Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

A person’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.

• Job 14:5

“Show me, Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is.

• Psalm 39:4

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

• Psalm 90:12

Does a young woman forget her jewelry, a bride her wedding ornaments? Yet my people have forgotten me, days without number.

• Jeremiah 2:32

People stalked us at every step, so we could not walk in our streets. Our end was near, our days were numbered, for our end had come.

• Lamentations 4:18

They arranged to meet Paul on a certain day, and came in even larger numbers to the place where he was staying. He witnessed to them from morning till evening, explaining about the kingdom of God, and from the Law of Moses and from the Prophets he tried to persuade them about Jesus.

• Acts 28:23

For two whole years Paul stayed there in his own rented house and welcomed all who came to see him. He proclaimed the kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus Christ—with all boldness and without hindrance!

• Acts 28:30-31

Boilerplate

I’m Harold Dykstra.  I’m retired, but I go to food bank distributions all over Tracy and talk to people that need someone who will listen to their story.  My time is well spent.  A police lieutenant suggested that I write down the conversations that I had with an angel.  I did not know she was an angel at the time.  The angel, for a little over a year, indwelled a life-sized posable action figure my children bought me, so that I would not be perceived as travelling alone.  And in a way, she was training me for what I do while talking to the needy.  She probed my heart to find out what I believed and how I express love for others.  She changed my life.

In her leaving, she said someone would come.  I had thought that was Jesus, in His second coming, but a new Babs, a little older, the model for the posable action figure arrived.  While I had no desire to start over with romance, Morrie helped her move in, thinking she was the other Babs who had returned.

This Week’s Question

Last week, Babs went to the aid of her friend, little Joe Painter.

This week, I have no idea what is going wrong.  We need to go to the church to sort the donations and purchases for the food bank.  Then we’ll stock the shelves.  But usually by this time, Babs has taken her walk and visited with everyone that she knows in the neighborhood.

I knocked on her door.  “Babs, are you alright?  Can I come in?”

Babs said, “Yes, yes.  I apologize for being lazy today.  Since we did not have anything to do today, I thought I would simply not get out of bed.  I’ve been reading and praying.”

I came in, “But, Babs, we have to be at the church in thirty minutes.  We are stocking the shelves at the food bank.”

Babs said, “But it’s only Wednesday, Harold.  We stock shelves on Thursday.  That way, if we are short on something, Tim has Friday to go buy what we need.”

I nodded, “Sure, sure, but Babs, it is not Wednesday.  It’s Thursday.”

Babs looked concerned, “Did I sleep all the way through Wednesday?”

I shook my head, “No, Babs, I heard you go out on your walk yesterday, and we had supper and a Bible study last night.  You must have gotten your days mixed up.  I will admit that when I was younger, I had favorite television shows each night of the week.  Then Saturday morning was cartoons until lunch.  But I hardly watch any television anymore.  It’s hard to keep track of what day it is.”

Babs groaned, “But I am younger than you are.  I need to keep track.  You have at least one doctor appointment every month.  I cannot afford to miss a day.  God only gives us so many.  I have to be more alert.”

I nodded, “Okay then.  That will be our Bible study topic, but first we stock the shelves.  We need to separate the peas from the beans.”

Babs pulled down the covers.  She was wearing her usual T-shirt and boxers.  “Absolutely, Harold, we do not want those peas and beans getting mixed up.  The peas would get gassy.”

I said, “Wait, Babs, have you written something on your T-shirt?”

Babs scrunched her nose, “Do you like it?”

I sighed, “Well, it will take me a few seconds to read it.”  It was in block letters, but she wrote it clearly.  “Mexican T-Shirt.  These are nacho breasts.  Keep your hands off.”

I said, “Babs, you have a fold or wrinkle in your shirt.  I can’t read what’s on the bottom.”

Babs giggled and straightened out the shirt.  The second half of what she wrote said, “And Harold, taco gaze somewhere else.  Quit staring at the merchandise!”

I groaned, “So if I can interpret.  You are telling me that those are not my breasts so I should not touch them.  And I should take my gaze somewhere else and quit staring at them.  But Babs, if you write something on your chest, you know I will want to read it.  Those teenagers in the mall get upset when old folks stare at their breasts, but then why do they have words printed there?”

Babs giggled, “They don’t want old geezers staring.  The old geezers are trying to read what’s on the shirt when the nice hunk that they are trying to attract walks by, not even seeing the shirt.”

I shrugged, “It’s not my fault that the hunk can’t read anything that does not appear on a phone screen.  I will leave you and warm up the car.”

Babs sighed, “Harold, please, run the A/C.  It’s already hot out there today.  We don’t need the car hot also.”

I growled, “You have not lived here very long, Babs, but they say that if you don’t like Tracy Weather, just wait fifteen minutes.”

With that, I left, and twenty minutes later, Babs climbed into the passenger seat, looking gorgeous, as always.

Well, we separated the beans from the peas to keep the peas from getting gassy.  We were short a few boxes of cereal and potato buds for making mashed potatoes.  At least that was what they had for Saturday’s distribution.  We had plenty of everything else.  We texted Tim, the church’s food bank manager.  He’d go out the next day to buy what we needed.

When we got back to the house, I told Babs that supper would be leftover lasagna.  Thomas ver Waarloosd had come by early in the morning and dropped some off for us to try.  He was modifying the recipe a little.  He wanted to know if it tasted good.  We weren’t the only taste testers, but when he experimented with something, last month Salisbury steaks, meatloaf the month before that, he would complete his early morning baking and experimentations and then make his taste tester run.  To think, a year or so ago, he had never ridden in a car, and now he drives a pink van all over Tracy.  And in the early morning so that he can return to Lily the Pink to pick up his wife and not be late to class at T.R.U.S.T.

