By Rev. James L. Snyder

The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage had commandeered the Christmas decorating operation for yet another year. I am not quite sure how she remembers when to start all of this, because the thought had not yet entered my mind.

Here it is Christmas and I am about as prepared for Christmas this year as I was last year. One of the great things about my wife is that she keeps all of these holidays in order and on time. I am still reeling from my Thanksgiving Day turkey indulgence.

Once again, our home is in decorating mode. My great contribution to the Christmas holiday decorating plan is to keep out of my wife’s way. One year I tried to help her and let’s just say we will not repeat that again. I just have no decorating expertise at all. I cannot tell the difference between a wrapping bow and a Christmas tree bulb.

Before I could get out of the way of the decorating frenzy in our home, I ran across something in the back of a box. How it got there, I have no way of knowing. How I got up this morning, I have no way of knowing either. However, there was a photo album from when I was a young person.

I want to stress the fact that there was a time when I was a young person. We will not discuss how long ago that was, but just know that there was a time in my illustrious career when I was a young person.

I opened up the album and saw all of those photographs from when I was a young person. The photograph that really caught my attention was one taken before I was one year old. I had forgotten this photo. Of course, I have no recollection of when that photo was taken. I was about nine months old and I was mostly occupied with the rascal who confiscated my bottle.

I had simple concerns at that time. I was not worried for example about world affairs, politics or the economy. As long as I knew where my next bottle was coming from, I was a happy little camper in a diaper. I miss those days of naivety. I am looking forward someday returning to that state of mind.

I delighted looking at all of those pictures of what’s was supposed to be me when I was very young. Then I found a picture I had completely forgotten about.

It is valuable at times to go back and relive the past. I know you cannot really relive the past, but you can look at the past and see how far you have come. Photographs are a marvelous way of reliving the past. These were the old black and white photographs, so you know how long ago that was.

The photo that really caught my attention was when I was very young. I believe this is the first photo ever taken of me. It was in the year of our Lord 1951 and I was nine months old. Looking at that picture I had to admit to myself that I really was a cute little guy.

It was a black-and-white photo but my mother had carefully colored it with crayons. She did a marvelous job but then she had a great piece of work to begin with, if I say so myself.

The important thing about this photo was it was a picture of me, but it was also a picture of the winner of the cutest baby award in our community in 1951. I had won a beauty award when barely 9 months old. How many people can boast about that?

I really do not know any of the details of that beauty contest. After all, every nine-month-old baby is cute. I really do not think I was the cutest baby but then again I won the title and I have the picture in my hand.

Unfortunately my beauty career peak then and it has been on a downward slide ever since. I have the skid marks to prove it.

After looking at that picture for a while, went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. What a shock. I could not see any resemblance in the mirror to anything in the picture. It would be a stretch for anybody to say that the two pictures were of the same person.

When anybody says that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder I would like to correct them and say that beauty is in the hands of the holder of a picture of the baby who won the cutest baby award in 1951.

In the years since that picture was taken, I have lived quite a bit and Father Time has carved his initials on my face. I can honestly say I am not the same person in that photo. What innocence then. What naivety. There in that photo was a person who had not yet experienced the lumps of life yet.

The verse of Scripture that has encouraged me throughout my life has been Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV), “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

Life is full of ups and downs, gains and losses but in the end, those who trust Christ are marvelously guided throughout life and enjoy life of blessing to the Lord.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, PO Box 831313, Ocala, FL 34483. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

It was a wise person who divided the year into 12 months. I really do not know who came up with this idea but let me go on record in saying that it was a good one. Each month seems to have its own peculiar value. Some months are better than others.

For example, I am not a member of January’s fan club. I am not sure if it is the longest month of the year but at times, it sure seems to be. I mean, after all of the excitement typically leading up to the month of January, is it any wonder it seems to be such a dull month.

I could say many things about some of the other months of the year but I really have to say that my favorite month of the year has to be December. Maybe this goes back to when I was a youngster and looked forward to the Christmas holiday. I am not sure because the Christmas holiday does not hold that much of a fascination for me. I think it began to wane when I had to foot the bill for all of the Christmas activity.

I do not love December because of the shopping. Right after Thanksgiving the shopping frenzy begins and this year several people lost their lives. Is it crazy to go out shopping like this when everybody else is out there with the fierce intent of buying something and you had better not get in his or her way? On the other hand, do all the crazy people go shopping?

Well, I am one crazy person that does not go out and join the rest. I just do not like shopping. The month of December is one of the high shopping months of the year. It did not get the reputation because of my shopping activity.

