Galloping Horse

Fannie Peeples was one of my mentors. To some of you that sounds strange for me to say that a woman was a mentor, but that just means that you did not know Fannie. The Lord brought Fannie into our lives when we moved to Vicksburg, Mississippi in late 1973. Within a month of meeting Fannie, she lost her husband.

A couple months after her husband’s death Fannie went with us on a senior adult trip. That was when I became so attached to Fannie. She was a wise lady—and I mean that in the strictest sense as she was very proper. We always dreaded having a meal in her home as we were afraid the kids would just totally blow it manners-wise or otherwise. Fannie was very active in many social circles of Vicksburg, but she was especially involved in the local Garden Club. She even authored a book for the National Garden Club.

Fannie was raised on a rural Mississippi farm, so she was a very matter-of-fact person. She always spoke her mind and laid out all the facts in any given discussion. She did not believe in talking around a subject—especially a controversial one. You never had to guess where she stood on an issue because she would tell you.

Sam and Fannie each had strong work ethic, and they had accumulated some wealth over the years. They were generous givers and supported several Christian ministries in addition to their own church.

The first week after her husband died an early death from a heart attack, one of Sam’s friends came to Fannie and said to her that he knew that she did not know much about business. Well, that was enough to make her boiling mad, but then the “friend” went on to say that he was offering to buy one of their businesses—a petroleum distribution company. I can’t print all of Fannie’s response, but her friend got the message. At that moment Fannie decided that she was going to learn the businesses and do better than Sam ever did. And, she did. This was the time in the 70s when the local service stations were becoming obsolete and convenience stores began to open. Fannie not only became much more successful in the petroleum distribution, but she developed over a dozen convenience stores selling her gasoline products.

She was quick witted, and she was so full of life and just fun to be around. Our family has some Fannie-isms, and in some future posts maybe I will share more of them.

Through the years I have heard her give this Fannie-ism several times. I dropped some food on my shirt at a meal where Fannie was present, and I was fretting about messing up my shirt. Fannie said, “Don’t worry about it. It’ll never be noticed on a galloping horse and that’s the only kind you ride!”

Another time I said that I needed a haircut, and Fannie retorted with the same response: “Don’t fret about needing a haircut because it’ll never be noticed on a galloping horse, and that is the only kind you ride.”

She was right. In her own way she let me know that it was okay for me to be high strung and ride a galloping horse. Until a few years ago I only worked in one speed—fast. I made mistakes by going too fast, but I figured that it was alright to make a mistake because I would get another opportunity to do the task again.

The years have mellowed me. I am more deliberate now—although I still like to make quick decisions and I still walk and work faster than most people. But, sometimes I catch myself walking at a very fast pace or working on a project at warp speed, and I pause and ask myself: Why am I doing this so fast?

I get my work ethic from my mother and dad. They are two of the hardest working people who I have ever known. My dad is 87 and he works hard in the garden or the yard or on a project at church or helping someone else. Often someone in my family will say, “Pete is going to kill himself working so hard,” or “Pete is going to die in that garden.” My response is “What is wrong with that?!” If he dies from doing something he loves then, what a wonderful way to go to be with the Lord.

My horse has slowed to a canter, but I am still riding him hard. Maybe the horse and I will be blessed to live on this earth for 87 years and die in the garden. Thank you Lord for giving us energy to complete all the work that You have called us to do.

Widow maker

Our sons still like to make fun of me regarding my Beagles. I kept a pack of Beagles for rabbit hunting for five years while we lived in Clinton, Mississippi. The boys sure enjoyed hunting rabbits with me and some friends during that time, but now they don’t talk about rabbit hunting together. They just like to poke fun at Dad—and that’s OK with me as I usually laugh with them.

They like to tell about how I would get up in the middle of the night when the Beagles started barking and annoying the neighbors. I would turn the water hose on and spray the dogs down real good to make them quit howling. It worked. I think their favorite story is about one of my methods for training the dogs not to run deer. Jumping deer and running deer while on a rabbit hunt is the good rabbit dog’s nemesis. No serious rabbit dog owner wants to keep a dog that chases deer, so dog owners go to great lengths to break that nasty habit.

One of my remedies for a dog that chases deer was to get a deer leg, put it in a barrel with the dog, close the lid and roll it down a steep hill. The dog would associate this uncomfortable ride down the hill with deer and would not be anxious to run deer again. It worked. Now someone out there is ready to report me to the animal rights people!

