Year End

Today is the last day of 2007. I could, at this point, go on about where the years have gone, lamenting the aging of myself along with the general population, and the seeming flying by of society and technology while I sit on the sidelines. But I’ll spare you those things this year and concentrate on something else.

It is said in some circles that older people don’t learn nearly as well. I don’t know if it is the collective resistance to learning new things, an innate inability to learn due to diminished brain cell function, or something else that makes people say that. I do know, however, that 2007 was one of those years that this late-50’s person learned, and learned a lot. Not that I caught up on technology or learned a new language, but rather that I learned about life and living in a way that made the whole experience worthwhile.

I won’t bore you with the details. You may well already know most of them anyway if you keep up with my blog. Suffice it to say that I am more compassionate, more appreciative, and more grateful now. There’s something about working with teenagers and their families, with those who survive day to day, with unemployment, and with a church family that truly cares that makes all but the most-hardened knot heads take pause. Thankfully, I don’t believe I am one of those in the most-hardened category (although I’ll defer to the wife for a final determination).

What will the new year hold? I haven’t a clue, but I know that whatever it is, I want to be part of it, because The Adventure Continues. Now the God of peace, who brought up from the dead the great Shepherd of the sheep through the blood of the eternal covenant, even Jesus our Lord, equip you in every good thing to do His will, working in us that which is pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever and ever. Amen.

Why Do We Do That?

When things are routine for us, we have so-called ruts we get into and stay in as we go about our daily lives and living. But when that routine is disrupted, we many times have to get out of those ruts and plow new ground. It’s uncomfortable for us, but sometimes is productive as we try new things and gain new appreciation for others.

Then when the routine returns, we quickly go back into the ruts we’ve plowed long ago. For some reason we become comfortable in them, even if they aren’t best for us. We tend to gravitate back to them, abandoning the newly plowed ground that provided some refreshing change and insight to life and living.

Now, why do you suppose that would be? Why would we prefer the old, established way to the newer, more exciting way? Why would we prefer the familiar to the new? Why would we continue to put up with the same old habits and ways when we’ve already had a taste of doing things differently?

I’m not saying here that everything we do by force of habit is bad. Many of those habitual things are that way because they are good for us and help us in life. But there are some that we could just as easily do without, or replace with something that is markedly better for us. Yet we greatly resist, at times, those changes.

Paul the Apostle said once, “For what I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate.”

Even though Paul was talking about the law of sin and his propensity to succumb to its temptation, I think the principle applies. It seems that this practice of doing what we really don’t want to do may well be something that infects humanity in many cultures over many times and epochs.

As I get back into the groove (rut) of having a job and earning a living, I find that I also fall back into the old habits and thoughts that accompany that way of life. I find that I am less compassionate toward those who are homeless or in other dire straits. I find that I become more judgmental toward others, and that I feel somehow superior to them. I find that my communication with those I love becomes more strained as I go back into myself in a kind of protective mode.

Those are the kinds of things I do not want to do, and struggle with even now. I want to retain the lessons I’ve learned over the past few months and allow them to remake me into someone who is more like the God I proclaim to serve. How can I do anything else?

Faithful

It’s been since Christmas Day that I blogged. Since then, much good has happened. The evening of the 26^th, a man called and offered me the position I had been wanting with a new nursing home that was starting up in Wichita. The pay was even more than I had hoped it would be and I readily accepted.

Then the next morning, the Director of Nursing at the same home called my wife and offered her an RN job at the facility. So we are both employed, now, or rather will be shortly.

I would say something like “God is faithful,” thinking that since we have work, He is faithful to us. However, that is the wrong idea. I am grateful we have work. I am thankful that this chapter of our lives is apparently closing and another chapter of the great adventure is beginning. However, God is always faithful, regardless of whether or not we have work, are sick or well, rich or poor, homeless or have a home.

I believe that although there are many coincidences in life, there are also many times when the Hand of God is at work. I don’t know if my seeing the small ad in the newspaper was coincidence or not. I don’t know if my having a second thought about NOT applying for the job was a coincidence or not. Nor do I know if my taking my resume at a time when the man had time to sit down with me for an hour or more was coincidence or not. And I don’t know if having my wife with me (waiting in the vehicle) and the man asking me to get her because they were also looking for nurses was coincidence or not.

I do know that we have work. And the work is something we think we will enjoy and will give value to our employer for what we are paid. We believe we will derive satisfaction in our work, helping those who cannot help themselves.

And so I again say, “God is faithful,” knowing that even if we would not have work yet, I could say that with a straight face and in truth. And I know that whatever happens, we know that we are loved, cared for, and appreciated.

Christmas Day

Today is Christmas day. It’s the 59th Christmas I’ve seen in my life. We are in Emporia today, spending the day with our son Scott, Laura, Rachel, and (unborn) Gabriel. This will be the first Christmas I’ve spent in Emporia. There have been Christmases in Ardmore, Oklahoma, Goodland, Kansas, and many other places, but Emporia is a first.
The world has changed considerably since Dad wrapped up the American Flyer train set in several different packages and gave parts of it to each of the kids. I got track, if I remember right. Brother Max got the engine. I don’t know about any of the rest of it. We set it up in the unfinished, cold west bedroom on a piece of plywood that had an extra foot or so scabbed onto the side of it to accommodate the width of the layout.
It was a wonderful time of aluminum trees, light sets that went out if one bulb went bad, bubble lights, orange marmalade brought back from the once-a-year Wichita shopping trip, homemade ornaments, school vacation, and people coming to the house. Sometimes some of the King family would show up. Sometimes it would be the Planks. Sometimes we’d go somewhere else.
I’ll never forget the meals and fellowship when we went to Mervin’s (my uncle) out west of town. The meals were superb and their place was wonderful for exploring…tree rows, outbuildings, and all the rest. They also had a basement where we could play with Mervin’s homemade foosball, cards, or whatever else (remember stadium checkers?).
Now, we have digital music from a computer, DVD Christmas movies, electronic ornaments, and designer hot chocolate. We can run to the store on Christmas day for a forgotten food item and carry a portal to the world on our hips. We travel hundreds of miles without even thinking about it, and orange marmalade is no big deal.
But some things never change. Family ties and gifts under the tree. Ham, pumpkin pie, and peppermint ice cream. Bean and Bean (some won’t know what this is…ask sister Marianne). Christmas eve traditions. They’re all there just as they were years ago, and just as they’ll be as long as God permits.
One other thing that never changes is what Christmas Is All About. Linus, wise beyond his years, succinctly and clearly tells the world every year in It’s A Charlie Brown Christmas what the season is really about. I’ll close with his speech.
Charlie Brown: I guess you were right, Linus. I shouldn't have picked this little tree. Everything I do turns into a disaster. I guess I really don't know what Christmas is all about. [shouting in desperation] Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?
Linus Van Pelt: Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you what Christmas is all about. [moves toward the center of the stage] Lights, please. [a spotlight shines on Linus]
Linus Van Pelt: "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, 'Fear not: for behold, I bring unto you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.' And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'" [Linus picks up his blanket and walks back towards Charlie Brown]
Linus Van Pelt: That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.

We Are Not Forgotten

I was laying in bed last night waiting for the wife to join me. It always takes me less time to get ready for bed than it does her. As I was laying there, I started to pray. I immediately thought of our situation here, no home, no job, and started praying about that. I stopped, however, after only a couple of seconds, and started to think of others that were in situations that also were not necessarily the greatest.

My mind quickly raced, thinking of many people who had chronic problems with health, finances, relationships, or work, and of people in situations that just weren’t the best. I just spent a second or two on each one, thinking about them.

The thing that got me was the large number of people I knew that had issues. I must have thought of well over 100 people, and just kept thinking of more, never repeating.

When I finished, our problems seemed rather small compared to some of the people and problems I had remembered. After all, we have a place to stay, food on the table, and job prospects are still coming our way. We are apparently healthy, and have all of our arms, legs, and mental faculties.

If we’re still not working in three or four months, I might start to sound a little more desperate or despairing. But even then, I’ll know that we’re blessed and that God has not forgotten our situation. I may need to be reminded of that, but we’ll take one day at a time.

Saying It All

I had the chance to visit with some of the girls from the children’s home yesterday. It was after church, and we had a few minutes together while they waited for a ride.

I heard from one of the girls who is going home for good tomorrow. Another is going home for Christmas vacation, and others had other things to tell. All in all, it was a great conversation, and I got to catch up a little on the lives of the girls we once cared for in our household.

I thought on the way home about the conversations with the girls, and told my wife that when people deal with other people rather than other things, it can get very emotional very quickly. I still ache for those girls and the needs that they have. I still rejoice with the ones who are making progress. And I know that for every girl we were able to help there at the home, there are hundreds in the world that will never get the chance to make something of themselves and change in ways that will enable them to be the kind of women that God would have them be.

