Libby

Cheryl and I welcomed our 12th grandchild today. Libby Kathleen arrived in Rome, Georgia, at 6:50 am weighing 8 lbs 6 oz and measuring 20.5 inches in length. Allison and Will are doing fine.

Three little phrases

Cheryl’s grandfather was not so good with some of his business practices, but he invented the machinery that made the world’s first fried apple pie that is sold all over the world today. He had the first patent on the fried pie (now baked!) in the early 1950s when a man named Ray Kroc (of McDonald’s fame) came to him and asked him to manufacture a 3 oz. pie. Mr. Keathley refused to do that and told Mr Kroc that if he wanted to buy pies from him that he would have to buy his 4 oz. pie. Mr. Keathley walked with the Lord all his life, and the Lord blessed him with several successful businesses. He never finished high school, but he was a brilliant man.

Cheryl’s father was also a very successful businessman in the baking industry and later in life as an entrepreneur. He did finish high school, and then he joined the army and served as an officer at the Nuremberg Trials after World War II, and he had many great stories about the Nazi leaders who were tried at the famous trials after the second Great War. Maurice was wounded in the Korean War, and he retired from the military as a Lt. Colonel after years of reserve service. He was a life-long Optimist and once served as Vice President of Optimist International. During his entire successful business career he served as a part-time Minister of Music in several churches in the Memphis area.

Among these many very successful endeavors, I think that one of his greatest achievements was that he was recognized by his peers as a very intelligent man—even though he only had a high school education. He often walked among very famous scientists, academicians and businessmen, and they would usually come away from the conversation telling others what a bright man was this Maurice Keathley.

Maurice had a secret weapon and it was actually three very simple phrases. Whenever he was with someone who was much brighter than himself or when he was with a person or persons and he did not understand the topic of the conversation, here’s what he would do: he would listen closely and make sure that his body language indicated a high level of interest, and he would intersperse the conversation with these three short quips: “It could very well be.” “Yes, indeed.” “Among other things.”

I have tried using these three small phrases, and it works. Now you can easily over-use that “Yes, Indeed,” so you have to change your voice inflections and the way you say it so that you say it differently each time. Try it and you will see that it works. People will think you are very smart. Why? Because you agree with them!

Names

I have never been a fan of name tags. Wearing them has been a part of my uniform for the past 14 years, but I still don’t like them. I have been to some meetings where they have prepared the name tags for the participants ahead of time. When I go to the registration table to get my name tag and a packet of program materials, sometimes they have my name as “James Cox.” After all, that is my name—James is my first name. Anything official has my name as “James Cox.”

I don’t think my Mother and Father knew what a headache it would be to name their son and then use the middle name. I dreaded the first day of school for all 12 years because the teacher would call out, “James Cox,” and my friends would laugh out loud.

I guess the only pleasure that I get in not using my first name is when a wise-guy telemarketer calls at dinner time and asks to speak to James or Jim. We just say there is no one here by that name!

I have done a lot of thinking through the years about names, but I guess it is more on my mind now since Allison and Will kept us guessing the name of their expected first-born for several weeks—number 12 grandchild and number 10 granddaughter! We are blessed.

I have often said that the most important word to any person regardless of where in the world they live is their own name. It is the sweetest and most important sound in any language.

People love to hear their name. When I first meet someone, I try to call their name right after I meet them. That affirms the person, and oh by the way, it helps me remember their name.

As I think about how powerful a name can be my thoughts go to familiar scriptures:

"Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Philippians 2:9-11

"Oh Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens." Psalm 8:1

Truett Cathy’s favorite Bible verse is Proverbs 22:1.

“A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold.”

Smells

While driving to work this morning I smelled the strong aroma of antifreeze in my old truck. That probably means that I have a problem with either the thermostat or the heater coil. Regardless, I am glad that I can take the truck to someone who knows a lot more than I do about repairs.

Smell is such an important sense. I have been told that I have a powerful sense of smell as I usually smell things that either others don’t smell or I smell it way before they do.

So I spent time the rest of today thinking about smell highlights in my life—I call those “smellories.” Here are some that came to my mind today.

While living in Burkina Faso, we didn’t have too many places to take visitors to buy souvenirs, but one good place was the leather shop. The shop was attached to the building where they cured the cow hides, and every time we went to the leather shop that smell welcomed us. It was a good smell, or at least I thought so.

Another vivid smell memory in Burkina Faso is the smell of smoke. Every village compound smelled like smoke. The villagers clothing always smelled like smoke. When I am burning debris and limbs at the farm, my clothes smell like smoke, and my thoughts always return to Burkina Faso—good smells!

Right at this very moment as I am typing this post, my thoughts about writing are interrupted with the aroma of fresh sausage. Cheryl is cooking sausage for a breakfast casserole—UMMM. Now back to collecting my thoughts…

Once while walking in desert sand in northern Sudan I smelled the camel dung as we walked through the largest camel market I have ever seen. For some of you who don't know me well, you would think that this would be a bad smell (for most people) - but not for this farm boy. UMMMM!

In the weekly market of Atee, Chad, where 3,000 people come from all over the Sahara, I smelled the pungent odor of dried seed from the nyeri tree, which is used in preparing the sauce that provides nourishment for families in the Sahel.

Other “smellories” include: the knock-your-socks-off aroma of a Lebanese bakery! The sweet whiff of mangoes being peeled in Egypt! Mustard greens cooking at Mimi’s house.

My nose burning from the odor of the dyes used in making rugs in the Atlas Mountains in the Maghreb. Crepes from a street vendor in Paris.

The cured leather of goatskin as I walked the narrow streets of the medina in Sanaa. Durian in Jakarta. Haria soup in the Marrakesh market - tastes as good as it smells. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire on the streets during Christmastime in Wiesbaden.

While thinking on all these smellories, the Lord has been saying to me, “Larry, if you have any purpose in My work—it has to do with these smells. For this is the fragrance of the world I died for.”

“For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.” 2 Corinthians 2:15 ESV

Together

I was in the Frankfurt airport train station waiting on my train. Sleepy and hungry after a trans-Atlantic flight, I bought hot tea and a pain au chocolat at a kiosk. I left the main part of the train station and wandered into a shopping mall. It was a Sunday morning about 7:00am. The city was still asleep, so I had plenty of choices of places to sit and have my breakfast. During the time that I ate, I only saw seven other people.

As I have traveled over the years I have always enjoyed watching people. I don’t mean staring, but I do admit to some intense looking. When I am traveling and in an airport or train station, I like to look for indicators that will tell me something about that person. Anyone can tell if a person is of Asian descent, but I like to study the face and guess whether they are from Korea or Southeast Asia or the Philippines.

A couple of young Asians (Korean I guessed) sat near me, engaging each other with the tell-tale signs of being in love. I knew that they were not siblings by the way they gingerly touched one another. Maybe I did stare at them because they abruptly stood up and walked swiftly away. But, remember that I am trying to stay awake so I had to be doing something so that I did not miss my train.

 

Soon after the young couple disappeared from the mall, another couple—much older than the young Asians—strolled into the atrium area. They were definitely not in a hurry, but then, why would there be a rush to get anywhere as nothing in the mall was open. As they strolled along hand-in-hand, I watched. They stopped and stared inside a storefront.

I have watched a lot of “window shoppers” in my time, but these folks were not looking at merchandise for sale inside the store. They were standing in front of a dry cleaners shop and just gazing inside. Why? I don’t know, but I did not dwell on the why. I was really impressed with the “what” they were doing. They were simply enjoying each other. They did not have to be entertained. They did not have a destination. They were happy just being together.

“Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.”

Antoine de Saint-Exupery