Perfect Time

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He did not need a watch on his left wrist, nor an alarm clock to wake him up in the morning. He knew what time it was every minute of the day. He intuitively knew when to wake up. Going to sleep was his problem.

Sleep eluded him like a woman trying to escape from an unwanted lover. Like a fly escaping from a swatter. Like Criss Angel escaping from a straight jacket. Sleep was the woman he loved the most, but sleep ran when he tried to catch her.

Eventually, sleep would finally yield to his embrace and ravish him with kisses. The two would become one, but it would be a restless relationship because he always knew when to awake.

He hated his ability to keep perfect time. .

Written by Jacob Bembry, September 15. 2010

Granddaddy’s Secret Elixir

I had a million things on my mind as I tried to sleep one night. Much of my time, but not nearly enough, was spent in prayer.

As I walked down the halls of sleeplessness, I began opening many doors. The doors held long-forgotten memories.

One memory that I recalled was from my Granddaddy and Granny Sealey’s anniversary party. I believe that it was their 41st anniversary. Everyone enjoyed a cookout outside my grandparents’ home in Lee. There were many people, mostly family, all there. I remember a band playing country music. The members of the band included my mama’s first cousin, Mason Linton, and her cousins, Trent Lasseter and Brenda McCormick. Jimmy Kent played the guitar. Her cousin, Faye Kervin, sang a song or two. Mama’s brother, J.D. Sealey, sang. I am still wondering if Mason and Jimmy still play. I don’t think Faye sings anymore. I do know that Trent and Brenda still play.

I believe that it was a year later, maybe less, than Granddaddy died.

Granddaddy, along with my daddy and my Uncle Billy, were probably my childhood heroes. Granddaddy had grand plans for the two of us. Many of them, like the go-kart he was going to build for us, never materialized. I understand, though, that it was because he did not have the time. He had to work. He had to work a lot but he still took time out for his firstborn grandson.

I can still remember my granny and granddaddy getting into little spats when I was a child. Granddaddy would get in his car and leave in a huff. Soon, he would be home and wouldn’t be grumpy anymore.

I always wondered where Granddaddy went. One day, my daddy and I found out. There used to be a general store in Lee run by Bert Stroup. On this particular day, when Daddy and I went there to buy Coca-Colas, we discovered my granddaddy, Jake Sealey, in there drinking one of those eight-ounce Coca-Colas that they used to bottle years ago. With youthful wide-eyed wonder, I looked up at my mother’s father like I hadn’t seen him in years and said, “Hey, Granddaddy!”

“Hmmpf!” was his reply but it did not deter me because I was excited. I had discovered the secret elixir that would end his grumpy mood.

Sometimes, I wish that I could find me an old eight-ounce Coca-Cola and drink it and chase my problems away, but I know that drink had no influence on him other than as a pacifier that gave him time to think things through.

God is the answer to my problems and I know that I should spend more time in prayer and Bible reading with Him.

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Most of All

I remember the scrapes and scars from my childhood.

I remember falling off the bicycle and scraping my knees.

I remember falling off the porch and breaking my arm and the tears not falling until I heard my father’s boss, who was visiting my grandparents’ house that day, tell him upon examining the arm, “Bobby, it’s broke. You are going to have to take him to the hospital.
I remember after hearing those words, tears pouring like rain and my scream piercing the air.

Hospital? Doctors? Shots? Words that strike fear in a five-year-old’s heart.

I remember the sore throats, the fevers, the fever blisters, the colds, the tummy aches, the mumps, the measles, the chicken pox.

I remember the pain of the immunizations, and the promised sucker as a reward for not crying that I was never given by the county health nurse.

I remember church on Sunday morning.

I remember the snap, crackle, and pop of a fire built by my grandfather.

I remember laughing with The Beverly Hillbillies and Andy Taylor and Barney Fife.

I remember riding the Ponderosa with Ben Cartwright and his sons, and chasing bad guys with Marshal Dillon, and Festus.

I remember being lost in space with Will and Penny Robinson.

I remember the war in Vietnam.

I remember the moon landing that was one giant leap for mankind.

I remember my parents being young.

I remember my brothers and sisters as infants.

I remember being happy.

I remember being sad.

Most of all, I remember love.

Looking for Love

I used to pray for love and for riches. I remember praying for success and having enough money to travel anywhere, buy anything I want and be able to help others while basking in my wealth. I remember praying that I would find a beautiful woman to love me. The only two women that I ever truly prayed would love me was one when I was a student in college at NFJC; the other was a couple of years after I had left FSU. Both were cases of unrequited love. I have had hundreds of crushes and thoughts of being in love but those were the only two that I ever thought that I had truly loved. Years later, I realized that I did not truly love them. Still, there are thoughts of “what if” and “if only” that I don’t feel for any other women. My prayers for money today are prayers to have just enough money to pay my bills and get by. Today, I realize that I did find true love lying in a manger in Bethlehem and dying on a cross at Calvary and I know that I will have unlimited wealth when I enter the gates of Glory, whether I go by the Rapture or by death. Thank you, God, for giving me answers to prayers even though I may have thought you didn’t answer them at the time.