She Came Back

Corina came back today. I met Corina (not her real name) the first day we worked for the home. She had been in the older girls’ program (Intensive Life Skills), but had gone AWOL from that program and spent the night with “friends”. This wasn’t her first brush with the rules, and wouldn’t be her last.
She was bucked down (so to speak) to the Christian Family Program and placed on the lowest possible privilege level (level 0). She would remain there for two weeks or more, and only gradually over the next several months work her way back up to a level with good privileges. She would go up a level or two, then back down. She’d stumble, get up again, only to fall again. She was the great manipulator.
I visited with her the first day on the job. I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, and probably wasn’t doing anything right those first few months. But together we worked, and she finally made it back to the ILS program, graduated high school, made a commitment to God, and enlisted in the Air Force.
She’s back on campus for several days and will work in the recruiting office that saw her off some months ago. She’ll celebrate her 18th birthday this coming Saturday on the same campus that she almost swore she would never come back to once she left.
Corina had a reality check this past year or so, and seems to have come out on the bright side of things. She seems to be on her way to being the young woman she was intended to be. She seems happy and fulfilled.
I’d like to think we had a part in that transformation.

Monday Morning

It’s another Monday morning on campus. It’s a little past 6am and a couple of the girls are already dressed and have eaten. Some haven’t gotten up yet. Bacon is in the oven and the newspaper hasn’t come yet (which is unusual). The morning is muggy and promises another hot day with a good breeze.
I was struck this morning (yes, I do some of my best thinking this time of day) that there are only a finite number of Monday mornings left for me. Let’s see. Assuming I have about 25 years left in my life, there are only about 1,000 Monday mornings left for me to enjoy.
Now, when I think of it that way, Monday mornings carry a whole new meaning. Where they used to be something to dread…going into work, drudgery of another week, etc…now they are something to be cherished and savored. I want to soak up the experience, knowing that it will all too quickly be over.
When the boys were in high school, we had a young man stay with us who needed a home. He was the same age as our sons and was a joy to have around. One spring when the young man and our older son were seniors, our younger son was a sophomore. They all had vehicles that they drove to school. For a time in the spring of that year, I scraped the frost off the windows and started each of the cars for them a couple of minutes before they came out to leave. I checked fuel levels and put some gas in a tank if I needed to. I’d check the oil sometimes, look at the tires, etc.
I will probably always remember that time in the spring of 1998 when I did that. It was nothing, really, but it was something to me. And yet, even as I was scraping frost, I knew that all too quickly, it would all be over, the boys would be leaving, and I would be left with memories.
I don’t know how old you are. I don’t know how many Monday mornings you have left. Neither do you. This may be your last. Find something in it to savor and appreciate.

Not A Good Day

Yesterday wasn’t a good day. I dunno. Nothing special happened either good or bad that set me off. I just wasn’t feeling good mentally. Physically everything was as fine as it can be for someone with arthritis and high blood pressure. But emotionally, it was not good.
Some days are just like that. You understand that the day was given to you by the grace of the Almighty, and you do fine in the day, but you just feel, well, crappy.
I started the day by reviewing in my mind the words of the song, “This is the day, This is the day that the Lord has made, That the Lord has made…” I don’t know what happened, but it went down hill from there.
Today, however, is a different day. I’m feeling reasonably well. My hands and fingers only hurt a little. The weather is hot, but there is a breeze outside which makes it tolerable. God has given me life and breath and health.
I think I’m ready for the day, whatever it holds. We’ll see how it goes.

The Dance Line

We went to a local steak house last evening. We’d been there a time or two before, and knew it would be busy. We also knew they had good steaks and the wait staff danced in the aisles from time to time…yes, they danced in the aisles.
We were no more than seated than the music started and 18 wait staff (all young people, by the way) did a dance to a country number. I can’t recall the title. They then went back to waiting tables. Toward the end of our time there, they danced again. This time there were 20 in the aisles dancing away to another country number that again I can’t remember the title of.
The steaks were incredible, though. Moderately priced, they were cooked just as ordered and seasoned just right. Many people think they can cook a good steak. The folks at this Texas-named place really do know how to cook one.
I guess my only comments on the dancing, though, are that the wait staff seemed to really enjoy doing the dances and providing some entertainment to their customers. They also have much more energy than I, and it shows. Of course, that could well be due to my pushing 60 and the folks in the dance line pushing 25, but who’s counting?

What Are You Waiting For?

Yesterday, I told you about a drive through the Flint Hills of Kansas through open range, crossing streams, and watching out for cattle. We traveled to the little community of Olpe where we met our son and his family, and our niece and her family. We met at a local restaurant there.
The Chicken House restaurant has been a fixture in Olpe for years. The building burned in the mid-1970’s and they rebuilt. They continue to serve some of the best fried chicken around along with chicken fried steak and other dishes sure to please hungry ranchers and cowboys. No calamari, frog legs, steamed broccoli, or garlic mashed new potatoes here. Just a lot of food on a plate that goes down easy and satisfies.
I enjoy those kinds of places. The conversation is usually brisk and friendly. There’s much more that goes on there than just eating. People make connection again with friends and neighbors. They keep up on the latest. They reconnect with the community. They are a part of something that is bigger than themselves. And they leave the place satisfied not only in their stomachs, but also in their guts knowing that they still matter.
The church was designed to be that same way. Church should be a place to make connection with friends and neighbors. It should be a place to reconnect with the community of believers. And it should be a place that gives a feeling of deep satisfaction knowing that one matters and is loved.
If the church you are part of isn’t that way, something is wrong. It could be something is wrong with the church, but it could also be something is wrong with you and your relationship with the God who made both you and the church, and created both to be a great match.
Just as we long to matter and be accepted by the neighboring community, so we also long to be accepted by God and the community of believers. Why do we persist in being part of a church that isn’t what God wants it to be, or conducting our lives in a manner that God never intended?
There really are churches that model God’s way. There really are people who have that relationship with God that you long for. What are you waiting for?

The Flint Hills

Last weekend we drove up to the community of Olpe (in Kansas) to meet a niece and her family at the local restaurant there. Our son and daughter in law, along with granddaughter drove down from Emporia to meet us there, too, and we went on to their home after lunch for a few hours to visit.
We drove through the Flint Hills to get there. No, we didn’t take the Kansas Turnpike through the Flint Hills. We went to El Dorado and caught Highway 177 east of there and took it up through Cassiday and on to Matfield Green.
At Matfield Green, we turned off and headed out of town on a dirt road that went into the heart of the hills. The road winds, turns, and has few side roads off of it. One really can’t get very lost, because if one encounters an intersection (an oddity there), just take the most well-traveled road and it will be the right one.
The road goes through some of the most breath-taking scenery in Kansas and is truly a delight. For almost 10 miles, the road travels through open range, meaning there are no fences to keep cattle off the road. Several cattle guards keep herds in certain sections of the pastures, but one always needs to be on the lookout for cattle on the road.
We forded several streams that were spring-fed and had fish in them (no bridges out there) and even saw a bobcat mama and two kittens along the side of the road. They scampered into the brush quickly, but not before we got a pretty good look at them. Of course, the cattle were everywhere.
One place a few miles east of Matfield Green has a little path that goes to the top of a rise. Take that little path and a whole world of hills, grass, and beauty wait at the top. Don’t linger too long, though, because you’re not on the public road any more.
One family had stopped and was playing in a stream. We saw one or two other vehicles, but that was about it for people. We saw a few ranches and several signs that talked of private roads or drives. Of course, one must respect those signs or be faced with someone who might not ask questions until after the shooting is over!
Honestly, though, most of those folks are good and decent folks who just want the peace and quiet of the hills. They don’t want (or need) tourists sallying in on them at all hours.
If you go, look first at a map. Google Maps offers a rather accurate map of that area. Know where you’re going, plan to take some time, and enjoy a little of what Kansas has to offer in that area. You’ll never regret it.

Melons

I looked at the watermelon plant we have growing out our back door the other day. I marveled at the complexity of that plant and what it was doing. The watermelon plant is a vine. It has a central root and runners that grow upwards of 20 or more feet from the main stem. Unlike some runner plants, it relies solely on the central root system and not on sucker roots that grow from the runners.
Our plant has three or four melons on it. The melon vine is busy manufacturing sugar and transporting it to the melons. It also is busy gathering water and transporting it to the melons. In fact, everything the vine is doing, it is doing for the melons that are hanging on it right now.
I wondered how it knew to shuttle the sugar manufactured in a runner over here to a melon on another runner over there. I wondered how it manufactured the red flesh inside the melons and how it manufactured that pigment. I also wondered how it could continue to stuff water into a melon that is already about 90% water. Normally, water flows from the greater to the lesser. In this case, it seems to be flowing from the lesser to the greater because the roots of the plant are in soil that certainly is not 90% water.
I probably will have to continue wondering. The fountain of all information (the Internet) only talks about something called transpiration, which is how trees get water from roots to leaves. That says nothing about how to stuff an already soaked melon with still more water.
Someone smarter than I am will have to explain it to me some day.

Happy Slogging

We’re working on our old house that we used to live in, but have rented out for the past several years. It’s in another community in southern Kansas about an hour’s drive from here. We went there today to do some work and were there yesterday evening for awhile.
The work is going rather slowly, it seems. I know it will pick up and if we’re persistent, it will look nice when we’re done. But right now, we’re kind of in the messy, tearing-out phase and it just seems to drag on and on.
Life is like that sometimes (you knew there would probably be some kind of “lesson” in this, didn’t you?). We seem to just plod on and on with little progress, getting “another day older and deeper in debt” as the old song goes. Sometimes we even wish we were somebody else or could move or get another job, etc. We wish we could win the lottery and not have to work any more. I don’t know what your fantasy is, but those have been mine in the not-too-distant past.
God put us here for a reason and for a purpose. Life indeed can be drudgery. Life indeed can be boring. Life indeed can be old. We may not know why, or even how, but that’s not for us to necessarily know. God loves us. That should be enough.
And that’s what makes the prospect of life with God so great. Some day, we’ll no longer be bored. No longer old. No longer slogging through the day. And it will last forever. Get that? Forever.
Now, that is something to think about.

