Today's post is by guest writer Keith Ward.

When we started gardening in Illinois, the second year of our marriage, I wanted a hoe like the one I grew up using.  I could not find one in any of the hardware stores. This hoe has two opposite blades with a hole in the center: One blade is narrow, about an inch or an inch and a half wide, and works wonderfully for laying out rows; the other blade spreads to about 4 inches wide and works well for chopping weeds or breaking up rain-packed beds.  I have never seen another hoe that could do both.  Few other hoes are such heavy gauge steel.  When I was a child, Mom used it in place of a tiller since we never had one of those.  My sister and I were tasked to beat the dirt out of the grass clods and toss the grass aside. Finally, I asked Dad to get me one and he had to order it.  I doubt that he let me pay for it.

We marked a place on the handle with electrical tape to know how far apart to put the garden rows.  For years, I would rent or borrow a tiller in the spring and then that hoe did all our gardening thereafter.  After I got a tiller, one year it rained so much I could not use it and the ground was turning sour and the plants dying.  I stood in mud to my knees, with my feet sunken to the hardpan clay underneath, and hoed the surface to aerate the soil and managed to save our harvest.

A few years ago, the handle rotted some at the end and the hoe tended to rotate so I filled it in with JB Weld.  It finally broke after 38 years of service.  I searched 3 hardware stores before I found a handle.  I put a healthy dose of JB Weld where the hoe would fit and put the hoe in a vise and drove the handle on with a 3 pound hammer.  Then I smoothed the JB Weld on both sides and kept rotating it in the sun so it would not drip until it dried. This hoe should be good for 40 years which is more than you can say for me.

I liked that hoe because it was the kind I grew up with.  Is that why you like your church?

…to make all men see what is the dispensation of the mystery which for ages has been hid in God who created all things; to the intent that now unto the principalities and the powers in the heavenly places might be made known through the church the manifold wisdom of God, according to the eternal purpose which he purposed in Christ Jesus our Lord: Ephesians 3:9-11.

Keith Ward

I was watching the sprinkler zzzt-zzzt-zzzt its way across the garden the other day. Usually the end of April and most of May are dry. The afternoon thundershowers don’t start until the humidity and temperature both reach the 90s, so to keep the garden alive, we have to irrigate. Keith has various methods he uses, a drip hose, a sprinkler, and simple hand-watering, depending upon the crop and its weaknesses. Some plants are more prone to fungus, so you keep their leaves as dry as possible by hand-watering, directing the water to the bottom of the plant. Sometimes Keith spends as long as two hours in an evening watering.

But as soon as the summer rains start, the garden takes off. It becomes obvious that, despite all the time spent, all we did was help the garden survive until the real thing came along. The plants almost explode they grow so much faster and produce so much better. Chemically the water may be the same, but out here in the country everyone knows that irrigation is a distant second to God’s watering.

Should that surprise us? Adam and Eve made themselves aprons of fig leaves. God came along and made them garments of skins. I know which one I had rather wear on a cool evening. Men made gods of stone and wood and metal. Jehovah is a spirit with no beginning or end. I know which one I had rather rely on to take care of me. Under the old covenant, the blood of bulls and goats could only put away the sins for a year at a time. The blood of a perfect, unblemished sacrifice puts them away forever. I know which one I had rather count on for my salvation.

When it comes to God, there is no substitute for the real thing. 

God understands the way to it, and he knows its place. For he looks to the ends of the earth and sees everything under the heavens. When he gave to the wind its weight, and apportioned the waters by measure, when he made a decree for the rain and a way for the lightning of the thunder, then he saw it and declared it, he established it and searched it out. And he said to man, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to turn away from evil is understanding, Job 28:23-28.

 Dene Ward 

I can remember my daddy uttering those very words every time we pulled up to what was then called a “service station,” a glassed-in office with two service bays and usually two gas islands, sporting regular, premium and mid-grade pumps, the older models rounded on the top and the newer ones square-cornered and squat.  An attendant came out of one of the bays, called to us by the double-ding of the bell hoses we ran over with both front and rear tires, usually wiping his hands with a greasy blue rag, and did the honors while we sat in the car waiting.  He also checked the water in the radiator and battery, and cleaned the windshields.  When the pump kicked off, he carefully finished filling the tank and then bent his head to the open window to tell us the amount we owed.  If we paid cash, he brought back change.  If we used our gas company credit card, he took it and ran it, bringing back a dark blue clipboard with slip attached and a pen for a signature.

