Boaz Bloom and Tumble-Down Row, Part Five

11/26/2007, 2:00 pm -- by Job Tate | No Comments

The last of the Best of Job, continued. Lost? Read part one, part two, part three, and part four!

Boaz and I talked about pretty much everything under the sun. Tumble-Down Row was like our own little Acropolis, and we laughed, disagreed and found common ground — just basking in good-natured, unexpected, mutually beneficial interaction that spanned generations and geography with effortless ease.

I was self-indulgent one day and blabbered on about an ex-girlfriend and all the things about her that had annoyed me. Boaz was silent for a long time, staring down the row. But when he responded, it was with the single wisest thing I’ve ever heard pass from a man’s lips — wise, oddly freeing, and mutedly passionate.

Sticking his hands out with his palms up, looking at them as if they were him complete, he said, “If I can live with all my faults, I sure as hell can live with the faults of those I love.”

Summer was passing pretty quick. The only thing remaining was to get the basement sealed — and the only guy for miles who did it was backed up with basements all over Chap. I told him to take his time. Becky had this thing she did when she kissed ya, dontchaknow, and well…

Boaz spoke of Amelia only once to me. I asked him for his funniest memory. He told me about a Saturday they spent in Georgia going to a wedding of a close friend of hers. The reception was a good three towns over, and the two of them followed a few people who knew the way. Boaz was driving the Chevy and Amelia announced that she had to go to the bathroom. “She was trying, God bless her,” but consumed lemonade was overwhelming her. They couldn’t pull over or they would get separated.

Boaz tried to distract her, but with every mile, it just got worse and worse. She was not smiling anymore, and she gripped the door, pressing her legs together. She looked at him with pain. He smiled at her.

“Just go,” he said.

“What?!”

He told her again to just go — right there on the seat.

She said the embarassment would kill her.

He took her hand. “I’ll go too.”

Her eyes lit up. He smiled at her. She smiled back.

“Ya promise, Bo?”

“I promise.”

And right there on the interstate outside Savannah, Boaz and Amelia relieved themselves. They found a thicket behind the reception hall where they parked and changed into the jeans they’d brought. “We danced up a storm too,” he said, looking away.

Soiled a bit, but in love and in denim, they were free to enjoy themselves.

I could tell he loved her dearly.

Becky and I were down by the hardware store when we heard about Boaz. McCallister told us with labored breaths, wiping his glasses, that Boaz had been hit by a bus up on the highway skirting Chap.

Killed instantly.

Nobody understood. It was way off his usual route.

“He must’ve gotten lost,” McCallister said, not believing it.

Do you believe I cried?

I did.

Do you believe I lied?

What a punch to the gut.

— TO BE CONTINUED —

The Council’s Ruling — Most Influential American

11/26/2007, 12:00 pm -- by Bweinh | No Comments

This and every Monday, the Bweinh!tributors, having convened in secret for hours of reasoned debate and consideration, will issue a brief and binding ruling on an issue of great societal import.

This week’s question — Who is the most influential American ever?

Steve delivers the ruling of the Council, joined by David, MC-B, Connie, and Tom:

Abraham Lincoln had a deeper impact on our country than anyone else before him or since.

Chloe and Djere dissent:

Thomas Edison; the choice is as easy as screwing in a lightbulb, and significantly simpler than inventing one.

Erin dissents:

Sitting Bull. Dignity, posture, and an original American.

Job, Josh, and Mike played no part in the determination of this issue.

Next week: When does the Christmas season officially start?

Ask Bweinh! Poll — Bible Characters

11/26/2007, 9:30 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

Today’s Ask Bweinh! poll is brought to you by Air Transat: the worst airline in the world!! Just listen to what one more satisfied customer said:

“I would not fly Air Transat unless it was the only way to get somewhere . . . customer service certainly doesn’t seem like a priority. Space is cramped. Leg room is non-existent. If there were a class called “sub-economy,” I would classify Air Transat in that category.”

Air Transat! Terrible!

For the second time, Bweinh! addresses our favorite Bible characters — other than Jesus Himself.

