Swinging Between Heaven and Earth

Before I got too old to climb, I would climb a tree to gain a new perspective. I loved being up high and looking at nature from aloft. Trees with lots of limbs were my favorite although it was fun climbing on without them.

In discussion the other night I mentioned about “swinging out trees” and the thrill of slowly drifting back to the ground. Someone said that was called skinning a cat. I have said and heard the phrase “there is more than one way to skin a cat.” I always thought it referred to skinning a catfish, not a real cat. I thought it too grotesque to skin a cat. I have had fun with cats but never cruel to them.

It seems that “more ways than one to skin a cat” has origins back to the early 17^th century. In John Florio’s 1611 work Second Fruits, he writes "there is more than one way to kill a cat. I thought that it was a good Chiltonian (Chilton County slang) term.

I found out that the expression was popularized in the 19th century. Seba Smith’s 1840 short story The Money Diggers uses the phrase to illustrate multiple ways of achieving a goal using adaptability and problem-solving. And I thought I was just figuring out how to swing a tree to the ground or skinning a catfish. Well, I guess that was solving a problem.

I did find that Robert Frost wrote this in his poem Birches.

 

When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker  trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay.

 

When I was in high school working for Hiwassee Land Company, I had plenty of opportunities to swing out hickory trees. Hickories were my favorite swinging tree because they are tough. Weighing about 150 pounds I would find a hickory tree about six inches at the bottom, climb it to the top, then swing it softly to the ground. Most of my friends at Hiwassee could not climb as did I. It is one of the great thrills of life that I miss as an old man.

One time I attempted one that was stronger than I was. I shimmied to the top, bent it out, and started my ascent back to earth only to be caught between sky and earth. I could not ride the tree down nor could I get it to stand back up. After several attempts I used adaptability and problem-solving considering all my options and finally dropping about fifteen feet to the ground. As I hung there I thought of Absalom hanging in a tree by his hair.

My cousins and I were swinging out trees and one of them climbed a pine tree. None of us saw him climb it but we did hear his descent as he plummeted to earth skinning off pine limbs as he fell. The limbs softened his fall. We reminded him that pines were not good trees to swing to the ground.

“More than one way to skin a cat” may be an idiom for options or climbing trees. My fellow Alabamians the musical group ALABAMA wrote “Climb a long tall hick'ry
Bend it over, skinnin' cats” in their song Mountain Music in 1982. All I can say is, “Well done Randy. Ain’t nothing like it.”

My Savior hung on a tree for the sins of the world. The only way for Salvation is Jesus.

 And Absalom met the servants of David. And Absalom rode upon a mule, and the mule went under the thick boughs of a great oak, and his head caught hold of the oak, and he was taken up between the heaven and the earth; and the mule that was under him went away. II Samuel 18:9 KJV 

And we are witnesses of all things which he did both in the land of the Jews, and in Jerusalem; whom they slew and hanged on a tree. Acts 10:39 KJV

 Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness. 1 Peter 2:24 KJV

 

The Power of A Seed

One day in the Cement Plant cantina I planted a seed in a co-worker’s mind. Grunt was his nickname and he is a very good friend. He resembled Chuck Norris and was a daredevil that would try most anything that was dangerous and exciting. In fact during the days when streaking was popular, Grunt ran through the streets of Montevallo wearing sneakers and a smile.

My friend Keilan Gore and I tried an experiment on Grunt. Looking at him in a sincere and concerning look I told Grunt that he was a Homosapien. His look was one of unbelief and said, “I can’t believe what you called me.”

I told him that he was covered with epidermis and that he had phalanges. By this time, he wanted to know why.

Everyone in the cantina was interested in our conversation. Keilan and I could barely keep from laughing. I said, “Grunt, a Homosapien is another word for man.” Keilan told him that epidermis was the skin that covers your body. I told Grunt that phalanges were his fingers.

Grunt laughed and said, “I thought I must have caught some terrible disease.” The look on his face was priceless. Keilan and I planted a seed creating doubt and confusion on our good-natured friend.

A seed has the potential to produce depending on the soil. Grunt was fertile soil since he did not understand the terms that Keilan and I used in our charade. The law of the harvest is you reap what you sow, you reap more than you sowed, and you reap in due time.

One Spring dad bought some cantaloupe seeds from Murry Glass feed and seed in Jemison, Alabama. Dad prepared the ground in anticipation of a half-acre of delicious cantaloupe. The vines were beautiful and full of blooms. Dad’s bag of cantaloupe seeds produced all the pickles that momma could can. All dad could deduce was that cucumber and cantaloupe seeds look alike and someone placed cucumber seeds in the cantaloupe bind. Dad reaped what he planted.

Life is a process of sowing and reaping. In today’s technologically savvy climate seeds of discord produce an abundance of conflict, division, and mistrust. Seeds planted decades ago are growing chaos and confusion to the extent that evil is the new good and good the new evil. Proverbs 6:16–19 lists “one who sows discord among brothers” as one of the seven things God hates.

The seed of dishonesty can be planted in a person’s life and, over time, grow into more serious issues such as loss of trust, damaged relationships, or personal downfall. In Psychology 101 at the University of Montevallo were studied about “self-fulfilling prophecy.” That what social media does. The principle is that if you tell someone something negative long enough that will believe the lie.

Some of us tried with an experiment. We picked an unsuspecting soul, and we individually asked if the poor soul felt okay. It wasn’t long before she went to a mirror to check if she were okay. There wasn’t anything wrong, but the power of suggestion won out.

I think it ironic that a beautiful lady or handsome man that are news anchors will tell bad and disturbing news for thirty minutes and we wonder why the world is going to hades in a hand basket.

Someone once asked me why they have such violent movies. My answer surprised the person. I said that the movie depicted a real crime. The script was from an official police report. When planting seeds of violence you reap iniquity. Proverbs 22:8 says, “He that soweth iniquity shall reap vanity: and the rod of his anger shall fail.”

It is important to plant seeds that produce good fruit. Planting seeds of hope leads to harvest of encouragement, peace, and joy.

Years ago, my children do not want to attend a Christmas gathering saying, “They are just a bunch of sticks in the mud griping and complaining.” I told them that we could go and make a difference by having a good time and not allowing the negative to control.

