Wednesday, August 31, 2005
The Nearness of God
One of my favorite authors lately is Dr. John Ortberg, Senior Pastor for the Menlo Park Presbyterian Church near San Francisco. He was an associate pastor for Bill Hybel's Willowcreek church for several years and holds a Ph.D. in clinical psychology from Fuller Theological Seminary. His writings are excellent ... filled with examples from biblical people along with humor that can only come from a clinical psychologist.
His latest book, God Is Closer Than You Think, was so encouraging that I decided to work through it in the form of sermons for our church (with full acknowlegment given to Ortberg for the material, I'm not above stealing good stuff, but I don't claim it as my own). Here are the foundational truths regarding our life with God that he develops throughout the book that I thought might give you something to "chew" on for a day or so.
God is always present and active in my life, whether or not I see him.
Coming to recognize and experience God's presence is learned behavior; I can cultivate it.
My task is to meet God in this moment.
I am always tempted to live "outside" this moment. When I do that, I lose my sense of God's presence.
Sometimes God seems far away for reasons I do not understand. Those moments, too, are opportunities to learn.
Whenever I fail, I can always start again right away.
No one knows the full extent to which a human being can experience God's presence.
My desire for God ebbs and flows, but his desire for me is constant.
Every thought carries a "spiritual charge" that moves me a little closer to or a little farther from God.
Every aspect of my life--work, relationships, hobbies, errands--is of immense and genuine interest to God.
My path to experiencing God's presence will not look quite like anyone esle's.
Straining and trying too hard to not help.
That's good stuff, I don't care who you are!
That my thoughts carry a "spiritual charge" is helping me take every thought captive for the Lord (2 Cor.10:5b). That my path to experiencing God's presence will look different from yours helps me stay out of the competitive mindset of trying to look or to be "as spiritual" as someone else. For years I've preached and believed that the more we strive to be better, the more we work against the Spirit of God who invites us to enter into his sabbath rest (Heb.4:1, 10 a present rest, not a future rest) ... the whole idea there being that everything we need for salvation has been provided. Our job is not to try harder, but the trust more and accept all that God has done on our behalf and learn to say, "Thank You, Lord." When we learn that, we not only do more in the kingdom, we enjoy doing it from a heart of gratitude rather than one of legalistic obligation ... or, worse, guilt!
Salvation is not a struggle to get it right ... it is a gift and an invitation to cease the struggle to achieve something we can never achieve! I found when I stopped trying to be good enough, I actually began to enjoy my relationship with the Lord and experienced the freedom to which God was calling me all along!
The bible calls it grace. For far too many years we have called it heresy!
That my thoughts carry a "spiritual charge" is helping me take every thought captive for the Lord (2 Cor.10:5b). That my path to experiencing God's presence will look different from yours helps me stay out of the competitive mindset of trying to look or to be "as spiritual" as someone else. For years I've preached and believed that the more we strive to be better, the more we work against the Spirit of God who invites us to enter into his sabbath rest (Heb.4:1, 10 a present rest, not a future rest) ... the whole idea there being that everything we need for salvation has been provided. Our job is not to try harder, but the trust more and accept all that God has done on our behalf and learn to say, "Thank You, Lord." When we learn that, we not only do more in the kingdom, we enjoy doing it from a heart of gratitude rather than one of legalistic obligation ... or, worse, guilt!
Salvation is not a struggle to get it right ... it is a gift and an invitation to cease the struggle to achieve something we can never achieve! I found when I stopped trying to be good enough, I actually began to enjoy my relationship with the Lord and experienced the freedom to which God was calling me all along!
The bible calls it grace. For far too many years we have called it heresy!
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Summer of '05
This week officially ends our summer. It is the first fall in 18 years that Josh didn't have to go to school. He is now living the American dream of going to work every morning and paying off loans. Jessica begins her junior year of college and Janice will spend much of this week preparing her room for her new class of 5th graders. Me? I'll go back to my normal routine ... whatever that is.
"Summer" began on a busy Saturday in May shuttling friends to Long Beach and Los Angeles airports following the Pepperdine lectureship then rushing up to Azusa to pack Jessica and move her out of her apartment before noon. Oh, yes ... Josh was graduating from college that afternoon. I can live without Saturdays like that of May 7th!
Janice began her summer with a 10-day trip to Alabama to visit with her family, as well as check in on my mother, hospitalized after her fatal fall. She returned with about a week to enjoy before we went down to Mexico on a mission trip to build houses in Rosarita and Ensenada. During that trip, we received word that mom was not going to survive her injuries, so we booked an early morning flight to Alabama with just enough time to get from Mexico to Long Beach, unpack, wash, repack and make our flight.
The week in Alabama to bury mom is still a blur, at best. As many funerals as I've worked as both a minister and as a funeral director, it's totally different being on the other side of the table, making arrangements for someone we loved dearly. Josh and Jessica flew back while Jan and I drove across the country in a rental truck. We arrived back in California just in time to help Jessica complete the move into her new apartment.
Another trip back to Alabama to pack up mom's house and pick up a speeding ticket in the process and I was back home again. Half a week later, we're packing up for a week of tent camping w/ dear friends in the mountains. It was a good week. We're trying to figure out just when we can make a return trip. Maybe Thanksgiving .... We stacked the camping gear on the back porch and avoided it for days, thinking surely someone would drop by and volunteer to put it all away as an act of sheer love. This past Saturday, we devoted much of the afternoon to that task, giving up on that allusive person of our dreams. Today we finally got around to giving Chipper a much needed bath (a two-person job that goes better with three) and cleaning out the pool. The 90-degree water felt great! With friends coming by to spend the night (tonight and again on Sunday), we have the house cleaned and straighted up. Now we can relax ... until tomorrow morning when Jan, Josh and I go our separate ways for a day's work.
That was Summer '05. Some of what we'd hoped it would be ... some we knew we'd someday face. Though death visited us without invitation on our part (though I'm sure mom welcomed it), by God's grace and strength, we survived. That, and the love and support of friends who mean more than life itself to us.
"Summer" began on a busy Saturday in May shuttling friends to Long Beach and Los Angeles airports following the Pepperdine lectureship then rushing up to Azusa to pack Jessica and move her out of her apartment before noon. Oh, yes ... Josh was graduating from college that afternoon. I can live without Saturdays like that of May 7th!
Janice began her summer with a 10-day trip to Alabama to visit with her family, as well as check in on my mother, hospitalized after her fatal fall. She returned with about a week to enjoy before we went down to Mexico on a mission trip to build houses in Rosarita and Ensenada. During that trip, we received word that mom was not going to survive her injuries, so we booked an early morning flight to Alabama with just enough time to get from Mexico to Long Beach, unpack, wash, repack and make our flight.
The week in Alabama to bury mom is still a blur, at best. As many funerals as I've worked as both a minister and as a funeral director, it's totally different being on the other side of the table, making arrangements for someone we loved dearly. Josh and Jessica flew back while Jan and I drove across the country in a rental truck. We arrived back in California just in time to help Jessica complete the move into her new apartment.
Another trip back to Alabama to pack up mom's house and pick up a speeding ticket in the process and I was back home again. Half a week later, we're packing up for a week of tent camping w/ dear friends in the mountains. It was a good week. We're trying to figure out just when we can make a return trip. Maybe Thanksgiving .... We stacked the camping gear on the back porch and avoided it for days, thinking surely someone would drop by and volunteer to put it all away as an act of sheer love. This past Saturday, we devoted much of the afternoon to that task, giving up on that allusive person of our dreams. Today we finally got around to giving Chipper a much needed bath (a two-person job that goes better with three) and cleaning out the pool. The 90-degree water felt great! With friends coming by to spend the night (tonight and again on Sunday), we have the house cleaned and straighted up. Now we can relax ... until tomorrow morning when Jan, Josh and I go our separate ways for a day's work.
That was Summer '05. Some of what we'd hoped it would be ... some we knew we'd someday face. Though death visited us without invitation on our part (though I'm sure mom welcomed it), by God's grace and strength, we survived. That, and the love and support of friends who mean more than life itself to us.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
In Loving Memory . . .
Ronald Joseph Thomas was born on July 23, 1938, somewhere in New York so we believe. I have no idea the date of his death ... probably the first week of July. The coroner put his death as the 13th, but no one knows for sure. He had been dead quite a while when his body was discovered in his home.
