June 12th, 2016


I like making things.  I can sometimes do a pretty fair job of it but it takes a lot of effort and time.  20160611_213715

One of the things that I like to do is woodworking.  When I make something out of wood I have to make each piece.  Every part is cut out and shaped individually.  Every curve and turn is created from something that began its stay with me as square stock. 

The woodworker almost never works with perfect material and has to consider how each flaw in the stock will add or detract from the final construction.  He must consider the grain patterns of each piece before every cut.  The direction and shape of grain in each part defines the way that your tools are applied and changes the result.  Even for something tiny this is a constant process of evaluation and decision making.  Understanding the flow of the wood and how your touch will affect it.

Often I sit for many minutes just observing the wood before I bring the tool to it.  I run my hands over the wood and feel it’s warmth.  I feel the grain patterns and the shape.  The bumps and ridges that tell me what will happen when I apply a blade.

As I work the wood I think about the place it’s going to fit into the 20160611_213613overall piece.  I figure out which parts will show and which will be hidden.  I think about the person that I’m making the piece for and how they will perceive it. 

I think about how the tool will affect the wood and how the wood will respond to each cut. 

I think about each joint and how it will fit together.  I think about each connector and whether a screw will be visible in the final piece or whether it will be hidden.  I think about how it will interact with the piece and calculate loads and stresses that will affect it. 20160611_213407

As I finish whatever I’m working on I consider how to sand and smooth each part of it.  I think about which tool marks need to be removed and which adds aesthetics to the piece that I want to keep.   Especially when working with traditional tools.

I think about whether a part will be painted or stained and how everything that I do will affect that.

Mostly though, I think about my love for the person that I’m building for.

The piece should reflect that love.


It’s not an easy process but it’s a worthy one. So, when people ask me, “Hey, can you build a box…” the answer is almost always, “no.”

The “One Step” sure-fire method for getting a job…

January 29th, 2015

Step One:
GO get a job. That’s all there is to it. Get up, go get a job.

The World Has Changed Jinksto
Yes, I know, “everyone has online applications now.” That changes nothing. You know this because it hasn’t been working for you or you wouldn’t be reading this page. I’ve been employed every day of my life for the last 20 years except for a 3 month nap in 2007 that was intentional. But, even then, I had a job lined up for the end of that period. I’ve hired people and I’ve talked to hiring managers. I’ve heard every reason in the world for people not to go out and talk to people… most of those reasons come from people without jobs. People who have jobs will tell you that it’s about who you know. If you don’t know them then get to know them. The best way to do that is to walk in and introduce yourself.

The world hasn’t “changed” as much as you would like to believe it has. Jobs are still won by people who go after them. They are won by people who go to the places that are hiring and talk to people. They are won by people who proactively fulfill the requirements for a job.

Talk Your Way In
If the job requires an online application do that. Then go to the place and talk to people. Talk to cashiers, talk to managers, talk to anyone that will talk to you. Be nice, be polite. Say, “yes sir” or “yes ma’am”. When they tell you that all applications are online now say, “Yes ma’am, I’ve already submitted it I just wanted to stop in and see if there was anything else I could do to work here.” When the hiring manager looks at the list of candidates they’ll be 100% more likely to pick a name that they know. They’ll be 100% more likely to pick someone who has proven interest in the job. They’ll be 100% more likely to pick that nice guy that stopped by last week who was so polite.

I have seen both kinds of folks. I saw my brother-in-law get 3 job offers in a week during the worst employment crisis in recent memory because he went every day and talked to people who needed him. I’ve seen folks go without a job for over a year because their “job search” was filling out three online applications every day.

But, what do I say?
Talk to people who need you. Help them understand why they need you. If you can’t explain why they need you then do some research on the company. Do they sell food? What food? Why is it the best? Do they sell services? What services? Why are they better than their competitors. In short, why do you want to work for me? Because, honestly, if it’s just for the money you might as well keep walking. They’ve got a hundred other folks who submitted online applications. People hire people who are interested in them.

Listen Well: Jobs are won by people who want them. Always. Go get one.

Practically Speaking

October 25th, 2014


Several folks have asked me a question lately. Sometimes I ask the question of others when we’re talking about life because, well, it’s important.  Really important.

“How do I show my wife that I love her?”

When asked this, I consider the question giving it the weight that it should enjoy and then answer with the same question that I always ask.

