Author: willishmoore (Page 12 of 24)

My dream clock stands in our living room. It is not an heirloom—though it may become one. The Clock has been in our family for over forty years. It is a 7 foot tall, Mahogany, cable weighted, tubular bells, grandfather clock, by Herschede. It offers a choice of three melodies; Westminster, Wittingdon, and Canterbury. It chimes on the quarter hour, and strikes the hour. I prefer the Westminster. It also offers a silent option.

Here’s the back story; years ago, while visiting an upscale furniture store, I gazed lustfully at grandfather clocks. A Herschede clock with tubular bells charmed me like an Indian Fakar charms a snake. Mellow tones echoed in my head like a soft waterfall; tones more melodic than the typical metal rods. Sorry, but I coveted that clock. Until. I. Saw. The. Price. — it was more than my annual salary back then! My heart sunk like the Titanic, and just as hopeless.

Time passed. Lots of time. One day while shopping —in a huge furniture warehouse—-in Odom, GA (a town of almost 300 population). I spied an array of grandfather clocks in the back. I looked closer. Several were Herschede clocks. Their prices were low like fire sale prices. I asked to see their catalog. There in bold color was MY clock! I asked the price—and the Titanic arose from Davy Jones’ Locker! — “Fire Sale” prices lived!

Then came some unexpected income—close to the price of the clock—and a miracle began to unfold before my eyes; I bought the clock! Herschede clocks are treated with almost sacred rituals and traditions. The store sent a horologist to unpack and set up the clock in our home. He wore white gloves. He moved magically, with the delicate touch of a brain surgeon. He instructed to, among other things, wind the clock every Sunday morning (Well, Saturday night works best for me!), don’t touch the brass works with bare hands. He started the clock and it chimed mellow tones—as if angels had come to visit. The chimes soon became the soundscape of our home.

Each time we moved, the clock had its special place and was wound. As it began to chime, our daughters would say, “We are home, now!” “Home!” they said. Always living in a parsonage—-someone else’s house—there is little of your own personal touch. Familiar sights, smells, and sounds in a house help make it a home. And now, Thanksgiving and Christmas 2022 are on their way; certain rituals, sights, sounds, and smells are virtually inherent in these celebrations. They meld with accents, that help you feel “at home.”

My heart is warmed with the “glad-you-are-here” sound of hospitality in our family. Hospitality is a constant in the Bible. There’s the story of the abandoned slave—-tired, hungry, and alone. David and his cohorts fed and nourished him, making him feel welcomed. I am also reminded of a story Jesus told of a wayward son who, uncertain of how he would be received, came home to warmth and celebration. He could say with confidence, “I am home, now!”

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

A number of my friends are Veterans, as are many of my acquaintances. For years, on Veterans’ Day during veteran recognition, I remained silent and seated. A spectator. Although I served my country in the Army National Guard, I didn’t feel I deserved to be called a veteran. (I was a cook—not even wounded there!) My unit was never deployed—we remained in my hometown, Sandersville, GA. Out of respect to “official” veterans, I usually quipped, “The only combat I experienced was fighting mosquitoes at”Camp Swampy”—Ft. Stewart, GA.”

My friend, the late Col. Richard (Dick) Baker, a Marine, corrected me one day. He said, “You took The Oath. You promised to serve. You served your tour. You are a Veteran.” He got my attention. As I thought about what he said, I remembered that just a few months after I was discharged, my unit was put on alert—and deployed. My fellow soldiers, their wives and children, were uprooted. If I had I not already been discharged my life too, would have been dramatically uprooted. So. I took another tack and took seriously the true meaning of “The Oath.”

Now, on Veterans Day (which happens to be today) I contact friends who are veterans, and thank them for their service. We all took The Oath: “I, ____________________, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

The phrase “… foreign and domestic…” was added after the Civil War, because Congress realized that enemies could (and did) arise within the homeland. It is a serious oath. Veterans’ cemeteries and gravestones testify to the gravity of The Oath. Deployment seals how seriously these faithful men and women take The Oath, as they prepare their Last Will and Testament—and their “final” plans. It signals the potential that they may indeed make the ultimate sacrifice.

