End-of-Decade Musings

Today is the last day of 2009 and of the decade. (You can count the decade any way you like; in my blog, it ends today.) Ten years ago tonight, I was at the hospital where we worked, making certain that the Y2K hullabaloo was just that and nothing more. About 10 minutes after midnight, when I was satisfied that nothing we had there was going to blow up or disappear, I went out back and lit some fireworks in the street. The city had allowed fireworks to be sold and shot that night for the special occasion of the beginning of a new century. Naturally, I couldn't pass up that opportunity.
Tonight, if God wills, we will spend a relatively quiet evening at my brother's place with friends and relatives, eating, talking, and playing mindless games. There won't be much late-sleeping tomorrow as we probably won't stay up that late. Old people don't stay up late much, you know. Other than that, the decade of the 20-teens will be ushered in whether we like it or not and whether we're ready for it or not.
When that happens, I will have been a part of eight decades, but who's counting? Born in 1949, I like to say that because it makes me even older than I am. Hopefully, others will also think of me as wiser than I am, since age and wisdom traditionally go together.
My, my, a lot has happened these last 10 years. I hope, though, that through it all, what has really taken place is that I have grown more accepting of myself and others, of my lot in life, and of my inability to create true happiness and peace for myself. I hope I have honed my reliance on the One who made it all in such a way that would enable a relationship with Him like I've never had before. And regardless where the 20-teen decade takes us, I would hope that I can say at the end of it, “I have loved and have been loved.”

Emus and Cardboard

A couple of things happened today that I never even dreamed would happen. Have you ever said to yourself, “I never would have thought in a hundred years that…” I said that twice today.
The first was a commercial on TV over the lunch hour. We had the kitchen set on while we were dining on leftover chicken soup, and a commercial came on for emu oil. It’s been on before, but I hadn’t thought about the fact that this one minute spot was constructed to convince the viewer that he or she needed emu oil for good health and wellness. It’s like, “Oh, I’ve never thought of that before! I know now that I really, really need emu oil! Thank you for letting me know that!”
Never in a hundred years would I have thought that someone would try to sell me emu oil.
The second happened at work. Someone brought some pastries and coffee from Starbucks. The therapy girls asked me if I wanted any. I took them up on the coffee…I don’t get Starbucks very often, as I’ve never been in a store ( and don’t intend to start any time soon). They pointed me to the coffee…in a cardboard container with a pour spout.
Never in a hundred years would I have thought that I would be pouring coffee out of a cardboard container.
So, there you have it, folks. I am continually amazed at how ignorant and hopelessly…um…OLD I am when compared with those in the avant garde ranks who slather emu oil over their bodies and slurp (what they say is) the world’s best (and I presume has to be) most expensive coffee.
Excuse me while I trek out to get some coffee in cardboard.

Thought-Provoking

I don't know what to make of the story on "60 Minutes" this evening. A former CIA operative who worked in Afghanistan tells how he and his small bands of warriors defeated the Taliban shortly after 2001 in that region. He and an Afghan government official also talk about what is needed now in that region.
I don't have an opinion on the morality or "rightness" of what these men did. I know enough to know that war is, to say the least, a messy proposition. I also know that due to the fallen nature of the creation, these kinds of things just are a part of life and living.
However, if you wish to see a different perspective on the war in that area, what we are doing there and why (whether you agree or not that we should be there or are doing the right thing there), please watch the video. It's at http://www.cbs.com/primetime/60_minutes/video/index.php?pid=9Ni0XjwOBY60NbRGZWrcQB1b7WDV_gIT
You'll have to wade through some commercials, but the piece is well worth seeing, and provokes much thought.

The Adventure Continues

As I sit here listening to Handel’s “Messiah” on public radio, I am struck by how many of the pieces in that work are familiar to me. More than that I am struck by how many of those I have sung in a choir or some kind at some time in the past.
I am not musically trained, although I have been given a gift for reading music, and have at least a form of absolute pitch. I’ve always been active in choirs in high school and in communities, and enjoy singing with others.
Some of the great memories for me are those where I performed, along with others, such as the “Hallelujah Chorus”, “And the Glory”, and others from The Messiah. I also have fond memories of singing “O Holy Night” and other Christmas music along with non-holiday music such as “The Lord’s Prayer”, “Walk in Jerusalem”, and others. One year, our high school choir performed Handel’s “The Heavens are Telling”…a difficult piece at best for a high school choir. If I remember right, Ardyth Trenary (we called her “Trigger” because she liked horses) was the vocal teacher that year. She stayed only one year, but we did stuff that year (like a Broadway production) we’d never done before (or since).
When we were in southern Kansas, I helped organize a community choir that performed for several years during the Christmas holiday. That was probably one of the more enjoyable experiences I’ve ever had, and I relish those memories.
I’d like to connect with a choir just once more in my lifetime…nothing fancy, no opera singers, no hot dog performers; just ordinary folks who have some musical ability who want to get together with a conductor and see what they can produce.
The family will be here in another hour or so and we’ll spend the rest of the day together in warmth and comfort. As my lovely wife wrote on the bottom of the Christmas card she gave me this morning, “And the adventure continues!”

O Holy Night

I was working in the shop at work today. I don't recall what specifically I was doing...fixing something, I think. I have a radio in there, and had it on an FM station that was playing Christmas music. They went through several numbers, then started "O Holy Night". I stopped in my tracks, went to my desk, sat down, and listened to the entire piece.
Now, I know that this song is a "warhorse" of the Christmas music genre. I also know it's been done by many people, recorded times too numerous to count on an abacus, and is so-oooo very familiar. I've heard it too, many many times. But this time there was something that went "click" in my head, and I just stopped everything, sat down, and concentrated on the words and their meaning. I must also admit that a tear or two formed in the corners of my eyes as I pondered the depth of the meaning of those words.
Have you ever really heard the words of that song? I mean to hear with understanding...to get the message...to know what the lyricist was trying to say? In case you haven't, I reprint them below.

O Holy Night
by John Sullivan Dwight (1855)

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of Our dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world In sin and error pining,
'Til He appear'd And the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope The weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks A new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! O, hear the angels' voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born;
O night divine, O night, O night Divine.

Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts By His cradle we stand.
So led by light of A star sweetly gleaming,
Here come the wise men From Orient land.
The King of Kings Lay thus in lowly manger;
In all our trials Born to be our friend.
He knows our need, To our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before Him lowly bend!
Behold your King, Before Him lowly bend!

Truly He taught us To love one another;
His law is love And His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break For the slave is our brother;
And in His name All oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy In grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us Praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! O praise His Name forever,
His power and glory Evermore proclaim.
His power and glory Evermore proclaim.

Try This

Go to http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap960617.html and click on the picture. It should enlarge. I think if you click on it again, it will enlarge once more. See if you can find places on that picture that you know. If you’re geographically challenged, it might be a problem, but you can try.
For the folks in Kansas, try to find Wichita first. It’s down and to the left of one of the larger dots on the map just a shade to the right of the middle (Kansas City). You can follow I-70 west out of KC where you’ll find Lawrence, Topeka, and so on. To the southwest of Kansas City is a moderately large dot which would be Wichita. About half way between those two dots is a dot that is Emporia.
Once you find Wichita, it’s not hard to see Kingman, Harper, Anthony, Pratt, Hutchinson, Newton, Hesston, McPherson, and other communities. For those in Western Kansas, start at I-70 (you can see where it bends to the northwest at Oakley) and find communities from that point.
Michigan folks will have a harder time of it since the Detroit metro area is so bright. This map works a lot better in rural areas, of course. And if you’re from Florida, Arizona, or Montana, you’re on your own as I’m not that familiar with the local geography.
By the way, the website that has this (APOD) is a part of NASA and has a different picture that is space-related every day. It’s a fascinating place and this site is a great way to take in just a small part of what’s out there.

The Solstice

The winter solstice is fast approaching. Specifically, it shows up on December 21 this year just a few minutes before noon. That is when the sun is as far south in the sky as it will go. The days are also as short (9 hours, 34 minutes in Wichita, according the almanac) as they will get. From that point on, the sun will begin a northerly journey in the sky and the days will begin to get longer. Slowly at first, then more quickly, the sun begins to warm the northern hemisphere yet again in an almost endless cycle of climate, temperature change, and seasons.
I know there is a lot of winter ahead, but I always like to mark the winter solstice as it means that there is the hope of spring, warmer weather, and pleasant temperatures. I am also reminded of the provision of God in all of this. He sees to it that the times and seasons remain and keep in their places. He assures that there will indeed be an awakening this coming spring as the sun warms the earth and life springs forth yet again.
Year after year, regardless of any political upheaval, war, or human-made event, the sun still rises in the East and the plants and creatures continue to inhabit the earth, fulfilling the will of God. I have to wonder how many more springs I will see, and how many more springs will be seen by the creation itself, but those are questions that are not for me to answer. How ever many more springs that come my way, I will marvel at what I see in the creation, even out my back door.
There is life ahead and living to be done. There are adventures to share and experience. And there is the hope of rest from labors and an eternity with the King.

