Even though the Christmas decorations have been out for a month in many stores I refuse to acknowledge their existence until Santa arrives at the Macy Thanksgiving Day parade. I am a hopeless romantic when it comes to holidays. I love this season. One of my favorite Christmas movie moments is White Christmas with Bing Crosby. There is a song that applies for all of us as we approach a Thanksgiving that may hold pain and trials mixed in with joy and blessings. When the character played by Rosemary Clooney frets and has trouble sleeping she is serenaded by Bing Crosby with this song. When I’m worried and I can’t sleep I count my blessings instead of sheep And I fall asleep counting my blessings When my bankroll is getting small I think of when I had none at all And I fall asleep counting my blessings That is really excellent advice and pretty good theology. Even in adversity I have
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I love watching the giant balloons of the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade floating through New York as wide-eyed children watch. I love the traditional football games. The official start of the Christmas season. The post feast nap. I love Thanksgiving Day. Thanksgiving Song by Mary Chapin Carpenter captures the intimacy of this wonderful holiday. Grateful for each hand we hold Gathered round this table. From far and near we travel home, Blessed that we are able. I have so much to be grateful for this Thanksgiving. I am grateful for another year with my best friend and bride Joni. I am grateful for three wonderful sons, two amazing daughter-in-laws, and three heart stealing grandchildren. I am blessed that our family will be able to be together this Thanksgiving. I am grateful for good friends. I am grateful for the abundant blessings of this country. Grateful for this sheltered place With light in every window, Saying “welcome, welcome, share this feast Come
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A very dear friend is going through a deep trial. This faithful follower prays for wisdom, guidence, assurance and peace. The result so far is confusing. When they pray to hear the voice of God they hear spiritual crickets. Nothing. The frustration is real. I want to do something to help and all I can offer is prayer and presence. But when we study how God works in our lives should we be surprised with the process? A song by Laura Story resonated with my soul on a recent walk. The song is called “Blessings” and the words are profound. We pray for blessings We pray for peace Comfort for family, protection while we sleep We pray for healing, for prosperity There is nothing inherently wrong with praying for those things. But my attempt to maneuver God to grant my wishes is wrong. Laying out my will and praying for God’s notary seal is not what He desires. Blessings are
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One of my ministries as a “bad Christian” is to make you feel better about yourself as a Christian. Today my sacrificial gift is to make you feel better about yourself as a human being. I am going through a stretch of amazing stupidity. I am serious. I am talking Guinness Book of Records stupid. However, I have adopted the philosophy that if you will laugh about something a year from now you might as well start today. So here is my stupid week in review. In one calendar week I lost my drivers license. Twice. That is not a mistype. Recovered both times thanks to honest citizens. I went to retrieve a toy from the pool for canine friend Maggie. You guessed it. I slipped and fell head over heels into the water. I surfaced to the curious looks of my Labrador who had decided the pool was too cold for swimming. Oh yeah, I hurt my back in
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Regular readers of the humble ramblings (you both know who you are) know that I often confess how my brain was not wired to factory specs. There is no other explanation for the dizzying turns my mind makes. For example, this weekend I heard a song from my ’70’s disc jockey days. The song was Tin Man from America and the normal brain would have heard the song, registered a like it or don’t like it vote and moved on. Not my brain. I fixated on a piece of the lyric and spent time linking it to a spiritual epiphany in my life. You may recognize the lyric that started this Monday Musing. But Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man That he didn’t, didn’t already have The lyricist double negatived his way to an important truth. The Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz went on a long journey to try and find a real heart. But
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I interact with a lot of wounded people. My books and a big hunk of my writing have been directed toward those who are beaten up by life, religion and too often by other people in the church. There is a better way. A song titled “Where The Healing Begins” by one of my favorite groups, Tenth Avenue North, describes that way. So you thought you had to keep this up All the work that you do So we think that you’re good And you can’t believe it’s not enough All the walls you built up Are just glass on the outside All of those years of working hard (and then harder) to be Godly and I found out to my great sadness that it wasn’t enough. Not only was self-effort not enough it was counterproductive to my desire to experience God’s presence and love. The walls so carefully constructed were, in fact, see-through to those who really knew me well.
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The use of Hump Day to describe the midweek turning point has been around for awhile. It became a bigger part of the national lexicon thanks to a commercial and a camel. I wish I was mature enough to say I was only mildly amused by the Geico commercial featuring the overbearing camel wandering through an office. I can’t. I stopped whatever I was doing every time it came on. The hope of this humble rambling each Wednesday is to provide a little hope to get you to the weekend. This is how hope is defined as a verb by dictionary.com. …to feel that something desired may happen. Example: I hope that the Cleveland Browns will play in a Super Bowl before I die. It is interesting that the next meaning of the verb hope is noted as archaic. …Archaic. to place trust; rely (usually followed by in) Call me archaic (my sons and workmates often do) but that
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