Author: William Douthwaite

Posted in Ministry, Moments of grace

A room, a meal, and a trip home

Posted on by William Douthwaite

As I was paging through an old journal today, I came across this story from July 20, 2017. I don’t actually remember this day, but I’m glad I took the time to write it down.

Wayne called the church about 10:30 am, wanting to talk to the pastor. I took the call, kind of knowing what to expect. He spent the next ten minutes unfolding his story.

Wayne was from West Hollywood, California. He had just take a train to visit his family in Marathon, Florida. A couple of hospital stays had used up the money for a return trip ticket. Little by little, he had made his way up I-95 to the Econolodge in Palm Coast. A friend had bought him a train ticket home, and he would be leaving tomorrow from Jacksonville. All he needed was one more night at the motel and a little money for food, and he would be on his way.

Wayne assured me that he was a Christian. In fact he was helping to plan an LCMS (Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod) congregation in California. That’s why he called our church and asked to speak to me. I told him I could help him out, and would meet him in at the motel in about an hour.

We sat and talked in the lobby for while, as he added more to his story. He had a home in California, as well as a care-giver. He had AIDS and was on forty-two different kinds of medication. His personal physician said he only had four or five months left. So he planned on using that time to witness.

Was his story true? Was any part of it true? I have no idea. I just helped him out. I paid for one more night at the motel, gave him fifty bucks for food, and prayed for him and his ministry.

In years past I might have asked more questions. But I learned not to overthink it, and just help as best as I could. I wanted to tell them, “You don’t have to tell me the whole story. All you have to do is ask. I’ll help.” But maybe they wanted to talk, tell their story, and be heard. When someone is listening, you are somebody.

Jesus was good at this, wasn’t he? He didn’t just heal people. He talked with them. “What’s going on? How can I help you? What do you need? How come you’re lying here? Let’s go back to your place.”

It’s good to remember that even though he knows what’s on your mind and in your heart, he still likes to hear your story, too.

Posted in shopping, Travel

Flea market deja vu

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s the height of strawberry season in Florida, but it’s been difficult to find the flats of ripe Plant City strawberries in our area. My wife said, “We probably need to go to the farmers market in Daytona.” That’s where we headed today.

According to their brochure, the Daytona Flea and Farmers Market is the sixth best flea market in the world, with 1,000 booths filled with vendors and food. I haven’t been here in ten years. When we moved to Florida nearly thirty years ago, it was a novel destination. It still is an attraction for the many visitors who are in town for the big events like speed weeks and bike week.

As we wandered through the endless maze of booths, we noticed that not much has changed since the last time we were here a decade ago. There is no end to the tables filled with t-shirts and hats, cheap jewelry, toys, leather vests, belts, and wallets, and miscellaneous household items for sale. Some booths offer an extensive selection of nuts, dried fruit, spices, seasonings, pickles, and hot sauces. Others sold golf carts and electric scooters. I saw an impressive selection of swords, knives, and martial arts weapons. At the intersection of the main aisles, you can buy hot dogs, sandwiches, french fries, popcorn, beer, soft drinks, and ice cream.

One young man had a hot dog covered in ketchup in one hand and a vanilla soft-serve cone in the other. He took turns eating from each hand, enjoying an interesting combination of flavors.

There were a few produce stands, but not as many as I remember from the past. We did find big ripe strawberries from Plant City, but they were pricey: $40 for a flat (12 pints). Ouch.

As we wandered through the maze of booths, I wondered, “Who buys this stuff?” I suppose if you’re here for an event, this is a good place for t-shirts and other merch. If you brought the kids along, they’ll talk you into buying them cheap toys and a treat. Do people really buy jewelry here? Given the huge displays of rings and necklaces, I guess many do. The market has been here for forty-two years, so lots of people must shop here.

We left with a half-flat of strawberries and three huge Roma tomatoes. That’s enough flea market for this decade.

Posted in Life

A fiery evening sky

Posted on by William Douthwaite

At certain times of the year, as the sun sets, it almost looks like the sky is on fire.

I usually have my phone in my pocket while I am driving. But on this occasion I placed it on the center console so I could plug it in to charge it. So when I turned onto this road and saw the fiery sky, I could quickly get a picture.

