Whose We Are

I continue to be pleasantly surprised by the dearth of commute time from home to work. It’s no more than a 4 to 6 minute drive (depending on the lights and traffic) to and from our place of work. What a nice thing to be able to commute such a short distance for such a short time.

I understand that not everyone has such a luxury. Some choose longer commutes in favor of a certain place to live. Others don’t have much choice and just do what they have to do. We had the choice, within reason, to find a place to live just a relatively short distance away. And it’s a place that we like and hope can be our home for many years to come.

Many people on one coast or the other commute as much as ninety minutes to two hours each way to work. They fight traffic all the way into work and all the way back. They pay big money to park their vehicles or they take public transportation. They are frazzled at the end of the day and long for the weekend when they work even harder, it seems, to clean house, do laundry and all the other things that need to be done to keep up appearances.

I can’t say that God has specifically blessed us with these comforts, but I would like to believe that He not only knows what we’re doing and how are lives are; He also rejoices with us as we rejoice in His goodness and grace. We are His forgiven children, and we do well, regardless of our circumstance, to never, ever forget.

Silence

As I sat out on the back patio this evening, I took some time to do nothing. The wind was calm, the birds were out, the sun was setting, and I just vegged out for a few minutes.

That’s hard to do…you know? We don’t take well to doing nothing. If nothing else, our minds race with things that remain undone (then we begin to feel guilty for doing nothing) or things that we’ll have to do tomorrow, or whatever else. We just don’t take well to doing nothing.

In the Old Testament, it is said that God says, “Be still and know that I am the Lord.” In another place, the prophet says, “The Lord is in His holy temple. Let all the earth keep silence before Him.” Ecclesiastes says there’s “A time to keep silence and a time to speak.” I don’t know how well we do the silence thing. I do know that I seem to have to have a television, radio, or something making noise most of the time. Why, I don’t know.

When things are quiet, I know it. I know it because the loudest thing I can hear is the constant ringing in my ears. When there’s other noise around, it sort of masks that noise, but when it’s not there, the ringing becomes very, very noticeable. Maybe that is one reason why I like to have external noise. Maybe it’s something else.

Pat will be home soon. I hope the evening is nice enough we can enjoy the patio together. I am resisting with all my effort the putting of a TV or radio on the patio. I don’t want to do that, but some base sense tells me that I need to do that. We need silence. We need to take some time and just watch and listen. Often, when we do, we hear God speaking in that still, small voice.

Just Things

So, here I am toward the end of the first work day of yet another week. Although the day has been busy, it’s also been kind of long. I’ve been sort of dragging my way through, trying to keep up and get things done in good time. I don’t know if spring fever has already struck or if it’s just the Monday blahs.
I noticed today as I sat outside on the patio at work (during my break) the crispness of the air and the promise of spring, warmer weather, and even more of a “spring fever” attitude yet to come. This is one of those days when one could just about fritter away the entire afternoon doing nothing but listening to the birds, noticing things that haven’t been noticed before, and sipping tea, water, Dew, or whatever else tickles one’s fancy.
By the way, just what is a fancy? And where is it located on or in the human anatomy? And how is it tickled? Does it ever hurt? Do doctors sometimes have to remove it? Of what use is it? Why were we endowed with it?
I suppose I’ll never know the answers to these Rooney-esque questions, but it doesn’t hurt to ask them, does it? Besides, what else is there to do on a lazy Monday afternoon?

Waffles and Dignity

This morning at work, I took a few minutes while the dishwasher in the Daisy kitchen was going through a de-liming cycle and sat with some residents who were having a late breakfast. The conversation is almost always pleasant and I enjoy the interaction.
One elderly woman who was sitting opposite me was served a waffle on a plate. The aide that was attending the dining area offered to butter the waffle, pour the syrup, and cut the waffle for her. Although she accepted help getting the syrup lid off of the container, she refused all other help, stating that she wanted to try to do it on her own.
Cutting the waffle was almost agonizing for me to watch. She started first with the side of her fork, but when that didn’t cut all the way through, she picked up her knife and used it and the fork to complete the cut. She then cut off chunks of waffle that were the right size to eat and after several minutes got to eat some breakfast. She seemed pleased with herself that she could do these things, albeit with difficulty, on her own.
I haven’t a clue how much her arthritic fingers, elbows, and shoulders hurt during this time. I do know that she watched her hands intently while working with her breakfast, as if willing them somehow to do her bidding. I also know that she maintained a good attitude and even joked a little about her ordeal while I was there.
I almost felt guilty as I slid the chair back, got up (more or less effortlessly) and walked with my coffee cup over to the pot to get a refill, then on to the dishwasher to see if it was working correctly.
Older people sometimes think they are useless…that they have no more to give. I learned a lot today about dignity, independence, attitude, and fortitude. And it came from a woman cutting a waffle.

