Author: Norman Eric Peterson

Relaxing at the Trade Lake bridge

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was a late spring day, filled with promise and delivering most of it. Warm, almost hot, with a great number of plants in the garden and clear sky’s except for the wildfires in Canada depositing the smoke above. A bit hazy but not oppressive. You can get a sunburn if your not careful!

The snow peas are coming up now and a lot of stuff is in the ground. Raspberry bushes putting out tiny flowers and asparagus is pouring out of the ground. Weed whipping and mowing around the house and property being taken care of by our son. Now he and his good buddy, Zeke, are now splitting big rounds of wood for the woodshed. The 30 ton hydraulic splitter is now working vertical and it’s kinda noisy. The boys have on ear protection and it’s time to go fishing for some relaxation in the calm waters under the Trade lake bridge.

We put all the gear in the old Ranger bed and drive down about a half mile to the bridge. All of our new friends on the North shore are getting ready for bed in the twin cities. We get to the bridge and there is already a guy fishing on the east side of the bridge. He hooks a small sunfish just as a bass boat appears going east and the fish tangles a bit on the bow of the boat. He just caught a boat and the fish! Amazingly, the line untangles, the fish comes up and the boats pilot apologizes for the event. Sort of the area word of OPE, rhymes with soap. We all do it, mostly at Walmart when carts are on a collision path. Accompanied by ‘Sorry’ Try it, you’ll see.

The boat had a 225 HP engine on the transom, spitting cooling water out in a neat stream towards the starboard. Going nice and slow through the channel between Big and Little Trade lakes. Good helmsman.

Only sound around. Nice and peaceful. Norm spreads out the seat of the canvas campfire chair, puts his feet up on the bottom rail and can see Julie’s bobber just at the edge of the Lilly pads on the north side of the channel.

Perfect cast. Ahh, this is more like it! It’s Monday and there is no traffic coming by and the motor craft are away, idling into little Trade.

A loud small gas engine breaks the silence. It is a Cabin owner spraying off their dock. Lots of water causing small ripples in the channel and it is loud. Oh well, probably left overs from storage on shore. It will end soon.

The operator continues until we leave a half an hour later or so. Her husband drives up in a 4 wheeler and asks her if she got the sides and underneath parts of the dock.

The humor gets Norm’s attention. Quiet time at the lake indeed. The older guy on the other side of the bridge could care less. When Norm congratulated him on catching a bass boat AND a fish, he didn’t hear a word. Probably the power washer noise. He was preoccupied anyway and not smiling at the unusual catch of his. The bluegill was pretty small and not a keeper. Norm would have quickly tossed the fish into the bass boat as payment for a prize for being a good sport.

That catch and release was worth the trip alone, even though Julie didn’t catch anything but the early green ublick that appeared a bit early in the year. It was good to drive back home to peace and quiet and water the new snow peas and let the cats in the house. Another day in the paradise of near the lake living. It’s pretty good. Jack

Quotes of Wisdom

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted paychecks.

Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

I just discovered the purpose of shinbones: They’re devices for finding furniture in a dark room.

I’m never sure what to do with my eyes when I’m at the dentist. Do I close them? Do I stare at his face? Do I look at the ceiling? What’s the proper etiquette here?

I have all the money I’ll ever need – if I die by 4:00 p.m. Today.

Google Maps really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

You can go anywhere you want if you look serious and carry a clipboard.

To err is human. To arr is pirate.

I feel like getting something done today, so I’m just going to sit here until that feeling passes…

Tip of the week: When going through airport customs and the TSA agent asks, “Do you have any firearms with you?” do not reply, “What do you need?”

I just read a list titled “100 Things to Do Before You Die.” I’m pretty surprised “Yell for help” wasn’t one of them.

when a fly or small bug lands on your computer screen, has your first reaction ever been to try and scare it with the cursor?

People think I’m too patronizing (that means I treat them as if they’re stupid).

“Dammit I’m mad” is spelled the same way backwards. Think about it

My wife just told me that her birthday is tomorrow. Wow, like maybe more of a heads-up next time.

Son: “Dad, there’s a monster in my room, can I sleep in here?” Dad: Look, it’s you he’s after, why make it my problem too?

