Road Trip

Posted on by Fred D

Road trips are fodder for unforeseen adventure and blessings. Thus far, our current one has traversed nearly 2,000 miles through eight states. It has been laden with a variety of unexpected adventures and blessings that have God’s fingerprints all over them. Here’s snippets of some that have been ours to experience along the journey.

Memorial Service

With eight decades behind me, memorial services are no longer a stranger. They’re becoming increasingly somber, considering mine could be next 😊.

Our road trip began with attending a memorial. A wonderful centurion, Betty epitomized loving life to its fullest while loving and encouraging everyone to who crossed her path.  I was my privilege to be one of her e-mail correspondents. Betty would always evoke a smile by signing off each email with a string of XOXOXOXOs . . . she was my oldest girlfriend 😊

Shortly after her 100th birthday Betty passed into Eternity to be with her Abba . . . but not before planning her own celebration of life memorial. The auditorium was packed with people whose lives her contagious spirit had touched with the love of her Savior. The eulogies, music , songs, and personal stories shared by her children, grandchildren and pastors portrayed a legacy unmatched by any memorial service I’ve ever attended . . . truly a live well lived by my oldest girlfriend 😊 – Thank you Betty

Highway ‘Sam’aritan

Back on the road, the steady drone of the highway was suddenly interrupted by the ominous vibrating sound that churns every motorist’s stomach . . . we had a flat tire!

Pulling off the side of the Interstate, Ellen dialed up AAA. Sharing our predicament, we were told help to remedy our ‘deflated’ dilemma would arrive with 30-45 minutes, and we’d soon be zooming back down the highway. Two frustrating phone calls and nearly 2 hours later, AAA (Annoying-Aggravating-Absent) had yet to appear. Unloading the luggage uncovered the donut- tire  . . . will this thing really work???

Just then, a black sedan pulled off the side of the highway, backed up, and a young man stepped out.. Despite my ‘macho’ “I got this” declaration,  he insisted on changing the tire, adamantly  refusing the $20 bill offered for his much-appreciated assistance. Sam was originally from Philadelphia; recently married; and had just started an emergency transport business with his brother. We exchanged contact information before parting ways, ours at considerably reduced ‘donut tire’ speed.

The next day I noticed a voicemail notification on my phone. It was from Sam inquiring if we had safety made it to our destination . . . Wow! . . . comforting assurance that in  these divisive Me First!!! times, Golden Rule  individuals like our highway ‘Sam’aritan are still out there –  Thanks Sam

Aging Reality

Discovering the school I once taught at has been closed and setting vacant for decades made me realize I’m getting old. Unexpectedly meeting a former student and previous mayor of the small rural town the school was located in made me feel ancient! Thumbing through my high school yearbook is like reading the obituaries. Reality confirmed . . . this ragamuffin’s a bonafied ole duffer 😊

The upside, recalling memories with my former pupil was a genuine delight, grateful for past times shared, and sparking hope that dying young at a ripe ole age remains a possibility 😊 –  Thanks Susan

Accepting Saints

One my life’s most priceless blessings has been the trust and counsel of a rare few, openly honest accountability partners. God has graced my life along life’s journey with such special men who listened to my most grievous sins and failures, and transparently shared theirs. When needed, they lovingly spoke hard truth without judging, condemning or condoning, and continued to love and pray for me regardless.

“It is better to hear the rebuke of the wise, than for a man to hear the song of fools.” – Proverbs 27:5

Some 40 years ago one of these men counseled me as I wrestled with a vengeful, get-even spirit. Ultimately rejecting his wise advice to forgive and reconcile with the one who had betrayed me, I chose an unforgiving “…eye for an eye…” retaliatory betrayal that, if everyone engaged in, would render the whole world blind.

Gratefully, Ed refused to abandon me,  continuing to pray and console me as I struggled and suffered the tragic effects of my wrong decisions . . . whose grievous consequences I own, and sadly remain to this day.

Ed has since gone Home. However, it was my privilege to visit his still spry 90-year-old widow Melva and her son and daughter-in-law. Openly sharing regrets that my past unforgiving and spiteful actions had caused them and others, they never once alluded to them. They quietly listened, preciously responding with unconditional love and acceptance of me just as I am today . . . not as I should have been back then. – Thank you Melva, Jim, Diana, and posthumously . . . my faithful friend Ed

Promised Land

This picture was snapped standing in the shadows of dense mountain laurel on the shore of Promised Land Lake. It reminded me that amidst those times of life’s dark  shadows, there’s always a patch of light that shines through, and the proverbial “…light at the end of the tunnel…” to press on towards.

