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JoJo Tabares holds a degree in Speech Communication, but it is her humorous approach to communication skills which has made her a highly sought-after Christian speaker and writer. Her articles appear in homeschool publications, such as Homeschool Enrichment Magazine and The Old Schoolhouse Magazine, which also endorses her Say What You Mean curricula. You can also find JoJo on web sites such as Crosswalk.com and Dr.Laura.com. For more information on communication FUNdamentals and Christian-based communication skills for the whole family, please visit http://www.ArtofEloquence.com

Whoever said, “All good things must come to an end,” knew whereof he spoke. Why is it that something really good goes by so quickly and something really bad hangs around forever, or so it seems.

Let me explain a little bit of what I mean.

When the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, over my vociferous objections, cooks broccoli, the smell stays in the air for months. However, the invigorating aroma of an Apple fritter dissipates in a matter of moments. Except, of course, when I’m trying to eat one behind you know whose back and she can smell it five days before I eat it.

“I don’t smell an Apple fritter do I?” she inquires.

“You’re not eating an apple fritter?” she prods.

“There better not be any apple fritters in this house,” she demands.

My philosophy is simply this, what she can smell can’t hurt me. The only problem is, she can smell, and usually it’s a rat, namely me.

However, if I would pontificate 1/10 of the time about the smell of broccoli in the house I would not have to worry about smelling broccoli in the house. If you know what I mean.

But if it is good, it seems to go by so very quickly. This past week something very good came to a very conclusive end. Through no effort of my own, I concluded the fifth decade of my life. I am just glad that at the conclusion of this decade I was around to see it. What I remember about the 50s is another matter altogether.

As part of the baby boomer generation, another birthday boomed for me. This boom was a very significant one. I have bidden a fond farewell to my 50s. Ah, what a decade that was. It is a very good thing that the 50s come between the 40s and the 60s. Whoever devised this scenario knew something about human nature.

When you are in your 40s, you, for some unknown reason, think you are still in your 20s. Many people in their 40s have bought into the notion that the 40s is the new 20s. Henceforth, most people, usually men, treat their body as if it was a 25-year-old man in perfect health. Now, a 45-year-old body does not have the wisdom to realize that it is no longer 25. And so you have men in their 40s running and jumping and doing things that their body thinks it can do but it really can’t.

A body in the 40s is not mature enough for pain to register. In fact, no man in his 40s would acknowledge the fact that he has the pain. His wife, contrariwise, acknowledges the pain in her life. But that’s another story.

Once a man gets into his 50s, he has matured enough to the fact that he knows there are many things he physically cannot do. He knows, for instance, a 50-something body is not like a 20-something body, therefore, he can begin slacking off on the physical stuff. Although, some 50-something men have not matured enough to understand the significance of the fifth decade.

But in spite of all of that, the 60s have been a wonderful time for me. It is during the 50-something the man accomplishes most of his work. During his 40s, he is trying to pretend he is still in his 20s, but by the time he hits that magic 50, he is more interested in accomplishing things in his career. Work is very important at this phase of life.

And work he does, because at this stage he has a mortgage, a family and bills coming out both his back pockets faster than it goes in. If he has children, he enters the 50s with several teenagers in the house and maybe some grandchildren. This is enough to drive any man to work, if not crazy. For any man to conclude the fifth decade without permanent residence in the Looney farm is quite an accomplishment.

By the mid-50s, things begin to become all quiet on the Western front. Many people refer to this as the empty nest syndrome. All I can say is, hallelujah for the empty nest syndrome. I just hope some doctor does not come up with a cure for this empty nest syndrome.

The empty nest syndrome is God’s way of saying thank you for bringing up your family. Now, the house is all quiet and when I go to the refrigerator, there is actually something in the refrigerator. Sometimes I just open the refrigerator door and stare at the contents. It is wonderful to go to the refrigerator and actually find something in it you can eat.

It has been a little difficult for me to say farewell to the 50s. I have enjoyed every year of that decade. I am not prepared to say that I am any wiser but I am prepared to say I am older. And my goal in life is to get older and older. Because, when you stop getting older it is all over.

The Bible gives him instructions about getting older.

“The glory of young men is their strength: and the beauty of old men is the grey head” (Proverbs 20:29 KJV).

“The hoary [grey] head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness” (Proverbs 16:31 KJV).

I bid a fond farewell to the 50s. Thanks for the memories.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Most things in life are not always as they seem. For some reason one person will say one thing and the person hearing will hear something altogether different. This appears to be the case between the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly.

One of the most frequent comments around our residence is, “Did you hear what I just said?”

Of course, that does not really bother me. What does bother me is when I answer in the affirmative, she will reply by saying, “What did I just say?”

It is not that I do not hear what she says; I’m just not listening to what she says. There is a big difference between hearing and listening. I hear many things but I certainly do not pay attention to most of it. If you would listen to most of the stuff said these days, not much of it is worth listening to, at least for long.

This illustrates the basic difference between a husband and wife. A husband always says what he means; but the wife always means what she says. Complication comes when the husband does not understand what she says and it is almost as if they are using a different language or at least a code most husbands are not privy to.

The problem is the most people do not say what they mean.

When someone says they are having a Garage Sale they do not mean they are going to sell their garage. In fact, they do not even mean that they are going to sell things from their garage. What they do mean is they plan to jam their garage full of junk to sell to unsuspecting customers. Most of what sells at a garage sale has nothing whatsoever to do with the garage. In fact, only half of what they are selling can fit into the garage while the rest spills out into the driveway.

The same thing goes with a Yard Sale. When somebody advertises they are going to have a Yard Sale they have no intention whatsoever of selling their yard. What they are going to do is pile their yard full of junk they do not want and sell to customers who will in turn put it in their yard sale next week.

When it comes to Yard Sales, I think there is only a certain amount of items that keep circulating throughout the community.

I once had an easy chair that I did not want anymore and set it out by the street. It was badly broken and I did not have the time to run it over to the dump. By next morning, my chair was gone. Two nights later, it appeared out in front of the house five doors down. The next morning it was gone only to reappear five more doors down two days later. I believe that chair is still circulating through the community.

If people were honest in what they were doing, they would put up a sign that says, “Junk for Sale.” I did see a sign on the thrift store once that said, “We buy junk and sell treasures.”

For some reason people think that, if they buy something at a yard sale it must be a treasure. But the way I think is this, if somebody has something in his or her yard sale to sell at a greatly discounted price how good could it be?

This brings me back to the hearing and listening dilemma. I got up last Friday morning, as usual, and discovered that the other resident of our house was missing. I went to the kitchen and found a little note that said, “Make your own breakfast I’m at our daughter’s yard sale.”

At first, I did not quite get it. Then I remembered sometime during the week there was some mention about a yard sale on Friday. But I was not listening. After all, what in the world do I have to do with a yard sale?

I had a cup of coffee and then went back to the bedroom to get dressed for the day. I went to the closet looking for one of my favorite shirts to wear for the day. I could not find it.

I then tried to find my favorite sneakers I have had for 29 years. It is taken that long just to break them into where they are comfortable to wear. As with my favorite shirt, my shoes were nowhere to be found.

Some books I have had for years were missing along with some other personal items. I was beginning to think we had been robbed. What robber would steal such things? It would have to be a rather desperate person to do that kind of cherry picking during a robbery.

Then a thought grabbed hold of my mind with the ferocity of a mama grizzly. If I recollect correctly, she was talking about these things in the same context as the yard sale at our daughter’s place. She wouldn’t!

Later that afternoon she came home, handed me $3.78, and said, “Here’s your share of the yard sale.”

Not listening to what you are hearing carries an awful price.

The Bible is faithful in warning us, “He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches” (Revelation 3:6 KJV).

God always says what He means and means what He says.

Rev. James L. Snyder

A large segment of the human population takes things way too seriously for their own good. The strange anomaly is that most people laugh at the wrong thing and fail to laugh at the right thing. This serious incongruity has robbed people of a healthy attitude towards life in general.

Those who take life too seriously are in danger of missing the great joys of living in a crazy world like ours. I am not sure about the scientific research but I would guess that for every sad moment it takes one hundred laughs to balance the books. Some people are about ninety-nine laughs short of a real sane moment.

I like the old English proverb that says, “Laugh and the whole world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone.”

From my perspective, if you cannot laugh with someone you will not be able to cry with him or her and have it mean anything.

According to some medical advice, it takes more facial muscles and energy to frown than it does to smile. Of course, the only exercise some people have is frowning and who am I to take that away from them.

I am determined, no matter what, to exercise my right to smile and laugh and enjoy the world around me. I must confess that I get this attitude quite honestly.

My paternal grandfather was a Past Master in the area of practical jokes. No amount of time was too much to spend preparing for one of his famous practical jokes. His favorite holiday was April 1 and began preparing for this holiday right after Christmas.

The fact that his practical jokes at times got him into trouble did not seem to affect him at all.

Once while in the hospital for an extended period he had somebody smuggle in to him a can of snuff. For some reason he liked chewing snuff. It is the most disgusting habit I know of on earth.

He no sooner received his smuggled goods then he began chewing it. If you know anything about chewing snuff, you know it is accompanied by a lot of spitting. As usual, his timing was impeccable. Just as the head nurse passed his door and looked in, he leaned over and spit in to the garbage can he had next to his bed. The nurse, not knowing about the chewing snuff, thought he was spitting blood and immediately went into emergency mode. Immediately my grandfather was rushed into the operating room and the surgeon and medical team were assembled.

My grandfather was very sick at the time. Some did not think he would get out of the hospital.

Just as they got him situated in the operating room he pulled from under his sheet his can of chewing snuff and smiled at them. The only person in the room that thought this was in any way amusing was my grandfather. The doctors were so angry with him but they refuse to see him for three days and confiscated his can of chewing snuff.

My aunt and uncle lived right next to my grandfather. My aunt was hyper clean when it came to her house. Dirt in any form was not welcome under her roof. She had a broom that was always within reach because she never knew when a piece of dirt would try to invade her domicile.

That year my grandfather found something new. I am not sure where he found it but he probably spent a lot of time looking for something like this. It was a rubber facsimile of a very nasty looking piece of vomit. To him it was a prized possession.

Most of his practical jokes were executed on April 1. Whenever we saw grandfather coming on this particular day we usually ran for cover.

He went over to visit my aunt and was sitting on the couch in the living room. They chatted for a little while and then my grandfather began to cough a little bit. He said to my aunt, “I haven’t been feeling good lately. I really don’t know what it is.” Then he started to cough a little more seriously, to which, my aunt got up and went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water thinking that might help him.

When she got back, she was shocked to see on her new coffee table a very horrible sight. My grandfather was bent over the coffee table hacking and coughing as though he was in the process of dying. On the coffee table was very nasty looking piece of vomit.

My aunt went into hysterics. She whirled around and within a moment had grabbed her broom and started towards my grandfather. My grandfather was laughing but not for long.

Suddenly he realized that the flailing broom in my aunt’s hand was aimed at him. She chased him out of the house, down the driveway and for at least three blocks yelling obscenities at him that I dare not repeat in public society.

Laughter is the fresh air of the soul. Even the Bible thinks so.

“A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance: but by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken” (Proverbs 15:13 KJV). And, my favorite, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones” (Proverbs 17:22 KJV).

I recommend a healthy dose of medicine for your soul.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Rev. James L. Snyder 

Have you ever had the feeling that you lost something but could not quite figure out what?

This has been bugging me all week long. It is a good thing I lost my mind years ago or this might cause me to lose it. I remember the day I lost my mind but I cannot remember anything after that date. 

All week long, I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I had lost something and that it was something rather important. I sat down in my easy chair and tried to think about it but who can think at times like this?

 I was looking for whatever it was I lost all through the house. I finally was going through my sock drawer when the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage caught me.

 “Did you lose something?” 

I was now facing a major dilemma. If I answered in the affirmative, she would inquire as to what I had lost. If I tell her I do not know what I lost, she will immediately respond by saying, how will you know when you find it? 

Then I would be treated to one of her sarcastic snickers. You would think after all these years I would become accustomed to such royal treatment. 

I finally broke down and confessed, “I don’t know what I lost but I just feel like I’ve lost something this week. I just can’t put my finger on it.” 

“Do you remember,” she said thoughtfully, “where you were when you lost whatever you lost?” 

I reflected for a moment and then confessed to her that it was last Sunday right after I got up that I sensed I had lost something. 

My wife was about ready to leave the room and then she stopped and looked at me and said, “You do remember we lost an hour this week?” 

“So,” I said sheepishly as I closed my sock drawer, “I won’t find it among my socks.” 

With that mystery solved, I had another one to contemplate. This one probably is bigger than anything else I could ever think of. How can I make up for lost time?

 Every year I go through the same rigmarole. No sooner am I adjusted to the time then the government changes that time for me. It is now six o’clock, but no, it’s really five o’clock. Or, is it seven o’clock? How in the world can I ever know what time it actually is? 

Thinking along these lines I have come up with several ways in which to make up for lost time.

 The first has to do with eating vegetables. In my book, most vegetables are a waste of time. I could make up some time each day by not eating my vegetables, especially broccoli. At the end of the year, I could use that time to eat some Apple fritters. 