2020: We aren’t allowed to go out in public. 2023: We can’t afford to go out in public.

George MacDonald: “All that is not God is death”

Dostoevsky: “Tolerance will reach such a level that intelligent people will be banned from thinking so as not to offend the imbeciles”

Who’s On First?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It started for real in Grade school. Loring In North Minneapolis. Nice neighborhood, now infested with the North Side Banger Boyz and their opponents, The Dowling DMZ’s A nicer group of fentanyl dealers that just want to protect their neighborhood. Counselors are always telling us to set boundaries, Dowling Avenue is one of them. There are several other roads and boulevards,but that one separates the two social clubs.

They all have user friendly 9mm semi automatic pistols and when sales are good, they even give each other boxes of target loads. A deterrent for bad business practices. The hollow points usually kill. The target loads are a more ‘forgiving’ round for a reminder to wind up at North Memorial. Don’t even think about walking around in Camden. You might wind up in the nearby Mississippi. Little Chicago. The Themadons are far away on Lake st.

So when Norm was living there, he began the isolation and rejection cycle. Loneliness. Playing in the forbidden bedroom with his sisters piano at lunchtime. It calmed and reassured him. Beatings, violence, sexual abuse, Norm’s precious cat killed for convenience by Grandpa. rejection of every kind. Norm figured it was the same for everyone (closer than we think) He has cataloged all the trauma in other columns, it’s actually boring and embarrassing to bring them up. You know the feeling. Turning away in your mind and believing you are damaged goods. There isn’t any insurance form to fill out for a refund either. However, sometimes his mind pays a visit. Prisoners appreciate those things.

Norm usually expects rejection. From everyone. (Lately it really hit close to home.) As you may surmise from the photo above, Norm played fiddle for a living. This photo was taken at Duluth for a fiddle contest decades ago. Look at the station wagon on the right. It’s a collector car now. Sort of. Charlie Jirousek is facing us. 12 string guitar player extaordinare. Long gone in Safety Harbor, Florida. Norm prays that is indeed where he is now. Safe and secure at fleet landing with the Lord there, arms wide open for his troubadour.

Norm was in bar bands, fiddle contest judging, square dance bands and as a folk singer traveling the east coast playing guitar. The music given by the Lord to him is strong and he still hears a tune and can hear it, audibly, three times after it has been played. His son’s alarm clock tune or the washer/dryer tunes stick that way too.

Always, always the applause excited Norm and filled that big track hoe hole in his spirit. For a while. He grew to expect the anti-trauma quietness and fulfilling peace in music. He also had a brief addiction to Heroin that sort of did the same thing. Another God story. A real bad substitute for trauma. It seems not to last and the need increases.

Lately Norm had been playing in a church band a few times now and then and worship holds a place all of it’s own in his repertoire. Fiddle, mandolin and guitar with vocals if needed. It was pretty good at filling that rejection hole. The best kind of ‘clean fill’ you can get. Within the last year the gigs became few and far between. An occasional men’s retreat or a worship set. Playing along with an Ihop ‘modeled’ set for two hours and allowing sung prayers to come forth works well. Prayer room stuff.

All of it has come to a halt. All the fancy equipment sits in their cases, unused. Norm has lost one of his last refuges of comfort and assuaging that rejection wound. Now the wound is bleeding and even his family has not asked Norm to play with them in worship. Trauma again. Loss of worth wounds, again.

The usual pity party to go along with it gives Norm isolation vibes for everyone. No one asks him to play with them which he has been doing for over 70 years. Too old? Overplaying? Who knows. Maybe just the hunger displayed again. Pick me please, Oh Pick me, I’ll be good and even practice at home! Pick me Pick me. The wounded cry of the steam locomotive of Norm’s childhood. I have mentioned. the Long drawn out last sound. He can still hear it 70 years later. Lonely at the distant crossing as he lay in bed with the window cracked open a bit. Music of sorrow. Two longs, one short and a long again, held and released slowly. Steam engine sounds Lonely.