After trying to locate anyone who knew Mr. Thomas, the city of Long Beach turned the case over to the Public Administrator's office and our mortuary eventually got the case. PA cases (as we call them so we can know what we're talking about but you can't) require some semblence of a "Christian" service, meaning a prayer or, possibly, a Scripture reading. They don't want to risk a veteran being buried with nothing said over his coffin. I can appreciate their concern. So I was asked by Tony (our Funeral Director handling the case) to accompany him to provide a "Christian" service for Mr. Thomas. It was to be Tony, myself, and Mr. Thomas. No family. No friends. Odd Fellow's Cemetery was up in Los Angeles, about a 40 minute drive with good traffic flow. To make sure we don't rip off the government of Long Beach (imagine anyone even considering rippping off the government!), the PA's office will occasionally send an agent out to witness the service.
Our agent showed up about 10:30 for an 11:00am service. We introduced ourselves to him and walked over to stand in the shade of a tree ... killing time (no pun intended) until 11am. About 10:57, he looked at his watch and said, "Let's get this over with, I've got an appointment in Long Beach this morning." So we abandoned our shade tree to have a service for Mr. Thomas. Aida (don't know what the origin of that name might be), the manager of the cemetery, came out to join us. Said she almost always attends the gravesides in her cemetery just out of respect for the dead and the family. I've never met a cemetery manager with such a regard for her job. She rates high in my opinion of cemetery managers.
I read from Psalm 90, made a few comments about verse 12 and living our lives in a spirit of wisdom, went over to Psalm 23 for the comfort therein and concluded with a prayer. Before I ever got the "Amen" out of my mouth, the PA agent was working his way to his car. After all, he had an appointment in Long Beach and he could now check this event off his daily schedule. The city government of Long Beach had survived another potential rip off by a reputable mortuary and a minister. High risk people!
As he walked to his car, an older woman and a man walked up to us and asked if we knew anything about a graveside service for a Mr. Thomas. It was Ronald's brother and mother! We offered to repeat the service but they declined. We asked if they might tell us something about their loved one. They had nothing to tell. He had chosen to live his life in isolation and they'd not seen nor heard from him in years. It was the U.S. Postal Service that eventually informed them of Ronald's death.
I left Odd Fellow's Cemetery that morning with odd feelings of my own. A bit ticked off with myself for not insisting that we wait until 11:00. What could three more minutes hurt? A bit ticked off at the PA agent for becoming so calloused in his job that people were now just a name to check off a busy schedule. Yet very thankful that my life has been blessed by friendships and loved ones. Something Ronald Joseph Thomas chose to delete from his life ... for whatever reason.
After trying to locate anyone who knew Mr. Thomas, the city of Long Beach turned the case over to the Public Administrator's office and our mortuary eventually got the case. PA cases (as we call them so we can know what we're talking about but you can't) require some semblence of a "Christian" service, meaning a prayer or, possibly, a Scripture reading. They don't want to risk a veteran being buried with nothing said over his coffin. I can appreciate their concern. So I was asked by Tony (our Funeral Director handling the case) to accompany him to provide a "Christian" service for Mr. Thomas. It was to be Tony, myself, and Mr. Thomas. No family. No friends. Odd Fellow's Cemetery was up in Los Angeles, about a 40 minute drive with good traffic flow. To make sure we don't rip off the government of Long Beach (imagine anyone even considering rippping off the government!), the PA's office will occasionally send an agent out to witness the service.
Our agent showed up about 10:30 for an 11:00am service. We introduced ourselves to him and walked over to stand in the shade of a tree ... killing time (no pun intended) until 11am. About 10:57, he looked at his watch and said, "Let's get this over with, I've got an appointment in Long Beach this morning." So we abandoned our shade tree to have a service for Mr. Thomas. Aida (don't know what the origin of that name might be), the manager of the cemetery, came out to join us. Said she almost always attends the gravesides in her cemetery just out of respect for the dead and the family. I've never met a cemetery manager with such a regard for her job. She rates high in my opinion of cemetery managers.
I read from Psalm 90, made a few comments about verse 12 and living our lives in a spirit of wisdom, went over to Psalm 23 for the comfort therein and concluded with a prayer. Before I ever got the "Amen" out of my mouth, the PA agent was working his way to his car. After all, he had an appointment in Long Beach and he could now check this event off his daily schedule. The city government of Long Beach had survived another potential rip off by a reputable mortuary and a minister. High risk people!
As he walked to his car, an older woman and a man walked up to us and asked if we knew anything about a graveside service for a Mr. Thomas. It was Ronald's brother and mother! We offered to repeat the service but they declined. We asked if they might tell us something about their loved one. They had nothing to tell. He had chosen to live his life in isolation and they'd not seen nor heard from him in years. It was the U.S. Postal Service that eventually informed them of Ronald's death.
I left Odd Fellow's Cemetery that morning with odd feelings of my own. A bit ticked off with myself for not insisting that we wait until 11:00. What could three more minutes hurt? A bit ticked off at the PA agent for becoming so calloused in his job that people were now just a name to check off a busy schedule. Yet very thankful that my life has been blessed by friendships and loved ones. Something Ronald Joseph Thomas chose to delete from his life ... for whatever reason.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Camping
Tent camping. I guess it's in my blood to some extent. When I was growing up, my uncle took us to Seven Mile Island in the Tennessee River just south of the Wilson Dam for 2 or 3 days of camping at a time and I fell in love with tent camping. Seven Mile Island was just that. Seven miles long and about a half mile wide. Inhabited by snakes, wild pigs, and people who had no better sense than to come there to camp in a tent. Our first trip out, Tom (my uncle) had a friend tie a rope high in a tree and come back later that night after Tom had told us all about the danger of panthers on the island. The friend pulled on the rope and screamed like a panther (we had no idea how a panther sounded, but this blood-curdling scream scared us half to death). Tom shined a flash light into the tree and we were convinced our time had come. Eaten by a rampaging panther on Seven Mile Island. Tom knew how to have fun with small nephews!
Be that as it may, when I became a man and put away childish things, we purchased a small self-contained travel trailer complete with shower, toilet, air conditioning / heating, fridge, awning (it always rained when camping anywhere in Florida), and TV. All of the essentials for camping with small children. But now that they are grown and, for the most part, gone, we're back to the tent.
Monday of this week, we set off with friends to Silverwood Lake and four days and three nights of back-to-nature tent camping. The highlight of the trip was spending Tuesday on a pontoon boat crusing the lake at a breathtaking 8 miles an hour! Josh drove up to join us for a day of relaxation. Our intent was to rent a wave runner for a half day, but as fate would have it, they were closed on Tuesday for "repairs." We never saw anyone repairing anything, but that left us with the choice of either a kayak, a four-passenger fishing boat (there were seven of us), or the pontoon.
At one point I decided to dive in and cool off in that refreshing moutain lake water water (it was pleasantly cool) only to discover that the boat was just a bit too far above my head for an easy climb back aboard. My son and friend, Steve, tried their best to pull me up, but I was like a wounded manatee in the water. Ian (Steve's son) was able to just sort of flip himself up out of the water and onto the boat. I asked him how he did that, he told me, "Upper body strength." I knew then I was screwed. I think it has a lot to do with my health-food free diet and abstinance from all forms of exercise. After much exertion of energy and nearly dying of laughter, I managed to get back on board (with help, of course). From that point on, I decide to limit my physical activities to sitting in a chair and reading. I did walk from our campsite to the shower house, but that was the extent of any physical exertion.
Anyway, here are some pictures of our trip.
Our retirement home is tent on the right.
Silverwood Lake from the road.
On the lake
Testing our docking skills.
Morgan Hay at the wheel.
Be that as it may, when I became a man and put away childish things, we purchased a small self-contained travel trailer complete with shower, toilet, air conditioning / heating, fridge, awning (it always rained when camping anywhere in Florida), and TV. All of the essentials for camping with small children. But now that they are grown and, for the most part, gone, we're back to the tent.
