Category: Life

Posted in Life

The miracle of this new day

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

When my bible study leader spoke a class-opening prayer, he thanked God for “the miracle of this new day.” For some reason, those words touched me and I jotted them down. How often do I consider “today” to be a miracle?

Today would not be, had not God created the first day and set time in motion. Today – any day – is a testimony to the Creator. Today – every day – is unlike any other. It never existed before. It will never happen again. When I wake up each morning, I don’t have to be on the lookout for miracles. I am in the miracle.

I would not be, had not God knit me together within my mother, and given me life and breath and everything else. When I wake up each morning, I don’t have to wonder if miracles still happen. My life is the miracle.

I suppose it’s easy to forget “the miracle of this new day” when you have woken up every morning for the last ten or forty or eighty years or more. I’ve gotten used to it. It doesn’t feel special.

So this simple petition is powerful. If this new day is miraculous, and my life is a miracle, then the miracle worker himself is alive and well and still at work in the world and in my life.

Posted in Life

You’re not going to let a little rain spoil the game, are you?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It was an amusing scene at the t-ball fields the other night. Ten soaking-wet little boys were standing on the diamond in the rain. No one looked very happy to be there.

The other team valiantly tried to hit the ball off the tee. When someone made contact, the ball didn’t go very far, slowed by the wet grass and infield mud.

On each side, fans got wetter and colder, crowded under umbrellas, wondering when the coaches would call the game.

The coaches kept running through the lineup, teeing up the ball as the darker clouds moved across the sky. Every once in a while, they would look at each other, shrug, and bring up the next batter.

Finally, one coach waved his hand across his neck to stop the game. The thankful crowd rushed toward their cars.

The excited players made a beeline for the snacks. That’s what they came for and they were not about to be denied, no matter how bad the weather!

Posted in Life

Look at all those helicopters!

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Helicopters fill the skies. At least lately. With my grandson, a dog, and on a bike ride today, we’ve seen more helicopters lately. I hear them when they are far off. Sometimes they hover overhead. Other times they zip by in the air.

Sometimes it’s the medical helicopter going to a crash site or a trauma hospital. When I see or hear it, I always say a quick “Lord, have mercy” prayer. The folks who fly and staff those flights, as well as those they rescue, need our prayers.

Other times, it’s the local sheriff. Those helicopters fly slower, and circle around, usually looking for someone. I would not want to be one the run with someone up in the skies watching me.

Once in a while, some attack helicopters from the National Guard pass overhead. They move so fast that you’ll miss them if you aren’t paying attention. I am grateful for those who keep watch over our communities and nation.

I remember other helicopters that brought hundreds of gallons of water to put out fires near our community. It was a long time ago, but it was a scary time. I remember it well.

One day, I want to fly in a helicopter. I’ll probably be frightened out of my mind. But it will be really cool.

Posted in Life

“I was almost there”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by FLY:D on Unsplash

The water felt wonderful as I stepped in. It felt as nice as I thought it would as I pushed off and glided through the water just a few inches from the bottom of the pool. Ribbons of sunlight made their way to the bottom of the pool as I blew out bubbles and sank closer to the hard pool surface below. I felt so relaxed as I floated along.

Just when I thought I had reached the far wall of the pool, I reached out and touched…nothing. The wall wasn’t there. So I reached out and brought my arms to my side, pushing myself forward into the blurry blue beyond. As I gently cut through the water, bursts of green and violet appeared as though someone were rinsing out a paintbrush. I drifted through clouds of color, no longer able to see the sunlight above or the bottom below.

Suddenly, it was as if a rainbow had exploded in the water. Colors were everywhere. I swam toward the teal, then the oranges, the indigo, and then the bright blue. I felt like I was trapped in a kaleidoscope, tumbling through every color and shape I ever knew. Up and down meant nothing. I reached towards the red, backed into the yellow, spun through the green, crawled along the blues.

I wanted to stay here forever. I felt something pulling at me, pulling backwards, pulling me away from this buffet of color. I tried to push the hands away. My lungs suddenly filled with air. I saw the sky, clouds, faces above me. “Are you OK?”

Reluctantly, I said, “Yes, I feel fine.” I laid there and said, “Am I OK?”

“We think you were down there for an hour. If the pool guy hadn’t seen you down there, you’d be…gone.”