Another way I could save time is to cut down on my daily exercise. I am not sure who came up with the idea of exercising every day. Just think about what 15 minutes a day would add up to. In one week that would be 105 minutes, in a month it would be up to 455 minutes and in a year it comes to 5460 minutes, which amounts to 91 hours.

 In addition, taking a shower everyday may be considered a waste of time by some. Think of the time I could save by cutting down on my shower time. If I would shower, say three times a week, it could save me a lot of time, not to mention soap and towels. 

This also has another benefit to it. By only showering three times a week, it will drastically cut down on personal conversations with people. Who wants to talk to someone who has not showered in two days? 

As I was contemplating this last one, I came to a brick wall. That brick wall being, my wife. She has this insidious idea of bathing regularly. If it were up to her, I would take three or four showers a day. But my argument is, a person can only be so clean for so long. If God meant us to be clean all the time, why did he make so much dirt? 

I remember when my wife was away for two weeks I saved an enormous amount of time by recycling my dishes. After all, I don’t mind eating after me. Those two weeks I used the same silverware, dish and coffee mug for the entire time. And, contrary to my wife’s theories, I lived. 

When my good wife found out what I was thinking about, she made a very good point. According to her, I could save an enormous amount of time by not trying to think up ways to save time. 

The truth of the matter is, time cannot be saved. It can only be used wisely. The Bible makes this point clear on a number of occasions. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV).

And, “And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed” (Romans 13:11 KJV).

 It is how I used time and what I use it for that is important. I have two choices. Waste time or use my time wisely. The choice is mine. 

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

How to make up for lost time

Rev. James L. Snyder

Have you ever had the feeling that you lost something but could not quite figure out what?

This has been bugging me all week long. It is a good thing I lost my mind years ago or this might cause me to lose it. I remember the day I lost my mind but I cannot remember anything after that date.

All week long, I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I had lost something and that it was something rather important. I sat down in my easy chair and tried to think about it but who can think at times like this?

I was looking for whatever it was I lost all through the house. I finally was going through my sock drawer when the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage caught me.

“Did you lose something?”

I was now facing a major dilemma. If I answered in the affirmative, she would inquire as to what I had lost. If I tell her I do not know what I lost, she will immediately respond by saying, how will you know when you find it?

Then I would be treated to one of her sarcastic snickers. You would think after all these years I would become accustomed to such royal treatment.

I finally broke down and confessed, “I don’t know what I lost but I just feel like I’ve lost something this week. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Do you remember,” she said thoughtfully, “where you were when you lost whatever you lost?”

I reflected for a moment and then confessed to her that it was last Sunday right after I got up that I sensed I had lost something.

My wife was about ready to leave the room and then she stopped and looked at me and said, “You do remember we lost an hour this week?”

“So,” I said sheepishly as I closed my sock drawer, “I won’t find it among my socks.”

With that mystery solved, I had another one to contemplate. This one probably is bigger than anything else I could ever think of. How can I make up for lost time?

Every year I go through the same rigmarole. No sooner am I adjusted to the time then the government changes that time for me. It is now six o’clock, but no, it’s really five o’clock. Or, is it seven o’clock? How in the world can I ever know what time it actually is?

Thinking along these lines I have come up with several ways in which to make up for lost time.

The first has to do with eating vegetables. In my book, most vegetables are a waste of time. I could make up some time each day by not eating my vegetables, especially broccoli. At the end of the year, I could use that time to eat some Apple fritters.

Another way I could save time is to cut down on my daily exercise. I am not sure who came up with the idea of exercising every day. Just think about what 15 minutes a day would add up to. In one week that would be 105 minutes, in a month it would be up to 455 minutes and in a year it comes to 5460 minutes, which amounts to 91 hours.

In addition, taking a shower everyday may be considered a waste of time by some. Think of the time I could save by cutting down on my shower time. If I would shower, say three times a week, it could save me a lot of time, not to mention soap and towels.

This also has another benefit to it. By only showering three times a week, it will drastically cut down on personal conversations with people. Who wants to talk to someone who has not showered in two days?

As I was contemplating this last one, I came to a brick wall. That brick wall being, my wife. She has this insidious idea of bathing regularly. If it were up to her, I would take three or four showers a day. But my argument is, a person can only be so clean for so long. If God meant us to be clean all the time, why did he make so much dirt?

I remember when my wife was away for two weeks I saved an enormous amount of time by recycling my dishes. After all, I don’t mind eating after me. Those two weeks I used the same silverware, dish and coffee mug for the entire time. And, contrary to my wife’s theories, I lived.

When my good wife found out what I was thinking about, she made a very good point. According to her, I could save an enormous amount of time by not trying to think up ways to save time.

The truth of the matter is, time cannot be saved. It can only be used wisely. The Bible makes this point clear on a number of occasions. “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV).

And, “And that, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed” (Romans 13:11 KJV).

It is how I used time and what I use it for that is important. I have two choices. Waste time or use my time wisely. The choice is mine.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

A friend of mine has a saying, “I’m going to get as old as I possibly can get.” From what I can tell, he has. I must agree with his sentiment. Of course, the alternative is. well you know. Another friend of mine likes to tell me, “Brother, you’re only as old as you feel.” I am not sure how old feels or if wrinkles are involved. But, I am feeling quite fine, thank you.

Just the other day the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage came in from her workshop, sat down on the couch and said, “Whew, I feel like a hundred.”

At the time, I did not know if she was talking about dollars, pounds or years. Being the old fogey that I am, I know there are times when silence is golden and this was one of those golden moments. But, what does a hundred
feel like? Is there some special sensation that pulsates through the body when a person reaches that age level? Or, is it the absence of anything pulsating through your body?

Just this morning I got up with a sore knee and could hardly walk to the bathroom. I complained about it to my wife, who has no compunction about expressing her opinions, said, “Well, you are older than when you went to bed last night.”

I did not know I was aging so rapidly. If this keeps up, I will change from an old fogey into an old geezer before I know it. The difference between an old fogey and an old geezer is, an old fogey walks around in a fog while the
old geezer cannot get up from his chair and wheezes a lot.

I was musing on the idea that getting old was a lot of trouble with a lot of pain involved. Then I remembered what a lot of trouble and pain it was to be young. As a youngster, I thought many times, “Oh, I can’t wait to get old.”
I thought getting older was the panacea for all of my problems.

I remember thinking that when I got older nobody would boss me around. I would do whatever I wanted to do whenever I wanted to do it. I could not wait for that time to come. I dreamed of that mystical land. No parents to
boss me around; no teachers to tell me what to do and when to do it; no siblings interfering with my plans for the day. What a life I would lead when I got older. I lived each day hoping to get older which, in my thinking, was the door into that area.

Just as I was entering that mysterious realm of being my own boss, I got married. Not only that, but several years into that marital bliss came the pitter-patter of little feet in the hallway. I did not figure that getting older would involve so many people in my life. Just going to the bathroom, for example, was a three-day wait. And, guess who is at the bottom of the list?

I guess you know you have gotten old when you give up the idyllic idea of being your own boss, doing whatever you want to do, whenever you want to do it.

Now that I think of it, it was a lot more painful and a lot more troublesome to be young than it is to be old. In fact, there are some marvelous advantages of getting older.

For example, when my wife sends me to the grocery store to get a few things I usually forget something. Now, that I am getting older, I can tell her that I do not remember things as I used to, after all, I’m getting older.

Also, when someone invites me to go out and play what they call senior softball, I can always say, “I would love to, but my knees are acting up now that I’m getting older.”

This process of getting older has drastically improved my social life. Every joke I hear is as if I am hearing it for the very first time. It is amazing.

My wife and I were at a social function not too long ago, and I was having a marvelous time. When we got home, my wife said to me, “You put on a good act tonight.”

“What you mean I put on a good act?”

“You laughed at every joke tonight as if it was the first time you ever heard it.”

I did not have the heart to tell her that it was the first time I heard those jokes. That is what is so marvelous about getting old. You do not have to burden your brain, and all the little gray cells in it, with remembering things. My brain is now free to enjoy the moment. It is wonderful getting older.

When I was younger, it would embarrass me if I forgot something. Of course, I blame that on my parents and teachers who tried to pound into my little head that I needed to remember everything. Now that I am older, I do not
have that burden.

It is good to remember some things. I remembered one of my favorite Bible passages. “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy
paths” (Proverbs 3:5-6 KJV).

I will never get too old to trust the Lord with all my heart.

##

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

If anybody believes in “do-over,” it is Yours Truly. This stems back to my pre-adult days littered with carefreeness and fun of all sizes and shapes. At that time, my whole life revolved around games. I was part of that unfortunate generation that had to make up their own games, as we were not privileged to have video games, iPods and Blueberries. Although I did enjoy a freshly baked blueberry pie with two scoops of ice cream whenever the opportunity presented itself.

One rule we had in our made-to-order games was quite simple and practical. If anybody fouled up in some way, he had 3 seconds to yell “Do-over.” If the person was able to yell this before anybody else discovered the foul, they had the privilege of doing it all over again. I always thought this a very nice rule and used it quite generously.

Unfortunately, when I became a man (whenever that sad day happened, and my wife is still trying to find out when) I did not put away all of my boyish pranks. The one I carried over into adulthood was this attitude of “do-over.”

It is my personal belief that this philosophy of “do-over” should be incorporated in adult life. I have found many times when I messed up that I wanted to yell “do-over” and fix a problem. If only this could be used in practical everyday living, what a difference it would make.

I remember as a child that whenever this “do-over” was applied to a situation at hand it solved a multitude of problems. Everyone agreed to the terms of “do-over,” which made things go rather smoothly and everybody was happy.

Personally, I think this would solve many problems in our world today. Whoever came up with the idea that you should have just one shot at something? It just does not seem fair to me. As soon as a person knows he has done something wrong, he should be able to yell “do-over,” and correct the problem right there on the spot.

Just the other day I was driving down a very busy street when I happened to get in the wrong lane. It would have been wonderful if I could have just said loudly enough for everybody to hear, “do-over,” then correct the problem. That was an option I did not have at the time.

What actually happened was, the offended driver shouted at me and it was not, “do-over.” For a moment, we were coming at each other head on. Then in all the excitement, he got a little befuddled. He must have been a very religious man because with both hands he pointed towards heaven. In the excitement and the confusion of the moment, he used the wrong fingers. He could have used a “do-over.”

An incident happened to me not too long ago at the grocery store having a large sale on cans of soft drink. There was a pyramid pile up front with the advertised soda. The can I wanted was about halfway up the pyramid and without thinking, which is my modus operandi, I pulled several cans from the middle. As soon as I pulled the cans from the middle it dawned on me what I had done and, more importantly, what was about to happen. If only I could have cried, “do-over,” I could have saved the day.

Needless to say, the day was not saved, and for that matter, neither was I.

One afternoon I came home and much to my delight, I found a freshly baked apple pie on the counter. I have many weaknesses, not the least is a freshly baked apple pie. I am not quite sure what happens when I see a freshly baked pie, but something sinister takes over the reins of my body and I am not responsible for my actions.

The next conscious thing I knew I had just eaten a slice of the marvelously delicious pie topped with two scoops of ice cream. No sooner had I finished that scrumptious slice then who should walk in but the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. One look at her giving me one of her looks and all I wanted to say was, “do-over.”

“You did not eat a piece of that apple pie, did you?”

All I could think of at the moment was, “Do-over.”

“I baked that pie for our neighbor who is sick.”

“Do-over.”

I tried explaining to her that not everything was my fault. If she, so my reasoning mind raved, would not make such delicious apple pies I would not be tempted to eat them.

It was then that she looked at me quite sternly and said, “do-over.”

I was invited to go to my room and think things over. As I turned this over in my mind, it finally dawned on me that God is the creator of the “do-over.” I should have known anything as good as this originated with God. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9 KJV).

As I gave further thought on this, I begin to realize how wonderful a “do-over” is when God is at the center of it. No matter how big my problem or mistake might be it is never bigger than God’s ability to call out for me “do-over.”
The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Rev. James L. Snyder

From a practical standpoint, and if I am anything I am practical, well, practically, this year has gone by rather quickly. The fact I have survived this past year has to count for something.

I was musing on this with the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage just the other day. I was feeling rather comfortable with myself and was congratulating myself on making it through another year. After all, the facts speak for themselves.

“Well,” my wife began rather deliberately, “I guess you did survive the year.”

“What in the world is that supposed to mean,” I queried. I must say I was a little agitated by the tone of her voice. After all, I did survive the year.

It was quiet for a few moments and then she said, “What about your New Year’s resolutions?”

I informed her I was working on a brand-new set of New Year’s resolutions for the coming year. I think it’s rather important to jot down a few things you would like to do, maybe some improvements you would like to make or maybe something I should like to give up for the New Year.

“That’s not what I mean.”

I looked at her quizzically not really understanding what she was talking about.

“What about the New Year’s resolutions for this year.” And she looked at me with one of those looks.

You do not have to hit me with a baseball bat for me to understand what’s going on, although sometimes it does help. To be quite truthful I had not thought of those New Year’s resolutions, well, for the whole year.

“Would you like me to recite the New Year’s resolutions you made last year?”

Oh boy. I saw a news story the other day about people who could remember every day of their life in minute detail. I do not know how that feels, but I do know how it feels to live with someone who can remember every detail of my life.

