Once a month or so, I take time off and visit a woman. We have a continuing professional relationship and understanding. I give her money, and she provides a service. I’ve been doing this ever since we moved to Wichita several years ago. When I first started seeing her, we lived not far from where we meet; but since we’ve moved to the west side, it’s much farther to drive, yet I still make the trip. She makes me look good and feel better. I’m at ease when with her, and enjoy the time we spend together.
Oh, I just read the above paragraph and might want to explain a little further. She’s my barber. No, she’s not a beautician, but rather is a barber. She has a shop over in the Riverside area, and does a good job keeping my mop tamed and in place.
I first started going there when we lived nearby. When I went into the shop the first time, I just presumed a man would be there, but was surprised to the point that I even asked her if she was a barber or beautician. You see, I’ve gone to beauticians, both male and female, but just prefer a barber. There IS a difference.
And I don’t know why I make the 20 or so minute drive to this same shop now that we live on the west side. There are barbers out here, most of whom are probably very good at what they do. But about once a month I make the drive, wait a few minutes (or if it was like today, just got in the chair right away), and a few minutes later, my head feels cooler, lighter, and looks better. Sometimes I combine the trip with a visit to the Riverside Café or Indian Hills Ace, but most of the time I just get my hair cut.
Usually, on the way there or back, or both ways, I will take the more scenic roads. I try to avoid the interstates and bypasses in favor of 13th street, Waco, Douglas, 2nd street, Bitting, or one of the other ways to get from here to there and back again. Sometimes I’ll stop and visit with Sis, or maybe stop at the coffee store for some more fresh-ground joe, but usually I just go and come back. The barber charges ten dollars, of which I figure she gets to keep four or five after paying taxes, rent, and other expenses. That’s reasonable, and in fact is rather inexpensive nowadays.
This morning, I was reminded while I sat in the chair, of the barber in my hometown. Louis is long gone from this earth, but stays with me in my thoughts as I reminisce in my mind of times long ago and never to be again. When I was a child, his shop was usually filled with men laughing and carrying on, and smoke so thick it was hard to see the other wall. That smell of cigarette smoke, hair tonic, shaving cream, and old men still is fresh in my mind. The comic books were usually pretty fresh, and there was even an Esquire to sneak a peek at if I was lucky.
He’d put a board on the chair and sit me on it (at least until I could manage the chair without it). He’d adjust the chair up or down as needed and begin with the electric razor around my ears. It usually took about 20 minutes for a cut, usually because he stopped to talk to others who were there, mostly to pass the time.
After most of the cut was finished, he’d lather up my sideburns and the back of my neck with hot lather, whether I was a boy or later on after adulthood. He’d sharpen his straight razor on the leather strop on the side of his chair each and every time he’d use it. If he got to talking with someone while sharpening the razor, he might be there sharpening for a long time. The razor never pulled or tugged, however. Then he’d use the hot towel to remove the excess cream and we’d finish with the hair vacuum combined with a soft bristle brush.
He had a set routine and never varied from it, even in his later years. Those years saw the removal of cigarettes from the shop, and there weren't as many loafers, but the comics were still fresh, along with the Esquire magazines. He wasn’t quite as neat in later years, either, but I wouldn’t have gone to anyone else, nor would I have taken the boys anywhere else as long as he cut hair.
The final straw was the piece of Double-Bubble bubble gum. I got a piece whether a child or an adult…didn’t matter. It seemed the gum piece got a little smaller after adulthood, but that’s OK. A lot of things seemed to get smaller along with the gum.
Barber shops aren’t like that much anymore. There’s never any cigarette smoke, and not a lot of loafers spend the day in the shop. There’s no bubble gum, and although my barber has a razor and strop and was trained in using them, she doesn’t, and says she hasn’t for years. But I’d still rather go to the barber shop than a beauty shop any day. And at times, some experience there takes me back, however briefly, to the shop on East Main where Louis would always be ready with a comic book, a razor, and a piece of bubble gum.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Worlds
It’s been a little trying for me the last few days. A cold has taken hold, and although it isn’t a bad one, it tends to make me feel less than good. I’m not complaining, however. I know there are many fighting cancer, intractable pain, disability, etc. which makes my cold seem like a walk in the park. I am blessed to be as healthy as I am and to have access to medications that ameliorate some chronic conditions I have. I can move, think, work, and enjoy life.
I was working in a flower bed yesterday, pulling weeds and old, dead plants out of the bed. As I worked on my hands and knees clearing out the “brush”, I noticed that there was a whole ‘nuther world down there on the ground that I think people very seldom see. There were worms, spiders, roly bugs, snails, ants, and other assorted life forms who were becoming very perturbed at my disrupting their habitat. I’m sure some of them died because of what I did, and others made their way to the heavier brush of the asparagus plants toward the back of the bed.
We actually live in and among many worlds like this. There are several worlds in water, for example. Cave worlds, deep sea worlds, coral worlds, and pond worlds are but a few. On land, we notice the world in the tops of trees, on trunks of trees and plants, under the ground, in caves, under rocks, and other places. All are as different as night is from day. And all in their own ways are beautiful manifestations of God’s creative ability.
Each of us also lives in a world at least partly of our own making. We don’t have total control of our world, but we can and do interfere with the natural order of our world and make it better, worse, or just different by the decisions we make and the things we say and do. Of course, the trick is to make our worlds better for ourselves without causing grief and expense to someone else. And then many times we end up falling into the stupid pit and make things more miserable for ourselves just by what we say or do (or don’t say or don’t do).
Next time you happen to intersect with another world, think about the one you live in for yourself. What can you do to make it better for both you and those you know and love?
I was working in a flower bed yesterday, pulling weeds and old, dead plants out of the bed. As I worked on my hands and knees clearing out the “brush”, I noticed that there was a whole ‘nuther world down there on the ground that I think people very seldom see. There were worms, spiders, roly bugs, snails, ants, and other assorted life forms who were becoming very perturbed at my disrupting their habitat. I’m sure some of them died because of what I did, and others made their way to the heavier brush of the asparagus plants toward the back of the bed.
We actually live in and among many worlds like this. There are several worlds in water, for example. Cave worlds, deep sea worlds, coral worlds, and pond worlds are but a few. On land, we notice the world in the tops of trees, on trunks of trees and plants, under the ground, in caves, under rocks, and other places. All are as different as night is from day. And all in their own ways are beautiful manifestations of God’s creative ability.
Each of us also lives in a world at least partly of our own making. We don’t have total control of our world, but we can and do interfere with the natural order of our world and make it better, worse, or just different by the decisions we make and the things we say and do. Of course, the trick is to make our worlds better for ourselves without causing grief and expense to someone else. And then many times we end up falling into the stupid pit and make things more miserable for ourselves just by what we say or do (or don’t say or don’t do).
Next time you happen to intersect with another world, think about the one you live in for yourself. What can you do to make it better for both you and those you know and love?
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Enjoying the Hour
I’ve been home most of the day, and got a little restless toward evening. So, about 7 o-clock I hopped (figuratively, I’m sure) into the pickup and took a drive in the country. I went down to 55th street south, then west far enough to go into Kingman County (barely), then north a little and back to Wichita via 31st street south.
There are some things I noticed that I will include here in no particular order. First, it’s dry. The roads raised a lot of dust in the rearview mirror, and one did not want to follow someone else very closely. Farmers are stripping their fields, in preparation for the windy conditions to come tomorrow and Monday. Stripping a field keeps the topsoil from blowing nearly as badly as it would if it were smooth and not worked.
Corn has been harvested, but wheat has not been planted to any great extent. Sometimes farmers will plant wheat in August in order to have good pasture, etc. I suspect that following the next rain, assuming it comes in a week or two, a lot of wheat will be planted very quickly.
Several farmers have spread lime and fertilizer on their fields already. Some have the lime in a pile, but haven’t spread it yet. Farm work never ends.
Just before sundown, as I drove into the small valleys where the creeks and draws were, I noticed a cooling of the air. I had the window open, the radio and air conditioner off, and was enjoying the outdoors. There was, I would say, upwards of an 8 to 10 degree change from the normal height into the “bottoms”. The wind was still, allowing the cooler air to settle in those low areas.
One lone deer was in a bean field. I was a little disappointed I didn’t see more. I did see a few quail run across the road. Haven’t seen them in quite a while.
The railroad runs to Garden Plain. I had thought that line was abandoned long ago when the bridge washed out over Cowskin Creek at Kellogg and Maize in Wichita. However, the portion of that line from Garden Plain to Kingman is in service, albeit on an as-needed basis, it looks like. Probably mostly in the spring and fall harvests. The line terminates about 500 feet east of the section line road on the east side of Garden Plain. That would be one line I’d love to ride some day. The scenery would be great, I would think, as it cuts through sections of land, crosses rivers and streams, and is far from well-traveled roads.
It’s a different world out there. People you don’t know wave in that typical rural fashion. In case you don’t know what that is, you put your hand on top of the steering wheel, and when someone passes you, you either raise your hand a bit, or your first finger to acknowledge them. Everyone has a signature wave. If you are a true rural resident, you can many times tell who it is just by their wave. You’re an “unfriendly” or a “foreigner” if you don’t wave.
There are a lot of people who have built a lot of really nice homes on acreage out there. There are older farmsteads, but they seem to be declining in numbers, and groups of developments are there, sometimes several miles from the city. One thing that is also true, however, is that the developments are not far from a paved road.
I enjoyed the hour I spent in Western Sedgwick County.
There are some things I noticed that I will include here in no particular order. First, it’s dry. The roads raised a lot of dust in the rearview mirror, and one did not want to follow someone else very closely. Farmers are stripping their fields, in preparation for the windy conditions to come tomorrow and Monday. Stripping a field keeps the topsoil from blowing nearly as badly as it would if it were smooth and not worked.
Corn has been harvested, but wheat has not been planted to any great extent. Sometimes farmers will plant wheat in August in order to have good pasture, etc. I suspect that following the next rain, assuming it comes in a week or two, a lot of wheat will be planted very quickly.
Several farmers have spread lime and fertilizer on their fields already. Some have the lime in a pile, but haven’t spread it yet. Farm work never ends.
Just before sundown, as I drove into the small valleys where the creeks and draws were, I noticed a cooling of the air. I had the window open, the radio and air conditioner off, and was enjoying the outdoors. There was, I would say, upwards of an 8 to 10 degree change from the normal height into the “bottoms”. The wind was still, allowing the cooler air to settle in those low areas.
One lone deer was in a bean field. I was a little disappointed I didn’t see more. I did see a few quail run across the road. Haven’t seen them in quite a while.
The railroad runs to Garden Plain. I had thought that line was abandoned long ago when the bridge washed out over Cowskin Creek at Kellogg and Maize in Wichita. However, the portion of that line from Garden Plain to Kingman is in service, albeit on an as-needed basis, it looks like. Probably mostly in the spring and fall harvests. The line terminates about 500 feet east of the section line road on the east side of Garden Plain. That would be one line I’d love to ride some day. The scenery would be great, I would think, as it cuts through sections of land, crosses rivers and streams, and is far from well-traveled roads.
It’s a different world out there. People you don’t know wave in that typical rural fashion. In case you don’t know what that is, you put your hand on top of the steering wheel, and when someone passes you, you either raise your hand a bit, or your first finger to acknowledge them. Everyone has a signature wave. If you are a true rural resident, you can many times tell who it is just by their wave. You’re an “unfriendly” or a “foreigner” if you don’t wave.
There are a lot of people who have built a lot of really nice homes on acreage out there. There are older farmsteads, but they seem to be declining in numbers, and groups of developments are there, sometimes several miles from the city. One thing that is also true, however, is that the developments are not far from a paved road.
I enjoyed the hour I spent in Western Sedgwick County.
The Long Weekend
This is kind of an unusual weekend for me. The wife is in central Kansas working with her siblings regarding their recently-deceased Dad’s estate. She left yesterday and plans to be there through Monday sometime. So the house (and all the housework) is mine.
I’ve started already, in the basement spare bedroom. It’s been neglected for awhile and needs a good cleaning. I need to put clean sheets on the bed and generally spiff it up. From there, I don’t know. I think I need to start some laundry and multi-task while I’m downstairs, but don’t have the energy to do that right now. I’m starting a trash pile in the middle of the basement floor, and hope I don’t throw away anything that we (read that “the wife”) think we need to keep.
The TV is on. Although the games don’t start for awhile, it is good company right now as I sip coffee, type this, and think about all we’ve neglected in this house the past month. Maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to get 30% or so done of all that I’ve in mind to do.
It promises to be a nice day outside, although the breeze will be obvious today, and it promises to become downright windy tomorrow and Monday. I should also work outdoors, but wish to leave that for a cool weekend Saturday when I won’t perspire so much and when it will feel good to exert in that way.
So we’ll see how much gets done this long weekend. Hopefully, I can make some inroads as well as have a somewhat relaxing weekend. Happy Labor Day.
I’ve started already, in the basement spare bedroom. It’s been neglected for awhile and needs a good cleaning. I need to put clean sheets on the bed and generally spiff it up. From there, I don’t know. I think I need to start some laundry and multi-task while I’m downstairs, but don’t have the energy to do that right now. I’m starting a trash pile in the middle of the basement floor, and hope I don’t throw away anything that we (read that “the wife”) think we need to keep.
The TV is on. Although the games don’t start for awhile, it is good company right now as I sip coffee, type this, and think about all we’ve neglected in this house the past month. Maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to get 30% or so done of all that I’ve in mind to do.
It promises to be a nice day outside, although the breeze will be obvious today, and it promises to become downright windy tomorrow and Monday. I should also work outdoors, but wish to leave that for a cool weekend Saturday when I won’t perspire so much and when it will feel good to exert in that way.
So we’ll see how much gets done this long weekend. Hopefully, I can make some inroads as well as have a somewhat relaxing weekend. Happy Labor Day.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Jesus of the Movies
In preparation for my upcoming Wednesday classes that I talked about in my last post, I watched the movie, “The Gospel of John” which is a word for word rendition of that writing. Although the movie was done well, there were some things in it that continue to seem to be the purview of religiously-oriented films and videos. And they just drive me nuts.
First, when crowds are gathered, no one talks, it seems, in the crowd. Most normal crowds of people will have at least a low-buzz of murmuring and quiet talk. People just don’t stand in a crowd when no one is commanding their attention and not say or do anything. But in religious movies, it seems that’s what they do.
Second, religious actions seem to be artificial. Jesus folded his hands and held them to his face when praying, just like we teach children to do sometimes in our culture. I don’t know how Jesus prayed, but I venture a wild guess he didn’t do that.
Third, events of monumental importance and significance receive a dearth of emotion from those witnessing them. We saw walking on water and the raising of Lazarus in this movie. In both cases, there was a generally non-emotional reaction to these events. And what emotion was shown was artificial, in my view.
I can only imagine the chaos in the boat when they saw this figure walking on the waves. And I can surely hear the shouts, the cries, and the human noise of utter disbelief when Lazarus came floating out of the tomb (His hands and feet were bound together, it says…how did he get out of the tomb? I’m not the only one who believes he may well have “levitated” out. Many serious Biblical scholars and commentators agree.)
And Jesus himself was rather short and unimposing. I suppose that could indeed be true; however, I have to believe that God would have His Son to be a fine human specimen, and that He would have had the presence and command of his environment to have chased out the money-changers, elude would-be captors, and make the soldiers who came to arrest him fall back in fear.
Besides, Jesus had command and control of his disciples. I know he could well have done that through divine means, but these guys were sailors, tax collectors, zealots, and other miscellaneous “lower class” life. I’m not sure a wimpy Jesus would have made the impression on them that he did. And what of Jesus’ appearance to John in Revelation chapter 1? Was that a wimp who appeared to him? I hardly think so, given that John fell to the ground as a dead man.
I had anticipated better from this movie. Maybe I shouldn’t do that; I only become disappointed when things aren’t the way I envision them. One of these days, though, someone will make a movie and cast a Jesus who is as I imagine him to be…THAT’LL be the day.
First, when crowds are gathered, no one talks, it seems, in the crowd. Most normal crowds of people will have at least a low-buzz of murmuring and quiet talk. People just don’t stand in a crowd when no one is commanding their attention and not say or do anything. But in religious movies, it seems that’s what they do.
Second, religious actions seem to be artificial. Jesus folded his hands and held them to his face when praying, just like we teach children to do sometimes in our culture. I don’t know how Jesus prayed, but I venture a wild guess he didn’t do that.
Third, events of monumental importance and significance receive a dearth of emotion from those witnessing them. We saw walking on water and the raising of Lazarus in this movie. In both cases, there was a generally non-emotional reaction to these events. And what emotion was shown was artificial, in my view.
I can only imagine the chaos in the boat when they saw this figure walking on the waves. And I can surely hear the shouts, the cries, and the human noise of utter disbelief when Lazarus came floating out of the tomb (His hands and feet were bound together, it says…how did he get out of the tomb? I’m not the only one who believes he may well have “levitated” out. Many serious Biblical scholars and commentators agree.)
And Jesus himself was rather short and unimposing. I suppose that could indeed be true; however, I have to believe that God would have His Son to be a fine human specimen, and that He would have had the presence and command of his environment to have chased out the money-changers, elude would-be captors, and make the soldiers who came to arrest him fall back in fear.
Besides, Jesus had command and control of his disciples. I know he could well have done that through divine means, but these guys were sailors, tax collectors, zealots, and other miscellaneous “lower class” life. I’m not sure a wimpy Jesus would have made the impression on them that he did. And what of Jesus’ appearance to John in Revelation chapter 1? Was that a wimp who appeared to him? I hardly think so, given that John fell to the ground as a dead man.