Rank	Character	Points
1.	Paul	17
2.	Abraham	9
3-4 (tie)	Peter; Maher-shalal-hash-baz	7
5.	Moses	6
6-8 (tie)	Moses; Jael; Rufus’ mother	5
9-17 (tie)	Lydia; Isaac; Samson; Jonathan; Job; Eve; Ehud; David; “the abomination that causes desolation”	4
Other	Nehemiah; Jacob; Elijah; Lot’s wife; Darius; Josiah; Timothy; Samuel; John; John the Baptist; Esther; Apollos; Zechariah; Joshua; Reuben; Deborah; Jeroboam; Nathan	1-3

Joke of the Day, 11/26/07

11/26/2007, 7:00 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

A thief broke into a house and was headed for the safe when he heard a voice behind him say, “God is watching.” He turned around and saw no one, so he continued. Again he heard, “God is watching.” He went back a few feet and noticed a parrot in the corner. “Hi there,” he said. “What’s your name, little birdie?”

“John the Baptist,” the parrot said.

“That’s an odd name for a parrot! Who named you that?”

“The same guy who named the Rottweiler ‘God.’ “

Football Results (Week Twelve)

11/26/2007, 12:30 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

This year, the Bweinh!tributors shall compete each week by proxy on the mighty gridiron!

The twelfth week’s results
Cleveland def. Houston; New Orleans def. Carolina; Seattle def. St. Louis
New England def. Philadelphia; Tampa Bay def. Washington

Bweinh!tributor	This Week	Overall	GB
Djere; Tom	5-0	43-17	—
Josh	4-1	40-15	0.5
Mike	0-0	37-13	1
Steve	3-2	41-19	2
Connie	3-2	40-20	3
MC-B	4-1	39-21	4
David	4-1	35-25	8
Erin	2-3	25-15	8

By category
Avid fans: 130-55 (.703)
Slight fans: 78-42 (.650)
Uninterested: 173-102 (.629)

Chick Tract Answer!

11/23/2007, 9:15 am -- by Steve | No Comments

What will we NOT learn at the prophecy conference??

If you picked “The tribulation is impending and will involve machetes,” you’re a winner!!

OOPS! There’s Baphomet again!

My Last Day As A Big Game Hunter

11/22/2007, 10:00 am -- by David | 1 Comment

For three years I hunted with my in-laws, using a borrowed rifle to trudge through the woods of Northern New York and the Adirondacks in search of the elusive whitetail deer. Much of my failure to notch a “kill” may be due to the differences between my criteria for selecting a hunting spot and the criteria of my fellow hunters.

My father-in-law and brothers-in-law based their selection on things like the presence of a “deer run” (a brownish line left when deer kick up the edges of fallen leaves, exposing the darker, older leaves underneath). They looked for “rubs,” saplings damaged when deer rubbed their antlers against them to scratch an itch or sharpen their antlers, depending on whose mythology you believe. They looked for “deer scrapes,” patches of forest floor scraped clean of leaves by a buck, then soaked with urine to attract does. (This is not something I recommend; in fact I would personally be terrified of a woman this would attract, but “deer are queer folk,” as they say.)

I personally looked for a large tree with a generous portion of soft leaves deposited beneath its boughs. From this vantage point, I would carefully set my gun aside, lean back against the base of the tree, and happily munch sandwiches and drink hot coffee from my red-capped thermos bottle while enjoying the beauty of an autumn day. My jaunts into the woods were less a hunting expedition and more a sort of armed picnic; I imagine the local deer population, after some initial wariness, came to view me with a mix of relief and amusement. I was obviously not out to kill any of them, intent only on defending my own food in the case of any aggressive move on their part.

My last day of hunting came in 1985. I was informed by the clan that a hunt was scheduled for Thanksgiving Day. We would gather at the Watertown homestead, the children would play games, the men would hunt, and the women would prepare a feast for our return. I have to admit it sounded very enticing. Also, I still had a small bit of hope that one day, an extremely stupid deer would stumble upon my position and wait patiently for me to get my rifle, remove the safety, and shoot it down, fulfilling the prophecies of our patriarch and making me an instant hero. This could be a banner day for me.

