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INTRODUCTION (Repeated for
those new to the
series)
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In an old loose leaf notebook, Thomas Kettering wrote when there was a cry from his heart. He wrote when his inner longing spilled over into the reality of his days. He did not write every day, only when he felt he must. How often he wrote or when is not important. The journey is what counts, for it is a diary about all of us, to all of us. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” and even a stumble is a step.
In an old loose leaf notebook, Thomas Kettering wrote when there was a cry from his heart. He wrote when his inner longing spilled over into the reality of his days. He did not write every day, only when he felt he must. How often he wrote or when is not important. The journey is what counts, for it is a diary about all of us, to all of us. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” and even a stumble is a step.
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Evening
The preacher spoke of love again today. Standing there in his pulpit all save, secure and sanctified, how could he know?
In the real world people fight for what they want! How else is one to win?
But what would I have him talk about? Didn’t Christ spend much of His time telling people to love one another?
What kind of a preacher am I looking for anyway? A prophet? A saint? A prince of a fellow among men? A super-soul saver who bears the banner of Christ with a pleasant smile on his face and a hearty hello to one and all?
Someone who will preach Christ of the simple seamless garment but not bear down to hard on sacrifice? I don’t know.
I don’t like the hell I’m living, but I’m not ready to trade it in for some pious promise of a heaven in the sky. I can’t get my hand out of the cookie jar because I’m not yet willing to let go of enough.
Am I playing a game called “Let’s Fill up Time and to Hell with any Meaning in Life?”
Well, I’ve at least begun to identify my problem. There isn’t too much logic in my thinking, but at least I’m thinking.
Evening
There are pumpkins in the field, blobs of orange shouting Halloween. Witches, elves, mermaids, spirits and devils, imagined too real for centuries and now Americanized and plasticized and sold to turn a fortune.
We don’t even leave our superstitions alone.
There’s really nothing wrong with plastic pumpkins or monster faces or five-year-olds dressed up as skeletons, but when I was a boy we rang doorbells and played tricks (some more than others).
Now the kids just ring doorbells, hold out their hands and expect treats.
I remember Billy and Connie coming home with their bags bulging with goodies and complaining if one had more than the other. Materialism had won another round.
My teenage daughter now tells me that no one in her school, if they saw a penny or a nickle on the road, would bother to pick it up – maybe a dime.
Oh, God, what have we done to our children?
Afternoon
An article in the Society section entitled “Forty Six Great Drinks The Way The Experts Do It” explained that it is no longer enough to pour a drink; it must be mixed with infinite skill and variety.
Funny, it used to be booze at the bar; now the well-made cocktail is a status star in our cosmopolitan constellations.
But drinking does help. It pulls velvet down around my problems and makes them softer. It hazes out the harsh sights and sounds of life. I don’t know what it does for other people, but for me, at least for a while, I don’t care.
And that’s the problem.
I do care but I haven’t learned how to live with my caring.
Evening
The preacher spoke of love again today. Standing there in his pulpit all save, secure and sanctified, how could he know?
In the real world people fight for what they want! How else is one to win?
But what would I have him talk about? Didn’t Christ spend much of His time telling people to love one another?
What kind of a preacher am I looking for anyway? A prophet? A saint? A prince of a fellow among men? A super-soul saver who bears the banner of Christ with a pleasant smile on his face and a hearty hello to one and all?
Someone who will preach Christ of the simple seamless garment but not bear down to hard on sacrifice? I don’t know.
I don’t like the hell I’m living, but I’m not ready to trade it in for some pious promise of a heaven in the sky. I can’t get my hand out of the cookie jar because I’m not yet willing to let go of enough.
Am I playing a game called “Let’s Fill up Time and to Hell with any Meaning in Life?”
Well, I’ve at least begun to identify my problem. There isn’t too much logic in my thinking, but at least I’m thinking.
Evening
There are pumpkins in the field, blobs of orange shouting Halloween. Witches, elves, mermaids, spirits and devils, imagined too real for centuries and now Americanized and plasticized and sold to turn a fortune.
We don’t even leave our superstitions alone.
There’s really nothing wrong with plastic pumpkins or monster faces or five-year-olds dressed up as skeletons, but when I was a boy we rang doorbells and played tricks (some more than others).
Now the kids just ring doorbells, hold out their hands and expect treats.
I remember Billy and Connie coming home with their bags bulging with goodies and complaining if one had more than the other. Materialism had won another round.
My teenage daughter now tells me that no one in her school, if they saw a penny or a nickle on the road, would bother to pick it up – maybe a dime.
Oh, God, what have we done to our children?
Afternoon
An article in the Society section entitled “Forty Six Great Drinks The Way The Experts Do It” explained that it is no longer enough to pour a drink; it must be mixed with infinite skill and variety.
Funny, it used to be booze at the bar; now the well-made cocktail is a status star in our cosmopolitan constellations.
But drinking does help. It pulls velvet down around my problems and makes them softer. It hazes out the harsh sights and sounds of life. I don’t know what it does for other people, but for me, at least for a while, I don’t care.
And that’s the problem.
I do care but I haven’t learned how to live with my caring.
TO BE CONTINUED
(Complete book available on amazon.com) (great prices)
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CLICK ON THE TOP RIGHT SIDE OF THIS SCREEN WHERE IT READS “CLICK HERE TO WATCH NEIL AS WESLEY, LUTHER, FRANKLIN & LINCOLN”…His presentations have been called equal to Hal Holbrook and were presented all over the world.
CLICK ON THE TOP RIGHT SIDE OF THIS SCREEN WHERE IT READS “CLICK HERE TO WATCH NEIL AS WESLEY, LUTHER, FRANKLIN & LINCOLN”…His presentations have been called equal to Hal Holbrook and were presented all over the world.
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