Total Electric Antichrist

Returning from a conference in Montgomery, I made a pit stop at a service station across from the Air National Guard.  I always stop there, and I saw some folks from Forest Hill, one of the churches I serve, stopped there also.

As I drove into the parking lot, I noticed that there were several people at the gas pumps, a tanker truck was filling the store’s holding tanks, and people were doing as I was.  I noticed one of the clerks standing in the door talking with a customer.  It’s nothing out of the ordinary, I witnessed this before at this particular station.

As I approached her, I say excuse me.  She said, “I’m sorry the station’s system is down.”  I thought she was referring to the gas pumps because the external gas tanks were being filled.

I told her that I wanted to buy a Coke and a Snicker.  She said she could not make any transactions because the system was down.  I told her that surely, she could figure the cost of a soft drink and a candy bar.  She said she couldn’t.

All of a sudden, my mind raced back some thirty plus years earlier at a Sears Department store in Vestavia, Alabama.  On that day, there was a thunderstorm and the electricity had been off for just a few moments.  I was in the check out and the clerk said she could not check me out because the register was not working.  Now remember, this was when scanning items was in its infancy.  I noticed that the old cash register was still at the checkout counter.  I asked the clerk if she could use the old register or a calculator.  Her answer shocked me.  She said she did not know how to use them.

Another thought I had was an episode at the old Food World in Demopolis.  For years I would do grocery shopping late at night.  Being from “the sticks” in Chilton County, we had to travel thirty-five miles to the Food World in Pelham.  Not getting out much, we would make the trek about once a month throwing in an opportunity to eat at Quincy’s Steak House.  We just got into the habit of going at night.

At the Demopolis Food World, we were in the checkout line around ten pm when the Food World central office in Birmingham shut down all computers to do a recalculation or calibration.

It was mass chaos.  Some folks were in the process of checking out.  All open registers were two to three deep with buggies and no one knew when the system would reload.  Several people got irritated, left their buggies, and went home.  The system came back up just as some were exiting.

When I wrote this article, Pam, Bethel Baptist Associational Secretary, was having trouble with logging church letters.  The Adobe Reader system continuous shuts down.  I spent thirty minutes with her trying to update or reinstalling the Adobe Reader.  Our office work depends on the system working.  The process of updating and adding programs to the system never ends.

After the system shut down in Montgomery, I read this statement in the October 1, 2012, issue of Time Magazine: “Technology makes us forget what we know about life.”  Our technological know-how is preventing us from the everyday know how of living.

These system shutdowns remind me of predictions of the future from preachers, writers, and old folk in the past.  They said that the Bible speaks of a time when there will be plenty, but no one can buy.  The service station had plenty of merchandize, but no one could purchase it.  It is frightening see how easy the world as we knew could quickly shut down.  With each passing day and each advancement in technology, we become more vulnerable to system shutdowns.  When one thinks of that possibility of vulnerability, how easy would it be for a person or group to disable and dismantle life as we know it?

Life is not about systems.  Systems fail.  We must remind ourselves that we cannot allow systems to uneducate or dumb down us about life and how to survive.  The Scriptures remind of a time when systems fail:

 

And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine (Revelation 6:6 KJV).

 

And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads:  And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.  Here is wisdom. Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is Six hundred threescore and six (Revelation 13:16-18 KJV.)

 

These verses show us that in the future there will be plenty to buy, but most will not have the resources or opportunity.

Dr. Donald Grey Barnhouse says the above verse means, “The poor are getting poorer; and the rich are still able to retain their luxuries.”  He continues, “One of the great criticisms of the present time is there is scarcity in midst of plenty.  This is the situation which will be accentuated a thousandfold when the Antichrist begins his reign.  It is social maladjustment.”

Dr. M.D. DeHann says that the oil and the wine are symbols of wealth, and the wealthy will have sufficient food for a time.  The poor will give a day’s wages for wheat and barley and the rich will be left untouched until the money is gone. 

Dr. DeHann wrote these words in 1948.  Dr. Barnhouse wrote his in 1971.  We are witnessing seeing signs today.

Just a thought. With government forcing electric vehicles down our throats, think of all the chaos when electricity fails.  TOTAL SHUTDOWN and forget getting a Coke and Snicker.                 

My Eulogy to Pawpaw - Roy C. Moxley

R- Remember

I will never forget the first time I met Mr. Moxley.  He was standing at the entrance of the old Jemison Gymnasium waiting on his sons Tony and Lane after football practice.  It is hard to imagine that was fifty years ago.  I noticed that something was wrong with his right hand.  I knew that he worked at ABEX in Calera and thought he might have injured his hand.  I am remembering asking Tony, “What happened to your dad’s hand?”  Tony said that he burned it when he was a little boy.