Monday of this week, we set off with friends to Silverwood Lake and four days and three nights of back-to-nature tent camping. The highlight of the trip was spending Tuesday on a pontoon boat crusing the lake at a breathtaking 8 miles an hour! Josh drove up to join us for a day of relaxation. Our intent was to rent a wave runner for a half day, but as fate would have it, they were closed on Tuesday for "repairs." We never saw anyone repairing anything, but that left us with the choice of either a kayak, a four-passenger fishing boat (there were seven of us), or the pontoon.
At one point I decided to dive in and cool off in that refreshing moutain lake water water (it was pleasantly cool) only to discover that the boat was just a bit too far above my head for an easy climb back aboard. My son and friend, Steve, tried their best to pull me up, but I was like a wounded manatee in the water. Ian (Steve's son) was able to just sort of flip himself up out of the water and onto the boat. I asked him how he did that, he told me, "Upper body strength." I knew then I was screwed. I think it has a lot to do with my health-food free diet and abstinance from all forms of exercise. After much exertion of energy and nearly dying of laughter, I managed to get back on board (with help, of course). From that point on, I decide to limit my physical activities to sitting in a chair and reading. I did walk from our campsite to the shower house, but that was the extent of any physical exertion.
Anyway, here are some pictures of our trip.
Our retirement home is tent on the right.
Silverwood Lake from the road.
On the lake
Testing our docking skills.
Morgan Hay at the wheel.Friday, August 19, 2005
The Ladder and the Landfill
My mother, bless her heart, was a pack rat. I would go so far as to say it was almost an obsession with her. She kept everything! Down to the labels from Christmas gifts, "To Muz From ...." She didn't write on them what the gift happened to have been, but for some reason kept the labels. I can understand keeping the box. I can stretch my imagination and understand keeping the wrapping paper if it's not torn too badly. But the labels??
When I got to one of three closets containing her clothes, she had those space saver gizmoes that allow you to hang five garments on one hanger ... about 30 of them! I took out close to 300 garments from that one closet! And most of it she hadn't worn in years and would never wear again. Lesson: THROW SOMETHING AWAY NOW AND THEN! Just for the principle of it. Just for practice. Just so that when you need to toss something, you actually have experience doing so.
During the three-day process of cleaning out Mom's place my brother, Rex, and I tackled a small 8 x 12' storage building behind her house. The same building I'd been begging mom to let me clean out for the past 5 or 6 years. It was not large enough to hold six pickup truck loads of anything, but we carried six loads (mounded loads) out of that building. Four went to the landfill and two were deposited in dumpsters nearby, with our sincere appreciation for the people who actually pay hard-earned money to have those things nearby for their own trash.
On the first trip to the landfill, we carried (among other things) an A-frame ladder that had once been used to enter / exit an above ground pool. When Mom bought her house, the pool was in bad shape, save this ladder. For some reason that has to do with living through the Great Depression of the last century, Mom kept this ladder - an absolutely worthless ladder. I asked her a couple of years ago if I could throw it out on the curb to be picked up by the trash people and she told me, "No, I can sell that in a yard sale and get $3 for it." I asked her when she last had a yard sale or when did she plan to have a yard sale (the answer would have been one and the same), and she told me just leave the ladder alone. I offered to give her $5 to let me put it out on the curb. In a very matter-of-fact and in-your-face way, she let me know that it was her ladder and it had sat on her carport for 12 years and it will stay on her carport until she had a yard sale! Or not.
Well, she never had the yard sale and Rex and I threw her precious ladder on the top of the first of six truck loads of garbage. I knew at that moment if there were such a thing as consciousness after death, we were being cursed! We drove into the landfill, up onto the scale so they could weigh and charge us a pro-rated $16 / ton for trash. The man working the landfill came out and looked over our trash, with a strange sense of excitement about him. "I have a friend who asked me to keep an eye out for a ladder like that. Do you mind if I have it?" We told him we'd gladly bring it back with us after emptying the truck. He let us empty our trash-NO CHARGE! Rex told me, "It's a shame mom never met this man. She would have had a possibility of a second marriage!" Two people in love with junk.
The next load had a couple of old fishing rods our "might-have-been-step-father" wanted, so we got another free pass to the landfill. The next two trips didn't bear any treasures for him, but by then he knew us and let us go in and out without charge. In a strange way, Mom's insistence that we keep that ladder paid off! I hope I remember to tell her this story when we next meet in eternity.
As we were leaving from our first trip out, Rex noticed the guy in the truck beside us was looking through our junk. I told him my father-in-law (rest his soul) used to come home from the landfill with more than he took out there! Rex couldn't believe it. About that time, my wife called on my cell phone and I told her we were just leaving the landfill. She asked rather excitedly, "Did you find anything good out there?!" Like father, like daughter.
For whatever else we were able to accomplish cleaning out Mom's house, I finally got rid of the ladder, which was a sort of catharsis for me, though it may haunt me the rest of my life on earth.
I'm outta here for a few days to go camping up in the mountains. I'll be back blogging again next week sometime.
When I got to one of three closets containing her clothes, she had those space saver gizmoes that allow you to hang five garments on one hanger ... about 30 of them! I took out close to 300 garments from that one closet! And most of it she hadn't worn in years and would never wear again. Lesson: THROW SOMETHING AWAY NOW AND THEN! Just for the principle of it. Just for practice. Just so that when you need to toss something, you actually have experience doing so.
During the three-day process of cleaning out Mom's place my brother, Rex, and I tackled a small 8 x 12' storage building behind her house. The same building I'd been begging mom to let me clean out for the past 5 or 6 years. It was not large enough to hold six pickup truck loads of anything, but we carried six loads (mounded loads) out of that building. Four went to the landfill and two were deposited in dumpsters nearby, with our sincere appreciation for the people who actually pay hard-earned money to have those things nearby for their own trash.
On the first trip to the landfill, we carried (among other things) an A-frame ladder that had once been used to enter / exit an above ground pool. When Mom bought her house, the pool was in bad shape, save this ladder. For some reason that has to do with living through the Great Depression of the last century, Mom kept this ladder - an absolutely worthless ladder. I asked her a couple of years ago if I could throw it out on the curb to be picked up by the trash people and she told me, "No, I can sell that in a yard sale and get $3 for it." I asked her when she last had a yard sale or when did she plan to have a yard sale (the answer would have been one and the same), and she told me just leave the ladder alone. I offered to give her $5 to let me put it out on the curb. In a very matter-of-fact and in-your-face way, she let me know that it was her ladder and it had sat on her carport for 12 years and it will stay on her carport until she had a yard sale! Or not.Well, she never had the yard sale and Rex and I threw her precious ladder on the top of the first of six truck loads of garbage. I knew at that moment if there were such a thing as consciousness after death, we were being cursed! We drove into the landfill, up onto the scale so they could weigh and charge us a pro-rated $16 / ton for trash. The man working the landfill came out and looked over our trash, with a strange sense of excitement about him. "I have a friend who asked me to keep an eye out for a ladder like that. Do you mind if I have it?" We told him we'd gladly bring it back with us after emptying the truck. He let us empty our trash-NO CHARGE! Rex told me, "It's a shame mom never met this man. She would have had a possibility of a second marriage!" Two people in love with junk.
The next load had a couple of old fishing rods our "might-have-been-step-father" wanted, so we got another free pass to the landfill. The next two trips didn't bear any treasures for him, but by then he knew us and let us go in and out without charge. In a strange way, Mom's insistence that we keep that ladder paid off! I hope I remember to tell her this story when we next meet in eternity.
As we were leaving from our first trip out, Rex noticed the guy in the truck beside us was looking through our junk. I told him my father-in-law (rest his soul) used to come home from the landfill with more than he took out there! Rex couldn't believe it. About that time, my wife called on my cell phone and I told her we were just leaving the landfill. She asked rather excitedly, "Did you find anything good out there?!" Like father, like daughter.
For whatever else we were able to accomplish cleaning out Mom's house, I finally got rid of the ladder, which was a sort of catharsis for me, though it may haunt me the rest of my life on earth.I'm outta here for a few days to go camping up in the mountains. I'll be back blogging again next week sometime.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
What a Woman!
Upon my return to Long Beach from Alabama I found a large box in the back yard containing this stainless steel Brinkman three-burner grill complete with warming tray and side burner. My wife was so happy to have found this on sale at (where else???) Wal Mart.How many guys come home to a dream grill awaiting them (not to mention a dream wife, I might add) and never have to beg or whimper?!
