance, he allows it to continue.

A baby is born and grows into a healthy young man and at some point in his years he realizes that he is living in a world which he made. Perhaps he notices that the flowers seem to look like a far away dream, or maybe the crisp air curls around his face like a kiss as he walks in the morning hours. Perhaps while sitting in a grove of trees, a robin lands on his knee and sings the sweet song of love as one sings for a friend. The boy grows in body and spirit and comes to understand his power and purpose in the world that he created. Once again the light from a heavenly smile beams down on the small globe. With the presence of God on earth the very air seems to shout, “This is what I have done for you!”

With his mission forever in front of him, Jesus gathers his flock and begins to teach them how to please the One who Is; life for the sake of love, and love for the gift of life. But still hanging like a noose, is the punishment of death. To be pure and just, that debt must be paid.

With signs given and miracles shared, the teacher moves across the face of his world. Some follow true to him, others leave when his teachings come in conflict with their desires. Others despise him for shattering their shallow packaged lives. Growing room must be forged out of the protective fences built by the prideful and self-important.

In his eyes shine love while in theirs grow the glare of hate. He teaches strangers of brotherhood and they treat brothers as strangers. They want nothing but to take his life not knowing that his life is ultimately the very gift he will give to his people, his world.

In a garden, dark from hours past the man kneels and prays. His heart is given as his body will soon be. From his forehead flows sweat as from his eyes flow tears. The trusted followers sleep on their watch as an angry crowd appears. Jesus is taken, not with swords and clubs, but with the kiss of one he had called friend. Force doesn't bend him to their will, but his obedience to the will of his Father in heaven.

An already dismal night grows even darker as time slowly passes in what has come to be the most eventful night in history. On a rugged pole with a splintery crossbar hangs the man who had known the sent of a flower before he came close enough to smell it. His love is poured out in blood. His heart, the heart that beats in time with the rhythm of all creation, is nearly crushed by the weight of the sins of the world. This great man who had done nothing wrong speaks with his last breath, “It is finished.” …

… and in heaven the One who Is turns away from his Son and speaks in an eternal whisper to each person in the world, “This, is what I have done for you!”

Tom Shuff

The Russian Bar (not a hangout in Moscow)

If you don't watch America's Got Talent, or you missed this one, I think you'll be impressed with The Russian Bar. Thank you to everyone who expressed enjoyment at the last few trips into my old notebook. I have others I'll put on later. I have to toss something else in the mix or I feel weird and self-serving. Enjoy The Russian Bar. Keep in mind that she is on a bar that is only 4 inches wide; about the width of her foot.
Tom

Drowning

With his shirt plastered to his chest, the six year old boy who had been fishing with his sister and father tried desperately to keep his head above the water. His pants were soaked with the dirty brown lake water and the extra weight pulled him under. If he had time to regret he may have felt sorry for not listening to his dad warn him to stay close by. Staying alive was more pressing than regret. The swirls of water washed around his head and the long deep stems from the lily pads wrapped around his arms and legs making it nearly impossible to stay afloat. He tasted the bitter water as he opened his mouth desperately wide for air. His attempts for oxygen brought more water into his stinging nose and throat. Scrambling to the surface he tried to scream, but his cry for help only proved to give him another mouthful of the dirty lake. Fortunately his eleven-year-old sister was nearby and capable of a more than healthy scream.

Down below the water again, and then with little legs frantically kicking he faught back up. It was then that he opened his burning eyes to see something he would never forget. As a photo in his mental album, this picture would forever stay with him. There on the shore, running along the slanted hill that ringed the lake, came his daddy. The sight of him casting off cumbersome articles of clothing, zigzagging between trees, pushing through thick branches and shedding knots of tangled fishing line took on the mystique of a man taking off his glasses and shirt to reveal a large “S” and a billowing red cape. In an instant the man was wet and the boy quickly found himself safely in the arms of his father. Through it all, the man never took his eyes off his sinking son.
Forever, the son remembers.