”Do you tell her?”
”Well Sure! All of the time!”.
”Really?  How often, exactly, is all of the time?”, I ask.
”Well, I uhh… I mean.  I guess a couple of times a week? But she knows!“
”Yeah, I guess, when you put it like that…”

It takes more than, “I love you” but that’s a good start.  A really good start.  Life is about the practical and there’s often not enough time to share everything when I’m talking to others.  Here are some of the practical things that I try to do regularly to show my wife love.  Not necessarily always but often. These little things are just as important as the words.  Sometimes they’re more important because they put proof to the words.

Love, Practical.

I open doors for her. Sometimes the greatest compliment to me is when my wife has become so accustomed to me opening doors for her that she pauses in front of a door to wait for me to open it rather than doing it herself. This is love.

I hold her when she’s sad. This is love.

We don’t have a “date night” because we can go out any time we want.  People who are parents should ABSOLUTELY have a date night.  It should be sacred.  At least one a month. One a week is better. If you need for me to keep the kids let me know.

I hold her when she’s happy. This is love.

When going up stairs I try to let her go first.  When going down stairs I try to go first.  The thought is that if she should fall I’m always where I can catch her because that’s my job. To catch her when she falls.  (That sounds like a platitude, “to catch her when she falls” but it’s not.  A platitude delivered with a hammer and work gloves isn’t really a platitude at all is it?) When I get to the bottom of the stairs I often offer her my hand to help her down.  She doesn’t need it but sometimes she accepts it anyway and that brings me joy. This is love.

Sometimes I take a minute to hug her for no reason at all. This is love.

I kiss her on the forehead.

I kiss her on the lips.

I kiss her on the neck.

I kiss her in the parking lot at the grocery store.

I kiss her in church.

I kiss her and I don’t care who sees it.  I don’t have much of a filter at all when it comes to kissing my wife.  Sometimes I have to remind her, “It’s ok.  We’re married!” This is love.

I post mushy “I love you” notes on her Facebook page for all of her friends to see.  It feels really goofy sometimes but I don’t care and that’s the point isn’t it? This is love.

My phone has a “favorites” list under contacts.  She’s the only one on it. This is love.

I study my Bible regularly.  I apply what I learn from it and teach her those things. This is love.

I learn from her. This is love.

I back her up and encourage her when she loves others.  When she says, “we should buy the cashier a flower to make her day better.” I say, “pick one out.” Everybody smiles.  This is love.

I watch her get undressed.  Even if it’s a really good book. This is self-serving (she’s hot) but it could be love too, I reckon.

When she asks me to do things that I don’t want to do I sometimes do them anyway just for her.
“I need for you to hold the baby so that I can take a picture.”
”No.  They smell funny, they’re noisy and they’re expensive!”
”Don’t be silly!  It’s just one picture!”
”Would it make you happy if I held the baby?”
”Yes.  It would.”








I tickle her.  She pretends that she doesn’t like this but I know that that’s a lie.

I’m clear that having sex with her is a top priority.
”So… do you wanna?”, she’ll ask as I’m buried in something on my computer.
”Yes.  Yes I do wanna.”, I’ll respond emphatically as I drop my keyboard on the floor with a clatter and lead her to the bedroom.
This is love.

I run her a bubble bath and take the time to stir it halfway through so the bubbles don’t all end up at one end.   When I post about this on Facebook, I ignore my friends when they accuse me of writing posts for Pinterest.  This is love.

I take the time to help her shower sometimes.  I am very thorough.  We might need a larger hot water heater. This is love.

I adjust her clothing so that it looks pretty. This is love.

I push her hair back so that I can see her face. This is love.

I wave at her when I see her.  Always.

I write mushy and embarrassing love letters like this one (and this one) and post them on the internet. This is love.

Sometimes, I wash her hair.  I’m good at it. This is love.

I hold her hand when we’re together. This is love.

Sometimes none of this is enough.  That happens.  Sometimes she’ll say, “I need for you to love me”, and I’ll respond, simply and quickly with, “how?”  This too is love.

Sometimes, I cook for her.

I want to spend time with her and I’m clear about that.  Sometimes I ask her to do something with me and she’ll say, “wouldn’t you rather ask Rob or Matt or someone to go?”  When she does this I say, “No.  I wouldn’t. I would rather spend my time with you.” This is love.