This past week the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage asked me if I wanted to join her in a shopping spree. Without thinking, which is my normal modus operandi, I said, “I’d rather be punched in the nose.”

WACK!

When I came to, I pondered the fact that my wife is so literal when I am trying to be metaphorical. My nose is doing nicely, thank you.

Therefore, I do not like shopping. The month of December is more than extravagant shopping with crazy people.

One of my favorite songs of the season is, “Tis the season to be jolly.” I like jolly. During the Christmas season, everybody enjoys seeing jolly people. I like to exploit the jolliness of my nature. I may not be Santa, but I sure could pass as his twin brother. Do not think I have not exploited that part of my character.

During the holiday season in the month of December, nobody bothers about your weight. In fact, everybody seems to enjoy seeing the jolly old man who is slightly overweight. I cannot tell you how many times when out in public during the month of December the people come up to me and said, “Here’s my list. Don’t forget me.” At first, I did not quite understand what they were doing. Now as they place that sacred list in my hand I look at them and say, “Ho, ho, ho.” Everybody seems to enjoy that.

Of course, it can go too far. One time after my Santa impression, I happened to sit down and before long, there was a line of youngsters wanting to sit on my lap. I have since retired my Santa impression, especially when in public.

What I like about December is that nobody, and when I say nobody I am referencing my wife, worries about diets. All year long, my wife is faithful in reminding me, “That’s not on your diet. Put it down.” I would say it is like a broken record but nobody knows what a record is anymore let alone a broken one.

During the holiday in December she is too busy baking pies and cookies for relatives and friends to think about my diet. Oh, how I love December.

Perchance somebody in the course of a conversation brings up the subject of diets; the month of December is a great ready-made excuse for me.

“I start my diet,” I say with the upmost confidence to anybody inquiring, “next month.”

It is amazing to me that “next month” is never December. And so, during the month of December I only look forward to my diet. It would be wrong, absolutely wrong, to begin a diet in December. If a person would do that, what do they do for a New Year’s resolution?

The month of December is a time to relax and just enjoy the season. By enjoying the season, I am thinking of those delicious Christmas cookies baking in the oven, in the kitchen, in my presence. It would be a shame not to taste one. After all, what if they were no good? What if this batch of cookies, baking in the oven right now, turned out to be bad? It is my patriotic duty to ensure that those Christmas cookies are delicious.

For me, December is a very sacred purpose. Solomon, the wisest man who ever lived, said, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV).

My purpose is to exploit the entire month of December.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, PO Box 831313, Ocala, FL 34483. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

Rev. James L. Snyder

Storm clouds were brewing like fresh morning coffee in the normally placid parsonage this past week. I will not say that things got out of hand, which is not to say they did not. I just will not say.

I sensed a growing controversy between my wife and myself. Its genesis came about because of some silly mix-up, I assure you. Usually, mix-ups come about because of some misunderstanding and boy, do I sure miss my understanding. I have misplaced mine for so long I honestly cannot remember when I had it last.

If my memory serves me, and it has not to date, the last time I had a glimpse of my understanding, I was standing at some altar repeating the words, “I do.” After that, life has been a glorious blur.

The faux pas between us simply was a matter of attitude. My better half took the high road and I, per usual, took the low road. The reason I take the low road is simply that when I fall, and falling for me is inevitable, I do not have far to plummet.

Regrettably, this past week we experienced a clash of attitudes.

I can sum up my attitude in life quite nicely: Never do today what can be put off until tomorrow. Who knows? I may forget the whole thing by then, something I am renowned for around the parsonage, if you know what I mean.

On the other hand, my life’s companion firmly believes in doing things ahead of time. For instance, by the end of August all her Christmas shopping is finished, wrapped and stored in the garage waiting for the Christmas tree.

She has a wonderful knack for planning. What I want to know is how does she know if I am going to be naughty or nice?

Usually, I give in to my better half. After all, that is what a great marriage is all about; give and take. As a dutiful husband, I take everything she gives me.

This time, however, an important principle was at stake. Some things in life are worth fighting for and this represented one of those times.

For years, I have suffered from a condition known as Afternoon Siesta Syndrome. Each afternoon I stretch out for an hour of rest. In that hour, I meditate on some of the more important issues of life.

I cannot tell you how many significant problems I have resolved during my daily afternoon forty winks. I say I can’t tell you not because I don’t want to, but when aroused from my snooze I can’t remember the solution.

