Shade Tree Wisdom 2/6/08

Today is Ash Wednesday, and we begin the observation of the Lenten season with its special services and times for meditation and prayer.

As I sit here, still a bit weak and slow, all effort we may make during this time in fasting, special prayers, further reading in the Scriptures etc, will not make us better and holier than others. It’s all been done. That’s what we observe and celebrate. Christ’s suffering, death, and then resurrection paid the price, the full price, for the sins of the world. “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us”. And that is worth thinking deeply about, isn’t it?

Meanwhile, I want to send you something I think is worth our attention. It’s a letter that is making rounds on the internet. Many have read it. Here it is.

The other day at the grocery store in our little town, someone had read that a Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse in the next county. Then he asked me a rhetorical question. “Why didn’t we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up.”

I replied, I had a drug problem when I was young; I was drug to church on Sunday morning. I was drug to church weddings and funerals. I was drug to family reunions and community social events no matter the weather. I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults. I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher, or if I didn’t put in my best effort in everything that was asked of me.

I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed with soap when I uttered a profanity. I was drug out to pull weeds in mom’s garden and flower beds, and cockleburs out of dad's fields. I was drug to the homes of family, friends, and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood, and if my mother found out that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would drug me back to the woodshed.

Those drugs are still in my veins, and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, or think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin. And, if today’s children had this kind of drug problem, America would be a better place.

God bless the parents who drugged us. (Submitted by a concerned citizen).

GPD 2/6/08