Detoxifying Tea!

 

“This tea is terrible!”  I said in a distressed voice to my wife.

“What tea is that?”  Elaine asked in a mild manner.

“This Sleepytime Detox tea,” I replied, still somewhat disgruntled.  “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.  Anyway, it must be the detox part that I’m not dealing well with.  Have you tried it?”

“Sure,” she said.  “It was fine.  I’ve had it many times.”

“Not the Detox version,” I said.

“Yes,” she said firmly.  “I had the Detox version and I liked it fine.”

“I think the problem is that I have too many toxins in my system,” I said, a little defensively.  “My body is revolting at the idea of all of my toxins getting pulled out all at once.  They should have probably used this tea at Chernobyl -- it's just too strong for me.  And where are all these toxins going, may I ask?  Where are all my toxins going to go?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Elaine said.  “You’ll be fine.  It probably isn’t doing anything anyway.  You just don’t like the taste.”

“I need someone to re-toxify me!”  I wailed.  “I’m just feeling too healthy!”

It is funny how people react to healthy diets and activities.  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.

Proverbs 13:15, 16 says, “Good understanding giveth favour: but the way of transgressors is hard.  Every prudent man dealeth with knowledge: but a fool layeth open his folly.”

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.  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.

The issue is not simply what the path asks of us, it is the consequences of taking that path.  You can choose your path, but you cannot choose where that path takes you.

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.

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. 

Throwing Pumpkins

 

 

“Mr. Dinosaur wants to kick these pumpkins!”  My four-year old daughter, Elise, held a stuffed T. Rex and made motions as though he was kicking the pumpkins.  Then, she proceeded to kick some medium sized pumpkins herself.

“Good job, Mr. Dinosaur!”  She said, congratulating the submissive prehistoric creature.  Certainly dinosaurs playing soccer is a bit unusual, but then again, in the Waldron house, almost anything can happen.

“Tell Mr. Dinosaur to be careful,” Elise’s dad told her.  “He might hurt his foot if he kicks the pumpkin too hard.”  Elise proceeded to ignore the wise advise of her father.

“Now, Mr. Dinosaur, let’s pick up the pumpkin!”  Elise told her stuffed friend.  So saying, she picked up the pumpkin.  “Now, throw it, Mr. Dinosaur!”

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.

“I think that’s enough,” Elise’s dad told her.  “I don’t think you or Mr. Dinosaur should be throwing pumpkins.”

“Why not?”  Elise asked.  “Mr. Dinosaur thinks this is a lot of fun.”

“Because the pumpkin will split and make a big mess.”

Elise’s lower lip quivered.  “Dad,” she said dramatically.  “You are not pleasing God!”

Unfortunately for her, Elise’s father remained unmoved.  “Sorry,” he told her.  “You may have received a divine revelation, but for some reason I haven’t gotten the same message.”

Now, Elise’s father and I are very well acquainted and I agree with him completely.  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.

A lot of people have not learned this lesson.  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. 

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.  When we speak any words that are contrary to revealed Scripture, we are not speaking a divine revelation.

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.”  (II Timothy 4:3,4)

The world around us doesn’t really want to hear the messages of God.  As Chesterton said, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting, it has been found difficult and left untried.”  God does not call us to lives of ease.  He calls for us to give up all in pursuit of Him.  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.

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.  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.

Shopping With Your Doctor

 

 

I was sitting at the table of our church’s bake sale stand.  Mounds of sugar-filled delicacies surrounded me. Clearly, the Mennonite ladies' ovens had been working overtime in the last week.

A lady walked up and began to study the pies.  “Is this chocolate chess pie?”  She asked, holding up a pie.

I carefully read the label on the pie.  It said, 'Chocolate Chess Pie' on it.  “Yes, I believe it is,” I said.

She looked up, surprised.  “Oh, hi, Dr. Waldron.  I didn’t know I’d see you here.”

She put the pie down in an almost guilty way.  I smiled reassuringly.  “I’m just trying to help out the best I can,” I told her.

“I suppose everything is healthy?”  She asked.

“Doctor Recommended!”  I said, laughing in response.

Through the morning, I saw people who were patients at our office in Brookneal.  All seemed surprised to see me and a little sheepish at their dietary choices.  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.

About mid-morning, I wondered if it wasn’t the wisest thing to have me selling baked goods. I probably should have been at the Vitamins, carrots, and celery table (that we didn't have). 

How many people would take their doctors grocery shopping with them?  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?

As a child, I learned the verses, “They eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous and His ears are open unto their cry.  The face of the Lord is against them that do evil.”  (Psalms 34:11,12)

There is Someone who is watching all of our actions and listening to all of our words.  This is true, even in times when we feel like we are totally alone.

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.  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.

Life Alert

 

“Dr. Waldron, it was the worst feeling in the world!”  The elderly man told me. 