I had anticipated better from this movie. Maybe I shouldn’t do that; I only become disappointed when things aren’t the way I envision them. One of these days, though, someone will make a movie and cast a Jesus who is as I imagine him to be…THAT’LL be the day.
The Life
A couple of weeks ago, I asked if I could teach the Wednesday evening adult class at church in a three-week mini class. We would watch the one-man play “St John in Exile”, presented by Dean Jones (made several Disney movies and other films). In the play, Jones is John the Apostle, living in exile on Patmos Island Penal Colony. He recounts his recollections of his time with Jesus of Nazareth in a way that is amusing at times, yet very powerful. The class coordinator, not being used to people volunteering to teach, decided to schedule me quickly before I changed my mind. So I will be teaching for the next three Wednesday evenings.
In preparation for the class, I have watched the play yet one more time. First having seen it about 20 years ago, I have watched it probably 25 times or so. Each time I see or hear something in the play that I’ve not seen before, and the play remains fresh to me even though I know much of the dialog by now. There’s just something about seeing Mr. Jones as John the Apostle that bring s a realism and even life to the words of his gospel.
Actually, that’s one of the things I think John is trying to convey in his writing. He talks several times about Jesus and the Life that is in him. He quotes Jesus saying, “I am the resurrection and the life.” He talks in the play of the life that was in Jesus following his own resurrection. He talks of the eternal life that is promised in John 3:16. There are other places as well, but you get the picture.
I’ve often wondered just what this “life” was, how it manifests, and what it looks like. Oh, I know that there are myriads of living creatures on this planet (and perhaps other planets somewhere). And I know the difference between a living person and a dead person. I know all of that. But there’s something different about the life that Jesus talks about, I think.
Jesus seems to be talking about a life that is special…that is unique…that is a gift only God provides. It transcends mortal and physical life, although it certainly includes it. It is a life that is at once eternal, yet in the here and now for those who know God and know His only Begotten Son.
I don’t understand it all, but each time I hear the play by Mr. Jones, I have a little better appreciation for the Eternal Son and what he has done (and continues to do) for us all. Truly, if Jesus is not a liar or a crazy man, he is God Himself and embodies that Life which is made available to all who will accept the gift.
In preparation for the class, I have watched the play yet one more time. First having seen it about 20 years ago, I have watched it probably 25 times or so. Each time I see or hear something in the play that I’ve not seen before, and the play remains fresh to me even though I know much of the dialog by now. There’s just something about seeing Mr. Jones as John the Apostle that bring s a realism and even life to the words of his gospel.
Actually, that’s one of the things I think John is trying to convey in his writing. He talks several times about Jesus and the Life that is in him. He quotes Jesus saying, “I am the resurrection and the life.” He talks in the play of the life that was in Jesus following his own resurrection. He talks of the eternal life that is promised in John 3:16. There are other places as well, but you get the picture.
I’ve often wondered just what this “life” was, how it manifests, and what it looks like. Oh, I know that there are myriads of living creatures on this planet (and perhaps other planets somewhere). And I know the difference between a living person and a dead person. I know all of that. But there’s something different about the life that Jesus talks about, I think.
Jesus seems to be talking about a life that is special…that is unique…that is a gift only God provides. It transcends mortal and physical life, although it certainly includes it. It is a life that is at once eternal, yet in the here and now for those who know God and know His only Begotten Son.
I don’t understand it all, but each time I hear the play by Mr. Jones, I have a little better appreciation for the Eternal Son and what he has done (and continues to do) for us all. Truly, if Jesus is not a liar or a crazy man, he is God Himself and embodies that Life which is made available to all who will accept the gift.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Why Do You Pray?
We had an interesting thing happen yesterday (Sunday) at our church. One of our brother-members has been in the hospital for the past week or so, with one unexpected problem after another. He went in initially for surgery on his esophagus, but had at least three more unexpected surgeries, ending with one that removed some of his colon and small intestine due to a diverticulum which ruptured. On Sunday morning, when they were about to go in for the fourth time in a week, he was on total life support and the doctor gave him virtually no chance at survival.
They did that surgery on Sunday when the church was meeting. We stopped the service and had a special prayer for him, as they were working on him at the hospital. The prayer was sincere, humbling, and honest. There was no doubt in the one leading the prayer that God could intervene, and he conveyed that hope to the rest of us in good fashion.
We found out on Sunday evening that not only had he survived the surgery, but he came through it so well and looked so good that the doctor now is saying he has a chance to go home and live a normal life. The doctor is also quoted as saying that it shouldn’t be this way…that he should not even be alive; yet they are now talking about possibly going home and living rather normally.
They have one more surgery to do. That is tomorrow (Tuesday). If he comes through this one as he did the one on Sunday, they will sew him up, put him back in ICU, and work to get him out of the hospital and on the long road to recovery.
I remember thinking during the prayer Sunday morning, unlike many times when I’ve participated in such prayers, that God indeed can and does intervene in these kinds of things, and that the prayers of His people do matter. Oh, I know He doesn’t always do what we ask, but does that make God any less of a prayer-answerer?
When you pray for someone, whether for healing, for comfort, wisdom, or whatever, what do you think of? Are you going through the motions? Are you doing your duty? Or are you petitioning the God of the universe to intervene in a situation because you are asking Him to do so, believing that He can and does work in His creation?
They did that surgery on Sunday when the church was meeting. We stopped the service and had a special prayer for him, as they were working on him at the hospital. The prayer was sincere, humbling, and honest. There was no doubt in the one leading the prayer that God could intervene, and he conveyed that hope to the rest of us in good fashion.
We found out on Sunday evening that not only had he survived the surgery, but he came through it so well and looked so good that the doctor now is saying he has a chance to go home and live a normal life. The doctor is also quoted as saying that it shouldn’t be this way…that he should not even be alive; yet they are now talking about possibly going home and living rather normally.
They have one more surgery to do. That is tomorrow (Tuesday). If he comes through this one as he did the one on Sunday, they will sew him up, put him back in ICU, and work to get him out of the hospital and on the long road to recovery.
I remember thinking during the prayer Sunday morning, unlike many times when I’ve participated in such prayers, that God indeed can and does intervene in these kinds of things, and that the prayers of His people do matter. Oh, I know He doesn’t always do what we ask, but does that make God any less of a prayer-answerer?
When you pray for someone, whether for healing, for comfort, wisdom, or whatever, what do you think of? Are you going through the motions? Are you doing your duty? Or are you petitioning the God of the universe to intervene in a situation because you are asking Him to do so, believing that He can and does work in His creation?
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Semper Fi
Well, it's over. The funeral for my father in law was yesterday morning. It was a fitting tribute to a plain and humble man, wounded Iwo Jima veteran, and patriarch. Six Marines from Wichita provided an appropriate service at the graveside. They played Taps, folded the flag, and fired volleys in honor of a fallen hero and fellow Marine. Several Legionnaires paid tribute as well, forming a corridor outside the church and at the cemetery. The funeral itself could not have been better or more fitting.
Several of the family spoke at the service. My niece gave perhaps the most eloquent, although no more passionate, tribute. The only thing Grandad would not have wanted was the salute at the end of her talk. She is active Air Force along with her husband. They stood at attention at the casket after she said her piece and gave a salute to the decorated soldier and lifelong Marine who always said that the real heroes were the ones who never made it back home alive.
A member of “The Greatest Generation”, Grandad assimilated back into society following his wound and discharge, raised a family, worked hard, paid his bills and his taxes, griped about the government and politics, and loved his offspring and their issue. He had a rather simple philosophy of what was right and wrong; if it looked or sounded cock-eyed and obtuse, it was probably wrong. If it fit with the philosophy of loving one's neighbor and doing the right thing, it was probably right. He didn't have many things that he hadn't already placed in one category or the other long, long ago.
As a pumper for an oil company, Grandad worked hard and put in a full day's work for a day's pay. He had little use for anyone who wouldn't or couldn't carry their own weight in the oil field, or any other work environment for that matter. “Can't use you,” was the kiss of death when Grandad said that to someone working for him. It meant that you weren't pulling your weight and might as well pack up and go home.
In later years, he became more frail. Although he managed to live at his home until the end, and remain active in the community as well, I think he was ready to go long ago. His wife died fifteen years ago, and I think he was ready to be reunited with her. What happened, happened, and it is all part of life and living.
The family tree will continue to sprout new branches and leaves. It will continue to grow by both direct descendancy as well as by grafting in (marriage and adoption). It has had a good root system, which remains alive and vibrant, even though the one providing the anchor is no longer here. Someone else will step in to fill that void, and life and living will continue.
Semper Fi, Grandad.
Several of the family spoke at the service. My niece gave perhaps the most eloquent, although no more passionate, tribute. The only thing Grandad would not have wanted was the salute at the end of her talk. She is active Air Force along with her husband. They stood at attention at the casket after she said her piece and gave a salute to the decorated soldier and lifelong Marine who always said that the real heroes were the ones who never made it back home alive.
A member of “The Greatest Generation”, Grandad assimilated back into society following his wound and discharge, raised a family, worked hard, paid his bills and his taxes, griped about the government and politics, and loved his offspring and their issue. He had a rather simple philosophy of what was right and wrong; if it looked or sounded cock-eyed and obtuse, it was probably wrong. If it fit with the philosophy of loving one's neighbor and doing the right thing, it was probably right. He didn't have many things that he hadn't already placed in one category or the other long, long ago.
As a pumper for an oil company, Grandad worked hard and put in a full day's work for a day's pay. He had little use for anyone who wouldn't or couldn't carry their own weight in the oil field, or any other work environment for that matter. “Can't use you,” was the kiss of death when Grandad said that to someone working for him. It meant that you weren't pulling your weight and might as well pack up and go home.
In later years, he became more frail. Although he managed to live at his home until the end, and remain active in the community as well, I think he was ready to go long ago. His wife died fifteen years ago, and I think he was ready to be reunited with her. What happened, happened, and it is all part of life and living.
The family tree will continue to sprout new branches and leaves. It will continue to grow by both direct descendancy as well as by grafting in (marriage and adoption). It has had a good root system, which remains alive and vibrant, even though the one providing the anchor is no longer here. Someone else will step in to fill that void, and life and living will continue.
Semper Fi, Grandad.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
A Privilege
Right now, we are dealing with the somewhat unexpected demise of my father-in-law. He was advanced in age, but was in fairly good health for his age and had no immediately life-threatening medical issues that we knew of. Nevertheless, we found him dead in the garden of his daughter, apparently from a fall, whether caused by some sudden medical condition or not.
I am an in-law in this situation. I’ve been through the drill with my being in the middle of things with my mother and dad. It’s interesting to kind of sit back this time and just watch and absorb. I also know that I can say some things some times and what I have to say will be welcome. The children may or may not take my advice, and that’s as it should be. I’m just glad I can feel like I can offer it.
I’ve been with this family for over 35 years. I know them all pretty well. I’ve not been surprised to any great extent by anything I’ve seen in the past couple of days, and I don’t expect to be greatly surprised by anything I’ll see in the next couple of days. Nevertheless, as a student of people and their behavior, I am intrigued.
The family has grown considerably since I first came into it. There are cousins and such that I’m not sure I would recognize if they appeared at my doorstep. There are other cousins that I’m not sure I could say their names. But it’s the siblings that are on center stage, so to speak. I’m married to one of them.
To those of you who know of our family and our situation, and have expressed sympathy; thank you. To those who don’t, that’s OK. We’ll come through this and will be all the stronger for having passed through this valley. I’m privileged to be part of this family.
I am an in-law in this situation. I’ve been through the drill with my being in the middle of things with my mother and dad. It’s interesting to kind of sit back this time and just watch and absorb. I also know that I can say some things some times and what I have to say will be welcome. The children may or may not take my advice, and that’s as it should be. I’m just glad I can feel like I can offer it.
I’ve been with this family for over 35 years. I know them all pretty well. I’ve not been surprised to any great extent by anything I’ve seen in the past couple of days, and I don’t expect to be greatly surprised by anything I’ll see in the next couple of days. Nevertheless, as a student of people and their behavior, I am intrigued.
The family has grown considerably since I first came into it. There are cousins and such that I’m not sure I would recognize if they appeared at my doorstep. There are other cousins that I’m not sure I could say their names. But it’s the siblings that are on center stage, so to speak. I’m married to one of them.
To those of you who know of our family and our situation, and have expressed sympathy; thank you. To those who don’t, that’s OK. We’ll come through this and will be all the stronger for having passed through this valley. I’m privileged to be part of this family.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Until Next Time
We had dinner with friends from Topeka this evening. They had flown out to Las Vegas, rented a car, and drove to the Pacific coast for a vacation. They spent a night or two in Vegas coming and going. They marveled at how much things cost there and the fact that one cannot do very much there at all without spending money to do it, even to the point of sitting on a lounge chair at the hotel.
I’ve never been there. I don’t intend to go anytime soon. It’s not on my list of things I want to accomplish before I die. If I get to that part of the country, I’d much rather see Hoover Dam and perhaps the Grand Canyon for the second time. Northern California wouldn’t be a bad place to visit, and there are parts of Nevada and Utah that are stark, breathtaking, and drop-dead gorgeous. Vegas isn’t one of those places, in my mind.
There are other places where money greases everything. Cruise ships are one of those places. My heavens, you can’t sling a dead cat (as my brother would say…please don’t send PETA after me) on a cruise ship without hitting an attendant waiting to sell you something. Mostly they want to sell you drinks, but they also sell bingo cards, souvenirs, and other trippy trap stuff.
Branson is lubricated nicely by money. As in many of that type of place, it takes dough to flow.
But there are things one can do that don’t require money, or at least much of it. Sometimes those are good deals, sometimes not. But most of those things are at least worth looking at and perhaps going back to.
I’m glad we spent time with Chris and his family. We were able to re-connect in a good way, and managed to send them on their way with a full tank and filled stomachs. Until next time…
I’ve never been there. I don’t intend to go anytime soon. It’s not on my list of things I want to accomplish before I die. If I get to that part of the country, I’d much rather see Hoover Dam and perhaps the Grand Canyon for the second time. Northern California wouldn’t be a bad place to visit, and there are parts of Nevada and Utah that are stark, breathtaking, and drop-dead gorgeous. Vegas isn’t one of those places, in my mind.
There are other places where money greases everything. Cruise ships are one of those places. My heavens, you can’t sling a dead cat (as my brother would say…please don’t send PETA after me) on a cruise ship without hitting an attendant waiting to sell you something. Mostly they want to sell you drinks, but they also sell bingo cards, souvenirs, and other trippy trap stuff.
Branson is lubricated nicely by money. As in many of that type of place, it takes dough to flow.
But there are things one can do that don’t require money, or at least much of it. Sometimes those are good deals, sometimes not. But most of those things are at least worth looking at and perhaps going back to.
I’m glad we spent time with Chris and his family. We were able to re-connect in a good way, and managed to send them on their way with a full tank and filled stomachs. Until next time…
Saturday, August 07, 2010
Well Rested
Today hasn’t been a great one. During the night, I felt one of the vertigo episodes that I’ve been plagued with for many years coming on. I managed to get to the bathroom and down some medication that kept it from becoming a full-blown disabling thing.
Now all day today, snowed by medication, I haven’t felt like doing anything. Finally this evening I ate some soup (chicken, dontcha know!!) and feel better. I’m letting the medication go and will see how I do this evening.
What is it about a day like this when one looks around at the things that need to be done, can’t do them, and feels guilty about not getting any of them done? If we had been gone all day visiting friends or relatives, none of this would get done either, but I wouldn’t feel guilty about wasting the day.
Instead, I sit here and see the full trash cans, the laundry, the dishes, and other things and wish I would have felt well enough to have taken care of some of these chores. I wonder if I should get up and get busy, or just be happy that I can sit upright and not have the world spinning around my head.
I’ve always had a problem with just doing nothing, unless I really felt crappy. Laying on a beach all day, sipping some kind of fruity drink doesn’t rank very high on my list of things to do. Instead, I at least like to think I’m somewhat productive, even if the productivity quotient is a little nebulous and the quality of productivity is some lacking.
Tomorrow will be another day. However, tonight will be rather long as I have slept a lot of the day. I should be well-rested.
Now all day today, snowed by medication, I haven’t felt like doing anything. Finally this evening I ate some soup (chicken, dontcha know!!) and feel better. I’m letting the medication go and will see how I do this evening.
What is it about a day like this when one looks around at the things that need to be done, can’t do them, and feels guilty about not getting any of them done? If we had been gone all day visiting friends or relatives, none of this would get done either, but I wouldn’t feel guilty about wasting the day.
Instead, I sit here and see the full trash cans, the laundry, the dishes, and other things and wish I would have felt well enough to have taken care of some of these chores. I wonder if I should get up and get busy, or just be happy that I can sit upright and not have the world spinning around my head.
I’ve always had a problem with just doing nothing, unless I really felt crappy. Laying on a beach all day, sipping some kind of fruity drink doesn’t rank very high on my list of things to do. Instead, I at least like to think I’m somewhat productive, even if the productivity quotient is a little nebulous and the quality of productivity is some lacking.
Tomorrow will be another day. However, tonight will be rather long as I have slept a lot of the day. I should be well-rested.
Monday, August 02, 2010
A Radical Idea
It started years ago. First one or two, then a few here, a group over there. Now it has become a torrent; one that seems about as unstoppable as the water in the proverbial thumb in the dike leak story. Oh, I never said what I was talking about. I don’t know if it even has a name or not, but what happens is that Christians give up on church and religion in favor of living lives of service and devotion to God.
“Wait,” you say. “That can’t be right. You can’t be a Christian and not be religious. You can’t be a Christian and not do church.” There are many, many souls out there who will beg to differ with you, and they may well be correct.
