Echoes from the Campfire

The good book never promised us rockin’ chairs, but it says we’re gonna have trials and tribulations… .  I just like to shut down those trials before they start up all that tributain’.”
–Lou Bradshaw  (Palouse)

“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”
–John 16:33 (NLT)
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I’ve come to the conclusion that some folks out there are strange.  We live in a society in which we have to be even more careful than ever before.  Add to the problems of the past with shysters and scoundrels, now we have hackers.  We also have millennials and snowflakes to contend with.  Now, I will be the first to admit that not all millennials are strange creatures, but there is a higher percentage of them.  The real problem is not when they were born into this world, but the character that they developed while growing up.
There have always been people of weak character.  I was reading just the other day of a somewhat mountain man, somewhat trapper, and guide.  This person had all of the training and know-how, but he lacked something within to be trusted.  Another problem he had was his personal image.  He would hire on with a group of trappers, but within months or weeks he was forced out of the group.  This happened time and time again and each time the fault was with the group, never with the individual.  It seemed like he always blamed his cheating, conniving, laziness, and cussedness on those around him–they were the ones that got him fired, not his character and work ethic.
It wasn’t long before people who worked and lived in the mountains didn’t want him around.  It was hard for him to make a living unless he was hired as a guide.  One thing he knew was the trails since he had bounced around on them for so long.  He could make it as a guide as long as there was not any extreme pressure put upon him.  He still blamed others for his own faults and began to add bitterness and anger to his character.  Finally, there came the time when he called out – someone whom he thought caused him to be shunned.  He challenged him to a dual, and the results was that he was killed.  His dying words were, “It’s not fair.”
With the cry of entitlement and sanctuaries that same phrase is becoming a motto.  You got it bucko, “Life is not fair.”  However, most of life’s problems are handled by those with character and proper work ethic.  They continue through without whimpering, whining, and blaming others.  So my sweet little snowflakes start to understand that life is not about you–never was, never will be.  When I taught I can remember the parents complaining, not usually to me, that I was too hard, too demanding in their work.  The longer I taught the more I had that complaint.  I almost shudder when I think of the future when these will be the folk that will be the ones in the political and business centers of our country.  But know what?  There still will be those of backbone and tenacity to see a job done.  I believed in the concept that I could not in all good conscience let shoddiness pass unchallenged.
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     “He’s a weak man who I’ll bet has led a weak life.”
               –John Vermillion

     “Content thyself to be obscurely good.”
               –Joseph Addison

Why are there folk out there that seem to travel this trail through life alone, or seemingly alone?  One reason is that they may be in the type of John the Baptist.  He lived in the wilderness and came out only to prepare the way of the Lord.  I think it interesting that the Lord chose a man of the wilderness to prepare His path.  Why did John live there?  Part of it was because he preferred the simple life, another reason was that the temptations of the city were not readily available and accessible.  Another reason is that the wilderness refines a person’s character.
Others are alone because they are rejected by society or a group of people, such as the man in the story above.  They cannot or will not develop character, and therefore cannot hold a job and then begin to blame others for a mistake.  They bounce from one place to another.  One of the dangers of these people is that eventually they begin to make communes of their own type and become a blight on society.

Echoes from the Campfire

MelonI’m not going to let worry…rule my life.  It seems to me that if a man is going to get anywhere in this life, he’d better start for somewhere, and have something definite in mind.”
–Louis L’Amour  (Chancy)

“For the sin of this one man, Adam, caused death to rule over many. But even greater is God’s wonderful grace and his gift of righteousness, for all who receive it will live in triumph over sin and death through this one man, Jesus Christ.”
–Romans 5:17 (NLT)
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Several years ago we went down to the Valley to pick oranges and grapefruit.  My, when they came off the tree they were so delicious.  Fruit tastes much better when it ripens on the tree.  Plus the fact that I am a very picky eater when it comes to fruit.  It must be just right, and it seems that certain years my taste buds enjoy some fruit above others (and by fruit I mean melons and berries as well).
Last year it was peaches.  They were so tasty last year; my palate was satisfied.  I went to the store the other day and the peaches looked good so I purchased a couple.  Let me tell you I wasn’t disappointed.  But as I said, I am particular.  Cherries I really like, but if they are soft, forget it; the same goes for plums and grapes.  Good cantaloupe and honeydews can’t be beat, but hard to pick a good one.  One of the main problems is that they are plucked from the vine or tree too early to get them to market, thus destroying some of the flavor.
Now apples, it’s hard to beat a good apple.  I like them hard, firm, and crisp.  Grab a hold of one and it feels just right, but take a bite and it is soft or grainy.  They can sure fool a person.  You probably are not as picky as I am, but the fruit I eat has to be close to just right.
Makes me think of Christians.  Too many times we pluck them off the tree too early and send them out into the world, but they haven’t ripened enough.  They get overwhelmed and often are cast aside.  Or sometime they look ready for the battle they will face, but one bite out of them and it is found that they are grainy, soft, not fit.  Or bite into a luscious looking peach or plum, and though it make look good that bite proved they are sour.
Yet, we are admonished to judge people by their fruit.  Maybe that’s why I get a little skeptical when I see or hear of someone saying or doing something that isn’t quite “ripe.”  Some say some of the right things, but they sure don’t look the part.  Others are soft and overripe while others are picked to early to be of any real flavor.
The parable of the sower is similar; it deals with grain, but the idea is in part the same.  “The seed that fell on the footpath represents those who hear the message about the Kingdom and don’t understand it. Then the evil one comes and snatches away the seed that was planted in their hearts. The seed on the rocky soil represents those who hear the message and immediately receive it with joy. But since they don’t have deep roots, they don’t last long. They fall away as soon as they have problems or are persecuted for believing God’s word. The seed that fell among the thorns represents those who hear God’s word, but all too quickly the message is crowded out by the worries of this life and the lure of wealth, so no fruit is produced.” (Matthew 13:19-22, NLT)
One thing about fruit that does not quite delight the palate–it can be made into jelly or jam.
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     “Soldiers, Sailors, and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force:
      You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months.
      The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you.
      In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world.
      Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped, and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely.
But this is the year 1944. Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our Home Fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned. The free men of the world are marching together to victory.
      I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty, and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory.
      Good Luck! And let us all beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking.”
               –General Dwight D. Eisenhower (June 6, 1944, D-Day, the invasion of Normandy)

