MuddyPuddles

In the past few years I have come to the conclusion that God greatly desires to bless his children.  But often times we, his children, restrict those blessings by getting in the way.  We get in the way by thinking that we are causing our blessings rather than acknowledging that they are all coming from him.  And, we get in the way by failing to have proactive gratitude in our hearts and thanking him continuously for those blessings.  I’ve often illustrated it with a word picture that describes these large dump trucks lined up and ready to dump the blessings at our feet.  But they don’t dump them because we have a teaspoon and we have climbed up onto the back of the truck that’s in the front of the line and we are dipping down into it with our teaspoon and scooping up blessings for ourselves.  He doesn’t dump the blessings on us because we might get injured in the process.  If, however, we will get out of the way---acknowledge publicly and regularly that we can do nothing without him; acknowledge publicly and regularly that it is all God who deserves the glory and honor and that we deserve none; acknowledge publicly and regularly that all of our blessings come from him, then he raises the beds of the trucks and let’s those blessings flow in amounts we can’t even conceive of with our little teaspoons.   
James tells us that “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father”. (James 1:17).  And Luke tells us that we should “Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."  (Luke 6:38)
That’s amazing!  That’s awesome!  That’s wonderful!  He doesn´t want to just bless us a little.  He wants it to be abundantly poured into our laps.
So I say, get rid of the teaspoons.  Stop being the limiting force in your life.  Get out of the way.  Instead, trust in God.  Give him the glory for all your blessings because, in fact, it’s all God.  It’s all God.  It’s all God!!!!  May He bless you this week as you acknowledge Him and give Him all the credit and all the praise and all the glory and all the thanksgiving for the bountiful blessings you have received and as you proactively share those blessings with those around you.  Sincerely, Dennis

While here in Honduras I’ve come to understand, more clearly, some of the complexities of the problems in this country.  I’ve spoken with three different men, on multiple occasions, who are very intelligent and whose lives are significantly invested in helping the people of Honduras to make changes for the better.  I get the sense from all three of them that they feel very much like it is an uphill battle, but that it is a battle that they feel compelled to wage.  They are not blindly pushing forward but are constantly looking for better ways to bring about change.

One of them described a scenario which tends to replicate itself.  Imagine that you are a seven year old boy whose father decides to go work in the United States so that he can earn money and send it home to his wife and family.  Soon the family starts receiving about $200 per month, which is significantly more than an average worker could make here in Honduras .  Eight years later, he is now fifteen and he hasn’t seen his father in eight years, but because of his father’s work, his family does better than those around whose father is working here.  He has no incentive to work because the money comes even if he lies around doing nothing.  As he gets a little older, his natural desire is to go to the US like his father.  When you add to that the lure of the adventure of going to the US it’s almost a foregone conclusion that he is going to try it.
You can add to that problem.  Most of the men who go to the US were at home with their mothers until they married.  Then they had their wives to help take care of them.  When they get to the states, loneliness and temptation is a huge problem.  So they start a family in the US as well.   

Now, you have many of the best Honduran workers who have moved to the US, which leaves many of the less motivated and less desirable men here in Honduras .  It’s easier to rob little old ladies and children on the way to the store than it is to go out and work at a job, so they often choose that over getting a job.  With time and money on their hands they often turn to alcohol and drugs.  It is a pretty discouraging picture. 

One of the men asked me one day if I felt Americans were optimistic or pessimistic.  I told him that I generally considered Americans to be optimistic.  He concurred and he said he felt like most Hondurans were pessimistic.  He described a scenario which he felt like represented the different attitudes from Americans and Hondurans.  He said each country is like a can with 10 crabs in it.  The American crabs will work together to get someone to the top and then that crab on the top will reach down to help the next one up and they will eventually get all the crabs out of the can.  He said that Honduran crabs will see that someone is almost to the top of the can and they will reach up and pull him back down.  It’s like they can never get out because they self destruct.  Naturally, he’s very frustrated, at times, about the mindset of the Honduran people. 