We did a good job at the home. That’s not a boast…that’s the truth. We impacted many lives, not only lives of girls, but of parents, grandparents, school staff, church people, and others. We have no regrets about the work we did there, the decisions we made there, or the turn of events that resulted in our dismissal from there.

One of the girls we cared for is now back home with her parents. They reside in the Wichita area and remain in contact with us. The dad wanted to speak at a public fundraiser a few months ago. The words of that parent to Pat and me that night as he spoke to the gathered crowd say it all. “You gave us back our daughter. Thank you.”

I wonder sometimes about the words that I sing in religious songs. Many songs that we sing as part of our religious celebrations, we sing many times in kind of a rote mode, not thinking much about what we are really saying. The Christmas carol Silent Night is one such song. Look at the third verse.

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth "

Just what is meant by those words? What is the subject? What is the verb or action word? We know this was translated from the German original, so the structure might be a little stilted and artificial, in order to make the English fit into the melody, but there indeed is a message there.

How about this. When we say the words “Son of God”, we are addressing the Christ child. We are about to tell Him something.

That something is, “Love’s pure light, radiant, beams from Thy (your) holy face.” The word “beams” is the action word, and “light” is the subject of the sentence. Radiant is an adjective describing the pure light of love that is beaming from the Christ’s face.

I’m not certain about the next line. “With the dawn of redeeming grace” could be attached to the prior sentence, as in, “Love’s pure light, radiant, beams from Thy holy face, (along) with the dawn of redeeming grace.” Or, it could be the beginning of a new sentence which states that the birth of Jesus is accompanying the dawn of redeeming grace. That could also be turned around to say that the dawn of redeeming grace is accompanying the birth of Jesus. In any event, the intent is to say, it seems, that God is extending redeeming grace to mankind through the birth of the Christ child.

This is just my opinion; others may have other opinions. What do you think? Would you care to give your ideas?

My, My!!

Has it really been a week since I’ve blogged??? Heavens!! My three readers must be forgaying (look THAT one up in your Funk & Wagnalls) waiting on me. My, my. I’ll have to blog more later as we’re on our way up to see the granddaughter this evening.

Urban Living

There are a lot of reasons why I like living in rural areas. No, I’m not talking about Goddard or Valley Center. I’m talking about Scott City or Grinnell (all in Kansas). You see, the first two cities are quickly becoming suburbs of the greater Wichita area. Their city limits buck up against the limits of other communities in the area, and it’s just a stone’s throw to travel to the largest city in Kansas. The other communities don’t stand a chance of becoming suburbs of anything and are struggling to keep an even keel.

However, once in a while, it becomes apparent that living in an urban area also has its perks. That happened to us just tonight when we attended the annual Christmas concert by the Wichita Symphony, with the Singing Quakers Alumni Choir of Friends University.

Those good folks in Grinnell didn’t have two chances in the world of taking in this concert. We, on the other hand, had a good time with friends and competent musicians and singers. The evening was lively, sparkling, and spirited. We thoroughly enjoyed our time at Century II.

While many people who have had access to these kinds of programs don’t think much about them, those of us who have not been able to participate in them due to geography have an entirely different attitude. We truly appreciate the effort these people make, and also appreciate those who sponsored this concert so that our tickets could be free tonight.

No Clue

We have some bad weather that is coming in today. The forecasters are calling for upwards of an inch of ice in the next 24 hours or so. We are under an ice storm warning.

I was listening to an AM radio station this morning (WIBW, 580 out of Topeka, KS). Their meteorologist was on the air explaining the situation to listeners. He was saying that there is a large area of warm air that has overridden a layer of colder air at the ground. When moisture condenses in the warmer layers and falls, it starts out as rain, but freezes when it goes through the colder lower layer. He also said that in some places, this colder layer of air could be only a hundred or so feet deep.

That’s the part that got me. We could have an inch of ice, power lines down, trees downed, and society totally disrupted by a layer of air that could be only a hundred or so feet deep.

Life is so fragile here. We think we have everything under control, and then we find out something like this. Our efforts to keep warm and comfortable quickly become priority and other things take second fiddle to the more primary things. We tell stories for years after going through something like this, and pat ourselves on the back for being ready and having extra supplies, etc. But in reality, life is at the whim of a hundred feet of cold air.

Who are we, anyway, to think that we have it all together. We don’t have a clue.

If you’re like me and most other people, you are a blood-relative of the family that claims you. Although some in this world are adopted, most of us are not, and do not fully comprehend what it means to be adopted. I know that I don’t.
That’s why it’s hard for me to understand the passages in the Bible that talk about us being adopted into the family of God. I don’t normally preach in this venue, but I will this time. If you don’t want to hear it, just don’t read it. Romans 8, Galatians 4, and Ephesians 1 all talk of our adoption into God’s family as His children, being lavished upon with all that comes with sonship.
Listen to just a few verses.

“In love he predestined us for adoption through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” Ephesians 1:4-10, NASV

In spite of what Paul says about adoption, I’ve always thought that it was kind of a second-class existence…not quite as good as blood, and not quite as safe and sure. I know that flies in the face of everything that is said in Scripture. I am only telling you what I feel, at times.
That has, thankfully, begun to change. Part of that change came in an “Aha!” moment as I read a portion of the article, Blessed Are the Barren by Sarah Hinlicky Wilson in the December 2007 issue of Christianity Today (beginning on page 22). I’m going to bore you yet again in this writing with a quote from that article. Ms Wilson says this concerning Jesus and His lineage.

Jesus, the new Moses, is the natural-born, only-begotten Son of God, but he is not the natural-born son of Joseph. Yet he must be Joseph's adoptive son. Two Gospels trace at great length Jesus' genealogy through Joseph, even while they both insist that Joseph played no part in Jesus' conception.

Matthew starts with Abraham, moves fourteen generations to David, another fourteen to Jeconiah, and a final fourteen to Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ. Luke moves in the opposite direction, starting with Jesus at the age of thirty, "being the son (as was supposed) of Joseph," through many sons and fathers, until the end when we reach "Seth, the son of Adam, the son of God."

Through adoption, Jesus is the son of David and heir to the kingdom. The genealogies are pointless unless adoption matters; unless it is real; unless the ingrafting really happens.

If that doesn’t open your eyes immediately, you’re either brain dead or you just don’t care. Think of it. The only way that Old Testament prophecy could be fulfilled was if Jesus’ adoption by Joseph was considered by God to be as good as blood lineage. And if God considered that to be so, how much more does He consider our adoption into the family of God to be as good as anything human blood lineage could do.

Who Am I?

Isn’t it amazing how one’s identity is wrapped up in something that is, when pondered upon, not at all who the person is? I’m talking of the most of us whose identity is wrapped up in what we do for a living. We identify ourselves, examine ourselves, assess ourselves, and pass judgment on ourselves based on whether we work or not, and what we do.
Right behind our names when we are introduced to someone is the question, “What do you do?” The answer helps to identify us as white collar/blue collar, intelligent/dim-witted, educated/unlearned, outgoing/introverted, driven/bored, and a host of other identities that we work hard to protect and/or improve upon.
Now, it’s a little difficult for someone to know this unless that someone has had work taken away and has to live sans the crutch of a job. Even going to school or being a stay-at-home parent is an acceptable “job” for an adult in this day and age. But to just do nothing is, well, somehow beneath us.
And maybe that’s part of the issue with how I feel at the moment. I am unemployed; therefore I am not contributing to society. As a result, I have no value to anyone and feel helpless and hopeless as I wander through days of looking for work, hoping someone somewhere will validate my worth and offer me a job.
Yes, yes, I know that those of you who know me and know that I am a Christian are thinking that I should know I have value to God and to others…family and friends. You are thinking that I should be satisfied in that, and to an extent, I am. I’m not sure what I would do without family, friends, and faith. It’s tough enough as it is. I can’t imagine going through this without the support of those who love me and accept me for who and what I am…other than my vocation.

Wallowing Around

I was in kind of a funky mood earlier this afternoon, and went back to the bedroom to try to nap it off. When one is unemployed, these kinds of perks (naps) are available. I know, though, that I don’t want a permanent trade-off of naps for employment.
I was laying on the bed and my mind raced to several things that have happened in the near (past two years) past. I relived those things yet again, as I have done many times before. Those same feelings of anger, frustration, and helplessness came out yet again, just as they have before.
Then I wondered why I did this? Why do I think about these things, allowing the same old feelings to surface yet again? This exercise helps no one and only continues the funk. Nothing will be solved, and I can’t change the past. It is what it is.
Maybe I was wishing that someone would throw a pity party for me. Maybe I was wishing that I could go back and fix the things I was thinking of that went wrong. Maybe I was trying to justify what I did or didn’t do in these situations. I don’t know.
What I do know is that the exercise I went through this afternoon did not one thing to or for me or anyone else that was productive. It was time that could have been better spent fixating on the love and grace of God, the beauty of the creation, or the everlasting word, which itself says it is “a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.”
Next time I’m wallowing around in the dark, maybe I need to look around and find that lamp which lights my way.

