Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition

In 1942 Frank Loesser wrote an American Patriotic song, entitled, “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition.” The words described a chaplain serving on a ship during World War II, who put down his Bible and manned a gun to serve with the soldiers he was accompanying.

I would like to say that I knew that noble story all along, but I actually heard the title of my blog entry when The Dixie Chicks recorded, “Sin Wagon.” “Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition” was a line in that song. There isn’t a thing patriotic about “Sin Wagon,” except a lady puts on a red dress.

This morning I thought I had better research the line a little more before publicly humiliating myself…well, not too publicly, because I don’t have many readers...hehe!

Most people know that I have played piano since I was 6 years old. I can remember begging my mother to let me take lessons, which I did for 10 years before I begged her not to make me take lessons any longer. (My mother should have put her foot down and made me continue.) Anyway, I began playing the piano at church in the 4th grade and quickly became the substitute accompanist at my little, country, home church. Since then, I have been employed part-time by several different congregations and have had a variety of experiences in each tenure.

The piano is commonly placed in the front of the church and on a stage-like platform. There are several instances during the service when the pianist is the soloist. Many of these solo times are planned as part of the service for the purpose of meditation and personal reflection. Even for me as I play, it is an expression of worship and praise to the One who gave me the gift of music.

As a young, single accompanist, I am an easy target for those whose personal reflection may be easily distracted. Unfortunately, the pianist is one of the last people to leave the sanctuary at the end of service. Packing up my books and getting out is sometimes a chore, especially when there is a barricade between the bench and the door. By barricade, I mean a male who I’ve never seen before wants to take me and the girls to lunch. Of course, there are those times when I have received an e-mail from the pastor the next week telling me that a man has written him or called him and asked my marital status, my parenting arrangement or what I’m doing for the rest of my life. Oh, and one of my favorites…[strange guy walks up to me and says] ”I heard you are divorced. I want you to know that I know life must not be easy as a single mom, and you can call me and talk to me about it anytime.” At this point I’m running, because I think someone has set off a bomb.

There have also been scary times. Following is an excerpt from a letter I received, which caused me more concern than any wimpy attempt at asking me out:

“…I love how your hair frames your face like a beautiful picture. I love how you smell better than fresh cut flowers. I love watching you walk when you have on a longer skirt and how it shimmies back and forth across your pretty legs…” Yes, serial killers attend church, too.

I took it to the police. Evidently, one must have a physical, near death encounter in order to take out a restraining order. My father and I went to the pastor of the church. The pastor’s suggestion was I could have a 9mm in the piano bench. Something about sitting on a concealed weapon makes praising the Lord difficult for me…not that holding it in my hand and trying to play the bass line makes it any less difficult. I’d rather tap my toe to the beat than count to the sound of gunshots.

While the song of the noble chaplain putting down his Bible to fight presents an endearing message, I chose to take my family and get out of that war zone. There are other battles to choose.

As for those who stand across my enemy line, I’ll leave you there to sing, “I’ll Fly Away...on a Sin Wagon.”

Lobster Claws

Trust is not something I do very well. In fact, there are times when I don't even trust myself. For example, I sometimes have to make many trips back into my house before I leave to make sure I've unplugged my flat iron...or maybe that's OCD - hmmm, something to discuss later.


I am not a fan of lobsters. I don't like to eat them, I don't even like to walk by them swimming in their tank at the grocery store. I think it's their claws that scare me most. I'm not even sure I could pick one up and put it in a pot of boiling water...even with its claws tied.


I'm not sure what possessed me to think that 30 or even 60 feet in the air would be something fun to do, especially since it involved both aforementioned nemeses of my existence, but with a different type of lobster claw.

Steve was our fearless leader, I think...when he told us his name, I was watching as the group before us struggled to cross the cable-suspended planks. Then, Steve said something that caused me to panic, "You will have to trust each other as a team to get across. Don't try to do this alone." One of my teammates sarcastically commented, "Well, this should be easy for Leigh, since she has such a great ability to trust."