So ... people out there who visit me ... I've got the grill and I've got the gas (propane). You bring the meat (a luxury I I can no longer afford due owning a gas-powered vehicle) and we'll fire this puppy up! Until then, I'm looking for a Krispy Kreme grilled donuts recipe.
Danny and the Kid
First, I'M HOME! That is of great importance to this weary traveler.
I flew Southwest, which is tolerable if one flies by one's self. The trip was uneventful, which is most desired when flying. I have a nephew (by marriage) who is a commercial pilot flying private company planes out and around the Birmingham, Alabama area and he had to bring a plane into Birmingham International Airport last week with complete electrical failure and no landing gear! He did a magnificent job. Very minimal damage to the plane, after skidding down the runway on the fuselage. Besides a co-pilot, he had a passenger who had never flown before ... about 18 - 20 years old ... who thought the whole event was "awesome!" So I was quite relieved to land in Los Angeles without that type of awesome experience.
On the leg from Albuquerque to LA, I was able to move up to the front row bulkhead seat with lots of leg room. A huge man dressed in an Indiana Pacers uniform sat in the aisle seat. Lots of people wear sports uniforms so I gave it no thought, other than he was very tall! Eventually, a young boy (about 10 years old) sat between us. He was terrified of the take off and covered his eyes with his cap, sobbing uncontrollably during the take off. The other man and I tried to calm him down by slapping him around and screaming at him but it didn't do any good. (Just kidding, but it worked in the movie, Airplane!) Toward to end of the flight, the boy was making conversation with both of us and was a pretty nice kid from all I could tell. But a kid nonetheless.
He asked the huge man, "Are you a basketball player?" The fact that he was dressed in a basketball uniform and had on multi-hundred dollar shoes along with a very expensive Rolex wristwatch was a clue, I guess. Turns out he plays for the Indiana Pacers. Danny Granger. (I looked him up to make sure ... it was Danny Granger, whoever Danny Granger is. Small forward out of New Mexico State.) The conversation turned rather interesting ... if for no other reason than to see how this pro baller would respond to this inquisitive kid.
Kid: "Who do you play for?" (I wanted to tell the kid you don't end a sentence with a preposition, but I let it go for the sake of conversation.)
DG: "Indiana Pacers."
Kid: "What's your name?"
DG: "Danny Granger."
Kid: "Why are you flying to California if you play for Indiana?"
DG: "I have a house in California and am here for a couple of days training."
Kid: "Then what are you going to do?"
DG: "I'm flying back to Indiana."
Kid: "Are you rich?"
DG: "That depends on what you consider rich."
Kid: "So how much money do you make?"
At this point everyone within hearing range was leaning toward the front of the plane!
DG: "Oh, five, six million ... somethin' like that."
Kid: "Can I have your autograph?"
DG: "Sure!"
The reason I knew people were listening in, when the boy asked for an autograph and the kid said he didn't have a pen, suddenly hands were coming from everywhere offering pens!
I was impressed that, one, he was flying Southwest when he could have been in First Class of any airline, if not in a private jet. Afer all, when you make "something like that" in income, you don't have to fly Southwest! Two, that he was so congenial to the kid between us. So many of those guys would not have given that kid the time of day from that Rolex. Three, that he would so easily give his autograph.
I was also a bit disappointed that the kid didn't want to know what I did for a living. After all, I was as unimpressive as Danny was impressive. I would have given the kid my autograph as well!
I'm not much of an NBA fan, but I may give the Pacers a glance this coming season just to watch this man play ball. In the meantime, I've got to figure out how to get a speeding ticket off my record!
I flew Southwest, which is tolerable if one flies by one's self. The trip was uneventful, which is most desired when flying. I have a nephew (by marriage) who is a commercial pilot flying private company planes out and around the Birmingham, Alabama area and he had to bring a plane into Birmingham International Airport last week with complete electrical failure and no landing gear! He did a magnificent job. Very minimal damage to the plane, after skidding down the runway on the fuselage. Besides a co-pilot, he had a passenger who had never flown before ... about 18 - 20 years old ... who thought the whole event was "awesome!" So I was quite relieved to land in Los Angeles without that type of awesome experience.
On the leg from Albuquerque to LA, I was able to move up to the front row bulkhead seat with lots of leg room. A huge man dressed in an Indiana Pacers uniform sat in the aisle seat. Lots of people wear sports uniforms so I gave it no thought, other than he was very tall! Eventually, a young boy (about 10 years old) sat between us. He was terrified of the take off and covered his eyes with his cap, sobbing uncontrollably during the take off. The other man and I tried to calm him down by slapping him around and screaming at him but it didn't do any good. (Just kidding, but it worked in the movie, Airplane!) Toward to end of the flight, the boy was making conversation with both of us and was a pretty nice kid from all I could tell. But a kid nonetheless.
He asked the huge man, "Are you a basketball player?" The fact that he was dressed in a basketball uniform and had on multi-hundred dollar shoes along with a very expensive Rolex wristwatch was a clue, I guess. Turns out he plays for the Indiana Pacers. Danny Granger. (I looked him up to make sure ... it was Danny Granger, whoever Danny Granger is. Small forward out of New Mexico State.) The conversation turned rather interesting ... if for no other reason than to see how this pro baller would respond to this inquisitive kid.Kid: "Who do you play for?" (I wanted to tell the kid you don't end a sentence with a preposition, but I let it go for the sake of conversation.)
DG: "Indiana Pacers."
Kid: "What's your name?"
DG: "Danny Granger."
Kid: "Why are you flying to California if you play for Indiana?"
DG: "I have a house in California and am here for a couple of days training."
Kid: "Then what are you going to do?"
DG: "I'm flying back to Indiana."
Kid: "Are you rich?"
DG: "That depends on what you consider rich."
Kid: "So how much money do you make?"
At this point everyone within hearing range was leaning toward the front of the plane!
DG: "Oh, five, six million ... somethin' like that."
Kid: "Can I have your autograph?"
DG: "Sure!"
The reason I knew people were listening in, when the boy asked for an autograph and the kid said he didn't have a pen, suddenly hands were coming from everywhere offering pens!
I was impressed that, one, he was flying Southwest when he could have been in First Class of any airline, if not in a private jet. Afer all, when you make "something like that" in income, you don't have to fly Southwest! Two, that he was so congenial to the kid between us. So many of those guys would not have given that kid the time of day from that Rolex. Three, that he would so easily give his autograph.
I was also a bit disappointed that the kid didn't want to know what I did for a living. After all, I was as unimpressive as Danny was impressive. I would have given the kid my autograph as well!
I'm not much of an NBA fan, but I may give the Pacers a glance this coming season just to watch this man play ball. In the meantime, I've got to figure out how to get a speeding ticket off my record!
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Fair and Square
It was just a matter of time, but after nearly four decades of driving, I finally received my first citation for speeding. Much to my son's delight, I might add. He used to call me, "the my dad." Now he calls me "speed demon." And my sister's fault if I might add a second "add." She offered to drive. It was her car. She should have been more assertive in her offer to drive.
It had been a tough few days emptying out mom's house so we could rent it. We were in our fifth consecutive day of being just bone-weary tired. Highway 157 from Tuscumbia to Cullman, Alabama, has been under construction all of my life. It is still under construction, only now they are very serious about it. To the point they are actually doing highway work and have signs that say "Construction Zone" and another one that says if anyone is caught speeding in this zone the fine is doubled.
Enter: Greg England. Talking w/ Elaine (who should have been driving all along) and not paying attention to the speed. I looked down at the speedometer and realizing I was going much too fast, thought, "I need to slow down and set the cruise control," only to look up and into the eyes of an oncoming Alabama State Trooper. Is that coincidence, or what?!