We see it all the time. Fewer and fewer are attending traditional church services in buildings. More and more are calling it quits when it comes to aligning with a denomination. Many have begun small groups of like-minded Christians and meet in someone’s home or other nondescript location. Why? I confess I don’t know the full answer to that. But I suspect that the following may play a part in someone’s decision. What follows is in no particular order of importance; you judge for yourself.
First, denominations and religions tend to be top-heavy with bureaucracy and bloated with money-guzzling offices, buildings, and work. Some believe this is an unnecessary waste of resources.
Second, religion in general is suffering from the pains of humanity. Sexual abuse, theft, extortion, greed, and racism all play significant roles in some religious institutions today. Many people see this as hypocritical.
Third, people are recognizing an inner nudge to make the world a better place in some way. Some religious organizations haven’t a clue (or don’t want to know) how to harness that nudge and provide the help that may be needed.
Fourth, religion is full of officials of some kind or another who discourage innovation, individual initiative, and in general doing things differently than has been done in the past. It’s called obstructionism. The officials might well call it doctrine.
Fifth, the lives of people today are more harried and busy than ever before. We are inundated with data, lists, calendars, and appointments. We long for a simpler, easier time. Sometimes, that is attainable, even if for a short time, by eschewing tradition and ceremony in favor of innovation and informality.
I don’t know if this movement is on target or wildly off tangent. I suspect that, like much of what humanity thinks up, there is good and bad in it. Regardless, it is here and we must not only deal with it, but work with it, interact with it, and learn from it. After all, Christianity itself was a radical idea two thousand years ago.
“Wait,” you say. “That can’t be right. You can’t be a Christian and not be religious. You can’t be a Christian and not do church.” There are many, many souls out there who will beg to differ with you, and they may well be correct.
We see it all the time. Fewer and fewer are attending traditional church services in buildings. More and more are calling it quits when it comes to aligning with a denomination. Many have begun small groups of like-minded Christians and meet in someone’s home or other nondescript location. Why? I confess I don’t know the full answer to that. But I suspect that the following may play a part in someone’s decision. What follows is in no particular order of importance; you judge for yourself.
First, denominations and religions tend to be top-heavy with bureaucracy and bloated with money-guzzling offices, buildings, and work. Some believe this is an unnecessary waste of resources.
Second, religion in general is suffering from the pains of humanity. Sexual abuse, theft, extortion, greed, and racism all play significant roles in some religious institutions today. Many people see this as hypocritical.
Third, people are recognizing an inner nudge to make the world a better place in some way. Some religious organizations haven’t a clue (or don’t want to know) how to harness that nudge and provide the help that may be needed.
Fourth, religion is full of officials of some kind or another who discourage innovation, individual initiative, and in general doing things differently than has been done in the past. It’s called obstructionism. The officials might well call it doctrine.
Fifth, the lives of people today are more harried and busy than ever before. We are inundated with data, lists, calendars, and appointments. We long for a simpler, easier time. Sometimes, that is attainable, even if for a short time, by eschewing tradition and ceremony in favor of innovation and informality.
I don’t know if this movement is on target or wildly off tangent. I suspect that, like much of what humanity thinks up, there is good and bad in it. Regardless, it is here and we must not only deal with it, but work with it, interact with it, and learn from it. After all, Christianity itself was a radical idea two thousand years ago.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
A Lot to Ponder
We just came back from an afternoon at our church. We hosted an ice cream social for the homeless in our back parking lot, which abuts the east bank of the Arkansas river in downtown Wichita. Several people arrived early, helping carry out tables, chairs, and food and drink. Several of the homeless also showed up early, waiting for us to complete preparations.
We had a couple of guys with guitars who sang various types of songs, mostly country and older soft rock, and a man had a car backed up to the area with a trunk full of new underwear, socks, shoes, and other things needed by folks.
One of the first things I heard was from one man who was eager for the line to form. He said something about the ice cream and all the toppings on the table, then said he thought he had died and gone to heaven. Others expressed appreciation for us and our cooperating community organization for hosting and having them.
We had besides ice cream and toppings, cookies, brownies, and various kinds of drinks, including water and coffee. I know it wasn’t a nourishing meal, as one might get in a soup kitchen, but it was a time when for awhile the folks could meet, visit, and share stories with other homeless, and with the volunteers.
We did this last year, too. That time was my first experience with something like this. I was a little apprehensive last year about it all. This year, it was different. These people were just people like me. The only difference was most of them didn’t have a home to go to tonight.
As I stood at the edge of the group, the unmistakable odor of sweat and bodies wafting my way, I looked at people who appeared to be hardened, chronically homeless as well as those who may well have only been that way for a month or two. I saw the old and young, children and grandfathers, men and women of all shapes and sizes. And the empathy I felt for each of them multiplied in that short time and after as I served coffee and bussed tables.
One man asked if he could play the guitar of one of the performers during a break. He strummed a little, and asked if the amplifier could be turned on. He did a tolerably good job of chording, although his repertoire consisted mainly of harder rock-type sub lines. The bass guitarist worked to stay with him in an informal jam session, and some of the man’s friends were obviously pleased he was performing.
I don’t know how long it had been since he had played, but the experience was well worth the price of admission for me, and I hope he went away from there with a renewed sense, however minimal, of self-worth and dignity.
There but for a few paychecks go I. That’s a lot to ponder.
We had a couple of guys with guitars who sang various types of songs, mostly country and older soft rock, and a man had a car backed up to the area with a trunk full of new underwear, socks, shoes, and other things needed by folks.
One of the first things I heard was from one man who was eager for the line to form. He said something about the ice cream and all the toppings on the table, then said he thought he had died and gone to heaven. Others expressed appreciation for us and our cooperating community organization for hosting and having them.
We had besides ice cream and toppings, cookies, brownies, and various kinds of drinks, including water and coffee. I know it wasn’t a nourishing meal, as one might get in a soup kitchen, but it was a time when for awhile the folks could meet, visit, and share stories with other homeless, and with the volunteers.
We did this last year, too. That time was my first experience with something like this. I was a little apprehensive last year about it all. This year, it was different. These people were just people like me. The only difference was most of them didn’t have a home to go to tonight.
As I stood at the edge of the group, the unmistakable odor of sweat and bodies wafting my way, I looked at people who appeared to be hardened, chronically homeless as well as those who may well have only been that way for a month or two. I saw the old and young, children and grandfathers, men and women of all shapes and sizes. And the empathy I felt for each of them multiplied in that short time and after as I served coffee and bussed tables.
One man asked if he could play the guitar of one of the performers during a break. He strummed a little, and asked if the amplifier could be turned on. He did a tolerably good job of chording, although his repertoire consisted mainly of harder rock-type sub lines. The bass guitarist worked to stay with him in an informal jam session, and some of the man’s friends were obviously pleased he was performing.
I don’t know how long it had been since he had played, but the experience was well worth the price of admission for me, and I hope he went away from there with a renewed sense, however minimal, of self-worth and dignity.
There but for a few paychecks go I. That’s a lot to ponder.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Good Heritage and Great Promise
“There is nothing in this world quite the same as reminding yourself where your place in life is through a big family reunion where everyone gets along. Experiencing first hand the Christian heritage I've been given provides a place to belong, and an inner sense of peace in a chaotic world.”
A friend of mine said this recently on Facebook. He had just attended a family reunion and was expressing in words what I’m sure many who were there felt. I know much of his family and would concur that his experience was genuine and his comments heartfelt.
As a family, we feel much the same way. We try to get together annually, if possible, and seem to always enjoy each other’s company, catching up on the latest, and seeing the nieces, nephews, and others grow and develop as we siblings age. We cherish the memories of past reunions and know that there are but a limited number of reunions in our future.
I want to expand a bit on the Christian heritage part of his comment. Although families who are not religious or do not share a Christian heritage that stresses love can and do have good families, good reunions, and good relationships, it seems that the fact of that heritage and training makes the likelihood of such relationships more plausible and more frequent. We know that we are a forgiven people and that God has overlooked, so to speak, our shortcomings and has made us His adopted children. As such we tend to forgive the faults of others as we work and interact with them. We overlook, as it were, things that might cause no end of rift in another family.
Christians also believe that there will come a Day unlike no other, when we all as the family of God will be together in a wonderful, loving, and everlasting present tense, experiencing for eternity the same sense of belonging and inner peace (which passes all understanding). A taste of that happens in the here and now in venues like family reunions, gatherings of Christians to worship, fellowship or celebrate, and other ways and means. But those events and feelings, however great, are temporary and soon fade.
Christians look (or should look) toward that day, however, when there will be no temporary, no fading, and no imperfection.
A friend of mine said this recently on Facebook. He had just attended a family reunion and was expressing in words what I’m sure many who were there felt. I know much of his family and would concur that his experience was genuine and his comments heartfelt.
As a family, we feel much the same way. We try to get together annually, if possible, and seem to always enjoy each other’s company, catching up on the latest, and seeing the nieces, nephews, and others grow and develop as we siblings age. We cherish the memories of past reunions and know that there are but a limited number of reunions in our future.
I want to expand a bit on the Christian heritage part of his comment. Although families who are not religious or do not share a Christian heritage that stresses love can and do have good families, good reunions, and good relationships, it seems that the fact of that heritage and training makes the likelihood of such relationships more plausible and more frequent. We know that we are a forgiven people and that God has overlooked, so to speak, our shortcomings and has made us His adopted children. As such we tend to forgive the faults of others as we work and interact with them. We overlook, as it were, things that might cause no end of rift in another family.
Christians also believe that there will come a Day unlike no other, when we all as the family of God will be together in a wonderful, loving, and everlasting present tense, experiencing for eternity the same sense of belonging and inner peace (which passes all understanding). A taste of that happens in the here and now in venues like family reunions, gatherings of Christians to worship, fellowship or celebrate, and other ways and means. But those events and feelings, however great, are temporary and soon fade.
Christians look (or should look) toward that day, however, when there will be no temporary, no fading, and no imperfection.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Bully
I was in a business today purchasing a part for work. Ahead of me was an older lady who had an electric trimmer on the counter and was talking to the counter man about replacing the rechargeable battery in the unit, which evidently was bad. The business sold batteries but didn’t have any way to do the installation.
The woman was frustrated because she was unable to open the trimmer and replace it herself. She evidently did not have anyone else to help her with this task, which wouldn’t have taken long, but would have taken some tools.
The man sympathized with her, and told her that if she went to a place that sold batteries, most likely they would also do the installation for her. He suggested a couple of places, but it was obvious that the woman was a little unsure about something. I suspect she was really unsure whether the battery place would really install the new battery for her.
I deal with one such battery place on a rather regular basis for work. I told her that the place I patronized indeed would install the battery for her and would do a good job. We left the business together, and I also told her where the place was that I used to buy my batteries.
As we parted, she said she would go to one of the places and see how things worked out. I’d like to know how they worked out for her. I left there frustrated that some things like that seem to be almost insurmountable obstacles to older folks, especially women, maintaining their independence. It was obvious that this woman was in fairly good apparent health and probably could live on her own for some time yet.
You might think that she should just go into one of those battery places and get the work done. However, some of those places aren’t very woman-friendly, and are somewhat intimidating at times if you’ve never been there before. They generally are very masculine oriented, and the help sometimes is little more than some insolent-looking young man grunting behind the counter as the customer interrupts his lunch, his phone conversation, or his nap. They are also somewhat unkempt and not especially pleasant for those of the feminine persuasion.
On the other hand, we all have had to do things we weren’t very comfortable doing. I suspect this woman screwed up her nerve, went into one of these places, and now has a weed whacker that is charging a new battery in her garage. Bully for her.
The woman was frustrated because she was unable to open the trimmer and replace it herself. She evidently did not have anyone else to help her with this task, which wouldn’t have taken long, but would have taken some tools.
The man sympathized with her, and told her that if she went to a place that sold batteries, most likely they would also do the installation for her. He suggested a couple of places, but it was obvious that the woman was a little unsure about something. I suspect she was really unsure whether the battery place would really install the new battery for her.
I deal with one such battery place on a rather regular basis for work. I told her that the place I patronized indeed would install the battery for her and would do a good job. We left the business together, and I also told her where the place was that I used to buy my batteries.
As we parted, she said she would go to one of the places and see how things worked out. I’d like to know how they worked out for her. I left there frustrated that some things like that seem to be almost insurmountable obstacles to older folks, especially women, maintaining their independence. It was obvious that this woman was in fairly good apparent health and probably could live on her own for some time yet.
You might think that she should just go into one of those battery places and get the work done. However, some of those places aren’t very woman-friendly, and are somewhat intimidating at times if you’ve never been there before. They generally are very masculine oriented, and the help sometimes is little more than some insolent-looking young man grunting behind the counter as the customer interrupts his lunch, his phone conversation, or his nap. They are also somewhat unkempt and not especially pleasant for those of the feminine persuasion.
On the other hand, we all have had to do things we weren’t very comfortable doing. I suspect this woman screwed up her nerve, went into one of these places, and now has a weed whacker that is charging a new battery in her garage. Bully for her.
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
That "gutty" Feeling
I was out back tonight as the darkness fell. It has been normal for me to have a kind of "pit in the gut" feeling at various times during the day in the past year or so. I had it again as I sat out back and just thought. Why I get these feelings, I don't know. I suspect, however, that it has something to do with the unknown future, and that a big chunk of that is employment.
To have a job in this economy that pays well is a true blessing. But that blessing can be very fleeting and fickle, and the job can be gone in a matter of days or hours. Along with losing the job comes not only losing insurance and a steady income, but also a certain dignity and identity.
I've been there and done that. So has my spouse. In fact, in the last ten years or so, it seems we have changed jobs every two or three years or so. We certainly have never been the kind who get a job at age 20 and stay with the same job and same company for 45 years until retirement. Our jobs also have never been the kind that have contractural security of any kind.
But back to the gutty feeling. As I thought more about it, I thought about what would dispel the feeling. The only thing I could think of is the unchanging nature of the God that I know. Somehow, that gave me a respite from the uncertainty of the unknown. Somehow, that provided me with a security that could not be found anywhere else.
I am not always able to dispel the gutty feeling just by thinking about God. But most of the time, He provides me with a peace that enables me to take the next breath, take the next step, go to work the next day.
One day, I won't have to have that gutty feeling anymore. I'll have no need to maintain health insurance, money in the bank, or a good credit rating. I'll not have to worry about losing my job, house, dignity, or health. All will be taken care of. All will be well. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
To have a job in this economy that pays well is a true blessing. But that blessing can be very fleeting and fickle, and the job can be gone in a matter of days or hours. Along with losing the job comes not only losing insurance and a steady income, but also a certain dignity and identity.
I've been there and done that. So has my spouse. In fact, in the last ten years or so, it seems we have changed jobs every two or three years or so. We certainly have never been the kind who get a job at age 20 and stay with the same job and same company for 45 years until retirement. Our jobs also have never been the kind that have contractural security of any kind.
But back to the gutty feeling. As I thought more about it, I thought about what would dispel the feeling. The only thing I could think of is the unchanging nature of the God that I know. Somehow, that gave me a respite from the uncertainty of the unknown. Somehow, that provided me with a security that could not be found anywhere else.
I am not always able to dispel the gutty feeling just by thinking about God. But most of the time, He provides me with a peace that enables me to take the next breath, take the next step, go to work the next day.
One day, I won't have to have that gutty feeling anymore. I'll have no need to maintain health insurance, money in the bank, or a good credit rating. I'll not have to worry about losing my job, house, dignity, or health. All will be taken care of. All will be well. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Sunday, July 04, 2010
Good Lawmaking
I just came in the house from our front yard, watching unending rockets, mortars, and other assorted fireworks bursting above the homes in our division. It made for a great sight, and smoke was rather thick in the air in places. We didn’t have to spend any of our own money on fireworks, because the neighborhood adequately stocked up, it seems, for the big event this evening.
It was a wonderful display of red, green, white, gold, and occasionally blue, punctuated by booms of greater or lesser volume. The neighbors about a half block away, though, worried me some because although I couldn’t see them directly, several loud booms came from their area, but the sounds came from on the ground instead of in the air, as mortars and rockets normally do. The ambulance didn’t come, however, so I presume everything is OK, at least for now.
We also saw what we thought might have been a balloon sailing over the area. It was too dark to know for sure, and I don’t know if balloons can fly at night or not. But, that would be a great perch to observe fireworks from many square miles, and also hear many of the booms made by the fireworks on the ground.
Of course, living in Wichita, virtually all of what we saw was illegal. However, there was so much of it that the city really needs to get with it (as Sedgwick County did) and allow common fireworks. Yes, some will be irresponsible. Yes, some will mix alcohol with fireworks. Yes, there will be some injuries. But when is government going to quit being our nanny? It’s one thing to assure the safety of drugs, food, and automobiles. It’s quite another to ban fireworks because “something might happen”.
Hopefully, the Sedgwick County experiment this year will go well, and the City of Wichita will figure out that an unenforceable law (1) is of no use, (2) breeds disrespect for the law in general, and (3) encourages the populace to find ways around the law. Passing a law doesn’t make anyone safer. Passing a law that the people will obey, by and large, on their own, is the way to responsibility and safety.
It was a wonderful display of red, green, white, gold, and occasionally blue, punctuated by booms of greater or lesser volume. The neighbors about a half block away, though, worried me some because although I couldn’t see them directly, several loud booms came from their area, but the sounds came from on the ground instead of in the air, as mortars and rockets normally do. The ambulance didn’t come, however, so I presume everything is OK, at least for now.
We also saw what we thought might have been a balloon sailing over the area. It was too dark to know for sure, and I don’t know if balloons can fly at night or not. But, that would be a great perch to observe fireworks from many square miles, and also hear many of the booms made by the fireworks on the ground.