By the time you read this, very likely you will have already attended, viewed, or participated in a Veterans Day observance. Veterans Day is in appreciation for the living service members, a kind of “Thank you” for your service. (Memorial Day honors those who did in fact make the ultimate sacrifice).

War is evil. Long ago a general said, “War is Hell!” Politically motivated war—even more so. But our faithful service members, impervious to ignoble war initiatives, run toward the fight to “…support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic;” For taking that oath of ultimate commitment, we thank them.

Today, this Veterans Day, we say “Thank You!” As we lift our eyes toward the Prince of Peace, in the eternal hope that step by step, we—as the old Spiritual says we “…ain’t gonna study war no more…” In a few weeks, Christians will hear the words (sung and/or spoken) from the old Prophet Isaiah; he speaks of a world where instead of fighting each other, people would transform machines of war into instruments of help, health, and hope for humanity.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

Last Sunday was All Saints Sunday. As often happens, sacred religious festivals are often hijacked by secular sales promotions. Halloween likely holds the world record for such sales. But I digress. Christian churches around the world observe All Saints Day by remembering family, friends, and acquaintances who have died—usually those who died since the last All Saints Day; COVID -19 upended many observances—confused our days—interrupted appropriate recognition of the deaths of family and friends.

A case in point, the death Col. Richard F. (Dick) Baker, my oldest and closest friend. Our friendship jelled in college. We were fraternity brothers, in college band, earned our Red Cross Water Safety Instructor Certifications together; on one occasion—in my job as student assistant in the college Speech Department—I was recording technician in a couple of performances of their pseudo-“Four Freshmen” concerts (they really did sound like them!)

We kept in touch over the years; his U. S. Marine deployments—Vietnam, Korea, Hawaii; my pastoral appointments around Georgia. When I came to Emory and Columbia to work on my doctorate, He and Joyce, his bride (whom he married during our college days) treated me to delicious home-cooked food! After I moved to Tucker, GA , he and I had breakfast together every Friday morning. Over the next—few short years before he died of cancer—we caught up on and re-lived many of our years past, enjoying our present times together.

Baker was like Barnabas, “The encourager” who stood by the apostle Paul in good and tough times. When you have a friend like that, you wonder: “Was I as good a friend to him!?” Of course one cannot dwell on nor change the past. One can only draw on the past for memories—and future improvement.

Good friendships stand out in history. They are part of social glue creating glorious connections and stories. A dramatic indication of a friendship Jesus had was Lazarus. The Common English Bible makes it clear that Jesus was close to Lazarus. In front of not only family and friends, but also the curious and hecklers—Jesus cried. That’s what we do when we care deeply.

A strangely knit friendship found in the Old Testament is Jonathan, King David’s son. I find it rare that Jonathan, the son of David’s mortal enemy and David were such close friends. I Samuel recounts many of the rich experiences the two friends had over the years.

Jonathan went to great lengths to protect David from Saul, his father. One writer said, “David looked after Jonathan’s children long after he was dead. Great friends do those kinds of things for each other.” True friendships endure great difficulty; in many cases obstacles and hardships weld strong bonds for life. Bella DePaulo, Ph.D., says a crucial element in maintaining an enduring friendship is to forgive yourself and your friend for not being perfect. It is clear that this component was strong in the friendship between Jonathan and David.

You cannot buy true friendship; you cannot concoct true friendship. Psychologists, pundits, and prognosticators offer a plethora of components “necessary” for forming friendships. Some are useful. Basically friendships emerge. What makes them solid draws clues from agriculture; a seed needs good soil, cultivation, irrigation, and care. This is not a Hastings Seed Catalogue for friendships, but friendship needs those components.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

At age 12, I learned to drive—-in big Chevrolet trucks. I lived on a farm—dirt roads—ahhh, sweet freedom. My dad was a trucker, hauling Kaolin. I learned to drive on one of his big commercial trucks; four-in-the-floor a rigger on the shift lever for reverse. It was exhilarating! First, I was excited, if only to drive up to his gas pump and fill the tank for his next day driving; getting to “drive” those few feet and park a truck was a thrill!