I have a photographic memory; the problem is I have been out of film for three decades.

It got me to thinking about my New Year’s resolutions for this year. I must say that after looking at this list I did not fare too well.

I had resolved to improve my diet and lose some weight. Fortunately, I did not put down how much weight I proposed to lose. I did lose 1 pound 974 times but it always found its way home. I spent some time in Michigan this past summer and just as I was leaving, I threw a pound out the window and hurried on. By the time I got home to Florida that pound was waiting for me at the front door munching on an Apple fritter. What’s a person to do?

Also, another item on my New Year’s resolution list was, “I resolve not to work harder but smarter this coming year.” At the time, I thought it was a very brilliant thing to say. And, don’t get me wrong, it is.

I have mastered the part of not working harder, but the smarter aspect of that resolution eluded me. Whose definition of smarter should apply here? Certainly, I will not appeal to my wife’s idea about smarter. She has an altogether different concept of this whole area of working smarter.

My only consolation is that my definition of the subject is, it is always smarter not to work harder. If we apply that definition to my New Year’s resolution, I passed with flying colors.

Then my good wife reminded me of another part of my New Year’s resolution. According to her memory, and I am in no position to challenge it, I had resolved to exercise more during the year. At the moment, I exercised my right to object to her memory. But, I lost that one.

The only actual exercise I got this past year was several times I had a runny nose. Believe me, that exercised me to no end, but it was not on track with my wife’s idea of exercise.

At this point of life, I think exercise is blown way out of proportion. I tried to persuade my wife that working my elbow at breakfast and lunchtime as well as suppertime was all the exercise I really needed. She said to me, “When was the last time you saw your feet?”

At the moment, I exercised my right to shut up!

Then it dawned on me. I actually did get my share of exercise in this past year.

I exercised my right to be wrong when confronted by my wife.

I exercised my right to keep quiet when my wife was giving me instructions.

All that exercise may not have helped me lose weight but it helped me gain in my relationship with my wife.

I pondered this for some time and realized that many times it is better to admit you are wrong and save your relationship. Those who have to be right all the time are those who end up never being right. I thought of what the apostle Paul said. “Now therefore there is utterly a fault among you, because ye go to law one with another. Why do ye not rather take wrong? why do ye not rather suffer yourselves to be defrauded?” (1 Corinthians 6:7 KJV).

Sometimes it is better to suffer wrongfully for a good purpose.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Every family has those traditions and days that help define their family. I personally know some families (although I shall not divulge any names unless there is enough cash present) that are adequately defined by April 1. For me, Christmas Eve clearly defines me.

Christmas Eve means many things to me. For one, it means shopping. Yes, it is true; I do all my Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. It cuts down on the stress. I know some people who spend weeks shopping and their life is full of stress.

Unlike me in many ways, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage begins her Christmas shopping in January and by August, she is in full shopping spree. There should be a law that any present bought before December cannot be considered a Christmas present.

When the children were still at home, I was just as eager as they were on Christmas morning to see what I had bought them for Christmas. They always appreciated the thought that went into their gift. You did not hear this from me, but sometimes my wife was surprised at the gift as well.

There have been times, and you did not hear it from me, when my wife bought a Christmas present and forgot about it by the time December rolled around. Once, and I will never repeat this, we discovered a cache of Christmas presents in the corner of our garage when we were packing to move. Only Santa really knows how long they were there.

Up to this year, I have successfully eluded such Christmas faux pas. My Christmas Eve starts bright and early in the morning. My first stop is the “Slurp ‘N Burp Café” for a big breakfast. After an early breakfast, it is off to the mall for my Christmas Eve ritual of shopping. I only go to the mall once a year.

It is a tradition with me. My philosophy is, the more torturous the shopping experience the more the recipient will appreciate the gift. For me, nothing is more torturous than a visit at the local shopping mall.

Some go to the mall for pleasure and recreation. I go for penitence.

The average mall is so anti-man that every man enters its doors at his own peril. Many insurance companies have a disclosure, in fine print, in their policies to men making all insurance claims invalid when in a shopping mall.

Shopping malls are deliberately designed to frustrate the male equation of the marital state of mind. Let me list a few observations in this regard: Is it just me, or do they move the mall stores around from year to year just to confuse the average man? Why is it, no matter what door I enter the mall it is never there when I want to leave?

Once inside the mall it only takes me three hours to acclimate myself to the hostile environment. By that time, I am hopeless lost. As I wander aimlessly around the mall, I try to remember why I am there. One of the things on my shopping agenda is a Christmas present for my wife. Although I have had over 38 years experience in this, I am no better off then our first Christmas.

In all those years, I have given her everything from jewelry to perfume to bubble bath. At this stage in my life, I do not know what to get her.

Last year I was tempted to wrap myself and put the box under the tree, but I was afraid I would suffocate by Christmas morning. As I wandered from store to store, I could not find anything to buy for her. I could get her a card with money in it but I’m afraid the check would bounce – and then I would.

If I bought her a dress, I would only be putting my life on the line. If the dress I bought were too small, she would be offended to think I thought she was gaining weight. If the dress I bought was too large – well, you know what that would mean.

If I did not get her something, I would look pretty silly come Christmas morning – I mean sillier than usual.

Wandering in and out of store after store brought me no closer to that gift of all gifts that would say, “I think you’re terrific.”

I was exhausted and about to give up and go home in shameful disgrace. Then, when I was about to give up, there it was. The perfect gift. I could not believe my eyes. I rubbed them in disbelief and loudly exclaimed, “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus after all.”

I wept, I laughed, I burped (musta been the soda). Right before my eyes was the perfect gift for my wife. A gift that said, “Honey, you’re the greatest.” Watching the salesperson carefully wrap my Christmas trophy, I could not help thinking about the real meaning of Christmas.

God searched all of heaven to find that one special gift to tell mankind how much He really loved them. Finding nothing better, He settled on that Gift of all gifts, the Lord Jesus Christ.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16 KJV).

My Christmas prayer is that this year you will celebrate with me God’s gift of eternal life in Jesus Christ.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Rev. James L. Snyder

Now that Thanksgiving is over, I am able to sit back and recoup from the activity. I’m not sure about anybody else, but a holiday such as Thanksgiving takes a lot out of me. Of course, it puts a lot in me, but that’s another story.

The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly were catching our breath right after our Thanksgiving fiesta. I was enjoying the quiet moment when my wife said to me, “Do you know what time it is?”

I glanced at my wrist watch and said, “It’s 8:30 right on the dot.”

My wife threw one of those looks at me I was tempted not to catch and said, “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

This is the problem I have. My wife assumes I know exactly what she’s talking about every time she speaks. To be quite honest, it is a rare day when Yours Truly knows exactly what the wife is talking about whenever she speaks. This might be the reason I get into a little bit of trouble with her every now and then.

She then continued. “What I mean is, do you know what time it is now?”

I was tempted to say, “It’s 8:32,” but I learned my lesson, so I casually asked, “No, what time is it?”

She sighed very deeply and said, “It’s time to get the Christmas decorations down out of the attic and decorate our house for Christmas.”

Upon hearing those words, I immediately froze in my chair. I was hoping this year there would be an appreciative pause between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I must say I’m quite a fan of both holidays and all they represent. However, I certainly would like to get over one before I get into the other.

“You’ll have to go up to the attic and bring down all of our Christmas decoration boxes.”

I do not relish this job. I go into the attic twice a year; once to bring the Christmas decorations down, and once to take them back when Christmas is over. If anybody were to seek my opinion about this whole matter, I would immediately opine that twice a year is two times too many for me.

I don’t like the attic. It is dark and spooky up there. I’m not quite sure who or what inhabits the attic, but I hear some awfully strange noises coming from there on a regular basis, especially in the middle of the night. I’m not suggesting a ghost may be living in our attic, but it hasn’t been proven otherwise.

I do not believe in ghosts, but a person cannot be too careful these days.

If I could have a wish for this time of the year, I think it would be that the next holiday should not begin before the last holiday has sufficiently worn off. I’m not sure if it is my age or what, but these holidays are coming fast and furious. No sooner do you get into the spirit of one holiday when the next holiday is knocking at your door.

I do not think this is too unreasonable a wish. After all, there is a period of three weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, which I think should be used rather wisely.

Even around our Thanksgiving Day table, everybody was chattering about what they were looking forward to for Christmas. Everybody seemed to be playing old St. Nick and checking his or her Christmas list twice.

I remember as a child we would set up the Christmas tree and all of the decorations on Christmas Eve. Then, New Year’s Day it would all be packed away for another year. That gave us approximately one week to enjoy the Christmas decorations.

I’m almost at the point of saying, Happy Holiday, for the simple reason I’m not quite sure which holiday we are celebrating. Is it Thanksgiving? Or, maybe it’s Christmas? Or, then again, it may be New Year’s Day. Whoever designed these holidays so closely together needs to rethink the strategy here.

Another wish I might have. Holidays should not be an excuse to go shopping. Somebody should pass some kind of congressional bill stating that on holidays people should stay at home. Holidays should be a family affair. It should not be a contest to see who can spend the most money on one day. I know I stand alone on this issue, but I do not mind. It’s my opinion and I’ll keep it to myself, thank you.

The day after Thanksgiving, I heard somebody on the radio singing, “We wish you a Merry Christmas.” I don’t mind being wished a Merry Christmas, but I sure do wish they would wait until Christmas to wish me such pleasantries.

Even Jesus recognized the importance of resting. “And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat.” (Mark 6:31 KJV).

Then I heard a certain store in our community was not permitting any of their employees to say to any customer, “Merry Christmas.” To which I, seeing the challenge before me, promptly went to that store, not to buy anything, but to wish everybody I saw “Merry Christmas.” After all, under such circumstances, you can’t start too soon to wish people Merry Christmas.

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The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Thanksgiving dinner at the Parsonage was a tremendous success. If by success, you mean stuffing yourself so much that you can barely move.

The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage outdid herself with the cooking and I outdid myself in the fine art of consumption. That is why we are such a great team. We complement ourselves so very well. She is good in one thing and I am equally good in the thing related to that one thing.

As I sit here in my chair alternating between breathing and thinking, I am thinking on how much energy leads up to that one spectacular Thanksgiving Day dinner. And the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage spared no energy in the production of this year’s extravaganza. In the middle of the table was a finely roasted turkey surrounded by all the condiments. If anything was missing on the table, nobody missed it.

Being the marital partner in this food frenzy, I spared no energy in consuming as much of the dinner fare as I possibly could. I must admit, even after sufficiently filled, my eating momentum carried me on to several more rounds of turkey. I know that third piece of pumpkin pie was not absolutely necessary. But oh, was it delicious.

Not one of those store bought pies that tastes more like cardboard then anything else, this was one of those homemade pies. Therefore, as not to insult the chef, I indulged in that third piece of pumpkin pie with as much relish as the first piece.

I really don’t know how she does it, but the third piece tasted just as delicious as the first piece.

For 364 days out of the year, my wife oversees the diet program she thinks I’m on. It does me no harm for her to think so, and so I let her. She does not need to know how many Apple fritters I eat. But on this one day of the year, all dietary restrictions and oversight are thrown out the kitchen window. This is why they call it Thanksgiving day.

Some people refer to it as Turkey Day. I certainly do not give thanks to any old Tom Turkey and I’m suspicious of people who talk to turkeys anyway.

Getting back to my overstuffed condition, I’m trying to find someone to blame. I sure would like to blame my wife for being such the terrific cook she is. I made such a suggestion and she retorted with, “Well, you didn’t have to eat everything on the table.”

In a way, there is a small bit of truth in what she says. I did not have to eat everything on the table. In my own defense, I herewith confess that I did not eat everything on the table. What I did eat, however, I did so with exceptional gusto. Like the old saying, you only go around once in life. And after Thanksgiving dinner, I am more round than I was before.

Since I cannot blame my good wife for my overindulgence on Thanksgiving Day, I have decided the blame rests upon the other family members around the table. They certainly share a certain culpability. If we were not having so much fun around the table, I might have paid more attention to how much I was eating.

Also, and this is no small matter, someone either to my right or to my left was always asking to pass the turkey. Since I am such a man of manners, it would be bad manners on my part not to take a piece of turkey as it passed my way. If only they would not have passed it so much I may not have eaten so much.

I mumbled something like this to my wife who said, “Didn’t you ever hear of self-discipline?”

I have heard of it but have never really applied it to the dinner table. Her inference, if I understood her correctly, was I need to use a little more self-discipline when it came to eating.

In going my rounds of blaming people for my present condition, I have struck out in every area. There does not seem to be any person for me to blame.

It was at this point when my wife came to my aid.

“Instead of trying to find someone to blame for overeating, why not go to the bathroom and look in the mirror.”

Ha, there was something I did not think of. The mirror is responsible for all my overeating. What a relief to find someone, or something, to blame for my present condition. I never would have thought of the mirror, myself. But then, my wife should know.

I then thought of some Scripture. “For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.” Galatians 6:8 (KJV).

A little thought nudged me, if I was as indulgent in my spiritual life as I was in my physical life, I probably would be a much better person.
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The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

My father used to tell me that anything worth doing was worth doing right the first time. If you have time to do it the second time, you should have time to do it right the first time.

