Harold's Country Club

Last Saturday, Lauren and I went to Varnville, SC, for the celebration of Bess Ware's 90th Birthday. Amazing lady (looks like she's ready to dance for another 30 more years) and great family. On the way back to civilization, however, we detoured to Yemassee, S.C. (right off interstate 95) to eat at Harold's CC, a first for both of us.


A friend had told us to call ahead and order your steaks. So we did that. And we got directions: "Come to the stop sign, turn right and you can't miss the large green roof over the gas pumps."

Harold's has a personality disorder. It doesn't know if it is a country store, flea market, pool hall, gas station or diner. Every shelf and corner is stacked with something that should have been tossed out a long time ago. We got there ahead of the 6:30 serving, so we played pool, until the manager called out "Steaks are on!" We assumed that was the equivalent of "Come and git it!" I was grateful since Lauren was cleaning my plate at pool.

Actually, the inch thick steaks were delicious, as well as the spicy onions, with plenty of sweet tea. Not a bad meal at all at $16 a plate. Most of the patrons were Citadel fans on their way back to Charleston. But they were a friendly bunch in spite of the defeat at Georgia Southern.

Harold's has its own character, a rare commodity in restaurants, and is worth a stop. Just call ahead and tell them how you like your steaks.

I have called you by name.

It is amazing how a human face changes things. Take an issue, any issue, and speak of it in generalities and, especially if it is a controversial issue, people will quickly become adamant about the correctness of their position, whatever side of the issue they happen to be on. But speak of a mutual friend dealing with the same issue and the conversation changes. In the abstract, stem cell research may be wonderful or murder in your opinion. But when a neighbor with a rare cancer pins her hopes on such research, all you can do is feel the pain and longing.

In a similar way, when we hear a news report of a tragedy and we feel regret or some sadness for the pain and loss. But put a human face with it, and it changes for us. We are connected, and one persons' loss is a loss to us all.

The fire tragedy at Ocean Isle Beach, NC this past weekend that claimed the lives of seven college students hit me with these thoughts. We have watched the news of the horrible fires raging in southern California for weeks, which included loss of life. Those fires were horrible, and we prayed for the victims and the fire fighters. But that was far away and we did not know them.

This loss, closer to home, with names we unfortunately can connect with, becomes an ache we carry for those in shock and grief. Names and faces of people we know, or who know the people we know. And so we pray anew.

My point is, I do not believe God sees in generalities. God sees and knows each face. Maybe another way to say it is, God does not see us a people, but as persons. That probably says more about our faith than I can comprehend, but for today, it is both a comfort, and a calling.

Special Day

You changed my world.
Stood all my ideas on end
Then toppled them over like dominos.
And that was with your first cry.

You rock my world.
Slicing through my stoicism
With laser wit and laughing eyes.
Easily being the center of all connects.

You pulse my world.
Taking hopes and love and faith
As you own natural gait,
Moving to the beat of joy.

Happy Birthday, La.
Dad

Aldersgate at Epworth

One of our Aldersgate Special Needs Ministry board members emailed pictures of the home being built on the Epworth Children's Home campus in Columbia. I was by there two weeks ago to take pictures, and it was still just a concrete pad. Wow! They jumped on it and got busy.

The Aldersgate web page has some updated pictures of the home in Orangeburg. It already has the brick work done. Still hard to believe becoming operational is within sight. Considering the need, a place for 12 people with developmental disabilities to call home is a a very small step, but of course, for each of those 12, it's a tremendous life change and answer to prayer.

Saturday Blues

It's Saturday. I've got a cold and it is finally a weekend with much needed rain. But of all things I'll be going to the church mid-morning for Charge Conference! With both Clemson and Carolina playing away this weekend, I'll probably get about 10-15 people to attend (out of 50 on the Board). For most it is a necessary inconvenience. It definitely isn't the way they identify our church's connectional nature.

The reports are prepared and actually were taken to the District Office this past Wednesday. The salaries have been approved. The people have been identified for next year's offices. I think only action that church members see of significance at the CC is the formal action of electing those persons. And honestly, why do you need a District Superintendent present for that?

Maybe the CC does still serve a 'connectional' function. It'd be interesting to hear whether the Dist. Superintendents think so, especially after conducting 60-70 of them. I just wonder if there aren't better ways to do that - and my wondering has nothing to do (honestly, seriously, well...) with it being a Saturday morning and I'd rather lounge around, watch football on TV, and drink plenty of OJ.

Paper Piles

OK, I'm ready for some brain to come up with a filing system designed for people with attention deficit disorder. Those of us with ADD usually have good intentions. We mean to file it where we can find it. So we put it in a place where we can do that, and then the next thing comes along and it is promptly forgotten.

Someone suggested the Paper Tiger system. I looked it up on the web. You number each paper and then enter it in your computer, also listing key words so it will show up in something like a "google" search. Sure, I'm going to be focused enough to do all that?

Guess I'll stay with the paper pile method. It takes longer to find things, but while you're looking you come across other interesting things. Like last night while I was looking in my office for a sheet with charge conference figures, I came across an article with some notes I'd made on it for a great sermon illustration. That's a great "find" that just wouldn't have happened if the article was stuck in some neat hanging file, with it's proper number!