One Life

Tomorrow is my grandfather’s birth day. If he was alive, he would be 137 years old tomorrow. Now, you might think, why in heaven’s name would anyone remember a birthday for someone who has been dead for over 40 years?
Normally, I don’t do a very good job remembering birthdays. I know a few of them, my own included. But I don’t know all the nieces, nephews, etc. Besides, birthdays normally aren’t a big deal for me. But this one somehow is a little different.
Grandpa Sol was one of those larger than life people in my young life. Although an old man when I was but a youngster (he died at the age of 96…I was 16), he was one of the most genuine and kind people I knew. His mind was sharp until the end. He told stories of times long ago and far away. He lived with his daughter for many years, but was independent regarding caring for himself until the last few weeks of his life. My time with him was all too short, and in some cases my young mind didn’t fully appreciate his presence in my life.
I remember his birthday primarily because I remember his 88th birthday celebration. We traveled to LaCrosse, Kansas on August 8, 1958 to celebrate his 88th birthday. Think about it…88 on 8/8/58. Sol’s granddaughter lived there with her new hubby, and they put on the party.
As a young boy, I don’t remember much except it was hotter than Hades and our ’56 Ford wagon (with a Thunderbird engine) didn’t have air conditioning. (Or did we take our ’54 Ford sedan??? I can’t remember.) At the time, LaCrosse had a public water supply that had high concentrations of minerals, and the water didn’t taste or smell at all good. But the celebration in the park was great, and we enjoyed the day.
In his last year or two of life, he and I talked about television. He had a set, one of the first to get one in the community. He marveled that we had figured out a way to send pictures and sound in the air from a great distance, and have those pictures and sounds hit a conglomeration of tubes up in the air on a pole (antenna), come down a little wire, and appear on the box in his living room.
He’s right, of course. Those who know how television works would truly understand what a marvelous invention it is, and that we far too much take it for granted. This was a man who saw the spread of the railroad across the prairie, the establishments of counties, towns, and states, the taming of the west, the demise of the buffalo, and the harnessing of electricity, the patenting of the telephone, the internal combustion engine, and other monumental events. He also saw manned space flight, the harnessing of the atom, the conquering of polio, the invention of the computer mouse, and was dead only two years before the first flight by Apollo to the moon. He was fascinated by all of it.
What about you? What have you seen in your lifetime? What will you yet see? Only time will tell.

"I Can't Believe You're Here!!"

I’m seeing something in both my and my wife’s families that is interesting. We both are gradually, it seems, coming back together as a family either in or close to the places where we grew up.
My wife’s brothers and sisters will, by the end of this year if things go well, all be within about 75 miles of each other, except for one. Other assorted relatives, nieces, cousins, etc. are also in this radius.
My family is centering, it seems, here in Wichita. Three of the six of us are here now. There are also other family members in this area. Whether or not we will all eventually gather here, or even if any others gather here, I don’t know. But at least we are here.
This is not an unexpected thing. Families many times do this in the latter stages of life. I just wasn’t expecting it with our families quite this soon. But it’s also comforting to know that others we know and love are just a few minutes away, even with the instant communication of Yahoo Messenger, email, or cell phone.
As sis has said to me more than once, “I can’t believe you’re here!”

Another Time, Another Place

I just watched an old video of Peter, Paul, and Mary in 1986. It was a PBS special, and they were celebrating 25 years together. The songs they sang were timeless and their voices were still in good form that year. “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” “If I Had a Hammer” and others were sung with enthusiasm and received by the huge audience with equally great enthusiasm.
Watching this video was kind of a thought-provoking time for me. I grew up with their songs. I sung along on the radio with them when they played. I have their earlier recordings. And I’ve followed them through the years. Sometimes during the performance, I was able to take myself back to those years. Other times, I thought about how much we’ve all changed, yet nothing really has changed. Sometimes, I’d just enjoy the music, the professionalism, and the performance.
They did not sing “The Great Mandela” or “Its Raining, Its Pouring,” but they did sing many others of my favorites. It’s an old video, but one I’ll keep. My boys will, when I’m gone and they’re going through my things, wonder why I kept it. I’ll watch it only a few more times in my lifetime, I suspect, but that’s OK. Sometimes, we need to be taken to another time, another place. For me, music is a good way to do that.

The Vacation's Over

This is a busy time for us. One might think that with summer vacation ending and the hot days upon us in full force, it would be a rather lazy time. I am somewhat surprised, though, that we are as busy as we are with the girls.
There’s school that starts in a couple of weeks. We’re taking the girls to dental and eye appointments, finding clothes, enrolling girls, and generally trying to get things going so we don’t have all of that to do at the last minute.
Then there are the remnants of summer activities. One of the girls is staying with her folks for a few days. One of the girls just got back from camp. We still have classes and other activities going on here at the campus for the others.
We have much to do on campus. The garden is in full production. The grass has only recently begun to slow down its growth due to a lot of rain this spring. The trees need to have limbs trimmed, trash is ever-present on campus due to a business district next door with a McD---- there, and other repairs and projects beckon as well.
To add to all of that, for us personally, we are looking forward to helping my brother move to new digs soon. We also are working on our rental property, trying to keep up with our granddaughter, arranging our finances, and finding time for ourselves.
Yes, it may be a busy time, but I think it’s really a matter of perspective. You see, school is just a couple of weeks away. Then the vacation is over.

What's Normal?

The girls who were here and I went with my brother and sister this morning to pick blackberries at a nearby blackberry orchard. I don’t know what the real name should be, so I’ll use the word “orchard”. We got up early, were out of the house by 6:25, and on our way to the restaurant for breakfast and to meet Sis, then on to the berry farm.
The girls did generally well at picking, but mostly had fun with each other and with the “berry bugs” and the “berry snakes”. One of the girls saw a garden snake and called it a berry snake, and there was some kind of insect, like a locust, that one of the others nicknamed a berry bug. Of course, the bugs and snakes were going to eat them, etc and there were appropriate shrieks and laughter about the critters.
My brother said during the picking time that if one didn’t know differently, one would think that these girls were “normal”. I replied that most of the time they were indeed normal, but there were times where triggers of some sort, usually unknown even to the girls, cause them to not think clearly and do something they otherwise would not have done. Or they have not been taught proper interaction techniques or responses to certain environmental stressors. Or there is something else going on of some kind.
We all have times when we’re not normal, I suppose. It’s just that most of us react appropriately to those times and redirect ourselves back to normal or accepted behavior. These girls, for some reason, can’t do that appropriately.
By the way, what’s normal?

Cultural Ruts

We attended a performance by some Chinese acrobats today. As you may know, these folks are just pretty good, and today’s performance was no exception. They made the very difficult seem very easy, and made the impossible seem just a bit harder than easy. Along with the acrobats, some Chinese yoyo performers showed their skill, and some dancers did a Chinese dance. All in all a very enlightening and entertaining afternoon.
I was struck this afternoon with the idea of the incredible diversity that is built into this world of ours. Venues such as this performance allow one culture to contact another in a non-threatening and educational manner. We are privy to a small piece of China and are blessed and made better by our appreciation of these people and what they do.
All too often, we are stuck in our cultural ruts, rubbing elbows only with those who are like us. We don’t have experiences that get us out of our cultural boxes, and when such experiences are made available to us, we often turn away from them as something that is new and different. We want everything to be the same.
Thanks to all who made this performance possible. It was good for me to get out of my rut and appreciate another people and another culture.

Worth Knowing

A few days ago, I was over at the little shopping center that’s just a block or so from the campus. There’s a drive-up mail box there and I noticed a postal service vehicle there and a mailman at the box. I didn’t think much of it at first, but did a double take when I processed the fact that the mailman was putting mail INTO the box instead of taking it out.
Now, that may not seem like much of a deal to you, but it struck me as kind of different that a mailman would be putting mail into the box. My thought was that this was a route carrier that had picked up mail from his route and instead of taking it back to the post office to put into the system, he was putting it into a box to be later picked up by someone else.
You may look at this and just say, “So??” If you do, so be it. You don’t have to read anything into this if you don’t wish to. But some of you undoubtedly will see the irony here; that someone who is supposed to deliver and process mail instead deposits it into a box to be handled by someone else…he’s just a regular Joe who is mailing some things.
So now you know. If you give a letter to your carrier, the chance may be good that he’ll just pull up to a drive-up box somewhere and mail it for you instead of carrying it all the way back to the post office. And isn’t that really worth knowing?

