Author: Darvin

Great Scott! Hello! Glad you came by! I hope that good things have been happening for you. In case you don’t get the Great Scott thing… It’s a saying Clark Kent’s (Superman) editor use to say.

Going to spring something new on you in this post. Instead of a story or a regular post… No. Uh uh. Not a campaign speech. Did I imagine somebody saying a sales pitch? Please, no! -A new recipe for peanut butter nachos? I wonder what that would taste like. Are you kidding?! Ugh! Let me get back to something that doesn’t have too much of a bad taste in it. Let me introduce to you Homemade Quotes and Wisdoms.

And they go something like this…

1.) If you think before you speak, you might just stop yourself from saying the wrong thing. But in case you do ever say something without thinking, don’t forget to look surprised.

2.) Love is something that spoils when its hoarded. But never perishes when its shared.

3.) The harder thing is not proving to people that God is real, but that He loves them.

4.) Handling boiling anger without patience is like trying to handle a ferocious tiger without any protection.

5.) Free advice is only useful when it doesn’t have any hidden costs.

6.) Keep a mirror handy, just in case you want to look at someone God cares about.

7.) Be careful what you think. Because if one bad thought makes it all the way to our hands, or feet, or vocal chords, it could end up being a disaster.

8.) There’s nothing wrong with thinking out loud, just as long as we don’t say anything worth listening to.

9.) We can never fail if we never try. But if we try and then fail, we could succeed in learning about trying not to fail.

10.) The victories we experience in life belongs to God. The joy of those victories is our portion.

11.) Once we speak in anger, it’s about as hard as stuffing a watermelon into a Coke bottle, trying to get those words back into our mouth.

12.) Yesterday was a gift, today is a bonus, and tomorrow is a dream come true.

If I took a quiz on these twelve homemade quotes and wisdoms, to see how many I can remember, I think I might just pass. I was paying attention while I was typing. But I’ll be honest. I think I would pass only if everything I just typed were still on my screen when I took the quiz.

I’ll be back on the keyboard Friday, typing for Saturday’s post. I can’t thank you enough for taking time out to read this post.

I hope that no matter what, God never ever stops blessing you. Be well. B. Y. E.

Big greetings from D. Typing Fingers! I hope Friday went according to your plans.

Got a hot off the presses subject for you to have a good stare at today. I’ll try to keep this post reading ride on the smoother side of the road. Please adjust your chair for maximum reading comfort. Aaaand we’re off!

Have you ever thought about what comes after a broken promise? Now hold that pose for a moment. Before we climb that brain twister… I think it might be a good idea to take a peek at what makes a promise something we should be able to take to the bank and open a line of credit with.

I don’t mind getting a little help with answering this question. Because I believe that answering this question is going to require a little heavy lifting. It’s one of those five hundred pound questions for sure. So don’t forget to bend your knees and keep you back straight before you start thinking up an answer.

In ancient history a promise came in the form of words coming out of a person’s mouth, saying that they were giving their personal guarantee, that whatever they said they would do or wouldn’t do would take place. Making a promise, now as well as way back then, was the same thing as giving someone your word.

I think that there are basically two things in a promise that makes a promise worthy of trust. -That would be a person’s reputation for being trustworthy, and their having a good reputation for completing their promises.

I’d say that’s about five hundred pounds worth of lifting, wouldn’t you say? Can I get an alright? Maybe’s are welcome too!

You know, I don’t know why, but if you’ll check it out, you’ll probably find that many of the cultures in the world rely on a promise as something that they should be able to count on. I’m real sure of that. -And that almost everyone will agree that people should not make promises they cannot keep.

Just think. Promises are made week in and week out around the world. Some promises have been termed empty promises, some are known as shallow promises, and some are known as solemn promises. Let’s take an x-ray view of the first two. But now don’t be amazed. Each of these two negative kinds of promises are bona fide promises, because I promise is the exact words the promise-er would be using. Fun fact for ya. The truest promise is always the promise that is kept.

Speaking of which, I’d like to say that the solemn promise, without a doubt, would be the one I would bet my money on. This would be the promise given by someone who would get genuinely remorseful and restless if they couldn’t fulfill their promise to someone. Okay, now we can get back to the other two.

An empty promise? What’s that sound like? I’m glad to tell you that this question has a very easy answer. It sounds like a person giving out a promise they have no real intention of ever keeping. Warning! Promises of this kind are frequently used by scam artist and romantic hustlers asking for favors.

A shallow promise? A shallow promise is like an empty promise, but it is put together a little bit differently. It is a promise that is made by the promise-er, counting on whenever whatever the promise-ee is due, they will be able to lean on the mercy of the promise-ee to accept a new promise to fulfill the prior promise they haven’t kept. Oh, and I forgot to mention. Both shallow and empty promises are often accessorized with convenient excuses and ghosting options.

Hey. I confess. I’ve made promises before. And I fully understand that not all promises are easy to keep, and that things don’t always go the way we would like them to. When things don’t go right for us, I do realize that our plans have to change, and our promises have to be put on hold. At such times we need to ask for mercy, and work it out with the people we’ve promised, as to how we intend to complete our promise to them.

I must sound like I’m typing everywhere but at the point of all of this. Sorry about that. I know I’m not creeping up on the point I’m trying to make fast enough. What I’m building up to is I just want to say that we should be careful making promises. Maybe try keeping our promises a little smaller, or not promise at all, or leave promising at just I’ll try.

People judge us about how well we keep our word, right? Every time we say we promise, we put our reputation for meaning what we say on the line. Believe you me, I’m a big fan of keeping my promises. It defines a good size portion of my character for really!

Let me just stop right here a second. I’ll bet you thought I forgot about my question asking about what comes after a broken promise, huh? I didn’t too much. Well kinda more than not too much. More like… …Sigh… I’ll fess up. Yeah, I forgot. I happened to catch my fault when I was proof reading this post. You’re not going to ruin my career by telling my editor, are you? Big thanks! I owe you one.

Okay. After the first time somebody breaks a promise to someone, without a good reason, I think it would cause the promise-ee to harbor a doubt about the promise breaker’s sincerity. That would be strike one. Breaking a second promise in a row, to the same person, without a good reason, is sure to get them all the way to mistrust. And strike three…? To tell you the truth, it’s pretty much a two strike system at this point. But let me tell you about God’s promises in a blink. He’s never broken one of His promises yet!

Ooops. It’s that time. Thanks for stopping by and reading! May your day be super blessed! B. Y. E.

Hello Reader! I hope that you are doing well enough to smile and wink.

Got a great story for you to look at today. Okay. Maybe I’m rating this story wee bit higher than you would. Truth of fact is, I am more interested in your opinion of this story more than mine own. But my goal is to write stories that we can both enjoy. That really matters a whole lot to me.

Uh hum. This is me just trying to keep it real with ya. Okay. Let’s get cracking. …Let me just put on my typing fingers, and away we gooo!

“Seven oh three…  Seven oh seven…  Seven oh eleven…  There it is Rayford!  Seven oh fifteen,” Lenny Caruso points out to his co-worker.  

