Potpourri

I'm not sure how March is supposed to look, but March 2011 looks great, at least the first day of it. Warm, gentle breeze, sunny, puffy clouds...it has the feel of a perfect day. There's a gorgeous sunset going on outside as I type this and the day is about the best that it can possibly be.
I'm sure it won't always be this way. March is also the beginning of severe weather season in our neck of the woods. We've already had a round of thunder boomers a few days ago, and over the next three or four months, we'll experience more of the same.
There will be wind. There will be rain. There will be hail. There will be tornadoes. That's part of living in this part of the world. And it makes things interesting, to say the least. I don't necessarily like the severe weather, but I do like to hear the thunder, see and hear the rain, and enjoy the cleansing of the earth and atmosphere.
I am also looking forward to see how the year 2011 turns out. There are several things going on in our family, our church, and in work that will have some sort of resolution or advancement. And, of course, there will be new ideas, new thoughts, and new things coming along in life.
I know I'm getting older, but I continue to enjoy seeing some things in new and different ways. I hope that doesn't change as I continue to age for as long as the Good Lord allows.
We are richly blessed in life. God has provided us with an existence that 98 percent of the world's population can only dream about. Along with that comes a responsibility to partner with God where He is working. And that is where life's real challenges, joys, and satisfactions come. There's nothing quite like being the instrument of the God of the universe and seeing how He uses one's efforts in His work of redemption.
Thank you for your continued participation in my writing. I know I've slowed down some, and I know blogs can be rather passe, but I plan to continue with this for the time being. So check in from time to time and we'll continue down life's path together.

One Perspective

I wrote a letter to my state senator and emailed it last night. It says a lot about what I don't like about the political system...the deception and outright falsehoods. I thought I'd let you read what I wrote. The liquor issue is only a vehicle for me to tell the senator that I don't appreciate being misled...in the end, I don't care who sells strong liquor.

Sent: Tuesday, February 22, 2011 10:58 PM
To: Dick Kelsey
Subject: Liquor Debate

Dear Senator Kelsey,

I am interested in the ongoing debate over allowing grocery and convenience stores to sell "strong" beer, wine, etc. The prevailing statistics for those wanting the change come from a study done by Arthur P. Hall, PhD, of the University of Kansas School of Business. Those statistics, as you well know, show an economic impact of more than 15,000 new jobs and 340 million dollars created in the state.
I have wondered for as long as I've been aware of this debate just where that money is coming from and how those jobs would be funded. It would seem to me that there would need to be increased liquor sales sufficient to generate at least 340 million dollars in new cash in the state.
Silly me. The report does not talk of generating new cash or creating new wealth. In fact, the summary clearly says that there will not necessarily be any creation of wealth...only the redistribution of existing resources. I quote the summary: "There is no evidence to suggest that deregulation of beer, wine and spirits sales will change prevailing alcohol consumption patterns, only shopping patterns."
In other words, consumption will not necessarily increase...meaning no new wealth is created. However, the places where people spend their existing money will change. How that will result in 15,000 new jobs and creation of a third of a billion dollars in wealth is far beyond me. Where is that money coming from? Where was it before the new law? Where is it after the new law? Where is that money going? To out of state corporations (Kroger [Ohio], Quik Trip [Oklahoma])?
According to USDA statistics (http://www.agcensus.usda.gov/Publications/2007/Full_Report/Volume_1,_Chapter_2_County_Level/Kansas/st20_2_001_001.pdf), in 2007 only 8 counties in Kansas had total gross farm commodity sales greater than the 340 million dollar number being used by the pro grocery/convenience liquor sales folks. Does it make sense to you, Senator, that this change in the law will bring in more money than the total gross farm commodity sales of 97 of our 105 counties in 2007? It doesn't make sense to me, either.
Someone, it seems, is playing fast and loose with the numbers. It matters not to me who sells what strength liquor. What does matter to me is that it appears that we are being misled and deceived. I'm tired of that kind of politics. I hope you are as well.

