Safety-toed shoes optional

Here's a better picture of new niece. She's all cleaned up and pretty in this one. You should probably get used to seeing these posted at random here.

------------------------

I've heard a lot of good stuff about Dr. Golden's sermon today. I couldn't be there for it 'cause I was providing the voice for shepherd-boy David in the Can-Do Club. That was fun, but very exhausting with the seven words I had to say.

From what I've been told, God's Word was never spoken as plainly as it was today. That's awesome. I mean, really, really awesome. I think we need more of that in churches today. I know that sounds kinda weird, but it seems that most of the time preachers put all these disclaimers on their sermons or water them down to be less offensive. Or less convicting.

I'm not advocating that good ol' shin-kicking, toe-stepping kind of sermon. Too often you hear people talk about how "that preacher up there shore stepped on mah toes!" But that usually can be interpreted as he preached a sensitive sermon that so-and-so should have heard. Stepping on toes is a good thing, but only if the owner of the toes takes it to heart that God was speaking to them.

We are definitely living in the age of the ear-tickler. So it's refreshing and praise-worthy when a man of God brings a relevant sermon to a church body that needs to hear it. But it's truly awesome when he brings it in a humble and compassionate manner.

Next topic -- as mentioned to the right, Sunday school this month is about how church is done wrong these days. I'm looking forward to this because if you take an honest look around, you can see how churches are getting out of line in some areas. I'm not throwing stones here because I believe it's common to all churches. I haven't read too far ahead so I don't know all that we'll discuss, but it's a good time for us to take a look in the mirror and compare how our way of doing things matches up with God's way.

Who knows? Maybe we'll step on some toes.

Allow me to introduce to you...

Miss Kinley Elizabeth Dockery.

This is my brand new niece. By brand new I mean, like, 2 hours and 15 minutes ago. She tipped the scales at a whopping 5 pounds, 8 ounces, and an astounding 18 inches long. I have thrown bigger fish than that back.

But it's official. I am now a full-fledged, sho' nuff uncle. You would think that I would remember to take my camera with me to the hospital to record the birth of my first niece, but no. I had to use my Blackberry. Not a very good start to my uncle-ing. I'll grow into it.

Congratulations to proud parents, Mitzi and Shane. And praise to God for once again showing me the amazing wonder of His creation.

This has been the most non-blogging week ever.

All is silent here in blogger-land. For some reason, that strikes me as odd. But, I suppose we all have our reasons. Me? I've thought about it, but sinus ickyness has put me in bed early.

On a vaguely related note, I have to say Hallelujah! for the weather today. I confess that this winter has really gotten to me. I usually take the weather as it comes with minimal complaining. Working outside will do that to you. It is what it is. But this long, cold, wet winter has broken me. I AM OVER IT.

I can't remember the last day that I was able to remove a single article of outerwear. I've had to wear a toboggan (which I hate to wear) everyday, and with a hard hat over it, it's more uncomfortable than a prostate exam. Not to mention that with these ears, a toboggan hardly does its job well.

But today, oh lovely day, the sun shone in my world. I was out of my coat and coveralls before lunch, no toboggan all day, and the sun actually burned my cheeks a little. Not bad for mid-40's.

Funny how a warm (relatively) day can improve your spirits. I was like a kid all day long. My mood was much better, and I didn't even gripe about having to work until near-dark.

But, never fear. As always here in our little neck of the woods, we'll have all the little sub-winters to deal with. That's okay, though. I can make it until spring, I think.

Also, I would like to say, "Praise God. He is faithful, He delivers, and He doesn't forget about us. Even when we may think He does."

It's coming...

When I was but a wee lad, one of my favorite shows was Captain America. It ran in '79 or '80 and starred a guy named Reb Brown. I don't recall seeing him in any other shows.

I've never been the type to follow shows religiously. I usually watch television when I have time or between books. Truth is, I could probably save a lot of money by getting rid of my tv and never miss it. But then I couldn't watch my cute little red-head on 7th Street Theater. That I would miss.

I notice how people today all follow shows with passion. I doubt that any of them are worth it, really. But folks would rather die than miss Idol or Bachelor or CSI or any of the other addictions out there. I guess I just don't get it.

I don't think there's anything wrong with watching tv so if you think I'm gonna rail against the mind-numbing tool of Satan, sorry to disappoint you. But I do think that the quality, or I should say standard, of shows these days makes it necessary for us as Christians to guard our minds with greater care. I say this from much experience.

A few years ago, I didn't really censor what I watched. In fact, I personally owned seasons one and two of the Chappelle Show, and countless other movies that are not for the innocent. If you've ever seen or even heard of Dave Chappelle, then you know why that is a problem. But I was eventually very heavily burdened by the conviction that I didn't need to view such things. God started getting on me about how my life matched up with the things I was teaching and professing. So, with some regret over the amount of money I had spent on DVD's, I purged my collection. It only hurt for a minute.

I really haven't missed any of it and I think I sleep better at night. On some level, I feel that my witness and my relationship with God are better for it (duh, right?).

My point is that we teach and preach holy, Christian living but do we really want to practice it? We pat ourselves on the back for our influence and testimony out in the world, but do we really have the testimony of Christ that we think we do?

Television, movies, music, books and magazines, you name it. The world of entertainment has rapidly grown more and more ungodly. Now, you can roll your eyes and call this old-fashioned Bible-thumping if you want, but there really isn't any gray area here. We have to get our lives in line with what Christ wants if we're going to make any progress for Him. Especially those of us who are teachers and people of influence in the church and student ministry.

I have many other areas of my life that need this same tweaking and with God's help, I hope to bring them into Biblical standards as well. We're back to that whole accountability thing again. Funny how we always come back around to that.

