Honestly, I’ve written some fairly decent songs over the years, but one of my favorites (at least in the month of May) is “The Mother’s Day Song.”
Therefore, I want you to listen to this song again.
Seriously. It’s a tradition. And I would love for you to share it in honor of my late mother who went to be with her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ on March 16th.
Read Them, Love Them
Now, it’s not because I’m being lazy, it’s just that some previous Mother’s Day posts I wrote were pretty good ones, and I’m not really up to writing much more than this on this Mother’s Day. Below are a couple of links.
(As a bonus, scroll through the comments and you’ll get to see me play and sing it live.)
My grandmother died in 2019, then my mother died a couple of months ago. With all my grandparents, and now both my parents gone, I’m truly the “adult” in the family. When my mom was still living (and she lived with us), there were times I would take a piece of art to her, or ask her about a sermon, and say, “What do/did you think?” Even as a 53-year-old man I wanted my mother’s approval.
That’s one of the things I already miss that I truly took for granted.
But I know she liked my “Mother’s Day Song” and smiled when I sang it.
So, appreciate your mother on Mother’s Day, everyone! Sing the song!
In Sandersville, Georgia, just a few miles south of me, is an old jailhouse. What makes it special is that up until the 1980’s it was one of the very few jailhouses where the Sheriff actually lived!
Now the jail is a museum and also houses the historical archives for the area. However, because of tourism being down, like with most places, they could use some extra funds to keep things up and going.
If you would like to purchase a print of the painting I did of the jail, click on the link below and 75% of the profit will go to the museum.
The following is a response to a news story I saw on Facebook. I wanted to share it here, too.
First, it is tragic that a young man with a son was killed. It was also tragic that someone who put her life on the line in a very difficult position accidentally shot a young man and killed him. He is dead, but her life is forever changed, if not in danger.
What frustrates me, and why I am taking the time to write this, is that there are not only two sides to the story, two people whose lives are forever altered, and a child who is now an orphan, but the side where the media consistently perpetuates a narrative that the shooting victim was loved and model citizen, while the officer who pulled the trigger was a racist, trigger-happy, cold-blooded, murderer worth of the death penalty.
For example, the photo shows Daunte smiling, holding his cute little boy. The article is full of glowing recollections. Yet what happened? As he was standing there beside the car, he decided to take the route of a fool and violently resist arrest! He didn’t think wisely. He didn’t consider all the consequences. He didn’t fall back on the wisdom offered by one of his mentors. No, he wrestled himself away from officers and attempted attempted to flee the scene!
Had he accomplished his intentions and fled in his car, would that have ended any better? Other innocents could have been hurt or killed in the chase, not to mention other lives changed forever by his recklessness, and he would have even more likely been subject to deadly force.
On a side note, have you ever been inside a large jail or federal prison? I have! Many, many times. I have been in multiple jails, from Florida to Kentucky, and State and Federal prisons in Tennessee and Kentucky. And do you have any idea what I saw – besides a lot of self-described wrongfully-accused? I saw a great, great number of African-Americans. I saw every color of human skin, but I also saw a disproportionate number of black men (and women). Why is that important? How is that relevant?
They were not dead – they had not been killed by police, only arrested. Think very slowly about that. Think. Let’s use our logic, folks. If the narrative of the news media and BLM and Alexandria Ocasio Cortez was true – i.e., police are out to kill black men – then why are our jails and prisons full of living, breathing black men? Doesn’t fit the narrative, does it?
If you watch enough television and movies, you will see police shoot more people in one episode than most departments shoot in a year, or ten. Believe it or not, I have never met a “Dirty Harry” type cop. Of all the ones I’ve met and worked with, including my late father and the entire Hamilton County Sheriff’s Office in Tennessee, even though one could have existed, I’ve never, NEVER met a man or woman who wanted to kill anybody.
As hard as it is for many to believe, many police officers and deputies go their entire careers without ever discharging their service weapon!
I know I run the risk of being criticized for writing this, but too few people are standing up against the lie that all police are evil, over-funded, racist hitmen/hitwomen. I feel it’s my obligation to bring the discussion back to the center. Yes, there are always two sides to every story, and then there’s the truth.
Simply put, Daunte Wright, regardless his past crimes or outstanding warrants against him, would be alive today if he had not wrestled away from the officer detaining him and attempted to flee in his vehicle. He could have had his day in court, but now all he gets is a funeral for his poor decisions.
My prayer is for the media, Hollywood, and the race-baiting ambulance chasers in politics to shut up, go away, or simply just REPORT the news, not create it!
Let the communities of real, caring people from all races come and work together, as they so often try, yet are divided by false narratives and manipulated information. And if we would stop making everything a race issue that’s not, black and white followers of Jesus Christ could come together as the family of God and show the world how loving one’s neighbor can heal our country.
You are welcome to share this, and I welcome any respectful comment or dialogue. God bless you all, God be with the Wright family in their time of loss, and may the officer involved be shown grace.
Funds collected above and beyond what is needed to secure my lovely wife’s gift will be donated to the ministry of Grace Charity School in Lahore, Pakistan (a Christian school dedicated to educating the children of the desperately poor brick kiln families).