A photo can’t capture the palette of colors on the horizon. Who knew there could be so many oranges, reds, and yellows? If kept driving west, would I eventually reach a blazing fire lighting up the sky? Would I reach an active volcano, glowing with molten lava? Is someone smelting steel in a giant blast furnace off in the distance?

It’s a good thing I got the picture when I did. Those colors only last a moment. By the time I crossed the intersection, they had faded. The clouds had moved. The moment was gone forever, except in my mind and in my phone.

New crayons are essential at the beginning of an elementary school year. A box of twenty-four is all you really need. There’s a box of forty-eight that doubles down on all the different colors. But the best is the box of sixty-four. The assortment of oranges, yellows, and reds challenges all you thought you knew about color. Who knew that orange-red was different than red-orange? With hues like tangerine, pumpkin, and carrot in your hand, your sunset sky might look just like this one!

Posted in Stories

Aisles and aisles of Valentines

Posted on by William Douthwaite

This Valentine’s aisle in Walmart is impressive. And it’s not the only one. there are three more like it, stocked with baskets, stuffed animals, heart-shaped balloons, t-shirts, hats, cards, socks, centerpieces, and just about anything you can think of.

How much money is spent on Valentine’s day? The National Retail Federation reports Americans will spend around $25.8 billion this year. Of course we spend more on Christmas, Easter, and Mother’s day, but that is an impressive number.

When did this holiday become a commercial success? When I was growing up, it was mostly cheap little valentines we gave to class mates at school and the little candy hearts with cute saying printed on them. I think my dad used to give my mom a big box of chocolates, which we gladly helped her consume. But that’s about it.

We spend most of our valentine money on cards and candy for our grandchildren, along with treats and small toys. They have the most fun with the holiday.

Posted in Life

Where are you going to go with that thing?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s a gorgeous afternoon to sit outside at Starbucks waiting for Winston the Westie to be groomed. The entrance into this shopping center is always busy. And then this guy pulls in.

Yikes. I couldn’t help but ask out loud, “Where are you going to go with that thing?” It’s hard enough getting in and out with a compact car, never mind a pickup towing a forty-foot fifth wheel.

The parking lot is about 90% full. This guy isn’t going to find a place to pull over with a camper. I wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out of here at all. I’ll bet he had a few interesting comments once he saw what he had driven into.

I watched him as he turned left towards Hobby Lobby. Somehow he was able to loop around. He didn’t waste any time getting out of here. He knew it was a losing battle. No iHop or Jersey Mike for him today.

I had enough trouble maneuvering a trailer half that length through crowded gas stations and rest stops. I didn’t envy his task at all. I guess I just needed more practice.

Posted in church, Life

My own personal parking spot

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Gerrie van der Walt on Unsplash

I parked the car about one hundred yards from the front entrance of the church yesterday morning. After I dropped off my wife, I had to drive the entire length of grassy overflow parking area, past senior and guest parking spots, to find a spot.

I guess that’s what happens when your arrive ten minutes after the service starts. Worship was at 9:00, but we arrived for the bible class that starts at 9:15. Hey, I don’t mind the walk.

In fact, I used to pull my car into in the most remote corner of the parking lot on Sunday mornings. It was, unofficially, my designated parking spot. Why did I do that? Well, I figured my day would come and I would need a handicapped spot. Until then, since I was able to walk the distance, I would take the furthest spot.

What about rainy mornings? Yeah, they were a challenge. But once I got to the first building, I could use the covered walkway. If my car wasn’t there, everyone knew to welcome a guest preacher that day.

Who doesn’t like to see a church parking lot filled past capacity? On my way in, I commented to another walker, “I think I’m going set up a table about halfway to church and give out free water. We both chuckled. But you know what? When the summer sun is beating down, I’ll bet a lot of people would appreciat that.

When I went to the church where I used to be pastor, I saw that my spot was empty. I don’t think people were avoiding it in memory of me. Instead, worshipers are simply looking for the closest spot.

If the day comes when I guest preach at my old church, I’ll be sure to park in my spot.

