I, like many people, tend to struggle with this thing called faith. I think that that can be a good thing. Yet I keep coming back to the thing that many times has hurt or lessened my faith and that is the church. I have come to realize that there are very few in the church that do and say things that hurt. For the most part, we are all good people who struggle with the mundane everyday activities of life and it is that struggle within itself that brings us together. It has been the few but powerful that have caused so much damage. And the same can be said today, both from within and without the church.
For the last several months my struggle has been deeper that at times in the past. I have been asking the "Why?" question a lot. I still don't have the answer. But for some strange reason, in spite of the doubts, my faith in Him has become stronger. I don't understand all the ins and outs theologically but my faith in Him has grown. It seems that the one that we call Jesus is under constant attack in the academic world. Was he really who he claimed to be? Or did he ever claim to be who we say he is? Can we trust a book as reliable that apparently has inconsistencies? On a recent trip to Chicago I had the opportunity to visit the Chicago Art Institute. The first part of the exhibit that I viewed was the section on what I call religious art. I don't know the correct name. The art was amazing. Hundreds of years old. Artists who invariably protrayed this one I called Jesus as the son of the virgin Mary but who was also the son of God. I saw portrayals of the last supper, the denial of Peter, the betrayal of Judas and the crucifixion of Jesus. I was awed, not so much by the beauty of the paintings but the history of hundreds of years that told a story of people much like me, a people who may not know all the ins and outs of theology but who believed in this one called Jesus as the Messiah, the Christ, the Holy one of God. I walked in amazement and renewed faith. A faith renewed not by words on a page but words that had been put on canvas. The words were not even there but yet they were so powerful. The words that spoke, "believe in me."
I have been pondering these thoughts for several days and yesterday during communion my thoughts drifted back to those paintings. I saw my Savior in those paintings. I saw his love and the love of those who painted those pictures. I saw the love of one that has transcended hundreds of years but yet a love that still changes countless lives. Yes, all the same imperfections are present in God's people today. Yes, there are still the lingering theological questions but to me history and yes even these paintings suggest that there was one who was called Jesus who lived among men and suffered a very cruel death on the cross and who was indeed raised on the third day as the Christ. Why else would men and women through history follow one so, unless just maybe there was something to who he was-The holy one of God.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Playing in the dirt...do it now
Those of you who know me know that my grandson Brendan has stolen my heart. I absolutely love and adore the kid. I spent 3 1/2 wonderful days with him a few days ago. We strolled the day away in Berkley, went to the zoo, went to the park and spent a lot of time at home with me pushing the bike and watching him in the garden. The memories just keep flooding my brain. The last day was also fun but I had this empty feeling in my gut all day. I knew that I would be leaving my little buddy. Every time I thought about leaving I would have to fight the tears back. As we got closer to the airport I know my daughter-in-law noticed that I got quieter. Just the thought of having to say goodbye would bring tears to my eyes and it still does as I write this. When I got to the airport I rushed through the goodbyes so I wouldn't breakdown in front of Brendan and Amber. I did reach through the back window and did get a full face smile from Brendan when I pinched his nose and that was all that it took. I had to spend the next several minutes outside the airport getting myself together.
All of this has caused much reflection on my part. Why such huge waves of emotions with leaving Brendan? Do I love him that much? Yes. Do I miss him that much? Yes. Is there more? Yes.
My wonderful wife helped me figure it out. I think that I was a good dad when my kids were young but not a great dad. And with Brendan I feel that I have an opportunity to make up for some of the shortcomings. When my kids were old enough to play sports I remember being "all time quarterback" and having a great time. I remember coaching them in sports and attending a lot of sporting activities, but being with Brendan at his early age has helped me understand how much I missed when they were babies and toddlers. Last week I sat and watched Brendan play in the garden for an hour. Every now and then he would look up at me and smile but then continue in his on little world. I enjoyed that so much. I don't remember doing that with my boys though. I pushed Brendan on his "bike" and walked him in his stroller but I don't remember doing that with my boys. I have realized how much I really did miss as they were young because I had too many "important" things to do, like working too much and playing golf or just taking time for myself. The important thing would have been to immerse myself into their growing up. I can't undo it now but I sure as hell can make sure Brendan and little Will to come have plenty of time with pop. And to you young parents, nothing is more important than having time to play in the dirt with your kids. Do it now.