Then, he began to explain how the "lobster claws" attached to the rope around my waist would suspend me from the cables above and keep me from falling. My thoughts were, "Oh sweet mercy. Not only do I need to trust my teammates, I have to trust these lobster claws, too?" (Note: In case someone reads this and questions my spelling of "too," this is the correct spelling when the word is used to mean, "also." Some people would argue with a rock. Yes, this was an actual argument that recently took place with one person against SEVERAL, sharp writers.)

We proceeded. Bill was a leader from the beginning. He stepped out onto the first plank, held out his hand and then, I began the adventure. Libby followed and Steve was the last. I immediately began wishing God had given me longer legs to make the steps from plank to plank a little less frightening. My palms were sweaty, making it difficult to hold on to Bill and Libby and I had no trust whatsoever in the lobster claws attached above my head.

I think it took an hour to do the whole ropes course, and it must have taken 45 minutes to walk the planks.

The next step was a different type of challenge...walking a tightrope while leaning completely on a banister-height rope. The ropes crossed halfway, which meant stepping over ropes to get where we needed to be. We reached the "crossrope." It was at this point my anxiety began to taper. A teammate slipped off the tightrope, and there, 30 feet in the air, the lobster claws did just as they were supposed to do...kept him from falling.

We finished the rest of the course in a reasonable amount of time, obviously 15 minutes later (haha). Every new stage of the course seemed to become more of a journey, although a little easier. In our progression, we became more of a team - even I began reaching out my hand to help the others.

I was completely exhausted by the time we reached the platform from which we would "zip" to the ground. Yes, I was relieved.

I was relieved to be finished, but I was also relieved that in my doubts and fears, I still have, deep within my soul, the ability to trust. Will I walk closer to the lobster tank at the grocery store? Absolutely not.

The Bike Ride

Okay, after considering this for a looooooong time, and being inspired by my friend, Lori, I created this blog. My thoughts are random, my life is a whirlwind and crazy things happen to me everyday. Why wouldn't I want to share?

The title of my blog, "He said, 'Pedal,' " may seem odd and vague, which many of my friends say is indicative of my social behavior. So, on this rare occasion, I will give you a glimpse of the corner of one of the cards I hold so closely to my chest...more appropriately, one of the spokes of my brain wheels, whose tires need balancing and aligning from time to time.

Walk into my family room and see my life-illustrative bicycles hanging on the wall. Yes, I travel "rocky places at breakneck speeds." My comfort comes "just when I'm sure I can't do it anymore, He just smiles and says, 'Pedal.' "

An unknown author scribbled this down, and quite honestly, I couldn't have said it better myself...

THE BIKE RIDE

At first I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I did wrong, so as to know whether I merited heaven or hell when I die. He was out there sort of like the President. I recognized His picture when I saw it, but I didn’t really know Him.

But later on when I recognized my Higher Power, it seemed as though life was rather like a bike ride, but it was a tandem bike and I noticed that God was in the back helping me pedal.

I don’t know just when it was that He suggested we change places, but life has not been the same since…life with my Higher Power, that is. God makes life exciting.

When I had control, I knew the way. It was rather boring, but predictable. It was the shortest distance between two points.

But when He took the lead, He knew delightful long cuts, up mountains, and through rocky places and at breakneck speeds. It was all I could do to hang on! Even though it looked like madness, He said, “Pedal.”

I worried and was anxious and asked, “Where are You taking me?” He laughed and didn’t answer, and I started to trust.

I forgot my boring life and entered into the adventure, and when I’d say, ‘I’m scared,” He’d lean back and touch my hand.

He took me to people with gifts that I needed, gifts of healing, acceptance, and joy. They gave me their gifts to take on my journey, our journey, God’s and mine.

And we were off again. He said, “Give the gifts away. They’re extra baggage, too much weight.” So I did, to the people we met, and I found that in giving I received, and still our burden was light.

I did not trust Him at first, in control of my life. I thought He’d wreck it. But He knew bike secrets, knew how to make it bend to take sharp corners, jump to clear high places filled with rocks, fly to shorten scary passages.

And I’m learning to shut up and pedal in the strangest places, and I’m beginning to enjoy the view and the cool breeze on my face with my delightful constant companion, my Higher Power.

And when I’m sure I can’t do it any more, He just smiles and says, “PEDAL!”