So here is the story.  don't laugh too hard.

     It was Wednesday evening.  I was running late.  I was working
as an assistant pastor, unpaid I might add, in a church of about
just 10 to 15 people.  I was wearing my suit and tie and polished
cowboy boots.  I didn't wear a cowboy hat yet in those days like I
do now so this is probably why what I am about to describe
happened in the first place.  If you don't understand what I just
said, you'll have to read my testimony on my website called, God
Might Where A Cowboy Hat.  Anyhow, back to the story.

     It was summer.  We only had a window air conditioner at the
time and not central air like we do now.  So, I get dressed up, or
all gussied up as my mother in law used to say, in my Sunday Go To
Meeting clothes.  There is one problem.  It is hot because it is
summer and the front of our home faces toward the mountains.  The
sun, when it starts dropping down over the mountains, shines into
our dining room and partly into our living room.  Things really
heat up then.  So, here I am, in my suit, ready to go, but when I
got to looking for my cane, it was missing.  Cotton Pick it.  My
grandchildren, I remember, had been playing with it earlier that
day and I failed to get it back from the.  I ran for our front
bedroom, which was piled high with boxes, because I was moving my
office into that room.  Nothing was set up yet but there was boxes
everywhere.  This room was super hot, no air conditioning at all,
and the sun was practically melting the aluminum blinds over the
windows as it bore a hole into the small room.  I looked and
looked, bending and standing, and almost crawling around on my
hands and knees trying to snag that cane among all the junk on the
floor.  I could not find it and no one was around to help look.  I
was getting hotter and sweatier and madder by the minute.  I
started talking to myself.  It was about the grand children and
how they would never be allowed to even touch my cane again.
Furthermore, I felt my blindness barking at me and if I could just
see, I could find the dumb cane.  Of course, later I realized that
if I could see, I would not have been looking for a cane in the
first place.  Eventually, I had talked myself into one hot mamma
of an attitude.  In case you don't know what that means, and if
you don't want to know, don't read what comes up next, but it
means, down south, and where I came from, one hell of a bitch.
Well, there goes my Christian standing among the holy.  Wait till
you read the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey would say.

     Here it comes.  By now, I was slamming around this hot oven
of a room, sweat pouring off my masculine muscular body as I
growled ominously like a wild grisly bear just coming out of
hibernation, tossing boxes out of my way, and almost ready to
strike a match to burn down the whole place.  so out of anger, I
prayed.  "God, where is that cane? as I continued my search for
what I knew had to be there some place on the floor.  Suddenly,
after taking a step forward, I crashed into a box with something
heavy inside of it and it did not move but I did.  I fell forward,
my arms wind milling to snag something to keep myself from
falling.  Alas, there was nothing, and head over heels I went,
suit and all, over the box and on to the floor.  It is what came
next that is funny but I don't think the church leaders of echurch
will think so.  Yes, if you are thinking ahead of me, I said, and
no fooling, I said it out loud, G D it.  At first I thought I
would be struck by lighting any second for what I had done.  Then,
as I lay on the floor, I began laughing.  It was almost like
somebody, who shall go unnamed, was laughing at me, too, and no it
was not the devil.  To this day, I am convinced, God pushed me, or
allowed me, to fall over the box to teach me a lesson.  I also
believe he laughed at his own prank, too.  Yes, then I found the
cane laying inches from my fingers as I lay on the floor.  You
can't tell me God didn't have a hand in this one.  Getting up, I
went to church, riding with the pastor, and yes, it was a very
humbling service for me that night.  No, I never told my story
publicly until now.

Phil.


Jesus Is Your Problem.  Luke 12:5
www.SafePlaceFellowship.com