The day came, bringing with it 4 inches of snow, ruining any chance of a comfortable seat on the ground enjoying my usual picnic lunch. But so what? Only an imbecile would ruin his appetite on Thanksgiving morning anyway. We kissed our wives, piled into the car and drove to the woods for the hunt. After several hours of standing around in the wet snow, I heard the triple retort of a rifle (the universal hunting signal for SOS) and made my way back to the car to find Paul Sr. and Paul Jr. lounging around, without Craig.

“Are we leaving?,” I said hopefully.

“Nah, I think Craig got lost,” said Paul Jr.

“He’s not lost. He just got turned around in them tamaracks,” my father-in-law quickly added, waving his arm to the west in the direction of the shots. “He’ll work his way out.”

So we waited. And waited. An hour passed, then two. There were more signal shots, more dismissals about the tamaracks, and no one did anything. I am no hero, don’t get me wrong, but I was cold and hungry and knew that only a 30-minute ride and a missing brother-in-law stood between us, a blazing woodstove, and a feast of enormous proportions. Something had to be done.

Then it all came together for me. We were hunting in a patch of woods bordered by roads on two sides. We had parked on the E-W road, walked a short distance up the N-S road, and entered the woods on the left side of the road. Craig was firing his rifle from amongst the tamaracks on the right side of the road, so he would have had to cross 4 inches of freshly fallen snow to get there. Not only that, but he had showed me the heel of his new boots that morning, taking childish pride in the fact that they left a kangaroo imprint on the ground wherever he walked.

I easily found where he had crossed the road and followed his tracks to the tamaracks, surveying the muddled mess as he had obviously confused his tracks by crossing and re-crossing them. I fired my rifle off and immediately Craig cried out, a few dozen yards away. He emerged, looking scared and relieved all at once, and thanked me profusely all the way back to the car. I was a hero. For thirty minutes.

By the time we reached town, my father-in-law’s insistence that he knew Craig was “just turned around in them tamaracks” and would eventually work his own way out, plus the calming effects of being “found” and safely headed for home, had a profound effect on Craig. By the time he told the story at the house, it ended, “…and then I ran into Dave, and we walked back out together.”

No deer. No credit for clear thinking and rescuing the lost. And I was two hours late for Dinner on Thanksgiving Day. My hunting days were over.

Quote of the Day, 11/22/07

11/22/2007, 7:00 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

“What our forefathers with so much difficulty secured, do not basely relinquish.” — the gravestone of W. Bradford, proclaimer of the first Thanksgiving

Battle of the Bands XXXVI

11/21/2007, 3:30 pm -- by Bweinh | No Comments

Moving on is Overcome! The next contestants are below, from Romans 13.

{democracy:168}

Bible Discussion — Romans 13

11/21/2007, 3:30 pm -- by Bweinh | No Comments

This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next chapter in the book of Romans, Romans 13.

Genesis: 1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18 | 19-22 | 23-26
27-29 | 30-32 | 33-36 | 37-39 | 40-43 | 44-46 | 47-50

Exodus: 1-4 | 5-8 | 9-11 | 12-14 | 15-18
19-22 | 23-26 | 27-30 | 31-34 | 35-40

And the book of Romans: Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5
Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 (I) | Ch. 8 (II) | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12

INTRODUCTION:
David:
Sit down. We need to talk about your attitude toward authority. “The powers that be are ordained of God, whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God…” Parents, teachers, policeman, bosses, presidents — even if it’s Hillary — are you ready to live this out?

SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Steve:
Paul’s brief summary that equates love and the law. All the commandments about human relationship are designed to protect others, to give them the same respect and care we afford ourselves — so one who loves perfectly must necessarily (and perfectly) fulfill the law.

BEST BAND NAME FROM THE PASSAGE:
David: Walk Honestly
Chloe: Fellowman
Steve: Slumber

Continued here!

Trust

11/21/2007, 10:00 am -- by Chloe | No Comments

In Starbucks the other day, a woman asked me to watch her purse, jacket, and shopping bags while she fetched her coffee downstairs. It struck me as ironic that she would trust me, a total stranger, with some of her most important belongings. For all she knew, I was a thief waiting for the chance she gave me. In all honesty, I thought she was a total moron for trusting me, not because I shouldn’t be trusted, but because no one should be trusted.