Exposed

At MOSAIC last night we focused on the Holiness of God. Someone read the story of Moses and the burning bush and we all took off our shoes as a sign of being on holy ground. No big deal. Except walking on the cool marble of the chapel, I couldn't ignore being barefoot.

There came a time in the service when we talked about being vulnerable before God. I even felt that way, with my feet exposed. And afterwards Mitch suggested I ought to have the congregation at the traditional service remove their shoes one service. Yea, right!

But it brings a question to mind. Have we lost the sense of being exposed, vulnerable before God? We come into worship pretty secure in who we are, and what is going to happen in the service. We have our emotional defenses in place and our masks on. Any given Sunday, 95% of those in a United Methodist worship service are basically untouched by God. Why? There's no exposure. Going bare footed is just a ploy. How do we get people to go bare-hearted before God?

The Vigilante

The other night was "prank night" for my daughter's high school. The seniors attempt to TP the junior's yards and thus our yard was a target. Kelsey and her friends were back and forth from our house and a friend's, whose parents were out of town. So I was pulled in to help keep watch.

Good thing I was. I grabbed a blanket and pillow and settled in an easy chair by the window of one of the front rooms. At 1:30 a car stopped out front, but I stepped out the door and it took off. At 3 AM I heard a car and when to the front door. Five boys were just starting to spread the toilet paper, I threw open the door and shouted as I went out. The car sped off, but the five guys ran behind it just about as fast! I watched as they piled back in at the end of the next block. I was proud of being so vigilant.

An hour later Kelsey called to say keep watching, they'd just hit another house. So I was ready when at 4:30 AM another car stops right in front of our mailbox straight out the walk from our front door. In a flash I was to the door, flung it open and stomped out shouting, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Delivering your newspaper," shouted back the newspaper guy. Oops. He didn't stick around for my apology or explanation.

By the way, they came back, this time parking the car down the street and sneaking up to the yard. Kelsey and her friend pulled into the drive at 5 AM and caught them. Off they ran again, but toilet paper adorned our trees and shrubbery. So, a night without sleep, we still got hit, and I probably won't have a newspaper delivered in the morning!

Jury Duty

This week I've been plagued with municipal court jury duty. Excuse me, I mean I have had the civic privilege of ensuring the right to trial by a jury of your peers. Last week I showed up for jury selection where they randomly draw potential juror's numbers, bingo-style, for each case. If it'd been a lottery, I'd be stinking rich. My number was called so many times that when it didn't come up, the others shook their heads in disbelief. I had my clergy collar on so the defense attorneys would immediately ask for a pass on me. Not much luck with that this time. What good is a clergy collar if it won't get you out of jury duty?

Actually I ended up having to report for only four trials. And we never heard a one of them! Every one was settled without going to trial - settled apparently after much negotiation while we sat in the jury room waiting.

The first day I followed the rules and left my cell phone and book in the car. The next day I took both in with me. And the last day I even took in a portfolio with work to keep me occupied. However, what I should have taken was a tape recorder. You can find some interesting characters in the jury room.

One woman, recently moved to town from the north, was apparently missing her friends back home, cause she was trying pretty hard to make friends out of us. She made me feel like I was at a Chamber of Commerce after-hours social mixer - a lot of questions and overly sincere affirming responses. I'd try to return to my reading material, but like the collar, it didn't work.

One man who was on two juries with me freaked me out a little. Seriously, he knew a lot about every one of us in the room. At the selection session you have to tell what you do and what your spouse does. He must have memorized everything we said. There was just too much information coming from this man, and it made me start watching my own comments carefully.

Most of the folks, however, were just looking to pass the time like I was. And so you know what happens while a jury waits, here's a topic sampling from our conversations: moving to the South (obviously), the drought, dieting, alligators in unexpected places, hunting wild pigs, saving a niece from a domestic violence situation, heart catheterizations, more diets and recipes, fire fighting, deer hunting, church choirs, traffic accidents, children, job closures, and favorite places to eat.

The judge was nice, appreciative of us, and kept us updated on the negotiations. And except for it being a busy week for me, it wasn't any worse than going to the dentist. Wait, it was better. We got paid $10 a day for our service to the community, without ever passing a verdict.

Baptism excitement!

This must be baptism season. This Sunday I have three couples bringing their infants for the Covenant of Baptism. And next Sunday three young girls of the same family are to be baptized.

Since these girls are ages 7, 8 and 10, I visited with them to talk about the meaning of baptism and what it means to follow Jesus as your Savior. At the end of my visit I gave my cell phone number to their mother in case she needed to reach me with any questions. Next thing I knew, all three girls had their own cell phones out (!) and entered my number as well.

Contrary to my expectations, I haven't been bombarded with calls. I can just imagine the speech their mom gave them about doing that. But I have gotten a few text messages from them - and it always brings a smile to my face.

A text message this week was the best one of all. Short and to the point it said: "Can't wait to be baptized!" -Caroline.

How about that! How many of us express such anticipation about receiving God's grace?