Norm’s old bar band was eager to have him ‘sit in’ this week and we are thanking providence that it didn’t happen. The family could use the money if he was hired though. Jazz with trumpet, guitar and bass. Fun but not worship. Nothing wrong with fun coupled with music, but it tends to bring out applause which feeds Norm’s ego and sense of worth. How do you shout out JESUS in a chorus of ‘lady be good’? Boldly I suppose..?

The other day there appeared a way out of the sadness! Norm decided to put away those precious instruments and not look for anyone to ask him to play them. Not even his wife. It took away the anxiety and fear right away.

There is no word from the Lord about playing again either. Possibly when the addiction is gone? He can still play at home to the music he enjoys on the internet. Alone. Better than an old bandbox jukebox box for sure. It’s like being back in his sister’s room, all alone, and playing his heart out and cleaning the tears off of the keys before going back to elementary school. It will work for an unknown period of time. It’s worship. The Lord hears it all.

Jesus will let him know when it’s time to come out of isolation and just be available. Right now it feels good and right to dump the hunger for that first baseman’s position on the ‘play’ ground.

Jack Gator.

Welcomed Well Dressed Visitors

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

The Volvo came to a stop right in front of the shop doors. It was early in the afternoon and Norm had just changed into clean work clothes. The Volvo looked familiar and two men stepped out and began walking down the cement sidewalk towards Norm at the door. They were, perhaps, looking for a quick visit. Possibly to have work done on their car.

Norm felt good at his hospitality and genuine welcome to the two strangers. Well dressed and with a briefcase. His First thought was insurance adjusters from a many months ago traffic accident. Better yet, the knowledge that this might be astonishing to emissaries or missionaries from the local Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Norm asked them in with a smile and showed them the handy seat for changing boots and asked them if they could like to come in and if they would like to take their shoes off in the entryway. They did so and Norm went into the parlor and sat on the couch. He beckoned them to have a seat and swung around his desk chair and scooted up the rocking chair a bit closer to the warm wood stove. They felt welcome and they sat down. The fellow with the briefcase pulled out a Bible and asked Norm if he read it.

The answer to the Bible question was that Norm and his family were somewhat literate with scripture. With the gifts of the spirit visible around the living room walls and signs of faith, it was well received. The older man and his young companion smiled and were pleased. Just to relax them a bit, Norm told of his favorite John Crist video about Lazarus.

All the Bibles were then given serious flipping of the wonderful thin and strong pages. The focus at this time was the prophecies about the end times and Jesus’ role within them. Daniel to Revelation. It all seemed to concentrate on the New Earth and Salvation. Julie joined them and began asking questions. When the tract came out from the elder it was obvious the two of them were Jehovah Witness’ members and relaxed perhaps because that they were sitting in a comfortable warm place with people that love our Savior and His Word.

Perhaps the usual brush off was anticipated. A quick hand off of the Watchtower and it’s over.

The Biblical discussion segued into the end times and questions about who gets ‘in’ who doesn’t. Simple enough to be known by Norm and Julie and yet it isn’t an easy path to maintain. The world seems to feel differently about those things. Norm’s new favorite quote: “My mind still visits from time to time” Prayer is the key. There were mainly questions tossed out referencing to Daniel and Ezekiel, two books that Norm has not committed parts of to memory. (Norm is studying Job and the Song Of Solomon). Men’s group is into a really good book too, John. The old covenant and the new Jerusalem were a focus now with the two men.

Julie asked some really good questions with her testimony of Christ living within her heart. An essential situation for lovers of the Lord. A prayer warriors weapon of mass construction of a peaceful life. Norm is glad she is by his side as his partner in faith and worship. Often she gives clarity to the hard things of life.

It went well and time was slipping away when it just started getting to be a good conversation about serious things. The two polite and well dressed men had other appointments and it was sort of rushed. Many reasons came to mind, but it was not yet time for them to go. Julie invited them to a coming prayer gathering. But they had to go. Not chased off in a huff but encouraged by lovers of scripture as they are. Real handshaking and smiles as the two men left. It would be swell if they show up at the prayer event. It’s local for them too.

It seems common that some of Jesus’ church seem to have a bit more hunger than other gatherings. Too much of this and that, too little of that and this. Some gatherings feel that their way is the only way.