When Adam and Eve ate from the tree and betrayed God, an innate inability to trust sprung up alongside sin in humanity. Because we as individuals know that we should not be trusted, we instinctively do not trust anyone else, particularly God. He is, after all, the One we betrayed. It’s like we’re just waiting for Him to get back at us when we least expect it.

This isn’t just true of non-believers or people who have been hurt by Christianity. I, for one, am struggling daily with giving even an inch to God for fear of what He’ll make me do, what He’ll make me give up. There are some things in this life I’ve decided I can’t live without, and I just know that if I trust God, He’s going to take that chance to get back at me. Just like I deserve.

Trusting God and giving up control over our lives is not easy, especially when we have everything planned out with careers and relationships, budgets and schedules. Who knows, maybe God will ask you to give up your office or teaching job to do His work in the Congo or Zimbabwe. My fear is that God will tell me to give up writing to go do something awful and miserable, something I’ll hate and will eventually kill me. Something like teaching high school.

Will He? I don’t know, which is one of the reasons I haven’t let go yet. But I’ve been told God doesn’t work like that. He doesn’t give gifts and then forbid us to use them. Obviously, I don’t believe that yet, so if you’re struggling with the same thing, let me be an encouragement to you. You aren’t alone in your wrestling. I’m praying for you, and I’ll ask you to pray for me, and then hopefully one day soon we’ll take that step and let Him direct our lives. I wish you the best.

Joke of the Day, 11/21/07

11/21/2007, 7:00 am -- by Bweinh | No Comments

A guy was driving down a country road and ran over a rooster. He felt guilty, so he stopped and went up to the farmhouse. “I’d like to replace your rooster,” he told the farmer.

“Okay,” the farmer said. “The chickens are out back.”

Chick Tract Excerpt!

11/21/2007, 12:00 am -- by Steve | No Comments

{democracy:166}

Ask Bweinh! Poll — Beverages

11/20/2007, 10:30 am -- by Bweinh | 1 Comment

Today’s Ask Bweinh! poll is brought to you by the vermiform appendix, a blind-ended tube and ticking time bomb, usually connected to your cecum.

For the second time, we present a list of favorite beverages — and this time, there’s a new king!

Rank	Beverage	Points
1.	Ice Water	22
2.	Coffee	20
3.	Orange Juice	14
4.	Earl Grey Tea	9
5.	Orangina	7
6.	Coke	6
7-8 (tie)	Milk; Orange Kool-Aid	5
9-12 (tie)	Root Beer; Strawberry Milk; Hot Chocolate; San Pellegrino Limonata	4
Other	Iced Tea; Diet Pepsi; Chai; Starbucks Chantico; Milkshake; Pineapple Juice; Apple Juice; Cola; Adirondack Citrus Frost; Pepsi; Coffee Milk; Black Currant/Raspberry Soda; Apple Cider; Rainwater; “the blood of my enemies”	1-3

Honoring Tradition

11/20/2007, 9:30 am -- by Erin | No Comments

The rain and sleet drove down practically sideways in icy, almost unbearable torrents. The sky — if one could catch a glimpse of it — was a deep, discontented grey, with layers and layers of storm clouds mushrooming out for hundreds of miles. But no one looked at the sky — why would you look at a sky if it meant getting a face full of sleet? Instead, people pulled their scarves and their hoods closer, mittens a little higher, layers of sweaters a little tighter, and prayed that their wool coats wouldn’t be soaked through.

But the rain did soak through. It soaked through the wool coats, through the flimsy roofs of flimsy wooden houses, through lean-tos and tents and makeshift shelters. It dampened fires as they were lit in chimneys, chilled people huddled together for warmth, stole life from those whose lungs were already consumptive.

Then the rain turned — mostly — to snow. The ocean kept the temperature in the twenties or thirties, so the snow was heavy, wet, and deep. The little houses built near the bay were uninsulated, their medical supplies close to nil and medical knowledge even closer. Their thinner clothing — nightgowns, extra sheets and potential trousseaus — became graveclothes, and each time a death rattle began to sound, a collection went round for those with extra to provide, and the shovel was passed to those with some strength to dig the graves.

