Harry Whitt on the Journey with Jesus
I’m sure the phrase, “Stand still, don’t move” has been said million of times in thousands of circumstances. I can hear one of my older brothers using that phrase when we were squirrel hunting. I’m sure a young soldier has heard similar words in a mine field. Perhaps a hiker has heard the same when a rattlesnake was within striking distance of his leg.
Continue reading “Stand Still, Don’t Move!”
I recall as a small boy from the age of six or seven knowing how to shine my own shoes. Since that time, the only time I remember paying for a shoeshine was in Haiti and then only to help an industrious village youth trying to make a few gourdes.
Independence is probably a fault of mine. I had rather do something myself than to ask someone to do it. This has been one of my faults in life, not delegating tasks.
Continue reading “I Shine My Own Shoes”
NOTE: Happy Father’s Day! This post is about hardworking men with dirty fingernails because it is Father’s Day, but we love and appreciate hard working women too!
I have an old grubby cap they I usually wear when I’m working outside. It has never been washed and probably never will be. At this point it has its own history. It was promotional cap from a business, so I got it for free. The ole cap is well broke in about like me. There are some frayed threads, stains, and the dark color has faded from the sun and rain. When I eventually throw it away, I will revisit a few memories.
Continue reading “For the Men in Grubby Ole Caps”
I remember when I was a boy looking at old men in wonderment. They were either my grandfather or someone else’s grandfather. I knew my granddaddy was once a farmer and he still dabbled with farming. He helped my Daddy with a few things, had a garden, and sometimes had a little patch of corn. He got a few dollars every month from the plan put in place by FDR.
Continue reading “Old Men”
I usually sit toward the front of the church. For many decades I pastored local congregations and of course, I sat in the front. As a pastor, I preferred to sit on a front pew rather than on one of those “throne” chairs on stage. I rarely sat in the back.
This past Sunday, my wife and I sat in the back because we had to slip out quickly at the end of the service to attend a family function. I wasn’t used to looking at the back of people’s heads. It was a different perspective.
Continue reading “Our Little World”
“Virtue signaling” is a catchphrase in the current cultural confusion. In the last few years, it has been exhausting to keep up with the new terms and re-definitions. I often wonder if some folks even know what they are saying or if they are just parroting the latest mantra from their side of the fence. By the way, virtue signaling is not a right or left problem, it is a human problem.
Continue reading “Head-Nodders”
We were at a reunion gathering of our extended family when a distant cousin excitedly called his wife over to see my dad’s hands. He was amazed that Daddy’s hands looked like his deceased father’s hands. I looked at my hands and they looked like Dad’s. Two of my brother’s hands are also similar.
Continue reading “Hands of My Father”
Some folks just don’t know how to be happy! They chase a dream that is just beyond their grasp and are blind to the blessings in their hand.
Continue reading “Simple Pleasures”
I was raised in a working-class family who had risen out of Depression Era poverty. Most of our neighbors were either poor or slowly rising to middle-class status. Our exposure to rich people was rare.
Continue reading “Work With Your Own Hands”My daddy was born in 1914 in the ridges of Northeast Alabama. He was deserted by his father when he was a school-age boy and “raised” by his single mother in the midst of the Great Depression. He was raised dirt-poor.
Continue reading “Daddy Bought a Nissan”
Pathway Journey 