I will say, he was very kind ... asked if I had a reason for being in such a hurry. I told him, "No, Sir, you caught me fair and square." He returned to his car and did whatever state troopers do to produce a ticket for the lawbreaker and said, "Mr. England, I appreciate your being candid and honest. I'm not going to cite you for the double fine, but I am giving you a ticket for going 69 in a 55mph zone." While I was signing the ticket (that should have been my sister's had she been more assertive), she was telling the officer about our trip to empty mom's house, hoping the sympathy card might get me out of the ticket. Once they do whatever it is they do in that car, you ain't gettin' out of no ticket! I know that from being on the other side of the badge. He offered his condolences for the loss of our mother and told us his mother had recently been diagnosed with state four multiple myeloma (sp??) ... the disease that took the life of our father about 16 years ago. He asked if it were a curable disease. Elaine, being a registered nurse, told him it was treatable but never curable. We told him we were sorry to hear he was facing what we had faced earlier in life.
He wished us a safe journey. I promised not to speed again. Every car between that point and Elaine's house passed me because I was doing the speed limit. But when we sat down for a meal that afternoon, as I thanked God for the meal, I also thanked Him for the trooper who is doing his job with a sense of integrity and a compassion for those caught under the "eye" of his radar gun. Later that night, I prayed that God would bless him in his job and keep him safe from the people out there he might encounter that, given a chance, would kill him for nothing more than doing his job.
I was a police chaplain for six years. I have a heart for those men and women out there. I was impressed by this man's attitude toward me and his kindness. I'm glad there are people like him out there protecting us. And I'm going to insist that Elaine drive the next time!
It had been a tough few days emptying out mom's house so we could rent it. We were in our fifth consecutive day of being just bone-weary tired. Highway 157 from Tuscumbia to Cullman, Alabama, has been under construction all of my life. It is still under construction, only now they are very serious about it. To the point they are actually doing highway work and have signs that say "Construction Zone" and another one that says if anyone is caught speeding in this zone the fine is doubled.
Enter: Greg England. Talking w/ Elaine (who should have been driving all along) and not paying attention to the speed. I looked down at the speedometer and realizing I was going much too fast, thought, "I need to slow down and set the cruise control," only to look up and into the eyes of an oncoming Alabama State Trooper. Is that coincidence, or what?!
I will say, he was very kind ... asked if I had a reason for being in such a hurry. I told him, "No, Sir, you caught me fair and square." He returned to his car and did whatever state troopers do to produce a ticket for the lawbreaker and said, "Mr. England, I appreciate your being candid and honest. I'm not going to cite you for the double fine, but I am giving you a ticket for going 69 in a 55mph zone." While I was signing the ticket (that should have been my sister's had she been more assertive), she was telling the officer about our trip to empty mom's house, hoping the sympathy card might get me out of the ticket. Once they do whatever it is they do in that car, you ain't gettin' out of no ticket! I know that from being on the other side of the badge. He offered his condolences for the loss of our mother and told us his mother had recently been diagnosed with state four multiple myeloma (sp??) ... the disease that took the life of our father about 16 years ago. He asked if it were a curable disease. Elaine, being a registered nurse, told him it was treatable but never curable. We told him we were sorry to hear he was facing what we had faced earlier in life.
He wished us a safe journey. I promised not to speed again. Every car between that point and Elaine's house passed me because I was doing the speed limit. But when we sat down for a meal that afternoon, as I thanked God for the meal, I also thanked Him for the trooper who is doing his job with a sense of integrity and a compassion for those caught under the "eye" of his radar gun. Later that night, I prayed that God would bless him in his job and keep him safe from the people out there he might encounter that, given a chance, would kill him for nothing more than doing his job.
I was a police chaplain for six years. I have a heart for those men and women out there. I was impressed by this man's attitude toward me and his kindness. I'm glad there are people like him out there protecting us. And I'm going to insist that Elaine drive the next time!
Friday, August 12, 2005
The Sickness
On a recent Friday afternoon I dragged out all of my instruments (stuff) and placed them on our church stage so I could photograph them in good lighting and then make a list with pictures, serial numbers and value for insurance purposes. About the time I got them all on the stage, the wife of one of our elders happened to come into the auditorium ... took a look at all the instruments and sound equipment (two sound systems not seen in this picture) ... and said, "I don't even want to know what you are planning for Sunday!" I love the freedom they give me at Long Beach!People ask, "So when is enough enough?" to which the answer is very simple: "When I get just one more!" After all, there's just gotta be a Gibson Les Paul out there somewhere with my name on it. Oh, yes ... and possibly a Taylor accoustic / electric. C'mon, it's possible! Stranger things have happened.
My friend, Cecil, says I have a sickness that I've passed on to his son, Steven. I prefer to think of it more as an investment. Even if I never regain a cent from the collection, I can enjoy the thought of my children trying to decide what to do with it all when I'm gone!
Guitar has been a huge part of my life since I was in about 8th grade. Not that I'm any good on one, I'm not. I can play well enough to sit around by myself and play, but I've done that for years as a way of working through emotional junk. I play as much for therapy and catharsis as I do anything else. Lately, though, I've discovered a wonderful joy in simply playing songs for the Lord. I like to think it brings a smile to His face. I wish I could write songs for the Lord!
So this is my obsession ... what is yours?
[NOTE: So maybe this isn't the best picture she ever took, but Laura Speaks is an awesome (a word I seldom use) young lady from our church who recently moved to Honduras to minister among the people there. I've always told Laura she is exactly the kind of lady I would want some day as a daughter-in-law. I still feel that way, but she has always been too old (sorry, Laura) for Josh. A father can dream, though. She went to Honduras completely on faith and is currently seeking employment so she can stay at least a year. I've linked her blog site to mine, so when you have some time take a look at what's going on in Laura's life ... and keep her in your prayers.
I also linked Allan Heida on this site. He, too, is from our church and is going to spend the next 10 months in China, teaching English in the university there as well as being very involved in whatever the Lord opens for him to do.I've thoroughly enjoyed watching Allan grow from just a kid to a young man who continually gives his life away to others for the sake of the kingdom.
I don't like Allan as much as I once did because he now plays guitar better than I ... and I'm very insecure and petty in things like that! I wonder why I don't have as many friends these days??? :)
And finally ... since our baby (some refer to her as a dog, Randy called her a horse! but she's our baby), Chipper, seems to come up often in these blogs I thought I'd showcase her beautiful face! This picture doesn't do justice to those incredibly sad eyes. She's looking at me over the back yard wall (from upon the pool deck) ... waiting on me to put the camera down and pet her. After all, that is why people exist in her world!]FYI: I'll probably not be blogging again until after the 17th ... Can you make it that long without me?
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Best Buy
Okay, so I wasn't going to blog again ... but I had time for one more before flying out of here for a few days. While getting ready to spend a day aboard Southwest airplanes, I put a new battery in my Sony Mini Disc player and discovered it no longer works! It was one year old two days ago and seldom used. But not to worry ... I purchased the Best Buy 4-year warranty. No hassles. No questions. They either repair it, or relace it with an equivalent unit, or give me store credit for my original purchase price.
NOT!
I spent four hours this afternoon trying to get Best Buy to live up to the terms of the contract they sold me. Told I must resolve this through a toll-free number, I waited on hold for almost an hour to speak to a human being. Then a second trip back to the local store. Needless to say, I'm not a happy customer of Best Buy tonight. They finally agreed to what I originally asked ... give me store credit! But only after I talked with someone in the corporate office who told me the store personnel had full authority to do what they said they had no authority to do ... which was give me store credit!
So I got a lesser MD player to get me through this trip, along with close to $100 in store credit, which I'll use to purchase either more music or DVDs or something. Then ... and I promise this on the grave of every pet that I have ever loved and lost in my life ... I will never buy from Best Buy again! At least not until they have something I really, really want at a price I simply cannot refuse. But then once I spend my store credit I have no intention of going back to one of their stores. Unless, of course, I see an ad of something I really, really want at a price I simply cannot refuse. But for now. For this evening. And a few to come, I despise Best Buy!
The funny thing about it all is that as I was finally completing my transaction, the girl helping me asked if I wanted to purchase an extended warranty for my new mini disc player! I looked at her and said, "I admire your courage for even asking that question, but no thank you." She said, "Have a happy day." It started out happy. It ended up at Best Buy.
NOT!
I spent four hours this afternoon trying to get Best Buy to live up to the terms of the contract they sold me. Told I must resolve this through a toll-free number, I waited on hold for almost an hour to speak to a human being. Then a second trip back to the local store. Needless to say, I'm not a happy customer of Best Buy tonight. They finally agreed to what I originally asked ... give me store credit! But only after I talked with someone in the corporate office who told me the store personnel had full authority to do what they said they had no authority to do ... which was give me store credit!