All of this has caused much reflection on my part. Why such huge waves of emotions with leaving Brendan? Do I love him that much? Yes. Do I miss him that much? Yes. Is there more? Yes.
My wonderful wife helped me figure it out. I think that I was a good dad when my kids were young but not a great dad. And with Brendan I feel that I have an opportunity to make up for some of the shortcomings. When my kids were old enough to play sports I remember being "all time quarterback" and having a great time. I remember coaching them in sports and attending a lot of sporting activities, but being with Brendan at his early age has helped me understand how much I missed when they were babies and toddlers. Last week I sat and watched Brendan play in the garden for an hour. Every now and then he would look up at me and smile but then continue in his on little world. I enjoyed that so much. I don't remember doing that with my boys though. I pushed Brendan on his "bike" and walked him in his stroller but I don't remember doing that with my boys. I have realized how much I really did miss as they were young because I had too many "important" things to do, like working too much and playing golf or just taking time for myself. The important thing would have been to immerse myself into their growing up. I can't undo it now but I sure as hell can make sure Brendan and little Will to come have plenty of time with pop. And to you young parents, nothing is more important than having time to play in the dirt with your kids. Do it now.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Up, Up and a weigh!!!!
I had the great experience of visiting my grandson (and son and daughter-in-law) this past weekend and it was a glorious experience. I also had the most awful flying experience ever on Southwest Airlines, not that they necessarily had anything to do with it. I always check in online so I can try to get an "A" boarding pass, that way I am one of the first on the plane and can usually get a good seat. If the plane is not full, I try to sit in the back with hopes of having an open seat next to me. Well, this time I sure didn't get an open sit. As a matter of fact, I felt like I had to share my seat for the four hour flight.
The last boarders were just getting on and I had TWO open seats next to me and I saw them at a distance. MR. FATMAN and his also very chubby wife. Now she wasn't fat but she was chubby. Now, I try not to be prejudicial about fat people. I don't have a lot of room to talk, I am probably 20 pounds overweight myself. But Mr. Fatman was probably 220 overweight, I kid you not. And Mrs. Chubby Fatman had a good extra 100 pounds on her. I knew when I saw them that I was in trouble. Mr. Fatman made direct eye contact and his eyes said, "your mine". I said to myself, "Oh Shit." Well maybe I said something else but I can't print that. He was so fat that he swished when his big 'ol lard thighs made contact with the seats. He actually had to walk sideways to get through and his big 'ol dough belly just kinda rolled over the seats. And of course Mr. and Mrs. Fatman came loaded with bags, not clothes bags but bags of food. I had seen this oh so sweet couple in the waiting area, I actually sat across from them and I heard him say, "I can't believe you spent $200 on souvenirs, good money gone to waste." Fatpeople translation: "I can't believe you spent $200 dollars on something you couldn't eat."
I politely got up to let Mr. and Mrs. Fatman wedge themselves into the seats. Literally wedge themselves into the $%#@(*& seats. He had a really hard time getting his seatbelt buckle. He actually said, "Damn, they worked on the way out." I wanted to say , "yeah but that was before you hit all the buffets in Vegas big boy." A smartass I am but stupid I am not, Mr. Fatman could have killed be sitting on me. The minute he sat down I knew that whatever he had for lunch had had onions on it. STRONG ONIONS!!! But I swear to you, I was squeezing everything I had together to fit back in my seat and the "boys" weren't happy. The only way that I could get back into my seat was to raise the arm rest on my seat, so I got to ride 4 hours to Birmingham (late at night) with my ass hanging into the aisle. Needless to say I got somewhat intimate with the flight attendants as the worked the aisles. I wanted to tell Mr. Fatman that the last time I got that close to someone it was my wife and I called her god. Fortunately, they only had to get up once to use the facilities and I still don't know how he got in and out of the bathroom. But they had to get up when Mrs. Fatman got sick after drinking THREE screwdrivers in about an hour.
