You Need His Chicken

We had a Sunday school picnic. They said, "Be at the park at 4:30 Saturday. Bring your supper and we'll furnish the tea."



Well, I came home at the last minute, and when I got ready to pack my lunch, all I could find in the refrigerator was one dried up piece of bologna and just enough mustard in the bottom of the jar so that I got it all over my knuckles when I tried to get it out.

And there were just two stale pieces of bread. So.......I made my bologna sandwich and wrapped it in a brown paper bag and took off for the picnic.


When it came time to eat, I sat at the end of the table and took out my sandwich. But the people next to me, well---the lady was a good cook. And she had cooked all day and she had fried chicken and potato salad and baked beans and home made rolls and sliced tomatoes and stuffed celery and deviled eggs and pickles and olives---and to top it off, two great big homemade chocolate pies.


And they spread it all out beside me, and there I was---with my bologna sandwich.


But they said to me, "Why don't we just put it all together?"


"Oh, no---I couldn't do that---I couldn't even think of it"---and I was embarrassed.


"Oh, come on.......there's plenty of chicken and pie---plenty of everything---and we just LOVE bologna sandwiches. Let's just put it all together."


So I did. And there I sat. Eating like a king when I came like a pauper.


And I get to thinking. I think of ME---sharing in the very being of God. When I think of how little I bring, and how much He brings---and that He invites me to share.


I know I should be shouting from the house tops, but I'm so filled with awe and wonder that I can hardly be heard.


I know I don't have enough love or faith or grace or mercy or wisdom---but He has.


He has all those things in abundance, and He says, "Let's just put it all together. Everything that I possess is available to you. Everything that I am and can be to a person, I will be to you."


And, when I think about it like that, it really amuses me---to see somebody running around through life hanging on to their dumb bag and their stale bologna sandwich---saying "God's not gonna get MY sandwich, no siree---not mine!"


Did you ever see anybody like that? Just so needy and about half starved to death, hanging on for dear life?


It's not that He needs your sandwich.


You need His chicken.

Somebody Stepped On My Hand......

I personally don't drink, but Cindy Needed Support

The Cinderoo suggested Mexican food for tonight's repast, so we strolled down about a hundred yards from our hotel to the Hacienda Degollado for dinner.

Ummm Ummm Ummmph!

It's been a frantic week, and we were ready to unwind.  Cindy, who never drinks spiritous liquors, broke with her personal tradition and began draining margaritas.  Of course, my being a gentleman and all, I could not bear to see her drink alone.

Cindy was a Bad Influence On Me

About 80 ounces later, we were ready for dinner.  Let's see---my memory is not what it used to be a few hours ago---there were tacos, chile rellenos, beans, salsa, rice, chips, and oh...did I mention margaritas?  Of course, I would not have had anything to drink that had alcohol in it, except for the fact that mi esposa was hell bent to have a blow-it-out evening.  And, of course, I have never been one to kill a good time, so I followed her lead.  In other words, it's all her fault.

The Restaurant Was Colorful and the Food Was Muy Bueno

My goodness, the food was good.  And, except for the fact that someone stepped on my hand in the hotel lobby, a wonderful time was had by all.......I think.

I Love Tacos

I wish y'all had been there.


As We Walked Back To Our Hotel From The Restaurant, The Clouds Were Beautiful

Hoarding Bloggers?

About a year ago, I was introduced to the cable TV show, "Hoarders".  This weekly series quickly achieved success, probably because most people can in some way identify with the phenomenon of hoarding.

Hoarding is defined as "the collection of a large number of items, along with the inability to discard them".

The television show is a documentary series in which each week different individuals are followed in their homes.  Most of these pathological personalities have acquired so much "stuff" in their homes that they are unable to even move around in their own living quarters.

Their kitchens, bathrooms, bedrooms, garages, etc are all crammed with "stuff", none of which is of any worth or use to the hoarder.

All of us, in one way or another, have an innate tendency to keep things we feel may have value, even if we know that object will never be of use to us.  Most of us have that tendency under control, and we are able to discard those things that we know are of no use to us.

Which brings me to the subject at hand---on-line bloggers that hoard.

This is a condition that I have noticed in my blogging over the past year.  There are individuals who have begun---and continued---to acquire apps, widgets, do-dads, cutsies on their blog site until the site is completely loaded with "junk".  It is like walking into the house of a hoarder---you cannot get around or navigate.

It is time consuming to open the blog because all the widgets and what-not take forever to load.  It is tiresome to try to leave a comment because the comment form takes forever to load.  Navigating around the blog is tedious for the same reason---there is just too much "stuff" on there.

I personally like to comment on the blogs of my friends, even if it is just to let them know I was a visitor; but it is not easy when you have many blogs to view and there are a few that hold you up as you wait for loading to occur.

Shouldn't a blog be loadable withing a few seconds---or, at least, a timely manner? 

Your thoughts?

Contract Accepted!