For Norm and Julie, prayer is the focus of their faith. Sung prayer too. Sung scripture is another window to Jesus’ heart. Rather than suddenly leaving a gathering of their current church, they move on when called to yet another place to pray and intercede as Jesus intercedes for them. Their friends left behind stay friends, that is a given.

Mystery and hunger and love combine as fuel for the best fire of all. Perhaps another gathering of the Lord’s romance will call them away again. Their travel agent supplies destinations. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator

Desperate

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A request was before me . “Come with me and help pray for those that need it”. Not the usual request to ‘pray’ for someone with a few other people. Unusual request and never before heard by me. I said ‘sure’, I like to pray.

I was with a new friend, Bryan, A man that I soon instinctively referred to as my brother. There was a stranger near us a few weeks ago, at the next table at a coffee house, an older woman, asked who the two us who we were. Bryan and I had been reminiscing about an astounding local man and that woman was this man’s mother! I told her we were brothers and gave our names, It was my response to a simple request by a stranger that in some way felt right to Norm and Bryan. They now refer to each other as brothers, indeed. The woman was now smiling and it was because her son that we were speaking of had died recently. He indeed was a bright light to us and the community. He walked with the Lord.

A man of faith was my new ‘brother’ and as it turned out, a volunteer at a church gathering around 50 miles away. A rather large church that broadcasts their services worldwide for the spiritualy hungry. My wife and I, Julie, and a double handful of neighbors had been watching these services and were intrigued by them. The live services from the broadcast felt right and good.

A month later Bryan drove me 50 miles to that church to help in praying for a few people that desired it. I had no preconceptions about the building (campus) and when we got there, the large two story building had a parking lot filled with many vehicles, akin to the MSP airport. No cab stands but a big entrance and people holding the doors open at it. There were at least thousand cars parked. The church building was immense and yet warm and friendly. (The address caught my eye. 777, the first numbers on my old Gibson Mandolin). We went up to the second floor and Iwas given a lanyard that had ‘Prayer’ on it.

There was breakfast laid out and coffee. Everyone in the room was a volunteer. It was the first service and it was on monitors and speakers throughout the building. Bryan bought me an Americano and we went up to that volunteer room for the breakfast offered. The prayer team welcomed us and soon, it was time to go down into the sanctuary to pray for people that desired it.

The first thing I felt was the hunger in the room. It was strong and undeniable. I immediatly asked the Lord ‘was it my hunger or was it theirs?’ . “Yes” was His answer. there were about sx people arrayed as I was with “Prayer” on lanyards. The service ended and the main speaker said anyone desiring prayer to come down to the front of the platform. Astonished, I saw the people line up in the aisles. Perhaps a hundred or more, waiting for me and the team. I had no idea of what to do next, but I had been given a small bottle of anointing oil and did not know what to do with that either. “Anoint them on their forehead if they wish to have you do so.” A quote from St. Augustine: “For it is one thing to see the land of peace from a wooded ridge..and another to tread the road that leads to it”A.

Standing in front of the huge bass bin speakers, I looked at a man looking for direction and I smiled and nodded my head. The man, also smiling, stood in front of me and immediately I asked him if he would like to be anointed. “Yes” was his answer, on the forehead was his preference. I daubed a bit of oil on my forefinger and put in on the man’s forehead as a cross, then told him that this was a baptism of healing and asked the man what he would like prayer for

He sais his wife thought she was ugly and she did not believe her beauty assurance words from him. His need was personal and spoken from his heart I told him of his obvious love for the Lord and and his wife would see her beauty in his eyes later that day. We both cried a bit and the man hugged me after asking if it was OK to do so. It was indeed welcomed. After the second service it was more healing requests from dozens or more people, eager to meet a prayer warriors words of healing and comfort. The prayers I gave to them were given by our Lord to me who sees all our hunger for His heart.

The other people that came to my eye connections received what I listened for from Jesus that whispers truth to us. Many tears and quite a few strong embraces came with that given truth. I felt very well used and and astounded. Never had this happened to me so many times, with so many people eager with desperate needs. The honor of conveying the blessings of the Spirit stays steady. There will be more blessings to convey. Not only in my writing but also in person. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator, scribe

A. St, Augustine Confessions, VII, xxi

Faith is accounted as Righteousness.

