Poor Amanda

Amanda had her first wrestling match with Jake late last night. She
went to let little Sophie out. Jake, terrified at the storm, came
charging in.

With a fearless heart, Amanda grabbed hold of his collar as he tried
to run by. He was wet, cold, and determined, but worst of all, he was
big, almost as big as petite Amanda. The two of them wrangled to a
draw.

John heard her screaming his name and went running to the rescue. He
gave her pointers on how to be more aggressive in dealing with Jake.

Speaking of wrestling, I'm in hand to hand combat with the past. My
quasquicentenniel research is almost done. The next round involves
verifying facts, a tedious task for sure. Digging up bones.

Backache

My back hurts. I wish I could say I was doing something spectacular
when it happened. Truth is, I was getting up out of a chair and felt
something slip. Didn't hurt too bad at the time, but it's barking at
me loud and clear.

I am taking ibuprofen. Surely the person who invented that wonder
drug is lounging on a beach in Destin sipping lemonade. He or she
deserves unlimited access to Fort Knox.

At the time of my disablement I was quasquitizing. When I get serious
about the church history research, I become totally absorbed in it,
obsessed if you will. Good sitting posture gets forgotten. Not good.

My good friend, Dr. Bruce Chesser, Pastor at Geyer Springs in Little
Rock, has resigned to become Pastor at FBC Hendersonville TN, one of
the largest churches in our Southern Baptist Convention. I am prouder
than a peacock. I wish him Godspeed.

Trampoline

I have lost four pounds in the last few days. My new friend is the
trampoline. I have spent two hours over the last two days on it.

My grandson Sam has few things he truly enjoys. One of them is
jumping on the trampoline. Lately he has been wanting someone to jump
with him.

I am torn. I hate trampolines, but love my grandson. It didn't take
long to make that decision. I am glad no one sees me out there.

The only maneuver I have mastered is plopping backward on my fanny and
then jumping back up. To be totally honest, I end up on my backside
more often than I bounce to my feet. Don't laugh. Those goofy moves
are burning calories.

Tomatoes

I am addicted to them, especially to fresh ones just picked. Every
produce stand I pass, it takes every ounce of resistance I can muster
to keep going.

And when I do stop, I have to fight the urge to suddenly bite into the
tomato and eat it like an apple. When God thought of a tomato, He had
a wonderful thought. In fact, I think I saw a tomato in the frig last
night. I feel dessert for breakfast coming.

Ian (age 4) witnessed yesterday to Lilly Ruth (age 2). "Jesus died on
Friday for you, Lilly. He came back to life on Sunday.". He then
burst into song, "Our God is an awesome God..."

Newlyweds Home

John and Amanda are home from their honeymoon. They seem to be
giddily happy. We are thrilled. A major test looms before them.
Will Amanda's indoor dog mesh well with John's two outside dogs? I
will keep you posted.

Where were you forty years ago tonight? After church that Sunday
night, our youth group came to the house to watch the first walk on
the moon. The whole world was mesmerized. It seemed time stood still
and the world was at peace for one brief breath-taking moment.

I am researching my predecessors. Pastors of Second numbers two,
three, and four will be the focus of my history work this week.

Quasquilizationalism

Spent the whole workday yesterday working on the book I am writing for
our church's 125th anniversary, its quasquicentennial. I'm beginning
to obsess over it.

People asked what I was doing. I said I was quasquilizing. What's
wrong with me? My mind is leaving me.

As the day progressed I kept thinking of more words I could create in
honor of our church's anniversary. Quasquimortis--numbness in the
hand due to writing too long and too fast. Quasquinalysys--thinking
too hard trying to ananlyze where to find a key tidbit of history.

Quasquitude--gratitude for having the privilege to write this book.
Quasquileged--privileged to be the Pastor at Second. Quasquimazed--
stunned at God's amazing grace to our church.

The QuasquiEnd.

Fantasy

I'm glad the All-Star break is over. Now we can return to real
baseball. Go Cardinals. For decades I had little interest in the
game, but now I find myself returning more and more to my first sports
love.

Much of this renewed interest is due to Albert Pujols. I can't
remember anyone dominating the first half of a season like he has thus
far this year.

When I was a boy living at 1040 S. Sprigg in Cape Girardeau during the
early 1960s, I would play baseball for hours. Alone. I would hit
monster home runs, watch the invisible ball fly hundreds of feet, hear
the silent deafening roar of the crowd, and then slowly circle the
bases in my back yard as the applause thundered.

Micky Mantle and Willy Mays, my heroes, hit over 500 home runs
apiece. I did too. All of them in my backyard.