Of course, living in Wichita, virtually all of what we saw was illegal. However, there was so much of it that the city really needs to get with it (as Sedgwick County did) and allow common fireworks. Yes, some will be irresponsible. Yes, some will mix alcohol with fireworks. Yes, there will be some injuries. But when is government going to quit being our nanny? It’s one thing to assure the safety of drugs, food, and automobiles. It’s quite another to ban fireworks because “something might happen”.
Hopefully, the Sedgwick County experiment this year will go well, and the City of Wichita will figure out that an unenforceable law (1) is of no use, (2) breeds disrespect for the law in general, and (3) encourages the populace to find ways around the law. Passing a law doesn’t make anyone safer. Passing a law that the people will obey, by and large, on their own, is the way to responsibility and safety.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
The Cross Made a Difference
I was listening to an old Gaither video today. One of the songs was in memory of Rex Nelon, a bass singer who died about 10 years ago. I confess I hadn’t heard the song before. Oh, well, I may have heard it, but if I did, I didn’t pay much attention to the words. I believe, although I’m not sure, that the song was composed by Jay Rouse. Forgive me for not being sure.
The words that strike me the most in this song, and the words that prompted me to look up the lyrics on the web are the last words of the last verse…”For life can’t be sealed in a tomb.” Think about that for a moment, and I think you’ll find more than the obvious in that statement.
If what Jesus said about himself is true (I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life), then it would be only natural and logical for the resurrection to have occurred. Life indeed cannot be sealed in a tomb. And if Jesus is the Life, he could no more be sealed in a tomb than a duck can be kept from water.
Many things can change a person for the better. Philosophy, religion, meditation, and even events and other people can cause good and permanent change. However, the foundation of the change wrought by Jesus Christ is the empty tomb. Nothing can compare; nothing can compete; nothing can equate. The empty tomb stands alone as the defining reality for the human condition and the hope of the creation.
The Cross Made a Difference in Me
'Twas a life filled with aimless desperation
Without hope walked the shell of a man;
Then a hand with a nailprint stretched downward,
Just one touch then a new life began.
Barren walls echoed harshness and anger
Little faces ran in terror to hide;
Now those walls ring with love, warmth and laughter,
Since the giver of life moved inside.
There's a room filled with sad, ashen faces
Without hope death has wrapped them in gloom;
But at the side of a saint there's rejoicing,
For life can't be sealed in a tomb.
Chorus: And the old rugged cross made the difference
In a life bound for heartache and defeat;
I will praise Him forever and ever
For the cross made the difference for me.
The words that strike me the most in this song, and the words that prompted me to look up the lyrics on the web are the last words of the last verse…”For life can’t be sealed in a tomb.” Think about that for a moment, and I think you’ll find more than the obvious in that statement.
If what Jesus said about himself is true (I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life), then it would be only natural and logical for the resurrection to have occurred. Life indeed cannot be sealed in a tomb. And if Jesus is the Life, he could no more be sealed in a tomb than a duck can be kept from water.
Many things can change a person for the better. Philosophy, religion, meditation, and even events and other people can cause good and permanent change. However, the foundation of the change wrought by Jesus Christ is the empty tomb. Nothing can compare; nothing can compete; nothing can equate. The empty tomb stands alone as the defining reality for the human condition and the hope of the creation.
The Cross Made a Difference in Me
'Twas a life filled with aimless desperation
Without hope walked the shell of a man;
Then a hand with a nailprint stretched downward,
Just one touch then a new life began.
Barren walls echoed harshness and anger
Little faces ran in terror to hide;
Now those walls ring with love, warmth and laughter,
Since the giver of life moved inside.
There's a room filled with sad, ashen faces
Without hope death has wrapped them in gloom;
But at the side of a saint there's rejoicing,
For life can't be sealed in a tomb.
Chorus: And the old rugged cross made the difference
In a life bound for heartache and defeat;
I will praise Him forever and ever
For the cross made the difference for me.
Hello Again
Well, it’s been awhile. So much has happened, including a wedding in the family (niece), visit with relatives and friends, a family reunion, and a lost job. Where to start first?
The wedding was great. Nicole and Jason have started their (hopefully) lifelong relationship on a good footing and with the blessing of many friends and relatives. The setting was a bit unusual, an old theater, but the ceremonies came off without an apparent hitch, as did the reception and celebration. They are back from a short trip and are settling in to the routine of married life in this culture.
We had a family reunion during this time, and also visited with other relatives in the Hesston/Newton area one Sunday afternoon. We always enjoy those visits so much, and hope the “relations” enjoy them half as much as we.
The wife lost her job last week. Her position was eliminated, and she was let go “in good standing”. She’s looking for work now, but is also enjoying the time spent at home. And I must admit it’s nice to have someone at home. The pace just seems a bit slower, and the times just a little more deliberate when we’re not running here and there, rushing to be at work on time or getting errands done.
We don’t have an endless supply of cash, but are OK for the moment. In this job market, anything can happen. People say health care is relatively recession-proof, and I think it is. However, there are a lot of caveats in that statement, so we’ll see how this goes.
We have a three day weekend due to the holiday. We don’t have much planned, but will enjoy the time we have together and with each other. You do the same.
The wedding was great. Nicole and Jason have started their (hopefully) lifelong relationship on a good footing and with the blessing of many friends and relatives. The setting was a bit unusual, an old theater, but the ceremonies came off without an apparent hitch, as did the reception and celebration. They are back from a short trip and are settling in to the routine of married life in this culture.
We had a family reunion during this time, and also visited with other relatives in the Hesston/Newton area one Sunday afternoon. We always enjoy those visits so much, and hope the “relations” enjoy them half as much as we.
The wife lost her job last week. Her position was eliminated, and she was let go “in good standing”. She’s looking for work now, but is also enjoying the time spent at home. And I must admit it’s nice to have someone at home. The pace just seems a bit slower, and the times just a little more deliberate when we’re not running here and there, rushing to be at work on time or getting errands done.
We don’t have an endless supply of cash, but are OK for the moment. In this job market, anything can happen. People say health care is relatively recession-proof, and I think it is. However, there are a lot of caveats in that statement, so we’ll see how this goes.
We have a three day weekend due to the holiday. We don’t have much planned, but will enjoy the time we have together and with each other. You do the same.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
I’d like to share with you something I wrote on another’s Facebook page. She asked if we are to forgive others even when they persist in wrong doing. There were many comments on that topic, and a few on related topics. My own belief is that we have no choice in the matter. I believe God has made it quite clear that we are to forgive…not for the benefit of the other person necessarily, but for our own benefit, well-being, and sanity. And we are to forgive even though one "persists in wrong doing," as the questioner said. One only need think of Jesus on the cross asking God to forgive his killers, Stephen in Acts doing the same, or in the present day, the Amish a few years ago as they forgave the killer of their children as they were at Amish school.
This also demonstrates God’s forgiveness of us, even though we persist in wrong doing (As Paul said, “I do those things I do not wish to do, and do not do those things I know I should do. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me…?) even as Christians.
The discussion took a tangent of what is right and what is wrong, and how we deal with that in others. The rest of this blog is my response to that question. I commend it to you as my poor effort to make some sense out of judging, forgiveness, tolerance, right and wrong, and our relationship with God and others.
I am not the final arbiter of what is right and wrong for another. I have no business telling someone else for example, that they cannot divorce...I have to decide for myself what, if anything, the Bible has to say about that and about my specific situation. There isn't much that is clearly black and white in Scripture. That's by God's design. He has set us free from the law and has put His Spirit in our hearts and His word on paper (so to speak) to guide us...not guide others.
One thing is clear. Romans 14 and others (I Corinthians 8 to 11) talk of some things being wrong for some but not wrong for others. There ARE such things in the world, and I don't have a monopoly on the "correct" list of such.
The brother will stand regardless of his stance on the issue because God will make him stand, Paul says. Evidently, God doesn't care one way or the other on many issues as long as we love one another, forgive one another, and don't judge one another, violate our consciences, or cause another to stumble.
That's a pretty tall order. It's a lot easier to have a handy list of "rights and wrongs" we can pull out and use on others instead of loving, forgiving, deferring to, and encouraging. If we want to have a list for ourselves, that's our business. We dare not use our lists on others. That is, in my view, presumptuous to say the least and putting ourselves in God's place (as Judge) at worst.
This also demonstrates God’s forgiveness of us, even though we persist in wrong doing (As Paul said, “I do those things I do not wish to do, and do not do those things I know I should do. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me…?) even as Christians.
The discussion took a tangent of what is right and what is wrong, and how we deal with that in others. The rest of this blog is my response to that question. I commend it to you as my poor effort to make some sense out of judging, forgiveness, tolerance, right and wrong, and our relationship with God and others.
I am not the final arbiter of what is right and wrong for another. I have no business telling someone else for example, that they cannot divorce...I have to decide for myself what, if anything, the Bible has to say about that and about my specific situation. There isn't much that is clearly black and white in Scripture. That's by God's design. He has set us free from the law and has put His Spirit in our hearts and His word on paper (so to speak) to guide us...not guide others.
One thing is clear. Romans 14 and others (I Corinthians 8 to 11) talk of some things being wrong for some but not wrong for others. There ARE such things in the world, and I don't have a monopoly on the "correct" list of such.
The brother will stand regardless of his stance on the issue because God will make him stand, Paul says. Evidently, God doesn't care one way or the other on many issues as long as we love one another, forgive one another, and don't judge one another, violate our consciences, or cause another to stumble.
That's a pretty tall order. It's a lot easier to have a handy list of "rights and wrongs" we can pull out and use on others instead of loving, forgiving, deferring to, and encouraging. If we want to have a list for ourselves, that's our business. We dare not use our lists on others. That is, in my view, presumptuous to say the least and putting ourselves in God's place (as Judge) at worst.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Potpourri
Well, it's Saturday. Hotter than the blazes has it been the past few days, with no relief in sight. And that's actually a good thing around here because the wheat farmers have had enough of the rain. It's a muddy mess out there in the fields, but that process (harvest) needs to happen, and soon.
The wife has been away for a few days. She's attending a national nurses' association meeting in D.C. this week. She'll be back in Wichita tonight, probably rather tired and ready to be home. I'm ready for her to be here too, as it's just not the same when someone you've lived with for all these years isn't here.
I have several things to do today to make ready for the coming week. There is a wedding in our family a week from today, and we're having house guests and will be continuing to be together after the nuptial festivities. So I have some house cleaning to do today, yard work, going to the store...well, I think you know the drill.
Yes, I clean house. Yes. I go to the store. Yes, I even clean toilets and mop the floor. I don't necessarily relish those jobs, but don't mind doing them. Besides, what else am I going to do today? Golf? Nah. Lake? Why? Besides, many of those kinds of things take money; I have better things to do with mine than give it to some of those kinds of things.
Of course, there are always some exceptions to that. The IMAX in Hutchinson has a movie on now about the Hubble telescope I'd like to see. And I did go out with family last evening to TGI Fridays for dinner. Now, that was an experience made great by the waiter who served us. Personable, funny, competent, and helpful, he made an otherwise routine dining experience one we will remember for awhile.
I need to get on with life today. Move the wash along. Make the bed in the spare room. Clean up the kitchen. Etc Etc. Until next time...
The wife has been away for a few days. She's attending a national nurses' association meeting in D.C. this week. She'll be back in Wichita tonight, probably rather tired and ready to be home. I'm ready for her to be here too, as it's just not the same when someone you've lived with for all these years isn't here.
I have several things to do today to make ready for the coming week. There is a wedding in our family a week from today, and we're having house guests and will be continuing to be together after the nuptial festivities. So I have some house cleaning to do today, yard work, going to the store...well, I think you know the drill.
Yes, I clean house. Yes. I go to the store. Yes, I even clean toilets and mop the floor. I don't necessarily relish those jobs, but don't mind doing them. Besides, what else am I going to do today? Golf? Nah. Lake? Why? Besides, many of those kinds of things take money; I have better things to do with mine than give it to some of those kinds of things.
Of course, there are always some exceptions to that. The IMAX in Hutchinson has a movie on now about the Hubble telescope I'd like to see. And I did go out with family last evening to TGI Fridays for dinner. Now, that was an experience made great by the waiter who served us. Personable, funny, competent, and helpful, he made an otherwise routine dining experience one we will remember for awhile.
I need to get on with life today. Move the wash along. Make the bed in the spare room. Clean up the kitchen. Etc Etc. Until next time...
Friday, June 11, 2010
Trivia
The fin whale can live to age 94, swim up to 25 miles an hour, weigh as much as 150,000 pounds, and its tail can develop 200 horsepower of energy. They eat up to 2 tons of food a day. Newborns are 21 feet long and weigh about 2 tons. Just sayin...
Not Too Early
“I am so tired!” That’s a statement I hear more than I care to hear…not from staff at work…not from my wife…not from myself. I heard it again just today. A daughter of a resident in our nursing home (where I work) was talking with our social worker today, in obvious distress. Her father had been in our care for some time, and is probably in his last days and weeks of life. The family has been very supportive of their loved one, and his care needs, while physically are being met by us, are still great upon this family. The stress that is placed upon this daughter is evident.
I feel greatly for families in this situation. Even though their loved one is being cared for as best we can, there is still great stress and strain upon the family and upon the relationships in that family. People age many years in just a relatively few months. The best (and worst) in familial relationships many times comes out into the open, sometimes for the first time.
Yes, sometimes families bring on added stress by virtue of choices, present and past, that may not have been the best (or just plain bad). But many times there is just the strain of caring for a loved one in the last stages of life, attending to their needs and trying to be strong while they hold things together, juggle responsibilities, maintain their own families, and make decisions. Sometimes families work together in these situations; sometimes one family member has it all thrust upon him or her.
I have to wonder sometimes just how productive it is to lengthen life, given that it often comes with diminished quality and frequently ages the caregivers in the family unit far beyond the chronological calendars. I don’t advocate euthanasia at all, but believe there must be some way to make informed, moral, intelligent decisions regarding medical care.
Families also need to be proactive and develop good relationships, plan ahead, and be ready for the time when mom and dad, or older brother, or whoever, may be in such condition as to require care in a facility or some such. To not do so is to be in denial of the inevitable, and is not a loving response to family and friends.
We all have trials. We all have crosses to bear. To do so with grace, dignity, and appropriate action is a worthy goal which requires some thought and planning. Now is not too early.
I feel greatly for families in this situation. Even though their loved one is being cared for as best we can, there is still great stress and strain upon the family and upon the relationships in that family. People age many years in just a relatively few months. The best (and worst) in familial relationships many times comes out into the open, sometimes for the first time.
Yes, sometimes families bring on added stress by virtue of choices, present and past, that may not have been the best (or just plain bad). But many times there is just the strain of caring for a loved one in the last stages of life, attending to their needs and trying to be strong while they hold things together, juggle responsibilities, maintain their own families, and make decisions. Sometimes families work together in these situations; sometimes one family member has it all thrust upon him or her.
I have to wonder sometimes just how productive it is to lengthen life, given that it often comes with diminished quality and frequently ages the caregivers in the family unit far beyond the chronological calendars. I don’t advocate euthanasia at all, but believe there must be some way to make informed, moral, intelligent decisions regarding medical care.
Families also need to be proactive and develop good relationships, plan ahead, and be ready for the time when mom and dad, or older brother, or whoever, may be in such condition as to require care in a facility or some such. To not do so is to be in denial of the inevitable, and is not a loving response to family and friends.
We all have trials. We all have crosses to bear. To do so with grace, dignity, and appropriate action is a worthy goal which requires some thought and planning. Now is not too early.
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Monday All Over Again
You know, it’s kind of funny that I gripe and complain when there is a lot planned on a weekend…going here or there, fixing this or that, attending some meeting or going on a trip somewhere. I long for days when there’s nothing much planned and the time is open. Today is one of those days, and although there are things I can (and will) do, such as starting some laundry, cleaning up the kitchen, etc., there’s no place that I have to be at a certain time and no one that I have to meet at a certain place.
So I putter around with a cup of joe in hand and the newspaper beside me, watching a Saturday morning news show on the tube. I then wonder what I’m going to do with the next several hours.
Oh, I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m just not used to the unstructuredness of it all. I’m more tuned in with having to constantly prioritize my responsibilities (at work) and adjust what I’m doing, sometimes minute by minute, against those priorities. When that doesn’t happen, I feel just a bit lost as I sort-of wander through time.
The feeling is good, though. My brain can relax and recharge, and the rest of me can just sort of go with the flow. Soon enough, it will be Monday all over again.
So I putter around with a cup of joe in hand and the newspaper beside me, watching a Saturday morning news show on the tube. I then wonder what I’m going to do with the next several hours.
Oh, I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m just not used to the unstructuredness of it all. I’m more tuned in with having to constantly prioritize my responsibilities (at work) and adjust what I’m doing, sometimes minute by minute, against those priorities. When that doesn’t happen, I feel just a bit lost as I sort-of wander through time.
The feeling is good, though. My brain can relax and recharge, and the rest of me can just sort of go with the flow. Soon enough, it will be Monday all over again.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
Know What is Important
It won’t be but about four more days and we’ll be saying, “Where has the summer gone?” I know, I know, we’ve just started, but it seems like we hurtle from one thing on our calendars to the next, stopping only briefly for food and rest. The summer is as packed as the rest of our year, with this trip, that wedding, another vacation, and we must take time to enjoy our time off.
If I seem a little cynical, I am. I can’t change what is, but I do so long for the days of summer that seemed endless…a whole three months of time to fill with whatever came into a boy’s head. Yes, there was work, and lots of it. We moved irrigation pipe and ran cattle on the farm, besides the tractor-driving and the other things that would crop up from time to time. Dad would sometimes have me work with him on his second job in plumbing and electrical service. And there were always green beans to pick, eggs to gather, corn to hoe, yard to mow, or potatoes to dig. If that wasn’t enough, there were dishes to wash, laundry to hang on the line, a floor to sweep and mop, or a room to pick up. We never lacked for anything to do.