As fathers go, he was right. It seems most people have not learned this lesson, least of all politicians who are supposedly serving the interests of their constituency. I know there are good politicians in America today. Nobody seems to know who they are, though.

The reason I have been thinking about this is, I’m sitting here indulging in the delicate scent floating in from the kitchen where the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage has begun her ritual of roasting the Thanksgiving turkey. I say turkey but really, she is roasting three turkeys. One is for our family Thanksgiving dinner and the other two are for the church Thanksgiving dinner.

Somewhere along the line, probably years before she met me, she learned the magnificent secret of doing things right the first time. Not like some people we hear of these days who don’t have time to do it right the first time but seem to have plenty of time to do it over and over again, sometimes four times.

Anything worth doing right the first time demands planning. If anyone knows planning, it certainly is my wife. If things were left up to me, nothing would ever get done. I plan to learn how to plan someday but my plans seem to have fallen apart.

At our home, it begins about the middle of October when my wife says rather pensively, “Let’s see. Thanksgiving is about five weeks away. Should we have a turkey this year?”

I could not tell if this was a real question, a rhetorical question or if she is trying to set me up for something. Believe me; I’ve been set up so many times I have a hard time lying down. For the first hundred years of our marriage I always said, turkey. After all, what else do you have at Thanksgiving time?

However, this year was a little different. When I responded with my usual answer she said, “But we’ve had turkey for years. Aren’t you getting tired of turkey?”

If there’s one thing I don’t ever get tired of it’s turkey. You can do so many things with turkey. There is roast turkey, sliced turkey sandwiches, turkey salad and turkey soup just to name a few.

The only problem at our house is, the turkey rarely survives the first day, which is a tribute, not so much to our consumption as a family as to the genius of the family chef. I have often wondered what turkey soup really tastes like.

This expertise in the direction of the Thanksgiving roast turkey did not come without cost. It took years for my wife to master the art of roasting a turkey. Unfortunately, much of this practice was on Yours Truly. She has been roasting me for years and still complains that I’m not quite done yet. That really burns me up.

Only last week she complained I was a little hard on the outside and rather soft on the inside. I was tempted to shift the blame on her but when it comes to this area; I am more of a lame duck then a finely roasted turkey. My philosophy is along these lines, I’d rather let things happen and then try to adjust to the consequences.

My good wife is of the opinion that you create your own consequences. Moreover, when she says this she is usually looking at me a little askew.

“Don’t you know that the Thanksgiving Turkey does not roast itself?”

Being the lame duck I am, that thought never played with my mind. I have always enjoyed the results of the roasted turkey without a thought about how it got to my table.

While I was enjoying the aroma of the turkey roasting in the kitchen, I came up with several suggestions along these lines.

First, I need to find things that are worth doing in the first place. How much time I have wasted on things not really worth my time or effort is beyond my computation. Like my wife, I need to be a little more picky about the things I choose to do. Not everything is worth my time.

Second, those things worth doing certainly deserve my best efforts. If I have to redo something, it means I’m not putting my best effort into the project. And at my age, I don’t have time to waste on things that are not worth my best effort.

Third, there is no finer satisfaction than a job well done.

I never understood this until recently. In the middle of our Thanksgiving dinner when everybody is enjoying the food and complementing the chef, my wife is sitting in her chair smiling. I never knew why until now.

This must be how our heavenly Father felt with Jesus at his baptism. “And the Holy Ghost descended in a bodily shape like a dove upon him, and a voice came from heaven, which said, Thou art my beloved Son; in thee I am well pleased.” (Luke 3:22 KJV).

The best way to celebrate Thanksgiving is to recognize the wonderful work God has done for our salvation, which did not come without the ultimate cost, the sacrifice of His Son.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Well, most of the time.

Even though I am on a strict diet, I still find on occasion that I must eat my words. And such is the case of the aforementioned statement. However, there is some change that I, even I, can believe in.

For weeks, or has it been years, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage has been complaining about her stove. I did not enter in to this complaining about the stove, even though it was a very delicious temptation. After all, she is the one who bought this stove in the first place. And, it took her months to quit raving about how wonderful her new stove was.

But things have a way of changing.

Every now and then, I would hear, “This stove drives me crazy. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it.”

Being the astute professional husband that I am, I declined entering into this banter about the stove. After all, the less I have to do with the kitchen area of our domicile the happier I am.

Then it happened, as all things are wont to happen. For some reason my wife could not turn off the stove. Common courtesy prevents me from repeating the lively conversation my wife had with the stove in question. What I can repeat is, she had run out of patience with this old stove. Consequently, she threatened the stove that if it did not shape up and work properly, she would replace it with something newer and better. She emphasized the word “better.”

Now, I was concerned. Changing out the old stove with a new stove represented a lot of work and inconvenience on all parties. Not to mention lots of dough. I convinced her to give the stove one more chance.

Scowling at the stove she said, “OK, but this is the last straw.”

A few days later, I came home and things had changed… for the worst. Contrary to the abovementioned warning, the stove did no such thing as shaping up. It still sat there refusing to turn itself off or allowing someone else to turn it off. In fact, my wife had pulled the stove completely out of its place and unplugged it.

“I’m done with the old stove and I’m getting a new one,” she said with a tone of finality.

There is a time and place to discuss everything but this was neither the time nor the place to discuss a new stove. In fact, the new stove had already been ordered and was on its way. Discussion ended.

Later that week the new stove had arrived and my wife was trying it out. I was in my chair reading a book when I smelled something from the kitchen. Then my wife appeared with a cookie on a napkin and said to me, “Here, try this cookie to see if it’s all right.”

You are familiar with looking a gift horse in the mouth? I eagerly consumed the cookie and remarked that it tasted quite delicious.

“I burned that batch of cookies. I’m trying to find out how this convection oven works.”

A few minutes later she came in with another cookie and requested, “Try this one and see if it’s any better.”

I do not mean to brag, and I sure do not want to pat myself on the back, but I could see a theme developing. I knew that my wife would not stop making cookies until she had it just right.

“This cookie,” I said rather thoughtfully, “is a little better than the last one.”

She whirled around and headed back to the kitchen and her new convection oven to try out a new batch of cookies.

“This is okay but there does seem to be something missing,” I mused with the next batch of cookies.

All afternoon the cookies flowed in my direction and I, being the cookie aficionado that I am, gave her my best advice. I curiously enough, detected the least little problem with each one. She was getting so close to perfection.

My wife being so interested and committed to mastering her brand-new convection oven had forgotten the house rules, the one that she made up namely, one cookie per month for me. I had just consumed enough cookies for the next 10 years. I was willing to break the rules just to help her in her new project. That’s the kind of guy I am.

Later that evening, I am glad to say, she had mastered her new convection oven as well as her cookie recipe. I, on the other hand, had a new appreciation of all things new. Sometimes change can be beneficial.

The Bible speaks of change. “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” (2 Corinthians 5:17 KJV).

Many people like to hang on to the old, even though it is not working and is actually dragging them down. Christ offers change. Real change. Change you can really believe in.

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The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Do you ever wish that you had a super power? My son, who was 4 at the time, told me not long ago that when he gets to heaven, he’s going to ask God for super powers … specifically, “laser eyes.”

I’m not sure that I’d want laser eyes (sound painful!), but maybe the power to control things – my life, my kids, my housework. This week, though, I’ve been wishing that I had the power to get it all done. So many days I feel as if I need an extra 3 or 4 hours just to accomplish the day to day tasks of life.

What super power would you choose?

As I pondered super powers and the word “Power,” I realized that although it is many times defined using words like “strength” or “might,” in Jesus we see another definition of power. He IS power in the true sense of the word. Even when he humbled Himself to be human, He didn’t use power to destroy or to have control over mankind. He was the embodiment of power, yet the power that He exemplified was a power of servanthood.
Jesus exerted power over Satan in the gospels simply by speaking the Word of God. These truths were powerful enough to overcome the temptations of the devil. Satan may have power in this world, power over the physical, but he has no power other than what God has granted him (consider Job).

We also see many examples of power being shown in god-fearing people throughout Scripture. People who knew and walked with the Lord had true power. Joshua brought down the walls of the fortified city of Jericho simply by trusting God. Noah saved his family from a flood that killed off the rest of humankind by believing and obeying God. The list goes on and on. These people may not have had physical prowess, but they had power in the spiritual sense.

We are told in Scripture that believers are given a spirit of power through Christ:

“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7

If we have placed our trust in Christ, we have the power to overcome sin, to love others and to allow God to guide and direct us. Even if we never gain super powers in the physical sense, we already have them through Christ – with Him on our side we know TRUE power.

–
Jill Hart’s entrepreneurial career began in her teens when she spent a summer working with her father who ran his own business. When he put her in charge of a Coke machine and allowed her to keep the profits, she  saw the benefits of being her own boss. She is the founder of the popular Christian work-at-home website CWAHM.com and mentors business owners at http://SuccessfulChristianWomen.com. Jill is also the  co-author of So You Want To Be a Work-at-Home Mom (Beacon Hill Press).

Every now and then, a thought enters my mind. Once inside my mind, it endures a lonely existence and rattles around long enough to morph into something quite different when it comes out than what went in.

I am not quite sure when this thought entered my mind, but when it came out of my mind it induced me to surprise my wife with a barbecue supper. When this thought first raised its head, I was pleasantly surprised that I, on my very own, could come up with such a good idea.

The key to this surprised barbecue supper was not letting my wife know about it. I must admit that I am not very successful when it comes to covert operations. I do not think my wife is psychic, but she seems to know what I am going to do before I actually do it. This has helped me out of many embarrassing situations.

The more I thought about this, the more the idea please me. My wife has been working hard lately and I thought she about needed a nice little surprise from Yours Truly. I was the man for the job.

I had to plan this operation down to the last second. I knew at the outset this would be difficult, but the payoff would be well worth it.

I knew my wife was going to be out of town for most of the day, which gave me plenty of time to put my plan into action.

The first thing on my agenda was to go to the grocery store and buy all the necessary ingredients for my barbecue. This was going to be a barbecue to end all barbecues. I love it when a plan comes together.

I bought some wonderful looking steaks, sweet potatoes for roasting (my wife loves sweet potatoes), and equal portions of potato salad and coleslaw.

“Having a barbecue?” the cashier said with a smile that almost touched behind her head.

“Yea, I am surprising my wife with a barbecue supper.”

“You have any charcoal for your grill?”

Whoops, that was not on my list, but I am sure glad she mentioned it. I went back, got a bag of charcoal and brought it up to the cashier. As she was ringing it up she said, “Do you have enough lighter fluid to get all of the charcoal burning?”

Whoops, that was not on my list either. I ran back and got a can of lighter fluid for the charcoal.

Everything seemed to be in order, I paid the cashier and as I headed for the door, I was whistling a familiar tune.

It was a long time since I had done anything like this, and I was rather proud of myself for thinking it up all by myself. It only goes to show what a person can do when they think about something.

It took some doing, but I finally extracted the barbecue grill from the back corner of the garage and set it up on the back patio. The steaks are really going to be good tonight, I thought to myself. Is my wife ever going to be surprised.

Another key to this whole surprise element was time. I wanted to time it so that when my wife came through the door she would smell the barbecue burning. The first thing I needed to do was get the barbecue grill working in fine order. I assembled what I consider to proper amount of charcoal on the grill set the bag down and picked up the can of lighter fluid.

While I was working, I begin to muse within myself and thought that barbecue grilling comes natural to a man. Many things we may not be able to do, but when it comes to a barbecue grill, a man is a man. I splashed a little lighter fluid on the charcoal and commenced to strike a match. Nothing.

I struck another match and had the same results. With a little bit of panic I looked at my watch and knew that my wife would be coming home soon. I struck another match and still the charcoal did not light. I sprinkled a little more lighter fluid on the charcoal and struck another match. Nothing.

I was beginning to run out of time. I took the lighter fluid and emptied the entire can on my charcoal and as I did it, I heard my wife’s car come into the driveway. I knew I had to fly into action now.

I struck the match and touched it to the charcoal and the last thing I remember was a flash of light and a terrible exploding noise in my ears. Then I felt pain. Pain in my right hand.

I looked at my right hand and saw that it was aflame and burning rather nicely. Then my wife came through the back door onto the patio just in time to see me dance and yell like a banshee.

The charcoal in the grill was all ablaze and my right hand burning out-of-control my wife had the audacity to look at me and say, “Whatcha you doing?”

As we were eating our potato salad and coleslaw, I thought of a Bible verse.

“Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall.” (1 Corinthians 10:12 KJV).

My problem is I think too much.
##
The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

As of late, I have been fighting an insufferable barrage of intruders into that area commonly referred to as, “My Castle.” Normally I’m not a pessimist, but I have a feeling I am losing this battle.

I’m the kind of person that tries to get along with everybody but I must say I do have my limit. Regardless of what else I may have, I have a limit to intrusion into my Castle.

This all came to a head one day this week when the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage spent the afternoon shopping with her daughters. I always look forward to these times because then I can be King of the Castle. Don’t tell anyone, but I have a special hat I wear on such occasions.

My wife came home from her shopping only to find that her beloved husband had turned into a blubbering, raging maniac of the first-order. She is the kind of woman that deserves the first in everything, and brother, did she get it this day.

