I had dinner tonight with a Korean family who have been attending my church.  It was a wonderful and interesting time.  I'll have to admit some of the food was a bit different.  For instance, the fish on my plate stared at me with fried eyes.  Various cuts of meat were cooked upon a grill stationed in the middle of the table.  I was shown how to place the meat upon leaves of romaine lettuce, doctor it with various spices, wrap it tightly and put the whole ball of food into the mouth at one time.  And I struggled mightily with the chop sticks, usually ending up having to speer the pieces of food.  My new friends seemed to watch intently as Deb and I tried to respectfully dine.  Perhaps they were piqued by our crude table manners, but I think they were immersed in making sure we enjoyed our meals.  And we did!

The young couple spoke very little English, although they seemed to understand most of what I had to say.  A matronly lady was the hostess.  She has a beautiful home, immaculately clean, with white carpets upon which you would dare not wear shoes.  As we dined, she told me why she has been coming to my church.  Her son was having troubles.  He somehow programmed his GPS unit to find a church, and it somehow directed him to my little church.  Apparently, this was the first non-Korean church she has attended.  And they have continued to come- Sunday mornings and nights, Wednesday evenings.  We continued to talk for a good bit.  Much of what they had to say I found difficult to understand, and I am sure they struggled similarly with me.  But all was enjoyable.  When it was time to go, the custom was not handshakes and hugs, but a smile and slight bow of deference/reverence to one another.  I've never done so before, but it seemed rather appropriate at the time.

I grew up in a small town whose only cultural diversity was black and white, and we did not handle that very well.  Now I find myself in a melting pot of cultures.  My church is a bit of the same mixture.  Tomorrow I'll go to Rosa's shop for a haircut.  She is a friend who periodically attends my church with her two children.  She is from San Salvadore.  Next week I'm leaving for a week of vacation.  Winston will preach for me.  He is an active church member and respected friend, from Jamaica.  And when I have computer needs, I go to Albert.  He has a computer shop and a restaurant.  He and his wife are from Taiwan.  I baptized them several years ago.  We've done a pretty good job of just being a church; not worrying too much about nationalities or skin colors.
Seven years ago, at another church, Mr. Phil sat down to try to “talk some sense into me”.  He told me it just was not appropriate for blacks and whites to dine at the same table.  The same with church, he said.I was so taken aback I did not know what to say, except to shake my head and reply sadly, “I feel sorry for you.”

I wonder what Phil would think about me now?

I know why these folks keep coming to my church.  It sure is not because of the dynamic preaching.  They probably do not understand much of what I have to say.  They come because they know they are loved.  They want to spend time with me because they sense that I like them.  And I am convinced that is a good thing.  For most of my life, I have been conditioned to believe that my job is to preach and administrate.  And that was wrong.  Now, I am convinced, my job is to love people.  Is not that the best kind of preaching?

I guess Phil would not like all of this.  By I'll bet Jesus would smile and say, "Pass the sushi, please."  And I'd rather have dinner with Jesus, than Phil.

I had dinner tonight with a Korean family who have been attending my church.  It was a wonderful and interesting time.  I'll have to admit some of the food was a bit different.  For instance, the fish on my plate stared at me with fried eyes.  Various cuts of meat were cooked upon a grill stationed in the middle of the table.  I was shown how to place the meat upon leaves of romaine lettuce, doctor it with various spices, wrap it tightly and put the whole ball of food into the mouth at one time.  And I struggled mightily with the chop sticks, usually ending up having to speer the pieces of food.  My new friends seemed to watch intently as Deb and I tried to respectfully dine.  Perhaps they were piqued by our crude table manners, but I think they were immersed in making sure we enjoyed our meals.  And we did!

The young couple spoke very little English, although they seemed to understand most of what I had to say.  A matronly lady was the hostess.  She has a beautiful home, immaculately clean, with white carpets upon which you would dare not wear shoes.  As we dined, she told me why she has been coming to my church.  Her son was having troubles.  He somehow programmed his GPS unit to find a church, and it somehow directed him to my little church.  Apparently, this was the first non-Korean church she has attended.  And they have continued to come- Sunday mornings and nights, Wednesday evenings.  We continued to talk for a good bit.  Much of what they had to say I found difficult to understand, and I am sure they struggled similarly with me.  But all was enjoyable.  When it was time to go, the custom was not handshakes and hugs, but a smile and slight bow of deference/reverence to one another.  I've never done so before, but it seemed rather appropriate at the time.