Yet, it seemed that the days would last forever, and September and school were far, far away. Now, though, they are just around the corner, and can Thanksgiving be far behind? Then comes the Christmas “stuff” and the new year is fast upon us…another year older, but hopefully not deeper in debt, to borrow a phrase.
Thankfully, I’m not sitting home looking at the help wanted ads and posting a resume on some web site that will never see the virtual light of day. If I was doing that, the days truly would drag on and on…I want no part of that. I have a job to go to, and am grateful for what it provides. Sometimes in the middle of the turmoil, I have to stop and remember to thank God for it, else I lose sight of what is important and what is not. And, no, I don’t mean that the job is all important. I mean that my relationship with the God that provides all, and my relationship with other people are what are truly important.
So, as you too progress through these summer days along with all the rest of us, remember what really is important, and what is just on the periphery.
I asked an older gentleman who was having difficulty getting into the home this afternoon (he was a visitor, not a resident) how he was doing. I asked because he paused for some breaths before going into the home. It had been a short walk from his vehicle and there were no steps. Obviously, he had some kind of medical issue that caused his shortness of breath. I was asking him to give him an opening to ask for help. He said instead, “I am blessed.” Not expecting that answer, I asked him if he needed help. He instead volunteered to help me finish my job (the reason I was out there in the first place). I said I was fine, but did hold the door open for him as he went in.
That man knew what was important.
If I seem a little cynical, I am. I can’t change what is, but I do so long for the days of summer that seemed endless…a whole three months of time to fill with whatever came into a boy’s head. Yes, there was work, and lots of it. We moved irrigation pipe and ran cattle on the farm, besides the tractor-driving and the other things that would crop up from time to time. Dad would sometimes have me work with him on his second job in plumbing and electrical service. And there were always green beans to pick, eggs to gather, corn to hoe, yard to mow, or potatoes to dig. If that wasn’t enough, there were dishes to wash, laundry to hang on the line, a floor to sweep and mop, or a room to pick up. We never lacked for anything to do.
Yet, it seemed that the days would last forever, and September and school were far, far away. Now, though, they are just around the corner, and can Thanksgiving be far behind? Then comes the Christmas “stuff” and the new year is fast upon us…another year older, but hopefully not deeper in debt, to borrow a phrase.
Thankfully, I’m not sitting home looking at the help wanted ads and posting a resume on some web site that will never see the virtual light of day. If I was doing that, the days truly would drag on and on…I want no part of that. I have a job to go to, and am grateful for what it provides. Sometimes in the middle of the turmoil, I have to stop and remember to thank God for it, else I lose sight of what is important and what is not. And, no, I don’t mean that the job is all important. I mean that my relationship with the God that provides all, and my relationship with other people are what are truly important.
So, as you too progress through these summer days along with all the rest of us, remember what really is important, and what is just on the periphery.
I asked an older gentleman who was having difficulty getting into the home this afternoon (he was a visitor, not a resident) how he was doing. I asked because he paused for some breaths before going into the home. It had been a short walk from his vehicle and there were no steps. Obviously, he had some kind of medical issue that caused his shortness of breath. I was asking him to give him an opening to ask for help. He said instead, “I am blessed.” Not expecting that answer, I asked him if he needed help. He instead volunteered to help me finish my job (the reason I was out there in the first place). I said I was fine, but did hold the door open for him as he went in.
That man knew what was important.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
It's Worth It
This weekend will be anything but the kind that older people love to have…nothing to do. It seems like those times for all of us are getting fewer and farther between as we continue to hurtle down the space-time continuum.
Yesterday evening we (13 family from Wichita area) went to our hometown and to the cemetery where family is buried. We then went into town and had dinner at the local diner.
Today, we will attend a Vincent reunion in central Kansas, and will take our two oldest grandchildren with us. Their parents will not be going, so we will be responsible for them. Of course, the reunion also involves food preparation, which is going on right now, and the grandkids mean farkling with car seats and other assorted things that the under-5 set needs on such an outing.
Tomorrow, I have responsibilities at church and probably should stop by work in the afternoon to check on things, since we are a housekeeper short this weekend. The fact that it’s a holiday means increased visitors, so I probably need to stop by to make sure places like the public restrooms are at least presentable.
Monday we will go to my brother’s place here in Sedgwick County, which means more food preparation. That afternoon we plan to attend the Botannica activities.
Our older son and spouse will be coming today as well, and will be staying with us.
Am I complaining? No, of course not. These times are the ones we remember and cherish. They provide continuing connection, fellowship, catching up (even with Facebook and whatever else, visiting face to face can’t be beat), and joy. But as I age, they also become just a tad more difficult to manage and carry out.
One day we will look back at these times with joy and satisfaction, knowing the beauty and wholeness of life and love. It’s worth the “tad bit more difficult”.
Yesterday evening we (13 family from Wichita area) went to our hometown and to the cemetery where family is buried. We then went into town and had dinner at the local diner.
Today, we will attend a Vincent reunion in central Kansas, and will take our two oldest grandchildren with us. Their parents will not be going, so we will be responsible for them. Of course, the reunion also involves food preparation, which is going on right now, and the grandkids mean farkling with car seats and other assorted things that the under-5 set needs on such an outing.
Tomorrow, I have responsibilities at church and probably should stop by work in the afternoon to check on things, since we are a housekeeper short this weekend. The fact that it’s a holiday means increased visitors, so I probably need to stop by to make sure places like the public restrooms are at least presentable.
Monday we will go to my brother’s place here in Sedgwick County, which means more food preparation. That afternoon we plan to attend the Botannica activities.
Our older son and spouse will be coming today as well, and will be staying with us.
Am I complaining? No, of course not. These times are the ones we remember and cherish. They provide continuing connection, fellowship, catching up (even with Facebook and whatever else, visiting face to face can’t be beat), and joy. But as I age, they also become just a tad more difficult to manage and carry out.
One day we will look back at these times with joy and satisfaction, knowing the beauty and wholeness of life and love. It’s worth the “tad bit more difficult”.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Ready for Whatever
In many ways, today was nothing special. We had church today like we always do and came home for Sunday dinner. Nap in the afternoon and a quiet time on the lower level of the house. But in other ways, it was special.
First, we honored the graduates who are in our church. We spent most of the time honoring the high school grads. Parents, friends, or sometimes the youth minister would spend about ten minutes or so talking about the student, his accomplishments and life. It was enjoyable listening to the accomplishments of these young men and women and their aspirations for the future.
I had to think back as the service continued, what would have been said about me in a similar situation when I graduated. I couldn’t really think of anything much, and also don’t know who would have spoken for me. My parents weren’t public speakers in any sense of the word. And I am notorious for being self-deprecating.
Lunch was pleasant and good. We had slow-roasted sirloin, fresh fruit, spuds, gravy, etc. It doesn’t take long to put things away, with only two of us here. We had a lot of the afternoon to get ready for company in the evening.
We had invited our small group to come over this evening for burgers. There were nine of us who enjoyed burgers, marshmallows roasted over the fire pit, baked beans, ice cream, chips, etc. The conversation was great and the weather cooperated allowing us to stay outside on the back patio most all of the time.
Now we’re watching some TV and getting ready for the work week to come. What that week holds in store for us is anyone’s guess. But the weekend has been an excellent time of rest, recreation, and a rebuilding of sorts. We’ll be ready, whatever comes.
First, we honored the graduates who are in our church. We spent most of the time honoring the high school grads. Parents, friends, or sometimes the youth minister would spend about ten minutes or so talking about the student, his accomplishments and life. It was enjoyable listening to the accomplishments of these young men and women and their aspirations for the future.
I had to think back as the service continued, what would have been said about me in a similar situation when I graduated. I couldn’t really think of anything much, and also don’t know who would have spoken for me. My parents weren’t public speakers in any sense of the word. And I am notorious for being self-deprecating.
Lunch was pleasant and good. We had slow-roasted sirloin, fresh fruit, spuds, gravy, etc. It doesn’t take long to put things away, with only two of us here. We had a lot of the afternoon to get ready for company in the evening.
We had invited our small group to come over this evening for burgers. There were nine of us who enjoyed burgers, marshmallows roasted over the fire pit, baked beans, ice cream, chips, etc. The conversation was great and the weather cooperated allowing us to stay outside on the back patio most all of the time.
Now we’re watching some TV and getting ready for the work week to come. What that week holds in store for us is anyone’s guess. But the weekend has been an excellent time of rest, recreation, and a rebuilding of sorts. We’ll be ready, whatever comes.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
New Happenings
Many days are like many other days. Some days we feel like we’re slogging through life, doing the same things day after day. Other days provide a welcome respite to the slogging feeling, with things that happen which are unique or unusual. Such was today.
I saw, for the first time (at least that I know of), an eastern bluebird. This bird is the one that people think of when they think of bluebirds, although there are one or two other varieties in this part of the country. There are not many of them, and they have been elusive to me over the years. But today, the bird feeder on the patio attracted at least one and maybe two of them to feed and pose for a picture or two. They truly are as handsome as they have been made out to be.
The second happened as I stood out on the patio. I was about three feet away from the bird feeder and even closer to the hummingbird feeder. I heard a buzzing noise overhead and to my back. Thinking it was an unusual aircraft, I turned my head to see a hummingbird (ruby-throated) come around and go to the hummingbird feeder, not two feet away from my right hand. He fed from the artificial flower as I watched, and I also saw his little tongue as it darted in and out from the end of his pointed bill. He didn’t seem to be afraid of me, and the red patch on his throat shimmered and changed in the sunlight as he moved. What a sight!
This may not seem like much to some of you, but I truly enjoyed these two encounters. Watching birds is something I enjoy doing, and I am glad that we are attracting such a variety. When we first moved here, I didn’t see many birds and thought there might not be much chance for watching. However, this year we’ve seen cardinals, doves, robins, the tufted titmouse, juncos, downy woodpeckers, various sparrow varieties, blue jays, the bluebird, and even a brown-headed cowbird. What a variety, and what a promise of even more bird watching to come.
I saw, for the first time (at least that I know of), an eastern bluebird. This bird is the one that people think of when they think of bluebirds, although there are one or two other varieties in this part of the country. There are not many of them, and they have been elusive to me over the years. But today, the bird feeder on the patio attracted at least one and maybe two of them to feed and pose for a picture or two. They truly are as handsome as they have been made out to be.
The second happened as I stood out on the patio. I was about three feet away from the bird feeder and even closer to the hummingbird feeder. I heard a buzzing noise overhead and to my back. Thinking it was an unusual aircraft, I turned my head to see a hummingbird (ruby-throated) come around and go to the hummingbird feeder, not two feet away from my right hand. He fed from the artificial flower as I watched, and I also saw his little tongue as it darted in and out from the end of his pointed bill. He didn’t seem to be afraid of me, and the red patch on his throat shimmered and changed in the sunlight as he moved. What a sight!
This may not seem like much to some of you, but I truly enjoyed these two encounters. Watching birds is something I enjoy doing, and I am glad that we are attracting such a variety. When we first moved here, I didn’t see many birds and thought there might not be much chance for watching. However, this year we’ve seen cardinals, doves, robins, the tufted titmouse, juncos, downy woodpeckers, various sparrow varieties, blue jays, the bluebird, and even a brown-headed cowbird. What a variety, and what a promise of even more bird watching to come.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
An Unusual Encounter
I went in to a resident’s room today to help work on a walker. As I was leaving the room, I noticed a calendar on a bulletin board by the door with what at first glance looked like the old fashioned “pin-up” girl picture above the calendar part. I quickly turned away, hopefully not obviously, and said something mundane about glad I could help, or whatever.
Immediately, the man asked me back inside and took the calendar off the wall. It was indeed a pin-up-type calendar (Playboy brand) and the elderly man, who lives there with his wife in that room, told me that was their granddaughter. Evidently, this young woman was playmate of whatever month on the calendar (I didn’t look much at the calendar part of the calendar. And yes, the pertinent body parts were covered).
I was rather at a loss for words, but managed to have a conversation about—yes, even this topic, and then left the room. The young woman is now living in this area, tending bar at some establishment run by her boyfriend and owned by the same person who has several well-known franchise restaurants in town. The man even showed me an article clipped from a newspaper about the bar when it opened.
I’m not sure whether to be aghast (my sister’s favorite word) or impressed. Aghast because of the openness of the grandparents in what the granddaughter was and had been doing with her life, or impressed that the elderly grandparents were obviously inclusive, open, and loving of even this granddaughter, who many in my circle of relatives and friends would say was a definite black sheep. Whether these grandparents think that or not, I do not know and don’t intend to ask.
I visited with the nurse a little about it, telling her of my encounter and we both remarked that we didn’t quite know what to do with that conversation…she had been shown the same calendar a few days prior.
There’s nothing “against the rules” for such a display in a long term care home room. The room is the resident’s domain, and they have the right to have, within reason, whatever they want in there…even porn. We have one person who has porn videos in the room, and we have only asked that they be turned off when a staff member comes in to the room.
This interaction made for an interesting sidelight this afternoon, and I obviously am still thinking some about it…hence the writing. I’m not trying to make a point, I don’t think, other than to say that life throws curves at us at times. We are forced out of our comfort areas probably more often than we’d like to admit, and how we react says a lot about who we are and what we think.
Self-righteous indignation probably wouldn’t have been the appropriate reaction. I have skeletons enough in my own closet that would have precluded me from being Pharisaical. And in a way, I’m glad for the experience. It takes all kinds in this world, and whether I agree with them or not, I live with them on this planet and interact with some of them. I really need some idea what these people are like, instead of lecturing them at a distance from the safety of my hole in the wall of self-righteousness.
Immediately, the man asked me back inside and took the calendar off the wall. It was indeed a pin-up-type calendar (Playboy brand) and the elderly man, who lives there with his wife in that room, told me that was their granddaughter. Evidently, this young woman was playmate of whatever month on the calendar (I didn’t look much at the calendar part of the calendar. And yes, the pertinent body parts were covered).
I was rather at a loss for words, but managed to have a conversation about—yes, even this topic, and then left the room. The young woman is now living in this area, tending bar at some establishment run by her boyfriend and owned by the same person who has several well-known franchise restaurants in town. The man even showed me an article clipped from a newspaper about the bar when it opened.
I’m not sure whether to be aghast (my sister’s favorite word) or impressed. Aghast because of the openness of the grandparents in what the granddaughter was and had been doing with her life, or impressed that the elderly grandparents were obviously inclusive, open, and loving of even this granddaughter, who many in my circle of relatives and friends would say was a definite black sheep. Whether these grandparents think that or not, I do not know and don’t intend to ask.
I visited with the nurse a little about it, telling her of my encounter and we both remarked that we didn’t quite know what to do with that conversation…she had been shown the same calendar a few days prior.
There’s nothing “against the rules” for such a display in a long term care home room. The room is the resident’s domain, and they have the right to have, within reason, whatever they want in there…even porn. We have one person who has porn videos in the room, and we have only asked that they be turned off when a staff member comes in to the room.
This interaction made for an interesting sidelight this afternoon, and I obviously am still thinking some about it…hence the writing. I’m not trying to make a point, I don’t think, other than to say that life throws curves at us at times. We are forced out of our comfort areas probably more often than we’d like to admit, and how we react says a lot about who we are and what we think.
Self-righteous indignation probably wouldn’t have been the appropriate reaction. I have skeletons enough in my own closet that would have precluded me from being Pharisaical. And in a way, I’m glad for the experience. It takes all kinds in this world, and whether I agree with them or not, I live with them on this planet and interact with some of them. I really need some idea what these people are like, instead of lecturing them at a distance from the safety of my hole in the wall of self-righteousness.
Friday, May 07, 2010
What Do You Think?
I was holding my third grandchild this evening at the hospital. Julia Rose Plank was born earlier today and looks, well, like all babies look when they’re first born. No wonder they have to put ID tags on them…you couldn’t tell them apart for love nor money in my books.
In any event, as I was holding her, she was working trying to burp up some gas. In the process, she spit up a little and worked with that as I cleaned. That doesn’t sound like much to write about, except that she knew somehow what to do to keep herself from inhaling what she spit up, and she also knew, somehow, that what was spit up was to come out rather than go back down.
I am amazed. These things are reflex actions, and are a part of the autonomic nervous system. They are “built in”, so to speak, and most everyone has a bunch of those from the time of birth. They govern everything from breathing to digestion to sweating and blood pressure.
Doesn’t matter. I am still amazed. The strict evolutionist will tell us that these reflexes were “selected” over a long period of time through trial and error. Those that had these lifesaving reflexes and used them lived…the others did not. Other reflexes that may have come about that were not of a life-saving or preserving function may well have been lost to no great detriment.
I don’t buy that. It just isn’t reasonable to think that over the millennia, a few individuals gradually developed these reflexes and populated the species as we have it today. Just who were the parents of these individuals? Those who did not have these reflexes? How did they manage to live to reproduce? And if they did live to reproduce, why did they need to develop the reflexes?
I don’t know all the answers, but I do know that there’s something wrong with that picture. Of course, people will say it isn’t that simple, but in essence, it is. And it’s either that explanation, I guess, or the explanation that there was an Intelligence that designed and planned all of this, then put it into practice.
What do you think?
In any event, as I was holding her, she was working trying to burp up some gas. In the process, she spit up a little and worked with that as I cleaned. That doesn’t sound like much to write about, except that she knew somehow what to do to keep herself from inhaling what she spit up, and she also knew, somehow, that what was spit up was to come out rather than go back down.
