Posted by Troy Eckhardt on March 28, 2017
It was the first week of spring in Central Florida. While others in far-off regions of the country were enjoying March’s transition from lion to lamb, Floridians were trudging through 85-degree mugginess and dreaming about next year’s three-week winter.
As Tater made his way across the sun-soaked asphalt of the Wal-Mart parking lot, he thought of his mother, who had sent him on this errand. Almost seventeen years old, Tater, whose real name was Japheth, had been recently thrust from complete non-driver to part-time professional chauffeur and grocery-getter. Thoughts of Mom had become bittersweet lately. Her happy disposition and quick wit had recently been slightly marred by the tumor discovered growing in her left temporal lobe. Mom didn’t like to drive as much as she used to. Tater bleakly wondered how much longer she would be able to write out the grocery lists he frequently carried to the store.
“Dad seems so optimistic about her prognosis,” the voice in his head whispered, “but without knowing if she has a few months or several years to live, it’s hard to know when it’s ok to pretend everything’s normal again.”
Stepping through the entryway into the vestibule between the Hell of a sweltering springtime and the Hell of a seething cauldron of idiot consumers, Tater welcomed the blast of air conditioning. He decided that he’d rather face the masses for as long as he was able than spend one more minute being crushed by the humid inferno outside.
“Her speech may have slowed a bit, but she’s as organized as ever,” he thought to himself as he noticed that items on the list Mom had written were grouped according to their locations in the store. “Let’s start at the back. First stop: The dairy section for cheese sticks and milk.”
Almost finished with his course through the labyrinth, Tater rounded the corner toward the front of Wal-Mart. He pushed past a snot-nosed child hanging half-way out of a cart and a dark-skinned immigrant woman wearing bright, unusual clothing, then grabbed the blueberries and romaine and headed for the check-out lanes.
“Too full; too full; too full; oh, Lord, no way!” Rejecting every prospect, he moved toward the speedy lanes, which were slightly less jammed, while he took inventory of the items in the cart. Eighteen. Good enough for the twenty-or-fewer line.
Staring at the ten-year-old tagging behind the woman ahead of him in line, Tater tried not to be too disturbed as the boy ate the bountiful harvest he’d just plucked from his nose. A barely audible sigh was voiced behind him in line.
Assuming the noise was the private, pitiful complaint of a woman who had either just witnessed the nauseating feast Booger Boy was enjoying, or who was dreading the walk through the heat to a car-turned-oven, Tater thought again of Mom. He loved her and agonized over what she might have to go through. Dad spoke of an eternity with God and an order and purpose to all things under His sun, but Tater wasn’t always fully comforted by his father’s faith. He knew Mom struggled with it, too.
SIGH. Louder this time. Almost ignorable, but not quite. By the third time the sound reached his ears, Tater knew that the sigh was not private after all, but meant for him. He turned to face her.
“Can I help you?”
Skin cracked and worn like the leather seats in Dad’s Suburban, eyes like tarnished pennies, and pursed lips used to two packs a day met his gaze. “You have more than twenty items,” she croaked.
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I have eighteen.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Look, I counted, ok? I have eighteen items. I could get two more.”
“You have more than twenty.”
Tater’s neck burned hotter than the pavement outside as he reached for a two-pack of Reese’s cups and a bag of M&Ms; Mom and Dad’s favorites. As he pitched them into his cart, he smiled at the woman and said, “Now I have twenty. Jesus loves you. Have a great day.”
Suddenly, life didn’t seem so bad.
Posted by Troy Eckhardt on June 7, 2014
A Facebook friend, a person I admire outside of the digital life as well, posted something about the street preachers in our town. I gave my two cents. I hope she takes it in the loving way I intended it.
Here is my response:
This is probably my church, and street preaching is one of about fifteen ways we evangelize. It works for some, and not for others. I personally focus on other methods because I’m good at what appeals to me, but I have seen a lot of souls saved from this method. I prefer talking one on one, but I will not disparage something that I know brings some to the saving knowledge of Christ Jesus.
WAIT! There is more to read… read on »
Posted by Troy Eckhardt on
After a Facebook friend posted this image, a lively debate ensued. One woman asked two questions which I felt compelled to answer: “What is love?” and “So it’s conditional?”
The following are my responses:
“What is love?”
Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” From this we can deduce that love is the extent to which a person is willing to sacrifice for the benefit of another.
WAIT! There is more to read… read on »
Posted by Troy Eckhardt on April 19, 2014
I have very dear friends who do not “celebrate” Easter because of the pagan roots of many of the origins and common traditions surrounding the holiday. WAIT! There is more to read… read on »
Posted by Troy Eckhardt on June 27, 2013
What’s wrong with two people of the same gender who are in love getting married to each other? It’s a good question, and I’m glad you asked. Although for many people, “The Bible says it’s wrong,” is enough to justify the sentiment, it does not really address the question in a secular way. WAIT! There is more to read… read on »
Posted by Troy Eckhardt on March 25, 2013
From where does morality come? Whose morality should influence social behavior and public policy?
When a friend posted this image on Facebook, I thought a bit about what the Bible has to say about slavery. It mentions differences between Hebrew and heathen slave treatment in the Old Testament. It deals with selling daughters and what their new masters should do with them if they are not “pleasing,” or how the slave girls’ new husbands should regard them if they are re-gifted by their masters to their sons to wed. Jesus Himself tells slaves to obey their masters. Many of the heroes of the Bible were slaves. Years of Jubilee were set up to insure that some types of slave were able to go free. WAIT! There is more to read… read on »
Posted by Troy Eckhardt on May 31, 2012
Another case has arisen in which an adult homosexual has been removed from a leadership position in the BSA. As I watch the videos of the woman protesting and sincerely crying in sorrow and frustration, I am greatly moved. I can see her anguish and, as Bill Clinton once declared, I feel her pain. I know intimately what loss is. After my young son died in early 2011, I became even more acutely aware of pain and grief than I had ever been before – and I wasn’t exactly calloused before the experience. I almost want to hug and comfort the poor woman. WAIT! There is more to read… read on »
Posted by Troy Eckhardt on February 23, 2012
I saw a post from a friend of a friend on Facebook who thought this little gem of a picture was somehow witty, or at least somewhat logical. I replied with the following: WAIT! There is more to read… read on »
Posted by Troy Eckhardt on January 19, 2012
A friend of mine expressed that he was concerned about his young children questioning their Christian beliefs. One of his kids said something to the effect of, “What if all of this stuff about Jesus isn’t true?” He fears that they will be tormented by their doubts just as he is. Their upbringing is vastly different than his was – at least in matters of faith – and I suspect this is the source of his surprise that they have any doubts in the first place. WAIT! There is more to read… read on »
Posted by Troy Eckhardt on September 7, 2011
Readers, in case you did not know already, short of two hours after my last post my family experienced a tragedy far beyond my former definition of the word. Our two-and-three-quarter-year-son Elijah Stasche Eckhardt died in a drowning accident on February 26, 2011 just before 5:00 PM.
It has now been six months since that day, and life is going on. I choose to remember that we’re moving ahead not without him, but toward him. Some day soon we will all be together again at the feet of Jesus in the throne room of Heaven. I think perhaps Weeble’s might be the first face I see after entering the gates, and I hope he is the one who takes me to meet my Savior face-to-face.
Weeble has his own web site at www.weeblemuffin.com