Posted in Life

Behold, behemoth

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by I Made Krisna Udiana on Unsplash

I didn’t just hear it. I felt it. A huge whomp shook the entire house. Just imagine an elephant (or a hippo) jumping off the roof and landing in the front yard. It was that kind of a whomp. Dogs barked inside and outside of the house. Knick-knacks rattled on the shelves. A voice from the other room called, “What was that?”

Great question. The last time I felt such an impact was during a hurricane when a thirty-foot pine tree fell in the lot next to us. It missed our house and fence but sounded like an explosion.

When I stepped out front, I saw immediately what was up. Even though it was only 7:30 in the morning, a crew had arrived at the construction site just a few lots up the street. I watched as an operator “eased” the other half of a giant excavator off of a trailer with a second impressive whomp. I don’t think they knew how to put the ramps down. The rental company loves it someone uses their equipment with the finesse of the previously mentioned elephant (or hippo).

At first I thought it was the crane to raise the roof joists into place. But it was an oversized excavator trenching out space for the water main. After those initial whomps, we were treated to an hour of backup beeping as they dug the hole.

An hour later they were gone. But another behemoth will shop up this week for the roof work. Whomp!

Posted in Home improvement

A little joy: no more drips

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It sneaks up on you. It gradually takes more effort, more finesse, a stronger touch. But you barely notice it. Until one day you think, “I’ve got to fix this thing.”

I’m talking about the kitchen faucet. Ours is five years old. I installed it when we redid all our floors and kitchen cabinets. It’s a single handled, burnished nickel beauty with a three-function built-in sprayer. (Who knew the description of a plumbing fixture could sound so sensual?)

About a year ago, I noticed an occasional drip after washing a dish or filling a pot with water. Not a problem. I just pushed the handle up an extra millimeter to stop the drip. In time, it took an extra nudge with a twist to get the drip to stop. I heard the words, “Do we need to get a new faucet?”

No. A cartridge inside the handle, probably made of plastic, had worn enough to let a few drops of water through the turned off faucet. It wouldn’t be hard to replace it. The thing is, there are hundreds of different parts to fix faucets at the big orange home improvement store. Which one did I need?

I couldn’t remember the brand of faucet I purchased five years ago. I came up empty-handed when I looked through accounts and emails to find a record of what I bought. I was going to have to take the handle off, take the part with me and find the right replacement at the store.

After turning off the water, removing the handle, and unscrewing the faucet, the cartridge came right out. I took it to the store and easily found the exact same part.

The hard part was cleaning out all the mineral deposits before I put it back together. Vinegar took care of most of it. A little CLR (calcium, lime, rust) remover handled the rest. I popped in the new cartridge, screwed everything back together, turned on the water. There were no leaks, so I reattached the handle and congratulated myself on a job well done.

The next day, I marveled at how well the handle worked. Who knew I would get so much joy from a faucet that moved smoothly and easily? Life is filled with little joys like this. Embrace those moments.

Posted in dogs

Around the block, at last

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I’ll admit, I was a little worried. Our new Great Dane pup didn’t want anything to do with walking on a leash. Unlike our other dog, who is always ready to go a mile or two, the noob just “muled.” She sat there looking at me, She wouldn’t budge.

A walk around the block would have been great exercise. There are so many people and dogs to get to know in the neighborhood. We needed to lawyer this skill before she got too big.

I tried different collars. I tried a harness around her chest. I tried laying out a trail of snacks up the block six feet apart. No luck. She wouldn’t leave her beloved backyard.

Of course I read all I could about her hesitancy. Most said to just give her time. And that was good advice.

As she grew, she became more curious. So I clipped on the leash and let it hang. She didn’t mind running around with it loose. When I sat on the ground, she couldn’t resist coming to see what I was up to. Or to crawl in my lap and lick my face.

After that, I sat in the garage, then the driveway, and then in the neighbors yard. Slowly but surely she ventured farther from the house.

But our Westie was the one who saved the day. Where he goes, she likes to follow. Along the garden wall to chase lizards. Into the dishwasher to lick dishes. Into the bathroom to pull out the toilet paper. And down the street for a walk.

To the neighbor’s house. Then to the curve in the road. To the end of our street. And yesterday, around the block! Our walks ate part of our daily routine again.