Over the years I enjoyed driving a wide variety of vehicles; cars, trucks, vans, busses—even an Army National Guard 49K pound tank. But my latest thrill was “Big Blue”—a 2019 Chevrolet Silverado 2500, Crew Cab truck. When Paige and I had our camping trips we pulled our 27 foot camper with a Buick (which had an Oldsmobile 450 engine). It was powerful. In campgrounds, when I saw Chevrolet 2500’s pulling campers I salivated!

Three years ago—we no longer camped—I sold my car and ordered “Big Blue;” Blue, because it was Paige’s favorite color—Chevrolet Silverado 2500—-because, well—just because. Paige saw and approved Big Blue. Her opinion mattered. I was well past a midlife crisis, but not immune to its siren call. I thrilled to feel the strength, the awesomeness of Big Blue.

Big Blue has had quite a run—came in handy for moving; Jennifer, my daughter, and I, moved together. Then, for college, Zach, my grandson moved—twice (or was it three). Katie, my granddaughter moved. Big Blue dominated everything—a little too much, as it turned out. Each time a family member moved, Big Blue was called into service. It was —kinda like driving one of my dad’s big trucks! Big Blue and I had a great run! It was fun!—“Was” fun. I decided to downsize—to be more sensible, and let Big Blue go.

Maybe I should have read more carefully Ecclesiastes 11. While it is good to have joy in one’s life, it can easily be overblown. Zach is deep into Environmental graduate studies; although he enjoyed Big Blue, he was taken aback by its voracious gas consumption. Zach became a key guide in my selecting my new vehicle; Environmentally conservative, it has nearly infinite safety features, and, in a word, is “sensible.”

An ancient writer offers guidelines for being a good manager. Not that I had ignored this message; it is just that it is coming to mean more to me. As the writer said, Do this so that in everything God may be honored through Jesus Christ. (My emphasis). Caring about the Environment—God’s creation—is big part of that. The Apostle Paul counsels clear and mature reasoning as he calls the church in Rome to focus; pay attention to what is essential. Good advice still.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

One beautiful Fall day, several years ago, while visiting with an elderly friend, I snarked, “Folks at that house down the road were just sitting on the porch in rocking chairs! It is Wednesday! How do they have time simply to sit on the porch rocking? In the middle of the day!?” Full disclosure; I was in the midst of writing my doctoral dissertation. The theme of my dissertation was—now get this—“Time Management….” My every moment—among work, family, and working on this degree—pressed my timeframe. My friend said quietly (and politely), “Maybe they were taking a break from the hard work they had been doing.”

How blind we can be when we are all-consumed in a project (or our own little fiefdom). Rest is important for the human body; mind, and spirit. No! It is vital. Most of us don’t get enough actual rest. Before I started writing this week’s installment, I needed to contact a businessman about a matter for tomorrow. But it was after hours. My daughter said, “Text him. He’ll respond, even after hours.” And that is true. Work hours have virtually morphed into the captivity of cyberspace—crashing into our circadian rhythm. CNN reported on a sleep study where…participants (who) were in good health, with no history of diabetes or shift work, (lack of rest could) affect circadian rhythm…

Multitasking is a myth. Merriam-Webster’s definition of a myth is appropriate here; a popular belief or tradition that has grown up around something or someone. This pretty well describes the enduring mantra of multitasking. It is not possible to multitask—not if you take a task seriously. The human mind is marvelous! And ideas, memories, and other visions swirl there. But to focus on something important requires focus and accountability. The distracted driving issue—especially using a cell phone while driving—should be sufficient evidence. I won’t beat this horse to death, but you get the point.

Many health studies reveal that most Americans don’t get enough rest. The results tend to hover between thirty and thirty-five percent of our population suffers from sleep deprivation or stress. Rest is vital for better mental health, increased concentration, and memory, a healthier immune system, reduced stress, improved mood and even a better metabolism. (INTEGRIS Health, Oklahoma). This is not news; ancient writings point this out. When God created all things he rested. And the record that God rested is “carved in stone.”