Sometimes she says, “I really don’t want to cook”, and I reply with, “well, I really want to eat so I guess I’m buying you dinner.”  Even if we’re broke. This is love.

If I’m with her and I post a status update on Facebook I tag her.


I consider my words before I tell her that I love her.  I think about what the words mean.  I prepare my heart to share them.  I stop what I’m doing and look her in the eyes and say, “I Love You.”

Sometimes I catch myself doing it wrongly.  Sometimes I toss out, “love you” as we’re going different ways in a parking lot.  As I walk away I consider that I really do love her and that the passing comment just wasn’t enough so I turn back and shout, “HEY!”

When she looks around to see what I’ve forgotten I’ll say it again:

“I Love you.”

Sometimes I even reassure her by shouting across 30 yards of confused mall walkers:


She smiles, a little embarrassed, and walks away knowing that I do. This is love.



The same works both ways I should note.  She loves me by pretending not to like it when I tickle her.  She’s really good at it too! Gotta give her credit for that one.

Cure For Camden

September 1st, 2014


This is a YouTube video that we made for my buddy Camden.  Have a look:





June 29th, 2014

This boat is stolen. If you see it online, in person or on the lake email with the details or call Gaston County Police

We can all agree that stealing other peoples stuff is pretty wrong. Some might even call it EVIL! Reporting evil doers is COOL! It makes people like you. It will also make you my newest bestest friend! Which is really nice (I’m a good friend!) and all but if you’re not into the whole morally superior thing, this:


Also, if the boat is recovered it will make the thieves sad and (maybe) keep them from doing it again. Probably not though… recidivism among vehicle thieves runs at about 78%. So, they’ll probably do it again… but you’ll still be COOL in my book!

* Everything that you see in the pictures was on the boat when it was stolen. If you see any of it let me know.

(Except the dude in the hat. That’s me. If I had been on the boat when it was stolen I would have found it by now… right?)

2010 Palm Beach 2425 Sport Cruise Pontoon
140 HP Johnson Outboard

P.S. If you stole my boat and feel bad about it and want to bring it back… that’s cool, we can work it out. And, umm, sorry for calling you EVIL.. I was angry. You understand.

P.S.S If you bring it back, just put it where it was when you took it and, if you don’t mind, could you lock it up for me? People around here steal things… you know how it is.

stolen boat

Help me Find my stuff

Earth Day 2014 (Catawba Lands Conservancy)

April 22nd, 2014


Me, I’m not an ecoterrorist, or a tree hugging hippie.  I’m about as right wing as they come.  Heck, I’ve even written blog posts rants about the timber industry and the “think before you print” email footers.   I think that wood, in our society, is a good thing and I think that if you’re going to use it you should be growing it for use.  Farming it.  Central Louisiana where I’m from is chock full of “Tree Farms”.  Paper mills and log mills make up a huge part of the local economy.  I’m ok with that.

What I’m against, as a rule, is fraud.  Or, at least, the appearance of fraud.  What I am, is a frustrated neighbor.  You see, when we first moved here we were excited that our home bordered on a Land Conservancy administered by the Catawba Lands Conservancy.  How awesome is that?  “A land trust dedicated to saving land and connecting live to nature in North Carolina’s Southern Piedmont,” according to the Facebook page, and right in my own back yard.

Over the last few years they’ve put up posted signs on the land adjacent to us which didn’t really bother me much.  I mean, who knows what kind of delicate flora they’re working to preserve over beyond the pine trees. 

I was a little frustrated when I discovered that the posted signs were there to protect land that they had leased to hunters who were there to shoot the deer that I was feeding in my front yard.  I’m a hunter and ethical hunting doesn’t bother me.  If the Catawba Lands Conservancy needs to manage deer populations with hunting I can support that.  I don’t think they need it based on the populations on my land but, whatever.  I do wish they weren’t sitting in a tree stand 200 yards from my house but I suppose it must be nice to be able to watch cartoons through my office window on Saturday mornings.

This week, though, they’ve started clear cutting the land that they’re sworn to protect.  I’m sure that they have legal protection for this.  I’m sure that they can even justify it as some sort of strange “management practice.”  Maybe the “pre-grant” land owners have some rights to the land that allows this to happen or, maybe, the Lands Conservancy sacrificed this property for gain.  I honestly don’t know. 

What I do know is that the story that they tell on their Website ( and on their Facebook page ( doesn’t involve logging operations.

