I noticed today that our post office flag was at full mast. I assumed that it means that the thirty-day mourning period for President Gerald Ford has run its course. I neglected to blog about Ford during the days following his death because I would have to do a mountain of research to justify any commentary on his life. I have been thinking of late about our passed presidents, though. (Yes, that's the right form of the word--no pun intended, but there all the same.)

How many of the dead presidents do we know? How many do we revere in our history books? Why do we remember some so readily, but forget others? For instance, most Americans having been through the third grade can remember George Washington. After all, he was the "Father of Our Country." We remember fondly the legends and myths that surrounded him--the cherry tree incident and wooden teeth. We recall his heroism during the War that brought our freedom.

Also, most of us have no difficulty remembering "Honest Abe" the president who was murdered in Ford's theater. He presided over the country torn assunder, and dreamed of reuniting it.

Other prezes that stand out are the Roosevelts (Teddy and Franklin), Ike, and John Kennedy. What happened to those we don't remember? James Polk, James Madison, James Carter. We only see in history books words about the Johnsons (Andrew and Lyndon). Some, when we do remember them, it is with disdain or remorse that we recall they were even our president. What does it take to make one president (or a person for that matter) memorable and another not so?

It's not about the numbers. It's about the obedience!

(Chew on that awhile then tell me what you think.)

Most of us like our cakes and cookies to be done—not well done, mind you, but done. We leave them in the oven until they have completed their time. If we take them out early, they may be underdone—half-baked. As we look at the love letter to the church in Pergamos we are (as the church today) encouraged not to be soft in the middle, underdone, half-baked. We are instead given the directive to be fully committed to Christ. Let’s be fully done—ready to live life for Christ in God’s Kingdom. Let’s do Kingdom work together.

If you'll indulge me, I'd like to dive once more into Christmas 2006 before heading on. This year (as I usually do) I received a book for Christmas . . . about Christmas. This year's Christmas tale was The Great Santa Search "as told to" Jeff Guinn by Santa Claus himself. This is the third installment in what is now being presented as The Christmas Chronicles. In this story, Santa tells how he participates in a Christmas Eve reality TV program for the FUN-TV network, a network dedicated to showing wholesome family-oriented programs. FUN-TV has always gotten the lion's share of Christmas season ratings until a few years ago when reality TV took America by storm.
Executive Bobbo (pronounced BOB - oh) Butler vows to save his network after last Christmas's flop of an offering, Merry Monkey. With the financial backing of the LastLong Toy Co. (notorious for toys that break only moments after they are opened), Bobbo spends the entire year gearing up for the best reality show of them all--the one that will help American viewers know who is the one real Santa Claus. Devising challenges such as reindeer roping, chimney sliding, and cookie eating, Bobbo and his staff scour the country for the ten most likely Santas. In the true fashion of the Christmas spirit and occasional references to the true Christmas story as well as the legends surrounding Jolly Old Saint Nicholas, Guinn offers another yuletide treasure.

If you missed The Autobiography of Santa Claus and How Mrs. Claus Saved Christmas, you'll want to get all the scoop on how Leonardo Da Vinci and Ben Franklin along with St. Francis of Assisi, Attilla the Hun and Theodore Roosevelt became part of the North Pole gift-giving team. Now with his third Christmas story on the shelves, we can say, "Three cheers for the one who keeps Santa Claus alive in the hearts of Americans young and old."

When I was growing up we pronounced it “MILK toast.” It was a funny-sounding expression that referred to someone who could stand up to nothing. Whenever things got a little tough, they wilted, melting into a sea of nothingness. If there was one description you did not want to apply to you it was milque-toast.

Sadly, any number of church members and, yes, even churches fall into this bucket. Do we crumble when we encounter resistance? Are we known for our soggy response to difficulty?

I’d like to be known as a stand-up guy rather than a melt-down one, wouldn’t you?

The chorus of an old favorite song of mine goes like this:

Take a stand for the Light in the middle of the night,
Take a stand
We’ve been waiting much too long.
Take a stand for what’s true in everything you do
Take a stand.

The message from the song is clear—stand up for what’s right so that what people see is that which is right . . . and do it all the time. Sometimes there will be persecution. Sometimes there will be pain. Sometimes people will pressure you to live in the darkness when you know you should live right—stand up, stand strong, stand right!

I'm in Texas for a couple of days (Paris to be exact). We've come to visit my grandmother (MawMaw) who's fading fast. If she makes it to the 19th she'll be ninety. I'll be monitoring a little, but posting almost nothing. Back soon.

Blessings.

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 121 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

How unique are you?

Thanks to the Crazy Working Mom for this link.

In today’s world we find all kinds of things to be busy about. ‘Nothing wrong with that. There may be a problem with the things about which we find ourselves busy, though. We can turn ourselves, our homes, our churches, into perpetual motion machines. You know, those objects that, once you start them, never stop. What we need is to focus on the basics—the basics of living, the basics of loving, the basics of caring. What we discover often goes back to our friends at VeggieTales who sing:

Busy, Busy

Archibald (Mayor): I'm busy, busy, dreadfully busy
You've no idea what I have to do.
Busy, busy, shockingly busy
Much, much too busy for you.

Larry: Oh, I see.

Archibald and Doctor: We're busy, busy, dreadfully busy
You've no idea what we have to do.
Busy, busy, shockingly busy
Much, much too busy for you.

'Cause we're busy, busy, frightfully busy
More than a bumblebee, more than an ant.
Busy, busy, horribly busy
We'd love to help, but we can't!

Archibald: Ta ta!

What have you found yourself too busy for this new year?

Now for my take on the Year of Bond to help you vote (if you haven't already):

Connery -- defined Bond for most of the world. He has a little of the edginess depicted by Ian Fleming in the novels.

Moore -- got the job because of his popularity in TV's The Saint. Most Bond fans dismiss Roger because of he seems not to take the job seriously enough. One thing that he did add to the role was a more light-hearted look at the master-spy. With Moore we were able to fall in love with the British love for puns.

Lazenby -- the one-Bond wonder. Admittedly one of the best Bond scripts allowed us to see the human side of 007. He was dismissed as being too stiff for the role. Poor George never got a real chance.

Dalton -- brought some of the coldness back to the role. I thought I'd like Dalton and he did a fair job, but he had some sorry scripts.

Brosnan -- looked the part. When I read the novels, I picture Brosnan. Again plagued by bad scripts. Some liked Halle Berry as the Bond girl in Die Another Day; I thought her character made Bond look like a wimp and that she overpowered the script. The Russians called this one "Die, but not Today". I thought it died today.

Craig -- newest Bond as the oldest Bond. Using a script from the first appearance of Bond, Craig became characteristically what I saw when I read Casino Royale the first time. He seems to have captured the heartless wrecklessness that is James Bond.

As all of you, I am looking forward to an eventful year. Mulberry Grove is growing on us. We daily discover how much like the Crimean village it is . . . without the language hassles.

The kids will grow, and we will become better parents (because we're planning to learn from our mistakes rather than repeat them).

Happy Days to everyone, the Lord Bless and Keep you.