And the medical community chimes in;–A lack of sleep at night can make you cranky the next day. And over time, skimping on sleep can mess up more than just your morning mood. Studies show getting quality sleep on a regular basis can help improve all sorts of issues, from your blood sugar to your workouts. (Webmed). So. It seems important to take rest seriously. A variety of contemporary companies already provide ways for employees to take a nap, rest breaks, etc. during the workday.

The Bible offers seven different passages saying—Six days you shall labor and do all your work—–rest is warranted. This passage is found in a variety of unmistakable ways—and they are not all simply quoting Exodus 20: 9; This message is found in different passages in the Bible, and/or different contexts. So there we have it—from ancient wisdom down through modern medical messages; Take a rest!

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

There are several hardwood trees in our front yard. Between the house and street a half dozen Oak and Hickory nut trees tower over our driveway. The summer-time shade they provide is excellent; that and cool breezes make for a pleasant respite after tending flowers and such. Abundant nuts fall from those trees. I lived in South Georgia most of my life—among ubiquitous Pine trees; their needles fell year round. Hickory and Oak trees shed nuts and leaves shed in the fall. They fall with a vengeance; the nuts can be hazardous, in that they don’t “give” when stepped on—which can be somewhat like stepping on a skateboard.

Hickory nuts are tough; I used a framing hammer and a small anvil to crack one open. It hardly seems productive to work so hard for the meager meat from one nut. I did, however find an experiment, on YouTube that kinda solved the problem. The clip is more than ten minutes long,(it is hilarious!) but they cracked (pun intended) the Hickory nut code—in a manner of speaking. If you are really hard up for a Hickory nut “fix,” you might find their experiment helpful.

Last year, our Oak trees “blessed” us with a virtual carpet of acorns!—far more than the squirrels could eat or store! I like a variety of nuts, so I wondered if acorns could also be made edible(when I was a child, I tried one; Yuck) ? Recently an article in The Old Farmer’s Almanac showed up; it gave directions for roasting acorns. The process is long and convoluted. I have not yet tried it, but it promises results; good results, it says.

We all tend to depend on getting our food “off the shelf”—usually pre-prepared, often processed. We may have lost the knowledge of 1) wonderful— inadvertently homegrown —foods right at our doorsteps; or 2) how to prepare delicious foods that can result. A few tasty and good-to-eat foods come to mind; Pokeberry, Dandelion, Purslane, Wood Sorrel (leaves look a little like three-leaf clover), —your County Extension agent can tell you more. A caveat is that our dependence on pesticides and processing may create some health problems.

This is not a poster for Environmental issues (though I am not above doing one!), —but it could be one. I’m speaking about God’s extravagant provision for us. God’s creation and procreation provide abundantly for all creatures. Far more seeds are produced than necessary; more leaves, blossoms, needles and sprouts. It is extravagance in a good sense; to provide for the continuation of all Creation. More than needed are produced so that a few might thrive.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if humankind did likewise; I mean, could we produce more kindness than could ever be hoped for; more love than anyone anticipated; more caring for our communities than could ever be expected!? Doesn’t the writer to the Hebrews put it wonderfully? “…Let us out do each other…” ( in these things.). There is always more that we can do to make life better for each other. We simply need to pay attention.

It should not take a disaster like Hurricane Ian to bring out the best in us—caring, cooperation, helpfulness, and compassion—such as came forth over the last few weeks. These things should fall as spontaneously as the nuts fall from the trees! We have abundant capacity; nay, we have extraordinary capacity! We simply need to give release to it—maybe like an Oak or Hickory Nut tree releases showers of nuts.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

Several years ago, I visited Estonia. I was unaccustomed, but amused, to see road signs posting “Watch out for Moose;” I was also unaccustomed to seeing large piles of stones at the edges of cultivated fields; there were piles of stones at the edge of almost every field I saw. The land was very stony; in order to grow crops in their fields, farmers gathered offending stones into piles beside their fields. Usually they left the pebbles that were small enough that farm equipment could navigate through them. It was large enough a task just to remove the large stones and boulders, not to mention farming such brutal soil.

