Wednesday, August 26, 2015

    
One cow out of the herd of many.
Hello from the Heart of Texas.  Life here is not life in Jacksonville, FL, that's for sure.  Aside from the wonderful people I have come to love and the meetings where I spoke (the reason I'm in Texas), the high points for me were being out on the ranch with the cows - lots of cows, including the babies, and later a visit with the goats in the 'backyard'.  A number of calves just born trotted along with their mama's. My host, John, loves his cows - a good size herd. We pulled into the pasture waaaay out on the ranch which I was told would be an 18 mile drive to go around the perimeter of the ranch. This is where John grew up.  He and his brother and father 'worked' the cows on horseback -- we're talkin' genuine no-kidding cowboys. They are still alive and well in Texas. John whooeeey'd for his cows and here they came, over the hill and through the woods in response to his call.  Each cow weighs about 1200 pounds, pushing and shoving one another to get closer. Their loud moos are more like mmmaaah's and a lot of them at once is sure loud.  They have sweet faces though and for all the noise and pushing to get really close by the braver ones they are docile and not scary at all. I loved being out there with them.
         We then went to the hunting lodge on the property where John and Elaine, his wife and my hostess and now dear friend, lived until they built their beautiful house in town.  We sat on the veranda overlooking grassy plains and listened to the quiet and just talked. It made me long for simpler times when life moved along at a different pace than we do in the cities of today.  Despite the relative isolation, Elaine told me how she loved living out there and would welcome it again.  Can you just imagine being where there is not one sound of modern civilization, only nature: bird calls, the breeze rustling the grasses....   I'm thinking that is how it's supposed to be. Makes me yearn for that kind of quiet. 
         I had the chance to visit folks on another ranch for a dinner with John and Elaine who are elders in a local church, with another couple, Joe and Mackye, also church elders at their home (also on a ranch), and the pastor and his wife as well as Elaine Reinhardt Lang, who along with her husband Ray, has brought me to Texas and in whose home I am now as I write.  What a fun group, telling so many stories, all Texan-life style stories, things that don't happen in my hometown of Jacksonville.        For instance. one night Joe heard a critter, some animal outside in the back of the
house. He got up and put on his boots and in his underwear (picture this) out he went holding the rifle in one hand and the flashlight in the other hand. He fired at the what-ever-it-was animal but he somehow missed the animal and hit a Laurel tree which his wife, Mackye, was rather fond of. The shot split the tree in half. What to do?  He wrapped the tree in duck tape to hold it together.  But "the graft didn't take," Joe said and a year or so later the left half fell over dead and the right side followed some time later.  This may not read as funny but there are some folks who are just funny whatever they say. Mackye telling this story and the others telling theirs made for a very laughter-filled evening. If anyone thinks that elders and pastors are stodgy and 'religious' such is not the case here. 
           
The goats are in John and Elaine's backyard (far from the house, ranch style) and were fed the left over watermelon, one goat in particular (pictured) enjoyed it till she flipped it over and couldn't get through the rind to the good stuff. Compared to the cows, they are so quiet. Except for two bucks butting heads in typical goat fashion, they were just sweet. 
             Aside from the temperature which ranged from 96 - 105 degrees with a humidity in the 40%, it has been very pleasant. There is always a breeze, even to a howling wind, I'm told. The ground and the grasses are quite dry however and rain is a constant prayer request and concern lest there be fires.  In my home town of Jacksonville, we are surfeited with rain; here, the projection is for no rain until into September.  Crazy.
              I attended a prayer meeting with about 12 women who pray weekly for America and Israel. I felt so 'one' with them. It seem the Holy Spirit has His Spirit-filled church pretty much on the same page with regard to the importance of Israel and what to pray for our nation. It's a wonderful thing to be so in sync with others in the body of Messiah and feel so united with them in prayer even though in some other ways our life styles are somewhat different.  I was told they aren't aware of any Jews living near by, yet their hearts were for Israel - a work of the Holy Spirit who puts what He loves in the hearts of His people.   
             Aside from being mega allergic to something here in Texas causing my voice to threaten to disappear so that preaching was a challenge to be heard (thank God for microphones), I love Texas. I have one more preaching 'gig' on Sunday morning in a local country church I'm looking forward to. For now, I'm just enjoying just Being in the country. It's a reminder of how pleasant simple life can (or should) be. 