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Norm was thumbing through one of his books stacked by his living room chair. Norm leaves books all over the house but usually next to his chair or on the kitchen table. It’s sloppy and reminds him of photos of eccentric men of the past. It is sort of pleasing to understand that the mess of books could be a lot worse mess. Brandy bottles. Perhaps ash trays filled with ..ashes. Norm imagines Winston Churchill’s sitting room. Brandy and cigars and books of wisdom and history. Books written with voices crying in the wilderness. The oldest man of God, Abram, believed in the Lord and it was accounted to him as righteousness. It brings the best comfort to Norm as he was doomed to condemantion, fully deserving of death but the Lord saw me there and because of His great love, He saw me there, because He’s rich in mercy and he made me alive when I was dead and He raised me up, and seated me with Christ. And it’s by His Grace that I am saved and it’s through Faith, the very gift of God. That’s in one of Norms earmarked and favorite books. You know which one that is.

On top of one of the nearest piles was a book with a quote from Dorothy Sayers. She was a brilliant poet and novelist from Oxford that was a contemporary of C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton.

Norm casually started reading about her and stumbled upon a short quote of hers about work and religion. It made Norm realize what he has been running up against for a while. Some of the short pieces and columns he has been writing, some of them published, have been critiqued as ‘too religious’ An oxymoron. A dichotomy. Norm does not have much time for ‘religion’ as it is understood by the world. It’s not about names, places, clothing, being good. Follow the rules and you’ll be all right, that’s religion.

Dorothy’s quotes made that issue come to life and with her usual brilliance, gave Norm inspiration to somehow write a short paragraph or two to illuminate what him his answer to critics of his writing. What am I doing wrong? He has even been asked to tone down the ‘religious’ stuff to make it more acceptable to the commercial purveyors of tabloids and such. Fatih is not an opinion, it’s not working it up. It’s a gift, to you. You don’t deserve it and you cannot earn it. I know these things, it’s a gift that took me years to open and embrace. He opened my eyes one night and I realized the truth. Jesus is my Lord and King. Unshakeable, the gift of God. A rock I can stand on. I get weak and he holds out His mighty arm and an outstreached hand and helps me to stay on His highway of holiness. A choice to accept His righteousness.

Dorothy wrote strongly that a big mistake is being made to separate work and religion. The workers of our world are instructed to be nice, don’t indulge in drunken revelry and attend worship at least once a week. How can anyone who works be interested in religion that does not address 90 percent of his life? After all, the man who wrote most of the Bibles new testament was a tent maker by trade. Norm cannot imagine him, Paul, being admonished for being too religious when he was working. It’s a bit of a stretch, but perhaps you are getting the picture.

Our constitution expresses the freedom of religion, not the freedom from religion. Our faith pervades our lives and it is a big mistake of the world to ignore that. “The biggest mistake the church has made is making work and religion separated departments”a. The early church was telling Paul that the first demand his faith was putting upon him was to make really good tents. The church (meaning the people) in the first century was not filled with ceremony and rules. Revealing the faith was essential in those times, even if it meant persecution and anger from populations in the areas. Not understanding or comprehending how faith in the Messiah changed everything about people and how they related to one another. Love, not judgment. Treating everyone with love and respect. Our faith is meant to permeate every aspect of a believers life. Not being known as just a ‘good person’

Norm realizes that his faith is not separate from his work either. After ‘retiring’ from his automotive repair business, he has heard how well customers were treated by him. Quite a few times Norm was treated badly by customers. It was tempting to return the favor. Encouragement continues to highlight the strength and well being given to Norm by his faith in Jesus, King of the Universe. ‘Religion’ is not mandatory and that is good and right. The choice to be shown the road of holiness is ours. That path is our life and you don’t walk it only on Sunday morning.

The title of Norm’s new book reflects this conviction. ‘A fools highway to redemption’ Life changing behavior from Attitudes to Zeal for real life, real relationships and real fulfillment. The cure for the ills of the human condition since the decision in the first garden to be our own masters. It’s very same thing I struggle with inside of me . I want to be just like God. He did not consider equality with God as something to be grasped. By me, by you.

