The oldest thing I’m wearing today is my gold wedding ring, which I’ve worn daily since 1984. I’m pretty sure it’s 14 karat gold, but I can’t easily get it off my finger to check.
In second place is my watch, a Citizen Eco-Drive I bought six years ago. Fed up with the poor quality of the digital running watches I usually wore, I purchased a self-winding analog watch that has worked perfectly since I bought it.
This prompt made me think of older clothing I still wear. I’ve got two suits, black and navy, that I bought in 2014. I got my money’s worth out of them. I have a blue herringbone blazer from at least thirty years ago. I can only wear it if the temperature gets down to freezing, which rarely happens in Florida.
My red clerical stole dates back to my ordination in 1986. I still wear it on occasion.
The home pictured above was completed less than a year ago. A family moved in, and now their front yard looks like this. Nice, huh?
I and the big dog walk by here four or five times a week. We watched them clear the lot, pour the foundation, set the roof trusses in place, stucco the walls, install windows and doors, and throw a whole lot of dead-looking sod into the yard. I remember commenting to the dog, who just pees on it anyway, “I can’t believe they lay sod that looks like that.” When brown, dry, dead looking clumps of dirt and grass are thrown across an inch of topsoil, it’s going to look like the picture above.
Did it rain? Did they water it? Do they have a lawn service? Does anyone care? I have no idea. I just know that it’s never going to look better than it does in this picture. The weeds will propagate and grow taller. The existing grass will retreat in humiliation. You’ll only get an answering machine if you call the builder. Bottom line: you have a crap lawn.
A good lawn in Florida is a full-time job. Few homeowners can do it without the services of a lawn company. That’s just the way it is. Bugs, mold, drought, weeds, torrential rain, pets, and poor soil present huge obstacles to a decent looking lawn any where in Florida.
We had a great looking lawn in the front and back yards. Thick, lush, and green. Then we got a Great Dane puppy. For six months, her urine burned brown spots in the lawn. When she grew to full size, she tore paths running back and forth across the back yard. Months of floods followed by weeks of drought took its toll. The back yard was a mess. I banned the dogs from the back yard, re-sodded bare spots, and prayed for rain. By the grace of God, it’s growing back.
Growing in seems to take much longer than ripping up. Just be patient. The rain will come. The sun will shine. The grass will grow!
Unless you are the guy whose yard is featured above. Yeah, that’s not gonna grow back. He can look forward to tall weeds, mud, and bugs. Welcome to the neighborhood.
After messing around with it for years, my wife said, “Get a lawn guy.” The next day, someone from Scott’s came by offering a special on monthly lawn service. “Sign me up!” They were bought out by TruGreen. They’ve done a great job for the last fifteen years.
Suddenly, it’s thunderstorm season. After a dry early spring, daily showers soak the yard, and everything is turning green again. However, our small white dog Winston takes umbrage at the loud rumbles echoing across the sky. With a endless barrage of barks, he waits at the back door, ready to take on the storm.
“Hey, it’s pouring rain. You don’t want to go out there.”
Yes he does. He doesn’t give up. Finally I give in. “Alright. Go get ’em!”
I open the door and he sprints out into the pouring rain. In less than a minute, he’s soaking wet, running along the fence, giving the storm a stern barking lecture about getting too close to our yard.
I didn’t realize it was raining so hard. “Hey, get back in here.” He didn’t even glance back at me, determined to get to the source of that thunder. I whistled. No response. I closed the door. He’ll let me know when he’s ready to come back inside.
Ten minutes of torrential rains later, I heard a yip at the back door. Finally. I grabbed a towel and caught his collar as he scooted inside. I dried him off as much as I could. I released him to roll around on the carpet for a bit.
The next thunder came right on the heels of a big flash of lightning. It was very close. Winston returned to yapping at the back door. “No way. You’re not going out there. Cool it.”
Ten minutes later, the storm had moved on, just distant flashes of lightning over the ocean. It was quiet. Winston was fast asleep on his side. He had given that storm what for. Another job well done.
So I’m just walking down the street with the big dog, as I so often do, and spy a green kettlebell sitting in someone’s driveway.
Okay, someone is clearly in the middle of a MetCon (metabolic conditioning) workout where someone repeatedly runs and does kettlebell swings and other exercises for time.
The strange thing is, there’s no “someone” around. The garage door is closed. I don’t see anyone running. The twenty-pound kettlebell is just parked there in front of the street.
If you’ve ever read my stuff, you know I like to speculate about things like this.
Maybe it rolled out of a delivery truck. The driver pulled out too quickly and the box broke apart when it hit the street, stranding the green kettlebell.
Perhaps it escaped the garage gym. We’ve got a collection of dumbbells and kettlebells in our garage. This one could have tumbled past the cars and almost to the street.
Someone may have thrown the kettlebell out of the garage in anger or frustration. Some workouts can be infuriating. Why not take it out on your equipment?
Someone was cleaning house. Garages get cluttered with equipment no one uses. Enough is enough, and some of it goes to the curb.
Could it be a signal?
Leave the package in the driveway with green kettlebell. Or else.
Where’s the meeting? Look for the green kettlebell.
Meet me by the green kettlebell.
If the kettlebell’s out, don’t come knocking.
“Let’s paint the garage!” And now the green kettlebell clashes with the new purple walls. “It’s gotta go.”
“It didn’t look like this in the picture.” Few things do. Whoever ordered it expected a different color. Ship it back? Too heavy. Just leave it on the curb. Someone will take it.
“You spilled green paint all over my kettlebell?” I’m going to kill you!
I have never, ever seen a kettlebell in a driveway. Only in a gym or in my garage.
This is a response to the WordPress daily writing prompt, “What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?”
