As you know, if you regularly read my stuff, I like to go to one of my favorite parks late in the evening to visit with folks, read, or just think. Usually it’s pretty quiet and peaceful. Yep, that’s what I call Gazebo Park on the banks of the Phillippi Creek.

One of the neat features of the park is that it is home to quite a few ’coons and a large handful of foxes. It’s not unusual to have foxes come within 10 feet of my picnic table. The ’coons come even closer, especially if the garbage cans happen to be very nearby! (g) Because they have no real enemies in the park, they are quite bold and outgoing.

A few nights ago, I drove into the park, parked Tonka, and plunked myself down at my favorite table. I noticed three fairly large plastic cups, each half full of an amber liquid I’m sure was beer. There wasn’t a garbage can anywhere nearby, so I set them on the concrete floor so I wouldn’t have to smell them.

Before long, here came one of my ’coon buddies. He headed straight for the three cups. I noticed that he took just a second to look them over and then plunged his nose, followed by half his face, into the cups, one by one! He didn’t spill a drop nor leave anything in the cups. When he was about half way through, I considered trying to keep him from drinking the beer. After all, I didn’t want to be apprehended for contributing to the delinquency of a ’coon! Don’t know what the penalty would be, but it didn’t sound good to me. However, a smart man would never try to separate a determined, slightly buzzed ’coon from his beer!

As he left the scene, I actually believe he walked a little strange. I was very glad that he didn’t climb into a vehicle and drive off into the darkness. Drinking and driving is serious enough, but…well, I believe you’ve got the picture! (g)

I spent ten years serving as a volunteer fireman while pastoring a church in the Texas Panhandle. Many times I had to literally pick up the pieces of people who’d been killed in an alcohol related accident. Not a pretty sight. Not a neat job.

I thank God that alcohol was not available in our home while I was growing up. I never saw my parents drink. In my counseling ministry, I’ve heard lots of reasons why parents think it’s all right to drink while instructing their kids not to drink. I realize that adults are able to make their own choices about what they do as grown-ups. It seems to me, however, that their advice to their own children would carry far more weight if the parents didn’t drink either.

One of my friends with whom I visit at the Gazebo Park regularly drinks at least a dozen beers before heading for his makeshift home in the woods. He’s tried just about every imaginable 12 step program. We’ve prayed about the problem together. Nothing so far has done the trick. Some day, I believe I’ll get a call from someone telling me that he’s drunk himself to death. Will I be sad? Absolutely. Will I feel that perhaps I failed him by not figuring out some way to help him quit drinking? I hope not. He’s an adult. He’s got to make the choice to quit drinking. I will miss him, though.

I’m interested in your stories and reflections on this piece. Please use the “Leave a Reply” box below!  I DO enjoy hearing from you.

And now, some feedback from you, my readers, on last week’s article.

– I love your article about who missionaries are and what they do. As you know, I’m currently preparing to go to Panama for a year or two (maybe more!) as a missionary associate. (They help missionaries with already-established ministries.) One of the things I had a class on in orientation, must read a book about, and must write a paper on is the indigenous church. My mission’s organization does not believe in us going to be leaders of the churches in other countries, but servants. Our role is to help them fulfill their goals for their church – after all, it is their country and they know the culture better than we can ever hope to. On top of that, the national church’s growth is stifled by us having the “father/mother” role rather than training them to lead and support themselves.

– I enjoyed the article very much, although we don’t have to be missionaries to Africa to wrestle with Pythons…only of a different kind. We all have those things that squeeze us while we’re serving God. (grin) I do agree with you, though, that we can all find ways to help missionaries. On our church website newsletter, we have a section that features different missionaries’ web sites each month….usually these websites have personal information about the mission work and the missionaries. This way, people can either give, pray for or encourage missionaries in a more informative way. Also, our pastor’s wife and I are getting together to add some things about missions to the newsletter and the website itself.

– I know news has been scant from my neck of the woods. First, in response to “Pith Helmets And Pythons” I’ll let you know that our daughter is on her way to Ecuador this summer to do programs in schools and hand out the Book of Life with her youth teammates. She got the shots this week, a whole slew of them. And she told me that the beach in Esmeraldas where they will be staying is replete with worms that crawl into your skin and give you more than the heebee jeebees. Eeewwww! Almost as bad as pythons!

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