All I know is that somewhere in the recesses of my mind are wonderful resolutions to some of the most intricate problems facing our world today. In this regard, I do not know how often my wife has said to me, “You need to see a psychiatrist.”

This leads me to the subject of our difference this past week. I am a firm believer in the “Art of Casual Loafing.”

Loafing gets such a bad rap because so many amateurs try their hand at it. Let me say right here that loafing is definitely not for the inexperienced. A level of skill and expertise that only comes from diligent practice.

Personally, I have invested over 50 years in the Art of Casual Loafing, which qualifies me as some sort of an expert on the subject. I am a proud, card-carrying member of the ACL union. I could have been elected president but we have not got around to elections yet. Many, and when I say many, I am especially including my companion, take loafing as something that comes rather easy.

Oh, quite contraire, Mon Frére. Nothing could be further from the truth.

My spouse thinks loafing is a tragic waste of time. She thinks things need doing in a timely fashion, like “right now.”

The garbage must be taken out “right now.”

The backyard needs mowing “right now.”

The groceries in the back of the car need brought in “right now.”

A person can take this “right now” business too far, if you ask me. I like to take things a little more casual than that.

This “right now” hang-up can create some serious stress in relationships; especially between hers and mine.

“There’s no time like the present,” my wife often tells me with a look in her eye defying me not to do what she just requested. To her,”right now” is very important.

When I want to resolve a difficulty, I resort to the Bible. This was no exception.

Much to my amazement, the word “now” occurs in the Bible 1,356 times, which is rather impressive. I never thought of it before.

What I discovered startled me. I had to admit that in certain things my dear wife is correct. Some things must be done right now.

Two Bible verses emphasize the importance of right now.

In the book of Isaiah, “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18 KJV). Then, in the New Testament “… behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation” (2 Corinthians 6:2 KJV).

“Right now” is the best time to address your relationship with Jesus Christ.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, PO Box 831313, Ocala, FL 34483. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com.

By Rev. James L. Snyder

I was reminded recently that the only thing growing in my family tree are fruits and nuts. Personally, I am not sure if I am a fruit or a nut. Just do not ask my wife.

I had been away for so long I had forgotten many things about my family. My recent visit served as a refresher course reminding me why I had moved away in the first place. Memory sometimes pays little tricks causing us to remember the “good old days” and forgetting that sprinkled in among the good are ample portions of what I call good-challenged moments and characters.

I cannot speak about anybody else’s family; my family seems to run the gamut between good and bad. I certainly have some wonderful relatives but then, I also have those who are on the other side of that description. Overall, they serve to make my family what it is today.

I enjoyed visiting with some of my relatives I had not seen for years. In fact, I could not remember the last time I had seen some of them. For the most part, it was a wonderful time of family reunion.

I had really forgotten about good old aunt Bessie. She has always been one of my favorite aunts. Nobody knows how old she really is, and she ain’t telling. Conferring with some of my older relatives none could remember a time when good old aunt Bessie was not around. Some of us have guessed her age and we figure she is probably our oldest living relative.

One of the oddities about good old aunt Bessie has to do with her physical appearance. As far as anybody could remember, she was always consumed with her looks. Not just her clothing but her face as well. The one thing that was anathema to her was a wrinkle. She has what we all said behind her back, a wrinkle-phobia. If I had the money she spent on wrinkle creams I could retire and live a life of luxury.

I do remember a time (and I had forgotten it until now and I just hoped she did) when I was not aunt Bessie’s favorite nephew. It was years ago and I had not seen her for a while and when I did see her, I said, half jokingly, “Is that a new wrinkle, aunt Bessie?”

You would have thought I had shot her only child. She shrieked and then went to the bathroom to examine her face. She was so irate with me that she did not speak to me for over a year. Of course, looking back, there was no downside to that. I was tempted to remind her of that incident, but I remembered the old hymn, “Yield not to temptation, for yielding is sin.”

Then there was Uncle Harold. I had not seen him for I cannot remember how long. When I saw him, I noticed he had not changed. I think he was wearing the same suspenders he wore the last time I saw him. His suspenders were a fashion statement, according to him, but nobody knew exactly what they were saying.

The great thing about Uncle Howard was his stories. He had a repertoire of stories that he repeated ad nauseam. Behind his back we often said, “Uncle Howard will tell no stories he hasn’t told a thousand times before.” Probably the most amusing thing about his stories was the fact that he often confused the punchline of one-story with the punchline of another story. None of his punchlines ever went with the story. That made them even funnier. We laughed, he thought we were laughing at his story, we were really laughing at him.