I love the one percent goal. If you become 1 percent better at something each day, you will be 37 times better at that in a year. Those small incremental increases pay off in a big way.
What does that one percent look like? Read one more sentence in a book than yesterday. Or increase the weight you lift in a workout by one percent. Write one more sentence in your journal than yesterday. Run or walk one percent further than yesterday. Drink one percent more water each day. Practice your instrument one percent longer.
It doesn’t have to be a daily goal. Save one percent more money than last month. Run one percent further than last month. Read one percent more than last month. Whatever. Before you know it, you’ve leveled up your life through small, insignificant improvements.
I’ll often ask myself, “What’s my one percent today?” I don’t have to improve everything every day. But there is always something I can strive to improve by one percent.
Your children will be like olive shoots around your table (Psalm 128:3).
When we went to Israel in 2019, our tour guide’s husband owned an olive grove. Since olives are mentioned often in scripture, we took a side trip one day to see a real olive farm.
Our guide made sure we saw shoots growing up from the base of an olive tree. They would soon be trimmed away. But she said, “Look, it’s just like the psalm: olive shoots around the table.”
I loved that moment when ancient words suddenly came to life before my eyes. All of my children have children, olive shoots around their table. And now I understand what a blessing that is. Who knew grand parenting would be such a blessing?
My son, eat honey, for it is good, and the drippings of the honeycomb are sweet to your taste (Proverbs 24:13)
All of a sudden, in the middle of Solomon’s wisdom couplets, I find instructions on what to eat.
Honey has many health benefits. Some quick research reveals that honey soothes coughs, strengthens the immune system, and is good for your heart. It has antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties. It wards off bacteria and viruses. It’s a natural sweetener that is also good for your gut. In can relieve allergy symptoms, too. God created bees so we’d have honey.
Notable bible figures ate honey. Samson ate honey from a beehive he found in the carcass of a lion. Saul’s son Jonathan was able to fight valiantly after eating some honey. John the Baptist survived in the wilderness across the Jordan eating honey with locusts.
Old Testament law prohibited eating badgers, crabs, owls, lizards, and many other creatures. The list of things we should eat is small: honey, bread and wine at the Lord’s Supper, and that’s all that comes to mind. (Feel free to add to my list.) There is much God permits his people to eat, but few things he commands. I don’t know if this counts, but Paul tells Timothy to drink some wine to settle his stomach.
I put honey in my tea. I really like Honey Nut Cheerios. Honey buns are pretty good. I don’t know if they still make Honeycomb cereal, but that’s really good, even if it’s laden with added sugar. I put a little honey in a salmon teriyaki glaze. So honey-wise, I think I’m doing okay. Everything else? It’s a good thing there’s grace.
I spent last weekend exploring Nashville, Indiana. It’s a small town filled with great little restaurants and shops. As I wandered through boutiques, bookshops, and toy stores, I couldn’t help but wonder, “How do these places stay in business?”
Each was a large store with a huge inventory of merchandise. The overhead for such a storefront would have been expensive. These businesses would have to sell a lot to stay in business.
I did a little research to find out how these little shops stayed in business. Here’s what I learned.
Many of these businesses are just expensive hobbies. They lose money every year, but the owners enjoy interacting with the customers.
Some businesses exist on a few large sales or a busy tourist season to survive. The rest of the year, they sell virtually nothing.
Other businesses have strong online sales that pays for a physical presence in a small town.
A few people own the whole building and rent out most of it. This makes up for their unprofitable business.
Some of my reading suggested that these businesses are covers for illegal activity. I guess that’s possible, but I have my doubts.
One bike shop owner explained that he made most of his money making repairs, not selling bikes. Makes sense.
I still don’t understand the business model for most of these small stores. Without many customers or sales, how do they stay in business?
When Syria and the northern kingdom of Israel stage an invasion of the southern nation of Judah, the prophet Isaiah relays a message from God: “Don’t worry about it.”
In fact, the Lord says, “Ask a sign of the Lord your God” (Isaiah 7:11). It can be anything. No limits. Just name it Ahaz, and God will put any doubts to rest.
Have you ever wanted a sign from God? Have you ever wished he would give you some kind of tangible indication that you were making the right choice.
I think all of us envy Gideon’s experience with God in Judges 6. He receives two definitive signs from God to affirm that he is the one who will save Israel. The first is a dewy fleece on a bone dry threshing floor in the morning. The second is the opposite, a dry fleece when the rest of the ground is damp with dew. He gets both. He’s the guy.
But Ahaz said, “I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test” (v12).
An offer like that rarely, if ever, comes along. You can ask for something big. Or small. Whatever you need to confirm God’s Word.
Ahaz says, “No thanks.”
It’s not because Ahaz is super faithful and doesn’t need proof of God’s protection. It’s just the opposite. Ahaz doesn’t trust God. He will buy protection from Assyria, a bigger and badder bully than Syria and Israel put together. He doesn’t want a sign because he has chosen to reject God.
If you ask for and get a sign from God, you’re locked in, aren’t you? You’ve painted yourself into a corner. You might not like the answer. Too bad. There is no doubt what God wants you to do.
Plus, you’re off the hook. If something goes wrong, it’s not your fault. It was his idea.
I’ve had conversations with people who wanted my opinion on something. At least that’s what they said. But that’s not what they wanted. They knew what they wanted to do. They wanted approval or permission to escape accountability.
Requesting a sign from God is a dead giveaway that you don’t trust him or his word. It exposes a lack of faith or even rejection of God.
God wasn’t surprised. In fact, he says, “I’m going to give you a sign anyway.” By the time a virgin conceives and gives birth, my plan will be in motion.
This sign would come to complete fulfillment much later, when Jesus was born, God’s plan from before the creation of the world.
Waite for it... 