“I can imagine,” I said. 

“I don’t even know what I tripped on.  I think I must have gotten my feet tangled up underneath me and I went down on the ground.  I didn’t hear a snap, but all I knew was that immediately there was a horrible pain in my left hip!” 

“That’s terrible,” I said.  I knew generally what had happened, but the hospital historical documents had been a little scanty on the details.  “Were you by yourself?” 

“That’s the worst of it, Doctor,” Hugh told me.  “Elsie was there, but you know how bad her dementia is.  I might as well have been by myself.  She knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t seem to figure out what to do to help.  I kept telling her, ‘Call 911 Elsie!’ and she kept saying, ‘What’s the number?  What’s the number?’” 

“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.  Fortunately, they came pretty quick and took me to the hospital.  I never want to go through that again!” 

This, of course, is why medical alert companies have sold so many bracelets and necklaces.  I have read that there around 17 million devices sold that promise to alert someone if you have fallen and cannot get up. 

Psalm 145:14 says, “The Lord upholdeth all that fall, and raiseth up all those that be bowed down.”

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.  

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.

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.

Baby Shark Concerto?!

 

“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.  “doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo.  Baby Shark!!”

“Daddy Shark!!” boomed in the second verse with even more vibration of the piano strings.  Elise was wringing every bit of emotion this song had out of it.

“Grandpa Shark!!!!”  Followed by the requisite doo-doos and clashing of keys.  I wasn’t sure if the piano would survive.  I was sure my ears wouldn’t make it.

“It’s the end…  It’s the end…  IT’S THE END!!!”  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.

“Sounded like Baby Shark,” I said nonchalantly to my son, Vincent.

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you like it?”  I asked him.

“I don’t know,” he said.  “Probably not.”

“I have an idea,” I said.  “Maybe you could someday write a theme and variations on Baby Shark – or better yet – a Piano Concerto!  The Baby Shark Piano Concerto, people would come out to hear it just because of the name.

Vincent shook his head.  This did not sound like a good plan to him and frankly, it doesn’t really to me either.  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.

It strikes me that there are some things that need to be brief.  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.

Proverbs 10:19 contains the wise saying, “ In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin: But he that refraineth his lips is wise.”  Quite simply, we are far more likely to get into trouble when we talk a whole lot than we sit and listen.

More than that, a little bit goes a long way.  This is true when it comes to words and speeches.  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.

Thoughts on Columbus Day

 

Columbus Day is in the rear view mirror.  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.  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!”

Or something like that.

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.

Even blind squirrels find nuts, but we don’t have a national holiday for “Blind Squirrel Day.”

Columbus Wasn’t that Great

There are many websites devoted to unpacking the terribleness of Mr. Columbus.  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.  Lucky for him the Americas stood in his way or he would never have made it.

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. 

It is hard for me to sort out how many of the claims about Mr. Columbus are true.  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.  Thousands of them died under the lash and more died from illnesses like Small Pox that devastated the local populations.

After his third voyage, Christopher Columbus was removed as governor in the New World by King Ferdinand and was sent home in chains.  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.

In fact, for the next one hundred years, he was seldom mentioned in histories of the Age of Discovery.  America was named after a different man -- Amerigo Vespucci -- and Columbus faded into the background of history.

Why do we celebrate Columbus Day?

Honestly, I am not totally sure.  It is a bankers holiday, which means that most of us don’t even contemplate not going to work.  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.  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.

Those states that still celebrate this day are renaming this holiday to Indigenous Peoples Day.  So far, seventeen have done so, but I’m guessing that more will follow suit down the road.  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.

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.  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.

The problem is that these people were human and they were fallible.  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.

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.”  (I Cor. 11:1)  Paul wanted no statues, he only wanted people to follow the true leader.

The only one that we should deify – the only one who is truly worthy of statues is Jesus Christ.  He is the only one who did not have feet of clay.  Everyone else – generals, athletes, and even preachers -- have flaws that show up under the magnifying glass (some with out it).

Church Family

 

 

It was Saturday morning, just before 6 am when I jumped in my truck.  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.  

Most of the houses didn’t have lights on at all.  The owners of them were quietly (or loudly) sawing the sorts of logs that would build no homes. 

As I pulled up at my church, I could see a group of men already working to get charcoal burning.  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. 

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.  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. 

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.  Once again, there was a good turnout.  People brought tools and spirits willing to work and much was accomplished before we settled down to eat pizza on the lawn. 

I have thought much in the subsequent days about the church as a family.  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.” 

I think that most of us try to turn this passage into a comparison.  Jesus is simply saying that we need to love Him more than our fathers, mothers, spouses, and children.  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. 

We need a church family around us.  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.  We need them because they, like us are on a faith journey and together, we can grow closer to our Savior. 

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.  

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.

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.

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.

Working Hard?