Much time has transpired since that eventful day in 1944.  The world has changed, but what would it be like if the invasion had failed?  What would it be like if Hitler’s Nazi Germany had stopped the Allies on the beach and then gone on to develop nuclear weapons and defeated Britain?  What would it be like if the sadistic warlords of Japan had stopped our forces on the beaches of the Pacific?  Life as we know it would certainly be different.  Those who clamor for more and more freedom, would not even have a clue as to what freedom meant.  There would not be a “snowflakes” or sanctuary cities. 
After D-Day the war in Europe was won.  It would be another year before that was fulfilled however.  Many more battles would take place and many more lives would be lost.  D-Day assured the winning of the war, but death and destruction still happened.  Our lives are similar.  When we accept Christ (D-Day) we are assured of winning the war and walking through the glorious gates of heaven.  That does not mean that there will be no more battles to fight.  That does not mean that there will be no more casualties or scars from the campaign of life.
Therefore, we need to beseech the blessing of Almighty God on our lives, our families, and our endeavors.

The Saga of Miles Forrest

There was a little cantina just a block from the station, and Molly and I sauntered down to it.  We had three hours before the train would come in that would take us on over to Durango.  We sat at a table toward the back and ordered up a couple bowls of chili and coffee. 
When I tasted it my eyes lit up in pure delight.  There is chili all over the Southwest and that includes Texas, but each area has its own peculiar flavors, mostly depending upon the type of peppers.  When I rode in Texas most of the chili was “rojo”, red chili, but since I come to live in Colorado I have had more of the green chili type.  And as an added plus, the coffee was hot and strong.
“I’ve never heard someone sigh like you do over a bowl of chili,” exclaimed Molly. 
Looking up holding my spoon I smiled.  “The only thing that could add to it would be a piece of your apple pie.” 
I ordered up another bowl as I didn’t plan on eating anything aboard the train.  This would have to do me until Alamosa.  The price was right as well:  3 bowls of chili and 2 cups of coffee–two-bits.
Molly and I were both vigilant on the way home.  We took turns sleeping so one could always be on the watch.  Finally, just before noon we arrived back in Durango.  We were no worse for the wear and just slightly tired, as we were able to get a little sleep.  Molly wanted to go on down to the eatery.  She had heard a new name and was thinking of calling it a diner.  That sounds much better than “Molly’s Shooting-Gallery.”
We had turned the corner and entered the street with the eatery and we quickly noticed that the eatery was boarded up.  Hurrying over to it we saw that the windows had been busted out and replaced with wood and the door was boarded as well as windows were broken there as well.
“Let’s go see Doc Jones,” I said.  His office was just across the street and down one building.
Doc was at his desk, reading intensely over some books.  When we burst in he was sort of startled.  “Miles!  Molly!  Am I glad to see you!” he exclaimed and rushed up to meet us.
“What’s goin’ on?” I asked.
“Some men came in early this morning, before breakfast and tore up the place,” he paused and looked at Molly.  “Sorry, but they wrecked it good.”
“Eliana and Marta?” she questioned.
He dropped his eyes.  “What happened Doc?  Did they hurt Lucas as well?”
“They’re hurt.  They’ll be in a bad way for a while.  Lucas was not there when it happened.”
I pulled a chair out for Molly to sit.  “Tell us Doc,” I said softly.
He rubbed his chin and then moved his fingers through his hair.  “I’ll start with Eliana.  They smashed her fingers.  I’m not sure she be able to used them again.”
“And Marta?”
“I don’t know if she was trying to run out or to her mother, but they grabbed her shoulder and dislocated it, and then pinned her to a table and broke a chair over her arm, thus breaking it.  We found her hovering over Eliana, they had kicked her in the side, breaking some ribs.”
I hesitated, “Anything else?”
“No, they didn’t molest either of them.”  He went over to the basin and poured a glass of water.  “Marta said that she has a message for you Miles.  From them.”
“Are they home now?”
Doc nodded.  “Come with me, Molly.”
We hurried on down to the Mexican and Indian part of town.  I knew where Marta and her family lived.  As we approached their home we were stopped by some men of the locale.  They tipped their sombreros at Molly and said, “Forrest, you are not welcome here.”
I started to push by them and one grabbed my shoulder.  I looked at him and he decided to let go.
A voice came from the building in front of us.  “Pedro, Estevan, no!  Senor Forrest is our dear friend.  Let him by.”
Ushering Molly in before me we entered Marta’s humble abode.  Eliana was sitting at the table, her hands bandaged, and pain etched on her face, but she smiled upon seeing Molly. 
Holding my hat in my hand, I spoke reverently to them.  “Marta, Senora, I am so sorry.”  All I could think about was the fact that my friends keep getting hurt because of me.  This scum will not face me, but take it out on innocent, weaker people.
“We are okay,” said Marta.  “We will heal.  But you, Senor Miles, beware.  These men said they had not forgotten you and that they will still collect.”
“Did any of them have a name?”
“Ferguson.”

