My Apologies to Mom & Dad

I don’t know where it came from. I just know it was there. It still is.

I grew up not wanting to embarrass my mom and dad by my behavior. I was glad when they could talk about me in a good light. That doesn’t mean I was an angel child because I wasn’t. I did more wrong than I care to admit.

It seems strange to think back and remember as a child being told to do something and knowing I had better or else. It doesn’t seem that is something that can be done today. Why? What has changed?

My dad was blind but could still spank my butt when it needed it. Can’t spank children today for threat of government intervention, being slayed by your own kids, or who knows. Is the lack of corporal punishment to blame for a new culture where obeying your parents is wrong?

I wonder if I was the odd one. Maybe I was supposed to be more rebellious to mom and dad. I should have become a drinker, dope dealing user, or a thief. If that’s the case then I apologize to mom and dad.

My warped bent towards pleasing my parents has spilled over into my relationship with God. I don’t always please Him but I try. Is it strange for me to think stealing is wrong. Am I an odd man because I hate lying? Do I need to chill just because laziness is a generational past time?

If you see some laborious job that needs to be done do you tackle it or let it sit there hoping someone else will do it. I think I need to develop the art of sitting by while others work.

What exactly does God mean when He saids, “Well done thou good and faithful steward”? Especially when you find out we live in a world where what is good and bad, where right from right is so mixed up! What is right anymore? What is wrong?

Who decides for humanity?

Until next time,

Hoss

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About Hoss

Married w/ 1 daughter & 3 step-children . Ordained minister. I do supply preaching every opportunity I get. Currently employed in a state prison system. Wife & I own a flower shop in a nearby city. I am approaching my late 50's, although I certainly don't look like it.
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