Nevertheless Estonian farmers had beautiful, productive crops. I could only imagine the back-breaking, long hours of work that went into clearing stones from their fields. But the necessity of growing food for themselves and their animals was a powerful internal motivation. As John Wayne said in the western movie Stagecoach, “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” A statement not restricted to the male persuasion; any one of us, facing stony ground against seemingly impossible odds, hopes to rise to the occasion. (Which often) happens when someone performs at a higher level when faced with a new challenge. Sometimes situations arise that are impossible to prepare for, and people need to rise up to the occasion. (Quoted from TedXMileHigh).

The Apostle Paul pointed out that those who live by their own way, and not by faith, put a stumbling stone in the path of their, and others,’ spiritual journey (RWV “The Revised Willis Version). And of course our current vernacular is replete reminders that we can become a stumbling stone in someone’s journey. On another occasion, Paul gave the Church of Galatia a proper scolding, taking them to task about how they were being stumbling blocks (My term here). Then he offered positive guidance to them by teaching them about—- -fruits of the Spirit, as an authentic means for centering their lives.

Stones also have positive meanings. The Vietnam Wall, although much sorrow and many tears, are experienced daily as throngs of visitors tarry there. That stone memorial stands with permanent reminders of lives sacrificed in answer to the Nation’s call to duty. In a powerful, far too inadequate a way, it represents our Nation’s thanks for their loyalty. As Bob Dylan sang, …how many ears must one man have, Before he can hear people cry? Yes, and how many deaths will it take ’til he knows that too many people have died?

There is for me, a prominent mention of stones is in the book of Joshua. After forty years, and generations of wandering in the wilderness, the Children of Israel finally crossed the Jordan River into the Promised Land. By then Moses had died, and Joshua was their leader. At their crossing, Joshua commanded one man from each of the twelve tribes bring a stone from the riverbed. The twelve stones were placed as a memorial to their crossing. Joshua said, when your children ask you “What do these stones mean?“ you can tell them about this miraculous victorious crossing. (Emphasis Added). The story lives on from the stones.

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

Sorry! But if you were expecting a meteorological treatise—this isn’t it. This is a “My whether,” or a “your whether;” you know the kind—you face a choice, or dilemma. Somehow, you must decide whether to choose this or that, or it will be decided for you. I remember as a child, standing in front of the glass display case of candy in my grandfather’s country store—trying to decide; “whether” to get one of those double “Mary Janes” or a chocolate covered bon bon, with the one coin I had. It was a weighty, well, “Whether!”

As adults, “whether” decisions can still be difficult for us, sometimes even cataclysmic. Over the years, we all have faced making difficult educational, vocational, social, and varieties of other decisions; nearly all of them face a “Whether.” Some decisions may have hinged upon deciding to make an apparently innocuous phone call, or responding to a voicemail. Reflecting on some decisions we may wonder how different would life be now, on this side of that decision.

No decision is made in a vacuum. Back in the mid 20th century, Vance Packard wrote a book, “”The Hidden Persuaders.” It was an “early warning,” in a manner of speaking, about how Madison Avenue—-and its iterations—manipulates our choices. It is much more so now. Everything we come in contact with tends to guide our choices; media, colors, placement of products, message contents, even the flowers placed around buildings are there with a message. We know that, and mostly have learned to filter our choices for the better.

It is a bit harder to make purely personal decisions, especially in the ubiquitous Social Media realm. We know this, but often ignore what the manipulative algorithms choose for us through the content that gets into our electronic devices. But we often tend to make Faustian deals with the Internet and find ourselves in a love-hate relationship with it. Britannica says, a Faustian bargains are by their nature tragic or self-defeating for the person who makes them, because what is surrendered is ultimately far more valuable than what is obtained, whether or not the bargainer appreciates that fact.

There are better ways to bring joy and richness to life than relying on the “Hidden Persuaders.” Changing our playgrounds and playmates can be a dramatic start. It takes intentional effort and clear decision making to move the narrative of you life more into your own realm. The Apostle Paul offers superb guidance; Don’t let the world around you squeeze you into its own mould. It’s a little like a visit with the doctor; “Doctor, it always hurts when I do this!” to which the doctor says, “Then stop doing it.” It is a silly retort, but with punch. We tend to create much of our own sorrow or joy. Choose joy.

