–B. N. Rundell  (The Road to Redemption)

 

Come in this kitchen, Pard.  Things are a-doin’.  Coffee’s plenty hot and strong enough to give yur innards a kick start.  Ha, sure do need that some these days; sometimes the old starter is startin’ harder.  Reminds me an ol’ 1952 Ford pickup I drove while workin’ landscapin’.  Yuh had to park it on a hill to get it started.  Let it roll some, then pop the clutch.  Shore was a cold thing, but it ran fine once it was started.  Guess that’s like I am.  Let my big toe touch the floor an’ I’m up, but ’til then…

     Ahhh, yep, tastes mighty good, an’ makes the ol’ gizzard smile.  Pard, have yuh ever wondered where some of these people come from, especially those liberal nuts.  Just like cockroaches that seem to crawl out of the woodwork.  There’s one runnin’ for Congress who said that if a Republican bullied her she’d slit their throat.  Mercy…don’t think there will be much talk ‘cross the aisles with her.  ‘Course their ain’t much now either.  Delusional–yep for shore an’ that tells yuh who they belong to.  An’ speaking of the father of lies, did yuh see that the photo of the Boston no king rally was rigged.  It was a photo, I think from 2017.  Lies, lies, and guess what, after the Lord returns these same folk will follow the man of lawlessness and his lies.

     See, that’s why they’ll sellin’ cinos and other such things an’ callin’ it coffee.  Lies, delusion, just a simple subtle thing to get yuh to believin’ somethin’ that ain’t so.  Pard, an’ ol’ poke from the Cowboy Site wrote some words that we need to be hangin’ on to.  Let me be passin’ them on to yuh.  He said that “bad folks ride every trail–some wear a grin while they twist the knife.”  See, Pard, I’m not the only one a-tellin’ yuh to ride wary an’ keep yur gun near.  This puncher goes on to say, “Yuh can’t change their ways or reason ’em right.  All yuh can do is keep yur boots clean and yur word solid.  The only cure for evil is refusin’ to join it.”  That tellin’ how the cow eats the cabbage!

     Yuh ever watch some of those folks bein’ interviewed?  My mercy…they haven’t a clue of what their doin’; it’s a wonder they can put their shoes on in the mornin’.  But then, that’s the crowd that ol’ slewfoot has in his back pocket–confused, angry, bitter folk full of hatred.  Our job is doin’ the right thing, helpin’ out in the place where we find ourselves, and bein’ the person the good Lord wants us to be no matter what trail we find ourselves a-travelin’.  Don’t be joinin’ that evil crowd!  Stay true to the Word an’ be standin’ firm, and if ridin’, sit tall in the saddle.  Keep the joy of the Lord, an’ be checkin’ yur cinch.

    Vaya con Dios.

                    –John Deacon  (The Provider 2)

 

“One more river to cross, one more mountain to climb, one more valley that I gotta go through…”  Come on, Pard, I know yuh don’t care much for my singin’, but join in an’ we’ll make the rafters shake.  Rivers, streams, creeks, brooks, yuh name them, an’ somewhere’s in our life an’ journey we’ve had to cross them.  Some were easy fordin’, some were sorta treacherous, but here we are Pard, on the other side of another river, headin’ onward an’ upward.  Oh, sure, plenty of coffee an’ I made sure it didn’t get wet in the crossin’.

     Pard, the older I get, the more I see an’ read, the more I see the foolishness in people.  Yuh may have heard this one.  I got it from that ol’ cowpoke, Chad Prather, but it seems that someone (I think in Canada) complained about a boy who brought pork in their sandwich.  My mercy, the audacity.  The young feller was told not to bring it again because it might offend someone, and I reckon it did.  I would be ready to send bacon, and ham, and pulled pork, along with a hot dog, and if’n I really wanted to get them, I might send a pork chop for the kid go gnaw on.  When is enough, enough?  I offend them by sendin’ a bacon sandwich, but what happens if they do something that offends me?  My, that’s a whole different story.

     Take a swaller, an’ I’ll refill yur cup.  Good thing I made it strong ’cause yul need it for this next little tidbit.  This came from the UK (that the Brits, if’n yuh didn’t know).  Straight from a police officer (think they’re called bobbies, but this one was a bobette), “You’re not allowed to sing church songs outside of church.”  ??? Duh, did yuh get that?  Yuh can whistle a tune, or rap a filthy song, but don’t dare sing “How Great Thou Art” outside the church.  Oh, John Wesley might be turnin’ over in his grave (if he was in it) at that news.  People used to go on a street an’ could point out the homes where the Methodists lived by their joyful singin’.  Pard, when is enough, enough?

     We may not realize it, but those are creeks that we have to cross.  An’ I won’t go into the stupidity and lackness of the judges in our land.  They hand out sentences based on the political agenda.  Why one went so far as to say she gave a light sentence stating her job is to “rehabilitate” not punish.  No!  A judge’s job is not to rehabilitate; it is their job to enforce the law, punish the criminal, and make the streets safe for innocent people.  (Thanks Angel)  It is the job of others in the system to try to rehabilitate.  See, Pard, there’s a day a-comin’ when people are goin’ to be sayin’ that to God.  Rehabilitate me, don’t judge me.  Now, is the time for rehabilitation an’ all one has to do is accept Jesus.

     See what I mean, we needed strong coffee this mornin’.  Lord, help us through the jungles filled with fools.  Like I keep a-tellin’ yuh, oil yur gun an’ keep it handy, stay in the Bible, ride tall an’ onward, an’ always, always check yur cinch.  Be sure yur mounted firmly!

     Vaya con Dios.

