–William MacLeod Raine  (The Sheriff’s Son)

 

     “Get yur hide sanctified, it’s not too late.  Brother get branded, step through the gate…”  Yeehaw, Pard come on and join in now.  “Get yur hide sanctified…”  Oh, yuh need yur tonsils liquefied ‘fore yuh can sing.  What do yuh mean, yuh don’t know that song?  It’s by that ol’ puncher, Wylie from up on that northern range.  Or are yuh one of them that don’t believe in sanctification?  Whew, Pard, that’s a long word, and I’ll tell yuh the truth, it’s a long process.  It takes a person their whole life, and since we don’t believe in that there reincarnation, yuh best be gettin’ on with it.

     Pard, I don’t want to get all theological on yuh this mornin’, but sanctification is one of those almost archaic words in the church, yet it is so vital to our walk with the Lord.  Yep, Pard, coffee’s good, but don’t be changin’ the subject.  When we get that changed heart, are born again, we are sanctified, but then the process begins.  We take up the Lord’s yoke, our cross, and we begin travelin’ the glory road.  We have the Holy Spirit guidin’ and teachin’ us along the way how to be “in Christ” and how to “grow in grace.”

     Yur right, this coffee is good, my ol’ gizzard is doin’ some flips of joy.  But back to what I was a-sayin’, we wear the brand of the Lord now and the enemy, that grim face, evil-eyed one is after us.  We’re safe, ’cause we’re wearin’ the brand of the Lord.  The Holy Spirit has done sealed us, but that don’t mean there’s not a fight.  That’s why yuh have to keep yurself primed, guns loaded and ready for any hostile action by ol’ slewfoot.

     Yuh have trouble with sufferin’, it ain’t the Lord; it’s the devil tryin’ to blot out the brand.  Havin’ toils, and woes, and conniption fits, that’s the ol’ troll tryin’ to steal yur joy, tryin’ to rustle yuh away from the Lord.  Pard, hang tight, he can’t do it…yur safe in the Lord’s herd, that’s why yuh keep on workin’ on bein’ sanctified.  Why Pard, I heard recently of someone I know that purposely was changin’ over to the devil’s herd.  Said life was too hard, too much work and sorrow and sufferin’ and that they didn’t believe in God any more.  My mercy!  Life happens, an’ when the devil throws things on our trail that should drive us closer to the One who keeps us.

     Yuh been listenin’ to me, Pard, or just sittin’ back enjoyin’ that wonderful brew I made.  That’s all right, Pard, I know yur branded by the Lord, it’s just that sometimes yuh don’t use yur noggin’ and check yur cinch ‘fore yuh mount.  That’s just leavin’ an openin’ for that sneaky troll to strike at yuh.  Yuh be primed and ready and doin’ what yuh can.  “Ohhhhh, get yur hide sanctified…”

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Donald L. Robertson  (Stranger with a Star)

 

Have to be drinkin’ fast, this ol’ fence post has got to be on the road.  Yep, goin’ up to see another couple tie the knot.  So drink it fast, but don’t be a-burnin’ yur lips.  Ahhh, good, I’ll be takin’ what’s left in the pot, well, that is, if’n yuh don’t go guzzlin’ it all up, with me.

     One thing ’bout yuh, Pard, you don’t do any complainin’ lest it’s about my singin’.  Don’t figure that one out either, but least yuh don’t complain ’bout life, work, the weather, or my coffee.  Pard, I’ve seen some run to the sink to water it down, too strong.  Hmpf…

     Speakin’ of whiny babies, my eldest sent a text that showed a whiny baby of the first sort.  Whinin’ that her husband now had to go to work; he couldn’t work from home.  My mercy, she should be thankin’ the good Lord that he has a job.  Whinin’ like that an’ if’n he carries it to work, well, he might just get fired.  She was moaning that she doesn’t get to see him before he leaves.  Mercy, get up, make his coffee, cook him breakfast, then kiss him goodbye an’ send him on his way.  Whiny babies!  Ugh, few things turn the stomach more.  There was more to it along the same lines.  Why aren’t we thankful for what we have?  

     When I worked with the Royal Rangers (for those who don’t know, it’s a boys’ group similar to Boy Scouts) we had a large pacifier made.  The kid who whined had to wear it around the neck until the next boy whined about something.  We also had a rope with a giant knot for those who had been knotty (naughty).  That was rough on the neck.  My classroom pass was a pacifier.  Whiners!  Ugh!  

     Pard, seems to me that too often we are like the children of Israel and want the Lord to just hand everything to us.  The land was theirs for the takin’, but no, they had to murmur and complain–whine.  It’s too hard, they’re like giants, we’re like grasshoppers, why don’t you just smite them Lord.  Goodness, go in and conquer.  No wonder, with all their whinin’ that the Lord got fed up with them.  If they were gonna whine they were gonna do it in the wilderness.

     Hold on, Pard, don’t be drinkin’ that last cup, that’s for muh trip.  Wait, wait, don’t yuh start yur whinin’ on me.  Yuh already had three cups.  An’ yuh weren’t satisfied?  Hmmm, don’t yuh become a whiny baby!  Why Pard, next thing yuh’ll be doin’ will be wantin’ me to check yur cinch for yuh.  So go have a good week, an’ I don’t want to hear ’bout yuh whinin’!

