Ringing bells, Clanging tracks, Bumping cars

           After visiting a pastor friend in Birmingham, I made a detour by our home in Chilton County.  I check on it from time to time with frequent trips there in the spring and summer to cut grass and do other chores of preventive maintenance.  Property unattended can become a jungle overnight.

I believe in what criminologists James Q. Wilson and George Kelling call the Broken Window Theory.  The Broken Window Theory is if a window is broken and left unrepaired, people walking by conclude that no one cares and no one is in charge.  Soon more windows are broken until the house is vandalized.   A house gives a license to neighborhood kids to destroy.  I try to make the home look as though someone is at home.

People usually inquire about the condition and the security of our home.  I tell them I have the best security system one could have.  I have relatives that watch my home and if a strange vehicle enters the drive, they check it out.  It is good when people watch out for you.

Turning at one of the two red lights in Jemison, I noticed that the railroad crossing bars descending and red lights blinking warning me to stop.  CSX tracks run North and South parallel to US Highway 31 separating old Main Street from most of busy Jemison.  Of course, I leave across the tracks west of Jemison.

Watching the blinking lights and listening to ringing bells, clanging tracks, bumping cars, my mind wondered back to a time more than forty years ago.  God was looking out for me that morning.  I, along with a busload of classmates, headed to school on old bus #34.  Bus 34 was an early fifties model and one of two of the oldest buses remaining active. All the other routes had new buses.  Remember we lived across the tracks.  The other old bus was too.

Riding the bus was fun.  The windows rattled as you bounced on the seats as the bus ran down red dirt roads.  A malfunction on the old bus rear end springs created a hole in the floorboard above the rear tires which red dust entered and red mud splattered.

When boys riding the bus were old and mature enough, they had the privilege of flagging the bus across the tracks.  Flagging the bus was an important responsibility.  The boy flagging the bus had the honor of standing on the steps, opening the bus doors, and running across the tracks.  Crossing the tracks the runner would look north, south, and north again, south again until reaching the other side.  All the time the runner would wave, or flag, the bus across the tracks.

One morning we had a substitute driver.  The flagman readied himself in the stairwell.  Approaching the tracks, the rails started their descent.  Lights were flashing, bells were sounding, and a long train with dozens of cars headed south.  The substitute driver did not stop.  The barrier rails landed on top of the bus trapping it and bringing it to a stop.

I remember looking out the left side windows.  A locomotive headed right at the center of the bus.  The substitute driver tried to go forward, but the bus was stuck.  He tried to go in reverse, but the bus would not move.  The locomotive’s light was revolving round and round, smoke from its engine was pouring out the top, and the engineer blew the horn over and over.  The light got brighter and the horn got louder.  Screams from a bus full of kids grew louder as girls began to cry.  The rear tires of the bus started to squeal and smoke as the substitute driver tried frantically to pull the bus from the jaws of death.  The pressure was so great that the guardrail bent the top of the bus.

Something happened that morning.  I am convinced that it was a miracle from God.  Just seconds and a few short steps from death, the bus escaped the barrier rail, the bus jumped forward, and the train screamed past the rear of the bus.

The substitute never substituted again.  Every day that bus 34 operated, riders were reminded of that almost horrific morning when we saw the huge dent on the left side of the bus.  Each new rider heard of the morning that a busload of kids almost made national headlines.  Some would say that wish they had been on it while were glad they were not.

As the guardrails lifted, I continued my journey home.  I thought how many warning signs and flagman, who watch out for us, we ignore.

Son of man, I have made thee a watchman unto the house of Israel: therefore hear the word at my mouth, and give them warning from me (Ezekiel 3:17 KJV).

The Parable of the Wayside

 As I traveled to Gadsden to Suzy Trader’s dad’s funeral. Suzy is the wife of Dr. Steve Trader, our Alabama Baptist Children’s Home and Family Ministries counselor.  Along the way, I noticed things on the side of the road.  It is amazing what is on the side of the road.  With each mile, I thought of something funny that The First Lady of FBC Demopolis, Ashleigh Williams, told me the other day.

