tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29806195602482917032024-03-28T03:48:39.039-07:00Dr. John's JottingsJohn Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.comBlogger468125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-31444609918206035372024-03-15T07:02:00.000-07:002024-03-15T07:02:27.587-07:00Dressing Up<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosk-SJitnwIlo0XHJtIuEjmsWBaWGlj1Yi7FilMw51XT-2CCOFeT7-AEiGQ7YQT4v9lvECVLvzBCXkjsYSD74oAkkRHeHmvlxYC_5lC-PraqHFIa6YpLs8VJScQvMe9QkSpdnsnuVWz4NzwOXWxRLQxRXmha5Qo6CsWg9MDeIoE48_r2HKw4Hgil90NLb/s3000/53565046894_cb2414626c_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2005" data-original-width="3000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosk-SJitnwIlo0XHJtIuEjmsWBaWGlj1Yi7FilMw51XT-2CCOFeT7-AEiGQ7YQT4v9lvECVLvzBCXkjsYSD74oAkkRHeHmvlxYC_5lC-PraqHFIa6YpLs8VJScQvMe9QkSpdnsnuVWz4NzwOXWxRLQxRXmha5Qo6CsWg9MDeIoE48_r2HKw4Hgil90NLb/s320/53565046894_cb2414626c_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“What are you doing?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I asked my beautiful wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
was seated at the computer and a couple of our children were standing nearby.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“The children are having a dress up day at school,” Elaine
told me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We are trying to figure out
what they will dress up as.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think
Victoria will go as Madeline.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Fun,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Maybe
Vincent can go as Julius Caesar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are
coming up on the Ides of March, you know.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">No one seemed to think my idea was all that great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I think Vincent should go as Dark Vader!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elise told me seriously.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Dark Vader?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I think I know his brother Darth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m guessing he was twins?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“No, Dad, DARK Vader!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Elise told me firmly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He dresses
in black because his name is DARK.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am not sure how Elise knows anything about Darth (or Dark)
Vader.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What cannot be denied is that she
was certain of her knowledge about his name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She argued with me for a while about it and eventually I dropped
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may have been right about Dark
Vader’s real name, but getting a four year old to believe that I knew what I
was talking about was a mountain I couldn’t climb.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Mark Twain, a long time ago, wrote, “"It's not what we
don't know that gets us in trouble. It's what we know for sure that just ain't
so.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of course, being in the medical field, I see this a
lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of my patients know a lot more
than I do and not only that, but they have access to Google.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, they still need someone to
write them the prescriptions that they are sure that they need.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I think of Jeremiah, the prophet in the Old Testament.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was called to speak truth to the people
and tell them to turn from their wicked ways or else God would judge their
land.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The problem was that there was an abundance of false prophets
who prophesied peace, prosperity, and victory over the enemy nation of
Babylon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jeremiah told the Jews, “Behold,
you trust in deceptive words to no avail.” (Jeremiah 7:8 ESV)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Given a choice between Jeremiah’s words, which required life
change and the false prophets’ words which promised God’s blessing with minimal
effort, there was no question as to which words the people wanted to trust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So it was that city of Jerusalem fell in 586
BC amidst great slaughter and devastation.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A huge number of opinions does not equal a fact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truth is not achieved simply by polling the
people.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Our goal should be to find truth and, on the way, we must
listen to voices that challenge our opinions and even words that make us feel
uncomfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our goal is not to
reinforce our beliefs, but to learn.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Otherwise, we might end up in the sad state of a four year
old girl arguing with her dad about the real name of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Dark Vader.”<o:p></o:p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-73524452680188318812024-03-09T03:55:00.000-08:002024-03-09T03:55:29.953-08:00The Tallest Mountain?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgQ_roeGic4k_3ca2jKk-TWYR3l3JhlKgoD2aF_-Ma75FvuGOpeMhykthEpsyjYxo6yt-lP05XxAPAh7i_vi4sdDocwO-HaPzZeu_mRZkOwE2kDs-pE2V8l4LBrTFfTgA-FZcr22RgYTvjs1SOeOpK7wWzLFpdMpwi4dSeMI44Upp2GQ-SvtvpHim0C7N/s2971/Mount_Everest_as_seen_from_Drukair2_PLW_edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1615" data-original-width="2971" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgQ_roeGic4k_3ca2jKk-TWYR3l3JhlKgoD2aF_-Ma75FvuGOpeMhykthEpsyjYxo6yt-lP05XxAPAh7i_vi4sdDocwO-HaPzZeu_mRZkOwE2kDs-pE2V8l4LBrTFfTgA-FZcr22RgYTvjs1SOeOpK7wWzLFpdMpwi4dSeMI44Upp2GQ-SvtvpHim0C7N/s320/Mount_Everest_as_seen_from_Drukair2_PLW_edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Everyone
knows what the highest mountain in the world is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mt. Everest, stands 29,031 feet above
sea level and is the peak that everyone wants to climb for bragging rights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next two highest
mountains are K2 and Kangchenjunga -- both of which are actually more difficult to climb than Mt. Everest.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">These
peaks are amazing, the only three peaks on this planet that rise above 28,000
feet elevation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Climbing them requires a
high level of skill and for most humans, a good supply of oxygen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There is
some argument about what the highest mountain peak really is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reason for this is that some peaks have
their bases far beneath the surface of the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By this measure, Mauna Kea, although its peak
only rises 13,803 feet above sea level, has a higher rise from its base to its
peak than Mt. Everest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mauna Kea has a difference
in elevation from its base to its peak of 30,610 feet – significantly more than
the distance that Mt. Everest lies above sea level.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I don’t
suppose it matters much -- there are no trophies give to mountains for heights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> More than that, m</span>ountains aren’t
living things and they do not really care which one of them is tallest.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is
different with people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we look at
where someone is at today, we only see their position at this moment in time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What we don’t see is the long journey behind
them, the adversity they encountered along the way, and the times when, in the
midst of the chaos of their childhood or teen years, they almost gave up.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Many
people are more like Mauna Kea than Mt. Everest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had to climb thousands of feet just to
get to sea level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Far more important
than someone’s current position and attainment is their trajectory.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jesus, in
the Sermon on the Mount, “Judge not that you be not judged.” (Matthew 7:1)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many reasons that we should not sit
in judgment on others, but one of them is simply that unless we know a person's whole
story, we cannot adequately assess who someone is and how far they have come.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For some of us start life at 18,000 feet elevation, while others begin their lives a mile below
sea level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The important questions
really aren’t how tall you are, but rather, where have you come from and where
are you heading.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For my
money, Mauna Kea is more impressive than Mr. Everest, not because of its peak,
but because of its roots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same is
true of people.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-81643795198732562112024-02-23T03:07:00.000-08:002024-02-23T03:07:54.679-08:00God or Vegetables?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYGpHEd3WrUsBO4Eirs2Dl5obV8g8cKO863HfDRnk7VStT9TOgUe4RPTC40ZECqzL1zZr0xB3OiuM2AMmECi6FZhKNwYh2bU99x8zumNDS2xn8NolzMwB_0njdIxXiWQUi4Jo1Xg3fTWpZy0Omj0K0iqOrVT-HPcGjKiC28AwKtlqUcSj8Erjpgt5afRE/s3000/IMGP3579-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1997" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYGpHEd3WrUsBO4Eirs2Dl5obV8g8cKO863HfDRnk7VStT9TOgUe4RPTC40ZECqzL1zZr0xB3OiuM2AMmECi6FZhKNwYh2bU99x8zumNDS2xn8NolzMwB_0njdIxXiWQUi4Jo1Xg3fTWpZy0Omj0K0iqOrVT-HPcGjKiC28AwKtlqUcSj8Erjpgt5afRE/s320/IMGP3579-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>"Dad, Magnolia is wrong!" Elise said to me firmly -- quite of nowhere. I wondered what brought this disagreement about. Magnolia and Elise are both four-years old and they are both very certain about their opinions, but both are occasionally (often?) wrong.</p><p>"What is she wrong about?" I asked. </p><p>"Magnolia says that it is God that makes us grow," Elise said. "But I told her she was wrong! It isn't God that makes us grow, it is vegetables!"</p><p>I chuckled a little. Elise does eat her vegetables well. "Is Mac and Cheese vegetables?" I asked her.</p><p>"Yes," she said. Then thought for a moment, "No, Dad, Mac and Cheese is not vegetables, but it is still very tasty."</p><p>"I think you both are right," I said. "Vegetables give you special vitamins that help you grow big and strong, but without God, we wouldn't be able to grow either. There are probably other things that it takes to grow besides those things. This is something that is multi-factorial, Elise."</p><p>We moved on to discuss other important subjects, but I could tell that Elise was still certain that she was right, while her friend was incorrect. One thing is certain, Elise is growing -- as are all of her siblings.</p><p>I have heard parents say that they wish they could keep their children small forever. I suppose that they really mean that they would like to freeze time and stay in a particular special moment, but if Elise was correct, all you would have to do is stop giving your children vegetables and they would cease growing. From what I have seen, even children who mainly eat French fries and chicken nuggets still seem to grow -- and no, French fries are not a vegetable.</p><p>Psalms 73:26 says, "My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; He is mine forever."</p><p>Magnolia is more right than my daughter. It is God who gives us strength and helps us grow. I know that I depend on Him and the darker the day, the greater is my need for the courage that only He can offer.</p><p>We do need to healthy things, like broccoli and tomatoes, to be healthy and grow. Even more than that, we need to have our feet on the Rock and our hand in the hand of our Heavenly Father. He will lead us in ways that helps us grow -- even after we have attained our adult height.</p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-42562629014695566462024-02-16T03:57:00.000-08:002024-02-16T03:57:06.252-08:00Seeing and Believing<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJyj6ouNdDYwDg13Xh_4vK1bPKPpx5rrsC7WXMiMJIVKW7kMbLQcWJti6d6bBcROI_Dv-V24dc1VGr_TgR8NoCwXX-awxC_8IkjUPqwH8-wtjVjSpTFpe-As0NQ19l4qfSHxAvIdkeBfKqRaN89TN_-_ephmuDR9DBGUZ0eiRVJR9UgbzbK0jxIQPUYp4/s3000/IMGP3603-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1997" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJyj6ouNdDYwDg13Xh_4vK1bPKPpx5rrsC7WXMiMJIVKW7kMbLQcWJti6d6bBcROI_Dv-V24dc1VGr_TgR8NoCwXX-awxC_8IkjUPqwH8-wtjVjSpTFpe-As0NQ19l4qfSHxAvIdkeBfKqRaN89TN_-_ephmuDR9DBGUZ0eiRVJR9UgbzbK0jxIQPUYp4/s320/IMGP3603-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Lo, one day I visited my office forthwith to examine and treat the maladies and plagues which are afflicting the people of Brookneal. It so passed that as I was in the House of Healing, there in Brookneal, that a woman of the common folk presented herself to my sight.</p><p>"Art thou new here?" She queried of me.</p><p>This struck me as an odd question, for behold, I have served the County of Campbell nigh on seven years. "I started in this office in Anno Domine 2017," quoth I. "So, I am new, but not Brand Spanking New."</p><p>"Oh," she said. "Well, I ain't never seen you here before."</p><p>"Well, my Fair Lady, that is because I am the Emperor's New Physician and only people of GREAT Quality can see me. Welcome to the club!" Is what I desired to say to her, but I held my peace and only said, "I suppose that is because you have been seeing other doctors, but you get to see me now."</p><p>This seemed to satisfy her curiosity, at least for the moment and we moved on to other things, such as her health and well-being and discussions of my travels from the far land of Indiana and my youth in the land that was round on the ends and HI in the middle were left for Another Day.</p><p>I continued to ponder on this subject, thinking on things that are not seen and whether or not we believe in spite of our lack of vision. In the Gospel of John, we may read the story of the Apostle Thomas, who after the Resurrection of Jesus heard the stories of a living Jesus and found himself unable to believe.</p><p>Sometime later, Jesus revealed Himself to this Doubting Apostle and Thomas, in spite of his doubts, found himself unable to deny the reality of the Resurrection. </p><p>To him, Jesus saith, "Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed." (John 20:29)</p><p>It is only through the eyes of faith that we can believe the things which we have not seen with our own retinas and optic nerves. And yet, there is a tremendous blessing for those who trust a risen Savior, even though they have never touched his nail pierced hands or spear pierced side.</p><p>This blessing is far greater than the blessing received by those who believe in the reality of the Emperor's New Physician of Brookneal without standing in his presence (or reading his blog).</p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-17294468601012419372024-02-09T02:35:00.000-08:002024-02-09T02:35:04.727-08:00Unbreakable!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XSMQWAimophuhU-vQYVmnET49jCkP6cb-tkZIB1JXF0ekEC2zxRe61a_9MVyQHe0JDTwJi6givmPJUQ3vepmZkX5sjX-jhl8H21_X_KumyumIoaxcxW016sk1zraGe75QjlsNXWAyTUQUbz-TbV8qFRFXWnhJLb1K52q-Bfdi6XZyGPy5_48xdp2gf8T/s3000/IMGP3770-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-XSMQWAimophuhU-vQYVmnET49jCkP6cb-tkZIB1JXF0ekEC2zxRe61a_9MVyQHe0JDTwJi6givmPJUQ3vepmZkX5sjX-jhl8H21_X_KumyumIoaxcxW016sk1zraGe75QjlsNXWAyTUQUbz-TbV8qFRFXWnhJLb1K52q-Bfdi6XZyGPy5_48xdp2gf8T/s320/IMGP3770-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Dad,” Elise said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I
