“I may not have all the answers. But, I’ve collected a fair number of splinters from sitting on life’s fences so long.” ~joe miller~ This quote perfectly captures life’s wit & wisdom.
What to expect in wit & wisdom:
Hey, the old guy may not be the brightest bulb in the room. But, I’ve been around the circle more than a few times. Along the way, I picked up a fair bit of wisdom and wit. Some of it smacked me upside the head when I was drifting off the trail. Some of it kept me from going off it in the first place. And some just helped me keep going, period.
All of it came out of my head, usually in the form of delightful brain farts… the kind that made me smile and say, “Damn, that’s good stuff right there.” In fact, some were situational, some were impulsive or spontaneous, some came from reacting—but all were straight out of the old head resting on the old body.
That said, not all of them are keepers. Still, I’d rather share too many than hold back the ones that made me laugh, think, or even shake my own head. For example, I once jotted one down on a napkin at a truck stop just so I wouldn’t lose it. In other words, they come when they come, and I do my best to catch ’em before they disappear. Keep in mind, this is no Poor Richard’s Almanac, but I’m tryin’.
A Place Where the Light Bulb Flickers On
This page will never be static. That’s because my mind keeps spittin’ these things out at the darndest times. And I’ve learned—if I don’t write ’em down, they’re gone forever. So the cure? Simple. I jot them down here as they show up.
The bonus? You get to see ’em all—the good ones, the funny ones, the silly ones, and the absolute groaners.
And there’s plenty more scattered throughgout each of my books, filled with wit & wisdom.
So pull up a chair, pour yourself a cup, and let’s swap a little sense, nonsense, and everything between wit and wisdom.
Millerisms–a bit of wit and wisdom
Joy is one of those things you never really get till you give it. But once you get it, you’ve got to give it again to keep it.
Every adversity I have faced has been a growing opportunity. Sometimes, I didn’t take the bait. That’s why God dished out repeats and sometimes three-peats. I haven’t always been a fast learner.
The wounds of my past have become my scars of today. Those scars are some of the building blocks of my character.
My life is full. I feel complete. But there is always a dangling question, and that’s the condition of my soul. The answer to that question is to keep pressing on.
The softness that I feel in my heart is the result of the tenderizer that has been applied to it by some ordinary people God used to do the prep work.
As I rest in the knowledge that I am in the winter season of my life, it is abundantly clear that the spring, summer, and fall seasons were seasons of growth in which I often rejected the fertilizer and water, thus stunting my growth.
I have a ticklish joy button. If I’m tuned in, the simplest things can bring me joy.
I have learned that there is a direct correlation between getting healed and the desire to get healed.
The elixir for stress in a relationship is transparency and communication.
Plenty of times, I missed the boat. Plenty of times, the boat missed me. Those were when I would not let it berth at the dock.
The pigsty of life, sin, is an easy place to get to and to stay in. The green pastures of life, Christian life, is much more comfortable, but harder to get to and stay in.
Sometimes I hate to look at, or be around, the person responsible for all the difficulties in my life. That’s why I don’t look at mirrors.
Let others love and be loved within the confines of their capability. To do so is to truly love them.
There are some people in my life who I’ve known a large part of my life, yet they are strangers. I hope I’m not like that.
Best advice I ever got and had difficulty heeding; inhale the good shit, exhale the bad shit.
If I could only remember that lotuses will grow in muddy water, there’s a lesson in that for me.
Be careful. Dreams are always more beautiful than reality.
There is whimsey, and there is truth. Where’s the line between fiction and proof?