I have in my filing cabinet a large envelope that is crammed full of late notices from a bunch of mortgage companies.  These notices warn me about how I’m in danger of hurting my credit, of how my payment is past due, of how I’m in danger of losing my houses through foreclosure and other similar warnings.  This stack only represents a fraction of all the notices I received many years ago.  It doesn’t include, at all, the myriad of phone calls and answering machine messages that I was receiving on a daily basis.  It doesn’t include all the vacancies I had in my rent houses and the non-payers I had in the ones that were not vacant.  I was broke.  That’s putting it mildly.  I was actually broke minus.  I had four stacks of checks on my desk.  The first stack was the lowest priority mortgage payments that I had not yet mailed from four months ago.  Each other stack was the consecutive months following that first stack.  I had houses that were badly in need of repair but I didn’t have the time to work on them after getting home from my job and I didn’t have the money to hire someone else to work on them either.  Therefore, with junky houses, I couldn’t get good tenants.  Many of the tenants I had couldn’t pay their rent because the economy had taken a major down turn and many of them had been laid off.  Therefore, I couldn’t make my payments either.  Thus, the notifications started pouring in.  And what was so depressing was that it was so painfully obvious that this ship wasn’t going to right itself for quite a few years to come.  I so dreaded going down into my office to work each night.  All it would do was help me lose less money than I would have lost had I not gone down.  How depressing is that?  I knew that God molded people.  It wasn’t until this point in my life that I realized that he sometimes extruded them.  It was also about this time that I realized that it is easy to be a man of integrity if you have more money coming in than you owe.  But the question I was having to deal with now was “how can I be a man of integrity if I can’t pay my debts?”.  It was a difficult situation (not even including all the ripple effects of strained relationships and struggling self esteem, etc.). One day when I was driving down the highway, in my beat up old pickup, I got pulled over by a highway patrolman.  I really needed that (not!).  He asked me for my license and then asked me if I realized that I was speeding.  I told him that I didn’t realize it and that I guess I just wasn’t paying attention.  I was just numb.  There were no colors in my life---only shades of gray.  He took my license and went back to his car to do whatever it is they do when they go back to their car.  When he came back he handed me my license and then he looked me in the eye and asked me if I was okay.  I didn’t feel okay but I said “yes” (sure, why not?).  I remember feeling so beat down--so depressed.  I guess he picked up on it because he hesitated and then asked me again, "Are you okay?"  Again I said “yes” but my voice was a little shaky this time.  My eyes started welling up with tears as I looked straight ahead and down a little bit.    Then I could contain it no more.  I lost it.  I hit bottom.  My emotions welled up inside me as I began crying first and then sobbing.  With great difficulty I told him that I just didn’t know life was going to be so hard.  “It just wasn’t supposed to be this hard.”  He put his hand on my shoulder.  He had compassion on me.  He listened to my weary soul as I grieved and as I let out my frustration and my weariness.  He just listened and cared.  It was a turning point. I didn’t get the man’s name.  Many times through the years I’ve wished that I had because I have wanted to meet with him again and to thank him for his kindness and compassion.  I sometimes wonder if he was an angel that God sent to touch me.  If he wasn’t, I know that he has no clue about how his gentle spirit ministered to me.  As I look back I know that even in my worst times I was still blessed beyond most of the people in the world.  But while you are going through it, that knowledge just doesn’t seem to help much.  I also know that even though that was the worst time of my life, it was, in another way, the best time of my life.  More than any other time my priorities---what’s important to me---came clearly into focus.  Now, many decisions that would have seemed difficult are like child’s play to me.  Questions of integrity are easily answered.  Integrity is more important than riches.  People take priority over things.  Relationships matter.  Making a difference in people’s lives---putting your hand on someone's shoulder when they are struggling---are the things that really matter.  Everything else is just “stuff”.  I keep the stack of late notices as a type of reminder of how it was and how it can be.  I never want to forget what it was like to go through that hell.  I truly appreciate God for bringing me out of it and for blessing me so.  He has made my life easier since that time.  And I know that all my blessings are from God.  I shall never forget that.  Thank you my God for blessing me so bountifully! And my prayer is that God may bless you as you make a difference in someone’s life today and in the days ahead.  Sincerely,   Dennis

