The cushy beds in the tent trailer at Convict Lake claimed my son-in-law and grandson as I rose alone at early dawn to entice the trout in the creek. Yes, I caught a few. But better than the rainbows was the reminder of God’s patience. Mountain mornings bring a unique freshness. Something about being immersed in God’s creation makes me more aware of him, and the following flowed from…
Read MoreHere They Come!
Yeah, the pic looks political. The topic looks political. But honestly, they’re not. Hundreds of refugees from Honduras headed north, seeking refuge from gang violence. A week ago, they arrived at the border, and the political discussion over immigrants has grown hotter. But while reading in Mark this week, I came across the passage where…
Read MoreA Decaying Past
I like old stuff. Always have. Dad’s aunt and uncle would escape the Utah winter and snow to stay in Santa Monica for several months each year, and I’d quietly listen to tales of much earlier frontier days. On the bike trips, old farms, barns, and houses entrance me. Two years ago we spent a few days in Deadwood, SD, where Wild Bill Hickok was killed, where Calamity Jane capered, and I was nearly in heaven. Last spring Sheila and I visited an old central California town. She headed for an antique store; I crossed the street to a hotel/bar about 120 years old. So when Roland Peachie…
Read MoreStretch Yourself
The pic above represents of one the most rewarding and stupid decisions of my life. Back in high school, I got a lot of A’s, but never one in physical education—you had to be a super jock in regular PE, everyone on sports teams got them. Dad had razzed me a lot, so I bet him $5 I would my senior year. Distance running came fairly easy on a regular PE class level, so I checked out cross country. The best 10 ran varsity, the next 10 junior varsity. I figured…
Read MoreMaking Trades
I enjoy making trades. Back in ’78, I swapped a well-used ’73 Honda 750 and a few bucks for a nearly new ’78 Goldwing. The pic above shows an authentic Colt .45 from 1889, that my dad’s brother got in trade for a pocketknife, in about 1925. The Colt has a value of about $2,000—I’m sure the knife got thrown out or lost quite some time ago. A recent and much better trade has made a huge difference in my walking with Jesus...
Read MoreWipe Out--Others
We have all been wronged, deeply, by a friend or a family member or a boss or a coworker or a spouse. Those scars run deep, and the memories sometimes never fade. The pain can still eat at our hearts. Last week we explored the forgiveness that God grants us, how he wipes out our sins and guilt. We get a clean slate. But genuine forgiveness is a two-edged sword, one that cuts both ways. If God wipes out our sins, we need...
Read MoreWipe Out--Ourselves
Back in high school, until one of us had a car, we’d hitchhike from Long Beach to Huntington Beach, also known as Surf City. South of the pier between guard stations 3 and 5 provided some of the best body surfing waves, so we’d swim to the outer break and merge with the water to catch one that would drive us shoreward until our bellies scraped the sand. Yeah, sometimes we’d target pretty girls standing in the shallow water, to come close enough to prompt their pretend-to-be-afraid screams. Sometimes we’d...
Read MoreModern Morality
Meet Allie, our loved feline who marvelously expresses some modern morality. For years, Sheila adamantly opposed cats being on our bed. Finally, she softened enough to allow Allie on, IF she kept to a pad near the bottom. See pic 2 for a sample. She knows the pad is her pad. But look at the second pic—she went off...
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