You Did It!

by   June 26, 2023 with No Comments

One of my favorite – and least favorite – memories of middle school happened in PE class. Although I love sports, athleticism has never been my talent.

If students chose teams for kickball – or any game – I was always selected last. That hurt.

To participate, finish, and not be noticed was usually my goal.

On this day, while using the ‘not be noticed’ strategy, I donned my one-piece navy blue PE uniform as inconspicuously as possible, while in my corner of the locker room.

Then, as I walked into the gym, I realized it was ROPE CLIMBING day. Oh, what I would have given for a kickball game at that moment.

Weighing in at possibly 90 pounds, and quite the weakling, my expectations for myself in this endeavor were set pretty low.

I got in line, using a strategy that had worked before – slipping toward the back, while hoping the class period would end before my turn came.

I fearfully watched. I painfully waited. My turn came. This was not the first PE task that others had seen me participate in, so I felt that my rope ascension was a highly anticipated event, and everyone was planning to watch me carefully, laugh, and enjoy themselves.

I did not disappoint. I went way up that rope. Well, maybe not way up. But, it felt way up to me. I looked down and was petrified. I froze. I could not move.

My problem? My hands were locked around the rope because of my fear, and I was not willing to even move them slightly to a lower part of the rope in order to begin my descent.

I guess I would forever be known as the dope on the rope with no hope.

Students began yelling advice to me. Trust me – people yelling advice does not help.

Coach kept patiently repeating instructions. Trust me – repeating instructions over and over does not help, either.

As class time ended, I finally had no choice. I held on and slid… all… the… way…down.

*Rope burn? Yes.

*Pain? Yes.

*On solid ground again? Yes.

My hands were burning, as were the tears in my eyes, but I tried to pull myself together. Coach looked at me and said, “You did it.”

Those three little words changed it all. 1 Thessalonians 5:11 says to comfort and build one another up. Coach must have known that verse.

I proudly walked away, and headed to English class, where I felt like I was a pretty good writer – and could hang with the best of them.

*We will not be the best at everything, but we should still give everything our best.

God takes care of the rest.

Better with a Pinch of Salt

by   June 25, 2023 with No Comments

By Ashlie Miller

Let us begin with a controversial statement – watermelon tastes best sprinkled with salt. I can already see the email notifications lighting up! I am a Southern gal raised in Southern ways. My earliest watermelon feasts occurred at my grandparents’ home on Sam Wilson Road in Charlotte. We would sit at a newspaper-covered picnic table adorned with dull knives and a salt shaker. Today, I still prefer a watermelon with salt. It enhances the flavor, whether it is already sweet or needs some help.

Any food connoisseur, from the home cook to the high-end chef to the passive foodie, could list many foods whose flavor is enhanced by a pinch of salt – bitter coffee or chocolate, sour grapefruit, even a salad. Although a common seasoning, it does extraordinary things. It both suppresses less-than-desirable or offensive flavors and enhances the lovely ones.

It is no wonder that Jesus refers to salt when He commands His followers to be the salt of the earth (Matthew 5:13) or when Paul says to season our conversations with salt (Colossians 4:6).

Salt is helpful in many ways – gardening, cleaning, preserving, and offering sacrifices; it was even a commodity in ancient economies. As Christians, we can see many metaphors of how that relates to our walk in Christ among the people we encounter daily. However, as we finally officially enter summer and you likely will pick up a watermelon to enjoy, let us consider how we can add flavor to our conversations and relationships with others.

If salt suppresses things that are not desirable – like conflict – how can I diffuse such things in conversations? I could avoid partaking in a juicy piece of gossip under the guise of a prayer request. It may mean that I speak up for someone not around to defend themselves. It may also mean avoiding flattery – speaking kind things to someone’s face that I would not say about them to others – with the intention of personal gain.

If, like salt, we are to enhance the desirable flavors of things – how can I intentionally work towards edifying someone? I might send someone a note of encouragement on a job well done or a thank you for a kind gesture extended my way. I may see someone who is down or struggling through life and pray with them or speak life into their spirit. Sharing scripture is a great way to succeed in that.

Although, like salt, we may be merely common, we know that God chooses to use the simple to confound the wise (1 Corinthians 1:27). By observing something as humble as salt, we know that a little can go a long way in making a profound impact on the lives of others. We do not have to wonder about what profound things we can say. When we walk in the Word and pray to our Father in heaven, we can have confidence in the words He can use to suppress the bad and bring out the good.