cannot break my dress!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I looked at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
wasn’t sure that Elise's dress really looked like it was indestructible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looked nothing like the flame-retardant
suits that some folks wear around the racetrack.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“It is made of cotton!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She said proudly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Cotton is not
like glass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t break.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">At least I could see where she was going.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes,” I said agreeably.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Cotton doesn’t break like glass does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s surprising they don’t make dinner plates
out of cotton.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elise nodded her head wisely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she was tsar of the manufacturing, a lot more
things would be made of cotton.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A few days later, the two of us were together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elise had her boots with her, but she wasn’t
wearing them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, she was standing
on top of them, bouncing up and down.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I think you should probably stop bouncing on those boots,”
I told her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You might make it hard to
wear them in the future.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Don’t worry Dad,” Elise told me with confidence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“These boots are made of cotton!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This was a punchline I wasn’t expecting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, the boots weren’t made of
cotton.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m guess they were made of some
leather-like material.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than that,
cotton is not nearly as unbreakable as my four-year old daughter believes.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthian Christians, “We are
pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed,
but not driven to despair. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are hunted
down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not
destroyed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through suffering, our bodies
continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be
seen in our bodies.” (II Corinthians 4:8-10 NLT)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Paul went through suffering that would destroy most of
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was probably made of sterner
stuff than the average human, but even he would have broken had it not been
for the fact that he was “never abandoned by God.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">None of us can stand for long by ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each one of us has a breaking point and yet,
as we lean on divine power, we can survive terrible suffering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is not that we are enough, but that our
God is enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He it is that can make us
strong – even stronger, in fact, than indestructible cotton.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-76110550740051659192024-01-26T11:04:00.000-08:002024-01-26T11:04:15.240-08:00Hard Words<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62GrTtxDZivdMKkZFgBr_hXYqJE-q9ghJym-wvBLzsY3SYleecMseGkv5tuk9gzqzmN_X1xoQfEtqKgD6ltTESEv-WhdVzfmSzp1QSzaI75FREVfO962JxaDfj034dxDc0ICSIrE57jT4udgusFM_Um_x4NFDTBD6ARarM8EadBTL-i_cTUaAFbznb4a9/s2000/14572582266_8bf50c98fc_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1330" data-original-width="2000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62GrTtxDZivdMKkZFgBr_hXYqJE-q9ghJym-wvBLzsY3SYleecMseGkv5tuk9gzqzmN_X1xoQfEtqKgD6ltTESEv-WhdVzfmSzp1QSzaI75FREVfO962JxaDfj034dxDc0ICSIrE57jT4udgusFM_Um_x4NFDTBD6ARarM8EadBTL-i_cTUaAFbznb4a9/s320/14572582266_8bf50c98fc_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Elise,” our four year old’s brother said urgently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What do you call animals that lions catch
and eat.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For the last three weeks, our home has been deluged with
coloring pages of lions and tigers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Elise loves to color (some might call it scribble) and the only thing
she wants to color are pictures of big cats. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other girls might like princess pictures or
things like that, but Elise has moved from an obsession with dinosaurs onto
tigers.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elise began to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You could see on her face that she was trying to remember if she learned
about this in preschool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come on,
Elise,” Elliot said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What do you call
animals that lions eat?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">At this point, something clicked in Elise’s brain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You call them MEAT!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She said and shrieked with laughter.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“No,” Elliot said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They
are prey.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elise was not listening to her brother at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They’re meat!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’re meat!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She chortled as she colored a coloring page
with a tiger on it a luminescent shade of green.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Lions are supposedly the kings of the jungle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether or not the other animals view them as
such, they have been named animal royalty by humans.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(Lions are not particularly royal, neither do they live in
the jungle – they live on the savanna.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In a way, I suppose it doesn’t really matter if you call
antelopes prey or meat, the ones that are caught by lions do not enjoy their
fate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A cow on the table is steak or
beef, but the name doesn’t change the life changing event that brings them to
the dinner plate.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It seems as though humans are good at giving things names
that soften the impact of their actions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Pastors have moral failings rather than immoral, sinful behavior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People
don’t tell the whole truth rather than indulge in lies.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The problem is that as long as we are not honest with
ourselves about the significance of our behavior, we will never have victory
over it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Romans 12:3, Paul told the
Roman Christians, “I give each of you this warning: Don't think you are better
than you really are. Be honest in your evaluation of yourselves, measuring
yourselves by the faith God has given us.” (NLT)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Honesty about the severity of our sin and the impact it has had on those around us is the beginning of a new path that leads way from
euphemisms and towards conquering that sin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> T</span>hat is the most important thing of all.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-5795383959255950512024-01-19T03:37:00.000-08:002024-01-19T03:37:07.297-08:00The Real Cure<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXQdCxKWGYwKNmqxv_grmdgV-tN3UtXjQI69T7v8Wgx0pZS4yJic3vqmcDGnnTrHpoTwmVi7R2lULo_6ss7u_mBDcs4NEPjYbhNIK8guPMXiOV1pZuI3WeZ-pmhpLpsWdcFe3Nc48PTUZ_EXU-BasWenmuJB3wpfQoBdB9nPB6Lf-ka9qH2EudthcslYg/s3000/IMGP3566-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1997" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXQdCxKWGYwKNmqxv_grmdgV-tN3UtXjQI69T7v8Wgx0pZS4yJic3vqmcDGnnTrHpoTwmVi7R2lULo_6ss7u_mBDcs4NEPjYbhNIK8guPMXiOV1pZuI3WeZ-pmhpLpsWdcFe3Nc48PTUZ_EXU-BasWenmuJB3wpfQoBdB9nPB6Lf-ka9qH2EudthcslYg/s320/IMGP3566-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“What do you have there?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I asked my four-year old daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She seemed to be carrying a magazine that looked suspiciously like one
of my medical journals.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“It is a doctor’s magazine!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She told me proudly.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Interesting,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Are you learning lots of things about being a good doctor?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Yes,” she said with confidence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She flipped the magazine open and stopped at
a page which had pictures of people with skin disorders that seemed to have
waited too long to seek medical attention.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“What are those pictures of?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I questioned my daughter.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“These people have TERRIBLE rashes!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told me definitively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could see that my daughter, precocious as
she is, has a future in the medical field.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe she could even start work soon to help me out in my office.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Do you think they need a special cream to help them get
better?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Oh, no!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shook
her head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These people were too far gone
for cream to help them out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They don’t
need cream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They need a doctor!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I found this interchange with my young daughter quite
amusing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the same time, there is some
truth to what she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see people in
my office every day who thought that what they needed was not a doctor, it was a particular home
remedy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Googled their symptoms and
tried all of the things that Chat GPT recommended – twice – before finally knuckling
under and coming to see me for some other treatments.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It seems that Jesus understood this for He said, “They that
are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick: I came not to
call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Mark 2:17)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In this case, He was speaking of people living holy,
righteous lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps there was a
little bit of a dig at the religious people of His day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Pharisees believed that they were “all that.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They needed no help because they were completely
righteous.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The reality is that all of us – even the best – need Jesus’
help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We cannot truly overcome sin,
questionable motivations, and bad attitudes without His help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, we struggle along, putting the same,
unhelpful creams on the rashes of our soul.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What we really needed the whole time is not Dr. Chat GPT, or a