Lenny is new to the delivery game, but was physically fully equipped to handle a hundred pound piece of cargo with ease. To be only twenty years old, he looked like a rugged dock worker of thirty-five, wearing a company logo-ed cap and T-shirt, blue jeans and work boots.

“Yeah Lenny. Keep cool. I see the address.” Rayford assured Lenny.

Rayford Jackson was a long timer at the delivery game, and was of such size and power as to make Lenny look like a smaller version of himself. He was dressed the very same as Lenny, but was the driver/foreperson on the delivery truck. Lenny took his cue from Rayford to keep cool. He sat back in his seat and waited for the delivery truck to come to a stop.

After Rayford brought the truck to a stop, he unbuckled his seat belt. “Okay Lenny. Let’s hurry this up. It’s our last delivery.  So you go get the delivery ready and I’ll head up to the front door and get the customer.”  “Sure thing Rayford.  No problem.  But hey Ray.  Before you turn off the motor…  Do you think anybody lives here?”

“Why do you say that Lenny?” Rayford said, and gave the house a better inspection. From what Rayford was looking at, Lenny didn’t have to say another word.

The house had that thirty year abandoned look to it. The yard was nothing but dirt and weeds.  All the windows were cracked and dirty. The roof had lots of shingles missing, and all of the house’s paint was cracked and peeling.  Rayford nodded his agreement. “You might be right Lenny.  It doesn’t look like anybody has lived here for a really long time. But the paperwork does say seven oh fifteen, so we gotta check it out.  You know how dispatch is. You know they’re gonna ask if we tried to see if anybody is home.”  “Yeah I know.  But Ray.  How about we say we tried and just head on back to the warehouse?”

Rayford made a sour face. “Lenny.  Are you serious? You should know by now that I have to enter our arrival time into the company scanner. So if the customer is here, he’s going to say he was home at 4:33 pm, but we never came by.” Lenny’s eyes got big. “Oh yeah Rayford, I forgot!”  “Oh yeah, you sure did!  Man, you should know better after two weeks on the job.  So let’s go.”

Both men got out of the truck, but Lenny met Rayford at the front of the truck. Lenny was curious to know something. “So, should I go ahead and get the freight off the truck now Ray?”  “Naw.  Just get it ready to move.  I’ll go see what’s going on.”  “You got it man,” Lenny said, and went to the back of the truck.  Rayford gets to the front door and rings the doorbell. After three more tries, and twelve seconds later, Rayford says to himself, “Of course the doorbell don’t work.”  Knock!!!  Knock!!!  Knock! 

     Five more seconds of silence goes by.  Knock Knock, Knock!!!! 

Rayford looks at his watch to see if he was at the second where he should be all out of patience. Oddly enough, he saw that he was running three seconds late. Then and there he decides that he needed to call for backup.

    “Hey Lenny!  C’mere a minute!”  “Be right there Ray!”  Five seconds later Lenny reaches the front door.  “Yeah, what’s up.”  “I can’t get anybody to come to the door. So why don’t you go round back and see if you can see anybody?”  Lenny hunched his shoulders and asked, “Why?  We can just take a look in the front windows.”  “Good idea Len. Go ahead and take a look in the front windows then.”  By this time, Rayford didn’t really care if they found anyone at home or not, because the customer was down to his last chance.

Lenny took a look in two front windows, on either side of the house and reported. “All I can see is a lot of empty dirty nuthin in there Ray.  …No furniture, no people, no nuthin.  C’mon, let’s go man.  We’re just wasting time.”

     “You might be right bout that Len.” Then he thought to ask, “What was we suppose to deliver here anyway?”  Lenny lit up with good humor. “Ray. You ain’t gonna believe this. It’s a gas-powered, air-conditioned dog house–so it says on the box.”  “A what?!!” Rayford blurted out.  “Yeah, that’s what I said.  But so help me, I’ll give up drinking beer if I’m lying.”  That was all Rayford needed to hear.

“That’s it man!  We’re so outta here!  Go close the door on the truck Lenny.  I’ll call dispatch and tell them that somebody’s pulling our leg.”  “Sounds good to me.  Let’s go,” Lenny agreed.

Before either man could take more that five steps away from the house, the front door slowly opens, and a German Shepard dog appears in the doorway wagging his tail.  Lenny and Rayford both turn together expecting to see the customer, take one look, cross their arms, and Rayford says, “Lenny. Now I know that that dog is not our customer. But no one else is here except him. So you wanna tell me what I’m looking at?”  “Uh… It is a dog. And as far as I can see, he just opened up the front door by himself.” 

Both men took their eyes away from the dog a second to look at each other. “Lenny. Man don’t start joking around with me about that dog being our customer. I just ain’t in the mood.” Lenny chuckles really low in his throat. “C’mon Ray. We have an air-conditioned dog house to delivery, and the dog is right here.” Lenny couldn’t hold his hilarity in any longer, and let his laughter loose. Rayford, on the other hand, was still all business.

“You’re getting real close to getting on my last nerve rookie,” Rayford gritted out. We need to wrap this thing up. The owner must be in the house somewhere.  I don’t know why I’m talking to myself. Hello!  Parcel Shipment Couriers!  Is anybody home?!”   

The dog barks once, but Rayford and Lenny didn’t hear anybody say anything from inside the house. “I don’t hear nobody,” Lenny stated. “Me neither Lenny.”  Not wanting to waste a second, Rayford decided to try again. “Hello, is anybody home?!  We got a delivery!”  The dog barks again one time. “Rayford.  This is getting a little bit too weird.  Let’s go.”  “I’m with you Lenny.  We’re outta here.”  

Lenny and Rayford turn and start walking to the truck. The dog remains in the doorway, but starts barking at the two deliverymen as though he were trying to get their attention, and then they hear, “Hey guys, what about my dog house?”

Lenny and Rayford freeze in their tracks, and then turn around in perfect unison to look at the latest miracle in the world.  “Rayford did you just hear that dog say something?”  “I better not had,” Rayford said with uncertainty. “Cause dogs don’t talk, and I don’t ever drink so much that I would ever believe otherwise.” 

Lenny nodded, but said, “I hear you Ray. But look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t just hear that dog say to us hey guys, what about my dog house? ”  “Maybe,” Rayford said, hunching his shoulders.  “But let’s just leave it at maybe and get the you know what outta Dodge City pronto!”  The two men turn once again to leave.  -This time in more of a hurry.

“Excuse me!  What about my dog house!”  The two delivery men, by pure reflex, turn around and freeze once again.  “Aw for the love of…  Lenny.  That dog is talking to us!  Go talk to him,” Rayford instructs Lenny.  “Me?  You’re the foreman.”  “That’s right Mr. Lenardo Enrique Caruso, I am the head dude on this job.  And I’m telling you go check out the dog or I’ll write you up for something.”  “No problem.  I’ll go get you a pen,” Lenny said with pleasure.  

     Rayford frowns.  “Alright alright.  We’ll both go and check this dog out.”  

