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We enjoy the blessings of life even more when we have contrasting days of bitter pain. Sometimes those hurtful days are caused by people, sometimes by circumstances. Those moments take our breath away. They threaten our will to live.
When those inevitable moments brashly intrude into your life, one indomitable lifeline gives us a reason to keep on living. It is hope. Never give up hope.
Yes, I know. People can be very cruel. Sometimes that even justify their reasons to be hurtful. Do not focus on them. Revenge will never give you lasting satisfaction. It is the very essence of the motive of the bad people who heaped pain in your life. Instead, look beyond and hold on to the hope that is there.
Sometimes it is the hope to be with the people whom you love. Or it may be to return to a place where you enjoy life at its best. Never give up. Hope will give you what you need to persevere. Here is a look at this book that is one its way:
One of my writing projects tracks through the days when life was tough. Here is a description. It is going to be released soon. I hope that it will give you a reason to always hope.
Abandoned? Betrayed? Fired? Victimized? Disillusioned? Disappointed? No one plans for these painful moments in life. They happen no matter how much we try to live a life that is free from troubles. People are a part of the problem. Sometimes we are tempted to think that life would be great if it were not for people. Yet, life is all about people. We need them and want them. It is just certain ones that we could do without.
Then there are troubles that put a hitch in our step. Circumstances beyond human control crowd into our lives, uninvited intrusions of the painful type. Sometimes it is loss. Other times it is missed opportunity. We watch as good things happen to others. Now, we purse our lips and wonder why we could not be the fortunate ones just once.
One treasure in life that we who have lived through the agonies of life can know better than anyone who has never had difficulty is hope. We can choose to search for the bright side. By sheer determination and unabashed faith we can resist the urge to quit and choose to never give up. Instead, we optimistically keep going and believe. Life will get better. Never give up. Always hope.
Simple living is a blessing. Yet, life does not always allow that lifestyle to exist for very long. Each of our lives is complicated with the lives of other people, circumstances that pressure normal living or troubles that need to be addressed. Thankfully, in between disasters, horrific strains or disappointing people many of us live lives that are quietly uneventful. Those common days captured my curiosity.
I lived each day trying to capture how special it was just to be alive. No day is wasted when we pay attention to how valuable it is . We can touch the life of someone else and give them a bit of a boost. Afterall, we are all on a journey to eternity and we can cheer each other on that pilgrimage.
Here is a look at one of my book projects (coming soon) that observes these common days:
Life has its high points. There are great episodes that become memories forever. Nevertheless, we all have the routine days. Those are the majority days of our existence. Is it possible to be quite frank about those 24 hour periods? Can life be taken as it comes and totaled up to hopeful come up with a sum that is positive?
I have been accused on more than one occasion of being too optimistic. My friends have teased me to take off my rose colored glasses and sulk with them from time to time. Certainly I do not begrudge my friends to have the luxury of griping once in a while. We all grouse about something that is unpleasant or uncomfortable. Yet, I have never seen a good reason to be mostly negative about life.
That choice to deliberately be positive is not being Pollyannaish. Instead, if we are cheerful by choice that decision can influence our day. A good attitude over the same challenging circumstances in life can make our days much more pleasant.
Being real does not mean that we are required to complain. Nor does it mean that we have to confess something about our weaknesses. It is sufficient that circumstances alone will make life “weak-kneed”. While we cannot change those circumstances we can choose our disposition while living through those moments.
These pages are about those days. Some of the situations are funny while others are sad. Some of those are just nothing special at all yet, even as we live those days we can come out of them with a smile and a load of cheer.
I invite you to share these pages of life with me. They are pages from real life. I enjoyed living them. I hope that you will as well.
Our stroll through the Texas Hill Country promised endless fields of Blue Bells. Vibrant flashes of Indian Paintbrush was the expected highlight of our first foray into this magical region of our newly adopted state. All of us Flatlanders were looking forward to the newly welcomed undulations of changing elevations.
Promises were underdelivered. I could see the beginnings of the Blue Bells. However, it would be a day in the future when their color exploded on the landscape.
The Paintbrush was not yet developed either. On this beautiful weekend, the sun shone on green fields like a canvas ready for the Creator to display His remarkable display. Maybe I can make a return trip soon.
This trip was not a total loss. Sporadically, a cactus was offering the only show in town. New growth and an eruption of color made my camera feel like snapping. Proportions and shapes were amazing.
Admittedly, I did laugh. The new growth from the cactus almost looked like someone had glued brussel sprouts on the pans. In an odd sort of way,it seemed right for the plant to have such peculiar appendages.