special spiritual salve. What we needed was a specialist capable of diagnosing our heart condition. What we needed most was a Savior.<o:p></o:p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-48505144198916097962024-01-12T16:49:00.000-08:002024-01-12T16:49:33.968-08:00Higher than a House!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJGMfqmRV0NPkO02S40QDR0nJOLxQF3W1bewfqmR_cQit-arDZp17CTZRYAbHzKLLiIskvhcHAck9w6bZN2P2SLDnJJo6JDpoaGYrJDec_XBWGIT7w7fAYii2BNZoDyXAi0QN_z6K-kWJCVKGWygX4V37zc_IG8PF6okleyEDOdAT3ZrcBZXEYl7Lb-Swo/s3000/53457946792_c35901970b_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1997" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJGMfqmRV0NPkO02S40QDR0nJOLxQF3W1bewfqmR_cQit-arDZp17CTZRYAbHzKLLiIskvhcHAck9w6bZN2P2SLDnJJo6JDpoaGYrJDec_XBWGIT7w7fAYii2BNZoDyXAi0QN_z6K-kWJCVKGWygX4V37zc_IG8PF6okleyEDOdAT3ZrcBZXEYl7Lb-Swo/s320/53457946792_c35901970b_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Elise, what animal can jump higher than a house?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elise’s dad was asking her a really hard
question.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elise thought and thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I think that Mr. Dinosaur can jump higher than a house!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told me with confidence. (Mr. Dinosaur is a small stuffed T. Rex that hangs out with Elise at bedtime.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elise’s sister, Victoria, was listening in on this
conversation and she decided to put in her two cents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, Elise,” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Any animal can jump higher than a house,
because a house can’t jump!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Well,” I said, trying to encourage both of my
daughters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Elise is right that a
dinosaur can probably jump higher than a house (that is, if there were any
dinosaurs still around to jump), but Victoria you are right that houses don’t
jump.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I began thinking about this riddle and I realized that it
isn’t totally accurate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suppose that
any animal can jump as high as a house, but some animals simply don’t
jump.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elephants, Hippos, Rhinos, and
Sloths do not jump at all, therefore they can’t jump higher than a house –
they, like a house, don’t jump.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Somehow from there, my mind went to the famous theoretical physicist, Stephen Hawking. Stephen Hawking couldn’t jump higher than a house, although
to turn things around a little bit, a house couldn’t jump higher than Stephen
Hawking either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not sure who should
feel worse about this comparison, the house or Stephen Hawking.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(I know Mr. Hawking is no longer with us, but it still is an
interesting theoretical thing to contemplate.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Then, what about Baba Yaga’s house?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since it stands on chicken legs, surely it
cannot only walk around, but jump!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Suddenly, my amazing riddle to stump my four-year-old daughter disappeared
in a cloud of mythological dust.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Some of us, quite simply are over thinkers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We analyze things to death – even children’s
riddles that are simply designed to amuse and not bemuse the hearers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem, of course, is that overthinking
can lead to anxiety and distress.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Psalms 94:19 says, “When doubts filled my mind, your comfort
gave me renewed hope and cheer.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(NLT)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There isn’t really any solution for doubt and anxiety better
than relying on God and feeling His comforting arms supporting us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For, doubts do dismay and anxieties destroy
peace, but God’s love reaches past all of them to give wholeness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He even grants peace to those of us who can’t decide who
really can jump higher than a house.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-23052036896554973212024-01-05T03:14:00.000-08:002024-01-05T03:14:06.264-08:00Changing Things Up<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSJ4yHDv4rJXxcClKSnzJ4IU8rHv1RIXD32endbDDiQgJnLF3N0c8G9nA3y8QygHe0Gw4aWPdWJroEmp0GaLKMSvaLLG9-ui_VksYIb5GydMDXHsNgrLerJfHBgGcW11p2IayisvVBheF8nsYnQy-Po-gQFbuTJyIb-lIAmlfabNEvWc6RbbUBwEUp467/s3000/CAM31881-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2002" data-original-width="3000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNSJ4yHDv4rJXxcClKSnzJ4IU8rHv1RIXD32endbDDiQgJnLF3N0c8G9nA3y8QygHe0Gw4aWPdWJroEmp0GaLKMSvaLLG9-ui_VksYIb5GydMDXHsNgrLerJfHBgGcW11p2IayisvVBheF8nsYnQy-Po-gQFbuTJyIb-lIAmlfabNEvWc6RbbUBwEUp467/s320/CAM31881-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“How are things going?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I asked the older gentleman sitting across from me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Terrible,” he replied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I just don’t feel good most days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m tired and out of sorts and none of my doctors can figure out what is
going on with me.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I looked up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I was one of his doctors and I could tell he was feeling frustrated.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">It had
been three months since Al had been in last and these were the same sorts of things
he had been talking about the previous time he was in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Have you started using your CPAP machine
yet?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked him.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“No,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I can’t
use that thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gives me claustrophobia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried it once a year ago and I could tell
right away it was a no go for me.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I think it would help,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You definitely have sleep apnea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How about smoking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have you cut back or quit that?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“No,” Al said slowly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I haven’t really made much headway there either.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We went over a couple of other things that I had suggested
the last time he was in the office, and it turned out that he had implemented
zero of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I guess I’m not a very
good patient, am I?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked, ruefully.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“You’re a normal patient,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Most of us struggle to do things we know we
should, but I’ll keep bringing them up and hopefully as time goes by you will
begin to feel better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know you won’t
feel 17 again, but I think you could feel quite a bit better than you do right
now.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There is a famous quote (misattributed to Albert Einstein)
that says, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting
different results.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Even as we come to the beginning of 2024, it bears asking
the question, “How was 2023 for you?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This is not a question about financial valuation or
wonderful trips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The question is how is
your relationship with God and your family today, January of 2024, compared to those
same relationships a year ago?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Hopefully, you can say that they have improved over the last
year, but most of us will admit that they could be better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The question then is very simple: “What are you going to do differently next
year to make sure that these things improve?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The point is that if you do the same things in 2024 that you
did in 2023, you should expect the same results.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you spend limited time in prayer, limited
time with your wife (or husband), and continue to be highly critical of your
family members, there is no reason to believe that your relationships with the
most important people in your world will do anything other than stagnate.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In Ephesians 4:22-24 Paul said, “That ye put off concerning
the former conversation the old man, which is corrupt according to the
deceitful lusts; and be renewed in the spirit of your mind; and that ye put on
the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I pray that as we head into the new year, we would make wise
decisions about the most important things in our lives – our relationships with
God and the people around us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we reach
January 1<sup>st</sup> of 2025 and our bank accounts are full and overflowing
and our relationships are bankrupt, that will be a disaster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Far better to make different (better) decisions
than in the past, for that is the only way that we will see the results we
really want.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-70216468296966017192023-12-15T03:20:00.000-08:002023-12-15T03:20:32.470-08:00Inaccurate Lyrics<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitS18RHhI3ksA2uOrMdIJtiQTRqYRdxIhUJLVchkT48AbjoZJo8nfcS8UVjq1d7bfH3SgnBlDpuiDk478Okh3A0IAumClk1uR4_OALr9c9PtRm9XVnVHksZJdms5aroNqxiwQFjHizKFX8jBbVR9n68If_EDvq_lJQABPr6ugd72ljMbElfnVwFsdtHSUR/s3000/IMGP2823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1987" data-original-width="3000" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitS18RHhI3ksA2uOrMdIJtiQTRqYRdxIhUJLVchkT48AbjoZJo8nfcS8UVjq1d7bfH3SgnBlDpuiDk478Okh3A0IAumClk1uR4_OALr9c9PtRm9XVnVHksZJdms5aroNqxiwQFjHizKFX8jBbVR9n68If_EDvq_lJQABPr6ugd72ljMbElfnVwFsdtHSUR/s320/IMGP2823.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>Lo, it came to pass that a group from my church passed into yonder community round about Long Island, Virginia and sang goodly carols for
a brief time the other evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the space
of an hour and a half or nigh on two hours, we traversed the rural roads and
made a joyous if not always beautiful sound.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The older people who listened to our singing seemed duly
impressed, although certainly our next stop is NOT Carnegie Hall.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As we lifted our voices, I thought upon the words of the
carols.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It striketh me that many of the
songs that are sung at this time are clearly not based upon reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There never was a magic hat that wakened a
snowman from his icy stupor, nor was there a man dressed in scarlet who
requested a caribou like animal to pull his sleigh because of its oddly colored
nose. In point of fact, I am not totally certain that there is a man dressed in red who lives with elves at the North Pole.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">(Somehow, our group neglected all mention of the Klaus, reindeer, and snowmen in our songs.)</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The hymns that speak of Christ’s birth are also full of
mythology as well, as many are quick to point out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is no certainty that our Savior was
born at night, that no crying He made, or that there were three magi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is nothing that tells us that Jesus was
even born “In the bleak midwinter.” Certainly, snow was not piled "snow on snow" -- at least not in the Judean hillside or the shepherds would not have been abiding in the fields.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I wonder if those who pick apart the song lyrics of
Christmas carols have boring day jobs or if they are simply very literal minded
individuals who despise poetry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It seemeth to me that far more important than the exact
accuracy of the lyrics is the reality of Christ’s birth and of the joy that
should bring to the lives of those who have come to know Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What songs like Away in a Manger, In the Bleak Midwinter,
and Silent Night lack in accuracy, they make up in pure an adulterated joy for
the knowledge that though we did not deserve it, God came down to earth to love
and minister to us. For, this baby, born into a poor, common Jewish family, would grow up to save all who believe on His name.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Truly, this is what I feel when I hear Christmas carols.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This too, is what the people of Long Island
felt too when we sang for them one chilly December night in Virginia.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-12385141329018771332023-12-01T03:36:00.000-08:002023-12-01T05:41:31.601-08:00Screen Time?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofLFOiJnqNyVjp5fskLW1rlM1Xf_A0-5saOJCNhZ2egD2sa1MyLWJOWUUZIPv17Dl12NuzoD3Klh7yCkwXPrRhNTlGOw4zxSPgmDoUTxokx0bWvYPatAPrT4ClryZ6LG0oHchgZIWy2yH7ELtYVUy2GXnk9bWAQLapzWy98TRM0FL2gJfaQH1OC8qb86B/s3000/CAM31303-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2005" data-original-width="3000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofLFOiJnqNyVjp5fskLW1rlM1Xf_A0-5saOJCNhZ2egD2sa1MyLWJOWUUZIPv17Dl12NuzoD3Klh7yCkwXPrRhNTlGOw4zxSPgmDoUTxokx0bWvYPatAPrT4ClryZ6LG0oHchgZIWy2yH7ELtYVUy2GXnk9bWAQLapzWy98TRM0FL2gJfaQH1OC8qb86B/s320/CAM31303-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“I want your phone!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The little girl wailed to her mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I want your phone!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I wondered if the girl needed to call a “lifeline” for a
