Paul Phillips
  I have been a member of ChristianBlog.Com for 1 year, 2 months and 19 days.

  I have published 75 blogs and 18 comments.

 My most recent blog was published: Oct 18 2017 09:49:49am

 I currently live in: United States.
  My Newest Blogs
I recognize you
Paul Phillips
published . 2 min read
“I must be Dorothy.” I’ll admit it. We had been ignoring the beautiful little girl. In the room full of people, every one of us was looking at the window and offering an opinion about the shades being installed. No one was focused on her in any way. The sweet little girl sat on the cedar chest and swung her feet—thunk, thunk, thunk—against the sides, waiting for at least one of us to tear our eyes away from the window and speak to her. It must have been a sore trial for the little tyke. When one is used to being the center of attention, to be among a crowd of folks and not even be a part of the conversation would be most difficult. Especially if you’re an almost four-year-old kid. Then again, I don’t know. This sixty-year-old man understands how......
Basking in blessing
Paul Phillips
published . 2 min read
A year ago, life took a turn. Let’s just say it was a turn I didn’t want to make and leave it at that. A year. A wise man I know sent me a poem early on in that year. Something about being called aside.I didn’t want to be called aside. We closed our business—and waited. We worked in a yard—and waited. We emptied a house—and waited. We watched our bank account empty—and waited. Many would say it’s been a hard year. If you pressed me, I might agree—for a few seconds. Earlier this week, when a hint of good news arrived, a friend called it a blessing from God. He’s not wrong. Good news—hope for the future—is a blessing from God. It is. Still, I wonder. Why do we assume only the things we want and desire and then receive......
Is grandpa crying
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
I stood silently for a moment, looking at the young man kneeling on the floor. I needed time to let my bruised ego heal. I know. It’s a pretty fragile ego that can’t stand up to a boy’s question, but there it was. He had asked the question several times. That could have been it. No. It was just the idea that I wasn’t enough. I wanted to be enough. But, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Let’s see if we can sort this out. The lad’s father had dropped him off earlier, telling me he’d be happy to pick him up if there was any trouble. I didn’t expect any and told the young man’s father so. He is my grandson, after all. Grandpas and their grandsons can do a job together without falling out, can’t they? I wonder if the......
Sugar is good for you
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
It was just an overheard conversation. Funny, how a few words directed at someone else can change the tenor of the day. A thought, tucked away in a vacant corner of the brain and carried through the afternoon unnoticed, gives a different perspective which can’t really be explained. The earlier parts of the day hadn’t worked out at all as I had planned. A trip into the attic to correct a simple problem had turned into three trips into the attic. I had planned to be up there only during the coolest hours of the morning. When I finally tumbled out at noon, drenched in sweat and nearly choking on the dust from the rock wool insulation, the mood was set for the rest of the day. That’s the way it seems to go, isn’t it? I’m not saying it has to; it’s just what......
Loud enough to be heard
Paul Phillips
published . 3 min read
I’m not sure when it stopped mattering to me. At some point in the last forty years, things changed drastically. I don’t really care what they think anymore. But, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Perhaps, a little explanation will aid in unraveling my boast. It was during the last semester of the school year. The beloved director of the student orchestra, who graciously allows me to participate — I think, just to have the part covered — had handed out a new music piece. We sight-read the piece. Sight-reading is the act of playing a piece of music through without having ever rehearsed — or even seen — it before. I didn’t realize it was true of my playing, but it must have been. After the rehearsal session was over, as we were......
The retreat sounds
Paul Phillips
published . 3 min read
They called them retreats. We couldn’t have told you what the word meant. Not when used in that context. Usually, a group of teenagers was loaded into cars to ride to unfamiliar surroundings, mostly campgrounds in the middle of nowhere. For two or three days, we engaged in ambitious activities—games, hikes, group discussions, and the like. Since we were usually thrown in with other teenagers we didn’t know, the stress level was high as we vied for the pretty girls’ attention and did our best to mark our territory and establish superiority over the other boys. It wasn’t a relaxing time. I am older now. Much older. The need to impress pretty females has faded into a dim memory (except for one particular Lovely Lady). Mostly, I leave the butting heads process to......
Borrowing the words
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
I thought it was a book only nerds would ever use. I’m not certain I have ever bought a copy of my own to this day. Lamar Junior High School. That’s where I first saw a copy of this mysterious book. Usually, it was a small paperback, stacked on top of whatever miscellaneous textbooks the brainiacs were carrying, clamped tightly under the arm and against the body as they scooted down the drafty hallways. I wasn’t a brainiac. Roget’s Thesaurus. Oh. A foreign language book. I was already enrolled in a Spanish class and had no interest in taking up an additional language. Except it wasn’t. A foreign language book. Still, it would take an awfully long time for me to care about what it really was. And then, it would be years before I felt the need to consult such a......
Out there, he walks
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
It’s not like I carry treats in my pocket. But, you never would have known it, the way the rotund black lab kept her head against my leg as I walked. She always has done that—kept her head against my leg when she walks beside me. It’s just that she’s never done it while I was mowing the yard. Every pass—every step of the way. Back and forth we went, the black dog and I, almost as if I had her on a leash. She could have left any time she wanted. The only thing keeping her there was her fear. And her trust. It’s funny I should mention fear and trust together like that, isn’t it? Perhaps, we should go back a few steps, before the terrified—and trusting—canine began to stroll with me on my accustomed pattern through the grass. The August......
Sic transit gloria (thus passes glory)
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
Bill was a horn player. A really good horn player. I was then—as I am now—a merely adequate horn player. From the first, I chased Bill. It was all I could do to stay anywhere close to him in the never-ending struggle for the coveted first chair. First chair got all the solos. They were the de facto leader of the section. First chair had the respect of Mr. Olson. I had never had the respect of any teacher—or, so it seemed to me. I wanted to be first chair. Challenges were how one moved up to that coveted position. Literally, a challenge, issued in writing and handed to Mr. Olson, our band director, would result in the event which decided if one could take over the seat we all aspired to. The challenger picked the piece to be played and named the day, at least a week......
Number two common
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
There’s a black spot in the middle of the dining room floor. It stays. The burn mark embedded in the number 2 common oak hardwood floor is part of family lore now. It’s not a dramatic story; the details don’t really warm the heart. Still, the memories have been woven into our history now. We’re keeping the history. And the memories. It was close to fifteen years ago that the Lovely Lady’s mom said goodbye to her sweetie as she rode away with her sister for a women’s meeting early one morning. Her sweetie, the white-haired man who taught me all he knew of operating a music store, sat at the table in the kitchen with a cup of instant coffee between his gnarled hands. It was a morning like any other. Only it wasn’t. A couple of hours later, my......
  Newest Blog Series
I have not created any blog series yet.