Just before I was ready to leave, who should come in but dear old Aunt Sylvia. As soon as I saw her, I smiled. Not only was I glad to see her, but I remembered her. If anybody was the cat’s meow, it was Aunt Sylvia.

She loved to go out to eat, particularly with a group. I thought of the last time we all went out to eat together and Aunt Sylvia was with us. One of her peculiarities was along the line of tipping the waitress. She was the self-appointed guru of making sure the waitress got a good tip. When everybody finished eating and the bill had come, Aunt Sylvia would take charge.

She would collect money from each person for the tip. If you did not give enough, she made you dig into your pocket again until you came up with an amount she was happy with to give to the waitress. With appropriate pomp and circumstance, she would call the waitress over to our table and present her with the tip of the evening.

As I was flying home, a thought tugged at my mind; if the world is made up of such people like my relatives, what chance does the world really have?

The world, as God has designed it, is made up of all kinds of people that He loves with an everlasting love. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16 KJV).

Thinking of my family on the plane coming home I thought, why am I the only sane person in my family? Then another thought emerged. Or, am I?

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, PO Box 831313, Ocala, FL 34483. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com .

Submitted by Tom Jones
LDS Loveland Stake Media Representative

 BERTHOUD — There is a national conversation taking place about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and its members, and starting the first week of October, Mormons in Berthoud will be taking part in that conversation.

That’s when the Church will launch a national media campaign in a dozen major cities called “I’m a Mormon.” The campaign includes television spots, billboards, ads on buses and Internet promotions. The ads give a glimpse into the lives of Latter-day Saints from all over the world and refer people to the mormon.org website, where they can read the profiles of tens of thousands of Mormons, chat live with representatives who will answer questions about the faith and watch dozens of videos about members of the Church.

“Our missionaries are known for knocking on doors to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ,” said David F. Evans, Executive Director of the Church’s Missionary Department. “Mormon.org gives people the opportunity to knock on our door through the Internet and ask members questions about our faith.”

This latest campaign is a continuation of an undertaking that was launched in nine cities last year in an effort to help people understand the faith through both the ordinary and extraordinary aspects of member’s lives. The campaign is the direct result of research conducted by the Church over the past few years related to how Americans perceive the Church and its members.

“Many people are not familiar with our faith and that can sometimes lead to misconceptions,” Elder Evans said. “The best way to understand Mormons is to meet them and get to know them personally. These ads are an invitation to do that.”

In The Loveland LDS Stake there are there are currently 3,500 members spread from Southern Fort Collins to Berthoud. A temple has been announced to be constructed in Fort Collins. The common thread that ties the members together is their desire to follow Jesus Christ.

Originally launched in 2001, mormon.org has provided an inviting destination for people seeking online information about the Church. Nearly half a million people visit the site each month. While the Church continues to share its message through over 52,000 full-time missionaries, many individuals prefer to first seek information about the Church on the Internet before they speak with a missionary in person. Mormon.org plays a critical role in providing that content.

Mormon.org provides the opportunity for visitors to get to know individual members of the Church. Visitors can search for people based on age, gender, ethnicity and location. The goal is to start a conversation that will lead to greater understanding. 

Media Campaign Invites You to Get to Know a Mormon page 2 

For example, when asked what it’s like to be a member of the Church, Shannyn Marie wrote in her profile at mormon.org: “It’s like being a part of a large family who cares for one another. There are so many people from different backgrounds and situations with diverse talents, but we are all unified in our morals and beliefs.”

Members also share personal stories and answer dozens of other, more specific questions, such as “Are Mormons Christian?” “What part does prayer play in your life?” “Why don’t Mormons drink coffee, tea, or alcohol?” and “What do Mormons believe about the Bible?”

Space is provided on the profiles for individuals to link to their personal Facebook and Twitter pages and their blogs. That feature will make it possible for individuals seeking to better understand the Church to connect directly with individual Mormons.

The “I’m a Mormon” campaign in Northern Colorado will continue until February 2012.

Rev. James L. Snyder

In celebrating the 10th anniversary of one of the most horrific events in the history of the United States one cannot help but reflect back on the past decade. We have come a long way, but I am wondering if we have gone the right way.

My wife and I were thinking about this the other night and she startled me with a question. Most of the time she just startles me, but this time she had substance in the form of a question.

“I wonder,” she said rather thoughtfully, “where all the heroes are today?”

At first, I did not quite get her drift, and so I query her on the subject.

