CAREFREE
Just north of us are two separate burgs, though I might be the only one who has ever penned burgs with the West, named Cave Creek and Carefree.  I've been to both though I 've frequented Cave Creek more when the fork forces me to choose.  Cave Creek has handier Western shops, a golf course, and some good places to chow down: the best at the Rancho Manana Golf Club.

I've never seen the creek or the cave and when I've gone the other way, I've never felt very carefree.  They're both the kinds of names that drew me nearer to baseball announcer Harry Carey when he called the games for the Cardinals when I was a kid.  He'd either announce fans were in St. Louis from Strawberry Danes, Arkansas, or some other interestingly named town.  At least to me, a lover of words at a young age.

But what would it be to feel carefree?  I always go back to my school days as a grade school student, junior high, high school, college student and teacher.  There was just nothing comparable to the last day of school.

The feeling of no constraint, the feeling of complete freedom.  At the tail end of a physically hard day of work (you're right--I never experienced many), turning 21 years of age, getting that diploma paled in comparison.  It was just knowing or better yet not knowing what was ahead, but you had survived whatever had been thrown at you, whatever had come your way.  And you were ready.

You could take all day to slide or blow bubbles.  You could sleep till noon.  You could stay up all hours of the night or all night.  No repercussions because you were free of cares.   For the time being.  But for once, time wasn't your boss.  You felt Summer would never end.

About three weeks later, you started thinking about missing your friends and what school would be like in the Fall.  Your carefree days were great.  For awhile.

It's like some who I've known that never got out of the military.  Never got over their year(s) of service.  They were free (and thank God for their service for our freedom) but pulled back, in a way retained.  Same with school.  Some of the people I've known as fellow students and former students who couldn't wait to get out of school and into the real world, never graduated.  Never got over the "dear old golden school days".

Some like a character in a Frost poem were still thinking of arguments they should have used, could have used back then.

I guess most are not really anymore carefree than the town in Arizona.  Even at Summer's beginning, school's end, or honorable discharge.  That's the human for you--we want freedom, but then again, do we.

Carefree is nice, but only for awhile.

WE'LL SEE
Just how this works out. 

Everyone has a story.  Some have blogs they've written over 2,000 entries for.  It's getting harder to find picture that evokes an idea for me to run with.

So I'm going to tell you a story about one of my friends, whom I'll identify only as Craiger.  I know he wouldn't mind, but I do, so I'll use that pseudonym.

I guess maybe a better moniker would have been Mr Metabolism.  The story about him is how he can eat.

The first time my wife ever met him, he ate half her meal.  We had played golf in Prescott (pronounced by the locals as Press Kit) about 90 minutes from our home.  After our golf, we stopped to eat at roadside restaurant in Black Canyon.  Big servings.  So big that CQ had to quit.  No problem for Craiger who simply took her plate and finished eating her meal.

Another time he was at a restaurant, similar to the Black Canyon one.  He ordered roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans.  He polished those off and ordered a piece of lemon pie which he added a la mode.  When he was finished, he asked the waitress if she could bright him another.  She was stunned because of the sheer amount.  "Another piece of pie a la mode?"

"No," Craiger answered, "Another roast beef plate."  Which he ate.

Yet another time he went to a family cook out.  Sixteen total.  He went with one member who was going to buy the steaks at a local food store.  Nice big New York strips. There was one Delmonico in the case that must have been a two-pounder.  "Wow! Look at that one!"

"If you'll eat it all, I'll buy it," the family member teased.

"Sure thing."  And he did.

Craiger still eats like that and probably has less than 10% body fat on his 5'9" frame.  And that it his story. 

BUT YOU DON'T ALWAYS HAVE TO

There are so many things to be written on this topic.  I wonder what our pastor would center on.  Every Sunday he shares what scripture he will be preaching on the following week.  When I have read ahead of time, I always find myself thinking what will Pastor Jamie key in on and develop.  He is an amazing teacher of The Word and he simply doesn't disappoint.

So my focus will be on not being still.

In Scottsdale, we have a farmers' market or two on Saturday mornings. We are semi-regular attendees.  Last Saturday, the talk of the market was some super sweet corn that one of the merchants had for sale.  Samples were available from small cobs.  And it was delicious. 

"You've got to try the sweet corn."  "It's the best you'll ever have."  "It's to die for."

"I picked corn on Tuesday and Friday; this is all I'll have this year," he declared.

"Be still..." and miss the corn.

Yet that's exactly the way we do in sharing the gospel.  Eternal salvation is a much better deal.  The 4 ears we bought were gone by Monday.  Our salvation is not.  It was offered freely.  We accepted.  We didn't have to do anything except believe that God had one Son named Jesus. He came to save us from our sins.  He died.  He rose and lived again as was witnessed by over 500 people.

We believe.  We won't be still.  But unfortunately we won't be as giddy when we share the greatest gift the world will ever see.