One of my three favorite brothers-in-law has taken up beekeeping as a hobby.
He knows more about bees than mainliners know about Jesus; and unlike mainliners who don't seem too excited about hardly anything anymore except for who gets the properties and assets when churches expire or exit, he's as evangelistically obnoxious about 'em as I am about mules, links, and Jesus (but not in that order).
He has told me more about bees since hanging out with 'em over the past 2 years than I've ever heard about Jesus in nearly 35 years of hanging out with mainline clergy of all flavors and franchises.
His passion for bees is contagious.
His enthusiasm compels my attention.
Metaphors inferred, I'm learning new things about, uh, bees.
Aside from praising God for Christians believing more in resurrection than reincarnation, which means I don't have to worry about coming back as one of those drone bees that cash in after a one-nighter with the queen, I didn't know honey is bee barf.
That's gotta mean something too.
When I was addicted to plastic for procuring new golf clubs because I thought I could buy more game, I forgot another transferable metaphor: "Your greener pasture was somebody else's brown field."
Or as I tell guys who are buzzing around, "If she's so much hotter than your wife, why'd her old man throw her under the bus for somebody else?"
While it could mean one guy's barf is another's honey, I also like this advice: "The grass is greener where it's watered."
I was shopping for a Ping blade putter (Tess) about 8 years ago along South Carolina's Grand Strand.
Proving the suspicions of people who are always looking for more reasons to hate me, I play right-handed and putt left-handed because I can't putt right-handed which always prompts my dad to exclaim while leaving the first hole whenever we play, "I've got news for you, son! You can't putt left-handed either!"
Anyway, a pro in a big golf shop said, "That putter only comes in a right-handed model."
Matthew, who was about 4 at the time, ran up to me with a left-handed model of the putter that the pro said only came in a right-handed model and screamed with fresh discovery, "Is this the one that you're looking for, daddy?"
The pro turned red while I dished out the green, uh, plastic.
Of course, that's not the end of the story.
I've tried to replace that putter with several others since then; but I keep coming back to it because it, uh, suits me.
Yes, change is good if, uh, change enables improvement.
Yes, change is bad if, uh, change makes things worse.
The executive branch of our government has changed.
America decided GWB was sooooooo bad that anybody related to him was unelectable.
America decided to laud the latest star from Chicago's political machine with almost or, uh, really, actual messianic anticipations.
In the next two years, America will decide if that change was/is/remains good or bad.
Watch the economy, Gulf, Korea, Israel, Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, investigation of Chicago-style-directed politics manipulating Pennsylvania's run for the Senate, if he meets with Arizona's Governor after dissing her with/for Mexico's President, where LeBron lands, and...
The changes may not be done if the changes don't change what appears to be the decline of the empire.
Americans, after all or at least for a little more than two centuries, aren't used to leaders who like Avis.
Blessings and Love!
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