Made to Fade

 Made to Fade
Springtime pries green from winter’s frigid grip.
Snowy winter’s memories grow old.
White blankets fade, expose brown patches,
Create crystal freshets and lush carpets.
Blossoms scent the path to summer seasons:
Picnics, fireworks, and pools entice.
The last day of summer
Teases with a sunny smile,
The gentle touch of warming breeze,
And the lingering fragrance of new-mown grass
Still linger as pleasantries of passing days.
Daylight grows shorter
The nighttime becomes cooler.
Morning’s dew changes to light hoary frost
Hints of seasons to come.
Foliage dulls and changes hues:
Green to reds, yellows and oranges.
Trees blaze in autumn garments.
Frost thickens, leaves stop holding hands
Then brown and brittle, they fall to earth.

Snow returns. Summer memories fade and grow cold.

It’s in the Blood

 It’s in the Blood
I’ve been reading the book of Second Chronicles from the Bible in my morning devotions and it suddenly hit me with the amount of blood that was actually spilt to cover the sins of Israel and Judah especially at Passover time. At the first Passover there were approximately 600,000 Jews in Egypt and if one lamb or kid goat were to be sacrificed per family, a rough estimate would be about 50,000 animals were slaughtered. The blood was sprinkled on the header and the side posts of the door.The lamb or kid was to be roasted and eaten entirely by the family. If the family members were too small to eat the entire lamb, they were to share the sacrifice with another family.
The reason for the Passover was to avoid having the first born males of the Jewish families from being visited by the death angel. The killing of the firstborn male was the final plague imposed on Egypt because the Pharaoh hardened his heart and refused to let the Jews leave Egypt. At all homes from the slave’s hovel to the palace of the Pharaoh when the death angel did not see blood on the doorposts, he would slay the first born males.
In Chronicles chapter 29 king Hezekiah brought seven bullocks, seven rams, seven, lambs, and seven goats for a sin offering and the congregation brought seventy bullocks, one hundred rams, and two hundred lambs for a burnt offering as well as six hundred oxen and three thoousand sheep. The numbers were so large that the priests were too few and the Levites had to help with the sin sacrifices.
In chapter 35 of Chronicles, king Josiah gave flocks of lambs and goat kids and gave thirty-three thousand bullocks. His princes gave seven thousasnd small cattle and eight hundred oxen. It is hard for me to imagine the amount of blood that was shed just to cover their sins.
The Passover and the Passover Lamb pointed ahead to the death and ressurection of Jesus God’s one and only Begotten Son. The atonement for sin was found in the blood of Christ shed on the cross at Calvary. Jesus suffered and died to free mankind from torment in the eternal fires of Hell. Jesus bore the punishment for the world’s sins and left it hanging on the cross.
The gallons of animal blood only covered sins. The coverage was only temporary, but the blood shed by Jesus cleanses and washes away each man and woman’s sins for an eternity. Once for all for those who believe in Jesus and will accept God’s free gift of salvation.

 Mechanically Dyslexic
When my wife Cindy Morrison Beck was alive, she would comment on my mechanical skills saying thet I was mechanically retarded. I told her that I preferred to be called mechanically dyslexic. She wasn’t far from wrong. My brain was wired to be creative and not logical. My carpentry and electrical skills are minimal at best. I managed to install several ceiling fans in my home without setting a fire, blowing a fuse box, or electrocuting myself.
Yesterday was an example of my lack of mechanical dexterity. I accompanied a friend to West Virginia. She was to have a procedure that required anesthesia and she asked if I owould drive her back home afterward because she would not be allowed to drive for twenty-four hours. Because we are good friends, I readilly accepted. She drove ther truck down to the hospital because she likes to drive and sfter all, it was her truck.
When the procedure was over, I was told to go outside and fetch the truck. No big deal, right? But because I’d never driven her truck, I had to first adjust the seat. I couldn’t squeeze my long legs and chubby body beneath the steering wheel. Once that was accomplished, I looked at her keyring to find the magic key that would start her vehicle.
There were about ten keys hanging from the fob on a ring, most looked like house keys or keys to a padlock and none would fit into the trucks lock. I tried. I kept sorting through them, looking at the ring and the fob. There was nothing that resembled a key that would allow me to start the engine.
The starting system on my car was completely different. I needed to have my fob in my car with push button starter on my car’s dashboard and there was nothing that resembled a key or the push button start with her keyring. When I looked up, I could see her waiting in a wheelchair at the hospital’s entrance. With no other options, I decided to leave the truck, walk upa and ask her which key.
She had seen the truck hadn’t moved and was wondering why? When I handed her the keys, she pressed a small, unmarked raised chrome button on the fob and much to my surprise, a hidden key emerged like a miniature switchblade. I was thoroughly impressed. I’d never seen a key like that. The rest of the drive home was uneventful. We stopped for breakfast and chuckled at my mistake.