     Both men start moving towards the dog, when a man comes out of the house with a hilarious grin.

“Hi guys.  I’m Edward Rosen, and you guys were just great!”  Rayford and Lenny looked at the man with a feel that they were in the middle of a scam in progress. Rayford took the lead talking to the man. “Excuse us.  Are you the man that ordered the dog house we got on the truck?”  “That I am.”  “Yes sir.  Well look sir.  Would you mind telling us what the heck this is all about?”  “Sure.  But turn around first and look up in the tree,” Mr. Rosen said merrily.  

     Edward Rosen was all smiles and full of good cheer. He looked like Santa Clause’s cousin, with a big stomach, white beard, half circle glasses, wearing a pool side shirt, shorts and sandals. Rayford and Lenny stopped looking at Mr. Rosen, to swing their eyes around to look up and see a boy with a cell phone waving at them.  …And the light of understanding started to dawn on the two deliverymen.  “So this is all a set up?” Rayford asked.  “Yes, in a way.”  Rayford and Lenny were both clenching their jaws at hearing this. Rayford was the first to go vocal about what Mr. Rosen was saying. “In a way? Mr. Rosen, I don’t mean to be rude, but you got exactly fifteen seconds to tell me you that you didn’t get us out here so you could pull a joke on us.”

“No. Not really.”  Rayford and Lenny put on a united frown. Rayford had finally had enough. “Mr. Rosen, you’re fifteen seconds is just about up.”  “Okay.  Yes I ordered the dog house for my dog Greely, here.  But I also had this wonderful idea of making a video and sending it to America’s Funniest Home Videos.”  “I see,” Rayford said with exasperation.  He was trying very hard not to let himself think too loud. So he decided to let his manager handle Mr. Rosen when he got back to the warehouse and formally complain. Until then, he had a job to do. “Lenny, please go and get Mr. Rosen’s dog house.”  “Okay Ray.” 

Lenny knew better to say to Mr. Rosen what he was thinking. So he hurried off to get Greely his dog house.

While Lenny was gone, Rayford prepared his scanner to scan the dog house’s shipping box. -Taking more time than was necessary to do it. On the council of his own advice, he thought it best to say as little as possible to Mr. Rosen, The Dog House Whisperer. But the Dog House Whisperer didn’t seem to want to completely share Rayford’s vow to be silent.

No more time than it took for Lenny to reach the sidewalk, Mr. Rosen was reaching into his shirt pocket to retrieve a letter sized envelope. Without hesitation he handed it over to Rayford.  Not wanting to be a part of any other jokes Mr. Rosen was cooking up, he declined to reach for the envelope, but respectfully asked. “What’s this for?”

Mr. Rosen was all smiles and delight when he replied. “It’s a hundred dollars.” “What for?” Rayford asked with suspicion. To which Mr. Rosen replied, “It’s just something I want to give you for being a good sport. And don’t worry. The moment your helper went back to the truck, the boy I paid to make my video stopped taping.”

The boy in the tree was an athletic teenager, who was camouflaged by the tree’s leaves. But he had pulled back the leaves enough, so that he could show Rayford his cell phone, so that he could see that the screen was off. The envelope was still being offered. 

A memory went through Rayford’s mind right then, urging him to take the envelope from the Dog House Whisperer. It was a saying he had been taught a long time ago. He thanked Mr. Rosen for his generosity, patted Greely on the head, and then recited it for Mr. Rosen. “Mr. Rosen. I just want to say thanks for helping me remember that a customer’s tip is always right.“

Hi! Welcome ta Hoot and Holler Saturday! I hope you’re rating no less than a ninety-nine point-nine on the good health-o-meter.

Hey! The Italian sounding fella I left in charge to kick off last Tuesday’s post was really me auditioning to get a job on this website as a substitute blogger. The job pays absolutely nothing. But I decided to audition anyway. All I had to do was impersonate myself talking with a Rocky Balboa accent, while pretending to be me and myself at the same time.

In the end, I really couldn’t tell how the audition went. Nobody ever called to tell me if I got the job or not. But I really did my best. I practiced a couple of times in the mirror. But I don’t think I was all that good. But one thing I do know for sure. I couldn’t tell anybody which I was worse at. -Playing the role of the impersonator or the impersonated! Have you ever had this problem? Oh, so it’s just me huh? I kinda thought so. Blog 101 leaving for paragraph #4. All aboard.

Ever heard of the term user friendly? I’d be willing to bet all of my best socks that you have. Well maybe not the new ones. But let’s take a closer look at the term user friendly, and see if it could mean something entirely different.

User. I think a user is a person who regularly uses up other people’s personal valuables. -Like their car, their tools, their time, their money, their bodies, or even just their physical help. And, wait for it! They give back very little, if anything, in return.

Now lean in a bit closer to your screen, because I’m about to tell you something that’s probably never been discussed on the six o’clock news. Ready? Good. Here it goes. Users are good at using because they are good at being friendly. Gasp! Dun dun dun dunnnnnn! Nooo way! Yes way!!!

Users are very friendly people! They are more than willing to share with you their saddest life stories of financial woes, and flatter you like you were the kindest most unselfish person they have ever met. Until… Dun dun dun dunnnnn! I wish you could hear this sound effect. It’s so cool. It makes you think something is about to happen. Anyway… Where was I? Oh yeah. Dun dun dun dunnnnnn! Cool, right?

For convenience sake, I’ll refer to my little sound effect, from now on, as DDDD. This sound effect should go off in your head the moment you realize that the person you’re talking to is the kind of person that borrows often, and rarely, if ever, pays you back. -Or you should hear DDDD when they keep coming at you with their problems, that can be easily fixed, if you would only just help them out with a one time short time loan. -Or hear DDDD when they borrow something of yours, break it or lose it, and then never can quite manage to replace it. These are just a few situations where you should be able to hear DDDD the loudest and the clearest when talking to a user.

One of the best ways to spot a user is by just listening to them talk. They can find some of the cleverest ways to introduce some of the greatest hard luck stories you have ever heard of, into an unrelated conversation. Stories so believable they will make you feel like getting a Salvation Army donation kettle and ring a charity bell up and down a crowded street.

Now. Let me take my foot off the gas for a moment, and slow it down a bit. Users are people that want to fix their lives by manipulating people into giving them whatever they think they can get to keep their lifestyle going.

The help they want from a person usually doesn’t include much of their own self contribution. And so… We might as well face it everybody. Being a user ain’t nothing like an easy thing to ever want to give up. But there is hope for the user.

Changing from a user into just an average giver can be done! But it will take a few tears, love and prayer, and God providing His power to make it happen. The best example I can give for this kind of transformation is myself.

I use to live my life with the mind set of getting what I wanted, they way I wanted, whether God liked it or not. I didn’t see any reason for me to change back then. But to make a long story quick, God helped me to take a real deep long look at who I really was, and I couldn’t stand to see myself that way anymore. I didn’t like me so much that I begged God to help me to stop being the bad version of me that I was. And you know what? He did! He allowed me to discover everything I needed to do to so that I could change for the better. I discovered who Jesus is, and formed a real relationship with Him.