There is another who remembers. He recalls being pinned to a wooden cross where he waited for death to creep slowly and excruciatingly into his beaten body. He remembers the morning turning into day as he and his two companions slipped into the approaching darkness. He remembers the tears that were shed by the woman standing at the base of the next splintery death post. But most of all he can’t forget the voices. The collective voice of the mob was burned in his mind as it screamed hatred and scorn till hearts burned furious and throats burned raw. He remembers the voice of a dying thief as he ridiculed out of fear and selfishness, “If you are the Messiah, save yourself, and us.”

But then time gets jumbled and his memory a little hazy, like the world suddenly started spinning and speeding by too fast. He recalls saying something, but it takes a while to match thought with word. He remembers trying to defend the man who hung between him and the blasphemous thief. He recalls making a hopeless request. He, a man who had sinned his entire life and who had come to this wretched and deserved end approached the man from Nazareth with a plea that could only come from a drowning man. Drowning in sin, drowning in pain and drowning in death he made a very simple plea. “Teacher,” he said looking to the ground past his blood soaked feet, “Teacher, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

The response could have been the worst rejection the man had ever suffered; it should have been. Instead he was given the greatest gift of his life. He was thrown the lifeline for his soul. The drowning man was pulled from the gaping mouth of the grave.

With dried blood on his cracked lips, the forgiving voice of Jesus uttered words that will forever play through the man’s mind. “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” And with those words Jesus dove into the man’s sinful heart and pulled him out of the black waters of spiritual death. There was an instant when Jesus was wet with blood and cold with the sins of others; an instant when the sinful drowning man found himself safely in the arms of his Savior.

The same Jesus who spoke those words on that cross makes the same promise to all who choose to live for him today, and paradise waits. Through it all, He never takes his eyes off his sinking, struggling children.

Tom

The Notebook

The Traitor’s Last Song

My spirit is draped in darkness as I recall the past few days. The coins in my hand reflect a face I no longer recognize. Temptation and greed have bought my heart and I cannot seem to break their strangling hold. The compelling call of the jingling silver rings in my ears and I yield to its cry and bow to its empty throne.

The lips of betrayal have met with the face of love, and the heart of the Master looked deep into my darkened soul. Where can I go to hide from what I have done? How can I live when I have doomed the only hope for the world to his death? Forgiveness for such guilt is unthinkable. I dare not kneel to ask. How could God forgive me when I have all but killed His only Son?

A crooked tree hanging over a cliff is my home and a rope my last embrace. When the rotting branch finally breaks the awaiting rocks will be my bed though no rest will be found there. Then I will have the payment I deserve, and then I will reap the seeds that I have sown.

May all be warned who pass this way, and may all avoid my resting place, least they be tainted by the blood of a traitor.

Judas Iscariot

By
Tom Shuff

You provide the caption returns

Not sure I can come up with a caption for this picture, but I wanted to bring back this old gag to allow me a second to step away from seriousness. I was peering through my old notebook and may have a couple of other things to put on here in the days to come, but I don't want to bore everyone with them all the time. Soooo, give me your best captions.

Another visit to my little notbook of things written and forgotten

The Legacy of Eve

In the early morning hours as the sweet smell of creation lingers in the new air, Adam lay asleep. With the gentlest touch a rib is taken from his side and in his slumber he feels, as a soft breeze on his face, the breath of his comforting God. The rib lifts slowly in the air and floats above the man from whom it had been taken, and there it waits. God looks at Adam and sees in him a wondrous being of flesh and spirit. The prefect combination of emotionally driven man with the soul that is able to connect with the Creator himself. Then God looks with Adam’s heart where He knows exists an emptiness. He knows something is left missing. Then God smiles, and with a slight turn of His wrist he extends His mighty hand out beneath the floating rib and allows power to flow from His fingertips. Within the masterfully creative mind of God exist a picture, and the hovering rib begins to move and grow to match. As God wills, it changes and becomes the companion for the man. With only a thought He has given to man a being full of compassion. With less than a gesture He has gifted creation with a motivating force that will be the cause of a myriad of wonderful things. In less than an instant the awesome God has inspired countless poems, stories and songs. He has created the most perfect work of art, and the exact answers to an empty heart. He gave love to man in the form of woman. As this incredible woman floats like a feather down beside Adam, her arm gently falls across his chest and her perfect face brushes up next to his. There in the quiet dawn of a day bursting with wonderful new possibilities, while they both lie asleep, the very first human embrace gently occurs and is seen only by the eyes of the Creator. In a moment of splendor God whispers his breath on the two and calls for them to rise from his creative sleep. They do not see him as they wake; they only stare into each others starry eyes amazed at the overwhelming joy that fills their hearts. This joy will set in place a continuing pattern for everyone ever blessed to gaze into the eyes of the one they love.
A legacy was also created on that day. In the light of that creation, when God looked at Adam and Eve, He could see each couple to follow. While in his infinite wisdom He saw how happy His precious new gift would make Adam and Eve, He also knew how happy we could make each other. He knew that the touch of the one we love would fill us with the same awe Adam must have felt waking to see Eve beside him.
If Adam felt anything similar to what we are capable of, once he woke to see Eve, he must have never wanted to close his eyes again. May we often remember to take the opportunity to gaze into the eyes of the one we love as we did at the beginning.