Christmas

I penned this first as a bulletin article five years ago.

“Tis the season to be jolly! Fa la la la la la la la la”. I suppose these words are very familiar to you as from the Christmas tune, Deck the Halls. But if your take on the season is the same as that of Lucy Van Pelt in “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, you’ll relate very well to her as she says, “I know how you feel about all this Christmas business, getting depressed and all that. It happens to me every year. I never get what I really want. I always get a lot of stupid toys or a bicycle or clothes or something like that.”

The unfortunate thing is that many in our society feel the same way. Instead of a time for joy, it’s a time for depression. Instead of a time of contentment, it’s a time of greed. Instead of a time fulfillment, it’s a time of unfulfilled (and unfulfillable) expectations.

We go through the motions, succumb to the commercial temptations, break our necks to have the perfect holiday celebration, and put on the best show we know how, only to find that something is terribly wrong.

We have not found what we’re looking for. We’re not even close. And instead of sitting back and taking stock, we pedal even faster, so to speak, in the futile hope that somehow things will be different this time.

In the same TV program, Charlie Brown, exasperated, tired, and harried because of the antics of the others at a Christmas play practice, shouts out to anyone who will listen, “Isn't there anyone out there who can tell me what Christmas is all about?”

And Linus Van Pelt, Lucy’s little brother, takes center stage and says, “Sure, Charlie Brown, I can tell you. Lights, please. (A spotlight shines on Linus.) "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks 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 this day is born in the City of Bethlehem, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; you shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and 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'. That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

It is interesting to note that Linus, forever dependent on his security blanket, lets go of it when he quotes “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy.” You know, maybe it’s time for a little less “Deck the Halls” and a little more quiet reflection on just what this time of year means to us.

Ignorance & Want

I just saw the Dickens classic A Christmas Carol for perhaps the 89th time. This particular adaptation was the one done by George C. Scott. Each time I watch this, it seems that I see something new or have a little different take on what is happening. Perhaps part of that comes from hardly ever watching the full movie in its entirety. For whatever the reason I seem to always catch pieces and parts of this story. I can perhaps count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen the whole thing at one sitting.
Nevertheless, I was struck this time by the appearance of the children under the skirt of the Ghost of Christmas Present. They are named Ignorance and Want, according to the Ghost. And depending on the version one sees, either one or both have the word “doom” written on their foreheads. This is perhaps the most riveting of all the scenes in the story.
Scrooge and the ghost have a conversation regarding these children. The words below are purported to be the original writing of Dickens regarding the children. The picture is said to be a print of the original in the book.
I leave you to discover the truth of this scene and apply it to yourself as you can.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was a long night, if it were only a night; but Scrooge had his doubts of this, because the Christmas Holidays appeared to be condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was strange, too, that while Scrooge remained unaltered in his outward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. Scrooge had observed this change, but never spoke of it, until they left a children's Twelfth Night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they stood together in an open place, he noticed that its hair was grey.

"Are spirits' lives so short?" asked Scrooge.

"My life upon this globe, is very brief," replied the Ghost. "It ends to-night."

"To-night!" cried Scrooge.

"To-night at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near."

The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.

"Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask," said Scrooge, looking intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?"

"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it," was the Spirit's sorrowful reply. "Look here."

From the foldings of its robe, it brought two children; wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment.

"Oh, Man, look here! Look, look, down here!" exclaimed the Ghost.

They were a boy and a girl. Yellow, meagre, ragged, scowling, wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful youth should have filled their features out, and touched them with its freshest tints, a stale and shrivelled hand, like that of age, had pinched, and twisted them, and pulled them into shreds. Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing. No change, no degradation, no perversion of humanity, in any grade, through all the mysteries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and dread.

Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him in this way, he tried to say they were fine children, but the words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such enormous magnitude.

"Spirit, are they yours?" Scrooge could say no more.

"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them. "And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. Deny it!" cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand towards the city. "Slander those who tell it ye. Admit it for your factious purposes, and make it worse. And abide the end."

"Have they no refuge or resource?" cried Scrooge.

"Are there no prisons?" said the Spirit, turning on him for the last time with his own words. "Are there no workhouses?"

The bell struck twelve

An Unpopular Viewpoint

I was going through some older writing and found the article below. I wrote it in 2005 during the time when we lived in Topeka. My background is in Human Resources, although I don't work in that capacity at this time. Topeka was going through a ballot process to determine whether or not to make homosexuality a protected class in Topeka, at least in terms of hiring decisions.
My viewpoint is not a popular one among Christians. I have received some of the harshest criticism ever from Christians because of the opinions I express below. I expect to receive more by reprinting this article. So why reprint it?
Because I believe the greater truth (beyond the homosexual issue raised here) remains very pertinent in defining who Christians are and how Christians are perceived by others. We are to be a "peculiar people". That doesn't necessarily mean that we are to do our best to alienate others; on the contrary, we are to strive to have "good report" from those outside of the faith.
The homosexual issue is but one of a host of issues that Christians seem to have mis-handled over the years, ignoring clear teaching from the Holy Writ. God help us bring honor and glory to Him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As the whole world by now knows, Topeka voted this week on whether or not to rescind the action of the Topeka City Council when they approved placing homosexuals into a protected class regarding hiring. The protected class status may also apply to housing and other areas…I don’t know for sure. The vote was rather close, but the voters affirmed the action of the Council. We now have one more protected class in the City of Topeka.
Conservative Christians, by and large, came out on the side of not offering legal protection to homosexuals. The more politically moderate or liberal Christians (yes, those people really exist) may have voted either way. The whole community was polarized, however, by the vote. National news media were here and much to-do was made of the whole situation.
You know, the really sad part of all of this is that there needs to be protected class status for homosexuals (or any other persons) at all. What have we done as a society to cause honest, God-fearing people in positions of authority to conclude that this society needs to put legal protections in place benefiting homosexuals, women, people of color, the aged, or whoever else has been afforded that status?
The short answer: we have discriminated as a society against women, people of color, the aged, the homosexual, and others in our hiring processes and in other areas. And we have done it so much that honest, thinking people are now saying, “Enough.” Even those who wear the name Christian are not innocent, and in fact may be some of the more blatant offenders over the years.
Since I am a Human Resources professional, I’ll use hiring as an illustration. Why, in heaven’s name, would I as an H/R professional pass over a qualified individual that I am certain will do a competent, decent job for me in favor of someone less qualified and less experienced, just because the more qualified person is a woman, or Hispanic, or a homosexual?
Isn’t it inherently in my best interests and in the best interests of the company for which I am hiring that I place the most qualified candidate in the position? Why would I even think of doing any differently? And if I am a Christian, I am even more duty-bound to “do good to all men” and do the best job for my employer that I possibly can. To do anything else is shortsighted, narrow, bigoted, and foolish.
As a Christian Human Resources professional, why would I discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation if I don’t also discriminate on the basis of whether or not the person is cohabiting, an adulterer (either male or female), had a child out of wedlock, had sex under the age of 16 (that’s rape in Kansas regardless of consent), or had an abortion? Why don’t I discriminate based on whether or not that person has broken one of the Ten Commandments, or has failed to love the Lord, or love his neighbor? Why do I single out the homosexual for special discrimination?
Could it be that I don’t really think that adultery or cohabitation is as heinous a sin as homosexuality? Could it be that I as a Christian actually think that some sins are not soul-threatening and others are? Could it be that I am “too close” to the “heterosexual” sins of cohabitation, premarital sex, or adultery to be objective? Could it be that my son, daughter, niece, grandchild, or even I myself am guilty of one or more of those sins?
Do you see what I’m trying to say here? I don’t condone homosexuality in any way, shape, or form. I believe that an unrepentant homosexual is in grave danger of losing his or her soul for all eternity and that I have an obligation as a Christian to lovingly teach and encourage repentance and right living. But to single out the homosexual for special discrimination, while glossing over or ignoring other sinful activities that also will cause grave danger to the soul, is (and I’ll repeat) shortsighted, narrow, bigoted, and foolish.
We, by and large, have as a society made our collective bed. And we as Christians have been some of the worst “makers” of that bed. And now we, as a society, and as Christians, have to lie in it.

