–Lynette Bonner (Honey From the Rock)

 

Mornin’ Pard, jist take a looksee at the calendar.  The year’s most half over, and the longest day of the year is approaching.  My, what has taken place already in this year.  The world is in turmoil, jist a-waitin’ for the man of lawlessness to appear.  I find myself lookin’ up waitin’ for the trumpet sound.  Well, let’s be grabbin’ yuh a mug, and I’ll be pourin’ yuh a cup.

     Have yuh been noticin’ how so many angry folk there seem to be out there?  Yep, plenty of hostility, that’s for sure.  Yuh know, if folks would jist accept the message of Jesus this ol’ world would sure be a lot better.  Yuh know, I’ve heard, of course the media stirs, that some folk say that Islam is a peaceful religion.  My, my, are they duped.  They don’t know the teachin’s of Islam or its history or they wouldn’t be sayin’ such things.

     All sorts of anger, an’ folks will use anything to vent it.  Right now the hot term is “racism.”  My word, I read where someone said that serving milk (white milk) in school cafeterias is racist.  That one made me scratch my head.  Pard, in this time of turmoil yuh need to be stayin’ close to the Lord.  See, you and I’s a-knowin’ that real peace is in Jesus, not in what the world offers.  Why, that’s one of the reasons why I have yuh over.  Sit down, Pard, drink some coffee.  It’s like an antidote one of them high-cost doctors would be offerin’ yuh, but I give it for free.  Take a seat–the coffee is perkin’.  Things will be alright, have a cup, and let’s talk about more pleasant things.

     Ahhh, but that’s good coffee this mornin’.  Speakin’ of hatred, we all know where that comes from.  Yep, yuh got it Pard, from the depths of the Pit.  It’s from ol’ slewfoot himself projectin’ his hatred of the heavenly Father onto man.  If’n he can’t get a person to be hatin’ God, he’ll get them to hatin’ God’s great creation of man.  What is it the Bible says, “Hate stirs up conflict, but love covers over all wrongs.” I’m a-thinkin’ that’s found in Proverbs the tenth chapter.

     Try to be neighborly as yuh can.  I know the days are gone when yuh can leave the pot a simmerin’ on the stove and go help yurself.  Yep, it might be strong, but it’s the purpose and thought that counts.  Grandma always had a pot brewin’ jist in case someone might stop by.  Neighborly, friendly…

     But that don’t be meanin’ yuh should go off half-cocked.  Yuh be movin’ about waryly ’cause there is evil out there.  Yuh never know where it might be lurkin’ so yuh gots to be prepared and ready.  Gun’s oiled and loaded, I assume.  Prayed up, an’s while yur a-doin’ that keep yur eyes on the eastern skies, I’m a-reckonin’ that the Lord might jist be comin’ right soon.  Don’t be fallin’ off’n yur hoss ’cause yuh didn’t check yur cinch, and always be ridin’ with the Spirit.

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Elmer Kelton  (The Good Old Boys)

 

Come on in, Pard.  What’s the ol’ sayin’, “another day, another dollar”?  Well, here we are, let me look yuh over.  Yur sure not wallowin’ in the money, so I reckon, it’ll be more like “another week, another dollar in the hole.”  Be that as it may, the coffee’s on and it’s sure ‘nough hot.  Plenty strong too, yul be a-likin’ it.  

     Pard, I was thinkin’ of the above that ol’ Elmer wrote.  I wonder, over the years, jist how many times, my wife poured and brought me a cup of coffee.  My mercy goodness, I can’t begin to count, not ‘nough fingers and toes.  Sure have been blessed!

     I don’t know whether yuh’ve noticed or not, but there are plenty of confused folk.  Some of the things that spew from their mouths, an’ some of them are supposed to be learned people.  If’n a person don’t know whether they’re a male or female, they’re downright confused, delusion has set in.  Whenever I see folks so profoundedly confused, I think of what the ol’ Apostle wrote, about God is not the author of confusion ; it’s His nemesis the ol’ devil.  An’ let me be tellin’ yuh Pard, a little bit of confusion can go a long ways.  Why some preacher, Presbyterian in name, said, “Blessed are those who end pregnancies, for they will be known for their lovingkindness.”  Murder is lovingkindness?  Confusion–demonic is what it is.

