Writing Cramps

I don’t write well, sometimes. Although I like the written word and like to put words together to form thoughts that hopefully communicate the intangible, but real to others, I’m not really that good at it. But sometimes I do better than others.

I usually write better in the morning. Now it is late afternoon and I feel a little pushed to get this written, even though I’ve been thinking about it for a couple of days now. In the evening or at night, it seems that I just can’t get words out that make any sense at all.

Sometimes, though, in the morning hours, I can start writing at the computer about little of nothing and watch as it turns into something that I think is rather good. It’s almost as if I’m watching someone else write, but of course, it’s I who am writing. Those times tend to come rather infrequently now, but when they do come, it’s a blessing.

I still have the papers I did in college, at least the ones I did at OCU. When I read them again, I think, “Did I really write that?” Of course I did, but I have little clue how those thoughts came into my head to put down on paper. The writing is not as polished as it is now (I wrote those papers in the early 1980’s), but the thoughts are as if they came from outer space somewhere. I don’t know how else to say that.

I save all of my writing now. All of my bulletin articles from Oakley, the things I write to others in answer to questions or discussion of things (thanks, Kathy), and these blogs are all on my PC. I also have things I wrote while in the ministry in Topeka that no one else has seen. These writings are my way to sort out things and make things clearer in my mind.

I think that’s why I like the blog. I don’t really care if anyone else reads this or not. It’s for me and my thoughts. However, if others benefit from it or enjoy it in some way, that’s all the better.

I’ll probably never make any money writing. My sister is a much better writer than I am when it comes to writing things that might sell. I don’t think she’s sold or published anything yet, but I think it would be worth a shot for her sometime. She’s also a musician and cook, as well as school psychologist, mom, wife, and friend. She has a plethora (as she would say) of experience from which to glean. Maybe she’ll do some of that gleaning some time.

Grateful

The work week is over for me. I am working the conventional days and hours right now, and am looking forward to not having to wake up to an alarm tomorrow morning. We’ve worked hard at the new nursing home and my muscles are complaining about it. But it’s been good work, and I am glad and grateful I have the work.

It would be so easy to complain about having to unload and unpack so many boxes of furniture and equipment. It would be easy to complain about having to go to work early this morning because a truck was coming in early and needed to be unloaded. It would be easy to complain about the upcoming week and the stresses that will undoubtedly be there.

However, there will be no complaining here because I know what it’s like to not have work. I know what it’s like to stay home while everyone else goes to work. I know what it’s like to have to explain to someone why I’m not working when it seems everyone else is.

I’m grateful for the job and for the work. It’s work I can do and work that I can enjoy. It’s also work that I appreciate having and thank God for allowing me to be healthy enough to do it.

So, although this weekend is also very much appreciated, I’ll enjoy getting up early and going in on Monday. And if you just think about it a minute or so, I think you’ll also appreciate the work God has given you to do and your ability to do it.

Last Friday morning as I headed into work, I noticed the sun just peeking over the horizon. There was a layer of clouds above the sun, so it was shining orange-red light under the clouds, illuminating them all the way across the sky. The illumination was brighter, of course, closer to the sun, but it was obvious that even the clouds to the far west were receiving some of the orange-red light. As the sun rose further, the clouds hid it and the phenomenon went away.

I’ve not seen that kind of sunrise (or sunset) often, but a few times have been fortunate enough to see it. One morning in Oakley, I was coming home after a bad storm during the night. The power had been knocked out at the nursing home, and flooding was occurring in a rear door. I looked to the east and saw the sun peeking through the slot just below a shelf of clouds that covered the rest of the sky. There was another rainstorm to the west of where I was, and I saw a rainbow (that’s right, a rainbow) to the west in that storm cloud, just for a few brief moments of time under the cloud shelf.

I’ve never seen such a thing before, and don’t think I’ll ever have the privilege of seeing one like that again. First, how many times have you seen a rainbow to the west of your location? Second, how many times have you seen a rainbow under a shelf of clouds?