I am amazed. These things are reflex actions, and are a part of the autonomic nervous system. They are “built in”, so to speak, and most everyone has a bunch of those from the time of birth. They govern everything from breathing to digestion to sweating and blood pressure.
Doesn’t matter. I am still amazed. The strict evolutionist will tell us that these reflexes were “selected” over a long period of time through trial and error. Those that had these lifesaving reflexes and used them lived…the others did not. Other reflexes that may have come about that were not of a life-saving or preserving function may well have been lost to no great detriment.
I don’t buy that. It just isn’t reasonable to think that over the millennia, a few individuals gradually developed these reflexes and populated the species as we have it today. Just who were the parents of these individuals? Those who did not have these reflexes? How did they manage to live to reproduce? And if they did live to reproduce, why did they need to develop the reflexes?
I don’t know all the answers, but I do know that there’s something wrong with that picture. Of course, people will say it isn’t that simple, but in essence, it is. And it’s either that explanation, I guess, or the explanation that there was an Intelligence that designed and planned all of this, then put it into practice.
What do you think?
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Some of Both
I was going about my business this morning when I discovered that I was unknowingly humming a tune. I don't do that very often, but was today. I hummed it consciously for a couple of seconds and determined that it was the song “500 Miles” by Peter, Paul, and Mary.
I normally don't get songs stuck in my brain, but this one seemed to be lodged there rather firmly. I sat down, Googled the song, and played it on YouTube as performed in the early 1960's by the group. How quickly the years receded and I was again at home listening to my transistor radio tuned to KLEO (1480 in Wichita). A flood of songs came gushing through my consciousness as I recalled hit after hit performed by them in the decade of the British invasion, social upheaval, culture change, flower power, LSD, The Pill, and the War.
And as I listened to that haunting music as sung by Mary, I shed a tear...not for her passing from this life, but for the passing of an era. IPods, instant messaging, Droids, and Google can't hold a candle to that time and their music. Some things are timeless. Some are almost divine. Peter, Paul, and Mary may well be some of both.
I normally don't get songs stuck in my brain, but this one seemed to be lodged there rather firmly. I sat down, Googled the song, and played it on YouTube as performed in the early 1960's by the group. How quickly the years receded and I was again at home listening to my transistor radio tuned to KLEO (1480 in Wichita). A flood of songs came gushing through my consciousness as I recalled hit after hit performed by them in the decade of the British invasion, social upheaval, culture change, flower power, LSD, The Pill, and the War.
And as I listened to that haunting music as sung by Mary, I shed a tear...not for her passing from this life, but for the passing of an era. IPods, instant messaging, Droids, and Google can't hold a candle to that time and their music. Some things are timeless. Some are almost divine. Peter, Paul, and Mary may well be some of both.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Such a Place
This evening, after the meal at the church and before classes started, I went to the river bank and sat on a stone watching the river and the people passing by on the walking paths. For those who may not know, our church’s back lot backs up to the Arkansas River in downtown Wichita.
Before I even got there, I caught the whiff of nature in the delicate scent of spirea that had been planted along the river bank. I sat on a rock next to some bushes to take full advantage of that smell. They are a little later this year, and are just now opening. As I continued to sit for a couple of minutes, with the inevitable cup of coffee in hand, I noticed a robin singing in a tree, a couple of walkers greeting me, and the slow progression of water to the south as the river flowed toward the Gulf. The temperature was about 70 degrees, the wind was but a gentle breeze, and the sun was in just the right place to allow a tree to shade my eyes, yet feel its warmth.
It was one of those times that one could have wished could have lasted for a long, long time. I did manage to sit there for about 20 minutes as I drank my joe and soaked up the relative peace and quiet. Families passed by, some with toddlers; others with older kids. Couples walked by, and some folks were on a bicycle or were running on the path.
I wondered about the lives of a few of them…especially the kids. I also thought a bit about the class to come inside in a few minutes, and about the rest of my week. And I marveled that I was privileged to be in such a place at such a time as this.
Before I even got there, I caught the whiff of nature in the delicate scent of spirea that had been planted along the river bank. I sat on a rock next to some bushes to take full advantage of that smell. They are a little later this year, and are just now opening. As I continued to sit for a couple of minutes, with the inevitable cup of coffee in hand, I noticed a robin singing in a tree, a couple of walkers greeting me, and the slow progression of water to the south as the river flowed toward the Gulf. The temperature was about 70 degrees, the wind was but a gentle breeze, and the sun was in just the right place to allow a tree to shade my eyes, yet feel its warmth.
It was one of those times that one could have wished could have lasted for a long, long time. I did manage to sit there for about 20 minutes as I drank my joe and soaked up the relative peace and quiet. Families passed by, some with toddlers; others with older kids. Couples walked by, and some folks were on a bicycle or were running on the path.
I wondered about the lives of a few of them…especially the kids. I also thought a bit about the class to come inside in a few minutes, and about the rest of my week. And I marveled that I was privileged to be in such a place at such a time as this.
Monday, May 03, 2010
"Give Me This Hill Country"
We heard a great sermon yesterday at RiverWalk. Now, I know that “great” and “sermon” don't often go into the same sentence, but we were reminded of something yesterday that I sorely needed to be reminded of (I know I'm ending this sentence in a preposition, but don't want to re-arrange it). The lesson isn't new. It's been taught many countless times. But the application can be entirely new depending on who hears it and what that person's need may be.
The lesson was taken from the Old Testament book of Joshua, in the part which told of Caleb's request to Joshua to give him the part of the promised land where the Anakim (the giant people) lived. At age 85, according to the account, Caleb said he was still as vigorous now as he was 45 years ago, and could, with God's help, conquer the land.
The pertinent quote for me was when Caleb said to Joshua, “Now, give me this hill country...” At age 85, after wandering in the wilderness for 40 years, burying his peers, Caleb could have been satisfied to have just coasted into the promised land and occupied a place which had already been subdued by Joshua and his army. But no, Caleb was ready for more. Caleb was ready to not only claim the promise of God as given through Moses, but Caleb was nowhere close to retirement...nowhere close to giving up and coasting through the remainder of life. He was ready to do battle with the very people who instilled fear and trembling into Israel some 40 years before.
I don't have, as far as I know, a promise from God that He's going to give me any land that I'll have to conquer. I do, however have many other promises of God that are every bit as important as any promised land I might have been given. I also have a tendency to want to just coast through these next several years and just “get by”.
“If I can just make it to Social Security. If I can just make it to Medicare. If I can just get to the point where I don't have to punch an 8 to 5 clock every day.” If, if, if. This is no way to live, and is no way for a Christian to show others the abundant life promised by the Messiah Himself. What kind of an example am I setting for myself and for others?
“I remained loyal to the Lord my God.”
“The Lord has preserved my life just as He promised.”
“Give me this hill country.”
“I'm just as strong and vigorous now as I was years ago.”
“I can go about my daily activities with the same energy now as I had then.”
“Assuming the Lord is with me, I will conquer...”
AMEN
The lesson was taken from the Old Testament book of Joshua, in the part which told of Caleb's request to Joshua to give him the part of the promised land where the Anakim (the giant people) lived. At age 85, according to the account, Caleb said he was still as vigorous now as he was 45 years ago, and could, with God's help, conquer the land.
The pertinent quote for me was when Caleb said to Joshua, “Now, give me this hill country...” At age 85, after wandering in the wilderness for 40 years, burying his peers, Caleb could have been satisfied to have just coasted into the promised land and occupied a place which had already been subdued by Joshua and his army. But no, Caleb was ready for more. Caleb was ready to not only claim the promise of God as given through Moses, but Caleb was nowhere close to retirement...nowhere close to giving up and coasting through the remainder of life. He was ready to do battle with the very people who instilled fear and trembling into Israel some 40 years before.
I don't have, as far as I know, a promise from God that He's going to give me any land that I'll have to conquer. I do, however have many other promises of God that are every bit as important as any promised land I might have been given. I also have a tendency to want to just coast through these next several years and just “get by”.
“If I can just make it to Social Security. If I can just make it to Medicare. If I can just get to the point where I don't have to punch an 8 to 5 clock every day.” If, if, if. This is no way to live, and is no way for a Christian to show others the abundant life promised by the Messiah Himself. What kind of an example am I setting for myself and for others?
“I remained loyal to the Lord my God.”
“The Lord has preserved my life just as He promised.”
“Give me this hill country.”
“I'm just as strong and vigorous now as I was years ago.”
“I can go about my daily activities with the same energy now as I had then.”
“Assuming the Lord is with me, I will conquer...”
AMEN
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wondering Again
More things I've wondered about recently.
Why does it seem that people are increasingly rude on the telephone?
And while we're speaking of telephones (an endangered instrument to be sure), why do people call where I work and say, "Someone called me from this number," and want to be connected to whoever it was that called. First, we have one hundred telephones attached to our work number; many are resident phones, and some are staff phones. Second, I'm not a mind reader. How would I know who called this person, especially when the person doesn't tell me who he/she is, or what his/her connection might be with my employer.
What ever happend to "two-toned" vehicles? Used to be that was the cat's meow (if I could use an ancient term of endearment). Now, unless a vehicle has been in a wreck, or is over 30 years old, it's all one color.
How many people under the age of 40 know how to can vegetables and fruit? Make jelly? Plant a garden? Should they know? I don't know how to churn butter...do I need to know? Can I even get the raw ingredients I would need to churn it?
At work this week, I got my March budget of expenses versus budget numbers two days ago. What good does that do me now?
Why do some families feel the need to be overly-assertive when their loved one comes to our nursing home? That just gets everyone off on the wrong foot.
I wonder when I'll get my first I-Pod-type device. I don't think anytime real soon.
How can one person possibly deal with 4,000 texts a month? Don't they have a life?
The "hurry and wait" syndrome is alive and well in Wichita. Hurry to the next light and wait for it to turn.
The herd mentality is also alive and well. Hurry to the next light in a herd and all wait for it to turn so it (the herd) can hurry to yet the next one.
Is Half & Half really 50% cream? I don't think so. And how can there be "fat-free" half and half?
Why do I wonder about things such as this? Don't I have anything better to do?
Why does it seem that people are increasingly rude on the telephone?
And while we're speaking of telephones (an endangered instrument to be sure), why do people call where I work and say, "Someone called me from this number," and want to be connected to whoever it was that called. First, we have one hundred telephones attached to our work number; many are resident phones, and some are staff phones. Second, I'm not a mind reader. How would I know who called this person, especially when the person doesn't tell me who he/she is, or what his/her connection might be with my employer.
What ever happend to "two-toned" vehicles? Used to be that was the cat's meow (if I could use an ancient term of endearment). Now, unless a vehicle has been in a wreck, or is over 30 years old, it's all one color.
How many people under the age of 40 know how to can vegetables and fruit? Make jelly? Plant a garden? Should they know? I don't know how to churn butter...do I need to know? Can I even get the raw ingredients I would need to churn it?
At work this week, I got my March budget of expenses versus budget numbers two days ago. What good does that do me now?
Why do some families feel the need to be overly-assertive when their loved one comes to our nursing home? That just gets everyone off on the wrong foot.
I wonder when I'll get my first I-Pod-type device. I don't think anytime real soon.
How can one person possibly deal with 4,000 texts a month? Don't they have a life?
The "hurry and wait" syndrome is alive and well in Wichita. Hurry to the next light and wait for it to turn.
The herd mentality is also alive and well. Hurry to the next light in a herd and all wait for it to turn so it (the herd) can hurry to yet the next one.
Is Half & Half really 50% cream? I don't think so. And how can there be "fat-free" half and half?
Why do I wonder about things such as this? Don't I have anything better to do?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
The Bluebird of Happiness (or not)
I’m listening to one of the old Lawrence Welk shows on PBS right now (yeah, I know, but I like the music and remember watching these things years ago at home). One of the songs sung by Joe Feeney (who passed away a couple of years ago) just now mentioned the “bluebird of happiness”.
OK, what is that? Just what is the bluebird of happiness? Has anyone seen one? Does anyone have one? Where do you find such a critter? And what does he (she-it) do for you once you’ve found him (her-it)?
According to the fountain of all information (the Internet), you can purchase bluebirds of happiness made of glass, ceramic, or other materials. The web also talks of the mythology of the bluebird of happiness going back into ancient cultures. The bluebird, it seems, has long been a symbol of happiness, peace, and warmth. More than one song has been written about such a bird. And there are even videos on YouTube.
I’m reminded of the song by Little Jimmy Dickens that goes, “May the bird of paradise fly up your nose,” in the chorus. I have to wonder if the bluebird of happiness and the bird of paradise are one and the same. Maybe the two birds are related in some way. Maybe one is the evil twin of the other, since one bestows happiness and the other clogs up your nostrils.
Where indeed does happiness come from? How is it generated? Where is it stored? What brings it out into the open in a person’s life? What good is it? How can a person use it to his or her betterment? How is it measured? What does it look like?
You may think the answers to these questions are obvious “duh” answers, but think again. When was the last time you heard of someone who took his own life described as someone who was happy or was always smiling, or always a friend, etc? How often do we equate laughter with happiness? You and I both know those aren’t the same thing.
What about contentment? Does it have anything to do with happiness? And what about a person’s world-view? Does believing in God, for example, generally make one happier than one who does not hold such a belief? Can one be a God-believer (I’ll just say a Christian), and not be happy? Why or why not?
This happiness thing…it’s a real conundrum for me. Could it be that I’m not happy? Am I supposed to be happy? Do I deserve happiness? Why or why not?
Can someone explain this to me?
OK, what is that? Just what is the bluebird of happiness? Has anyone seen one? Does anyone have one? Where do you find such a critter? And what does he (she-it) do for you once you’ve found him (her-it)?
According to the fountain of all information (the Internet), you can purchase bluebirds of happiness made of glass, ceramic, or other materials. The web also talks of the mythology of the bluebird of happiness going back into ancient cultures. The bluebird, it seems, has long been a symbol of happiness, peace, and warmth. More than one song has been written about such a bird. And there are even videos on YouTube.
I’m reminded of the song by Little Jimmy Dickens that goes, “May the bird of paradise fly up your nose,” in the chorus. I have to wonder if the bluebird of happiness and the bird of paradise are one and the same. Maybe the two birds are related in some way. Maybe one is the evil twin of the other, since one bestows happiness and the other clogs up your nostrils.
Where indeed does happiness come from? How is it generated? Where is it stored? What brings it out into the open in a person’s life? What good is it? How can a person use it to his or her betterment? How is it measured? What does it look like?
You may think the answers to these questions are obvious “duh” answers, but think again. When was the last time you heard of someone who took his own life described as someone who was happy or was always smiling, or always a friend, etc? How often do we equate laughter with happiness? You and I both know those aren’t the same thing.
What about contentment? Does it have anything to do with happiness? And what about a person’s world-view? Does believing in God, for example, generally make one happier than one who does not hold such a belief? Can one be a God-believer (I’ll just say a Christian), and not be happy? Why or why not?
This happiness thing…it’s a real conundrum for me. Could it be that I’m not happy? Am I supposed to be happy? Do I deserve happiness? Why or why not?
Can someone explain this to me?
Saturday, April 17, 2010
No Slump
I’m old enough to remember watching Yogi Berra, the legendary New York Yankees catcher (and later a manager and/or coach for the Yankees, the Mets, and the Astros) on television. He would be on the “Game of the Week”, with commentators Dizzy Dean and Pee Wee Reese (themselves legends in baseball and a hoot to listen to as they commented on the game).
Yogi had an extraordinary career, and is widely regarded as the best catcher to ever play the game. One of his attributes, however, had nothing to do with baseball. He had a great knack for creating memorable quotes which, unless one thinks about what is really said, seem to make sense.
I ran across a web page with quotes attributed to Mr. Berra. Herewith are some of the ones I like best.
“I wish I had an answer to that because I’m tired of answering that question.”
“I didn’t really say everything I said.” (This quote is regularly expropriated by politicians of various stripes; however, they say it in words that aren’t quite as obvious as this.)
“You should always go to other people’s funerals; otherwise, they won’t come to yours.”
“I made a wrong mistake.” (If politicians would only use this once in awhile…)
“Nobody goes there anymore; it’s too crowded.”
“You can observe a lot just by watchin’”.
“You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I’m not hungry enough to eat six.”
“I couldn’t tell if the streaker was a man or a woman because it had a bag on it’s head.”
“This is like déjà vu all over again.”
“Slump? I ain’t in no slump. I just ain’t hitting.”
I’m sure you can look his quotes up on your own, and there are some you may enjoy better than mine. There are, however, some gems of wisdom in the mis-mesh of words he uses.
You can indeed observe a lot by watching. Sometimes it’s better to shut one’s mouth and look around and listen to what’s going on. Someone once said, “You can’t learn anything while you’re talking.” Some folks I know are first class examples of that.
The slump quote is also a gem. Refusing to carry oneself to the depths of despair by beating oneself up with words is a great attribute to have. No slump…I’m just not hitting right now.
Déjà vu.
Yogi had an extraordinary career, and is widely regarded as the best catcher to ever play the game. One of his attributes, however, had nothing to do with baseball. He had a great knack for creating memorable quotes which, unless one thinks about what is really said, seem to make sense.
I ran across a web page with quotes attributed to Mr. Berra. Herewith are some of the ones I like best.
“I wish I had an answer to that because I’m tired of answering that question.”
“I didn’t really say everything I said.” (This quote is regularly expropriated by politicians of various stripes; however, they say it in words that aren’t quite as obvious as this.)
“You should always go to other people’s funerals; otherwise, they won’t come to yours.”
“I made a wrong mistake.” (If politicians would only use this once in awhile…)
“Nobody goes there anymore; it’s too crowded.”