Twenty-five years ago today when I got in from work I had a message on my answering machine that would impact my life forever.  I wrote about that message and its effects in 1994.  The following, with a few minor modifications, is that writing.  I wanted to share it with you today in honor of my dad.  It follows: 

I heard a tape today that talked about how important it is for a father to spend a lot of time with his kids.  Quantity of time is as much if not more important than the quality time.  This is partly true because you cannot always plan the quality time.  It just arrives unexpectedly and if you don’t spend quantity of time, you just miss out on the quality times that could have been.

The tape also talked about how important it is to touch your children and to make physical contact with them.  The man speaking related how his 12-year-old son still liked to sit in his lap and to be near him and to even kiss him.  That brought back memories of one of the last times I saw my dad.

One Tuesday afternoon in 1982 he had a heart attack.  When I got in from work, I heard a message on my answering machine from Mom saying Dad had a bad heart attack.  We packed up and went down to Llano that night.  When I came into that room I could see that he was in a lot of pain.  I came over and hugged him and cried.  We had such a good visit - it was all deep - no shallowness there - no small talk - no chit chat.  With life hanging in the balance, the walls and shells around us were stripped away.  He said he was ready to go if it was his time.  (I think he even preferred it). But he said he was going to try to make it for Mom and my brother still at home.  He said he didn’t know a body could hurt so much - so much pain.  Near the end of our conversation he asked me to kiss him.  I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.  He said “on the lips.”  I leaned over and kissed him again - on the lips.  I think he knew he was going to die.  And I think he wanted to show me and tell me in no uncertain terms about how much he loved me.  This kiss was heart to heart with no paraphernalia - just pure love - no facades, no inhibiting pride or pretense – just a deep and abiding expression of love. 

I think that is the only time in my life that I kissed my dad on the lips.  I shall never forget it. 

My dad knows he did a good job raising me.  He knows that although I sometimes drove the whole family crazy, that he did instill in me a sincere and honest heart.  I am a weak person, no doubt, but my sincere desire is to be a man after God’s own heart, full of integrity and sincerity and patience and love.  I thank God for my dad.  Of all the fathers in the world I was so blessed that mine was that man.  I hope I can instill some of those same qualities that my dad instilled in me, into my two precious boys.  If I can do no more than that, my life would be a success. 

My dad made it through that night and felt a little better the next day.  We decided to move him to Austin where the medical facilities were better.  He would be more vulnerable during the trip, but would have a better chance of surviving once we got there.  Dad made the trip just fine and slept well that night.  The next morning, Dad felt wonderful.  It was so good to see him feeling good.  We saw him quite a bit that day but had to be careful not to get emotional because the heart monitor would go crazy.

Mom’s brother, N.D., came up from Hereford to see Dad.  In many ways, Dad had been like an older brother or a father figure to him.  The heart monitor really went crazy when he came in.  I never really appreciated how deep their relationship was until that moment.  They were both speechless because of their inability to keep from breaking down and crying.  That made me love and respect N.D. more than I ever had before.  That also, as well as many things N.D. told me about later, made my love and respect for my dad grow deeper. 

I cried a lot that night.  Everyone else seemed very happy.  Although Dad had been through a good day, the doctor never would show a lot (or even a little) optimism.  We wanted him to so badly and we tried to convince ourselves that things were better, but he just never would paint any bright pictures for us.  I think I knew – way down inside - that he was not going to make it.  The uncertainty is so draining.