More From the Past

Last blog I talked some about memories that were triggered by things that I have around the house. Several of those things have to do with tools and the like, as Dad was a farmer and a heating and plumbing man. He had a lot of those kinds of things and I either bought or inherited several of them.
One thing I didn’t mention is something I don’t have in Wichita, but would like to bring here some day. It’s a 1951 (although the sales sheet says it’s a1952) Minneapolis Moline model U tractor. Right now it’s at my cousin’s place in the country about 40 miles from here. One of these days, I’d like to have a wrecker truck bring it up here and I’d try to do some restoration on it.
The mechanics are relatively simple and parts are fairly easy to obtain. I don’t think it would take a lot of restoration other than reversing the effects of sitting outside for the past 10 years or so. Engine work would be first, and the transmission would possibly have to be drained and refilled with 90 weight oil. There would be axle seals that are leaking, brakes that need to be rebuilt, and other such, but overall it would be, I think, a good thing to do.
I couldn’t very well take it out on Kellogg or Pawnee, but it would be good to hear it run again. It has a rather unique sound and I could even now probably recognize it immediately, even though I haven’t heard it in ten years. Those kinds of memories just don’t go away.
What would I do with it? I don’t have a clue. What would my kids or my family do with it when I am gone? I don’t have a clue on that one, either. It wouldn’t matter much to me. I’m sure that one of these days, either sooner or later, it will meet the fate of many such tractors and end up in a salvage yard or in some museum. It’s work days are over.
I can’t begin to put on paper the memories this blog has dredged up. As someone who spent time on not only that tractor, but also on a similar make, but larger model, those memories loom large. I have to wonder, though, as I recall several things right now, how we ever made it as well as we did back then. We really did do things on baling wire and prayer (so to speak) and also did things that nowadays would be considered grossly unsafe. Yet here I am, alive and in one piece. Amazing.
One of these days, I may tell of one specific memory that I have of this tractor, a 1961 Ford pickup, an 18 foot low-boy. homemade two wheel trailer, and a springtooth. Speaking of Ford pickups, I remember we had a 1951 red Ford pickup that had a (then) optional heater over in the passenger compartment. On a mildly cool day, the heater barely would keep the cab semi-warm. On cold days, it kept the icicles from forming on your nose, but that was about it.
The heater had doors on it that you would close to make the air go up to the defroster, but which never worked very well in really cold weather. Of course the wipers, being vacuum operated, didn’t work well either. It was a real adventure to see anything outside in winter weather…more than once was the window down and Dad would look out it to see where we were and where we were going. Aahh, those were the good old days!!

Reminders

In and around our home, I have several items that remind me of times past and gone. I’m not sure why things like this continue to hold importance in our lives, but they do. Somehow they remind us of our heritage, our history, and our roots.
On the top of the partial wall that separates the kitchen from the living area, I have placed our American Flyer electric train set, or at least part of it. I say “our” because it belongs to all of us kids in a very real sense. Back in the mid 50’s, Mom and Dad gave it to us kids as a Christmas gift. About 25 years ago, I added much more track, switches, and cars to the set. It still runs, and now reminds us of Christmases past.
The top of the refrigerator has an old Zenith radio sitting on it. It’s an AM/FM receiver with the Armstrong system of FM demodulation. It’s tubes, of course, except for the rectifier and dates from the late (I think) 1940’s. It sat on the refrigerator at home when I was a child, and also spent time on the piano in the living room. It was on that radio that I heard the “Big Jon and Sparkie” radio show. See http://www.otrcat.com/bigjonandsparkie-p-1093.html for more on that old time show.
I took that radio to electronics school back in the late 1960’s and replaced some parts, including the power supply capacitors and some tubes. It works fine after some work a few months ago.
Out back, on a tree at the edge of the park that is behind our home, I put a wren house that I think I built many years ago. It had been on a post behind our house where we raised our family. A day or two before we closed on the sale of that property a year or so ago, I went down there and retrieved that wren house, which had wrens virtually every year that we were there. I painted it and tightened it up a little, and it now is in our back yard.
On the side of one of our kitchen cabinets I have hung a match holder. It holds the wooden matches that come in a box. It used to hang in that same house where we raised our family right beside the back door on the wall. It hails from at least the 1950’s, I think, and I recall it as a child, hanging right there by the back door. I even have the strike anywhere matches in it…something that is getting increasingly hard to find.
Out in the garage, I have more things of Dad’s than I can mention. Toolboxes, wrenches, and even a workbench came from the home place and are in my memories. Probably one of the larger things I have is a storage thing made out of wood, separated into probably 40 or 50 compartments. It’s heavier than the dickens, and has been lugged around more than I want to think about.
But the thing that sets it apart is that I remember this particular item holding plumbing fittings in my uncle’s hardware store. Dad worked for him in plumbing and heating, and I spent a lot of time there, even getting plumbing fittings out of this thing in preparation to going on a plumbing job with Dad. It’s other claim to fame is that Dad wrote his initials on it, and they are still visible.
I wonder sometimes why I have carried that thing all over Kansas. Probably for the same reason I’ve carried an anvil all over Kansas…one that belonged to my grandfather…one I remember being in his barn years ago. And probably for the same reason I’ve carried the workbench that Dad had built for me, and the tools and tool boxes and the gas funnel, gas cans, a wooden six foot ladder, and other things. They are a part of who I am and where I was. They have genuine links to things that are nothing more than neurons in my head that have been modified in a certain way to enable those things we call memories. They put meat and bones on those memories and make them real. They ground me and remind me of who I am.

Longer Days

A couple of days ago, I was driving around in town with my window down and my arm hanging on the window frame. I know I probably looked like a Bubba doing that, but it was so great. I knew that the next day would usher in some cold air, and I probably wouldn’t be doing that again for awhile.
True enough, the cold has come. We aren’t in the frigid zone yet, but we are plenty cool for this time of the year. I’m also hearing rumors of measurable snow (these days, that can be as little as ¼ of an inch) coming next week some time.
For those of us who like the warmer weather, there is a bright spot to all of this. In less than three weeks, the days will be as short as they’re going to be for the year, and will start to grow longer. Along with that will eventually come warmer temperatures, although the temps seem to lag the days by a couple of months or so.
Here’s hoping for those longer days.

The Golden Age

I was watching some old TV this afternoon. The Andy Griffith Show has been in re-run status virtually continuously since it ceased production. Most of the actors are long since gone, except for Mr. Griffith, Ron Howard and perhaps one or two others. Many of us know the plot, the lines and the outcome of each episode, yet we stay with the channel the show is on and watch it yet again.
I’ve wondered why it is that shows such as the Andy Griffith Show, M.A.S.H., and others are such icons and are watched virtually continuously for decades at a time. Lawrence Welk is in re-runs on PBS and you can certainly think of other shows that are on cable much of the time. I’ve further wondered why we continue to watch such shows, even knowing the lines, plot, and outcome.
I confess I don’t know the answer. I suspect that, at least in part, there is nothing of substance on any of the other dozens of channels that are available and we go to these old shows in part because of that. I think also that part of the reason may indeed be their familiarity, and a connection we may have with those older shows.
I don’t often see a snipped of a Gunsmoke episode but what I don’t think of Saturday night at the home place. Dad in his recliner, Mom ironing or working with some kind of knitting, and the siblings either watching with us or doing something somewhere in the house. The television is black and white, no more than 21 inches diagonal measurement, and there is no remote control. Yes, I know color television and remote control existed then, but we didn’t have them.
One of the kids generally served as the remote control. There were but four channels available, and we kids knew what shows the adults wanted to watch and what times they came on. We did have to know how to occasionally adjust the fine-tuning and less frequently the vertical or horizontal hold. Such controls were usually behind a little door that was on the front of the set and included brightness, contrast, and sometimes focus and one or two other picture controls.
Sometimes we had to jiggle the channel knob in order to get a good picture. That usually meant that the tuner was dirty and the repair man would have to come and clean it. Of course, we didn’t call him until it got so bad we couldn’t stand it.
Sometimes, no matter what we did, we couldn’t get the vertical or horizontal to stay in “hold”. Or perhaps the picture gradually got shorter or narrower. Such problems could be adjusted at times with knobs on the back of the set, but more often they were harbingers of the repair man coming again, taking off the set back, and replacing one or more tubes that had gotten weak. Less often, but always a possibility, the repair man sometimes had to take the set “into the shop” for major repairs. In that case, it would be gone for several days while he ordered parts or fixed the sets that came in before ours.
The repair man would bring the set back just in time, it seemed, for a favorite show. Rejuvenated, the television would once again be the magic box that pulled pictures out of the ether and entertained us for awhile. Matt, Andy, Lawrence, Little Joe, and others would take us to another place and another time, enabling us to forget, for a time, that we had our own problems to deal with.
And maybe that’s it. Maybe these old shows continue to take us to that other time and place even though we know them by heart. Maybe they do that job in a way that the modern comedies, the reality shows, and the cooking or golf channel just can’t do. Maybe, just maybe, television was in its golden age.