 

“You know,” the older gentleman sitting across from me said.  “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.”

“Oh?”  I said, absently.

“Yup,” he said.  “I told him he didn’t do anything of the sort.  The tractor did the ploughing and he just sat on it.  It took time, but not effort.”

“I guess you let him know, didn’t you,” I said.

“Sure did,” the man said.  “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.  Well, I told her that was nothing to be proud of – why, the bees did all the work.  Now, if she had really made the honey herself, well, that would have taken some real talent.”

“You’re pretty good at letting people know when they are taking credit for someone else’s efforts?”  I asked.

“Oh, they know I’m joking,” he said.

I laughed and yet, I wonder how these comments are received.  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."

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.  She did more frequent call nights.  She had to draw her own blood for lab tests and run them down to the lab herself.  Truly, I didn’t know the meaning of hard work.

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.  Even if I could say that, I wouldn’t because it isn't true.

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.  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.

Colossians 3:23 tells us, “Whatever you do, do it heartily as to the Lord and not to men.”

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.  

More than that, we don’t need to judge the effort someone else is putting in.  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.

Beginning Somewhere

 

“What are you doing Elise?”  I asked my just-turned-four years old daughter.

“I’m drawing,” she told me. 

I looked at the paper she had before her.  Her sketch looked like a bunch of squiggles.  “What is it?”  I asked her.  “Is it a picture of boa constrictors attacking an alligator?”

“No, Dad,” Elise said, much like an abstract painter discovering that a gallery had accidentally hung her painting upside down.  “No, they are balloons!”

“They don’t look anything like balloons,” her older sister, Victoria said.  “They just look like scribbles.”

I squinted at the image.  I’m a bit biased, but I have seen worse artwork in my time on this earth.  “I can see the balloons,” I said.  “You’re doing great Elise.  I’m looking forward to seeing more things your draw.”

Elise didn’t say anything.  Instead, she picked up a different marker and started making more marks on her paper.  Some might have said she was scribbling, but there was an intentionality that belied the abstract nature of her drawing.

This world is full of critics.  Some of them may even live in your own family.  They are quick to tell you how your efforts are not unique, and you aren’t particularly creative.

It is easy to feel discouraged.  What is the point of making an effort when you will never be the best at anything?

I take photos.  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.  I am no Ansel Adams and there are hundreds of better photographers out there, but that doesn’t really matter.

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.

I worry about the future.  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.  If so, where will the future Tolstoys and Tolkiens and Twains come from?

The problem is never that you had to begin somewhere.  The problem is that you gave up and stayed there.

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!  The scribbles of today may become lines tomorrow and someday they will even become coherent visions that speak to others.

Carry on!  Even the greatest of painters began, just like my daughter, scribbling balloons on blank sheet of paper.

Parable of a Wife Inspired Visit

 

 

One day, it came to pass than an older gentleman walked through the hallowed doors where I ply my trade as a medicine man.  Though he paid me for his visit, yet it seemed that he little needed my services.

“I take note,” I told him.  “That thy blood pressure seemeth quite high.  Yea, the top number approacheth and verily, it is equal to 170.”

“Thou does not know whereof thou speakest,” replied he, in a gruff voice.  “I didst check it once, six weeks anon and it was more or less fine.”

I paused, assembling the forces of my mind and began again.  “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.

“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.  Truly, I would rather deal with sugar and cholesterol than to have any of thy “wholesome” remedies.”

I shrugged.  “Thou must do what thou must,” I said.  “As a wise man once said, ‘I can but show thee the best path, but whether thou takest it is Plum up to Thee.”

The Older Fellow made a face.  “Thou canst show whatever thou desirest,” saith he.  “I am here to make my Wife Happy and now that I have Done My Duty, I will run along.”

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.  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.

It seemeth to me that many “Christians” have the same idea.  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.  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.

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?”

It intrigues me that the three things which are spoken of are loving mercy, behaving justly, and acting with humility.  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.

That isn’t to say that it isn’t good to do these things.  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.

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.

Beautiful Teeth?

 

“You have beautiful teeth,” the lady told me.  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…”

“I’m sure your patients appreciate your welcoming smile,” she went on.  “I think there’s nothing like a smile to let you know that someone is glad to see you.”

Once again, I made a muffled grunting noise.  Somehow, I’ve found conversations at the dentist’s office are a trifle one sided.  Maybe I could record some responses ahead of time for future visits and play them at appropriate moments.

I began to contemplate what she had said.  I don’t have beautiful teeth.  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.

If there was a Mr. America contest, I’m sure I’d be knocked out in the first round because of my smile.  And yet… I do think that smiles are important – regardless of how straight your teeth are.

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.  Regardless of what you thought about masks, they took away one of the best methods for making someone feel comfortable – a smile.

Proverbs 13:13 says, “A glad heart makes a cheerful face, but by sorrow of heart the spirit is crushed.”