To begin with, I just want to say that I am blessed beyond measure. I have a beautiful and forgiving wife, daughters who don’t hate me, and even son-in-laws who are each cool in their own ways.
On top of that, the church where I pastor is a beautiful place, the people are stellar, and the community is one where I’d be happy to retire.
AND, what’s more, God has been blessing us, encouraging us, and reviving our people in the local churches! We are getting more excited and fired up every day, for even though there will be trials and tribulations in the future, no victory ever comes without a battle, YET…
I’m looking forward to victory after victory!
That being said, this post is not about all the above; that was just me praising God 🙂
This post is about the fact that I am going to be offering up four pieces of my art as I auction them off online. It won’t be like eBay, but there won’t be any fees, either!
Check out the YouTube video I made this morning and stay tuned starting tomorrow!
Hey guys, I hope you all are having a wonderful and blessed weekend! I am!
First, I went to the doctor this week and he prescribed for me some medication to help me get my sleep back in rhythm. Today, after just two days of back-to-back 8+hours of sleep (the first in literally years) I feel great!
Amazing what sleep can do, right?
But besides that, I want to share this video I just made and posted several other places, particularly Facebook. It’s an invitation to come visit with us for Easter, either in person or online.
If you can’t visit with us in person, yet you want to be a part, check us out live on Facebook both at 7am and 11am Eastern on Facebook at @bethlehembaptistwarthen.
I appreciate all of you. Eventually I will get back to reading all of your posts, too! I miss them.
Friends, I just can’t put into words how much I look forward to writing more. Oh, I’m writing, but it’s not here. It’s just that I have priorities.
But let me tell you, God is good, His grace is sufficient (and I know about that) for every need – and oh, how deep a truth that is!
Life is not easy, nor is it always fun. Some of you in other countries have so many struggles that you look at us in America with disdain. However, please don’t do that . . . you are literally blessed beyond comprehension, not us.
Regardless, compared to heaven, our final reward, the place “not made with hands,” even the most fantastically-rich member of society is as poor in the sight of our Creator as a starving dog on the side of the road is to us.
No matter how rich by comparison to others, we are all poor, needy, broken, wounded, etc. “None are righteous, no not one.
Those who are the most wealthy are those who walk with God on a daily, even hourly basis.
The ones with true joy are the ones who’ve surrendered their lives to Jesus Christ.
Anyway, please have a sefe and glorious Easter weekend!
See you at church somewhere this Sunday!
In the meantime, I’m going to keep looking up and looking forward to great and mighty things!
This is going to be an unusual entry, as if the title wasn’t enough of a clue. I’m going to talk about holding back from puking – puking my emotions, that is.
Let’s start with the whole disgusting vomiting thing.
You know what it’s like – that feeling of a sour stomach, a queasiness, a warning that your body is preparing to expel what it thinks is harmful to process, right?
Have you ever had that feeling but determined you were going to do everything in your superpowers to stop it from happening?
First, you try to convince yourself that it’s nothing, really. I mean, sure, you didn’t give thanks to Jesus for that sandwich from Chick-fil-A because, after all, it came pre-blessed. And that sushi from the kiosk in the food court didn’t taste too strange, at least no more than normal.
The next thing you do is think, “It’s only a little upset stomach,” then ask, “Where’s the Mylanta?” Yeah, that’s all you need.
The sweat begins to bead on your forehead. More excuses. More rationalizing. You find a place to lie down and moan a muffled declaration into your pillow: “I’m NOT going to throw up!”
Sometimes it works. Sometimes.
Well, this is the best way I can describe the feelings I have after the death of my mother, Rebecca Marie Baker, this past Tuesday morning.
It’s like I feel a familiar sensation, a pressure, a something… it’s like I know if I was so many other people I would have already broken down and wept. But when the urge comes my immediate response – and it’s actually a physical, tangible response – is to tap it back down. And I am not even sure if it’s on purpose. Actually, I know it’s not.
If the body eats something that is bad for it, the natural response is to expel it. To keep it inside and to digest it could be harmful.
But what of the heart? What of the emotions? What of pain and grief?
I mentioned this to my wife and she suggested I “let it out.” But the last time I cried uncontrollably was when I stood at the door of the bedroom of one of our daughters after she moved off to college.
I don’t like to cry like that. I don’t like being that weak. I especially don’t like people seeing me that way.
However, Jesus wept. Yes, He did.
But not every time.
At least that we know.
I know these last few weeks were difficult, and I know we talked a lot about you going to heaven, but now that you are gone, I’m going to miss you. I am glad I was able to tell you I loved you and to hear your weak voice whisper back, “I love you, too.”
I’m thankful I was able to sit by your bed, hold your hand, and sing Amazing Grace to you as you left this world of pain. I wish I could have seen the look on your face when you breathed your first taste of heavenly air.
I can only imagine what it was like for you and Daddy to see each other again.
This is why it’s hard to cry. This is why it’s difficult to grieve. You are where you were born again to go.
Your faith has become sight!
Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep.
Romans 12:15 NLT
I’m happy for you, Momma! I’m sure there are tears of joy where you are, too.