The Small Things

For the past several days, I’ve had a pain in my left foot.  Right below my big toe, in the fleshy “ball” portion of my foot, I would experience some rather sharp pain from time to time.  It was so bad at times, I would be gimpy, and favor that foot when I tried to walk.  I thought, though, that it was probably a strain of some kind and would get better with time.

Over the course of a few days, however, it did not get better.  It seemed to be getting a little worse.  I wondered if I needed to make an appointment with my provider to check it out since it was some kind of internal thing.  Maybe it was more than a strain.  Maybe it was an infection or some kind of misplaced bone or something.

This morning, after my shower, I walked out of the bathroom and almost fell to the floor when it started hurting.  Sitting down on the cedar chest at the foot of our bed, I thought to myself what I needed to do, and decided to just take a look at the bottom of my foot, not expecting to see anything as the pain seemed to be internal.

To my surprise, there was a sort of “pimple” there right where it hurt the most.  Fumbling for my glasses and making my eyes focus, I looked at it closer and noticed a dark line about 1/8 of an inch long sort of imbedded into the thickened skin.  Could it possibly be?

I went to my junk drawer and found a hypodermic needle, one of three or four that we have specifically to remove splinters.  I will tell you now that we have those needles, sans syringes, from our time in health care…they’re great for digging out splinters!  I dug around a bit and out popped some kind of splinter.  I cleaned up the blood, bandaged up the wound and dressed.

An hour later, I marveled at how much better my foot felt.  And now, toward the end of the morning, I can barely feel where that thing was.  There has to be some kind of life lesson here.

Something about 1/8 of an inch long, imbedded into a thick skin so superficially that it could be readily seen without digging at it had caused me some considerable grief over the past three or four days, even to the point of making it difficult to walk at times, and uncomfortable most of the rest of the time.

One can reap a multitude of life lessons from my experience.  The one that comes out for me is how such a small thing can cause such a great (relatively speaking) pain and disruption in the normal course of life.  A slender piece of wood almost too small to see gave me moderate pain, difficulty walking, and was a constant reminder through the day that it was there.

In the same way, seemingly small things in life can cause great heartache, disrupt one’s day (or week, or month), and change relationships.  We need to be especially aware of the little things that come our way, as they have a habit of causing big waves in life.

So, the next time you have one of those nagging little splinters in your skin somewhere, remember the lesson…it’s the small things that sometimes cause the biggest problems.

Driving the Streets

Every time I drive the streets of downtown Wichita, and even at times when I look out the door or a window of the church, I see people.  But the people that I see many times aren’t like you and me.  These people, many times are the homeless or the near homeless.  And they are easy to spot without being stereotypical.  Many are carrying oversize backpacks or trash bags.  Some are riding bicycles with backpacks hanging off of the handlebars or fenders.  Some are pushing shopping carts.  Most are disheveled, have clothes that don’t fit, and need some basic hygiene.

And although I am happy to see the development that is taking place in the city…Old Town, Delano, the baseball complex, the apartments, the new library, a new Century II, and other areas of development, I have to wonder what all of this development will do to the population that I just spoke about in the prior paragraph.

These people are already marginalized.  They already are on the outskirts of society.  Those of us who are fortunate enough to be on the upper end of the scale enjoy the new shops and restaurants.  We like the new entertainment venues and the upscale apartments.  But for those who are on the other side, my fear is that it will only drive them farther from the possibility of redemption and extinguish what little hope they may have for a somewhat normal life.

Oh, I get it.  I understand that in many cases, it was the prior choices of these people, or choices made for them that put them where they are now.  And it is their continuing choices which many times keep them in the poverty whirlpool.  But there are many who have no choice but to continue to make those choices; because any other choices are not within the realm of possibility, or are not within the capability of the person to execute.

But does that mean that we just turn our gaze away and pretend they don’t exist?  Do we spout worthless platitudes like, “Well, if they would only get a job…?”  Do we go ahead and build and develop knowing that it will only drive them to another part of town that is less foreign to them, but is out of our sight?

Or do we at least develop some compassion for them and try to find what little we can do that would bring about a productive change in their situation?  Do we at least try to get to know some of them in terms of hearing their story, treating them like human beings, and offering that proverbial cup of cold water?

We will never, in this universe, solve the problem of poverty and need.  Jesus himself said that we would always have the poor with us.  And although with a wave of his hand he could have fed everyone in the world, he didn’t do so.  But he did develop relationships.  He treated individuals like the human beings they were.  He gave them not only food for their stomach, but also spiritual food for their soul.

We would do well to look at the life of this Great Teacher of ancient Israel and emulate him as best we can.  The poor are all around us.  The need is right outside our door.  The impoverished are on the next street corner.  The poverty whirlpool is actively seeking, finding, and devouring human beings at a dizzying rate.

I can’t do everything, but I can do something.

