He ask, “What do the Masonic Brothers of Waller Lodge do to help the community?”

Actually Brother Brack’s question didn’t bother me at all. I was however, very embarrassed by the length of time it took for someone to finally come up with the first example. It was like you could see the wheels turning in everyone’s head trying to remember what we do.

The answers we gave to justify our worth to the community was a further embarrassment. Not what we did, but the fact that almost every example we offered, except for the donation to Brother’s Greg Williams’s wife this year, were things that happened 2 or 3 or 4 years ago. Donating money to the library was 2 years ago. Helping the Paul Cox Family was 3 years ago. Working on the widow T.W. Wren’s house was 4 years ago.

How long has it been since Waller Lodge donated money to the Shrine Crippled Children’s Hopital or Scottish Rite Eye Clinic or Shrine Burn Center or had a fundraiser to help a needy family, or gave baskets of groceries for people to enjoy a holiday, or helped repair an old person’s house or fence or a student to afford an education? Do any of us offer to pick up a Brother who can’t drive and bring him to a Lodge Meeting or take one to the grocery store?

I could go on and on, but I won’t, because I know every Master Mason in Waller Lodge who really thinks about it for a few minutes knows the answers.

At this point I have to admit that the thing that embarrassed me the most by Brother Brack’s question is the fact that I didn’t do very much during my year as Master to improve our track record.

Thanks to Brother Brack for giving us a wake up call. It was something some of us needed to hear.” I have challenged Worshipful Master “Wes” Mersiovsky to lead Waller Lodge back to actually doing what Masons profess to do. I have also pledged my support to help to him in anyway I can.

Rosseland Chappel

The church building Freemasons, being a national organization whose members traveled throughout the length and breadth of the land, wherever employment was obtainable, ofttimes found it impracticable to refer to their late employers for their character and qualifications. Hence arose the necessity for sign, token and word, with which our ancient brethren went to and fro. Whence came this sign, token and word? We do not know. We read of an assembly at York, 926 A.D., of which, however, no record remains. But there must have been a meeting held somewhere, at which regulations were adopted, which served to bind the brotherhood together for many generations (John A. Thorp, P.A. Gr. D.E., England).

Sure, it was a handsome building in its day. But then, there's been a lot of winters pass with their snow and ice and howling wind. The summer sun's  beat down on that old barn till all the paint's gone, and the wood has turned silver gray. Now the old building leans a good deal, looking kind of tired. Yet, that fellow called it beautiful.

That set me to thinking. I walked out to the field and just stood there, gazing at that old barn. The stranger said he planned to use the lumber to line the walls of his den in a new country home he's building down the road. He said you couldn't get paint that beautiful. Only years of standing in the weather, bearing the storms and scorching sun, only that can produce beautiful barn wood.

It came to me then. We're a lot like that, you and I. Only it's on the inside that the beauty grows with us. Sure we turn silver gray too... and lean a bit more than we did when we were young and full of sap. But the Good Lord knows what He's doing. And as the years pass He's busy using  the hard wealth of our lives, the dry spells and the stormy seasons, to do a  job of beautifying our souls that nothing else can produce. And to think how often folks holler because they want life easy!

They took the old barn down today and hauled it away to beautify a rich man's house. And I reckon someday you and I'll be hauled off to Heaven to take on whatever chores the Good Lord has for us on the Great Sky Ranch.

And I suspect we'll be more beautiful then for the seasons we've been through here... and just maybe even add a bit of beauty to our Father's house.

May today, there be peace within you.
May you trust God that you are
Exactly where you are meant to be.

To those who may not know me, I was born in Hempstead, raised in Houston and my wife Nellie and I moved back to Waller County in March of 1999. We live in Pine Island on land that’s been in the family since 1893 when great-grandpa William Jonas Milam and wife Mary Jane Garrett bought it.

This Masonic year I am the Treasurer for Waller Lodge. I recently demitted my plural membership in Hempstead Lodge, so I will be able to devote my energies to my home Lodge, Waller. But, as some already know, at 78 there isn’t much energy left.

I’m sure you will notice this newsletter is a little different. I hope you enjoy the new format. It will include a little about Waller Lodge, a little about Masonry and Masonic news and a little bit of humor. If you have any suggestions or comments, please give me a call, or send an email to (pineilse@swbell.net), or catch me at the Lodge.

In case you wondered about “The King Solomon’s Changing Of The Guard Jubilee” on the tenth of June. The best thing I could say about the event was that it didn’t rain. As a vendor, my only comment would be that it’s a good thing there were so many venders so we could sell to each other.

We have some Masonic pins, tail light decals, and bumper stickers left and we will be selling them at the lodge to members and visitors as an ongoing fund raiser.

Hempstead Lodge has reopened under new management as Worshipful Master “Bubba” Schiel, Senior Warden Jimmy Zepeda, Junior Warden J.R. Hammack, Treasurer Roy Shields, Secretary Kelly Cox, Senior Deacon Kenneth Harvey, Junior Deacon “Bob” Podvin, Chaplin “Ed” Locklear and Tiler Junior Bridges were installed Monday evening June 26 with 35 Brothers and visitors in attendance. including 10 Hempstead members.

A neighbor suggested that he cut the tail of one horse and that worked great until the other horse got his tail caught in a bush. It tore just right and looked exactly like the other horse's tail and old Bubba was stuck again.

The neighbor suggested Jon notch the ear of one horse. That worked fine until the other horse caught his ear on a barbed wire fence. Once again old Bubba couldn't tell them apart.

The neighbor suggested he measure the horses for height. When he did, he was very pleased to find that the white horse was 2 inches taller than the black one.