Three Days In June

Please Note: Over the next few days I am changing this site. The address will stay the same, but I have to transfer to a new software, new server, new format, new look, new features, etc. But it’s the same old me.

While making these changes, I plan to re-post some of my favorite entries from former days. Please bear with me as I learn how to work this new system. This post comes from pages 72-74 in my book A Dirty Old Man Goes Bad:

— Thanks, John

Everything I know about prayer, I learned from my dog.

For some reason today I’ve been thinking a lot about what my dog taught me about prayer and understanding God’s will.

Sheba, our black lab, lived with us for 17 years; she’s been dead for four years now. After her initial shots, we never took her to the vet again, and, in spite of common knowledge to the contrary, we usually fed her table scarps, and on rare occasions a can of dog food..

One day as I was driving in heavy rain the rubber blade on my windshield wiper gave out. A nuisance. The next Saturday I bought some replacement blades and took them home to mount on the car.

Here I am parked in our drive on a bright sunny day trying to squeeze those rubber refills into the metal fixture. And Sheba sat alertly watching what interesting thing I was doing.

She whined and pawed the ground but she never took her eyes off me. She could not have watched more intently if I’d have been opening a can of Alpo. She cocked her head from one side to the other and gave every indication of yearning to help me accomplish whatever it was that I was doing. She seemed distressed that I was having trouble getting the task done.

I laughed.

And I just loved that stupid old dog for wanting to help.

That night at my prayers I puzzled over some situation I just could not understand; why had God let such-and-such happen?

Why didn’t He listen to my fervent prayer and advice about how to remedy the situation?

How can I follow the will of God when I don’t even understand what it is He’s trying to do?

Why does God want us to pray when most of the time we don’t even have an inkling of what to pray for?

As I struggled with such questions, the image of Sheba sitting in the drive staring intensely at me as I worked burst back into my mind.

I realized that I can no more understand the actions of God than Sheba could understand why I was changing the windshield wiper blades!

And I thought that maybe our Father may just enjoy our company, attention and good will—even when He has no need of our advice.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

A Writer's Life: Adventure, Passion, Thrills & Romance

I sat in front of the computer all day editing the manuscript of Letters From Stacy; up to page 100 now.

When Ginny got home, for our Friday Night Date we drove to the library to check out pleasure reading. Then we drove to Bar-B-Q Junction on San Juan Avenue where we read our books, ate great BBQ, and watched the rain hardly speaking to eachother.

Back home we put on some music, sat in our rockers and read our books all evening.

Can you stand the excitement?

Sunday, June 05, 2005

No good deed...

Ginny claims that when I go out of the house a huge neon sign floats in the air above my head flashing the word “SUCKER.”

Bums, winos and street people see this flashing sign and home in on me knowing instinctively that they’ve spotted the world’s softest touch who will swallow any sob story.

Well, I was out mowing a neighbor’s huge back yard (long story) in heat pushing 90 degrees. As I worked in the thick grass I was thinking that I’m too old and feeble to do such heavy work. I looked up from my work and there in front of me stood a stood a stranger, an elderly gentleman older and more feeble than I am. He asked me if he could mow the yard to earn a couple of dollars because he is hungry.

Now, obviously I could not turn a total stranger loose in my neighbor’s back yard, so I told him that I had to finish this work myself, but that maybe I could find a bit of help for him. Since I was working in my swimsuit and tee-shirt, I had no cash on me, so I left him sitting in the shade while I walked back to our house and to get a bit of change to give him.

Had to scrounge around in pants, billfold and dresser drawer to scrape together some cash. Then I walked back to the neighbor’s and handed the old guy enough to buy a burger.

I was feeling pretty virtuous about how kind I am to God’s poor and how righteous I am to go to all this trouble to get the old man a few dollars, and how that I am a shining example of Christian charity in action.

The Good Lord in Heaven looked down on the scene and said, “John Cowart, you smug, self-righteous prick! I’m going to have to take the wind out of your sails.”

So I handed the stranger his money, graciously received his thanks, waved bye as he left, and immediately stepped back into a nest of fireants.

God’s tiny little creatures responded.

They climbed upward and began stinging at my knees and proceeded to work their way north.

It’s difficult to feel smug and self-righteous with fireants conducting war games in your pubic hair. I think I could swear that I heard tiny helicopters and music playing “Flight of the Valkyries” from Apocalypse Now.

Unregenerate cynics sneer saying that no good deed goes unpunished.

Even though I’m a Christian, today I’m inclined to agree with them.