My childhood summers were spent in Pennsylvania’s Pocono Mountains at Promised Land State Park. Roaming its forests fearlessly stalking ferocious bears . . . building ‘secret’ tree forts among the pines. . . . and catching monster large mouth bass from its lake was boyhood Nirvana. It’s also where I learned to “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10) as nature gently drew me into God’s arms, listening to the still small voices and soft whispers of His creation.

Revisiting favorite places and reminiscing with my wife, names, events, stories and fond memories flooded my mind with remarkable clarity, mystically transporting me back through a portal  . . . for a fleeting moment I was a young boy once again  (some say I still occasionally act like it 😊) – Thank you Abba

Our road trip will be ending soon, but its memories will linger, and keep getting  Gooder n’ Gooder 😊

Life has been an exciting adventure, whose undeserved blessings have far outnumbered my self-inflicted calamities. This ole octogenarian is forever grateful and at peace . . . headed for the Promised Land above someday with a guaranteed reservation. Hope to meet you there at Heaven’s Gate.

I M Blessed . . . May U B 2

2023 New Year Resolution

Posted on by Fred D

Adolph Ochs, the owner of the New York Times, organized the first Times Square New Year’s Ball Drop on December 31, 1907. Save for wartime blackouts in 1942 (the year I was born ☹) and 1943, this iconic event has welcomed in every New Year ever since.

In today’s vernacular,’ dropping the ball’ means to “make a mistake” . . . ever made one? As for this chief ‘ball dropper’. . . not since I just woke up. . . but allow me a couple more minutes to rectify that😊

Since that first Ball Drop 115 years ago our “One nation under God” has woefully ‘dropped the ball’ . . . How??? . . . Why??? . . . there’s 335,829,797 reasons (the population of the United States of America as of today according to Google) . . . and I’m one of those.

Here’s a candid short list of just a half dozen ‘ball drops’ I’ve been guilty of over the past 365 days of 2022:

  • Contemplating on the woulda’, coulda’, shouda’s instead of being grateful for all I have
  • Subtle condemnation of others different social, ethnic, economic, and religious groups
  • Being ‘too busy’ to be there for others in their time of need
  • Disparaging others through self-perceived ‘constructive’ and ‘humorous’ remarks
  • Seeking to be respected at the expense of not respecting others
  • Focusing on what’s in it for me in lieu of what’s in me for it

Compiling this list, the word “others” increasingly convicted my conscience. None of us has ever seen a motive. We can only surmise what motivates others’ demeanor, actions, and beliefs. God’s mercy and grace knows no “others”, only all ragamuffins such as I.

Sooooooo . . . what’s the solution? . . . One-by-One. As much as I’d like to convince my other 335,829,796 Americans to hop on board the Remedy Railroad, it has to begin with me . . . and you.

Therefore, my 2023 New Year resolution, aware there will off-the-rail ‘ball drops’ along the way, is to strive day-by-day to seek compassionate, objective discernment in everything, filtered through Dr. Luke’s healing prescription . . .

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven.”

Luke 6:7

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!  All the best for all of His best in 2023

Being Jesus

Posted on by Fred D

Today a friend posted on their blog (gratefuladdict) the note below.

Someone . . . prompted by love’s pure compassion . . . placed this note on the van windshield a homeless person was living in.

This note simultaneously blessed and convicted me . . . blessed, aware of my undeserved abundance . . . convicted, how I often ‘lose sight’ of the destitution of ‘others’ less fortunate . . . ‘others’ who, just like myself, Jesus literally ‘loved to death’ some 2,000 years ago . . . and will continue to throughout eternity.

There are no ‘others’ in Jesus’ sight, and my ‘love vision’ needs to focus less on being me, and more on being like Him.

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come!

“For when I was hungry and you gave Me food; I  was thirsty and you gave Me drink; I was a stranger and you took Me in; I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.” … “Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.”