I’ll bet that someone is thinking that I hate users. No, I don’t. But I am against what they practice.

Even so, the way I see it, users matter just like we all matter. I believe that users should receive all the days of opportunity God gives them, to discover that they are being a care less selfish version of themselves. A version of themselves that doesn’t mind using and hurting people to get what they want or need.

Who knows? One fine day a user might just get tired of all the trouble they cause themselves and others by pretending to be user friendly.

Most sincerely, thanks for reading. God willing, I’ll be posting next Tuesday. May you be blessed. B. Y. E.

Hey. It’s almost Tuesday. A, yo. How youse guys doing? Glad youse could come by. We got toons today. The blogger dude is getting his keyboard’s letters rotated or sumthin. The lazy bum told me to tell youse guys to look at the toons today, and that Saturday he’ll tap youse sumthin out that snaps real good.

Oh yeah! The blogger dude says he hopes the cartoons are not too funny. He don’t want nobody ta fall down laughing. He’s a sensitive guy you know. Okay. Here’s the toons. Arrivederci.

I hope nobody fell down laughing. Thanks for visiting. And may God give you all you need to be blessed!

Ahoy readers! How are you doing in your corner of the universe? You haven’t run into any alien invasions, super villains, or atmospheric pressures I hope. Very good!

Gonna just write a story today. Writing stories is kinda why I chose Write Teller as the name for this blog. Telling fictional stories is something I don’t mind doing with a smile on my face. But instead of using my voice to tell them, I write them. And as they say, that is how it all began.

I’m dedicating this story to the youth of the world. Let’s blog!

     “Okay.  Who’s ready to tell us what the Cub Scout promise is?  I see your hand up Richey. Go ahead.”  Richey was the only fourth grader in Cub Pack 391. He was also the most athletic, a good student, and a natural born chatter box.

“Yup Mr. Deveneaux.  I think I know most of it.”  “That’s good, go on.”  “Okay.  I, Richey McClendon, promise to do my best…  Uh… Uh… To do…  To do… To do my duty to God.”  Richey stopped there to wrinkle up his forehead and struggle with his memory. In only two seconds he won the struggle and continued. “I know!  To do my duty to God and my country.” Another two seconds he struggled mentally, and then said out loud.  “To help other…  Uh…  To help other people?”  “That’s right Richey.  Go on,” Mr. Deveneaux encouraged. Richey smiled in triumph. “And to obey the law of the pack.”  “Very good Richey!  Now who can tell me what all that means?  Anybody?  …What?  Nobody?!  Aww c’mon you guys.  How bout you Minh Le?  What does doing your best mean?” 

     “Well Mr. Deveneaux, my dad says that doing our best means you got to go past what’s easy.”  Minh Le was Cub Pack 391’s only straight “A” student, a little small for his age, and the least talkative boy in Pack 391. Mr. Deveneaux knew that he could always count on Minh Le for a good answer. “Thank you Minh Le. That’s very good answer!  And your dad is so right!”

Richard Deveneaux looked around the table enthusiastically, at the four boys who were seated there. He had the look of a very wise and fatherly man in his fifties. He stood at the head of the table, looking very military in his Cub Master uniform. And could hardly wait to ask his next question. “Now guys, who can tell me about doing your best for God and for your country?  No, not you Richey.  Give one of the other boys a chance.  C’mon guys…   Somebody?   Ah good.  Kelvan’s got his hand up.  Attaboy!  Go ahead Kelvan.” 

     Kelvan Williams was a fifth grader, and the tallest Cub Scout in Pack 391. He was also the Pack’s fastest runner, and video game champ. He gave Mr. Deveneaux a quick smile and answered, “My mom told me that doing my best for God is like how I should clean my room when nobody is watching me. And not put trash where it’s not suppose to go. Like under my bed or at the back of my closet.”  “Ha ha ha.  Close enough Kelvan.  I agree one hundred percent with Kelvan’s mom. Doing our best for God means doing the right thing no matter if anybody is watching us or not.”

From the Cub Scouts seated at the big wooden picnic table in front of him, a hand went up in the air. “Yes Richey.  You have a question?” 

     “Yes sir.  I just want to know, is doing our best for God the same as how we should do it for our country?”  Mr. Deveneaux couldn’t help but smile. If Richey had the time, he would ask a question every minute of the day. But Mr.Deveneaux was very happy to answer this one for him.

“Almost Richey.  You see, doing our best for our country means that we vote for people that will help our country make good laws that will help and protect its citizens, and by us choosing to be good citizens. But doing our best for God is different. It means praying for people we know and everybody else. And forgiving people, and doing good things like obeying our parents and teachers, and doing good deeds. But most important, to love God and people as much as we can.” 

Another hand went up. “How do we be good citizens, Mr. Deveneaux?” Kelvan asked.  “Oh lot’s of ways Kelvan.  By not stealing or doing anything to hurt somebody. Another way to be a good citizen is by getting what we want by being willing to work for it.  You know? Like when we cut Mrs. Oglemeyers yard for her, and the time we helped Mr. Tegler fix his front gate, so that we could all go to the movies.”

     “But let’s talk about something else that helps people.”  “Like what Dad?”  “Glad you asked Martreece. Martreece Deveneaux was Mr. Deveneaux’s youngest son. He also was a fifth grader, a very good sketch artist, and a local football star. Mr. Deveneaux looked straight at Martreece and replied, “Like sharing.  How many of you guys know that sharing is the greatest way to help somebody.  All of you?  That’s good! But let me tell you about another kind of sharing first.” 

     “What if I gave Richey a box of cookies to share with all of you.  How should he share them?”  “Should everybody get the same amount of cookies?”  All the boys verbally agreed.  “Great! All of you guys are exactly right!  But what if Richey decided to share this way?  What if he gave each of you only one cookie, and two for himself.  And then he gave each of you two cookies, and three for himself.  Is that sharing, yes or no?”  The boys were all stymied. They had to give this kind of sharing a little bit of thought. It was sharing alright, but not the kind of sharing they would ever put up with. 

It took no more than a second for Martreece to frown and give his strongest opinion.  “Dad, I don’t want to get in any trouble for saying this, but I think that kind of sharing is gonna start a fight.”  All the boys agreed right away with Martreece’s strong opinion.  Mr. Deveneaux fully expected this reaction. He smiled and chuckled his amusement. “You boys have a really good point there.  But before you guys get to fixing it up in your minds that this kind of sharing calls for tough love, let me just tell you something.”

     He folded his arms across his chest, gave a serious look, and then said, “If Richey counted out more cookies for himself than he counted out to any of you, that would still be sharing. But it would be a selfish kind of sharing.” The boys received this bit of news the same way a person would who found a parking ticket stuck to their windshield. -Which explained why they were all looking at Mr. Deveneaux like he had just spoken to them in Chimpanzee.