quiz answer or if she simply wanted to check up on the latest war news from the Middle East.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Maybe she had some stocks she needed to sell before the price dropped any more. </span>Since she looked like she was around three
years old, I guessed that neither one of these speculations was accurate.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As the girl continued to make noise, her mother seemed to
get increasingly uncomfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Alright,
Josie,” she said at last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Here you go.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Josie took the phone and expertly navigated the password
screen and launched You Tube.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
clear that this wasn’t her first rodeo – probably not her second or third
either.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As usual, I began to analyze the scene in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The younger generation has a significantly different
relationship with technology than I have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> My first computer was an Apple II Plus computer that came from a yard sale. It had 48 kilobytes of memory and line graphics. It was anything but addictive and playing Oregon Trail and text adventures on it was more frustrating than inspiring. It certainly wasn't something I carried with me in the car or on my travels.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">For kids, though, it is all fun and games, it entertains them when they are
sitting in boring waiting rooms and seems to have no downside (other than
running down the battery on their mom’s phone).</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">At the same time, excessive screen time isn’t
healthy for kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have recently read
the book, “The Coddling of the American Mind” and while it isn’t the focus of
the book, the authors make the point that too much screen time is unhealthy for
kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In point of fact, the Academy of
Pediatrics recommends zero screen time for children under two years of age,
under one hour per day for children two to twelve years old, and less than two
hours a day for teenagers and adults (yes, adults should not spend more than two hours a day starting at screens).<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I wonder if the reason that adults have so much difficulty
controlling their kids’ screen time is because they are uncontrolled
themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adults should be limiting
their time looking at screens to two hours a day or less and yet, the average
adult in the United States spends slightly more than seven hours a day looking
at screens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> That time is divided up between a number of different things, but 80 percent is spent watching movies, television, and online videos. </span><a href="https://www.zippia.com/advice/average-screen-time-statistics/#:~:text=The%20average%20American%20spends%207,on%20their%20phone%20per%20day.">18
Average Screen Time Statistics [2023]: How Much Screen Time Is Too Much? -
Zippia</a><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Apostle Paul told the Colossian church, “Fathers, do not
provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.” (Col. 3:21)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can think of little more discouraging than for
parents to expect children to do things that parents are unwilling to do
themselves.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In many ways I feel like an old man yelling at clouds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time has moved on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Technology is here to stay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We drive horseless carriages around at breakneck speed and have wrist communicators.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We have more computing power in our pocket than the NASA had in its
whole operation when it launched the first Apollo spacecraft.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This doesn’t stop this technology from being dangerous, both
to us and our children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than that,
history is clear that what we do in moderation our children will do to excess
and what we do to excess, our children will max out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Screens are addictive and omnipresent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They need to be controlled or they will rule
both in our lives and those of our children – even if they are only three years
old.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-48743961120506489512023-11-24T08:35:00.000-08:002023-11-24T12:20:58.519-08:00Odd Things to be Thankful For<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvi6AMeeVCTD9KVeQZE-3cAW7jLX-tTMo7R_RVcRdRTC9wrIKffPrXcTxmrRd3AScpEnxvdUY2AtLM5eWaWbK0oVsH2AjgSaLjG4uhPXKEsNnXSc3cVXmDaZhBWS6dqvztE180EB0YiqbL7YU2osN2qaonEuIb3rJr6Y0u9e3VCGMCZxofGEAfPKOQwPaW/s3000/CAM31272-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2002" data-original-width="3000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvi6AMeeVCTD9KVeQZE-3cAW7jLX-tTMo7R_RVcRdRTC9wrIKffPrXcTxmrRd3AScpEnxvdUY2AtLM5eWaWbK0oVsH2AjgSaLjG4uhPXKEsNnXSc3cVXmDaZhBWS6dqvztE180EB0YiqbL7YU2osN2qaonEuIb3rJr6Y0u9e3VCGMCZxofGEAfPKOQwPaW/s320/CAM31272-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Honey,” my beautiful wife told me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I have some bad news.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My tendency towards catastrophizing kicked into
overdrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is there something wrong
with one of the children?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Did you have an accident?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“No, nothing like that,” Elaine reassured me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Then what?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
out of catastrophes that my mind could think of, although given another minute
or two, I think I could have come up with more farfetched disasters.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Well, as I was getting into the minivan, the door handle
came off in my hand,” Elaine said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now,
you have to get someone to open the door for you from the inside – or you can
go around to the passenger’s side and open it yourself.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Oh,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well,
at least that is fixable.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is fixable, but it will take several days for the part to
come in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the meantime, it is a
struggle to get into the driver’s side of our van – and even more of struggle
to drive if you don’t.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">On the bright side of things, it is much harder for thieves
to break into our van.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, no one
has stolen our van, nor anything out of it since this occurrence.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">(I’m guessing that when thieves see our van, they run
screaming in the other direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I
digress.)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I Thessalonians 5:18 says, “In every thing give thanks: for
this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For whatever reason, our human tendency is not to appreciate
the things that we have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Health is
something that many take for granted until such time as they are forced to
wander into my office due to illness.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I trust that we can learn to value the things we have before
we no longer have them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Counting
blessings is an important step to experiencing a happier life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I can say for certain that I have never been as thankful for a
door handle on a vehicle as when my wife demonstrated her mighty strength by tearing
ours off.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-59970813685853657562023-11-17T03:37:00.000-08:002023-11-17T03:37:29.747-08:00Detoxifying Tea!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwup2d2UKrT3usxy3iXPmo4_O_ZSzFIMDmh_zMAYki0Dd5AfKNopwBWx7Qsp7u_lP7mZYZbcXetO2XFhI0cO3eHUkQa2Nh2XMWeZZuxDCzgNA9AAnSxX7Ku53nNWpHl-Q83Siqsh9w61-3HKE-EdHR39uutgldwg4vOrG8lw9f9EI8bEOWUF1-265djMy/s3000/IMGP1996.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwup2d2UKrT3usxy3iXPmo4_O_ZSzFIMDmh_zMAYki0Dd5AfKNopwBWx7Qsp7u_lP7mZYZbcXetO2XFhI0cO3eHUkQa2Nh2XMWeZZuxDCzgNA9AAnSxX7Ku53nNWpHl-Q83Siqsh9w61-3HKE-EdHR39uutgldwg4vOrG8lw9f9EI8bEOWUF1-265djMy/s320/IMGP1996.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“This tea is terrible!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I said in a distressed voice to my wife.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“What tea is that?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Elaine asked in a mild manner.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“This Sleepytime Detox tea,” I replied, still somewhat
disgruntled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ve had Sleepytime Tea
before and it was fine, although I guess I'm resistant to its effects because I never get sleepy after drinking it -- maybe that is my super power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Anyway, i</span>t must be the
detox part that I’m not dealing well with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Have you tried it?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Sure,” she said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It
was fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve had it many times.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Not the Detox version,” I said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Yes,” she said firmly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I had the Detox version and I liked it fine.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I think the problem is that I have too many toxins in my
system,” I said, a little defensively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My
body is revolting at the idea of all of my toxins getting pulled out all at
once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> They should have probably used this tea at Chernobyl -- it's just too strong for me. </span>And where are all these toxins going, may I
ask?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where are all my toxins going to
go?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Elaine said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’ll be fine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It probably isn’t doing anything anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You just don’t like the taste.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I need someone to re-toxify me!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wailed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I’m just feeling too healthy!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is funny how people react to healthy diets and
activities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are people who are
firmly convinced that if they put something in their mouth and it tastes good,
they should immediately spit it out as it must be bad for them.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Proverbs 13:15, 16 says, “Good understanding giveth favour:
but the way of transgressors is hard. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every prudent man dealeth with knowledge: but
a fool layeth open his folly.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Eating healthy foods is hard to do – at least when you first
begin to do it, but in the long run, it is far easier than the
alternative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the same way, following
the path that God has set for us in His word is far easier than the path of
sin, even if it looks harder.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The issue is not simply what the path asks of us, it is the
consequences of taking that path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can
choose your path, but you cannot choose where that path takes you.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">A path of processed foods and overeating may seem easier. In the long run, those who choose healthy eating patterns will be glad that they chose that path -- even if they missed an occasional dessert along the way.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is far better to choose a little harder path that leads to
good consequences – even if that path happens to be paved with bags of Sleepytime
Detox tea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-63071741532919648762023-11-10T03:03:00.001-08:002023-11-10T03:03:40.282-08:00Throwing Pumpkins<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim19ZGnYDyicneoFB1TZXAE7f26U1VY7lT70xyrpCmT_reLDPMa0GSza-rugbtO4whXviiVQBSnn_GKF9H4Umcb-64e82AE5Q1dEeeM_Agzcd0OMeqwFmmAtSNeTBt5buW1YWQ4f1YP3BhoCgbFjxoyPigrtTMEfagNTwvJNepCfMLFv2S3JnrMXhOrdIo/s3000/IMGP1947-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim19ZGnYDyicneoFB1TZXAE7f26U1VY7lT70xyrpCmT_reLDPMa0GSza-rugbtO4whXviiVQBSnn_GKF9H4Umcb-64e82AE5Q1dEeeM_Agzcd0OMeqwFmmAtSNeTBt5buW1YWQ4f1YP3BhoCgbFjxoyPigrtTMEfagNTwvJNepCfMLFv2S3JnrMXhOrdIo/s320/IMGP1947-Edit.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Mr. Dinosaur wants to kick these pumpkins!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> My four-year old daughter, </span>Elise, held a stuffed T. Rex and made motions
as though he was kicking the pumpkins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then, she proceeded to kick some medium sized pumpkins herself.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Good job, Mr. Dinosaur!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She said, congratulating the submissive prehistoric creature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Certainly dinosaurs playing soccer is a bit
unusual, but then again, in the Waldron house, almost anything can happen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Tell Mr. Dinosaur to be careful,” Elise’s dad told