One of my favorite stories is of Johnny Chapman September 26, 1774 – March 18, 1845. Known as Johnny Appleseed he planted apple seeds wherever he traveled. He created apple nurseries and promoted the importance of the apple.

 

Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to seek the Lord, till he come and rain righteousness upon you. Hosea 10:12 KJV

Well water

I bought a piece of property adjacent to my front yard. The property had county water. One day while working I turned the water vale on to get some water. There is nothing you miss more that when out of water or as we say in Alabama, “the well ran dry.” I checked to see if the water line had burst. Finding no leaks I walked down to the water meter. When I opened the lid, the water had been cut off and a lock placed on the valve.

Growing up it was not unusual for the well to run dry. Our well on the home place was forty-five feet deep and had a rock bottom with five feet of water. If mama did a lot of clothes washing, she lowered the water below the foot valve pump. We did not have inside plumbing for a long time, and I was a senior in high school before dad and I installed a commode and bathtub.

We did not have hot water. Mom had to heat the water on a stove. We had to carry water to the back porch until we did indoor plumbing. It was a “way of life” for most of the residents of the Mars Hill community west of Jemison, Alabama.

Our granny Hopper in Lawley, Alabama had an outside well utilizing a rope and pulley to draw water from her well. I have vivid mental pictures of drawing her water and drinking water from a bucket, using a dipper cup to drink the water. When she washed she carried buckets of water filling a wash pot.

When I realized there was a lock on the valve, I went to the water authority in Thorsby, Alabama. I thought I was entering Fort Knox Gold Reserve. I found inside glass windows separating customers from the snobbish ladies. I thought I must have grown another head by the looks I received. When I asked why there was a lock on my water meter valve, I had to produce documents to prove my identity and that I purchased the property.

I had never experienced such scrutiny. After no satisfaction from the monster enclosed behind the plate glass window a former classmate recognized my frustration and took my case. I told her that I did not sign as many documents when I bought my house and then asked why the security in rural Alabama. She said people can get violent and vicious over water.

After a few minutes of details on the violent and the vicious I understood their dilemma and understood the immediate hostility by walking into the office. After paying a hefty hookup fee they unlocked my meter. With the rapid growth of rural areas and the insufficient planning of new construction, water is vital.

Our world is mostly water. Flesh and pure water is depleted faster. As I draft this article there is a water battle and lawsuit between Alabama, Florida, and Georgia because the city of Atlanta is sucking most of the water and lowering reservoirs and rivers to the Gulf of Mexico.

Called the Tri-State Water War it refer to a decades‑long conflict among Georgia, Alabama, and Florida over water rights in two major river basins, the Apalachicola‑Chattahoochee‑Flint (ACF) and the Alabama‑Coosa‑Tallapoosa (ACT). It is a long‑standing, multi‑state legal and political fight over shared water resources by competing needs for drinking water, industry, agriculture, and environmental protection.

Nothing is more important in the desert than water. Society depends on water. Recent years of drought in Alabama has lowered creeks, ponds, rivers, and underground water levels. If folks had to draw and tote water like in the “good old days” there would be a decrease in water usage. Like the saying goes, “You don’t miss the water until the well runs dry.”

The Bible has many verses on wells and water. Again, there is nothing more important in the desert than water.

 

Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water. The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: from whence then hast thou that living water? Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle? Jesus answered and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life. John 4:10-14 KJV

 

 

Stay Focused

 Growing up we were poor in many ways but we had love and each other. We never had vacations or went out to restaurants to eat. Our vacations were time to work. Dad would say that he had to return to work to rest. Our eating was at mom’s table and the food that we raised. Brown gravy, biscuits, tomatoes, field peas, and fried potatoes. Mama fixed fried pork tenderloin after we started raising pigs.

One time during the mid-1960s dad took us to a rodeo in Montgomery, Alabama. This was prior to the construction of Interstate 65, so our trip was on US Highway 31. Travel was slower back then and it would take us over an hour to travel there.

The Hopper had never been to a rodeo especially at the State Capitol. On arriving the parking lot was full of automobiles and Garrett Coliseum was filling also. It was exciting to see all the folk wearing cowboy paraphernalia.

The emcee for the event was Ken Curtis who played Festus on the hit series Gunsmoke. He had sung with the Sons of the Pioneers and was well spoken. He sang a song or two, but when he was Festus he got a standing ovation. It was a big night for that bunch of Hoppers from Mars Hill.

On our way home a fog blanketed the area. The fog was so thick that it looked like a sheet laying on the windshield. The ride home took twice as long. Momma was in a panic, but my sister, two brothers, and I knew that daddy could get us home. It was tense but memorable trip. Daddy could not see very far but he never lost his focus. He knew what he had to do.

While attending New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, a preacher friend and I were headed back home to Alabama after spending a week there and finishing a final test on a Friday morning. We were in a Caravan. No there were no camels, donkeys, or large group of people. Hugh my preacher friend owned a Plymouth Caravan. Before we began our journey, the weather forecast said there was zero visibility across Lake Pontchartrain. Hugh, a seasoned tractor trailer driver, focused on the road or what he thought was I 10. The fog across Caravan windshield was so thick we could not see the Crysler emblem on the hood of the van which was eighteen inches from the windshield.

Automobiles buzzed by us like we were sitting still. Hugh was tense, had both hands on the steering wheel, sweat seeping on his forehead, and was deathly silent. I talked in a calming voice as we traveled 5.5 miles. I knew my friend would get us home.

When we crossed the bridge the fog dissipated, and Hugh relaxed and said I need a cup of coffee. We stopped at Shoney’s Big Boy in Slidell. Hugh smiled and the sweat stopped. It was good to have a normal Hugh that I could aggravate again.

There are plenty of things that cause us to loss our focus. I bought Aaron my youngest son a telescope. We set it up one night to watch the moon. It was a wonderful experience except the moon was moving so fast that we had trouble focusing on it. We had to constantly adjust the telescope.

I realized how focused NASA had to be to land on the moon. The calculations back in 1969 were not easily achieved but the vision to put a man on the moon before the end of the decade was a giant step.

In April 1990, NASA’s Hubble Space Telescope produced blurry images. The goal was far from the sharp, crisp views projected. The cause was a spherical aberration which was a flaw in the telescope’s primary mirror that the impossibility to correct mirror in space. Engineers designed a corrective optics system. Astronauts aboard the space shuttle Endeavour performed a servicing mission in December 1993. It is an understatement to say the results were “pictures out of the world.”