Going Soft

Well, it’s Friday. We have our girls back and we’re in the middle of the Friday schedule. Right now, the girls are at tutoring. We have some adults that come on campus twice a week during the summer and help the girls with math, reading, and writing. These volunteers are a godsend and we are indebted to them greatly.
The day promises to be warm and sticky. I’ve some work to do outside, and am not looking forward to it, but it must be done. I don’t know why, but the heat seems to bother me more than it used to.
I can recall younger days when we had a swamper at home. That’s a water cooler; one of those boxy things that went into the window. Water ran down pads of some kind of material (which smelled wonderful the first few days) and cooled air that was sucked through them and blown into the house. On dry days, it worked great. On humid days, it wasn’t so good.
But as a boy, I wasn’t that concerned about humidity, heat, and discomfort. There were too many things to do in the summer and not enough time to do them. There were tree houses to build, field work to do, drain ditches and railroad sidings to explore, summer recreation, and a host of other things to keep a young mind occupied. The swamp cooler was just a brief respite at times from the heat and outdoors.
Now we lament that we are going soft. We have to have air conditioning and plenty of it. We don’t spend much time outside and when we do, we slather lots of sunscreen. We sweat and think it’s somehow unnatural. And to even think of building a tree house with old boards found on the board pile under the elm at the back of the place is not possible, because there are no more board piles laying around.
I don’t know if we’re going soft or not. In some respects, we’re tougher than ever. I’ll leave that up to you. But for right now, I’m donning my hat, my gloves, and a steely will to brave the heat and humidity of Wichita in July. If I make it back alive, I’ll let you know how it went.

A Decent Place

We spent yet another day at the rental house in my hometown…the one I’ve been telling about in previous posts. We didn’t spend a lot of time there. Maybe we were there four or so hours today. We were both tired today and I hurt from yesterday’s work.
We did get some sheetrock (excuse me, DRY WALL…Sheetrock® is a brand name) mudded and got some wet sanding done. We also prepared to do more dry walling tomorrow and maybe some more mudding and taping.
It’s getting a little more dry down there, as it hasn’t rained any great amount for almost a week. The humidity is even going down some. Now, maybe we can get back to some semblance of normal, whatever that is, with the weather.
We’re getting our girls back on Thursday afternoon. We’ll go down there tomorrow and work, but stay here Thursday to prepare to get them back. On Monday, three of the girls will be going to camp, so that will leave us with just three for about a week. Then following that, we need to begin thinking about school. We need to do some shopping, get school supplies, etc.
We’re going to see our sons and their families this evening at Emporia. They’re meeting us there. It’ll be just for a couple of hours or so, then back to Wichita. These weeks off never seem to have enough days in them. We always have more to do at the end of them than we had at the beginning, it seems!
Thanks to all who have encouraged us as we work with our old house. It’s nice to know that there are others who care. We care, too, and will do the best we can with the resources we have to make the place a decent place to live once again. Thanks.

Listening

The wife and I went down and worked on our rental house today. We’ve been down there several times over the past two or three weeks, and we’re just now beginning some re-building following a lot of tearing up, down, and out. It’s been a discouraging process to go through, because the house is where we raised our family and is where I grew up. It just doesn’t seem right to have to see the old home place look like this.
Every time we go down, we are welcomed by a house wren and his missus. They’ve taken up residence in an old wren house attached to a post that isn’t more than about six feet off the ground and about 15 feet from our back door. Regardless of the weather, the man of the house is singing away either in a nearby sycamore, on top of the post, or on top of the wren house. He helps his wife take in various kinds of bugs…I am assuming there is a family inside.
I think God sent him there to keep me on the right track. This house repair is awfully discouraging. But the wren doesn’t care what the weather is, what shape the house is in, or anything else. He knows what he knows, and he knows that he needs to sing his song. And he does sing…and he cheers me whenever he sings.
We’ve had wrens in that house (one I built as a teenager) for years. Even when we moved and rented the place out, they still came. I’m glad they’re here this year. It’s just one more reminder that God loves me and desires what is best for me. Now, if I’d only listen….

Attitude Adjustments

We have a home in this area that we’ve owned for many years. When we had to move away several years ago, we kept the house and rented it. Recently, we found several things wrong with the house and asked the renters to move so we could work on the house.
When we took a good look at the place, it was obvious that it needed more than we could give it in just a day or two. Several of us spent three days earlier this month at the place, and we uncovered issue after issue that just sank us deeper into discouragement. It turned out the house was a lot more in need of attention…major attention…than we had thought.
We kept thinking that we had found all that we were going to find, then something else would manifest itself, causing us to THEN think we’d found all that we were going to find, etc. We reached a low point, I think, on the night of the third day. Since then, it’s been a struggle to maintain a good attitude while working to correct the problems.
Having a good attitude and a positive frame of mind is so important in any aspect of life and living. I must confess that I don’t have that kind of an attitude nearly as much as I should. I tend to take things personally. I want to make things worse than they are. I think that no one in the world has the problems that I have.
Then all I have to do is look at the girls we serve here and their families. All I need do is look at the people of Greensburg, Kansas or Coffeyville, Kansas (tornado and flood, respectively). Or I can look in any nursing home or hospital, any prison, any mental facility, any of a number of places to find people who would gladly trade places with me.
Why is it that we have such a hard time figuring out that we have a lot going for us and that God is indeed good? Why do we continue with the martyr complex? Why can’t we see life as good? Why do we dwell on the bad, the negative? I don’t know the answers to those questions. I don’t know if anybody does. But I do know that I’d better get an attitude adjustment quickly, or I’ll miss out on what is truly special about living.

Going Beyond

We had an “upset the applecart” day in church yesterday. We were asked to wear nametags (you know, the “Hi, my name is….” tags) and were asked to sit somewhere in the auditorium where we normally would not sit. The idea was that with a congregation of several hundred souls, there were people we don’t know even though we’ve been attending for some time. It really was a fun thing to do.
We moved to another area of the auditorium and happened to be sitting such that we could see the sign language interpreter head-on. Normally, we sit where we see them work from kind of a side view. I’ve always been fascinated by signing and enjoy watching the signer as he or she interprets the words I hear. I try to match the words with the sign.
We sang “Holy, Holy, Holy” and I was able to look head-on as Scott interpreted the words. I don’t know what happened, but I saw in that signing a beauty and an awesomeness that just bowled me over as surely as if I’d fallen to the floor.
The words themselves are wonderful in that song, and the sign interpretation of it by Scott just seemed to bring out a kind of understanding that went beyond the meaning of the words themselves. The whole was greater than the sum of the parts, as some would say.
To say that worship takes place only during such times is, of course, fallacy. However, to say that worship must be devoid of such emotional times is also patently untrue. We are created as emotional spirits that inhabit physical bodies. There must be a blend and balance as we struggle to let the God of heaven and earth know of our love and devotion…not an easy thing since our actions speak louder than our words. And our actions on a daily basis are, if anything, less than stellar.
We say in worship that we love Him, yet we continue to lie, cheat, steal, gossip, and generally disobey in everyday life. How can He possibly believe what we say, knowing that we do what we do? I think it helps sometimes to have moments of worship that go beyond our saying that we love Him. I think this moment was one of those.

Back Again

We’re back and going again here at the home. It has been an extraordinary vacation to say the least. Yes, we got the older son married off on Saturday and they are wrapping up a week at a Caribbean island. We had all of my siblings at the wedding and we had a good time with them at the motel where we stayed.
We then spent three days at the old home place in southern Kansas and cleaned, painted, tore out, tore down, and in general made a mess of the place…actually prepping it for better things down the road.
We camped out, some in tents, some on air mattresses. Some stayed in a nearby motel. In addition to the work, we had a weiner roast, birthday party, talent show, fireworks, and generally had a good time those days.
The house, however, was not in the best of condition and we found several things wrong that we didn’t know were wrong when we first started. So now we have added things to do that we didn’t know about before now.
But isn’t that always how it is? You know, it seems that when we try to do something…anything…the job never is as simple and easy as one thinks it is or will be. Those thirty minute jobs end up taking all afternoon, and a two or three day job ends up taking a week.
Regardless, the week was great and we accomplished a lot. Thanks to the family for helping out and for being there to celebrate our son’s wedding. I am truly blessed.

A Different Vacation

I have yet to get truly connected in this day and age. We’re going on vacation today and I have no means to contact the Internet while we’re away. That means no email, no blogging, no IM’ing. I somehow feel deprived.
However, others in the group probably will have that 90’s invention, the laptop, and I can operate one of those fairly well. So I may have some connection with the ether after all.
It’s amazing, isn’t it, how we become so accustomed to wireless connections, instant communications with Australia and Iraq, and pop-up anything-you-want on the screen. We get to the point that it becomes part of us and we are somehow less than whole if we don’t tap into it regularly.
However, these next several days we will be renewing relationships with family, doting on the granddaughter, marrying off a kid, and trying to get a start on fixing up the rental property in the hometown. We’ll have plenty to keep us occupied, so I may not be very regular in checking email or blogs, and may well not write for more than a week.
Maybe this vacation from technology is just what the doctor ordered.

A Pretty Good Deal

Well, it will be just a few days until we’ll be on our way to the Kansas City area to prepare for our son’s wedding. This truly is the end of an era, and the beginning of another for us. We only had two kids, and now they both will have families of their own.
Times like this make me pause and reflect, something I don’t do very often any more. Time marches on, as they say, and there is nothing we can (or would) do to stop that.
Our son asked for pictures of him when he was home. I’m thinking they are making some kind of display. Those pictures, as we looked through them, tore my heart more than once. We had such a good time as a family when the boys were home. I couldn’t have asked for a better ride in life than what we had with our family. Even so, it’s time to move on.
Hopefully, each of my sons will have that same ride in their families and with their lives. As they look back in 20 to 25 years, hopefully they will remember the good things and decide that on balance, life handed them a pretty good deal.
And after all, any good deal we receive is really undeserved and made possible only by the grace and mercy of the One who started it all.