I smiled. “No. I was almost there.”

Posted in Life

More hair? I’ll pass.

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I don’t always look at the emails in my spam folder, but when I do, I’ll get a kick out of one of them. The most recent had this subject line: “Rapid and long-lasting hair growth.”

If you know me at all, you know that growing hair is the least of my worries. My hair was pretty much all gray by age fifty, but I have plenty of it. Every barber and stylist who cuts my hair comments on how much they have to comb though. My dermatologist comments, “We don’t have to worry about sunburn up here.” It’s easy to spot me in large group photos. I’m that guy with the thick head of gray.

I was at a friend’s birthday party and we all huddled up for a group shot. His family printed and framed the picture for him. When people looked at the picture, they would point to my gray-haired head and ask, “Who’s that?”

While most of them were born with peach fuzz, my children all grew up to have thick heads of hair. Most of the grandkids are keeping with that tradition. A couple of two-year-olds are taking their time, but they are working hard on the tradition.

The spam email went on to promise the regrowth of hair I thought was lost forever – just by taking a tablespoon of “this” every day. I don’t know what “this” was. I didn’t click that far into the advertisement. I know growing hair is a big business. Just not for me.

While most spam email is pretty good at knowing what you might be interested in, this algorithm got it all wrong. Kind of like the guy selling an ice maker to an eskimo, right?

Posted in Life

Today at the zoo: A predictable adventure

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My wife and I took our four-year-old grandson to the Jacksonville, Florida zoo today. It was a gorgeous day, with blue skies, in the 70s, nice breeze.

We have a family membership and have been there many times. Last night I predicted how the visit would go.

  • First, we stop to look at the flamingos and comment on how stinky they are.
  • As we walk through the African loop, we will look at the warthogs and also comment on how stinky they are.
  • We will look in vain for the cheetahs, see the ostrich, and then the rhinos.
  • After a quick pass through the snake house, we will pause to visit the elephants.
  • From there we’ll pass by the lions.
  • Next, we’ll go to the giraffe overlook and feed them a few branches.
  • Doubling back just a little, we’ll look to see how many manatees are in the recovery tank.
  • Back on the main drag, my grandson will point out the Kona Ice truck, just in case we had forgotten about it.
  • We’ll swing through the path that takes us by the bonobos and gorillas.
  • Next is the carousel. We’ll go on several rides with our enhanced experience wristbands.
  • After lunch, we’ll walk to the far end of the zoo to see the Komodo dragon and the tigers.
  • The train will take us back to the front of the park, and we’ll cover a cup of Kona Ice with every flavor of syrup.

I was spot on for everything except the dragon and tigers. We decided not to go all the way back there today.

“Well,” you might ask, “was there anything new at the zoo?”

Absolutely. No two trips are alike.

  • The elephants were standing much closer than they usually do, giving us a great view.
  • Most of the giraffes were a little standoffish, but one came over and my grandson and I got to feed her. No line at the giraffes, so we had several opportunities each. She was so close we could have reached right out and touched her. But that’s one of the things you cannot do.
  • One of the lionesses was relaxing in the sun on a huge rock just a few yards from the viewing area. She was beautiful.
  • One of the rhinos was very close to the raised walkway, too. They are usually all the way across the field from us.
  • On the way to see the manatees, the bald eagle was on the ground just on the other side of the fence. Probably the closest I’ve ever been to one.
  • We got to see Kevin, the two-year-old baby gorilla up close against the glass.
  • All the snakes in the snake house were out and visible. Usually many of them are hiding in the rocks.

So while the day was predictable, it was also an adventure. For me, zoos always are.

Posted in Life

I’m glad you all showed up

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Gabriel Benois on Unsplash

Yesterday’s post, as I hope many of my readers figured out, was just a bit of micro-fiction to wrap up April. My thoughts today are the real deal, fresh from a Zoom meeting with my Bible Study Fellowship group.

With just one more session to go before we break for the summer, we’re starting to evaluate the past thirty weeks we’ve spent together. We twenty or so men have prayed, studied, laughed, and gotten to know each other. These things only happened because these men showed up weekly to spend some time together.

It’s all voluntary. No one has to show up at all. There are no penalties for absence. And yet every week, most of the men join the room, prepared to talk about the past week’s study.