But here's my beef (sorry), if I paid full price for my seat he should have had to give me a refund because I damn sure know that he used half of my seat. And why in the hell don't airlines make fatpeople buy an extra seat. Damn straight I'm mad. If I cover over 50 pounds in luggage I have to pay extra and Mr. Fatman looked like he had eaten a full set of luggage before he boarded the plan. And if fatpeople should even be allowed to fly they should have the "No Snore" rule for fatpeople. Hell, yes Mr. Fatman was able to sleep. His neck was so fat he had built in pillows and he slept like a long. I finally looked over at him and Mrs. Fatman just smiled that "Oh well" smile. And I wanted to say. "Listen you drunk bitch keep your fat husband quite." But again, I'm not stupid, she could have killed me with one of her big 'ol breasts. And to top it off Mr. Fatman decided to let one go. I didn't hear it but oh my goodness. You don't want to know. And to top it all of Mr. Fatman complained about the baby crying in the row behind us. I think the comment was something about the babies should all have to sit in the same area. And that gave me an idea, airlines should have a fat section where you have a weight limit and you are charge by the pound for every pound that you are over. Now that is the weigh to go.
The last boarders were just getting on and I had TWO open seats next to me and I saw them at a distance. MR. FATMAN and his also very chubby wife. Now she wasn't fat but she was chubby. Now, I try not to be prejudicial about fat people. I don't have a lot of room to talk, I am probably 20 pounds overweight myself. But Mr. Fatman was probably 220 overweight, I kid you not. And Mrs. Chubby Fatman had a good extra 100 pounds on her. I knew when I saw them that I was in trouble. Mr. Fatman made direct eye contact and his eyes said, "your mine". I said to myself, "Oh Shit." Well maybe I said something else but I can't print that. He was so fat that he swished when his big 'ol lard thighs made contact with the seats. He actually had to walk sideways to get through and his big 'ol dough belly just kinda rolled over the seats. And of course Mr. and Mrs. Fatman came loaded with bags, not clothes bags but bags of food. I had seen this oh so sweet couple in the waiting area, I actually sat across from them and I heard him say, "I can't believe you spent $200 on souvenirs, good money gone to waste." Fatpeople translation: "I can't believe you spent $200 dollars on something you couldn't eat."
I politely got up to let Mr. and Mrs. Fatman wedge themselves into the seats. Literally wedge themselves into the $%#@(*& seats. He had a really hard time getting his seatbelt buckle. He actually said, "Damn, they worked on the way out." I wanted to say , "yeah but that was before you hit all the buffets in Vegas big boy." A smartass I am but stupid I am not, Mr. Fatman could have killed be sitting on me. The minute he sat down I knew that whatever he had for lunch had had onions on it. STRONG ONIONS!!! But I swear to you, I was squeezing everything I had together to fit back in my seat and the "boys" weren't happy. The only way that I could get back into my seat was to raise the arm rest on my seat, so I got to ride 4 hours to Birmingham (late at night) with my ass hanging into the aisle. Needless to say I got somewhat intimate with the flight attendants as the worked the aisles. I wanted to tell Mr. Fatman that the last time I got that close to someone it was my wife and I called her god. Fortunately, they only had to get up once to use the facilities and I still don't know how he got in and out of the bathroom. But they had to get up when Mrs. Fatman got sick after drinking THREE screwdrivers in about an hour.
But here's my beef (sorry), if I paid full price for my seat he should have had to give me a refund because I damn sure know that he used half of my seat. And why in the hell don't airlines make fatpeople buy an extra seat. Damn straight I'm mad. If I cover over 50 pounds in luggage I have to pay extra and Mr. Fatman looked like he had eaten a full set of luggage before he boarded the plan. And if fatpeople should even be allowed to fly they should have the "No Snore" rule for fatpeople. Hell, yes Mr. Fatman was able to sleep. His neck was so fat he had built in pillows and he slept like a long. I finally looked over at him and Mrs. Fatman just smiled that "Oh well" smile. And I wanted to say. "Listen you drunk bitch keep your fat husband quite." But again, I'm not stupid, she could have killed me with one of her big 'ol breasts. And to top it off Mr. Fatman decided to let one go. I didn't hear it but oh my goodness. You don't want to know. And to top it all of Mr. Fatman complained about the baby crying in the row behind us. I think the comment was something about the babies should all have to sit in the same area. And that gave me an idea, airlines should have a fat section where you have a weight limit and you are charge by the pound for every pound that you are over. Now that is the weigh to go.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Doctors, They say the darnedest things.
I've resisted writing this blog for three days now but finally had to succumb to the urge. If it didn't have to do with the medical profession I might have resisted but, "Doctors, they just say the darnedest things".
