Growing Old Ain't For Sissies

NUMBER 159
To Travel Hopefully

This has not been a good year for residential farmers—even the melons from the farmer’s market are tasteless. I am reminded of a season 4 years ago when I wrote this poem.

TO TRAVEL HOPEFULLY
IS NOT BETTER THAN TO ARRIVE

This Beefsteak tomato plant had all the advantages:
Good parents, rich soil,
Most-of-the-day sun, a very loving gardener,
Liquid fertilizer, and plenty of water.

It grew quickly into magnificence:
Tall strong stalks, big lush leaves,
Many, blossoms, and, eventually,
lots of tomatoes.

But somewhere along the way
It lost track of its mission.
Its goal was not great size,
Big green leaves, many blossoms,
Tomatoes in abundance, well shaped,
Fat and round - Its goal was
Red, ripe tomatoes, to be eaten in
Club sandwiches or made into salsa.

But for a pale few, the tomatoes never ripened -
Today we dismembered the plant, dug up the roots,
Saved a few big green ones in faint hope of ripening,
And planted a healthy Coneflower in the spot.

10/02-8/06
104

NUMBER 158
A Vulture

This poem was written long ago and far away from Lexington, but proud under-shepherds and complacent sheep are very much with us today all across the land. For this reason, “…many are weak and a number sleep.” May we be quick to affirm those under-shepherds who preach the Word, and those sheep who take it seriously.

+++++++

“Set the trumpet to your lips, for a vulture is over the house of the Lord, because they have broken my covenant, and transgressed my law.” Hosea 8.1

“Between the vestibule and the altar let the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep and say 'spare thy people, O Lord, and make not thy heritage a reproach, a byword among the nations.’” Joel 2.17

Let this epistle be read also in all places where the program has taken precedence over The Presence.
Amen

To the Under-shepherd
Of my flock in Roswell
Write:

What have you done to my flock
That is under your care?

My sheep cry out in the darkness,
Is there no balm in Gilead?
They eat the chaff of homilies and relevant topics
But hunger for the green grass of my Word.
My sheep thirst, drinking from strange wells,
Knowing not the sweet taste of living water.
They are confused,
For you seldom take a stand--
They are fearful,
But not of my wrath.

What have you done to my flock
That is under your care?

My sheep are harassed
From without and within,
Your rod and your staff
Do not comfort them.
They are thin and weak and frail,
Yet hear only comfortable words
Of 'Great Pride'
Spoken of them.

They give grudgingly sparse wool
And make unto themselves
Coats of busyness
Against the chill of emptiness.

They produce no lambs.

What have you done
With my flock that is under your care?

I have required holiness—you have kept records.
I have required righteousness—you have produced statistics.
I have offered fellowship—you have settled for sentiment.
I have provided life—you have sanctified deadness.
I have given you my Word—you have obscured it with topics.
I have sent you my Son—you only say to Him "Lord, Lord."
I have given you myself—you have not given me the glory due my name.

I have bid you
Take up your cross and follow me--
You have busied yourself
With getting the budget pledged.

What have you done with my flock
That is under your care?

You have enlarged the rooms
Of the house you call by my Name
And scattered my healthy sheep
That you may multiply, untroubled,
The halt, the lame and the blind.

I have commanded you
'Feed my sheep'
And you have only counted them.

JS
1/76-8/06
023-1

NUMBER 157
Happy One Hundred, Russell Lowell Mixter

Joan’s Father was born on August 7, 1906. He married Emilie Catherine Claus on June 27, 1931 and they lived together happily for 67 years. Some years after Emilie went on to her reward, we asked him what people had influenced him the most in his life. Emilie was high on his list. “She taught me to act normally,” he said.

They produced one son and three daughters who added three spouses, 10 grandchildren and 19 great grandchildren to the family. There was one more great-grandson on the way as Russ celebrated his hundredth birthday.

If God were looking around for a contemporary Job, a “man who was blameless, upright, fearing God and turning away from evil,” he would not have to look past his servant, R.L. Mixter.

About six years ago he asked me, “Have you ever knowingly done something wrong, something you really regretted?”

Only half kidding I said, “Well, Dad, do you want today’s list, this week’s list, or this month’s list? He couldn’t decide but that wasn’t what he was looking for. He wanted to tell me the two things he could remember doing that he regretted.

All things considered, they were pretty minor sins—how many of us will reach 94 or 84 or 74 with only two things to regret? Russ was a gentleman of great personal integrity and honor. He jealously guarded his relationship and fellowship with the Lord and was acutely conscious of his moral responsibility as a teacher of students in a Christian College.

He has been neither proud nor self-absorbed—he simply wakes up every morning praying that God will glorify His Son in the life of His servant Russell, and then does what needs to be done.

This dear man is ready to go home any day and it looks as if his body is about ready also. We will all rejoice with him when he steps from life into LIFE.

NUMBER 156
Cat Scat

We did our quarterly check of the U.K. Arboretum a couple of weeks ago. Everything was beautiful. The place was overrun with cute little chipmunks but there was nary a cat to be seen. If you are a cat-lover, I would suggest you stop here. Go out and buy a new bag of Kitty Litter or something.

For background, I have to put in a letter to the editor in here—written, but never sent.

Re: Missing cat found slain, cut severely-reward offered for tips leading to arrest

The story of Macy the cat’s untimely demise certainly is a sad one. Like the neighbors, I share in the sadness of the cat’s owners. No one should kill a cat, no matter how much they might like to.

However, I have to disagree that, “It’s a senseless act…there is absolutely no reason for it.” Anyone who gardens will give you an earful of reasons. Every morning when my wife goes out to garden, her first chore is to clean up the remains of a dead bird or two and the smelly cat poop among the flowers. Several cats in our neighborhood use our yard for their cafeteria and their bathroom.

I have had some violent fantasies about these cats but I have too much respect for my neighbors to ever act on these thoughts. If my neighbors had the same amount of respect for me, they would keep their cats indoors. Perhaps that is what these ladies in Meadowthorp should do.



We came home from the Arboretum and I dug up a recipe for a non-lethal way to keep the neighborhood kitties from using our gardens as a bathroom. We had already tried various commercial products—they are all expensive and very temporary. Joan cut this recipe out of something in the past and kept it. Here is the recipe:

1 Cup ammonia
1/2 Cup dishwashing soap
1/4 Cup castor oil
1/2 Cup human urine

This makes about 18 ounces of ugly looking stuff. 1 ounce (1/8 cup) of it with a gallon of water in a pump sprayer lets me go around the edges of the front yard and all the edges of the garden areas. They say varmints of all kinds can’t stand the stuff.

The smell is not noticeable, and it is harmless to the grass, flowers, shrubs and the critters.

We have been using it a month or so and it seems to be working nicely. Several practitioners of the art have suggested I should add Cayenne pepper to the mix. I am saving that until I see that my present brew is not working.