If you are like me I have to have corrective optics performed every six months. “Father time” is causing flaws in my focus. I have perfect sight for far away but up close is a blur. Sometimes when I exit the house the Alabama humidity is so bad that my glasses fog.

I am glad that Jesus did not lose his focus. There were plenty of obstacles that could have prevented Him from saying “It is finished.” He knew what we needed and completed it.

Max Lucado, one my favorite authors, writes, “The heart of Christ was relentlessly focused on one task, The day he left the carpentry shop of Nazareth he had one ultimate aim-the cross of Calvary.”

For even the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many Mark 10:45 KJV

“For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.” Luke 19:10 KJV

I'll Be Somewhere Listening

Long before the sun rose this morning and before I awakened, I heard someone call my name. I quickly opened my eyes and scanned the room to see who called me. It sounded like a female’s voice, like momma’s voice, or like my wife Lisa’s. I listened intently but there was nothing stirring in the predawn hour.

I, like most of you, do not remember the first time I heard someone call my name. I do remember that momma called my name more than anyone. Momma yelled my name several times a day. The first dozen or so times she would holler BOBBY. She would proceed to BOBBY EARL and when she meant business it was my full name BOBBY EARL HOPPER. That was not good. It followed with a physical reprimand and at times “I’m going to tell your daddy when he gets home.”

When my sister came along momma yelled Bobby even more especially when my sister learned to talk and the fine art of tattle telling. When two more brothers entered the family I did not get yelled at as much but still received my fair share. They did not inherit the fine art of tattle telling as did our sister. Interestingly more family members meant more to call my name.

In grammar school, teachers called my name in roll call and sometimes answered questions about the class assignments. I did not enjoy my name being called by the teacher to answer questions. I learned if I raised my hand quickly, the teacher would not call on me.

That little trick worked wonders in the fourth-grade speed reading class. I do not always understand what I read, but raising my hand quickly the teacher thought I understood what I read. This allowed me to be one of the top readers.

In the eighth grade, Mrs. Ekblad called the roll three times. The first time was for attendance. The second time was after a spelling test. We would swap test papers with another student after the test. Two students ahead of me were Charles and Judy Ellison. They always answered their names with, “I did’t miss any.” When Mrs. Ekblad called my name I say, “I didn’t miss many.” The third time she called the roll was for an English test. One again when she called my name I repeated, “I didn’t miss many.”

Playing high school football when the announcer introduced the starting lineup it was good to hear him call my name. It was fun to hear the crowd holler my name especially on defense when I made the tackle.

Having my name called to come to the office was not always good. Having homeroom teacher Mrs. Betty Giles call my name after I retrieved a record player and playing the hit song Why Do You Bill Me Up Buttercup Baby by The Foundations got my right buttock burning. I thought she was playing but when she made bend over and grab my ankles as she pulled my blue jeans tight, the paddling burned and I could not sit on my right buttock the rest of the day. My Life Lisa loves to send me that song via text messaging. My buttock burns ever time I hear it.

When I attended New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, I took Greek. Dr. R. E. Glaze was the professor. I made a C in the first class and a B in the second one. After a test in the third-class Dr. Glaze would say, “There were three F’s” and call out the student's names. I responded to a preacher friend saying I’m one of the F’s. I was not.

Then he said, “There were four D’s.” I told my preacher friend, I made a D. I didn’t but my preacher friend did. Next, she said there were more C’s than any other score. I smiled and told my preacher friend I made a C. I did not. Next were the B’s and my name was not called. Then I panicked and said, “I forgot to sign my stupid test paper.” Yes, I’ve done it before.

Finally, Dr. Glaze said, “There were the A’s.” I was the middle A. My preacher friend said, “Hopper, I hate you for talking me into taking this stupid Greek class.”

 "Wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son; and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ” Galatians 4:7 KJV

An old hymn, I’ll Be Somewhere Listening has these words:

When my Savior calls I will answer

When He calls for me I will be there

When my Savior calls I will answer

I'll be somewhere listening for my name

 

Rain

The other day I heard thunder, I felt pain relief and I could smell the coming of a summer rain as the sky darkened, the wind blew, and the earth readied for the precious droplets. Swinging on the back porch swing, I bowed my head and thanked the Lord for the gentle rain that made rhythmic music on the metal roof.

I often commune with the Lord on the back porch as the morning ushers a new day. It is my place to pray and listen for God’s voice heard in the sounds of birds, the wind, the chimes, and miscellaneous noises of overhead planes, passing vehicles, and creaking porch.

The serenity of falling rain rejuvenates. I love the rain, especially at night riding around in my old pickup truck listening to the purr of the exhaust, watching the metronomic movement of the windshield wipers, and the comfort and relaxation of the old seat. It is romantic and gratifying.

Several Lord’s days back some folks were complaining about the Sunday morning rain. I was thankful since a few weeks prior the state of Alabama was under a drought warning, no burning, and crops beginning to wilt. Unthankful in God’s house.

Springs, creeks, rivers, ponds, and lakes were low for months. Hay fields, gardens, and yards were scorched. Trees were dying reminding us of times of drought in the Bible. I had rather see rain than watch the earth wither away.

I know that rain for some folks causes depression. In movies rain is a motif that happens at funerals, denotes personal sadness, and creates chaos. It is about perspective. Momma would allow us to play in the rain as long as there was no lightning. Water filled ditches were fun. Playing in the mud was adventurous. It meant no working in the garden nor cutting grass. It was like a holiday.

When I worked at the cement plant there was no such thing as rain halting work. It actually created more work. Coal, lime, and other materials did not flow. Certain areas needed sump pumps to stop flooding. Auxiliary engines had to be started in case of power outages. Rain created chaos.

Working while building bridges was just the opposite. When rain was in the forecast workers would draw a large circle in the dirt. When three drops of rain fell in the circle, someone would yell, “Get the tools up boys.” Mud and water are enemies of construction and robbers of paydays.

I love to write on rainy days. Rain can be inspirational while lack of rain is depressing for me.

Rain in abundance or in lacking is a motif in twenty-seven books of the Bible where God interacts with creation and humanity. The first rain mentioned in the Bible is the deluge in Genesis where it rained for forty days and night. That was a lot of water that surrounded the earth. I am sure that Ms. Noah got depressed with all the rain and cooped up with seven other people and an abundance of animals and such.