An Assignment

Earlier this week I received a post card in the mail. Our church office sent it, asking me to participate in the services tomorrow by saying some words before we take up our “Gifts of Gratitude” (AKA the collection or offering). Also on the card is the theme for the day and a scripture reference. The theme happens to be “Gratitude That Costs Something”. The reference is Colossians 3 where Paul says that whatever we do, we are to do it in the name of Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.
I never quite know how to approach things like this. Although a sermon isn’t in order here, they do expect me to take a moment or two and give some thoughts about what is happening. As I think about my assignment, I find myself looking inward at my own views regarding giving, gratitude, and thanksgiving.
The card also says that, “An expression of gratitude should bring about a difference in the way we live and the things we value.” I don’t know about you, but I have a hard time thinking back to a time when gratitude made a difference in the way I live. Maybe I don’t know what I’m looking for, or maybe, just maybe I am not as grateful as I sometimes seem to be. Oh I know that one expression of gratitude probably will not cause any kind of an “Aha” moment, but one would think that there would be something in the past which, if I was as grateful as I thought I was, would kind of stand out. Or maybe my life has been more a continual expression of gratitude than I think it has, and it’s sort-of ingrained and “normal” now.
By the way, just what is an “expression of gratitude”? Is it giving into the collection plate at church? Is it helping the homeless in some way? Is it volunteering at the school? Or is it possibly sending money to a missionary or mission? Could it be as simple as saying, “I am grateful?” Or is there more to it than these things? Is expressing gratitude something we do in a compartmentalized day, or is it something we are continually as we go about the day’s activities and routines?
And as for the things that I value, I really haven’t given a lot of thought to that lately. What is it that I truly value? I can tell you now that as I think about that, nothing much of a material nature comes to mind. Our house? We’ve lived in 14 different houses in our married life. It doesn’t mean that much to me. Our transportation? Give me a break. Other things? Nothing much there that really comes out and bites me. It’s all old, utilitarian, or not worth much.
So what do I value? (In no particular order) The ability to see and enjoy God’s creation. My family. My life partner. The peace and satisfaction that come from being a child of God. My church family. Employment. My role as the hands and feet of Jesus.
As I look on the above paragraphs, I realize that this topic can be much more complicated than it might first appear. But I also see a simplicity in that it seems that God is calling us to a life that if lived as He would desire, would be one where the normal and routine of life and living would continually reflect our gratitude and thanksgiving. That routine of life and living would also encompass the list, so to speak, of those things we value most, with perhaps the most revealing aspect of that list being what is NOT on it.
So, are you grateful? Do you express that gratitude in some tangible way? Is gratitude a part of who you are, or is it something you set aside time in the day to do? What is it that you value? How does what you value differ from what you think Mary or Paul or Timothy would value? I’m looking forward to the day tomorrow.

Thanksgiving

Today is the day before Thanksgiving. It’s a time to remember the blessings that have come our way and in a greater sense, be a conduit of blessing to others.
Even during holidays, life happens. Today, Jack, a resident at our nursing home, breathed his last. Jack was someone that I would sit with and have coffee and conversation sometimes in the mornings. I don’t know his family. I didn’t know him until he came into the home. This Thanksgiving, Jack’s family is having to deal with everything that comes with the death of a loved one.
I’ve seen death many, many times in my health care career. Witnessing those deaths lessens not the impact of what I see and quenches not the thoughts, questions, and introspection as yet another of God’s creation begins the final part of the final journey.
So this evening is kind of melancholy for me. I seem to take these things with a little more emotion than some and greatly appreciate my having a role in Jack’s care during his last months of life. We aren’t perfect at the home and we don’t provide perfect care. But I think we do care and care greatly.
The holiday will come tomorrow. We will gather with family tomorrow. We will also gather again over the weekend with other family. It will be a time of bonding, thanksgiving, and relaxation. This year, there will also be some introspection.
Have a good holiday.

A Wonderful Journey

Our church is taking a wonderful journey that all too often is not part of the life of other congregations of whatever denominational stripe. We have, for the past several years, been led in a concerted effort to enable us to see beyond the walls of our building and understand and fill the need that is “out there” for the hands and feet of Jesus.
I don’t know what church staff thinks (one of two of them read this blog), but I am seeing a quickening, a coming-alive, a revitalization of the organism of which I am a part. I am, somewhat reluctantly at times, also becoming more revitalized and am thoroughly enjoying witnessing the awakening in others and in the congregation as a whole (which is, I believe, greater than the sum of its parts).
It’s a little scary at times and unsettling at other times. We don’t know exactly where we are going and can only see ahead dimly. Yet we are taking the plunge and many of us, perhaps for the first time in our lives, are trusting God for guidance as we have never done before.
Our trip is multi-faceted. We have re-examined our participation in various missions efforts and outreaches and have made some modifications. We are working toward a church plant in a nearby neighborhood. We are receiving teaching and instruction that is pertinent, clear, and appropriate. We are working with several different efforts, both individually and collectively, in our neighborhood to make our part of Wichita a better place. And we are working toward a financial goal over the next three years that will enable us to carry out many of those things we see need for.
I’ve never been part of anything like this before. I may never be again. I am savoring the moment.

A Kitty or a Truck

Lately, I’ve found myself with a kind of unusual problem. There’s been really nothing in the last week or more that has piqued my interest to the point that I thought I might like to write about it. Oh, there have been a lot of things happen, and I’ve seen a lot, but nothing that sort of jumps out there and says, “Write about me.”
That changed this evening on the way back from the “Y”. I was thinking about my sister’s birthday coming up tomorrow (the big 5-5) and was thinking about something she said when she was very small.
It seems that at a very young age (I don’t know, 3 maybe, or 4) Sis was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She replied, “A kitty or a truck.” And I think now that both of those fit her personality very well.
Now, you may not understand how those two ideas could possibly be in the same personality, but trust me, they can be and they are. She can be at once a very boisterous and noisy person, letting everyone know that she is in the area, and at the same time demonstrate a love and tenderness toward others that would bring many people to tears. The room's dynamics and liveliness pick up by a factor of 10 or so when she enters and doesn't quiet down until she leaves. Yet I don't know anyone who has a more tender and soft heart for life and living.
She ready to relate her opinion on things and in her “rut” in many ways, yet is willing to change her life if it will benefit some other living creature (Lydia readily comes to mind). Her days are planned, yet seldom are those plans intact shortly after her day begins. She’s a great cook and would, I believe, cook for the whole neighborhood if there was a need there that she thought she could fill. And she’d do it regardless of what else she had planned for that day, preferring to serve others and juggle her schedule for the umpteenth time to make room for that service.
Yep. I think she’s fulfilled her childhood desires. She can be a truck at times, but is at her best as a kitty. I just hope Lydia doesn’t figure that out (grin).

The Holidays

The holidays are approaching with all of the noise and clatter of a freight train. If advertisements on TV and in the Sunday newspapers are any indication, this year promises to be one in which commercial interests spare no expense and hold back no tactic to separate us from our money.
That’s the part of the season that I don’t like.
If one looks beneath the surface, however, there is a part of the season that I and many others do like. This is the part where families come together and renew ties, carry on traditions, and welcome new members. This is the part of the season that holds interest for me and is by far, I think, the more important.
Yes, I know that some families can’t get along when they come together. And I also know that for some families, seeing other family members only brings out memories that are less than pleasant. It is also true that many families cannot be together due to separation, either forced or voluntary, and the holidays just aren’t the same because of it.
Sometimes family gatherings are an exercise in high-level diplomacy as hosts have to determine whether to invite this ex spouse or that estranged child or some other relative who has or causes issues and problems for others.
The intact family, free of divorce, abuse, drug use (including alcoholism), or feuding is increasingly rare and is no longer the norm. The holidays, while for many are a time of joy, are for many more a time of trial and tribulation, of tempest and tumult, of turmoil and turbulence.
It takes work to keep family gatherings peaceful and fun. It takes work to make family gatherings something to long for instead of dread. All who gather play a part and all who gather are responsible for their actions and attitudes.
Leave the political and religious discussions at home. Leave the booze at home. And leave your hyped-up ego, your bluster, your anger, your payback schemes, and your gossip at home. Just enjoy yourself and work diligently to make it so others have the opportunity to do the same.
Above all, remember why these two holidays exist. Even if you aren’t religious, you can be thankful for what you have and you can enjoy the spirit of giving. You can get out of yourself for just a few minutes and think about others. And you can enjoy this time as it was meant to be enjoyed.

Attutudes

I was driving north on Maize Road a few days ago during the day. Traffic was moderate, but wasn’t really heavy. Most folks were going the speed limit or a little over (which is normal). I try to go just about the speed limit, although there may be times when I need to go a little faster or slower depending on traffic.
I pulled onto Maize Road in the 600 block south. I was going north to Central, then right. That meant I had about a mile and a half to drive on Maize Road. Almost as soon as I pulled out, I noticed in my mirror that someone was changing lanes to go around me on the right (I pulled into the left lane, having made a left turn onto Maize Road, as the law says). I normally try to go into the right lane rather quickly, but did not because of this person who was, it seems driving rather fast.
The traffic was heavy enough so he had a hard time going as fast as he wanted to go. As I drove that mile and a half, I counted him changing lanes at least nine times (I may have lost count briefly) as he tried to speed around others going about the speed limit. Of course, anyone knows that a lane change (or any action such as a turn or entering an intersection) makes one more vulnerable to an accident. This man made himself more vulnerable at least nine times in about three minutes.
The light was green at Maple, but had turned red at the Central and Maize intersection. As I pulled to a stop behind several vehicles, I saw this man sitting at the same light as I was, about one hundred feet ahead of me. I thought, “Gee, it really must have been worth all the frustration, lane changes, and increased danger in order to gain a hundred feet.”
Isn’t life like that? We hurry, worry, fret, fume, and fuss over things that, had we just calmed down and worked with them in an “adult” manner, the outcome would have been either the same or better. We lose sleep, we’re apprehensive and nervous, and we suffer gastro-intestinal ailments because we can’t control ourselves. We also make ourselves and others more vulnerable to bad things happening by some of the things we do and say in such times.
There’s something to be said for calm, peace, and a relaxed demeanor. Try it.