Our faces are windows that reveal what our hearts are experiencing.

More than that, smiles are just like yawns.  They are contagious.  It just takes one person smiling in a workplace and a heavy atmosphere starts to lift.  Smiles are meant to be shared.  Nothing should hold back our smiles – not even teeth that aren’t straight or beautiful.

Talk Like a Pirate?

 

“ARRRRGH!”  Quoth I to my patient who had seated himself upon the chair closest to the door.  “Avast ye, matey!  What art thou a-doing here, ye scurvy knave?”

“Ahm,” spake my patient, seriously discomfited with my fiercesome manner of speech.  “Excuse me?”

“Arrrgh!”  I said again.  “I said, what be ye doin’ here, ya land lubber?”

“I’m here for my check up,”  my patient answered, in a feeble voice.  “You were going to check on my sugars…”

“And what have ye been eatin’?”  I queried.  “Shiver me Timbers!  Mayhap ye have been chasing Little Debbie around the Kitchen – if ye catch my drift or Perhaps doing a Tango with the Twinkies.  We’ll do blood work for certain!  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!”

A trace of fear passed across the visage of the gentleman sitting across from me.  “Why are you talking like that?”  He questioned me.  “Where’s my doctor?”

“I am your doctor!”  I cried in a loud voice.  “I am the Dread Doctor Waldron, Scourge of the Spanish Main and Viceroy of Delhi!  Look upon me, ye mortal and cower in fear!”

I could have cut the silence that entered the room with my cutlass.

“I’m going to send you to the leaches to draw some of thy blood,” I proclaimed.  “You scallywag, If I find thy A1C is up, why I’ll make you walk the plank!  I’ll feed you to the sharks!  I’ll have you see the inside of the Locker of Mr. Davy Jones himself!”

“Oh,” I finished.  “Listen, you bilge rat, I would have you hear that our office will be sending you a survey in a few days.  If ye value your scurvy self, ye will see that the marks are high.  All tens, you hear?”

International Talk Like a Pirate Day is only a month away.  September 19^th is the official day and Pirate Waldron would recommend that ye practice a little ahead of time.  Ye wouldn’t like to be caught napping by the Coast Guard, now would ye?

Tis fortunate that above dialogue is simply a figment of my (overly active) imagination.  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.

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.”

Those who are wise would do well, to be certain, not only of what they say, but of how they say it.  For oft times a man will listen to a gently phrased encouragement, while he will stir up a hurricane when he feels under attack.

Personally, I think that I will forego piratical curses on September 19^th in favor of words with kinder phrasing -- and not just to help my office surveys.  I may even leave my cutlass at home too.

The Wrong Notes

 

 

One day, it came to pass, that I found myself sitting in the sanctuary of my church.  Now, this is not surprising, for I attend there frequently when I am not Out of Town.  Further, I appreciate muchly both the singing and The People, for they Love Jesus and Encourage me Greatly.

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.  Now, this also was not too surprising, for I have been known to teach and even preach within our little church.

I went forward to do what was asked of me and standing at the front of the church, I looked out into the congregation.  Now, I must confess that I do not picture people sitting in their underclothes when I am speaking.  I am not certain who thought that practice would be Helpful, but I find it distinctly Not Helpful to calm anxiety.

Forthwith, I opened my Bible and removed some sheets of paper which entailed my notes on the subject of Abram and Lot.  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.

Lo, I studied the first page and found that it was a recipe for Zucchini Brownies.  Now, Zucchini Brownies are Delectable and Moist and Tasty and The Bomb and All That, but they are not a subject for a Sermon.  In fact, I do not know for certain if either Abram or Lot ever tasted Zucchini Brownies, but I think not.

I turned to the next page, hoping Beyond Hope, to find something Worth Preaching About, but found a wondrous recipe for Peach Jam.  Now, once again, I have had Elaine’s Peach Jam and it is Worth Talking About – only not on Sunday morning.

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.  It was time to Wake Up and get ready for Another Day.

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.”  Except, that in this case, I was Awful Glad that it had just been a dream.

I have been told that oft-times our anxieties are revealed in our dreams.  Verily, it is true that I worry much about things, many of which may never come to pass.  I worry that my children might not grow up to Love Jesus.  I worry that my patients might not be as Healthy as Other Doctor’s Patients.  Apparently, I even worry that I would bring my wife’s recipes to church and try to preach from them.

I have often pondered the solution for anxiety.  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.

Jesus said, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”  Verily, this is a true statement, but for an Anxious Man, figuring out how not to drag tomorrow’s problems into today is a Challenge.  It seems to me that our focus is to be on the Things of God.  If 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.

Our Heavenly Father knoweth who we are and of what we are made.  He wants us to trust Him – even to get us through a public speaking experience with the Wrong Notes.