Bending Angel

Prayer to Persevere – November 6, 2022

November 7, 2022 by Jack Emmott Leave a Comment

Photo credit: David A. Phillip

Amidst the pandemonium, a tidal wave of joy, and a tsunami of confetti, there he stood. Not only as the beloved Manager of the World Series Champions Houston Astros. But the best example of one who perseveres. One who has faith. Dusty Baker.

After being fired as the Manager by Washington, Baker did not get a call for two years. Then, because of Baker’s esteemed reputation and popularity, he was hired by the Astros, baseball’s most unpopular team because of the cheating scandal of 2017.

Despite being an outstanding baseball player, a player on a World Series Champion baseball team, and an outstanding manager for other teams, Dusty had never given up hope on being the manager who led his team to a World Series Championship. Dusty overcame the adversity of bad luck: a few poor calls all managers make, a mini-stroke, and prostate cancer to name a few. Finally, on his twelfth time as the manager of a postseason team, his dream came true, a managerial World Series Championship punctuated by what one reporter, Tom Dart, described as a “…a three-run, 450 ft Tyrannosaurus of a hit” by Yordan Alvarez.

In responding to a sports reporter’s question on how this miracle of sorts happened Dusty said, “I feel that I’ve been chosen for this.” Dusty said in other words that he felt God put him in the place where this could happen. To a Fox reporter, he said, “But my mom and dad taught me perseverance. And you gotta persevere, you gotta believe in yourself.”

His advice to you and me in summary is: Never give up hope. Persevere. Have faith. God will put you in a place in which your dreams come true. Others on high and on Earth will be with you to support you to overcome adversity.

No doubt you and I have overcome adversity in our lives. We did not do that alone. All of us have questioned whether certain of our dreams fell short because we did not try harder or longer.

In pursuing my dream to be a family lawyer and peacemaker I always felt that because of my disabilities I had to work harder and longer than others who were able-bodied. In law school, I completed a three-year law degree in two years. Due to my inability to write fast enough with my hands weakened by polio, I recorded on cassette tapes every lecture in every class every day for two years. In one class I sought help from the Dean because one of my professors prohibited me from recording his lectures. “Jack, you must take my class like all the other students. No exceptions for you because you are in a wheelchair,” he said to me in front of my classmates.

After classes each day, I listened to the lectures one more time and made notes to study. Then, I prepared for the next day of classes between 10pm and 2 am. In reality, I attended four years of law school in two years. My perseverance resulted in obtaining my Doctor of Jurisprudence from the University of Texas School of Law in the top 10% of my class.

God has spoken in Scripture about perseverance.

Romans 5:3-5
3: Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;
4: perseverance, character; and character, hope.
5: And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

Let us pray together.

Dear God, I thank You for gifting me my abilities, my hopes, and my dreams.

God, in prayer please renew my faith in You and the hope in me that my dreams may come true.

God, in prayer please help me to persevere and be steadfast in the conviction that my dreams and goals are worthy of such effort.

God, as You did for Dusty Baker, in Your grace and love for me, please place me on the right path where the dreams You’ve dreamed for me come true.

God, I may never win the World Series or be like Dusty Baker and lead a team to a World Championship. Yet, I am Your child. No matter what dreams of mine will come true. Being a child of You, my God, and sharing Your love with others is more than enough for me. Amen
__________

If you think Jack’s prayer helps you or will help someone you know, please forward it to them. Jack may never make millions selling books or writing prayers, but spreading God’s good news to others is reward enough for him.
Ann Boland, Jack’s Publicist

Prayer on All Saints Day, and for Mary and Otis Coulson, and All Living Saints on Earth and in Heaven – October 30, 2022

October 30, 2022 by Jack Emmott Leave a Comment

Photo Credit: FineArtAmerica.com

Thirty years ago, on All Saints Day 1992, St. Francis Church was overflowing. I heard God’s angel voices as the choir sang hymns in the loft above me in the back of the church. Parishioners, Mary and Otis Coulson, had each served on the Vestry. They were committed choir members. But, today, they were both chalice bearers to serve the cup of salvation to the congregation.