We never left the car, never lifted a finger.  It was all done for us.  Maybe that’s why we seem to expect God to “fill ‘er up” without having to make any effort at all ourselves.  Maybe that’s what we’re thinking when we sit in our pews on Sunday morning—we’re expecting the teachers, songleaders, and preachers to “fill ‘her up.” 

“I didn’t get anything out of services this morning,” we say, as if that were the only purpose to our being there, to allow others to wait on us just like an attendant at an old-fashioned service station; as if that were the only possible way to fill oneself up spiritually.

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled, Matt 5:6.  Do we really think that righteousness can be poured in like gasoline, that we can sit passively while it happens?

John tells us, Whoever practices righteousness is righteous, 1 John 3:7.  Being filled with righteousness has far more to do with what I do anywhere else besides a church building than it does with listening to a sermon and expecting to walk away holy because of it.

God also expects us to fill ourselves with knowledge.  Anyone who thinks that comes from osmosis on Sunday mornings as we doze in our pews or play with the babies in front of us had better not apply for a school teaching job any time soon. You won’t keep it long.

Paul says, And so, from the day we heard, we have not ceased to pray for you, asking that you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God, Colossians 1:9-10.  Becoming knowledgeable takes work far above and beyond listening to a couple hours a week of sermons and Bible classes.  Making it stick means applying what you learn, “bearing fruit” as you put that knowledge into practice.

But others have the problem of which tank to use.  They seem satisfied with “regular.”  My daddy worked for Gulf Oil so we always went to Gulf stations.  “Regular” was called “Good Gulf” and premium was called “Gulftane,” a play on the fact that the octane was higher.  A soul created in the image of God requires nothing less than premium.

I read a book once in which the writer was at a loss to know how to refill herself after giving so much to marriage, children, and society.  Her problem was thinking she could do it herself, with things that have no eternal existence and purpose.  She was trying to fill up on “regular.”   Christians know better.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope, Romans 15:13.

“Fill ‘er up,” we used to say to the gas attendant.  Far more important, we should say it to God, and then do our part as He fills us to the brim.  It’s the only way to keep your life from running on empty.

And it is my prayer that your love may abound more and more, with knowledge and all discernment, so that you may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ, to the glory and praise of God, Philippians 1:9-11.

Dene Ward

About thirty years ago, we awoke one Saturday morning to ominous gray skies and strong winds. The forecast for the day made it dangerous to be out, so we called those we had invited for a singing that afternoon and canceled. Instead of walking to the paper box, about a quarter mile down our driveway, Keith drove the car, and as huge, plopping raindrops began falling, parked it next to the front door when he returned.

A few minutes later, he looked out the window by the table where he sat reading the paper and sipping a cup of coffee. Something in his manner made me look too, but I didn’t see anything.

“Get the boys,” he said very quietly, “and go crouch down in the middle of the house. Cover your faces.” I did exactly as he said, unquestioningly. He grew up in the Arkansas mountains, and he knew about things I had no experience with. A few minutes later it was all over with. What “all” was, I still did not realize. The power had gone out, but we were still intact.

We stepped out of the house, and the hay barn across the field no longer had a roof. Several water oaks and wild cherry trees were down on the long drive to the highway. A large chinaberry had fallen right where the car had originally been parked before he decided to drive for the paper instead of walking. It would have been flattened.

Then we edged around the corner of the house on our bedroom side, and saw the worst of it. A huge live oak had split. Half had fallen on the power lines, but the line was still alive, wiggling and sparking on the ground. The other half, its roots mostly out of the ground, leaned right over our bedroom. We had no idea how long it would hold before it too fell and demolished our house.

We called the power company immediately and they rushed out to take care of the live wire, but they had too many other calls to send someone to handle the tilting tree. We would have to wait our turn. Word gradually spread down the highway, and within an hour, two men who worked timber drove up with cables and chainsaws, and those two men, who were complete strangers to us, took the tree down safely and with no damage. We thanked them profusely. “That’s what neighbors are for,” they said, and off they went.

A preacher friend who had been invited to the sing never got the message to cancel. He showed up amid the raucous roar of chainsaws, and heard the whole story. It impressed him enough to include it in a lesson on prayer and providence. The people in the audience were not impressed. Afterward they took him aside and scolded him. “God does not act in the world today,” they reminded him. He was astounded, and so were we.