Chips and Dings

My brother has been remodeling his house. They bought it a few months ago. It’s nice, but dated so they have been making some changes. One of the first things they did was re-do the kitchen.
A couple of days ago, the men were here to install the new counter top in the kitchen. The top is made of genuine granite, and is a very nice addition to the home. The men spent some time with the installation, to be certain that everything was as it should be.
Yesterday, it was time to hook up the faucet and drains for the kitchen sink. I went ahead and started that job yesterday afternoon. Things weren’t going well, and I had to make several trips to the local hardware store for parts. You know how that goes…it seems that a job that should take an hour or so ends up taking three or four hours and a lot more trouble than it should.
While working with the faucet, a wrench accidently hit against the edge of the top where the sink hole was cut. The resulting chip in the granite was the first mar in an otherwise great looking counter top.
I don’t have to tell you that I was devastated by the slip. I know this wasn’t an inexpensive top, and less than 24 hours after installation, it has an imperfection due to something I had done. I went ahead and worked on the project, and after my brother came home, we finished it up.
I thought later in the evening about that chip. Here was a slab of granite rock…the stuff that mountains are made of, heavy, strong, and stout…beautifully cut and worked into a functional piece for a home, that was chipped because of a small hand wrench hitting it. The strike wasn’t hard, but apparently was at just the right angle and such that a chip ensued. I had inadvertently, it seems, found the Achilles heel of the top.
Although I’m sure they were disappointed, my brother and his wife took the news well. We’re still staying with them, and they’re still talking to us. And we think that the men may well be able to repair the chip when they come out to drill a couple of holes in the top in the next few days. They probably won’t be able to make it disappear, but can make it look much better.
Try as we might, the impressive facades we put up in our own lives sometimes melt away, and the Achilles heel of our lives is exposed and exploited by something seemingly small and insignificant. We all have our weak spots, and we all struggle daily with those small wrenches that seem to eternally chip away at our facades. The great thing about being a Christian, though, is that even though the wrench may create the chips, the Lord of the universe can not only repair me, but can make me “justified”…just-as-if-I’d never been chipped.
Who ever heard of a God like that!!

Water

Water is such an amazing thing. Besides the usual things about water being a universal solvent, appearing naturally in all three forms (solid, liquid, gas) on earth, having a high heat transfer coefficient, and other relatively amazing properties given it by the Creator, water is also, of course, necessary for life as we know it (for the most part).
We don’t usually drink enough water. Our modern lifestyle, which includes forced air heating and cooling, little exercise, and other things, tends to wring water out of our systems. We don’t feel thirsty, however, and don’t replenish ourselves as we should.
I am amazed at how much better I feel physically just a few minutes after downing a large glass of water (12 oz or better). I’ve learned that if I begin to feel lethargic or just not feel very well, many times if I drink a large glass of water, perhaps followed an hour later or so by another, that I feel better just a few minutes after the first, and continue feeling good and refreshed.
I also learned a couple years ago from an Audiologist that water is important to mitigate the dizzy spells I’d been having. My conventional thought was that I was harboring too much water in my system, causing my balance sense to become out of whack. The Audiologist said that just the opposite was true. He said that a lot of water is needed by those of us who have these spells to maintain the proper ratio of sodium to water in our bodies. He said it was sodium, not water, that causes the dizziness in many people, and a lot of water will not only dilute the sodium, but flush it out of our bodies.
Since I’ve been drinking water, I’ve not had another dizzy spell. And if I feel one coming on, a couple large glasses of water usually do the trick. The Audiologist’s fee was well worth the value of the advice he gave, since those spells would debilitate me for upwards of a day or more. Besides that, those spells were worse than any flu bug that has ever bitten. You think you wanna die when you have the flu….
So drink lots of water. Take in three or four glasses a day (12 oz or more each) even when you don’t feel thirsty. You may just feel a lot better for doing it.

Today has been a slow day for us. We had church this morning, of course, but we didn’t have Sunday School today since it is a holiday weekend. (We call it “Bible class” for some reason in our fellowship.) We won’t have small group meeting tonight, either. Other than those things, it is kind of a day of rest (which it should be, anyhow).
I never liked the idea of doing a lot of heavy work on Sunday. I don’t think there’s something inherently sinful in doing a lot of work, but always thought that the old Jewish idea of resting one day out of seven had some merit. To that end, I generally won’t do things like running the lawn mower, heavy lifting, hard construction, or the like. Nor do I expect my family to do it, either.
If I have to work on Sunday in my job, so be it. If I have to run the mower for some reason that just won’t wait, I’ll do it. But normally, I like to take things a little slower on Sunday. It just seems like an appropriate thing to do.
My wife has a second interview tomorrow for a job she’d really like to have. I have a first interview for a job I’d really like to have. Hopefully, one of us will be able to land a job this week.
I am really thankful for unemployment benefits. I know that they are abused by some, but the benefits certainly are lifesavers for us. I’m not sure why those benefits are taxed (income taxes), because they amount to only a percentage of wages and there are usually extra bills that have to be paid during times of unemployment. If I could change something about the system, I think I’d change that. Otherwise, Kansas unemployment seems to be relatively efficient and non-bureaucratic.
Staying with my brother is another lifesaver. I don’t know what we would have done had we had to find a place to stay on short notice. I can’t say enough what a blessing it is to be able to be here for awhile until we are able to be out on our own again.
We sang a song this morning in church that I really appreciate. The lyrics are below. I never can sing this song without thinking of our family singing it at the funerals of my parents, and at get-togethers since then. I didn’t even try to sing it this morning and just listened to the words. I commend it to you.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.

Refrain
Great is Thy faithfulness!Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.
Refrain

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!
Refrain

- Thomas O. Chisolm

Thanksgiving

It’s the day before Thanksgiving. This would normally be the time when I might wax eloquent (wax???) on being thankful for the blessings of life, but I don’t think I’ll do that today. Not because I’m not grateful or thankful. Not because I have no blessings. Not because I’m selfish. Rather, I’d like to think that I have an attitude of thanksgiving, more or less, throughout the year. I would hope that I’m not limiting my praise and thanks to family, friends, and God to this one day or time of year.
Instead of my doing something on Thanksgiving, I’d like to borrow a few lines from a lady by the name of Gail Musolf, who is the director of the Friendly Center, a senior citizens organization, and a deaconess in the Lutheran Church. I haven’t asked her if I can use these, but hope she doesn’t mind.
She uses the passage from I Thessalonians 5:16-18 as a text. In it, Paul writes, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”
Ms. Musolf then writes, “I do not think that God intends for us to be thankful for pain and suffering, for sin and evil, or for our inhumanity to each other. But I do believe that this passage is the blueprint for an attitude. Note the emphasis on constancy - 'Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.' "
She continues, “We can nurture the attitude of thanksgiving precisely because 'it is the will of God in Christ Jesus.' Jesus' suffering and death have brought us back into a right relationship with God, and it is in and for that relationship that we are able to foster thankfulness as an attitude, a way of being, a part of who we are.” (http://www.valpo.edu/lda/devotions/november.html)
Think on those words this week as you down the turkey and ham, and watch the KU/Missouri shootout on Saturday. Then go away from this week (regardless of the outcome of the game) with a renewed sense of joy and and thanksgiving.

Reminder

I was looking at the comments on the new blog started by my uncle. One of the comments was mine, one was from one of his sons, and one was from a granddaughter. I know the son, somewhat. We’ve not had interaction in quite some time…many years, in fact, but I think about him and his brothers and sisters more often than one might think.
I don’t know the granddaughter at all. But I followed the link and found her blog. She doesn’t blog often, but has been consistent for the past couple of years with entries every so often. She has evidently had a busy life this past couple of years, having been in Europe and South America as well as in school, and doing all the other things a young adult would be doing.
Even though I don’t know her, I feel a kind of connection with her. Even if she may not feel the same kind of connection toward me, that’s OK. I have always had an interest in family, and like to catch up or keep up with what’s happening. Blogs are a great way to do that. I wish I had more blog addresses for more of my family.
When someone writes in a blog, and does so as I think blogs were meant to be written in, he or she opens up a part of themselves and lays it out for others to see. That can be unsettling to some, dangerous to others, and just uninviting to many more. However, it can also be cathartic, freeing, revealing, and something that prompts the writer to think, reason, question, and appreciate and enjoy life more.
And those who read it may find, if they choose to see, a window to a soul not their own. That window has within it the power to reveal truth, counsel acceptance, beg questions, create longing for meaning, develop empathy and compassion, and instill a wonder and marvel in the complexity and beauty of life.
I don’t know Joanna. But I’ve already begun to see some of these things in the window she opens in her blog. And maybe that’s where the idea of “connection” comes through…a kind of meeting of the minds through the miracle of the written word. (I’m reminded of John chapter 1…are you?)

