This Sunday morning while waiting for Ann to catch a snoozle or two more, I noticed a cookbook in my shelf entitled, Grazing Across Wisconsin. This one was complied by the Pioneer Coop in 1989. I'm looking seriously for some of the unique foods of southwestern Wisconsin, when my eyes fell on this: I'm going to share almost word for word, so if this is your recipe, I mean no harm.

“Elephant Stew

1 elephant (Medium size)           2 rabbits (optional)

Salt to taste

Cut the elephant into small bite-size pieces. This should take about 2 months. Add enough gravy to cover. Cook over a kerosene fire for about 4 weeks at 465 degrees. This will serve at 3,800 people. If more are expected, the 2 rabbits may be added, but do this only if necessary, as most people do not like to find hare in their stew.”

As a teacher, I have always been humbled by the knowledge that my students would probably be better, more successful than I. Yet, I was aware that a little of my attitude, or skill would rub off, or by adding my little bit to what they were learning in other arenas, they could and would be great. My son, David, referring to Locard's Theories, which says in effect that each of us as we meet someone else take a little of that person with us, and they take some of us with them.

Over the years of ministry, I had the privilege of knowing twelve student pastors. They studied for as little as three months as camp ministers, to one student spending two years. Many of you have heard the story of my first funeral. I had served a small church in the southwestern plains. There were about 30 members, all but one was quite healthy, and all very married. Some small children that insisted on attending the larger churches in town with their friends, where there were youth activities. I had one person in the hospital during that year, and that was a 94 year old lady who had been to town (14 miles) 4 times in her life, and this was the fourth. She went to a care center (really, a boarding house run by a private individual, where three other ladies made their homes.)

I arrived at my new assignment in north central Wisconsin, full of enthusiasm, but little experience. I was there less than a week when the local undertaker called, asking if I would officiate at a funeral of a non-member. Our church traditionally did these services, so I said, “Yes.” I immediately hung up the phone, and then called my neighboring pastor as said, “I have a funeral, now what do I do?” I determined that if I ever had opportunity, I would be sure that this would never happen to another. The seminary didn't dictate what I had to teach, nor did they ask. Each of my students would conduct a funeral, a wedding, and a baptism by themselves with my standing by.

I remember David's tribute to his friend (full paragraph available upon request) when a student who came to northern Wisconsin, where we worked with north woods people. They were exacting, but informal people. They had their own ideas, and the state capital might just as well of have been in Brazil. Some thought the Bishop lived there as well. This student had an aversion to me as we tried to find our way through the ways of ministry in such a culture. Simply put, “They, (the student) hated me.”

They went back to school, and I went into the fall schedule. The First Woman Bishop in the United States was elected to serve the Wisconsin Conference This student was selected to introduce her to the conference in the first state meeting. The student arose, addressed the microphone, and I heard myself introduce the bishop that day. The same voice, the same diction, the same gestures, and nearly the same words. You see, I had a speech teacher that insisted on Good General American/Texan speech. He taught three semesters in seminary, and as a member of the Academic Committee, made it impossible to graduate from that school without his three credits. My Good General American/Texan had played through to this very sophisticated student so they gave that introduction in the same manner that I was taught several years earlier.

Yes, David, we do affect people in ways that we sometimes will never know. I catch myself saying “Heh, heh, heh,” and turning my head looking out to the left. (Always the left.) My uncle, first oldest from my mother had this little mannerism, and when it happens, I can't help but remember Uncle Bert (Passed away some twenty years or more, ago.) You will hear me often remark how were are products of our friends and more so our acquaintances. I have served 28 different communities in my travels as a minister. If each of them had 200 to 400 (average) members, there has been a lot of hand shaking, and lot of people influencing my life. If I were to start mentioning those I remember, it would be long night's session. I'm especially blessed by some that I don't remember, but realize that there is something in my mannerism that didn't come by education, or conditioning. It came from an angel that I just don't remember, but who blessed my life.

The secret of success

Everyone is looking for the secret of success. Some major works have been written such as Think and Grow Rich. A question such as this must have been asked of our teaching Lord, for He turned to them with this story. There were ten men, diagnosed with leprosy. This meant that they were excluded from all society. When the leper was walking down a street and met someone coming toward them, they were required to stand aside and shout “Unclean unclean.” Unclean, sinner, unworthy of heavenly places, outcast, all described someone with the disease. It was more than a physical condition, it was a social death for interaction was the middle name of the Jewish man or woman.

Ten such men came to the Master for healing. Word had leaked out concerning Jesus' power over disease. As they approached, Jesus spoke the word and they were cleansed. “Go show yourselves to the priest,” They turned as though one person who had been in chains, and ran to the temple. All but one ran to be released. That one turned, fell on his face in gratitude and thanked Jesus for such a gift. A gift of life and his new successful life was about to begin.

A book has been re-published from the early twentieth century on how to get rich. I read this short book with a great anticipation of the precious secret. As I read, I remember a teaching from my early training, when someone, perhaps a traveling evangelist said, “You can't out give God.” The formula in this dusty old book was, “Give as much as you can to others, and God will give you more and more.” This seems rather foreign in our time of a regular job and paycheck. Many thousands will make a regular and predictable wage from the first day on the job until they retire.

In today's world, a regular check is important but often a hobby turns into a new income. It is possible to make as much at your Saturday hobby as you did all week. To be really successful according to Scriptures, is to have enough for yourself and your family and help others with the remainder. The miser is seldom rich even through they have a nest-egg in the bank.