A Wedding

I’m getting ready for our older son’s wedding, coming up in a little over a week. I’m to officiate at the ceremony, and am preparing the services.
I know that the minister is mostly not paid-attention-to, and is there in most cases just to get the job done. However, this time it’s a little more special for me as it’s my boy that is getting married. So I am working with a little more diligence on the words I will say, and will have the services on cards word-for-word instead of having notes to use. It’s one of the more enjoyable, yet nervous-type things I’ve done over the years.
And I’ll be wearing that strait jacket otherwise known as a tux. You know, the one with the cuff links, cumber bund, and other things that no one knows how to properly wear nowadays. But that’s OK. I don’t intend to do tuxes many more times in my life, so I guess I can handle it this one time.
That day will come and go before we know it. If anything happens that day that isn’t according to “the plan,” probably no one will notice it except those who created “the plan” in the first place. They’ll be married, and we’ll take of the tuxes, the dresses, and the too-tight shoes and relax by the motel pool.

Telling a Story

Once a month, we and the girls help at a food distribution center here in town. It’s a little different concept than one might normally think. It’s totally private with no government funding. There is no income or other test in order to benefit. No questions are asked other than basic contact information and how many and which order packages one wants. We work in the area where people come to make up their packages and pick up their groceries. We also help carry out the groceries to waiting vehicles.
It is interesting to see folks come in and try to imagine what life might be like for them. Some come in with walkers or canes. Others bring munchkin kids along. Some seem to have it together, or at least they try to make us think so. Still others tell part of their story to the workers as they go around making up their orders. And a few even come by public transportation to take advantage of the reduced prices for food staples.
The condition of the vehicles many times continues the story. A few are spotless. Many are cluttered with children’s toys and baby seats. Some are downright dirty. Some are newer…some are older. Some are in good condition…some are dropping pieces of themselves on the road as they travel along.
Everyone has a story. Everyone has a history. I’m sure we’ve seen abusers and the abused. I know we’ve seen poverty and want. We’ve also seen people grateful that they don’t have to lay out their life history in order to receive help and can bolster their dignity just a bit with the few minutes of contact they have with the workers.
Everyone also has a future. For many, the future isn’t very bright. They may have a terminal illness, be on the brink of bankruptcy, or anticipating a divorce. Some may be resigning themselves to the fact that their spouse will come home drunk and beat them tonight. They’re wondering if they’ll be able to protect their kids.
Some don’t think about their future. They’ve never been taught to think beyond the next hour or so. Others may not want to think about the future because they know that it doesn’t promise to be good.
Still others may not know what the future here holds, but know their eternal future is safe and secure in the unchanging Creator of the Universe. Rich or poor, sick or healthy, black or white, married or single, these people know that something better awaits and look forward to that Day when there will be no more sickness, death, disease, abuse, hunger, or terror. “Even so, come Lord Jesus!”

Worlds Together

We have a black and white cat that stays on our campus. She’s been here for several years, and indeed is a “she”. She stays in one of the drain gutters on campus and comes out regularly and makes the rounds. She’s not a tame cat, but she’s not really wild, either. One of the girls that was here a couple of years ago and is now back says that she has petted her, although I can’t get near her.
One of these days, I suppose, some disease or injury will put her out of commission, and the tabby will be no more. However, she’s managed to survive several years and seems to be in reasonable health just now.
I guess one thing I think of when I see her strolling from one place to another, as I did just a moment ago out of the office window, is that there are multiple worlds out there that inhabit the same space. The cat’s world intersects with, contacts, and intertwines with our own. And these two worlds have interaction with a great assortment of worlds and environments of everything from birds to neighbors across the street. And in many significant ways, each of the participants in this worldly dance sort of go their own ways and do their own things and make their worlds into what they want them to be.
Humans have a decided advantage over cats. Where the cat can only make her world the way God programmed her to make it, we humans can reshape, reform, and remake our worlds into many different forms and appearances. The choice is ours to make.
We can make our worlds hell-holes, or we can make them into the beginnings of an eternal life of peace and happiness. The difference, of course, is whether or not we allow God into our worlds. I don’t know about you, but I’d much rather exist in a world with my creator than in a world without Him.
Next time you have a minute or two and aren’t doing anything (yeah, right), think about all of the people whose worlds make contact with your world. Think about what their worlds might be like, then decide if you need to tell someone about the creator of the universe who wants to be in their world and make it the beginning of a blessed eternity.

Say It Ain't So

Doesn’t it just seem that whenever things are going well, something happens that pops all the bubbles? Let me tell you a brief story.
My brother in law works with the state social welfare agency. He recently received a compliment from a client that made it all the way up to the state director in Topeka. Each manager along the way complimented him on his work. In fact, the state director had this to say, “It is stirring to think that a grieving mother can pause to recognize the kindness of others as she is laying her son to rest. Obviously, you made a tremendous difference in this man's life. I truly appreciate the helpfulness you offered and the compassion with which you connected this family to critical services. Thanks for being such a wonderful ambassador of SRS and for providing services from the heart.”
The story continues, however. Due to whatever reasons, over this past weekend, the computer gurus at SRS decided to re-format and re-load all of the hard drives in all of the PC’s. They assured my brother in law that the information he had stored on his drive (contacts, email addresses, policy interpretations, etc) was safe. Monday morning he comes in and there is none of that information available. The documents that were there had been reformatted, his printer didn’t work correctly, and things were a mess…so much so that now they are saying they will replace his PC, resulting in even further loss of information.
Bruce truly works with compassion and from the heart. It is truly a travesty that this had to happen, and a further travesty that the computer nerds don’t seem to care much that they made major messes in the work lives of many folks at that agency.
Thanks, Bruce, for making a difference.

A Great Visit

We visited the zoo yesterday. The Sedgwick County Zoo is one of the better zoos I’ve visited, and yesterday my opinion was only heightened. They just opened a great penguin exhibit and have completed many other attractions in years past for both animal and human. They continue to work on the place, and are now constructing something right in the middle of the complex.
Maybe the best exhibit of them all is the rain forest. The building one enters is humid and damp, just right for a rain forest. I was amazed, as I walked the path in the forested area, at the incredible diversity of life in the ecosystem. It seemed that everywhere I looked in the forest, a pair of eyes was looking back at me. Birds, lizards, bats, frogs, and many other species of animal inhabit this area. And the fish! As I strolled into the under-aquarium tube to gaze at the fish, the wondrous diversity of species, color, size, and shape mesmerized me. The plant life was lush and green, providing protection and food for a wide variety of animal life.
As I exited, I noticed that my clothes were wet and I really appreciated the lower humidity of the outdoors, even though the outdoor humidity was so high it bordered on oppressive.
I was again struck at the creative nature of God. Who ever heard of a big baby blue bird that walks on the ground that has a mohawk haircut? Why on earth would God have made a square fish? Or mammals that hang upside down to sleep (bats)? I have to wonder just how much of a sense of humor God has as I look at some of the things He has made.
What about the gorgeous tree frogs whose skin is so poisonous that humans can be killed just by touching them? Or the pretty green snakes or the lizards with tails that come off when attacked by a predator or well…you just think of some of your own.
Some time when you have a few hours, go to a zoo near you and appreciate the creation and all that is in it. And think of the One who made it all and marvel.

A Good Harvest

Toto, Kansas is alive and well. The past couple of days, we’ve been blown at from the south by hot and dry winds, only to have them shift about 9:30 last night to the north. They blow from the north at about the same speed, but thankfully not the same temperature.
This morning it’s dry, but more pleasant due to the cooler temperatures outside. This time of year, however, it usually gets warm rather quickly after a cool front comes through, and the next day or two promises to be no exception to that.
This is harvest weather. You may not have ever experienced wheat harvest in Kansas. But if you have, you know that when it turns hot, windy, and dry about this time of year, the wheat also turns that golden color and the farmers are itching to get it cut and in the elevators.
I probably won’t see much harvest activity living in the middle of Wichita. And in a way, that’s kind of sad because that used to be my favorite time of year. Just out of school, the summer looming large, there was a beehive of activity in preparation for the harvest. We worked on equipment, went to the parts stores, bought fuel, oil, and grease, and hoped it wouldn’t hail.
During harvest, we saw friends at the elevator we hadn’t seen in a long time (Sam Allenbaugh at Duqoin, Sam and Ralph Barker at Harper, and others), talked about the quality of the harvest (protein, moisture, etc), and planned how to raise this next year’s crop. We ate out of Guardian Service cookware either in the field or in the kitchen of the old house on the north place. We could count on Mom bringing out pot roast with spuds and carrots along with corn, fruit, iced tea, and usually a home-baked pie. We had real plates and flatware, too. Somehow, those meals were the best-tasting….
It is my wish that you have a good harvest this year.

Nickel Cokes

Today marks the first day of the summer schedule for the girls. My, my, we have a lot to do this summer. Let’s see…there are classes (violence prevention, nutrition, math and reading tutoring, yoga, etc), volunteer work at the nursing home down the street, recreation time, R & R, and other things on the schedule. Add to that the summer camp and mission trip and the summer is rather filled, I think.
Some of the girls enjoyed the week between school and the summer schedule with not a lot to do. Others had a hard time keeping occupied. I know that’s sort of an age-old problem, but I guess my question is why don’t I seem to have a hard time finding something to do?
I think when we get older, one of two things happen. Either we fill our schedules faster, or we work at them slower. In either event, we have more undone stuff staring us in the face than many kids do nowadays. I long for the days I remember when I whined to my mother that I had nothing to do and the summers seemed to last forever.
We had two acres on the edge of town back then (in the late 50’s and early 60’s) and dad farmed as well as worked in plumbing and heating. We had a big garden, kept chickens and rabbits, and had fruit trees. A grain elevator was next door and a rail spur ran along our property line that served both the elevator and the county shop on down the line. A drainage ditch was just a half block from our place and many times had tadpoles, crawdads (crayfish), and other wild animals inhabiting it. A woods abutted the drainage ditch and had wonderful old, abandoned hulks of cars, piles of concrete, and other junk in it. There was plenty of opportunity to find stuff to do, productive or not.
Many days I climbed the fence that separated the elevator from our place and went over to the office and sat in there, taking in the conversation of the men who came in. Sometimes I bought a Coke out of the old vending machine…a nickel bought a 6 ½ oz bottle. I knew most of the men who came in, and enjoyed the “adult” conversations of these mostly WWII veterans.
Maybe what is wrong nowadays is that there are no more rail spurs and grain elevators in a residential area or places to keep chickens inside the city limits of most towns. Drain ditches are covered over and no longer serve as breeding grounds for animals except skunks and feral cats. There’s no longer any place where a kid can feel comfortable loafing, buying a Coke for a nickel out of a machine.
I don’t want to go back to those days, but it really is true that the bad memories seem to gradually fade as the good ones are kept. I wonder if there will be a nickel Coke machine in the grain elevator office in heaven….

Truly Caring

My little brother and I (and my two sons) worked yesterday at my rental property in a small community near here. There has been a lot of rain all over the area, and the rental was no exception. It rained so much that the cellar and crawl space under the house flooded. This is no small matter, as when it flooded, it also knocked loose some support for the house and one floor began to sag.
Yesterday was fix-up day. We all four went there and opened the door only to find three feet of water in the cellar. We pumped that out, then found up to a foot of muck on the floor. Nothing to do but to start shoveling and bucketing the muck up and out.
We worked like that all morning, alternating doing that with fixing the guttering and drainage around the place. In the afternoon, we had enough shoveled out that we were able to have some working room and installed a beam that would raise the floor back and provide the proper support.
Soggy, muddy, filthy, tired and hurting, we were all worn to a frazzle.We were happy to load up and head home. On the way, by brother said something to the effect that this had been absolutely the worst job he has ever had to do. He then said something about being glad, in one respect, that he did this because it showed him that he was willing to do something that not everyone would be willing to do.
I understand that attitude, and would add that he even did it for someone else and not himself...and did it with humor and attention to the job.
Such a quality is increasingly rare these days. It's nice to be part of a family that cares and truly loves each other. Thanks.

Memorial Day

Another Memorial Day has come and is almost gone. Flags wave, flowers and wreaths rest at the foot of various monuments and stones, soldiers salute, dignitaries have given speeches, people have had picnics, been boating, and have or are driving or flying back home.
It wasn’t always this way. Memorial Day used to be on the 30th of the month regardless of what day that happened to be. It used to be called “Decoration Day”. It used to be not observed in the South. And it used to have much more meaning than it now seems to have.
According to the US Memorial Day web site (www.usmemorialday.org), people are beginning to bring back the original and intended meaning of the holiday. Some are even advocating taking the day back to the 30th of the month (Sen. Daniel Inouye, a WWII veteran).
Those things are good and probably need to be at least considered, if not done. However, we as a people should take a collective look at our desire for leisure, recreation, and holiday and weigh it against our obligation to remember those who have gone before us, paving the way for us to have the best the world has to offer.
I know that the latter is not nearly as much fun as the former. But sometimes the better is not always the easier, or the more fun.
Do what you will this holiday. But along with it, take at least a couple of minutes to reflect on those who gave all they had for you. And while you’re at it, reflect on the One who, some two millennia ago, gave all He had for you and your obligation to Him.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

—By John McCrae

Charlie's Burgers

The wife is gone today visiting her family, so I took a cue from that and ate this evening at Charlie’s Famous Burgers down the street. I don’t know just how famous Charlie or his burgers are, but it was just what I expected. An older gentleman (my age) who was overweight and not very concerned about looking dapper was cooking in a kitchen that was about half the size of my office and much dirtier and greasier than my office ever thought of being. He had a helper with him who seemed competent, but hadn’t yet ingested all of the grease that Charlie had taken in over the years.
The menu was hamburgers, fries, and other fried foods. Not a salad to be found. No fruit cups. No yogurt. Just burgers, accessories, and variations thereof.
I got the Charlie special, which was a double cheese burger with fries and a drink. I got it to go and within five minutes was actually going on my way with a brown bag filled with hot fries and a burger. The grease was soaking through the bag and the smell was of old grease. What a wonderful meal this would turn out to be!!
The fries were the kind that everyone dreams of, but one seldom finds any more. You know, those cut from the unpeeled spud, all different sizes, limp, hot, and fresh. No McD’s uniformity here. The burger was seasoned a little TOO much, but was greasy and hot and good. The drink was what it was supposed to be.
Charlie runs his store out of a little building in a parking lot of a strip mall. The whole building is maybe 500 square feet, and includes 8 or so tables in varying states of cleanliness and repair. There’s a high table with bar chairs out front in a glassed-in area that is glass on three sides so you can see all around you. It probably was some kind of show area in the business that was there before Charlie.
The Charlies of this life are the people that make life interesting. Look for them next time you’re out and around. And if you can’t find any, do something different so you’ll run into them once in a while. I probably won’t go back for awhile. I think it’ll take time for the grease to leave my system. But Charlie and his helper certainly made an impression on me that I like. Thanks for the experience, Charlie.

Breaking Down Cubicles

We went to the dinner theater last night to see the production of Oklahoma on stage. We’ve seen it before, several times, but that’s one of those classics that you just go see from time to time just to make sure someone didn’t change the script. Sis came along with us and we had a good time at the show.
Those kinds of times are important in life, I think. No, it isn’t important that we go to the dinner theater once in a while. What is important is that we do something together, whether just the two of us, or whether someone else comes along, that is different and out of the routine. God meant for us to have the abundant life and when He said that, He didn’t mean abundant possessions. In fact, the Good Book says that Jesus said, “Take care! Protect yourself against the least bit of greed. Life is not defined by what you have, even when you have a lot.”
Even in the days of Jesus, people took time off from the everyday and routine to celebrate weddings, gather for common meals, observe holidays, etc. They seemed to truly enjoy those times and came together in common unity for the purpose of celebration and fellowship. Their times of celebration sometimes lasted several days, with food in abundance and all manner of conversation, laughter, and merriment.
We miss something in our sterile world of cubicle houses, cubicle transportation, and cubicle work environment. The cubicle mentality (isolation) stifles us and defeats any chance we have for true interaction and enjoyment of one-another. We have to work to break down the cubicles and allow true fellowship to occur.
That’s worth doing.

The Rains Came Down

“The rains came down and the floods came up….” So goes a line from that old VBS song about the wise man and the foolish man. If you recall the story, the wise man built his house on the rock and the foolish man built his on the sand. Then when the rains came, the foolish man’s house was washed away while the wise man’s house remained. Of course, the moral is that we are to build our lives on a good foundation.
I say all of that to say that the rains have come again today. Literal rains. They started about 4:30am and remain at 6:30. We’ve just gone through about a week of rain. The last three or four days have been nice. Now we have rain again. It appears, though, that it won’t last for days on end.
Why do we persist, even when we know better, to gripe about the weather? I wonder if somehow the weather connects us together as fellow sufferers (or fellow beneficiaries) of something over which no one has control. And I wonder if we somehow marvel at this phenomenon called weather just because no one has figured out a way to modify it, eliminate it, or tame it. Then when we’ve survived whatever it has handed to us, we feel like we’ve somehow overcome and conquered.
The radar says the rain is on its last gasp here, at least for an hour or two and maybe for good (this time around). That’s good, but it’s also good that it came even if some of us think we’ve had too much. After all, what do we know?

Where's the Beets?

My dear sister accused me, a few days ago, of having an attitude of having to slog through marriage, relationships, and life. It’s a long story (it always is when Sis is involved), but in sum, we were talking about love and soul mates. My comments were, in part, “Second, and this isn't a cliche, love is a learned thing. The things one feels when near someone who is pretty or charming isn't love. Love is something that is learned, practiced, and worked-on over and over again. Love is sometimes hard work.”
Her comment to that was, “You guys make it sound like it's the worst burden you will ever bear in your entire lives and that you're slogging through life, WORKING WORKING WORKING at this and then waking up the next day, WORKING WORKING WORKING at it all over again, and over again the next day. Sort of like picking three rows of green beans before dinner, or standing on a ladder in 103 degree heat picking cherries off a tree, or canning beets in an outbuilding that's 120 degrees inside, or digging a cellar with a spade, or driving a tractor with a 4 bottom plow and no hydraulics, looking at 159 acres to go.”
Now, I ask you in all fairness, what did I say that incited that kind of response? Am I incorrect that love is sometimes hard work? Actually, this is my blog, so I’ll just answer that question myself. No, I am not incorrect.
One other point. It may indeed be hard work, but hard work many times is pleasurable, productive, and profitable.
So, I’m here to say on the record and publicly, love is indeed hard work many times, but it’s been some of the most pleasurable hard work I’ve ever done in my life. Now, if I could just get these beets canned....

This Culture

The Wichita River Festival is nigh upon us. In just a day or so downtown will be crammed with people, cars, and all that goes with such an event. It’s akin to the State Fair, it seems, with a nine day run and a heavy emphasis on separating folks from their money in some way, shape, or form.
That’s OK, though. We should be used to that by now. Our culture is one where the best and brightest are the ones who have perfected the knack of separating people from their money. We reward them with even more money, fame and notoriety. Us poor schmucks that allow them to do that to us, on the other hand, seem content to wallow in the bowels of anonymity and relative poverty, while continuing to hand over precious resources in exchange for such as a few miles traveled in a car (gasoline), beer, a latte, or a design on a pair of shoes.
Maybe I’m getting cynical in my old age. Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be. But I can’t help but think of the teaching of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew, chapter 6) that talks of either serving God or serving mammon (money). He says we can’t do both, and that if we are money-servers, we also are of those who worry about what we will eat, wear, etc. He plainly says to not do that.
I have to wonder how I am faring in this world and culture.

Enough Rain

Well, we’ve had enough rain. At least in my own flawed judgment, we’ve had enough. What the Almighty has in mind, I don’t know.
Wichita actually was spared a lot of the worst of the rainfall. However, there are several creeks that flow into or near the city from other places, and the Arkansas and Little Arkansas rivers meet downtown. So we are having our share of flood warnings along with many others in the central and south-central parts of the state.
We own a home in Harper County and found out from the renter yesterday evening that water had run into the crawl spaces under the house. It soaked up the dirt to the extent that part of a supporting structure was compromised. I don’t know what I’m going to do with that, but the renter has said he’ll call someone down there that he and I both know, and have the man look at it for me. Whatever it is, it will be costly, I’m sure.
It is said that God works in His time. We’ve been praying in Kansas off and on for rain for the past five years or more. This spring, finally, he has chosen to end the ongoing drought in Kansas and other places in this part of the world. In a big way, God has chosen to provide water to nourish crops, flush away dirt and debris, and fill reservoirs.
I thought of the words of a verse of a short song this morning as I did my morning chores in the bathroom. I’ll end with them.

It is enough.
Earth’s troubles soon shall cease
And Jesus calls us to heaven’s perfect peace.

Antennae

I often have to wonder how and why some folks seem to be able to look at a situation and rather immediately perceive that something is amiss or not quite right. The actual situation can differ, but some people just seem to have a perceptive quality inside that seems to know instinctively that something will or will not happen, something is not quite right, or something is not as it should be.
I got that feeling yesterday when dealing with one of the girls. Although I had never been in that specific type of situation before, I got the distinct feeling that something wasn’t as advertised. I still have it. I don’t know if I’m correct or not as the situation hasn’t played out to the full. But it’s there…that feeling…in all it’s glory.
I’ve had the feeling before. And I’ve been wrong before. But I’ve also been right and seem to be right more often now than I used to be some time ago. I believe I can trust this feeling a little more than I used to be able to do.
Quite possibly, this quality in people is nothing remarkable or magical. My guess is that it is a quality that most humans have to process information, pick up on signs and clues that we have no idea we even perceive, and form some kind of opinion based on all of this information coming together somehow amongst our 4 quadrillion or so neural connections. This quality probably is honed and sharpened with experience and tends to work better in a mature mind.
What is it? Intuition? Hunch? Perception? Insight? Sixth sense? Whatever one calls it, it can work for good, but since it is only a guess (albeit a guess based on information and facts as we know them), we must treat it as such and work as objectively with the issue as possible. We can’t let feelings control us, but can indeed use them to help us live and get along in the world.
We’ll possibly see whether my gut is telling me the right thing or not in the next few days. Meanwhile, life goes on and the antennae remain (hopefully) receptive.

In God's Country

As you might have guessed, my first blog post-trip is one extolling the wonderful time we had in Northwest Kansas over the weekend. And it was indeed a grand time.
Our trip out was uneventful. We stopped in Central Kansas to see my wife’s dad, then headed on “out west”. Arriving at our destination about 7:00 in the evening (or was it 6pm…I just don’t know for sure with the confusion of crossing the time zone), we were greeted by our hosts who operate a b & b “out there” in the middle of nowhere.
Built in the late 1800’s in a valley with a running creek, the b & b is also a working ranch, although not the kind of ranch one might expect. There are no cowhands, horses, etc. here. There is a lot of tilled ground, irrigation, and some livestock. It’s operated more like a farm than a ranch, for those who know the difference.
We stayed in the house, which was filled with history and oozing with stories of times past and gone. They’ve done a great job with the preservation of the place and seem to have a good handle on what it takes to make such a place productive and good.
The two things I noticed most, however, were the quiet (which I’ve written about before), and the wildlife. Ducks, pheasant, turkeys, deer, geese, frogs (we were near a creek), and even prairie dogs were enjoyed over the course of time. The quiet was stunning and was a welcome respite for folks from the big city.
One thing I had kind of forgotten was how far people have to drive out there to get anywhere. It’s just a long way from one place to another, and drives of 20 miles or more to go to the store, to eat, to church, to visit, etc., are not uncommon. The roads aren’t all paved, either. Our car received some battle scars in the form of clinging mud on the fenders and wheel wells while out there. When I opened the trunk lid, the dust came flying off of it and into the air in a brown cloud. I knew then we were in God’s country.

A Whole, 'Nuther Country

Today, we will take a trip out to Northwest Kansas. We used to live in that area, and have been asked to come back for the weekend to attend and participate in some church-related activities. We look forward to our short stay out there.
Northwest Kansas is in many respects a “whole ‘nuther country,” as they would say in Texas. Some of the area is on Mountain Daylight Time. Some is above 3,000 feet elevation, which seems to be the beginning point of a change in climate to more of a mountain-type. A lot of it is normally very dry; although this spring they have had a LOT of rain. The towns are small, as are the counties. Many counties in that part of the state have less than 5,000 population. The largest communities have about 5,000 to 6,000 population, and that’s counting a few dogs and cats.
There is an ethic out there that is at once independent, compassionate, stubborn, and gentle. There is a great respect for nature and for the land that gives sustenance and provides economy. Folks there don’t generally think much of city people, politicians, people with PhD behind their names, or the likes of folks such as Jesse Jackson or Al Gore. They’d much rather celebrate Veteran’s Day than Diversity Day.
So we’ll be traveling to that ‘nuther country, Northwest Kansas, shortly. And we’ll enjoy every moment we spend there and wistfully wish, as we travel back to Wichita, that we could stay longer.

Meanness

Miami Herald columnist Leonard Pitts, in a column that ran on April 20, talked of the shooting at Virginia Tech. He quoted Nikki Giovanni, poet and professor who had taught the shooter, who talked about him. Among other things, according to Pitts, Ms. Giovanni said this, “''I know we're talking about a troubled youngster and crap like that, but troubled youngsters get drunk and jump off buildings; troubled youngsters drink and drive. I've taught troubled youngsters. I've taught crazy people. It was the meanness that bothered me. It was a really mean streak.''
Pitts concluded his column with these words, “You hear few people putting it that way, which isn't surprising. After you've established that there is meanness in the world, where do you go from there? Blame the police or mental health care, and the implication is that here is something we can get our hands around, something we can fix. But how can you fix meanness? How can you fix a deadness of the soul?”
“Some days, you look for answers. Some days, you seek things you can fix. But some days, I think, you just have to swallow the bitter pill that there is a meanness in this world. That will never pass for wisdom. But it feels an awful lot like truth.”
For Christians who believe in evil, the meanness that these folks talk about is personified as Satan, the Devil, or the Evil One. Choose whichever you want…to personify it or to just admit there is “meanness” in the world. Either way, the result is the same. People are killed. People are raped. People are abused. There are wars, famines, oppression, and genocide. There is, as a result of this meanness (or Satan…take your pick) theft, robbery, assault, deceit, rage, neglect, illness, and death.
Pitts’ questions regarding fixing meanness are especially appropriate. He has no answers. Christianity, however, does have an answer…Jesus Christ. That’s what makes Christianity so different from anything the world has ever seen. There is an answer to the unanswerable. There is a fix for meanness; for deadness of the soul. The fix is nothing we can do, but rather is something we can take advantage of because it’s already been done. The only question is whether or not we will do that.

"This is the day"

“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” So says the Good Book regarding one aspect of the relationship of God to His creation.
Those of us who pray many times thank God for the day along with the things that He provides…shelter, food, etc. It’s a good thing to do, for it acknowledges that we indeed are dependent on God for the things that we have to have to live.
I know it’s a small thing, but we always, it seems, thank God for the day in past tense. In other words, when we think of God creating the day, we think in past tense…He has created it.
In a sense, that is correct. However, in a greater sense, I think, it is a miscarriage of our understanding of the nature of God and His work to think of this as a past tense event. Although it is difficult for me to do, I now try very hard to think of God in a continual creation mode, unfolding the day as it goes along. You see, God is always in the present tense. There is never any future tense or past tense with God. That's why Jesus said, "Before Abraham was, I AM." Anything He does, He does in the here and now.
So I like to think of God as continually unfolding the day before us…continually creating…continually working…continually in tune with and in harmony with His creation.
If you’ve not thought that way about God before now, try it. Try imagining God continually at work unfolding and revealing the present tense to you as you hurtle through life’s existence. Hopefully, the exercise in doing this will enable you to comprehend even more the awesome and mighty God of heaven and earth.