The boys and some of their high school friends would often call my dogs “stupid.” That I did not like because I thought my dogs were smarter than some of their friends. They enjoyed making fun of one particular Beagle named “Bila”—that name comes from the language we spoke in Burkina Faso and it means “son” or literally “son of.”  He was actually my best “jump” dog, but he did like to chase deer.

One day my Dad went with me to run the dogs. We enjoyed following the dogs through the bushes and brambles as they jumped rabbits and ran them right back to us—oh, we did not have guns. We just enjoyed experiencing the thrill of the chase. When it was time to load the dogs in the back of the pickup, all of them came back except Bila. He had decided to chase a deer, so I took off after him. It took me about 20 minutes to find him, and I was angry.

I was jerking the leash and pulling Bila through the briars. He would get tangled and I would just pull harder, not caring that I was stretching his neck while pulling hard on the leash. Bila was trailing me, and I was not looking behind me. I gave a hard jerk on the leash, not knowing that the leash was wrapped around a dead standing tree. These trees are called “widow makers” because many of them have fallen on a man in the woods and made his wife a widow.

This one was apparently ready to fall, as it fell and struck the back of my head. It knocked me out, and the next thing I knew was Bila licking me on the cheek. I don’t know how long I was out, but Bila may have saved my life. I was bleeding profusely from a head wound, and if Bila had not awakened me…

I put pressure on my wound, and Bila followed me back to the pickup where my Dad was anxiously waiting on me. He drove me to the emergency room where I was sewn up and released. I was grateful to Bila for awakening me.

Writing this story down for the first time prompts me to think about how we are quick to criticize or form an opinion before we know all the facts. I am guilty, and I know that many people are like me in that respect, so let’s be careful not to call another man’s dog stupid without knowing all the facts. My stupid dog may have saved my life!

Hummingbirds

It is dusk and I am sitting inside the house watching three hummingbirds duke it out around one of the hummingbird feeders. These are really selfish little creatures. There are three feeding positions on each of two feeders. The feeders are attached to our deck on the main floor and they are about 40 feet apart. These three hummingbirds are fighting over one of the feeders. There are no hummingbirds at the other feeder, but they have chosen to fight over control of this feeder. Why?

So I did some reading on the internet and since everything on the web is true, I want to share this fact with you: hummingbirds are very territorial. Sharing is just not part of the DNA of hummingbirds. They display very aggressive behavior in defending their territory.

Why that sounds like our own species! If you don’t believe it try driving on I-75 through Atlanta anytime of the day. You will witness some very aggressive territorial battles with some expensive armor.

I am making it sound like being territorial is all bad, but I believe that God wants us to be territorial in some respects. God knows our limitations better than we know them ourselves. He knows that we are incapable of taking on the whole world (I just started reading a book called “The World is Not Ours to Save”—not into it yet, but I like the title!). God exhibited territorialism in the Scriptures. God gave specific territory to Abraham. He did not give him the world. God sent some prophets to the northern tribes and some to the southern tribes. He sent Jonah to Nineveh.

As followers of The Way, I think we would use our resources (not thinking money here, but physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual, etc.) more wisely if we would concentrate our efforts for the Kingdom on more specific sowing. Sowing everywhere can have a watered down affect.  What if we sow in a specific area and cultivate what we and others have sown? I believe that we will see greater results.

Don’t think broadcasting, but narrow casting. In this season of your life, what territory does God want you to claim, to nurture, and to conquer in His Name? Caleb asked for a mountain. For what are you asking?

Ducks

As many of you know--especially if you have dug back into the archives--this blog was started to share news about the construction of our house and about our hobby farm with family living in other countries. Ton Tenga is the name of our farm. It is from the  Mòoré (pronounced "mo' ray") language spoken in Burkina Faso, and it means "our farm" or "our land."

It has been a long time since I have shared news from Ton Tenga, so some of the family urged me to share some more farm news.

We have a few ducks and one very noisy goose, and they are constantly following us around the farm--begging for cracked corn. Cheryl suggested that we put up a duck crossing sign on our driveway--just for fun. Saturday, I finished mounting the sign, and immediately two ducks crossed the road headed to the garden to look for bugs. I snapped the following photo.

OK, so I know the photo is not properly posted, but I spent a long time Sunday night and then again tonight (Monday) trying to figure out how to get the photo in the right orientation. I gave up and you get the idea anyhow.