During communion, I and others gathered around the altar rail. Father Stuart Hoke gave us the bread, the body of Christ. Then, Mary or Otis served us the cup of salvation, the sacramental wine which represents the blood of Christ. Blood given in sacrifice for the forgiveness of our sins. Sacrifice that you and me and Otis and Mary could have eternal life when life ends on Earth.

Mary smiled as she placed the chalice on my lips. That day in church, Mary and Otis seemed to glow, to be filled with God’s holy light and love. I remember Mary and Otis walking past me with faces so full of joy and happiness as they, the clergy, communion participants, and the choir walked down the center aisle during the recession.

I joined a throng of parishioners and moved through the breezeway to the Wheatcroft Parish Hall. In the Parish Hall Mary and Otis and their daughter, Robin, and her husband, Richard, walked up to me to say hello. Robin was a few months away from having their grandchild. Mary and Otis beamed with joy at the forthcoming birth of another child in God’s Kingdom. A child who would soon be baptized at St. Francis.

Saints serve. Saints suffer. Saints die. Saints are martyred. There are Saints in Heaven. There are living Saints on Earth. God’s love and light are given to others through the prism of their service to others in God’s name.

Just a few days later, on Friday, November 13, 1992, the living Saints on Earth, Mary and Otis, were taken from us by evil. It was as evil as what killed some of the Saints we celebrate on All Saints Day. For on that night of Friday the 13th in a sweet modest home on Westview Drive their adopted son, Bob, horrifically murdered his mother and father, Mary and Otis, his sister, Sarah, his sister, Robin, and her husband, Richard. To Bob, even the life of Robin’s unborn child had no value.

The next morning, I was asked by the police to come to the home. As Mary and Otis’ family attorney, at the police’s request, I identified the five bodies. How do these images no longer interrupt my sleep? God only knows. Prayers summoned for me whatever power God had to erase the gravity of such images from my mind. A power far greater than evil and hate. Bob, their son, former Sunday school student, and former acolyte, deprived these saintly people of God of their earthly lives. Yet, God’s love prevails over hate. God’s goodness conquers evil. God’s supreme power does what no human can. Raise the dead. Give eternal life to you and me, Mary and Otis, and all servants and saints of God.

God has spoken in scripture of His saints.

Ephesians 5:8-13
For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness, righteousness, and truth), finding out what is acceptable to the Lord. And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather expose them.

Let us pray together.

Dear God, I give thanks to You for all Your Saints, for through their works and sacrifice in service unto You, I have seen the Light of Christ.

God, may my body be used as Your vessel to pour on others Your love, kindness, and healing light.

God, may my service to others in Your name be the prism through which they see Your light and love in good times and bad.

God, I may not ever be a true saint. However, please guide me to be as saintly as possible in all my thoughts, my words, and my deeds. Amen

Jack H. Emmott is a Senior Counsel of Gray, Reed & McGraw, LLP, a 145-lawyer full-service firm in Houston, Dallas, and Waco, Texas. He is Board-Certified in both Family Law and Civil Trial Law and is a Master Credentialed Collaborative Law Professional Divorce Attorney.

To learn more about Jack as an author, inspirational speaker, and songwriter, please visit his website BendingAngel.com and his YouTube Channel.

To arrange a book signing or personal appearance please contact Jack’s Publicist, Ann Boland by email at ann@annboland.com or by phone at 520-247-0070.

Prayer for the Angel on My First School Bus – October 23, 2022

October 27, 2022 by Jack Emmott Leave a Comment

Left: Cheryl Hagler as on My Bus Right: Cheryl Hagler at Time of Tragedy

You and I have lost friends or family members because of drunk drivers. My friend, Jan Heuer, did a public Facebook post on the anniversary of the tragic death of her sister, Cheryl Hagler, more than 45 years ago by a drunk driver at the steering wheel of a car on Fairbanks N. Houston. Only God’s love can hope to fill the emptiness which results from such death.

To thank Jan Heuer for reminding us of the need to remember lost ones, like Cheryl, and to express what she meant to me, I have asked my Publicist, Ann Boland, to repost my prayer on Cheryl, one of my own Bending Angels.

