Finding Floyd

EAGLES

I’ll admit that I don’t listen to K-Love as often as I probably should. And since this is sorta like a confessional; I’ve been listening to the Beatles channel via satellite radio on and off for the last month or so. For a short time they had a temporary Eagles channel. I listened to that pretty much anytime my cell phone would allow it.

I like the Eagles. I think most people do. That’s probably why their Greatest Hits album sold more albums than any other group or artist ever. They’re ranked at number one with afore mentioned album. Michael Jackson is second with his smash Thriller and the Eagles also occupy the third spot with another one of their albums titled Hotel California.

The first song I ever learned to play on guitar was the Eagles “Peaceful Easy Feeling”. Maybe being from Arizona makes a fella more prone to like the Eagles. After all, the Eagles tune sung by the late Glenn Frey, which he co-wrote with Jackson Browne, goes like this, in case you forgot,

“Well I’m a standing on the corner in Winslow Arizona and such a fine sight to see

It’s a girl my Lord in a flatbed Ford slowing down to take a look at me”.

I’ve been listening to the Eagles since before I was a teenager. I guess my appreciation for their music somehow rubbed off on my offspring, especially the youngest. I’m not big on concerts, at least not these days, but when I found out that the Eagles, what’s left of them, were gonna be coming to town, I knew it might be the last chance to see them.

When I asked my youngest about going to see them she lit up like a little kid at Christmas. Pretty soon everyone in the family was pushing to see the aging legendary rock band.

Tickets to events like the Eagles are a little like buying a winning lottery ticket. We finally managed to get some, but there weren’t six available together. It was four together and two together. Since the youngest and myself were the biggest fans, we ended up getting the two best seats.

The truth is I do like the Eagles, always have, but if it wasn’t for the fact of being with loved ones to enjoy it, it wouldn’t be worth fighting that mob like crowd.

I think that’s how it is with making some memories sometimes. It takes being away from your comfort zone and doing something out of the ordinary with someone extraordinary. Or a group of extraordinary people. Isn’t that what loved ones are? We’re special to God and to our family.

My youngest and I belted out “Desperado” at the top of our lungs as the Eagles finished their encore.

The thick crowd was threatening to separate my daughter and I on the way out so she grabbed my hand… never thought that would happen again… If we hadn’t gone to that Eagles concert it probably never would have. It’s the little things in life, friends. I think that’s one of the times when God smiles…

THE TIME MOM MET HITLER, FROST CAME TO DINNER, AND I HEARD THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD

A few years back I was killing time waiting for my flight to deliver me from a vicious Texas winter. I grabbed a bottle of water and browsed the paperback book section of the store inside the Austin terminal. I love books… big surprise. I normally choose books, but that one time, his book chose me. “The Time Mom Met Hitler, Frost Came to Dinner, And I Heard the Greatest Story Ever Told”. I reread the title again silently. It grabbed me then I grabbed it and headed to the checkout line.

The Time Mom Met Hitler, Frost Came to Dinner, And I Heard the Greatest Story Ever Told, falls into the “best books I’ve ever read” category. It’s Dikkon Eberhart’s memoir about his life and family. Dikkon’s dad was the famous poet Richard Eberhart, who had famous friends, like Robert Frost, as mentioned in the title to his book.

There are an extreme few people in this world that can tell stories of the times when Dylan Thomas came to tuck them in or tell them a bedtime story. Dikkon is one of those few.

Dikkon’s family on his mother’s side were floor wax pioneers. His great grandpa actually invented floor wax and turned his invention into a house hold name. But being born into a famous family or privilege doesn’t keep the world from stomping on your dreams and heart.

Dikkon’s book is the story of how all of us, regardless of which family we’re born into, have struggles and sorrows in this life. His story is the story of God’s redemption and grace. It’s a story of Dikkon and his family’s path from legalism in Judaism to the Truth of God.

Over the last few years Dikkon and I, like many of you, have forged a long distance friendship. Even though he’s on the other side of the traditional publishing chasm, Dikkon takes the time to interact and help out folks like me seeking what he’s already attained.

I’m excited to share the news that Dikkon is working on a follow up to The Time Mom Met Hitler, Frost Came to Dinner, And I Heard the Greatest Story Ever Told! The theme of his new book is how Dikkon and his wife were being relentlessly pursued by the Trinity, even when they didn’t know it, and what transpired once their hearts and souls surrendered.

Here’s the best part; if you subscribe on his website you can request to be an “Insider”, of which I’m one, and you’ll be on Dikkon’s list of people he actually allows to participate in the editing parts of his new manuscript as he writes it. Pretty cool. That shows the humility and heart of God in my friend; Dikkon.

If you haven’t read The Time Mom Met Hitler, Frost Came to Dinner, And I Heard the Greatest Story Ever Told, I highly suggest you do. And I’d also appreciate if you’d visit Dikkon here and support a fine man of God.

Dikkon Eberhart

IDLE HANDS ARE THE DEVIL’S WORKSHOP

I can’t remember how old I was when I first heard it, but it was early on, as far back as I can recollect. It went something like this; “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”. It was just another catchy adage I’d memorize as easily as John 3:16, but not really grasp the depth of either for decades.

image courtesy of buildyourideallife.com

It’s been a whirlwind of busyness lately. It’s peculiar how similar that word is to business. It’s good in some ways; that means, according to the old “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”, I’m keeping my nose clean. Yeah, I can quote the old adages like people do Beatle’s songs.

But as I get along in years it seems those old adages, like all things, are just generalities.

There is a reason that the Good Book says, “Be still and know that I AM GOD”.