Colors beside green were very subdued. Nevertheless, the shades of green were reminders that this was the dominant color of a plant what was a factory for oxygen. We can be grateful for this special cycle of life.
Old growth from this aged plant were lower to the ground. The color was deeper. Wounds from some kind of damage had scabbed over. Time had made this ancient life find a territory and it would continue here for time beyond the onlooking humans.
Someone might wrongly assume that this plant was tired in its age. The prolific new growth would dispel that assumption. Rather, all of us slow moving silver-haired humans would instead smile. Hope would gather slowly in our veins and we would breath deeply. We have an inspiration from the high dessert of Texas.
Thank you, Mr. Cactus. You gave us all a reason to keep popping our sprouts and presenting our newness with each new season. Keep our tired old scars down on the lowside. Let us instead, stand up tall and show off the freshness in our lives for every new day.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
The crowds of people were growing. More and more cars were arriving. Each one was filled with weary workers who eagerly anticipated a weekend full of fun, fellowship, spiritual insight and personal challenge.
Every time I turned there was someone new to meet and greet. Since I was one of the invited guests, I had scores of names to remember, stories to hear and chances to engage new changes in the lives of people whom God was actively working. The job of a speaker goes way beyond the delivery of a timely message.
We were escorted to our room. There we settled in for a busy weekend. It was a familiar task that we have done many times in the past. Soon we were done and returned to the lodge to meet more people.
I connected with those who were organizing the retreat. We were registered and introduced to many of the key players. Early on we laughed and expressed our appreciation for so many who worked so hard to make this event a reality.
It was time to retreat to our room and review my message for the first session. My mind was beginning to shift away from the conversations and concentrate on the words for the lead-off sermon. It is a shift that I have trained myself to make my entire career.
Then, something special happened. We left the building through a back entrance. My eye caught something unusual, out-of-place, in contrast to what was normal. It was on the window of the door that we had just used to exit the auditorium.
Carefully, I slowly let the door close. Hopefully, I would not disturb this remarkable life form resting on one of glass panes. I had never seen anything like it.
I pointed it out to my bride. She marveled. Automatically, we both prepared our cameras to photograph the sight.
Naturally, we started a good distance away. Then, since it was seemingly undisturbed, we brought our lens closer and closer. It posed without any sign of panic.
It was a moth. Yes, a simple insect with wings. However, it looked like a leaf from a tree. Clearly out-of-place with its natural camouflage on a man-made door, it stood out.
Others gathered to see what had captured our attention. There were collective “Wow’s” and several “Oohs”. Naturally, there was one who waved off the interest, “It’s only a bug.” None of us were deterred.
Yes, it was a common insect. Nevertheless, it was very cool. Creation is always cool.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
Before we moved to Texas we did a lot of reading about this state. A lot of our reading pertained to real estate, schools, history, attractions, et cetera. One of the items that stuck out in our minds was the problem of fire ants.
It has been months since I did that reading but it left a lasting impression on my mind. Those feisty pests originated from regions far South of our border. Over time these insects have migrated north and are common in Texas. It has been a relentless march. Their invasion has a solid foothold in our country.
After a rain, when the sun pops out and the morning of the next new day makes its entrance, evidence of these critters and their nests abound. Piles of sand, characteristic of these ant mounds, spring up in all of our yards. We have learned to spot them and then act immediately to fight them.
One of those fire ant nests appeared in our flower garden. The mound was eight inches high and five inches in diameter. I took a long handled hoe and pushed the pile over with one swift motion, taking care to stand far away.
It was as if a science fiction movie was playing on my front yard. Scores of these angry ants swarmed out of the pile. They scurried around furiously looking for something to attack.
This site gave me the eebie jeebies. That’s a Koine Greek expression for “the creeps”. Or as the pirates on the high seas would exclaim, “Shiver me timbers!”
With the science of chemical engineering in my corner, I sprinkled the designated poison on this active bunch of insects. In matter of a few hours all was again quiet. Only a few surviving insects were still kicking.
One neighbor told me that they don’t bite until a swarm has crawled up your leg. Then, it is as if someone gives a signal and they all start chomping on you at once. I’ll take his word for it and hope I never find myself in that situation.
Another neighbor told us how their daughter was in the yard and sat down on the lawn to rest. She sat right on top of a fire ant hill. In an instant she was covered with welts from their painful bites.
That’s enough stories for me. I have mentally told myself to be alert, attack each new mound with resolve and never let down my guard. It is a declaration of war by all of our neighborhood against these pests.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
Procrastination is an ugly word. Who ever invented that nasty term? It must have been someone with an evil sadistic streak in them.