I grew up in a small town whose only cultural diversity was black and white, and we did not handle that very well.  Now I find myself in a melting pot of cultures.  My church is a bit of the same mixture.  Tomorrow I'll go to Rosa's shop for a haircut.  She is a friend who periodically attends my church with her two children.  She is from San Salvadore.  Next week I'm leaving for a week of vacation.  Winston will preach for me.  He is an active church member and respected friend, from Jamaica.  And when I have computer needs, I go to Albert.  He has a computer shop and a restaurant.  He and his wife are from Taiwan.  I baptized them several years ago.  We've done a pretty good job of just being a church; not worrying too much about nationalities or skin colors.
Seven years ago, at another church, Mr. Phil sat down to try to “talk some sense into me”.  He told me it just was not appropriate for blacks and whites to dine at the same table.  The same with church, he said.I was so taken aback I did not know what to say, except to shake my head and reply sadly, “I feel sorry for you.”

I wonder what Phil would think about me now?

I know why these folks keep coming to my church.  It sure is not because of the dynamic preaching.  They probably do not understand much of what I have to say.  They come because they know they are loved.  They want to spend time with me because they sense that I like them.  And I am convinced that is a good thing.  For most of my life, I have been conditioned to believe that my job is to preach and administrate.  And that was wrong.  Now, I am convinced, my job is to love people.  Is not that the best kind of preaching?

I guess Phil would not like all of this.  By I'll bet Jesus would smile and say, "Pass the sushi, please."  And I'd rather have dinner with Jesus, than Phil.

Not exactly what happened (but, it could have!)... 

 I experienced a major injury today, and once again my wife was heartless.  I'll try to tell you about it but it will be difficult because, everytime my thumb hits the spacebar,  riveting pain shoots through my body.

I was installing a stereo in my daughter's car.  My motto: “Why pay the store?  I can do it!”  Family members are skeptical of these projects, but I plodded on with the task for hours, entering the house at intervals to give updates.  My wife had a friend over and, as usual, they were “yacking”.  I came in to borrow a steak knife; she asked why, and I said it was needed for the project.  The serrated blade would be great for cutting through plastic.  She looked skeptical, and said, “Don't cut yourself”.  Who was she kidding?  I knew what I was doing by employing this kitchen tool.

Well, I was sawing through the face-plate, to make it fit, when my thumb got in the way.  And I was reminded that steak knives are designed to slice through meat.  It was just a little cut, but it sure did hurt.  And it sure did bleed.  I entered the house with blood dripping down my hand, and this is where my wife of 25 years proved, once again, to be heartless. 

I showed her my hand.  She just said, “I told you”. 

And, admittedly, I do generally injure myself with every attempt at handiwork.  There was the time I was changing the belt in the vaccum, and got my toe stuck.  And I've learned it is best to unplug electrical appliances before inserting a screwdriver.  But today I did not need a sermon, but some compassion.  I remember when we first married, sympathy was easy to elicit.  But now?  No way.

“Don't you drip blood on my clean floor.” 

“Honey, where's a band-aid?”

I don't think we've got any.  It'll probably quit bleeding in a minute.”

 “Where's the antibiotic cream?”

“Heck, I don't know.  Look for it!”

And then she resumed her conversation with her friend, with I am sure nary a thought for my well-being.  Now, if it had been one of her kids, she would have run me over to get to his or her hangnail.  But me- I almost slice off a finger, and she would rather talk with her friend than take care of her dear husband!

Of course, she did have surgery last week on her foot.  The doctor basically sliced her foot open, removed a bone, and inserted a piece of titanium.  She tossed her crutches in a day, and now is back to work without even a limp.  And, no complaints.  Well, she did complain when I wanted to stop for a hamburger on the way home from the surgery.

I'll be alright.  I'm going to have to end this piece, because my thumb is really hurting.  Hopefully I'll not awaken in the night with her squeezing my injured digit with pliars, saying, “Stop whining, you wimp.”

Why are women so tough?

Here are some links I regularly use while websurfing.  I'll pass them along; you may find some to be helpful, or of interest:

BEN'S BARGAINS
This is a great place to get head's up on great deals on all kinds of items, especially electronics and computer related.  For example, I purchased an Epson printer, complete with ink cartridges, for $19.95 shipped.  And I found an SD card for my Tungsten E for the same price.  The deals tend to disappear quickly.  I check it everyday.

T-BLOG COFFEE
Here's a fellow T-blogger.  He grows and ships his own coffee from Hawaii.  I'm soon to order some for my wife.  Personally, although it smells good, I don't like coffee myself.

FREE CREDIT REPORT - REALLY
You are entitled to a free credit report, from all three credit bureaus, every year.  These guys exercise so much power over our lives.  And, I do not trust them.  You shouldn't either.  Every four months I get a free report.

GENERATOR BLOG
This is a great resource for all kinds of crazy additions to your creative blogs.  I use it sometimes.  More often, I just click through and observe some of the creative links.