Freedom from the world’s ways to look and act with real love, not just affection. Real love. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator.

a, Dorothy Sayers

Quotes of Wisdom

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I thought I wanted a career, turns out I just wanted paychecks.

Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

I just discovered the purpose of shinbones: They’re devices for finding furniture in a dark room.

I’m never sure what to do with my eyes when I’m at the dentist. Do I close them? Do I stare at his face? Do I look at the ceiling? What’s the proper etiquette here?

I have all the money I’ll ever need – if I die by 4:00 p.m. Today.

Google Maps really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

You can go anywhere you want if you look serious and carry a clipboard.

To err is human. To arr is pirate.

I feel like getting something done today, so I’m just going to sit here until that feeling passes…

Tip of the week: When going through airport customs and the TSA agent asks, “Do you have any firearms with you?” do not reply, “What do you need?”

I just read a list titled “100 Things to Do Before You Die.” I’m pretty surprised “Yell for help” wasn’t one of them.

I when a fly or small bug lands on your computer screen, has your first reaction ever been to try and scare it with the cursor?

People think I’m too patronizing (that means I treat them as if they’re stupid).

“Dammit I’m mad” is spelled the same way backwards. Think about it

.Wife just told me that her birthday is tomorrow. Wow, like maybe more of a heads-up next time.

Son: “Dad, there’s a monster in my room, can I sleep in here?” Dad: Look, it’s you he’s after, why make it my problem too.

2020: We aren’t allowed to go out in public. 2022: We can’t afford to go out in public.

MacDonald: “All that is not God is death”

with credit for inspiration and quotes from Mitch Teemley

WARRIORS

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It has been said by visitors. It has been mentioned by friends near and far. The sanctuary, the retreat and safe place. A place of renewal and freedom. A few folks have been helped here. It is a home of those who have been called to offer a retreat or even adoption. It’s not easy to do so. But it is fulfilling.

There have been several who have been adopted and offered residence as long as they need to be here. Many such places have been scattered throughout the world. I’ve been given one, it is the least I can do to offer ours.

A reason for being bold, the main reason for anyone in my position to never back down. Never deny the power of Jesus. I have been told not to speak so ‘loudly’ about the Creator of my life. Your life. All life.

He is not some ‘shelf” god or someone that can do every thing that we think we need. Comfort, security and some sort of wealth. Opportunity, fame or a good reputation just because you think you deserve it. We don’t deserve anything from this world except a guarantee we will run out of gas. Run out of time after we stop running after the ghosts of those idols. No where to turn except the grave. There is hope however for us.

A promise from the pivot point of all men was a celebration this year. Again. The death of God and his appearance a few days later to hundreds. Deny it. Noting makes truth disappear. History is now challenged as just a story that can be changed as we wish. Libraries and professors of history are amused with absurd rejections of truth. Jesus’ death and resurrection is in history. Undeniable. The people that accepted death rather than deny this history are many. The logic and reality is that none of us would accept execution by torture if we were living a known lie. I would deny that pivot point of all mankind if I knew it was not truth.

There are a other streams of thought that engender death for a cause but none of them are noted in history of God dying for us. Loving us and mankind. None of them. The Japanese god emperor did not offer his life for you. The hijack and promise of worldly rewards after death did not die for you. The wisdom of eastern wise men did not die for you. None of them died and came back to life to be seen by at least 500 people. One of them taught sacrifice and love for our fellow men. Some of them promised death to those who did not believe in them. Several had scary underlings that punished you for not obeying their orders. These gods (small g) are false. I have lost a satisfying writing position because I would not deny this truth. As though the one savior of all mankind was an opinion. To we who believe the truth, there is nothing even close to an opinion about Jesus. Either you know Him or you do not. I do not condemn or criticize the wrong decisions made. Makes me sad.