When we become so intent on exposing false doctrine that we blatantly ignore the truth, swinging the pendulum so far back that we miss it entirely, something is wrong with our perspective. If God had no hand in what happened that day, then why do we bother to pray at all? Do we not believe James?

“The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much,” 5:16.

Do we not believe the book of Esther or the last 14 chapters of Genesis? “God sent me,” Joseph told his brothers who had thought it was all their idea, and God continued to “send” Joseph through Potiphar’s wife, the baker and butler, and eventually Pharaoh himself.

God spent much of the prophets talking about how He would work through the enemies of Israel. “Ho Assyrian! The rod of my anger! The staff of my fury is in his hand,” Isa 10:5. God sent those Assyrians to punish Israel, just as certainly as He sent those two lumberjacks to save my home. He did it because of the prayers I started the moment I saw that look in my husband’s eye, the moment I crouched on the floor trying to shield my little boys with my own body, the moment we saw that tree clinging to the pitifully few clods of dirt left on its roots.

I will never believe otherwise. In fact, why do we bother if we don’t believe it?

The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he also hears their cry and saves them. Psalms 145:18-19

Dene Ward

We found this plot of land only because Keith drove down the highway one day and saw a sign pointing off to the east: 5 ACRES FOR SALE BY OWNER. When he stopped he could barely tell that a trail led off the highway, over a shallow rise and on into the woods beyond. Being in the market for a place to put our home, we followed it one day, driving carefully over a bumpy track and eventually onto a grassy downhill slope, hoping we would not bottom out in an unseen gopher hole or mushy spring. Half a mile later, we stood under some big old live oaks draped with Spanish moss, knee deep in grass and weeds, with an open field just over the pushed-up fence row. About a month later, this became home.

When you move onto unimproved land, you discover quickly the value of roads. Roads are built above the general lay of the land, usually ditched on the sides. A new neighbor, who has become a good friend, suggested that we have the septic tank man scrape down the fence row behind the house, which left a path several feet above the rest of the land. We did not use it, instead driving across the top of the property on the grass to the front door. The summer rains began shortly after we moved in, followed by a nearby hurricane, and after having another neighbor pull the car out of the mud with his tractor at least three times, we began using the raised fence row as our driveway. That is why to this day, you pull up to the back of the house instead of the front.

Another problem lay just a couple hundred feet off the highway—a low spot you never noticed until it rained four or five inches. Overnight the land around it drained and made a pond between us and the road. There was no way to go around because of the neighbor’s fences, and the low spot was a bowl that could not empty. For a couple of months in August and September, we parked by the highway, waded through the pond, and walked the rest of the half mile to the house.

Sundays were particularly interesting. We all dressed the top half of ourselves, then put on shorts, and carried towels. After walking to the offending body of water, we waded through slowly, careful not to splash mud on the Sunday clothes above our waists, then got into the car, dried off, and finished dressing. When we came home, we reversed the process. Returning from evening services was particularly thrilling, hoping nothing deadly swam by us in the knee deep water and using flashlights to make sure we didn’t step on any snakes as we trudged to the house in the dark, with buzzing mosquitoes for company.

Keith worked for years on that spot. An acquaintance did roofing and often had piles of old gravel that needed to be hauled off. Keith would stop by his work site in the evenings, load gravel into his pickup bed with a shovel he always had, bring it home and unload it before coming back to the house. There must be a good three feet of gravel beneath the dirt there now, for fifty feet along that low spot. Eventually he dug a ditch off to the side all the way to the highway, using nothing but a shovel, a two hundred foot long ditch, in places hip-deep, so the water would drain. Finally, we could count on getting through, regardless how much it rained. The people who have moved in have no idea how much they owe him.

I remember thinking, especially as I struggled to put on pantyhose in the front seat of the car, or as I fearfully followed the bouncing beam of a flashlight through the north Florida woods at night, that I had better not ever hear anyone else’s excuses for not assembling with their brethren.

But I also remember this—not a single time did we even see (or hear) a snake on those scary evenings. Before that, when we could drive through, we saw several, even rattlesnakes and cottonmouths, but nothing on any pedestrian return trip from evening services.