Years later Mr. Moxley, or Pawpaw as most called him, would tell folks when they asked about his hand that he wore it out on his son-in-law’s head.  That being me.  That’s what I liked about being around Pawpaw.  We could make one another laugh. And we could get into some great conversation about anything, especially football.  He was an avid Auburn fan.  When Auburn beat Alabama I would tell him “War Eagle.”  The first time I said it he smiled.  I said it meant “wait to next year.”  Then he frowned.

He loved to watch Tony, Lane, and me play football.  I remember our coaches asking his advice about our team and how he thought we would play.  Pawpaw was quick to give his opinion.  It was always fun to share football memories with him. 

Years ago, I had a football game that Pawpaw and I would play.  It was a small player that used small disc or records.  On one side was an offensive play that one player put in the player and handed to his opponent.  There were several defensives on the reverse side.  When pawpaw was on defense he like to blitz me on third down.  Knowing he would blitz I would run the quarterback option and score a touchdown every time.  I still can see us hold our ears to the small record player and laughing.

O- Only Pawpaw

One time we went fishing on Bee Branch.  We boarded a plywood boat and used wooden oars to make our way to his favorite fishing holes.  He said, “There are four crappies under that log.  You cast first.”  I casted two yellow jigs across the submerged log and reeled it back to me.  I caught nothing.  Pawpaw said, “You didn’t hold your mouth right.”  He cast two yellow jigs just like I did.  When he came across the log he caught two nice crappies.  He gave me another chance.  Again, I caught nothing.  Again, he caught two.

I remember one Christmas Eve that the menu of choice was grilled steaks and baked potatoes.  It rained all day.  Pawpaw had the hickory wood ready.  With a large umbrella, Pawpaw and I cooked steaks.  They were especially good that year.  I remember his saying that Granny would complain about her steak not be done enough.  He told her on an occasion or two that if she did not get the biggest one, she could get one well done.

For years on the Fourth of July Pawpaw would grill chicken halves.  He was always eager to take the halves off before they were done.  I can hear him whistling when he was a little disturbed and not getting his way when Tony told him that the chicken needed to cook longer.  He continued to boss the chicken grilling until he passed it down to Tony and Lane.  Pawpaw could not wait for the annual Moxley Homecoming every Fourth.  Horseshoes and croquet were the most popular games.  Croquet would become “sonk” seeing how far we could send the leader into the woods.  Horseshoe tossing would become very competitive.  Each man had his own style.  Pawpaw is now pitching heavenly horseshoes with his brother-in-law Bill and brother Carl.  I can hear all of them bragging and cutting up while pitching horseshoes.

I already miss trips to the garden.  Pawpaw had a green thumb and was proud of his garden.  He would brag about all the produce he carried to the widows at Providence.  Tony and I made fun of him for microwaving tomato seeds.  He fooled us.  They made plants.  He loved raising “better boys” and “beef steak” tomatoes.  All of them were big.  Big cores that is.

Pawpaw spent his life as a machinist.  The family worried about him going to his shed after his health failed and lost his coordination.  I went down one day and watched him on his lathe.  He was using the nub and his left hand operating two different controls as he created a handle for a miner’s axe for somebody at church.  I have the video of him running the lathe that day.  I told his daughter Sharon that Pawpaw was in his element when in front of a lathe.

He never let his disability keep him from providing for his family.  He once told me that a man can do anything once he understands it.  I used that advice since that time.  He once asked why I went to school so much.  I said, “Pawpaw, the more I go to school, the dumber I get.”  I know that he was proud of me.  One of the greatest things he did for me in his sickness and declining health was travel to Linden Alabama to attend my retirement party.  I will cherish that moment and keep a picture with him and keep that memory.

Y -yeah, he did it

Pawpaw had a way with sayings.  They were funny and sometimes did not make sense.  Once he explained them, they still made no sense, but they were pure Pawpaw at his best.

One of his favorite sayings when eating something delicious was “lambing good.”  If you watched him eat, it would make you hungry.  He enjoyed eating.

I remember building Granny a mirrored shelf to hang in the den.  I did not have a hanger on the back.  I told Pawpaw we could drill a small hole in the back.  We got the drill and a bit.  I told Pawpaw we needed to be careful.  Granny warned him and she was serious by calling him Sonny.  Well, Pawpaw the machinist drilled the hole in the back and all the way through the front.  It was a tense, but hilarious moment.  The pretty mirrored sconce had a decorative nail protruding from it.