Many much more erudite writers than I have done a very good job making this decision clear. My favorite one is C.S. Lewis. His favorite was G.K. Chesterton. I recommend reading their writing. If you can read this good advice, and I assume you can because you are reading this. Try it, those two authors alone woke me up. (Not the foolish way that word is used these days.) Awaken O sleeping ones and read history and make up your own minds. My life has been affected and even saved with miracles undeniable to me. Often these things are not believed by some. That’s OK with me. I know they are true. I was there. I am a warrior and not afraid to speak of the love of my life. Jesus. Be afraid, that’s OK too. We have all been afraid of affection. A big dog runs at you and knocks you down and with his paws holding you down, begins to lick your face. It’s a silly image but sometimes that’s the surprise and shock of having fear overwhelmed with affection. Just my way of trying to express the flood of love unexpected.I’d really enjoy talking to anyone with curiosity and hunger for truth about these things. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Time to Move on From the Inter-County Leader

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

The past 3 and a half years with the Inter-county Leader have been very pleasant and rewarding. Editors that showed me respect and gave advice were necessary for a fledgling writer as I. Gary and Robert, thank you.

There were lots of context, grammar and spelling errors that needed to be fixed (thank you Sue)

A growth of my ability to focus and express the way I think occurred. Quite a few people I met were pleased to put a face on the ‘Gators Grace Notes’ column. “Oh, your the Gator!” I would ask them what it was that intrigued them about my writing. Most of the time it was the encouragement they found that there was another person out there that had thoughts akin to theirs. Impossible stories of danger and rescue. Stories of a building faith and a lot of humor coupled with sarcasm, puns,and stumbles. We all have such stories. None of these stories are insignificant.

The by-line in the top of the columns, Grace Notes, is a reference to a musical staff note that has several diagonal lines through the staff. This indicates a rapid staccato that note hammered on’ rapidly and too fast to notate. I am a long time musician and used to read music pretty good. Another meaning of grace is the forgiveness I am given for straying a bit of the path I am walking. Eternity has already sent these stories to the publisher. He reads every one. I believe Jesus really enjoys my writing when I mention his name and His guidance and Grace.

I am now spending a lot of time amending, redoing and proof reading the book I have almost finished. The title of the book is ‘A fools highway to Redemption’. It is my life story and most of the columns I have written (and continue to write) will be in that book . It might be a thick book! There are well over 165 short columns so far.

All columns can be found at my web site, Gatorsgracenotes.com The menu page needs some work in categorizing. There are so many listed that I need to put them in drop downs of genres. {adventure, faith, satire and so forth. Drop me a note if you know how to better do this in the Word Press software! Email is GatorJack75@gmail.com.Your encouragement and friendships are precious to me. Those things, given to published writers, are very meaningful and uplifting. Keep it up to the writers you enjoy. We thank you for those words. I am still writing columns to Bottom line News and Views, published in Ashland Wisconsin.

The name I use, Gator, was given to me decades ago when I was asked by the leader for a photo. The article was about a fiddle contest that I was judging. The only photo I could find was of a little alligator, rocking back on his tail, playing the fiddle. It worked and it stuck. I even had vanity plates saying MRGATOR! The Jack part came much later when a friend, Jesse Selin, thought I needed a first name too. We decided on C.S. Lewis’ nickname, Jack. It’s got a little masculine ‘punch’ to it. Jesse also drew the line drawing of the Gator overnight just as a fun project. . I still love it.

I’ll let you all know when the book is available. Again God bless America and God bless you. It’s pretty good.

Jack Gator

Laughable News

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was in the evening, Jack was preparing to retire. The room was cozy with a very nice fire.

Jack had just seen an important official that wore strange attire. .

He was a high government official and a man to be respected.

But he dressed as a woman, his identity Jack quickly rejected.

He appeared with long tresses, and claimed an impossible way

that before what he was a he, he had changed DNA.

Professor McFarkle was presented with his incredible machine

That could change anyone’s sex to the opposite one seen.

The social implications were strongly attested

by government laws he officially invested.

McFarkles invention was loudly applauded, with the greatest success,

to create bearded women that could be wearing a dress.

Young children were shown by men changing to women and opposite when,

it was as taught quite natural they could change pencils to pens.

Quite a few parents got angry and did not comprehend, why their children had to listen to a perverted cause,

but then found themselves opposed by new government laws.

Insanity is rampant in society today, and no one seems to know how it happened this way,

but all scriptures will show that it will be happening, and many people will say,

Jesus shows us His way, the way we must go,

for the Bible tells me so. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator