"If we become increasingly humble about how little we know, we may be more eager to search." ~ John Templeton

Good morning and welcome to Thursday, December 15, 2016. The pastor of the local fellowship where we attend is currently doing a sermon series on selfies and what they say about us, and how we do need to examine ourselves in light of the truth of God's Word. I'm typically more interested in examining others, but, from time to time, I will make a foray into that mixed up world of how I became who I am today. A couple of things came to mind recently. As a kid, I used to love to eat produce out in the garden right off the plant or vine. So much so, my granddad would worry if we would have enough left over for the rest of the family. He was joking. A little. Then I thought about how I loved to eat whatever was being cooked in the kitchen before it was even baked. They would run me out of there and Granny Mac would proclaim that if I kept eating like that I was going to be as sick as a dog. Aha! See what I mean? That may explain some things. Raw fruits and vegetables and uncooked baked goods. It's a wonder they had not accused me of grazing out in the nearby field. Wait a minute. I dearly loved certain weeds. Some of them had these little pods that were bitter and they were oh so tangy. Other varieties were juicy and sweet. After all these years we are finally making progress. I'm pretty sure I'm not an alien lifeform, however, I'm 100% certain that I'm not a permanent citizen of this world since I'm on my way to my real home. You know. That one in heaven. In the corner of gloryland as the old song says. I can't wait to tell my analyst about these startling revelations. Oh yeah. I don't have one. Yet.

Maybe I should consider donating my brain for scientific inquiry. (Preferably after I have sung the last stanza and chorus of Goodbye World Goodbye!) That might make sense because I've been told ever since I was a kid that I should use my head/noggin/brain and or thinking apparatus for something other than a hat rack. Since I never wore a hat as a kid it took me a long time to figure that one out. They never spent much time discussing with me the nuances of the figures of speech they used. You may be reading this and also wondering what a hat rack is. Essentially, it is a place with a hook to hang your hat. Back when most men wore hats these units were very available in public places. Maybe things would have been different had I at a much younger age learned the implicit meaning of that admonition. On the other hand, I suppose it's not too late. There are a few gray cells still firing. On a hit and miss basis with a lot of knocking in-between, but, they are making a connection now and then. Enough to scramble some thoughts in the morning with a side of nonsense thrown in for good measure. I am unanimous in my reluctance to offer score cards to make keeping up with by blog easier. Now that I have finished with my hokey hat rack story, let me move on, although, I can't dismiss it altogether since it could well offer up another piece in the puzzle.

Given that I have these re-visited recollections to reflect on, maybe I should sit right down and write myself a letter. To finish the analogy, I suppose I could make believe the letter came from me. I know that's not exactly what the 1935 classic song was about, but, remember, we are into life as a mosaic here, and we have here a metaphor, there a metaphor, everywhere a metaphor, as we merrily go along. I've been told in the past that I should consider writing a book. Let me see, over 2,460 pages during the past ten years. Maybe I have already written one, or maybe even a series by now. Yes. I am aware that much of it is repetitive along with the rehashing of many of the same stories. I think personal blogging is fraught with those kinds of issues. However, as they say somewhere, we soldier on. It helps to be very clear on exactly what you want for Christmas. I had this sweet little girl on my lap who had lost her front teeth. I told her about the famous song that talks about all I want for Christmas are my two front teeth. She was emphatic. "Not me. No. No. No." She then proceeded to give me an exacting account of all the things she had on her list. (I believe her idea of dental work was that it is provided as a part of her parental health care coverage.)  Poor Santa. Just trying to make conversation. That's what I do here on most days and some of what I share goes over just about as well as my little forth and back with that little girl. For me it's time to get back to the aforementioned, soldier on motif. Enjoy your day and know that it was provided to you by the Lord God of heaven. Be sure and let Him know you are thankful for it. Amen. ....More later.