Having lost part of his nose to cancer doctors used part of his ear to reconstruct it.  He would tell us that he could smell and hear with his nose.

Not too many days ago he left his walking cane on the back porch.  He told me he did it on purpose where his daughter Kay would fuss at him.  He loved life and loved his family, God, and people.

It has been wonderful to have Pawpaw these many years.  In fact, I have been with him longer than my own dad.  Thanks, Pawpaw for the memories, the wisdom, and love you gave me.

Bobby E. Hopper, May 24, 2018

 Roy C. Moxley was my father-in-law, a second dad to me.  When he died, his family asked me to do the eulogy.  I felt it an honor to write a few words.  To have said all that I would have been volumes.  I decided to on a few things that I remember as I say farewell.  Due to a family member that had hard feelings toward me, I thought it best not to attend and gave this eulogy to the pastor.  I cried because Mr. Moxley had been an important part of my life.  It has been five years since I wrote it and I feel compelled to share it with you.  I know that it hurt the family, but I did not want to dishonor a man and his family causing trouble.  It was a real threat if I attended that I would be asked to leave and bodily removed if I did not.  

Mr. Moxley's granddaughter did a slideshow presentation for the funeral.  She was told by the one that did not want me there not post any pictures of me.  I love the granddaughter, my niece that posted one anyway.  It was the one where Papaw and I were in the rain, under an umbrella, and in the smoke grilling Christmas steaks.  The picture is priceless and so true of our relationship.  Thanks Brandi!

I believe that those that banned me will be sorry for their deeds.  I have forgiven them.    

The Sting of Death

 Polistes Carolina, Vespula vulgaris, Dolichovespula maculate, Apis mellifera, and Bombus terrestris are terrible little creatures.  Their very presence strikes fear into most people.  Some people face death as these creatures buzz around them.  They are red wasps, yellow jackets, hornets, honey bees, and bumble bees.

One day I had to rid the eve of the Bethel Baptist Building of a nest of polistes or red wasps.  As I bravely approached the nest with a can of wasp spray, I remembered what my daddy always said when big boys were picking on me.  Yes, I was a runt at one time.  He said, “Son, size don’t matter, a guinea wasp can make a cow run.”

They can make this oversized runt run also.  Anecdotal evidence suggests that red wasp stings feel more painful than stings from other paper wasp species.  I have had my share of stings.  I know that some people must carry an epinephrine pin because bee stings are fatal for them.  Fortunately, I do not need one.  That was not the case for a friend of mine.

During high school summers, I worked for Hiwassee Land Company.  We killed hardwood trees by injecting the trees with weed killer.  Yellow jacket and hornet stings were an everyday occurrence.  We were constantly jarring the trees where yellow jackets and hornets built their nests.  They retaliated by attacking from the sky and from the ground.  It was common to hear, “YELLOW JACKETS” as a coworker raced by us.  We ended each day bragging about how many stings we had.  The most I had in one day was twenty-eight, which was not the record.

Some days were comical.  One day my “future” brother-in-law had busted a zipper in his Levi jeans.  Yes, I know what you're thinking, and they did.  Yellow Jackets found the opening and they entered while at the same time my brother-in-law exited the jeans.

Another day my cousin, now a retired CPA with Buffalo Rock, whacked a small hickory and pumping weed killer into it.  Yellow Jackets covered his pants turning them yellow while hornets buzzed around a huge nest above.  My cousin stood there like a mighty warrior or dumb idiot, I let you be the judge, and swatted yellow jackets saying, “I think I’m in a yellow jacket’s nest.”  Then out of nowhere, a hornet zeroed in on my cousin’s back between the shoulder blades and stung with the force of a kicking mule.  After landing face down, my cousin leaped to his feet and running fast said, “YELLOW JACKETS.”

Other days at Hiwassee were more serious, deadly serious.  One day while taking a break a hornet buzzed around the face of my friend Rickey.  He waved the hornet away several times.  Suddenly, the hornet stung him under his left eye.  In seconds, Rickey broke into hives.  The Hiwassee foreman took him to the emergency room.  The doctor said that another sting would be fatal.  My friend never returned to the Hiwassee woods.