Not a single time did we have to make that half mile walk in the rain. Certainly it had rained beforehand or the pond would not have been there, and often it rained more after we returned home, but we never got wet on our walks. Yes, that was a trying time, but it could have been worse. God knew what we could handle and He expected us to do just that—handle it. In return, He took care of us and never allowed it to be more of a burden than we could overcome.

Too many times we view our troubles from the wrong side and fail to see God’s helping hand. Even when we think otherwise, He is there, guiding us and making things bearable. Sometimes we won’t realize that till long after the trial is over. Remember that the next time a difficulty arises. I guarantee that as long as you are faithful, God is too, and one of these days you will see that as clearly as through a newly cleaned window.

We have had many difficulties since then, but I find myself looking back on what now seems minor compared to our more recent problems. If we had not waded through the water, if we had not followed a flashlight through the woods, could we have made it through what came after? Probably not, and a wise Father knew that. I find myself thinking, God, can I please have another pond to wade through? But the days of puddles are past. Rivers lie ahead, and we know we can get across them now, in part because of a muddy pond twenty-five years ago.

Be free from the love of money, content with such things as you have; for He has said, I will in no way fail you, nor in anyway forsake you. So with good courage we say, The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what shall man do to me? Heb 13:5,6.

Dene Ward

A long time ago my sister gave me a recipe for “Congo Bars.”  Congo bars are basically a blondie, extra gooey, with two kinds of chips in them, butterscotch and semi-sweet.  The recipe makes not a 9 x 13 pan, but a 10 x 15, and when I need a whole lot of something, I still go to that recipe.

I have added a few twists of my own, though.  First, I toast the nuts.  The pan doesn’t stay in the oven but 15 minutes, which is not quite enough time, enrobed as they are in all that batter, for the nuts to really brown.  Believe me, the flavor difference is obvious. 

The other change I made began as a desperation move when I didn’t have one cup each of butterscotch and semi-sweet chocolate chips.  Instead, I had about half a cup each of those bagged up in my freezer from previous recipes, and also the remains of a bag of peanut butter chips and one of white chocolate chips.  Together they made just over the two cups total I needed, so I threw them all in.

I have never received so many compliments on a homely looking bar cookie in my life.  Things like, “Wow!  This is so interesting,” and, “I get a different flavor with every bite.  How did you do that?”  So now I do it on purpose.  Whenever I see those pieces of bags stacking up in my freezer, Congo bars are on the menu that week as the dessert I take to a potluck, or the bars I take camping, or the cookies in the cookie jar when the kids come home.  Weeks after they first taste them, people are still talking about these things, and all I did was stir a bunch of different flavored chips together in the batter.

That is exactly what God expected from the church.  He never intended us to be homogenous groups, some all middle class, some all lower class, some all black, some all white, some totally blue collar workers, and some nothing but white collar workers.  “All nations shall flow in,” Isaiah prophesied in chapter 2, and it becomes obvious when you read about those first century churches that Jew and Gentile weren’t the only differences.

But even in the first century, the people rebelled against such a notion.  “We can’t worship with them,” the Jewish Christians whined about the Gentiles.  “Come sit up here,” they said to the rich visitor, and gave the lesser seat to the poor man. 

Hadn’t Jesus paved the way?  Even among the chosen twelve, there were differences—blue collar Galileans and urbane Judeans, men with Aramaic names and men with Greek names, some disciples of John and others not, fishermen, publicans, and Zealots.  They too had trouble with the notion of equality among them, but they overcame it.

I worship with a congregation of nearly 300.  You know the wonderful thing about that?  Whatever I need, someone there can help me.  I have a physician, a plumber, a computer whiz, a chiropractor, a financial advisor, a legal consultant, an electrician, a carpenter, and a pharmacist.  As far as the church’s needs, we have an accountant, a couple of computer techs, lawn workers, housekeepers, teachers, photographers, several Bible scholars, and a host of others who step up when the need arises in their specialty.  We have babes in arms and folks in their nineties.  How likely is that to happen when there are only 30 of you?

Sometimes you cannot help there being only 30 of you—at least for awhile.  That should be changing too as each fulfills his obligation to tell others about his faith.  But sometimes churches are small because people do not want to worship with other types of people.  Why should there be a small black group and a small white group in the same town except that people do not want to be together?  Shame on us for letting our comfort zones become more important than the good of the Lord’s kingdom in that particular locality. 