When she got her bearing, she looked at me and said, “What in the world is wrong with you? I go shopping and return and find you in this awful state of mind. What has happened?”

It took a few moments for me to collect anything that resembled sanity and a few more moments for me to regain volume in the speech department. Even so, I stuttered terribly. Finally, after some deep breathing exercises, I was able to talk.

“While you were gone,” I stammered, “that telephone has not stopped ringing for a moment.”

“Who’s been calling you?” She asked trying to calm me.

“It’s been one phone call right after another, and I don’t think I can stand any more of it.”

“Well, are you going to tell me who’s been calling or not?”

“I have a good mind to sue the telephone company over this nonsense,” I persisted.

My wife gave me one of “those looks” which finally brought me to my senses.

“It is all those politicians calling me with pre-recorded messages. No sooner do I hang up on one and the phone rings again with another politician begging me for my vote. I think I’ve had all I can stand for.”

“You could get rid of the phone,” my wife said with a rather sarcastic tone.

Then it begins to dawn on me. I have lost the rights to my Castle and have allowed intruders to rule. Once, I was in charge, at least when my wife was out shopping. Now, both my wife and I have lost control of our Castle.

Every month I pay my phone bill so that people can invade my privacy. I actually pay money to have other people take charge of my home. It just is not fair.

It does not stop with the phone service. I have surrendered my sovereignty in my own home to outside forces. There is the cable TV, the Internet service, the daily newspaper other cultural amenities that I have allowed to take charge of my humble domicile.

Once upon a time, and very long ago, a man’s home was his Castle where he retreated from the world in quietness and solitude. Now, the only place you can find quietness and solitude is in the dictionary.

When I call the phone company to complain about the terrible service I’ve been getting recently, they put me on hold and just to up the torture level they play music. Music on the telephone! And not very good music, either. I have to listen to the music in order to catch the next “operator” that comes online only to refer me to another department in the phone company.

Just because I have a telephone in my home does not mean I want everybody to call me. I am working on a plan that when anybody calls me, either business or political, they have to pay a little bit on my phone bill. After all, I got my phone service for me to call out not for businesses and political jackrabbits to call me. If they have anything to say to me, the United States Postal Service has been in business for a good long time and I have a mailbox in front of my house.

Getting back to these political jackrabbits. I call them jackrabbits because they hop all over the field and you never know where they are standing at any one time. To be a politician today you have to have a severe case of schizophrenia so that you can be all things to all people all the time. If these politicians want my vote, they can do what they do among themselves; pay me for it.

It would be cheaper in the long run, and civil, for politicians to pay for their votes. Instead of spending $100 million to get elected to a $100,000 a year job, they could write checks to the general populace of which, there would be much more civil feelings towards these politicians.

Then, the status of my Castle could be restored to its former glory of silence and solitude.

Even the Bible promises this for God’s people. “And my people shall dwell in a peaceable habitation, and in sure dwellings, and in quiet resting places” (Isaiah 32:18 KJV).

It is an endless battle to keep the world from intruding into my Castle, but it is worth the effort.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

I must admit that I am not always right. Of course, I did not understand the dynamics of this until after entering marital bliss. Sometimes it takes a major change in your life to awaken you to the truth. Although I may not always be right, I’m willing to “fess up” to it when somebody graciously points this out to me.

Fortunately, for me, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage has made this the supreme priority of her life. And I must say, I am all the better for it. I, on the other hand, have made “fessing up,” the supreme priority of my life. This has made for a wonderful team.

Most people don’t know when they’re wrong. Nobody tells them about it so they just go their way in the wrong direction doing the wrong thing.

I take comfort in the unexpressed fact that I may not always be right, but then, on the other hand, I’m not always wrong either.

I didn’t fully understand how this affected me personally until an incident happened this past week. It’s funny how one little incident can bring your entire world into sharp perspective.

We were going out to a special occasion and just as we were ready to leave my wife turned to me and said, “You’re not going to wear that tie with that jacket, are you?”

I take pride in the fact that I can match a tie to a suit or sport jacket. I’ve been doing this all my life and at the time I was not in the mood having somebody adjust my clothing.

“There is nothing wrong with this tie,” I said rather smartly. When I him right, I am right and I don’t care who knows it.

“All I will say,” she said rather stiffly, “is that you will regret wearing that tie.”

There is nothing more sporting, at least in the husband’s frame of mind, than a good challenge. And, if I say so myself, I was up for it, which only goes to show how wrong a person can be.

I had just bought this tie a few weeks before and I was anxious to show it off to my friends that we were going to meet. And, being the sporting husband that I am, I said as much to her. “This is my favorite tie and I’m going to wear it tonight no matter what you say.”

And can I get all the brothers to give me a loud, “Amen,” for that. We in the brotherhood need to stick together and there’s no thicker brotherhood than husbands.

She gave me one of her looks and then said, “Do what you want to do, but I’m just warning you.”

I might mention that my tie was a nice bright golden was so very decorative silver stars and moons sprinkled on it. The first time I saw it in the men’s clothing store I fell in love with it. Not often do I go gaga over a piece of attire but this one sort of caught my fancy.

When we got at the restaurant all of my friends admired my new tie.

“That’s a terrific tie,” someone said.

“Wordage again a time like that?” Another person chimed in.

I won’t say that I took advantage of the situation, I did, but if I have to say it’s you don’t know me very well. Every once in a while I glanced toward my wife and raise my eyebrows three times, which is a sign of arrogance on my part. I’ve earned this moment and so I was going to cash it in for all it was worth.

But what I didn’t figure on was the fact that we were at a restaurant that was serving all-you-can-eat spaghetti. I love spaghetti, and so I was planning on having a wonderful evening.

All my friends were admiring my tie, and I was pigging out on all the spaghetti I could eat. Plus, and this was the real plus, I had one over on my wife. Husband doesn’t get to this place very often and so when it comes, exploit it.

Then it happened. I will not say whose fault it was, although I have some very deep suspicious ideas. My wife was sitting to my left and somebody on my right ask if we would pass the spaghetti. I was so busy gloating that I did not realize what was developing.

“Here,” my wife said, “pass this on.”

Whether she let go before I grabbed it, or, my left hand went numb, I will never know. I am not one to pass the blame. However, accidents do happen.

The bold the spaghetti sauce slipped out of my hand and attached itself most ferociously to my prized tie. All around the table there was a gasp. Then silence. Then out of nowhere came a very distinct snicker. I have heard this snicker many times before and did not have to turn to see who was the proud owner of that snicker.

In fact, all the way home I heard low-volume editions of that snicker.

Being the man of the house, I drove all the way home in silence but I was thinking of a verse of Scripture in the book of Proverbs. Proverbs 16:18 says: “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.”

Can I get an “Amen” for that?

On Monday last there was a confusing cacophony swirling all around me. Usually, I’m not one to give vent to the noises around me but this was a little different. I like to pick sides but this time I’m not sure who to root for. Perhaps you can understand the confusion I am facing.

It is like being a Gator fan in Bulldog territory.

This uncertain sound has confused the dickens out of me, and it isn’t even Christmas time.

Looking out our living room window, I spotted the source of all this commotion. It was a yellow school bus filled with children on their way to their first day of school. As I watched the bus turn left and disappear out of sight, I thought about how the same incident can have completely opposite reactions.

First, there was the loud “hurrahs” of parents all through the community rejoicing in the commencement of school. Either, my hearing is getting better or the sound is getting louder, almost deafening. Up and down our street parents were high-fiving each other and smiling like they won the lottery. Even the lady across the street who has no children was out in her bathrobe joining in the celebration.

Then, second, there was the equally loud sound of groaning children commencing their formal education. After about three months of absolute freedom and fun, it was all behind them now and they were walking to their school classroom to set and set and set for the entire day.

The people I pity the most are the teachers who are the recipients of this horde of students who have not yet finished enjoying the fullness of their summer vacation. It seems that summer concludes rather quicker than the young people desire. Why is it good times go so fast and bad times seemed to drag on and on and on.

I am not sure which side of the fence I’m on with this one. I feel deeply towards these young people who after several months of freedom and absolute cavalier activity are now headed back to classrooms and discipline and cafeteria food. The fact that any kid survives cafeteria cuisine is a tribute to the constitutional strength of their stomach and digestive system.

But then I can understand the cheering on the side of the parents. I remember those days when my wife and I loaded up the children onto the bus for the first day of school. We stood together holding hands watching the bus drive out of sight and then we turned and slowly walked back into the house and sat down for a quiet cup of coffee. Let me underscore that word “quiet.”

Don’t get me wrong here, I love children, especially my children but I sure do love a quiet cup of coffee.

That seems to be the story of life. What makes one person happy is a burden to somebody else. What one person looks forward to with a great deal of anticipation, somebody else dreads the blasted thing.

This brings me to the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly.

We have a few things in common, but mostly, we like different things.

For example, she loves a fresh broccoli salad (yuck). I am not sure how anybody in his or her right mind could eat a broccoli salad let alone eat it on purpose and enjoy it. I, representing the saner half of our marriage equation, love freshly baked apple fritters.

In 39 years of marital bliss we have never been able bring these two things together. Her love for broccoli is equal only to my loathing of it. And when I loathe something I loath it… you know what I mean?

You are not going to believe this, but my wife turns her nose up at my freshly baked Apple fritters. I don’t understand it. All I can figure out is all those years of consuming broccoli has in some way destroyed her ability to taste good things. Just smelling broccoli burns my nose so bad that I can’t smell anything for three weeks. Imagine what it does to your taste buds.

I have an irrevocable contract with my stomach. I will never put into my stomach anything that does not pass the sniff test. Broccoli doesn’t, so I haven’t.

After all these years there is no way that my wife and I will ever agree in this area. Like parents and children on the first day of school, we have a different reaction to the same thing.

What has held us together all these years is simply this; she eats the broccoli and I eat the Apple fritters. She does not force her broccoli on me, and I do not force my Apple fritters on her.

We never encroach on the other’s happiness, which has made both of us quite happy.

One of the things that I have learned at a happily married husband is that there is a time and place for everything. There is a time to speak up… but that is rather rare. Knowing when to shut up is a gem of inestimable worth in a marriage relationship.

The Bible says, “Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding” (Proverbs 17:28).

It is better to keep quiet and let people guess if you are stupid than to say something and remove all doubt.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

During my high school career I was no thespian, however, I could act the fool when called upon. My friend was the thespian and starred in our senior high school play, “Finian’s Rainbow.” One of the musical numbers was, “When I’m not near the girl I love,
I love the girl I’m near.”

I have altered this title a little to fit my own needs. My version goes, “When I’m not in the season I love, I love the season I’m in.” It is a wonderful motto and has solved quite a few problems down the years. Just don’t ask me to sing it for you. I can, but you do not want to hear it… believe me.

At my age I have learned a thing or two. One of the things I have learned is that you might as well be content where you are at because that is where you are. All these people that are jumpy and nervous because they are not exactly where they want to be, waste a lot of precious time and energy.

I am old enough to appreciate where I am at. I could bemoan the fact that I’m not somewhere else, but what good would that do. I know I’m not at my destination yet, so I am determined to enjoy the journey and not miss one thing along the way.

This is the difference between the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly.

Just the other day her Majesty was complaining about the weather. “It’s so hot outside, I can hardly stand it.”

Of course, I could not resist saying, “Well, why don’t you sit down.” To which, she treated me to one of her infamous glares. Somehow, in the hot sunshine her glare did not have its normal effect. For one, she was too hot and did not have the energy to follow through on her glare.

But I love the summer. It is a wonderful time of the year and my affection for the season goes all the way back to my days in school.

I enjoy every aspect of summer and when God created summer, he created a masterpiece. Not a summer day goes by that I do not thank him for the summer.

I need to get one thing quite clear. I am not one of those who lay out in the sun to get a suntan. That is not my cup of tea… or rather glass of lemonade. I do not fault those who lay out in the sun to get what they call a suntan. Rather, I feel sorry for those old saps. Why ruin a good day by laying in the sun?

I had one bad sunburn in my life. It happened on our honeymoon. My wife and I were married in August in the year of our Lord 1971. Upon common consent, we chose for our honeymoon location Niagara Falls.

The motel we stayed in had a marvelous swimming pool. At the time, my companion in nuptials and I thought we were living the life of luxury. This was the first time we had been on our own and we were going to enjoy it to the hilt. Too bad we could not afford a Hilton.

Late that morning we walked several blocks down the street and treated ourselves to our first lunch as a “till-death-do-you-part” twosome. I am not sure what we ate all I remember is the company was terrific. After lunch, we decided to spend some time at the poolside.

Being unaccustomed to the life of luxury I did not know what the rules were. So, in my sheer ignorance I decided to sit by the pool and luxuriate in the beautiful August sun. Obviously, I was more tired than I realized and fell into a wonderfully deep sleep.

Finally, I began to hear a voice I recognized and soon began to understand some of the words. “Do you know it’s almost time for supper?”

I opened my eyes and tried to smile. My face would not smile. In fact, my face felt rather hot. Then the rest of my body joined in the fiery chorus informing me that every bit of my body was ablaze. I had a sunburn to beat all sunburns. I could not move. I could not get up from the lounge chair.