I pondered the wasp nest on the building, my mind returned to 1960 at the eves of our house.  My daddy started building our house in the early to mid 1950’s.  Before he completed it, we moved to Illinois for three years and then returned back living with an aunt until daddy completed the house.  You can imagine how a construction site looks after a three-year absence.  The yard looked like a jungle with all sorts of creatures making it their habitat.  The eves of the house were full of red wasp nests.

Under one eve of the house was a huge red wasp nest.  It was full of red-orange death.  My Grandpaw Chapman used the larvae from the wasp nests to bream fish.  I had watched him take a long stick and knock down a nest.  It looked like fun for a seven-year-old.  A short time later, I took a long stick and punched another orange-red covered nest.  It is hard to explain what happened next, but with the speed of platoon kamikaze dive-bombers, red wasps confused my sandy blond hair for a rival wasp gang buzzing the eve of the house for territorial rights.  Grandpaw did not have this problem.

I learned that day that red wasps are territorial and sting when provoked.  That evening I understood what it meant to be a knot head.  I had wasp stings all over my head.  Boy, my head was sore.  I think it was because I was much smarter.  I learned more about red wasps that day than I can ever forget.

Since that morning, I have been chased down or either stung by honey bees that do not like to being disturbed by starting a diesel John Deer tractor, hornets that do not like their nest being vibrated by an injector killing the their tree house, yellow jackets of the same tree that do not approve of the roots of their tree being jarred, and bumble bees that hate the roar of a bush hog trimming their yard.

While I were courting, I carried my date home one night after an evening of fun.  When we entered her home, she screamed as a heinous monster greeted us in her living room.  Actually, the heinous monster was her older brother whose face honeybees had distorted and his eyes swollen shut.  My date thought he had on a monster mask, but it was his face.

It seems that her dad and two brothers had been robbing a bee gum earlier that day.  The older brother did not like an itty, bitty honeybee buzzing around his nose.  Warned by his dad and younger brother not to provoke the bee, the bee unnerved my brother-in-law, and he did an uh oh! Yep, he swatted at the bee knocking on his dad’s lip.

Honeybees seek revenge when humans steal their honey and take swats at their workers. The bee stung my father-in-law, and his upper lip looked the caricature of a bear’s head or that of a monkey’s lip.

The next day, a Sunday, was a humorous day at my date’s household.  Her dad had huge lips, her older brother had swollen eyes, and the younger brother, who escaped without a sting, had swollen ears from hearing about the bee raid over and over.  I could not help but laugh.  Her father and brothers looked like the three monkeys of see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil.  The evil was stealing itty, bitty bee honey.

With all those stinging thoughts, I ready my can of spray just like gun slinging cowboy flexing his fingers before a gunfight.  With the speed of a darting bee, I brutally executed those red stinging carriers of death.  One by one they dropped.  One last desperado hid behind the nest waiting to get retribution for his fallen comrades.  When he moved, I got him and he too floated harmlessly to the ground.  I blew the nozzle of the can and sang, “Another One Bites the Dust Uh Huh.”

“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?  The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law.  But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (I Corinthians 15:55-57 KJV)

What is your favorite bee, hornet, or wasp story?

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

What do you think when you hear the phrase, “O death, where is thy sting?”

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

What do you fear about death?

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________

Prayer:  Father, death is part of living.  All will experience it unless you return.  Help me when I approach death to face it with confidence that you give through Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior.  I know I will experience the resurrection after I die.  Thank you that death will be just a sting, but eternity will be forever.

Hold You Me

 Today is another magnificent moment in your being

Your celebration of life occurring every first day of September

Forty-six years provide many moments to remember

Life’s experiences endow with moments worth re-seeing

 

The moment my eyes feasted upon you beginning life’s journey

Daddy’s little girl so beautiful gave an adventurous thrill

Suddenly the huge responsibility of fatherhood gave a chill

As moments of joy became instant unknowns and uncertainty for me

 

That which was ambiguous suddenly is nearing half-century shrewdness

Wisdom gained by daddy’s little girl desiring to experience life her way

Brought the monumental and heartbreaking as well as wonderful play

Wisdom by practice or the mistakes of others can be a tangled mess

 

As precious moments of our being, bring us together expressing love

Hold you me are words that remind of the importance of being a dad

Lifted little arms with open hands etched in mind and time make glad

Hold you me, three little words that express the love of God above

 

Through the years and the moments of life that have been full of pain

Opportunities come to express love and make the day breathtaking

Today is such a day for Daddy’s little girl to experience the amazing

Your calling is one that helps people learn to love and enjoy life again

 

Happy birthday and thanks for those three words that started my day

Hold you me are words that daddy's love to hear daughters say