There are people out there who get their jollies making other people squirm. No, it is not that they feel joy in their spirit when they inflict pain on others. That would be too normal. The rest of us like the sensation of delight that comes from do something that helps others, gets ticked off as a project-well-done or leaves a legacy for others coming after us to enjoy.
Sadistic types like to hurt others. They feel that what they have done is “right”. It must have been someone like that who invented the word procrastination.
“Putting something off for a better time” is this the definition of that horrid term? Stop laughing, you and I, we feel the scourge of this word. Give us a reason to achieve a goal and we will get it done . . . eventually.
What is wrong with relaxing while planning on getting a project done? The I.R.S. is busy too. No use stressing our Federal Employees. They work for us, after all.
So, if the deadline is filing our tax returns by midnight on April 15, what is the big deal about turning them in early? Oh, some tout the amount of interest that you do not give up to Uncle Sam while he is getting free use of our tax dollars for three and a half months. Sure, there are bright people who can figure that kind of stuff out while the rest of us are trying keep our bills paid each month.
Aside from that miniscule financial picky detail, why else do we make everyone feel badly who haven’t yet turned in their taxes? When we were in school and taking a test, no one got extra credit for turning their examination early. In fact our teachers told us to take our time. If we happened to finish early, then we should go back over the test and check our answers. Is not this April 15 just like that?
We could actually make a game of it. We could plan our filing, plot out the local post offices just in case the lines are too long at one or the other, then make a final dash just before midnight to grab as much “our time” as possible. No, I am not of that stripe either; I already finished my taxes too.
My departure time for work was hours away. I gathered my gumption and headed off on my bicycle to hunt for alligators. My only weapon was my I-phone camera.
I have heard stories of these reptiles making visits in our neighborhood. One family was startled when a five foot gator used their doggy door and relaxed on their kitchen floor. I was glad that we don’t have a pet entrance. My neighbor laughed and assured me that we would have to live a lot closer to the waterways to experience a story like that.
Still, I wondered where these creatures lived when they weren’t invading the domiciles of us average Homo sapiens. 
That’s the curiosity that got my trip on two wheels humming. Maybe the morning sun would bring these beasts out into the open and I could witness one living in neighborhood pond.
South Peek is a pleasant road for an easy ride. Two and a half miles into my ride I spied my turn-off up ahead. A pedestrian walkway was zebra striped on the asphalt with bright yellow pedestrian signs accompanied with flashing lights. I turned on to the pathway that was part of the Buffalo Bayou Trail.
It wasn’t long until I turned again. Within a hundred yards from S. Peek Rd a sign on the Trail pointed to an Observation Deck. I followed the pathway to a wooden deck built over a pond.
Before a I went further I looked carefully all around the deck. Nothing seemed suspicious. I rolled my bike on the platform and saw the warning sign.
Officials have posted a warning. Feeding or enticing the alligators was a Class “C” Misdemeanor. It could be punishable by a fine up to $500. Naturally, I comply to the laws that govern our land.
I was not interested in breaking the law. Instead, I simply wanted to see an alligator in our neighborhood. Carefully and quietly I peered into the waters surrounding the deck. Nothing.
I walked over to the other side and again scanned the waters and the edges but there were no reptiles to be seen. On a log, however, there was a large terrapin. He was sunning himself and holding perfectly still but he was obvious.
No alligators but the sign still is rather exciting to have in the neighborhood. It certainly captures my attention. Maybe some day it will come true.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
Every student at Dallas Seminary loved their required class with Dr. Howard Hendricks, affectionately called “Prof”. It was there that our lives in ministry would be marked with a lifetime of skills for independent Bible Study. So many of our lives begin the day with Observation, Interpretation and Application.
As a Senior at DTS, I set my sights on an elective class taught by Prof. It was a class on Discipleship. However, the class had a very limited enrollment but the challenging prerequisite was a personal word of approval from Prof himself.
Getting approval from the Prof was going to be tricky. He was always surrounded by students, colleagues and getting an appointment with his office staff would never be in time for the enrollment deadline. My plan was to intercept him at the end of chapel in the hallway where the faculty filed out of the service.
I occupied a seat in chapel near the front, next to the door leading into the faculty hallway. During the closing prayer I slipped out of chapel, exited through that door and waited. Faculty members streamed out of their loft and I tried to be inconspicuous.
Prof’s laugh and voice broke the din of noise. He was in conversation with his colleagues, I followed. There was never a break in Prof’s stride as I followed like a hungry puppy looking for crumbs to pick up.