I had to visit my urologist on Wednesday. As you get older things just don't work as well as they used to and that happened to be the case with me and no it is not what you think, I didn't go for the little blue pill. Thankfully that still works just fine. I had an appointment at 1:30 and got there at 1:15, thinking that if I got there earlier that maybe I'd get out early. Well, fifty minutes later I had not even been called to pay my co-pay. They had this sign up stating, "If you have waited twenty minutes past your appointment, let us know." Those of you who know me know that I let them know. I kinda felt good about my letting them know how I felt when it suddenly dawned on me the mistake I had made. "You dumb ass, you are seeing a UROLOGIST-you don't want to make them mad-he has your future in his hands." Or at least he will shortly (excuse the pun). So I decide to calm down. Finally one hour and forty five minutes and four bathroom trips(now you know why I went to the doc) later I get called back to the examining room. And this mean looking nurse shoves a little container in my face and says, "we only need a little bit." I was highly pissed by now (oops another pun) and wanted to say, "well honey, I only have a little bit so that is all you are going to get" or some other smart ass answer but I told the truth. "Listen, I've been here for two hours and have peed four times and what ever is left you can have." Now that wasn't smartassed was it? I went and did the deed and came back and handed her my "specimen" (like they are doing some sort of great genetic research) and she smile and said in that kindergarten teacher voice, "Oh , you did so good." I wanted to say , "Listen you little..." Oh, never mind.
I sit in the room and listen to the doctor make his rounds. It is amazing how thin those walls are. I must have been on the guy wing of the hospital because all the patients he talked to were men. And I was the youngest. Man, these guys had some problems. Low testosterone. Blood in the urine...yuck. Kidney stones( been there done that). Erectile dysfunction( I want to be the guy that has to call the doctor after FOUR HOURS). There was one guy , sixty five, that had all sorts of problems but at the end of his exam said, "Oh, doc what about my sex drive?" Sixty five with a myriad of health problems and he's worried about sex drive. Damn, maybe getting old isn't so bad after all.
Finally, the doc comes in and apologizes for the wait. By this time, I wanted to thank him. The last thirty minutes had been quite entertaining. But now I realized that some jerk in the next room was going to be entertained by me. All the obligatory questions. Then the "drop the drawers" routine. He noticed my scare from hernia surgery and he actually rubbed the scar and asked, "who did your surgery?" Who the hell cares? I getting a little freaked out by now. Wow, doctors, what a fraternity? Then the bend over the table thing and it was at that point he asks, "Hows your sex life?" Damn, what is with this guy? I wished I had been in the position to raise my hand and say, "Ask him yourself!!!" But I did the "I'm out of town a lot and there is a lot going on in my life routine." And then he said and hold on, "You might want to consider *&^%$(*&^& a couple of times a week, that might help your condition." I wanted to come up off the table and take him by the neck and yell, "Where were you when I was sixteen, when I thought I would go blind." I never knew doctors could prescribe such things. It was just forty years too late. But, Doctors do say the darnedest things.
I had to visit my urologist on Wednesday. As you get older things just don't work as well as they used to and that happened to be the case with me and no it is not what you think, I didn't go for the little blue pill. Thankfully that still works just fine. I had an appointment at 1:30 and got there at 1:15, thinking that if I got there earlier that maybe I'd get out early. Well, fifty minutes later I had not even been called to pay my co-pay. They had this sign up stating, "If you have waited twenty minutes past your appointment, let us know." Those of you who know me know that I let them know. I kinda felt good about my letting them know how I felt when it suddenly dawned on me the mistake I had made. "You dumb ass, you are seeing a UROLOGIST-you don't want to make them mad-he has your future in his hands." Or at least he will shortly (excuse the pun). So I decide to calm down. Finally one hour and forty five minutes and four bathroom trips(now you know why I went to the doc) later I get called back to the examining room. And this mean looking nurse shoves a little container in my face and says, "we only need a little bit." I was highly pissed by now (oops another pun) and wanted to say, "well honey, I only have a little bit so that is all you are going to get" or some other smart ass answer but I told the truth. "Listen, I've been here for two hours and have peed four times and what ever is left you can have." Now that wasn't smartassed was it? I went and did the deed and came back and handed her my "specimen" (like they are doing some sort of great genetic research) and she smile and said in that kindergarten teacher voice, "Oh , you did so good." I wanted to say , "Listen you little..." Oh, never mind.