My Viewpoint

I wrote yesterday in response to an email sent to me asking me to speak to the godless condition of state schools which in turn leads people to kill others. The questioner also talked of leaving God out of the public forum and the evil that this causes. Although not quite word-for-word, I used his first email to construct these first sentences to be certain I gave his thoughts correctly.
The prompting for this came, I’m sure, from the Virginia Tech incident of a few days ago. I received a less-than-flattering response from the one who penned the original request. So much so that I have concern that this person may not be the Christian example that I thought at one time that he was.
I’m sure he was looking for someone to agree with him and others who believe, whether he understands that he believes this way or not, that government should cater to conservative Christians who wish to make their voices heard through the use of public funds and venues supported and financed by government. Somehow, in their minds, the shooting in Virginia is directly related to the lack of government approval of and promotion of the conservative Christian viewpoint. According to the natural and logical extension of his words that I outlined at the beginning of this piece, if we would only have God back in our schools, this wouldn’t have happened (nor would Columbine, etc.).
This view doesn’t fly with me for a number of reasons. I could speak of the foundational principles of our society, which prohibit such. I could speak of the fundamental unfairness of forcing others to support, through tax dollars, someone’s religious viewpoint.
However, it seems to me that one only need look at the example of the New Testament and the spread of Christianity in the first century to see that government was NOT the primary instrument of the spreading of the church. Rather, the church grew because Christians taught others, who in turn taught others. And they did so primarily, it seems, in homes, in places of worship, and in public areas such as what we would today refer to as parks and recreation areas.
They urged and encouraged others to follow their example as they lived their lives as best they could in conformance with the mind and will of God. They fed the hungry. They clothed the destitute. They healed the sick. They obeyed the laws of the land. They served the widows and orphans. They had a profound respect for women and children, the weak and the old (compared to the society in which they were living). They gave a cup of cold water to anyone who asked. And all along, they were telling people, I suppose many times one-on-one, the reason why they were behaving so refreshingly differently from others in their society.
Evil things will always happen in the world. Evil people will always kill, maim, and torture others. The spread of Christianity in the first century by the very Apostles of Jesus Christ didn’t keep Domitian and others from doing their despicable deeds. Our job as Christians is not to create a religious government. If that was so, Jesus would have set up a government himself and spread His church through that means. No, our job is to know the mind of God and do the will of the Father who sent Jesus to this world.

A Response

What follows is a response to an email sent to me by an acquaintence of mine who evidently believes that the shooting in Virginia can be at least in part attributed to the taking of God and the devil out of the public sector. My response is to him, but I thought I'd share it with all of you. Remember that my blog is copyrighted. Please do not share it or use it without my permission.

Hi, Bob. Thanks for keeping me on your email list. I don’t think what I will say is what you think I might say regarding the condition of state schools and our leaving God and the devil out of them, but will say it nevertheless.
I do not wish to have a state religion or have my tax dollars spent on the spreading or promotion of any religious doctrine. If that happens, which doctrine do we promote? Yours? Mine? Billy Graham’s? Jimmy Carter’s? Joe Biden’s? You see, there are nearly as many doctrines as there are people, I think. Someone somewhere isn’t going to agree on something that someone else believes to be absolutely true.
I do, however, desire that people be able to learn about various religions and to study the various religious holy writings of the world. That happens now and continues to happen in colleges, universities, high schools and other educational institutions both public and private, all over the country. I’m not sure what we’re complaining about regarding the seeming lack of God in the public forum.
You say in your email that “then these people wander around lost in their own minds being influenced by the devil without any correction by Truth. Lost, watching other people who seem to know their way and seem to know what they are doing. Yet the lost get no help, no guidance in the public forum. No discussion of Peace, Truth, Love, Salvation, Hope.” You further say, “with no solution, no way to manage the pain they go ‘Ballistic’ and our culture wonders why.”
If indeed that is true, why in heaven’s name would we want the public forum to give guidance and help regarding Peace, Truth, Love, Salvation, and Hope? The old saying, “I’m from the government and I’m here to help,” is as pertinent now as it ever was.
Where are the Christians, Bob? Why aren’t Christians discussing these subjects? Why aren’t Christians providing guidance and help in the public forum? Why do Christians wonder, along with the culture, why these things happen? Christians already have access to the "public forum", as you well know. Where were we? Don’t we already know?
Don’t we already know that we have failed as a Christian culture to tell the good news of Jesus Christ AND demonstrate the love of Jesus Christ to a lost and dying world? The Christian community's general hatred of homosexuals, abortionists, Democrats, Jesse Jackon, drug addicts, sex offenders, the homeless, the poor and others only solidify and harden our inability to reach across the divide.
We’d rather make certain our 401-K’s and our suburban lifestyle are maintained than to make certain that others know about Jesus. We’d rather donate a few dollars in the plate each Sunday to soothe our consciences rather than make life-altering sacrifices. We’d rather be certain we can pay the first and second mortgages, the credit card, the boat payment, the vacation fund, the cable bill, and the club membership than to see to it that others know about the Risen Lord.
Where were the Christians in this young man’s life? Who tried to span the divide? Where was he to learn about Peace, Truth, and Love if not from the private sector…the Christians? Who would teach him? The government? His professors? Give me a break.
Thanks for writing. I hope this has been helpful to you. I know it has been helpful for me to think about the issues you raise. They are pertinent and will continue to remain so long after the shock of this horrific event wears away.

An Observation

It’s been a few days since I’ve put pen to paper (an anachronism from the old days) and posted something for my two faithful readers. That doesn’t mean that nothing has happened, or that I haven’t thought about anything. That only means that I haven’t had the time, energy, or will to expend the brain power to do this.
If you haven’t written a book, story, poem, or other writing under a sense of “I need to do this,” you probably don’t know that writing can take a lot of mental energy and emotional resources. That’s why I only write two to four times a week. Sometimes I can put something in two or three days in a row, or once in a while even twice in the same day. But generally, I have to rest my eighteen brain cells a few days in between.
Yesterday, we had a staff meeting. It was a routine meeting except for one item. We seemed to work on it for the longest time making sure we understood what our supervisor was saying. It seems like we circled all around the issue and poked and prodded it from various directions, making sure that communication had indeed taken place. No one seemed willing to pick it up and go with it for the longest time, apprehensive, I guess, that it might not be what it seemed to be.
I enjoyed watching the interaction and mostly kept silent during that time. I seem to learn more that way and think (although only time will tell) that I understand what was being said due in part to listening to the interactions of the others.
I’ve talked about communication before. I’ll say it again. Communication is without a doubt one of the hardest things human beings do. Forget climbing Mount Everest. Good communication is clearly more difficult. However, when it’s done correctly, it’s amazing how the wheels stop squeaking, the gears mesh, and the old jalopy of life goes smoothly down the road.

The Circus

Cy and I went to the circus.
Cy got hit with a rolling pin.
We got even with the gosh-darned circus,
Bought two tickets and didn't go in.

We went to the circus yesterday. Although I know I shouldn’t complain if the circus was free, which it was for us as we received donated tickets, I’m going to register just a bit of concern with the event.
The Shrine circus is a staple of this part of the country. Each year for many, many years the circus has come to town. For the past couple of decades or more, it has performed at the Kansas Coloseum here in the Wichita area and is a well-attended event.
Some things I noticed, in no particular order, come to mind. The Coloseum was dirty. Not just from the prior performance, but deep-down, never-scrubbed dirty. I thought the smell was probably from the circus acts, but believe whole-heartedly that at least some of the odor was from a long accumulation of various kinds of dirt and filth that permeated the arena and concourses.
The circus has become an event for elevating the Shrine rather than as entertainment. I don’t care to see the Wichita Divan (board of directors of the Shrine) come in on motorcycles in a long procession and be introduced as if they were grand dignitaries. I don’t care for the commercials given by the ringmaster every few minutes regarding how great the Shrine is. And while the Shrine hospital system is indeed a good work, I would think the people who should be honored would be those who work with the sick and infirm rather than those who donate out of their largess.
The acts were, in many cases, second-rate. I haven’t a clue who actually owns and operates the circus even though the ringmaster said the name several times. However, it’s time to look around, I think, for people who will give a good performance. Cutting corners when paying for entertainment might be OK in some venues, but not this one.
On the other hand, it was free and it was for a good cause (assuming the money indeed does go to the hospital system). The drinks and popcorn were moderately priced and people seemed to be having a good time. I did too even though there were some things not to my liking. Gripe? Nah, just giving an opinion, which you’re free to agree or disagree with, read or not.

Boundaries Class

We are attending a class here on campus, sort of a continuing education class for houseparents. The class deals with the issue of boundaries and uses the book Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend. The book (and class) works with people to learn to say no, set limits, keep people from taking advantage of them and foster healthy relationships. The foundation for the idea of good boundaries is the relationship that we have with God and He with us. I blogged about this back in February when we were just beginning the class. At the time, I didn't know much about the class or what we would be studying.
The class yesterday talked some of God respecting our boundaries. Think of it. We can say “no” to God and He will honor that. He will not force us into a relationship with Him that we don’t wish to have. He won’t bother us if we don’t want to be bothered. This is a great example of God respecting our boundaries.
In the same way, God has boundaries that we need to respect. To me, one of the most foundational boundaries is that God doesn’t want us to have a relationship with any other god. He wishes for the relationship we have with Him to be exclusive or not at all. If one thinks about that for a bit, it’s not at all an unreasonable request. Husbands and wives have promised exclusive relationships to each other for centuries.
I’m not in the business of selling anything, but this study is one of the best I’ve seen come from the Christian community in many years. It is timely and pertinent. It is down-to-earth and pragmatic. It is understandable and clear. And it gets out into the open a topic that many prefer, for whatever reason, to keep in secret.
This study is redefining my relationship with God in a positive way. It is also providing some possible answers to some questions that I’ve had as well as questions that others have asked me about God for many years. Exactly what does “God desires a relationship with me,” mean? Why does God insist on an exclusive relationship? Isn’t that being a little presumptuous? If God loves us, why doesn’t He rescue us from suffering and pain? Why does God insist on monogamous marriage relationships? Why does God allow us to go our own way and not stop us? Why does evil exist? You can probably add your own to this list.
In any event, if you can, read the book. Better yet, participate in or initiate a study of this material. I think you’ll find, like I did, that we have a lot to learn about God and our relationship with Him.