“You can observe a lot just by watchin’”.
“You better cut the pizza in four pieces because I’m not hungry enough to eat six.”
“I couldn’t tell if the streaker was a man or a woman because it had a bag on it’s head.”
“This is like déjà vu all over again.”
“Slump? I ain’t in no slump. I just ain’t hitting.”
I’m sure you can look his quotes up on your own, and there are some you may enjoy better than mine. There are, however, some gems of wisdom in the mis-mesh of words he uses.
You can indeed observe a lot by watching. Sometimes it’s better to shut one’s mouth and look around and listen to what’s going on. Someone once said, “You can’t learn anything while you’re talking.” Some folks I know are first class examples of that.
The slump quote is also a gem. Refusing to carry oneself to the depths of despair by beating oneself up with words is a great attribute to have. No slump…I’m just not hitting right now.
Déjà vu.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Masters
I’m watching the Masters tournament today. I’m not much of a golfer, and golf on TV is not my idea of the most entertaining thing to do. However, we recently purchased an HDTV, and of course Tiger. Woods is playing his first tournament since coming back. It’s been somewhat interesting.
First, in high definition, one can have a much greater appreciation for the environment of a golf course. You can see blades of grass, veins in leaves, sticks on the ground, and stubble on chins. Oh, wait. Stubble isn’t really environmental, is it. In any event, the clarity of the picture is rather amazing and an enjoyment to see.
Second, I wish Mr. Woods well. I am not a fan of crude jokes or other sanctimonious drivel aimed at him or anyone else. We all are abject failures in life. Some of us have our failures displayed for all the world to see; a lot of us manage to keep them relatively quiet and out of the news. It doesn’t matter to me that he does not profess Christianity, or that he may or may not be sincere in his “recovery”. Nor does it matter to me if he wins (which at this point seems unlikely), or if he just places well. I wish him to do well.
Third, to keep all of this in perspective, at least for me, the microphones regularly pick up the sounds of birds nearby in the trees, calling out their songs. That may not mean much to you, and you may think this a stretch, but that tells me that regardless of what is going on at that place from a human perspective, there is another world there; one that has been there for eons past, and one that will remain (assuming the creation itself remains) for years to come. Human accomplishments, while noteworthy, cannot hold a candle to the inexorable march of time and the work of the Creator in upholding His handiwork day after day, year after year, eon after eon.
First, in high definition, one can have a much greater appreciation for the environment of a golf course. You can see blades of grass, veins in leaves, sticks on the ground, and stubble on chins. Oh, wait. Stubble isn’t really environmental, is it. In any event, the clarity of the picture is rather amazing and an enjoyment to see.
Second, I wish Mr. Woods well. I am not a fan of crude jokes or other sanctimonious drivel aimed at him or anyone else. We all are abject failures in life. Some of us have our failures displayed for all the world to see; a lot of us manage to keep them relatively quiet and out of the news. It doesn’t matter to me that he does not profess Christianity, or that he may or may not be sincere in his “recovery”. Nor does it matter to me if he wins (which at this point seems unlikely), or if he just places well. I wish him to do well.
Third, to keep all of this in perspective, at least for me, the microphones regularly pick up the sounds of birds nearby in the trees, calling out their songs. That may not mean much to you, and you may think this a stretch, but that tells me that regardless of what is going on at that place from a human perspective, there is another world there; one that has been there for eons past, and one that will remain (assuming the creation itself remains) for years to come. Human accomplishments, while noteworthy, cannot hold a candle to the inexorable march of time and the work of the Creator in upholding His handiwork day after day, year after year, eon after eon.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
At Peace
As I slow down this evening, ever mindful of the inexorable march of time toward Monday, I am in a rather contemplative mood right now. I just came in from sitting on the back porch, listening to the birds, watching folks walk the path in the park behind the house, and absorbing the cool breeze.
We went to sunrise services this morning. Our church is on the banks of the Arkansas River downtown, and we had services down on the bank, along with some ducks, runners and walkers, traffic, some homeless under the 1st Street bridge, geese, and a train or two. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a sunrise service quite like that…not the service itself, but the extras that were part of the environment. Prior sunrise services since we’ve been here have been held inside due to bad weather, so this is the first time in several years we’ve been able to be out.
We then dismissed for a continental breakfast, which was actually very complete, and the regular services inside, sans Sunday School classes. I always go away from that place refreshed and happy that I’m part of that family. Yes, I know we as Christians are to do our work outside the walls of the church building. But it’s necessary also to meet together to refresh and renew after a week spent outside those building walls, living, loving, and longing.
We had lunch with both of our sons and the grandkids; then grandma went with her sis and the others to help our younger pack, as they’re moving in a few weeks to a new home they’ve purchased. Since my daughter in-law is 8 months pregnant, it’s going to be difficult for her, so we’re helping more than we might otherwise.
I stayed here and prepared for a birthday shindig tomorrow evening for my niece. There promises to be quite a few here, and I cut the grass, cleaned up, threw away trash, and generally got things ready. It should be fun tomorrow.
Now, it seems that the evening should last forever. It’s so nice out, I’m at peace, and all is right, it seems, with the world. I know that isn’t really true. All I have to do is look at the news or think about going to work at the home. But for now, I’ll enjoy the minutes we have left in this evening and long for a time when this kind of peace is not fleeting, but forever.
We went to sunrise services this morning. Our church is on the banks of the Arkansas River downtown, and we had services down on the bank, along with some ducks, runners and walkers, traffic, some homeless under the 1st Street bridge, geese, and a train or two. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a sunrise service quite like that…not the service itself, but the extras that were part of the environment. Prior sunrise services since we’ve been here have been held inside due to bad weather, so this is the first time in several years we’ve been able to be out.
We then dismissed for a continental breakfast, which was actually very complete, and the regular services inside, sans Sunday School classes. I always go away from that place refreshed and happy that I’m part of that family. Yes, I know we as Christians are to do our work outside the walls of the church building. But it’s necessary also to meet together to refresh and renew after a week spent outside those building walls, living, loving, and longing.
We had lunch with both of our sons and the grandkids; then grandma went with her sis and the others to help our younger pack, as they’re moving in a few weeks to a new home they’ve purchased. Since my daughter in-law is 8 months pregnant, it’s going to be difficult for her, so we’re helping more than we might otherwise.
I stayed here and prepared for a birthday shindig tomorrow evening for my niece. There promises to be quite a few here, and I cut the grass, cleaned up, threw away trash, and generally got things ready. It should be fun tomorrow.
Now, it seems that the evening should last forever. It’s so nice out, I’m at peace, and all is right, it seems, with the world. I know that isn’t really true. All I have to do is look at the news or think about going to work at the home. But for now, I’ll enjoy the minutes we have left in this evening and long for a time when this kind of peace is not fleeting, but forever.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Kid Experiences
The wife and I were talking a day or so ago. We were listening to NPR talk about a retirement community where children could not live, and could only visit for three weeks or less. She mentioned that she enjoyed having children around our neighborhood. I do as well. Although our immediate neighbors are retired, there are kids a couple of doors down, and teens across the street. There are children on down the block and in several homes between ours and where we turn on to Maize Road.
I enjoy seeing them, and I especially enjoy the ones just down the street. Their home, like ours, backs up to a park and the kids there have taken over a small part of the area right behind their yard. There’s an old tree back there that’s easy to climb, and it’s a perfect place for kids to spend time in the summer or on a Saturday.
I was beginning to wonder if kids did that kind of thing anymore. But these do, and they have friends over and they all enjoy themselves there, or in their backyard pool, or maybe out front at the basketball goal by the side of the drive.
I recall years ago (you knew this was coming, didn’t you) when I thought summers would never end and we had more things to do and places to explore in our neighborhood than we would ever, ever get to. There was always the railroad spur line that ran to a grain elevator next to our small patch of ground (a couple of acres). Or there was a huge pile of trees that had been felled in a neighboring lot that we could climb all over, at least until the owner burned them. When that happened, they had a wiener roast and the neighborhood showed up with hot dogs, marshmallows, and salads and had a good time.
One neighbor had a plot of sweet corn where we would hide and play in after the corn had been picked. Then there was always the drainage ditch a half block away which pretty much always had water in it, or at least puddles of water. Many times there would be crawfish, tadpoles, and other such life in the puddles.
We had an old barn on our property that was good for several hours of exploring and play. It had a loft in it where dad had stored lumber from an old house he tore down on that same lot. And before he tore down that house, it was a good place to explore, along with the yard surrounding it.
And, of course, when all else failed, we could trek across the highway to the far east part of town. There were several lots there on the edge of town that were overgrown and perfect for exploration, and several friends lived in that area. Besides, the town’s sewage treatment plant was nearby (yes, I know that sounds gross, but to a group of boys…) and places we’d not seen in a long time were right nearby, including the highway overpass over the railroad, Sand Creek, and other attractions.
When I was older, I enjoyed working in dad’s shop. He built a workbench for me, which I still have and use by the way, and I spent hours taking things apart, trying to fix things, and building things. I worked a couple of summers in that shop repairing lawn mowers for paying customers, having my own business. That, combined with helping out on the farm (we lived in town, but dad was a farmer/stockman) and helping him with his other job working plumbing and heating pretty much kept me busy during my teen years. I didn’t have any time to get into trouble.
I hope the kids down the street retain fond memories of their years here and are able to tell their kids and grandkids about the times they spent climbing trees, exploring the park, and shooting baskets. About having friends over, swimming in the pool, and playing games until all hours of the night. And I’m sad for any kid that doesn’t have the opportunity to have those kinds of experiences.
I enjoy seeing them, and I especially enjoy the ones just down the street. Their home, like ours, backs up to a park and the kids there have taken over a small part of the area right behind their yard. There’s an old tree back there that’s easy to climb, and it’s a perfect place for kids to spend time in the summer or on a Saturday.
I was beginning to wonder if kids did that kind of thing anymore. But these do, and they have friends over and they all enjoy themselves there, or in their backyard pool, or maybe out front at the basketball goal by the side of the drive.
I recall years ago (you knew this was coming, didn’t you) when I thought summers would never end and we had more things to do and places to explore in our neighborhood than we would ever, ever get to. There was always the railroad spur line that ran to a grain elevator next to our small patch of ground (a couple of acres). Or there was a huge pile of trees that had been felled in a neighboring lot that we could climb all over, at least until the owner burned them. When that happened, they had a wiener roast and the neighborhood showed up with hot dogs, marshmallows, and salads and had a good time.
One neighbor had a plot of sweet corn where we would hide and play in after the corn had been picked. Then there was always the drainage ditch a half block away which pretty much always had water in it, or at least puddles of water. Many times there would be crawfish, tadpoles, and other such life in the puddles.
We had an old barn on our property that was good for several hours of exploring and play. It had a loft in it where dad had stored lumber from an old house he tore down on that same lot. And before he tore down that house, it was a good place to explore, along with the yard surrounding it.
And, of course, when all else failed, we could trek across the highway to the far east part of town. There were several lots there on the edge of town that were overgrown and perfect for exploration, and several friends lived in that area. Besides, the town’s sewage treatment plant was nearby (yes, I know that sounds gross, but to a group of boys…) and places we’d not seen in a long time were right nearby, including the highway overpass over the railroad, Sand Creek, and other attractions.
When I was older, I enjoyed working in dad’s shop. He built a workbench for me, which I still have and use by the way, and I spent hours taking things apart, trying to fix things, and building things. I worked a couple of summers in that shop repairing lawn mowers for paying customers, having my own business. That, combined with helping out on the farm (we lived in town, but dad was a farmer/stockman) and helping him with his other job working plumbing and heating pretty much kept me busy during my teen years. I didn’t have any time to get into trouble.
I hope the kids down the street retain fond memories of their years here and are able to tell their kids and grandkids about the times they spent climbing trees, exploring the park, and shooting baskets. About having friends over, swimming in the pool, and playing games until all hours of the night. And I’m sad for any kid that doesn’t have the opportunity to have those kinds of experiences.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Could Someone Just Answer a Question?
There has been much made of the latest health insurance reform package, both pro and con. One of the biggest arguments against the package is that we need to keep government out of health care. I know that the reform package is related to health insurance, and it’s not quite the same as health care. I also know that there won’t be a nickel’s worth of difference between the two when it comes to government having its finger in health care/insurance.
The fact is that government is already pervasive in health care/insurance. But don’t take my word for it. Tom Scully, CMS (Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, the agency that administers the Medicare program) Administrator in the Bush era from 2001 to 2003, said in a news clip regarding the role of CMS in health care/insurance, “You (CMS) get into every little nook and cranny of every part of the health care field.” This is from a man who was there well before any reform was passed by this congress.
Think about that amazing statement. “Every nook and cranny of every part” of the health care field (which includes health insurance, by the way). The government, friend, is already there and has been there for decades. Both parties are responsible. Neither will own up to it.
Let me tell you a true story. I know of a nursing home that had an annual fire inspection not long ago. It used to be that, since the State of Kansas was conducting the inspection, state regulations were used as the standard. Not so now. The inspector was working for the State of Kansas (Fire Marshal’s office), but was conducting an inspection according to CMS standards. CMS contracts with state agencies to conduct these kinds of inspections at facilities that participate in Medicare or Medicaid.
The inspector cited a deficiency in a linen storage closet, saying that fire sprinklers needed to be installed in the closet. This closet was built into the wall and was about three feet wide and sixteen inches deep. It had doors on the front and shelves in the closet to hold linens.
The building is relatively new (two years old). It has passed multiple fire inspections on both the local (Wichita Fire Department) and State (Fire Marshal) levels. The architect (well-versed in regulations of this kind) didn’t spec sprinklers in the closet when he drew the plans. The sprinkler sub-contractor, who is also well-versed in sprinkler regulations, didn’t see the need for sprinklers in the closet. An independent fire safety engineer reviewed the area and said in a formal opinion that the NFPA (National Fire Protection Association) Code, the gold standard for fire safety, specifically stated that sprinklers were not necessary.
CMS, however, wouldn’t budge. Regardless of the opinions of multiple professionals, and the explicit statement of the gold standard of fire safety, it threatened to withhold all payments to the facility until the problem was corrected. The State of Kansas threatened to not issue a license to operate the facility. The facility was faced with the real possibility (these guys don’t fool around with you) of having to transfer over 60 residents to other facilities and close its doors if it didn’t comply.
The facility reached an agreement with CMS that was satisfactory to CMS by cutting a 4 inch by 12 inch opening at the top of each of the closet doors. Think about that for a minute, then mumble under your breath in hapless wonder.
Let’s see. CMS is already into health care so deeply that it can mandate that a facility cut a 4 inch by 12 inch hole in a closet door, under penalty of non-payment of about $20,000 a day due from Medicare for treatment of Medicare residents. And you have the nerve to tell me that government is not into health care, and that the new reform package will ruin all of that and put government into the equation?
Oh, you say that government may be into health care, but the new package will make things worse. How can it be any worse than the federal government using the power of the State of Kansas (to withhold a license to operate a facility) and the power of the federal purse to mandate a hole in a closet door that doesn't, by all professional accounts, have to be there?
Would someone honestly answer that question for me without partisanship, without stump speech phrases, and without rancor?
The fact is that government is already pervasive in health care/insurance. But don’t take my word for it. Tom Scully, CMS (Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, the agency that administers the Medicare program) Administrator in the Bush era from 2001 to 2003, said in a news clip regarding the role of CMS in health care/insurance, “You (CMS) get into every little nook and cranny of every part of the health care field.” This is from a man who was there well before any reform was passed by this congress.
Think about that amazing statement. “Every nook and cranny of every part” of the health care field (which includes health insurance, by the way). The government, friend, is already there and has been there for decades. Both parties are responsible. Neither will own up to it.
Let me tell you a true story. I know of a nursing home that had an annual fire inspection not long ago. It used to be that, since the State of Kansas was conducting the inspection, state regulations were used as the standard. Not so now. The inspector was working for the State of Kansas (Fire Marshal’s office), but was conducting an inspection according to CMS standards. CMS contracts with state agencies to conduct these kinds of inspections at facilities that participate in Medicare or Medicaid.
The inspector cited a deficiency in a linen storage closet, saying that fire sprinklers needed to be installed in the closet. This closet was built into the wall and was about three feet wide and sixteen inches deep. It had doors on the front and shelves in the closet to hold linens.
The building is relatively new (two years old). It has passed multiple fire inspections on both the local (Wichita Fire Department) and State (Fire Marshal) levels. The architect (well-versed in regulations of this kind) didn’t spec sprinklers in the closet when he drew the plans. The sprinkler sub-contractor, who is also well-versed in sprinkler regulations, didn’t see the need for sprinklers in the closet. An independent fire safety engineer reviewed the area and said in a formal opinion that the NFPA (National Fire Protection Association) Code, the gold standard for fire safety, specifically stated that sprinklers were not necessary.
CMS, however, wouldn’t budge. Regardless of the opinions of multiple professionals, and the explicit statement of the gold standard of fire safety, it threatened to withhold all payments to the facility until the problem was corrected. The State of Kansas threatened to not issue a license to operate the facility. The facility was faced with the real possibility (these guys don’t fool around with you) of having to transfer over 60 residents to other facilities and close its doors if it didn’t comply.
The facility reached an agreement with CMS that was satisfactory to CMS by cutting a 4 inch by 12 inch opening at the top of each of the closet doors. Think about that for a minute, then mumble under your breath in hapless wonder.
Let’s see. CMS is already into health care so deeply that it can mandate that a facility cut a 4 inch by 12 inch hole in a closet door, under penalty of non-payment of about $20,000 a day due from Medicare for treatment of Medicare residents. And you have the nerve to tell me that government is not into health care, and that the new reform package will ruin all of that and put government into the equation?