Are they “breaking the law”?  I don’t know.   Probably not. 

Are they being disingenuous in advertising themselves as a long term trust that “saves land”.  I don’t know.  Probably. 

If I were thinking of donating my land (or money) to them for management would I ask them a lot of questions?  Yes.  I might even do a quick Google search and hope to find a page like this one.  Hopefully that’s why you’re here.

Would some of those questions involve the words “logging” and “clearcut”?  Yup.

I’d probably also ask them to define, “Nature Preserve” and “permanently protected” for me.  In detail…


photo 5


Logging equipment.

photo 4


This used to be a solid wall of trees.  Now you can clearly see the clearcut behind it. Sad.

photo 3


I think they’re required by law (I don’t know) to leave this thin swath of trees along the roadway.  It doesn’t do much to cover up the desolation behind it though.

photo 2photo 1

Time to love…

January 2nd, 2014

It’s been awhile since I posted on the blog but we’ve… well, no excuses, sorry.

Mrs. Jinksto and I like to help folks and we don’t make a secret about why that is. We love Jesus, He loves people, we love them. It’s really, really simple to us. Race, age, social status, none of those things enter into it. It’s just love. The pure, sweet kind. We don’t expect anything from it. We don’t believe that “good works” will “save” us. The Bible is pretty clear on this one… we’re saved, we’re grateful, we love. Sometimes when we help people they say, “Thank God!” and we say, “Yes, please!”

People sometimes tell us that they wish they could find people to help like we do. They tell us that they wish they had the time to help others like we do. They tell us that they wish they had the money that we do to share with others. We tell them that we wish the very same things for them and invite them to our trailer house (sorry, *cough* modular home) for dinner. That’s not a terribly charitable answer… I’m trying desperately to find a better one. The simple truth is that it doesn’t take a lot. Sometimes all the time that’s required is the time it takes to smile at a frustrated waitress and tell her, “it’s fine… I like my eggs this way.” Sometimes all the money that you need is $5.00 to donate to a fund to help a sick child find the treatment that he needs. Sometimes all it takes to find someone in need is to not roll up your car window and look the other way. That’s all it takes. Just take the time to love the people you meet. It’s not a great expense. It’s not a huge time sink. It’s just not. If it were, it would be harder for us. I’m lazy and cheap, ask my friends. Jesus loves me still.

Sometimes people thank us for the work that we do for them, for those that they love, for others. They’ll pull us aside and whisper thanks or embarrass us in front of a large group. When they do we say, “It’s not about us” and they’ll reply, “I know, but thank you anyway.” I am grateful that those people see something good in me but I remember me from not so long ago. Heck, you can go through my old blog posts (though I’ve deleted the worst of them) or Facebook timeline and see that guy for yourself. Or you can just trust me in this; We don’t deserve thanks and we don’t deserve the Grace provided by our God.

Occasionally, while loving people we wish desperately that we could help them more. We, like those who thank us, wish we had more time, more money, more love for those that need it most. When we find those people we ask others for help. Sometimes we get it, sometimes we don’t.

I’ve posted this link on Facebook a few times. They’re still $600.00 short. I know this little dude personally. I know his mother and his terribly beautiful and sweet little sister. I go to church with his dad. If you think that the work that the Mrs. and I do is good I promise you this; you’ve seen nothing. I’ve seen this child’s mother crying… not for him and not for herself but for a homeless girl that she barely knew. I’ve seen her use her money and her time to help someone in dire need. I’ve seen her actually save a life with her hands while loving her very sick child with all of her heart. We are humbled. You should be too.

If you wish you could find someone to help… it’s this guy. If you think you can’t afford to help others let me promise you… $5.00 makes a difference. If you think you don’t have time to help… what are you doing for the next 10 minutes?

Click the picture to help; if the goal is met, feel free to exceed it. If it’s not met, God will provide a way, He always does.

Click to help!

If you want to keep up with Camden on Facebook, like his page:

Empty (Home)

February 28th, 2013

It’s Wednesday.  I sit alone in an empty church sanctuary.  The clock, hung high on the balcony, that (usually) keeps the preacher from causing us all to miss lunch on Sunday mornings glows bright blue in the darkness.  It reads 6:41; that’s PM.