Matthew 25:35, 40

Creation Miracle Moment

Posted on by Fred D

Yesterday I stood mesmerized in the forest, immersed in a golden rain. Like a child jubilantly blowing bubbles, a puff of Divine breath launched a thousand gold flakes into the air on their memorial journey to earth . . . a Creation miracle moment.

Embraced in total peace, my soul rejoiced in freedom knowing . . . I am completely known, and I am completely loved . . . just as I am, not as I should be. Thank you Abba.

“I am not what I ought to be.  I am not what I want to be.  I am not what I hope to be. But still, I am not what I used to be.  And by the grace of God, I am what I am.”

John Newton

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come!

Golden Rain

The Blind Boy

Posted on by Fred D

Ever experience a situation you later regret not taking the time to offer helping someone? . . .

  • a motorist with the hood up on the side of the road
  • an elderly lady pulling two loaded shopping carts through the supermarket parking lot
  • a mother trying to comfort her crying young child who just tripped and fell on the sidewalk

You just read three I’ve been guilty of this past year when, unlike the Good Samaritan, I was too ‘busy’, and chose to “…pass by on the other side of the road…”?  . . . proof positive I’m an ever continuing Christian work-in-progress. My regrets linger, but I’m forever grateful my Abba always has time for me in spite of my ‘blindness’.

Soooooo . . . what prompted these lamentable musings . . . reading the story below today. Whether it’s true or not, its message is. It poignantly reminded me while I sometimes may be ‘blind’ to others in need . . . Love is never blind.

The Blind Boy

Five computer saleswomen from Milwaukee went to a regional sales convention in Chicago. They assured their husbands they would return in ample time for dinner. The meeting ran overtime, and the women ran to the train station tickets in hand.

As they barged through the terminal, one woman inadvertently kicked over as table supporting a basket of apples. A 10-year-old boy was selling apples to pay for his books and clothes for school. Without breaking stride, the women clambered aboard the train with a sigh of relief . . . all but one.

She paused, got in touch with her feelings, and experienced a twinge of compunction for the boy whose apple-stand had been overturned. She told her companions she would catch the next train. Later she told them, “I’m really glad I did, because the 10-year-old boy was blind.”

As the woman gathered up the apples scattered about the floor, she noticed several were bruised. She reached in her pocket and said to the child, “Please accept twenty dollars for the apples I damaged. I hope I didn’t spoil your day. God bless you.”

As she started walking away, the bewildered blind boy called after her, asking, . . .

“Are you Jesus?”

“Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” – Matthew 25:40

Keep Looking Up . . . His Best is Yet to Come!

Thanks Dad . . .

Posted on by Fred D

Thanks Dad – for adopting me. Back when I was a defiant teenager you rescued me into your family in ‘as-is’ condition . . . without condition. Over the years I regret having so often disappointed you by stubbornly disregarding your patient advice in lieu of doing things my way. I’m ever amazed and grateful that you never once abandoned me . . . I’d have dumped my rebellious self at the nearest police station or orphanage a long time ago.

Thanks Dad – for always disciplining me, not in anger, but with supernatural, patient, tough love . . . I needed it! It allowed me to learn by experiencing the hurtful consequences of my wrong choices. As a father myself now, I realize it hurt you much more than it did me.

Thanks Dad – for my much older, ‘biological’ good brother. Like you, in spite of all the hurt I’ve caused him, he still loves me to death . . . it’s in his DNA . . . I see each time he reaches out to hug and forgive me with nail scared hands.

Thanks Dad – for accepting me into your family . . . always loving me . . . and being there for me 24/7/365 . . . I Love You . . . You’re the best!

Happy Father’s Day!

Your ragamuffin, prodigal son . . . Freddy

PS – I’m headed back towards Home . . . can’t wait to see you and brother.

