MORE CUTS AND SCARS

A while back, I wrote a post about several times I had accidentally cut myself. Well, in case you were wondering, those were not the only times I’ve been cut. I want to share a few more today and hopefully, you’ll be entertained for a few minutes as you delve a little deeper into my life lessons.

I had been working at my new job for just a few weeks packing vinyl siding in boxes as it came off a conveyor belt. Sometimes a piece of trash would get in the vinyl somewhere along the way and it would make a hole in the piece of siding. When that happened we would have to quickly saw the piece of siding off behind the hole with a hacksaw and feed it back into the track between the rollers.

One night, a huge hole formed so I grabbed the hacksaw and cut the piece of siding as fast as I could, but I wasn’t fast enough to get it back into the rollers in time. I had to try it again so I grabbed the quick-moving siding with my left hand and the saw with my right hand and started sawing again. After only two strokes, I stopped. To my shock, the second stroke had cut my thumb almost completely off.

I ran to the restroom and washed my thumb in the sink. I could see that the saw had cut a trench in my thumb as wide as the teeth on the blade. There was only a small section of the nail and flesh left, and I was in a lot of pain.

I went to the emergency room and got it patched up. Then I spent the next week at work pushing a broom for twelve hours. That was worse than the accident itself. I finally was able to start doing more after a week and soon I was back to regular work.

Several years later, I picked up a small, metal pipe at work to toss it in the scrap truck. As I tossed it, I simply pushed it off the tip of my middle finger to watch it flip into the trailer as I had several times before. I didn’t get to watch it flip that time because as it left my hand, it took a piece of my finger with it. There was a metal burr on the end of the pipe and it sliced right into my flesh. More pain and more bandages, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

I have had some pretty bad scrapes and cuts and cracks. A few of them have been on, or around my head, but not many directly on my face. There was that one time, though. My wife’s dad had a camper he was using as a storage shed. He had built a deck around two sides of it. We lived just down the road.

My oldest son and I were doing something there and I stepped up onto the deck which was only a few feet high. The sun was setting in the sky, and I was facing West so it was shining right in my eyes. Just as both feet hit the deck, I came to a quick stop. It was a hard stop, too. My face had hit the end of a TV antenna pole that was propped up on the deck at about a thirty-degree angle. It struck me at the top of my nose right between my eyes.

My vision became blurry for a minute or so. When I felt to see how bad it was, then I felt the blood and I felt the pain arrive. When I looked at my hand it was bloody. I told my son we needed to go before I passed out. We made it home and I cleaned it up and got to feeling better, but I still have the scar to remind me of that painful day.  

Let me give you one more for the road. I was picking a few things up off the floor at work. I don’t remember what it was but there were several of them. I think it might have been trash or screws or washers. I don’t know. I guess it really doesn’t matter because what happened next is what I want to tell you about.

When I bent over to pick up that last, whatever, I would never have imagined what happened next could even be possible. As I raised back up, my head was abruptly stopped by the sharp corner of an electrical panel. I hit it hard, and it cut deep. I think it took three stitches to close the wound. I’m not sure about that either. The whole thing is a bit blurry. Anyway, I feel I was blessed in all of these situations because each one could have been worse. I truly believe that old saying, “It could always be worse.”

I feel fortunate to have experienced all I have in my life, and I’d like to think that I learned valuable lessons from each experience. If nothing else, hopefully, I at least learned not to do the same thing again.

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TO ALL THE DOGS I'VE LOVED BEFORE

I remember a song I heard in the early Eighties called “To All the Girls I’ve Loved Before.” It was written by Hal David and Albert Hammond. It has been recorded by several artists and bands, in several different languages, but the one I remember the most is the version by Julio Iglesias and Willie Nelson, from 1984. I have always loved parodies of songs and I’ve written several over the years, so when I was thinking about a name for this story about dogs I’ve loved and lost, the title “To All the Dogs I’ve Loved Before.” just jumped out at me.

I remember having several different pets, other than dogs, that I truly loved. Most of them loved to receive affection but were not that great at returning it. There’s no animal that I know of that returns affection quite like a dog. Their love seems to be unconditional.

The first dog I remember having as a friend was named Clete. I wrote about him a while back in the post titled “Our Best Friend.” I’ll put a link at the end of this post in case you missed it. Check it out to see the strange way he got his name. I don’t have a clue what breed he was, but he was a brown and white mid-sized dog. He was with us for several years before he died. He was family, and it broke our hearts when he left us.