 Another Tie of the Month Club Member
Stephen, the summer intern at Mt. Zion Community Church has become a friend and as we’ve worked together on projects we talked and I shered the story of the tie of the month club I made for a friend another for his son. Steven thouht it was a cool idea and wanted one for one of hiis college buddies and the obliging person who loves to pass along a smile, I created another rendition.
I went on an excursion through my closet supply and selected the most out of date, most gaudy, and ugliest ties I could find at out of my own collection. I selected about thirteen of the most horrid ties I could find and gave them to Steven.
I advised him to wrap each tie individually to make the delayed agony of seeing each tie emerge last as long as possible. For each tie, I wrote a “cute” saying that described the tie and alternate uses for it. The printed monthly poem was to be cut and attached to each package. I think the first tie was for New Year’s Eve and was a print to echo the winter holiday. I can’t remember each tie and the sayings, but possibly for Independence Day, I remember offfering a red tie with red blue and white stripes. There was a different verse and tie for the different months.
There were wide ties, narrow ties, medium ties; ties with stripes, designs, or polka dots, but my favorite tie was a very narrow one. It was dark burgandy color with a shiny design woven into the fabric. It was probably in style when Bobby socks and the D. A. haircuts were the in things. It was so long ago that I can’t remember the words of the whole note, but I know the alternate suggestion I offered, if he didn’t want to wear it for a tie, was that he could keep it in his pocket when he was hunting and could use it to drag his deer out of the woods.
The accompanting letter went something like this: Dear sir; you have been enrolled in the “Tie of the Month Club” by a friend. We are sending all of the ties at once so we can keep the postage costs of our service to a minimum for all of our customers. We are relying on your honesty, integrity, and discretion that you only will open one package at a time for the months designated on the accompanying cards. Opening one at a time will enhance the gift and extend the joy of the gift. Thank you again for joining the “Tie of the month Club” and hope you will continue to be a satisfied customer. Sincerely John Doe, president.
The collection of ties and rhymes made Steven smile in anticipation of the surprise his buddy would get on receiving the package. Now all I have to do is wait to see how much the new member enjoys his membership.
Another Tie of the Month Club Member
Stephen, the summer intern at Mt. Zion Community Church has become a friend and as we’ve worked together on projects we talked and I shered the story of the tie of the month club I made for a friend another for his son. Steven thouht it was a cool idea and wanted one for one of hiis college buddies and the obliging person who loves to pass along a smile, I created another rendition.
I went on an excursion through my closet supply and selected the most out of date, most gaudy, and ugliest ties I could find at out of my own collection. I selected about thirteen of the most horrid ties I could find and gave them to Steven.
I advised him to wrap each tie individually to make the delayed agony of seeing each tie emerge last as long as possible. For each tie, I wrote a “cute” saying that described the tie and alternate uses for it. The printed monthly poem was to be cut and attached to each package. I think the first tie was for New Year’s Eve and was a print to echo the winter holiday. I can’t remember each tie and the sayings, but possibly for Independence Day, I remember offfering a red tie with red blue and white stripes. There was a different verse and tie for the different months.
There were wide ties, narrow ties, medium ties; ties with stripes, designs, or polka dots, but my favorite tie was a very narrow one. It was dark burgandy color with a shiny design woven into the fabric. It was probably in style when Bobby socks and the D. A. haircuts were the in things. It was so long ago that I can’t remember the words of the whole note, but I know the alternate suggestion I offered, if he didn’t want to wear it for a tie, was that he could keep it in his pocket when he was hunting and could use it to drag his deer out of the woods.
The accompanting letter went something like this: Dear sir; you have been enrolled in the “Tie of the Month Club” by a friend. We are sending all of the ties at once so we can keep the postage costs of our service to a minimum for all of our customers. We are relying on your honesty, integrity, and discretion that you only will open one package at a time for the months designated on the accompanying cards. Opening one at a time will enhance the gift and extend the joy of the gift. Thank you again for joining the “Tie of the month Club” and hope you will continue to be a satisfied customer. Sincerely John Doe, president.
The collection of ties and rhymes made Steven smile in anticipation of the surprise his buddy would get on receiving the package. Now all I have to do is wait to see how much the new member enjoys his membership.