Farmers Oil Co.

It happens often enough on trips we take in our car that we talk about it some when it happens. I’m sure it doesn’t happen every trip, but it comes about often enough that we kind of look out for it now.
What is it? This may sound a little strange, but we seem to invariably come across a Farmers Oil Co. truck on the road at some point in our trip somewhere. Now, you may not think much of this, or think that this is kind of crazy, but it’s true. You see, we are from the area where Farmers Oil Co. is located (Anthony, Kansas) and their trucks are somewhat unique-looking.
We’ve seen those trucks on trips to Michigan, Kansas City, Hays, Branson, and many other places. We see them in places we wouldn’t think we’d see them. We usually don’t see them more than once a trip. And we usually see them within 400 or so miles from Anthony (although not always).
Its become a kind of a game with me, not that I expend every ounce of energy to find one. Sometimes I see them on short trips to Central Kansas, but most often our destination is a hundred or more miles from Wichita in order for us to be on the road long enough to see one.
I see by a web page (not theirs) that they have twenty-some trucks and about twice as many trailers. They haul primarily petroleum products, as their name implies.
Why this has become a kind of a thing with us, I don’t know. I do know that I’ve been seeing them for many years on the road, and have been kind of looking for them as a kind of a game for several years. It helps break the tedium of Interstate highway travel and brings us back to earth, so to speak. I know that all is well if I see a Farmers Oil truck as I drive down the road.

The State of Our Country

Today I made a comment on Facebook about the vote on health insurance reform. The initial Facebook writer was against the reform bill now being considered. I believe she said that today was “doomsday”, I assume in part because the bill is expected to pass the House of Representatives.
My comment was that people said the same things (doomsday) when the Voting Rights Act was voted on, when Social Security was voted on, the Civil Rights Act was voted on, etc. Her reply was to look at the state of our country today.
OK, let’s look at the state of the country. What would we be like if there was no Voting Rights Act, no Civil Rights Act, no Medicare, no Medicaid, no Food Stamp program, and no Social Security?
Can you imagine a nation where whole peoples would en masse be denied the right to vote based on the color of their skin, their nationality, or their religion? Can you further imagine lynchings, beatings, colored only restaurants, drinking fountains and seating at certain events, with other venues being off limits entirely? Can you imagine whole populations being tortured and killed because of their religious beliefs? Can you imagine people still dying shortly after age 65 because there is no health insurance for them (and private companies won’t insure them)? Can you imagine people who need kidney dialysis dying instead living productive lives because there is no one who will pay for the procedure?
Children who desperately need health and dental procedures would suffer and die instead because there is no Medicaid, no SCHIP program, and no safety net. These same children, and others like them would starve or be severely malnourished because there is no school lunch and breakfast program and no food stamps. Most of all, seniors would live for awhile in poverty and squalor only to die even at an earlier age because there is no Social Security safety net floor for them. And those who are disabled at whatever age would not have disability income protection because there would be no Social Security system to support them. Nor would they have health and rehabilitation care because there is no money for them.
Yes, I can imagine all of this. I’ve seen parts of it because I vividly remember times before the Voting Rights Act, the Civil Rights Act, and Medicare and Medicaid. I remember times before the school lunch program, before SCHIP, and before Medicare covered kidney dialysis for those who couldn’t pay for it. We suffered much, died much too early, and horrendously treated those who were different than we.
The programs aren’t perfect. People take advantage of them when they aren’t qualified. They are many times politically driven. And there have been some bad decisions made by those who should have known better.
They also have extended life expectancy, created awareness that we’re all God’s children, saved lives and health, provided safety nets that no private or charitable organizations could have provided, and have helped to fulfill the constitutional obligation of government to “promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty for ourselves and our posterity.”
It is easy, when we are a part of the white protestant Anglo culture, healthy and relatively happy, not in need or want of basic necessities, to look upon those who are not such as we and who need help in some way with an attitude that is less than accommodating and helpful. We feign an air of superiority and a thankfulness that we are not “like them”. We take pride in the fact that we’ve never been on food stamps or in the free school lunch program. And we say that we’ll never use Social Security because by the time we get to retirement, it won’t be there anyway.
I’ve been on the other side. I’ve been homeless. I’ve been without a job or health insurance. I’ve been on food stamps. I’m thrilled they were there for me and my family, and that I can help others now through not only government programs, but programs through our church and other organizations.
Because I am white Anglo, I have not been on the receiving end of a beating or lynching because of the color of my skin. Nor has any of my family. I can never say fully that I understand because I’ve not been there. I have read the book “Black Like Me” by John Howard Griffin. It is, I think, a must-read for anyone who didn’t live in that time or experience racial discrimination.
Yes, I can look at where we are as a nation and a people since the passage of many of these laws, which was fought tooth and nail by those who would maintain the status quo and continue in the illusion that all was right with the world (at least their Anglo world). Thank God there were some who were brave and bold enough to jolt the rest of us out of our holes and into the real world.
I don’t know if the health care reform bill is good for our nation or not. I do know that what we have just isn’t working for many people, and that alternatives to the current reform bill are nothing more than patches and more status quo. I guess we’ll just have to see what the state of our country is after the vote.

Memories of the Dark

When our older son was small, he had a kind of fascination with the process of sundown and the evening sky. He divided the sundown process into three pieces and named each piece.
The first was the “blue dark”. This was the time after sundown, but while the western sky was still basically blue in color. The second phase he named the “purple dark”. As you can imagine, this was the darker phase where the sky generally turns a reddish purple and it becomes somewhat difficult to see clearly. The last stage was “black dark”. This was the time when night fell.
As we drove to Sterling this evening, I was able to witness all three phases of the sundown process and recalled with some fondness the times past and gone when we would talk about the blue dark, purple dark, and black dark. The sky was especially pretty tonight with a few rather wispy clouds in the western sky and a change in colors from minute to minute.
There are many things that happen now which remind me of some time or some event past and gone. This is but one. Thankfully, we tend to recall the good things more than the bad. Happy memories.

A Little Different

This blog is a little different. But I think you need to know this. You may have heard the story; how a deputy jailer in Florida was attacked by an inmate. If so, you also heard that there were other inmates that came to his aid...not the attacking inmate, but the jailer.
Good for them. Good for them.
Even when it seems that there is no redeeming value in an individual, and even when we have judged someone by virtue of what they have done or where they are living, we find that we are many times so incorrect. Just as the Good Book says, we dare not judge others, lest we be judged with the same judgment.
If you like, you can see the newspaper account of this incident at http://www2.tbo.com/content/2009/nov/05/na-inmates-aid-deputy-under-attack/

He Can Handle It

As I answer the door tonight and hand out Halloween candy to who I presume are mostly neighbor kids (although there may be some ringers in the assorted bunches of kids that come here), I was having a great time until one boy about 7 years old asked me if he could take one of each of the three kinds of candy I had on the tray. Of course, I said he could. He smiled broadly and waved and said “Thank you,” as he left the porch.
I don’t know why, but I thought as I went down the steps to the lower level of our house that this kid could well see the twenty-second century in 91 years. I then wondered, as I have at times before, just what kind of a world we are giving to him and those others like him who came to our door tonight. More important than that, I wondered what kind of a church and faith will we leave as we bow out of the picture in a comparatively few years.
I then realized that we have a whale of a lot of work to do if we are going to leave these kids with anything even resembling what we want for them. In both the secular and religious worlds, there is a lot wrong and a lot to be done. But there is a lot right with these worlds as well; it’s not all as doom and gloom as some would have us think.
I’ll not go into detail tonight regarding why I think there is hope. In any event, I’m not certain I can articulate that as I’d like. I could say something like “God is in control,” but that smacks to me like something one would say when he doesn’t know what else to say and only half believes it anyway.
Yes, of course God is in control. He always has been and evermore will be. Regardless of what it may look like from our perspective; regardless how much real pain and suffering is going on in our world sphere; regardless how we may try and fail, God has a different viewpoint and a different agenda. That’s why the Good Book says that God’s ways are not our ways. That’s why our job is to reflect the image if Jesus Christ. That’s why we are told to grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord.
We’re not to solve all the world’s problems and we’re not to worry about those things about which we have no business worrying. We are to be salt, light, and leaven. If we just do what we’re asked to do, God indeed is in control and can handle all of the rest.