In the nearly empty building I can hear the youth pastor upstairs tuning his guitar and singing solo into a cold room.  He is preparing for youth worship just as he does every Wednesday night.  Alone, cold, singing his praise songs to only God and his beat up Peavy amp. His hours of sermon prep are finished… he’s just brushing the rust off of the guitar to warm up.  I think youth pastors might get a little more respect if folks saw them this way. Working for hours on end because they love the kids.  Working odd hours, working nights and weekends.  Working for almost no pay and dealing with more drama than… well… more drama than a room full of teenagers.

Downstairs another of our members rattles around the kitchen making coffee for everyone.

In a very few minutes people will begin to file into the fellowship hall downstairs to join in a weekly bible study.  Children will go to the nursery and youth will go upstairs for our worship service. After bible study many of the people here tonight will move into the sanctuary for choir practice.  It’ll be warm by then.  It’s the same as last week and the same as next week.   It’s routine… it’s home.

For now, though, I am alone.  I sit on a padded pew in the mostly dark.  Light from a security light in the parking lot fades through the stained glass windows.  I see the brass cross in the baptistery behind the choir loft.  It looms large and cold, its brightness dulled by the darkness.

I pray.  Not because God is in this place more than any other but just because He is here.  It’s cool and dark and large.  The space seats over 200 people on most Sundays and is filled with song and worship and preaching.  There are people coughing, more so this time of year, and babies gurgling and teens whispering when they shouldn’t be.  But not this night.  This night it is just me and God.  I pray for our youth pastor and our pastor and our worship pastor and his mom who’s been sick.  I pray for Mr. Jimmy downstairs and for my wife.  I pray for our members and for our secretary.  I pray for the folks that will go to Salvation Army to feed the homeless this weekend and I pray for the block party that we’ll be throwing next weekend for the folks on the “west” side of town.  I pray for me. I pray that we, all of us, glorify God.  I asked, He answered… the same as He always does.  It’s anything but routine… it’s Home.

Test Drive

February 11th, 2013

My F250 cost $52,000.00 and is pretty new. It IS one SEXY truck. Yesterday the neighbors kid asked me if he could borrow it. Should I loan it to him?

He says he makes good grades but I have my doubts.

He says he’s responsible and I can trust him but I don’t really know the kid.

He says he’ll have it back right on time but he doesn’t even own a watch.

He says that he’ll respect it but while we were talking he left hand prints on the paint.

He says he loves Jesus but he can’t list 3 of the 10 commandments.

He seems nice enough but, really, tossing the keys to a $50,000 truck to a 16 year old that I don’t know?

That’s moronic, right?

Who’s the kid taking your daughter for a test drive at prom?

How much is she worth to you?


December 19th, 2012


Surely you understand why I refuse to answer you. 

I see you when you mock my God. 

I see you when you chuckle at my religion like its nothing more than a set of archaic rites.

I see you when you ask why the whole world has gone mad.  

"What is WRONG with people" you cry and I just smile quietly and read the next post.

I’m not ignoring you. Really I’m not.  I just don’t think you want the answer that I have for you.

Ask me what I believe and I will tell you. 

Ask me if God is true and fair and just and I’ll cry yes, yes and yes.

Ask me if Jesus died for you too and I’ll whisper quietly to you, "yes, of course."

You see, I know that man has not “gone” mad. 

The world has been mad since the first two sinners thought themselves larger than God.  Jesus died for our sins.  All you have to do is believe in him.  If you believe in Jesus you follow the law because you love Him. 

The law says thou shalt not do murder

If you don’t believe in God then you don’t believe in Jesus. 

If you don’t believe in Jesus then you don’t believe in the law.  If you don’t believe in the law then you can do any damned thing you want. 

Many hang on to a halfway morality with nothing to compel them but it is a farce and they know it deep in their hearts and some… some do not hang on. 

You call those people “sick” or “mad” and yet you stare riveted to their handiwork. 

You watch hour after hour of “as it happens” news. 

You follow the path of every bullet.  Understand the pooling of every puddle of blood.  You count every casing and catalog them by type. 

And slowly, slowly, another follows the path of evil.  The path of social glorification that means everyone in the country knows your name. You move closer to that sickness and, eventually, become it.

I have the answer you seek. It’s an easy one. Do you want it?

It is this: All of the blood that ever needed to be spilled was spilled on a hill named Golgotha where a King and a thief died on the same day.

And it is this: One of them walked away from it.