Remembering Darrell Ryan

Darrell Ryan of Anthony, Kansas passed away late last week.  Now, unless you are a Harper County resident of some longstanding time, you probably don’t know who I’m talking about.  But that’s OK.  I’ll fill you in on some details.

Darrell Ryan was an Anthony, Kansas businessman along with his wife Karen.  He first started in business as an associate sales person for Mueller Brothers Menswear in Anthony.  In about 1980, he and Karen bought the business and continued to operate a classy menswear store on Anthony’s main street in a building that reeked of history.

The store, along with about a city block of the downtown, burned to the ground about 10 years ago, and the Ryans retired rather than try to rebuild.  But during their time as owners of Muellers, they helped keep the small-town economy in Anthony going and growing.  They provided a valuable service to the community and to the area.  And they were business people of honesty, integrity, and the traditional values of family and faith.  They never tried to make themselves stand out in a crowd, but were wonderful examples of decency, humility, and honesty.

Karen, Darrell’s wife, remains alive but I am certain she is struggling to cope with the loss of a life partner and lover.  The family is also, I am certain, struggling to find ways to cope and live without the life and example of Darrell.  And the Christian church in Anthony, the Anthony business community, Darrell’s friends, and all of the others who knew him are pondering the meaning of life and are considering and appreciating a life well-lived to the full.

The only two pair of dress shoes that I now have (and have had for many years) came from Mueller Bros.  One of those pair was sent to me “on approval” when we lived in Topeka, along with a pair of Nike shoes.  I bought both pair and sent them a check.  Of course, the Nike shoes are long gone, but the Florsheims are still looking good.

The only dress socks I have came from Mueller Bros.  And, I still wear some dress slacks from that store.  However, the suits, shirts, and sport coats I have purchased there are mostly gone now, my measurements having grown beyond what they were when I bought the clothing.

I remember going to Muellers when I was a child, with Mom buying my “Sunday best” clothing there.  Moving back to the area in the mid-1980’s, I was pleasantly surprised to find the store still going strong.  It was one of our regular stops when doing clothing or shoe shopping for myself or the boys.  The odor of the store, the layout, and the historic building took me back to my childhood years, and my mind was brought to remembrance why we moved back to my hometown.  I truly enjoyed shopping there (and at Jett’s just down the street); and if you know me, you know that is a statement I seldom make about ANY retail establishment.  I was saddened to hear of its demise in the Anthony downtown fire ten or so years ago.

In the great scheme of things, the world will, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “little note nor long remember” Darrell’s life and his passing.  But for many of us, he had a place in our souls that can never be filled by another…even if that place is just a small one…and even if that place was one that was fueled primarily by a business relationship.

Enjoy your eternal rest in the arms of the Almighty, Darrell.  And to Karen and family, know that Darrell WILL be remembered and appreciated for many years to come.

We Must Do Better

Last Sunday, we cancelled services due to the weather.  While we were home hunkered in our basement with the gas fireplace glowing, I turned on the TV and happened upon the church services at one of the local churches in Wichita.  This congregation has been broadcasting their services for many, many years, and I have been in their building several times.

The minister giving the sermon, a woman, was talking about the recent vote by her denomination to restrict ordination of LGBTQ people as well as restrict the performing of marriages of LGBTQ people.  Her comments showed her obvious bias against the vote of the denomination and her favoring of both issues.

That didn’t bother me all that much.  People hold different opinions about issues such as this.  Much of the difference centers on one’s interpretation of Scripture, and how much one reads into the command to “love one-another.”  Obviously, I believe my opinion on the issues is the correct one; otherwise, I would hold to a different opinion.  And, obviously, she believes her opinion on the issues is the correct one; otherwise, she too would hold to a different opinion.

What DID bother me, though, was that several times she said that those of us who hold different opinions are haters.  That we have hate in our hearts.  That we hate those who are different that we are.  We were all thrown into the same mold.  We were stereotyped.  There was no room for respectful disagreement while we exercised the command to “love one-another.”  We were haters.

I have to wonder just how much true love this woman has for those of us who happen to disagree with her.  To call someone that one doesn’t know a hater is, in my mind, close to the pinnacle of irresponsibility, ignorance, and extreme bias.  Speech such as that serves only to further divide, not heal.  Speech such as that is not fitting for any kind of religious setting where Jesus Christ is held up as the example of true love.

We are all guilty of what this woman did on Sunday morning.  We all tend to paint all who disagree with us with the same brush.  We all stereotype.  We all categorize.  We all are guilty.

As Christians, we must do better.  As Christians, we must listen more and talk less.  As Christians, we must, as best we can, remove our biases and prejudices.  As Christians, we must take the WHOLE of Scripture into account when forming an opinion.  As Christians, we must love with both words and actions.  As Christians, we must refrain from division-causing speech or deeds.

What this woman said was not becoming of her, her denomination, her vocation, or her congregation.  It was petty, mean, divisive, and seemed almost hateful in itself.   We can do better.  We must do better.