After we finished eating, Babs said, “Thomas has really gotten good at these meals.  I heard some people did not like the mushrooms and others did not like the spinach.  Funny, these are free meals that are being provided for the homeless, but they still complain.  This was so good, I can’t figure out what’s missing, and then he can have the ‘shrooms’ and spinach on the side for those that want it.”

I nodded.  I agreed that Thomas was getting good and that reminded me that next week, we would be spending Thursday night at one of the two venues.  Babs loved singing with Menzie and the others.

I said, “Babs, you are absolutely correct about our days being limited, but we do not know how many we have.  Job said in chapter 14, his response to Zophar…”

Babs said, “Zo far, Zo good.”

I huffed, “Are we going to have an intelligent Bible study tonight or silliness?”

Babs sighed, “Can’t we have brief moments of mirth?”

I shook my head.  It was going to be one of those nights.  “Okay, Job, in Job 14, said that we cannot exceed our limit.  And I think David was talking poetically in Psalm 39 about how he wants a reminder of how fleeting life is.  He requests to know the number of days, but that does not mean God replied with a number.  David is just saying we need to make the days we have count for something.  Then Moses wrote Psalm 90.  Moses said for us to know that our days are numbered, so that we can be wise.  In other words, use the numbered days that we have as best as we can.”

Babs nodded eagerly, “Harold, I wasted most of mine before I even knew that God was, umm, is real.  I need to work overtime to catch up for all my unwise use of time up ‘til now.”

I nodded, “And thinking of that, do you ever forget your jewelry?  You have never married, but if you had, would you forget your wedding dress, the veil, the two little people on top of the cake?”

Babs shrugged, “I never had much jewelry that was mine, so I could count that.  And right now, the most important thing in my life, other than becoming more like Jesus is to marry the man that I have been seeing lately.  I would cherish anything that went along with that wedding.”

I asked, “And who is this man?  Your breasts do not belong to me, but I will have no one climbing the stairs to your apartment unless they have good intentions.  Give me a name.  I have friends at the detective precinct downtown that can do a background check.”

Babs giggled and took my hand, “I’m staring right at him.  You haven’t proposed, but you will.”

I leaned over and kissed her.  Then Babs asked, “But why ask about those things when you aren’t ready to propose?”

I smiled, “Jeremiah said in chapter 2, that those things would never be forgotten, but the people of Israel had forgotten God for countless days.  Really, I think God knew the exact number.  Then in Lamentations 4, the author, probably Jeremiah, says that people are stalking them.  Their end is near, their days are numbered, and then their end is here.”

Babs asked, “Anything from the New Testament?”

I shrugged, “Paul tells us in a way what to do.  Really Luke is writing this at the end of the book of Acts.  Some people call the book, The Acts of the Apostles, but could even the Apostles do anything unless God was working through them?  Maybe it should be ‘The Acts of the Holy Spirit through the Apostles’, but even then, Stephen and Philip were deacons, not apostles.  Paul was not alone on his travels.  But Luke tells us that Paul invited a large crowd to his home that he had to rent for house arrest.  He explained the Gospel to the Jewish leaders and many accepted Jesus, but others rejected Him.  Yet, Paul, for the two years that he was imprisoned in Rome, welcomed people to his home and he preached boldly.  We know he sent off letters to various churches while he was imprisoned.  And although Paul was under house arrest in a rented house, he was bold and was never hindered in spreading the Gospel.  Those last two verses of the book of Acts say that Paul never quit.  It would have been so easy under his circumstances to quit.”

Babs scrunched her nose, “So, I didn’t do the right thing today?”

I shrugged, “It does not say in those last two verses of Acts that Paul did not have a day of rest.  You probably needed that time today, and we still got to the church and sorted the stock and filled the shelves.  Then on Saturday, if anyone has questions, you know what we have available.  I’ll be in the outer room talking to as many as want to talk.”

Babs smiled, “I love you, Harold.  You always have words of encouragement.”  And we ended our Bible study with a prayer and then a kiss.  And somehow, we lost track of how many Mississippis the kiss lasted.

Credits

All these conversations remind me of my conversations with my wife.  We would talk about anything and everything.  And most of the time, it sounded like a discussion in a Sunday school class.

I was giving a little confession when I mentioned that television programming (and of course a work schedule) were two factors that kept me aware of what day it was.  But with retirement and limiting my television viewing greatly, I need other reminders at times.  The last time that my wife had a neurologist appointment, one of his “examination” questions, to see if her dementia had gotten worse, was what day of the week it was.  She could not remember, but she knew when she went to kidney dialysis, and she knew that we had done that the previous day.  Since the doctor would not have appointments on Sunday, it had to be either Wednesday or Friday.  She flipped a coin in her head and said, “Friday.”  The doctor nearly burst out laughing, partly because her thinking out loud was comical, but it also meant she was not badly progressing toward dementia.  He suggested that she did not have to see him anymore.

And many cities make the claim of waiting fifteen minutes or thirty minutes if you do not like the weather, especially in the Spring and Fall. In the Winter, it can be that volatile in Pittsburgh, PA.

And some days, we may not have to think it out loud as she did, but we must find that reason to eliminate the days of the week, one at a time.

Soli Deo Gloria.  Only to God be the Glory.