Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCLV

I was standing backstage, patiently awaiting my turn when Mrs. Knapp tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Okay, it's time." A spotlight followed me as I approached the microphone.  Although it was dark in the auditorium, the light brightened the room just enough for me to get some idea of the size of the audience I was facing, but for some reason, the capacity crowd didn't scare me. I was aware of the fact that my words were intended to be somewhat humorous, but I must admit the elation I felt was indescribable when I heard the laughter and applause coming from the audience. I was seven years old. One more example:  Once  when I was a teenager, the youth of our church traveled to another city where we performed a little play about some criminals who were on death row. Each performer had written his/her own part, and the young lady who was up just ahead of me was portraying someone who had only two weeks to live. When she finished her part, there wasn't a dry eye in the building. Then it was my turn. I had only one week to live.  Without really intending to, I transformed the somber mood in that building to one of hilarity, and the tears turned to howls of laughter. That wasn't the way it was supposed to go, and no doubt my teacher had some regrets about letting us write our own monologue, but I must tell you, I left there feeling pretty good. As a young adult, I actually went on the road on a part-time basis, doing a comedy routine primarily for church parties and conventions, as well as company socials. My audiences ranged from as few as about twenty-five people, to crowds of more than a thousand, and through it all, I experienced the horrific feeling of trying to be funny while no one was laughing, as well as that rush I would get when people are laughing so hard they're peeing in their pants. Then one day it all changed. While I still enjoy making people laugh, the urge to get on stage as a comedian has left me, and when it did, it went far away.  Nobody is in a funny mood all the time, and I found myself in a position where I just couldn't get people to take me seriously.  I can recall times when I felt frustrated when I would crack a joke and the other person would just look at me like I was an idiot, but that can't hold a candle to the frustration I would feel when I was being serious and people thought I was trying to be funny. Since then there have been times when I've been asked to teach classes at church, and I've discovered a new type of rush....the one that comes when it's obvious that the people in the class are soaking up every word I have to say. If you read my Facebook posts, you know that I still try to make people at least smile at what I have to say, but please allow me to be serious sometime too. It's important to me. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCLIV

When it's done right, it can be one of the most pleasurable social activities around. But it has to be done right. The trouble is, it only takes one person who's not doing it right to mess it up for everyone else. There's an art to it, or maybe I should say a skill, and not everyone has the ability to to work it properly so that it becomes a pleasant experience for each person involved. Although it can be done without it, most people prefer to consume either food or beverages while engaging in this activity. Now that we're living in the age of computers, iPads and smart phones, I sometimes worry that fewer and fewer of us will develop the skills needed to enjoy this activity the way we used to. I'm talking about the art of verbal, face to face conversation. A few weeks ago, Angie and I were invited to join a group of about twenty or so people at a nice restaurant to celebrate the birthday of a good friend. After it was over and we were on our way home, we discussed what a good time we had had that night, but it was what we did while we were there that made it so much fun. We talked. All of us. But if I was to say that's all we did, I'd be guilty of leaving out one of the most important activities of the evening...the one thing that brought the perfect balance to the party...we listened. All of us. More than likely, if we were asked to define the term "conversation," the first thing that would come to our minds would be the word "talking," and that would be half correct. That's where it becomes an art or skill. If only one or two people are doing all the talking, it becomes a boring activity for the rest of the people involved. The other half of the definition of "conversation" is "listening." However, listening also requires a skill that not every person possesses. Here's the weird part: If the same people are forced to spend almost all of their time as the listeners, they begin to lose their listening skills, because too much listening brings on boredom, and at that point the listener's mind will begin to wander as he only pretends to listen. A good speaker will notice immediately when that happens as he detects that he is no longer connecting with the other parties involved. A good conversationalist will listen more than he speaks. I heard of one man who said a person can only acquire knowledge while he is listening, because he can only speak of that which he already knows. I agree, although I have heard people speaking about topics of which they know nothing. To a good listener, that will become obvious as well. Yes, there have been too many times when I've spoken when I should've been listening, but in most of those instances, I realized it immediately after the fact, and I promise you I'm working on it. I love parties, but if I have a choice between playing games or mingling with the crowd, I'll choose to mix and mingle every time, so I can work on perfecting my conversation skills. So when I come to your party, I primarily want to engage in conversation...and eat. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCLIII

Am I wrong for feeling like this? I hope not, because I don't know how I could change it. There's no doubt that many of you have the complete opposite view of this subject, and that's fine. I promise to not try to get you to change your opinion, but please allow me to describe my point of view and explain why I feel this way. I lost my dad when I was only thirty-five years old, and I took it hard. That was twenty-six years ago, and there's still not a day that goes by that I don't think about him and wish I could take one more trip with him. Then, in 2007, my mom passed away, leaving me longing for just one more morning of sitting on her back porch, drinking coffee, and watching the squirrels in her fig trees as they would pass up what looked to us like ideal figs just so they could get to what they perceived as the perfect piece of fruit. Grief came my way once again in 2010 as I learned first hand what it's like to lose a sibling when my younger brother lost his battle with cancer. I think pleasant thoughts of all three of them every single day, and I hold their memories dear to my heart. Their graves are all together, just a couple feet apart, in the Nebo Cemetery, not far from the home where I grew up. My sister still lives in the general area, and although I don't get over there as often as I would like, I do get to visit two or three times yearly; but when I do, I rarely visit the cemetery. It's probably safe to say that I only visit their grave sites about once a year. It sounds horrible, I know, but other than just making sure that everything still looks okay and no work needs to be done, I just don't see the need. I knew an elderly man who would visit his wife's grave every day, and he would take a chair with him and just sit there for at least an hour...sometimes all morning. That was his choice, and I have no criticism of his actions at all. I have heard of parents who would spend the night at the grave of their teenage child as they tried to come to grips with their unbearable loss. What right do I have to make even one negative comment about them? Here's my position: My loved ones are alive in my heart, in my memory, and I believe, in Heaven. It's my belief that when their lives ended, their spirits left their bodies; therefore, when I visit the cemetery, they are not there...I'm visiting no one. I believe that my body is just temporary housing for the real me, and when my body dies, I'm moving out. I know there are some who feel that a person's spirit may linger near the body, but I just don't see it that way. As long as I'm able, I will continue to make occasional trips to Nebo Cemetery, and just like I've done at times in the past, I'll take some tools along to make sure the graves are still looking good and everything is in order. Like I said earlier, I still have that longing to spend time with each one of them again, and I firmly believe it will happen, but it won't be at the cemetery. Preston

Thinking Out Loud, Volume CCCLII

There are two ways we can look at it, and there are valid points on both sides of the issue. I've heard the debates from both sides, and each side used Scripture to back up their arguments. We'll take a look at both sides, but first let me set the foundation so we'll have a better understanding as to why there's a debate in the first place. Every sound minded individual reaches a point in his/her life that's commonly referred to as "the age of accountability," which is a stage of life where an individual becomes responsible for his own decisions and actions, including securing his soul salvation. Small children naturally have not reached the age of accountability, and the majority of their decisions are made for them, usually by their parents. Consequently, those innocent little ones are often made to suffer due to the unwise actions of their caregivers. That leads to the question of just how much responsibility does society in general have in helping to provide for these children. (When I use the term "society," I'm referring to individuals who may choose to help on their on free will, not government aid.) Some may argue that our requirements are great, while others may be effective in pointing out that our responsibilities are much more limited, so that we don't teach them that if they fail to take care of themselves, someone else will do it for them. Let's examine the issue. There can be no argument on this point: Children have no say whatsoever as to what type of family they are born into. In that respect, fortune smiles on some, while others are most unfortunate. One of the most powerful passages of Scripture used in favor of offering our assistance to these needy children is found in Matthew 25:35-40, where Jesus told his followers that "I was naked and you didn't clothe Me, I was hungry and you didn't feed Me, and I was sick and in prison and you didn't visit Me." When they questioned Him about just when they had failed Him so miserably, He responded, in essence, that when they failed to provide those services to those around them, it was as if they were failing Him as well. Wow!! Those are some strong words! On the other end of the spectrum, there are some equally strong words that condemn a man who will not provide for his family. In fact, according to the Bible, that man is worse than an infidel. That, of course, is referring to adults, but what about the children who make up that man's family? Go to the seventh chapter of Joshua and read the story of Achan. He blatantly disobeyed a direct command and had to die as a result, but his entire family had to die with him, although they were innocent. Does that not also happen in our world today? How about the children who have to ride in a vehicle driven by an intoxicated parent? What about the kids left at home when Dad has to go to prison? Are they not, in their innocence, also forced to pay for the crimes of their parents? Now, during this season of giving when our thoughts turn to "love and good cheer," what are we supposed to do about those less fortunate, especially the children? Yes, it's true that children must also help pay for the sins of their parents, but don't they already do that on a daily basis anyway? And besides, who appointed me to be the judge? I must stop to consider just how many mistakes I've made in my own life, and, but for the grace of God, my kids could be suffering for my sins. Before I start throwing stones, I should recite the verse that says, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone." Or maybe I could read Matthew 7:1, "Judge not, lest you, too, be judged." In his Thanksgiving message, our pastor quoted a statistic that said if we have food on our table, spare change in our pockets, and any amount of money in our checking account, we are among the top six per cent of the wealthiest people on earth. We may not think we're rich, but we are. I urge each of you to find someone who needs help this Christmas season, and do what you can to make their Christmas just a little bit better. If you don't know of anyone in need, ask your pastor. Chances are, he'll know of several. Who knows, you may help change a life of some child for all of eternity. Preston