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He might hurt his foot if he kicks
the pumpkin too hard.” Elise proceeded to ignore the wise advise of her father.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Now, Mr. Dinosaur, let’s pick up the pumpkin!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elise told her stuffed friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So saying, she picked up the pumpkin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Now, throw it, Mr. Dinosaur!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The pumpkin was big enough it didn’t fly very far, but it
made a distinct thudding sound as it hit the living room floor.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I think that’s enough,” Elise’s dad told her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t think you or Mr. Dinosaur should be
throwing pumpkins.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Why not?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elise asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Mr. Dinosaur thinks this is a lot of fun.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Because the pumpkin will split and make a big mess.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elise’s lower lip quivered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Dad,” she said dramatically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You
are not pleasing God!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately for her, Elise’s father remained unmoved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Sorry,” he told her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You may have received a divine revelation, but
for some reason I haven’t gotten the same message.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now, Elise’s father and I are very well acquainted and I
agree with him completely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elise was
simply trying to do her very best to leverage the highest power she had
knowledge of to help her get her own way. It is understandable if a four-year old tries to do this, but there are plenty of older people, who should know better, who do the same thing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A lot of people have not learned this lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see many people putting their own words in the
mouth of the Almighty and it seems to me that this is one of the most dangerous
things that we can do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is not simply the idea of us prophesying about future
events that do not happen – although I have seen plenty of people do that over
the last several years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we speak
any words that are contrary to revealed Scripture, we are not speaking a divine
revelation.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Apostle Paul said, “For the time will come when people
will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they
will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching
ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside
to myths.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(II Timothy 4:3,4)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The world around us doesn’t really want to hear the messages
of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Chesterton said, “The
Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting, it has been found difficult
and left untried.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God does not call us
to lives of ease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He calls for us to
give up all in pursuit of Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
abundant life is not a life of wealth, but of abundant love, joy, and peace. On the other hand, the path to being an influencer is to avoid telling people of the trials and tribulations that wait for those who follow the path of Jesus.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I pray that we might listen to the true voice of God and not
the silken voice of teachers whose main goals are to get us to like them and to
send them money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than that, I hope
we never put our own words in the mouth of God, even for a purpose as silly as trying
to get your dad to let you throw pumpkins in the living room.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-21258331256312650212023-11-03T03:30:00.001-07:002023-11-03T03:30:37.812-07:00Shopping With Your Doctor<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNvigxKP0dkBJGa6_LgMb90t_buUBapD97N3Fxyzt4cxLlntwactxPh7GxM9Qrysjn6ktxXxwsoDN3BuwkxdgG07gX0r0K0i8qBLZ15R3R45gMzTNp0nfVin3gtjEnyl78IPiHlZHRNIlplu-2brMuRdbzZPAb0sSugijwRgusbEo5guyF2Fta9_mleTy/s3000/IMGP1834-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNvigxKP0dkBJGa6_LgMb90t_buUBapD97N3Fxyzt4cxLlntwactxPh7GxM9Qrysjn6ktxXxwsoDN3BuwkxdgG07gX0r0K0i8qBLZ15R3R45gMzTNp0nfVin3gtjEnyl78IPiHlZHRNIlplu-2brMuRdbzZPAb0sSugijwRgusbEo5guyF2Fta9_mleTy/s320/IMGP1834-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was sitting at the table of our church’s bake sale
stand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mounds of sugar-filled delicacies
surrounded me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Clearly, the Mennonite ladies' ovens had been working overtime in the last week.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A lady walked up and began to study the pies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is this chocolate chess pie?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She asked, holding up a pie.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I carefully read the label on the pie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> It said, 'Chocolate Chess Pie' on it. </span>“Yes, I believe it is,” I said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She looked up, surprised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Oh, hi, Dr. Waldron.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t
know I’d see you here.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She put the pie down in an almost guilty way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smiled reassuringly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m just trying to help out the best I can,”
I told her.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I suppose everything is healthy?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She asked.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Doctor Recommended!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I said, laughing in response.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Through the morning, I saw people who were patients at our office in Brookneal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All seemed
surprised to see me and a little sheepish at their dietary choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some even explained to me how they were
buying these sweets for their “unhealthy” spouse who was too much of a slug to leave
the house on a fine October morning.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">About mid-morning, I wondered if it wasn’t the wisest thing
to have me selling baked goods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I probably should have been at the Vitamins, carrots, and celery table (that we didn't have). </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">How many
people would take their doctors grocery shopping with them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How would their grocery purchases look
different if they had him studying every package of fish sticks or oreo cookies that they dropped
into their cart?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As a child, I learned the verses, “They eyes of the Lord are
upon the righteous and His ears are open unto their cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The face of the Lord is against them that do
evil.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Psalms 34:11,12)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There is Someone who is watching all of our actions and
listening to all of our words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is
true, even in times when we feel like we are totally alone.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">God is always watching us, even when don't think about it. The challenge is to always behave in such a way that it
doesn’t matter who sees us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those
who buy groceries as though their doctor was sitting in their shopping cart
watching their every purchase are probably the healthiest folks in the grocery
store.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-18640424189313987512023-10-27T03:33:00.002-07:002023-10-27T03:33:33.789-07:00Life Alert<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJoIz0u5p5cDzo88Y1SAebpAtwbWhJS_Z-GHVBZMfxAic9HbIy0LHQaKpGSukXYMW6bBOY-3_Y2Ntc_xAfZhR-C2c40pquwiEtjZTr03NEPPkf1RBF2SfF-mwpPDXyUym8GZcBOMavBms8N-9GwXy9cvNLHXB8D5N5m6C81A833QILyZncgW2cRsyj9Vm/s3000/53289584164_d3d394845b_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJoIz0u5p5cDzo88Y1SAebpAtwbWhJS_Z-GHVBZMfxAic9HbIy0LHQaKpGSukXYMW6bBOY-3_Y2Ntc_xAfZhR-C2c40pquwiEtjZTr03NEPPkf1RBF2SfF-mwpPDXyUym8GZcBOMavBms8N-9GwXy9cvNLHXB8D5N5m6C81A833QILyZncgW2cRsyj9Vm/s320/53289584164_d3d394845b_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Dr. Waldron, it was the worst feeling in the world!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The elderly man told me. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I can imagine,” I said. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t even know what I tripped on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I must have gotten my feet tangled up
underneath me and I went down on the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn’t hear a snap, but all I knew was that immediately there was a
horrible pain in my left hip!” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“That’s terrible,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I knew generally what had happened, but the hospital historical documents
had been a little scanty on the details.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Were you by yourself?” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“That’s the worst of it, Doctor,” Hugh told me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Elsie was there, but you know how bad her
dementia is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I might as well have been
by myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew something was wrong,
but she couldn’t seem to figure out what to do to help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept telling her, ‘Call 911 Elsie!’ and she
kept saying, ‘What’s the number?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s
the number?’” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Finally, I figured out that I wasn’t going to get any help
from her and so I dragged myself across the floor to where my cell phone was
sitting on top of a dresser and I pulled myself up and was able to call for help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately, they came pretty quick and took
me to the hospital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never want to go
through that again!” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This, of course, is why medical alert companies have sold so
many bracelets and necklaces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
read that there around 17 million devices sold that promise to alert someone if
you have fallen and cannot get up. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Psalm 145:14 says, “The Lord upholdeth all that fall, and
raiseth up all those that be bowed down.”<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">None of us wants to fall. The famous quote is that it isn't the fall that hurts you, it is the sudden stop, but regardless of the cause of the pain, as we get older, neither falls, sudden stops, or their aftermath are fun to experience. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Of course, not at all falls are physical. Some are of a deeper variety and yet even there, God has promised to forgive and heal and to restore. We may be bowed down with pain, but He will raise us up, if we only let Him.</p><p class="MsoNormal">It is such a blessing to serve a God who knows our weakness and listens to our cries when we are hurting. It is encouraging to realize that even on days with more gravity, He will continue to help us up. He is even better than a life alert bracelet, for He is always there -- even when the bracelet is on the counter and we are on the floor.</p><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-25964892340205183252023-10-20T02:58:00.005-07:002023-10-20T02:58:57.598-07:00Baby Shark Concerto?!<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0eMuYK784pK__FOn963Mn4FD9cS4IFf1pRQlWBBmlBBO6ESfbxyJ9rHgPe21Iob4Fja9G4oBOgGCkBxCFFm9m7-Iu14aCB8Fs-mFBS4590j7o0Etw0_QZajGa90FW-kBl1lTJdLTmfnehjbPlcOTJxa41Rm_qxGRQpFgChnFqdqfYC2jb_mEUZwzWnzV/s3000/IMGP1544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0eMuYK784pK__FOn963Mn4FD9cS4IFf1pRQlWBBmlBBO6ESfbxyJ9rHgPe21Iob4Fja9G4oBOgGCkBxCFFm9m7-Iu14aCB8Fs-mFBS4590j7o0Etw0_QZajGa90FW-kBl1lTJdLTmfnehjbPlcOTJxa41Rm_qxGRQpFgChnFqdqfYC2jb_mEUZwzWnzV/s320/IMGP1544.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Baby Shark!!” My four-year-old daughter shouted, banging
the piano keys like a deaf Beethoven figuring out the main melody of his 9th Symphony. She wasn't particularly tuneful, but her harmony did keep time with her words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“doo-doo,
doo-doo, doo-doo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Baby Shark!!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Daddy Shark!!” boomed in the second verse with even more
vibration of the piano strings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elise
was wringing every bit of emotion this song had out of it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Grandpa Shark!!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Followed by the requisite doo-doos and clashing of keys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t sure if the piano would
survive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was sure my ears wouldn’t
make it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“It’s the end…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
the end…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IT’S THE END!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last note was a shriek that would have made the fat