Uniqueness

I was laying awake last night listening to a train go through town. Valley Center is on a major rail line of the BNSF Railroad. It’s not the busiest line, but there are 25 to 30 trains a day that go through, they tell me. We are about a mile from the tracks. It’s usually easy to hear the horns as they blow for the main crossings in town. They start out a higher pitch and gradually go down in pitch as they travel through (the physics of sound…look it up).
Some years ago, locomotives had an automatic horn that, when triggered, would blow two longs, a short, and a long. The automatic horns really detracted, I thought, from the uniqueness and the “experience” of a passing train. I’ve not heard that monotonous sound for a long time (automatic horns were easy to spot), and am thankful for that. Why?
Each engineer has his or her own method of sounding the horn, it seems. No two are exactly alike. Some stick pretty close to the two longs, a short, and a long. Some just blow long blasts. A few will hold the horn on continuously all the way through the intersections. Others will blow several shorter blasts. Some at night will blow the horn seemingly in order to not wake anyone, but remain legal. Some don’t care and will blast everyone awake. Some will turn on the bell (Most locomotives have a bell that when turned on will clang regularly. Look for it when observing a passing loco under the cab hanging below the main carriage over and just to the back of the front wheel trucks.). Others won’t.
When we lived by the tracks some years ago, I could tell that the same engineer was coming through on a train as before by the way he or she blew the horn. I never knew for sure as I couldn’t see in the cab, but I’d bet the farm it was the same one.
We’ve not lived here long enough for me to pick out certain engineers yet. I don’t know if we will be here that long or not, but I certainly enjoy listening as the trains go by. I only wish we lived a little closer….

Poetry in Action

We go into week four with no jobs lined up for either of us. Now, I know that isn’t a great way to start a blog, but that’s what I’ve been thinking about most of the day. My wife has had a couple of interviews with one scheduled on Monday of next week. However, I’ve not had any interviews or even contacts back from numerous letters and contacts made with employers. Maybe one of these days….
There are some things I have interest in that I’d like to pursue more, and will be more aggressive shortly with a couple of these. It’s always tough to know when or even whether one should make a second contact after the initial one. I don’t like job searches.
However, life doesn’t always give us what we like. Sometimes, we have to do what we don’t like, or even detest. That doesn’t mean that we’re bad or that something is very wrong. It only means that, as the saying goes, “Into each life some rain must fall.”


The Rainy Day
Written at the old home in Portland

THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Discombobulation

We spent the day yesterday, my brother and I, doing some plumbing on the water system of his home. He lives in an area where water wells are needed, and has a well, pump, tank, etc. His water system was not the best, with low pressure and flow rates pretty much everywhere in the house. So we took a shot at the plumbing coming into the house that hooks up to the tanks, thinking that might be the place that was causing the trouble.
He had a double tank system. There was a larger tank and a smaller one hooked in parallel. The pipes were large size, but older. When we took them apart, we readily found the source of the problem. Those large pipes were corroded so badly that there was no more than a pencil-width of clear space through them for water to pass. One of the tanks was apparently completely blocked and the plumbing had been installed with far too many elbows and turns.
The problem with the corrosion was far greater than we had expected, so he was disheartened that he may well have to replace the plumbing in the entire house. But we continued with just the part that we were working on in the hopes that it would at least make the water system tolerable.
Of course, a two hour job turned into all day. One trip to the hardware store turned into three trips to that store and one trip to each of two others. And when we finally finished late in the evening, we did have a drip or two.
However, we also have better water service to the rest of the house, and we know that the water well will produce 18 gallons of water a minute, something we didn’t know before because we didn’t have any way to test it before. Even with the drip or two that is in the new system, and the prospect of having to replace even more pipes, what we did was clearly an improvement.
How many times do we look at a problem and, instead of tackling it head on, push it to the background, hoping it will just go away? How often do we ignore something and just put up with it because we don’t want to have the temporary disruption that the cure would cause? I think that’s true not only with things like plumbing, but also with things in life…bad habits, dysfunctional relationships, crummy jobs, and others. Yes, the cure may cause some discombobulation, but the outcome is so much more pleasant, it’s really worth the trouble.

Mutual Trust

I drove into Wichita today to get a haircut. Yeah, yeah, I know that I could get one at the local Valley Center barbershop (actually, I think there are two or three of ‘em), but I enjoy going to the one across from Minisa Park on West 13th Street. Going to a new barber is a little like going to a new doctor. It takes awhile to get comfortable.
The drive in was uneventful, and the barber wasn’t busy so I got in the chair right away. We talked mostly about the oncoming closing of the 13th Street bridge over the Little Arkansas River, which was just a few feet from the front door of the shop. The powers that be plan to close the bridge entirely, causing traffic to have to re-route either to 19th or 21st Streets or up to 11th Street. In any event, the fact that North High School is on the other bank of the river will cause traffic tie-ups the likes of which haven’t been seen in awhile.
There was even a petition circulating in the community asking for reconsideration of the total closing of the bridge and the extended time needed to create a new one. There will be a meeting today at 3pm at the Riverside Café with city officials to discuss the issue.
My guess is that the petition will be ignored and the city officials will come to the meeting more to say what will happen rather than listen to concerns. I’m not personally involved in this, but have some experience with traffic flow to and from North High and along 13th Street. I think that they may have to close the street entirely in order to do the project, but I also think they can do some things to help alleviate the problems.
What about a temporary walking bridge across the river? What about traffic control signals at some of the intersections in residential areas that will suddenly be called upon to handle 10 times or more the normal amount of traffic? What about working 16 or 24 hours a day on the bridge in order to finish sooner? What about starting in March instead of the dead of winter so there would not be so many down days due to snow and cold? What about NOT re-doing the 13th and Broadway intersection, just a few blocks to the East, at the same time?
I don’t know if these are even feasible ideas, but they need to be thrown out there. And it could be that city planners have already thought of these things and for one reason or another have discarded them. That’s OK. We just need to know that we’ve thought of everything to try to make things as good as they can be during this time.
All too often, the government folks come to a meeting like this with a condescending attitude and the citizens come with a belligerent attitude. Both of those are inappropriate. Let’s see what happens here, and trust that things will work out the very best way possible.

The Promise

In our Sunday School class today, something was said about Jesus knowing that he was the promise of God. We have been talking about the well-known book by Lee Strobel called “The Case for Christ”. The topic today was whether or not Jesus knew that he was the Son of God.
Think about that for just a moment. Think what it must have been like for Jesus the man to also know that he was the only begotten Son of God. That he was the One upon whom the salvation of the creation (Romans 8) was hanging. That he was the One that was spoken of by the prophets of old and was the One that they and others looked forward to as they lived their lives in those old days. That he was the One to whom had been given “All Authority” and by Whom “all things hold together.” That he was the One of whom it was said, “He was despised and rejected by men.”
During the discussion, I was reminded of the lyrics to a song called “The Promise.” I’m not sure who wrote it, or I’d give proper credit here. I believe it was first performed by DC Talk, but am not even sure of that. I heard it performed by Allison Durham Speer on a Gaither video.


There’s A Promise Comin’ Down

Verse
A hand of fear gripped the crowd that day at Jiarius’ home
When the doctor shook his head and said “She’s gone”.
You could feel that mother’s heartbreak;
You could hear them cry and mourn;
Their little girl was only twelve years old.
Somewhere in the distance outlined against the sun,
There came a man with a mission from the throne.
They said “look somebody’s comin!’”
But what they did not know it was their promise comin’ down that dusty road.
Chorus
There’s a promise comin’ down that dusty road;
From his holy hands healin’ virtue flows;
He’s got the keys to what you need;
Death and hell He will defeat.
There’s a promise comin’ down that dusty road.
Verse
The wonder turned to mockin’ when Jesus did speak;
He said “Your daughter’s not dead she’s just asleep”.
Then he turned to the unbelievers and he told them all “go home”.
They heard him say “leave me and death alone”.
Then he laid his hand upon the child he looked death right in the eye;
He said “all power in heaven and earth belong to me”,
And with a voice that sounds like thunder he hurled death asunder,
And then he said “little girl rise and be healed”.
Chorus
There’s a promise comin’ down your dusty road,
And from his holy hands healin’ virtue flows.
He’s got the key to what you need;
Death and hell he will defeat;
There’s a promise comin’ down that dusty road.

Today is a knockout gorgeous morning in Valley Center. The air is crisp and cool, the leaves and other flora are every color of the rainbow, and the sun and wind are just the right proportions to make one feel the experience that is autumn in Kansas.
My nieces are coming home today, and will stay through tomorrow. They are away at college, and don’t make it home a lot. It will be a time of visiting and catching up for my brother and his family as they reconnect. We were able to do that with our boys last weekend as they came to Wichita for a visit and to support us in our transition.
It’s also the time to think about the holiday season. Thanksgiving is closer than we may think, and the Christmas holidays are not far off. Then comes the time of the year that I dislike the most…that time from about January 3 to the beginning of spring sometime in the first part of April. It seems that the days drag interminably, and the cold, wind, and winter weather just hangs on for an eternity.
It doesn’t, of course. Eventually, the ground thaws, things begin to bloom and grow, and the signs of yet another cycle of life are evident wherever one looks. I’m reminded of the Bette Midler song “The Rose” where the lyrics talk of the winter snows turning to the springtime.