First, I was thinking of all of those movie heroes that we hear about so often. Perhaps she was thinking of Superman or Batman or some such hero. These days, most of our heroes are manufactured in Hollywood and have no real affinity for the average person’s life.

One of the things that amaze me about Hollywood is when they produce their infamous reality shows; there is very little reality to it. The only reality about these shows is that makes real money for those who produce it. I could live with that reality. Hollywood cannot do anything without pizzazz to dazzle the imagination of the intellectually starved populace.

Then my mind drifted back to my wife’s question.

“Those heroes of 9/11,” she responded. “Whatever happened to all of those heroes that stepped to the front when the need called for it?”

Then I knew what she was talking about. A hero is someone who does ordinary work under abnormal or dangerous conditions. Ten years ago, when our country was attacked these heroes stepped forth, did their job and then stepped back into the shadows of obscurity almost as quickly as they came.

Many of those heroes gave the ultimate sacrifice, their life. Not thinking about their own well-being, they put their life on the line to save someone they didn’t even know. Many of these heroes died doing their heroic deed. Some are, 10 years later, suffering physical consequences from their acts of bravery.

Just what is a hero?

A hero is neither a Republican nor a Democrat. A hero is simply an American who does his or her job when the need arises without any thought of political affiliation. I am rather tired of the political minutia that is paralyzing our country today. Let me say that I believe our country is bigger than all the politicians in our country today.

If only we get the media to understand that all these politicians are simply caricatures of some political ideology and not real people at all. Politicians are Washington’s version of a reality show that has no basis whatsoever in reality.

A hero never blows his or her own horn and consequently many heroes fade into the background and are never acknowledged or even thanked. After all, a hero never looks for thanks; a hero only does his or her job to the best of his or her ability. Sometimes a hero only does one heroic action in his life. He’s a hero nevertheless.

A true American hero does his or her job when called upon and then fades into the background so that some politician can step forward and take the credit. That seems to be the way politicians operate these days; the credit system. When something goes right, they take credit for it. If something goes wrong, they give the credit to someone else. I’m ready for the politician to step forward with cash on the barrelhead.

I just have one simple question. When you are in trouble, whom do you want? The real American hero or some politician… any politician?

When the aircraft was smashing into their target, where were the politicians?

When the buildings were collapsing and lives were being destroyed, where were the politicians?

Back in “the day,” the politician was a servant of the people, sent to Washington DC to do the people’s business. That day is far over and probably never will return.

Today, these politicians have the idea that we, the people, are to serve them. After all, they know what’s best for us. These politicians, who cannot take care of their own lives or their own business or even pay their own income tax, are fully qualified to take care of our business. Is it any wonder our country is in the mess it’s in today?

A real hero is someone who puts someone else’s welfare ahead of his or her own. They bravely put themselves in harm’s way to save someone they may not even know.

Perhaps, and I know this thought probably comes from Mars, we ought to stop sending politicians to Washington and start sending heroes.

Another kind of hero is needed in our country today. That hero is the one who will pray for our country and ask God to help us get out of the mess were in. The formula for this is found in the Old Testament. “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land”  (2 Chronicles 7:14 KJV).

In 10 years, we have tried everything else, and everything has failed. Why not try God?

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, PO Box 831313, Ocala, FL 34483. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com <http://www.whatafellowship.com/> .

I do not get as many letters as I used to do, which may be due to the Internet or to the fact that I do not have as many literate friends as I used to. I still like getting a letter, as long as it is a letter and not a bill. Bill used to write me but he was always asking for money.

I did get a letter this past week. It was unexpected but it was from a family member. Good old Uncle Sam sent me an epistle this past week. I was anxious to see how he was getting along. I hear all these rumors, you know, but it is good to hear straight from the donkey’s mouth.

When I opened the letter it was not a personal letter. It was addressed to me, all right, and it had to do with personal matters, of a sort. But he was not chatting about what he was up to these days. Rather, it was a request for money.

It seems that way back in the year of our Lord 2003, there was a mix-up in my tax return and somehow I still owed the IRS money. My attitude was, let bygones be bygones. That is ancient history. Let us just get along.

There was a phone number on the letter inviting me to call. It was right after lunch so I thought why not get this over with and get on with the rest of my life. I hummed a little tune as I dialed the number and then waited for it to ring.

I finally got an automated service and was asked to press a certain number if I wanted to continue in English. My English is not that good and in high school, I got a D-plus in my senior year. But as it is the best language I know, I opted for English. For some reason I pressed the wrong number and got something that sounded a little bit like Spanish. My Spanish is not good, actually not at all, I had no idea what they were saying. I really hate to hang up on people while they are talking but I finally hung up and re-dialed the number.