God – After four years of being schooled at home, the day had come for me to attend Post Elementary full-time. I felt so unprepared and out of place.

On the bus would I fit in? Would I be accepted as I looked after polio?

As I stood under the tallow tree waiting on the bus to arrive, I obsessed about how different than others I was. Scoliosis. Uneven shoulders and legs. Orthopedic shoes of different heights A steel back brace. Topping it off was that football helmet Mother made me wear to protect my brain if I fell.

Suddenly, the yellow school bus driven by Bubba Willbern pulled to a stop in front of me. The way the children watched me from the windows inside the bus made me feel like an ugly creature in a fishbowl.

My brother, Charles, helped me up the steps and into the bus. Apprehensively, I looked first at the faces down the left row of seats and then to the right. Everyone turned away from me. Where would I ever find a seat?

Lord, then Your angel appeared. A girl on the sixth row on the right scooted closer to the window. She smiled at me. She patted the seat next to her and waved for me to join her.

The bus that year went to Post Elementary every day. But, with Your angel, Cheryl Hagler, sitting beside me, I always went somewhere else. In her divine way, Cheryl guided me ever closer to you with each passing day. Through her, You imparted to me the sacred lesson of the power of acceptance of the differences in others.

In her early twenties Cheryl, who once wore that Peter Pan-collared blouse, was killed by a drunk driver near where You and the bus brought us together.

God, please help all Your children search for the angels You send them. For in finding angels whether on a bus, in church, or in a line at Starbucks we can receive the holiest of holy messages from You. That we are unconditionally loved by You.

Oh! And God, thank You for my angel, Cheryl. More importantly, at the moment of her tragic death, I thank You for giving her light-filled wings to fly into Your loving arms. I know You made room for Cheryl in Heaven just as she made a place for me next to her on the bus when I needed her most on Earth. Amen

To learn more about Jack as an author, inspirational speaker, and songwriter, please visit his website BendingAngel.com and his YouTube Channel.

To arrange a book signing or personal appearance please contact Jack’s Publicist, Ann Boland by email at ann@annboland.com or by phone at 520-247-0070.

Prayer on the Same Path to the Father – October 16, 2022

October 17, 2022 by Jack Emmott Leave a Comment

We could not see one another because of the large open pages of the newspaper he held in his hands. As I approached his table, the man lowered the paper to see who was coming toward him. He must have heard the purr of the wheelchair motors which propelled me in his direction. He saw me through the bifocals he wore for being near-sighted, not narrow-minded.

As the man’s eyes met mine, I began to give him a friendly smile. Unexpectedly, the man’s lips opened. Instead of smiling back or just saying hello, the man said to me, “Oh, a handicapped.” Then, the man raised the newspaper and resumed reading the pages as before.

Some people and, maybe you too, are offended by what the man did or said or how he viewed me as a handicapped and not just another child of God like him.

Isn’t it easier to see the differences between us than the less obvious similarities? To see that each of us is different and special. But we really are all the same in the ways that matter most to God. God the Father of us all.

Instead of being offended or calling him out for his rude and insensitive utterance, I rolled into the bathroom and said to God a prayer for God to open the man’s heart to see me and others as God does.

In my very first Bending Angel weekly prayer in 2016, I posted this picture taken of my granddaughter during my daily walk with her. The picture and prayer were accompanied by this poem.

We are special in the eyes of Christ.

We are all different,

Whether walking on two tiny feet,

Whether on four wheels,

Very young, or

Not an infant anymore.

We are all on the same path to the Father.

We are all going home.

May our steps

Beat in the rhythm of angel wings

As we share

Heavenly moments on Earth.

God has spoken in Scripture about how God viewed His children.

Galatians 3:26-28

For in Christ Jesus, you are all sons of God, through faith. For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

Let us pray together.

Dear God, because I am human, I see others with human eyes and not with a Godly heart.

God, sometimes I am too quick to judge others or to minimize others.

God, please open the eyes of my heart to see others (as well as myself) as You do.

God, at my death, may I find myself born in the Heavenly presence of Your acceptance, love, and light. Amen

To learn more about Jack as an author, inspirational speaker, and songwriter, please visit his website BendingAngel.com and his YouTube Channel.