Then, there was Bonnie. She was a mutt. Her mother was a small black Chihuahua named Pretty, but Bonnie was much bigger than her mother. She was very smart, too, but something was wrong with her. She had a litter of puppies, but they all died within a few days after birth. The same thing happened to her next litter, with one exception. As puppy after puppy died, one little black and white male kept growing. When all the others were gone, he was still going strong. I named him Sparky. He was a miracle and I loved him. I was so happy he didn’t die, but that happiness was cut short. Early one morning when I went to see him, I found that he had died during the night. I was so heartbroken.

My aunt, who was my dad’s sister, had given Bonnie to my parents, and they had let me have her. I was told my aunt wanted her back. By this time she had given birth to another litter of puppies. They all died except two. Those two had made it several months and were still going strong. I named my favorite one Dee Cee from the name of a pair of jeans I had at the time. My grandmother said I could only keep one dog so I gave Bonnie back to my aunt and later, I gave the other dog to a distant uncle. When I would come home from school DeeCee would always run out to meet me and jump up into my arms. We played together all the time. Once again, I had allowed myself to love an animal, setting myself up for another heartbreak, which did eventually come.

One day we came home and my best friend wasn’t there to meet me. I searched the neighborhood and looked everywhere for him, but hours turned to days, and days turned to weeks, and I finally realized he was gone for good. I never saw him again.

I had other dogs over the years, but I wouldn’t let myself get too attached to them, so when something happened to them, I wouldn’t be hurt so bad. Several years ago I wrote a short story called “Billy And His Strange Pet.” It was an allegory or parable about my experience with losing pets that I loved. I’ll put a link at the end of this post in case you missed that one.

I grew up and had children of my own, but I still would not allow myself to get attached to animals. Several years ago, God revealed some things to me about myself, and he began to soften my calloused heart. That healing started with a true understanding of forgiveness and continued on to include an appreciation for life, love, and family.

We need to appreciate the time we have with those we love, and when they’re no longer with us, we will have the memories of the love we shared together, whether that love is shared with humans or animals. It has been said many times that love is a universal language. The Bible says God is Love (1 John 4:8, 16) and love covers all sins (Proverbs 10:12), so everything we do should be done with love (1 Corinthians 16:14). Give love, and cherish the love you receive. In the end, it will make a world of difference, to you and everyone in your life.

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RELATED POSTS BELOW ---

Our Best Friend
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com/2017/05/our-best-friend.html

Billy And His Strange Pet 
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com/2015/07/billy-and-his-strange-pet.html

I Forgive You, Mr. Richmond
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com/2015/08/i-forgive-you-mr-richmond.html

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ASLEEP ON THE JOB

If you’ve been following my blog or read my books, you know I’m not one of those Christians who pretend they’ve never done anything wrong. We all have a past, and at some point, we've all said and done things that God has told us not to. The Bible says we've all sinned (Romans 3:23) and none of us are righteous (Romans 3:10-12). We like to think we're good on some level, but without Jesus, we're nothing. Ronnie Freeman sings a song that says, “The only thing that’s good in me is Jesus.” That's a profound statement, and no matter what we like to think about ourselves, it's a very true statement.

God tells us in Hebrews 8:12, that after we come to Jesus and have been forgiven for our sins, he doesn't remember them anymore. That doesn't mean that God loses his memory. He says the same thing in Isaiah 43:25. It simply means that he doesn't hold our past against us.

Satan, on the other hand, does hold our past against us. He uses our past in any way he can, to hurt us, and keep us from moving forward. God forgives us, but he can use our past to bless others, both by their learning from our experiences and by us using what we learn to help them. People can come to trust and believe in God when they see what he's done in our lives, the way he has changed us, and the things he's brought us through. That’s one reason why I tell people about my past. I want others to know they're not alone in their struggles and that there is hope in Jesus.

Everything that has happened in my past hasn't always been bad. I've had many good things happen to me, lots of funny things, and I've had a lot of good, clean, fun times with my family and friends throughout my whole life. I guess I write more about the negative things because I want to share the lessons I learned from them, but I want to find better ways to share more of my positive experiences.

As I said before, I left home when I was sixteen years old, and for about three years I did whatever I wanted to. I did whatever I thought was fun and entertaining. I certainly wasn't living a moral, or healthy lifestyle. I was very unhappy. I wanted to do better so I made several changes. One of them was that I started going to church again.

That’s when I met Jesus and gave my life to him. He gave me a new job that I really loved, with an awesome supervisor who was a godly man. It's amazing how God can change a person's life if we just allow him to. Many of us are so self-destructive that we get in the way of God's blessings. We want what we want and often refuse to even consider doing what God wants us to do. Jesus said if we will first seek his kingdom and his righteousness, then he'll give us all that we need. I started seeing that in my life as I submitted my will to my heavenly Father, and the joy in my heart was unbelievable.