The power of the gospel is seen not only in the changes in our lives, but in the way people of different backgrounds, cultures, and classes love one another.  Jesus prayed that we would all be one “so the world may know that you sent me.” 

We have people who raise their hands when they sing, and people who don’t.  We have song leaders who lead more modern, syncopated music, and those who stick with the old standards.  We have people “raised in the church,” and those who are new to it; some who grew up knowing right from wrong before they were knee-high, and others who came to us from rehab.  There may be a different flavor in every bite, but we all get along.  To do otherwise would make a mockery of the plan of salvation. 

“All have sinned,” and we are all saved by the grace of the same God.  That’s the only sameness about us that really matters.

May the God of endurance and encouragement grant you to live in such harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus, that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. (Romans 15:5-7)

(For this recipe go to "Dene's Recipes" page)

Dene Ward

Our blueberries have not been particularly bountiful the past few years.  I remember years when over the three or four weeks we were picking, I had enough for four or five pies, two or three dozen giant muffins, blueberry pancakes at least twice, and a dozen jars of jam, and still put fifteen full quarts of berries in the freezer for later use.  This year I didn’t have enough for one muffin.  If blueberries are antioxidants, we may start rusting soon.

When the blueberries are thin I really hate sharing them with the birds.  It would not be so bad if the birds would pick one limb or even one bush out of the twelve we have.  But they flit around pecking a blueberry here and a blueberry there.  Once a bird has pecked a berry just once, it is useless to us.  Yet there is still enough in the one berry for several more pecks if the bird would only take them, and then he would not need to peck so many others!

Satan does the same thing to us.  How many faults do you have?  How many weaknesses do you fight on a daily basis?  If you are a faithful Christian, maybe only a few by now, certainly less than when you started out.  But you know what?  Satan doesn’t need to totally ruin you.  He doesn’t need to turn you into evil personified.  All he needs to do is make you satisfied with just one little fault, only one little thing that you need to work on, because the fewer pecks he makes into your soul, the more likely you are to be satisfied with your progress.  You will look at yourself and say, “I’m doing pretty well.  This one little thing won’t hurt my soul.”  And so you give in, you make excuses, you say to yourself, “That’s just the way I am, and after all, it’s not that bad.  I haven’t killed anyone lately.”  This is not to minimize the need for grace, just the attitude that says, “I’m satisfied where I am.”

So we become a bush full of pecked blueberries, too ruined for those around us to nourish their souls, but not ruined enough for us to think we really need to do something about it.  Is that why the church isn’t growing?  Is that why we no longer have any influence on our neighbors?  Is that why our children are falling away and the future looks so grim? 

Pecked blueberries are useless.  When Satan sends a bird to peck at you, beat him off with a stick if you have to.  One peck can cost you your soul.

But when the righteous turns away from his righteousness and commits iniquity, and does according to the abominations that the wicked man does, shall he live?  None of his righteous deeds that he has done shall be remembered; in his trespass that he has trespassed, and in his sin which he has sinned he shall die…I have no pleasure in the death of him who dies, says the Lord.  Therefore turn and live, Ezekiel 18:24,32.

Dene Ward

Crepe myrtles are the super-plant of Florida summers.  Despite the heat, they bloom and seem to thrive, while everything else wilts and often dies.  The garden is over by the first of July, and the flower bed is far past its prime, but those crepe myrtles just keep on going, looking better than ever.

We had been looking for crepe myrtles for awhile, the bush variety, not the trees.  Nathan and Brooke gave us some shoots that had come up around theirs and we gratefully planted them, and kept on looking for those bushes.  I am still not sure there is actually a difference in the plant, as one article I read said, or if it is all about how it is pruned, but after five or six years we still hadn’t found what we wanted, and that fall noticed the seed pods on our transplants.  We looked at each other and said, “Well, I’ve never heard of doing it before, but why not plant those seeds in some nursery pots?”

We did, and guess what?  In spite of the fact that we had never heard of doing it before, they grew!  This past spring we transplanted 8 one foot high crepe myrtles from that nursery pot experiment, all of which are blooming just fine in the Florida summer.     

Haven’t you heard it?  Someone comes up with an idea for spreading the gospel—one that is not beyond the bounds of God’s authority—but someone else pipes up, “I never heard of doing that before,” and expects that to be the end of the discussion.  In fact it often is, especially when prefaced by “Why, I’ve been a Christian for forty years...”  I wonder how many things would never have been done if everyone had that notion? 