To arrange a book signing or personal appearance please contact Jack’s Publicist, Ann Boland by email at ann@annboland.com or by phone at 520-247-0070.

Prayer for the Personal Touch, a Handwritten Note – October 9, 2022

October 8, 2022 by Jack Emmott Leave a Comment

In this fast-paced world with the ease of just sending an email, a few words on Facebook Messenger, or the use of an emoji, it is easy to overlook the power of a personal handwritten note or letter.

After coming home from the hospital with polio at the age of 6, I was given a large red leather-covered scrape book made for me by my Great Uncle Army, who founded A.V. Emmott Bookbinders. He embossed my full name in bold gold leaf letters on the front cover. When Uncle Army handed me the scrapbook he said, “Bubba, I know you received many get-well cards and letters when you were in the hospital. I made this scrapbook for you to put all your cards and letters in.” Uncle Army knew then (what I did not know until much later) that the cards and handwritten notes placed in the scrapbook would one day become some of my greatest treasures.

I spent hours on end convalescing at home. I read and reread the cards. I selected and placed the cards on the pages where I thought were best. Then, I carefully put rubber cement on the back of each card and glued them to the pages for safekeeping.

At that time and during the five years of homeschooling and physical therapy which followed, each card was much more than just a piece of paper. Each card let me know that someone really cared for me and appreciated what I was going through. My life and struggles were important to them. If not, why would each person take time out of their busy life to do this for me? Sure, some cards were just signed by the sender. However, many cards had personal handwritten notes on them. The person took the time and effort to craft the right words to comfort me and give me hope that better times were ahead.

Through the years with repeated pneumonia, sicknesses, hospitalizations, and surgeries, the cards kept coming. They too found their way into Uncle Army’s scrapbook. When I felt that no one cared for me or in miserable moments of self-pity, all I had to do was to open that scrapbook. People cared. God cared for me through them.

Many people you and I know need you and me to be their pen-angels. They need a little angelic love in receiving and reading a personal handwritten note inside a card. Maybe just a personal letter to let them know they are not alone.

Today, in my collaborative divorce practice, I often use my Bending Angel note cards to write a personal message to many of those. Many times, after the divorce is completed, I send a handwritten note with a quote from a note my wife and I received from dear friends after the resolution of a difficult business dispute. The quote is from the Wizard of Oz. It reads:

You’re out of the woods,
You’re out of the dark,
You’re out of the night.
Step into the sun,
Step into the light.

That handwritten note in the card from our friends is still in safe keeping and is treasured in our hearts. I know that those who get my cards see an important message. The ending of a legal relationship is the beginning of a new, more hopeful, and happy life. That my thoughts and prayers will remain with them always.

God’s Apostle Paul knew the importance and power of the handwritten word.

Colossians 4:18
I, Paul, write this greeting in my own hand. Remember my chains. Grace be with you.

2 Thessalonians 3:17
I, Paul, write this greeting with my own hand. This is the sign of genuineness in every letter of mine; it is the way I write.

Let us pray together.

Dear God, please help me to set aside time each day or week to write out a personal note to someone in need or to say thank you for a good deed done.

God, please help me not to allow efficiency or hurriedness to crowd my day so much I don’t take the time to write personal handwritten notes or letters.

God, the Bible contains Your Holy written word. Your words will never be forgotten. May my words pushed through my fingers in a handwritten note dwell in the hearts of those who receive them. Through my handwritten words may each person receive Your everlasting love, comfort, and hope. Amen

To learn more about Jack as an author, inspirational speaker, and songwriter, please visit his website BendingAngel.com and his YouTube Channel.

To arrange a book signing or personal appearance please contact Jack’s Publicist, Ann Boland by email at ann@annboland.com or by phone at 520-247-0070.

Prayer for Voices of a Choir of Angels – October 2, 2022

October 2, 2022 by Jack Emmott 1 Comment

Photo credit: Anita Wheatcroft

I stood next to my brother, Charles. I placed my hand on his shoulder. I did not want to fall. Underneath my red and white choir robe, no one could see the back brace or the clunky orthopedic shoes I wore. Those who heard my voice singing in the Cherub Choir had no idea of what was going on inside me. What I was feeling. What it meant to be in the Choir. To stand beside other kids like me but in so many ways I was different

As you look at the photograph of me in the Choir, please know this. Underneath that big red bow was a boy who felt for the first time after polio that he belonged. That there was something more beautiful than the ugly mess polio left him. That he had an important role to play in life besides being a good patient or working hard at rehabilitation. That in singing hymns he knew that he was part of something bigger than the challenges he faced. Not forgotten. To God, he was special, not different. Just as special as all the other choir boys and girls without polio. In many ways, being in the Cherub Choir was more healing than all the surgeries and all the years of therapy to come.

While rummaging through a file of keepsakes today, I came across this photograph given to me by Anita Wheatcroft, wife of Rev. Richard Wheatcroft, the founding Rector of St. Francis Episcopal Church-Houston. Some of you may recognize my sister, Carolyn, my cousins, Deborah and Melissa Flint, the Wheatcroft children, David and Elizabeth, and others I can no longer name. (If you recognize any of the other children in the picture, please post their names in reply to the prayer).

In Cherub Choir we sang in church services. We sang carols in the Christmas pageant, a pageant in which my mother was Mary. Walking past me, she held God’s infant son wrapped in a blanket. As Mom and others processed past me and as the Cherub Choir sang Silent Night, I had the miraculous, comforting feeling that God was holding me too. All of me. All I once was. What I was then. What I might become in life. What it meant to truly be a child of His.

I am much older now. My choir boy voice is gone. The original church building, in which the Cherub Choir practiced and performed on Piney Point Road, no longer stands. The old church building (subsequently named the Wheatcroft Parish Hall) was recently razed to make way for a new structure and for progress in service to God.

As I look at the vacant land where the old church used to be, I am a little sad. However, the sadness does not block my memory of being that young post-polio choir boy. Of proudly wearing the choir robe with the large red bow wrapped around my neck. As I sang, Yes, Jesus Loves Me, my heart heard a choir of angels from above, with their voices singing back to me, “Yes, God loves you, Jack.” Today, the good, great news is that God still does.

God has spoken in Scripture as to the blessings of music.

Ephesians 5:19
Speak to one another with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord.

Psalm 96:12
Let the field exult, and all that is in it.
Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy.

Psalm 59:16
But I will sing of your strength,
In the morning I will sing of your love,
For you are my fortress,
My refuge in times of trouble.

Dear God, in my service to You may I sing songs of praise and thanksgiving for the wonders of Your Kingdom.

God may my voice of song and words of prayer rise above the deafening sounds of today which distract me from being centered in You.

God, when I feel alone, may I remember that the doors of Your house are always open. In Your home, there is something bigger than my troubles.

God, may my body of work and love in service to You, like the voices of a church choir, glorify and magnify Your holy name. Amen

Prayer for a Halo Shampoo Bottle Filled with Holiness – September 25, 2022

September 28, 2022 by Jack Emmott Leave a Comment

In the shower this morning my eyes were damp. Not from the rain pouring from the shower head above me. But from the heart of compassion within me.

My wife, Dorothy, was born in Los Angeles. Her earliest memories are from the little house in the country down the hill from Ojai. She and her brother and sister loved playing among the large, old live oaks on the property near a small natural spring. Life was idyllic for them. Her mother’s relatives lived all over California. The weather was always wonderful and they loved it. When Dorothy was about five, the inconceivable happened. Her father announced they were all moving to Texas to be near his parents in the Rio Grande Valley. They asked when would they return to California. The answer was “Someday”. They were devastated and prayed (as a child would pray) for God to intervene in the move. Intervention did not come.

On the road trip to South Texas, Dorothy noticed that Dianne had a small Halo Shampoo bottle that she had filled with California water. It was for when she got too homesick for California, she could have a taste of their water.

Change was tough for them. They lost their beloved state, family, friends, and the magnificent beauty of a landscape to which no small South Texas town could compare. It became obvious to the children that they likely would not return to California any time soon, if at all. However, they continued to hope.

On each occasion Dianne was overcome with grief, she would take out the Halo bottle, place her quivering lips on the rim, and take a small sip of the California water, water which to her was as sacred and as holy as any blessed by a pastor or priest.

The family was poor. Life in Texas was never like California. After living in many small Texas towns, they settled in Port Lavaca and made a different life for themselves. Eventually, one without their father, as he moved on without them.

This morning, as Dorothy shared this heartbreaking story of Dianne’s Halo shampoo bottle with me, Dorothy cried. In many ways, the deep palpable longing for and grieving of the loss of their California home never left Dianne, Dorothy, her brother, or her mother. Time or taking a shower could never wash away the pain Dorothy experienced as a little girl. Even so, Dorothy is comforted in knowing that her departed mother, brother, and sister have moved to their heavenly home, a home more beautiful than any sunrise over Monterrey Bay.

For Dianne, the water in the Halo shampoo bottle might well have been drawn from a Saint’s well rather than a bathroom faucet in California. Dianne found strength, holiness, and healing in the water she sipped in her difficult pilgrimage to find a new home in Texas.

Over the next few years, Dorothy and her family settled in, found a new house, joined a church, and gained a host of friends in Port Lavaca. If not for their loss, and eventual move to Houston and joining St. Francis Episcopal Church, Dorothy and I would never have met, gotten married, and lived a life together so full of beauty and love.

As we shared tears today, I not only held a grown woman and wife in my arms. I embraced the unseen five-year-old California girl who still grieves, still dreams, and forever dwells in her.

God has spoken to us in Scripture about Holy water.

Isaiah 12:3
With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.

Isaiah 43:2
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.

Let us pray together.

Dear God, I thank You for Your Spirit which You sprinkled over the Earth to inform the world with abundant life and love.

God, I praise Your Holy name for baptismal water which marked me as Yours forever.

God, as I live my life, I grieve for what once was and will never be. I want to go back in time and be with people, places, and experiences I treasure. May I be comforted in knowing that what awaits me in Your Heavenly home is more beautiful than what I will ever have on Earth. Amen

If you like this prayer, please share.

If you want to purchase for yourself or a friend a copy of Bending Angels: Living Messengers of God’s Love or Prayerful Passages: Asking God’s Help in Reconciliation, Separation or Divorce, please click here to go to Amazon.

Jack H. Emmott is a Senior Counsel of Gray, Reed & McGraw, LLP, a 145-lawyer full-service firm in Houston, Dallas, and Waco, Texas, a Board-Certified Family Law and Master Credentialed Collaborative Law Professional Divorce Attorney, Mediator, Author, Entrepreneur, and Inspirational Speaker. For more information about Jack or his latest book, Bending Angels: Living Messengers of God’s Love, go to the Bending Angel website.

Prayer for the Everlasting Legacy of Love – September 18, 2022

September 19, 2022 by Jack Emmott Leave a Comment

Due to a major legal project this week I was unable to spend the 10 hours I need each week to write the prayers. However, I am reposting one of the most widely read prayers I wrote during the Pandemic. May you and your pets leave a legacy of love for others.

For the last five months, Dorothy and I have sought refuge from the Coronavirus at Camp PawPaw. Camp PawPaw overlooks Tres Palacios Bay with a myriad of waterfowl to entertain us from dawn until sunset each day. Some of the water creatures seem to perform the same way day after day. Others appear for a few weeks and will not be seen again for a while in observance of migratory habits rooted in ancient history.

One repeat performer is a beautiful Brown Pelican who lands nearly every day on the stair rail of Sissy Taylor’s pier a few houses down from us. The Pelican is an elder by human standards. He has an 18-inch-long bill and a large throat pouch. His head is white in front and dark brown in the back. This regal bird has silver-gray feathers that adorn the rest of his body.

Judging by his appearance our frequent Pelican visitor must be about 25-30 years old. Clearly near the end of his time on Earth.

