Tag Archives: love

Admiral

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter AAdmiral (n): a commander of a fleet or naval squadron or a naval officer of very high rank.

I’m a little bit embarrassed to admit that when the word “admiral” comes to my mind, I think of Halsey–and only because Paul McCartney wrote a song mentioning him. You know–where they sing that real high part–Hands Across the Water.

Isn’t that weird?

I don’t even know exactly what Paul says about Admiral Halsey. It’s in a thick British accent and is about some sort of pie, maybe.

I have watched enough movies to know that an admiral is a guy who sits in his own boat about three hundred miles away from the battle and radios messages to his fleet, which is getting blown out of the water by shells, telling them stupid things like, “Don’t give up the ship.”

You know what the problem is with leadership? The word itself has a confusing blending. First of all, we’re assuming that someone should BE a leader–and then, that they should be in charge of the ship. I guess that’s what an admiral is–he is an actual leaderSHIP.

So how do you know if someone’s a good admiral, using excellent leaderSHIP?

1. The boat should be afloat. I think it’s a telltale sign of bad “admiraling” when you’re taking in water.

2. Everyone on deck should know what their job is and not be confused if the question is posed.

3. All those who work on the ship should have a nice balance between love of the admiral and terrified of him if they fail to do their duty.

4. A good admiral should be able to get you to your destination quickly if so needed.

An admiral–a leaderSHIP.

Without such an efficient being at the helm?  Well  … we’re all sunk.

Adherent

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

Adherent: (n.) someone who supports a party, person or set of ideas e.g.: he was a strong adherent of the single pay system of health care

Glue is sticky.

This is irrefutable. Matter of fact, if it’s not–sticky, that is–it really can’t be called glue.

When I see the word “adherent” I think of the word “adhere”–being STUCK to. At the risk of being considered a weirdo, I must tell you: I don’t adhere to much.

Here’s why: things change.

And even though folks around me stump and stomp for their causes, within a generation we have usually changed our minds, thus becoming unglued. So I’m not quite sure what the initial purpose is of gluing things down–if you plan to rip them up later.

  • Does that make me wishy-washy? Oh, no.
  • Does it make me a flip-flopper? Not exactly. I’m not really a flip-flopper if I warn you that my flip may flop.

There are three words I believe are important when pursuing our dreams and getting along with other human beings. They are visionary, follower, and adherent.

When it comes to faith I am a visionary. I think it is impossible to please God or yourself without occasionally taking a chance on something that looks like it has potential for blessing the world around you.

In the realm of hope I am a follower. I see no reason to turn to someone who is struggling with cancer and covets my prayers, and tell him to buck up and get ready for the end. Hope can be dangerous if it’s the only input you allow yourself, but if hope if a decision to relieve the torment of worry, allowing your faith a chance to work, then it can be pure gold.

And the only thing I can truthfully say I am an adherent of is love. Love is anything whatsoever that encourages life, forgiveness and acceptance. For that I would be an adherent.

So I think you have to decide when you want to be a visionary, using your faith; choose moments to tap your hope by becoming a follower of those who are standing against the odds, and always be an adherent when love appears on life’s menu.

I am comfortable with that.

Love is the glue … the only sticky stuff which is able to hold us together.

Addendum

Words from Dic(tionary)

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Addendum: (n.) an item of additional material, typically omissions, added at the end of a book or other publication.

At the risk of offending those who worship religion instead of finding a gospel that loves people, let me say that I find it difficult to believe that a book that had its last chapter written nearly two thousand years ago and was compiled fifteen hundred years ago is not in need of so me addendums.

After all, we do it with everything else.

Yes, we call it the Bible and just to make sure nobody messes with it, we add the adjective “Holy” to its title.

But there are things within the confines of that book, or series of books, that tell us that the discovery of God and humanity is meant to continue through the workings of the Holy Spirit. There are strong indications that there should be further insights and perhaps additions as mankind progresses, constantly putting the whole concept of Christianity to a test drive.

Without this, we have the conviction that the Model T Ford is the culmination of all automobiles. We would never have gotten the Corvette Stingray.

Should the world be viewed in the light of the Biblical prose? Or should the Biblical prose be discerned in the light of discoveries made in our world?