The Rose
Written by Bette Midler

Some say love it is a river that drowns the tender reed;
Some say love it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed;
Some say love it is a hunger an endless aching need;
I say love it is a flower and you it's only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance.
It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance.
It's the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give,
And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong;
Just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows,
Lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring becomes the rose.

Customer Service

I had to call the Kansas Unemployment center today. It seems that I incorrectly answered a question on my first weekly claim for unemployment and had to call to straighten it out. I got my information together and set about to make the call.
After going through several menus, I was told that due to the high volume of calls, I should call back. It then hung up on me. I wasn’t very happy, but decided to call back later in the day.
A couple hours later, I wasn’t doing much and decided to call again. Going through the menus again, this time I hit a good time and someone was ready to take my call. Michelle was courteous, helpful, understandable, and fixed the problem for me.
I don’t like the menu system. I’d much rather tell someone what I need and have them route me to the correct person. However, I must say that at times I’ve found myself talking to someone who didn’t have a clue how to help me because the telephone person (could be male or female) either dialed the wrong extension or didn’t know that the person they were connecting me to was the incorrect person for the job. At least this way my call gets to the correct place, assuming I push the correct buttons.
A lot is said about government bureaucrats and their reluctance to do a good job. I don’t know much about Michelle at the Kansas Unemployment Call Center, but I am impressed with her. Her personality seemed to come out in the conversation, and she seemed to be a “real” human being, besides being able to take care of the problem.
I’ve also had good experience with the folks at KPERS, the Kansas Public Employees Retirement System. They do good customer service and treat their clients like they should. A live person always answers the phone there, and can usually answer any questions one might have. If not, you are quickly routed to another live person who can help.
Many private businesses could learn a thing or two about customer service from Michelle at the unemployment place, and the folks at KPERS.

Travel Adventure

I was looking at a book about New Zealand today. My brother traveled there a few years ago for his job, and evidently brought back a book with beautiful, National Geographic-like photos of the country.
Hot springs, volcanoes, mountains, lakes, waterfalls, pasture, cities, bays, wildlife, and a host of other subjects populate this book. New Zealand apparently is filled with places of beauty, awe, and not a little danger.
I’ve always had a fascination with the places “down under”. Ever since elementary geography, I’ve had a yearning to go to Australia or New Zealand. I’m not sure I want to endure the flight to get there, but if I could somehow teleport there, I’d go in an instant.
Just as was the trip to the lower part of Alaska, this would be an adventure to places that I’ve only read about, but would long to see. Crossing the equator and the international date line, and coming so close to Antarctica would be well worth the trouble, I would think.
Alas, I think that the New Zealand trip is farther off than Alaska ever was. But there’s always hope….

The Adventure Continues

Well, we are safe and warm and not hungry. We’re living with my brother for awhile until we can get back on our feet. We are so thankful to have family, and to have a church family that cares as well as biological family. I’m not sure what people do who either don’t have family or have burned bridges and family help is no longer an option. I know that we would be in deep doo-doo if it was not for those we know and love.
One of these days soon I’ll have to take a look at the blog and make some changes in the headline. The Adventure indeed does continue and I’ll not change that, I don’t think. We are saddened at what has happened, but yet cautiously optimistic that we will have yet another fulfilling and great adventure in this thing called life.
Our sons are here today and have helped carry and move things. They have also provided us with encouragement just by their being here. Granddaughter Rachel is a continuing joy and a sight to behold. These times serve to keep us together and bring us to the realization yet again of that home sometime soon where we’ll never have to move out…we’ll never be fired…and we’ll never be in need.
Thank you to all who have expressed support and have prayed for our situation. We are blessed to count you as friends. Thanks especially to Kevin and family, Marianne and family, Chris in Topeka, and others who have helped pack and move. We’re doing OK, and will be just fine.

Done

It is over. At least one chapter of our lives is over, and another is beginning. Due to an unfortunate set of circumstances regarding a procedural matter at the home, I am no longer employed there and Pat will be leaving shortly (this week, I think).
Although I’ll not write in the blog about what happened specifically, I will tell you emphatically that this has nothing at all to do with my relationships with the girls. I can’t stress enough how much we loved and cared for the girls, and we would never do anything to detract from their progress and growth. I will also say that, given the circumstances were the same, I would make the same decision again, no question.
I kind of liken our situation to the infamous preacher massacres that occur still all too regularly where the preacher lives in the parsonage and has to be moved out within 24 hours due to some issue that probably should never have been. Having said that, I’ll now say that we are living with my brother and his wife in Valley Center (bless them) and are taking some time to make decisions regarding what we will do next. I will also say that I hold no ill will toward the home and wish it, the staff, and the girls all the best.
I will also say that I believe with all my heart that the Evil One took an incident that should have been nothing and managed to make it into something that disrupted a successful program, caused anguish and pain all around, and caused the girls who were doing so well to have yet another thing to deal with. I don’t believe that any person or persons are or were controlled by the Evil One, but only that he took circumstances as they were and made them into something that caused havoc in the lives of people.
If you have read prior blogs, you know that I have been on him constantly and have been battling him face to face, so to speak. I will not back down now. I will not shrink back. I will not quit. I go on record today that I will continue the battle with all my heart and soul. I am more determined than ever to use the armor of God and the power of the Word of God (John 1) to battle this enemy.

Is There a Lesson Here?

Once in a while I click on a favorites listing in my browser for Antarctic weather. As of when I checked (6am this morning), the South Pole station operated by the United States was reporting 76 degrees below 0, and the Vostok station operated by the Russians was reporting 111 degrees below 0. I was interested in checking further, and Googled Antarctic weather.
I found out that the average relative humidity there is .03%, and there is less than 1 inch average snowfall in a given year on the continent. The coldest temperature recorded there was 129 degrees below 0 at Vostok in 1983, and winds sometimes reach 200 miles an hour on parts of the continent.
At the same time as the above temperatures were recorded, however, Palmer station, operated by the United States, was recording a balmy 22 degrees above 0. Talk of a land of contrast! On the same continent, there was 133 degrees of difference in temperature at different stations.
I don’t know about you, but I am a temperate climate person. Not having experienced the extreme cold of the poles or the extreme heat and humidity of the tropics, I don’t speak from much experience. However, I can’t imagine living in either of those places and being anywhere close to comfortable. Certainly, living there would be an adventure in both comfort and survival.
When we stop to think about it, we really have it pretty good here. We are amply and bountifully supplied with all that we need and more. We have the ability to make our environment even more temperate than normal with air conditioning and heating systems. We can humidify the air, de-humidify the air, clean the air, purify the water, and cook our food. Our waste products break down due to beneficial action by bacteria and other life forms. Overall, we have it made.
So why do we continue to complain? I don’t know. Maybe we’re a “stiff-necked people”, as Moses wrote long ago about Israel. They had it good, too, but couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Hmmm. I wonder if there’s a lesson there for us….

Freedom

I’m going to return to a topic I’ve talked about before. Some of my past blogs have talked about a girl that we recently admitted to Prairie View. I’ll call her Ariel. She has emotional issues that we are not equipped to deal with, so we had to admit her to another facility.
Ariel continues to vividly remind me of the song that I’ve put the lyrics of on my blog before. “Let Freedom Ring” is a song that talks of the freedom that can be had in Christ. Just yesterday I popped the DVD into the PC and played that song as performed by the Gaither Vocal Band. Doing that helps to “ground” me and reminds me why I do what I do.

Let freedom ring wherever minds know what it means to be in chains.
Let freedom ring wherever hearts know pain.
Let freedom echo through the lonely streets where prisons have no key.
We can be free and we can sing --- let freedom ring!

Ariel’s mind is truly in chains. The Evil One has seen to it that she will never be able to escape on her own. This is more than just mental health issues. This is warfare, and Ariel is a prisoner of war.
Ariel’s heart truly knows pain. She was told by her mother that she was a child of the devil. She literally believes that, in her childish way, I believe. Can you imagine the pain of this child as she processes that statement by her mother? Can you imagine what she thinks of her father?
Hers is indeed a wandering on the lonely streets of the prison of her mind. The Evil One has succeeded in isolating her. There is no key…only aimless existence until the key that is Jesus Christ unlocks the chains that bind and the doors that close her in.
I pray that in some small way, we can help her to accept the key to her freedom, which is Jesus.