What steps can I take today to be the right pinch of salt, balancing conversations to point upward toward Christ and eternal things and outward for the good and building up of others?

Tune in next week for more controversial statements like – pineapple on pizza is delicious! (I kid, I kid).

Ashlie Miller enjoys her salty watermelons on the back porch of her Concord home with her husband and 5 children. You can contact her on mrs.ashliemiller.com to let her know if you prefer your watermelon with or without salt.

Helping Others

by   June 24, 2023 with No Comments

By Doug Creamer

Helping Others

            Last week some teachers and students from the RCCC GED program gathered to work on a Habitat for Humanity house. It was a warm, dry day. We arrived and were put to work on insulating the house. The project manager showed us how to put the insulation up and we went to work.

            Insulation is different than it was years ago. We were not working with fiberglass, which can be so itchy. This insulation is packed tightly in bundles. When you slice the plastic off, it expands rapidly.  Then the project manager showed us how to put it between the studs. Pressure holds the insulation in place.

            There was some cutting of the insulation to get it to fit in tighter places. While the insulation wasn’t itchy, it was very dusty. Some of us were coughing, especially when we had to cut it to fit in tight places. It was not hard work, and with the crew we had there we got it done quickly. We helped with moving equipment and supplies around the house, which helped the project manager. Before long the work was done and we all left feeling good for helping.

            I found out that people who get a Habitat house have to work between 300 – 450 hours on houses before they are eligible for a home. Hours they spend on their own home can count towards their total hours. I think it is a great lesson requiring people to give back in order to receive a house.

            Some people believe that Jimmy Carter started Habitat but that isn’t the case. It was started in 1976, the year he became President of the United States. Jimmy started working on Habitat houses in 1984 and had been working on them up until his health issues interfered. He advocated for affordable housing while he was President and put his muscle where his ideals were when he came out of office. I have great respect for the work he has done for Habitat.

            The world around us is full of needy people. None of us can meet all the needs that we see on a daily basis. How does one decide which people we try to help and which people we choose not to help? I don’t know about you, but I like to help people.

            As a teacher, that is what I have devoted my life to doing, helping people. I learned a long time ago from a wise assistant principal: I can’t help every student who comes through my door. I can only help the students who want to learn, who want to accept what I have to offer. This was a very difficult lesson because I can see a better future for someone if only they will listen and apply what I am trying to teach them. Some people don’t want it or won’t do it.

            I think part of it is that we have to be sensitive to the Spirit. The Spirit will guide us to those that need and will accept our help. I am not talking about those beggars that stand on the street corners day after day. Beggars existed in biblical days and they are with us today. Some we can help and others just want to beg and not change. When we help others we will get taken sometimes. That’s why we need discernment.

            When we consider who we can help, I think the first place to begin is with our family. Next we want to consider our church family. How can we help struggling church members? The next group would be our neighbors. Sometimes the people we live around need a helping hand and God might be sending you and me.

            Some people have a heart to reach out through missionary work. Many of my nieces and nephews have gone to other countries to help people in need. I have a friend who went to Florida with a church group after Hurricane Andrew’s destruction. Imagine all the Red Cross workers who help after disasters. I will admit that sometimes our neighbors who need help might be a little farther than next door.

            I want to encourage you to exercise discernment as you consider who you might be able to help. It’s not easy and I hate when someone takes advantage of me. But we can’t allow a few bad characters to keep us from offering a helping hand to those in need. God is watching and He remembers your kind words and actions. Sometimes all someone needs is a kind word or a simple smile, and that is something that costs nothing that we can all do.

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

One More Fine Morning

by   June 23, 2023 with No Comments

By Roger Barbee

A slight breeze blew in from the southwest, the first sunlight streaked through the pines at Kenny’s house giving sparkle to the dew, two cups of coffee sat on the yellow table in the screened porch, four of our five cats lay about on shelves or in boxes watching robins and doves on the driveway, and three dogs slumbered. A fine morning was breaking at Red Hill, and all was peaceful, not even the interstate roar shattered the calm. As Mary Ann and I sat, looking towards Short Mountain as if expecting something to happen, it did. But not on the mist-filled mountain.