House?? Home??

It’s one thing to have a place to live. It’s quite another to call that place “home”. As of now, we have a place to live, but it’s not quite yet home. Many of the old familiar things that make a house a home, we no longer have because we’ve given them away or sold them when we moved to the children’s home. Some of the things we still have are yet in boxes, so we can’t see them or use them.
The house we moved to came with appliances, and we’ve bought new furniture for the living room and family room. We also bought a new bed mattress and box springs. So a lot of what we see when we’re there is new and is taking some getting-used-to.
However, a home is more than just familiar furniture. A home is an attitude…a mindset and a way of thinking. .One can live in the same house for thirty years and it never becomes home. Still another can live in a house for but a few days and immediately begin to feel the hominess of the place and see the concept of home growing and attaching itself.
As my wife and I continue to empty boxes, throw away trash and arrange furniture, we also put our marks on the place that was (and still is) a house and begin to make it a home. In a way, doing that is more work and takes more energy than just moving and unpacking. Where the move is physical labor, making a house a home exacts an emotional price that can’t be measured in dollars.
There comes a time when, if there are too many moves and the payment of the emotional price that comes with establishing yet another home, we become reluctant to invest any more of that capital into the task. We are content to live in a house for a time and not do what is required to make it a home. We are fearful that we will have to uproot yet again and do it all over, so why expend the energy?
I fear that my wife and I are becoming like that…moving so much that we are reluctant to put down roots. I know I am reluctant to do that. Maybe that’s why, as I’ve said before in this blog, I long for the day when I’ll have a home that I’ll never have to leave…where there will never be any cause for eviction. This life is too uncertain to bank on it here. I’m looking to the next life and the home that is promised to the children of Yahweh. I long for that stability.

Moving (Again)

Since the last blog, we have moved to our new home and are now living in the City of Wichita. We moved all of our stuff yesterday (Saturday) and are unboxing and unpacking things today. Pat will continue tomorrow as she doesn’t work until Tuesday. I will do what I can in the evenings.

This is a nice place. It is a large bi-level in a quiet neighborhood. The house is only five years old and the back yard abuts Pawnee Prairie Park. We’ve already seen deer, turkey, and squirrels. The house has a walk-out deck off of the second floor which overlooks the park. We intend to spend a lot of time out there.

One of my family yesterday said I need to change my blog from “The View From Here” to “The View From the Deck”. I’ll take that under advisement, but it’s not a bad idea since, as the family member said, I’ll probably write a lot about what I see out back.

We are humbled and grateful for all of the help these last several months. Pat and I talked some about it this evening. We are blessed indeed to have family on both sides that cares and is willing to help out. My family provided a lot of things these last several months just because they are closer, but I know that family on either side would have done whatever was necessary.

In the coming days, I’ll probably write some about my thoughts during this time of “homelessness”, the moving adventure, and some other thoughts. But for now, I’m tired and hungry. So I’ll sign off for now and hope to come back here shortly.

The Old Man's Visit

Well, the old man struck again. I know, I know, he’s busy all the time. But sometimes he gets a little close, and sometimes when he works, the result of his work seems to loom large with the knowledge that things will forever be different from now on because of him.
So much of what he does is hidden from our knowledge. We can’t see, don’t know, and can’t possibly know everything that he does and when he does it. Sometimes we just don’t care as long as he does his job somewhere besides here…where we are. But there are times when he’s in the neighborhood. Then we can not only know, but if we are personally acquainted with our neighborhood, it can become very personal to us very quickly.
And there’s one more thing. We all know, don’t we, that one day the old man will pay a visit to our neighborhood. But instead of stopping by one of the neighbors, he’ll stop by our place. And one day, he’ll ask to see us. And things will be forevermore different from the way they were before he came calling.
I guess that’s what this being a “little close”, as I said before, really means. When we move away all of the fluff and all of the niceties, we see his handiwork for what it really is; evidence of the working of the evil one, the fallen creation and our need for redemption.
Because we know that one day, death will come to see us. And we know that we’re not prepared to deal with him on our own.

A Challenge

In my last blog, I quoted something that Billy Graham once said about proving the Bible to be true. Although my last blog was not meant to be religious in nature, the one I am now writing will be thus. I want to continue Dr. Graham’s quote.

He continues from the quote in the last blog, “I felt as though I had a rapier in my hand (his Bible) and, through the power of the Bible, was slashing deeply into men’s consciences, leading them to surrender to God. Does not the Bible say of itself, ‘For the Word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any tow-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart’ (Heb. 4:12-ff)?”

“I am not advocating bibliolatry…I am, however, fervently urging a return to Bible-centered preaching, a gospel presentation that says without apology and without ambiguity, ‘Thus saith the Lord.’”