 Your Cheatin Heart
“Your Cheatin Heart” was a popular song that filled the Country Western radio air waves at one time and my Mom Sybil Miner Beck would sometimes sing parts of that song when I was a child. It was brought to my mind because I had a restless night, waking everal times as I made an attempt to slumber. I couldn’t get the pillow adjusted comfortably under my head. The temperature dropped outside and the breeze through the open window strengthed so I had to get up to partially close window. My hip began to ache as I tried to sleep on my side and was forced adjust my position several times. The ceiling fan was running too fast and the breeze from the whirling blades chilled my feet and the covering blanket was either too warm or wasn’t heavy enough.
Another partial lyric section of Your Cheatin’ Heart talks about a restless night and that is what I had. Aalthough I didn’t walk the floor and my tears didn’t fall like rain, I was wakened several times to adjust the comfort level off something. I didn’t cry and cry as the song’s lyrics describe, but all through the night each attempt to stay asleep failed and aonther part of the lyrics would manifest itself with “but sleep won’t come the whole night through,” One irritating thing after another decided to visit to keep me out of slumberland and looking in.
I tossed and turned seeking that sweet spot where I could drift to a night of restful sleep, but it failed. Too often other irriatants intruded seeking my attention. I am sure naptime will come early today. I hope my reclining chair will be more restful.

 Are We Ever Satisfied
    Too dry, too wet, too hot, too cold; are we ever satisfied? Not enough money, too busy, bored; do we ever have enough? Worse than that, are we ever just thankful? When our needs are met, do we want more? It’s like when we’re eating and there is one slice of pot roast or a few small potatoes left, even though we’re feeling full, do we sit there wondering, “That was so tasty, maybe…” Then we decide, “I can’t let that go to waste” and it goes to our waist instead. We push away from the table, waddle over to the sofa, and collapse in a stupor, wondering why we’re so tired.
    In America, too many have so much and yet we are so ungrateful, unthankful for what we have. In many places, food, water, and adequate housing are just a dream. They don’t want equality; they want a chance to earn what we have so abundantly available. I know that there are children that go to bed hungry, according to government statistics, but with food kitchens, food pantries, and welfare, that should already be addressed.
    There was a time when churches handled these needs, but more and more the government has stepped in with so many rules and regulations, it nearly impossible for them to function. Churches kept tabs on the people who really had a need discernong those who choose not to work and refusing to try and lift themselves out of poverty. They knew the destitute from the lazy. The churches meted out chaarity to meet the needs of the needy.
    The government stepped in, always thinking that it could do better. There is so much waste and inefficiency of the bureaucracy that much of the resources are lost and fed back to the federal system. The government has taken the place of the “bread winners” and “fathers” to single parent homes. Often the money distributed to feed the children goes to alcohol, tobacco, and drugs. The local communities had a better handle on these situations and wouldn’t have allowed the abuse that is rampant today.

 Busy Hot Summer Days Simmer
It has been hot the past few days and those who predict the weather say there is a long stretch ahead. It always seems that the pace of my life quickens as the heat rises, although I’ve had plenty of things to keep me busy in the winter.
The volunter work at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society and the monthly meetings are only one part of it. I am editor of their newsletter and imagining ideas for the articles are scarce. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m being lazy or if my brain is running in neutral.
The Mount Zion Community Church is getting ready for vacation Bible school. The theme for the program will be the farm. I have been helping to create barnyard scenes for the auditorium and several classrooms. Some of the decorations were reused from past years, while other items are erected from cardboard, two by fours, paint, papier mache, and milk jugs. Some props are on loan from the congregation to try to give the feeling of being in a barn or on a farm. All sorts of animals peer out from stalls, cluster at chicken coops, or raom the classrooms. They aren’t ignoring the fields of corn, grain, sunflowers, or stacks of hay. One thing I am grateful for is that the areas are air conditioned. Yesterday I helped for a short time to replace ceiling tile in the gym and the gym isn’t air conditioned. I was glad when I left the last few replacement panels to others.
Today there is a workday at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society located in Stahlsrown. We are still sorting the contents of twelve boxes of binders, photographs, and documents donated by the family of a member who is deceased. Once they are reviewed, they must be asessioned to facilitate retrieval in the future. It does no good if we have an item and can’t find it. Many of those documents are family histories, cemetery lists, and obituaries. All must be added to our inventory.