When Jesus spoke of life’s difficulties and worries, he admonished his followers to take one day at a time. Each day, he said, will have worries of its own, without adding to worries you already have. Jesus taught his disciples to recognize the gifts and splendor they enjoy daily, and to receive them joyfully. How quickly and easily we overlook the better side of our daily “Whethers!”

©Copyright Willis H Moore 2022

The poet Robert Frost, at his writing desk, noticed a speck on the white sheet before him. He paused. Was it a a drop of ink, or a bit of dust? While he paused, he noticed the speck move, and he contemplated its presence and movement; He said,

I have a mind myself and recognize
Mind when I meet with it in any guise
No one can know how glad I am to find
On any sheet the least display of mind.

Reading these lines of Robert Frost’s opens myriad thoughts; How often have I glossed over a fecund opportunity portending to expand my universe, because I did not pay attention!? A spot on a paper, a loose brick, a discolored roof, a dangling Oak leaf, or a simple, if brief, refreshing, cool breeze stirring a sultry summer evening; any one could be a peek into a fresh world of contemplation.

There was once an intellectual exchange between Jesus and a Jewish lawyer. This brilliant leader had sincere questions for Jesus. Questions so deep and so personal that he risked ridicule from his peers, and therefore, under the cover of darkness, sought out Jesus for answers. He expected deep, intellectual answers. As usual, profound answers are often disarmingly simple; Jesus said to this young man, “listen, Nicodemus. Listen to the Wind, Nicodemus. It is not as complicated as you think it needs to be. Listen to the wind. Pay attention.”

Naaman, a highly regarded General in king of Aram’s army, had Leprosy, an apparently incurable skin disease. Naaman heard that the prophet Elisha could heal him. King Aram sent Naaman to Elisha, loaded down with gifts of wealth, hoping to pay for his healing. Here again, the simplicity of Elisha caught this mighty man unprepared. The healing was so simplistic that Naaman almost refused it.

Maybe you too, have moments such as Robert Frost or Naaman; you almost missed a moment of magnificence. I know I have. A glimpse of grandeur need not be that rare. Too often, as do I, maybe you think you don’t have time to tarry, to ponder petty—or thought to be petty—moments. By wearing such blinders we can miss a moment of golden epiphany. There is a Greek word that captures the essence of such a moment; kairos a time when conditions are right for the accomplishment of a crucial action— such as seeing your child take that first step. Oh, you will see other steps, but that first step. once taken, is gone.

There are some who scoff at science research and call it “learning more and more about less and less.” But if scientists, such as Dr. Amber Schmidtke PHD had not already been tracking the early evidence of COVID-19, who knows how much worse the devastation of the Pandemic would have been. I have friends here at Emory University and at the CDC who daily do work that would drive me nuts; so much meticulous work and yet, they are treasures beyond measure. It gives a whole new nuance to words of the song, Little things mean a lot.

Crystal Gayle made the song, Little things mean a lot famous. Here are a few lines from the song; Give me your arm as we cross the street
Call me at six on the dot
A line a day when you’re far away
Little things mean a lot. Crystal Gayle:

Life is made up of little things; cells in your body are building blocks, seconds in a minute constitute hours, and every breath you take, adds to your life— Little things—even “a considerable speck”—mean a lot. What speck has spoken to you?

©Copyright Willis H. Moore 2022

My grandmother’s brother, Uncle Jule, lived next to the Central of Georgia Railroad track that ran through the middle of Oconee, GA. As a child, I visited him and Aunt Eula a few times. Main street separated his picket fence from the railroad track. I remember the Central of Georgia locomotive 509 whooshing by; the deafening sound of its six-wheel steeldrivers pumping mightily. It was awesome. It was the beginning of my fascination with trains.

Almost in the blink of an eye, diesel locomotives replaced the old steam engines. Or so it seemed. I Never lived near a railroad track, and when Uncle Jule died, the transition of locomotive types missed my attention—but not my fascination with trains. Over the years, I became friends with a few people whose fathers were railroad men. Their stories kept the magic of trains alive for me—that and the memories of model train pages in the Sears Christmas book.