A Long Day

I just spent all afternoon and long into the evening yesterday in an attempt to get mental health care for one of our residents. She’s not been with us long, and from the beginning demonstrated behaviors that could have been interpreted as mental health issues, but no one really knew for certain. We also did not get “the rest of the story” from the facility where she came from. They withheld information that would have been beneficial to us in making a determination whether to accept her or not. But that’s another blog.
After three elopements from school, three incidents of cutting, two incidents of theft, and many other negative behaviors, we determined that she needed help we were not equipped to provide. So we set out to find that help.
We’re not novices at navigating the mental health system in Kansas. We’ve done it before, and our Director of Services is a three-decade expert in Kansas mental health services. He knows his way around.
However, it isn’t as simple to obtain mental health services as it is to obtain services for, say, a broken arm. With the arm, you call an ambulance, show up at an emergency room, or go to a doctor’s office and they take care of you. With this issue, we had to go through three assessments within a 24 hour period, be seen by three different providers, visit with the insurance company, talk with providers, and generally cajole and convince people that this girl needed help. No psychiatrist ever physically saw her. Only one provider (behavioral health ARNP) ever talked with her.
I can understand why people hesitate to access these services…unless you know your way around, you get lost in the shuffle as they slide you back out the door you entered and onto the street. And the thing about it is they do it in such a way that you’re not even sure what happened until it’s all over.
What was supposed to be a direct admit to a facility (I’ll just tell you it was Prairie View in Newton, Kansas) turned into a four hour marathon of questions, phone calls, faxes, and thinly-veiled statements that she would not probably be admitted because she “didn’t meet criteria”. We had already obtained approval from the girl’s insurance, by the way. The doctor on call wouldn’t return his page. They called the medical director, who shoved us off onto another physician, who finally decided to admit.
I told the social worker who interviewed us (we never spoke with an RN or medical provider) that I was tired, hungry, and angry. I told her I would hold myself together in order to see this through for the benefit of the girl, but had no kind words for the system or for the facility. I asked the social worker what it took to obtain needed mental health services. She had no answer.
What would have happened had our girl been 18 years old and showed up there on her own to obtain services? She wouldn’t have had the staff at the children’s home, the ARNP, the counselors, the people at the insurance company, and others to make phone calls and ask professional friends and colleagues to help open doors for her. I know most of what we did to obtain services. It evidently takes at least that much. She wouldn't have had a snowball's chance on her own.
I’m not so tired today, but I am still angry. The admission to Prairie View will do little more than buy us more time to find an appropriate placement for the girl. We will have three to five days to make that determination and find an open bed for her. Prairie View will assess yet again, adjust medications, and warehouse her for the required period of time before declaring her “better” and dismissing her. At least Prairie View now has the burden of helping find an appropriate setting for her before they dismiss her. They cannot by law set her out on the street without needed services in place, even though I am convinced that they would do that in a heartbeat if they could. The story continues.

Being Set Free

I said in my last blog that I thought the common denominator for the issues and problems that are facing us is evil. I said that whatever you prefer to call it…Satan, the Devil, or whatever else…evil is the common theme. I am more convinced of that than ever.
Last night one of our girls cut her arm. This was the third time in the short time she’s been here that she’s done that. We took her for an evaluation, but they determined that since she wasn’t an immediate threat to herself or others (go figure), she didn’t meet the criteria for admission to a mental health unit. Never mind that she cut so deeply that the blood was dripping on the floor. Never mind that she said she likes to see the blood and let it dry on her arm. Never mind that she has said that she will up the ante until she is taken from this place. She’s back with us. One of the staff stayed up all night with her to keep her from harming herself in the night.
I also read the application for admission for yet another girl this morning. As I read through one of the narratives, I ran across the following statement, “Jeanna (name changed) must learn to take responsibility for her actions.”
If I’ve read that once, I’ve read it a hundred times. It seems that virtually every parent or guardian who has applied for admission to this place on behalf of their girl has said that or something like that in the application. There are indeed common threads in the issues that face these girls. And these threads are also common to the world at large.
Think of the episode some years ago when our President was involved with a certain female intern. He insisted that his statement that “I did not have a sexual relationship with that woman,” was correct because although she had a sexual relationship with him, he did not have one with her…he was a bystander and she was the one who was active in the relationship. If you recall what physical act the relationship primarily consisted of, you can use your imagination to determine the truthfulness of that statement.
Think of the Watergate mess some years ago. The same kind of word play and thought contortion, along with the desire to not have to take responsibility for their actions led several down the primrose path.
You may not believe in a being called The Evil One. That’s OK. You just continue on in your delusion. But in one of your more lucid moments, take a job as a caretaker for troubled persons. Become a school psychologist. Be a social worker. Teach in a public school. Be a counselor. Whatever. I don’t care whether it’s girls, boys, adults…makes no difference. You’ll soon find that you encounter The Evil One toe to toe, head to head, face to face, in the lives of those who are tortured by his schemes.
Things then become much more clear. You begin to see things as they really are. This world is sometimes not a pretty place. You can begin to understand why that great apostle Paul of Tarsus wrote that even the creation longs to “be set free from the slavery of corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God.”

Don't You Dare

I haven’t written in awhile. I’m sorry for the delay. You see, I’m becoming forgetful. Yesterday (or was it day before? Well, sometime this week.) was my 58th birthday (or was it 57? 67?), and we all know that old people become forgetful. Yeah, that excuse probably won’t fly any further than I can throw a cannon, but it’s the best I can do until my feeble brain can come up with something better.
It rained yesterday here. We had over an inch of badly needed showers and thunderstorms. It won’t result in much growing outside, as fall has also arrived and things are pretty much shutting down in preparation for the winter months. But it certainly refreshed the earth and our spirits as well.
We will interview a family this evening who needs to place their daughter somewhere. I never know what to say or do at these interviews. We are to evaluate the situation and make some kind of decision (although not right away) on whether to recommend placement. I know that by the time they come here, there is a certain amount of desperation involved, and that they have tried most all other options, probably without success. I know they are looking at us as the saviors of their marriage/family/daughter, and we are very well aware that we are totally human and can only do what we know to do. We’re certainly not miracle-workers and cannot save everyone.
If this girl doesn’t work out, there is another one in the wings that wishes an interview. There always seems to be one more “out there”. We never seem to run out of girls who are in trouble and families that are in crisis.
There has to be a common denominator to all of this. What we see at MCCH is just a microcosm of what is out there on a massive scale. We can pontificate all day, but the long and short of it is that the common denominator is evil (Satan, the Devil, whatever you wish to call him/it).
Tell me I’m a religious nut if you like. Tell me that it can’t be that simple if you like. But until you’ve been a house dad to troubled teen-age girls and dealt with parents who apparently don’t have the sense God gave a goose, don’t you dare tell me I’m wrong.

Ready to Go

We’re back. Of course, as in all time off, it disappears all too quickly. The money also seems to disappear at an accelerated rate during times of leisure. But it was a time that we looked forward to, and it didn’t disappoint us.
This year we did a little differently in that we didn’t do a lot of sitting and visiting, but rather saw some of the sights of Branson. We went downtown (which we had done before, of course) and ate at a sandwich shop. There were, it seemed, a million people walking the sidewalks of historic downtown Branson, and most of that million milling around in the stores, but when we went into the sandwich shop, there were few customers.
The Five and Dime was busy, as were many of the other stores in the block. We perused the collection of articles for sale in a Victorian-themed gift shop and saw the shop that advertised a thousand clocks for sale. We then went down to the lakefront and rode on the excursion train that leaves the depot every two hours or so for a 20 mile ride into the Ozarks.
Following that, we went out to the S of O (School of the Ozarks) campus where my sister and brother-in-law graduated college and took in the new conference center and restaurant. What a pleasant meal we had there, with good food and wait staff. We then took in a show (The Haygoods) and went back to the motel.
By the way, if you have a chance to see the Haygoods, please do. They’re a high-energy, multi-talented family who gives much more than value for the price of the ticket. They displayed, I think, better quality than did Shoji Tabuchi a couple of years ago. It was one of the better and more quality performances I’ve EVER seen.
The girls get back this afternoon. Right now we have the carpet cleaner in. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing today except stay out of his way and think about the next three weeks or so. I am ready for the girls, but the high maintenance of a couple of them will challenge us in ways we haven’t thought of yet. Pray for us this next couple of weeks. I think this will be a pivotal time in the lives of several of our girls.

Long Weekend

We are packing to leave for a long weekend. We’ll be going to Branson and staying at a resort on Indian Point. The resort is far from the Branson crowds, and is a place we’ve been before when we wanted to get away.
My brother and sister will meet us there tomorrow evening. We’ll spend the weekend there, then come back on Sunday afternoon. We’ll mostly sit, eat, visit, walk, and do those things that older people generally do. Sis wants to go to SDC to the crafts festival, but as of right now, I’m not sure I want to do that. I may stay back at the motel. Right now, I don’t want to see crowds.
I’ll let you know how it goes there. The motel will be a little crowded, but we should be able to have space to ourselves from time to time. Mike and Handan are good hosts and see to it that we have what we need for a pleasant stay. I don’t know if I’ll blog while there or not. If not, it’ll be a few days.