I was still young, and I still liked to go out and have fun, only now it was all good, clean fun with some of my younger cousins and other young people from the church. I was really enjoying my life for the first time in years. We had services several nights each week. We had Sunday services, prayer meetings, prayer service, youth night, and choir practice. Many times we would go out to eat before or after church. We would take somebody home or just ride around the town.

My new job was farther away than what I was used to, so I had to get up pretty early to get to work on time. Some days I would be really tired by lunchtime. I was reading the Bible every chance I got, so that's what I would do while I ate lunch if I didn’t fall asleep. One day, I was so tired that all I wanted to do was sleep during lunch. I had an hour, so I set the alarm on my watch, went into the sample room, and lay down on the sofa. As soon as I closed my eyes, I was out.

When lunch was over and I hadn't returned to the line, my supervisor and the floater started looking for me. When they found me, I was still in a deep sleep. They thought it would be funny to wake me up by screaming and beating on something. When I actually woke up, I was standing in the corner of the room holding my chest, and they were both laughing so hard they could barely breathe. As startling as it was at first, I'm glad they did it that way, rather than yelling and cursing, or firing me like some supervisors might have done. We all had a good laugh and went back to work. Thanks, Bobby and Al. I miss you guys.

Memories are funny things. They have the power to change our mood in a variety of ways. Some memories can make us sad, some can make us angry, and some can make us smile, laugh, and bring us all kinds of joy. We should try our best to keep the good memories on top of the pile. They can help us to be happier as we realize how blessed we really are.

Related Topic: Once Saved, Always Saved

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400 MILES FROM HOME

If you’ve read my book, “The Journey To Heaven,” you know I left home when I was sixteen years old and started using alcohol and drugs and doing many of the bad things that are usually associated with that lifestyle. After about three years of that, my life was a mess. I was a wreck. I wasn’t happy at all. I wanted to get my life straightened out and get back to being me, instead of the miserable person I was. By this time I was nineteen, and I was back home with my grandmother.

I wanted to make a better life for myself so I started working on a plan. I hadn’t had a steady job for a while so that’s where I started. My cousin and I were best friends and we went looking for a job together. We were introduced to a free job training program that would give us the skills to qualify for a number of job opportunities. The catch was, it was almost four hundred miles away, and I think it was going to take about a year to complete if I remember correctly.

It sounded like the opportunity of a lifetime, so we decided to go for it. We got everything together and kissed our families goodbye, and boarded the bus for an all-day ride with a changeover to another bus. We met some young people on the bus who were returning from a weekend visit home. One of the girls was really nice and talkative. She filled us in on the operations of the place, and the teachers and students and she shared all the negative things she could think of with us. We were not too thrilled with what she told us. It sounded like a prison with some pretty mean inmates. We were young and had never been this far away from home, so the whole situation was a bit scary to us. We were hoping she was only kidding.

After we arrived, we found out that it was as bad as she had said. Maybe even worse. There was a high fence with barbed wire at the top surrounding the building and a big open yard. The doors were locked and had alarms on them. It was like a prison. Some of these young people had been in trouble and were sent there by their parents or the courts to get headed in a positive direction.

It was after midnight when we arrived. The place was a wreck. The walls were just raw plywood. They were dirty and looked like they had been there for twenty years. They had holes all in them and writing all over them. We were shown to our room which we would be sharing with two other guys. It was only big enough to hold two sets of bunk beds with just a few feet between the beds.

One of our roommates hadn’t made it back from his weekend visit home, but the other guy was snoring so loudly that it was hard to sleep. After all, that girl had told us, we had joked that we should sleep with one eye open, and when we looked at our sleeping roommate one of his eyes was halfway open. That’s funny now, but I don’t remember it being funny then.

We did finally go to sleep, but we only got a few hours. At six o’clock in the morning, the door flew open and a guy came in yelling that it was time to get up, eat breakfast, and get our day started. We had orientation all morning, which was very stressful and we had to choose what trade we wanted to start learning. We had a couple of breaks and we were sent outside to a small courtyard with a few tables.

There was a beautiful girl out there, and my cousin and I both kept looking at her. She noticed us staring and finally, she looked at us with an angry face, as she stopped right in front of us. She put her hand on her hip, and with just as much anger in her voice, she said, “Do you like what you see?” We were both shy, and neither of us liked confrontation, so I guess we were in shock having her say anything at all to us, especially with a mean tone like that. We both turned and looked at each other at the same time, and without saying a word, we both turned back to her at the same time and started nodding our heads in a YES motion. She must have thought that was funny because she just started laughing and went back to her friends. Looking back, I guess it was funny.