So I got a lesser MD player to get me through this trip, along with close to $100 in store credit, which I'll use to purchase either more music or DVDs or something. Then ... and I promise this on the grave of every pet that I have ever loved and lost in my life ... I will never buy from Best Buy again! At least not until they have something I really, really want at a price I simply cannot refuse. But then once I spend my store credit I have no intention of going back to one of their stores. Unless, of course, I see an ad of something I really, really want at a price I simply cannot refuse. But for now. For this evening. And a few to come, I despise Best Buy!
The funny thing about it all is that as I was finally completing my transaction, the girl helping me asked if I wanted to purchase an extended warranty for my new mini disc player! I looked at her and said, "I admire your courage for even asking that question, but no thank you." She said, "Have a happy day." It started out happy. It ended up at Best Buy.
Monday, August 08, 2005
The Purpose of Life
Janice and I drove up to Fred's funeral this morning (see Aug. 4 post), along with David, a friend from church. It was a simple graveside service ... in a nice shady spot under a tree. Total attendance (including the cemetery representative and the preacher): 13. Janice, David and I did not know Fred. We were there to support his wife and sons.
The preacher kept it short. Obviously didn't know Fred. Covered all bases, included reincarnation. Said a prayer and then we did this flower memorial where the cemetery rep gave us each a flower from one of two baskets that had been sent. We then took our turns placing the flower on the casket. Ceremony complete. I did not see a tear in anyone's eyes this morning.
I was struck by the contrast between people who have an impact on the lives of others and those who seem not to have had that impact. Of course, the extreme would be the funeral of someone such as Pope John Paul or Lady Diana or President Reagan. But short of an international figure, I think about people who were involved in a church family and took seriously the opportunities and privilege of serving others. As the preacher said his remarks, I was thinking of how different it is when a person spends a lifetime touching other's lives. I was wondering just what this said of Fred's choices in life. I was thinking of how I had started out down a similar path before certain people turned my heart back to the Lord.
When my father-in-law died a few years ago, his viewing was in a small town on the border of northwest Alabama and Tennessee, on a Wednesday night. If you know anything about people in the deep south, you know that Wednesday night is church night and you don't miss church and sleep with a clear conscience! Not if the leaders of your church are doing their job. They'll let you know in a heartbeat that faithful members are present for all church functions. (That, and agreeing with all of the church orthodoxy, spoken and unspoken.) So it was interesting to see the number of people who came to the funeral home in that tiny Tennessee town to pay respects to Jan's father. We estimated well over 1,200, maybe as high as 1,500. Most of them stood in a line that wound through the funeral home before spilling into the chapel for at least an hour. Many of them stood in line for over two hours as the evening wore on. And many of them told me, "It was a difficult decision as to whether to come here or go to prayer meeting." Prayer meeting is what Wednesday night service is called many places in the south, though very little of the time is actually spent in prayer. My point is that Jan's father had a deep impact on the lives of many, many people and we were blessed by the turnout of people who just wanted to pay their respects in return. People who decided at least for that evening they would honor the Lord by honoring one of the Lord's servants.
Mom's funeral was similar. Hundreds of people came by the funeral home on Friday night to bless us (again) with their love and support and tears and hugs and memories and stories. The chapel was filled to overflowing for her funeral service. We listened to story after story of how mom had touched a life. The impact has been felt in the days since as people continue to send us cards and flowers and notes and phone calls to share how mom had been a part of their life. Last night at Long Beach, we had a memorial service of sorts for mom ... I shared the video presentation used at her viewing and then my church family sang the songs mom had selected for her funeral. I just wanted to hear them sung by these people who are so dear to me. Of the hundred or so who were there, several people commented during the service and after how blessed they had been to have known "Muz." She was never known as anything other than Muz out here. This was in every respect her second church family, and possibly the only church family she would have left her Creekside church for. (I know I'm not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition, but sometimes I can't figure out the proper grammar, for.)
As a funeral director (part time) and a preacher, I've attended more than the average person's share of funerals ... some that included myself, the deceased and just two other people. Numerous ones like Fred's today with just a handful of people, mostly family. Of the 13 at Fred's graveside today, five of us never knew him. So I'm sharing all of this just to say that the most important reason for our life on this earth is service to others! The greatest in the kingdom, Jesus says, is the one who humbles him or herself and serves others. The difference is certainly evident when it comes time to lay the body in the ground. And it gives the preacher far more material for his comments!
The preacher kept it short. Obviously didn't know Fred. Covered all bases, included reincarnation. Said a prayer and then we did this flower memorial where the cemetery rep gave us each a flower from one of two baskets that had been sent. We then took our turns placing the flower on the casket. Ceremony complete. I did not see a tear in anyone's eyes this morning.
I was struck by the contrast between people who have an impact on the lives of others and those who seem not to have had that impact. Of course, the extreme would be the funeral of someone such as Pope John Paul or Lady Diana or President Reagan. But short of an international figure, I think about people who were involved in a church family and took seriously the opportunities and privilege of serving others. As the preacher said his remarks, I was thinking of how different it is when a person spends a lifetime touching other's lives. I was wondering just what this said of Fred's choices in life. I was thinking of how I had started out down a similar path before certain people turned my heart back to the Lord.
When my father-in-law died a few years ago, his viewing was in a small town on the border of northwest Alabama and Tennessee, on a Wednesday night. If you know anything about people in the deep south, you know that Wednesday night is church night and you don't miss church and sleep with a clear conscience! Not if the leaders of your church are doing their job. They'll let you know in a heartbeat that faithful members are present for all church functions. (That, and agreeing with all of the church orthodoxy, spoken and unspoken.) So it was interesting to see the number of people who came to the funeral home in that tiny Tennessee town to pay respects to Jan's father. We estimated well over 1,200, maybe as high as 1,500. Most of them stood in a line that wound through the funeral home before spilling into the chapel for at least an hour. Many of them stood in line for over two hours as the evening wore on. And many of them told me, "It was a difficult decision as to whether to come here or go to prayer meeting." Prayer meeting is what Wednesday night service is called many places in the south, though very little of the time is actually spent in prayer. My point is that Jan's father had a deep impact on the lives of many, many people and we were blessed by the turnout of people who just wanted to pay their respects in return. People who decided at least for that evening they would honor the Lord by honoring one of the Lord's servants.
Mom's funeral was similar. Hundreds of people came by the funeral home on Friday night to bless us (again) with their love and support and tears and hugs and memories and stories. The chapel was filled to overflowing for her funeral service. We listened to story after story of how mom had touched a life. The impact has been felt in the days since as people continue to send us cards and flowers and notes and phone calls to share how mom had been a part of their life. Last night at Long Beach, we had a memorial service of sorts for mom ... I shared the video presentation used at her viewing and then my church family sang the songs mom had selected for her funeral. I just wanted to hear them sung by these people who are so dear to me. Of the hundred or so who were there, several people commented during the service and after how blessed they had been to have known "Muz." She was never known as anything other than Muz out here. This was in every respect her second church family, and possibly the only church family she would have left her Creekside church for. (I know I'm not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition, but sometimes I can't figure out the proper grammar, for.)
As a funeral director (part time) and a preacher, I've attended more than the average person's share of funerals ... some that included myself, the deceased and just two other people. Numerous ones like Fred's today with just a handful of people, mostly family. Of the 13 at Fred's graveside today, five of us never knew him. So I'm sharing all of this just to say that the most important reason for our life on this earth is service to others! The greatest in the kingdom, Jesus says, is the one who humbles him or herself and serves others. The difference is certainly evident when it comes time to lay the body in the ground. And it gives the preacher far more material for his comments!
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Dedicated to Teachers
My wife is a school teacher as are many of my friends. To the teachers out there, as you approach a new school year, I thought I'd share a little insight into your world!
You know you're a teacher when ...Have a great year and know that some of us out there are praying for you!
You believe the staff room should be equipped with a Valium lick.
You find humor in other people's stupidity.
You want to slap the next person who says, "Must be nice to work 8:00 to 3:20 and have summers free."
You believe chocolate is a food group.
You can tell if it's a full moon without ever looking outside.
