Easter--100 Words

Easter.

Easter has really changed for me over the years.

As a preschooler, Easter was about baskets, bunnies, and a few handmade Easter eggs dipped in dye—the kind of dye that lasts far longer on your hands than Easter M & M’s.

As a boy, Easter meant wearing the new suit sewed by my mother. The one I remember most? A solid white suit, with matching white shoes and socks.

Easter took on a new meaning for me at the age of 15 when I asked Jesus to be my Savior.

Since then, Easter is about resurrection. Hope. Life.

Childhood--100 Words

Childhood.

My earliest memory of childhood is of being in church when I was 3 or 4.

I had good childhood memories. But, I was glad when it was over.

Isn’t it funny how children don’t want to stay children?

I see it in my son. He’s always imitating his mother or me. He’s climbing. Reaching. Running. Forgetting he’s only 18 months old. Oh, and he falls a lot too.

But, he always gets up and runs again.

It’s sad. Too many adults forget how to run, climb, reach, fall, and get back up again.

Maybe childhood wasn’t all bad.

I Understand Mark Twain So Much Better Now!

[Casket from Google Search, not my actual casket]

Mark Twain once said that the rumors of his demise had been greatly exaggerated.

Apparently, someone was extremely hopeful that Mr. Twain had passed on to the next life and made it known that he had died. The only problem with that gossip was the fact that Mr. Twain was still alive!

Well, I understand how Mr. Twain must have felt.

Over the last few days, I've gotten many phone calls, emails, visits, well wishes and cards. I have appreciated each and every act of kindness. These have touched my heart.

However, the best card came today. It was addressed to both me and my wife. That fact is underlined and is important to the story below. The card was from a woman who works with my company, in another state.

Here's the text of her card:

"May loving memories
bring comfort to you
in this time of sadness.

With Deepest Sympathy."

Okay, help me understand this, will you please. If this person believes I have died, then why would she address the card to both me AND my wife? Wouldn't she have addressed it only to my wife? Wouldn't she be the one who needed sympathy? Sympathy ain't going to mean much to a dead person. Or, so I would assume.

Now I wonder who she has told that I've died. Will I get more sympathy cards? Will my wife get more sympathy cards? Will people be lining up to take my job? Will anyone actually send us/her flowers? Candy? Fresh fruit? Money? [Personally, I'm hoping for fresh fruit, since I can't eat candy anymore!]

Okay, on the other side of all of this, if she didn't think I had died, was this the only card she had to send? Did she do like the widow in the New Testament who gave her mite, the best she had? Did she just grab the first card that was in the box? Did she not read the words printed on the card? I know men are often accused of that, but really, a woman sending a sympathy card!

I had a heart attack! I didn't die!

I've always heard that "it's the thought that counts." Folks, in this situation, I'm not sure I'm buying that one this time!

Memories of a 9/11 Volunteer

9/11.

A day that changed America.

A day that changed my life forever.

There have always been those days. You know the ones. The ones that change history or that change your life or both. 9/11 is one of those days in my journey through this world.

On September 11, 2001, I was serving as a pastor in a small town in south Alabama (or LA as we like to call it—Lower Alabama). I was also serving as a chaplain/firefighter for our volunteer fire department. We had a great fire department. We had wonderful men and women who were committed to helping our community in any way possible.

The day had barely started in our office when a friend called to ask if I had seen the news. Of course, I hadn’t. I was at work and we didn’t have a TV in the office. I turned on the Internet and thought it strange how long it took for my favorite news site to load. After a minute or so, I understood why. A large photo of the first tower took up the screen. Within minutes, the second tower was hit, then the Pentagon, then the crash in Pennsylvania.

All of that was happening in New York City, Washington, DC, and Pennsylvania. Trust me when I say that more than miles separated my small town from those locations. Our people were simply country folks. Good people, just vastly removed from the large city and acts of terrorism.

After 20 minutes or so after the second tower was hit, my fire department pager activated. We were told to come to the station, prepare the trucks, and wait for further instruction. That was a strange request—one I had never heard before. I rushed to the fire station and was greeted by a dozen or so other volunteers. We waited for our assistant chief to arrive. When he did, the town’s police chief also came. They had news for us. The President had ordered the immediate landing of all commercial aircraft. All aircraft were to land safely, but quickly.

That was the problem. There was one plane in our region that couldn’t be accounted for. We were activated because we provided protection for a small airfield about five miles from our station. We were activated to be ready for a potential crash as had taken place in Pennsylvania. No one knew, in that moment, what would happen the next moment.

Within a short period of time, the plane was located, and it landed in Atlanta. We thought our duty would be finished, but no, that was not to be the case. We were needed to help at several area businesses and schools. Remember what it was like on 9/11? We were all panicked over what might happen next. Were there more planes? More terrorists? More attacks on the way?

I was assigned to protect the local high school. The school was in lockdown, as you can imagine. I monitored the doors and the hallway, watching for anything suspicious going on. Of course, nothing happened. Well, frightened parents did rush to the school to check out their children. Children did cry. I stood watch. And I cried.

Life changed after that. America stopped to worship and attend church. At least for a few days, maybe a week or so. Then, it was back to normal for so many.

James 4:14 is one of my life verses. James wrote, “Life is but a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away forever.”

9/11 brought the truth of that verse to life for me.

What are your memories of 9/11?

If you have blogged about it today and would rather link us to your site, please feel free to do so. If you’d like to cut and paste what you’ve written, that’s fine to.

As you have a moment, please share your thoughts about this day.