Mr. Deveneaux knew his Cub Scouters very well. He knew he had only seconds to say something before the boys turned into a yelling committee.

Selfish sharing? None of them had ever heard of this kind of sharing before. Sharing had always meant a good thing for them.  Especially if they were the share-ees.  -And they were always use to everyone getting a fair share. The shock of hearing about selfish sharing had them silently thinking about what they would do if they ever ran into somebody that wanted to share with them this way. But as boys will be boys, they quickly got to the point where thinking wasn’t as good as talking. -Which was a split second before Mr. Deveneaux started talking again.

     “Alright alright, I see you guys are confused.  So let’s go ahead and look at a better example, okay?  Say we all decided to go camping and everybody said they would do something to help set up our camp. But we all decided to bring only a big bag of popcorn to the camp, and decided that we weren’t going to do anything else that day, but go fishing.  And what if Richey brought his bag of popcorn to camp and tried to talk us all out going fishing. But we went anyway, and he stayed to set the camp up all by himself.” The boys were all trying to picture this not too likely picture as Mr. Deveneaux went on to say…

“What if Richey hauled all of the food from the cars to our campsite, gathered all the firewood we would need for the night, and set up all the tents, and nobody helped him.” Seeing the eagerness in Richey’s face, Mr. Deveneaux added.  No Richey, I would never let that happen to you.  You know me better than that.”

Richey was very glad to hear his Cub Master telling him that he wasn’t going to become a Cub Scout flunkey. Gratefully he closed his mouth and let himself relax back into his chair again.  The rest of the boys eased up snickering at Richey’s reactions, while Mr. Deveneaux worked on getting his smile back under control, before he began speaking again.

“Al-right. Now that everyone knows that I was just making an example… But yeah. What if Richey did all the things that I just mentioned, and the rest of us only brought a big bag of popcorn to the camp, and did nothing else? Would our bringing just a bag of popcorn to camp, and no other help, be okay with Richey when we got back from going fishing?” 

Kelvan wasn’t really sure, but he nodded yes, but suddenly changed his mind and said no, then he quickly looked around to see how everyone else was answering.  Kelvan saw that each of his Pack-Mates was wearing the same uncomfortable look he was, and wondered what just what in all outdoors they were thinking about.

     But the awkward silence was broken when a voice timidly asked, “This is what you meant by selfish sharing Mr. Deveneaux?”  “Yes Minh Le.  Like your dad says, doing our best means going past what is easy. If Richey did everything to set up the camp, he would be doing his best to share. The rest of us would not be doing our best to share, wouldn’t you all agree?” The boys all nodded yes. Mr. Deveneaux nodded with them, along with all the fathers, and asked, “So what do you think Richey would be thinking about if we tried to share our bags of popcorn with him after that?”

The boys all sat up a little bit straighter. They were really getting to know the meaning of selfish sharing now, and were very much inspired not ever share selfishly.

Kelvan was the first Cub scout to speak up. “I think that Richey wouldn’t like us anymore, because selfish sharing is not okay.” “That’s what I say too,” Martreece added. “Now that I know what selfish sharing is, I’m never going to be okay with it,” Minh Le said seriously. That left only Richey to say what he thought. And he lost no time in doing so. “I would still like everybody. And I know that I don’t ever want to share selfishly.” he said proudly.

Mr. Deveneaux looked at the smiling faces of all his Cub Scouts, and their fathers who were sitting next to them. He felt like he would never be prouder of them than he was right at this moment. They made his being a Cub Master a great thing to be. But he became curious.

A while ago, he remembered that Kelvan had nodded yes, when he was asked if he thought that his bringing a big bag of popcorn to camp, and no other help, would be okay with Richey.

Mr. Deveneaux couldn’t help but wonder what had changed his mind so fast. But as quick as he thought about why Kelvan had changed his mind, he had made up his mind not to ask him. Kelvan changed his mind, and that was more than enough for Mr. Richard Deveneaux.

Thanks again for reading here. And may God shower you with everything you can’t live without. B. Y. E. 

    

Good ahf-ter-noon honored reader! I do hope that you are living in good fortune. I am your blog host, Sir Edington Dewby Shortamoney. Charmed, I’m sure.

Now let me just take a moment to typewrite you about an American citizen-British government misunderstanding. Even though I am a wannabe British Knight, who’s never set foot on English soil, I don’t understand why no one at the palace will take any of my calls or take me seriously! Ah. But never fear. I have the perfect solution. I will become America’s first wannabe Knight, just as soon as I can get the mayor to answer one of my calls, or call me back. Jolly good!

Sometimes when I get in front of the old keyboard I get the urge to try to be an internet comedian. You know how it is.

Going to showcase today something that effects all of our lives. Next stop… The Discovery Zone.

Time on a clock or time-piece is measured in seconds minutes and hours. Accumulated time is measured in days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, and millenniums. But have you ever wondered what events in time are measured in?

Nope. I’m not talking about measuring time from one second to the next. What I’m talking about is what time should be measured in when we are experiencing times of difficulty or times of delight.

The clock doesn’t have a measurement for what we experience during the seconds we are looking for a job, or a job we have just lost, or are going through an illness. Or a measurement for what we experience during the seconds we graduate, or go on vacation, or go to a movie.

I’m writing what you’re reading and I’m scratching my head a little bit too, as I think about what I’m going to see myself type on my computer screen next. I think maybe I should slow down my thinking some, and think a little bit deeper about what I’m going to write into the next paragraph.

Okay. I think I’m seeing the light better now. What our time pieces don’t and can’t measure for us is what time means to us. Time pieces are not very good at telling us, in the seconds of our lives they count off, how many seconds that we live are going to be good seconds, and how many will be bad.

We only have so many seconds, minutes, hours, months, or years to be who we are, or can become. Not even one second in our lives is ever replaceable.

You know. Life is kind of like playing a game of Monopoly. Sort of. We are given a certain amount of money at the start of the game to invest in Monopoly. At the beginning of our lives we are given a currency as well. We are given a certain amount of time. Much more precious than money, don’t you think?

I’ll bet you one difference between the two is easy to point out. You know what it is don’t you? Let’s say it together and see if we agree. Money is replaceable, and time isn’t. How did I do? Not too bad I hope. But in either Monopoly or in our lives, how we spend what we are given in the beginning, either money or time, can mean rewards or regrets.

Another difference between Monopoly and life is that we don’t know up front how much currency (in seconds) we’re getting.

We only have so many seconds to live the way we choose to, and only so many to live the way God chooses for us to live. I never thought of that until today. Kind of makes me feel like I just discovered breathing.

I’m glad to share this with you. In my life, God gave me just the right amount of seconds I needed to get on His bandwagon in time. I don’t know how many seconds I had left. But I’m sure I almost missed the Jesus bandwagon! Whew!

I’m not going to wear a hole in the carpet with another few lines. I try to be a nice guy!

I’d like to thank you very much for reading this far. I hope that God blesses you all of your seconds. B. Y. E.

Hey there, hi there, ho there! Are you well? I double hope so!