            Some years ago, Mary Ann purchased a small (4×6 inches) birdhouse that was built and painted to look like a washing machine. Because of its theme, clean clothes, the only logical place for it was on one of the clothes line posts. I fastened it to the post under the aged sugar maple tree and faced it to the screened porch so that we could observe its occupants. Each season since its hanging, it has housed some pair of nester’s, usually chipping sparrows, but one year a pair of Carolina Chickadees raised a brood. Each fall it has been taken down, cleaned out, and given any needed repairs. Mary Ann’s inexpensive purchase has provided us many mornings of watching and learning, and this morning we both witnessed something neither of us had ever seen.

            Our gaze was moved from the mountain to the birdhouse by a movement. As we sat sipping coffee, we saw one of the adult sparrows light on top of the post and lean into the box. A small, fledgling head appeared in the hole. The adult flew up into the sugar maple. The small head disappeared back into the box. Then reappeared. Then disappeared. This cycle happened many times, but each time it appeared, the small body ventured further out of the hole. Then suddenly it fluttered on its fledging wings into the tree’s foliage. Then another head appeared in the hole, repeating the same process, but when this one left, it sailed into the grass, then fluttered just above ground to the weeping cherry.  As if it had learned by the first two, the third did not need as many looks out of the hole.  It

peeked out a few times, disappeared, then fluttered all the way to the weeping cherry. With its departure, we thought all had made their maiden flight. After all, the box was small, so three fledglings and two adults seemed quite a house full. But wait, an adult perched on the post and went into the box. Soon, a fourth, small beak appeared and it surveyed the territory. After much prodding by the adult, we thought, it flew in a haphazard pattern to a post near the tree. We waited, wondering if another would emerge, but the adult exited and flew to the weeping cherry, “the runt” of the brood having been pushed out of the nest. Neither of us had ever witnessed fledglings on their first flight, and we marveled at the small wings propelling the just as small bodies about our yard as the two adults guided. We watched, drinking coffee, and discussed in a limited manner, the odds for all 4 fledglings’ survival. We also talked of the adult and it going into the box for the seemingly purpose of forcing the last out. What a parent, we decided, for on that morning, after all care and grooming was complete, the adults knew that it was time–time for those babes to fly into the world and learn its ways.

            Now, I know there is a difference between sparrows and students. However, there is the obvious similarity this time of the year. Across this nation, students in high school and college are ready to fly into the world and learn its ways. Just like the 4 small fledglings, these students will soar in different ways, and, just like the fledglings, some will encounter difficulties. But my hope is that our students, at whatever level of graduation, will have been as well prepared as the fledglings. I hope for them determination, courage, wisdom, patience, and a sense of justice. Oh, and a good set of wings will help, too.

David Travels on…

by   June 22, 2023 with No Comments

By David Freeze

Hayesville is another town that has a deep Cherokee heritage. The Cherokee had a village along the Hiwassee River as early as 1000 AD that eventually became Hayesville after the Indians were forced to cede their land. Nineteenth-century politician George Hayes learned that residents wanted their own county seat because of the difficulty of traveling to Murphy. Hayes introduced legislation and got it passed to designate the new county as Clay and Hayesville became the county seat. The town of Hayesville was incorporated in 1913.

Yet another majestic courthouse is the center of Hayesville and concerts are held all summer on Friday nights. The building was abandoned by county officials in 2007, then renovated and opened again in 2018 as an event center. The old Clay County Jail was built in 1912 and has been the county museum since 1974. I visited the site of the Spikebuck Town Mound and Village Site, one of six Cherokee sites around town.

Tribute statues honor traditional music, the Appalachian music that preceded bluegrass, and quilting bees which were early social gatherings. Fort Hembree was another fort where the Cherokee were gathered before the army moved them west.

Next was Franklin, the town where my debit card was hacked on my run across N.C. Franklin is the seat of Macon County and is situated in the Nantahala National Forest. The town is centered around the 1,000-year-old Cherokee town of Nikwasi. Organized in 1820, Franklin was named for Jesse Franklin who later became a U.S. Senator and the 20th N.C. governor. The Cullasaja River empties into the Tennessee River at Franklin. The town was incorporated in 1855.

Franklin is famous for its gem mining and hosts two gem shows each year as the “Gem Capital of the World.” The Franklin Gem and Mineral Museum is in the old jail. Charles Frazier grew up here, the author of “Cold Mountain,” a book about a Civil War soldier who walked home at the end of the war. Franklin is known for its Scottish heritage while many streets are named in honor of the Cherokee. There is a Women’s History Trail that honors prominent women who contributed to the history of Franklin. The last body of Confederate troops east of the Mississippi surrendered here almost a month after Lee surrendered in Appomattox.

