Old (or not)

I suppose it’s important that I write something about the end of the old year and the beginning of the new.  My problem is that 2005 doesn’t seem at all like an old year, and 2006, although coming in just six hours or so, seems like it’s far, far into the future.
1933 seems like an old year.  1956 seems like kind of an old year.  1978 was just a couple of years ago, and 1991 was just a few months ago, wasn’t it?  And 2006 might as well be 2125 for all my mind knows.  I just can’t fathom the numbers.
Even though I’m the middle child, my family asks me things about “the old days,” as if I’m a white-haired grandfather rocking on the porch of the old folks home reminiscing about the times past and gone.  Does that mean I’m old?  I think of 1963 and the JFK shooting like it was yesterday.  Does that mean I’m old?  I recollect listening to the radio on Saturday morning when the serials were still on.  Does that mean I’m old?  I call to mind when the neighborhood got the first television, before KTVH (now KWCH) out of Wichita, the first Kansas televisions station, came on the air.  Does that mean I’m old?
What is old?  Is it white hair?  No hair?  Memory?  Lack of memory?  Stiff joints?  Artificial joints?
I’m not as sure now as I was some years ago.  I don’t feel old.  I don’t even look very old.  Is old a state of mind?  Is it physical?  Some combination of the two?  I don’t know, but I’m in no hurry to find out, either.  Where once I would have attacked the challenge of answering those questions with relish, I now know that there will be another day to work on them, and if not, they’re not that important anyway in the great scheme of things.

Blues Time

This time of the year is easily, for most people, the most depressing.  Christmas and the New Year notwithstanding, this is when, it seems, the most serious effects of depression set in and just hang out in the lives of many.  We tend to be more melancholy, gloomy, and down in the dumps during this time than at any other.  We long for the freshness and promise of spring.  We just know that the new year will be better than the old.  We long to go out and dig in the dirt, plant veggies and flowers, and clean up the yard.
For some, the blues are just a seasonal thing and it isn’t a big deal.  For others, it’s a real emotional battle to just get through the winter months.  Medications sometimes help.  Counseling sometimes helps.  Light helps, too.  Brightly-lit rooms and the right kinds of lighting can make a great difference in our mood and temperament.
The good thing about this time of the year is that the very thing which brings on longer days, better temperaments, and warmer temperatures, has already begun.  The shortest day of the season was around December 20.  That day was only 9 hours 25 minutes long in Topeka.  Since then the days have been lengthening.  Come June 21 or so, the day will be 14 hours 55 minutes long.
So, for those of us who are already tired of winter, have been cold for the past three months, and are ready to pack the kids (or the husband, mother-in-law, or whoever lives in your house) off to Siberia, take heart.  The days are getting longer and it’ll just be a matter of time until we see the effects in warmer temperatures, budding trees, and renewed life outdoors.  Hang in there.

Dry Well

I haven’t written here for a couple of days.  Sometimes the words just don’t come out as readily and smoothly as other times.  This is one of those times, and it’s lasting several days, it seems.
It’s not that writing is a chore, or that I don’t like to do it.  I am mesmerized and awed by the power of words, and think that words in print have a special ability to communicate again and again.  It’s just that sometimes the well isn’t full or has temporarily run dry.
I like to say things in which others might like to take interest.  One can write only so many times in favored topic areas without becoming redundant and old.
So as I look to the rest of the day (I’m writing a little after 8am), I realize that one phone call can change the entire course of the day and that the best laid plans…well, you know that old saying.  Today is supposed to be a down day for me, but often it turns into one of the busier times; maybe because I don’t really plan anything for the day and the time just seems to fill up.  One of these days, I will learn to make my planned down time just that…down time.
Maybe, too, something will happen to recharge the well.  Maybe I need to spend time today with the Source of the water that enables us to “never thirst again.”  Maybe, just maybe, Someone is trying to tell me something today.