Going to try my hand at a little poetry today. Now now! Before you reach for your computer mouse, read a few lines first. And if I don’t get a hold of a little bit of your interest, before you give me the cold stare, then you can drop the computer mouse on me. No pressure. Here goes…

While watching a professional football game, I noticed that not a single referee had a penalty flag.

I stood and stared at my Samsung TV, and told myself it had to be a gag.

How were they planning to call any penalties if they didn’t have a flag to throw?

How would the players know they had caused a penalty, I was so curious to know.

Would the refs throw a shoe, or a hat, or their whistles on the ground?

Or would they simply fuss and cuss, and holler too much, whenever a player caused them to frown?

So I sat back on the couch, scratched my head, and the answer became completely clear to me.

An explanation so plain, and so mundane, it should have been the easiest thing for me to see.

Some guy at the stadium must have seen that the penalty flags were not too neat or preened.

So he did his duty, but must have forgotten, he had sent the penalty flags out to be dry cleaned.

I’ll bet you never wondered if they ever clean the penalty flags, huh? Me neither, until today. Just one to grow on, I guess.

I’m very glad you stopped by for a read. It always means a lot. Stay cool and stay blessed. B. Y. E.

How’ve you been reader? It’s Tuesday, almost. Today is Monday. But no sense in waiting till the last minute, I’m thinking.

Feeling like having a little fun today? I got this story… Wait! Hold them taters a minute! Let me just sign an affidavit, get sworn in, and recite the Boy scout oath. Today’s story is totally fictitious. Fake, made up, Hollywood fiction, and a total fairytale. There. That should do it.

No. I’m not seeing a behavioral specialist. Am I? Who said that? Just kidding, you guys! Just want to make sure that nobody thinks this story I’m getting ready to write is real. Just wanted to get my alibi into print. Sooo… I guess I’ll start tapping these keyboard letters now. It’s story time!

In the deepest darkest uncharted jungle region of ancient Mumbacunda, a rare perennial plant grows natively known as the Wetaykawaa.  It only grows in the country of Mumbacunda and no where else on Earth. Curiously enough, it has never received the fame it should have. A plant like this should have had front page exposure in every medical journal and newspaper on Earth! But as you read on further, you will find out that this has not been the case.

Had the Weetaykawaa ever become widely known after its discovery, it would have become the most wanted and the most important plant ever to grow anywhere on the face of the Earth!

It is quite natural to assume that people would like to know why such a plant never became one of the wonders of the world. Let me express to you why it should have been.

The Weetaykawaa has the miraculous medicinal power to cure forgetfulness for a few months at a time.  Whoever eats a few of its leaves, their memory capacity would be boosted by as much as a 75% for a few months. The Weetaykawaa, on the stock exchange, meant one thing for sure. -A whole lot of cha-ching cha-ching! If you added up this plant’s worth into dollars, it would be worth more than all the patent rights on the modern jet engine.

If you’re the curious type, and I believe that you are.  You might be yelling, “What ever happened to this Weetaykawaa plant, and why isn’t it on the market?”  Hold on minute. Before you go hollering for Google to enlighten you, let me do a little typing atcha.

A guy named Antone Willisneer was the only person ever to bring live Weetaykawaa plants back to civilization.  This was back in the year 1863.  For all you mathematicians, this was 163 years ago. 

Antone Willisneer formed an expedition that discovered the Weetaykawaa in Mumbacunda, back in 1863.  Antone, his native guide, and four village porters undertook a month long trek into the jungle, to catalogue rare plants and flowers, in the southeastern section of Mumbacunda’s uncharted jungle. 

Haplessly, the expedition ran into a couple of bad misfortune occurrences.  Two days after they departed from an outpost village, they ran into a small hostile tribe of Mumbacundan Rarstaffi people, and were attacked. The battle was slight. In as much as all the expeditioners were armed with rifles, and defending themselves against aggressors who had only ancient weapons. But good fortune smiled on all the expedition members. Not one of them suffered even the slightest injury. But they did, however, lose a small portion of their food supplies, ammunition, and one pack animal. Which proved to be critical a week later, when they ran out of food, ran low on bullets, and had one less pack animal to carry all of their remaining supplies.  

Naturally, out of pure necessity, Antone and company were forced to eat whatever they were able to eat and not gag back up. Here and there, they were also able to eat from the selection of the animals in the jungle that were food for other animals. But when the expedition encountered any of the animals that ate other animals, it was very necessary to treat them to a bullet as well. 

Long story short… By week three they had become completely lost. Their water was low, and desperate times was ahead of them. 

Rather than starve they began looking for edibles among the plants they found around them. One plant, Antone noticed, was a short plant with dark glossy green leaves. They were as plentiful in the area as corn in a corn field. They drew lots to see who would be first to give these plants a try. The guide lost, or won, depending on how a person reasoned it. And as it turned out, the guide didn’t get sick. On the contrary! He smiled and smacked his lips! Not only did the leaves have a minty good flavor, but he could remember every tree, rock, and trail they had passed by. -Even from the outpost village to where they were now. 

It proved to be the most joyous discovery of their lives.  Because they had discovered the next best thing to the fountain of youth! 

They ate their fill of Weetaykawaa leaves, rested for a bit, then built containers to fill with soil to transplant the plants into. The guide was the one to name the plants, and Antone agreed.

After eating the Weetaykawaa leaves, they all knew the way back, and had no trouble at all remembering where all the dangers were. With ease they were able to avoid them all.

Picking up fruit occasionally along the way, they retraced their steps back to Mumbacundan civilization.  And from there Antone went back to the Untited States. But before he did, he had talked all the expedition members into going into business with him. And promised them all, that if they would allow him to take all the plants they had brought out of the jungle, he would make them all very rich men when he got back to America.  But little did Antone know what was waiting for him when he got home.

It was very unfortunate that that Antone hadn’t had any Weetaykawaa leaves to eat before he left the United States to come to Mumbacunda.  Because if he had, he wouldn’t have forgotten that he was supposed to set up a payment plan to pay off his years of back taxes to the IRS before he left home.

As it happened, a tax agent coincidentally showed up at the University laboratory where he worked, the very day he returned with the Weetaykawaa plants. 

Antone, having no money to speak of, told the tax agent about the Weetaykawaa plants and what they could do.  It was the first time in the history of the IRS that a tax agent had ever laughed during an audit.

But even so, faster than you could say 1040EZ, the agent seized the plants, garnished Antone’s wages, went back to his office, and telegraphed Washington DC of his Weetaykawaa discovery.  And from that day forward, the Weetaykawaa plants were never heard of again.

That is…  Until today.  Don’t ask me how I found this out, but…  The government annually passes out Weetaykawaa pills to all of its tax agents and legal staffers, the first week in April.  They have been doing this since 1865. And it has since been Washington DC’s greatest secret!  

And I can assure you that the US government has never ever forgotten to collect taxes from then until now. -Or has ever forgotten who owes them, or will owe them, or who has missed a payment, or how much a person makes before they get to spend it.   

