Monday, February 27, 2012

They Believed in Me (Part II)

I will continue my theme of telling of those who have helped me in some way develop myself, encouraged me to do better, or provided some kind of assistance to me in some aspect of life. We tend to think we can do things ourselves, but if we stop and think, we know that others have given to our success…sometimes given a lot.
It’s the same with our Christian faith. We can’t do it on our own. It’s only by the choosing of God to bestow grace and mercy, and provide other people to help and encourage us that make us what we are.
I think of the man who hired me in my first job out of tech school. My first day at work at the TV station where I was hired on as an engineer, Keith (the head engineer) met me in the early morning hours, and we went through the opening of the station and the sign-on process. We were the only ones there, and were responsible for getting the station on the air and operating for the day. The second day, I showed up when I was supposed to, but Keith wasn’t there. I waited a little bit, but determined that he probably wasn’t going to be there in time to get the station up and running. So I did my best to recall everything we did the day before. And the list was a long one. Turning on switches here, punching on the transmitter to warm up in a certain sequence, loading the sign-on slides and film (this was back in the late 1960’s, folks), and pushing the right buttons to get things on the air was no small task. I was nervous as all get-out.
I succeeded in signing on and getting things rolling, and Keith showed up about 30 minutes after sign-on. I can’t recall if he said anything about being late, and whether he knew it or not (or whether his lateness was intentional or not), but by his being late, he made me realize that I could take instruction; I could do things that I had to do; I could function in the world. I’ve never forgotten that morning.
I think of a young woman I met back then who saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself. She encouraged me, loved me, and believed in me. We’re still married after all these years. I couldn’t be where I am without her.
I think of Bob out in Goodland when we moved out that way who took me under his wing, so to speak, and taught me a lot about how to work with people, and how NOT to work with people. We also discussed God, faith, and all that goes with that. He was one of the hardest-working preachers I have known. We produced a local weekly fifteen minute television religious television show (I mean we did it all, as I was now an engineer at the TV station in Goodland and we taped the show after hours. I was the engineer/director and Bob was the producer/on-air talent.), and he produced a daily radio announcement in addition to everything else.
That’s enough for now. I’ve only begun. More next time.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

They Believed in Me (Part I)

I was thinking today (yeah, that’s dangerous) as I was riding back from Hutchinson where a friend and I went to a meeting. We had been talking at the meeting (a meeting of ministers) about the grace and love of God. As I pondered the comments made at the meeting, my mind wandered just a bit. I began thinking about times in my life when someone believed in me and helped me in some way. Many times we think that we make our own successes, and we certainly have a lot to do with it; but my guess is that most of us can not say that we have made our success without help from someone, somewhere, some time.
When I think about those times, I think about Mr. Nixon, who invited me to play my tuba solo as a high school junior at a recital at Emporia State University (then it was Kansas State Teachers College). My older brothers attended there as music majors, and I’m sure Mr. Nixon was trying to recruit me. I didn’t attend there, but he gave me a much-needed boost in my self-esteem at the time and prompted me to make some decisions after that I probably would not have made otherwise.
I think about Mr. Davis, the Vice Principal of the high school I attended, who would sign me back into school as excused after an illness or being away helping Dad on the farm just on my word…not requiring a signed note or phone call from my parents (which was the policy to avoid an unexcused absence). I quickly learned what truth, reputation, and dealing straight meant, and carry that lesson with me even today.
I think about Mrs. Groves, my vocal music teacher in grade school, who would place me beside other kids who couldn’t sing quite as well, or in a section that wasn’t doing so well because she knew I could help those around me learn the music and sing the notes correctly. I didn’t understand what she was doing until I was well into the sixth grade (I was rather dense then as well as now). But when I understood what she had been doing for several years, I worked even harder for her.
I think about my Dad the first time he asked me to drive the pickup from one place to another on the farm, and the first time he asked me to take the tractor out to the field and disk about a 20 acre patch. He was taking a chance…and didn’t say anything to me about it…just told me to go do it. But we both knew those events were a milestone in my development.
I also remember when Dad told me to go to the pasture and bring the cattle into the lot. I had never done it by myself before, but had been with him many times when he did it or we did it together. It took me awhile to get ‘em all going the same direction, but I knew that there was one or two “leaders” in the herd, and that I needed to get those leaders going the right direction and find the cattle path they and other herds used to go to the corral. I was successful at that, and when the lead steer found the cattle path, he settled in and led them all to the corral…my taking up the rear. I was so pleased (and relieved).
There were others in my younger years…these are just some. More in a later post.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Happy LIstening!

