The Cracked Acorn
The Cracked Acorn: In a Hurry

Being retired! Time to lay back. Mow the lawn. Chop a few weeds out of the garden. It’s not always “The Life of Riley!”
Consider Monday, June 20th; it is 6 a.m. I had finished my morning coffee and chat session with my friends and was on the way from Warrenton to Manassas. The reason was the result of a Sunday flyer that discounted a large stereo TV. I can remember when 18″ was enough, but now we were marching towards a 32″. Traffic was at a snail’s pace. A snail would have made better time. *I finally diverted from 1-66 to take the road past the Stonewall Memory Garden and through the Manassas Battlefield. I received an extended view of the cemetery where many souls reposed, blissfully unaware of the chaos civilization hast wrought. I was given time to reflect and even envy them in their “sleep.”(I Thessalonians 4:14). Another mile brought me to the crossroads of the old stone house where the greater part of the First Battle of Manassas (Bull Run) was fought during a thunderstorm on Saturday, July 20, 1861. The stone house is where the surgeon amputated mangled arms and legs in an attempt to save lives. I forgot what discomfort I had at the moment.
Finally, I reached the promised land 45 minutes later, less than 20 miles, computed to be a speed of 3 miles per hour. I decided it was time to breakfast at a popular chain. I was seated, handed a menu, and left to grow old. I left. It was time for a gallon of deck paint at the world’s largest retailer. I was greeted, assisted, and left with a smile and a song in my heart to be abandoned next door by a home supplier. All I wanted was a bit of insulation for the attic. I began to tell myself that it was time to practice the Christian virtues that our minister, Phil Adams, had preached about on a few past Sunday mornings. (Hebrews 12:1-2) I began to feel better, breathing and respiration close to normal, and my blood pressure came down to an acceptable level. It was time to visit the TV store where I made a purchase and then waited nearly an hour at the wrong door for my pickup. I began to hum the lyrics to “the famous talking horse-MR. ED). I headed home only to be delayed by the train, crossing Route 29 at Gainesville. The cell phone rang. My loved one was worried. “I am not on a world tour and should be home before lunch.” A neighbor had promised to help me avoid my third hernia and help me lift the 100 lb. set into the rec room. He bailed out; he’s a policeman and was late for work. Caught in “what to do?” the neighbor’s son was available and mission completed. The rest of the afternoon was spent in painting the deck and waiting for the air conditioning serviceman. Late in the afternoon, I made an effort to take away a week’s trash but was 30 minutes too late. There was a full moon that night, and while I walked the dog, I fought off the urge to run howling about the neighborhood.
*”The Rhode Island Regiments retreated in good order, Many were without shoes and terrificed to death, some had yielded to exhaustion and were borne upon the shoulders of others who could scarcely walk themselves. All day long bodies of troops walked into the city in the pelting rain. Many of their officers killed, left ccmpanys who did not know where to go. My neighbor hurt three ribs when thrcwn from his horse. We have heard of the death of several of our friends but happy to learn that Col Flonter & his aid are safe.” (from the Mary Henry Diary of July 1861)
HOW BEAUTIFUL HEAVEN MUST BE, SWEET HOME OF THE HAPPY AND FREE; FAIR HAVEN OF REST FOR THE WEARY, HOW BEAUTIFUL HEAVEN MUST BE. (from SACRED SELECTIONS)