You believe "shallow gene pool" should have its own box in the report card.
You believe that unspeakable evils will befall you if anyone says, "Boy, the kids sure are mellow today."
When out in public, you feel the urge to snap your fingers at children who do not know to correct their behavior.
You have no life between August and June.
You think people should be required to get a government permit before being allowed to reproduce.
You wonder how some parents ever managed to reproduce.
You support aerial Prozac spraying.
You believe that no one should be allowed to reproduce without having taught in an elementary setting for the last 10 years.
You've ever had your profession slammed by someone who "never dream" of doing your job.
You think caffeine should be available in intravenous form.
You know you are in for a major project when a parent says, "I have a great idea I'd like to discuss. I think it would be such fun."
You want to choke a person when they say, "Oh, you must have such fun every day. This must be like playtime for you."
Meeting a child's parents instantly answers the question, "Why is this kid like this?" (Source: Unknown)
Friday, August 05, 2005
Beginnings
This is my mother's family, my beginning. It's mainly for those in my blog world who are family and haven't seen this photograph. Of the nine, only four remain.Back Row: Shirley, Ruth (deceased), Lea, Muriel (my mother, deceased), Robert, Jr. (Bob)
Front Row: Tom (deceased), Vadie (Grandmama, deceased), Robert, Sr. (Bozo, deceased), Elizabeth (Pat)
With spouses. Bob and Willette, Frank (deceased) and Shirley, Dr. Deck and Ruth (both deceased), Rex and Muriel (both deceased), Don and Lea.Thursday, August 04, 2005
A Difficult Visit
Fred died last night. Not a huge surprise as he'd had heart problems for many years and had been hospitalized for the past few months. I didn't know Fred, but his wife is a sweetheart in our church family. Fred never wanted to have anything to do with the church. From what I've been told, he didn't want anything to do with the Lord, either.
In my experience (limited as it is), when I've tried to talk with people about Jesus who didn't want anything to do with the church or with the Lord, I've always come across to that person as "the preacher" who had been sent to convert. And in my experience, it has never been a successful trip. Not to my knowledge.
So I never visited Fred. Never laid eyes on the man. But when it came time to visit the surviving spouse, once again I was burdened with some degree of guilt for not having made that effort. I just don't like to intrude on a person who has let it be known they don't want the intrusion. But Jan and I made a visit to his wife to hug her and let her know she's loved and she seemed grateful that we came by. Her sons were home, one from Massachesetts and the other from Texas. It was immediately noticeable how much comfort they brought to their mom.
It is strange to sit with such a godly lady and not be able to discuss her late husband's relationship with the Lord. There is such an emptiness that no one speaks about but everyone notices. We prayed with her and left to come home, bringing that empty feeling with us. They will go up to the cemetery tomorrow morning and make the final arrangements. We'll go to the graveside and try to support her family.
And maybe ... just maybe the next time I have an opportunity to visit one of the "Fred's" in my life, I'll do it and trust God to make something good happen.
In my experience (limited as it is), when I've tried to talk with people about Jesus who didn't want anything to do with the church or with the Lord, I've always come across to that person as "the preacher" who had been sent to convert. And in my experience, it has never been a successful trip. Not to my knowledge.
So I never visited Fred. Never laid eyes on the man. But when it came time to visit the surviving spouse, once again I was burdened with some degree of guilt for not having made that effort. I just don't like to intrude on a person who has let it be known they don't want the intrusion. But Jan and I made a visit to his wife to hug her and let her know she's loved and she seemed grateful that we came by. Her sons were home, one from Massachesetts and the other from Texas. It was immediately noticeable how much comfort they brought to their mom.
It is strange to sit with such a godly lady and not be able to discuss her late husband's relationship with the Lord. There is such an emptiness that no one speaks about but everyone notices. We prayed with her and left to come home, bringing that empty feeling with us. They will go up to the cemetery tomorrow morning and make the final arrangements. We'll go to the graveside and try to support her family.
And maybe ... just maybe the next time I have an opportunity to visit one of the "Fred's" in my life, I'll do it and trust God to make something good happen.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Back to School
Our daughter, Jessica (pictured with brother Josh), starts her junior year of college in just a couple of weeks. Actually, she began a three week intensive training session for her role as an Alpha Counselor on Monday of this week. Jan and I drove from north Alabama to southern California last week, arriving home on Thursday, only to see Friday and Saturday filled with helping Jessica complete her move from home to her new apartment across from the campus. At least she can keep this apartment for the duration of her college days and we won't have to make this move every semester!When Jan and I married, I was hesitant for us to have children because I didn't want a kid like myself to have to raise! I would tell you more about that, but people in our church read this and I need the job for a couple more years! On the other hand, looking back on those years sure helps me understand the deeper theological reality of grace. Anyway, as much as this sounds like bragging it's not meant to be such, but our children have been nothing but a sorce of joy and blessing to us. Had I known this we would not have waited seven years for the first one! Disappointment may be ahead of us, but so far we've not experienced that with our children ... on any level. And had Janice been able to carry more than two, we would have had enough to at least floor a basketball team.
When your children go off to college, you hope they will choose to move in the spiritual stream of that campus. Jessica not only chose the spiritual stream, she dove in head first! She was so impressed with the impact of the "Alpha group" to which she was assigned as an incoming freshmen that she immediately made plans to become an Alpha Leader in her sophmore year. After that experience, she took the next step of becoming an Alpha Counselor, meaning she has several Alpha Leaders under her leadership this year.
Jessica has surrounded herself with some of the most impressive young people I've ever met and she continually blesses our lives with her walk with the Lord. She's not perfect (there can't be two of us in one family ... that would not be fair to other families who think they claim someone perfect), but I can't recall the times her comment or her perspective on a matter made me look like the kingdom idiot! With the role of Alpha Counselor comes a great deal of responsibility, so when you are thinking of things to lift up to the throne of God, add Jessica to your list! And if there's something in your life that I can add to my list, please let me know!
Picture from our summer youth camp the year we decided to all dress like goobers! And we're all smiling ... well, I'm trying to smile.
Josh, Jess, Janice, GregHappy Birthday, Mom
By now you are probably tired of reading about my mother, but our lives were put on hold a couple of weeks ago and Mom has been the context of our lives with her death and funeral. Yesterday Mom would have been 81 years old. I've kept many of the birthday cards she sent me over the years because each card contained a full page of history pertaining to my life. She wrote very small so she could write more, but with a relatively decent electronic scanning microscope, I could make out the words! On what would have been her 81st birthday, I wanted to write something to her ...
Mom: You were always our champion! You disciplined us and taught us the way of the Lord, but you were always on our side. Case in point: I had just received my driver's license. You and Dad had a new car ... an baby blue Impala with air conditioning! We were at somebody's house on a Sunday night after church and our car needed to be moved out of the driveway so someone else could go home. I asked Dad if I could move the car. I did ... right into another car! Dad wanted to go the easy route--just kill the boy! You interceded and I was allowed to live. When my children had their first fender-benders, you gave me the example of how to deal with it. I can remember several times (and I'm sure there are many I've forgotten) when Dad wanted to whip me and you stepped in to plead my defense. After all, a kid can only hide from Dad for so long.To those of you reading this ... you are special to me for simply being a part of my life through this technology. I've come to know new friends as a result. God's blessings on you and yours!
I didn't know until much later in life just how special you were to our family. You always made sure we had something new to wear on Easter. All four of us. You never let a birthday go by without making it special in some way. And Christmas was always a fun time, even if we did have to open our presents and then drive all day / night from wherever we lived to Old Hickory, Tennessee to spend it with Dad's family. You always made sure we had at least one something (usually more) that we really wanted! Little did I know until I pried it out of you one day that we lived on near-poverty levels of income. You could do wonders with just a few dollars.