Sometimes, I get online and go to YouTube. Many times my reason for going is to hear a song that has been in my mind for awhile, and I’d like to hear it on the speakers in our home. I have my computer audio connected to our audio system, so it’s easy to do. While I sometimes listen to an older song out of the 1960’s or some such, often I turn to the masterpieces such as the Hallelujah Chorus or The Heavens are Telling (the Glory of God). When I do, I often peruse the comments that YouTube allows on the page.
I am struck by the passion with which many of those who are anti-religion talk of a non-god or doing just fine without a god, or some such. And the passion is equal on the other side, with folks glorifying God and giving praise to His glory.
I never enter into such conversations. It’s OK if others want to do so, but those kinds of interactions, it seems, never really accomplish anything and just get folks worked up. I’d much rather people saw a changed life (mine) and made the decision that it was a result of God living in me and my desire to be like Jesus.
And to me, that is much more difficult to do than writing something on YouTube. Living that changed life is impossible without God and difficult at best, at least for me, even with God. As a sort of perfectionist and as one who holds myself to high standards (impossibly high, many would say), I find the concept of grace, acceptance, and forgiveness rather difficult for me to accept when it comes to my own failings.
I’m getting there, however. It’s better than it was. As I mature in years, I think I’m maturing some in other ways as well. And the very idea of grace and forgiveness is such a freeing concept. I wonder why it wasn’t taught with more clarity and with greater emphasis in my earlier years. But the past can’t be relived. The future is uncertain. Only the present can be lived.
So, if you’re in the mood sometime, go to YouTube and take in the Hallelujah Chorus done by a flash mob at Macy’s. Or one of many other gems to be found on that site. I’ve included two or three URL’s here that you can use if you like. Happy listening!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TN5BaOGTmGs&feature=related

http://www.creativeminorityreport.com/2010/11/awesome-pop-up-hallelujah-chorus-at.html

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V2PMMBIPXEY

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Hope

One of the members of our church passed away yesterday. Jim had been chronically ill most of the time we have been here, and we didn’t have the chance to get to know him really well. I did have him in my classes from time to time and know that he appreciated in-depth study in the Bible and enjoyed being with his church family.
Jim passed from this life in peace, with those who loved him and those he loved around and near. The journey was made difficult by his illness, but was anticipated and embraced due to his love of God and Jesus Christ.
I have witnessed many deaths over the years I worked in EMS and in hospitals. Some were young; many were older. Death didn’t seem to care. Some were friends. Some were relatives. Some were folks I didn’t know. Many times I witnessed heroic efforts to save that person’s life. Often, I participated in that effort. Sometimes I was just there as there was no point in taking heroic action, or the person or family asked that it not be done.
Sometimes I arrived on scene after someone already had died. Perhaps it was old age; maybe it was an accident of some kind. More than once it was self-inflicted. Again, it seemed that death wasn’t partial to any one group of humans; young, old, male, female—all were equally touched.
For some folks, an old M.A.S.H. episode may describe their view of death. Major Margaret Houlihan, head nurse on the old television series M.A.S.H., is in the operating room in one episode. Someone she has been caring for has just died. She says, “It never fails to astonish me. You’re alive. You’re dead. No drums. No flashing lights. No fanfare. You’re just dead.”
For others, death is a spiritual experience on the highest order. I am one of those people. There is something about the process, about the emotion, about the finality, about the reality of the experience that is unmatched in any other venue. Something beyond what we can see or know is happening, and we know one day it will happen to us. No matter how often we witness death or how often we comfort and serve, we know no more about the process itself than we did before.
I am grateful beyond words for the hope I have that is in Jesus Christ. And I pray when my time comes I will embrace and hold to that hope as I too make the journey.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

More Tidbits

More tidbits on the universe we live in from the “Instant Egghead Guide…The Universe.”