I sit in the room and listen to the doctor make his rounds. It is amazing how thin those walls are. I must have been on the guy wing of the hospital because all the patients he talked to were men. And I was the youngest. Man, these guys had some problems. Low testosterone. Blood in the urine...yuck. Kidney stones( been there done that). Erectile dysfunction( I want to be the guy that has to call the doctor after FOUR HOURS). There was one guy , sixty five, that had all sorts of problems but at the end of his exam said, "Oh, doc what about my sex drive?" Sixty five with a myriad of health problems and he's worried about sex drive. Damn, maybe getting old isn't so bad after all.
Finally, the doc comes in and apologizes for the wait. By this time, I wanted to thank him. The last thirty minutes had been quite entertaining. But now I realized that some jerk in the next room was going to be entertained by me. All the obligatory questions. Then the "drop the drawers" routine. He noticed my scare from hernia surgery and he actually rubbed the scar and asked, "who did your surgery?" Who the hell cares? I getting a little freaked out by now. Wow, doctors, what a fraternity? Then the bend over the table thing and it was at that point he asks, "Hows your sex life?" Damn, what is with this guy? I wished I had been in the position to raise my hand and say, "Ask him yourself!!!" But I did the "I'm out of town a lot and there is a lot going on in my life routine." And then he said and hold on, "You might want to consider *&^%$(*&^& a couple of times a week, that might help your condition." I wanted to come up off the table and take him by the neck and yell, "Where were you when I was sixteen, when I thought I would go blind." I never knew doctors could prescribe such things. It was just forty years too late. But, Doctors do say the darnedest things.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Theology for Dummies
I don't get around to posting much on this blog but I have been reading some other blogs that have peaked my interest lately. Most have been religious in nature. Here is a conclusion that I have come to after reading most of them. I just too damn dumb to understand what most are trying to say. My favorite theologian is NT Wright and may times I feel the same way about his writings. However, good old Tom often writes "dumbed down versions" for those of us who are looking for "Theology for Dummies"-damn I may have come up with a business idea. So here are my TOP TEN questions for the intellectual religious bloggers.
1) Who in the hell are you trying to impress? Certainly not me, my dictionary doesn't carry most of those words.
2) Do you really want comments from dumb-asses like me? If so, put it in language that I can understand.
3) Does your blog mean that you have been given the gift of tongues? If so, when do we get the interpretation?
4) Have any of you figured out exactly how many angels can dance on the head of a needle?
5) Can you tell me what you are reading so that I can make sure not to buy it? If I can't understand you, there sure in hell is no way that I will understand what you are reading.
6) Is it possible to understand the great religious texts and understand your blogs at the same time? If so, have you written "Theology for Dummies" yet?
7) Wouldn't it be easier just to re-write the great religious texts and then you wouldn't have to tell us what they mean?
8) Oh shit, I'm running out of questions.
9) Number 9 wasn't any good anyway.
10) Have any of you actually read your own blogs? Did you understand them? Maybe you should be the one to write "Theology for Dummies". Or better yet, always post two at the same time. The original and one that explains the original.
I guess I could stop reading them but then I would't have a blog to post.
1) Who in the hell are you trying to impress? Certainly not me, my dictionary doesn't carry most of those words.
2) Do you really want comments from dumb-asses like me? If so, put it in language that I can understand.
3) Does your blog mean that you have been given the gift of tongues? If so, when do we get the interpretation?
4) Have any of you figured out exactly how many angels can dance on the head of a needle?
5) Can you tell me what you are reading so that I can make sure not to buy it? If I can't understand you, there sure in hell is no way that I will understand what you are reading.
6) Is it possible to understand the great religious texts and understand your blogs at the same time? If so, have you written "Theology for Dummies" yet?
7) Wouldn't it be easier just to re-write the great religious texts and then you wouldn't have to tell us what they mean?
8) Oh shit, I'm running out of questions.
9) Number 9 wasn't any good anyway.
10) Have any of you actually read your own blogs? Did you understand them? Maybe you should be the one to write "Theology for Dummies". Or better yet, always post two at the same time. The original and one that explains the original.
