Friends, Photos, Family & Phone Calls

Wednesday my friend Wes took me out to breakfast where he showed me some photographs he had taken of a shipwreck uncovered by waves and tides back in 1985. We have a few hints that this was a famous Spanish-American War vessel but I want to do a bit of research to confirm the facts before posting the pictures on www.cowart.info .on a future date.

Remember the tale about the Christmas anvil I told yesterday? Well, I inadvertently gave Wes an even worse gift. He collects old medical books and a few months ago I ran across a tattered, coverless book with no title page in a thrift store. It cost a dime. Seeing it was a medical book I snatched it up and last week I wrapped it and presented it to my friend as a present representative of my generosity and thoughtfulness.

Yesterday Wes informed me that the book I gave was not a medical book at all – or rather, it is a medical book but it was written for veterinarians!

Hey, medicine’s medicine ain’t it?

Anyhow, he got a good laugh at my chagrin.

I’m ashamed to have wasted a whole dime on this gift for him. Just you wait till next year!

In the evening Ginny & I drove to Office Depot to shop for an executive calendar/planner for her. She examined dozens of them carefully before choosing one she can live with for a year.

Over our supper at Denny’s we talked for a long time about sex and marriage. Every time I mention my own temptations in this blog, I receive a number of private e-mails from folks concerned about the same things. For several weeks now I’ve been mulling over a post about my views on the subject but my own thinking is too jumbled to write about it yet. So we talked about reality in marriage at length. Perhaps soon after the first of the year, I’ll know what it is I want to say and how to say it. I don’t want to give snap, glib answers because it seems so many people’s happiness is intertwined with sex.

And, No. Rest assured, when I write my post ,I will not reveal anything other people have asked about in their private e-mails.

Our kids have often urged us to write a book on happy marriage… we tried once but floundered because we’re not sure what it is that we’re doing right and whether or not the things that work so well for us would help other couples.

O, by the way, Ginny’s new hearing aid must be working right – yesterday morning, for the first time in five or ten years, she said, “Oh, John, would you hush up”.

This is a problem we’ll have to address – I know, I’ll hide her batteries.

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I have trouble distinguishing opportunity from temptation.

Two weeks ago I learned of the chance to volunteer to care for a gentleman, an atheist, dying of cancer. He needs round-the-clock care in his home and a number of his friends from a local church take turns staying with him a night or two each week. I could join this group of helpers if I choose to.

But I already feel stretched to the limit trying to finish the books I’m working on. My books could possibly nudge some reader closer to Christ – or not. Caring for this sick guy may—or may not – help him.

I’m the kind of writer who uses any excuse to keep from writing. So I wonder if my inclination to join the gang helping this guy is a temptation to avoid the work I’m supposed to be doing; or is this a legitimate call of God for hand’s on service.

I’m well aware that I can’t write Christian if I don’t live Christian.

And the woods are full of fine Christian writers; on the other hand, the woods are also full of Christians who wash out bedpans. Both serve Christ equally, but where do I fit in?

Another factor that Ginny points out is that my own physical limitations may make me unable to care for the guy as well as I should; he needs to be lifted between wheelchair and bed, etc.

I think I’m willing to do either service for the Lord. But, like I said, I can’t tell if this is an opportunity of a temptation.

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This evening I enjoyed a long phone chat with Donald. He’s doing something technical with our dedicated computer server. He’s been making movies and he’s enthusiastic about his one site where people write down their dreams and other people comment – like a dreamblog, I suppose. His address is http://www.dreamlibrary.org/

I could not believe that really over 100,000 readers have spent at least ten minutes on my website this year so I asked him to verify the Webalizer statistics. He did and they do.

Mind-blogging.

Ginny says, “That means there are a lot of people with waaay too much time on their hands”.

I’m definitely going to hide her batteries.

Donald also discovered that if you do a Google search for Pool Boy, Socks the number one listing is – ME! Isn’t that a hoot?

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Ginny’s Mom and Dad called right after I hung up the phone from talking with Donald. They spent Christmas with other family in Virginia and they tell us that Ginny’s little brother, the lawyer, and his wife sold their home for – get this -- $150,000 more than their asking price. Potential buyers got into a bidding war over the place.

All the family up north had a very nice Christmas. But not one of them got a ten cent veterinarian book for a present.

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Right after they called, I talked with my friend Barbara to ask her out for breakfast tomorrow. The chemotherapy/radiation treatments seem to offer a bit more hope for her daughter this week.

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This morning PatH also phoned. She’s the near-blind lady I tried to help set up with her own blog on December 15^th, the lady who can’t spell chew-wah-wah dogs. I must have screwed up something or another because her own site locked her out until today. Then for no apparent reason, it let her in again and now she’s able to post. Pleased give her a welcome to the blog world; her site address is http://pjsdoghouse.blogspot.com/

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O, one last medical/phone thing:

This afternoon my friend Bernice called. She trains new nurses at a local medical facility. In the wee small hours of Christmas morning this one new nurse had the first patient in her care to die.

This understandably upset the young lady.

Bernice assured her that the patient, a 90+ year old man, had received the very best in compassionate care.

“But,” the young lady cried, “Isn’t it bad luck to die on Christmas”?