Brevard was next, known as the Land of Waterfalls and much more. As county seat of Transylvania County, which was formed from portions of Jackson and Henderson counties, Brevard is located at the entrance to the Pisgah National Forest. It is also the home to white squirrels, none of which I have ever seen during numerous visits. The White Squirrel Festival was just held on the Friday, Saturday and Sunday before Memorial Day.

The first county meeting was held on May 20, 1861, the same day North Carolina seceded from the Union. Due to the Civil War, Brevard was not incorporated until 1868. And it was not until 1881 per one source and 1884 per another that Transylvania County completed the brick courthouse they had discussed at the first county meeting in 1861. The courthouse still stands proudly today, at the corner of Main and Broad streets.

The Co-Ed Cinema was built in the 1930s and is still going strong. In 1902, Joseph and Elizabeth Silversteen moved to Brevard from Pennsylvania and built the 33-room Greek Revival Mansion four blocks east of the courthouse on Main Street. It’s now known as The Inn at Brevard, on the National Register of Historic Places after construction in 1885, houses many community organizations and special events, and its extensive grounds provide visitors and residents of Brevard with a casual recreation center.

Before leaving town after what developed into a long day, I stopped at Sully’s Steamed Bagels, a bagel store open late in the evening. Steamed instead of toasted, I bought a bagful from Salem, perfect for the long ride home.

On Memorial Day, May 29, I drove to Winston-Salem, county seat of Forsyth County. It’s the fifth largest city in North Carolina and is the product of merging Winston and Salem in 1913. The original town of Salem was first planned in 1753 by the Moravian Church. In 1849, the Salem Congregation sold land north of Salem to the newly formed Forsyth County for a county seat. The new town was called “the county town” or Salem until 1851, when it was renamed Winston for a local hero of the Revolutionary War, Joseph Winston. Winston and Salem were officially incorporated as Winston-Salem after a referendum in 1913.

The RJ Reynolds Tobacco Company bought 84 acres in Winston-Salem in 1917 and built housing for its employees and the Reynolds Building in 1929, the tallest building south of Baltimore at the time. Piedmont Airlines, Wachovia Bank, Krispy Kreme, Hanes and Texas Pete were some of the business names that started in Winston-Salem. Oddly, the city does not have passenger rail service but does have bus service to High Point where Amtrak is available. Sportscaster Howard Cosell was one of a long list of notables from Winston-Salem.

The old Forsyth County Courthouse was built in 1926 and incorporated elements of an earlier one built in 1896. A new courthouse is now in use.

Fifty county seats are now complete and 50 more remain. With lots to see, I completed 6.4 miles on my feet during the four visits. I will be heading east, looking for more fun!

Strengthened Faith

by   June 21, 2023 with No Comments

By Ed Traut

Dear Doug,


Romans 4:20 Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God,

  • The enemies target is to cause us to waiver in our faith.
  • It is unbelief that renders faith weaker, not the amount of faith!
  • Being strengthened in faith and to continue glorifying God regardless of how things look.

Prayer:  Lord help me to be strengthened in my faith and to glorify You continually and to never look at the circumstances or let them determine where my faith stands, but rather by Your word.  I praise You for Your faithfulness.  I love You Lord.  Amen.

  
Ed Traut

Prophetic Life

Lynna’s 68

by   June 20, 2023 with No Comments

We’re 68. Well … I am. Though he is a few months younger than me, David knows enough to claim my same age.

How well he remembers the time we filled out visitor cards at a church in South Carolina. Since I had already turned 25, I had to check the age box marked 24-35. He had not yet had his birthday so he jauntily checked the age box marked 18-24 and made sure I saw it. That day became a day to remember in our young marriage.

For me, remembering anything is getting harder and harder. David and I have a running game of “Who’s that guy?” You know, the one who used to coach the New Orleans Saints. Or who’s the dude who played in Die Hard? Or the rich one who owns Tesla? We also play the game, “Why am I in the kitchen?” That one’s easier because I usually assume I’m there to get a snack. It’s kind of a win win. I can always go back later when I remember why I really went there… and get another snack.

Anyway, we are sixty-eight. And we’ve been around long enough to have been through some hard things. It’s easy to remember the time our kids were small and we were kicked out of church by a jealous preacher. The times we sat with dying parents and held their hand until they passed; the foreclosure on the house we had poured heart and soul into; the loss of our first grandson before he breathed life; the diagnosis of cancer and the horrible season of chemo. Those things are branded on our souls it seems.