Thanks much for listening,

The good senator responded promptly, which I've always appreciated. He "got" my point. He wrote, "I agree with your perspective. I do not believe this bill will move forward or be approved by the Senate or House."

Senator Dick Kelsey

Nothing Short of Astounding

Today I got up early and went in to work. I said that I would do an early transport. I needed to take a resident to a surgical center for a minor procedure. Foggy as all get out, I made my way to the home and got the van started. I loaded the woman in it, grabbed the paperwork, and headed out.
Almost missing the turn in the thick fog, I did manage to find the place after all. I was told that the woman’s daughter in law would meet us there to sign papers, etc. However, when we arrived, she was nowhere to be found. The staff was getting a little antsy, so I called the nurses station at the home and asked for the phone number of the daughter in law. They gave me a local, Wichita number.
I called that number on my cell. The ring sounded a little funny to me. After about four rings, a man answered the phone and identified himself as the son of the woman I had at the surgical center. I asked him if he or his wife were about at the surgery center so they could sign papers, thinking that the foggy weather may have caused them to be late.
He said he was nowhere close to the center and couldn’t help me. “I’m in the U K,” he said. Of course, he meant that he was in Great Britain. Hence the funny-sounding ring.
I processed that information as quickly as my too-early-to-get-up brain could, and while I was speechlessly processing, I managed to ask him if I could get his wife’s phone number and call her to ask where she might be. He said he would call her for me, and let me know what was going on.
A couple of minutes later, my phone rang. It was him. He said she was late, but would be there in a few minutes. I thanked him profusely and we hung up. She indeed showed up a few minutes later.
Now, you may ask me why I’m writing this. I’ve blogged about telephones and technology before. I grew up in the era of dialing “0” and getting a local operator in the same community as where I was living and having her make a long distance call for me. Sometimes we had the phone number…sometimes we only had a name and city. And the cost of the call was enough that we watched the minutes on a clock and didn’t talk too long. Local numbers were only four digits in length. Party lines were commmonplace. Area codes were not invented yet (nor were zip codes).
This is pure magic to me…this idea that I can have a dial tone on my hip, access it, dial a local number, and find that other telephone across an ocean in a foreign country. I can ring that phone and carry on a conversation with that person. And he can do the same with me. Do you have a clue of the technology and gee-whiz gadgets that must all work just right in order for this to happen? It’s nothing short of an incredible, astounding feat.
I normally don’t need international calling. But I have a newly-found appreciation for the fee I pay each month to help maintain this technological marvel we call the telephone. I know I gripe and complain when it drops calls or I’m in a dead zone. And that, I think, is something that needs to be addressed. “We can go to the moon…why can’t I have a phone conversation without it dropping my call?”
Next time you use your phone to talk, text, tweet, or browse, appreciate what you are holding in hour hand. I will.

This & That

These last few weeks have been kind of a blur. The cold weather, the snow, the work, and the fact that it’s January and February all kind of combine to make this a time when people just hold on and hope better days come soon. And they will come. It will get warm. We will begin to have thunderstorms and severe weather. Things outside will green up. The earth will come to life again.
Meanwhile, what’s up? Oh, no, I shouldn’t be asking you that question. This is where I tell you what’s up with me. Of course, I assume you have at least some passing interest in knowing what’s up with me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be on this web page, now, would you?
I find myself settling deeper and deeper into a kind of rut. That can be good, because I don’t have to worry too much about what to do. But it can also be kind of a bummer since I don’t have a lot of choice or change in what I do.
This has been a winter of, for lack of a better term, reflection. I’ve done a lot of thinking this winter, and am still in that process. Thinking about work, about life, about eternity, and about the future all have occupied my time lately. I’ve not arrived at any stupendous answers or marvelous insights…I didn’t expect to do so.
But I do expect to untangle, at least partially, some of the web of thought that I’ve allowed to interweave over the past few years. I don’t know how to explain it any better than that. I just sometimes feel like there are thoughts and ideas up there (or in there) that are all tangled up and need to be unwound, untangled, and brought out into the light of day. Does that make any sense to you? It does to me.
Thanks for taking the time to listen.