     Pard, I won’t ever try to be confusin’ yuh.  Tellin’ lies, and worse–believin’ yur own lies, that’s what some of these folks are doin’, they’re bein’ led like a bull with a nose-ring.  Jerk on that thing, an’ they’ll move right along.  Another preacher from a Lutheran church said, that gay sex is holy.  Now, I’m not goin’ to get into that subject, except to say, that no it’s not holy–it’s an abomination to God.  Seems to me that we’re jist a-beggin’ for the wrath of God to come down on us.

     So, Pard, what do we do?  Well, first of all, yuh drink yur coffee, don’t want it to be a-wastin’.  Second, we do what we can do where we are with what we’ve got.  Don’t give into lies, don’t give into false prophets, preachers, and gain-sayers.  Smile at someone durin’ the day, they may need it.  Yuh know, the Holy Spirit can work through a smile we give, or a bit of kindness we show.  Doesn’t have to be grandiose, jist, plain, simple, and honest.  Make sure yur kids and grandkids see what’s right, and what’s wrong.  They live in a world that is attackin’ them from all angles, so be a straight-ridin’, straight-talkin’, straight-livin’, Bible-totin’ cowpoke showin’ them younguns how a person is supposed to live. Be sittin’ tall in the saddle, don’t be waverin’ an’ acceptin’ the sort of foolishness and wickedness that is bein’ poured out as truth.

     Coffee was good an’ is gone.  Company was good an’ now yuh have to be gettin’ on down the road.  Be prayin’, be watchin’, be lookin’ up for our redemption is comin’ closer every hour.  Don’t be kickin’ up the dust as yuh ride away, an’ of course yul check yur cinch before yuh mount.

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Lou Bradshaw (Blue Valley)

 

Come on in, Pard, take a deep breath, the aroma of the coffee is fillin’ the kitchen.  I  sure can remember some of those days in the high country fillin’ my lungs with that fresh mountain air.  Put that along with the coffee, add some bacon and bread to the aroma, an’ Pard, yuh’d almost think yur were in heaven.  

     Sometimes the air ain’t so cool, but it’s usually fresh.  Sure does beat breathin’ that city air, but Pard, yuh might want to be wearin’ a mask.  It’s startin’ up, the air soon is goin’ to be filled with the lies from the pit.  Listen to them politicians an’ yuh soon learn whose side they’re on.  The father of lies will be seen.  Why Pard, sorry, go ‘head and start yur slurpin’, I can talk whilst yur a-drinkin’.  But here’s the truth of the matter, there’s one slitherin’ with a slick, forked tongue, twistin’ the Bible, speakin’ contrary to the holy principles of God, an’ callin’ himself a minister, of sorts.  See, Pard, we’re never far from the evil that lurks out there, an’ it’s everywhere.  It goes from the high and lofty, the marble halls of government, all the way down to the slums of the cities.  More and more the fight is upon us, and woe to us if’n we let down our guard for a minute.  Pard, I’ll get yuh a refill when I finish my speechifyin’.  We don’t wrestle with flesh and blood, but against powers of this dark world.  When election time comes closer yul be seein’ what I mean.  I’m jist tryin’ to get yur ready now.

     Now where’s that coffeepot?  I jist had somethin’ on my mind an’ had to be lettin’ it loose.  I understand the need for a good cup of coffee.  See the world wants yuh to compromise, water down the Word of God, live a life of compromise and relative truth.  Why Pard, every mornin’ when I drink my coffee I ponder that over.  That’s why I make it strong and black, to remind myself not to be compromisin’.  Plus I enjoy the taste more than addin’ all those fixin’s that some folks do.

     One good thing from yesterday.  The spring rounds with the ol’ sawbones is over.  No more visits until early fall.  Ha, old, why most of them are kids with a computer who know how to read a lab report.  When I go to the doc I usually feel better cause I look at some of those poor folk in there an’ they’re bad off.  Some of them look like ol’ Bodacious, himself stomped on them.  Others look like they where thrown off into a barbwire fence while others into a large patch of cholla.  I feel sorry for them, for they look bad, I mean it Pard, bad.  So I step a little livelier when I leave the office.

     One more thing I jist have to be a-sayin’ before we part ways.  Pard, know this thing for sure–the Lord is good!  Yuh can sure be depenin’ on that all the way to the grave.  Yuh know we can count on Him to be helpin’ us when we have to be a wrestlin’ with all those evil imps and varmints from the Pit.  