Count Your Blessings

One of our girls has a dad who is serving in Iraq. He was there when she came here earlier this year. He came home and saw her a few months ago, and now is back in Iraq.
One of the toughest things I think that can happen with the people who serve our country is the separation of families. This particular family has need to be together…to take part in therapy and marriage counseling. Obviously, this is quite difficult when one family member is 8,000 miles away.
He tries to be part of the family by sending me letters that I copy and give to his daughter. He is beginning email and phone therapy with the counselor. But these things are a poor substitute right now for the real thing. And the girl and the family are not doing as well as they could in part because of this separation.
Life isn’t fair sometimes. We know that, but we sometimes think that applies to people other than us. And in some respects, we are treated more than fairly. We consume most of the world’s wealth and resources. We are not hungry, homeless, or naked. We have access to health care and clean water. We have friends, family, and those who care about us that we’ve never met.
I know that we could improve health care, and that there are hungry people in this nation. I know people in my community are homeless. The point of this article, however, is not to point that out, but rather to let us who read this know how blessed we are.
I told one girl once, “So your Dad abused you, your Mom abandoned you, and you’ve been in four foster homes in the last year and a half. So what?”
She looked at me rather quizzically. I didn’t say that to be mean or uncaring. I said it to say (and I did tell her) that life wasn’t fair to her. However, she now has the opportunity to pick up and go on rather than let those people of her past continue to drag her down and control her future.
This girl was blessed to be in a place where she was safe, had good food and clothing, a roof, bed, and place to call her own, and people who loved and cared for her. It was time for her to realize that and start to put her life back together, even though she had suffered torturous unfairness in her short time on earth.
“Count your blessings; name them one by one.”
“Count your blessings, see what God has done.”

God is Good

The hectic morning is done. Chores have been done and are being checked. Girls are showering and other such like things. There’s a quiet, soothing relax CD playing in the background. As of this minute, no one is carping at anyone else.
It’s a welcome and all too brief respite in the day with six teen-age girls who are here “for a reason.” We enjoy the more animated times with them, but also enjoy the more sedate and serene times, which seem to come all too infrequently.
It’s cloudy here today, with the prospects of a good shower tonight or tomorrow. It’s badly needed as it’s been awhile since good precipitation has fallen. K State is playing KU, and the world will live or die (at least in some people’s reality) depending on who wins and who loses and by how much. The new house parents are moving in today, a welcome addition to our clan. And we are looking forward to a week off beginning Monday evening.
I don’t know about you, but it could be a lot worse than it is. God is good, and we are blessed.

Engaging the Enemy

Yesterday, I thought long and hard about the words to two songs written by Bill and Gloria Gaither. “Let Freedom Ring” and “It Is Finished.” Both talk of the sacrifice of Jesus and what it means for us as human beings. Now, if you’re not a Christian and don’t believe all of the stuff about the Bible, Jesus and God, you probably won’t care to read what follows because you won’t understand what I’m talking about. And even if you are a Christian or an adherent, you may not quite understand why I am so worked up right now.
A few lines of “Let Freedom Ring” go like this:

God built freedom into every fiber of creation
And He meant for us to all be free and whole
When my Lord bought freedom with the blood of His redemption
His cross stamped pardon on my very soul
Let freedom ring down through the ages from a hill called Calvary
Let freedom ring wherever hearts know pain
Let freedom echo through the lonely streets where prisons have no key
You can be free and you can sing let freedom ring

Lines from “It Is Finished” read this way:

There's a line that is drawn through the ages
On that line stands an old rugged cross
On that cross, a battle is raging
To gain a man's soul or it's loss
On one side, march the forces of evil
All the demons, all the devils of hell
On the other, the angels of glory
And they meet on Golgotha's hill

These songs, along with a host of verses out of the Bible, talk of a spiritual battle that takes place for the hearts and souls of humans. This war rages in a realm about which we know very little, but I believe is real, nevertheless. Once in a while, the battle breaks out into our three dimensional existence and we can see not only the effect, but sometimes even the agony of the war within.
Such has been the case recently with several of the girls. The evil one has chosen some of the most vulnerable people on the planet within which to wage a war that continues to torture them far beyond what they should have to bear. These girls have already suffered mightily from the effects of the evil one’s actions on others as those others abused and mistreated these girls in some way. Now this same evil one comes to the setting of a Christian children’s home to continue the war. Up until now, the girls have been fighting back virtually alone. No more.
I haven’t been this angry in years. Yesterday as I sat at the computer and listened to the Gaither Vocal Band sing “Let Freedom Ring” on the DVD and called up the lyrics to “It Is Finished”, I clenched my jaw, shed tears, and made fists. It was all I could do to keep from crying out loud and breaking something. There’s something fundamentally wrong with leaving the most vulnerable on their own to fight a certain losing battle for their own souls and for the soul of the society in which they exist.
And these girls are only a microcosm of what is “out there”. I know why the world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket. It seems that way because it is that way. But God works through me to positively affect the lives of the girls who come our way. I’m engaging the enemy. I’m making a difference. I’m fighting along with the girls and with other like-minded Christians. I’m in this together with King of Creation.
The evil one wants to fight…I’ll take him up on that…gladly. I’m not going to let these girls face him alone.

Driving Miss Daisy

We saw “Driving Miss Daisy” again tonight. Most of the girls had never seen it, and I rented it to show tonight. They seemed to enjoy the movie, and followed the story line well.
During the part where Hoke and Miss Daisy are traveling to Mobile and stop for lunch, the police stop and gently harass them. As they are driving away, one officer makes a racial comment about both of them. The girls soundly lashed into the officers for their comments.
At the end, when Hoke is feeding Miss Daisy at the nursing home, some of the girls didn’t “get it”, but some did. The genuine affection for Hoke shows through Miss Daisy, and that affection is returned by Hoke in a gentle and loving way.
I always am affected by that movie. There’s so much in that story that one can take from it. The brevity of life, the suddenness of death, the temporal nature of business and wealth, the relationships between people and peoples, and many other things come front and center in that story line.
Stories like that don’t come along every day. But when one does, it makes a lasting impression on all who see it and appreciate it for what it brings to life and living.
The world could use some kindness and gentleness right now.

Come See It

We went to the river yesterday. The girls were out of school yesterday, so we went to the confluence of the Arkansas (pronounced ar-kań-sas) and Little Arkansas rivers in downtown Wichita. They’ve built two pedestrian bridges across the rivers at the confluence, and have a Native American exhibit and art at the point. It’s quite a display.
We spent considerable time there, and the girls enjoyed the waterfalls, the rocks, and the relative quiet. They climbed on the rocks, sit and talked, and just spent time alone. They want to go back soon.
Sometimes governments do extraordinarily stupid and wasteful things. We all hear about those times when government doesn’t work as it should. Then there are other times when someone had an idea and government took it to it’s conclusion, with great results.
This is one of those times. I don’t know who had the idea or how it all came to pass, but this exhibit is one of the better things I’ve seen. It’s close to Exploration Place and the Veterans Memorial Park. It’s wheelchair accessible throughout the exhibit, is tastefully done, and respectful of a culture that was decimated in a matter of a few years by the white man and his greed.
I know that critics have bemoaned the cost, the location, and other things. And there may be some merit to some of that criticism. But most of it is sour grapes, and only results in a poisoning of the atmosphere of public service so that qualified people refuse to serve.
Thanks to whoever it was that had the foresight and fortitude to carry that project through to fruition. If you have a chance, come see it some day.

A Higher Plane

A few days ago I was driving the girls to school about 7:30 in the morning. As I turned east on 13th street, the sun was a medium-bright orange orb hanging just above the street and the horizon. It was close to the equinox and the sun rose just about due east that day.
All of us were looking at the phenomenon, and one of the girls simply said “wow”. I think she was truly impressed by the sight, and so were the others that took the time from their chattering to look for just a few seconds at what God unfolded before them.
In today’s world, we are not easily impressed. We can send instant messages to Australia and the space shuttle. We have at our fingertips billions of pages of information. Our automobiles think for us and guide us to our destinations. We can receive hundreds of television and radio channels on private services such as cable tv and satellite radio. We talk long distance with the ease of punching in some numbers on a keypad.
The girls that are staying with us don’t remember George Bush senior in the White House. They don’t recall the Gulf War, except through history. Greenbar and DOS is foreign to them. And it’s been a very long time since anyone has actually dialed a telephone.
The sight only lasted a few seconds until it was obscured by trees and other objects. But it was enough that some of us, anyway, stopped for just a second or two and enjoyed the view. I have to wonder how may other commuters on their way to work or school that day saw and marveled. I would hope that many that day took their lives a step higher, if only for a few seconds, and got out of the rut of daily existence to enjoy a higher plane.

