So what am I forgetting? Trust me, I know there’s something, but for the life of me I can’t remember. Consequently, I’m barely out of the gate with today’s blog and I’ve already confessed to the accusation the General often makes. Actually, she expresses it differently. She alleges that I don’t pay attention. Did I mention that the General is back?
She was a little later in arriving yesterday afternoon than I anticipated, but then again I failed to remember getting an early start is no longer her modus of operandi. Prior to leaving for Odessa two weeks ago, she reminded me that I needed to get my truck registration taken care of before week’s end. My registration expires at the end of this month.
One day last week, I picked up the envelope containing the registration material and headed out the door for H.E.B. I have the General to thank for that. I had no idea that you could pay your vehicle registration at H.E.B. Wow! The convenience is incredible. At any rate, before I got to H.E.B. the lights came on in my head and I recognized that I would be unable to register the truck without a current inspection. “Hello Houston, We’ve Got A Problem.” The General took my truck to Odessa because I had to get the oil changed in her car.
I anticipated she’d be back in time yesterday for me to take care of getting the truck inspected. As it turned out, she did but just barely. I met her in the church parking lot at 4:20 and we hurried to Central Garage in Dripping Springs. Gratefully, one of the bays was open. I walked to the counter to ask if they had time for an inspection.
The young man who waited on me has a great sense of humor. He answered: “Obviously, we don’t have time. We are swamped.” Initially, I thought he was being serious, but when he smiled I realized he was joking. It really was pretty funny.
Earlier in the afternoon yesterday I realized I had another problem. I was hopeful the General’s brother could help. He is pastor of the First Christian Church in Johnson City. They have a baptistery in their church. We are Baptist and understand the ordinance of baptism, but we do it seasonally in the creek. Consequently, I wade into the water wearing causal clothing and get as wet (well almost) as the person being immersed. For thirty-eight years this system has worked well for me.
At Henly Baptist Church, we definitely don’t fall into the category of high church. We are a country church that makes do with what we’ve got. We don’t have an indoor baptistery, so we do it the way then did it in the New Testament – outside in the river.
My two grandson’s are being baptized in the morning at First Baptist Church in Sealy. Thoughtfully, they asked if I’d participate in the baptism with them. Pastor Robbie at First Baptist Church is a gracious man. He was more than willing for me to grace the baptism pool with them.
It didn’t occur to me this week that I don’t have what I need for an indoor baptism Pastors generally wear waders and a robe and manage to get through the experience without having to change clothing before the sermon. I didn’t want to embarrass my grandson’s by being the hick preacher from the country that didn’t have the appropriate attire. Consequently, I reached out to the General’s brother to see if I could borrow his waders and robe. He graciously consented.
At any rate, I called the General and asked if she’d meet her brother at the First Christian Church in Johnson City when she came through town. She gladly agreed, but then called me once she was in Johnson City. Her brother couldn’t find his robe at the church. Did I want her to go back to his home with him to look for the robe, or did I want her to expeditiously head my direction to get the truck inspected. Obviously, I voted for the truck.
Long story short, by day’s end we got it all done and the General’s brother delivered the robe. We actually, met them at my daughter’s house. We were keeping the dogs last night. Generally, we would have kept them at our house, but our house is on the market. Consequently, I voted to keep them at their on house.
There is a lot to the story, but as a retiree, I’ve got a lot to get done, so I don’t have time for all the details now. I need to head toward Brenham in the next fifteen minutes to attend a retirement party in my honor at Miracle Farm, the boys ranch program affiliated with Children at Heart Ministries.
Wow! It is going to be a busy weekend. Who says you have to slow down in retirement? Not me, I’m going full speed ahead.
All My Best!
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