The email I opened today began with these words: “This is to inform you of a very important information which will be of a great help to redeem you from all the difficulties you have been experiencing in getting your long over due payment…”   Skipping down to the bottom of the note, I was amused to see this warning:  “Any action contrary to this instruction is at your own risk.”  I laughed at the audacity of the author and deleted the post. I get these missives on a daily basis.  You probably do too.  This one appeared to have originated in Nigeria and, like all the others of its ilk, was nothing more than an attempt to gain information about those recipients who are foolish enough to reply to the email.  What promises to offer personal redemption is actually an attempt to enslave you.

Photo: Evelyn Simak

Most of us would never be so foolish as to be caught in one of these traps, but a number of greedy people have. A few of them are still digging out of the financial hole left by the scam.  Most people are naturally skeptical of these too-good-to-be-true offers, because they understand that there are unscrupulous people just waiting for willing victims to walk into their webs of deceit.  We have been warned again and again about these crooked schemes and are constantly looking out for them.  We are wise to do so.

But, I can’t quit thinking about that audacious sentence at the bottom of the email.  “Any action contrary to this instruction is at your own risk.”  I see warnings like these on a regular basis.  Band instrument manufacturers insist that their product will only function at its best when you purchase and use their lubricants to maintain the valves and keys.  I can’t count the number of times that customers have come into my store, requesting these proprietary products by brand, insisting that their instrument will suffer if they don’t have them.  The sad fact is that most of these companies purchase their products from the major distributors and re-label them with their own name and trade-mark, marking them up many times the actual value.  They often are inferior products, rather than superior ones.  I do my best to gently guide these misguided folks to the other quality products, but there are some who insist.  A similar warning is there about power supplies for electronics, replacement heads for percussion instruments, tuning machines for guitars, and any number of other products.  All are scams to produce ongoing profit for a company which was only owed the profit for the original item, but has figured out how to guarantee a return for the life of the instrument.  Like the writer of the Nigerian email, they understand that many will be foolish enough to take their bait.

But, again, I think about the audacious warning.  “Any action contrary to this instruction is at your own risk.” I’m thinking that there actually are times when such a warning needs to be heeded.  I remember the time the next-door neighbor kids didn’t.  It cost them a lot of expensive camping and hunting equipment, to say nothing of the fact that they almost burned down the neighborhood.  The simple instructions on the side of a can of charcoal lighter fluid should have averted the entire affair.  “Do not spray contents on an open flame. Combustion will occur!”  A rather simple principle, one would think.  It wasn’t simple for these boys!  They had pitched their tent in the middle of the semi-wooded lot, leaning their .22 rifles against a nearby log, and started a fire.  Supper was prepared and eaten and they settled in for the evening.  It was still light out, but there wasn’t much to do except sit around and talk.  Bored, one of them, probably Mike, got the idea that it might be fun to shoot a little lighter fluid on the smouldering campfire.  It was.

Within seconds, the flames were leaping higher, and each subsequent squirt from the metal can was infinitely more exciting, as the flames began to chase the liquid up toward the young man wielding the can.  Finally though, the real combustion occurred, as the flames followed the liquid up and jumped to the lighter fluid soaked hands of the screaming boy.  Mike dropped the can, banging his hands on the ground to douse the flames that seemed as if they would burn away his flesh.  Seconds later, Mike and his brothers were fleeing the conflagration, as their campsite–tent, guns, and all–went up in flames.  Within moments, what started out as a simple campfire was a raging grass fire that threatened to consume not only the trees and dry grass nearby, but the homes bordering the area, also.  I know. We stood and frantically sprayed our property with a garden hose as the fire department worked to extinguish the main fire.  It was a scary evening. All because a few boys didn’t know to pay attention to the warnings.

Somehow, it is in our nature to ignore words of warning.  “Hot!” we tell the child, yet he has to touch the burning stove to find out for himself.  “Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear,” states the admonition on the automobile mirror, but again and again, people move into the other lane too soon, forcing vehicles behind them to brake suddenly or be hit.  Stop signs are ignored, lifeguard’s instructions unheeded, warnings from doctors merely laughed at.  Of course, you know that it is indeed in our nature to ignore instructions.  One of the earliest stories I learned in Sunday School was the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.  Their Creator said, (and I paraphrase), “Any action contrary to this instruction is at your own risk.”  The serpent planted the suggestion, but the pair determined their, and our, course.  Again and again as a child, I wondered why in the world they would ignore the warning.  How could they ruin it for all of us?

But now, I look deeply into my own heart and know, beyond any doubt, that I would have made the same choice.  I still do, even today. My guess is that you do also.

Do you suppose that we might be better off if we would heed warnings which are desperately vital, but ignore the others?  The false ones, the ones primarily intended to impoverish and to harm us are fairly easy to spot.  Just as easily, we can determine the warnings that actually do demand our attention and our obedience.  And, the most important of these have to do with our very being, not just with physical safety.

You see, there is an instruction manual.  It was not written by some scam artist in Nigeria, nor by an ad writer on Madison Avenue.  Truly, we ignore these instructions at our own risk.  Contrary to popular belief, this manual actually contains a lot more encouragement than warnings.  It would be well worth spending some time with.  I bet you already have one of these volumes somewhere. It is the best-selling book of all time.

“Any action contrary to this instruction is at your own risk.”

I do like the idea of being “redeemed from all the difficulties”, too.  That day really is coming…

“‘Will you walk into my parlor?’ said the Spider to the Fly,
‘Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy;‘…
‘Oh no, no,’ said the Fly, ‘To ask me is in vain;
For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.‘”
(The Spider and the Fly” poem by Mary Howitt~1799-1888

“Subtlety may deceive you; integrity never will.”
(Oliver Goldsmith~Irish poet/author~1730-1734)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2012. All Rights Reserved.

It was one of the most popular of the prizes the Lovely Lady offered to her piano students.  They would practice for at least twenty minutes every day, a fact attested to by their parent’s signature on a weekly form.  In return, the children would receive something the Lovely Lady called “music bucks”, one for each full practice session.  These little pieces of paper were photocopied facsimiles of money, not unlike the paper with which you buy and sell property in a Monopoly game.  The kids loved to earn music bucks!  They practiced like never before.  Never mind that in the end, each scrap of paper was only valued at something around three cents. You see, when they had acquired a significant number of the music bucks, they could shop through the gift counter at the music store, a veritable treasure trove of cheap Chinese-made items, each of with some connection to music.  Pencils with pianos or music symbols embossed on them, erasers in the shape of musical notes, treble clef shaped key rings…these and many more were there for them to purchase with their hard-earned music bucks.

Of the many prizes they could redeem with their little pieces of paper was one that a lot of students worked tirelessly for any number of weeks to claim as their own.  It was a little piano shaped bank.  The see-through plastic gizmo actually sorted coins for you!  You would drop in a coin and it would roll down the chute, stopping for an instant at one end before rolling back the other direction.  In the process, it would roll over a series of tubes, eventually dropping into the appropriate sized one.  The dime dropped into the first and smallest one, the penny next, then the nickel, and then the quarter.  The quarter had the furthest to roll, since it was the largest and couldn’t drop into any of the previous tubes.  Many times, I would place the bank out on top of the counter to demonstrate it for a student week after week, as they dreamed of the day when it would be theirs. “Plink!”  The penny would drop and roll down to its proper tube, tumbling to rest at the bottom of the second one.  “Plink!”  There went the quarter as it rolled on down to the very end, like the penny, tumbling to lie flat in its tube.  Every time, the sorter worked its magic, never allowing the penny to fall down the dime tube, nor the nickel to come to rest in the penny’s place.  We had to be sure that there were always plenty of these around to satisfy the demand.

Nifty little tool, huh?  I had a complaint with the system, though.  You see, the sorting method for this little bank was flawed.  How, you may ask?  It only used a single criterion for determining which coin dropped into which tube–its size.  Drop a Canadian penny into the slot and down the chute it rolled, right into the penny slot.  Then if you took those pennies to the bank to cash them in, the teller was likely to refuse to accept the Canadian coin.  It didn’t matter to the little piano-shaped bank if the coin were Japanese or Mexican, or even if it were a legal tender coin at all.  If the round disc you dropped down the slot was similar in size to an American coin, it would be deposited into the slot that matched that size and nothing else.  You might end up with a coin worth significantly less that the others in the same tube, or even with an object worth nothing at all.

Even worse, you could really cheat yourself if you made the error of dropping both of the coins above into the top of the piano-shaped-object.  “Why in the world would that matter?” you may ask.  It matters because of another criterion which the little bank couldn’t determine.

If you were only able to determine the size of the coin, you would make an error costing you many times the value of that quarter you think you see.  The coin on the right in both pictures is one minted after 1965…what we call a “sandwich coin”.  The silver content is negligible and the quarter is worth just twenty-five cents in legal exchange.  The one on the left however, was made in 1964 and is made of silver, about 80% pure.  Its real value today is over six dollars.  Yet, the little bank, with its limited scope, simply rolls it down to the last slot and cavalierly drops it down with all the twenty-five cent ones.  And, until someone with a keen eye and some sense of the value of silver comes along, anyone who looks at the stack of coins will evaluate it by simply multiplying the number of coins by the face value.

We live in a society, really in a world, which does the same thing as that little coin bank.  We determine the value of people with limited criteria, judging by skin color, or economic status, or even by geographic factors.  In the South, “Yankees” are scorned for their lack of sense and civility.  Conversely, to a Northerner, all Southerners are “rednecks”, ignorant and uncultured.  I grew up in a school system, as did many of you, where children were sorted into schools by their skin color and surnames.  Laws prohibit that now, but there is no reduction in the number of ways in which we pigeonhole each other individually and as people groups.

On a more personal level, we have measurements, usually unwritten and unspoken, by which we judge each other.  If any of us were asked, we would protest that we never would even consider doing such a thing.  But daily, I see the ways in which we do exactly that.

I remember a particular gentleman, who a few years ago, stood in front of me in my music store.  He needed a bath and as he spoke, gesturing passionately with his hands, my vision took in his fingernails on both hands, almost entirely consumed with fungus.His acne-scarred face was smiling at me, but his eyes showed the hurt, as he told me how he was treated in many of the local business establishments.  Most people refused to treat him with respect, or to deal fairly with him.  Although his mind was clear, and his communications skills adequate, because of his appearance,he was rejected and scorned.  My mind went back to Biblical times and the way that lepers were cast out of society.  His is not an isolated case.  I’m sure you know of many just like him.  Do you shake hands with them?  Hug them?  Treat them with respect?  Offer them the same recognition you would give to anyone else?

How do we determine the value of a human being?  The longer I consider it, the more I am forced to come back to the reality that our evaluation cannot be anything less than that of the One who created them, and us.  There are no circumstances under which a person of a different color is worth more, or less; no evaluation to be made by a body shape, be it slim or obese; no separation to be forced because of social status or financial situation.  We constantly look on these outward manifestations, but our Creator looks on the heart, seeing the pure silver, as well as the sandwich coin, and determining that both are of great worth to Him.  And, to all, He offers His grace and His love. How can we do any less?

Clink!  The coins still fascinate, as they roll down the chute.  But, I will no longer be lulled into thinking that the evaluation of worth based on size is the final word.  Perhaps, it is time for all of us to reconsider the other evaluations we hold dear as we walk along this path of life together.

However, if you have any silver quarters lying around, you are welcome to bring them by and drop them in my bank anytime…

“Then Peter replied, ‘I see very clearly that God shows no favoritism.  In every nation, he accepts those who fear Him and do what is right.'”
(Acts 10:34,35~NLT)

“One of the most striking differences between a cat and a lie is that the cat has only nine lives.”
(Mark Twain~American author and humorist~1835-1910)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2012. All Rights Reserved.

The loquacious businessman is full of stories.  Some of them are just that–stories.  I mean the kind of stories we would call fibs or, if you prefer, lies.  He has a lifetime supply of these stories and doesn’t need an invitation to begin one at any time.  I know.  I’ve endured the tedium of any number of them over the years.  That said, some of his stories are worth remembering.  One in particular comes to mind tonight.  At least, a phrase from the story comes to my mind.  The details themselves are lost in the mist of the years that have passed since he first told me the story. 

The man sold appliances for a national chain of stores at one time.  He tells of learning the ropes in selling from a master, and it is obvious from his success as a businessman later in life that he learned his lessons well.  Now, regarding the phrase I recall, it seems that frequently, the chain of stores for which he worked would run advertised specials on their appliances.  When they did, the word would come down from management that a certain model of washing machine, or stove, or refrigerator was their “nail-down model”.  At first, I assumed that it meant that they would nail down the sale with this model which was priced very attractively, but that was not the case.  “Nail-down model” meant, very simply, that this model was never to move from the showroom floor.  It was not, under any circumstances, to be sold to a customer.  Any customer who came in waving the ad and desiring to buy this bargain was to be upsold to a better model.  He claimed that the sales people were threatened with losing their job if they actually allowed a customer to buy the “nail-down model” during the sale.  We know this tactic today, as “bait & switch”.  It is understood to be illegal, and theoretically, a thing of the past.  I wonder.

I realized the other day, that I have a nail-down item in my store.  A few weeks ago, a gentleman came in with a very small, vintage-looking case under his arm.  He wanted to know if I could tell him anything about the instrument contained therein.  I could and did, but not before I became very interested myself in the instrument.  It was an old ukulele which had been made in the 1960s.  As it happens, the instrument was identical to the one on which I learned to play the uke.  Mrs. Jones, our grade school music teacher, had offered to teach any student who would come a couple of days a week, before the school day began, how to play the instrument.  It was a popular instrument back in the sixties and my brother and I convinced our parents that this was an essential purchase.  I don’t remember learning anything except three chords, but the memory of acquiring that instrument and carrying it to school for special lessons with Mrs. Jones is one of those that I treasure, all these years later. As I examined the man’s vintage instrument, I had to have it!  He reluctantly gave me a number that was well above the going price for these old instruments, but I wasn’t in the mood to let it walk out the door. I paid his price.  The instrument is in a display case in my music store now.

It’s not for sale.  There may be those who will accuse me of a bait and switch scheme of my own, since customers are more likely to see this instrument first upon entering the store, before seeing the ukes that are for sale hanging on the wall further back.  I have directed several of them to the ones hanging on the wall, after they have inquired about this one.  Since there is no advertising campaign which has brought them in to see the old uke, there will be no claim of a scam, but a number of them have complained that it is not fair for me to display an instrument which they cannot buy.  It’s still not for sale.

It would seem that there are different reasons for having items of which we cannot turn loose.  Perhaps, like the low-priced appliance, we would not make enough profit if we did.  Maybe, like my ukulele, there are memories tied up in it.  It could even be that we have acquired things which are so much a part of us that we wouldn’t even think of letting them go, but we really don’t know why.  There is nothing wrong with placing value in things, but I wonder sometimes, if we’re actually too attached to them.

I’m curious to know if you have any nail-down things in your personal life.  You know…that jacket that you’ve had since you were a teenager, perhaps that heirloom that Aunt Susie left to you; maybe your nail-down is even something in your mind which you can’t let go of.  Someone was unkind and you’ll never forget (or forgive) them.  You were bullied as a child and you hold onto the memory of that as an excuse for all the bad things that have happened since then.  The possibilities are endless.  There may be some things we would even describe as good, but which we hold onto tightly, lest they slip out of our grip.

I remember a few years ago, after my Grandma died…my father gave me something to keep as a memory of her.  The old sugar jar has no monetary value; it could never be sold to pay the mortgage.  It has however, been in my family for four generations now.  My great-grandmother used it to keep her sugar in, my grandmother did the same, and my father also did for a short time.  Now it sits in our kitchen, easily holding the bags of sugar, greatly reduced in size since the huge ones of the early and mid-twentieth century.  My father left me with one instruction, which I will never forget, regarding this family “heirloom”.  “If you ever get to thinking that this is something important and start to place too much value on it because of your family history, I want you to promise me something.”  Of course, I wondered what he was getting at, and told him so.  He continued, “I want you to take a hammer and hit it as hard as you can, right on the side, about here…”  These last words were said as he indicated a spot in the center of the huge glass jar.  I got the message.  This is not a nail-down model.  There is no reason to get my heart set on this piece of glass, with its metal lid and ancient homemade handle.

So, what do you say?  Are you ready to get rid of some of those nail-down items that have taken over your life?  Find the hammer and do it!  It won’t be easy.  It might even seem like saying goodbye to some old friends.  But, when our lives are ruled by things, and memories, and habits, we are indeed prisoners.  It’s time to break down some bars!

The ukulele will probably move some day, too.  Now, if only I can figure out a way to sell it for as much as the greatly inflated price I actually paid for it!

“Set your affection on things above, not on things on this earth.”
(Colossians 3:2)

“One who cannot cast aside a treasure at need is in fetters.”
(From “Lord Of The Rings” by J.R.R.Tolkien~English Author~1892-1973)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2012. All Rights Reserved.