Another Passing

Another person of note passed away recently. Roger N. Wilson of Topeka, Kansas passed away. Now, most of you reading this have no clue who Mr. Wilson is and probably won’t care even after you’ve read this.
I didn’t know Mr. Wilson personally. I met him once and sat with him in a meeting in Wichita once. We interacted well, I thought. At the time he was living in Newton, Kansas and was the director of the historical society. Before that stint there, however, Mr. Wilson was a radio and television personality. I recall him giving the news on KFH radio in Wichita many years ago. He also did stints on television and on other radio stations.
His stories were concise and informative. His delivery and how he said his name at the end of his report became a classic signature. Having spent many years in broadcasting, I think I have an idea of what constitutes a good broadcaster. Mr. Wilson was one of the best in my opinion.
I don’t know about Mr. Wilson’s personal life. I don’t know why he moved to Topeka in late 2006 (I suspect he knew he was terminal and went home to die, but I don’t know that to be true). Mr. Wilson wouldn’t have recognized me had I met him again. But for some reason, I feel a loss that I am at a loss to explain.
Perhaps more than losing someone I knew about, maybe I feel a loss because this is one more disconnect of the past from my life. As it was when Kevin Craig died, this loss reminds me that I’ll never pass that way again. It also reminds me that I probably have never had a job that was more sheer fun than when I was in broadcasting. The money wasn’t good and neither were the hours, but I’ll ever and always relish and cherish those memories of late night maintenance, remote broadcasts, odd hours of work, video production, on-air chatter, responsibilities met, and I think a job well done.

Johnny Hart

Johnny Hart passed away today. In case you don’t know, Mr. Hart is the creator of the B.C. comic strip that has appeared in print for about 50 years (Feb. 17, 1958). B.C. and the cast of characters that accompany him, Peter, Clumsy Carp, Thor, the Fat Broad, Wiley,Curls, the Cute Chick and Grog will appear no more; at least as drawn by Hart. There were other characters as well. Animals made regular appearances. Dinosaurs, clams, an ant, an anteater, a snake, a turtle and bird together, and an apteryx all were part of the strip. Some unseen correspondent across the ocean communicated regularly via a floating rock.
Some of this strips might have caused offense to some. If so, so be it. Mr. Hart has a right to his speech. Others have a right to not read it or buy it. All in all, though, Mr. Hart used his strip for one purpose…to entertain. And he did it with class. (By the way, you can look up additional information in Wikipedia…there’s a decent article there about him and the strip).
What is your favorite B.C. character? I think Wiley and Grog would have to be right up there in my books. Wiley is cool because of his insight and his ability to write things that are simple, yet profound. Grog is someone that for some unknown reason, I can identify with. For those who know me, that may seem a little strange, but you figure it out…I don’t have the time or patience.
I’ll certainly miss the wit and humor of Mr. Hart and the cast of characters that made up his prehistoric world. Thanks for a good ride, Mr. Hart.

Walking in Others' Shoes

Today, we had what we call a senior dinner here on campus. We invite any and all who are willing to say that they are seniors and give them a meal, provide some entertainment, and update them on the home and what is happening here. The girls and staff prepare the meal, get things ready, and serve and wait tables. Everyone seems to enjoy it and have a good time.
There is a lot of planning that goes into an event that only lasts about two hours. Many multiples of that time are spent by several staffers as they prepare the meal, clean the facility, plan the program, contact the entertainment, set up tables, and take care of a host of other details. People who have never planned such a thing haven’t a clue.
I have been guilty many times of attending an event such as this one and flippantly criticizing some aspect of the event that I didn’t like or that didn’t go as I thought it should. I failed, too, to think of the hours of planning that went into it and that someone was just as disappointed as I in what happened (or didn’t happen).
Perhaps if we’d take a little more time to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes instead of being so concerned about ourselves, we’d understand much better what it’s like for the other person. Perhaps if we’d be just a little less self-centered and a little more others-centered, we’d not be so quick to criticize or chastise.
We had fun and it was a productive time. Did it all go as planned? No, but what ever does? Did people enjoy it? They said they did, and they had smiles as they left. I think that tells about all there is to say.

Pennies and Dimes

I have occasion to go to the high school where my girls attend. I park in the parking lot that sits between the school and a super market. Invariably, I find coins in the parking lot as I’m walking to or from my vehicle. Mostly pennies, but I’ve also found other denominations of coins as well.
I asked one of my girls once why that was the case. She said that the students will go over to the store at lunch time and buy something from the salad bar or deli. They will walk back through the parking lot. They don’t want the change that was given to them in the transaction, so will just toss it into the parking lot.
I don’t know about you, but that seems like wanton waste to me. Growing up in the middle part of the 20th century, I recall when nickels bought candy bars and packages of peanuts. Pennies bought gum balls and tootsie rolls. Dimes bought soda pop and quarters and half-dollars (remember the Franklins and walking liberties?)…oh, my, one was wealthy with those in his pocket.
Store coupons back then were for three cents (or some such small number) off the purchase price. People used and saved them just as they do today with the dollar off coupons. Virtually nothing at the grocery store was over a dollar in price (unlike today when virtually nothing is UNDER a dollar) And five dollars would buy plate lunches for the entire work week with change left over for a coffee break in the afternoons.
On a more modern note, I have a change jar in my bedroom that I put spare change into. It takes about nine months for me to fill it, and when full has about $150 in it. No, pennies and nickels don’t buy much any more. Dimes and quarters are no longer made of silver and half dollars don’t circulate. But they will, when combined, result in an amount of money that almost anyone would willingly accept if offered.
I’ll take the pennies and dimes, kids.

Life Lesson #644

I spent much of the day yesterday with maintenance-type issues on campus. You see, I am the maintenance person for the campus as well as a houseparent. Of course, the houseparent role takes priority and I do maintenance only as I can.
Yesterday, our mower broke down just a few minutes after I had started mowing around one of the cottages. The belt that went from the engine to the mower deck had broken and was laying in the grass a few feet behind the mower.
After obtaining a new belt, I undertook the task of figuring out how to install the thing. I had a book, and it had some explanation, but not much. It also had a couple of drawings. I messed around with it and finally formulated a plan of attack.
Getting the belt in place, I found that it was several inches shorter than it needed to be. I called the dealer, who assured me that the belt he gave me was the correct size. I told him I would look at the mower again to see if I had made a mistake of some kind, although in my mind I was sure I had not.
However, when I took the time to look at the rather crude drawings, I discovered that I had incorrectly placed the belt around the idler pulleys. I didn’t have time to do a correct placement yesterday, but know that when I make the correction today, it will work just fine.
I didn’t look at the drawings that were with the instructions because they were rather crude and I didn’t believe they were of much value. I also was rather proud of the fact that I could figure out how to make the repair all on my own and didn’t really need the help, thank you. Evidently, I shouldn't have patted myself on the back quite so quickly.
There’s a lesson here. I think it would be wise to heed it.

Insomnia

It’s ten minutes of four in the morning. I’ve been awake since before 3am, but just in the last few minutes decided to get up. I don’t know what’s happened that I’m unable to sleep. Maybe it was the late meal at an Italian eatery last night. Maybe it was my nap yesterday afternoon. Maybe it is the multitude of things stirring in my head. In any event, I’m here and you’re probably fast asleep.
There are things about this time of day, however, that are worth mentioning. If you’ve never experienced the late night (early morning) hours, you need to do that some time. It’s a different world out there. I used to, in another life, deliver newspapers in my local community (not Wichita). I started about this time of the day, or earlier. I found that I really didn’t know my own neighborhood and community like I thought I did.
The people are different this time of night. Yes, there are people out and around. Some have legitimate business out there…some don’t. The environment is different. Everyone relies on artificial light. A few times I would be out when the power had gone out for whatever reason. Now, that is eerie. Sometimes it would be raining or snowing. Sometimes the sky would be so clear one could almost literally see forever.
Things look different. One notices things that normally would escape notice in the light of day. The animals are different. Opossums, bats, and other creatures of the night are out and about. One’s senses are heightened. There’s more noticing of things that aren’t “just right”.
Then, depending on the time of year, about 5:30 or so the people of the day begin to stir. Waitresses go to work for the 6am shift. Nurses and aides trade shifts. The night people leave…the day people come on. Laborers, plumbers, garbage collectors and others begin the daily routines. Day has come and things return to normal, at least for the next 18 hours.
So we’ll see what today holds. Happy Monday to all.

One More Branson

I’ll let the Branson adventure go into the past with this blog. Although there are many things we did and saw that I thought I might write about, they all kind of fade away and leave just a few highlights in my mind.
The first was being there with loved ones. The experience was much, much better when we could share it with someone. Everything from Pierce Arrow to calling the nice tow truck man was better because we were with those we cared about and who cared about us. We appreciate them asking us to go along with them.
The second was the rush and noise of a town that says it’s about 6,000 people when the reality is that at any given time, probably ten times or more that number are within its trade area. That makes the small town not so small any more. Yet the people of Branson have figured out a way to make us visitors feel welcome and wanted. Waitresses engage in conversation. Locals answer questions (that they’ve probably been asked a hundred times before). Service is generally good. Things are usually clean and well-lit. They’re doing something right over there in southwest Missouri.
The third was the difference in the night time between Indian Point and Wichita. We got home and I went out on our porch to just sit. I noticed something that wasn’t the same. Then it hit me. There is a low, audible rumble in Wichita, no matter where one is, that is a combination of traffic, machines, and other city noises. Even when one lives away from the freeways and there is no traffic close by, the rumble is there. But on Indian Point, that is missing. The quiet is truly quiet. And it’s something I miss.
The girls are coming back this evening. Some have moved over. Some have yet to move. It’s also raining off and on (mostly on, today) so the move-over will probably come in spurts. Welcome back, and welcome back to work.