Ashleigh posed the question, “Why is their always only one tennis shoe on the side of the road?  Shoes come by the pair.”  I took a moment to reflect since that was one of those UMPH moments.

Ashleigh gave me a profound question to ponder, especially when I began to pay attention to the things on the side of Interstate 20/59 on the way to Gadsden.  It was obvious that those who did not do a very good job of securing their cargo placed some things there.  These include the aluminum ladder, the air-conditioner insulated duct, the ice chest lid, the Styrofoam cooler, the weed eater, a bag of clothes, the love seat, and the book shelve.  Among these were the rubber straps with one hook missing, the half of the nylon strap, the frayed rope, and the bright yellow bungee.

It makes you wonder sometimes if people toss things on purpose.  There is the Auburn baseball cap, the Alabama T-shirt, the BF Goodrich tire, the broken bud lite beer bottle, the empty Marlboro light cigarette package, the plastic six-pack strap, the plastic safety hat, the pair of sunglasses, and the empty Pepsi 12-ounce aluminum can.

I giggle when I see the one sock, the one boot, and the one glove.  I think about the poor soul that arrived at his destination to find he had one sock, one boot, no T-shirt, one glove, and no hardhat.  Frustrated, he reaches for his bag of clothes to retrieve his dirty work clothes and there is no bag.  He takes a moment to settle his nerves and finds no Styrofoam cooler to retrieve a Pepsi.  There is no cooler, no six-pack of Pepsi.  He looks into his beer ice chest and finds it overturned; no bottles of Bud Light hidden under the ice.  He wonders how did they fall off his pickup. Reaching for a Marlboro light, our poor traveler has no nicotine fix.

Knowing he cannot work; our half-dressed worker gets in his pickup and heads to the nearest Walmart.  As his luck is horrible, he gets a flat tire.  He pulls to the wayside. He jacks his pickup up and finds that he has lost his spare BF Goodrich tire.

He abandons his pickup and begins his journey on foot wearing one boot, one tennis shoe, shirtless, and no cap.  He thinks I should have worn shirt and shoes while driving.  Now his only companions on the Interstate are the dead armadillos, possums, cats, dogs, and deer that are being devoured by buzzards and crows.  He thinks it odd, but he notices a possum and three crows dining together on a squished possum.  He realizes that vehicles on the Interstate are passing very fast.

Each time he sticks out his thumb to hitchhike, follow travelers pass by switching lanes as they near him thinking him to be a decrepit drug addict making a living picking up aluminum cans and going through things on the wayside.

It is obvious that I had too much time to think on my drive to Gadsden, but I did think about Jesus’ parable to the disciples about seeds falling on the wayside.

 

And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way side, and the fowls came and devoured them up (Matthew 13:4 KJV).

 

When any one heareth the word of the kingdom, and understandeth it not, then cometh the wicked one, and catcheth away that which was sown in his heart. This is he which received seed by the way side (Matthew 13:19 KJV).

 

There are all kinds of things on the wayside.  Some are there because of accident, neglect, or deliberately.  The State of Alabama will send laborers to clean up the wayside just as Jesus sends laborers into the harvest. The church has the responsibility to sow the Word of God and help people understand it as the journey through life.  Many are by the wayside due to accident, neglect, or deliberately. 

Pray as you travel life’s highway that you share the truth of God’s Word.  You may meet a one tennis shoe, one boot, cap less, half naked traveler who needs a ride.

For My Friend Keilan

Many of you have worked in, on, and around machinery.  Be it a paper mill, sewing factory, or just around the house or on the farm, running a piece of machinery can be frustrating.  There was a sign in our maintenance department that said, “If it twists, turns, or moves, it will give trouble.”