The group leader called it the “Covid-cloud silver lining.” Though Zoom has been around for more than a decade, it became a part of everyday life in 2020 when everyone was in quarantine. Worship, school, conventions, concerts, recitals, graduations, and reunions all happened virtually via Zoom.

On top of all that, people showed up for groups that never would have existed before. My group consists of men from Florida, California, Virginia, Iowa, Illinois, Kenya, and Ethiopia. Though thousands of miles apart, we were able to crowd ourselves into a thirteen-inch laptop screen.

I’m grateful for all who showed up each week. Each brought ideas and questions that never occurred, to me, stretching my understanding of the scripture we studied. The discussion filled the room with the joys and struggles of following Christ. Over time, a collection of strangers who showed up became friends. They made me want to show up, too.

I encourage you to show up, too. Some call it “being present.” Be there with someone who loves, encourages, challenges, and shows up to be with you.

Posted in Life

I don’t want to miss the storm

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by reza shayestehpour on Unsplash

Constant news updates warned of approaching storms. News feeds were filled with photos of hands gripping baseball-sized hail. The traffic update boards on the interstate alerted drivers to a tornado watch. The weather radar was lit with green, yellow, orange, and red-colored systems headed our way. Storm trackers were dotted with little lightning bolts. The radio station reported where the storms were most likely to hit next and when.

I wondered if our evening meeting would be canceled. People are like that, you know. Events are canceled when someone catches the scent of severe weather. I’m happy about this. I don’t want to be out on the road when the rain is so heavy I can hardly see the taillights of the car in front of me. I want to be inside if and when a funnel cloud decides to appear. I am thankful for a safe and secure home in which to wait out the storm.

This time the storms never reached our area. Very little rain, just a little wind, and no destructive winds. To be honest, I was disappointed. I’m glad no storms hurt my neighborhood (or any neighborhood).

But I missed the storm.

I missed the sheets of rain blowing across our street. I missed the dark clouds rushing by. I missed the thunder rumbling in the distance. I missed watching the trees swaying in the wind. I missed the sound of a million drops on the roof.

I missed the storm.

Rainy afternoons are great for naps. Sleep comes quickly with the soothing sound of the wind. The rumble of far-off thunder is nature’s subwoofer, with frequencies felt as much as heard. The steady tapping of drops on the roof is calming.

The best part about the storm? I know the One who made the storms and can control them. The storm reminds me of His power, His presence, and His promises.

Posted in Life

Just push the button.

Posted on by William Douthwaite

This week, I was helping someone with the tech needed in a college classroom. The designated room was equipped with a computer, projector, and screen. The first thing I had to figure out was how to lower the screen.

I thought, “There’s got to be a switch close by, probably on the wall.” Sure enough, I tried one, and the screen lowered into place. We were ready to go.

Some would say, “You just can’t go around pushing buttons. You don’t know what’s going to happen.” I figure there’s only one way to find out what will happen.

Push the button.

I’m a push-the-button kind of person. Flip the switch. Turn the knob. In a moment, you’ll know exactly what it does. If you don’t like what happens, try something else. Type a command. Click and drag. Hit escape. See what happens.

I’m especially intrigued by light switched taped in an on or off position. Tags that say, “Do not remove under penalty of the law.” Signs next to thermostats warning, “Do not adjust.” Labels advising, “No user-serviceable parts inside.”

I do heed a “Warning: High Voltage” sign. And the “do not eat” instruction on that little packet of whatever that comes in just about everything. And I never operate heavy machinery after taking a decongestant.

But everything else is fair game. Like the sign announcing, “Do not enter.” “Authorized Personnel Only.” “Closed.” I’ll try the door. Sometimes, it’s unlocked.

I believe that’s why I’m good at fixing things. I’ll try something until I get the desired result. I do this with computers, phones, the microwave oven, rebooting the wifi, changing the time on the car clock, the church sound board, getting something to print, or setting up a university classroom. I push the button.

I’m amazed to learn that not everyone is like this. Some are afraid to touch anything. What if it breaks? What if I get caught? What if I shut down the power grid to the entire east coast of the United States?

I say, “Relax.” You can always reboot. Power down and restart. You can undo what you’ve done. You can try something else. You can give up and get a snack. You can say, “I didn’t know.” Or, “I didn’t do it.” You can try again tomorrow.

Come on. Push the button!