Blowing Bubbles

The Spirit Blows in.

Wearing red to Church this Sunday was how many Christians participated in the celebration of Pentecost. In the message of Christ this is when the Holy Spirit showed up and showed up big time.
It is told in the New Testament book Acts and specifically in Chapter 2. At our Church Sunday, Associate Pastor Barbara Hatchell preached her sermon "A Mighty Wind Blows". It was a moving message as the Spirit moves but more so because Barara will be retiring in a few weeks.  Deeply Loved as she is by so many it is a sad transition at the same time as it is a happy occassion.

During Children's Moments Pastor Barbera gathered the children and then blew bubbles with them to help illustrate and teach about the Holy Spirit and how it comes as if by a breath from God.

"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear it's sounds, but cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the spirit."  John 3:8

And thought I would share some more about all things bubbles:

                                          Bubble Bath

 

                                    Drawing the hot water

As frothy peaks and valleys

Sway with the waves

 then two bodies sink

bent knees and tangled legs

resting in the warmth

all inhibitions melting away.

 

A long lovely day ending

With two glistening smiles

Caressing joviality and

Feminine fragrance flowing

Above and below the surface.

 

Gently rocking emotion swells

Across the boundaries diminishing

As love in proper practice

Spills over into the

Cracks and crevices of

Our vulnerabilities

And makes an indelible mark

On our soul.

 

Bradford Bosworth

May 2015

 

 

 

 

 



Every Passing Season

The Blind Barber, Gatekeeper Guide and "Miss Evie"

We travel through this world and along the journey we have so many encounters with others over a lifetime the faces blur. The voices fade. If our eyes are open and we are aware and awakened we will begin to notice the ones our Creator places in our path as guides and teachers. I have come to believe we can learn from all who we meet if our hearts are open and sprinkled with the fertile water of willingness.

In the recent years I have had the blessed occasions of exchange with three folks who in the past few weeks have found their ageing bodies failing them. The past two days off have found me visiting my next door neighbor, "Miss Evie" in her - end of days- at Tranquility Cobb Hospice. A long life at 82 years is wearing on for her. Over the past couple years we have had nice visits and I have learned of her family. She loves freshly grilled cheeseburgers. And although pizza was not kind to her frail digestive track her cravings would have her order delivery.  I would always get a call that she could not finish it and needed me to help.

During these times I learned about her children. At the Hospice yesterday I met the whole group of siblings.  We all held hands and prayed. God Bless you "Miss Evie".

Today I traveled to Piedmont Hospital to visit my friend Warren and his wife and caretaker Brenda.
Warren has been in a struggle for almost six months. His bone skeleture is failing his body. Bones are braking and it is immobilizing and painful. Warren was my first Sponsor into a fellowship of broken men.  On my journey of spiritual healing he has been the Gatekeeper Guide during the initial -feeling my way - stages of growth.  Since giving is never a one way process what I received from him I was able to return this morning - at least a little bit anyway.

I mentioned to Brenda and Warren that I was going to get my haircut by The Blind Barber and they knew exactly who I was talking about. Remarkably Brenda's late father used to get his hair cut by Max. Of course Blind is an exaggeration but not much.  I could not help but go to Max for my hair cut. His small Smyrna, Georgia shop is the classic Barber Shop.  From the first time going there I knew it was a dangered species. Three chairs only one of which was used: Max's chair. This gentle little man is the Rockwellesque picture of humble, meek and God fearing.  He would cut your hair for ten dollars. No plastic and if you did not have the cash well just pay him the next time you are in.

These virtues and values of Americana are slowly fading out of season.  Each instance of loss is a sobering trial of spiritual strength to the ones who wonder if the underlying truths and values will spring forth and manifest again. But by Faith we know: "To Everything there is a Season......." (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

Bradford Bosworth
May 2015

Five Finger Friends

Today was a glorious day. Cool, crisp, breezy and the cloudless blue sky made for sunbeams so sharp all shadows had distinctly defined edges. It was an edgy day. A great day for a Harley ride along the Chattahoochee. And even better I got to catch up with two of my Five Finger Friends. First stop in Alpharetta to visit with Michael and Joyce whose friendship goes back to my first job out of college at WESH-TV in Daytona Beach, Florida. Michael was a cameraman at the station and helped me get started in the business. I a fresh faced kid, and he a Vietnam Vet making his way in the business world.  It was fourty years ago we met.  Although it has been a few years since we have seen each other or even talked.  No matter, it seemed like yesterday. That is the way it is with Five Finger Friends. I love you Michael.