When lunchtime finally arrived, we were starving, and apparently so was everybody else. When we started lining up in the courtyard, outside the cafeteria, it was like a stampede of hungry cattle. My cousin and I just stepped back out of the way and stood against a brick wall, and waited for the line to diminish. When twelve O’clock came, a big tall guy started beating on the door, cursing and yelling, and saying “You better open this door!”

When they unlocked the door a few minutes later, there really was a stampede. People were pushing and shoving, and one guy got knocked down and trampled. He got up and ran on in with the others. It was madness. My cousin and I went in last and got our food and sat down. With breakfast and lunch behind us, we could see why they were acting so insane about getting in to eat lunch. The little bit of food they gave us wasn’t appetizing at all, and it wasn’t long before we were hungry again. I wasn’t a big guy then, but I still don’t think I could have lasted a year on those kinds of rations.

When we finished our last class we went back to our room. I think we had the third one from the front door. A few of the guys kept going in and out, and the door would take a minute or so to close, then it would automatically lock. My cousin said he was escaping the next time he saw the door open. We got our suitcases ready and we waited. The next time that door opened, he was gone without saying a word. Just then, one of the guys yelled to someone else to get the man who was in charge. When I heard that, I froze. I couldn’t move. I thought my friend was in big trouble and I didn’t know what to do. The man came up the hall and the one who had sent for him, told him he had a phone call. What a relief. He didn’t stay on the phone long and as soon as he hung up and was out of sight, I ran for the open door.

When I made it outside, I headed toward the bus station where we had planned to go. When I turned the corner onto the main street, I didn’t see him anywhere. He was long gone. I met a group of guys walking up the street and asked them if they had seen a guy “running” by. They said, “yeah, he went that way.” I finally caught up with him and we went on to the bus station a few miles away.

We called home and told them what had happened and that we wanted to come home. My mother and my sister’s husband headed out to pick us up. We waited there all night and in the morning before lunch, our family arrived. We were so happy to see them. We crawled into the bed of that little truck and laid down and went to sleep. When I woke up I had a pretty bad sunburn, but I was happy to be headed home. When we finally made it there that evening, the rest of our family was happy to see us, and we were so happy to see them.

In a way, this story reminds me of the one Jesus told about the prodigal son in Luke 15:11–32. He went far away from home, and some bad things happened to him, and he was hungry. He wanted to be back home, so he headed that way. When his father saw him in the distance, he didn’t wait for him to come all the way to him, he ran to meet him, and hugged him, and kissed him.

Many times, there are children of God who turn away from him, for a number of reasons. When we decide to return, our Heavenly Father is very happy and welcomes us back with open arms. He loves us and he is always there for us. So don’t be afraid to come to God and allow him to shelter you in his loving arms. It’s the best place you can ever be.

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A STRANGE TALE

Ricky had just graduated from high school and was preparing himself for college. A few of his friends had been telling him about a new friend they had met a few weeks earlier out in the woods just south of town. This was not a man, but a strange creature with strange powers, but soon, Ricky’s friends talked him into going to meet this stranger.

At first, Ricky was afraid, but his friends assured him that the creature would not harm him. He promised Ricky joy and happiness and vowed to make every part of his life better than it had ever been before.

The creature was strange, yes, but very fascinating. After Ricky got to know it, he was no longer afraid and began to spend more and more time with it. By the end of the Summer, they had become best friends. By this time Ricky had his own place on the College campus and his best friend had moved in.

When Ricky was feeling bad, his friend was always there to make him feel better. When he was feeling down, he could always count on his friend to cheer him up. Ricky soon discovered that his best friend had a strange power. When he couldn’t sleep, his friend would work his magic, and before long Ricky would be in dreamland.

After some time enjoying this perk, Ricky started noticing something strange happening. The creature began to take control, and started putting Ricky to sleep when he needed to be awake, and would keep him asleep long after he needed to wake up.

Ricky was missing appointments, and he wasn’t keeping plans he had made with family and friends. He was late for classes and his on-campus job way too often, and he was unable to do anything about it. The creature was now in complete control of his life.

Eventually, he lost his friends, and his relationships with his family members were on the rocks. He lost his job at the school and his grades were suffering severely. All he had left was his friendship with this strange creature who was now controlling his life. He now saw this creature as a demon, instead of the magical, fun-loving, happy-go-lucky pal he had met only a short time ago.

He wanted out. He wanted to go back to the time before he had met the creature and get his life back, but it seemed impossible. He seemed to have no power over his own life. What could he do? How could he ever escape?