All Worthwhile

“We got our daughter back.” So were the words of the Dad of one of the girls we have kept here at the home, then reunited with her family a few months ago. The home had a fundraising night tonight and this Dad wanted to speak to the audience. He didn’t speak long, but he said those words tonight, among others, in front of God and everyone. Those words stuck in my mind, and probably will for a long time.
It’s hard to know whether or not anything positive comes from our day-to-day interaction with these girls. We don’t see changes happen much over the course of a day or even a week. We continue to see many of the same behaviors and attitudes daily to the point that it seems pointless to continue this seeming exercise in futility.
We see girls leave here against our better judgment and go back to families or situations that we know aren’t good for them. We see families continue to be in crisis due to the choices that they continue to make long after they should know better. We see the effects of a society that still, for all the rhetoric, considers children to be throw-away objects.
But then, something like this happens. Once in a while, it all comes together. Sometimes, things just gel. And we are able to have our poor efforts validated and can see the glory of God working through not only us as house parents, but also other staff, the board, friends of the home, volunteers, our prayer warriors, and others who have an interest in seeing God work in His people.
Thanks so much, Pete, for your kind words. Soli Deo Gloria

The Pain of Withdrawal

One of our girls is going through a withdrawal. No, not a withdrawal from drugs or alcohol. She’s going through boyfriend withdrawal.
This is actually quite good because she has a male dependency and thinks she needs to constantly be in a boyfriend relationship, many of whom weren’t what they should have been. She craves the attention of boys and believes she’s not a whole person without it. She realizes her problem intellectually, and has “taken the pledge” to not have a boyfriend at least for the remainder of this year. It’s been tough, to say the least.
I knew that some women (and men too) had this kind of a problem, but wasn’t aware that this could have just as strong of an addictive track as nicotine, alcohol, or narcotics. The road she’s on is really a tough pull for her, and I feel rather helpless at times to help her much other than to encourage her as best I can.
We often say about others whom we see are in difficult circumstances to just get out of those circumstances and do something different. It’s as if they could just wave the magic wand over themselves and all would be well. We do it with people who are homeless, in abusive relationships, who are hooked on gambling, shopping, or eating, and with people who have compulsive disorders such as stealing.
Only those who have not gone through the torture of having and trying to release oneself from such a demon would ever be so naïve as to think that all that is needed is to just change behavior, as if it can be done in the next 10 minutes and one is cured.
We’re cheering for our girl and working with her as best we can. She’s also in therapy and is working with her therapist on this and other issues that affect her. She has a lot of will power and she has given her life to Jesus Christ. Her family is behind her. Her friends are cheering her on. She’s on the right track. But that track has a lot of trestles and tunnels to navigate yet. The jury’s still out.

Looking Up

I normally don’t pay a lot of attention to the morning hours much before about 9am. However, as I drove the girls to school today (we travel East to the school), I noticed as I turned on 13rh street that the sun was barely peeking above a ridge of dark clouds over in the eastern sky. There was just a slit between that ridge and another ridge above it and the sun was just beginning to traverse that area.
I knew that I had to visit with a school counselor at 9am today about one of our girls who is failing most of her classes. I wasn’t looking forward to that. Neither was I sure what the rest of the day held. So I wasn’t particularly ready or willing to have a religious lesson right then and there.
However, I also felt that there was indeed a message for me, and I needed to look at it (the message) as well as the moment. Somehow, it seemed, God was creating that moment for me and any others who happened to look ahead or over and see the phenomenon. Do you think for a minute that God’s hand COULD have been involved in that? That He did that just for me and whoever would look?
I then wondered how many times I fail to look, or worse, fail to appreciate what I do see. I sometimes have my head so far into the abyss that it seems I can’t even jump up to see out, let alone have any time to truly appreciate what is there for me.
I don’t know if God intended to create that moment for me, for someone else, or for no one in particular. I do know that it got me to thinking about how I tend to (insert cliché here). That cliché could be “not see the forest for the trees” or one of many others.
Maybe I need to look up more.

Does Anyone Know What's Going On Here?

I heard a report on NPR the other day where a U.S. Senator was questioning an Executive Branch official about the war in Iraq. Senator Bob Corker (Tennessee) was asking former Deputy Secretary of Defense John J. Hamre to explain why we have not done more to keep Iraqi oil from falling into the black market. This was after a question by Sen. Corker elicited the information that from 200,000 to 400,000 (no one knows for sure) barrels of Iraqi oil per day is lost to the black market.
I now quote the exchange between these two men.
Sen. Corker: "Is there a reason we have not employed methods to keep 400,000 barrels of oil from going into the wrong hands?".
Sec. Hamre: Iraq has had a "very elaborate . heavy duty black market" in oil since the first Gulf War.
Sen. Corker: "Are you saying the reason we're not intervening is that would create other issues . we'd have to deal with?"
Sec. Hamre: "My sense is that we have had our hands full with a full range of things and this probably was a problem that wasn't as imminent as people shooting at us."
Does this raise any eyebrows with you? Do you think that perhaps if this much oil is falling into the wrong hands, that perhaps the cash received from selling this oil is also falling into the wrong hands and is financing at least some of the “other side” of the war in Iraq?
If the lower number of 200,000 is used, at an oil price of $50 a barrel, that’s 10 million dollars a day (3.65 billion dollars a year) that is going to people that may well be using it to shoot at us.
If the Secretary’s last statement is any indication, perhaps if we would work harder to cut off the flow of money to the “other side”, maybe they wouldn’t be shooting at us quite as much. Or maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t get it.
Don’t try to Google this story. There just isn’t anything on the Internet about this. No news people have picked this up. No reports have been published. There is virtually no information on this except for this brief exchange that was reported by a couple of private news organizations. Even Senator Corker’s office couldn’t comment on it.
What’s going on here?

Let It Be So

We attended, as usual, church services yesterday. We went to the place we normally go to meet with others and share our faith. I enjoy doing that, and especially so since we’ve moved to Wichita. The church we’re a part of is a dynamic and growing place. It just seems to fit us very well right now at this time in our lives. One of the reasons I like it so well is the singing that takes place each Sunday. Those of you who don’t attend church or don’t sing or enjoy singing and worship probably won’t relate much to this blog entry. That’s OK. Stay with me.
We sing without the benefit of an organ or piano in our church. There is just something about a 300 voice choir singing acappella that causes a stirring of emotion that cannot be experienced by any other means. Yesterday was no exception.
For some reason, though, yesterday’s services were especially emotional for me. There was nothing special about the sermon, the people, etc. Now, don’t get me wrong. Rick’s sermons are always good and yesterday was no exception. But the topic wasn’t an especially hard-hitting one, at least for me. The people were the same, the auditorium was the same, the bulletin was the same. I don’t know what made the services so emotionally intense in me.
We sing 8 or more songs during the worship hour. Some are choruses. Some are old favorites. Some are more contemporary. We sing four-part harmony with the words and music projected on a screen. Our song leader is especially trained in music and works as a choral director would, with dynamic changes, tempo adjustments, and signals and cues to the audience.
At the end of the service, one of the elders usually gives a “blessing”—a short talk, prayer, or observation. Yesterday, however, they said at the close of services that the blessing would be a song, but didn’t say which song it would be. When the time came and the song was put on the screen, I just went silently, “Oh, man!” I knew that as hard of a time as I had had during the services keeping my composure during the songs, I’d never get through this one. And this one was one that I really wanted to be able to sing.
“The Lord Bless You and Keep You” was the song. I knew it well, and also knew the 7-fold “Amen” would be part of it. Sure enough, I had to just listen for a good part of the song. I did, however, manage to croak out the bass line for two or three of the “Amen” lines at the end as well as the first couple of bars at the beginning.
They say there will be singing in heaven. I can’t imagine anything more “heavenly”: than blending in with voices from the world over while singing songs praising and glorifying the God of Heaven and Earth. Let it be so.

Commit to Memory

Several days ago, we went to the state fair along with my wife’s sisters and our son and his wife and daughter (our granddaughter). I’ve already blogged about that a bit, but want to expand a little on a thought I had a couple of days ago.
We had a great time with our granddaughter. She is one year old (actually, 14 months old) and was a joy to have at the fair. She didn’t cry, wasn’t a problem, and seemed to really enjoy the day.
I was a little ashamed of the money we spent at the fair this year, as we are on a tight budget and being houseparents at a nonprofit children’s home isn’t a job one takes if one wants lots of cash. I then thought about the fact that we will only go to the state fair with our one-year old granddaughter one time. That’s it…one time.
You see, next year, when the fair comes again, she’ll be two. The year following that, she’ll be three, and so on. We only go around once with our first grandchild at the state fair when she is one year old.
When I thought about that, I immediately tried to commit more of the memories of that day to long-term storage and cherish that day when Granddad took her into the water fountain and let her enjoy getting wet with the pulsating water jets…when she tried the cotton candy, but didn’t like it…when she lost her hat while riding on the train…when we saw the rabbits, chickens, and ducks…when we went to the petting zoo…when we….