Tom Shuff

Down to the farm

I got this in an email and thought I'd share. Sometimes a good ol' grampa and grandma can say what needs to be said. Enjoy.

Tom

Spelling Error

I am frequently an offender of the hard and fast rules of spelling, as most of you know. It is usually my goal to correct these as soon as I can (unless of course it proves to be funnier if I leave it as is). I recently ran across an example of a spelling issue far worse than any I've ever made (save my grade school report where I confused the word "Algae" for a similar sounding word which begins with the letter "O"; and since that error was on an oral report, it was less a spelling issue and more a "talk of the school" faux paux. This error is one that most all of us have seen and may not have realized. The following is the content of a page from Uncle John's Bathroom Reader 2008 Desk Calendar, Date Monday, June 9:

"Monnopely"
In 2002 Parker Brothers admitted that for the previous 60 years it had misspelled Marven Gardens, named after a street in Atlantic City, New Jersey, as Marvin Gardens on the popular board game Monopoly. But the company said that recalling the game and manufacturing new editions with the correct spelling would, at this point, be too costly.

Blogger's Note: The obvious misspelling of the word Monopoly in quotes at the beginning is as it is shown on the calendar page, and not a typo of the blogger; this time.

Blogger's Second Note: The faux paux I mentioned earlier did cause me some embarrassment, but it also managed to save my grade. You see, the oral report was being timed and while I didn't have enough material to fill the time allotted, the laughter at my misspeak managed to use up the balance quite nicely.

Anyone else feel like sharing an awkward moment or a memorable mistake?

Take a kid fishing day

So there we were, all piled out of a bus to a certain spot I know of, with our children in tow and fishing gear ready for a wonderful day of fishing. In the picture below you'll see us in the distance. I'm in the blue shirt, Christian (my boy) is to my right (your left) and Audrey and Kayleigh are beside me. About twenty-five people were involved in one way or another.


It was a very hot day and there far more people involved than there were fish. Although I have to put on my "proud daddy" hat for just a second because the two fish that did get caught were caught by my 5 year old little princess Audrey. Yay for her!

We went back to the church building and had a wonderful lunch (mostly thanks to John and Debbie who cooked and prepared the meat and some desserts, Rene who prepared enough potato salad and beans to feed a small army {other things were brought but I don't know to whom I should credit), and Cindy and Dawn who coordinated and orchestrated).

Thank you Lord for friends, for our children, and for a wonderful day (oh, and for Audrey's fish).

Tom

After Three Days

Three days after his injury, here's Christian playing in his first band concert. Unfortunately we also had a sick Kayleigh and so one of us had to stay home. Since Dawn had been on sick little girl duty all day, I took a turn and stayed with her thereby missing the show. Dawn took a video camera and recorded it so I have it. They did well. If you look closely, you can see some of his battle wounds. Thanks for all the prayers and concern. As I've said, we are very blessed.

Tom

On the way to church ...

I pulled up to the curb as I always do when we are late. I opened the automatic sliding door on the van and Christian was the first one out. In the blink of an eye he jumped to the sidewalk, jumped up and grabbed the stone blocks that top the wall to the right of the steps. That fast, two stone blocks fell from the wall and one of them hit him on the head and face as it fell to the sidewalk. He stood there for a moment thinking he was in trouble and calmly stated "Well, that never happened before." That is when we first saw the blood. A significant gash had been cut into his forehead at his hairline. Dawn was calm, I got somewhat panicky. We got him to the ER where he had 9 stitches in his forehead which are enhanced by some cuts and scrapes down his nose lip and chin. He's doing a little better now but he will be feeling this for some time. We stayed home tonight and hung out. We also prayed and hugged a lot.