Being busy, if it takes up space and time with the Father, is another form of idolatry. Sometimes it just takes the time to sit down and peck out a few words to begin to grasp the depth of our motivations and shortcomings.

When we get so busy it’s easy to hide behind the actions and justify our reasons, but it’s all about priorities. The flesh has its priorities and they never align with God’s. Sometimes it takes an idle mind to ponder and accept the fact that we’re “Prone to Wander… Lord I feel it”.

In our time of musing the sovereignty of our Father and our tendencies to fill our lives with distractions, we come back to Truth… And we fall into the comfort of His Amazing Grace. There is no sweeter place or sound.

It’s the season of rearranging and shuffling priorities to their proper place. And tossing the ones that keep us so busy we forget to seek Truth and find peace in this dizzying busy life.

I’ve missed the reading and writing and interaction with my comrades. It helps keep priorities in order.

Somewhere between “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop” and “Choked by the worries of this world” is where we find peace with our Maker.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

 

Man, I wish I knew how to sail! courtesy Photobucket

Repost from November 2010. As a youngster, I heard what seemed like an unlimited supply of adults say, “Just remember, you reap what you sow!”

I was one of those kids who caring adults tried to give a bit of advice in order to save me from future grief. Some personalities read like a billboard sign…

That sowing was great… right up till it came time reap.

Some of us learn easier than others.

I was at one of my best friend’s surprise birthday party this last week. Typical of all get-togethers of old friends or family, it is a stroll down memory lane. Some streets I’ve ventured down I’ve completely forgotten.

I was reminded of an incident that happened during my sowing years. I was with a good buddy of mine, Dave D. and two other girls our age, I’ll spare them the embarrassment by naming names. We were down at the lake and decided it would be a great day to go sailing. Along with no sense, we had no money.

I decided we could “borrow” one, so we did. After our push off into our new hobby, out about 100 yards we heard yelling coming from the shore. It didn’t take long to figure out it was the owner of the sailboat.

I never considered turning back to return what wasn’t mine. We laughed and kept paddling. Sailboats aren’t a very effective means of water transportation when you don’t know how to sail…

The guy cursing from the shore shed his clothes and started swimming. As he started getting closer there was less laughter from our sobering vessel. I started waving down boats passing by and begged for a tow. We finally got one with the man fish about 15 feet from us.

Instant reaping would be more effective. When there isn’t immediate consequences from deserved actions it makes a wild heart bolder.

We ditched the sailboat on the other side of the island. I really didn’t feel like we were stealing the boat, more like borrowing with asking.

I haven’t had too many things in my life borrowed from me, but I’ve had more than my fair share of things stolen from me. Multiple trucks, tools, guns, you name it, I’ve had it stolen from me. I guess some mistakes were truly built to last…

Some people call it Karma, some simpler folks like me call it “getting paid back.” I should have been paying more attention in Sunday School. I first heard this verse there, “Be not deceived; God is not mocked: For whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.”

In this world, I see people not as bold with ignorant actions, but with the same adolescent lack of reality. Some with heart problems eating hamburgers and smoking cigarettes. Others spending money they don’t have.

I’m not saying I’m perfect now. The difference now is I understand there is a day of reckoning. If and when that day comes, I’ll take it on the chin. I’m not suggesting I like it, but that’s the way God designed it. There are consequences for all actions, good or bad.

For those of us who know God, know His forgiveness.

I’ve never been sailing a day in my life unless you count that one day.

By the way, Man fish did make it back to shore safe and sound… My guess is that he too learned the lesson of you reap what you sow.

MOM’S BIRTHDAY

Some days of the calendar are just a little more special than almost all of the others. Some calendar days resonate in our soul and take their place in line of importance behind Christmas and Easter. Of course our children’s birthdays and now their kid’s birthdays mean a lot, but without our mom’s birthday, none of us would have ours.

My mom’s birthday is August 30th, the day before my mom and dad’s anniversary. Some of the roughest days of the summer land on my mom’s birthday, but neither rain nor shine can take the meaning of that day away for her loved ones.

It was six or seven years ago, a year or two after my dad passed, since I surprised my mom for her birthday by showing up out of the blue unannounced.

That birthday she was at the sink doing dishes when I strolled up her front walk. She started crying tears of joy instantly.

I took care of loose ends and headed north. It’s about a two and a half hour drive from where I live in the Valley of the Sun to her place. It took a little longer this year with all the road work and detours… and people that do the speed limit…

It’s easy to throw my mom off and give her misdirection. I always text her early on her birthday and call later in the afternoon. I sent my yearly birthday greeting long before I started heading her way so she would have no way of knowing if I was coming to surprise her or not.

I knocked on my mom’s front metal screen door around noon. There was no answer, but I could hear the TV or radio blaring inside. I waited as long as an impatient person can and rapped the back of my knuckles on the metal door again, harder the second time.

Finally her front door opened, but with the sunlight glaring behind me and the tiny little circles on the bug screen, I couldn’t see her… but I heard her. When a person knows another intimately, like a mother and her children, you know the sound in their voice and if tears are accompanying their words. My mom’s was.

I gave my mom a hug and she cleared a place on her coffee table for the oversized arrangement that engulfed her quaint coffee table.

image courtesy of trip adviser.com

My mom asked me where I wanted to go for lunch. I reminded her that it was her birthday so it was completely up to her. We had a nice lunch in her favorite spot that fronts old Route 66. It’s a great place to remember the years of life and celebrate yet another one that God provides.

With age comes wisdom. By now I know how precious each year is and I don’t want to take any for granted. And certainly not the day and the year of my mom’s birthday.