The Funeral

As I was walking from the library in Sterling, Kansas today back to my father-in-law’s home, there was a funeral procession that passed by on the street.  It wasn’t a large procession, about 20 cars, but there seemed to be several people in each car.
I didn’t pause long, but as I walked back to his home, I thought about the fact that these people suffered a loss during the holiday season.  I don’t have a clue who the person was or when they died, but the funeral was this afternoon.
I briefly recalled a couple of deaths in our family that took place during the holidays.  My grandfather died during the holidays in 1966.  My mother passed away in 1985 during the Christmas holiday season.  Each time, we had the funeral sometime, I think, during the week between Christmas and the New Year.
Death is part of life.  Funerals are part of living.  And considering one’s own mortality, from time to time, is part of humanity.  We do well to remember that we are not invincible.  We will die one day eventually.  Are we who and what we wish to be here and now?  Are we ready to give it up and let others take up the fight
And what about the God thing?  If there is a God and an afterlife, are we prepared to meet Him and deal with Him?  You see, if there is no God and no afterlife, and yet we prepare, our preparation won’t matter.  It’ll all end up the same.  But if we’re unprepared, betting all the marbles on no afterlife, then we find out too late that there indeed is a God and an afterlife….

Promises Kept

Now that Christmas is over, the Christian world (and all the rest, as well) can hurtle on down to the coming new year and all of the hope and promise that it brings.  Many of us are eager to start over again with at least a semi-clean slate, and we often try to do that with the coming of the new year.
In a way, it is indeed a new start.  Of course, we bring into the year much of the garbage and crud from the old, but we also look for the promise of better things…paying off a credit card, making a career change, graduating from college, starting a family, forgiving a friend.
I don’t mind if folks look at the new year as a way to begin again, especially if it’s the beginning of something good and right and decent.  Of course, we can never really start over, nor can we ever wipe the slate completely clean.  Like coming into the house with doggy do-do on your shoes, there’s always something unwanted or unneeded that sticks with us as we pass over the threshold of time into the new year.
Long ago, there were people who were looking forward to a better relationship with their Creator, assured that even though they didn’t see the fulfillment in their day, the better relationship would eventually come.  The writer of the book of Hebrews says of these folks, “All these died in faith, without receiving the promises, but having seen them and having welcomed them from a distance, and having confessed that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.”
We, too, welcome not only the promise of better things in 2006, but the continued realization of the promises made to those of long ago.  And that, dear friend, is the hope I have for you in this coming year…that you will experience the realization of the fulfillment of the promises made by God Himself in the coming year.

Go and Do Likewise

Today is Christmas Day.  It’s really rather anti-climactic for us because we did our celebrating yesterday.  We’ve had a kind of an “open house” the 23rd, 24th, and today, and although everyone has gone by this time (2pm), we had a good time.
Our youngest offspring and his fiancé were with us until just a few minutes ago, and yesterday my youngest brother and his family made the trek from Wichita in the rain.  Before they arrived, my wife’s first cousin, whom we hadn’t seen for awhile, stopped in for a couple of hours and we caught up on the goings-on in their family, and they with ours.
We opened gifts yesterday afternoon and had a huge dinner about 2pm yesterday.  We then grazed on the cookies, eggnog, leftover ham and fruitcake the rest of the day.  Bro left about 7:30 last night and we started the clean-up.
It’s been a good Christmas.  Not because of what any of us gave or received as gifts, but because of the reminder of the brevity of life, the love of others, and the grace and mercy of God.  We know that something bigger than us is at work, and it isn’t the American Economy.  It is, rather, a realization deep within us of a longing for something more and something better.  Something that is rock-solid and perfectly dependable.  Something that transcends all the glitter and hype of an imperfect world and existence.
If you’ve found it, you know it.  If you haven’t, you know it.  If you’re not sure, and you’re looking, contrary to what others will tell you, DO NOT look within.  Look instead to those who have found it (you’ll know them, too), and ask them to tell you about it.  Then go and do likewise.

Scrooge Time

I’ve been accused (with some validity to the accusations) of being a Christmas scrooge.  I have never been stingy and greedy, as the fictional character, but have never really made a big to-do over the holiday.  I hereby confess that the scrooge act is just that…an act.  I really do enjoy the holidays.  I just have difficulty when it comes to sparkling, luminous, and jolly.
I enjoy several things about Christmas.  I enjoy hearing good renditions of the carols.  It seems that everyone has a Christmas collection out, but there are considerably more collections than there are GOOD performances.  I like choral groups and songs such as found in The Messiah.  I like solo performances, if done by someone who can sing (The Beatles, Johnny Cash, and Madonna cannot sing).  And I like the old crooners such as Bing Crosby.
I also enjoy decorating outdoors with lights.  No flashing lights.  No strings of white-only lights.  No fancy motion displays.  Just colored lights.  Our town home does not lend itself to that this year, and I’ve only decorated some bushes out front and hung the old wooden tree that my folks had for many years.  I miss the hundreds of lights and multiple strings that I used to hang on our fence in Harper.  I had a thousand feet of lights there, and it looked pretty good.
I like the relatives, friends, and all that go with them…meals, games, visiting, etc.  There’s nothing quite like being surrounded by others who know and love me, even though I have some scrooge-like qualities.
I also enjoy our annual family name-drawing each year.  There are enough in the family that we don’t tire of it and are challenged each year to find something appropriate for a family member.  This year my niece Anna had my name.  I received a big box from her with three gifts inside, individually wrapped.  Am I the favorite Uncle Jay or what???
So, you enjoy the holidays by being bubbly, enthusiastic, and radiant.  I’ll enjoy them just as much, and with a lot less energy expended.  Above all, I know I have a hope and a faith in the One who is the great I AM.