     Well, next time we’re together, the Lord willin’, on a Saturday it’ll be June.  My mercy, time moves along faster than a full-blow’d stampede.  Yuh be takin’ care of yurself, an’ if’n yur close by we’re havin’ dinner on the grounds at church Sunday.  Don’t think Annie’s makin’ a pie, but she’s making bbq sausages, potato salad, an’ some cookies.  But I’m tellin’ yuh, there’ll be some fixin’s.  Have a good Lord’s day, an’ a week knowin’ He’ll be with yuh.  Oh, an’ one more thing.  Check yur cinch.

      Vaya con Dios.

                    –D.C. Adkisson  (Walker)

 

Pard, let me look yuh over before I serve yur coffee.  From the looks of it, yur doin’ fine, no lumps on the noggin’, no crabs comin’ from the nose nor warts on it neither.  Yur skin ain’t covered like those hostiles we used to fight.  Overall, yur lookin’ fine.  Here’s yur brew, hot, strong, an’ mighty tasty.  Yuh know, there’s jist some days when it seems to be tastin’ extra special.  ‘Course at my age, every day makes it taste special, ’cause it’s another day to be a-tastin’.

     There’s been lots of talk ’bout them UFOs lately.  Now, they don’t bother me none.  The reason bein’ the Lord is in control of the whole, entire, complete universe!  But I want to know about the UMOs.  Yuh know them two-legged creatures movin’ ’round lookin’ like they got themselves all tie-dyed.  Yuh know, hair’s a many colored facet, with rings or crab claws comin’ from the nostril.  Some with pins, some with safety pins, some with rivets, and huge ol’ washers that we used to put in the garden hose.  Why, I remember the missionaries when they came to church would show pictures of those monstrosities in peoples’ ears and such.  My mercy, Pard, the ones we would send missionaries to preach the gospel to look better than what we see on the streets of America.

     Ahhh, the coffee’s good, makes the soul soothe out some.  Pard, let me be continuin’ my tirade.  Some say that clothes don’t make the person, an’ don’t be a-judgin’.  I’ve done my share of interviews over the years…  An’ I’ll tell yuh flat out, they don’t make the person, but they shore ‘nough often reflect what’s inside.  Yuh dress and make yurself up weird, there’s a reason for it.  They look in the mirror an’ think they’re beautiful; well, we know that the Lord will send a strong delusion.  My lands, ol’ Barnum and others with their “freak” shows would go broke today.  Jist walk down the streets, or go into a WalMart.  There’ scary folk around, then add to it all the other crazies wantin’ to maim, kill, hurt, and want rights that they’re not entitled to.  Some folk think they can do what they want–doin’ right in their own eyes.  Why, Pard, the ignorant mayor of Chicago, that foreign city, made the statement, “Arresting Black people for robbery, drugs, rage, violence, and murder by putting them in prison is racism.  Plain and simple.  Prison is not the answer.  Freedom is.”  What in the world is he thinkin’?  Let them run free to do more mayhem and harm?  Racism?  If they don’t go to prison, and folks sure don’t want them walkin’ the streets, what’s left…?

     Common sense ain’t so common anymore, an’ Pard, I’m fearin’ it’s not comin’ back anytime soon.  Normality, well, it’s all relative so I reckon society will not be seein’ normal again.  Folks we’re in a sure ‘nough dilemma.  Tighten yur cinches ’cause yuh never know what’s gonna go on ’round you.  The ol’ devil is sneaky.  Sometime’s he’s a-stalkin’ yuh, other times he’s right on top of yuh like a roarin’ lion, and other times he’s a-layin’ down those traps and snares that’ll grab yuh like jumpin’ cholla.

     Well, the pot’s empty an’ I didn’t get to tell yuh anything about Memorial Day.  Yuh be sure to take time to remember those who sacrificed to keep this country free, and even those UMOs can walk the streets because of their sacrifice.  If’n yur grilliin’ hamburgers and hotdogs, be safe, don’t catch on fire, nor eat too many, or slop the ketchup on yur shirt.  If’n yur smokin’ a brisket be sure yuh don’t let it get overdone.  Sit tall in the saddle, it’s important yuh hold yurself straight an’ steady.  Be wary, ’cause the ol’ devil ain’t gonna let up on yuh.  Have a good Memorial Day.

      Vaya con Dios.