Posted in Life

Is the fire ready?

“Are we going to roast marshmallows?”

Absolutely. The weather was a little cooler, a perfect night to gather around a fire supper. In preparation, I crumbled up newspaper, covered it with small tree branches I had gathered up in the yard, and stood up a pyramid of firewood over the whole thing.

The sky was just beginning to darken as we finished up supper. I headed out to the fire pit and lit the paper. As the first flames flickered, a grandson with a marshmallow and a stick behind me asked, “Is the fire ready?”

For Christmas, we bought other grandchildren a rock tumbler. A great idea for aspiring rock hounds. Until my son read the instructions. Tumbling takes four weeks!

We certainly don’t like to wait, do we? Less than a second after the light turns green, the car behind me leans on the horn so I’ll get step on the grass. A fifteen minute wait for a restaurant table? No thanks, we’ll go somewhere else. Don’t you pick the shortest checkout line at the store?

Five minute oil change. One hour air conditioner repair. No wait emergency room. Instant potatoes. Now, that’s more like it.

Lol. It rarely works that way. An hour on hold to talk to a person at the bank. A minimum of three to four hours in the emergency room. A week for seeds to germinate in the garden. Seven to ten business days for the refund to show up in your bank account. Nine months for the baby to arrive. A lot longer for a doctor appointment.

Is there any benefit to waiting? Maybe. Pausing when the light changes to green avoids a collision with the guy running the red light. More time in wide comfortable airport seats before spending three hours in a cramped middle seat between two strangers. Coffee from a freshly brewed pot. Holding a newborn in your arms. Flames that light up and warm up a chilly night. The smell of freshly baked bread. A gooey marshmallow.

Posted in Lent devotions

Sit here while I pray

“Scenes from the passion” Lent devotion for Tuesday, March 2, 2021. Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash

And they went to a place called Gethsemane. And [Jesus] said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” (Mark 14:32)

Gethsemane is a quiet place among the olive trees on the Mount of Olives. For Jesus, it’s a place of prayer. For the disciples it’s a place to wait.

Have you ever asked someone to sit and wait for you while you prayed? I’ve never done that. Has anyone ever asked you to sit and wait while they prayed? I’ve never had that experience.

Continue reading “Sit here while I pray”
Posted in airport

“I’m rockin'”

I have always looked with envy on those sitting in the rocking chairs at Jacksonville International Airport (JAX) relaxing and chilling. While I am checking gate and departure times, wondering how fast the security line is moving and even thinking ahead to my next connection, many folks are enjoying the live music being played in the atrium and petting the relaxation dogs who wander by.

Just a few days ago, though, I was picking my wife up at the airport, and I had plenty of time. So I got to sit and watch people coming and going, listen to the music and simply “rock” while others looked on with envy.

Oh, I’ve been to plenty of airports with rocking chairs. They are usually all occupied. But not tonight. Tonight, I had plenty of time, there were plenty of chairs open, and plenty of people to watch.

When I got the text, “Just landed,” I replied, “I’m rockin'”

Posted in annoying people

Motionless

2087561_fed-up1_jfxeaqbh63vorhnrwcs4oomcjs2ptt7hevj74cagwi5qbj2htjuq_757x567On the way home from the Orlando airport, I stopped at a McDonald’s on 436. (Yes, I know, two visits to McDonald’s in just a few months. Don’t worry; I worked it off.)

Not much of a line, not much of a wait. Order placed, money paid. One white car ahead of me at the pick-up window. Sweet. This won’t take long.

They get their drink and their bag, and they…just sit there. No movement. OK, maybe they are waiting for one more item. I’m in no hurry. How long could it be?

Much longer than I thought. Ten minutes later, with a line of at least a dozen cars behind me, no movement. Horns start beeping. People are getting out of their cars, looking to see what’s going on. One person gets out of his car and walks up to the car ahead of mine, looking in the window. Another guy demands his food from the payment window and roars off. I’m stuck in-between windows and can’t do that.

Now it’s been fifteen minutes, and still no movement. Won’t the car start? Have the people inside expired? Should we call 911? No one gets in or out of the cars, but suddenly, a blue car ahead of the motionless car, that I hadn’t seen before, guns it and squeals out into the road. The roadblocking white car keeps up, burning rubber out onto a busy 436.

So what was going on up there? Finishing up a phone call? Watching a video? An argument? Yelling at the kids? Simply oblivious to the world around them? Possibly all of the above. Just because they call it fast food doesn’t mean you’ll get out of there quickly.

Posted in Life

Waiting for the storm

IMG_7388You know it’s coming.

You’ve been sitting in front of the TV for hours, watching the nonstop storm coverage on every local TV channel. You know every local news and weather personality. By first name. You’ve checked the weather radar on you phone…again. The storm is hundreds of miles away. You’ve done everything you can possibly do to get ready. The sky is clear, the winds are calm, the beer is cold, the gas cans are full, there’s no more room in your home for bottled water, and you are hunkered down.

Now what? Now what do you do?

You step outside. No rain. No wind. No storm.

You check your phone. No messages. No email.

You check the fridge. You’re not hungry, but that looks good. No one counts the calories of hurricane food. And a hurricane is coming. Why not?

The phone buzzes. A text! A hurricane warning. I know. I’m waiting. And waiting.

Waiting for a storm is hard. Maybe the hardest part. And everyone reminds you a storm is coming. Weather. Adolescence. Armageddon. Zombies. Whatever. We are always on the brink of apocalypse. But then the rain stops. The sun comes out. Peace is negotiated. The undead never arrive.

Must we constantly live on eve of destruction? Or can we simply enjoy a few moments of boring, unspectacular, predictable routine?

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