Oh, you say that government may be into health care, but the new package will make things worse. How can it be any worse than the federal government using the power of the State of Kansas (to withhold a license to operate a facility) and the power of the federal purse to mandate a hole in a closet door that doesn't, by all professional accounts, have to be there?
Would someone honestly answer that question for me without partisanship, without stump speech phrases, and without rancor?
Friday, March 26, 2010
It's Past Time
I don’t know where I read this story, nor do I recall the story word for word. I do, however, believe it to be pertinent today even more so than thirty five years ago when it first appeared.
In mid 1974, a man was showing a friend around his home. They viewed several rooms together, then went to an area where there were several pictures hanging on the wall. The centerpiece of this area was a very large photo of Richard Nixon, the President of the United States. The time was shortly before Mr. Nixon would resign his office due to the Watergate scandal. The picture was framed in a very nice frame and lit with a light over the photo.
The friend asked the man how he could honor such a man as Richard Nixon like this, since Nixon had lied about his involvement in Watergate, then tried to cover it up. Impeachment was a distinct possibility.
The man replied that he wasn’t honoring Mr. Nixon; rather he was giving honor to the President of the United States. The man further explained that regardless of party affiliation, he had hung a photo of the current President in this spot for many years in a desire to honor the office and the one holding that office.
The man explained that as long as Mr. Nixon was the President, he deserved the honor of being placed in such a position in his home. When another President was selected, regardless of party affiliation, and whether by election or by succession, his (or her) photo would be hung in that place.
There’s a lesson here for all of us. Regardless of our party affiliation; regardless of our passion for certain issues; regardless of who occupies the office of President (or Vice President, or Senator, or Mayor, or Governor), they deserve the respect and deference of the office they hold. We may disagree, and do so vigorously, with their ideology. But we do so with respect for the office and for the rule of law that placed them there.
In recent years we have lost that sense of respect. We have lost the civility. We have lost the ability to disagree, yet remain on civil terms. I long for the days of Bob Dole and Everett Dirkson. I am saddened by the crudeness, the hostility, and the outright ill will that accompanies our disagreement with someone else.
Such behavior is juvenile, ignorant, and crude. And it certainly has no place in the life of a professing Christian. Peter says to “fear God and honor the King.” At that time, the “King” was the Caesar of Rome, from whence came all manner of persecution of Christians and from whence eventually came Peter’s own death. Can you imagine Peter (or Paul) telling crude jokes about the Caesar, or wishing his death or injury? Neither can I.
Paul says that we are to “imitate me (Paul) as I (Paul) imitate Christ” (I Cor. 11:1) How can we possibly say we’re even trying to do that when our minds are filled with vitriol and even hatred for those with which we disagree politically?
The Christian community has a lot of repenting to do and a lot of changing of attitude and action. It’s past time to get started with that.
In mid 1974, a man was showing a friend around his home. They viewed several rooms together, then went to an area where there were several pictures hanging on the wall. The centerpiece of this area was a very large photo of Richard Nixon, the President of the United States. The time was shortly before Mr. Nixon would resign his office due to the Watergate scandal. The picture was framed in a very nice frame and lit with a light over the photo.
The friend asked the man how he could honor such a man as Richard Nixon like this, since Nixon had lied about his involvement in Watergate, then tried to cover it up. Impeachment was a distinct possibility.
The man replied that he wasn’t honoring Mr. Nixon; rather he was giving honor to the President of the United States. The man further explained that regardless of party affiliation, he had hung a photo of the current President in this spot for many years in a desire to honor the office and the one holding that office.
The man explained that as long as Mr. Nixon was the President, he deserved the honor of being placed in such a position in his home. When another President was selected, regardless of party affiliation, and whether by election or by succession, his (or her) photo would be hung in that place.
There’s a lesson here for all of us. Regardless of our party affiliation; regardless of our passion for certain issues; regardless of who occupies the office of President (or Vice President, or Senator, or Mayor, or Governor), they deserve the respect and deference of the office they hold. We may disagree, and do so vigorously, with their ideology. But we do so with respect for the office and for the rule of law that placed them there.
In recent years we have lost that sense of respect. We have lost the civility. We have lost the ability to disagree, yet remain on civil terms. I long for the days of Bob Dole and Everett Dirkson. I am saddened by the crudeness, the hostility, and the outright ill will that accompanies our disagreement with someone else.
Such behavior is juvenile, ignorant, and crude. And it certainly has no place in the life of a professing Christian. Peter says to “fear God and honor the King.” At that time, the “King” was the Caesar of Rome, from whence came all manner of persecution of Christians and from whence eventually came Peter’s own death. Can you imagine Peter (or Paul) telling crude jokes about the Caesar, or wishing his death or injury? Neither can I.
Paul says that we are to “imitate me (Paul) as I (Paul) imitate Christ” (I Cor. 11:1) How can we possibly say we’re even trying to do that when our minds are filled with vitriol and even hatred for those with which we disagree politically?
The Christian community has a lot of repenting to do and a lot of changing of attitude and action. It’s past time to get started with that.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
No Judgment From Me
I was watching a little of the History Channel tonight. The program was one about military snipers. In particular, the part of the program I saw was about Charles Benjamin "Chuck" Mawhinney, a Marine Corps sniper in Vietnam in the late 1960’s. He has the most confirmed kills of any Marine Corps sniper, 103, and 216 probable kills. Wiki says that this man was born about the same time I was and would be about my age.
When he got out of active duty, he came back home, started a family, and worked for the Forest Service until he retired a few years ago. He lived in obscurity until about 1990, when word of his achievement was published in a book. He now attends sniper conventions (I didn’t know there were such things) and gives speeches.
I don’t know about you, but this man was in a different universe when he was an active Marine. He talks of the kills as if it was a natural thing to do and says he has no nightmares, etc. regarding his job in the Marines. His rationale for doing what he did was good, and I can understand the necessity of it. That doesn’t change, however, the fact that war is not at all like the movies; not at all the glorious and grand thing it’s often portrayed to be.
War is ugly. War is brutal. And war is savage. The normal civilian population has no comprehension what some of our men and women have endured or the lives they have lived in Europe, Vietnam, Korea, Iraq, and other places and times when we fought and died.
Mr. Mawhinney said in the interview that if he and his partner would have likely been captured, they would have not allowed themselves to be taken alive because of what the enemy would do to a sniper from the other side. He recounts one incident in Vietnam where he took sixteen shots and had sixteen kills…all head shots from 50 yards at night with a monsoon closing in.
Some men (and women) willingly do things that aren’t even on my radar screen, and do it as a matter of course in order to survive. And they voluntarily place themselves in those positions because they volunteer to serve our country in one of the military branches of service.
Once a Marine…always a Marine. Even though I have the greatest value for human life and know full well both the spiritual and moral implications of taking a life, I dare not sit in judgment of this man or of anyone who serves. And even though I haven’t the faintest comprehension of the full import of what I saw on that program, and probably never will, I thank Mr. Mawhinney and others who willingly do those things that allow me to live my life in relative peace and safety.
When he got out of active duty, he came back home, started a family, and worked for the Forest Service until he retired a few years ago. He lived in obscurity until about 1990, when word of his achievement was published in a book. He now attends sniper conventions (I didn’t know there were such things) and gives speeches.
I don’t know about you, but this man was in a different universe when he was an active Marine. He talks of the kills as if it was a natural thing to do and says he has no nightmares, etc. regarding his job in the Marines. His rationale for doing what he did was good, and I can understand the necessity of it. That doesn’t change, however, the fact that war is not at all like the movies; not at all the glorious and grand thing it’s often portrayed to be.
War is ugly. War is brutal. And war is savage. The normal civilian population has no comprehension what some of our men and women have endured or the lives they have lived in Europe, Vietnam, Korea, Iraq, and other places and times when we fought and died.
Mr. Mawhinney said in the interview that if he and his partner would have likely been captured, they would have not allowed themselves to be taken alive because of what the enemy would do to a sniper from the other side. He recounts one incident in Vietnam where he took sixteen shots and had sixteen kills…all head shots from 50 yards at night with a monsoon closing in.
Some men (and women) willingly do things that aren’t even on my radar screen, and do it as a matter of course in order to survive. And they voluntarily place themselves in those positions because they volunteer to serve our country in one of the military branches of service.
Once a Marine…always a Marine. Even though I have the greatest value for human life and know full well both the spiritual and moral implications of taking a life, I dare not sit in judgment of this man or of anyone who serves. And even though I haven’t the faintest comprehension of the full import of what I saw on that program, and probably never will, I thank Mr. Mawhinney and others who willingly do those things that allow me to live my life in relative peace and safety.
Monday, March 15, 2010
You Breathe In and Out...
I was visiting with one of our residents early this morning (well, early for me…about 8am) as he was sitting at the breakfast table. He took off his glasses, blew on them, and put them back on. Now, I’ve done that more than once, and I’ll wager that you have too, just to get the big chunks off of them. The fine cleaning would come later. I mentioned to him that I did that sometimes as well, and he said to me, “You gotta breathe in and out; you might as well do something productive with it.”
This man has mild dementia and cannot live on his own. However, what he said was well worth it and was right on. Of course, he was talking about blowing on his glasses. I immediately thought of some other things.
You might as well do something productive. Why do we waste our time and energy on things that don’t matter?
You might as well do something productive. Why do we do or say things that we know are harmful to ourselves or others?
You might as well do something productive. Why do we complain about things that we can’t change?
You might as well do something productive. Is there any way we can leave our corner of the world better for our having been here?
You might as well do something productive. How can we serve those we know have need?
You might as well do something productive. Can you be an example of honesty, integrity, and truthfulness rather than selfishness, greed, and vice?
You might as well do something productive. What would it take for us to mentor a child, volunteer at the school, or be a special friend to a neighbor?
If you’re reading this, you’re breathing in and out. What have you done with those breaths that has been productive today?
This man has mild dementia and cannot live on his own. However, what he said was well worth it and was right on. Of course, he was talking about blowing on his glasses. I immediately thought of some other things.
You might as well do something productive. Why do we waste our time and energy on things that don’t matter?
You might as well do something productive. Why do we do or say things that we know are harmful to ourselves or others?
You might as well do something productive. Why do we complain about things that we can’t change?
You might as well do something productive. Is there any way we can leave our corner of the world better for our having been here?
You might as well do something productive. How can we serve those we know have need?
You might as well do something productive. Can you be an example of honesty, integrity, and truthfulness rather than selfishness, greed, and vice?
You might as well do something productive. What would it take for us to mentor a child, volunteer at the school, or be a special friend to a neighbor?
If you’re reading this, you’re breathing in and out. What have you done with those breaths that has been productive today?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Pickups and Carloads
Yesterday, I helped my niece move from her rented apartment to a home that she and her fiancé had bought just the day before. She will be living there and preparing the house to be a home until later this spring when they will be married. (How refreshing to see them living together AFTER they are married instead of before.) She has quite a task ahead of her, even though the house is fairly new and won’t need much painting, fixing, etc.
There are drapes to hang, a yard to work, furniture to buy (and move), things to hang on the wall, and the usual assortment of little “fixes” that are inevitable when someone moves into a new home. She and her fiancé will be busy these next few months.
It took three pickups and a couple of carloads to move everything she had out of the apartment and to the house, which is just a couple of blocks up the street in the same addition where we are living. Obviously, they will accumulate more “stuff” as time goes by, but I’m hopeful they will be mindful of a couple of things; where their stuff ultimately comes from, and just how much of it they are accumulating through the years.
Life does not consist of our possessions, says the Good Book. There’s a lot more to this than who has the most toys when he dies. After all, if that’s it, what’s the use?
We have a lot to learn about possessions and things. All too often, we define and identify ourselves by our possessions. Surely, there is much more to a living, breathing human being than what car he drives or what brand jeans she wears.
These kids have, if all is normal, a long life ahead of them. There will be plenty of time for possessions. Far more important will be the fostering and flowering of the relationship and the development of a solid foundation for a committed life together as husband and wife.
Godspeed.
There are drapes to hang, a yard to work, furniture to buy (and move), things to hang on the wall, and the usual assortment of little “fixes” that are inevitable when someone moves into a new home. She and her fiancé will be busy these next few months.
It took three pickups and a couple of carloads to move everything she had out of the apartment and to the house, which is just a couple of blocks up the street in the same addition where we are living. Obviously, they will accumulate more “stuff” as time goes by, but I’m hopeful they will be mindful of a couple of things; where their stuff ultimately comes from, and just how much of it they are accumulating through the years.
Life does not consist of our possessions, says the Good Book. There’s a lot more to this than who has the most toys when he dies. After all, if that’s it, what’s the use?
We have a lot to learn about possessions and things. All too often, we define and identify ourselves by our possessions. Surely, there is much more to a living, breathing human being than what car he drives or what brand jeans she wears.
These kids have, if all is normal, a long life ahead of them. There will be plenty of time for possessions. Far more important will be the fostering and flowering of the relationship and the development of a solid foundation for a committed life together as husband and wife.
Godspeed.
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Responsibility
I was laying awake last night at about 4am (I don’t know the exact time…I didn’t want to know), and was thinking about the word “responsibility”. Don’t ask me why, I just was. In any event, I was thinking about that word, along with what it means, and what kinds of responsibilities I had in various aspects of my life.
I can easily understand why some people get so upset about the responsibilities of life that they become virtually paralyzed and cannot function in ordinary situations such as work, home life, and living. It can be a daunting thing to think of all of those people and situations who are dependent in some way or another on someone to do a job or carry out a task.
In the light of day as we go about our daily tasks, the burden seems somehow lessened. We manage to do at least most of what we are responsible for doing, and what doesn’t ge done waits until another day or really didn’t need to be done at all. But at times when it is quiet and we are alone with our thoughts, they can quickly loom ever larger until they just seem to overwhelm the senses.
I am reminded of Paul’s statement that he had learned the secret of contentment. Whatever the situation he found himself in, he said, he learned to be content with it. I would imagine that if anyone had responsibilities that seemed to overwhelm, it may have been him. Carried into situations not of his making and which altered his plans for the future in big ways, Paul learned to rely on a Higher Power and be content with wherever he found himself.
I know that I need to emulate Paul and others that have managed to find the secret of contentment and peace, even in the midst of chaos and disorder. I have a difficult time with that, and know that I would have a much easier time of life in general if I wasn’t so worried about getting this done or fulfilling that responsibility in a timely manner. Yes, we as Christians are to be diligent to live our lives “as unto the Lord” and so we must do the best we can. But to worry excessively about something or to allow external forces to take away our happiness, contentment, and peace is not appropriate and has no place in the life of the Christian.
I also know that for some people, the problem of excessive worry goes beyond what can reasonably be accommodated, and professional help may be needed. If so, there should be no stigma attached to that need; rather, we support and encourage our fellow Christian as best we know how and “bear one-another’s burden.”
Most of us don’t have the worry of where we will get our next meal, or where we will stay the night. Instead, our worries are more along the lines of paying bills, keeping promises, and attending to looming future events. We have moved away from worry about survival to worry about things not as important. The fallout of that worry, however, does not change. We can still be paralyzed by excessive worry, and that worry can rob us of the peace and contentment promised by our God.
There are no easy fixes. There is nothing I know of that will change this in five minutes or less. I know it is a learning process. And I know that true peace and contentment are gifts and blessings from God. I know that it involves one giving up the right to control one’s destiny and allowing God to take charge. I know that it is a daily decision that becomes a daily way of life.
And that, my friend, is not easy.
I can easily understand why some people get so upset about the responsibilities of life that they become virtually paralyzed and cannot function in ordinary situations such as work, home life, and living. It can be a daunting thing to think of all of those people and situations who are dependent in some way or another on someone to do a job or carry out a task.
In the light of day as we go about our daily tasks, the burden seems somehow lessened. We manage to do at least most of what we are responsible for doing, and what doesn’t ge done waits until another day or really didn’t need to be done at all. But at times when it is quiet and we are alone with our thoughts, they can quickly loom ever larger until they just seem to overwhelm the senses.
I am reminded of Paul’s statement that he had learned the secret of contentment. Whatever the situation he found himself in, he said, he learned to be content with it. I would imagine that if anyone had responsibilities that seemed to overwhelm, it may have been him. Carried into situations not of his making and which altered his plans for the future in big ways, Paul learned to rely on a Higher Power and be content with wherever he found himself.
I know that I need to emulate Paul and others that have managed to find the secret of contentment and peace, even in the midst of chaos and disorder. I have a difficult time with that, and know that I would have a much easier time of life in general if I wasn’t so worried about getting this done or fulfilling that responsibility in a timely manner. Yes, we as Christians are to be diligent to live our lives “as unto the Lord” and so we must do the best we can. But to worry excessively about something or to allow external forces to take away our happiness, contentment, and peace is not appropriate and has no place in the life of the Christian.
I also know that for some people, the problem of excessive worry goes beyond what can reasonably be accommodated, and professional help may be needed. If so, there should be no stigma attached to that need; rather, we support and encourage our fellow Christian as best we know how and “bear one-another’s burden.”
Most of us don’t have the worry of where we will get our next meal, or where we will stay the night. Instead, our worries are more along the lines of paying bills, keeping promises, and attending to looming future events. We have moved away from worry about survival to worry about things not as important. The fallout of that worry, however, does not change. We can still be paralyzed by excessive worry, and that worry can rob us of the peace and contentment promised by our God.
There are no easy fixes. There is nothing I know of that will change this in five minutes or less. I know it is a learning process. And I know that true peace and contentment are gifts and blessings from God. I know that it involves one giving up the right to control one’s destiny and allowing God to take charge. I know that it is a daily decision that becomes a daily way of life.
And that, my friend, is not easy.
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