Conversational Wichitalk

I suppose I should say something about the recent effort by the Wichita Police Department to enforce some of the more routine and mundane traffic laws. There is quite a bit of comment in the public comment area of the local newspaper about it, both pro and con. It is the topic of conversation in some circles at times.
Police are observing high accident intersections and streets and are writing tickets for things such as improper turns, running through a light that is turning red, speeding, etc. Drivers many times don’t even realize they’ve done something wrong until they are pulled over and ticketed.
Of course, many think the police are ticketing people in order to generate funding for the city. Others think the police have better things to do than to worry about whether one turns into the correct lane when making a left or right turn. And some believe the police are doing exactly the right thing.
I understand that it is difficult in this age to observe every single traffic regulation and law to perfection. Sometimes the streets are constructed such that it is very unwieldy or just downright impossible to change lanes the way the law says in order to get to where one is going. However, some people just don’t have a clue.
The law has always been to make a right turn from the right hand lane into the right hand lane unless traffic signs allow something different. And left turns are to be made into the lane closest to the center line unless traffic signs allow something different. If one needs to be in another lane down the road, he is to signal and change lanes one at a time, always checking each time before changing lanes to see if traffic will allow it.
I am no fan of the Wichita Police Department. They will not generally work the smaller crimes and infractions, instead using their time to investigate and prosecute the larger crimes. I happen to think that those who are victims of the more minor crimes deserve protection and satisfaction the same as someone who is the victim of a robbery or other major crime. I also think that there is a trickle-down effect in prosecuting the smaller infractions in that if those laws are enforced, it will have the beneficial effect of lowering crimes of all kinds. If, however, the smaller infractions are allowed to slide, society pays for it in more crime and more major crime as well as paying for the effects of the minor crimes that are never solved and prosecuted.
I realize that I may be tagged for a traffic infraction in one of the enforcement efforts some day. If so, that’s OK. It’s up to me to be vigilant and watch what I’m doing when driving down the road. The stakes are very high for one who doesn’t pay attention.

Some Things I've Noticed

I’ve noticed a few things over the last few days. One of them is the glorious fall foliage we’ve had (and are still having) here in the central plains states. We’ve traveled to Branson and to the Kansas City area recently, and the grasses, trees, and bushes are resplendent in colors I’ve not seen in several years. I wonder if the cooler weather we’ve had the past month or so has anything to do with that.
I’ve also noticed that people seem to be ready for Daylight Saving Time to come to an end. Even city folks seem to want to go to work when the light of day is at least beginning to break. Thankfully, the time will change this coming weekend, which is about 4 weeks too late.
I’ve noticed that families are a great invention of the Almighty. I’m not sure He could have invented anything much better than people who accept you for who and what you are…just because. I am sad for those folks who either do not have families, or have them but they don’t work like the family is supposed to work.
And I’ve noticed how much I am NOT longing for winter weather this year. Used to be in times past and gone that I actually enjoyed winter. Not so much recently, and this year it seems not at all. Does that happen as we age, or is there something about THIS year and THIS winter that is a little different?
There are tons of things that I’ve not noticed, however. Of course, I can’t say what those things are because if I haven’t noticed them, I don’t know about them. I don’t even know if that makes much sense or not, but I’m not sure I’ve made much sense all day. Oh well. Another day is tomorrow, and it will arrive all too soon.

Amazing Performance

I just finished listening to the inaugural performance of the new conductor of the Los Angeles Symphony Orchestra. It was presented on PBS tonight and I tuned in, unfortunately, late into the program. The new conductor, Gustavo Dudamel, comes from South America, a 28 year old genius in his craft.
I tuned in to the concert about midway through their last piece, Mahler’s Symphony #1. For those who may not know, this piece is very long, 45 to 55 minutes. I tuned in with about 25 minutes left in the number. Mr. Dudamel conducted this piece with no musical score in front of him. He never, it seemed, missed a cue, never missed an entrance, never missed a change in dynamics, never missed anything.
I was transfixed by the performance and wished that I had tuned in to the beginning of it. I am impressed to no end by people who have the capacity to perform in such a manner as this orchestra and its conductor did during this performance.
God gives his creation amazing ability and talent. How we use that ability and talent is up to us. We aren’t all musicians or conductors. We do all have a unique ability, however, that the Creator expects us to use to make the world a better place.

More Things to Ponder

Some things that I have become aware of that seems to be a function of maturity:

Obeying the speed limit and other traffic laws saves more money than the Geico Gecko ever dreamed of.
There are really very few things that are worth getting truly worked up over. Just about everything that happens at work is NOT worth that effort.
There is a reason why, if we married, that God asked us to marry one person of the opposite gender in a life-long commitment.
There is immense value in fostering good relationships with relatives and friends.
Living life isn’t rocket science. It is, however, hard work, common sense, and a good knowledge of one’s limitations.
There isn’t much point in trying out this new restaurant and that new eatery in a search for gastric nirvana. A truly “unique” or “great” restaurant will be a one-in-a-hundred shot. Besides, as we age, our sense of taste isn’t what it used to be.
One’s credit card and bank accounts are a lot less secure than the banks and card companies would have one believe.
There are truly decent people in the world. You’ll probably interact with several of them tomorrow and won’t know or realize just how decent they are.
Money is a tool, nothing more and nothing less.
There is a certain pride, of sorts, in being the one who younger family members come to when they want to know something about the “old days”.
There is great value in never making a purchase over the phone and never making a large purchase of any kind without thinking about it for 24 hours.
My time here is truly growing short.

Thoughts for Today

I suppose I should be eloquent on this my 60th birth anniversary day. I could talk about how blessed I am to be part of a great family, living in the United States, with a good and decent job and lots of friends and acquaintances. I could describe what it feels like to have a memory of radio serial programs, the development of the polio vaccine, and wire recorders and also be able to instantly communicate with someone on the other side of the globe via Internet. I might discuss my first awareness of the Cold War and the rise of the Eastern Bloc of nations, and how we never, ever thought that in our lifetimes we would see the tearing down of the Berlin Wall and the disintegration of the Soviet Union…yet it has been about 20 years since that has happened. Or I could talk about the extraordinary ride I’ve had with the same incredible woman for the past 35 years and some months…a ride that probably no one who truly knew how we met would have given fifteen cents as a bet that it would last.
I won’t do any of that. Instead, I want to recommend a book to you. Yes, you heard correctly. I want to recommend a book to you. It’s an easy read, but is packed with wisdom and good sense. I read this book during our stay here at Branson, and think it can easily change how you think about your job, your relationship with others, and your outlook on life. Other than the Bible, this book has provoked more thought and introspection in me than any other. I think you’ll agree that this book is well worth the money you spend on it.
Oh, the book? The title is Lunchmeat & Life Lessons. The author is Mary B. Lucas, B.D. By the way, B.D. stands for Butcher’s Daughter. You’ll get the connection rather quickly upon reading the first few words of the book.
Mary is a Kansan, and writes with a flair for putting the obvious, yet difficult, into a form that we not only can understand, but also put into practice. And although the book at times is a little “mushy” and predictable, the lessons in it are timeless.
Why, you ask, would I recommend a book on my 60th birthday? Because when I find myself at this age, I also find myself knowing that I not only don’t know it all, but know very little; that I want to make the most of the days I have left and the wisdom in this book will help me do just that. And it might just help you a little, too, in your life and your work.
So, from one who has witnessed the delivery of five-gallon cream cans full of unpasteurized, natural cream off of the farm to the train depot for eventual delivery via a literal “milk run” train to a dairy, to who-knows who, who may read these words, I commend not only God’s words, the Bible, to you as the first and prime teacher in life-living, I also commend Lunchmeat & Life Lessons to you as one of perhaps many good supplements to that Book of books.
The woman is waiting for me to end this so we can go for a walk during the halftime of the Texas Oklahoma game. I’m off.

How Good Can It Get?

I don't often blog twice in one day. I'm not sure what is prompting me to do this now, today, as I relax in a motel room miles from home. We'll see where this goes.
We are staying in a place in the Branson area where we've stayed several times before, usually with other family. It's not an elegant place by any means, and in many respects is much like a place one might have found in times past along Route 66. Green is the color scheme for all rooms, accented by brown paneling. Some walls are paneling that is painted an off white. There is a need for shaving the bottom of our entrance door so it doesn't rub on the green carpet, as well as making repairs to the window lock (it doesn't), tightening the toilet seat, cleaning up everything in general, and making the bathroom bigger than four by five feet (literally). Feminine charm is notably absent, but the rooms and the neighborhood make for a very good “nothin' box” experience for men.
There's some pretense here. The little diner down the road talks of “elegance” in dining on the front of the menu, while on the same page stating that they open at 7:30 (ish) in the morning and close at 9 (ish) in the evening. The diner really no more than a house, it seems, converted into a restaurant of sorts where they not only sell food, but also various knick knacks, glass ware, preserves and jellies, and whatever else they can put on a wall or stuff in a corner.
A sign at our motel talks of a “convention center” that consists of a metal building out back with a bare-bones open room area of about 30 by 30, a couple of restrooms and a game room that has older games in it at a quarter a whack. My guess is that some of them don't work very well. Parking is non-existent and the path back to the building is overgrown with grass and weeds...
To each his own, I guess. We see what we'd like to see. But that's part of the charm of this place. The pretense is obvious and the expectations are minimal. So is the price. A hundred bucks and change for a four day stay isn't bad at all. And we are warm, comfortable, and have the Internet. What can go wrong? Besides, Kilarney's is just down the road a piece. How much better can life be?