Tom

Written in My Youth

HE IS NEAR

The sun still shines here, though not quite as bright as before. Outside the wind sweeps briskly across the ground creating a tiny multi-colored whirlwind from the freshly fallen leaves. The chill in the air adds to the freshness that makes Autumn sweet. The wind has that bite in it that makes campfires cozy and long walks better in two's. God is painting a spectacular picture and the Earth is His canvas. We are the fortunate ones who get to experience its splendor.

The rain came yesterday pounding a rhythmic beat on the hard pavement. Small rivers rushed down the road until they disappeared in miniature waterfalls underground. Before too long the rain stopped and things dried and returned to normal. Still, we saw God in the rain, he touched us in the drops and kissed us with the Sun.

God blesses us in so many ways. Sometimes those blessings come to us in ways to which we are blind. An occasional loneliness can provoke enough of a need that we turn to God and pray for companionship, while not realizing that through our prayer and God's tender fellowship, we have received the most glorious companionship ever imagined.

"Come near to God, and He will come near to you."

Tom Shuff (written sometime in the mid-eighties)

Whew. I think this may be the first time this has ever been seen by anyone other than a few close friends. In the process of cleaning out the basement, I found a few notebooks of this stuff. I don't know how many people are still stopping by my blog, but it is my hope that these few thoughts expressed so long ago may be a momentary bright spot in someone's day. If nothing else, feel free to laugh at the author. He doesn't really mind.

Tom

Uncle John's and a movie review

Uncle John's Bathroom Reader in any of its various editions is as at home in "the necessary room" as is toilet paper and Oust. I have long enjoyed UJBR and the quippy little readings it provides, but this year I expanded Uncle John's influence on my life by purchasing a desk calendar. I have often thought that these would make interesting inclusions into the blog-o-shpere, but have up to now not felt like incorporating them.

Why now? I'm not sure if its because I have been so busy to be incredibly creative on my own, or because I have so much on my mind, but at least for today, I'll go to the "can" of Uncle John for a couple of interesting chunks.

Chunk 1: From Thursday May 15th

WHEN YOU GOTTA GO...
"A cemetery in Santiago, Chile, is offering its clients coffins with sensors that detect any movement inside after they have been buried. According to a spokesperson for the cemetery, 'We want to be pioneers and avoid catalepsy cases, in which a person gets completely paralyzed for a few hours and ends up buried as if they were dead. We want families to rest assured that if a case like this ever happens, their loved ones will be immediately rescued.'" -BBC


Chunk 2: From Friday May 30th
UNCLE JOHN'S DICTIONARY OF WORD ORIGINS
Mascara

Meaning: A cosmetic applied to darken the eyelashes.

Origin: The word comes from the Spanish word mascara (with a little ' thingy over the first "a"), which in turn comes from the Italian maschera, both of which mean, appropriately, "mask." The root of those words, however, is the Arabic maskharah, which means "buffoon" or "clown".

A movie review: (having nothing to do with Uncle John or the bathroom)
Christian and I watched Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium last evening. I liked the imaginative nature of the film. I loved all the characters and the actors. I thought the casting was brilliant and everyone was wonderful. The little boy was fabulous, the mutant accountant played his part to very convincingly, Natalie Portman was sweet and lovable throughout the whole film and Dustin Hoffman added another proof to his astounding ability to convincingly portray any character thrown at him. Mr. Magorium will stand strong beside previous characters such as Hook, Rain Man, the strange Little mumbly guy (I think his name was in fact Mumbles) in Dick Tracy and Tootsie. I suppose the plot could have been stronger and the loose-ends were many, but all in all it was a good rent.

The one glaring thing that stuck my crawl, was at the very end where Natalie Portman was dancing and conducting the store back to life. Eeeiwww! As accomplished and as cute as she is, I found this part of her performance stiff and limited. Where's Jim Carey when you need him?

I liked the movie, loved the characters but not so much the end.

Tom