The IRS, in honor of the Weetaykawaa’s discovery, added Weetaykawaa leaves to it’s logo, right next to the scales of justice and the American Eagle.  And also in honor of the Weetaykawaa, they came up with this unforgettable promise. When it comes to Income  We Take Away.

I hope you had a good read! Thanks for visiting. I’m hoping good things from God for ya! B Y E

Hellooo, helloooo, hellooooo! Hello! How in the world of wonders are you reader? Seems like four days ago since I last posted. Let’s see. Subtract a Monday, skip Tuesday, add two other weekdays, subtract half of Friday… Time and a half. Where the heck are my reading glasses? Never mind. Yup. It’s been four weekdays for sure! -Give or take a turkey.

Now that we’ve got that all handled, have I got a really hot topic for you to read! So turn up the air condition unit and grab a popsicle. I’m ready to type you up a loo loo! My keyboard is in the flat and on position. Time to type!

Opinion: An opinion is a personal belief, view, or judgment that is based on feelings, thoughts, or experiences rather than on absolute proof or hard facts. Anybody agree with this Google definition?

Let me pull off of the road, right quick. I’d like to go on the record for saying that, in my opinion, Google isn’t known for telling it like it ain’t. That’s just this blogger’s opinion. But if anyone has an opposite opinion about the Google definition, I just pasted into the previous paragraph, I’m very curious to read your opinion. But let’s get back to where I took an unscheduled left turn and got off the main subject.

Fact. A person’s opinion can be what triggers a verbal battle! Yup! For the sake of their opinion, I’ve seen people jump to their feet and powerfully defend their opinion like someone had just disrespected their family honor. -All because they felt that their opinion was not being respected or taken seriously.

I’m not saying that defending one’s opinion is a wrong thing, or anything like that. But when someone defending their opinion provokes an argument the size of a bowling alley…? Why does that have to happen? -Maybe because they are touchy about not having their opinion received with enthusiasm?

Let’s just walk to the observation area and take a good look at this Opinion critter for a minute. You’ll notice that this critter has personal feelings attached to it. When an Opinion wanders it’s way into a conversation, it says what it’s owner is thinking, based on how its owner feels about whatever is being discussed, negatively or positively. But watch out! Observe what might happen when an owner’s personal opinion gets labeled as plain old nonsense! ***Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have five minutes of heavy weight arguing. In this corner we have one person’s opinion. And in this corner, we have the other person’s opinion. Okay youse guys, I want a good clean fight. No snarky remarks, or loud talking. And in the event of any cursing or name calling…***

Please. I’m begging you. Don’t turn me in for letting my imagination turn the event of two clashing opinions into what sounds like a professional boxing event. But opinions have been known to turn into bar room rumbles. -Especially among some of the real serious sports fans out there.

Our opinions are a big deal to each of us. We are naturally protective of our opinions. Whether they are right or they’re wrong, they are ours, and not to be treated like a dumb idea. I see absolutely nothing wrong with having an opinion. But when our opinions get to the point where nobody’s opinion matters as much as our own, this is where the storm clouds gather and the thunder of disagreement begins to roar!

Having a conversation where opinions are based on feelings or personal experiences is fine. -But only as long as everyone remembers that no one’s opinion automatically becomes more important than anyone else’s. And that, once someone comes up with the proof of facts, the truth should be unanimously respected as the final word. At which point everyone in the conversation should put that particular opinion in their pocket for next time.

Hey. Here’s something to think about. Did you ever base your opinion on someone else’s opinion? That’s how a following gets started you know. What??? Yes, what. And this is how that works.

Somebody publicly important speaks out his or her opinion, based on what they feel is true or cool, and guess what??? Aww. Darn it. You heard this already. My bad. But I’ll just say this. Basing a personal opinion on someone else’s opinion can be like a blind person leading a blind person around in a shopping mall. I can’t tell you how important it is to know exactly where a person got their opinion before repeating their opinion as the truth. It could mean the difference between losing a bunch of money, and missing out on getting scammed.

Dealing with people that deal in facts or informed opinions is ideal. But when dealing with someone who is highly interested in their own opinions, they have got to be handled with patience and with good neighbor skills.

Remember, a person’s feelings are tied up in their opinions. If they deal mostly in opinion and not very much in facts, try to keep to keep the conversation friendly and respectful. Researching for facts may not be their thing. Relying more on what other people tell them is probably what they rely on the most. And when letting one of your own opinions wander into a conversation, please try to remember that your opinion may not fit in with how your fellow conversationalist thinks. But don’t worry. Be friendly, relax. Cause if you are friendly enough, they might come to respect you enough to consider your opinions with more thought as time goes by.

The art of conversation takes a little practice. It’s ultimately not about getting our opinions honored. But it is more about pleasantly sharing what you know, and learning a little bit from things the other people are willing to share with you.

As always, thanks for taking a peek. May God do something in your life to show you how just how close. B Y E

Out of the electronic circuitry of the internet comes… BLOGGER MAN! Hi! Not too dramatic I hope. Marvel and DC comic books is where I used to hang out when I was a teenager. You could probably tell, right?

I hope that you are in the blessed percentile group today. Hey. Anybody feeling like a short story? Nod once for yes and once for no. I know, I know. You’re looking at your screen and saying, “Is this guy for real? That doesn’t make any sense.” …And you would be 100% right! But let’s look at it this way. It kind of does make sense, because I’m not able to see anybody nodding one way or the other.

Quick! Look at your screen! Now typing words in slow motion! Swoooosh, clack-ity clack-ity clack-ity clack! Let’s blog!

Raymond Summers, as usual, was running late for work. And just as usual, everything seemed to be working against him. Traffic lights staying red too long, riding in a moving parking lot of traffic that was inching its way down the highway, and then there was the big ordeal of trying to find a parking space in the parking garage. -One that wasn’t quite seven floors above street level. And now… Here he was sprinting for an elevator that was almost completely full of passengers . 

“Hey, hold the elevator!”  Raymond shouted the words with as much dignity as he could. Businessmen weren’t supposed to yell in the building, but missing this elevator ride would no doubt make him an extra two minutes later than he already was. Please let there be someone in the elevator who will take pity on me, he thought.

The people inside the elevator were not particularly interested in squeezing in another unwanted body into an already bulging high rise elevator space. -Which is probably why no one made a move to prop the elevator doors for him. -Which resulted in Raymond reaching the elevator just in time for the doors to close and shut him out. Immediately this brought out the best of Raymond’s bad side. 

He banged on the closed elevator door with the flat of his hand, and freely expressed his feelings in words that would make a Sunday school teacher pray for a set of ear plugs.

After a people-packed ride up to the floor he worked on, Raymond walked into his office at 7:23am—only 23 minutes late, and was greeted by his desk phone ringing at him like an excited security alarm.  He didn’t bother setting his brief case down, as he hurried over to answer it.