lady at the opera wish she could hit notes like that, if she had just heard it. Then the sound slowly
died away.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Sounded like Baby Shark,” I said nonchalantly to my son,
Vincent.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Yes,” he said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Do you like it?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
asked him.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t know,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Probably not.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I have an idea,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Maybe you could someday write a theme and variations on Baby Shark – or
better yet – a Piano Concerto!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Baby
Shark Piano Concerto, people would come out to hear it just because of the
name.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Vincent shook his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This did not sound like a good plan to him and frankly, it doesn’t
really to me either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are melodies
out there that are beautiful and haunting, but the tune of Baby Shark is simply
haunting. Expanding it out to a ten- or twenty-minute classical piece of music sounds like a disaster only surpassed by the volcanic eruption at Pompei.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It strikes me that there are some things that need to be
brief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Preachers and politicians are
often fond of the sound of their own voice and say with ten words what could be
said with two or three words.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Proverbs 10:19 contains the wise saying, “ In the multitude
of words there wanteth not sin: But he that refraineth his lips is wise.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quite simply, we are far more likely to get
into trouble when we talk a whole lot than we sit and listen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More than that, a little bit goes a long way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is true when it comes to words and speeches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is even true when it comes to the song Baby Shark, where a single verse is better than the whole song – even if
it is played by a precocious four year old on a Baldwin Upright Piano.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-91855728107591428722023-10-16T14:26:00.002-07:002023-10-16T14:27:43.710-07:00Thoughts on Columbus Day<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHApmoCj701M1B7SS4Tyx78rGeGh2Tf1GQSVWm0mkImUG-Rl5MAJCoNQ9UBU3fRo9Izb4SIRQoiswdfl_BeBo-CM2-18HiEjOL0aLt05rV8gpeCRkS-0IMIG3JM-lDi0bnfhSUYVPRqHaNCgI9L9tkaECPw-UVKdyZlS-APe2Gn8_SIWQgQFNPI3NIsZPm/s5161/Portrait_of_a_Man,_Said_to_be_Christopher_Columbus.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5161" data-original-width="4266" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHApmoCj701M1B7SS4Tyx78rGeGh2Tf1GQSVWm0mkImUG-Rl5MAJCoNQ9UBU3fRo9Izb4SIRQoiswdfl_BeBo-CM2-18HiEjOL0aLt05rV8gpeCRkS-0IMIG3JM-lDi0bnfhSUYVPRqHaNCgI9L9tkaECPw-UVKdyZlS-APe2Gn8_SIWQgQFNPI3NIsZPm/s320/Portrait_of_a_Man,_Said_to_be_Christopher_Columbus.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Columbus Day is in the rear view mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grew up believing that Columbus was a man
who spoke truth to power and sailed confidently into the west knowing that he
would find the land of Subway, McDonald’s, and Chipotle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fighting through hurricane force winds and dealing
with the doubts of his men, he finally arrived at a retirement community in
South Florida, where he gave all of the native American residents gold plated
walkers and promised them, “I shall return!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Or something like that.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The only problem is that most of we believe about Columbus
is false and when you know the truth about this man, it is hard to celebrate a
man whose only strength was his bull dog determination to pursue a false idea.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Even blind squirrels find nuts, but we don’t have a national
holiday for “Blind Squirrel Day.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u>Columbus Wasn’t that Great<o:p></o:p></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There are many websites devoted to unpacking the
terribleness of Mr. Columbus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t
the only person of his era who believed the earth was round – everyone knew it
was round – he was just clueless as to the dimensions of the earth, thinking
that it was only 2,400 miles from the Canary Islands to Asia, rather than the more
than 10,000 miles it actually was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lucky
for him the Americas stood in his way or he would never have made it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More than that, he journeyed not once, but four different times to the Americas
over about 15 years of time and never figured out that he wasn’t in the Pacific
Ocean – even though many people back in Spain were certain that he was nowhere near
Asia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is hard for me to sort out how many of the claims about Mr.
Columbus are true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is certain is
that he enslaved many of the native peoples, using some of them brutally to do
hard work on the islands and sending others into slavery in Spain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thousands of them died under the lash and
more died from illnesses like Small Pox that devastated the local populations.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">After his third voyage, Christopher Columbus was removed as
governor in the New World by King Ferdinand and was sent home in chains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While he was eventually released from prison,
it seems clear that he was not a good governor and was removed for a mixture of reasons, including the brutality with which he treated the Spanish colonists and general
mismanagement.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In fact, for the next one hundred years, he was seldom
mentioned in histories of the Age of Discovery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>America was named after a different man -- Amerigo Vespucci -- and Columbus
faded into the background of history.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><u>Why do we celebrate Columbus Day?<o:p></o:p></u></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Honestly, I am not totally sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a bankers holiday, which means that
most of us don’t even contemplate not going to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only way I know that Columbus Day has
been and gone is that there is less junk mail in my mail box than usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the other hand, 26 states don’t have any
sort of holiday on the second Monday in October and only 16 states still recognize
this day as Columbus Day.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Those states that still celebrate this day are renaming this
holiday to Indigenous Peoples Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
far, seventeen have done so, but I’m guessing that more will follow suit down
the road. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think this is totally
reasonable – it isn’t as though Columbus discovered some scientific
breakthrough – in point of fact, there were already people in the Americas for
centuries before he ever showed up.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More than anything else, this day speaks to me of the danger
of elevating individuals based on the stories that have been spun about them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We want to believe that men like Columbus,
Jefferson, and Washington were great men, that the United States was blessed by
the Almighty from the beginning.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The problem is that these people were human and they were
fallible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether or not they deserve
statues is beyond me (I don’t think Columbus does), but the issue that we have
is that when we elevate humans to god-like status, we feel obligated to defend
them, even to minimizing or refusing to admit their flaws.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I think it was just this sort of thing that the Apostle Paul
was addressing when he told the Corinthians, “Follow me as I follow Christ.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (I Cor. 11:1) Paul wanted no statues, he only wanted people to follow the true leader.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The only one that we should deify – the only one who is truly
worthy of statues is Jesus Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is
the only one who did not have feet of clay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Everyone else – generals, athletes, and even preachers -- have flaws
that show up under the magnifying glass (some with out it).<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-6449217378485425652023-09-29T02:46:00.000-07:002023-09-29T02:46:53.326-07:00Church Family<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxjPsRBhVL_QCKFOKQa5dpOfDN_i6XoxTzzv0FUjQoul1KJochsV1bdZIqR-WmXkBzvzXyuUY8cfY54X8zeCqjkOsmO-7njZSFBvwLwqRRsazEOFRglPi-C24hNDAr8TW8ED_og10u1EJ_6q6iw7MytI_WCt3zrECPbTn_kWbj47aVXJEyTEUy2U4HX7St/s3000/IMGP4706-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2005" data-original-width="3000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxjPsRBhVL_QCKFOKQa5dpOfDN_i6XoxTzzv0FUjQoul1KJochsV1bdZIqR-WmXkBzvzXyuUY8cfY54X8zeCqjkOsmO-7njZSFBvwLwqRRsazEOFRglPi-C24hNDAr8TW8ED_og10u1EJ_6q6iw7MytI_WCt3zrECPbTn_kWbj47aVXJEyTEUy2U4HX7St/s320/IMGP4706-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was Saturday morning, just before 6 am when I jumped in
my truck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun wouldn’t be showing
his sleepy head for another hour. The morning air was cool, and the dewy grass in the
various lawns I drove by completely undisturbed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Most of the houses didn’t have lights on at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The owners of them were quietly (or loudly) sawing the sorts of logs that would build no homes. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As I pulled up at my church, I could see a group of men
already working to get charcoal burning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was chilly, but already, there was warmth coming from beneath the
grill area where half chickens were lying, waiting with bated breath to get
grilled to perfection. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Over the next three and a half hours, we worked together,
chatting, flipping the chicken pieces as they needed it, and checking each one's temperature before taking it off to
put in coolers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eventually, around 9:30 am
we were done, the last chicken had left the grill, ready to be taken over for a
fund-raising sale. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A few days later, our church was together again, this time
to help clean up a home that needed a fair amount of work before one of our
members could move in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once again, there
was a good turnout.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People brought tools
and spirits willing to work and much was accomplished before we settled down to
eat pizza on the lawn. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have thought much in the subsequent days about the church
as a family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luke 14:26 says, “If anyone
comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children
and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I think that most of us try to turn this passage into a comparison.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus is simply saying that we need to love Him
more than our fathers, mothers, spouses, and children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe that is partially true, but I believe
that Jesus was indicating that those who enter into a new relationship with Him
are entering into a new family as well. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We need a church family around us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It isn’t that we need them to come over and
mow our lawns for us, or baby sit our children, or even fix us meals when we
are feeling ill – although a good church family can and will help with all of those
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need them because they, like
us are on a faith journey and together, we can grow closer to our Savior. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I feel sad for those who say that they love Jesus but do not
have a community around them to love and encourage them through life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Many years ago, God looked on the first man and said that it was not good for the man to be alone. So, He made for him a beautiful bride. In the same way, God looked at Christians and knew that it was not good for them to be alone. So, He created the church.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The church has such a bad name these days that I sometimes think we should rebrand it. If we called ourselves, "Fallen people who are desperately trying to follow Jesus the best that we can together, but who still mess up an awful lot," then maybe people would get a picture of what the church really is.</p><p class="MsoNormal">The only thing I know for sure is that whether it is grilling chicken together, studying the Bible together, or even pulling up carpets together, I love doing things with a community of people -- even if we are far from perfect.</p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-68776416011223830612023-09-15T03:48:00.001-07:002023-09-15T03:48:35.364-07:00Working Hard?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht6L2Y-VX3YgumNV5GAtN-EVA8a-IUuNY9I-YNjzejH7SeQ7awBzxLORwFXgrkNyQxAoIQA1ke4j6ydreZ6upG1ekKSVkAdQDo8Au6KBurDHwSsrWNPEIb0FbS_jSiXaB80UerW-so0lyDfKDzfpCEVj33MMlG_9WOBP67ZJBmO5s2bD2YKerF8Lx45HVJ/s3000/IMGP1126-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2004" data-original-width="3000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht6L2Y-VX3YgumNV5GAtN-EVA8a-IUuNY9I-YNjzejH7SeQ7awBzxLORwFXgrkNyQxAoIQA1ke4j6ydreZ6upG1ekKSVkAdQDo8Au6KBurDHwSsrWNPEIb0FbS_jSiXaB80UerW-so0lyDfKDzfpCEVj33MMlG_9WOBP67ZJBmO5s2bD2YKerF8Lx45HVJ/s320/IMGP1126-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“You know,” the older gentleman sitting across from me