A short journey into panic-land brought me into full consciousness. With great care and with the help of my new wife I was able to get into our room. I laid down in the bed with every corpuscle in my body screaming in protest. The more I lay there the hotter I became. I heard of hot bridegrooms on their wedding night but this was how I pictured it.

Fortunately, we had planned to stay in the motel for a week and for a week exactly, I lay in my bed unable to move without excruciating pain.

Ever since that time, I have had a great deal of respect for the summer sun. Even though I had that one bad experience, I have never blamed it on the summer season. Rather, I have reveled in what the Bible teaches. “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).

It is in the “all things” that I discover God’s love for me.

When a person has reached the ripe old age I have reached there are precious few pleasures left. Actually, there are many pleasures left but no energy to pursue them and if I happen to catch a pleasure, I can’t remember what in the world I’m supposed to do with it.

One pleasure has been by my side for more years than I care to remember. No matter what the circumstances I may be in at the moment, I can always count on this pleasure to lift my spirits and paint a grin on my mug. Of course, if the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage catches me with this pleasure I have some real explaining to do.

This is where my wife and I paddle separate canoes.

The pleasure I am referring to has created more discussion – or maybe I should say monologues – in our home then just about anything else. I’m for it and she’s against it. In all reality, her arguments against it, at least in verbiage, far outweighs my argument for it.

When you come right down to it is very difficult to explain why you like the things that you like. My motto is, to each person his own pleasure. In this regard, we are not all created equal.

The pleasure I am speaking about is a lowly, but highly delicious, Apple Fritter. When God created the Apple Fritter, he sat down and said, “Uhm, um um that’s good.” And the world has never been the same since.

When I see an Apple Fritter I say, “Uhm, um um that’s good.”

When my wife sees an Apple Fritter, particularly my Apple Fritter, she says, “How many calories are in that?” She never refers to it by its proper name but simply calls it, “That.”

My view on the subject is that when something tastes as wonderful and as delicious as an Apple Fritter there is actually no reason to count calories. In fact, in the pursuant of the pleasure of eating an Apple Fritter calories simply do not count.

Someone who did not know me very well might ask an obvious question, “When eating an Apple Fritter aren’t you worried about what your wife may say?”

That is a perfectly reasonable question. With all the problems in the world and all of the difficulties and disappointments we encounter day by day, that would be a very good question to ask. However, when I am in the “act” of eating an Apple Fritter nothing else matters in the whole world. That is the effect an Apple Fritter has on Yours Truly.

I believe that is the purpose of a pleasure; to help me forget about the nastiness of the world around me.

To be honest, I must say that my wife has one good point about my Apple Fritters. If you just look at the ingredients of an Apple Fritter, you could conclude that it is unhealthy for a person. However, that is looking at it from the scientific side of things.

I look at things from the philosophical side. And when I do that, I must conclude that the lowly Apple Fritter has marvelous restorative abilities. With all the ingredients laid out on the table I will find no appetite for it. In fact, I might turn my nose up in disgust if I look just at the ingredients.

However, put them all together and wave a magical wand over it and voilà, you have an Apple Fritter capable of bringing a great deal of pleasure to someone like me.

Normally, if someone like me has normal moments, I keep the consumption of my Apple Fritters from my wife. And I do this out of deep respect and love for her… not to mention my Apple Fritter. I know if she knew I was eating an Apple Fritter it would upset her. Not wanting to upset my Beloved, what she does not know I am eating will not hurt her or me for that matter.

I was just thinking the other day, if the whole world were an Apple Fritter who would need heaven. Nothing pleasures me more than indulging in a freshly baked Apple Fritter. How wonderful it would be if this pleasure was multiplied a billion times around our world.

Instead of war, or hate, or greed, or lust, or killing, there would simply be Apple Fritter Time. Everybody would indulge in sharing the marvelous pleasures of eating Apple Fritters. We would sit around café-like and talk about how wonderful Apple Fritters are. The center of every conversation would be delighting in Apple Fritters.

Every language on the Earth would have something nice to say about this delicacy. It would be the common point of conversation in every nation under the sun.

This kind of world would make heaven here on earth.

But this is not the kind of world we live in. The apostle Paul noted this when he wrote, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. But if I live in the flesh, this is the fruit of my labour: yet what I shall choose I wot not. For I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ; which is far better” (Philippians 1:21-24).

No pleasure upon the Earth, even Apple Fritters, compares to what God has in store for us in heaven.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

I had just snuggled down into my easy chair for an evening of reading and relaxation. I was reading a book I had just purchased and was quite anxious to get into it. The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage was dutifully going through the daily newspaper. She tries to keep up on the news while I try to escape the news. She is more successful than I am.

All of a sudden, I heard from her side of the room, “I just can’t believe this.”

I tried to pretend I did not hear it and went back to my book.

“Of all the ridiculous things in the world,” she said as though she were talking to somebody other than me. I pretended she was and continued my reading hoping that was the last of her outbursts.

Then I heard, “Aren’t you listening to me?”

It was then I knew I had to put my book down and find out what all the consternation on her side was about. Some things you can ignore and then some things you better not ignore. My wife comes under the latter.

“What’s got you all riled up?” I queried.

“It’s this article in the newspaper about forbidding prayers and especially prayers using the name Jesus. Of all the stupid things in the world, this has to take the cake. I have a good mind to….”

I must confess I was not listening to her after this point. With all the turmoil and trouble in this world, people are making an issue about praying in public. A little while back Franklin Graham was disinvited to a meeting where he was supposed to have the opening prayer.

Any person with any degree of reason between their ears should know that humanity in general, our country in particular, is up to the chin in trouble. The leaders in our country have operated on the basic principle that they can handle the affairs of our country. Well, how is that working out?

The best and brightest minds in our country have caused everything they touch to turn into a complete disaster.

Never in our country have we had so much trouble and difficulty. Now, in light of this ineptitude, people are saying that we cannot pray in public. In my mind that is an oxymoron… which is a nice way of saying dumb bull.

Then drifting in the background, I heard my wife say, “Why do you suppose they’re so afraid of prayer?”

Then it dawned me. She was exactly right.

Why do people who do not believe in God and do not believe in prayer fight so hard against them? Why do they fear God? What are they afraid about prayer?

As I mused on this, a thought came tiptoeing through the corridors of my mind.

If those claiming to be Christians feared God and prayer as much as those who are not Christians, something would really change in this country. There would be a new religious paradigm, I assure you.

Take prayer for example. I do not care who you are, at some point in your life you pray to something or someone. As long as there are algebra tests in the public high school there will be prayer in the public high school.

I think I have figured out why there is so much hullabaloo against public prayer in our country. These people making the uproar are desperately fearful that somebody who is praying in public will really know how to pray and make a connection.

Not everybody who prays is really praying.

If these people really did object to prayer, they would keep their mouth shut. Nine out of ten people who pray are not really praying. Sure, they are saying a few words, maybe even quoting some Scripture, but they are really not praying and their prayer never gets above the ceiling.

If one tenth of the prayers prayed on any given Sunday were answered, most of the people praying would be surprised. It seems, at least to me, that the only people who really believe in the power of prayer are the people who do not believe in prayer.

I’m not too much concerned about the people who object to prayer. After all, there is no way under heaven they can stop me from praying. What I am concerned about are people who say they believe in prayer and yet have no evidence to support that claim.

In many regards, I am a very practical person. I do not make too many demands from anybody. All I want to know is that you are who you say you are and you are doing what you say you are doing. Now, that is not too much to ask.

Here is my challenge. I will show you what my life is with God, if you show me what your life is without God. Tell me where you came from and I will tell you where I came from. I think that is fair.

All we need in this country are just a few people who really know how to get a hold of God in prayer.

The Bible says…”Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much” (James 5:16).

Let’s hear it for the righteous man who knows how to pray.

The older I get, and I plan to get as old as I can, I am amazed at how monotonous things really are. When I was young, everything seemed to be so new and exciting and I looked forward to the next new adventure.

Now that I have a few years under my belt, along with a couple thousand lunches and suppers, I am in a position to have a better perspective of life. And I have noticed that all the important things repeat themselves over and over again.

I bought a brand new suit a couple of weeks ago. I could not wait to wear my new suit to church with everybody saying, “Is that a new suit?” And I will reply, “Yes, this is my new suit. How do you like it?” Therefore, the conversation that Sunday revolved around my brand-new suit. I must confess it is better than when the conversation revolves around a black eye. No matter how many times I explain my black eye, people do not believe I ran into my doorknob.

But a new suit is a different thing. I enjoyed everybody talking about my new suit and I could hardly wait until the next Sunday came around to continue the conversation.

When I got to church on Sunday, I was in for somewhat of a shock. Instead of everybody delighting in my brand-new suit as they did the Sunday before, someone said, “Isn’t that the same suit you wore last week?”

I can’t tell you how disappointed I was. Everywhere I went that Sunday people said, “Isn’t that…” and before they could finish I chirped in and said, “Yes, yes it’s the same suit I wore last Sunday.” And I said it in such a way that people began to think I was irritated by their query.

I was.

I learned a valuable lesson that Sunday. You can only wear a brand-new suit one time and then after that it is an old suit. It does not take long for something to become old but something new has only one shot at it.

I must confess that I was a little down about this whole matter. I liked my “brand-new” suit; I do not care what anybody says.

Even the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage got in on the razzmatazz. Sunday morning as we were getting dressed to go to church, she looked at me and said, “Are you going to wear your brand-new suit today?” she said with a sarcastic tone all too familiar to me.

I had some crazy ideas about my necktie at the time but, being the gentleman that I am, I simply tied it around my neck.

Just as I was lamenting my suit getting older I remembered, it was my birthday… again. When will this ever stop? Last year I had a birthday. The year before that, I had a birthday. And I could go on and on all the way back to the day I was born. Every year on the very same day, I have birthday. This is getting to be rather monotonous. I think there should come a time when a grown man should forget about having a birthday.

It is the same every year. On my birthday, everybody calls to wish me happy birthday. How do you have a happy birthday at my age? More to the point, at my age how do I know I am happy?

Here is one thing that bothers me about my birthday. When I was brand-new, I am sure people make all kind of remarks about how cute and cuddly I looked. I am sure wherever my parents went everybody commented, “Is that your new baby?”

I am quite certain this took place although… and this is what really provokes me… I do not remember that day. The most important birthday of my life and I cannot remember anything about it. Oh sure, my parents took pictures, but that is not the same.

I remember waking up on my birthday this year (these days I am glad if I remember anything) and sighed very deeply before I got out of bed. Not only was this another day, but it was another birthday. At my age, I have done so many things for my birthday I cannot think of another thing I want to do for my birthday except… nothing. A day of doing nothing would be the perfect birthday day for me.

As I made my wishes known to the one who has known me more birthdays than anybody else, she said, “But don’t you remember? That’s what you did for your birthday last year.”

So, I face a rather delicate dilemma. I am at the stage of life where I have just about done everything I wanted and so there is nothing new I can do for my birthday. Maybe it was better when I could not remember my birthday.

And so, after sighing very deeply several times I have come to an important decision in my life. Monotony is not as bad as people say it is. I plan for my birthday to do a thing that I have done repeatedly in the past, and that is nothing, but I will do it in my “brand-new” suit.

“Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

As the last firecracker sizzled in the night, I heaved a sigh of relief. It is not that I do not enjoy a good firework display, but after all, when you have seen one firecracker they are all just about the same. The thing they all have in common is they cost money. That is my problem. Blowing up bushels of dollars in the air does not seem very exciting to me. But the Fourth of July celebration has a different meaning for me. Certainly, I revere and celebrate the patriotic significance of the Fourth of July and faithfully pray for my
country and our leaders. That is just one tiny aspect of my observance of the Fourth of July.

One reason I look forward to the Fourth of July is so I can look backward and say, “Well, I am glad that’s over.” And truer words have never dribbled from my lips. The prized significance of the Fourth of July celebration for me is that it is the last holiday of the summer. I may be wrong here, but it seems that every month has some kind of celebration in it. Beginning with Thanksgiving all the way through to the Fourth of July there is something to celebrate every month. I sometimes forget what I am celebrating.

Now the Fourth of July celebrations over we do not have anything to look forward to until Thanksgiving. I know there is Labor Day, but what I like about this holiday is that it specializes in no labor. Then of course, there is Halloween where people dress funny and
try to scare one another. However, I do not pay too much attention to this holiday. I dress funny all year and plenty of people think I am quite scary looking.

Now, the rest of the summer is free from any kind of silly intrusions. I do not have to be concerned about a holiday until Thanksgiving when I usually stuff myself like a turkey. Stretching out before me like a grand Eldorado of titillating pleasure is a wonderful stretch of no holidays. This means I can get back to my plans for the summer. Actually, I have the same plans for every summer, which alleviates the necessity of thinking up something new to do for the summer. What I did last summer I plan to do this summer but with a lot less gusto than last summer.

What are my plans for the summer? I’m glad you asked. I plan this summer to vigorously practice my loafing skills. I have been doing this every summer as far back as I can remember and I have yet to reach that plateau of perfection. Of course, when I do reach that point I am not quite sure what I am going to do.