            And the king made from the algum wood supports for the house of the LORD and for the king's house, lyres also and harps for the singers. There never was seen the like of them before in the land of Judah, 2 Chronicles 9:11

            The throne had six steps, and at the back of the throne was a calf's head, and on each side of the seat were armrests and two lions standing beside the armrests, while twelve lions stood there, one on each end of a step on the six steps. The like of it was never made in any kingdom, 1Kgs 10:20.

            And because of all your abominations I will do with you what I have never yet done, and the like of which I will never do again. Ezekiel 5:9.

             He has confirmed his words, which he spoke against us and against our rulers who ruled us, by bringing upon us a great calamity. For under the whole heaven there has not been done anything like what has been done against Jerusalem, Daniel 9:12.

 God didn’t seem to have any trouble accepting Solomon’s unique adornments for his throne and for the Temple.  He wasn’t above using punishments the like of which no one had ever seen before.  He certainly didn’t mind confounding the world by sacrificing His Son for our sins.  Aren’t you glad?

 We might be in bad company if “I’ve never heard of doing that before” becomes the source of authority for our actions. 

            As they were going away, behold, a demon-oppressed man who was mute was brought to him. And when the demon had been cast out, the mute man spoke. And the crowds marveled, saying, "Never was anything like this seen in Israel." But the Pharisees said, "He casts out demons by the prince of demons," Matthew 9:32-34.

Jesus didn’t fit their preconceived notions so they accused Him of consorting with the Devil.  I’ve heard Christians come close when someone suggested something new to reach the lost, especially if it cost any money. 

God tells us every word and action should be by His authority, not by whether we’ve heard of it or not.  I wouldn’t have any crepe myrtles if we had followed that dictum—and none of us would have a hope of salvation.

For from of old men have not heard, nor perceived by the ear, neither hath the eye seen a God besides thee, who works for him that waits for him, Isaiah 64:4.

Dene Ward

            
Here in north Florida we don’t look at the calendar to tell the season.  We generally have about 5 months of summer, nearly 3 months each of spring and fall, and 4 -6 weeks of winter.  
              
Since I moved to the country I have noticed that each season has its own feel and smell.  About the first week of October the morning air becomes crisp and dry, for Florida anyway, and I know fall has arrived.  It may leave a week later, but we know that by the first of November it is generally here to stay.  
             
Then shortly before the holiday season I will be greeted by the smell of wood fires and a damp cold that seeps into your bones. I lived in Illinois for two years so I know what below zero weather is like, but even up there you could quickly run the trash out in your shirtsleeves at 45 degrees. Down here that same temperature will set your teeth chattering in just a few short minutes. It’s  winter!  
              
Sometime around Valentine’s Day the warm sunshine on your back spreads
like a soothing ointment, and soon the air is heavy with the perfume of azaleas, dogwoods, gardenias, wisteria and the first roses of the year. Rakes scratch the ground and black plastic bags stack up in every yard.  The acrid smell of burning leaves fills the air and the spring green of new leaves lights up the sky.  Jack Frost may paint your garden one more time in March, but spring has definitely sprung!  
              
By the first of May a wet morning fog drips on until about 10, and the flower smells have mellowed into the watermelon smell of new-mown grass.  Just standing outside for ten minutes will leave your hair damp with both humidity and perspiration. The long, hot summer has begun.
             
It has taken awhile but now I relish every change of season. I used to wish away the long, humid summers precisely because they were that way. Then when my children started school, I wished away the rest of the year because the summer was the only time I had them to myself. But I spent the first part of my life wishing it away as well.  I couldn’t wait to start school.  Then I couldn’t wait for college.  Then I couldn’t wait to get married.  Then I couldn’t wait to
have children.  And now what? I have an empty nest and my life is well over half over.  Is that why we say that middle age brings wisdom?  Why did it take so long for me to figure this out?
             
God wants us to enjoy our lives. Yes, we suffer trials and even some minor persecution. But as much as is possible he expects us to live well and laugh
well.  1 Pet 3:10 …love life and see good days.  Psa 118:24, This is the day which Jehovah has made; rejoice and be glad in it. Eccl 3:11, He has made everything beautiful in its time, also he has set eternity in their hearts. Eccl  5:18, Behold that which I have seen to be good and comely is for one to eat and to drink and to enjoy good in all his labor wherein he labors under the sun, all the days of his life which God has given him, for this is his portion. Finally, I have learned to take joy in every day.
             