said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I was talking to a neighbor of mine (he's an older farmer) the other day and he told me that he just ploughed one hundred acres.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Oh?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said,
absently.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Yup,” he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I
told him he didn’t do anything of the sort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The tractor did the ploughing and he just sat on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took time, but not effort.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I guess you let him know, didn’t you,” I said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Sure did,” the man said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“We were at a farmer’s market the other day and this lady was talking
about all the honey she’d produced this last year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I told her that was nothing to be proud
of – why, the bees did all the work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now, if she had really made the honey herself, well, that would have taken some real talent.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“You’re pretty good at letting people know when they are
taking credit for someone else’s efforts?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I asked.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Oh, they know I’m joking,” he said.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I laughed and yet, I wonder how these comments are
received.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is awfully easy to be critical
of other people’s effort or lack thereof. We grow up on the cloud of the knowledge that we have it so much easier than the generations that came before us. They are quick to let us know how much harder things were in the "Old Days."<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I got into medical school and waded through the challenges that med school offers and after that, on into residency, my mother (who is also a doctor) told me about how much
easier I had it than she did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She did
more frequent call nights. She had to draw her own blood for lab tests and run them down
to the lab herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truly, I didn’t know
the meaning of hard work.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now the shoe is on the other foot. Residency has gotten easier in the 23 years since
I completed it and now, I could say that the resident physicians have no idea what hard work
really is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even if I could say that, I wouldn’t because it isn't true. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The question really isn’t whether people are working as hard
as each other or past generations, but whether they are doing their best and fulfilling the tasks
set before them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are no medals
given to residents who stay up for 36 hours straight, nor special awards for
farmers who plow a field with a team of oxen rather than a tractor.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Colossians 3:23 tells us, “Whatever you do, do it heartily
as to the Lord and not to men.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Clearly, we are to work hard, but I suppose there is no
reason that we have to do something the hard way – even if once upon a time our grandparents did
it that way, and they survived. There is no reason to pit the efforts of one generation versus another generation. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">More than that, we don’t need to judge the effort someone else
is putting in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They know if they are
doing their best and that should be good enough -- even if they happen to use bees to produce honey, rather than gathering the pollen by hand and making honey by hand the way real honey farmers do.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-71487131460496776892023-09-08T03:15:00.002-07:002023-09-09T13:05:08.042-07:00Beginning Somewhere<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZ0N7tS97JDDCfmmfzb6vrFuLDhjZ3szLXPDGjMVwW7nXtGC5WVuSSZ2ASAqDb2Tb2TTftdYwkChHiZKWrYIHTa-YWHmcxZwEd7IVfFri-65Ve-exAtgb4IqJZU9-tui7VB9yqmRTXqIHLxubuONILl0n8frYFzd-oQYvVcIgNGFgW7hetXsn44FPcYwE/s3000/IMGP4535.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2002" data-original-width="3000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZ0N7tS97JDDCfmmfzb6vrFuLDhjZ3szLXPDGjMVwW7nXtGC5WVuSSZ2ASAqDb2Tb2TTftdYwkChHiZKWrYIHTa-YWHmcxZwEd7IVfFri-65Ve-exAtgb4IqJZU9-tui7VB9yqmRTXqIHLxubuONILl0n8frYFzd-oQYvVcIgNGFgW7hetXsn44FPcYwE/s320/IMGP4535.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“What are you doing Elise?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I asked my just-turned-four years old daughter.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I’m drawing,” she told me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I looked at the paper she had before her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her sketch looked like a bunch of squiggles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What is it?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I asked her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Is it a picture of boa constrictors attacking an alligator?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“No, Dad,” Elise said, much like an abstract painter
discovering that a gallery had accidentally hung her painting upside
down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, they are balloons!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“They don’t look anything like balloons,” her older sister,
Victoria said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“They just look like
scribbles.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I squinted at the image.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m a bit biased, but I have seen worse artwork in my time on this earth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I can see the balloons,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re doing great Elise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m looking forward to seeing more things
your draw.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Elise didn’t say anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Instead, she picked up a different marker and started making more marks
on her paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some might have said she
was scribbling, but there was an intentionality that belied the abstract nature
of her drawing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This world is full of critics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of them may even live in your own
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are quick to tell you how
your efforts are not unique, and you aren’t particularly creative.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It is easy to feel discouraged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is the point of making an effort when
you will never be the best at anything?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I take photos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
often find myself struggling out of bed at 5 am to wander out to some neglected
spot to try to take a few images of the sun showing itself to the waiting
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am no Ansel Adams and there are
hundreds of better photographers out there, but that doesn’t really
matter.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">What matters is that it is something that I enjoy. More than that, if I
can capture just a fraction of the beauty that God placed in this scene, that
is enough for me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I worry about the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Artificial Intelligence will write better than beginning writers and I
wonder if many will simply give up and let computers do the work for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If so, where will the future Tolstoys and
Tolkiens and Twains come from?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The problem is never that you had to begin somewhere. The problem is that you gave up and stayed there.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, I would give encouragement, not just to my own daughter,
but to every budding, struggling artist and writer – to every musician and
painter – keep on!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scribbles of
today may become lines tomorrow and someday they will even become coherent
visions that speak to others.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Carry on!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the
greatest of painters began, just like my daughter, scribbling balloons on blank
sheet of paper.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-72220870585100486722023-09-01T14:17:00.003-07:002023-09-01T14:17:37.902-07:00Parable of a Wife Inspired Visit<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4b26fFcqPBLucVH8vmBWQjuT-_dMJWEc5WedMLqnMmQQxiWVwOo7eqeDsfI3ahj-O7Fco-iMQNP_Eaooj-7xRaNIfTJED6k3sM6QWkGynj8gi865ZJzkNLVaIdeTN2ArL5Tm7ptrWKaxTbbBqRVf1B3dca1pd0YCJzdiahyQWtQeE-A2wEz3E4R-jmxP/s3000/IMGP9074-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="3000" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4b26fFcqPBLucVH8vmBWQjuT-_dMJWEc5WedMLqnMmQQxiWVwOo7eqeDsfI3ahj-O7Fco-iMQNP_Eaooj-7xRaNIfTJED6k3sM6QWkGynj8gi865ZJzkNLVaIdeTN2ArL5Tm7ptrWKaxTbbBqRVf1B3dca1pd0YCJzdiahyQWtQeE-A2wEz3E4R-jmxP/s320/IMGP9074-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One day, it came to pass than an older gentleman walked
through the hallowed doors where I ply my trade as a medicine man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though he paid me for his visit, yet it
seemed that he little needed my services.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I take note,” I told him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“That thy blood pressure seemeth quite high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yea, the top number approacheth and verily,
it is equal to 170.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Thou does not know whereof thou speakest,” replied he, in a
gruff voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I didst check it once, six
weeks anon and it was more or less fine.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I paused, assembling the forces of my mind and began
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I see as well, that on thy last blood
work, thy blood sugar and cholesterol were elevated,” I remarked, in what I
hoped was a non-threatening voice.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I have looked into these-here medicines that “doctors”
(this he spake in such a way as to make it sound like as if he was saying the word “quacks”) like you put
upon gentle folk like me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Truly, I would
rather deal with sugar and cholesterol than to have any of thy “wholesome” remedies.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I shrugged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thou
must do what thou must,” I said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“As a
wise man once said, ‘I can but show thee the best path, but whether thou takest
it is Plum up to Thee.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Older Fellow made a face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Thou canst show whatever thou desirest,”
saith he.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I am here to make my Wife
Happy and now that I have Done My Duty, I will run along.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I said no more and our interesting dialogue was at an end. But, lo, I am quite certain that his wife
would not be happy, did she know his attitude or the content of our conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For, it doth very little for Someone to Go to the Doctor, if he doth not
listen to what the doctor says and avail himself of it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It seemeth to me that many “Christians” have the same idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These well-intentioned folk have the delusion
that what makes God Happy is to go to a building once a week and sit with other
people, who are also making God Happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>More than that, they have liked the right posts on Facebook and even
shared that post that Facebook was trying to shut down that quoted the Lord’s
Prayer.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Micah 6:8 says, “He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good;
and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy,
and to walk humbly with thy God?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It intrigues me that the three things which are spoken of
are loving mercy, behaving justly, and acting with humility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mayhap the Prophet Micah had not heard of the Wonders of Facebook or even of Church Attendance, yet, even if he had, I think God is still desirous of more than having His children show up and Go Through the Motions.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That isn’t to say that it isn’t good to do these
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I do attend church, but it is with the understanding that it is not to Make God Happy, but to encourage me in the Pursuit of Righteousness.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For those who show up at church, but do not pursue
the path of Jesus wholeheartedly are much like a man who goes to the doctor because