Echoes from the Campfire

But they would not take that known trail; theirs would be an ancient Indian trail…a trail no longer used.  Such trails he had always known, and such were the trails he loved best.”
-Louis L’Amour  (The Key-Lock Man)

“Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.”
–Romans 12:2 (NLT)
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When you’re at a camp it is important to know camp etiquette whether it’s at a campfire or in the kitchen of a cabin.  It is always the job of the first one up to get the fire going and put on the coffee.  Now, I’ve known a few who would snuggle deeper in their blankets just to keep from having that chore to do.  They surely want to be blest when they get up with a fire going and hot coffee ready for them.  Hmmm, there are even shirkers at time in a camp.  However, they usually don’t stick around very long.
After the fire gets going, if the cook isn’t the first one up, he will then take over.  There have been a few places I’ve been where a body has to fend for his own, but most of the time there is a designated cook.  While he is getting the vittles ready the rest of the camp would be cleaning up, doing routine chores and the such.
The message this past Sunday morning brought my attention to what must have been a pretty good camp cook.  There was a group out fishing early, probably before gray light.  They hadn’t caught a thing but upon being given some direction they caught a large mess of fish.  “The other stayed with the boat and pulled the loaded net to the shore for they were only out about three hundred feet.  Whey they got there [shore], they saw that a charcoal fire was burning and fish were frying over it, and there was bread….  ‘Now come and have some breakfast!’  Jesus said.  And no one dared ask him if he really was the Lord because they were sure of it.  Then Jesus served them the bread and the fish.”  (John 21:8-13, NLT)
That made me wonder how many times had Jesus prepared breakfast for them?  They traveled the open country for almost three years and often they had to stay outside.  Who did the cooking?  Judas, Philip, possibly Andrew, or did Jesus prepared most of the meals Himself?  One thing for sure He knew how to cook.
     There was a lesson presented as we had communion.  Jesus had bread ready for them.  Earlier He had told them that He was the bread of life.  This meal He prepared on the shoreline was not a supernatural meal but there is a larger meaning to it.  We need to eat to keep the body working; we need to keep the body working in service for the Lord.  This meal was a substantial meal, one for hardy fishermen.  Jesus prepares more than food for the physical body; He also prepares nourishment for the spiritual man as well.  He knew that these Disciples were about to embark on a perilous journey and they would need nourishment for the trip–physical and spiritual.
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“A stampede has no conscience.”
–unknown

Maybe you’ve seen in the movies or read about the stampedes that brought hazard and death along the western trails that stretched from Texas to Kansas.  There was no greater fear to the cowboy working the herd than a stampede, especially one at night.  I read the little maxim above and began to ponder it some.
Take a look around you at all the crazies.  Have they been in the process of stampeding?  The protests, the riots, the terrorist and none of them have a conscience.  Perhaps the greatest stampede taking place is that of the media.  That moronic person who hoisted President Trump’s head drenched in blood has caused a sort of stampede.  Now, she is saying she is being bullied, and on, and on.  What I see is a stampede of ignorance and of stupidity.  A stampede of hatred and chaos and despite what those of the left say, one of bigotry.  Ah, but who are the real bigots?
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Have one more cup of coffee before we put the remainders and the dregs on the dying embers of the campfire.  The day is coming for each of us and there is some kind of work for all of us to be doing.
Vaya con Dios.