Long convoluted posting about... life?

Bluejays have decided that the figs on our luscious fig tree are ripe enough to plunder.

Whenever I look at this tree beside our fountain, I remember Sheba, our black lab who lived to be 17 years old. Sheba loved to eat figs from that tree and when the fruit was ripe that stupid dog would stand up and walk around and around the tree on her hind legs browsing figs off the lower branches like a deer. It was the funniest thing to see.

I miss her.

All the recent rains cause our grass to flourish so I decided to mow early before the temperature reached 98 degrees. The mower would not start.

I cleaned the air filter. It still wouldn’t start.

I cleaned the spark plug. It still wouldn’t start.

I sharpened the blade and drained the fuel line. It still wouldn’t start.

All the time driving around town I see these bumper stickers saying WWJD? Meaning What Would Jesus Do? I think the idea is for people to ask that question then do the same thing as the imagine Jesus doing in the same situation.

Doesn’t work for me.

I mean can you imagine Jesus working on a lawnmower that won’t start?. Pulling the cord? Cleaning the filter? Pulling the cord? Draining the fuel line? Pulling the cord? In 98 degree heat?

I imagine He would regard the thing as a mechanical fig tree and “withered it to the roots”. That’s biblical.

But I’m not able to do that. Bumper sticker religion doesn’t work for me. So I’ll ask my friend Rex, who is mechanical, to look at the mower.

Way back when, to support our family I worked as the night janitor in a building where, among other things, I cleaned a dozen or so toilets and urinals. I remember complaining long and loud in prayer about how this menial task was so below my dignity. “I’m a writer for Heaven’s sake and, Lord, would you just look at this filthy mess! Can you imagine Jesus cleaning urinals?”

Apparently God is not too impressed with my dignity. In fact, He thinks I can do without it. I realized that I should clean each urinal as though Jesus Christ Himself would be the next guy to use it.

Actually, there is a biblical parallel to that situation.

Remember when Jesus washed the feet of His disciples at the Last Supper? Why did He do that? Well, these guys walked everywhere. Hundreds of horses, camels, donkeys, and such plied the streets of Jerusalem.

None was equipped with emission control devices.

His foot washing was not an esoteric religious ceremony or quaint sample of pious humility. Jesus washed the feet of His disciples because their feet were dirty.

He demonstrated that Almighty God come in the flesh is willing to clean up the shit we get into.

Speaking of getting into bad shit, Ginny goes to a new doctor for the first time tomorrow. Last night while she was ironing dresses for work, I sat in with her smoking my pipe and we talked for a long time about how her diabetes is changing so many areas of our life.

The disease influences everything from our eating habits to the rhythms of our sex life (Hey, after 37 years of foreplay, we’re beginning to get really good at this sex thing) and how we drive the car, and what shoes she can wear, and our sleep patterns, and how we pray and our conversations, and even what library books we check out.

None of the really super bad-nasties of diabetes have hit us yet, but we live each day walking on eggs with the sword hanging over us.

It’s a bitch but we plan to cope with whatever comes whenever it comes.

It is scary.

God, but I love her so.

This afternoon since I couldn’t mow, I pruned dead palm fronds from a couple of trees.

Now, God’s tiny little creatures called wasps nest among the palm fronds where they buzz happily, humming their way through the day, nestled among the dry leaves, going about their business of leading productive lives.

So I climbed the ladder, pruning shears in hand, believing in a life of harmony with nature, co-existing with fellow creatures in peace, love and brotherhood.

Wasps will not sting me.

I am a Christian….. ---

Damn heathen bugs!.

Hand me the Raid!

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It's after 5 a.m. now, I'd better quit journaling and get to work!.