As Ricky sat thinking, trying to find a solution, he remembered his grandmother, and something she had always told him. She knew a man who could help people in any situation. Ricky knew he needed help. He knew he couldn’t do this on his own. With one last act of desperation, he knelt down to pray, and ask Jesus to help him defeat this monster that had taken over his life.

As he prayed, he felt a peace come over him. He knew everything would be alright now. Jesus would be by his side every step of the way. He knew Jesus would help him overcome this demon. And he did. Today Ricky is free from the power of that monster that many call alcohol. He has a wonderful life with a great family, and he’s truly happy.

If you’re a slave to alcohol, drugs, or anything else, Jesus can help you. He can set you free from addiction and give you a new life. All you have to do is ask him. You can trust him. He has set millions free from addiction. He did it for me, and he can do the same for you. In Matthew 7:7, Jesus said, “Ask, and you shall receive.”

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My books are available in paperback and digital format on Amazon @ 
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THE DAY THEY ALL FORGOT

Last week, we were watching Veggie Tales with our grandson and Jr. Asparagus was having a bad day. It was evening, and in spite of all his subtle hints, nobody had wished him a happy birthday. There was not even a hint of a surprise party or cake and ice cream. Not even so much as a cookie. It seemed everybody had forgotten that today was his birthday.

After his mother tried to comfort him, with what she thought was wrong, he finally broke down and told her the real reason he was upset. When she broke the news to him, he was shocked. Today wasn’t his birthday after all. It was a leap year and his birthday will not be until tomorrow. That reminded me of the time something similar happened to me. It wasn’t a leap year, but my whole family actually did forget my birthday.

It was the morning of my 12th birthday. I woke up all excited. I was another year older. Actually, I was only a day older, but it had been a year since my last birthday. I was used to not getting a lot of presents so I wasn’t expecting to. That never bothered me too much, but I was at least expecting some cheerful “happy birthday” wishes from my family.

My sisters and I were out of school for the Summer and we were spending a few days with our parents and our little sister at their house. Our grandmother was there with us and she had never forgotten my birthday before, but there was no festive salutation from her either.

So many times I’ve seen the scenario, on TV and in movies, where everybody pretends to have forgotten someone’s birthday while secretly planning a surprise party for them. My family wasn’t anything like that, so it never even entered my mind. They had simply forgotten.

I was hurt deeply. I was sad, but I was also a little angry about it, too. I decided I would just wait and see how long it would take them to remember, or if they would at all. I wasn’t going to say anything about it that day, or ever. I must not be that important to them if none of them could even remember that today was the 12th anniversary of the day I came into the world. I doubt that I was that philosophical, but that about sums up how I was feeling at the time.

As the hours slowly crept along, it became harder and harder to remain quiet about it. Soon, it was all I could do to keep from shouting out loud, “HOW COULD ALL OF YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN MY BIRTHDAY!?” I resisted the urge until noon. I had to say something to someone. Finally, when we were alone, I told my sob story to my sister who I was closest to. I asked her not to say anything to anyone else, and I truly meant it. I still wanted to see how long it would be, but she told them.

They all came and said they were sorry and wished me a “Happy Birthday.” My mom got busy baking me a cake. I don’t remember any gifts or cards, but I remember feeling a lot better after all the attention everybody gave me. I felt bad about all the negative thoughts and feelings I had for half a day.

I have since realized that people forget things sometimes. I have forgotten plenty in my lifetime, even some very important things. It happens, and I’ve forgotten family members' birthdays, several times over the years. What we have to realize is, just because someone forgets a special occasion in our lives, it doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t care about us. The older we get, the more responsibility we have, and the more responsibility we have, the more stress we have, and the more stress we have the more likely we are to forget something. After all, we’re only human. The good news is, our Heavenly Father has a great memory. He loves us with a love that is so pure and deep that we cannot truly understand it. In Isaiah 49, he tells us he could never forget us.

Isaiah 49:15-16  
15  Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yes, they may forget, yet I will not forget you.  
16  Behold, I have engraved you upon the palms of my hands;

The Father loves us so much that he gave his only Son to take our punishment for our sins and to die in our place (John 3:16). Jesus loves us so much that he was willing to do it. God tells us that we should love each other as strongly (John 13:34, Ephesians 5:2). If everyone had that kind of love for others, just imagine what a wonderful world this could be.

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My books are available in paperback and digital format on Amazon @ 
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CUTS, SCARS, AND LESSONS LEARNED

If you know me, you know that I’ve had my share of misfortune. I’ve had plenty of bad things happen to me as I was growing up. I certainly understand that plenty of others have had a much rougher life than I have. I only mention mine to show what God has brought me through. I have had a few major things happen to me, but for the most part, the bad things I’ve experienced were small and spread out over time. There are a few things that I’ve been through that I had absolutely no control over, but as I’ve grown older I’ve come to realize that many of the bad things I’ve experienced, I brought on myself.