I do not want to complain, but I hate punching a number for this and punching numbers for that and finally getting someone on the other end of the line that is not a real person but they’re telling me what to do. Who do they think they are? My wife?

After several tries and punching more numbers, I finally got back to the automated system. Through no skill of my own, I finally punched the right numbers and actually got a live person. Now, I thought to myself, I will get this taken care of, and that will be that.

The gentleman on the other end of the line was none other than a friendly IRS person. After exchanging a few pleasantries, we finally got down to business. I finally was able to ask what all of the paperwork meant that I received.

He began what turned out to be a very long spiel and it sounded somewhat similar to my high school teacher’s explanation of Einstein’s theory of relativity. I could not relate to my high school teacher’s explanation anymore than I could relate to what my IRS man was talking about on the other end of the phone. If what he was talking about was in any way relative to my well-being, I had no way of knowing.

When he was finished with his long, drawn-out explanation all I could say was, “Huh?”

He then proceeded to go through the whole process again, ad nausea. After the second time of explaining what these taxes were, I knew less about its then after the first time of explaining it. I am beginning to see a conspiracy here.

“Exactly why do I owe these taxes?”

Obviously, he thought I said, “Where do you buy your axes?” And began talking in Chinese, or so it sounded like Chinese. When he was finished, I could not remember why I called him in the first place.

Finally, in somewhat of a desperate mood, I asked him how much I owed. As it turned out, I owed the IRS $363.94. Why I owed that much, I still have not figured out. I must say good old Uncle Sam knows what he is doing when he hires people to man the IRS phone lines who know Chinese.

The only thing I could say was, “The check is in the mail.” He did mention something about putting a lien on my bank account. Ha ha! There is barely enough money in my banking account to keep my account open. If anybody, especially the IRS, liens on my bank account they will fall smack on their face. I would like to be around for that one.

Paying taxes is one of the responsibilities of every American. Someone has well said that the only certain thing in life is death and taxes. Good old Uncle Sam has found a way for us to pay taxes after we have died.

I remember the words of Jesus. “And he said unto them, Render therefore unto Caesar the things which be Caesar’s, and unto God the things which be God’s” (Luke 20:25 KJV).

That is the best separation of church and state I know.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com .

Rev. James L. Snyder

I have long been an avid reader of Webster’s New World dictionary of the American language. My well-thumbed copy suggests I have done a lot of reading in it. It is the one book within easy reach of my study. Although I enjoy reading it, it does not have much of a plot.

Whenever I get the idea that I know many words, and people can be proud of stupid things like this, I pull down my dictionary and begin reading. Although I have read it many times before, I always run across an unfamiliar word. I cannot tell you how many words there are in my dictionary, but suffice to say there is a lot.

I am always interested in new words. I like to research the history of a new word, what it means and how to use it in conversation and writing. Then, like the egotistical fool I am, I like to mystify some of my friends by dropping this new word casually into the conversation whether it fits or not.

The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage has a word for this, but I am not allowed to repeat it in polite company. Quite often, she will say, “You know what you can do with that new word, don’t you?” I really don’t, but I don’t let on that I don’t. It is not that I am at a loss for words; I just have a growing appreciation for life.

Of all the words in my vocabulary, only a few I refuse to use. In fact, some of them have been deleted and defriended from my memory.

The main word I refer to as the “B” word. It is absolutely anathema in my presence. Not only do I refrain from using it, but also I appreciate people around me not using it either. As far as I am concerned, it has no place in the English language.

All was going well until several weeks ago some friends of ours and my wife and I went out for dinner together. My wife and I do not often treat ourselves to a leisurely lunch where we can just enjoy fellowship.

We were seated at a very nice table and the waitress came around and took our drink orders. In the meantime, we set back, relaxed and prepared ourselves for a nice time together of dining and fellowship.

When two preachers get together there just is no way to stop them from talking until somebody says, “I think it’s time to take up an offering.” That is the key phrase for every pastor to be quiet. It is a well-established phrase in all pastors vocabulary.

It was not long before the waitress came back to take our meal order. Everybody ordered and then my turn came. All I really wanted was a nice roast beef and a salad. However, I needed to order a second side dish with my meal. I did not want anything else.

It was at this time that my wife spoke up. “Order a vegetable medley and I’ll eat it.” I am not too keen when it comes to vegetable dishes but I decided to go along with the plan. It is important to have a plan. More important is the one who makes up the plan. And since it was my wife, how could I refuse.

