Minister vs. Preacher

From the book Twisted by the Wind by Tom Hays

I don't know where this “ministry” will eventually lead.  I only know that I have a calling, and I have to follow … wherever it leads.  Presently, I feel it is to provide enlightenment and encouragement to others around me; to somehow have a positive influence on their daily life, to open doors of understanding, and compassion.

It is not important to me what your particular religious or spiritual beliefs are, nor do I want to make you believe mine.  The important thing is we both have them, and there are probably many more similarities than differences.  I happen to feel that a superior power, known by many names, including God, resides within us and can be called upon at any time. 

To me, being a good or "Christian" person is not so much about "talking the talk" as it is about "walking the walk".  It is a way to live life, some variation of the golden rule, wherein we live in such a way that we treat others the way they would like to be treated ... and to not let them change us when they don't do the same for us.

My prayer is to be able to find ways to live a better life, with more kindness, more compassion, more understanding, more fulfillment and more smiles.  I ask the Great Spirit for those things, for me, and for you.

- Reverend Tom -

Ben Had the Music Up Loud.

From an upcoming new book by Tom Hays

     Ben had been alone in a monastery for five years and back home in Oklahoma only a short while when he decided to move to Arizona.  He liked the desert.  He liked the mysticism of the people who had inhabited the place before, way before, who lived in caves and crude dwellings but had somehow figured out how to live on the harsh land and get along with the spirits and powers that inhabited the area along with them.  Thousands of years of human history laid bare, open to discovery and study.

The good vibes, given off by the rocks, the soil and the spirits of the ancients, filled the desert air.  Ben felt them calling him, and he and his soul mate settled in and started calling it home.

Home was a pueblo style, adobe house in a sparse desert suburban area.  A large area had been cleared for a patio, surrounded by a low adobe wall, high enough to perhaps keep the javelinas out but the more agile coyotes could come and go at will.  Ben had seen them walking atop six foot walls, so he knew any attempt to keep them out was futile.

Tonight was a dinner party with two other couples, good friends with an equal love for the desert, its plants and folklore.  Never mind that the days had been running 109 to 112, it was summer and expected.  Ben was in a good mood and looking forward to the get together.  He had volunteered to make the homemade Mexican vanilla ice cream, grill the pork tenderloin and prepare his famous salsa to serve over the sliced meat.  Life was good.

Ben had the music up loud, grooving on Steely Dan’s phenomenal bass licks.  Even Albert the cat was tapping his paw in time with the beat, eyes closed and laying next to the stone fireplace. There was harmony playing nearby, the sounds of the ice cream maker churning away in the background, just outside the patio door, seemed to compliment the music, as if it too was coming from the sound system.  The tenderloin had been seasoned with the rub and it was anticipating placement on the outdoor grill, and the vegetables were carefully chopped and marinating in the salsa bowl.  Ben was looking forward to a fun evening with friends, unlike the five years of silent aloneness in the monastery. Company was coming, people to talk and laugh with, everything was perfect and Ben’s mood was building higher and higher.

Suddenly, a shot! Then another--and another in quick succession!

Ben quickly turned to face the noise only to see ………. !!!

Tune in next time.

Twisted by the Wind1.wmv

"Life is Just a Picnic in the Park" -Tom Hays

Mable’s Boys  (From the book Twisted by the Wind by Tom Hays)

Ben used to go down to the park on Sundays with Frankie, his cousin.  They were about nine or ten at the most.   One particular summer, things got real interesting. 

Frankie had learned how to look out for himself by that time.  He could squeeze himself into about anything interesting that was going on, and make it work out for his own benefit.

His momma spent a lot of time working, and, with no father to turn to, Frankie kind of grabbed onto Ben’s family. He and Ben were almost like brothers for awhile.  Frankie, a little older and more experienced, tried everything first, and sooner or later, Ben would follow.

So, on most Sundays that summer, Frankie and Ben would be down at the park.  They’d swing, and then slide, and then swing some more and then slide some more, climb on the monkey bars and run up and down the paths.  Sooner or later they would work up quite an appetite.

Frankie would go first, over to the picnic area where he would carefully survey the situation.  Then he’d pick out a table, one with a big family around it and a lot of other kids milling around to provide cover.

Frankie would slide up to the buffet and Ben would follow.  They would take a plate and start filling it.  Fried chicken, red jello with fruit cocktail in it, deviled eggs and pie … lots of pie.

Some woman standing by the potato salad would look them up and down, and ask them, “Now just whose boys are you two?”  Frankie knew to stuff a roll in his mouth before she got to the “you two?”  He’d use an exaggerated munching motion, moving his whole face up and down, and he would mumble with his mouth full.  Ben quickly stuffed his mouth, too.

Frankie would keep up his munching, and before he could finish his entire act, the woman would say, “You must be some of Mable’s!  My, you boys are sure growing.  Bet you’ll both be about as big as your daddy some day!”

Frankie would just nod his head up and down, and Ben would catch on and start nodding his, too, in agreement.  Then, two very agreeable young boys would slowly back away from the scene with full plates of delicious, genuine, Sunday picnic food.  Life was sweet.

That gambit worked all summer, perfectly every time … well, except for that one time … with the black family.

Ben figured the real moral to the story, politics and race aside, is to just approach life like you belong there.

Sooner or later, the world will tell you who it wants you to be to make it happy.

You just have to nod your head up and down, and enjoy the picnic.

The Birthday Gift - Episode One