I guess I could stop reading them but then I would't have a blog to post.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Sit down and shut up
It's hard to know where to begin. The last week and a half have been a whirlwind. A week ago on Friday I flew to California to be with my son Zac. He was going through a tough time. He and I got to spend some really good time together. I did a lot of listening, which is a big change for me. But I learned a valuable lesson about just sitting down and shutting up. I learned to appreciate my son probably more than I ever had. I learned that he was a young man of great courage. He has had the courage to face certain issues straight on and has had the courage to make some courageous decisions. And his old man may just get to be the beneficiary of his courage. Zac and I, at least for right now, are planning on going into business together. More on that later, if we finalize those plans. But I think we both realized how much a like we are and I think that we also realized how much we really love each other. I am so proud of him.
I also got to spend some time with my other son, his wife and my little buddy Brendan. I got to be pops! and man did I love it. The more that I am with the kid the more I want to be around him more. He and Zac and myself went to the Oakland Zoo one day and we had a blast. He got to ride around on Uncle Zac's shoulders for most of the day and he loved it. He even got to see the giraffes mating. Zac and I both got a laugh out of that. The next day I took him to an indoor playroom and spent about three hours together. the boy didn't stop the whole time we were there.
Pops! then came home to his girls. My lovely wife and my little girl Daisy, our new Australian pup. She got to come to the airport with Jadda to pick me up. Now that Jadda is gone for a few days I am getting to "babysit". She is a constant ball of energy. She is my little girl. She is in that "toddle" stage-she is into everything and wants your constant attention.
One thing that I have learned the last few days is to value ALL my time with the people (or animals) that I love and to sit down and shut up.
pops!
I also got to spend some time with my other son, his wife and my little buddy Brendan. I got to be pops! and man did I love it. The more that I am with the kid the more I want to be around him more. He and Zac and myself went to the Oakland Zoo one day and we had a blast. He got to ride around on Uncle Zac's shoulders for most of the day and he loved it. He even got to see the giraffes mating. Zac and I both got a laugh out of that. The next day I took him to an indoor playroom and spent about three hours together. the boy didn't stop the whole time we were there.
Pops! then came home to his girls. My lovely wife and my little girl Daisy, our new Australian pup. She got to come to the airport with Jadda to pick me up. Now that Jadda is gone for a few days I am getting to "babysit". She is a constant ball of energy. She is my little girl. She is in that "toddle" stage-she is into everything and wants your constant attention.
One thing that I have learned the last few days is to value ALL my time with the people (or animals) that I love and to sit down and shut up.
pops!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Little buddies
Why do I go to church? I've really been thinking about that a lot lately. I struggle with this thing called "faith". Not because I don't believe in God, I do. Not that I don't believe in Jesus, I do. I consider myself a somewhat "progressive conservative Christian". I'm not sure what that means but I don't consider myself right wing or left wing politically or religiously. And I don't know if I'm in the middle. Hell, I just changed subjects. But why do I go to church? I really enjoy corporate worship. I may be weird but I really come closer to God in that environment that others and that may say a lot about why I struggle with this "faith" thing. But I think that the thing that I like most is the people. Just take last Sunday. I was a little late getting to church and I proceeded to my normal place. The Daniel family was not there but the Crockett's were and when my buddy Gavin saw me he smiled this huge smile and came over and hugged me around the legs. You talk about having your day made, well, my was. Most Sundays, when Gavin is there ,I get to look at his books, color and just enjoy him. Sometimes he will even lay his head on my shoulder and I just melt. I know Gavin likes me regardless of what I wear, what I think politically or what I think religiously. He likes "Mr. Hal" because...I really don't know why. But I hope he likes me because he knows that I love him. And even with little Sam, I am beginning to strike up a bond. He is still at the age where he wants to be with mommy and daddy but when he sees me he gives me that "look", that look that has a twinkle in his eyes and a little smile on his face. I sure sometime soon Gavin won't think it cool to sit in Mr. Hal's lap and color but maybe by then little Sam will. I really like my little buddies. They really make church-church. Why do I go to church? Are Gavin and Sam good enough reasons? I enjoy the worship. I enjoy Pastor Garry's sermons. I enjoy my time with Pastor Charlie. But Gavin and Sam help this old fart feel good every Sunday morning. And I guess that I also see in them another little buddy that I miss and love so much, my grandson Brendan. And I think that God is glorified in that. I think that He loved His little buddy. I can't help but think that as God looked down on Jesus from his time as a child until He finally was crucified that He looked down with pride on his "little buddy". So I think that God is pleased that on Sundays that I take time with my little buddies. And if that were all that I got out of church, that would probably be enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