Having taken our order, the waitress whirled around and took our order back to the kitchen for preparation. We all went back to our delightful conversation. It is at times like this when I am not too concerned about how fast the meal comes out.

It was not long before the waitress returned with our meals in hand. She gave each one their plates and mine was last. Being too busy talking, I did not realize what she set before me. After all, I knew what I ordered. Then someone prayed.

When I opened my eyes and looked at my plate all I could do was gasp. The “B” word came leaping to my lips and it was all I could do to bite my tongue to keep from pronouncing it in public. When tragedy strikes it usually strikes out with me.

There on my plate next to my roast beef was the vegetable medley. Now, a vegetable medley can be many things. I never stopped to think or even to ask what the vegetable medley was all about. After all, I was not going to eat it.

There on my plate, in plain sight for everybody to see and sneer at, was a mixture of vegetables that included broccoli. The horrid “B” word. To make matters worse, as if they could get any worse, this vegetable medley was actually touching my roast beef.

All I can say is, that vegetable medley was not singing my song. My good wife came to my rescue and removed the entire vegetable medley. Who is the rational-challenged chef who dreamed up such a concoction of vegetables?

At that moment, I needed a word, but from my dictionary. I needed a word from the Bible. “And the LORD shall help them, and deliver them: he shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in him” (Psalm 37:40 KJV).

Some words have a way of catching up with you, but God’s Word has a delightful way of holding us up in the most difficult of times.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com <http://www.whatafellowship.com/> .

I am not usually given to protesting much of anything these days. “Live and let live,” is the motto I go by and up until now, it has served me rather well and I have no complaints.

I must confess, however, that recently I have been challenged in this area of my life. I have tried to keep my cool and have succeeded to a minimal success. I know one of these days I am going to turn into Popeye where he says, “That’s all I can stands, I can’t stands n’more?” Then, look out.

I will be the first to say that I certainly do not understand economics. Balancing my checkbook each month, for example, is an act fit for a three-ring circus. I remember I did balance my checkbook once but that was 1978. My policy has been to run my checkbook until it is so completely mixed up I have to close that account and open up a new account. It is easier for me to do it that way. To spend 97 hours each month balancing my checkbook is a waste of time as far as I am concerned. For me, it is that time of the month when I come the closest to swearing.

I try to listen to these money and economy experts explaining the whole economic situation. I just wish they would not speak in Chinese.

Of course, I am not sure I want to listen to all of these financial experts. After all, the Wall Street financial wizards are the ones responsible for the financial mess our nation is in right now. If they are so smart, why did they screw up our national finances so much? I know I am not smart along these lines, but then I did not mess up the national economy.

Politicians do not fare any better. I have often wondered why it is that a politician can raise so much money so quickly while running for office but once in office he does not seem to be able to handle the money. If we could take all the money politicians raise during the campaign cycle and apply it to the national debt we would have two blessed results. One, our national debt would almost be wiped out, and two, no politician would ever be elected. I say, hallelujah, pass the offering plate.

Last week I accompanied my wife to the store to buy groceries. It was there I began understanding the influence of high inflation on my personal pocketbook. We took our groceries to the checkout counter and, as usual, I was not paying too much attention. The cashier rang up our groceries and then came to the total. I looked at it, looked at my wife, looked back at the total and exclaimed, “Are we feeding the Navy Seals?”

I took my credit card out of my wallet and as I paid the grocery bill I said to my wife, “Oh well, we have to eat.”

Another day this past week, I noticed the fuel gauge on my car was pointing towards empty. I took it down to get filled up with gasoline and to my deep chagrin, and believe me, my chagrin does not get any deeper, it was almost $100 to fill it up. As I returned the nozzle and replaced the cap on my gas tank I sighed and said to myself, “Oh well, I have to drive to get anywhere.”

On Mother’s Day, I took my wife and another couple to a restaurant to celebrate Mother’s Day. When I got the check, I almost expired. How can any restaurant charge that much for food and sleep at night? I put on my best smile and said to myself, “Oh well, it’s nice to dine with another couple.”

All of this I took in stride, as they say. That is part of living and that is part of a depressed economy. If you think our economy is depressed, come visit me and have a little chat and you will find someone who is really depressed.

Then this inflation business crossed the forbidden line.

I went up to the bakery department to purchase the obligatory Friday morning Apple Fritter. I think it is important to establish good habits and my Friday morning Apple Fritter is one of those good habits.