Rescued – Loved – Adopted

Valentine Beauty

Posted on by Fred D

Some of us may not be what some consider a “beautiful” Valentine, but anyone can be a “pretty” Valentine. I’m thankful that “Beauty is only skin deep.” 😊

Staistica confirms Americans are obsessed with beauty, constantly trying to turn back the hands- of-time on what they see reflected in the mirror, reporting:

  • In 2020 the United States cosmetics market was 95.92 billion, and is anticipated to reach 155.25 billion by 2026
  • Skin care products account for 40 % and hair care 21 % of the United States cosmetics market
  • Women in the US spend roughly $313/month on beauty product
  • Men in the US spend roughly $244/month, 22% less compared to women. However, I contend this is not necessarily because men are less vain than women . . . many men grow beards and are bald negating the use of skin and hair care products 😊

Having miraculously attained an age where Botox no longer smooths wrinkles, and Rogaine doesn’t sprout hair on chrome-domes, I’ve grown content watching the Ole Dude put in his dentures and hearing aids in front of the mirror 😊. Other than razor blades, shaving crème, a tube of Ben-Gay, and a deodorant stick to use when my wife takes me out in public, I maintain ‘beauty’ for under $25 bucks/month 😊. I like God’s description of  handsome,

“He has no from or comeliness; and when we see Him, there is no beauty that we should desire Him.” Isaiah 53:2

Here’s a favorite Valentine’s story I’ve seen a few times but believe is worth repeating . . . Beauty-in-Action . . . Pay it Forward.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn’t, the girl with the rose.

 
His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner’s name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond.


The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn’t matter what she looked like.

 
When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting – 7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York. “You’ll recognize me,” she wrote, “by the red rose I’ll be wearing on my lapel.” So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he’d never seen.

I’ll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened next:

A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. “Going my way, sailor?” she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell.

She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.

And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be, grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment.

 
“I’m Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me. May I take you to dinner?”


The woman’s face broadened into a tolerant smile. “I don’t know what this is about, son,” she answered, “but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!“


It’s not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell’s wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive. “Tell me whom you love,” Arsène Houssaye wrote, “and I will tell you who you are.”
Keep Looking Up . . . His best is yet to come!

Kindness

Posted on by Fred D

Gary is a long-distance friend in Minnesota who recently shared this story of what our world needs more of . . . spontaneous, un-selective random acts of kindness.

Kindness

“Last week when it was really cold (-60 wind chill) a lady I know invited a stranger to sleep on her couch. A truck driver was going to curl up in his idling truck in the gas station parking lot. Different skin color, 600 miles from home, first job out of prison, not used to the cold weather but very used to the coldness of racial tension. By the time he left, the whole family (even her husband) had adopted him and he them.

I love her explanation. “I would never do a thing like that on my own but I just felt moved to tap this guy in front of me in the convenience store line and ask him if he had a place to stay tonight. Then I called my husband and told him we had company for supper and overnight. I knew it was Jesus moving me, I just knew I was safe, so I would not take no for an answer from the trucker or my husband.” A funny-moving story in real life not many will hear, but is somewhat common in some circles.

So, picture me this America. Land of spacious skies, freedom and home of the brave. At least you Jesus followers…how about “Love one another as I have loved you” John 13:34

Turns out our truck driver had found and followed Jesus in prison, but was adrift in the big cold world not having found any support. He found God’s warming love from an unlikely stranger on one of the coldest nights winter could bring. That saga will continue…”

“Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you?

And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you? And the King will answer them, Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”

Matthew 25:37-40

Thanks Gary.

Peace . . . Hope . . . Joy . . . Love

Posted on by Fred D

Clouds abated today and sunshine peeked through, a welcome respite from a lengthy stretch of stormy weather . . . and I heard the mountains calling.

John Muir once said, “You are not in the mountains. The mountains are in you” . . . and today they moved in.

High among mountain cathedrals’ majesty, blanketed in pristine virgin white, He silently whispered to my soul in the solitude . . . Peace, Hope, Joy and Love . . . so thirsted for in the world below me.

Scripture tells us that faith can move mountains . . . climbing mountains always moves my faith to greater heights, wishing I could linger longer.

“I will lift mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.”

Psalm 121:1-2

Chugach Vista
Contented Footprints
Talkeetna Vista

Teardrops and Raindrops

Posted on by Fred D

Creation’s Tears

Tears of joy, and those of sorrow

We know not which will fall tomorrow

Raindrops upon a flower’s bloom

Prompts dismissing teardrops’ gloom

Our tears of grief, and those of loss

Were all once shed upon a Cross

He knows our grief, our pain and sorrow

And saves each one to dry tomorrow

“You know how troubled I am; You have kept a record of my tears” – Ps.56:8 GNB

“He will wipe away all tears from their eyes. There will be no more death, no more grief or cry or pain”.  – Rev. 21:4 GNB