Thursday, August 20, 2015

GIVING HONOR WHERE HONER IS DUE

I'm in the Atlanta airport awaiting a flight to Austen, TX which I will tell you about in later posts. I'll be speaking in TX and then on to Israel mid-September so I'll be taking you along on my journeys if you'll be reading these blogs. 

I had quite a meaningful initial start to my journey today.  Seated next to me was a Navy officer in a sparkling white uniform. We said hello and I couldn't help but ask him how he managed to keep his uniform so perfectly clean. He chuckled and said by the time he gets to TX, his destination also, something will happen. It seemed to be a rather constant vigil to keep the whites white! Little did I expect that before we landed I would be the cause of sprinkling my black coffee on his leg and sleeve when the stirrer to my coffee cup flipped out while reaching for the stewardess.  Needless to say I felt horrible.  A napkin and some water lessened the damage but not altogether.  But that's not why it was meaningful.

The first announcement from the pilot was that aboard were two Seaman officers who were escorting the body of a "fallen warrior" back to his family.  He said the names of the officers and I asked my seat mate if he was one of them. "Yes ma'am," he said. He seemed quiet, even sad.  I asked if he knew the man personally. He did. He was one of his men. I asked if he died in action. "No, ma'am," he said, shaking his head slightly. As we talked He shared how this young man died. Men see action in Iraq or somewhere in the Middle East, but then come home and something useless happens. This was one of those times.  This young man of 21 had car trouble. He pulled over to the side of the road and walked around his car and a tractor trailer hit him. Now Seaman Rodney (I don't know his last name) was escorting the body of this young man back to his parents, a task Rodney had never done before but volunteered for as he had evidently been fond of the young man.

As we spoke briefly off and on, I told Rodney that I had written a book about people who had died and had gone to heaven but Jesus sent them back to tell people of what heaven - and He - are really like.  I could see by his response that he knew the Lord, which he confirmed. He also believed that the young man did too (I asked this first or wouldn't have told him the rest). As I shared a little of the unhindered joy in heaven and how there is no sadness there whatsoever, the one in heaven would surely not want those they loved on earth to be in sorrow when they are in such joy, peace and love in the presence of the Lord.  I shared this, I told him, so that perhaps it would help him in his own grief but perhaps he could share some of this with his family. I told him I would probably blog this story and gave him my name. Since you're reading this, please say a prayer for this young man's family, and for Brother Rodney and his co-officers - and for any who have to bring home someone's loved one this way, a task few of us reading this would experience.

Rodney has been in the Navy for 18 years. I asked him if he had noticed any difference in the last few years in the Service.  He shook his head back and forth just slightly enough to let me know things are not what they were.  He told me of how this generation of young men and women do not have the idealism or the discipline of his generation. He seemed somewhat sad about this too.

As we approached the Atlanta terminal the pilot asked everyone to remain seated until the Navy Officers deplaned first in order to escort the body which was unloaded before the luggage. I once saw such an event in the Philadelphia airport and it was quite moving, a flag draped across the casket. I shook Rodney's hand and said a quick prayer that God would be with him in all he was called to do. As he and his fellow officers walked down the aisle toward the front of the plane to exit it, a crescendo of applause began for these men who serve to guard our nation.  Though only I and the officers knew the uselessness of his death, others on the plane likely imagined he died in military action overseas.  But what difference does it make. We are all in this life and death thing together. We all can have sympathy for a family who lost their loved one. We all can have respect for men like Rodney who seemed to me a man who reflected the dignity of the Navy I had known when young men my age then had in the service years ago. 

Now boarding for Austen.  Later.