SERMON ILLUSTRATIONS
A fellow Baptist minister has put in lots of work to provide this site for folks like myself.  It is filled with sermons, sermon illustrations, etc.  It probably is only of interest to a preacher.


STRESS RELIEF
Wow, what a link!  I've found you can order just about anything on e-bay.  I've ordered this item before.  It sits in a desk drawer.  Sometimes when I feel stressed, I pull it out for a personal laugh.  And when someone is giving me a hard time, this just may be in my pocket.   I wouldn't actually show it to the troublemaker, but it is a reminder that sometimes life requires dealing with just this sort of thing.  An investment well worth the four bucks.

EMBEDDING A LINK IN A POST
A big word of "thanks" goes to my fellow T-Blogger, "Inkspector", for this timely article.  For the longest time, I've been unable to place properly appearing links in my writings.  Call me dense- I am dense when it comes to computing- but this helpful friend has made it simple.  Just read the article and follow directions!

Whenever there was an incumbent, I voted for the other candidate. My motto for 2006 and 2008, “Vote The Bums Out!” When all of the candidates were unknown to me, I voted for the female- we need more women in politics.

And, when neither rule applied, I simply did not vote.

Concerning a referendum, I was asked if I thought we should close our borders and refuse to consider amnesty for illegals.
I voted “no” – such an approach is unworkable, simplistic, and pandering.

And I did not vote for the incumbent governor. Funny- I don't remember the name of his opponent.
All I know is that he is not the current governor.

So I am now wearing my “little peach sticker” signifying that I am one of the 22% who voted. I'll be back in November. I'll vote Libertarian, Constitution Party, Independent- however best I can shake my fist at the current bunch of politicians.

Am I crazy?

My daughter and four of her friends gathered for an evening meal at a local sports grille.  The place is a popular hangout for teens and young adults and is heavily advertised at High School football games as a great place to go after sporting events.  I understand they made an extensive order of food requiring a good bit of work on the part of the waitress.  And I understand they left about a $5 tip for a $60+ order.  The shift manager, a burly guy with a beard, followed them out to the car and blocked them from leaving.  He told them the waitress was insulted, that she needed a larger tip, and then stood at the window with his hand out awaiting more money.  They hastily took up a collection, and then drove away in embarrassment.

My family was in the car, on the way home from an out-of-town trip, when she relayed to me this story.  It was later in the evening, and the journey had been tiresome.  But the more I heard, and the more I considered, the more irritated I became.  I did something I rarely do- because it can get you in big trouble- I acted upon impulse and emotion, and drove straight to the restaurant to talk to this “manager”.  My daughter was kind of surprised because this was out of character, as she tagged along.  She pointed-out the man, and I discerned rather quickly that he was big and burly, but I was pumped-up and irritated.  I could have taken him in a wrestling match at the moment, but I knew the confrontation would be verbal. 

Thus I asked him why he had behaved toward my daughter and friends in such a way.  He remembered the incident, and said he was simply trying to ascertain why these customers had mistreated his waitress.

Quickly I gained a reading of what had occurred.  The waitress was attractive, and he was trying to make points with her by bullying a bunch of kids.  I looked him in the eye, rather closely, and told him he would never have dared to follow me out to the car and treat me in such a way.  And I told him that he should give these kids back their money.  Of course he was not going to do that, and so ends the story.  None of us have frequented that establishment again.

Quite a few issues here, worthy of comment:

A tip is, by very definition, a voluntary gift.  I understand that a waiter/waitress depends on tips to make a living.  And I believe that good service should be rewarded with a nice stipend.  But it cannot be demanded.

Teenagers are generally bad tippers.  This is either out of ignorance, poverty, or insensitivity; I think this particular group of kids were guilty of the latter.  My wife was a waitress for many years, and she often told me that she dreaded to serve a table of teenagers.  But, the “law of averages” tends to work with most commission jobs.  A table full of teens requiring lots of work may leave a lousy tip.  But, a guy who orders only a cup of coffee may leave a twenty-dollar-bill.  It happens.  A good waitress should offer consistent and friendly service, and she will be rewarded.  And a good manager should understand this.

As parents, we should carefully monitor our “defence mechanisms” when it comes to our children.  I know this.  Generally we need to allow them to take care of their own challenges of life.  Such is necessary preparation for adulthood.  Usually the teacher or coach is not “picking-on your kid” in spite of how your child may tell the story; we need to just let it be.  But I am convinced this guy acted as a bully, and I wanted to confront him on the issue.  It’s not characteristic of my personality or approach to life.  But sometimes I think it is necessary.

So, what think ye?