Giving and Mercy

Yesterday and today I have been fighting sinus headache and congestion.  It’s a common malady borne by many.  It doesn’t seem to matter the season of the year.  Many folks are hit with it.  However, with the modern over-the-counter medications today, it’s a lot less of a day-breaker than it used to be years ago.
Last night our church gathered gifts collected over the past couple of months and trooped over to the assisted living center next door.  It’s a small center, with 22 residents and about as many staffers.  We took baskets filled with things the center administrator indicated was needed by all…tissue, lotions, shampoos, etc.  We also gave each resident a gift we chose from a list that the residents themselves made.  One man got a set of earrings.  Another got a boom box.  A woman got a nice robe.  It was a warm feeling to help with this project…giving to those who had need.
One woman had only two outfits to wear.  She was a heavy-set lady, and had only two dresses that fit.  We got her another one.  Still another needed slippers, but didn’t have the funds to purchase any.  We got a pair for her.
We also gave $50 gift cards to each of the staff members.  Those people work hard and their pay isn’t what it ought to be.  We hope that will make a little difference in their holiday.  We also hope that the children from our church that handed out the gifts and sang some songs learned something about giving and mercy.
We don’t necessarily think that all of the staff and residents will suddenly come over to our church and be converted.  If one or two of them decide to continue the relationship with us, that’s nice.  We did it primarily to demonstrate the grace of God through us in order that God might be glorified by our poor attempts to do good here on this earth.  We call it “gift-oriented ministry.”
After all, that’s the real purpose of our existence…to glorify God.  When we come to realize that, we also understand that it’s all about Him and not about us.  Then it all seems to fall into place.

The Choir

As I sit at my computer, I have KPR (Kansas Public Radio) on the speakers.  I’ve been listening to the music of the holidays in my vehicle, and now through the wonder of streaming audio, it’s coming out of my computer.
As I came back from a visit with church members this morning, a choir was singing “Gloria” on the radio.  I thought back to those times when I was part of a choir that sang songs such as this.  I was in high school choirs long ago, and have been part of church choirs, community choirs, and other choirs for all my life.  I’ve sung Hark The Herald Angels Sing, Sleigh Ride, The Heavens are Telling, The Messiah, Carol of the Bells, Lo How a Rose Ere Blooming, and scores of others.
I long to sing in a choir again.  There’s something about hearing the combined voices of others along with yours that tells you that you are part of something special…something greater than you alone, and something greater than all of the individual selves.  When a choir “gets it” and does the music right, it truly is an awesome thing to be part of that.
That kind of electricity in a group demands that each one give of him or herself in a way that opens up the heart and makes one vulnerable.  It seems that it is this combined openness and vulnerability that the audience as well as the choir feeds upon.  The feeling is indescribable, and is one to be savored and treasured.
I have no clue whether I will ever be part of a choir again.  My voice never was really good, and it certainly isn’t what it used to be.  So many people have more talent and ability in that area that I’m not sure it will happen.  But just in case it does, I will be ready.  I’m ready to take a chance…to become vulnerable.  It’s worth it.