I’ve also realized that there is a lesson to be learned from anything that happens in life. Sometimes the lesson is to “never do that again.” Other times the lesson can have a much deeper impact, and can even change the course of our lives forever.

The stories I want to share with you in this post were not life-altering events. These were some of the less significant ones, but I did learn some important lessons from all of them. As you may have noticed from the title, all these events have a common theme. If you've been following my blog, or if you've read my books, then you know that a lot of stuff happened to me when I was twelve years old. That’s where I want to start with this post.

On his latest visit, my dad had a slingshot he had made from a forked tree limb shaped like the letter Y. He had used a piece of leather, a couple of strips of rubber from an old inner tube, and some nylon fishing string to hold it all together. I wanted to make one of my own, so I gathered up all the parts, including a nice Y-shaped limb I cut from a tree in our yard.

My grandmother and my sisters had walked to the store just up the road. I didn’t want to go because I wanted to finish making my slingshot. I wanted it to look nice and smooth so I needed to cut off a knot that was near the center to make both sides look the same. That’s when it happened. After a tough few seconds of cutting, the knife sliced through the rest of the knot. That’s not all it sliced through though. It cut right into my index finger and the blood began to pour.

As many times as I had seen my own blood, you would think I would have been calm about it, but no. It was bad. I panicked. All I could think to do was run to my grandmother for help, but wait! She wasn’t there. The next thing I remember, I was running up the road toward the store as fast as I could go. They had just started back home when I got to the store. My grandmother put some kind of a rag on my finger, maybe one of her handkerchiefs, I don’t remember exactly what it was but she calmed me down and we went back home. She cleaned my hand and got the bleeding stopped and bandaged it up. It healed in no time, but I still have the scar to remind me of that experience. The lesson I learned that day is, Always cut away from yourself, never toward you, and that my grandmother was an awesome woman with a head full of knowledge, and a heart full of love.

I was probably just a few years older when I got my next major cut. I’m certainly not proud of it at all, but I used to hit the wall or throw things when I was angry. This was one of those days, but instead of hitting the wall, I hit the door. That’s when I realized that I had punched through a frosted glass window which was much thicker than regular glass. It sliced a four-inch groove in my arm, taking the skin completely off. I was in pain for quite a while.

Then a few years after that, I was angry again and went to slap a glass off of the sink. It was an empty peanut butter jar, and those things were thick. It hit some other dishes before it left my hand and I was cut again. It was bad, too. It sliced a hole about an inch wide and an inch deep and it wouldn’t stop bleeding. I tried everything. My grandmother did all she knew to do, but it was no use. About an hour had passed, and what looked like a gallon of blood lay on the front porch before I finally decided I might need a doctor. My grandmother sent my sister to get our mother. When we got to the hospital, I had been bleeding for almost two hours.

When the nurse removed the rag I had wrapped around my hand, a huge amount of blood poured out into a puddle on the floor. She took me back to a room and told me to hold pressure on the cut until the doctor could see me. When he came in he told me to let go so he could get a look at it. The second he took my hand, a stream of blood shot out and sprayed all the way up to the ceiling. I was focused on my hand and the stream of blood, so I didn’t see the doctor’s face, but I can imagine what it looked like as he quickly stepped back and said something that scared me to death. I’ll never forget that tone of shock and urgency in the words he said. With surprise and concern in his voice, he said, “Woah! We’ve cut a main artery.”

It’s funny thinking about his reaction today, but it wasn’t funny then at all. I could have died. I lost a lot of blood and I had a terrible time getting that cut to heal. I kept it bandaged up and it couldn’t dry. It swelled up from internal bleeding, and all the stitches pulled loose. When it did finally heal, it left an awful scar that produced excruciating pain every time it was bumped. That lasted more than twenty years, and believe it or not, it’s still tender to this day. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that experience.

Although it took several more years and a few more incidents, I learned not to throw and hit things when I’m angry. I also learned that the kind of anger I was experiencing was not normal, or healthy. I had some things I had to work through. I thank God and my wonderful family for loving me and supporting me through it all.

A close, personal relationship with Jesus Christ will work miracles in a person’s life. I know I sometimes sound like a broken record, but that kind of relationship only comes through prayer and Bible study, and having a close, personal relationship with Jesus is the only way we will ever make it to heaven. So, If you haven’t been born again, ask him to save you today. If you have been born again, ask him to draw you closer and stay in constant communication with him through prayer and Bible study. That’s the key.

