Welcome to Ray Flatt's Weekly BubbaGram

Didn't realize how many Polish and Blondes we have as readers until I sent out last week's BubbaGram. Thus, this week I'll stick with picking on preachers. Afterall, doesn't everyone pick on em.

By the way, "Do you know what you tell a preacher with two black eyes?"

Answer, "Not a thing, he's already been told twice."

This weeks story:

As a young minister Brother Russell was asked by a funeral director to hold a grave-side service for a homeless man, with no family or friends, who had died while traveling through the area. The funeral was to be held at a cemetery way back in the country, and this man would be the first to be laid to rest there.

Since he was not familiar with this particular backwoods area, he became lost; and being a typical man did not stop for directions. He finally arrived an hour late and saw the crew eating lunch, but the hearse was nowhere in sight. He apologized to the workers for his tardiness, and stepped to the side of the open grave, where he saw the vault lid already in place. Assuming the workers would not want to be held up long, he decided to go ahead and do the proper thing.

The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch. Brother Russell poured out his heart and soul.  As he preached, the workers began to say "Amen," "Praise the Lord," and "Glory," He preached, and he preached, like he'd never preached before:  from Genesis all the way to Revelations.

Then he closed the lengthy service with a prayer and walked to his car. He felt he had done his duty for the homeless man and that the crew would leave with a renewed sense of purpose and dedication, in spite of my tardiness.

As he was opening the door and taking off his coat, he overheard one of the workers saying to another, "I ain't never seen anything like this before and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years.

Don't guess it really mattered, whether it's living or dying, it's all "Dust to Dust" eventually.

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Speaking of sermons...this is one of my all time favorite mini-sermons, a poem titled 

"Sermons We See" By Edgar A. Guest

I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day;
I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way.
The eye's a better pupil and more willing than the ear;
Fine counsel is confusing, but example's always clear.
And the best of all the preachers are the men who live their creeds,
For to see good in action is what everybody needs.

I soon can learn to do it if you'll let me see it done;
I can watch your hands in action, but your tongue too fast may run.
And the lecture you deliver may be very wise and true,
But I'd rather get my lessons by observing what you do.
For I might misunderstand you and the high advice you give;
But there's no misunderstanding how you act and how you live.

When I see a deed of kindness, I am eager to be kind.
When a weaker brother stumbles and a strong man stays behind;
Just to see if he can help him, then the wish grows strong in me;
To become as big and thoughtful as I know a friend to be.
And all travelers can witness that the best of guides today;
Is not the one who tells them, but the one who shows the way.

One good man teaches many, men believe what they behold;
One deed of kindness noticed is worth forty that are told.
Who stands with men of honor learns to hold his honor dear,
For right living speaks a language which to everyone is clear.
Though an able speaker charms me with his eloquence I say,
I rather see a sermon than to hear one, any day.


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Bubba-ism of the week, "Whatever you are willing to put up with, is exactly what you will have."

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That's all from BubbaLand, talk to ya next week. Like always, if you have something to share with the group, just drop me an email. Be sure to pass this BubbaGram on to friends, enemies and family. They to can join the list at www.rayflatt.com.

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