But what is important to remember is the way the Lord saw us through them. The time He sent unusual strength when my big strong hero keeled over one night; those times the Lord provided more than enough when we had no resources of our own. How He gently held us as we walked through the very shadow of death.

Psalm 78 mentions many occasions when the Lord took great care of His people. Yet they continually forgot His provision, even demanding things they craved. It goes so far as to say, “Despite His wonders, they refused to trust Him.” The Psalm also says that they “grieved Him; they did not remember His power or how He rescued them.”

Let’s not grieve the Lord. Let’s not demand things of Him as if we know best. He appreciates being remembered and He is honored when we trust Him. All our lives He has provided, comforted, and loved us to Himself. Personally, I have to say that I do not understand Him. And I sure don’t know why He puts us through the things He does. But in every part of life, I’ve learned that He will carry me til the end. Then later, looking back on the trouble, I can remember this. “When they walk through the Valley of Weeping, it will become a place of refreshing springs.” -Psalm 84:6 NLT

Last One Chosen

by   June 19, 2023 with No Comments

By Ann Farabee

As a student in a classroom of 4th graders, recess would finally arrive. Our teacher would choose captains for the kickball teams, often based off who was yelling out their name the loudest. I never raised my hand, and certainly never yelled, “Me! Me! Me!”

The captains would then choose their team.

I was always chosen last.

My kickball skillset included one strategy. Connect my foot to the huge red ball when it was rolled to me. Yes, sometimes I missed it. Sometimes, I kicked the ball mightily, and it would creep toward the pitcher, as I barreled toward first base. The pitcher would pick up the ball and hit me with it. I was an easy out.

In today’s world, my mother would have signed me up for kickball lessons after school, so I could improve, but I just had to deal with my ineptness on my own.

Did I try? Yes.

Did I give it my everything? Yes.

Was that enough? No.

I had zero athleticism.

The torturous daily kickball games continued. Finally, one day, my teacher came to my rescue as she called out my name. As I ran toward her, I saw a brand new red ink pen and a stack of papers. She had chosen me to grade the spelling tests! My teaching career had begun.

That year of lacking kickball skills brought about the opportunity for me to grade papers for the teacher each day. Grading papers each day brought about God putting a desire in my heart to have a teaching career.

No, the kickball skillset made up of knowledge, ability, and experience — kicking, throwing, catching, running the bases, rolling the ball — was not my area of giftedness.

Sitting on the grassy hill at the edge of the playground grading papers for my teacher with her red pen was much better!

Not even once would I have been able to envision my 40-year teaching career that was to come, where my students played kickball often. Guess who got to roll the ball then?

God knew the plans he had for me — to give me hope and a future — by putting that desire for a teaching career in my heart.

God’s handprints are on our lives from the beginning.

As a skinny, short, non-athletic little girl on that playground, God was doing a great work in my heart. He was preparing my steps and setting my path for my future.

He guided my teacher to hand me that red pen. I guess I was not the last one chosen after all.

John 15:16 says, “You did not choose me, but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and that your fruit would remain.”

Hang on to that promise, my friends. He chose us and He appointed us. Our fruit will remain!

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.

Making it a Happier Father’s Day for Those Who Grieve

by   June 18, 2023 with No Comments

By Ashlie Miller

While many meet Mother’s Day with joy and appreciation, Father’s Day often comes differently. There may be situations where the father is not physically or emotionally present in the home. Father’s Day has always been a little different for me because my father passed away when he and I were young. Due to the unique circumstances of his upbringing, I do not have a connection to his ancestors or close friends from his childhood. Because he died young, few adult friends can share memories with me.

For many years, I struggled in my grief process. Like many of my generation, I have few photos of my dad or me with him, nor do I have many material possessions that belonged to him. There are not many tangible mementos to prompt my recollections. As you can imagine, and maybe experience yourself, I yearn to have memories that keep him alive in my heart and mind. I am grateful for those who did know him and who share memories – any memories – with me so that I can envision who he was.

There are many studies regarding the antidote that gratitude can be for depression and anxiety. Remembering good things and expressing thankfulness for a person or a season in life can be a salve to soothe aching hearts. In the Bible, Paul often begins his letters with gratitude for the people he is writing to. He mentions remembering and giving thanks for them even when he is about to confront a problem. Gratitude helps. Psalm 112:6 talks of how the righteous will be remembered forever. Again, when we reflect on their memories, gratitude helps.