               –James Leonard  (The Good Guy)

 

Pard, there’s strange things happenin’ in the land.  And let me tell yuh something else, there’s a bunch of fools and I’m rightly thinkin’ some of them are demon possessed.  Oh, sorry, let me be fillin’ yur cup.  Don’t mean to be givin’ yuh the grief of my thoughts before yur coffee’d up.  How’d we get to the place where we’d pull such folk in office and then to see some folk there that don’t care a hoot about this country, an’ one of them’s runnin’ for mayor of New York City.  Oh, Lord, help us through the jungles!

     At least the coffee’s good, but don’t yuh see the connection.  There’s a bunch of them tryin’ to replace honest coffee with cinos–compromise on the taste, or give it a twang of something sweet.  Did yuh happen to see this?  I had to shake my head a couple of times.  One of the leaders of our country, in fact he ran for president said, “We’ve got to cut down on farming due to climate change or people are going to starve.”  Huh?  Stop farmin’ so people don’t starve.  Listen we’re a-headin’ for the pills of the Jetsons faster than we think.  In fact, with the help of AI soon we’ll be eatin’ something that tastes like beef steak only when yuh bite into the pill.  As one ol’ boy put it, the west wasn’t won by eatin’ tofu an’ a salad.

     Pard, when folks throw God to the wayside or forget Him altogether there is a price to pay, and we’re seein’ it now.  But Pard, just like yur drinkin’ good ol’ hot black coffee there’s hope.  God will bring a remnant through, and oftentimes He’ll use them to bring a revival.  But if not, the price will be terrible.  I saw a photo of an ol’ rancher that said, “We are livin’ in a day where people are proud of what they should be ashamed of.”  Gay pride, transgender or multiple genders and I’ve seen that yuh can even be changin’ gender back an’ forth as it suits yuh.  Warped, demonic, and yuh don’t hear many preachers takin’ a stand.  An’ let me tell yuh that’s one of the problems–the pulpit has let this country down.  Don’t be gettin’ me wrong, not all of them, some fine preachers are doin’ their job, they’re bein’ watchmen, but there’s a whole bunch that ain’t.

     Then when people runnin’ for public office say that others should be shot.  Why, that a threat!  Others won’t keep the people of their cities safe because of a political agenda.  Jeremiah, where are you?  Amos, where is your cry?  An’ let me throw something at yuh, one reason there isn’t a voice of a true prophet like in the Old Testament is that we have the Bible.  Preach and live the Bible and many problems will be solved.

     Whew, I’ve done did my spoutin’ for this mornin’.  But I see we still made it through a pot.  Pard, be warnin’ yur kids an’ grandkids, don’t let up no matter what, even if’n they get to whinin’.  It’s jist like me a-tellin’ yuh to check yur cinch everytime I see yuh.  It only takes one slip to put another lump on yur noggin’.  Be ridin’ tall in the saddle, keep yur gun oiled, and Bible handy.  No tellin’ what kind of varmint or demon yuh might be meetin’ on the road.

      Vaya con Dios.

                    –Patrick Lindsay  (Chance Reilly)

 

“Say, it’s good to be back home again…”  What’s the matter Pard, yuh don’t like the song?  The song’s fine, it’s just my croonin’?  I’ll have yuh know that I sound pretty good to my ownself.  Maybe it’s just yur hearin’.  If’n yuh would join in with me, yuh might not be hearin’ so bad.  Oh, yuh don’t sing in polite company.  Ha–I reckon not.

     Well, if’n yuh ain’t gonna sing, grab yuh a cup an’ I’ll do the pourin’.  Good to be makin’ my own coffee.  The trip was good, most usually is when visitin’ loved ones, but always nice to be back at the little cottage in the woods, sittin’ and ponderin’ and drinkin’ good coffee.  I’ll have to give credit where credit’s due; the coffee on the trip was above average.  I don’t know what type they use, but the hotel coffee wasn’t all that bad.  Not that I’d want it everyday, now yuh hear, but it was drinkable.  

     Yep, always good to be back home.  Just a comfortable feelin’.  There’s somethin’ rich ’bout home.  Like that ol’ boy, Chance, he was a rich man.  My goodness, a wonderful wife makin’ an’ brinin’ him bread, pourin’ him a fresh cup of coffee, and sittin’ down, sorta comfortable like with him.  Now, I’d say that’s riches.  Plus, it’s always good to be a-jawin’ with you.  Mmm, homemade bread, maybe some butter, an’ some plum jelly rubbed on it.  Mighty good, better than fish eggs packed in a jar.  An’ one more thing I’ll be a-tellin’ yuh, it was made with pure love from her heart.  Now yuh jist can’t be beatin’ that.

     But hold on, Pard!  No, go ahead, yuh can be a-drinkin’ whilst I’m a-talkin’.  We have to not get too cozy with this ol’ world.  We ain’t stayin’ in it for all that long, ‘specially in the light of eternity.  Come on, Pard, sing with me:  “This world’s not my home, I’m just a passin’ through…”  We have to be rememberin’ that we’re only pilgrims travelin’ through this wearisome land.  Why even the riches of a home here below, won’t be a-comparin’ to our heavenly home that’s bright and fair.  So, Pard, no matter how good the vittles are, how strong and delectable the coffee is, no matter how warm an’ secure yur feelin’ in yur home’; it ain’t yur final home.  Yuh know, the hammerin’ stopped up yonder in glory, the good Lord, I expect is gettin’ the final touches ready on our home up there.  Yuh be lookin’ up in the sky, for He’s a-comin’ back for His saints.

     Pard, an’ don’t be like some of those who give dates for His comin’, or don’t be one of the other crowd that says, He ain’t comin’ back.  Why to be like them would be like not checkin’ yur cinch when yuh mount up.  Pard, in these days of turmoil, enjoy the blessin’s of the Lord, but keep your eyes on the horizon, for He’s sure to be comin’ soon.

     Vaya con Dios.