Countless times Dorothy and I have wondered why the Pelican returns to this unlikely perch. All the other Pelicans sit on the ends of the neighboring barnacle-encrusted navigation posts in the bay or lined up like a platoon of Army soldiers on the ends of the piers at the conclusion of their exhausting day dive bombing for fish in the bay. But not our Pelican. He is committed to always returning to the same perch. But, why?

The mystery became clear a couple of weeks ago. Our friend, Sissy Taylor, explained it to us. Twenty years or so ago there lived in a neighboring house a Magnus Mertz. Known to everyone simply as Mertz. Each day Mertz cast for bait fish with his casting net. A Pelican landed near him. He stood there as if to ask Mertz to be served him a meal, his daily bread from man to a feathered friend. Mertz gave the Pelican part of his catch. After that first meeting, the Pelican and Mertz repeated that ritual nearly every day for the years which followed. They eventually, became such good friends Mertz named the Pelican George. Soon George was following Mertz into his garage to be hand-fed mullet and just hang out with him.

Mertz moved away from Palacios a few years later to live closer to his family. Relocating to be with family was a huge win for Mertz. But, it was a big loss for George.

So, even now, many years later and without receiving his daily bread and friendship from Mertz, George still returns. Still remembers. Still sits on his perch. To be at kind of holy place. A place where Dorothy and I witness and appreciate Mertz’s everlasting legacy of love to George. George officiates the sacred happening that we are fortunate to know and celebrate because we understand the mystery revealed to us by Sissy.

God has spoken to us in Scripture as to the legacy of love.

Proverbs 13:22
A good man leaves an inheritance to his children’s children.

Psalms 78:4
We will not keep them from our children; we will tell the next generation about the Lord‘s power and his great deeds and the wonderful things he has done.

3 John 1:4
I could have no greater joy than to hear that my children are following the truth.

God, I thank You for the lesson in the everlasting legacy of love as represented by George, the Brown Pelican, on Tres Palacios Bay.

God, in prayer please guide, support, and enable me to leave an everlasting legacy of love in my service to You and Your children.

God, when I have joined You in Heaven, please show to others on Earth the signs of my works in Your name as I have witnessed in watching the George, the Brown Pelican. Each day he pays homage to the blessings he received from his friend, the fisherman, and the giver of daily bread that feeds George’s soul forever and ever. Amen.

If you like this prayer, please share.

Prayer for Memories Made When Labor Rests – September 5, 2022

September 5, 2022 by Jack Emmott Leave a Comment

What do you remember most when you think of Labor Day and Labor Day weekend?

Margaret Zagst, Jack and Lucile Emmott

For me, it was the annual family trip to the Rio Grande River Valley for the opening of dove season. Mom and Dad loaded up the Jeep Waggoneer which smelled like a big nasty well-smoked cigar on four wheels. Dad acquired it from Bruno Leonard, the cigar aficionado and legendary Manager of KILT Radio.

Driving down Old Highway 59 and cruising through old Texas towns like Harlingen, Refugio, Sinton, and Beeville. Sleepy towns mirrored our eyes all too ready for bed when we rolled into Rancho Viejo Country Club late at night. Joining us were my parents’ friends like Chuck and Marie Zagst. (Chuck took this picture of Marie, Mom, and Dad on one of our trips.) Mom, Dad, Marie, and Chuck have all gone to Heaven. I am certain those dove Dad shot are telling him that they never enjoyed dove season the way he did.

Eating a quick breakfast and heading out Old Military Highway to find and stake out the best shooting spot. Taking positions. Waiting anxiously for 12 noon. The repetitious sounds nearby and in the distance of other hunters shooting and getting their limits of doves for the day.

Tired. Satisfied from the hunt and with clothes soaked in salty sweat it was time to clean and pluck the feathers from the birds. (Yes. None were ever wasted. All were eaten when we got home.) After I married, Dorothy came along. She was very smart. After just one feather-plucking experience, she learned and used the lesson that the one who made Cuba Libres was exempt from this messy chore. Rum. Lime. Coke. A holy trinity of sorts consumed in an almost sacred way by bird-hunting enthusiasts in South Texas.