Now there’s a great question.

  • For instance, since we found out that the earth is round, is it all right for us to go into the Holy Scriptures and find references to “the circle of the earth” and applaud those notations, setting aside any verse that’s “flat-headed?”
  • Since now we know more about shrimp, is it now all right for us to eat them?
  • Since we’ve abolished slavery, might we put in an addendum that all previous references to it in the Holy Book were erroneous “tippings of the turban” to the powers that were?

After all, the Apostle Paul said that only three things would ultimately abide: faith, hope and love.

So anything that increases our faith in one another and God, makes us more hopeful, and generates love is certainly worthy to be touted from one generation to another. Yet anything that poses that the Amorites needed to be slain by the Israelis, or that all men require circumcision in order to “trim up for heaven” might benefit from an addendum.

My feeling is that great ideas are not afraid of revision when that interpretation brings forth an even more stupendous transformation.

I believe the Bible because I believe in faith, hope and love. But I’m not afraid to allow science, wisdom, technology, archeology, geography, and just my own experience to enhance the pages … with greater and greater magnification.

Above

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Above:  (prep.) in extended space over and not touching: a display of fireworks above the town.

I’ve always liked the word above.

Having written a song or two in my time, above happens to be one of those words that rhymes with love. Actually, love is a tough rhymer. You can throw in dove, but how does that ever make any sense? I even heard a song the other day that rhymed love with of. I thought that was rather bold.

Of course, because above rhymes with love, there is a danger of over-use. I guess that would personify the word above. If something is over our heads and doesn’t touch us, it’s pretty non-human, right?

I appreciate the sky, but I’ve never had a conversation with it. Why? Because it’s above me.

I can understand that there are planets over our heads, but that’s about the extent of my involvement with these circling orbs. Why? They’re up above.

Maybe that’s why God has such a big public relations problem. Maybe if we told everybody He had a nice ranch house just outside Paramus, NJ, it would be a lot easier to relate to Him. But since He’s above us, in heaven, and not touching us every day, it’s very easy to start feeling silly about trying to interact with Him–similar to some dude standing in the middle of the street, screaming at the sky.

Actually, probably the smartest thing God ever did was drop down from above, become human and show us love.

Huh.

There you go. That’s why love and above rhyme–because until the love comes from above, we can’t understand … um …

See what I mean? I’ve run out of words to rhyme.

Abide

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abide: 1. v.  accept or act in accordance with a rule, decision or recommendation 2. unable to tolerate: “I cannot abide…” 3. of a feeling or memory–continue without fading or being lost

As is often the situation when I hear the definitions for these words, I realize that I have created my own mental dictionary of what things mean, frequently having absolutely no basis.

I always thought “abide” meant to hang around, like three guys on a Saturday afternoon sprawled across the room, telling stories about what they wish they could do, will probably never do, but will insist someday when they’re old that they did.

I thought abiding was what faith, hope and love did because they were built into the woodwork and history of the framework.

Abiding is NOT hanging around. Abiding is hanging in there.

I realize that’s what’s missing from my life, and maybe the lives of many Americans. As long as you want us to just “hang around,” we’re fine. But the minute you define the cause, point out a specific direction or demand a commitment, we put into practice our well-rehearsed list of excuses and go “splitsville.”

Hanging in there is a tough thing.

I remember once playing a football game, and at the end of the first quarter our team was down 32-0. The prospects of victory were slim. We were unable to stop the other team from scoring and only felt satisfaction that we were bolstering their egos and padding their stats. But you see, it was the end of the first quarter. There were three more of them to come. The danger in football is that if you play the game halfway, you’re much more likely to get injured. So it was definite that even though we were going to get smeared, we would have to see the game through to the end.

So we set some small goals. For instance, hiking the ball and handing it off without fumbling. Another one was tackling the opponent before he gained twenty yards. And certainly the most important aspiration that kept us “hanging in there” was to make sure the final score was not 128-0.

We lost the game 64-0, having held them to 32 points in the final three quarters.

Although humiliating, we left the field uninjured and just a little bit tickled that we survived such an absolute cataclysmic event without committing suicide.

Abiding is hanging in there–which only gives us one major goal: find something worthy of our hanging.