In a break in his conversation, I called out, “Hi Prof!” He never slowed, cocked his head toward me, “Yeah, Fong, what’s up?” Startled that he knew my name I tripped over my own tongue, stammering out my request, “May I have permission to enroll in your Discipleship class?” ”You got it, Man! See you in class.” I floated out of the chapel.
Years of ministry followed seminary. Then, I was honored to step into the position of President of a seminary. I invited Prof to be my inaugural speaker. He accepted to be a part of that very special day in my life. It was amazing.
Once during the busyness of leading a ministry of God my phone rang. ”Hey, Bruce, this is Prof calling. Don’t need anything, just called to tell you that I love you.” Click I can still hear him speaking those words from that phone call today.
The next time I see Prof will be in heaven. He graduated into the presence of His Savior today. What a blessing to be a part of the amazing legacy that he has left behind. I loved that man.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
My bow felt comfortable in my hands. The grip could not have been more ideal even if it had been custom fitted for me. It was just one of those meant to be connections with a mass-produced martial weapon as this.
Held in my left hand, this bow would be managed by my weaker side. Yet, the weight was deftly balanced with a counter weight and vibration dampener. Each limb was identical to the other and ready to load up 60 pounds of power to the missile that I would launch.
20 yards out was a cube of dense foam. It was designed for archery exercises. The science behind the target would allow this lightweight arrow catcher to absorb countless hits.
The target is in my sites. I set an arrow in place. When I draw back, the compound bow lets off and lets me hold the power in place with only half the effort.
My sighting pin is at the bottom of three. The sun illuminates the pin like it had batteries juicing a miniature light. Meticulously, I line up my 20 yard sight pin with the target.
Martial artists now blend their mind with the arrow and mentally send it to the target. It is a feeling, a mood, a sense that it is aligned perfectly. No one can tell you when to release the arrow. It is intuitive.
I squeeze the trigger release. Amazing power suddenly explodes in silence. The arrow speeds toward the target at 210 feet per second.
In less than 1/3 of a second there is a distinctive “Thwack!” when the arrow buries itself in foam target cube. My bow leans forward slightly, weighted by the balance and the follow-through.
Then, with eyes locked on the target I nocked another arrow. Without glancing down, I attached the trigger just by feel. The motion to draw the second arrow, tuck the string and align the sights was merely an extension of my body.
Again the release was smooth and fluid. In flight the arrow as just a blur. It too stuck in the foam block with rattling force.
Again the motion repeated itself. A third arrow vibrated slightly as it penetrated the target. Then, a fourth, fifth and sixth arrow hit the block.
Beyond the outstretched arm of man, an extension has been bridged. An art has been formed between mind and matter. There is a blend that the image of God is able to experience with concentration and focus. We are fearfully and wonderfully made.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
Texas is a very big state. It is so big that within its borders it has nine distinct ecological regions. These range from the Coastal Prairies to the Chihuahua Desert Mexican Mountains.
My first foray into the South Texas Brushlands was amazing. It reminded me of the bush country of South Africa. I almost expected a herd of zebra to come tearing across the desert sands as we drove down the two lane highway.
The first morning of my stay was greeted with a beautiful sunrise. Some might look disparagingly at the desert landscape and reject any notion of aesthetic quality, but I saw something very attractive. The morning was refreshing and invigorating.
Friends in the Midwest are huddled in their homes and bundling up when they leave for the day. The temperatures are consistent with February and the snow on the ground. I have the joy of being in South Texas with short sleeves and wiping the perspiration from my brow during the same month. The morning sky welcomes me to bask in the warmth of the rising sun’s rays. I am blessed.
The midday skies are laced with a light cloud cover. It gave us a little shade from the very warm sun. At the same time it highlighted the mesquite and scrub brush that dominated the grounds.
There is a drought here in Texas. It was severe last year. This year there is a respite but still not enough water to revive the land.
Grasses are parched. Bushes are dormant, trying to survive until the land is replenished with life-giving water. It looks and feels like a desert.
Nevertheless, there is a beauty in the arid land, especially when you take in the vast skies. Light plays across the heavens in an ever-changing panorama. It is fun.
Then, it was dusk. Brightness dims all around. Shadows grow long. Cooler temperatures shroud the air and give me relief.
The desert floor begins to fade and the sky commands attention with the contrasts of shape, shades and highlights. I found myself gazing overhead for long moments. No one charged for admission to the show.
Cloud formations shifted like an army on maneuvers. Variations in shades are expanded and enhanced. Everything on earth grows dark and all eyes naturally shift upwards.
The day is coming to a close. Up in the skies, the main event was still forthcoming. Sunset was spectacular. South Texas skies are amazing!
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