By springtime, over half of them were dead.

________

The next winter wasn’t nearly so harsh. New friends had helped them fill in the chinking in their walls, mend their roofs, and marvel at the stupidity of wool clothing, which holds water and cold for so long. The year had been mild and plentiful and had brought old and new visitors to the community. People ate and stored and looked long at the skies — which stayed blue and cloudless through October. They celebrated and felt full for the first time in months, their happiness almost immeasurable. It snowed near Christmas and for a while after that, but if the sleet and rain did come, they couldn’t soak into the food that had been stored away. Joy, it seemed, had come.

________

People expected life to continue that way – mild days, plenty to eat, fewer and fewer graves as the year went by. But the uneven cruelty of the winters was yet another thing that they couldn’t have known — not then, after just two years. The next spring and summer was hot and crowded — too many old friends had decided to move in as well. The food stores ran low by mid-January, just when the nor’easters began to unleash their fury. It was bitterly cold, and people often didn’t know which pangs were greater — those of their frostbitten fingers or their growling, shrunked stomachs.

The collections for graveclothes began again. They had more to spare this time, perhaps, but the hopefulness that had pushed them through the first winter was gone, now, and with each death it seemed a nail was driven into their own hearts. What had they done wrong? They had been willing to learn, to be thankful, to share. What had they done wrong?

________

It was just before the fourth winter — most of the leaves fallen already, but a few still clinging to the trees, rustling stubbornly as if to say, watch me come down before I feel like it, I dare you. The wind blew often in those days, and the people were certain another winter would wreak more havoc. They had grown significantly in number, but scarcely in hope. This year had been bad — a drought had teased the farmers with corn barely knee-high by the end of the season, much less early July. The people had worked hard and put away as much as they could, but by late November, the pangs of realization and hunger were beginning to set in. There had been a fire in the first week of November which tore through the village, burning the houses and food stores of many to a crisp.

One of the men, William, went in to his wife Alice, as she was crushing the tiniest bit of an indeterminate herb over their supper stew one day.

“Don’t we have a servant for that?,” he said, jokingly as he could, putting an arm around her from behind.

She smiled. “God knows I’ve asked him enough for one — though a servant might ruin your favorite soup.”

“My favorite?”

“Yes, of course. At least, it had better be your favorite. It’s got to last us a while.” Her eyes grew serious. “I’m beginning to give up, William,” she whispered. “Will one of our children be the ones to go this winter?”

There was a moment of silence as William pondered what he had always hoped to be unthinkable. “God will provide, Alice.”

“I pray and I pray, William. Not for much — for just enough.”

“I know. Believe me, I do.”

Alice began to reply, but in that moment William had an idea. He put a hand on Alice’s shoulder to still her voice and rushed out of the house to his neighbors’.

By the end of the day he had visited almost every house in the small community, begging them to see the light, to gather, and to pray.

________

They gathered. A man stood and read from Job about suffering and God’s mighty response, about His provision and His love and His ultimate authority.

It was so hard to believe.

They stood and prayed for safety and health and warmth and the Spirit, one after one, words after words. Until William.

He stood a little clumsily for a man in his authoritative position, but those around him didn’t see it as weakness. His family was hungry, too.

“I called you to this because it is all we can do,” he said, and then began to pray.

“Our Father, give us a spirit of humility, thankfulness, and joy when Your provisions for us are many and we cannot but express our gratitude for Your everlasting love. When we are unsure of the future, give us the ability to trust You, give us perseverance, and banish our doubt.”

“And Father, when we are as we are now,” the words came out slowly, his voice dangerously near to giving out, “when we believe no light can be seen, when we fear for our lives and for our souls, bear us up in Your grace, help us not to curse You but to thank You for it all. Amen.”

Then William opened his eyes to the people he governed. “Let us keep on doing this. It is a tradition worth beginning,” he said. He motioned to Alice and his children — the ones born on the voyage and born here, the ones born of his first wife, whom the first winter of sleet and rain had killed, and the ones born to Alice: his family, the light of his eyes.

Then the Bradford family walked, together, out of the meeting hall and looked up at the sky, where a storm had been brewing. The snow was just beginning to fall.

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