I have been a minister of the Gospel since 1983. Although I have not held a formal position in a church for very much of that time, I believe that God set me apart, and to that end I continue to read, study, and ponder the depths of God and His message to humanity.

One of the things I have wrestled with over the years is the Bible and its, shall we say, bald-faced assertion that it is indeed the message of God and has the ability to perform acts upon humanity that no other instrument has ever had. “How presumptuous,” I sometimes would say of what I see in that collection of writings. Other times, I would marvel at the beauty and teaching that transcends the ages and reaches to the depths of the human soul.

Dr. Graham is perhaps the most successful gospel preacher in modern times. He has preached live to over 215 million people during his career and many millions more by means of television, radio, and other media. I don’t know what you think about the man, but there’s something special at work in a life that has touched the lives of so many.

For a man like Billy Graham to accept the Bible as the Word of God “without apology and without ambiguity” is but to heap upon that book yet one more validation of the specialness and the uniqueness of it. To discard what the book says about itself as well as the combined voices of those who have attested and continue to attest to its uniqueness is to do something very, very dangerous.

I challenge you to look again at the Bible. Study it. Take it in. See for yourself.

Values

Billy Graham has said that in 1949, toward the beginning of his career, he learned a secret to preaching that stuck with him throughout his time in the pulpit. He said he learned to quit trying to prove the truth of the Bible in his preaching. Instead, having settled in his own mind that the Bible was indeed true, he preached on that basis…on that authority. Consequently, his preaching was authoritative and effective. Possibly the most prolific and best known preacher of extra-biblical times, Dr. Graham has hit upon something that many of us have not yet really settled in our own minds.

This isn’t going to be a religious blog, however. I say the above to say that there is indeed value in core beliefs and values which don’t change with the winds of time. Whether those values are embodied in our religion, the Constitution, or in our experience and knowledge, they must be immovable and impermeable as we hurtle down the road of life.

Sorrow and loss often come when we compromise what we know is right and good in favor of temporary gain or immediate comfort. Inevitably, that gain becomes loss and that comfort becomes sorrow. To compromise our basic core principles and standards to fit the here and now, or to try to smooth things over, or to weasel out of a situation is to compromise who and what we are at our foundations. And when that foundation is shaken and cracked, the whole structure suffers.

Sometimes we have to pay a price for our steadfastness. Sometimes we lose a friend, a job, or financial resources. But later on, when we look back, we can say with confidence that we were true to our values and are not ashamed of what we did or the decision we made.

Mankind has always had the desire to “get along”. Sometimes that attitude is the better thing to do. But when it involves compromise of what we hold dear, then the desire to get along becomes selfish…the desire to avoid pain.

Sometimes we must examine what we hold dear in the critical light of greater truth. It is indeed a fine line at times to know whether we are compromising or whether we are gaining the greater truth.

Life isn’t easy. If it was, it would be nothing but drudgery and boredom, devoid of meaning. Life was meant to be lived. As Auntie Mame said, “Live! Life's a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death!” There’s more truth to that than we’ll probably ever know in this life.

I like to cook. I like to go to the kitchen and fix something that I think sounds good, especially if I’ve never made it before. I’ll usually dump in some of this, a little of that, and maybe some other things. I usually don’t measure anything, preferring to taste as I go. Many times, the finished product tastes rather good and I want to make it again. But I can’t because I haven’t written it down and my memory forgets better than it remembers.

Tonight I made smothered burritos. I know there are probably a million recipes for them, and most recipes are just about like mine. But I didn’t consult a recipe and just made them from what I had on hand…and tried to make it very easy by using mostly canned things. They turned out very good. However, this time I wrote down the recipe. I’d like to share it with you.

Smothered Burritos

8 to 10 frozen burritos

10 oz can tomato soup

10 oz can diced tomatoes & green chilis (Rotel or other)

10 oz can chunk chicken

15 oz can ranch style beans

15 oz can chili (no beans)

8 oz shredded cheese (your choice)

½ t chili powder (or more or less to taste)

¼ onion, chopped (or more or less to taste)

(Optional) ½ t crushed red pepper (or more or less to taste)

In a mixing dish, dump in the tomato soup and chili. Pour off most of the liquid of the ranch style beans and dump in the beans. Dump in the diced tomatoes & green chilis after pouring off most of the liquid. Pour off the liquid from the canned chicken and put half of it back into the mixture. Dump in the chicken, chili powder, onion, and red pepper. Make sure the resulting mixture is not too watery. Add back some liquid from the cans if necessary to get a decent mixture. If a spicier mixture is desired, add back the liquid from the tomatoes and chilies. If a milder mixture is desired, add back the liquid from the chicken or perhaps the beans.

In a 9 x 13 pan that has been sprayed with non-stick spray, place frozen burritos in a single layer. Either allow to thaw, or put into the oven for 10 minutes at 400 degrees to begin the thawing process.