A quick shower upon returning to Rancho Viejo. At 10:00 pm. off to the now no longer standing Drive Inn Restaurant in Matamoros, Mexico. It was safe. No Los Zetas or drug warring Cartel gangs to fear. For $2.10 you could have three kinds of meat, iced tea, rice, guacamole, chips, salsa, queso, beans, and dessert. It took me only one Singapore Sling to persuade Dorothy to eat the fried frog legs. The first and last time for her.

Driving back to Houston at night and observing the flashing lights in the clouds to the north of Highway 59 caused by the weather anomaly of heat lightning.

Those are my fondest Labor Day remembrances. Like me, as you rest from your labors with family and friends, I hope you can thank God for your Labor Day memories. Because of polio, my body is weak. But, my memory is strong. My heart beats loudly in thanksgiving for times like this long ago.

God has spoken in Scripture about where to find rest from our labors.

Psalm 62:1:
My soul finds rest in God alone.

Dear God, please help me to remember to pray daily. In my prayers to You, I surely find all the rest I need.

God, I am grateful to You for the fruits of my labors that enable me to take time off from work to spend time with family and friends and to make lasting memories to savor for the rest of my days.

God, I praise You for giving me a mind, hands, and heart to earn a living and support those who depend on me.

God, please help me to remember to give more to those who have less.

God, may I strive to labor in ways that always please You.

God, last, I pray, that when my work in service to You is done, I will find eternal and everlasting rest from my labors with You in Heaven. Amen.

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Prayer for Intimacy and Intimate Relationships – August 28, 2022

August 29, 2022 by Jack Emmott Leave a Comment

Photo credit: goodmenproject.com

As I was a quadriplegic from polio, Dorothy helped me to get in bed. Dorothy removed all my clothes. I was naked as a newborn baby. She saw the bare, tender, unseen parts of me. The slick-numbed ugly surgical scars. Scars on my hands. Scars on my legs and feet. A long scar from below my neck to my tailbone. An opening through which Dr. Harrington had inserted and attached three steel rods to my spine.

Dorothy saw my backbone shaped like a river winding through the Mississippi Delta. Dorothy viewed the obvious asymmetry of my body, arms, legs, and hips deformed by polio. Dorothy saw my naked truth. My physical truth. The ugly, imperfect, unchangeable, and unalterable parts of me. The truth of me I hid from others in the clothes I wore. She saw the real me. The true body polio left me. Then, Dorothy kissed me. She intimately and sweetly embraced the broken parts of me. From that first lovemaking, I knew for the rest of my life I was always safe with her.

What do you think of when you hear the word, “intimate”?

What does being “intimate” mean? In my youth, I thought it was “sex.” But “intimacy” means much more than sex.

Intimacy is really about truth. My truth. Your truth. To have a relationship with someone with whom you can share the truth of who you really are. Not just the physical you. But the more profound unseen truth of you. Your inner truth or self without fear of rejection or judgment. Not only the perfect spirit God gave you but your imperfections, fears, losses, battles with addiction, regrets, weaknesses, failures, secrets, hopes, and dreams. I have that kind of intimacy with my wife, Dorothy, with whom I share the entirety of my hidden self, now and forever. How many people in your life do you trust with that truth? The layers of truth beneath your skin.

Michael Craig is a fellow collaborative divorce attorney, friend, and brother in Christ with whom I share the true me. The real Jack. Recently, Michael sent me the following quote by Taylor Jenkins Reid: “People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth when you can show yourself to them when you stand in front of them and their response is ‘you’re safe with me’ – that’s INTIMACY.”

God has spoken to us in Scripture about intimacy.

John 15:15
I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.

Let us pray together.

Dear God, I thank You for creating me.

God, Thank You for giving me Your perfect spirit even though I, the true me, am far from perfect.

God, I have a desperate, essential need for the emotional intimacy of truth in relationships with others. Please help me find people in my life with whom I can safely share my truth. My innermost self, my truth which You see every day.

God, I have few friends with whom my truth can be shared. That is the truth and the true me I cannot hide from You, but I withhold from most everyone else.

God, please help me to find those whom I can trust, with whom I can intimately share the true me. The kind of “intimacy” author, Taylor Jenkins Reid, says we all need. Amen

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