My good friend, Keilan, had a very frustrating day operating/burning a cement kiln.  Day shift at most factories is frustrating enough.  Electricians want to check instruments, maintenance men want to change out equipment, engineers want to change the process, and quality control wants to tweak the feed.

Day shift has too many people watching one another to justify changes.  Supervisors, managers, and corporate constantly walk around with pen and pad taking notes on how to improve their product not realizing that all their busyness creates havoc and chaos for operators.

Keilan was having one of those days.  To complicate the problems, reclaimers that put up the coal did so in such a manner that substance other than coal found its way into the coal tanks creating an erratic burn.  Electricians and instrument adjusting the oxygen analyzers disturbed the airflow that made the burn more erratic. 

The mixing of materials to create the feed to make cement somehow how got mish mashed creating a sub par material that the quality control declared “not up to snuff.”

It had been a hard day for my friend Keilan.  When I relieved him at the evening shift change, he looked as though he had been run through a washing machine ringer backwards.  He had the most bewildered and frustrated look until his eyes met mine.  His eyes perked up and a smile came across his face.  He ran to me, hugged me, kissed me, and said, “I have never been so happy to see you in my whole life.  This has been the worst day of my life burning the kilns.”

Most of us forget how important it is to be a friend.  I admit that sometimes I am not a good friend.  I have had friends be sick and I never called or sent a card.  I have had friends that lost loved ones and I never expressed condolences to them.  I have had friends struggle with divorce and never visited to see if they needed help or words of encouragement.

Perhaps we have been disappointed when a friend or family member did not show for a big event in our lives.  We give the excuse that we do not know what to say.  Can I testify that it not what you say, but that you were there.

I remember visiting the hospital for a lady in the Brierfield Baptist Church community.  I was bi-vocational, so my visit was at night.  When I entered the critical care unit, the whole atmosphere of the room changed from gloom and doom to hope when my eyes met theirs.  A nurse told the family that three people were allowed to visit the sick lady.  The family chose me as one of the three.  The sick lady was close the death.  I prayed for her.  She recovered and lived many months afterwards.

I told of my experience.  It was the first time I ever had a life changing emotion.  I did not understand what happened.  A dear old friend said, “Dummy, when you walked in the room that knew the Lord was with them.  You are God’s representative.”

I have been to several funerals where the family said, “I knew you would come.”  I did not have to say anything.  People say I have the gift of gab, but there are numerous times I do not know what to say.

There is a story called “In the Trenches” from World War I where soldier friends became very close due the horrors of war.  The trench war of WWI was brutal and created a common bond that helped deal with the misery.

One day the friends, Jim and Bill, charged from the trenches into battle.  At the end of the day, Jim lay bleeding to death between the trenches, his friend Bill returned to the trench.  Realizing his friend was missing, the soldier started back in the field of battle.  The shelling continued at its peak.  His commanding officer refused his request. It was too dangerous.  Ignoring the smell of cordite, the concussion of incoming shells, and a pounding in his chest, Bill made it to Jim. Bill found Jim and dragged him back to the trenches.  It was too late.  Jim was gone.

The smug commander officer cynically asked Bill if it was worth the risk.  Bill said without hesitation, “Yes sir, it was.  My friend’s last words made it more than worth it.”  He looked up at me and said, “I knew you’d come.”

I hope I can be that kind of friend, but I feel more like the disciples with Jesus at Gethsemane.

And he said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt.  And He cometh, and findeth them sleeping, and saith unto Peter, Simon, sleepest thou? couldest not thou watch one hour? Watch ye and pray, lest ye enter into temptation. The spirit truly is ready, but the flesh is weak.  And again He went away, and prayed, and spake the same words.  And when He returned, He found them asleep again, (for their eyes were heavy,) neither wist they what to answer Him.  And He cometh the third time, and saith unto them, Sleep on now, and take your rest: it is enough, the hour is come (Mark 14:36-41 KJV).

Dedicated to my dear friend Keilan who passed away January 19, 2023