After two helter skelter days of looking at homes in the Knoxville area, we made an offer on one we fell in love with.  Our offer was accepted!  Praise God.

Our realtor is Jackie Price---a real pro.  He got us exactly what we wanted.  Thank you, Jackie!

It has a nice front porch.  That is a weeping cherry tree in the front yard.

A nice mantel and gas fireplace with instant electric starter

A Formal Sitting Area...Wood Flooring Throughout.

Eat-In Kitchen Off of the Living Area Opens Up to The Rear Deck and Back Yard

Formal Dining Room

We are Trying to Relax a Little Today and Tomorrow Before Heading Back to Texas.  Whew!

Helter Skelter.......

Wow!---it's great to get the chance to blog again.  Every day has been crammed full of activity early morning to night.  We have been exhausted.  But, we were able to make an offer on a home here in Knoxville yesterday, and we were just notified that the seller has accepted it!

In the meantime, here are a few pics of our trip so far.....

This is me---last Friday night before beddie-bye...Cindy was gonna help me with my hair, which is lengthening nicely, don't you think?  Ha.

She's Crazy About Me!

OK, The Back Looks Pretty Good

The Finished Product is a Masterpiece!

Saturday Morning, Dallas Central Expressway, 4:00 AM---Atlanta, Here We Come!

Oh, Boy---Here Come the Torrential Rains

After a 14 Hour Drive, Cindy and I Arrive at My Mom's Retirement Village in Atlanta...Pretty Nice, Huh?

Front Entrance to Mom's Village

The Grounds Are Beautiful---Spring Has Sprung!



This is the View From Mom's Apartment Overlooking the Pool and Waterfall.  There are Fish in the Pool.  Can You See the Phony Owl Standing Guard?



My 88 Year Old Mom Says "Don't Take My Picture!"  Ha.

Mom and Cindy Cook Din-Din in Mom's Kitchen

Mom Spends a Lot of Time In Her Sitting Room Overlooking the Pool

On Monday Morning We Drove to Knoxville.  Just Down the Street From Our Hotel is A Mexican Restaurant With This Human Lime Slice Soliciting Business Out Front.  Sheeeez.....

Notification....

I miss my bloggin' buddies!  Cindy and I are in Knoxville, TN looking at homes.  We haven't had a chance to post anything, and we really miss our friends on here.  As soon as we have a little time we will be back to our bloggin'.  We miss y'all!

A Waffle House Moment In Time....

I originally posted this story on July 29, 2010.

I pulled off of the interstate at a non-descript crossroads town near the Louisiana-Mississippi state line. It was nearing the noon hour and I was quite ready for lunch. I spied a Waffle House and that promised to be a quick, inexpensive solution to my hunger.


The cries of "Helloooo" echoed through the eatery as I entered. A small booth in the back was the perfect spot for me to eat while observing the comings and goings of the broad spectrum of patrons.


It was surprising that there were only a few customers present. Usually, at that time of day, Waffle Houses are pulsing with activity. I ordered a patty melt and relaxed in the relative quiet.


By and by, the door opened and a man entered. I would not have paid much attention, except for the fact that he stopped just inside the door and just stood there, looking down at the floor. He was dressed in what looked to be clean, if worn, clothing. He had a beard that needed trimming, and hair that was about three weeks past due for a haircut. One of the waitresses invited the man in, and motioned for him to take a seat.


In a low voice, while staring at the floor, the man asked if there might be any leftovers. He added, "I don't have any money to pay for it."


The waitress turned to the manager, who was also the cook, and told him the situation. The manager eyed the man, and said, "Sit down, sir---I'll give you a little something to get you on your way". The man timidly perched on a barstool at the counter.


He was served a waffle with syrup, a bowl of grits and a glass of water. The man was very meek and courteous, saying "thank you", and "I really appreciate this".


When he had finished, the waitress told the man that one of the other patrons had offered to pay for anything else he might want to eat. He stammered, "Who should I thank?" But the waitress said she could not tell him that, but he was free to order anything more that he might want. All he could think of was another bowl of grits and more water, which the waitress brought him. He thanked her again.


When he finished eating, he rose and quietly asked the waitress if it would be all right if he used the restroom. She told him of course it would be OK.


When the man came out of the restroom, he shuffled past my booth. I extended my hand to him as he passed me. He looked at me with a quizzical expression. In my hand was a $5 bill. "Oh, I couldn't take that", he whispered. I said "Yes---this is for you. Remember that Jesus loves you".


I thought I saw tears welling up in his eyes. "Thank you, sir", he murmured appreciatively, as he took the currency and backed to the door.


As he exited the restaurant, I arose to pay my bill. The waitress said to me, "That was a wonderful thing you did. God will bless you for that".


I told her that God has ALREADY blessed me beyond reason.


Leaving the Waffle House shortly after the man had departed, I looked for him to see where he was going. But he had mysteriously vanished.


Since that day, I think of that man often. And I sometimes wonder if God was testing all of us in that restaurant that day.