Is Anybody Else Under Attack…or is it Just Me?

My crazy life has been some kind of crazy on steroids lately. March and the early part of April were a bit slow. I’ve been needing that to get caught up from the Christmas rush that lasted into February.

But, last week was one I’d rather not repeat any time soon.

I volunteered to help with some Easter preparations at church. That was fun on Saturday.

Then I woke up on Sunday morning as usual at 6:20 am. There was a meeting scheduled that afternoon so I didn’t get that nap I really should have taken then.

Sunday evening I headed north to Tulsa, OK. The trip up was fairly smooth, mostly because it was during the dead of night.

Monday’s return trip was another story. The closer I got to Dallas the heavier the traffic got.

By the time I got on the Central “Expressway” traffic came to a standstill. Made me wonder who names these roads anyway?

Fortunately I’m legally allowed to go over my 14 hour work limit once a week. I used it up on Monday and prayed for a productive rest of my week.

I was close to the thirty hours awake mark when I left work and headed home. About halfway there that little noise Clifford started complaining about got very loud just before it went quiet.

When the steering of my van got difficult I was pretty sure what happened. One of the pulleys for the serpentine belt gave up the ghost.

I limped the old van into a car parts store parking lot and popped open the hood.

Keep in mind Clifford is 17 years old. That about 97 in human years.

The pulley in question was on top so it was easy to reach. The weather was warm and dry, not my usual working conditions for a breakdown.

The first thing I did was go inside to make sure they carried said part for my elderly vehicle. They did. I bought one right then and there.

After I got the old part off I discovered the center piece needed to be separated from the pulley. Since they’re designed to fit very tightly I knew this would be a challenge getting them apart.

I thinks to myself…if these guys have some way to get these apart with a nifty tool they may have pity on me and help a feller with an elderly van out.

The guy in the white shirt at the counter looks at my dilemma for a few seconds before he heads to the shop and shows it to his tech…what used to be known as a mechanic back when Clifford was young.

The white-shirt fella walks back in and hands me the part back. “It’s all one piece. You have to buy the right part.”

It was at that moment I was definitely glad I decided to fix this myself. Perhaps if they had mechanics on duty I would have been better off.

I picked up a chisel and hammer and worked methodically on those two pieces until they indeed separated.

I spent about as much time attempting to show the white-shirted nit-wit the two thingies in my hand, but he stealthily avoided me.

I put the new pulley on then tried to route the new belt through the entire series of pulley thingies. It was too long.

If I had been awake I probably would have said something I would have later regretted.

I looked all over Clifford’s hood area for a diagram of how this contraption was supposed to go back together. Nothing.

After returning the useless belt I showed the back counter guy that it was longer than the old belt. He gave me my money back.

I walked a half block away to the next car parts store. Not my usual luck with a breakdown. Their belt was too long, too.

I popped Clifford’s hood back up and searched more diligently. There that pesky diagram was…right under those two water hoses running over the radiator. Finally, something worked out as it usually does during a breakdown…I wasted time looking for something too obvious.

So, the nit-wit working on my van goes back in and re-buys that belt that was too long.

After a day and a half I was able to go back to sleep.

Fast forward to Tuesday night. I’m driving back from Houston. It’s pitch black out. I catch a glimpse of something off to my right just before the loudest sound I’ve ever heard while driving a big rig.

I expect to see the windshield in cubes. It isn’t. I look to the right side of the glass and discover an egg struck me just above the wiper.

I quickly review my memory banks for where I was just before this bridge for that to fall off from…no vehicles carrying chickens right in front of me.

So then I surmise some guesses. It could have been the Easter bunny practicing throwing eggs to speed up his hiding efforts…or mayhaps he wanted that carrot I was eating at the time…or it could have been juvenile delinquents having “fun.”

I decided that since I could see to drive I’d keep going without attempting to smear it off with that strip of rubber just below the point of impact.

I drove about a half an hour to the next truck stop. One fuel island is actually open…not my usual luck when I pull in for fuel. I attempt to get some paper towel from the denspenser on the post…nothing. I step over to the next one…paper towels come out for five movements of the little handle pointing out at me…I’m at the end of the roll.

Twelve inches of paper towel will have to be enough. I don’t have 14 hours to invest in correcting some idiots’ fun.

Jesus warned me each day would have troubles of its own. He didn’t promised me they wouldn’t come stacked on top of one another, too.

It’s all working together for good…somehow. The Bible promises me that much…not that it will make sense in this life.

By the time I get to heaven it won’t matter anyhow, so come quickly Lord Jesus…before the next egg is hard boiled.


Keep smiling.   Wade

Is it high-purr-bowl-ee or Hyperbole?

Jesus was a master jokester in my book. He was in His book, too. Let me explain…

We’re working our way through the book of Matthew in our church, Yeah, there are still churches that teach from the Bible. Especially the one where Chuck Swindoll is the senior pastor.

We just covered the end of chapter 19 this week. The story of the rich young ruler was covered last week.

I know…I know, it’s all the same chapter, but when you need to make too many points for your listeners you break it down into more bite-sized pieces…especially when Chuck Swindoll is the senior pastor.

For a refresher for those of you who haven’t read that section of scripture in a while…or a fresher for those of you who ain’t never read it, yet.

That rich young punk ruler kid comes to Jesus and asks Him what he must DO to get into heaven.

Jesus lists off some of the the commandments.

The kids checks them off as Jesus lists them. “Okay, got it! I’m good to go then.”

Jesus knew this guy wasn’t being totally truthful when he said he ain’t never lied…especially when he just said he never lied just now.

Then Jesus turns this kid’s world upside-down by telling him he has to sell off all of his do dads in order to see His Dad.

The guy was watching his toes as he walked away.

If Jesus wasn’t making such a serious point His next statement would have been hilarious.

Yeah, the camel going through the eye of a needle hyperbole. Remember, with God all things are possible. Even large animals squeezing through a tiny space.

It’s not that rich folks can’t get into heaven. The point is that it’s more difficult for them cuz they trust their own success too much to trust that they need to trust anybody else for nuthin’.

Trust me…there’s a point there somewhere.

Jesus later explained that the road into heaven is on the straight and narrow way. Apparently it’s so narrow we all have to squeeze through the eye of a needle.

Don’t worry…with God all things are possible. Don’t keep forgetting that one point and your life will make much more sense.

Apparently Jesus fit through the keyhole of a locked door to see the disciples after His resurrection so just chill. God has this covered. Trust Him!

Since a hyperbole is an exaggeration to make a point, not to be taken literally, don’t sweat too many details here.

Like I said, God’s got this. He has all your other problems under control, too…even those imaginary ones.

Yep…I’m back to that trust thing again.

Worry is you taking control of things you don’t need to have in the first place.

Trust is you giving God control of everything in your life…and the things in other folks’ lives, too, while we’re at it.

That rich young punk kid thought he had everything under his control, too.

Just remember, you don’t call the shots. God does.

Don’t keep forgetting that one point and your life will be better in the long run…all the way to eternity.

Keep smiling.   Wade