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OUR BEST FRIEND

When I was really young I remember visiting my Aunt who lived just through the woods. We walked there quite often with our grandmother. She had a dog named Clete. I don’t know what kind of dog he was but my sister and I liked him a lot, and I guess he liked us, too. We played with him every time we would visit. Then one day she told us that he once belonged to her brother, who was our uncle. His name was Marvin.

Later, we learned a couple of interesting things about Uncle Marvin and Clete. First, Marvin was our uncle’s middle name. His first name was actually Cletus. He named the dog after himself and just called him Clete for short. Cletus is a strange enough name to me, but Clete doesn’t even sound like a name at all. I’m glad I found out where the name came from.

The second interesting thing we found out was that Uncle Marvin had given Clete to me and my sister, and our aunt was just keeping him for us. I never did find out why. Maybe we were too young. I don’t know. Eventually, though, we got to take him home. We had to keep him tied on a chain in our side yard, but we played with him every day. He was like a member of our family. He was our best friend.

We moved several times over the next few years and our buddy went with us. We grew up and he was still there, just as loyal and loving as ever. Then one day he got sick. We got medicine for him and he seemed to get better, but eventually, he died.

I’ll never forget the pain I felt knowing he was sick and there was nothing I could do to make him better. I wanted to hold him and pet him and comfort him, but we couldn’t even touch him. I’ll also never forget the pain I felt when he died. All my sisters and I could do was cry. We were all heartbroken. He was our best friend for so many years, and we loved him very much.

We missed our best friend after he died, but we still had each other and we were glad for that. At least we didn’t have to miss him alone. Our grandmother was there for us, to hug us, and hold us, and tell us it would be okay. We also had Jesus to help us through that tough time. Our grandmother had told us all about him early on, and how much he loves us, and the animal he created. She told us about death and why everything has to die. It’s because of sin.

When God created our world, everything was perfect and he gave everything to Adam to take care of. Then Satan came along, and Adam, by disobeying God, forfeited his governorship to the father of lies. Then Jesus came and lived a sinless life and died, and was resurrected, and he took the kingdom back from Satan.

Yes, death is still here, but it has no power over those who trust and obey God. One day Jesus will physically return, and destroy death and sin once and for all, and those who have been born again will live with him forever. I’m looking forward to that day. I can’t wait to see Jesus. I’ll also get to see my grandmother, my dad, and my sister all again. I don’t know about Clete. The Bible doesn’t say whether or not we will have our animal friends back, but I certainly think it’s possible. I know that God is powerful enough to do anything. I’d like to see Clete again, and all our animal friends we have had over the years as well as our family.

It’s a blessing to have family and friends in our lives, whether they are humans or animals. It’s also a blessing to be part of God’s family and to know that Jesus is there for us, no matter what we have to go through in life. He’s our friend, and he loves us. He wants to be our best friend. If he’s not your friend then, you don’t know what you’re missing. Get to know him, today.

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DEATH IS EASIER TO ACCEPT WHEN...

It’s hard to say goodbye to anyone we care about, but it’s even more difficult when it’s a family member; especially when death is the one at the door, ready to remove them from your life. You wish you had said more and done more. You think about the time you could have spent with them but didn’t. Now all you can do is cry, and pray, and hope they can hear you when you tell them you love them one last time before they slip away.

That’s all we could do as we stood there in the hospital, waiting for my dad to die. He had accepted it, and so had we. What else could we do? We had been praying and praying. For months, we had been asking God to heal him and get him back on his feet. He had improved several times, but it never lasted long.

Things had gotten so bad that he just wanted to die. He was so sick and weak. He was tired of hurting. His heart rate had dropped, his blood pressure was really low, and his potassium level was almost non-existent. He was vomiting up bile and stomach acid. His kidneys were not working, and he had diarrhea. He was passing blood through his stool and he had a high fever. The doctors did all they could, but they told us they didn't expect him to make it this time.

I thought about how strong he had always been, or maybe he was just plain stubborn. I don’t know. For years, he never went to the doctor. I never remember him having any major health problems. He had back surgery when he was nineteen years old. He had a pretty bad case of ulcers about twenty-five years ago. After that, he started going to the doctor regularly. A few years ago he had surgery to repair a hernia. He found out he had a touch of diabetes, and his blood pressure was a little high, so he took some pills for that and had to watch what he ate. Overall, though, he seemed to be doing okay for his age.