You pretty much raised us by yourself, as Dad seemed to be constantly out of town or working late and working weekends. We later learned he was out of job for weeks at a time and when we thought he was at work, you knew he was out trying to find work. How did you manage to go weeks without income? How many times did we move during those years? How is it you kept it from us that we were in such dire straits? Somehow you took it all in stride and kept the anxiety from us. You were mom, counselor, teacher, referee, best friend, worst enemy all in one. But in present perspective, you were just one great mom! I still remember the 60's and all the anarchy and rebellion in our nation. And, of course, I was wanting to fit right in with the rebellious crowd. You and Dad could never understand why any of us would question your parental authority, but we did. And though you didn't understand (because you would have never questioned your parents and lived), you did listen and eventually you figured it out and we became friends. Very good friends! Being a parent now, I will never comprehend the love on your part that allowed you to let me leave home after the 9th grade to live with Grandmama. Though the end result was awesome (marrying Janice and having the children we have and the experiences we've enjoyed), you could not have known that at the time. I marvel even now at your faith back then. Or was it you just didn't see any other way? I prefer to think it was faith.
The love of your life in the later years was any grandchild or great-grandchild present at the moment. All of our children loved to go to Muz's house because their "Muz" treated them so very special. They all felt as if they were the number one person in your life, and at that moment they were! I suppose I'll never fully understand that until I become a grandparent, if then. I'll always be amazed at you you never forgot anything any of the children did. Many of our phone conversations were filled with memories and laughter as you recalled the things I had long ago forgotten ... about my own children! Which is why I am anxious to find all the letters I sent you over the years for they are a chronology of Joshua and Jessica's childhood and teen years.
In this context, I must say that I regret that Jessica did not have the relationship with you that Josh had. God has blessed us beyond belief in our moves to Florida and then California, but at the cost of a Muz-granddaughter relationship for both you and Jessica. She loved you so much ... but it was always a long-distance love. Looking back it's hard to say that I'd change anything because God seemed to always have a hand in it all and Jan and I believe both of our children are far better off spiritually for the experiences they have had in life, but we missed out on a lot by being so far away for so many years. That will make heaven all the more special, if heaven can be more special.
Your journey from legalism and religion to grace and Christ was amazing! No wonder so many people had so much to say about how you touched their lives. Someone I don't know wrote me a card expressing how much they "enjoyed" the celebration of your life, even though it was the longest funeral they had ever attended. It would have been much longer had we allowed the standing-room-only audience to share memories. By the way, you would not have enjoyed the "sermon" at Creekside because it was all about your impact on the lives of people in that church family. But it made the rest of us so very proud of you! We all hope that some day we can do a fraction of the good that you did in people's lives. You were able to meet anyone at any place in their walk and not only identify with them but encourage them and point them toward Jesus. They didn't always make the adjustment in their walk, but it wasn't because you didn't show them the way. There was no one at Creekside church more on a pedastal then you (though you would not have chosen that status) but what they don't realize is that it was in the context of the Creekside church that the Lord grew you into the person they so loved and admired! We'll always be grateful for that body of Christians. They are, indeed, our family.
And what a prayer warrior you were! I got a call this morning from a close friend who discovered yesterday that a place on his leg was a stage 2 melanoma. He asked if I would keep him in my prayers. The first thing I would have done had you been celebrating your birthday today here on earth rather than in Paradise (and I can only imagine the celebration there!) would have been to call you and tell you to put him on your prayer list, for you truly were a prayer warrior who prayed hard (whatever that meant to you), and I would have felt better about telling my friend that you were praying for his recovery.
Mom, I've found it very difficult to grieve over your death. For at least the past 6 years, just taking a breath had been a struggle for you. Your eyes gave you so much trouble and the burning was all but unbearable to you. The headaches you suffered because of your poor vision would keep most people in bed for the day. I've witnessed the coughing spells that seemed to go on forever without letting up in the least. I thought many times the during your last visit to Long Beach that we would ship you home in a casket because of the coughing spells you would have. You didn't know that I would be elsewhere in the house praying for you with tears in my eyes because you were hurting so much.
But in spite of all of that, you never lost your sense of humor and we had so many laughs over the years. People often thought we were a very strange family because we could laugh at and with one another over both the silliest and the most serious things. We've passed that legacy to our children and we, too, enjoy many laughs together. You never lost your unrealistically positive outlook on life because you never lost your focus on Jesus.
You said you'd be waiting for us at the gate. I look forward to the time when we are all gathered to our families (as the Old Testament describes death) and we'll be in our forever home. I must admit, though, I'm not wanting that right now! But I know when it comes it will be a grand homecoming and a family reunion beyond earthly description.
Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you! I wish I could call and talk to you today, but this will have to suffice for now.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Stuff and Things
Imagine for a moment that someone came into your house and began to go through every single item you owned and there was nothing you could do to stop them. Would that be a risky thing for you? Got anything around the house you don't want anyone to see?
I ask that because of the recent death of my mother and the first time back in her house without her being a part of our visit. Mom was a pack rat, no doubt about that. I've been told it has something to do with the generation that survived the Great Depression years of yesteryear, but for whatever reason, she seemed unable to throw anything away.
Case in point: When she bought her house, there was an above ground pool in the backyard. And with that pool (which has long since been discarded) was a small, A-frame ladder for getting in and out of the pool. For almost 15 years, that ladder has been in her carport. I tried to have it hauled away by the trash people on more than one occasion, all to no avail. Mom was always going to have a yard sale and could possibly get $3 for that ladder. I offered her $5 to let me throw it away. She refused the offer. Go figure!
Not having much time to go through Mom's "things," I did look through a few boxes of "stuff" that was on / under a beautiful oak table she wanted me to have. There were good things ... pictures and letters. There was also stuff, like old church bulletins. I suppose every card anyone ever sent her was saved. But I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like for any of us, on a given day, to have people just start going through everything we own??
I can honestly say I have nothing in my possession that would embarrass me. Maybe a few bills I would like to have paid off (such as extremely important bills from places like Guitar Center), but nothing that I would be ashamed for anyone to know about. But it gives me a little different perspective on all the stuff we've accumulated over the years. For the most part, it's just that -- stuff. Things. And some day my children will go through everything I've left behind and wonder what was going through my mind to keep it all for so long.
What about you? What are you holding on to that, from a different perspective, is just something the kids (or a friend, or even some stranger) will have to discard?
I think I'll begin with my office and start reducing the number of books I've always intended to read. Many of them have been here for years. Then I'll move to the garage, if Janice will let me have a yard sale. Or ... I may just let the kids take care of it, like Mom did for us!
Mom at her 80th birthday celebration. She would have been 81 years old today, August 2.
A more recent version of yours truly. Now you see why I use the younger looking picture at the top of this blog site! I just noticed Mom and I both wore black to her birthday celebration.
I ask that because of the recent death of my mother and the first time back in her house without her being a part of our visit. Mom was a pack rat, no doubt about that. I've been told it has something to do with the generation that survived the Great Depression years of yesteryear, but for whatever reason, she seemed unable to throw anything away.
Case in point: When she bought her house, there was an above ground pool in the backyard. And with that pool (which has long since been discarded) was a small, A-frame ladder for getting in and out of the pool. For almost 15 years, that ladder has been in her carport. I tried to have it hauled away by the trash people on more than one occasion, all to no avail. Mom was always going to have a yard sale and could possibly get $3 for that ladder. I offered her $5 to let me throw it away. She refused the offer. Go figure!
Not having much time to go through Mom's "things," I did look through a few boxes of "stuff" that was on / under a beautiful oak table she wanted me to have. There were good things ... pictures and letters. There was also stuff, like old church bulletins. I suppose every card anyone ever sent her was saved. But I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like for any of us, on a given day, to have people just start going through everything we own??
I can honestly say I have nothing in my possession that would embarrass me. Maybe a few bills I would like to have paid off (such as extremely important bills from places like Guitar Center), but nothing that I would be ashamed for anyone to know about. But it gives me a little different perspective on all the stuff we've accumulated over the years. For the most part, it's just that -- stuff. Things. And some day my children will go through everything I've left behind and wonder what was going through my mind to keep it all for so long.
What about you? What are you holding on to that, from a different perspective, is just something the kids (or a friend, or even some stranger) will have to discard?
I think I'll begin with my office and start reducing the number of books I've always intended to read. Many of them have been here for years. Then I'll move to the garage, if Janice will let me have a yard sale. Or ... I may just let the kids take care of it, like Mom did for us!
Mom at her 80th birthday celebration. She would have been 81 years old today, August 2.
A more recent version of yours truly. Now you see why I use the younger looking picture at the top of this blog site! I just noticed Mom and I both wore black to her birthday celebration.