This Father’s Day, I am asking you to do something for yourself or someone else who may not have their father on this side of eternity and will approach this day with sadness. First, reminisce with gratitude that you had your father for as long as you did – the gift God gave you in giving Dad to you. Reflect on the good moments and even how you overcame the tough ones. Let the gratitude slowly melt away that sadness.

Secondly, ask others for their memories of your loved one. It can be cathartic, and you can often learn things that will encourage your heart about your loved one that you never knew. Through small stories, I have learned how sweet and kind my father was and how he was easy to be around.

Finally, if you know someone who has lost a father either recently or decades ago, would you consider sharing a favorite memory about that person with the loved one? It does not matter how small or trivial it is to you. That memory can add to the tapestry of who the person was to those around them. If the person helped direct you or guided you in a way others may not know, share that. Express your gratitude for the role – however small or profound – that they had in your life. Those impactful memories will impact their loved ones today.

These types of memorial days can be overwhelming to many people. We can seize the moment to allow thankfulness to do its work in us or help others along the way to grow through the lifelong process of grief. We can help make it a Happier Father’s Day.

Ashlie Miller is the daughter of the late James T. Hughes, who lived an all too brief but important life in North Carolina and served as a Marine.

Remembering Dad’s

by   June 17, 2023 with No Comments

By Doug Creamer

            I live at the end of a street with woods on one side. I enjoy the privacy and the coolness that the woods provide on a hot summer day. I often wait until late afternoon to cut my grass because the woods help shade my yard. One day while cutting the grass I was thinking about a book I would like to write someday. I was considering the possible dialog and the setting of the story when I looked down and saw a golf ball.

            It was sitting right at the edge of the woods. I stopped and stared and wondered if I was dreaming. What is a golf ball doing on the edge of the woods? I was immediately transported to my childhood. Twice in my life we lived with a golf course in the backyard. Most summer evenings after supper my dad, brother, and I would play a few holes of golf.

            The memory of playing and being out on the course is a strong and pleasant memory. While we were out there we also did something we called “ball-hawking.” This is when you walk along the edge of the woods and around the ponds looking for golf balls. Some days we would find brand new balls and other times we found what Dad termed shag balls. Those were the scuffed and scarred ones.

            Ball-hawking was something that I really enjoyed, and in fact dream about, from time to time. I think it’s like finding hidden treasure. Sometimes Dad would call me Eagle Eye because I was pretty good at finding lost balls. My trouble is that I was never very good at keeping an eye on a ball I was hitting.

            My dad was always a member of a golf club. Every year the club would have an annual Father-Son golf tournament. Since my father has two sons he would have to play two rounds of golf. My brother is much more competitive and a better player than I am. They used to do well in the tournaments. But one year when they thought they had a good chance of winning a trophy, it was my dad and I that won. I still have that trophy. 

            My dad, who is an age I am not allowed to write, still gets out and plays golf as often as his body will allow. He gets out and walks and encourages me to do the same. He even worked a part-time job until…I can’t put that age in the paper either.

            Dad climbed the corporate ladder and had a long career. There are many qualities from his working career that I remember and hope I picked up from him. He always dressed professionally, including a suit, when I was a kid. I always tried to look professional in my job because I met with employers and community leaders.

            Dad has always had high ethical standards. He is a numbers guy and always made sure the numbers were correct. Speaking of numbers, he could easily do calculations in his head. I could call out three numbers and he could instantly add them in his head. He also knew his times tables. I am glad that I inherited his ability.

            Dad also has the ability to see things from multiple points of view. He loves to discuss hot topics and will sometimes play devil’s advocate to his own point of view just to keep the discussion going. This gift comes in handy when I have faced life choices. He can see things from perspectives I haven’t considered and ask me questions that I need to consider before I make my final decision.

            When we think about our fathers we have to realize that they were not perfect. The Good News is we have a Heavenly Father who is perfect. He loves you unconditionally. He will never leave you or forsake you. He sees the best in you and is planning a great future for you. He keeps a close watch on you. He always has time for you and looks forward to your next encounter. He is a good, good Father.

            I want to encourage you to remember and honor your earthly father. I know he wasn’t perfect, but reflect on those qualities that you appreciate about him. Remember to also connect with your Heavenly Father, who is perfect and loves you with an everlasting love. Allow His grace and mercy to wash over you and give you perfect peace. Happy Father’s Day to all the fathers in my audience…Have a blessed day!

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

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