Fusion in stars is the source of all elements heavier than lithium, number three on the periodic table, they say.

The large, super-cooled magnets in an MRI machine make hydrogen atoms in the body wobble, and consequently emit radio waves which the machine can detect.

A light year is the distance light can travel in one year…5.9 trillion miles. Our national debt is about three light-years-worth of miles.

An attosecond is a billionth of a billionth of a second.

Due to the quantum uncertainty principle, alpha particles are able to tunnel out of the nucleus of an atom due to radioactive decay even though they shouldn’t have the energy to break out.

According to quantum physics, a particle behaving in a certain way on one side of the universe determines the behavior of an “entangled” particle on the other side of the universe, with no communication link between them.

In a 2008 experiment, researchers found that if the entanglement principle doesn’t work instantaneously on the two entangled particles, it operates at at least 10,000 times the speed of light.

The human body can withstand inertia of about 16 g forces for about a minute.

Light has momentum. Solar sails are not science fiction.

If you could travel to the earth’s core, you would find zero gravity at the very center of the earth.

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

The More I See

A week or so ago I ran across the name of a woman we knew while we worked at the girls’ home several years ago. She was the director of the counseling center on campus and did a good job at her profession. I was looking at something on the Internet and happened upon her name. Curious, I Googled her to see if I could find out where she was now and what she was doing, as I knew she was no longer at the girls’ home. (My spellchecker says “Googled” is not a word. I just now added it to the dictionary.)
I quickly found her. She was in the Wichita area and was the director of a maternity home not far from our church. I called the number and left a message. She returned the call a couple of days later and we made arrangements to meet.
A couple of days ago I went to the maternity home and we re-acquanted and visited for an hour or more about her work and the home. I was struck by some things she said.
Many women who come to the home are homeless. Many women who come to the home have some kind of addiction. Many women who come to the home already have one or more children. Many women who come to the home are part of a multi-generational string of such women. Many women who come to the home have no familial, church, or friend support system of any kind.
I quickly determined as I listened that I had absolutely no concept of living in the world that most of these women live in. I cannot fathom being homeless, pregnant, alone, on meth, with few positive societal life skills, and with three kids under the age of six. I found myself in much the same situation as I did several years ago when I confronted the reality of my niece’s eating disorder. I couldn’t relate to that…I cannot relate to this in any meaningful way.
As men are wont to do, I was running through my mind possible ways to “fix” the problem and immediately zoned in on breaking the cycle. I also quickly found out that the “fix” (or any fix, for that matter) isn’t nearly as easy or as black-and-white as it at first appears to be. I was, as I increasingly find myself, dumbfounded, stunned, and stumped. My friend, on the other hand said something to the effect that, “We love ‘em, provide for ‘em and model for them what life should be, and hope something sticks.” Bless you, Julie, for your love and perception.
We constantly hear thirty second sound bytes from presidential candidates, legislators, mayors, religious folks and others who spout fixes for problems such as this as if it’s blatantly obvious and simple to do. The truth is that women in the situation I’ve described above may well be in an intractable position and will never be released from it until they die regardless of the money, counseling, programs, and effort thrown their way.. And they have already assured society that it will have to deal with the situation for at least one more generation by having kids who are now growing up in this same world and will, in all likelihood, end up the same way.
The women who come to this home must agree to adopt the newborn out. The one saving grace in all of this is that the newborn will probably have the best chance possible to break out of the cycle of homelessness, poverty, and despair. Even those babies who have deficits due to Mom having smoked crack or used meth will have a better chance to succeed by being connected to a family who goes into the relationship with that baby with eyes open and decides still to love unconditionally.
The more I see, the less certain I am that I have answers. The more I see, the less I tend to believe anyone who says THEY have answers. The more I see, the more I perceive the brokenness of the creation and the desire of God to redeem it. The more I see, the more I understand that He expects me to be a part of that redemption process. The more I see, the more I can appreciate the overwhelming and all-encompassing work of the Eternal Son of God…redeeming even these pregnant moms…desiring the abundant life for both them and their offspring. Soli Deo Gloria