Happy Birthday

I wrote a letter today. No, I didn’t do it long hand, although I thought about it. My hands are beginning to be affected by arthritis and I just can’t hold a pen like I used to be able to do. So I typed it. I wrote the letter to my uncle who will be 92 on Tuesday. He enjoys receiving letters and, at least until recently, wrote in long hand and mailed letters to friends and relatives.
He doesn’t do Facebook or Twitter, and isn’t even on the Internet, as far as I know. He lives in a retirement community in central Kansas and seems to enjoy being there. Age has crept up on him and he isn’t as spry as he once was. Recently moved into assisted living, he kept up an apartment there until just a year or two ago.
Just because Mervin isn’t on the Internet, though, doesn’t mean that he is somehow not relevant or “with it” (to borrow a 1960’s expression) any more. I suspect that he is very much in tune with the goings-on of the retirement community where he lives as well as the greater community (the town) and with the world. He is able to talk intelligently about a lot of things including current events and current happenings. He is a joy to visit with and always appreciates company.
I also suspect that Mervin is just biding his time here and is ready to go whenever he is called by his God. His wife (my aunt) preceded him, having been ravaged by dementia for the last years of her life. I rather imagine he’s ready to have a good conversation with her once again.
Mervin has, and continues to be a shining example of Christian faith, love, and compassion. He has influenced for the good more lives than he will ever know or realize on this side of eternity. A farmer by vocation, he also drove a school bus, taught Sunday School, raised a family, volunteered for countless good works, and did some taxidermy. In addition, he did all of the normal things that good citizens do…pay taxes, work hard, and give back to his family, his neighbors and his community.
He would be the first to tell you that he never did anything special; that he just did the best he could with what he knew. But his is a great example of God taking what Mervin offered and multiplying it in ways unimaginable, even now. His influence, wisdom, work, and example will live on far beyond his earthly years.
Happy birthday, Mervin.

Here's to Diversity

"This is America, where a white Catholic male Republican judge was murdered on his way to greet a Democratic Jewish woman member of Congress, who was his friend. Her life was saved initially by a 20-year old Mexican-American gay college student, and eventually by a Korean-American combat surgeon, all eulogized by our African American President." ~Mark Shields, quoting Allen Ginsberg on PBS News Hour January 14, 2011
Lynn said that a blog might be coming on as a result of my having read this on her FB. It took a few days for me to process the above and its significance. I don’t pretend to write the definitive prose regarding the quote. I will, however, comment on it.
As I commented on FB, I think this is often the case in our everyday lives and we just don’t realize or appreciate it. Think of the people that serve you in some capacity. Those who work in a restaurant, the doctor’s office or dental clinic. Maybe you could think of those who provide you with food stocked on the shelves of your favorite grocery store as well as those who grow and process it.
What about those in the banking system or the mechanic shop where you get your car fixed? Or maybe in City Hall and those who provide decent water, sewer services, and of course police, fire, and EMS protection.
This nation is still built on the diversity of its population and the fact that, by and large, people work together for a common good and for the welfare of others. Whatever their religion, nationality, race, or political leaning, most people desire only to do their job and make the world a better place.
Look at it this way. Think of a world where you interacted with and were economically and environmentally connected only with people who were your own race, nationality, religion and color. What would you NOT have that you now have? Could you live even close to how you are living now were it not for people who are different from you who provide for you in some way? Could you adequately do your job without people who were different from you?
Pure Christianity is much the same way. People from all walks of life, from all nationalities, economic classes, races, and yes, even people with different religious viewpoints all band together under the banner of Jesus Christ as risen Lord and Savior and together make something that as a whole is much, much greater than the sum of its parts.
I am reminded of what John said in the Revelation: “After these things I looked, and behold, a great multitude which no one could count, from every nation and all tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes…” (Rev. 7:9) You may disagree with me on the specific interpretation of this verse, but I think it’s clearly apparent that not everyone who is a child of God is a white, middle class male (or whatever you may be).
So here’s to diversity. May it ever be a part of who we are and how we think. May it always come through in times both good and bad. And may we ever celebrate the beauty and diversity of God’s creation and honor both it and Him.