The sky can bring wonder to the human mind, and if one looks up once in a while, can bring joy and peace, knowing that things are working as they were ordered to work. The sky can also let us know that we aren’t as all-fired important as we sometimes think we are, and that there are things we have not yet learned to control.

And don’t get me started on the night sky. It’s a wonderland of its own, and has recently been brought to dazzling clarity with the Hubble telescope and other advanced optical equipment. Active volcanoes in the solar system? We have pictures of them actively spouting. Water in the form of ice elsewhere besides earth? Comet dust? We’ve brought some of that back to earth. Close-ups of asteroids? We have that. A comet crashing into a planet? We have photos of that as it happened. Conundrums that challenge, puzzle, and mystify scientists and physicists of all persuasions and stripes? You can see the same things they see and marvel just like they do.

Take a tour of some of those web sites sometime. I think you’ll come away with a renewed appreciation for this creation we inhabit.

Which Is It?

Bob came to the front to say a few words before we took up the collection today in church. He said that he worked as a volunteer at Christmas helping hand out coats and food to folks who had need. He told this story about an encounter he had with one woman who had come in for help.

He said he was working there, greeting people as they got ready to pick up their things. He said one woman came up to him and he said, “Hello. How are you today?”

She replied, “I am blessed.”

He said he replied to her, “I am blessed, too.”

He said that afterwards, he thought about what she meant when she said she was blessed versus what he meant when he said he was blessed. This woman had spent over an hour in line, on a cold day, waiting to receive a used coat, a used blanket, and a box of food. “For that,” he said, “She said she was blessed.”

He didn’t say it outright, but as much as said that we tend to consider ourselves blessed if we have three cars, high speed internet, and a 401k that has several hundred thousand dollars in it. This woman considered herself blessed because of a used coat, used blanket, and a box of food that people donated.

When do you consider yourself blessed, and when do you begin to whine a little about how unfair things are and how hard you have it? Is God blessing you when He gives you enough to pay money down on a 24 foot boat and a garage in which to store it? Or is God blessing you when He allows you to wake up in the morning and see the sunrise?

Out of Touch??

With both of us working (or at least we both have jobs), we are beginning to look at alternate living arrangements. We are enjoying staying with my brother, but it will soon be time to find our own place and leave these folks alone.

We’ve been talking rent or buy. We’ve been talking about how large of a place we will need versus how large of a place we will want. We’ve been discussing location. We’ve been discussing a lot of things.

One thing I’ve noticed is the price of housing. My 1960’s mind just can’t wrap itself around a regular-looking home in a regular-looking neighborhood selling for $160,000 or more. It just seems like something is terribly, terribly out of whack here.

I suppose, though, that if I had kept track of inflation over the years, it wouldn’t seem so bad. And even at that, the money I’m making per hour now in my job is many, many times what I made when I first went to work years ago. So all in all, maybe it isn’t so bad after all.

Do you remember when it was unusual to find something in the grocery store that was over $1.00 (other than meat)? Now, you can hardly find anything under a dollar any more, and a lot of things are 2, 3, or 4 dollars each or more. Remember when a coupon for 3 cents off was a big deal? Now many people don’t even do coupons. Remember when if you found a nickel on the sidewalk, it was unconscionable to pass it by? Nowadays, kids get change at the store and throw it on the ground outside because they don’t want to mess with it.

I don’t know about you, but I still pick up pennies, nickels, and the like. I also finish my plate, save all my change, and think a five dollar bill is really something. Sheesh. Am I ever out of touch!!

The Ties That Bind

We attended a concert last night. The York College choir came to Wichita and performed. We thoroughly enjoyed the choir, but I enjoyed something else just as much. While there, I was able to visit with several people. Among them was a mom and her two sons from Topeka that we knew when we lived there. Another was our foster daughter and granddaughter. Daughter lives in Wichita, but granddaughter lives in Oklahoma and came up for a shower for a friend and came to the concert.