Once burritos are thawed (or warmed in the oven), cover with the chili mixture. Bake covered at 400 degrees for 40 minutes (375 degrees for a convection oven). Uncover and bake another 5 to 10 minutes. Let it bake uncovered a little longer to boil off some liquid, if it appears too sloppy. Top with shredded cheese. Let cheese melt some from the heat of the burritos. Serve.

Moving (Again)

Two weeks from today, hopefully, I will be writing in my blog from our new home in west Wichita. The deal will have been done, the papers will have been signed, and we will have moved what little personal property we have left (after giving/selling/tossing various personal property the last three moves, in order to fit into the new digs) into the home. (To some of you who are family and friends, I’ll send the new address via email. Let me know if you’d like to have that information and aren’t sure if I have your email address.)

This also means that we will have to begin purchasing some of the stuff we got rid of in the past few years, because we again will need them. We have some things, but will need cooking utensils, a toaster, a microwave, glasses and cups, pots and pans, and many of the routine things that people normally already have. We gave up a lot of that when we moved to the children’s home, since all of that was provided. We’ll also have to purchase some furniture, as we sold/gave away most of that before we moved to Wichita.

I’m not sure I like this idea of accumulating “stuff” again. I know that most of it will probably be necessary, but I intend to do what I can to see that we don’t accumulate stuff just to have it…it needs to have a purpose and fill a need. We won’t have a lot of extra money, and we need to be careful anyway as stewards of what God has provided.

And it’s not just that my wife has given up a lot of her stuff. I’ve given up a lot of things that I had at the place in south central Kansas when we moved to western Kansas. I’ve continued to give up those things in each of the moves we’ve made since then. My garage “stuff” now occupies a much less percentage of room than it did several years ago.

One thing I’ve carried with me all this time, though, is a homemade wooden bin that has maybe 75 compartments in it. It stands about five feet high and the same width. It’s heavier than the dickens, and I have it filled with various miscellaneous things that I may need some time.

The reason I have it still is that I remember this bin when my uncle (Jess) had a business in my hometown. This bin held various kinds of pipe fittings (the business was a plumbing and heating shop) and Dad and I would go to the bin and grab what we thought we would need when he had a plumbing job to do and I was his helper. We’d get various elbows, pipe nipples, and other assorted parts and throw them into a box to take to the job. I can remember that to this day.

This bin also has Dad’s initials penciled on the wood…in the form of his old cattle brand. He would do that at times and in places when and where the urge suited him, and this bin was one of those places. I bought this bin in 1984 at an auction of stuff that belonged to the man who bought the business from my uncle. I’m glad I did and hope to will it to someone in the family willing to take on the weight and cumbersomeness of it.

My brother complains that he’s helped move that thing more times than he cares to remember…he’s gonna help me move it one more time, apparently, in a couple of weeks. That and my workbench that Dad built for me way back in the 1960’s will be coming to the new home. Maybe this time it can stay there awhile.

Rethinking

Last Monday, I did as our minister had asked the day before, and asked God to show me His glory. Taking a cue from Moses on the mountain as he dealt with God and asked the same question, I too asked God for that favor. If you read my blog of a couple of days ago, you know that my morning didn’t turn into much of a glorifying experience. Fixing the page system, cleaning up a urine-soaked carpet, and boiling my coffee were just part of the things of the morning that didn’t turn out as I had planned. I began thinking again, as I have many times past, that God either doesn’t care or just doesn’t do things like that anymore.
However, as I think about my Monday morning and the times I said “Lord, show me your glory,” I have to think that maybe God answered in the affirmative that day after all.
Ephesians 3:21 says, “To Him (God) be glory in the church through Jesus Christ…” The glory of God is if I read this verse correctly, in the church; that called out group of people that God has set apart (sanctified), reconciled to Himself (justified), and which now and forevermore in eternities both past and future (the eternal present) is glorified and glorifies through the operation of the Eternal Son (Jesus Christ).
So what did it take for God to sanctify and reconcile us? Basically, God had to clean up the mess that we made. We all have made a mess of our lives and our relationship with Him. We have sinned (fallen short of the mark) and we have estranged ourselves from our Eternal Father and Eternal Family. The justice of God demands that a price be exacted from each who sins. “For the wages of sin is death,’ the great Apostle Paul says.
That Great Apostle John says, however, that “God so loved the world that He gave h is only begotten son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” God provided the payment for our sins. God provided the means to clean up our messes. God did all that needed to be done to be able to present the church to Himself as a bride is presented to a groom (Revelation 21). God’s glory, which I asked Him to show me, is His cleaning up of my messes and my sins. It was dirty, stinky, awful work, to say the least. But it is done.
I now am left with but a question: When I cleaned up the mess made by that resident on the floor that Monday morning, in the midst of all else that was going on, was that God showing me His glory? “I came not to be served, but to serve.”