“Hello Mr. Sherman.  Good morning sir.  Oh yes sir.  No I haven’t forgotten that we have a meeting at seven o’clock.”  Raymond lied. “I’m sorry for being late Mr. Sherman. But I’ve been in the restroom. I was kind of dizzy, but now I’m okay. Oh yes sir.  I was just on my way there.  Sir?  Why didn’t I call? Sorry sir. I forgot and left my cell phone in my office.  Hello?  Hello? Mr. Sherman?” 

It’s lunchtime. Raymond has been waiting twenty-two minutes at his table for his lunch order.  “Man these people are so slow,” he grumbled under his breath.  His waiter finally arrives with his lunch at the twenty-third minute.  “Here you are sir.  Catfish, fries, and a coke.”  Raymond puts both of his hands on the table, palms down, grits his teeth, and says…  “Are you kidding me?  I ordered the chicken Cordon Bleu with an iced tea.”  “Oh!  I’m so sorry sir.  I’ll go back and fix your order.”  Raymond grabs up his newspaper in a fury, and stands up.  “Look man, don’t bother.  I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back.” 

     “Please, sir, wait!  I’m really so sorry.  I’m new on the job.  It’s my first day.  Please let me go back and fix your order.”  “Sorry dude.  You had your chance. I’m outta time, and I’m outta here.”

It’s after work now. Raymond is on his way to the supermarket.  He’s talking to his wife on his cell phone.  “Man, Neressa, I’m telling you that it’s been the kind of day you wish you’d stayed home for.”  Suddenly, there is the sound of a police siren behind Raymond’s car.  He looks in his rear view mirror and spots a police car lit up for business, pacing his Volkswagen Jetta like it was his car’s shadow.

     “What’s the problem officer?  I wasn’t speeding was I?.”  “No sir, you weren’t.  But you were talking on a cell phone in a school zone.  License and proof of registration please.”  “But officer, it’s 3:58pm, schools are out now.”  “Well sir.  That is true, but if you’ll observe the sign over by the curb, it says that this school zone doesn’t end until 4pm.”   “ARE YOU…”  “Is there something you want to say to me sir???”

Raymond is now in the supermarket checkout paying for a twelve pack of beer and some pretzels.  Thank goodness this day is about to be over, he’s thinking.  “That’ll be $26.21 sir.”  Raymond hands the clerk his credit card and she swipes it.  “Uh sir…  Your card is showing an insufficient balance.”  Raymond turns his face into a mean scowl. “Lady, are you serious?  I’ve got enough of a balance on this card to buy this flipping store!  Swipe it again.”  She swipes the card a second time. “Sir, I’m sorry, but it’s still showing an insufficient balance.  Would you like to pay in cash?”  “No I wouldn’t.  I don’t have any.  Here.  Here’s my other credit card.  Swipe it and let me get out of here.” 

When Raymond gets to his car again he calls his wife.  “Nareesa.  How come my credit card is saying that it has an insufficient balance? What’s going on?” Raymond suspiciously asks.  “Oh wow. Mine isn’t working either.  Let me call the bank, and I’ll call you back okay?”  “Yeah, no problem.  I’m on the way home.” 

Five minutes later Nereesa calls back.  “Hi Nereesa.  What did the bank say?”  “Ray they said that both our cards are showing an insufficient balance.” They’re gonna check into it and call us back as soon as they find out something.” Raymond rides the next half mile in silence, and then says, “Nereesa, how could both of us have an insufficient balance? I only use my card for small purchases only, and you are only supposed to use yours the same way.”

Nereesa breaks out into tears and wails like Congress just outlawed the Home Shopping Network. “Ray, it’s really all the bank’s fault! They didn’t bother to call and tell me that I had accidentally maxed out both our cards yesterday!”

Raymond drives another half mile wondering if his blood pressure had gotten high enough for an ER visit. “Ray? Ray? Baby, are you there? Please talk to me.”

This story brings to mind a song by Daniel Powter, titled “Had a Bad Day.” Thanks for the song Mr. Powter. And thank you readers for reading!

May God’s Grace follow you around like sunshine.

Reader traffic control here (RTC). If you are receiving this type-written transmission, you are on the right blog flight. Welcome to Write Teller.com. My name is Senior Writer. I’ll be your blogger attendant today. We won’t be serving snacks on today’s flight. The blogger budget doesn’t fly that high anymore. But on a much higher note... We will be serving a couple of cartoons and a quick thought. So please buckle up for safety. This blog has been cleared for reading!

How do you like my laughing medicine? Hey. Have you ever noticed that a good laugh can brighten up a gloomy mood? No?

I can be as unhappy as a teenager who just had their cell phone service turned off, or as miserable as somebody who has been sitting in a hospital waiting room for eight hours. But let there be something around me funny enough to make me laugh, and presto change-o! I feel a little bit better for a while!

Laughter can temporarily take some of the gloom out of a bad day. Now I’m not saying that laughter works every time. -Or that laughter is the miracle cure-all for curing deep sadness. But what I am saying is that laughter is like an aspirin. It can lessen some of the pain, but not erase your problem. But that’s better than no aspirin at all, right?

Being sad is a natural human condition, of course. But being sad, for way too long, is a bad predicament to be in. Ya? So what is the answer for how to get some relief for extended sadness, you may ask?

Please keep in mind, I don’t have a college degree to my name. But with my limited experience, my answer would be having a really good friend that you can talk to about what’s making you sad. This would be a very good start. Next, somewhere in the conversation, take a little time to talk about a few really good memories. Hopefully, in one of those memories you can find a smile, and make a dent in being sad. But if in one of those memories you can find a chuckle, you can make an even wider dent in a sad mood!

I’m not saying that we can end all sadness with laughter. But smiling, and especially laughing, can be very helpful towards lessening the sting of being deeply sad. Because without smiling or laughter, somewhere in the healing process, extended sadness will overpower us.

As a believer of God’s viewpoint, on how we should handle the things that come against us in life, I am aware of what extended sadness will do to our minds.

Having sadness is real life. But just like when we stay underwater too long, extended sadness will get us into real life trouble.

We should not allow an extended sadness to overpower our lives. Extended sadness, yes, or extended sadness no? These are our only two choices. Sink or swim.

We all know what sinking is all about. So let’s talk about swimming to where we can stand again, and walk away from sinking.

Swimming is about making an effort to keep moving. Praying to God for His help is part of learning how to swim. Swimming in this case means to learning how to fight against extended sadness. And then there’s also learning about all the things that help us keep afloat. Smiling and laughter, and God’s help, are three things that helps to keep us afloat when we find ourselves in the middle of deep sadness. Hanging out with more experienced swimmers (people who Christianly practice overpowering extended sadness) makes four. Remember. There are only two options when facing a very prolonged sadness. Sink or swim. Which means either fighting sadness or letting sadness drag us under.

So remember, the very next time extended sadness begins to lure your thoughts towards feeling helpless or hopeless, start swimming and fighting immediately to stay afloat. Try hard to find someone God inspired to pray with you. -Who will encourage you to smile again, and especially encourage you to laugh again.

Thank you for reading on this internet blog. God is up all night every night, and in His office all day every day. May God bless you amazingly! B Y E