The Shower

This past weekend, I was “privileged” to drive my lovely wife and her sister to a wedding shower for our soon-to-be daughter in law. The event was in a small town in Western Kansas, and because of the snowfall, I drove them to the event, then back home.
I fully expected to be banished to the crawl space under the basement stairs during the event, lumped in the corner listening to the oohhs and aahhs emanating from the upstairs parlor. I was pleasantly surprised to find that instead of a crawl space, I could occupy the family room along with the father of the bride and two or three small children who were not shower attendee material.
I don’t have a clue what qualifies a particular gift wrap, present, hairdo, or whatever for an “oohh” or an “aahh”, but I’m sure my qualifiers are different than those of women at a wedding shower. Nor do I understand why they went around with clothespins attached to their blouses (something about crossing their legs…when the explanation got to that point, I quit listening), but some definitely had more clothespins than others.
I enjoyed the interaction with Terry (father of the bride), and we talked about hunting, work, kids, home, and religion. I know, I know, you’re never supposed to talk politics and religion with the in-laws, but this was unavoidable. I am an associate minister for my church, and in the course of talking about employment, well, the topic just sort of comes up automatically.
We parted company when he had to report for work, and we decided to continue the conversation at some other time. I read some in a book I had brought, then was invited to the table for snacks. I felt like I was being let out of the cage to be fattened up for the grand finale, but instead, the party just sort of ended.
I now can proudly wear a tee shirt (which I may get sometime) stating that I survived a wedding shower. It must also be a sign of good things to come that I wasn’t banished to the basement storage under the stairs when we arrived. Maybe the in-laws will be all right after all. At least, I didn’t have to worry about crossing my legs.

Common No Longer Goes With Courtesy

I was in the pharmacy getting medicine for my high blood pressure.  While there, I picked up some other items and headed to the checkout.  The lines were rather long for this pharmacy this time of the day, and I soon found out that the computers that handled debit and credit cards were very slow, and those that handled the checks weren’t much faster.
As I waited in line, I noticed a woman juggling several small items, obviously trying to not drop one of them.  If she would have dropped any, she wouldn’t have been able to pick it up due to the continued need to juggle the rest of the items.  She also was nervously looking at the clock.  I could only imagine that she had some place she needed to be, and was concerned about getting out of the store in time.
My line went faster than hers due to several cash customers ahead of me.  I wasn’t in a hurry, so I told the woman she should go ahead of me in my line.  She thanked me profusely and stepped into the line.  It happened that as she was paying for her items, I also was able to check out at another register.  The clerk, by the way, thanked me for allowing her to go ahead of me.  I went near her, placed my hand on her back as she was leaning over, and said, “Have a good day, ma’am.”  She thanked me again and we parted company.
Why is it that we feel so good when we do something like that, and why is that kind of thoughtfulness so hard to find sometimes?  It makes everyone feel good, the clerks, the giver, and the receiver, and costs nothing except a little time on my part.  I rather imagine I wasn’t in the store more than about 45 seconds longer as a result of my action.
I don’t pretend to hold myself out as the embodiment of courtesy.  I’ve been known to be assertive, and even rude at times, much to my chagrin.  We all need continuing education in basic courtesy, and some of us need the basics taught to us for the first time.  Sadly, it seems there’s nothing common anymore about common courtesy.

There's Always Next Year

I finished the last of the Christmas shopping today. It doesn’t ever take much for me to shop for Christmas anyway, and I certainly don’t want to drag it out longer than necessary. So I went to the local Hastings and picked out something for my sister in Michigan that I thought she would like (but wasn’t on her list).
I bought my wife’s present some time ago. I was downtown and stopped at a store I had heard about in an advertisement on the local radio station. I’m not saying what kind of store because she knows about this blog, and I don’t want to give it away, although I suspect from the size of the box that she knows where I got it, anyway. Those two gifts, and I am finished.
Tonight we are sending out Christmas cards, complete with the required letter outlining all of the great and glorious things that happened to our family this past year. I was selected to write the letter this year, and hope I did well. I’m not sure anyone reads those letters. I read a few of the ones we get, but certainly not all of them.
In about 10 days, it will all be over. Christmas will have come and gone, the packages opened, gifts exchanged, cards read, and meals cooked. We Christians will think we have done our duty for yet another year as we remind ourselves that the real reason for the season is the birth of the Christ child, even as we practice our gluttony, satisfy our greed, and look forward with fear to the receipt of January’s credit card statements.
I rather suspect that God’s emotions this time of the year range from anger to sadness to laughter. I shudder to think that He may be laughing at my feeble excuses, angry with my bull-headedness, and sad that I just don’t get it. Maybe next year. There’s always next year. God, just be patient with me. I’ll do better next year.