So, here's to Captain America and all the other decent shows that seem to have gone the way of the dodo. You know, the kind that don't require running the kids off to bed. So go ahead and watch your favorite shows, but why not make your favorites a past-time instead of a passion? Better yet, why not change your standard of favorite?

Amen! Pass the plates.

Pip, pip! Cheerio!

Life truly is like a box of chocolates. At least my work life is. I went to work today expecting a normally cold and crappy Monday. I was right for the most part but there was this one little thing...

As soon as I got to work, we were sent to Tazewell Pike to replace a broken pole. FYI: Tazewell Pike at 8:45 Monday morning is comparable to... Daytona Speedway with grumpy drivers. Nevertheless, off I go. We set up our work area and blah, blah, blah, work talk, work talk, more blah.

My partner, David, was up in the bucket so I was standing in this driveway near the pole. I glanced toward the house and saw the homeowner, whose yard this broken pole was in, walking down toward me. Great, here comes my daily tongue-lashing for blocking a driveway/muddying up someone's ditchline/gumming up traffic/not having the phones repaired fast enough. You'd be amazed how belligerent people get sometimes, and just because we are easy targets.

So the guy approaches me and I remove my hardhat and safety glasses (out of courtesy), put on my best public relations smile and await the tsunami of obscenities and hatred that typically comes my way.

He says, " 'ello, chap! Might I trouble you with a query?"

I snicker inside my head, not sure if he's messing with me or if I'm having an Alzheimer's moment.

So, to avoid seeming like a smart aleck but hoping to break the tension, I reply, "Query away, my good man!"

The guy lost it. He nearly busted a gut laughing.

"I wasn't expecting that!"

"Well, I didn't expect to be called "chap" in northeast Knoxville." And we shared a good laugh or two and he eventually reveals why he came down his driveway in thirty degree weather to talk to me. Turns out he was just curious about where he could place his new mailbox post in relation to our new telephone pole. His mailbox was wiped out by the same car.

He said, "I don't know all your regulations because I'm not from here."

"No kidding." And we laughed some more.

"I just moved here from England and your community ordinances and the like are very odd. By the way, what do you call those here?"

"You mean the pole? The telephone pole?"

"We call them telegraph poles over there." Interesting.

"What part of England?" I'm sure it must have sounded like Ainglund to him.

"I was born in Cheshire, it's near Manchester. Then I moved to London and then here to America."

He said all of this in the most pleasant English accent I've ever heard. He looked the part, too -- very clean-cut, Tom Hanks hairstyle. His voice was sort of in between baritone and tenor and his eyebrows lifted when he emphasized a syllable. I never got his name, but it should have been Neville. Or Pip.

We talked on and I told him I have researched my family history to England, the township of Headley-Hampshire, and have thought about visiting there just out of curiosity. Believe it or not, he actually knew the place.

"It's quite lovely there. It's in the south. You simply must visit. You should plan on at least two weeks, though. London is so filled with things to do that you will have to drag yourself out of there. Here, let me recommend a hotel; near Tower Bridge, I believe it's called the Tower Hotel. Very nice, four-star but affordable. And take the trains when you can. It's the most fascinating way to see everything. There's a depot near that hotel."

I couldn't resist. The opportunity presented itself so I just couldn't stop myself.

"Platform 9 3/4?"

He horse-laughed. He said J.K. Rowling has done more to advance the English culture than "any resident of Buckingham Palace." He then shook my hand (in a very awkwardly English way), and bid me farewell.

It just proves how random life can be sometimes.

I've started something fun...

Fun for me, anyway. I'm reading the Bible chronologically. Maybe some of you have done this. It's really alot like a one-year plan but it's divided into sections according to the order in which they took place (as far as the theological community is concerned) instead of how the books are ordered.

For instance, you read several chapters of Genesis but then skip to Job and read it in its entirety, then back to the remainder of Genesis. I never really considered that Job took place that far back. I'm fascinated by that, to be honest.

But I'm enjoying it and it kinda puts things in a different perspective. If you're a complete weirdo like myself, then you can envision yourself as a traveler sort of walking a timeline and stopping at different intervals and watching the events of the Bible happen in order. That's what I do.

I think I'll call it, "Chuck's Excellent Adventure." No phone booth, though.

Righteous, dude!

"Allow myself to introduce myself..."

Actually, this is the Wolfe family. Pictured here (around 1910) are Louis and Maggie, with children Delia, Louis David, Eliza Pauline, Cleo, Mandy, and seated second from the right, Sophronia Isabella. She is my great-grandmother.

Some of you know that I've been working on a family tree. These good folks are part of that tree. The photo was used in a 1996 News-Sentinel article about my cousin Gene who was trying to correct mistakes made by the government regarding our bloodline. He spent seven years traunching back and forth between the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Washington, and the tribal government in Cherokee, N.C. He eventually got everything straightened out and has agreed to help me trace the Indian bloodline by providing me with the mountain of information he gathered.

Tracing this line has been the real problem because the records only go back a few generations. In fact, Louis is as far back as I have been able to trace. But Gene has assured me that he has information that goes back much, much further, so I am really excited. This comes with some guilt because I did my politicking with him at the funeral home. Make hay while the sun shines, I always say.

Anyway, just thought I'd share. I think it's interesting that great-great-granddaddy Louis (I think this is where I got my cheekbones) was a holiday kinda guy. He was born on Christmas eve in 1871, and died on July 4th, 1936. My great-grandmother, who was known as Isabella, was born in 1896 and died at 100 years old. I remember going out to see her when she lived nearby in her late eighties. She was always laughing and had this big... well...typical old lady figure that shook when she would get really tickled about something. It was more of a cackle than a laugh. I keep looking at this picture of her and can't help but be amazed at what a beautiful girl she was.

It's a family trait.