December 28, 2015 (Monday)
This is the final work week in 2015. It will a short one, because Thursday is New Year’s Eve and Friday is New Year’s Day. Thursday will be absolutely the final day of the year 2015. Has this year gone by in a hurry? Sure seems so to me. Having these thoughts reminds me of a wonderful little piece of writing that inspires me to “wake up and smell the coffee” every time I hear it:
Through this toilsome world, alas!
Once and only once I pass;
If a kindness I may show,
If a good deed I may do
To a suffering fellow man,
Let me do it while I can.
No delay, for it is plain
I shall not pass this way again.
I suppose the most prominent memory I have of the year 2015 is being the Interim Pastor of Bethel Baptist Church, Ingleside for the fourth time over a 17-year span. When I retired in 1996 from the First Baptist Church of Rockport, I sort of hoped I would supply pulpits for my pastor friends in the area, but I never dreamed I would be interim pastor or pastor during most of the retirement years. God has been so good to me, allowing me to continue preaching during these 20 years of “retirement.”
My memories, however, span a much longer period. Many of you will probably think I’m creating memories in my own mind, but I recall sitting in my high chair, looking at my hand, and comparing it in size to my father’s hand. I remember seeing my newborn twin sisters lying on either side of my mother in her bed (I was 2 years and 9 months old). I recall our next door neighbor somehow had acquired so many bananas that they filled his garage and driveway. Believe it or not, I remember trying to talk, knowing that I was only making weird sounds but also knowing what I was trying to say. OK, I probably lost a few of you with that memory, but I believe it’s true. A memory that has stuck with me since I was 5 is the sight of a long firetruck on high center, stuck like a giant seesaw on the railroad track near our house. I was born on Davis Street, and we moved to Noble Street and afterwards to Jarrell Street (now Eastex Freeway). I spent a lot of time with my grandparents on Virginia Street (Named Ranch Street today). I guess I better stop with the memories before I get past the pre-school years. Later memories, however, are more believable.
Here I am in my grandmother’s arms. She was 46 years old, younger than any of my children today. Where did all the years go?