Success

This past week, one of the residents of our adult care home passed away. Gina (not her real name) had many serious medical issues. Her stage four metestatic cancer was one of the lesser of her issues. We brought her in for rehab about three months ago in the hopes that she would become strong enough to weather a round of chemo and radiation, but in spite of all of our, and her efforts, that didn't happen.
She had no family that I know of. She did have a friend who was her power of attorney and handled her affairs. She was bed-bound for most of her stay with us due to other medical issues, but managed to be in a chair and get out of her room for the last couple of weeks before she passed.
This woman had lots to complain about. She had lots to be angry about. And she had lots to attribute to an unfair deal. But I never, ever, ever saw her that way. She was always pleasant, positive, and upbeat, at least on the outside. She conversed readily and seemed to be genuinely interested in the problems of others.
I don't know her religious background or her life history. But one thing I do know is that she had every right to be mad at the world and at life for the hand that was dealt to her. She chose to not play that hand; rather, to make that hand into something that was decent and honorable and good.
She succeeded.

Riverside

I got off work early today (very early) before lunch, so I went over to the Minisa Barbershop and got a haircut (actually, hairs-cut). It was close to lunch by then so I walked around the corner to the Riverside Café.
They weren’t all that busy, but busy enough. No one was at the counter, so I sat at the second chair from the left (There is a “protocol” for where to sit at a lunch counter, just as there is a “protocol” for which urinal to use when in a multi-urinal bathroom). The waitress was prompt, giving me water and asking for my drink order. By the time she had my diet Coke, I knew I wanted the catfish filet lunch.
Now, I’ve blogged before about the Riverside Café. Today, I noticed especially the way the wait people worked. They moved quickly, yet there was virtually no wasted motion or step. Each movement seemed to be an exercise in multi-tasking, planned out long in advance.
Of course, it wasn’t planned out. The wait staff just had worked there long enough to know how to work efficiently. They also were able to work around each other, not running in to someone else. There was only one slip up…a loud noise in the kitchen and shards of glass sliding out of the doorway told me that someone had dropped something back there. Luckily, I already had my lunch in front of me.
I have to wonder what that place sounds like in the middle of the night. By day it’s very noisy, almost raucous. The old-time juke box is constantly blaring with 50’s and 60’s music. The wait people are talking to each other and greeting customers. Customers are carrying on conversations with one-another, and occasionally from table to table. Dishes are clanging. Doors are closing. The cash register is ringing up something. The din is sometimes in the upper end of the decibel scale, it seems. So at night, it would be eerily silent, except for the refrigeration units and occasionally the furnace, I would think. Hopefully, there aren’t many mice in there that would make noise.
I don’t get over there often. I’m glad I stopped in today.

Can You Imagine?

In the spiritual, “Ain’t Got Time to Die”, the song talks of serving God and praising God through service to our fellow-man...helping the sick, feeding the poor, serving the Master.
Then the song says this: “If I don’t praise Him, the rocks are gonter (going to) cry out, ‘Glory and Honor!’ ‘Glory and Honor!’ Ain’t got time to die!”
I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of a literalist. And I may well not be understanding this song the way those who created it meant it to be. But I believe, really believe, that some how, some way, God will be given glory and honor; whether by my praise of Him or whether the rocks themselves will be called to cry out praise to God.
I can’t imagine answering to God for why the rocks had to cry out because I didn’t give Him praise. Can you?