I was chatting to the person behind the counter who was getting my Apple Fritter and did not notice the price. I took it up to the checkout counter to pay and noticed it was $. 79. To say I was shocked is putting it mildly I assure you. Seventy-nine cents for my Apple Fritter! For over 10 years, I was paying $. 70. Now, where did this nine cent increase come from? Who is getting this extra nine cents?

Mess with my groceries, mess with my gasoline, but brother, do not mess with my Apple Fritter. The most dangerous zone on planet earth is that area between my Apple Fritter and me. It is here that I draw the line. Some things in life carry with it the sacredness of, “touch thou not.” My Apple Fritter is number one on that list.

The Bible says, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:” (Ecclesiastes 3:1 KJV).

There is a time to stand up, speak up and protest loudly.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com <http://www.whatafellowship.com/> .

I am not one given over to gambling unless you call life a gamble and then all bets are off. I do not even play the lottery because I would end up paying out $1,987.14 in order to win $10. I have a difficult time parting with my money because I am a Pennsylvania Dutchman; at least that is my excuse.

That being said, there is only one area of my life where I indulge in a certain amount of gambling. That area is Mother’s Day cards. I am at a complete loss when it comes to this and knows not what I doeth.

Now part of my quandary is in the loose interpretation of Mother’s Day. When we celebrate Mother’s Day, who in the world are we celebrating?

I can remember when the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly were first married. It was so long ago that I do not have enough fingers or toes to count it. When we were first married, we bought two Mother’s Day cards; one for her mother and one for my mother. Oh, how I long for those simple days.

A little over a year after we were married a little tyke came into our lowly domicile. Our first daughter was born in the month of August and I really did not understand the significance of it until the following Mother’s Day.

That year we had to buy three Mother’s Day cards; one for my wife’s mother, one for my mother and one for my daughter to give to her mother.

Now what I want to know is how in the world was I roped into buying a Mother’s Day card for my wife? After all, she is not my mother. And I do not know how many times I have reminded her of that very fact.

I was conned into buying that Mother’s Day card for my wife by thinking that I was buying it for my daughter to give to her mother. I am not sure I am buying that story. I bought the card, all right, and when I gave it to my daughter; she immediately put it in her mouth. She had no idea what in the world a Mother’s Day card was.

Several years later, we had a new addition to our family. Our son was born.

Now I have more Mother’s Day cards to buy. One for my mother, one for my wife’s mother, one for my daughter to give to her mother and one for my son to give to his mother. These Mother’s Day cards are getting to be rather expensive.

You will not believe this, but a few years later, a third child became a member of our family. Our second daughter was born. And you guessed it; my Mother’s Day card buying went up.

Now I need to buy a Mother’s Day card for my mother, one for my wife’s mother, one for my first daughter to give to her mother, one for my son to give to his mother and one for my second daughter to give to her mother.

I once suggested that I buy one Mother’s Day card for my three children to give to their mother. I was quickly and soundly outvoted on that issue. And so, I begin saving up my allowance right after Christmas for my Mother’s Day card extravaganza.

If this was not bad enough, each Mother’s Day card has to be specifically chosen in respect to the person who is giving it. That person, not being me. How many times and how many different ways can you say “Happy Mother’s Day?”

I thought I had reached the height of my Mother’s Day card purchasing, but then in a few years it took on a different perspective.

Not only was I to buy all of these Mother’s Day cards, but I was to take the respective children along with me and allow them to personally pick out the card they wanted to give to their mother. And of course, their mother could not be along to supervise these purchases. Taking two toddlers and one semi-toddler into a store to select appropriate Mother’s Day cards is as close as I have ever come to gambling away my fortune.

Between the three of them, they had each boiled down their choice to 97 cards. Of course the youngest just grabbed as many as she possibly could. The two oldest had to look at each card and discuss the contents, meaning of course, I had to read each card to them. Not once, but over and over again.

Looking back on that time I realize that my children had an ingenious strategy all worked out. After four hours of going through all of these cards I would say to them, “If you pick a card right now I’ll take you all to get some ice cream.”

Now, those children are all grown up and married which has added to my long list of Mother’s Day card purchases.

Solomon had it right when he wrote, “Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all. Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised” (Proverbs 31:29-30 KJV).

Of all the thousands of Mother’s Day cards I have purchased throughout the years, I must honestly confess they have all been worth it.

The Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family of God Fellowship, 1471 Pine Road, Ocala, FL 34472. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver Springs Shores. Call him at 352-687-4240 or e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. The church web site is www.whatafellowship.com <http://www.whatafellowship.com/> .