Then, that all changed. In the Autumn of 2015, he started passing fresh blood through his stool. He went to the doctor and discovered he had a tumor inside his colon. It was cancer. He had it removed, along with part of his colon. Not long after that, he got really sick and had to go back to the hospital. This time it was his gallbladder. They opened him up to remove it, but it was so inflamed and swollen that they couldn’t get it out immediately. It was actually stuck to his liver and intestines. The doctor said it was a big mess in there. It was the worst case he had ever seen. They closed him back up and put in some tubes to drain all the infection out before it could be removed, and they sent him home. He went back every few weeks for the doctor to check and see if it had improved enough to operate.

Then he started seeing and hearing things that weren’t there so he had to go back to the hospital. This time, the doctors said he had the symptoms of early dementia. He was agitated and upset, so they started giving him something to calm him down. It only made him worse. He was seeing things and dreaming terrible dreams, and he believed it was all real. He was so afraid he actually called 911 from the hospital. He was constantly trying to escape because he thought someone was trying to kill him, and eventually he believed that they actually had. It was so sad. It broke my heart to see him in that condition and to know there was nothing I could do about it. He was too weak to stand and walk by himself, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He crawled out of bed, and fell to the floor, and damaged his knee and ankle.

His potassium kept dropping to dangerous levels so that was a factor in opening him back up as well. They finally got it to stay up long enough to get his gallbladder out, and soon he was back in his right mind. The infection from the gallbladder had poisoned his system and made him delusional. Then the medicine they gave him to calm him down had only added to that. It was great to be able to have a normal conversation with him again.

We had to put him in rehab to try and get him walking again before he could go home. He was still so weak he was unable to do much for his rehabilitation. His potassium levels were still crazy and then several other problems developed and he just went downhill from there.

Now he was lying there dying, and there was nothing we could do to change that fact. We kept praying and asking God to make him well. The next day his vital signs all stabilized, and he was awake and talking. God answered our prayers once again. We were all so thankful. They moved him to a room, and in about a week he was able to go back to rehab. He was still not strong enough to do the exercises, and he was still sleeping a lot. He was still very weak and he was not improving. He got dehydrated again so the doctor sent him back to the hospital, and this time the ER doctor discovered that his Magnesium was low. He said Magnesium works with Potassium, and low levels of either one affect the heart and blood pressure.

More tests revealed what his stomach problem was. He had a pretty bad ulcer, so the doctor prescribed some medication for that. After getting the Magnesium and Potassium levels back up, he was more alert, wide awake, and laughing and joking again. He could raise himself up and sit on the side of the bed so they released him.

He didn’t want to go back to the nursing home for rehab, and we didn’t want him back there either. He wanted to go home. So, my mother and my sisters and I took turns staying with him until he could get well, but he never did. He only continued to get worse. He was in and out of the hospital for several weeks, then he was put on Hospice and we had to prepare ourselves all over again for him to die. It was so hard seeing him suffer all those months, but it was even harder to say our final goodbyes when we buried him.

We had hope and we believed God was going to heal him. I guess that’s why it was so hard to accept his death. He was supposed to get well. We were waiting for that miracle, but it never came.

The true miracle had already come several months before he got sick. He had accepted Jesus as his Savior and was born again. We saw a big change in him. He had been a cruel man. He had a filthy mouth and wasn’t considerate of anyone. He said whatever came into his mind, and it was usually vulgar. He was hateful and vindictive, mean-spirited, and sometimes hard to be around.

We were all amazed at the transformation God took him through in those months. For years, he sang and recorded Country music. Then he started singing and recording gospel songs, too. God had made a big change in him. That was the true miracle. For him to change like that after all those years had to be the work of the Creator.

It has been almost seven years since he died and I still miss him terribly. The new him, that is, and I’m looking forward to seeing him again after Jesus returns. The greatest gift anyone can give to their family when they die is the peace of knowing that they were saved and ready to go. It was sad to see our dad suffer and die, but, it would have been so much worse if we did not have that assurance. Think about it for a minute. If you were to die today, could your family have that assurance, and even more important, do you have it? If not, it’s time to do something about it. We’re not promised tomorrow. Jesus wants to save you. He wants to give you peace and eternal life. Will you let him?

If you need more information on how to be saved, read “What Must I Do To Be Saved?” You can have that assurance today, and leave your loved ones with the peace of mind that comes with knowing you were saved when you died, and you can have the assurance of eternal life with Jesus, who willingly suffered and died for you. Don’t put it off. Do it today.

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My Blogs
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com
https://teddylynn.wordpress.com

© 2017 Teddy Lynn – All Rights Reserved

My books are available in paperback and digital format on Amazon @ 
https://www.amazon.com/Teddy-Lynn/e/B01MZDB6L6

UPDATED 02/11/2023