That Old Feeling

I was driving down Southwest 29th Street today minding my own business when I faintly heard (above the public radio classical holiday piece of the hour) what I thought was a siren or a horn. I looked into my rearview mirror and saw an ambulance careening up the road, partially in the left turn lane, and partially in the inner, or passing lane of the four-lane road. I quickly got over to the right and stopped.
The ambulance went by me doing probably 45 or 50 miles an hour, using the siren and air horn all the way. It was going relatively fast, but the driver was using good judgment, it seemed. There was a sense of urgency in this 10-39 (police jargon for lights and siren) run that I don’t often see in my community. I could only imagine that they were going to a severe trauma, code blue, or perhaps a 10-48 (jargon for an auto accident with injury).
As an EMT myself, I know first hand what it is like to drive down a busy thoroughfare with that sense of urgency. I know the rush and thrill that comes when using lights, siren, and air horn. I know what it feels like when others pull over, and what it feels like when they don’t. I know that the crew was probably thinking and planning their actions once on the scene. One of the crew members could have been in the back pulling equipment. I also know what accident scenes, trauma scenes, suicide scenes, and medical scenes look like, sound like, and smell like.
I pulled into the shopping center I was headed for, and made my purchase. When I came back to my vehicle, that old adrenalin rush feeling I got when I first saw the ambulance was still with me, even 10 or more minutes after the encounter with it. For a brief time, I wished I had been driving that rig. Then I stopped and realized that I probably would not renew my certification after 2006, and that my career as an EMT effectively was over when we moved to this area.
I am beginning to put this part of my life, as I have so many other parts, into the file of “been there, done that” with no practical inclination to ever retrieve it from there. I know I’ve probably driven an ambulance 10-39, as well as some other things, for the last time. EMS has been a huge part of my life for the past 15 years. It is rapidly becoming one of those last time things. I am sorting through the files. I am assembling memories and memorabilia. And I am thanking God that I was privileged to be part of something good and noble and right…to serve my friends, acquaintances, strangers, and those I love. It’s been a good ride (err…pardon me…a good drive).

Cloudy Is Relative

It’s been cloudy most of the day today, and is supposed to rain later this evening. The weather has matched my mood for most of this day. Is that supposed to happen with regularity?
My day started with a visit to the hospital where a friend was having surgery to remove an infected toe. She has had continuing issues with this, and has had one toe removed already. They now have to remove the next one and tell us that she probably will have to have the others removed at some future time.
I’m not sure how one walks and balances without toes. We never think of them until and unless they hurt. We ignore them, step on them, mash them, crowd them into too-small shoes, and generally behave badly toward our toes.
But for some folks, toes are very important. Some have had their toes transplanted to their hands to replace missing fingers or thumbs. Some use their feet and toes as hands and fingers because they have no arms or their arms have no hands. Many of us use our toes to maintain balance, walk normally, and make us feel pretty (painted toenails!!).
The real issue here is that she is a hairdresser. I have to wonder just how she will be able to maintain her business and do all of the standing that she needs to do in order to wash, cut, and style hair. She’s in her early 50’s, and has a lot of living to do yet. She’s also a recent widow, and lost her father about the same time she lost her husband. She’s had her share of grief and pain.
I feel so helpless, sometimes, in my ministerial role. Like Father Mulcahy on M.A.S.H., I sometimes feel like it’s others that do the real work and I just pray and offer words of comfort. Many times I feel like it’s too little, too late. Then I look at my self-pitying and ask myself if I’d rather be in a hospital with a couple of toes cut off.

Leaving the Past Behind

For virtually all of my life, I have lived and worked in rural Kansas. Except for a time in the late 1960's (now, that dates me) when I lived and went to school in Wichita, and a time in the early 1980's when we lived in Oklahoma, I have enjoyed the good life that is to be found in rural Kansas.
That all changed about a year ago when finding work meant moving to Topeka. Many folks wouldn't consider this city to be a large one, but for a plain-spoken farm boy from rural America, this is truly the big city. Not only that, but it is also the capital of Kansas. What a deal.
In a very real way, I've used this past year to leave the past behind and "press on" as Paul the Apostle says somewhere in his writings. City life is growing on me. The noise and crowded streets no longer bother me as they used to do. I no longer look at each person I meet, thinking that I should wave at them on the chance that I also should know them. Instead, there is a wonderful sense of anonymity that comes from living here.
Many people wouldn't understand that, and would welcome someone...anyone...knowing and recognizing that they exist. I already have that luxury. I have family on both sides that love and care for me. My wife is the joy of my life. My sons are getting married next year, and I have many friends from past associations, residences, and work places.
I have no clue how often I'll write, or even if I will continue this. Nor do I know how many, if any, will read this. We'll see. Welcome.