Just decided to revive my Blog. So, what is it, 15 chest compressions and 3 breathes. I'm actually CPR certified and can't remember. Time for a refresher course.

I think the reason for this revival is that I have had some recent events that recalled a previous post and as it was good therapy for me then, I am hoping the same will occur now.

What I am saying is that this is all for me not you. So, read at the risk of it impacting you very little.

That said, stay tuned for some ramblings from my erratic mind.

Last weekend our family took a much needed camping/fishing trip on the Little Niangua River in the Ozarks. Beautiful, brisk (sorry Darla/wimp) weather and just a hint of the fall colors. Easy there, I almost painted a mental image.

Anyway, we had been at the campsite for about 45 minutes with the tent set up and not much else, when Tabor, my oldest son, grabbed some sticks for marshmallow roasting. He started whittling off the twig ends and then suddenly looked over at Darla and I, holding his hand.

Several weeks ago, I spoke to a youth group about the practice of altruism. Defined as “the practice of placing others before oneself”, I had explained to my class that while it is a learned behavior, it needs to become instinctive in the life of a Christian. We are called to do this everyday. I struggle with it. I am not very altruistic and have to “practice” it still.

As Tabor turned to us with a hand full of blood from a seriously nasty knife cut that I have been kind enough to include a picture of on this very site, he said these words, only. “I just cut my hand bad. I am sorry, family, for ruining the camping trip. I’m really sorry.” As I recall these words, I tear up, again.

Tabor instinctively responded altruistically. Personally, I would have screamed, “Get me to a hospital, I’M GOING TO DIE!” He didn’t think of the right answer. No one, in crisis, THINKS about the right response. They respond from their heart. Now, even though I have always suspected it, I know Tabor’s heart.

Christ lived his life continuously, instinctively, altruistically. In this brief moment of Zimmerman family crisis, Tabor’s 15 words, gave me a glimpse deep into his heart. Thank God, I saw Christ.

The oddest thing happened this last weekend at the local Wally World. Tabor, Tate and I were in the fishing aisle, surprise. Well, this wide-eyed young woman approached us, obviously trying to get eye contact with one of us. Then it happened. She caught my eye and said, "Jesus, loves you!" A statement rarely heard in the largest retailer in the world. "Welcome to Walmart" is rarely followed by these three words.

This isn't the odd thing though. The next few moments absolutely stopped me in my tracks. She then said, "Say it with me, Lord......" I froze. I then looked to Tabor, as if he was going to rescue me with some, "I think I am going to vomit small chunks of corn, can we go?" Nothing. I then turned to Tate, in the cart. He was absorbed in some item he had snatched off nearest kiosk, and assumed that item allowed him to remain detached from the entire scenario.

Since I was literally struck dumb by those five words, all I could do was, weakly, roll out, "Lord?.?" The young woman, somewhat vacantly proceeded to walk me through a prayer of salvation. Since Tabor had disappointed me in his scapegoat skills, I slowly drew the young aisle evangelist's eyes toward him. Busted! He's now forced into joining the prayer.

It was over in moments. It ended with "Amen, Jesus loves you". Within seconds, she then leaned down to Mr. Off-the-Hook sitting in the cart. She leaned into Tate at an uncomfortable distance and said, "Jesus loves you.... Say it with me, Lord". Tabor and I were now on the outside and enjoying every minute of his squirming.

Later, we saw our little friend approach another Walmart patron with the same plan of attack, word for word.

As I have recounted this story with family and friends, I am struck by a couple of things. As a Christian, my sole purpose on this earth is to carry out the Great Commission. Acts 1:8. Be a witness unto Him in Jerusalem and the fishing aisle at Walmart. However, to be a WITNESS to Christ, I must do two things. One, by definition, I need to give a firsthand account of an experience I have had. Maybe aisle-salvation-plan lady did that. As someone brought to my attention, thanks Joyce, this may have been how she was saved. Fine. I would think rarely effective, but fine.

The second thing that is crucial in being a witness for Christ, is to form some kind of relationship. This can take many forms from a friendship built through the years, to a chance encounter at a department store. This didn’t happen. It wasn’t even attempted. Had this occurred, my friend would have learned that I prayed this prayer in December of 1978, and pray it daily. Just think, we could have rejoiced together.

I think Walmart-For-Christ woman was sincere, but I seriously question if she is lead to witness, by God. At least there was a lesson in it for my sons and I as we have talked over the last few days. Acts1:8 has a prerequisite, Mark 12:31. Read it.

There is something, not genetic, but generic about kids. It's something given to every child, at birth, and I'm clinging to it.

It's that thing that makes a kid set his arm on the rolled down window of a car and roll it half way up then back down about twenty times on the way to "they don't care where".

It's that same "gene" that takes over moments later as they do that wind tunnel arm wave with that same window down.

It also makes kids laugh at flatulence.

On the cleaner side, I think kids, unknowingly, let the gene take over when mature logic just wouldn't. Like...

*The love of swimming in water just above freezing, while those losing the "gene" shutter at the thought.

*The sheer joy of being scared.

*The ability to burn every calorie off of a box of chicken nuggets, by simply fighting off a ticklefest from mom or dad.

Now, my "middle life crisis", is to find a way to hang onto "the gene".

So, I'm going to play. Laugh hard. Play tag/kickball until I need a drink of water at any temperature. Stretch so hard I shake when I wake up in the morning. Crunch candy instead of suck on it.

Who knows, I might even jump into a freezing cold swimming pool, without a toe test.

Don't pursue happiness, create it.

If your not sure how to create it, watch a kid..............doing anything.

For a more realistic take on this topic see http://bhilldesign.com/blog
Digital photography. What is it really? I don't know. I just point the camera at something, take a picture. Sometimes the flash works, sometimes not. Occasionally, I look at the image and go, "Hey, and oops, that's kind of cool!" Most of the time, I steal images from another source, and claim them as my own. (All these crazy terms i know, you gotta bear with us weird designers.)

What I'm trying to say is, trial and error is the greatest teacher of all time. Thus, I give you, my blogspot IBZIM Header. Amazing I know and to think "without" a deadline from some client, I was still able to produce, and I use this term loosely, in only four days of ISS (many of you know what that means). So, you are looking at Phases 1-44. You NPH Artists just kick the chair back and enjoy the depth, the artisty, the, dare I say, religious experience of this composite.

By the way, my wife looks pretty good in it also.

OK. I didn't have much to say, again, so I stole this blog theme from Graphic Artist Wizard BHill. Thanks for the inspiration.

Hey,

IBZIM. More accurately and much more grammatically correct, I am Ron Zimmerman. I am excited to start posting to my first blog. The only reason I will post here is because:

*I have something unique to say about life.
*I have something inspiring to say about my God.
*I have an observation to make about you. So be ready.