his wife wants him to but does none of the things the doctor recommends.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-23243099829633071502023-08-25T02:55:00.001-07:002023-08-25T02:55:18.958-07:00Beautiful Teeth?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDJgRKZjyRW7I28LczaF-D1UmmUqmVJbvUrCNbv4GD91_B4uTHltQbMq_HjilDS9AqyRzlDRfxJSGNKE4KmVjq3qqGMYYEND4gI2bos8YrZJ82pCUozcDqwgmiPUOkB1D7M1vaUlLjHl0OEU-H2OPRmAlxEkBPA9N5HYyEYCa_bWKmg9cE1sTWFNARcuZ/s3000/IMGP2350-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2005" data-original-width="3000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBDJgRKZjyRW7I28LczaF-D1UmmUqmVJbvUrCNbv4GD91_B4uTHltQbMq_HjilDS9AqyRzlDRfxJSGNKE4KmVjq3qqGMYYEND4gI2bos8YrZJ82pCUozcDqwgmiPUOkB1D7M1vaUlLjHl0OEU-H2OPRmAlxEkBPA9N5HYyEYCa_bWKmg9cE1sTWFNARcuZ/s320/IMGP2350-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“You have beautiful teeth,” the lady told me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not certain what the correct response to
this statement is, but since the woman was a dental hygienist and had her hands
(and instruments of torture) in my mouth, I said, “Mrggth…”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I’m sure your patients appreciate your welcoming smile,”
she went on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I think there’s nothing
like a smile to let you know that someone is glad to see you.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Once again, I made a muffled grunting noise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow, I’ve found conversations at the
dentist’s office are a trifle one sided.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe I could record some responses ahead of time for future visits and play
them at appropriate moments.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I began to contemplate what she had said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t have beautiful teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are strong enough and I haven’t had to
have many fillings over the years, but my teeth aren’t straight and never have
been.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">If there was a Mr. America contest, I’m sure I’d be knocked
out in the first round because of my smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And yet… I do think that smiles are important – regardless of how
straight your teeth are.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One of the things I noticed with COVID masking was that I
couldn’t see people’s smiles any more. Maybe people weren't smiling as much anyway, but it felt like something was missing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Regardless of what you thought about masks, they took away one of the
best methods for making someone feel comfortable – a smile.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Proverbs 13:13 says, “A glad heart makes a cheerful face,
but by sorrow of heart the spirit is crushed.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Our faces are windows that reveal what our hearts are experiencing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">More than that, smiles are just like yawns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are contagious. It just takes one
person smiling in a workplace and a heavy atmosphere starts to lift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Smiles are meant to be shared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing should hold back our smiles – not even
teeth that aren’t straight or beautiful.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-42319217413863258362023-08-18T02:31:00.001-07:002023-08-18T02:32:32.575-07:00Talk Like a Pirate?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZmQmcR9yTw8XcJEVlQr-bMRPZHnfp48w_MfktLltG7HN1kz9o7_WzDvjZMkdIc6MSePKpTzqnRrMyABRxDbrglhCTnu2ZB_F_EM1txMoDdtJ5C6rzgpi7v6tPsZu8RQmu4wrWo3Fei2hwhrqOBOtRasij22bCCKoCAq_qMtclmGjy7-WsS9DJILyBVZm/s1920/pirate-ship-3424849_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1920" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZmQmcR9yTw8XcJEVlQr-bMRPZHnfp48w_MfktLltG7HN1kz9o7_WzDvjZMkdIc6MSePKpTzqnRrMyABRxDbrglhCTnu2ZB_F_EM1txMoDdtJ5C6rzgpi7v6tPsZu8RQmu4wrWo3Fei2hwhrqOBOtRasij22bCCKoCAq_qMtclmGjy7-WsS9DJILyBVZm/s320/pirate-ship-3424849_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">“ARRRRGH!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quoth I to
my patient who had seated himself upon the chair closest to the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Avast ye, matey!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What art thou a-doing here, ye scurvy knave?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Ahm,” spake my patient, seriously discomfited with my
fiercesome manner of speech.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Excuse me?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Arrrgh!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I said, what be ye doin’ here,
ya land lubber?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I’m here for my check up,”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>my patient answered, in a feeble voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“You were going to check on my sugars…”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“And what have ye been eatin’?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I queried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Shiver me Timbers!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mayhap ye
have been chasing Little Debbie around the Kitchen – if ye catch my drift or
Perhaps doing a Tango with the Twinkies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We’ll do blood work for certain!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll
draw it with my very own cutlass and if I find that your sugars are high – why –
why, I’ll keel-haul ye!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A trace of fear passed across the visage of the
gentleman sitting across from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why are you talking like
that?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He questioned me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Where’s my doctor?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I am your doctor!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
cried in a loud voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I am the Dread Doctor Waldron, Scourge of the Spanish Main and Viceroy of Delhi!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look upon me, ye mortal and cower in fear!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I could have cut the silence that entered the room with my cutlass.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“I’m going to send you to the leaches to draw some of thy
blood,” I proclaimed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You scallywag, If
I find thy A1C is up, why I’ll make you walk the plank!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll feed you to the sharks!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll have you see the inside of the Locker of
Mr. Davy Jones himself!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Oh,” I finished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Listen, you bilge rat, I would have you hear that our office will be sending you a survey
in a few days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If ye value your scurvy self,
ye will see that the marks are high.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All
tens, you hear?”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">International Talk Like a Pirate Day is only a month away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>September 19<sup>th</sup> is the official day
and Pirate Waldron would recommend that ye practice a little ahead of
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ye wouldn’t like to be caught
napping by the Coast Guard, now would ye?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Tis fortunate that above dialogue is simply a figment of my
(overly active) imagination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For, while
it might feel good to wax piratical when dealing with others in our lives, it
is unlikely to help most situations. I believe that most of my patients would prefer to seek attention from a medical man who does not speak like a pirate nor listen to medical advice from a doctor who rants and raves like Blackbeard on his third bottle of grog.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The Apostle Paul wrote to the assembly at Colosse, “Let your
speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you
should answer each person.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Those who are wise would do well, to be certain, not only of
what they say, but of how they say it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For oft times a man will listen to a gently phrased encouragement, while
he will stir up a hurricane when he feels under attack.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Personally, I think that I will forego piratical curses on
September 19<sup>th</sup> in favor of words with kinder phrasing -- and not just to help my office surveys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may even leave my cutlass at home too.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980619560248291703.post-27046755947632178872023-08-04T03:11:00.001-07:002023-08-04T03:32:29.332-07:00The Wrong Notes<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXHDLQX86hz92UMavyTAf_-EuRoplDRh7LYzE2zu04zuBp75a3uv6VXw14GoUF0WEKPXIFPUEfN5SEdv3F6woBXe95zf8yXWS40IvH-4xIjMV9rhPrL-HKlaQZzn6crUM3uFNWEY-qnBRA8gGyL331KS846nDA9nX_l0i0Rw-vAFAMJjPmDXkJtyqeWhk/s3000/IMGP2338-Edit.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2005" data-original-width="3000" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzXHDLQX86hz92UMavyTAf_-EuRoplDRh7LYzE2zu04zuBp75a3uv6VXw14GoUF0WEKPXIFPUEfN5SEdv3F6woBXe95zf8yXWS40IvH-4xIjMV9rhPrL-HKlaQZzn6crUM3uFNWEY-qnBRA8gGyL331KS846nDA9nX_l0i0Rw-vAFAMJjPmDXkJtyqeWhk/s320/IMGP2338-Edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One day, it came to pass, that I found myself sitting in the
sanctuary of my church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, this is
not surprising, for I attend there frequently when I am not Out of Town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Further, I appreciate muchly both the singing
and The People, for they Love Jesus and Encourage me Greatly.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now, as I sat in my seat, the singing came to an end, and I
realized that I had been called to the front to share a Sermon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, this also was not too surprising, for I
have been known to teach and even preach within our little church.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I went forward to do what was asked of me and standing at the front of the church, I looked out into the congregation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I must confess that I do not picture
people sitting in their underclothes when I am speaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not certain who thought that practice
would be Helpful, but I find it distinctly Not Helpful to calm anxiety.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Forthwith, I opened my Bible and removed some sheets of
paper which entailed my notes on the subject of Abram and Lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except, looking at these wondrous fair Sheets
of Papyrus, I found that they had none of my hieroglyphics on them, but rather
writing that looked much like that of my fair wife.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Lo, I studied the first page and found that it was a
recipe for Zucchini Brownies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now,
Zucchini Brownies are Delectable and Moist and Tasty and The Bomb and All That,
but they are not a subject for a Sermon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In fact, I do not know for certain if either Abram or Lot ever tasted
Zucchini Brownies, but I think not.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I turned to the next page, hoping Beyond Hope, to find
something Worth Preaching About, but found a wondrous recipe for Peach
Jam.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, once again, I have had Elaine’s
Peach Jam and it is Worth Talking About – only not on Sunday morning.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It was at this point that I raised my head to the
congregation, when by a Wonderful Stroke of Providence, I heard a beeping sound
start and I realized that it was my Alarm Clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was time to Wake Up and get ready for
Another Day.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now, when I was a boy, I hated any story that ended with the words, “And
with that, he woke up and discovered that it had all been a dream.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Except, that in this case, I was Awful Glad
that it had just been a dream.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have been told that oft-times our anxieties are revealed
in our dreams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Verily, it is true that I
worry much about things, many of which may never come to pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worry that my children might not grow up to
Love Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worry that my patients
might not be as Healthy as Other Doctor’s Patients.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, I even worry that I would bring
my wife’s recipes to church and try to preach from them.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have often pondered the solution for anxiety.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have heard Ministers say things like “Let
Go and Let God” at which point, I picture myself holding onto a rope on the
side of cliff and wonder how letting go will help God out.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Jesus said, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Verily, t</span>his is a true statement, but for
an Anxious Man, figuring out how not to drag tomorrow’s problems into today is a
Challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I</span>t seems to me that our focus is to be on the Things of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I</span>f we pursue the Kingdom of God, mayhap we will not have as much
attention to focus on the worries of tomorrow or the regrets of yesterday.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Our Heavenly Father knoweth who we are and of what we are made.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wants us to trust Him – even to get us
through a public speaking experience with the Wrong Notes.<o:p></o:p></p><br /><p></p>John Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11075600951839146476noreply@blogger.com0