My, my how the boys have grown, Kelly! And how well they behaved (at least what I saw). You’ve done well with them, and it’s obvious that they love you. I don’t envy you in a house with five other boys (including Dad). God has given you special gifts to go along with the special challenges that this situation brings.

As we left the building, I was thinking that we don’t always communicate as well as we could and should. Our foster daughter lives in Wichita, yet we don’t often see her or contact her. We see her family even less. Those in Topeka and others we know in other places are often the same way. Although with modern communicative methods, we could easily be in touch, we often just don’t. In fact, Sheila found out about our new jobs and new grandson on the blog, just like many of you. Somehow, that just doesn’t seem right.

So, to all of you that we don’t see or contact as much as we should, we ask your forgiveness. I don’t know how much better we’ll do in the future, but you need to know right now and up front that we think of you often; we pray for you and the situations in your life that we know about; we enjoy the times when we do see you; and we cherish the ties that bind us together, even through long periods of no contact.

Am I Entitled?

OK, OK, so it’s been five days since a blog. I have an excuse. I started a new job on Monday and have been running my little (insert appropriate noun here) into the ground. But it’s coming along and I’m glad to be working.

Secondly, we are grandparents again. Scott and Laura had our second grandchild…Gabriel John. He’s obviously the cutest baby around these parts and seems to be doing well, as well as Mom and Dad. I went to Emporia yesterday evening for a quick visit, and came back late in the evening.

So there. I think I’m entitled, I suppose.

I was thinking on the way back last night about how old Gabriel would be when I would be leaving this earth. Oh, I know that I don’t really know that information, but was thinking that if I lived another 20 or so years (not out of the question at all), Gabriel might not even be married then.

His sister Rachel will be much the same way. She’s only a year and a half old now. Our kids will be in their mid to late 40’s, and it will be in the late 2020’s.

I don’t know why I thought of such a thing, but I’ve been saying for some time now that I have far more years behind me than I have in front of me. This kind of brought that home in a way that I haven’t thought of before now.

It is even more imperative that, should I be permitted to be a part of the growing years of Rachel and Gabriel, that my example be that of the love of Jesus Christ and that I convey to those kids the need to develop a lasting relationship with their Creator.

I don’t know that I could do anything any better for them than that.

The Genuine Article

Today, we went to the mall. We had some shopping to do for me. I needed work clothes for my new job on Monday. We also stopped in another department store while my wife looked over some female clothing articles that were on sale.
While she was looking, I (having two large bags of shirts and slacks on the floor beside me) stood to the side of an aisle waiting for her to make her selections. While I was standing there, a mom and little boy walked by. The boy, no more than about two years old, stopped in front of me and looked up intently.
I had been waiting for some time and pretty much ignored people who went by. I also overtly ignored this little boy by looking straight ahead, as I knew he was looking at me as if I might be a mannequin. I thought that if I smiled or spoke, it might frighten him. I could, however, see him in my peripheral vision.
I know it never entered into this boy’s mind why a male mannequin model would be placed in blue jeans and scruffy flannel shirt in an aisle between bras and womens’ shoes, but nevertheless, I think he thought I might be made of plastic.
His mom took his hand after a couple of seconds of his looking up at me and said, “C’mon, son.” A few steps down the aisle, she looked at him and said, “Yep, he’s real.”
Now I’ve never thought much about that before this afternoon, but I really have to wonder if people in the past have had to look at me more than once in order to determine if I was real…the genuine article. If so, that’s really rather sad. It seems that it shouldn’t take a lot of critical, close inspection of anyone to determine the genuineness of that person.
I hope I remember that little boy as he looked up at me. I hope that I never have to wonder whether or not people are seeing the genuine article when they look at my life. And I hope that the genuine person that others see is the person that I really am and that God wants me to be.