If you are still young, don’t wish your life away. It may seem that your children will never grow up, that you will never have time for yourself and your spouse again, that everything you really want is somewhere out there in the future. 
Take a minute and look around. God wants you to enjoy the present. If you cannot learn that now, then when those future things come along, you won’t know how to enjoy them either. I have seen so many who are never satisfied with what they have, and who ruin the time they have left looking for something better.  Learn to be happy and content because one of these days you may find yourself wishing you had back all those days you wished away in the first place. 

He that would love life and see good days, let him refrain his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile; let him turn away from evil and do good; let him seek peace and pursue it.  For the eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous, and his ears unto their supplication.  But the face of the Lord is upon those who do evil, 1 Pet 3:10-12.
 
Dene Ward


 

            
We had never heard of Australian Cattle Dogs until a neighbor gave us a
puppy nearly thirteen years ago. We were so happy with Magdi, we got another one, Chloe, who is now six years old.  This breed is one of the newest in existence.  As you might guess, they originated in Australia and have wild dingo, Welsh heeler, Australian kelpie, Dalmatian, smooth collie, and bull terrier in their bloodlines. The breed standard was finally set and approved in 1903. That means they will breed true both physically and temperamentally, which is what makes a breed a breed.
             
What exactly are they bred to do? Herd cattle, of course. They do this by nipping at the cattle’s heels, and thus their other name, heelers.  As the breed was being developed this caused a few problems. Some mixes made dogs that did not just nip, but bit down and wouldn’t let go.  Others nipped, but then just stood there and had their heads kicked in by the cattle’s hooves. Finally they got the combination that produced a dog smart enough to nip and duck!
             
Our dogs do their best to herd, in spite of the fact that we have no cows. Magdi started trying to herd the two of us when she was just a few months old. As we walked around the property, she would cut across in front of us trying to turn us in the direction she wanted us to go. We had to be careful not to trip over her. Then whenever we stood still she would lie across our feet so we couldn’t go anywhere. Chloe tries to herd Magdi.  She nips at her heels all the time until Magdi gets her fill of it and snaps at her. The two of them chase any vehicle that comes down the drive, nipping at its “heels,” the back tires.  And together they try to herd squirrels. Whenever a squirrel runs up a tree, they are truly mystified—this is not the way it is supposed to work.
             
You know what we are “born and bred” to do? Worship God.  He has set
eternity in our hearts, Eccl 3:11; he has made his existence obvious through his creation, Psalm 19, Rom 1:19,20.  As the writer of Ecclesiastes concluded, Fear God and keep his commandments for this is the whole of man, 12:13.  The fact that people ignore all this and refuse to worship just shows that they are blind, rebellious fools according to Jeremiah 5:21-29.
             
Australian cattle dogs are not house dogs. They are not even yard dogs in today’s version of a backyard that takes about fifteen minutes to mow.  These animals need to run.  They need property and owners who exercise them more than a walk in the park every day. They are bred for prolonged activity daily. They are also bred to be fiercely loyal to and protective of their masters for life—they cannot be adopted by a new family once they have reached adulthood. Their loyalty will always be to their first family. If you take away their place to run and the masters they love, they will be miserable.
             
Have you noticed how miserable people seem today? Have you seen the perpetual anger that shows itself in road rage, domestic violence, and even the verbal abuse of waitresses and clerks in restaurants and stores? Have you seen how crime is not only growing but blamed on anyone and everyone who had anything to do with the criminal?  People are not doing what they were “born and bred” to do—serve God and each other.  Haven’t we seen enough insanely wealthy people satisfying their every desire who are still
miserable?  When will we ever catch on?  
             
They say that an Australian cattle dog is one of the most intelligent breeds there is, “capable of making decisions regarding himself, his owner and
family, his job, and his home territory,” according to the American Kennel
Club.  Sounds to me like they might be smarter than most humans.

But ask now the beasts and they shall teach you; and the birds of the heavens, and they shall tell you; or speak to the earth, and it shall teach you; and the fishes of the sea shall declare unto you.  Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this?  In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind, Job 12:7-10.
 
Dene Ward