The next morning, while waiting for the visiting hours (15 minutes) to come, a nurse came out to tell us that “he’s not quite ready yet” and to “wait a few minutes”.  Near the end of the visiting time, I asked the nurse if we would get to extend our visiting time since we had missed out on the regular time.  She said “yes”.  When the regular visiting time was over the nurse came out and said, “Y’all can come in now.”  Instead of leading us to his room, she asked us to wait in a vacant room because the doctor wanted to talk to us.  Shortly, the doctor came in and told us that early that morning my dad had either extended the existing heart attack or had a second heart attack and they had been working on him all morning trying to revive him and that there was nothing more they could do.  Those words were so hard to believe.  My dad had always been there - my whole life - he can’t be gone.  We all cried and held each other in disbelief.  I asked if we could see him and the doctor said yes.

We walked into his room.  It was so obvious that his spirit was gone.  His body was there but he was not.  We cried some more.  We held each other some more.  We talked about this wonderful man that lay before us, some of the crazy things he did, the quality of his life.  Laughing and crying, rejoicing and weeping.  The mystery of the heavens and earth had taken place in this room.

When we got back to Mom’s house, I went out into the shop where Dad’s tools were.  I put my hands on the handles of all the tools I could find.  My dad held these tools last.  I wanted my hands to be where his had been. 

The funeral was special.  Since it was delayed a couple of days while we were waiting for my sister and brother-in-law to get in from South Africa , we had time to come to grips with what was happening.  My brother-in-law preached the sermon.  “Can you imagine James growing old?” he asked.  And we couldn’t.  He also talked about the many wonderful memories that we could cherish because of this man – the nostalgic memories, the crazy things he did (sometimes on purpose and sometimes not).  But most of all he reminded us of the Christian heritage this man had left us.  His goal in life was to see his family grow up to be Christians and to lead Godly lives. 

That was more important to him than making a lot of money or having a lot of power or impressing his friends.  In that, he succeeded.  He had five kids who are all faithful Christians to this day (even in 2007).  They all have strong Christian families and are passing the legacy on down to their children and grandchildren. 

I thank God for blessing me with this awesome man as my father.  I feel compelled to make a difference in other people’s lives because of that blessing.  My father died 25 years ago on April 30, 1982 at the age of 56.  In 10 days he would have been 57.

---I will always love you Dad!!! ---

God Bless!

Dennis

The past 24 hours have been awesome.  My youngest son, Jarod(27), and my grandson, Trapper (4), came to visit.  Jarod and I visited last evening for about 3 or 4 hours about hunting and business and Trapper and giving generously and helping others and all sorts of good things like that.  It's the kind of visit that is an indicater of a wonderful father-son relationship. 

When the boys were small I often wondered what kind of relationship I would have with them when they became adults.  You always hope it will be good, but you never know for sure how it's going to be.  I'm so thankful that it has turned out good in both cases.  Good visits with them are true highlights of my life.  I treasure them.

And Trapper!  What an awesome grandson.  We played games and watched TV and played ball and darts.  We went fishin', but he fell asleep on the way to the tank.  So, I fished while he slept and when I caught a big bass, I tried to wake him but couldn't.  I also used a net to catch about 20 little minnows that were swimming in the shallows.

I put all these fish in a 5 gallon bucket and put them in the back of the pickup and brought them and little sleepy head home.  When he woke up, I showed him the fish and asked him if he wanted to go with me to take them to the other tank (that had dried up in the drought last summer).  He said he did, so we took them to the back pasture and he dumped the fish into the tank and we watched them swim away.  

Then we climbed to the top of the dam to look down to see if we could see the bass in the water(which we couldn't).  Then we skipped rocks on the water and I let him drive the pickup while sitting in my lap as we weaved and wobbled our way back to the house.  I also gave him two pieces of gum because he says that's what his momma always says he can have.  What a great day.  Thank you Lord for blessing me so.