In the end, God gave a rainbow. I have seen several rainbows, and a couple of double ones, this year. It is a reminder of God’s promise.

 

Then I will give you rain in due season, and the land shall yield her increase, and the trees of the field shall yield their fruit. Leviticus 26:4 KJV

 

Nevertheless he left not himself without witness, in that he did good, and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness. Acts 14:17 KJV

Leaving the House of Worship on that rainy Lord’s Day I told Lisa that the same people that were upset that it rained will be the same ones upset when it is dry. I am glad God controls the weather.

Thank you for taking time to read God's Front Porch. The articles are weekly and I pray they are inspirational. Please share.

Up On the Roof

Several years ago, I had to replace the roofing shingles on our house. My good friend Keilan Gore said that he and I could do the work. Both of us worked at the Blue Circle Cement Plant and on our off days we torn off the old shingles and replaced them. We carried shovels, hammers, straight hoes, and flat pitch forks on the roof to remove the old shingles.

My oldest son Andy, around seventeen years old, worked on the ground picking up the old shingles since he was afraid of heights. His job was important and greatly appreciated.

My youngest son Aaron was around five years old he begged to get on the roof with Keilan and me. Never giving up with his plea Keilan said, “Hopper let that boy come on the roof.” I took my safety belt wrapped it around him, placed him near the peak of the roof, and nailed the safety line to the roof. His tenacity was unbelievable. I cherish the thought of my boys helping that day.

I have spent a lot of time on roofs. One time the roof over the overhead crane at the cement plant was six inches deep in cement, lime, and coal dust which had hardened over the years. Several of us were deployed with small jack hammers, number two shovels, and wheelbarrows to remove the sediment.

The roof was around seventy-five feet high and had a slight pitch requiring safety belts and ropes which we clamped to a cable running the length of roof. Co-worker Billy Tillery took a small jackhammer and started breaking the sediment. Before he started, he pulled his safety rope to insure he would not fall from the roof. When he tugged it, one of the braces holding the cable broke one the weld that held it to the roof.

We had to wait until a welder did what we call “lick the calf” again. After he rewelded the brace we went back to work. Co-ordinating our efforts we started removing the broken pieces by dumping them over the side of the roof. The updraft beside the building blew the dust back into our faces.

With jackhammers pounding, shovels filling wheelbarrows, and the dumping work went well until Billy stopped his jackhammer and began waving us back to the top of the roof. Removing our ear protection Billy yelled, “Y’all get back.” His jackhammer went through the roof.

Through years of deposit and deterioration caused by the chemicals in the dust, the tin roof was thin as a screen door. Safety personnel removed us from the roof and contractors removed what was left of the roof and replaced it with new metal roofing.

Our Sunday school was: And again he entered into Capernaum after some days; and it was noised that he was in the house. And straightway many were gathered together, insomuch that there was no room to receive them, no, not so much as about the door: and he preached the word unto them. And they come unto him, bringing one sick of the palsy, which was borne of four. And when they could not come nigh unto him for the press, they uncovered the roof where he was: and when they had broken it up, they let down the bed wherein the sick of the palsy lay. When Jesus saw their faith, he said unto the sick of the palsy, Son, thy sins be forgiven thee Mark 2:1-5 KJV

 

The focus of the lesson was that Jesus healed a paralytic (παραλυτικός) man. The Bible included how the four friends uncovered the roof lowering the man where Jesus was healing folks. The home belonged to Peter. The account of uncovering the roof is important, not as significant as the man being healed spiritually and physically but included for a reason.

Some of my classmates felt that the uncovering the roof was irrelevant, but I think is demonstrates the faith of friends of the paralytic.

Having worked on many roofs it took some effort to remove tiles to create a hole large enough to lower a man on a bed, mat, or pallet (κράβαττος means mattress). Their faith was strong enough that they were creative in getting their friend an audience with Jesus. They were cooperative exemplifying teamwork. They were coordinated in getting their friend on the roof, removing the tiles, and lowering him down. They were not concerned with recognition just urgent for their friend to see and experience the power of Jesus.

I learned a long time ago that helping people in need is the ministry of inconvenience. I am sure that the four men replaced Peter’s roof.

Heart and Soul

I will never forget the first time I met Pam Gibbs. I was preaching revival at Providence Baptist Church in Gallion, Alabama. Allen Patterson introduced me to her stating that Pam made the best cakes. Usually Allen bragged when he wanted something. He had “the look” when wanting something for nothing however I found Pam to be a very good cook, especially cakes. She had a secret making very moist cakes.

Later that year Gallion Baptist church called me as pastor. Gallion Baptist was near the Hale/Marengo County line seven miles north of the Providence. Providence was a member of the Bethel Baptist Association in Lindon, Alabama while Gallion was member in the Hale Baptist Association near Moundville. Gallion was closer to the Bethel office.

Since I pastored on the county line, Allen invited me to attend their monthly pastors’ conferences. Hale Association did not have them. Pam was the associational secretary. Director of Missions Gene Walley and Virginia his wife were cooking beignets the first time I attended. Since Pam and I were acquainted, she introduced me to them.

For the next three years I became a regular at the meeting enjoying the southern hospitality and country cooking of Pam. Brother Walley decided to retire, and I asked Pam if she had received many resumes. She said she had a few and asked me if I had thought about summitting one. I prayed and gave her one. I was one of thirty that applied and I was selected to number one.

I fulfilled the search committee’s requirements, and the Association called me as Director of Missions in June 2003. I served with four different associations on several different levels but never as director. I remember asking Pam to help me become a director of missions. For the next fifteen years Pam helped me. She and I made a great team, and we assembled a great team. The Alabama State Board of Missions recognized Bethel as one of its best associations.

Pam was a great hostess for all of our events. She told me she did not want to be in the limelight. I represented the association, but Pam was the heart and soul of the Bethel Baptist. She did all the planning, the work, and I got the recognition. My second year with her Samford University selected me as Director of Missons Town and Country 2005.

Pam and I had a wonderful working relationship. I was her troubleshooter. She had equipment issues that I solved for her. One time the office printer failed to function after a paper reload. Pam asked me to lay my hand on it. She told me what she did. I noticed the door where she reloaded the paper was not shut completely. I closed it laid my hand on it, mumbled something, and told her to try it. It worked. After a laugh I told her what I did.

Another time she had a computer printer that would not print then for no reason it would print. After buying another printer I discovered that the problem was that when she commanded the printer to print she did not designate how she wanted it printed. It was a wireless printer and sometimes when she went wireless the printer had been waiting for long periods of time for the command. She and I wrestled with technological demons for fifteen years.

Pam and I had many talks, lots of laughter, and serious conversations. That is one of the things I miss most. She would tell me that I was like an older brother that she could confide in and say anything. When you spend time with someone you have a special bond.

Pam made Bethel Baptist Association function. She was a wonderful planner, talented decorator, and delicious chef. Her giftedness was her ability to prepare food. She was a culinary wizard. Every event had a theme and menu to match. She continues to cook all kinds of cakes for various occasions. So much of her work and dedication were taken for granted. I knew that the success of the association was she was living her God given calling and I was able to share that time with her. We helped each other.

She did not enjoy being honored and I would surprise her with every chance I had. She deserved it. I wished I could have honored more. She was a great inspiration for me. She produced bi-monthly informational page in The Alabama Baptist. One time she did not have enough information and asked if I could write a paragraph. This started me authoring articles which became a hit for the Association.

When my days were numbered at the Bethel Baptist Association, Pam wanted me to end with dignity and pride. I told her I wanted to “ride off into the sunset.” Pam, along with Virginia Seales and Nell Dunaway, planned a very big retirement party for me. It was tremendous. Pam, it was the best event you had while you and I were together. I will never forget that when things were bad and I needed support you were there. When people were critical and sinical about my tenure, you undergirded me and held me high. Thanks for your support.

There were so many good times. I wish that the Association had held a better retirement for you. I felt as though you were not honored. You deserved better. I know that you and I served during the greatest of times for the Bethel Baptist Association. Jesus says it best: His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord. Matthew 25:21 KJV

Pam and Wayne, you were an important part of my life and ministry. There have been weddings, funerals, anniversaries, birthdays, and many more events that have drawn us together. Though distance separates us, you are always in my thoughts. I know that y’all are enjoying retirement and great-grandchildren keeps enlarging your family. Pam, thanks for the memories my dear friend and co-laborer.

 

There is a River

A fellow Alabamian the late great Hank Williams, sang,

“I went down to the river to watch the fish swim by

But I got to the river so lonesome I wanted to die, oh Lord

And then I jumped in the river, but the doggone river was dry.”

Hank understood being lonesome and the experience of heartbreak. I love the song and think of it each time I visit a river. Rivers are symbols of life and journeys, change and transformation, and renewal and emotional flow.

I went to the Tombigbee River in Demopolis, Alabama earlier this week. I find peace and solitude there. I started vising the river in 2000 when I became the pastor of the Gallion Baptist Church near Demopolis. It became a place to escape the vigorous demands of being a pastor and a place to spend time alone with God and pray as in Alison Krauss’ song Down to the River to Pray:

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good old way
And who shall wear the robe and crown
Good Lord, show me the way!

Sitting under a crepe myrtle tree spending time listening to God watching the river flow reminds me of God’s faithfulness. This last visit is one of many that I have visited since moving two hours northeast of Demopolis eight years ago. I continue to journey to Demopolis to visit my chiropractor, ophthalmologist, dentist, and medical doctor and of course the Tombigbee. It is a time of wonderful reflection especially after seeing my medical friends and receiving a good report.

Most of my visits to the Tombigbee are in the morning. Mornings on the river are special as the fog begins to dissipate with the rising sun. It’s symbolic of the clearing of my mind and the ability to see things from a different perspective.

Lights on the river at night are beautiful. Watching a coal loaded barge headed to the Gulf and to possibly China is intriguing. Watching the Demopolis Christmas parade on the water on a cold December night is beautiful. The spender of a midnight ride to the river on a motorcycle and sitting alone is transformational and the emotional renewal is formidable.

Times such as these remind me of gospel songs of the river. One is Robert Lowery’s Shall We Gather at the River.

Shall we gather at the river,
Where bright angel feet have trod,
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?

As I enjoy the flowing river I think of the longevity of the Tombigbee. It has been flowing for since the great deluge. Numerous peoples have witnessed its flowing. Many have traveled by canoe, riverboat, and tugs on the river. Scores have swum and played in its flow. It reminds us of the river of God that the Bill Gaither wrote There is a River:

There is a river, and it flows from deep within
There is a fountain, that frees the soul from sin
Come to this water, there is a vast supply
There is a river, that never shall run dry

Monday I gazed at the other shore of the Tombigbee from Demopolis and casted a wishful eye. There is nothing across except woods with the town of Livingston beyond. Samuel Stennett in 1787 penned On Jordan’s Stormy Banks I Stand:

On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan’s fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.
I am bound for the promised land,
I am bound for the promised land;
Oh, who will come and go with me?
I am bound for the promised land.

I am like the Hebrews in exile. They were longing to return to worship in Jerusalem. The river is a place to reflect on the greatness and faithfulness of God.

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. Psalm 137:1 KJV

 

Beautiful Feet and Pig Tales

When I was Director of Missions for the Bethel Baptist Association I had the opportunity to preach at the Linden Baptist Church. My brother and his family having not heard me preach for a long time drove two hours to encourage and to hear me. I was honored to preach at a county seat church in Alabama and my brother’s family to attend that Sunday.

When my brother returned to Chilton County and his home in Jemison, Alabama, people asked him about his visit. My brother said, “Bobby preached at a large church. After having a seminary and doctorate degree he preached about the Hoppers raising pigs. I laughed because Bobby had the audience spellbound. The people sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation as he spoke from God’s Word.”

Growing up we were very poor. We tried to farm and we depended on others to plow our ground because we did not have a tractor. Somewhere along the way dad got us a Welsh pony. The pony was mean spirited, and we could not ride him. The pony was now happy with us and ran from home all the time.

Most of the time he would break into a neighbor’s pasture and spend time with cows. Finally our neighbor told daddy that he would trade two pigs for the pony. Pigs were cheap and our neighbor not able to sell the pigs wanted the pony. So, the Hoppers started raising pigs. I was in the ninth grade.

We discovered that pigs are smart. Undoubtedly they did not like living with us either and they would get out. Pigs are not rabbits, but we found that they multiplied very quickly. Piglets are prettier than puppies. Watching piglets enter into the world was fascinating for my brothers and me. More pigs created more escapes. We had good fencing, but constant repair was mandatory.

We all had pet pigs. I had a black striped landrace sow I named Getrude. Landrace pigs are high quality pork producers. They are long and are known for reproductive efficiency and adaptability.

Getrude continually escaped the pig pen. Momma and I searched but could not find how Getrude escaped. One day mom hid in the wild plum trees and watched Getrude. Gertude sashayed to the hog wire fence and climbed it like a ladder, escaping over the top like convict. She got pregnant escaping like a young lady in trouble. We never saw Getrude again.

Someone commented that they remembered that I was a great defensive football player. They wanted to know how I learned to tackle. I said, “Chasing pigs. If you can catch a pig, an opposing player is nothing.” Every football team needs to spend some practices at a pig parlor. Chasing pigs enhances agility, speed, and tackling techniques.

I been considering drafting a book about our growing up with pigs. I am going to name it Pig Tales.

I believe pigs are mean because of what happened when Jesus put the demons into them in Matthew 2:31-32. So the devils besought him, saying, If thou cast us out, suffer us to go away into the herd of swine. And he said unto them, Go. And when they were come out, they went into the herd of swine: and, behold, the whole herd of swine ran violently down a steep place into the sea, and perished in the waters. I know they are the devil to raise. I always joke saying, “Jesus made the first deviled ham.”

Now the sermon I preached at Linden Baptist Church. I got permission from a preacher friend to use his devotion illustrating his grandchild’s feet and I tweaked it. Using the child’s toes, he taught the Gospel using Romans 10 and the rhyme “This Little Piggy.”

He played with the big toe and said, “This little piggy went to market.”

He wiggled the second toe and said, “This little piggy stayed home.”

He wiggled the third toe and said, “This little piggy had roast beef.”

With the fourth toe he said. “This little piggy had none.”

With the little toe he said, “This little piggy squealed wee, wee, wee all the way home.

 

“This little piggy went to market” – Some believers that preach pay the ultimate sacrifice becoming missionaries, some dying.

“This little piggy stayed home.” – Some believers never leave the local church producing more believers.

“This little piggy had roast beef.” – Some churches and believers have unlimited resources.

“This little piggy had none.” – Some churches and believers have limited resources.

“This little piggy squealed wee, wee, wee all the way home.” – In the end all believers we be home with God.

 

And how shall they preach, except they be sent? as it is written, How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things! Romans 10:15 KJV

Sacred and Intimate: The Supper Table

When time was simple and less complicated we would gather around the supper table. Most of the time this was a place of comfort and replenishment but there were times of discord and discomfort. Looking back, there was more comfort and replenishment. The difficult times are more forgotten.

When we were all home, daddy sat at the head of the table, and I sat at the other end. Brothers David and Glenn sat to dad’s left with David next to him and Glenn next to me. Momma sat on dad’s right and sister Diane sat between momma and me.

Momma was last to sit on most occasions as she finished placing food on the table. When we were poor, mamma would stand at the sink and say she was not hungry. I realized she was sacrificing for us. During the good plenteous times momma fixed multiple dishes. There would be oiled taters for daddy who did not eat butter of dairy products and creamed potatoes for the rest of us. Mamma always fixed two pans of chicken and dressing. One did not have onions for David. We did not have much beef but had lots of pork when we started raising hogs. I can still smell momma’s pork roast she would have for Sunday dinners.

At one time mamma and daddy both worked evening shift. When my brothers, sister, and I got home from school, momma would have our supper waiting on the table. When momma went to working, she would buy us store bought cookies instead of having her homemade cookies, pies, and cakes. Most people call it progress we called it yuck.

Momma was a great cook. Our teenage friends discovered her cooking and the folks around the table grew exponentially.

The Hoppers are big eaters. I remember morning when daddy and my brothers are pancakes faster than momma could flap them. Hoppers often distain leftovers and daddy encouraged us to eat everything the first go-a-round. Our poor dogs and hogs suffered the consequences of our total annihilation of the food.

When times were hard, we ate fried potatoes, field peas, and cornbread. I once told momma that if I ever got grown that I would never eat fried taters, peas, and cornbread again. I was true to my word until I realized I missed momma's taters, peas, and cornbread. I wish I had some now!

Momma got used to cooking large meals and when she was alone after daddy died, she could not prepare a small meal. I remember her coming home from work and preparing a seven-course meal having to invite folks to have supper with her.

Supper time was family time. All of us were sharing life and discussing problems. Grace was always spoken. Daddy would usually call on one of us to say it. There were rules at the table. If someone asked to past a bowl or plate of food, no one could intercept food until after the one requesting got his or her portion.

Another important rule was if you dipped it, you ate it. There was no waste. Another rule was one piece at a time until everyone had a chance to get a piece. There was no reaching across the table. One politely asked to pass the food such as “pass the biscuits please.” If there was one piece left you had to ask, “Does anyone want that last piece of chicken?” If no one wanted it then you could have it.

There is a sacred bond and intimacy formed at the supper table. Hats at the table were forbidden. Shirts were mandatory. Before leaving the table, you had to ask, “May I be excused?” We were poor but tried to have good manners.

Slowly the supper included wives and husbands, kids and friends and another table. Eventually the family suppers dwindled and neither the table nor the house exists. There are wonderful memories of the supper table. Love and family traditions continue as we gather at family suppers. We all look forward to Jesus’ Supper.

 

And he saith unto me, Write, Blessed are they which are called unto the marriage supper of the Lamb. And he saith unto me, These are the true sayings of God Revelation 19:9 KJV

The Infamous Bobby's Crack

I did a personality inventory when I studied for my doctorate. The presenter told me that I was scored highly in working with my hands and that for me to be creative I needed to build something to increase my creativity. He told me to build something each week if it was nothing but a bird house. I responded that I had been building my whole life until I was called into the ministry.

I have built houses, churches, bridges, cabinets, tree houses, barns, and a "she shed" for my wife Lisa. Everywhere I have served as pastor and director of missions I have remodeled or new construction. I helped create the Chilton Baptist Builders for my home Association after serving with the Carpenters of Christ back in 1982. Was a member of the Bethel Baptist Builders when I was Director of Missions for the Bethel Baptist Association from 2003 to 2017. 

I served as a building advisor for the Alabama Baptist State Board of Missions helping churches across the state of Alabama build sanctuaries, education buildings, and remodeling. My experience was the reason I was asked to serve as advisor. In each endeavor I learned some that Dr. Chuck Swindoll wrote in his book, Hand Me Another Brick, “It is impossible to lead anyone without opposition.”

When I was called to serve at the Friendship Baptist Church in Clanton in 1995, the church had been trying to build a fellowship hall. The church was utilizing an old house adjacent to the church and were wanting a new, up-to-date building but some members wanted a gymnasium. They had been debating for a decade or longer.

Seeking help, I contacted the ALSBOM (Alabama Baptist State Board of Missions), and they sent a building advisor. I never imagined that I would be one years later.

Friendship had a building committee that could not agree. After the advisor’s presentation, he suggested that we visit a building in the Birmingham area. I knew the pastor from seminary and scheduled a meeting.

My pastor friend showed us the church’s Family Life Center or a Multiservice Building. I asked what he would do differently if he had to do it again. He gave us some very pertinent and valuable information. His greatest selling point was a family life center is anything you want it to be. Friendship wanted a family life center.

The ALSBOM advisor gave us the name of a Cristian contractor, the one that build my pastor friend’s facility. He had been many across the state. To help the church the contractor told me that if the church had some to serve as its subcontractor the church could have ten to fifteen percent of the total cost, which did. I became that person.

I secured all the permits and codes. The first problem was a forty-five-minute rain after the concrete slab was finished washing it down to gravel. The chairman of the building committee said, “Well it’s God’s house and if He wants to wash the concrete, He has a reason.” We continued.

We had one building committee member that eventually “crawfished.” The family life center was seventy-five completed when I had a visit from an Alabama State Building Inspector. The committee member had a relative that was an architect. The inspector could not find any problems other than the architect tried to discredit the licensed draftsman who drew the plans.

The first event in the Family Life Center/Multiservice was a children’s play, Down By The Creekbank. The disgruntled committee never caused any more problems. Dr. Swindoll states, “It is essential to face opposition in prayer.”

But it came to pass, that when Sanballat heard that we builded the wall, he was wroth, and took great indignation, and mocked the Jews. And he spake before his brethren and the army of Samaria, and said, What do these feeble Jews? will they fortify themselves? will they sacrifice? will they make an end in a day? will they revive the stones out of the heaps of the rubbish which are burned? Now Tobiah the Ammonite was by him, and he said, Even that which they build, if a fox go up, he shall even break down their stone wall. Hear, O our God; for we are despised: and turn their reproach upon their own head, and give them for a prey in the land of captivity: And cover not their iniquity, and let not their sin be blotted out from before thee: for they have provoked thee to anger before the builders. So built we the wall; and all the wall was joined together unto the half thereof: for the people had a mind to work Nehemiah 4:1-6 KJV

 

The Family Life Center/Multiservice Building made me infamous. After the deluge and repair of the 100’ X 80’ concrete slab and before cutting an expansion joint, it cracked across the eighty feet. They call it” Bobby’s Crack.” All I can say about that is, “It’s a big un.”

 

 

 

 

SPAM or spam?

In 1983 there was a commercial that asked, “Is it live or Memorex?” It was an advancement in audio. It was difficult to make the distinction. The evolution of sound and special effects are unbelievable and imagination infinite. If you watch old movies or programs in high definition the evolution is remarkable.

Years ago my youngest son and I were doing a Star Wars marathon during the Christmas Holidays. He made the comment that Episodes IV, V, and VI needed updating. I took a few minutes to explain that when these movies previewed they were “cutting edge” technology. Most people thought that Stars Wars would flop, but millions of dollars and people followed.

Television and movies rely on deception. In high school remember watching game tapes of our Friday night football games. Coach would ask, “Hopper why didn’t you tackle that player?” I would say, Coach the film is lying, the opposing player was not that close.” The camera angle made the opposing player appear closer or just the opposite just like the passenger mirror on most vehicles do: Objects are closer than they appear. That is why football games today film with multiple cameras.

In preparation for this article, I thought about spam emails, the deception, and dangers they pose. Being global in my thinking I thought about SPAM the meat which uses pork shoulder and ham. As a young man starting a family and all that is involved, I remember that a can of SPAM was enough to last me a week. Guaranteed I had to slice it very thin. Times were hard and sacrifice was just part of “getting by.”

While researching, I found an interesting fact about SPAM. “Spam has long had a somewhat dubious reputation in the United States and, to a lesser degree, the United Kingdom, as a poverty food. Spam as a low-cost meat product gave rise to the Scottish colloquial term "Spam valley" to describe certain affluent housing areas where residents have an outward appearance of wealth but, in private, may be living at poverty levels.”

Growing up we thought SPAM was rich folks' food. My wife Lisa keeps SPAM in the food pantry. Fried SPAM and eggs for supper is a staple for us. Now I can cut thick side slices and make a SPAMburger. I deceive myself pretending it is a big juicy hamburger.

That brings me back to Spam emails which are unwanted or unsolicited messages sent to large numbers of recipients. Ranging from harmless marketing promotions to dangerous phishing attempts or malware delivery one has to use wisdom. SPAM is the inspiration for Spam.

It is rooted in a Monty Python cafe sketch using SPAM in every food item. This gave birth to Spam being digital clutter. It reminds me of my ninth grade Communism class where I learned that if you tell a lie big enough and long enough, people will believe it. Mama and daddy taught me, “Don’t believe anything you hear and half of what you see.” Repeated bombardment of stuff changes society and culture.

With AI (Artificial Intelligence) it is getting to where one cannot believe what one sees. There are spam and scams that seem real, but when held under scrutiny they are fake. I fear that with continual advancement that AI, or something more sophisticated, will be more deceptive.

Spam and other malicious malware play on human emotion to deceive. SPAM may fill the needs of people in times of hardship; technological spam offers that which leads to hardships. Let us use wisdom when tempted. Knowing the Word of God is key to discerning with faith what is Live or what is Memorex so to speak.

And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression.1 Timothy 2:14 KJV

Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils. 1 Timothy 4:1 KJV

 I think I'm going in the kitchen and fix a SPAM and sliced onion sandwich with mayonnaise and mustard. 

 

 

 

CUZ: A Good Samaritan

One spring night a young woman traveled from the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico to the Bluegrass state of Kentucky. She had experienced the sun, the suds, and the sin of spring holiday on the golden beaches. Her and other beach worshippers filled Interstate 65 creating a steady flow of headlights pointed North.

It was not long after passing exit 231 just north of Calera, Alabama when she heard the roar and felt the disintegration of one of her tires. Her joys of the spender of the blue waters and blue skies now replaced with the darkness, an eerie feeling, and the unknown of an Alabama night. The continuous flow of beach worshippers focused on home.

Good beach worshippers changed lanes and passed on the other side. Other people saw the dilemma and passed on the other side saying, “That poor girl.” They feared delay and trepidation of the unknown as the stranded vehicle disappeared in the hundreds of headlights that blinded those that looked in their rearview mirrors.

Just a few miles from her situation MC and Charley were bathing after a shift of working in the cement plant. MC, an oiler helper on the cement kilns, washed the cement, coal, lime dust, and grease from his tired body. Charley, a feed end man on the lime kilns showered away the dust and grime from crushed limestone that covered him.

MC and Charley transferred from a sister cement plant in North Birmingham Plant when it closed. In the move, they retained their seniority and other benefits. Charley began working in 1948, four years prior to my birth, which was over thirty years at the time.

MC ‘s tenure was not as long as Charley. Charley and MC rode to and from North Birmingham, about fifty-mile round trip. Their mode of travel was a tan 1969 Dodge Charger covered overtime with cement and lime dust from the plant. It was ragged, but dependable.

Bathed and dressed in fresh street clothes after working from three until eleven pm, the two journeyed from Calera. As these two friends of mine started home they spotted the young lady sitting alone just about a mile from the exit. They stopped a short distance behind. MC could see the flat tire and very carefully got the young lady’s attention.

MC told me the story of what happened. MC and I had made friends working side by side as cement kiln oilers. Our bond was strong enough that we called each other Cuz. He, a black man from North Birmingham, and I being a country boy from rural Alabama, were an odd mix. We were close friends and he said he knew the young white girl has horrified in the dark night.

MC was dark skinned and could look and be intimidating. Most of the men in the plant feared him. I have watched him sharpen his pocketknife as our foreman and other employees would confront him. He said sharping the pocketknife softened the confrontation.

Once some boycotters at a department store would not allow him entrance. MC walked back to his automobile, opened the truck, and retrieved a pistol. Reaching the boycotters the second time, he pointed the pistol in their faces and said, “If you sorry people would work, this department store would hire you. I’m going in to pick up my lay-a-way.” He did.

MC taught me about dealing with intimidation. He said, “Cuz, look them in the eye and don’t backdown. Most people that intimidate are cowards.” I found his wisdom very true.

MC said, “I walked up to the young woman and told her to stay in her car and open the truck that Charley and I would fix her flat.” She told him that she did not have a spare tire. MC told her that his Charger tire would fit her car and she could travel to a service station or she could continue to use his tire. He asked where she was headed. She said that she was headed back to college in Kentucky. MC asked, “What school?”

The school was the same one as MC’s daughter attended. MC told his daughter’s name and said when you get another tire give mine to my daughter.

MC told me that he treated the young woman as he hoped someone would help his daughter. That’s the kind of friends MC and Charley were. After I became a minister, MC said, “Cuz I knew all along God was calling you to preach.

 

A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. Luke 310:30-35

 

Thanks for the memories Cuz

 

 

 

 

Breanna, Hummingbirds, and Moments of Contemplation

 This morning, I was enjoying the morning sun climbing above the trees as four hummingbirds battled for three feeders. The feeders are close proximity to the porch swing where I was basking in the glow of the beautiful morning.

I have named the birds and have gained their trust. They fly right up to my face and we make eye contact. There is Tootie Green, Rebel, Johnny Reb, and Redneck. Tootie Green is the self-appointed guardian of the feeders driving the others away. Rebel and Johnny Reb are gray and while Tootie is gone they will simultaneously feed on opposite sides of the feeder. Tootie has a green ring around its neck, while Redneck of course has a red ring around his neck.

Tootie is the aggressor while Redneck is a loner. Watching my tiny friend war reminds me of WWI aerial dog fighting. It is a constant battle and amusing spectacle as they chase one another.

I remind Tootie not to be so greedy. There are three feeders with four ports for their long-pointed beaks to feed. While meditating on their rush and battle to be ahead, I thought of Breanna, the driver of a hummingbird type of white compact SUV. I have not been properly introduced to Breanna. My first encounter with her was on US Highway 31 between Thorsby and Lomax, Alabama. She had perfected the art of tailgating or drafting as they termed it at the Talladega Speedway in Talladega, Alabama.

I was the sixth vehicle in a caravan on the long stretch called Bean’s straight. There were oncoming cars and none of the six of us could pass. The white SUV’s driver was a young blonde female who kept drafting me as she zigzagged in and out the center lane.

The five vehicles ahead of me were maintaining a safe distance from each other. Traveling speed was consistent with the fifty-five miles per hour speed limit. Suddenly, the while SUV flew from behind me to pass six vehicles which is illegal in Alabama. Having been hit by a speeding car in the pass, I slowed and the young blonde speed merchant cut me off. That is when I spotted her name on her vanity license plate, Breanna.

She took my place for the remainder of the way to Lomax where she quickly darted and exited to the left. I guess she was frustrated and decided to go another route.

A couple of weeks later Lisa and I were headed to Jemison, Alabama. We stopped at the railroad crossing and continued to US Highway 31. A white SUV with a young blond lady pulled from a service station and never looked to her left where Lisa and I were approaching her. Lisa stopped and I told her that it was the second white SUV with a young lady pulling out in front of me. We were up close and almost personal with the SUV and then I saw the name on the vanity plate. It was Breanna, imagine that!

It seems that everyone is always in a hurry. I learned a long time ago to leave in plenty of time to arrive on time. If one is five minutes late it is very difficult to make up for the lateness. I am amazed that there are not more accidents.

I try to take the advice from Simon and Garfunkel’s song, The 59^th Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy):

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobble stones
Looking for fun and feelin' groovy

The Bible gives us intelligent words to slow down.

 Also, that the soul be without knowledge, it is not good; and he that hasteth with his feet sinneth. Proverbs 19:2 KJV

The thoughts of the diligent tend only to plenteousness; but of every one that is hasty only to want. Proverbs 21:5 KJV