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Brad Dennison  (Wandering Man)

 

     Did yuh get blowed away?  Guess not yur here in my kitchen ready to guzzle some coffee.  Ol’ Bob Nolan had the wind a-howlin’ last Saturday, not I’m a-thinkin’ of that ol’ troubadour from Aspen, “The wind is the bearer of bad and good tidings, Weaver of darkness, bringer of dawn…”  Yep, if’n it wasn’t for a few phrases at the beginnin’ of the song, the late John Denver described the wind fairly accurately.

     Go ‘head, Pard, that coffee’s okay to drink, even if it came from California.  Yep, middle granddaughter was thoughtful enough to bring me a bag of coffee from the once golden state when she visited a week ago.  Always nice to be remembered, nicer still when they bring yuh back a present, and to top it off, even nicer when it’s coffee.  So enjoy, and I hear yuh are, moanin’ as yuh swaller and yur gizzard sighs.

     Sometimes I can get aggravated at myself.  I had some important things I thought of durin’ the week that I was plannin’ on sharin’ this mornin’ with yuh, but my mercy, I done forgot them.  Reckon, I’ll just speak a few more words about the wind.  We had a good-un.  It was a-howlin’, the trees were a swayin’ and bendin’ in the wind as it swooped down.  But that is the way of the wind.  

     I was doin’ some thinkin’ and readin’ and the thought passed through my mind, fortunately some of it stuck and I remembered.  Back home I remember those Chinook winds that would come through takin’ away all the freshly fallen snow.  Within hours the snow was gone.  That warm wind did its job and did it quickly.  In the summertime I have seen the wind dry up the grass and my tomato plants.  I remember the many times of drivin’ through Kansas.  The wind was hot and would dry out the skin, almost feelin’ as if it were goin’ to blister it.  

     The thought of that hot wind makin’ yuh thirsty?  Go ‘head, drink up, there’s plenty left in the pot.  And as yur a-guzzlin’ I’ll continue on with my discourse.  Remember, Pard, the wind is a symbol of the Holy Spirit.  One aspect is that the wind does wither.  He strips the land and dries up the brooks and streams.  In other words, it would be like me cuttin’ off yur supply of coffee.  Who would you depend upon then?  One of the purposes of the Spirit is to dry up our selfish resources so that we have to depend more upon the Lord.  It is the wind that blows away the chaff allowing the good grain to fall, and it is the wind of the Spirit that works in our life the same way.  “The dark clouds will vanish…if you’ll saddle your worries to the wind…”.  Pard, let that ol’ wind blow yur worries, the dark clouds, the turmoils of life away into the far horizon.  Yep, ol’ Bob Nolan sure knew somethin’ ’bout the wind.

     So think of that this week.  Be lettin’ the wind do its work, just hold onto yur hat or it might get blown all over creation.  Be safe, be alert, ride easy, and check yur cinch.

      Vaya con Dios.

                    –Duane Boehm  (Shooting Star)

 

     “Oooooo — oooooo,”  What do yuh mean, what’s that?  That’s the sound of the wind howlin’ through the tops of the tall pines.  Don’t yuh recall the words from that ol’ sage, Bob Nolan?  “Ooooo–oooo, listen to the wind, wonder what he’s sayin’, oooooooooo”

     Yuh thought I smashed my toe.  Pard!  That’s the wind.  This is March, the month of the wind; it comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.  The wind comes and goes, and my oh my, I’ve been in some winds in my lifetime.  Yuh know, my hometown of Boulder was known for its wind that rushes down through the canyons.  

     When I hear the wind or feel it against my skin, when I have to hold on to my hat so it don’t blow over God’s creation, well, Pard, I’m reminded of that verse in Acts.  There was the sound of a rushin’, mighty wind.  It was a violent wind, an’ I’m sure those in the upper room were a mite concerned when they heard it.  The wind can come in and destroy, but this wind was the Holy Spirit, and yes, Pard, in one way it blows through our soul to destroy the evil within us and then to sanctify us.  

     Lookee up there at the tree tops a-swayin’.  Yuh can see movement, but yuh can’t see the wind.  The same is true of yur soul.  There is movement within as the “Wind”–the Holy Spirit blows and sweeps through cleanin’ it up, but yuh can’t actually see the Spirit.  Why Pard, think of it.  Way back in the beginning, the Spirit moved upon the waters.  He wasn’t seen, but there was action takin’ place.  Tell me, Pard, have yuh ever seen grace?  But it’s real all the same, the Spirit brings the washin’ of the blood and activity is takin’ place though not seen.

     Maybe yuh might take a good notion, the next time the wind comes a-blowin’ to be thinkin’ what the Spirit is doin’ in yur life.  Listen, oooooo-oooooo, the wind blows out all that chaff that has accumulated in the old life.   Listen, ooooooo-oooooo, there is a refreshin’ takin’ place; the smell of the old man is gone, now we have the wonderful breeze of the Holy Spirit guidin’ us through this wearisome land.

     Still don’t like my singin’?  Well, Pard, it’s better than listenin’ to the wind that yur a-bellowin’.  Call yuh Windy Bob, or Windy Jim, or Windy whomever, it’s a wonder yuh can keep yur feet on the ground with all that hot air yur holdin’ in.  No wonder yuh have to be a-spewin’ it out once in a while.  But let me tell yuh straight, it ain’t the sound of a rushing, mighty wind.  An’ Pard, don’t be usin’ it as an excuse for the knots on yur noggin’.  Don’t blame it on the wind that yuh forgot to check yur cinch.

        Vaya con Dios.