In the meantime, I shall vigorously pursue perfection in the art of loafing. Some may question the validity of loafing being an art form. That is because they do not know the vigorous standards associated with the art of loafing. There is a variety of disciplines related with it. Not the least being, what I call, The Noninvolvement Discipline. This is much harder than it seems. How it works is like this.

Whenever the urge to get involved in some activity hits, I vigorously discipline myself to ignore that urge, hoping it is only a temporary annoyance. This involves an extreme lack of concentration, or if you indulge in a moment of concentration, the tendency will be to act on that urge. Leave it alone, is my advice.

Another aspect of the art of loafing has to do with the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage. I must be very careful not to let her know of my loafing plans. According to her, idle hands belong to her. If she catches the slightest whiff of my plans of loafing, she pounces on me like a flea on a hound dog. She can think of more things to do during a thirty-second commercial than I can do during the whole year.

One little ploy I have used that has worked out fairly well. I always wear a necktie. It is very difficult to invite someone wearing a necktie to engage in some kind of physical work. I must say last summer she caught me cold turkey. I just came out of the bedroom and my wife looked at me rather oddly and said, “Doesn’t that tie need to be cleaned?”

I am most particular about my ties, and I like them clean. “Would you like me,” she said almost matter-of-factly, “to launder your tie?”
Without thinking (which is my strong suit), I took my tie off and handed it to her not noticing the sly little smile playing right underneath her nose. As soon as the tie exchanged hands she said, “Oh, I see you’re not wearing a tie today. Maybe you can help me clean out the garage.”

I certainly have plenty of work to do perfecting the art of loafing. Just when I think I got everything down pat, my whole plan runs askew. I am reminded of what the Bible says. “Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the LORD, and depart from evil. It shall be health to thy navel, and marrow to thy bones” (Proverbs 3:7-8).

The Pennsylvania Dutch have a saying, “We grow too soon old, and too late smart.”

Everyone has a different opinion of what is good. What one person considers good may not suit the next person in line. Especially is this seen in the area of cuisine. For example, one man’s broccoli is another man’s apple fritter. The problem comes when the broccoli man insists that the apple fritter man try his broccoli. This has been the number one cause of wars since time immemorial.

Now, when it comes to me, I like cheese. Any kind and all kinds of cheese are on my menu. One of the main features about cheese that I appreciate the most is it has no expiration date. The older the cheese, the better it tastes.

To be quite honest about this whole thing, I must confess that this is not the presiding opinion in my house. The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage has her opinion about cheese and it does in no way shape or form resembles the opinion of Yours Truly. In fact, you could say we are at the opposite ends of this subject.

Oh sure, I could eat cheese every day for every meal and end the day with a nice snack of cheese and crackers. But out of respect to You Know Who, I fall in line with the acceptable routine of our house.

There are those times when visiting the supermarket I stand in front of the cheese counter with an envious drool dripping off my chin. I especially love it when they have a little booth with cheese samples. More than once I have been told that I had had enough only to sneak around the aisle for just one more sample. After all, you cannot get enough cheese.

I am not a stingy person. I honestly would give anybody the shirt off my back. Just do not ask for my cheese. There is something personal and sacred about a person’s cheese.

I put before my wife very simple proposal. I will buy the cheese and she does not have to eat any of it. In fact, I would prefer that she ate none of it and left it all for me. But she opposes this proposal by telling me that cheese stinks. Whoever heard of such a thing?

“I cannot stand the smell of cheese,” she complained to me.

To which I responded by saying, “Then don’t put it up your nose.”

I would like to tell you her response but as this is a public forum, it is unprintable. Let it be known far and wide that I have only made that remark once and I am still living to regret it. I’m just grateful I am still living.

Everything was going all right until recently. I was managing my appetite for cheese quite well and was quite proud of myself. I had gone 13 days without cheese and one more day would have made two weeks. A world record in anybody’s book.

I was so proud of myself that I decided to celebrate. And how best can a person celebrate than by indulging in some exotic cheese. I guess I did not know what I was doing.

I went to the supermarket and bought some of my favorite cheese. The aroma was exhilarating and I soon was on a cheese high. I got into my car and halfway home it dawned on me. I was in serious trouble. I was not thinking of the consequences when I bought this little block of cheese. Now a cooler mind was engaged and I had to find some way around it.

I was still pondering this as I was driving up into my driveway and noticed that my wife’s car was not there. I had lucked out. My plan was now to sneak the cheese into the house so my wife could not find it.

The whole plan excited me in ways I cannot explain. Who said you couldn’t have your cheese and eat it too? My problem now was to find a place to hide the cheese that she would not discover. Much to my delight I secreted the cheese in what I thought was a safe place.

All went well until 2:25 in the morning. I awoke from a sound sleep with a burning desire for a little snippet of my cheese. I lay there for a few moments thinking about that cheese until I could resist no longer.

I got out of my bed as quietly as possible and tiptoed out to the kitchen area to retrieve my hoarded block of cheese. Heaven does not get any better than this.

To my chagrin, the cheese was gone. I searched everywhere and came up cheeseless.

With a heavy heart, I went back to the bedroom and quietly got under the covers and lay there thinking about my cheese. Then I heard a stir from the other side of the bed. Finally, I heard a familiar voice, “You weren’t looking for cheese were you?”

It is hard to lie in bed when you are lying in bed.

A verse from the Bible came to my rescue. “Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding” (Proverbs 17:28).

The better plan is to keep your mouth shut and have people wonder if you are a wise man then open your mouth and dispel all doubt.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

This is my first Father’s Day to celebrate without my father. Earlier this year he passed away after a long battle with heart and lung disease. It will be a rather somber day for me this year, but I carry in my heart all those things we shared while he was alive.

My father taught me many things especially when I was young. He taught me how to ride a bicycle, hunt and fish and then how to drive a car. All those things the person carries with him the rest of his life.

I am reminded of what Mark Twain said about his father. “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.” That sums up every person’s experience with his or her father. Most people do not appreciate their father until after he is gone. Then they remember all of the things that are a part of their life that came from their father. That is a shame.

I remember when my father gave me the old traditional father and son “birds and bees” talk. It went something like this. My father sat down with me on the back porch and said, “I guess I need to have a little talk with you…” then there was a long period of awkward silence… “about the birds and the bees.”

I prepared myself for a very long lecture and in the back of my mind I was wondering if the old man knew as much as I did about the “birds and the bees.” When you are 16, there is not anything that you do not know. I was more than willing to share with him my expertise in this area of human activity.

Father cleared his throat and then said, “The birds and the bees is something you need to know about. The one will peck you to death and the other will sting you to death. My advice is stay away from both and you’ll have a happy life.” With that, he got up and went back to doing whatever he was doing. I never did get around to thanking him for that piece of advice. It took me years to understand it.

In thinking back on my father, there were a few things I wish he had told me.

For example, it would have been nice if he had told me that women are not men. I did find this out on my own after some time. This has nothing to do with biology but everything to do with psychology. He could have warned me that at least once a month women are psycho. Men have no idea what is going on and every month it returns like a bad penny.

I also would have liked to have known that an argument is not won the day of the argument. Men have the idea that you speak your mind and then let bygones be bygones. Women, especially wives, have no concept of letting bygones be bygones. My father should have told me that no man could ever win any argument with a woman. The sweetest and most powerful two words in all of the English language is, “Yes, dear.”

Something else I had to learn the hard way and I wish my father had told me about it. Never surprise your wife with an expensive gift for no reason. Suspicion is a hard thing to dispel. You think you are doing something nice and spontaneous and she thinks you have done something naughty and suspicious.

My father could have saved me a lot of grief if he would have told me never to ask your wife, “How’s your day been?” When you do interject such a query, your wife will give you a minute-by-minute, conversation by conversation account of her entire day, and please, do not interrupt her. Any man who can keep up with that should be given the Nobel Peace Prize.

Another thing that would have been helpful if my father would have explained to me is that anything cute and comes as a bundle of joy will cost a fortune and keep on costing for the rest of your life. These “bundles of joy” look so cute in the hospital but after you bring them home the real cost begins. If we are going to have comprehensive health insurance, it should include the expenses of raising these babies after we bring them home from the hospital.

Then there is shopping. Oh my soul, it would have been so beneficial if my father could have sat down and explained to me the concept of shopping from a woman’s point of view. Shopping is an art no man can really aspire to. I cannot tell you how much it has cost me for my wife to save $3.99.

I guess my father did the best he could. That reminds me of my Heavenly Father. “If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” (Matthew 7:11 KJV).

In celebrating Father’s Day, let us not forget to thank our Heavenly Father for all his good gifts usward.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Anybody who would casually investigate the background of Yours Truly would undeniably discover that I have no charges pending accusing me of being a handyman. In fact, quite the reverse would be revealed. I do not apologize for this deficit in my character; I am just setting the record straight.

I think it important that a person comes to terms with himself or herself, as the case may be. When a person honestly evaluates himself, it has the effect of keeping him out of trouble. Believe me, I am all for whatever keeps me out of trouble. It is not so much knowing what you can do as knowing what you cannot do that makes life what it really is.

That being said let me inform my public that in no way shape or form could I be mistaken for a handyman. In fact, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage has often said about me even in my presence, “He’s one hand short of a handyman.” I do not know exactly what she means by that and furthermore, I have never questioned her on the subject. The reason I do not question her is that I am afraid she will give me a straightforward answer. That is just the kind of person she is. Moreover, I think some things are better left unanswered.

I am not saying it is bad in our house but the other day my wife came home and found me with a hammer in my hand and she all but went into hysterics. “What are you doing?” she said breathlessly.

I looked at her, she looked at the hammer in my hand and then looked at me and said, “Okay, let’s not panic here. Just put the hammer down and nobody will get hurt.”

I was greatly relieved because it is usually me on the hurting side of any hammer I pick up, and I have the scars to prove it.

If anybody wants a nail pounded into the wall, do not call me. If, however, you want a nice hole in your wall next to where the nail was supposed to be, give me a call for that is exactly what I do.

Not only am I deficient on the handyman side of the ledger but I have no idea which tool is which or what any of them are for. Put me in a workshop and I immediately go into a panic. Not only am I lost in the workshop but also I never know which door is which to get me out. I must confess when it comes to tools I am bewitched.

I am a firm believer in that age-old theory that says opposites attract. For what I lack in the handyman department, my wife is abundantly blessed. Not only can she identify every tool in her workshop, but she knows exactly what each and every one of them are for.

You might have noticed something subtle there. I said “her workshop.” Her workshop is in the garage and the garage is off-limits to me. Actually, I prefer it that way.

If I come home and cannot find her in the house, I can always find her in her workshop fiddling, or whatever she does, with those tools. According to her, and I take her word on this one, she has tools for every possibility you could think of. I never appreciated this until a recent incident in our home.

My study is filled with some very old and decrepit bookcases home to my large library. In recent months, I noticed that they were beginning to sag and threatening to give way. It was then I decided to have built-in bookcases all the way around the walls in my study. We contracted a carpenter, made all the arrangements, and set the whole project in motion.

My job, as you can imagine, was to write the check, whereas, my wife’s job was to supervise the entire project. Everything was going fine until some holes were needed to be cut in the side of one of the shelves. The carpenter said, “I can’t make that cut because I don’t have the right tool for it.”

My heart sank; I had no idea what to do at this point. Fortunately, my wife was not so lost and said to the carpenter, “What tool do you need?”

Obviously, he did not know whom he was talking to and mumbled something and said, “I’m sure you don’t have any such tool here.”

With sternness in her voice I had heard on numerous occasions, she asked him, “What tool do you need?” He explained it to her and much to his surprise she said, “I have that tool out in my workshop.” She disappeared and in a few moments returned with the exact tool the carpenter needed.

A long time ago, I learned this valuable lesson; a husband is a fool who underestimates his wife.

Another lesson I have come to learn and appreciate and that is simply a person is a fool who underestimates the grace and faithfulness of God. I take seriously what the Bible says. “Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee” (Hebrews 13:5).

God’s grace is never short in any department of life. Whatever I lack He abundantly supplies.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

A song has been going through my head lately and I just cannot seem to get it out. You know how it is, you hear a song in the morning and it buzzes in your head all day long, no matter what you try to do.

The song playing in my head for the past week comes from an old Disney movie, “When you wish upon a star.” My problem with songs playing in my head is that I do not know all the words. I would not mind so much if I knew all of the words and could sing along with the melody playing in my head. You can only sing “La, la, la, la,” for a short time before journeying into the land of Crazyville.

According to the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, I have visited Crazyville so much she thinks I could run for mayor. I do not know what she means by that!

It is now June and you know what they say about June brides. Every young girl wishes for a June wedding. I do not know why, because I know of no young man who dreams of a June wedding. In fact, weddings are the farthest thing from a young man’s mind. He has other, more sensible things he is wishing for.

What most young men wish for in June is a day off so they can go fishing at their favorite fishing hole. What could be more sensible than that? The difference between going fishing and planning a wedding is vast and all but incomprehensible.

Weddings take a lot of planning, not to mention money. I think it is at the wedding planning stage that a young woman establishes her attitude concerning money that will be with her the rest of her life. And, planning her wedding occupies all of her thinking for months at a time, if not years.

However, fishing is something altogether different. A young man can wish about going fishing while he is doing something else. He may be in a classroom or on the job, wherever he is, wishing about his favorite fishing hole is a luxury only a young man can appreciate.