The note on the outside of the envelope informed anyone who cared to pay attention that, “Tampering is prohibited, under penalty of Federal Law.” I looked at the advertising piece, definitely not something I had requested, and started to toss it away without even giving it a perfunctory perusal. Hesitating, I considered the blurb promising severe penalties ranging from a huge fine to ten years in jail and decided that perhaps I should see what was contained in this piece of mail that these folks were so intent on protecting.

Interesting. The instructions for opening the mail piece appeared to the same as many checks which I have received from various sources. “Tear along each side. Then remove the top tab.” The corners of my mouth twitch as I am taken (momentarily) back to my childhood and once again am hearing the voice of Mr. Olsen telling of the two ants running at breakneck speed along the top of the cracker package. As the story-teller begins to giggle, he informs us that one of the ants asks the other why they are hurrying so and the breathless reply comes, “Well, it says to tear along the dotted line!” As I return to the here-and-now, I suppress a little giggle myself and check to be sure there are no ants on the envelope before following the directions. In no time at all, I am reading the words that tell me that, due to my diligence in keeping my nose clean, I have been approved to receive a small business loan of up to two hundred thousand dollars! I was nearly successful with the giggle, but couldn’t suppress the guffaw that escaped my open mouth at reading this.

Again my hand made a motion toward the circular file nearby and again, something stopped me. I lifted the page which explained the stellar reputation my business has earned that made me eligible for such an offer. Under the first page, as if to give a pledge of good faith, I saw it–a check for forty-nine thousand, nine hundred and eighty-five dollars! It appeared to be a legal tender check, right down to the endorsement section on the back. I could take this check to the bank! Nearly fifty thousand dollars could be mine today! With just a stroke of the pen (and believe you me, that’s how my messy signature would appear to your eyes), I could have all that money in my bank account, ready to use for whatever purpose I desired!

You do know, of course, what I promptly did with the check, do you not? Yes, that’s exactly what I did. I tore it into little bits and dropped it into the trash can. It is virtually the same thing I did with the perky young thing who called me the other day offering an “extremely low-interest loan”. I returned a polite “no thank you”, but she insisted on asking how I could refuse such a good deal. I asked the young lady if they would expect me to pay the money back. She replied that they would indeed. As I hung up, I told her that I had no intention of paying back such a loan and consequently would not be accepting her kind offer. With the click of the phone, the tatters of her sales pitch floated into the imaginary trash can, much as the very real ones had done in front of me as I tore up the check..

Pay the piper. Strings attached. Quid pro quo. These are all terms we use that indicate an obligation incurred because of something received. The offer of easy money is always followed by the demand for hard payment. All too often, I have fallen for the gimmick instantly, only to repent over time. It is likely that you are nodding your head contemplatively, as you read this. You too, have succumbed to the siren call of easy credit, of fast cash, or of instant gratification. The problem with all of them is that the day comes when the piper who played the beautiful music that lulled you into acquiescence demands to be paid for the dance.

In this season of political rhetoric, I know that some could wish that I would draw the parallels to our government (and there are parallels), but for tonight, I have loftier goals.

I want to draw your attention to an anomaly in the law of quid pro quo (literally, “this for that”). I want to remind you of the one Piper who has no demands to make for the dance. To my knowledge, only once in human history has such an offer been made (and meant). The music of Grace is sweet and beautiful. It calls to us with no strings attached, no demand of payment to be made at a future date. There is a price for this music, terribly high, but it was paid long ago, by the very One who now plays the tune for us.

Many will refuse to dance, entranced by the music to which they are already marching, all the while knowing that one day they will be dunned for the pleasure at a cost far beyond what they can afford. Once in awhile, they listen momentarily to the Piper’s music, acknowledging its beauty but, believing that the cost is more than they can pay, they march on. The day of reckoning will be a sad one, but make no mistake; it will come.

As we walk through life, I trust that you will have the wisdom to avoid the pitfalls of shady offers and easy money. How much simpler it is to toss the worthless paper into the trash now than it would be to obligate yourself for years to come.

But, when it comes to the choice of marching to the drum beat of the world’s taskmasters, or dancing to the music of Grace…

I hope you’ll dance.

“Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance.
And when you get the choice to sit it out, or dance
I hope you dance.
I hope you dance.”
(“I Hope You Dance”~American Country song written by Mark Sanders & Tia Sillers)

“Ho! every one that is thirsty in spirit,
Ho! every one that is weary and sad;
Come to the fountain, there’s fullness in Jesus,
All that you’re longing for: come and be glad!”
(Lucy J Meyer~American educator/songwriter~1849-1922)

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2012. All Rights Reserved.

“Well, you can just sit there and cool your heels for a little while!”  My brother and I had been caught in some misdemeanor again, so Mom pulled out another of her little obscure phrases and tried it on us.  “Cool your heels?  What does that mean?”  The words were spoken as an aside to my brother, so as not to poke the already buzzing hornet’s nest again.  The intent failed.  “You just sit there and keep still!”  thundered the weary lady, already well past the limit of her patience for the day.  We kept still.

I really hadn’t thought about that phrase again until the other day as I walked out to the back yard where a couple of my grandchildren were sitting on the park bench.  I approached from the rear, so they were unaware of my presence.  I heard their little voices talking with each other about some mundane subject which I don’t remember.  What I do remember is the four little feet swinging in the air.  As they sat, unworried by the passing of time, they “cooled their heels” and enjoyed life.  Hey!  This is one of those AHA! moments, isn’t it?  Almost fifty years later, I finally get it!  But, these kids have a much better way to wait than my brother and I.  We sat angrily, awaiting the words that would set us free from our prison.  There was no carefree, happy-go-lucky air to our countenance.  We couldn’t wait to get up off the seats we were on and back into trouble again.  I think that I like their waiting better than mine.  Now that I consider it, I still wait with a case of the grumpies.  Rather than taking advantage of the momentary respite to consider the joys of life and to count my blessings, I tend to count the passing seconds as wasted time, never to be recaptured, muttering under my breath the whole time.

Many of us are not good at filling the “in between” times, the periods in our lives when we don’t have a clear directive.  We call it “marking time”, “passing time”, or even “treading water”.  They’re not encouraging descriptions, the last even implying that we’re in the throes of a drowning incident.  It all reminds me of the British sit-com entitled “Waiting For God”, which the Lovely Lady and I watch periodically.  As you might expect, the story is about old people, no longer of any use to society, who are just passing time, waiting to die.  What an empty and sad concept!  I have to admit that the idea is not entirely foreign to us in this country either.  Many of our aged parents and grandparents sit in wheel chairs at nursing homes, with nothing at all to fill the time except to stare at television screens and wait for mealtimes.

I do know one lady who is the exception to that rule.  The Lovely Lady’s mother is now in her eighties, having suffered from crippling rheumatoid arthritis for close to forty years of her adult life.  But this is one lady who is not passing time.  Even with her misshapen, contorted hands, she plays the piano daily.  Frequently, she plays for song services in the lobby of the home where she resides.  She writes letters to friends and family; her scrawled missives, although becoming harder to read, a testament to her devotion to others.  An avid reader all of her life, she continues that practice daily.  Most evenings find her with one or more family members in her room playing a couple games of Scrabble, at which she remains quite formidable (I won’t even attempt a match!).  She’s ready for God, but she’s certainly not waiting for Him.

I’m reminded of playing music many times over the years with different bands and ensembles, mostly in the classical genre.  Frequently, the director of the group will call our attention to the last note in a piece, reminding us that it’s a grave mistake to just play the note passively or to let it die out.  “It’s as much a part of the music as is the first note!  Give it life!  Make it exciting!”  We never just hold a final note.  It’s either building or softening, moving and still full of life.  The piece is not yet ended and we keep communicating that until the very last beat.

Are you thinking that you’re done?  You’ve played your part and moved off the stage, so you’re waiting for who knows what?  I want you to know that you’re not finished until the last breath is drawn, the last word spoken.  You may be waiting right now, but you can do so joyfully, and with anticipation for the next act, whenever that may commence.

Why don’t you just pull off your shoes and socks and cool your heels a little while?  It seems to work for the kids.  I’m going to try it too, the next time I have to sit and wait.  My guess is that their method sure beats my normal case of the grumpies.  Maybe we’ll find out together.

“You usually have to wait for that which is worth waiting for.”
(Craig Bruce~Canadian software developer)

“But those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength.  They shall mount up on wings as eagles.  They shall run and not grow weary.  They shall walk and not faint.”
(Isaiah 40:31)

Originally published 9/7/11.

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2012. All Rights Reserved.