Then it was off to Buckhead to meet up with a group of folks gathering at the trendy Hal's On Old Ivey. This group was coming together to celebrate the retirement of my friend John, Faith partner and former boss who I worked for and with over 15 years. Our friendship goes back more than 25 years and has grown since I left the employ of the same company he is now retiring from.  It is a beverage alcohol distributing company with strong Atlanta roots.  I am most happy for John as I believe his life will now begin to open up in new and exciting ways! I love you John.

 

Five Finger Friends

 

Your call is never screened

No time of the day

Is unusual

Days, weeks, years

Does not matter how long,

The place in the heart is the same

 

In a lifetime this friendship

this closeness, the respect, the love

Comes from within

If by divine appointment

Your lives intersected at

The most propitious moment

Sometimes more than once

Because we  were not awake

Enough, enough

How many will we have?

The neon lights up:

TRUE FRIEND

How many in a lifetime?

We can count them on one hand!

 

Bradford Bosworth

April 2015

 



Light in a Dark World

 

Stand on Principle

This past Sunday after work I sat down to watch the Masters wind down to finish. At first glance the event was all but won by this seemingly inexperienced no name youth experiencing the glow of beginners luck.  Having traded in my sticks and clear days for my Harley-Davidson Softail Standard I have lost touch with who’s who of the PGA tour.

Drawn by the color and mystique and tradition of Augusta National I found myself at first resistant to the hyperbole of the announcers and their praises of the young tournament leader from Dallas, Texas. Twenty-one years old and breaking all youth related scoring benchmarks I soon began to experience a wonderment of how this young man was conducting himself. It reached crescendo with his walk up the eighteenth fairway onto the final green and the enormity of the event struck me as the cameras focused on his family waiting with elation of what son and brother Jordan was accomplishing. This witness via television was welled up with teary-eyed emotion as 21-year-old Jordan Spieth sealed the deal with a short putt. And then I watch as Jordan parted the sea of awe struck fans on his way to the Butler Cabin.  It was Grace on display for the world to see. 

 

 

And that was not the end as shortly thereafter I watched a 60 Minutes expose on a life lived on firm Truth. This story was of Mike Pressler a leader of young men not unlike Jordan Spieth. Mike Pressler is a Lacrosse Coach - as a matter of fact the reigning National College Lacrosse “Coach of the Year”.  He was also the head coach of the same Duke Lacrosse team that was falsely accused of gang rape nine years ago.  That case is perhaps one of the greatest travesties of misjustice in my adult lifetime.  Coach Pressler was the only Duke employee to lose his job in the scandal that would see all team members exonerated. He lost his job because he knew his players and believed them when none of the authorities did. He refused to turn his back and distance himself from his boys. He stood by them when the college community did not and for that loyalty he lost his job.  Mike Pressler was loyal to his players but more he was loyal to the truth. He stood by his team. He stood by his principles.

 

It took me till Monday afternoon and little help from Rush Limbaugh to understand the significance of what I experienced from these two stories. In the chaotic world that we live in - a world full of false premises -  Jordan Spieth and Mike Pressler were beacons of light showing us that there is a still a lot of light in a dark world. Thank God for that! Amen

 

For more on Mike:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mike_Pressler

http://www.realclearpolitics.com/video/2015/04/13/60_minutes_report_on_rush_to_judgment_of_duke_lacrosse_rape_scandal_9_years_later.html

For more on Jordan:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jordan_Spieth

 

What goes around....

First

In March of 1980 while working at Charlotte Motor Speedway (CMS) in the PR department I was sent to Daytona for “Bike Week”. My objective was to gain some insight and establish contacts in and around the motorcycle racing community. Our CMS facility was to host a Motorcycle racing event in the coming months and I needed to learn about this two wheeled racing sport. Up until that time most of my background in racing involved NASCAR and IMSA sports car racing.

 

I cannot tell you who won the main event (Daytona 200) that year but I can tell you of a young man whose presence and persona was striking to me.  I really was not familiar and did not know of his name but the first time I encountered him his following impressed me.  He was remarkable in his fullness of spirit and exuberance.  There was a sparkle in his eye.  He was a diminutive figure short in stature, slight in build. He had the body of a jockey or gymnast and, I was to learn, ideal for motorcycle racing.

 

I was only to encounter Dale Singleton in close passing with no spoken words. I was an observer quietly noting an ascending star.  There was a greater story to unfold. It was a story of miracles and jubilation as well as tragedy and devastating heartbreak.  It was years later when his and my paths would cross again. To be continued…..

****

See my previous blog post “Foxhole Prayer” 2/1/15 for more on Dale and also click on this link:

http://www.eastbrookmustangsthunderingherd.com/class_profile.cfm?member_id=4905782

 

BB
4/15