Angels

Does anyone out there who has a smart phone carry a camera anymore? These gadgets take such great pics that I don't need to carry a camera. Now the truth is that I stopped carrying a camera on overseas trips many years ago. I just don't like to be identified as a camera-carrying tourist. Now I find myself taking pictures overseas again because I can do it more inconspicuously with a very small phone.

It is surprising how many photos I have in my phone. I was looking through them recently--I really need to delete some of them, but it is hard to just wipe out a photo of something that I thought was very special at the time I shot it.

While scrolling through the pictures I paused to look at Jordan, Jenna and one of their friends dressed up as angels at a pageant at church. You know what angels look like--they are dressed in white, they have wings, and they are always smiling, right? At least that is what they look like in all the pageants that I have seen.

I don't really know how we know what an angel looks like. I suppose this notion of what an angel looks like has been passed down from generation to generation.

It strikes me that when an angel is introduced in The Word, the people to whom they appeared must have been afraid. Matthew 29:5 states: "But the angel said to the women, Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified." So, what did the angel look like if the first thing it said to the women at Jesus' tomb was "Don't be afraid?" Probably not what our stereotyped notion of pageant angels is.

And, then, there is I Chronicles 21:30 where the angel carried a sword: "but David could not go before it to inquire of God, for he was afraid of the sword of the angel of the LORD." How many pageants have you seen with an angel carrying a sword?!

Many times in our lives our minds are set -- on what something is supposed to look like, on what you think something tastes like, on what someone believes, on where someone fits in the societal rankings, on how we are going to like someone -- before we ever get an opportunity to see, experience and understand for ourselves.

Perhaps you are guilty as I have been of forming an opinion of someone based on what others tell you, before you ever meet the person or before you get to know her or him. I really do not want to allow someone else to choose my friends for me by accepting their opinion before I have the opportunity to make up my own mind.

Khat

I am in Germany and reviewing international news. The headlines are full of the potential terrorist threats. The US and other western countries have closed embassies and some Americans have evacuated cities over the Muslim world.

One of our conference speakers here in central Germany reminded us today that we cannot insult God by asking God for too much, but we can insult Him by asking for too little. I took that to heart, and I have just prayed for the Yemeni Arabs. I made a bold prayer request and asked God for self-replicating churches to be started all over Yemen.

Memories of traveling in Yemen are flooding my mind as I type these words. Visual images of Yemenis’ faces rush through my mind. I am thinking about stories of encounters with workers who have endured very hard times living in this desolate, but beautiful country. I am praying for their safety and for their leaders who have to make decisions about their safety.

Once two of these workers were driving me and some colleagues back to the capital city from a provincial capital where we had been visiting with our colleagues. There were no rest stop facilities to be found, and it was a long drive, so we pulled over to the side of the road to make a “pit stop.” As we were taking care of business we heard the roar of engines headed our way. All of a sudden two heavily armored pickup trucks came out of nowhere and there were large and small caliber weapons pointed at us.

Our colleague immediately staring speaking rapidly to the armed men, and as quickly as the armed men had appeared, they disappeared into the fields of tall green plants.

We had stopped on the side of the road beside a field of tall dark green plants. I did not recognize the plants, but I was more interested in taking care of my physical needs that identifying the plant. The field was planted in almost-ready-to-harvest khat. Khat is an addictive plant that men in Yemen and the Horn of Africa chew on like tobacco for the narcotic effect that they receive. Men regularly chew this narcotic during the afternoon and get high and sometimes cannot complete their work. Many children have gone to sleep hungry at night because their fathers spent food money on Khat.

Khat is such a valuable commodity that owners go to great expense to protect their crops with armed men and vehicles. When we made that rest stop the guards quickly swept down on us because they thought we were going to steal khat from the field. When I was looking down the barrel of a 50 caliber machine gun mounted on the back of the pickup, many thoughts quickly went through my mind. But oddly enough I was not afraid. I did, however, instinctively raise my hands over my head in a silent proclamation of “Don’t shoot. I have done nothing wrong.”

I think a lot of fear expressed by us humans is driven by our perceptions and expectations. We can easily get psyched up to fear something when we think about it. Dread can become fear. Whenever my mind starts thinking about a fear of something, such as a noise in the dark while walking outside, I remember that the Scripture teaches us not to fear anything but God—and that is an AWEsome fear.

I Samuel 12:24: “Only fear the Lord and serve Him faithfully with all your heart. For consider what great things He has done for you.”