Rich or rich? The Jewish person is rich because God has blessed them with a gift of giving. Gratitude may be the secret. The leper that returned to Jesus was not a part of the chosen people. He was a half breed, outcast to began with, but Jesus made him rich. Maybe we need to start our journey of riches with a “thank you gift” for the less fortunate. God will bless. Pastor Dave.

Tradition, as I have mentioned before when Fiddler on the Roof crossed my line of vision, says a lot of who we are and the meanings of our lives. Part of the keeping of traditions is to explain them to the younger children so that the acts and actions have real meaning. The Jewish Seder Meal is a good example. At the appropriate time at the table, the child asks why we do certain things such as eat with our outdoor clothes on, or why do we eat certain foods. “Father”, then with his hat and coat on, explains each of the “traditions”.

The old joke about cutting the ham in two before cooking, is a good example. Why would one have a Christmas tree in the house, or hang stocking by the hearth, soon get lost, as well as our sense of identity. One of the things that makes our culture unique in the world is the keeping of certain traditions. In an attempt to be inclusive, we have surrendered our traditions as to defer to the visitors from other countries in our midst. We have so wished not to offend them that we have eliminated traditions from our schools and public streets. We are even careful lest our children use our traditional vocabulary in their play or in school.

Texas has become a state of many cultures, many brought here by visitors. Statistics tell us that by the year 2020, 50 percent of our population will speak a foreign language. Each of these visitors have brought their foods (which are quite delicious and fattening), their religions some of which are similar to ours, their sense of family of which we might wish we had a little better grasp, and their heroes and holidays. To incorporate all this into a society, where no one is excluded, and no one feels like they are less important than another, we have not only forgotten our traditions, but have failed to remind the next generation of them. When our children know more about Cinco De Milo (pardon my spelling) than they know about the Fourth of July, someone would have to conclude the possibility of a missed opportunity to explain our traditions.

How can we change our traditions or our stories? Who are we as a people, or as culture, if we can change our traditions? In “Fiddler,” to change the place of the “matchmaker”, changed who the Russian Jew of that period was. On the other hand, the place of the Living God was very clearly spelled out as the main character was pictured talking and singing to Him very openly. To change our customs might be as easy as changing a dress style, or type of acceptable shoe. For men to wear skirts in the hot weather because of a “no shorts allowed”, made national news. For people to openly embrace the Nudist life style on the streets of Kerrville, or Mineral Point might bring a bit of hostility in the public forum. To deny the use of Merry Christmas, or God bless you in the public forum is now enforced because we haven't given our younger generation a good explanation of these greetings often.

To wish you a Merry Christmas is not just a Dickens greeting in a novel. It is my way of wishing God's richest blessings for you for now and the coming year. Merry Christmas. Dave & Ann

Wait – its a key word in the Christian faith. We wait for the Lord's return. They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. “Wait 'til the tempest is past” is a lyric. I have an illustration that scares me now as I think about it.

As a young man, at Mother's knee, I could hardly wait til I could start to school. I had such visions about what school was like, and I had already learned my numbers and letters. As I attended my first year in a one room school house, I could see the older kids working math problems and studying the globe, and I couldn't wait to be a “big kid.” Each step of the way I saw the next step and yearned to achieve that level. I would attend and graduate from college; I would start a career; I would be the boss; I would earn my first big pay check; all these milestones to be achieved but never satisfied.

At about age 50, I begin to see some of my neighbors and friends retire. I didn't even have a definition for the “condition”, but I knew it was something that I could look forward to, or even “I couldn't wait until I was able to draw my first Social Security check. The time came and the experience of retirement (really, just change jobs) had come. I was sitting on the top of the age heap. I had arrived. Time had passed quickly as I looked back. But, I'm on the top of a slippery slope. I could tumble off at anytime and end up in a nursing facility, where I would wait for “what.” The old rocking chair that I longed for has turned into a dreaded moment in a normal experience. (Some look forward to “death” as the release from suffering, etc.)

Some refuse to accept the idea that death could be around the corner. What a cruel joke. The carrot that led us though life always looking forward, but never tasting life as we went along, has let us the brink of the end.

As a giver of advise, (the worst vise), I suggest that you stop and smell the roses as you walk down the path of life. I still ask myself about how important a decision or event is, as to take up time or energy. What happened to undone tasks or unfulfilled dreams when we pass. When we had housekeepers come to clean our house, my wife would hurry and clean the house first, so that another woman wouldn't see her house and think it was really dirty. One might view the end of life in the same way. Our biggest regret is that we are leaving this world with unfinished business. I would hope that when I die, I have my hands in so many pies, so many projects going, so many people in line for my help or counsel, so many dreams that I in the process, that I burn out rather than rust out. I believe the Lord will receive me as a forgiven sinner and the shed blood of the Savior will wash away all regrets.

I had this thought several months after my late wife died. “She doesn't know she is dead yet.” It was as real as if someone had spoken the words to me. Many still sleep under her knitted throws and blankets, many still wear her costumes at Halloween, and many remember her telephone calls up to the time when she dipped into her death slide. She was busy, and was the one who would have ordered a three year magazine subscription. One might live their lives in such a way that the only wait you know is when the kids haven't gotten out of school, yet, for their ride home. Your wait is to see your doctor for your annual check-up. Your “wait” really could be translated service, as in, I'm waiting on you. “They that wait (serve, give service to God's creation) upon the Lord shall renew your strength.” Thanks for listening. See you soon.