Permanent Respite

It's been a week since we've seen the sun in any way other than just for a few minutes. This stretch of clouds, drizzle, and cold reminds me of times in the winter when gloom seems to descend upon the creation and there is absolutely no way out. People get edgy, the day seems shorter, and it seems the whole environment longs for the light of the sun.
There are a few things, though, to remember during times like this. The first is that just a few thousand feet above you, the sun is shining in all its splendor and the sky is as blue and clear as can be. The second is that some day the clouds will part, the sky will be blue, and the sun again will become a fixture in the daytime sky.
The third is that once that happens, we will quickly forget the gloomy days in the past and will again take for granted the provision of the “great light” that rules the day. There may even be days in the future when we will long for clouds again because the earth has become dry and needs the benefits of rain or snow.
You see, we are a very fickle part of the creation. We humans seem to never be satisfied with the way things are and long for something different. Whether it's a new experience in food, city of residence, entertainment, relationships, transportation, or religion, we seem to always be looking for that next new thing; quickly forgetting the lessons of life learned in the past regarding the new and the old.
The wise man said that there is nothing new under the sun. He's right, of course. (The actual verbiage of the wise man is, “All things are wearisome; man is not able to tell it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor is the ear filled with hearing. That which has been is that which will be, and that which has been done is that which will be done. So, there is nothing new under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:8-9) There is always the next curve in the road to navigate, the next hill to climb, the next city to conquer, the next battle to fight. But it becomes wearisome. We begin to long for a time when we no longer will have to worry ourselves about such things.
Good vacations provide us with a temporary respite from that kind of life and living. God's peace can provide us with a permanent respite, even in the here and now.

Amazing

Wow. What an amazing experience this thing called life is. Now, I know that this statement can mean everything from brutally awful to wonderfully grand to everything in between. Let me explain myself just a little, however.
First, I must say that we both have been wondrously blessed with loving family, gainful employment, a mind that works, a body that works, and experiences in the time dimension past that have helped make us who we are today. But, I must say that even if one or more of these would not be present in our lives, the experience of life would be (or at least could be), although different, still an amazing thing.
As I stop and look at things just now, I marvel at all of the people, places, and things that have been influenced in some way by us. Our influence is still felt in a big way in some of the places where we’ve lived we did our jobs or worked with the church family there, or raised our own kids. One example of that is the assisted living that I built while working for a hospital in southern Kansas. It’s still there…still in use…and still providing services to those who need such.
Another example is the nursing home that we opened in Western Kansas when we lived out there and worked for the local hospital. It too is still open…still in use…and still providing much-needed services to the community. The fact that the hospital is even there may well be due in part to my leadership as I struggled with finances and possible financial default on the part of the hospital when I first moved there to assume the CEO position. The hospital was, to put it mildly, broke when we moved there. When we left, it had a substantial cash reserve.
And people. We’ve some life-long friendships in each community where we’ve lived. These folks have put up with me and my family and have chosen to love us and befriend us regardless of our quirks and faults. And I believe that we have influenced at least some people we’ve met to live better lives and to seek God and His will for them. I think some people were permanently changed for the better by our example and our love and concern for them. That is comforting to me.
I’m not bragging about these things. On the contrary, I am humbled that despite our failings, bad decisions, poor example, and incompetence, somehow the Creator of all managed to use our efforts to His glory and to make things, people, and places better because of our presence.
And that, dear ones, is what is so amazing about this experience.

Why Did I Start This?

I’m not sure why I opened the word processor. I know I felt like writing something in the blog, but I’m not sure what. It’s a quiet evening here, with the wife gone to a meeting and I’m watching M.A.S.H. reruns.
I enjoy those shows, even though I’ve seen them many, many times. There’s something about those shows that I can connect with, having myself worked EMS as well as having worked in a hospital setting for many years. Many have been the times I’ve been in the middle of some kind of emergency situation, either rendering aid of some kind or supporting those who were. Life and death situations were not that unusual for me to observe and be a part of, and I am grateful for the whole hospital/EMS experience.
Even now, though the emergent situations are far fewer in my present setting, I enjoy seeing people go through therapy and improving their ability to stand, walk, eat, and get along in the world in general. Although I am not a therapist, I believe what I do provides much of the underpinning for those who work directly with residents. And at times, I interact and work with residents as they have need for my services.
I still haven’t a clue what prompted me to write this evening. I’ve had a lot on my mind…everything from the wife being gone to our church’s missions effort in Guyana (One of our members makes several trips a year there and works with an ongoing mission effort there…he and I visited this evening about that effort). The weather is turning wet and colder (there was frost on a lot of outdoor things this morning), and it’s the time of the year when things wind down and people begin to hunker down getting ready for the winter weather ahead. Thankfully, most of us have warm places to stay out of the weather and wind. We have enough to eat and wear and we have clean water. We are most blessed.

Only In A Small Town

I went in to the nearest branch of the banking institution where we have our checking and savings accounts today. It was payday and I was depositing our checks into the account before the overdrafts started. As I walked into the lobby, a couple of the women at desks greeted me and asked me how my day was going. Somewhat surprised, I responded that things were going well. I then went over to them and told them that I don’t often get that kind of greeting in Wichita in a business of any kind, let alone a bank.
As I got up to the teller window, the teller greeted me by name and made small talk. Continuing to be a little surprised, I finished there and left.
Now, we have been going to this same branch for about a year and a half, and I’m in there probably two or three times a month. So it’s not like I’m a stranger there. Even so, in this community, that touch of personalization goes a long way and is unusual enough that it gets attention.
I will never bank at a place again as we did twenty years ago in the small community where we raised our boys. I’ll never forget one day going to the drive-up teller, handing her a deposit, telling her that I didn’t have a deposit slip. She got her “generic” deposit slip and without looking at anything else, said to me, “Your account number is 255 36 228, isn’t it?”
About as surprised then as I was just today when a couple of the women greeted me at the branch bank, I confirmed the number and the transaction was complete. As I drove away, I thought to myself, “Only in a small town.”

A DIfferent Perspective

When someone dies, I often hear phrases that infer or even state that God somehow took this person from us. Often, I will also hear something to the effect that we can’t understand it all now, but will some day. Many times those words are uttered as an attempt to comfort, but they are little comfort to me…please don’t use them when you visit with me about someone who as died. Let me offer a perspective on this that may be a little different than what you are used to hearing.
John says that in the Word of God (the second eternal person of the Trinity, the Logos, whom we know as Jesus Christ) was life (John 1:4). John records Jesus as saying that he (Jesus) is “the resurrection and the life.” (John 11:25) He also says that Jesus said that he was “the way, the truth, and the life.” (John 14:6).
Nowhere in the Bible do we see anything about Jesus Christ being or representing death. In fact, the Bible places the responsibility for death at the feet of Satan (Hebrews 2:14). So, with that in mind, let’s pursue this a little farther down the road.
I believe that God somehow allows death and destruction in His creation without compromising his holiness, goodness, or purity. I don’t know how that works, but by faith I understand that to be true. I do not believe, however, that God necessarily likes death. Nor do I believe that God somehow enjoys death or participates in the death and decay that goes on in His creation.
Paul says in Romans 8 that the whole creation groans, anxiously awaiting and longing for release from the bondage of decay (verses 18 to 24). We too groan and long for that same release and the redemption of our bodies, Paul says. Who provides that release? God does. How can God at once embrace death and decay while also embracing life and freedom?
Could it be that one reason that Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus in John chapter 11 was that He was troubled by the death that he saw there and the effects that death had on the creation and on His people? Could it be that when John says twice in that account that Jesus was “deeply moved and troubled”, it wasn’t because He had come too late to heal Lazarus, or that He was touched (mourning) that Lazarus was dead (because He knew that in just a few short moments, Lazarus would come out of the tomb and be alive again), but rather that He was truly troubled and distressed at the havoc and pain that death causes His creation. Remember, the One who at that moment was upholding all creation by the word of His power (Hebrews 1:3) and was the source of life itself was also seeing firsthand what death and decay were doing to His creation and what death was doing to the human beings whom He loved and would shortly die for.
I think God is deeply moved by death. I think death is abhorrent and repulsive to God. I think death represents and is everything that God is not. I cannot imagine this God using death in such a way that He gains any pleasure or contentment from it. I can only imagine a God that one day will, after the history of the creation has run its course, not only defeat death, but will eliminate death entirely, finally, and completely.