Weddings cost a fortune, where as going fishing hardly costs anything except your time. For example, when the urge to go fishing comes a young man can drop whatever he is doing, grab his favorite fishing tackle and head for “Ye Old Fishing Hole.” That is all there is to it. He confers with no one else.

For a wedding to come off spectacularly there has to be a bride and groom. You cannot have a wedding with only one person. Fishing, on the other hand only occupies the time of one person. You do not have to lure anybody else into the activity.

Another difference is in the area of multitasking.

When the young woman is wishing about her wedding, she cannot think of anything else. The whole project monopolizes her thinking so she cannot do anything else. Every time you talk to her all she is talking about is her wedding and the plans associated with it.

Her male counterpart can be in the middle of his fishing experience and be free to think about anything he would like to think about. He can relax and enjoy the scenery, think about what he is going to do when he gets home that evening, plan out his agenda for the job tomorrow or the class he is attending. Fishing offers a young man a wide variety of options that are missing in planning a wedding.

Once the young woman casts her thoughts in the direction of a wedding, nothing else can get in the way. The young man, however, can think about fishing on the fly.

Another important consideration is that a young woman only plans for one wedding. That is, unless you are some Hollywood celebrity trying to see who can have the most weddings before they die. Overall, the young woman is planning for “The Wedding” of her life. It is a one-shot deal, and when it is over all she has left are memories.

Fishing is an ongoing event. It is not a one-time deal and then it’s over, but it is something that can be repeated throughout life. If one fishing experience is not completely satisfactory, there is always the next one, and the one after that.

After the wedding the young woman can only boast about the man she caught. However, the young angler can boast about all those fish that got away. The more that gets away the better the fishing experience. A young woman catches one husband and then she is done.

I have to mention something very similar to a woman’s wedding and a man’s fishing. The woman has one wedding dress she keeps the rest of her life, except she never wears it. The young man has one fishing vest and hat for the rest of his life, but he wears them every time he goes fishing.

Nobody can spend their entire life wishing. The Bible admonishes us, “Counsel in the heart of man is like deep water; but a man of understanding will draw it out” (Proverbs 20:5 KJV).

Wishing is all right but there comes a time when a person has to draw upon his counsel and apply it to something productive and glorifying to God.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Sometimes it is best to err on the side of caution. This, however, has not always been my practice down through the years. In fact, I am not very good when it comes to practicing anything, just ask the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage.

As of late, though, I have been practicing caution like I was going to Carnegie Hall. I am not very good at it yet, but my goal is to come to the point of perfection in the area of caution as it touches my person, particularly my health and well-being. This may be because I have reached that age when most men go through a midlife crisis.

You can always tell when a man is going through his midlife crisis. He usually wants to prove that he is as good at 50-something as he was when he was 20-something.  Carelessly throwing caution to the wind, he attempts to do something beyond the energy of his existing body. One sure way to tell if a man is having a midlife crisis is to notice his recent injuries.

Personally, when I was 20 I was not good at anything, which has enabled me to skip my midlife crisis. I am glad to be 50 (okay, maybe I am a tad over 50) because now when I get tired I can say I am tired and sit down. At 50-something I have absolutely nothing to prove. I am no better or worse than I was when I was 20. It is, as my wife notes, the ageless wonder of incompetency.

The difficulty with growing old is that the old memory juices do not flow as swiftly as they once did. Of course, some of us never had a real gusher in that department anyway. The more memories I have, it seems, the less I am able to recall them in the innocency of their reality. Like the fisherman who tells the size of the one that got away. Memory seems to add or subtract according to the benefit of the person conjuring up the memory.

A big problem a man in mid-life crisis has is that he does not remember how good he actually was when he was 20, unless of course, his wife knew him at that time. If he could, he would not have to try to replicate it when he is 50. This is one of the unique advantages of maturing. Forgetting always leads to exaggerating. And, exaggerating at 50-something leads to injuries. The only purpose of this is to impress people who really are not being impressed.

As we grow older things begin to change, and some things change for the better. For me, when I was 20, I could not admit to anybody that I was tired. I would have been the laughingstock in my community if I would admit any such phenomena. You know what they say about the unlimited energy that young people have. Now that I am in my 50s, I can blame my advancing years on just about anything.

“I love to do that, but at my age I don’t have the energy.” This has covered a multitude of sins, for which I am so grateful. Of course, it does have one drawback, when someone in their 80s invites me to go for a walk, what in the world can you say to that?

This next one has to be one of my favorites. “I would love to do that but I have to get home for my afternoon nap.” The person will look at me, notice my maturing features and understand that I desperately do need a nap, or something resembling my beauty sleep.

I found one the other week that has proved quite beneficial. I was invited to a function during the evening, which turned out to be a rather boring affair. Once the meal was over people were milling around engaged in small talk. Nothing bores me quicker than small talk. Not knowing what to do, I pondered the situation for some time. Then, like lightning from the heavens, I was struck with a brilliant idea. I went up to my host and said, “I’m sorry, but it is getting near my bedtime and I have strict orders from my doctor to go to bed early. You’ll have to excuse me.”

It worked like a charm. Everybody understood that a person of my age needs to go to bed early. I do not know who thought this up, I think it was probably Benjamin Franklin, but whoever it was, I owe them a steak dinner. It has now become part of my get-out-of-boring-situations arsenal.

I was thinking about this the other day another good excuse popped into my head. Somebody invited me to come and play softball. At the time, they caught me off guard and I was trying to wiggle out of such an invitation. Then it dawned on me. “I am sorry, I would like to but my health insurance does not cover that kind of activity.”

Whether my health insurance would cover that, I have no idea, but neither does anybody else, only my doctor knows for sure.

While I was pondering this, I was reminded of a word from the Proverbs. “Whoso boasteth himself of a false gift is like clouds and wind without rain” (Proverbs 25:14 KJV).

Whoever boasts to others about their physical prowess is only fooling himself.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

When it comes to gadgets just call me Mr. How-in-the-World-Does-This-Work. I fully understand that our world runs on gadgets. According to some, we owe a great deal to the gadgets of this world whatever they may be. I just hope my credit is good.

That being so, let me just say how much I dislike and distrust and am filled with disgust at gadgets of all kinds. Primarily, because I have no idea of how they work. Of course, I have no idea of how I work… or even if I do work.

Occasionally the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage will come upon Yours Truly and ask a simple question. “What are you doing right now?”

It’s really not the question so much as how she asks the question that bothers me. Whenever I tell her I am working, she sarcastically tosses her hair to one side and simply says, “Ha,” and walks away. Unfortunately, I have no hair to toss to one side. I think she does it just to exacerbate me.

But getting back to the mysterious world of gadgetry, it is very hard to go without running into some kind of a gadget. The overwhelming assumption is that everybody knows what a particular gadget is, how it works and what it is supposed to do. I think that is too much to assume.

Whatever happened to the good old days when you did not need a gadget to do anything? Oh, how I long for that utopia of yesteryear. Reading my Bible thoroughly I have found nothing resembling a gadget of any description to be found in heaven. Amen.

Drive down a busy street in any town and you will find the driver in the car opposite to you fiddling was some gadget in his hand called a cell phone. Drivers are always texting or talking or whatever else you can do on a cell phone. I have all I can do to navigate my car away from those people focused on some kind of a gadget. Where will it ever stop?

Not only in cars, but walking in the shopping mall has become quite a hazardous venture. Nobody is paying attention to where they are going because everybody is on a cell phone. I have run into several people, none of which stopped to say, “I’m sorry,” but kept right on walking and talking as though nothing ever happened. They are absolute slaves to that cell phone.

Just the other day I was driving during rush hour downtown and happened to look at the car next to me. Driving the car was a woman with a cigarette in one hand and a cell phone in the other hand talking to beat the band. And boy, would I like to beat that band. It is a good thing she had only two hands, goodness knows what else she would be doing. I had a momentary panic attack, not knowing what was going to happen or if she would swerve into my lane without knowing what she was doing.

But cell phones are just one of the many gadgets that have infiltrated into the sphere of human activity.

In an office supply store recently I happened to notice one of those new iPads. I must confess that curiosity got the best of me. I had heard a lot about this gadget and I wanted to see how it worked. Supposedly, and I do not believe everything I’m told, this iPad had thousands of books loaded onto it. I held it in my hand and I could hardly believe that it contained so much material. But, who am I to question the latest sales gimmick.

Looking at it I tried to find the on and off switch. There has to be some way to turn this blasted thing on. Finally, a salesperson come up and said quite cheerfully, “Can I help you?”

“I can’t seem to find the on switch,” I said.

“There isn’t any,” he said with a rather smirk on his map.

I looked at him quizzically and he just smiled.

“All you do,” he said like some stuck up Ivy League college professor, “is touch the screen.”

I looked at him as though he had lost all his marbles to a first-grade champion marble shooter. Everybody, and I mean everybody, knows to turn something on you need to have a switch, some kind of button you push to get the gadget running.

I looked at the iPad and then looked back to him and then I touched the screen just to show the salesperson that he did not have a clue as to what time of day it was. To my consternation as soon as I touched the screen the blasted thing came on. I did not look at the salesperson but I knew, deep down in my soul, I knew he was laughing rather sarcastically at me.

Between cell phones and iPads, I am not faring too well in this gadget crazy world. Sometimes it is rather frustrating.

Fortunately, God is not impressed with gadgets. The simplicity of the gospel message is found in what Paul says. “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.” (Ephesians 2:8-9 KJV).

Preoccupied with works, a person runs a great risk of missing the amazing grace of God.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Many questions in life simply do not deserve the time it takes to answering them. And herein lies the greatest wisdom of all humanity. Figuring out which questions you should answer and which ones you should just let go by the wayside.

If I had my rathers, there would be very few questions I would really answer. When I say there are some questions that should not be answered, I am also inferring that some questions absolutely need to be answered. As a general rule of thumb, any question posed by the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage is definitely in the latter category. This is a matter of health… my health.

Even when she poses the question, which I know is a trick question, “does this dress make me look old?” To ignore this question is to court trouble, and my courting days are over. After years of trial and error, mostly error, I have come to it reasonably safe answer. “Oh, my dear, nothing could ever make you look old.”

The key to answer such as this is to keep them as short as possible. Any elaboration only provides opportunity to slip down that slippery slope called “You’re in Trouble, Man.”

Then there are questions that I need to ask myself. One question that I never have to ask myself is, “Should I rob or should I not rob?”

I can hear somebody asking why I would ask such a question. And the simple answer is this, I recently was robbed.

The circumstances of the robbery are quite simple. I had been out of town for several weeks and was anxious to get back to my office and try catching up on some of my delinquent work. Actually, my work is never delinquent; it is the worker that is delinquent. But whichever way you choose to look at it, there was a lot of work that needed to be done and in a very short matter of time.

I came into my office and immediately noticed that there was something out of place. The average Philistine who would come into my office might, at first, think that it was a total wreck or the aftermath of a hurricane. But, be of good cheer, there is a degree of orderliness in my disarray.

However, something did not feel right. I know I had been away for a few weeks but I still had the feeling something was askew in my office when I entered it.

Then I noticed that the back door of my office was open. Beyond that was the sanctuary and the lights in the sanctuary were on. The back door to the sanctuary was open. Now, although my memory is not always 100%, I knew that something here was wrong.

Then I looked at my desk. It did not look right. Sure, there were papers piled very high, stacks of books here and there on my desk. But in spite of all of that, my desk looked naked. And boy, do I hate a naked desk.

Then, a terrible thought wrestled my brain to the mat and on the count of three, it finally dawned on me. My computer was gone!

First, I did not quite believe it. Someone was playing a nasty joke on me. I know, it was my wife. She came into my office to clean up my office and straighten it out. I was tempted to give her a piece of my mind. But since most of my mind was on the mat, I ruled that out. I think there is a limit to how far a joke should go.

So I picked up the phone and called my wife. When she answered I said, “Ha, Ha, Ha. Very funny joke, Ms. Cornhusker.” I always call her Ms. Cornhusker when she plays a joke on me.

The other end of the phone was silent. I could hear her breathing. Then she said, “What in the world are you talking about, Mr. Numbskull.” She always calls me Mr. Numbskull when she has no idea what I am talking about, which occurs a lot.

“My computer,” I said, “where did you put it?”

“I didn’t put your computer anywhere.”

By the time we played 17 rounds of “Who’s on first,” the situation began to clarify itself. The very simple elements of the situation were, I had been robbed of my computer.

Someone broke into our church, entered my office, snatched my computer and got out of Dodge. Not only did they grab my computer, but they took my backup exterior hard drive as well. My entire life was on the computer. It slowly sank in that somebody stole my computer.

I did have some biblical thoughts about this. Like, when I catch the rascal, “Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth” (Matthew 6:3 KJV). And, “That thou doest, do quickly” (John 13: 27 KJV).

I then remembered a great story. When the famed Bible commentator, Matthew Henry was robbed, that very night he prayed: “I thank Thee, first, because I was never robbed before; second, because although they took my purse, they did not take my life; third, because although they took my all, it was not much; and fourth, because it was I who was robbed, and not I who robbed.”

Therefore, it is better to be robbed then to rob.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.