Off to visit

Yesterday, my brother, sister and I went to Hesston to visit some relatives on our mother’s side of the family. We went because Sis had ordered some pens that our uncle makes out of various kinds of wood. While there, other family members came to their house and we had a very pleasant visit for a good share of the afternoon. I have a few observations about the day and the visit that I’d like to put “on paper”, so to speak.
The weather this time of year is just delightful. It’s pleasantly cool, yet sunny and warmish if one is inclined to spend time in a sunbeam. The smells of fall are unique and so are the sights. It is all too quickly over come November.
While beautiful, fall is also the reminder that winter isn’t far away. Everything readies for the coming onslaught of cold, wind, and sometimes nasty precipitation. Some things don’t survive the winter…some by design and some because of weakness, old age, or other malady. And that applies to people as well as plants and critters.
While visiting with the relations, I was reminded that all of us in that room have far fewer autumns ahead of us than we’ve already experienced. And while none of us knows just how many seasonal changes we have ahead of us, we do know that our time here is limited. It makes me think yet again about whether or not I’m prepared for that time.
Our past helps make us who we are today. Blood heritage is important, but so too is the heritage that comes from both knowing and hearing about those who came before us…those who had no comprehension of an Internet or a cell phone…those who loved and mentored us and served as examples of what an individual human being could and should be at his or her core. These are the people; they and their stories are the “stuff” of which we are made today. They helped mold and shape us, and we owe them a debt we’ll never repay.
The place where my uncle and aunt live seems to be a wonderful place to spend one’s remaining months and years. My brother, sister and I have talked about whether that would be a good place for us when the time comes. I would think I could do that. Whether or not they could live that close to me (or I to them) may be another matter.
Days like yesterday have immense value, even though it seems like we sometimes don’t accomplish much of any importance. Value doesn’t always equate with importance, and sometimes what seems to be relatively unimportant ends up, in the final analysis, to be of great significance and meaning. I am blessed to have made the trip.

The Rings

Did you know that although the rings of Saturn extend outward over 85,000 miles from the planet in various configurations, the average thickness of the rings is only about 30 feet? I don’t know about you, but that is a rather amazing bit of information regarding a part of our solar system.
We cannot see the rings with unaided eyes, but can easily discern them with a small telescope or good binoculars. The larger telescopes give an even better view. Right now the rings are at equinox, or are edge-on toward the earth and are virtually invisible to us. If I remember correctly, that happens about every 15 years or so.
The rings are composed, I read, of primarily water ice with a smattering of mineral matter scattered among the ice chunks. They are a very complex system with moons orbiting within them, disturbing them with their gravitational fields. They change appearance and also in distance from the planet. And I read that some of the moons and their gravitational influences seem to help hold the rings together. I suspect that if we could somehow hover over them and watch them in some kind of accelerated time mode, we would be mesmerized by the intricate dance maneuvers they perform as they orbit the planet along with their moons.
One question I’ve had for a long time is why the rings? I know that as one who believes that our continuum was created by God, I could just say that was the way He wanted to do it. And that would be sufficient for me. However, I enjoy thinking about why God might have chosen to do what He did. Did he do it for the sheer joy of doing it? Did He do it primarily so we could some day see it and wonder? Did He do it because those rings somehow have something to do with our existence? Or was there another reason?
And the time frame astounds me. I am a creationist who believes in an old earth and an old universe. I believe the universe is what it appears to be…massively old (this is not the place to debate that statement). I know there aren’t many of us old earth creationists. It seems that the two main camps are either young earth creationists or old earth evolutionists. I don’t think either are correct. One of these times, I may explain why I think that.
The rings were there long before mankind. And they may well be there long after mankind no longer exists. Were they created for us? Dare we be so bold as to suggest we are that important in the great scheme of things? I leave those questions for you.
I also know that these questions don’t really have answers we can articulate, at least in this life. But one has to admit that as unusual (and even strange) as many of the features of space are, these things tend to pique the interest of more than just a few of us.
Tens of thousands of miles wide, but only thirty feet thick. Interesting, to say the least.

Thinking About Music

I was on my way over to small group meeting this evening in the pickup. The wife was at work and had the car. I popped in a cassette tape (it’s a 1998 pickup…it has a cassette in it) of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing various songs, religious, secular, and patriotic. I haven’t heard that tape for awhile and really enjoyed it. And it got me to wondering just what kinds of music I like and why.
I like things like the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah. I like the more modern religious songs that we sing at church. I also like many of the classical compositions, both familiar and unfamiliar. And I like a rather eclectic assortment of music from classic rock to southern gospel, and even some jazz and country.
I think mostly I like music when the performers are good at their craft. I mean truly good. There’s a difference, I think, in being popular and being good at what one does. Some of the best performances have come from people who are virtual unknowns (remember Susan Boyle?).
The Beatles are a classic example of popularity overriding, sometimes, the performance. Because it was the Beatles, the song was an automatic hit, regardless of the quality of the performance. Additionally, the Beatles couldn’t sing. They could write and play music with the best, but their singing talents were sadly lacking, in my opinion.
I hope I always will be able to hear well enough that I can enjoy good music. And I hope that should the time come when I can’t do for myself, those caring for me will play music such as the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, or the Statler Brothers, or Karen Carpenter, Sandi Patty, Bette Midler, the Gaither Vocal Band, Louis Armstrong, Lawrence Welk (yes, even him), the Cincinnati Pops Orchestra, the New York Philharmonic, the bands of the Armed Services, and others who truly display the best.

Musings From the Back Porch

I'm sitting on the porch swing in the back yard while our small pond is refilling. I drained it, or at least most of it in order to put in clean water from our well before winter sets in. I do that a couple times a year.
I also had a couple of ulterior motives. I knew there was a water snake in the pond and thought that if I disturbed it enough, the snake would appear and I could catch it and dispose of it. I also am wondering if any of the algae eaters I put in there this spring have survived.
As for the snake, if you saw my Facebook, you know I got the snake. He was sunning himself on the lily pad and I got the rake and tried to hook him and get him out of the pond. That didn't work and he went down to the depths. In a few minutes, though, he got out on a rock that had been exposed by the declining water table in the pond and started sunning himself. I took that opportunity to put the rake on him to hold him, then grabbed his tail and flung him into the yard. He wasn't long for this world as I stepped on him and did him in with a shovel.
As for the algae eaters, I still haven't seen them, although I don't drain about 18 inches of water from the bottom of the pond, as I don't remove the fish. I will rely on the relatively clear water that replaces the old to see if they might be around somewhere.
The weather is great this afternoon, and after a night when I was called three times by work about something or other, and when the wife was called at least a couple of times by work (she's on nursing call this weekend), and after having to go into work twice this morning, I'm enjoying what's left of the day.
The hummingbirds have left, but there are some butterflies here that are fluttering around, along with some dragonflies. The neighborhood is quiet, and there are a few walkers on the trail in the park behind our house. The breeze is pleasant, although I suspect it will cool off some tonight.
I'm amazed at the diversity of life in our back yard in the city, even though I know it borders on a wooded area. I'm hearing what I think is an owl of some kind off in the distance, and even with a bright red helicopter flying overhead, I can appreciate other critters (yes, even snakes) that are close by.
The one thing I'd really like to hear is a great horned owl. I haven't heard one yet here, but would think they are around. I remember years ago as I lay in bed at home hearing the horned owl in the hackberry tree just outside my bedroom, or more distantly as he sat on top of a grain bin at the grain elevator just across the way. There was something at once soothing and haunting about hearing him, even on some of the coldest nights.
It's funny how sounds, whether recalled from memory or heard again, bring back all sorts of memories. I recall when I was a child at home that one of the windows in my bedroom would rattle a certain way when the train was switching cars at night on the other end of our small town. There was something about the deep-throated vibrations of the engine that was in tune with a spring on the inside of one of the windows that made the spring vibrate against the side of the window.
Years later, when we bought the house from my folks estate and lived there ourselves, that same window did the same thing on certain nights when sounds carried a distance and everything was just right. Sometimes I couldn't hear the train engine, but knew one was working because of the vibration of the window. Several times, I would go outside to listen and sure enough heard the engine.
The owl was also there, up in the hackberry tree looking over his territory and hooting. The grain elevator had long since been torn down, replaced by a hardware/lumber store.
We no longer own the house. The hackberry tree is gone and others now live where we grew up. I wonder if the window vibrates for them just as it did for us all those years. And I wonder if it does, if they have a clue that it's been doing that for at least 50 years. Actually, it may not vibrate at the noise of a train locomotive anymore because the railroad has pulled up the switching yard. They now just go through town at 70 miles an hour on a double track that stretches from Chicago to Los Angeles. Many, many things now are memories only. So be it.