Arizona Tragedy

I wasn’t able to hear the President’s address to the people last night in Arizona. I called it up on the Internet tonight and listened to the entire speech. This may have been his best speech. Twice, he invoked the Christian scriptures. Several times, he mentioned those who had died in the shooting tragedy. And he continually called for us to present the best that is within us, to love one-another, and to honor those with whom we differ.
He did all of this without getting caught in the notion that somehow those whose words recently have been filled with vitriol prompted this tragedy. He plainly took the high road and challenged each of us to do the same.
I had to wonder as I listened to that speech whether anything even close to the thoughts that were in that speech has come out of the mouths of those radio and cable hacks on either end of the political spectrum. You know…those who spew their garbage to the ones of our number who don’t wish to exercise their brains by thinking for themselves. They’d much rather a talking head do their talking for them. My guess is that no one of the political/cable/radio hack club has said anything even remotely close to the thoughts and words of our President.
I am truly troubled by the events in Arizona. I am truly troubled by the evil that is in the world. And I am truly troubled by those who would, for their own gain, capitalize on such an event. I guess it takes all kinds, but this is not only ridiculous, but is behavior of the basest sort.
Even the Topeka church clan stayed away (You know who I’m talking about). I applaud them for their restraint, although I suspect that there wasn’t much about their decision not to picket that was altruistic or compassionate. My guess is that they (correctly) figured that if they went and protested, they would have been universally assigned, even by those few who agree with them, to the trash heap of irrelevance, insignificance, and worthlessness. They would finally, fully, and certainly have been exposed for the kind of people they really are…uncouth, vulgar, and gauche. They don’t have the stomach to stand up to that kind of universal judgment and condemnation from their peers.
I wish well those who are recovering. I pray healing for those who have lost loved ones. And I trust we will have learned something positive from the evil that manifested on that day.

Crack of Doom

I’m staying up late tonight. We have a resident who is receiving a blood transfusion at a local hospital this evening. When they are finishing, they will call and I will take the home’s transportation van there and pick her up and take her back to the home. She went in about 4pm today. It takes several hours to infuse blood products, and if there are any glitches, it takes even longer.
I’ve done this a few times before, but never quite this late. My guess is that I won’t get to bed until after midnight. That always seems to befuddle me some the next day. I’m never quite rested, it seems, and don’t feel “normal” (whatever that is nowadays).
Normally my bedtime is about 10:30. I know that seems early for many of you, and it may be late for some who have to get up (as my cousin used to say) “at the crack of doom.” I always liked that better than the “crack of dawn.” Gave it a little more class, in my book.
Hopefully, they will call shortly and I can begin the trip. If not, I may be up later tonight than I thought.

Back to Work

Tomorrow, I go back to work. I’ve been off since Friday afternoon a week ago. I think I’m ready to go. Hopefully, my mental and emotional condition will allow me to go back to work with joy and purpose, even in the face of things at work that aren’t always the way (I think) they should be.
Of course, no work place is perfect. Everyone who interacts with the outside world in any form has to work with imperfection, incompetence, and sometimes sheer stupidity from time to time. The question is not whether one will encounter these things (the Dilbert syndrome), but rather how one responds to these things.
The Dilbert syndrome is alive and well, no doubt. Things happen that shouldn’t; people make bad decisions; words are spoken that are better left unsaid. Sometimes one has to take a breather from that environment to see the larger picture and the true blessings that are a part of life, living, and yes, work.
And the key that I’ve yet to learn is this: Do I trust that God will take me where I need to go, even though I may have no control over where that is or don’t have a clue where we’re going? He still says to me, “Do you trust me?” I’m not sure I have the answer yet.
I’ve written each day this week I’ve been off. I’ve opened my heart at times, and let you know what was inside. I don’t mind doing that in this venue, and trust that you will understand.
For those of you who know me, thank you for your love and prayers. For those who may read this who don’t know me, thank you for stopping by. I am wonderfully, wonderfully blessed.

A Challlenge

I’m sure I’m not the first one who has thought of this, but it came as a kind of an epiphany to me this week as I did some meditation and study during my time at home on a staycation. I blogged about it earlier this week. The thought was that perhaps someone, sometime in the distant past has prayed for me in some way and God is now fulfilling that prayer request in my life. The person who prayed may well never have known me or about me, but prayed anyway. The thought that what God is doing with me now may well be a promise God made in answer to prayer that may have occurred 100, 200, or 500 years ago is mind-boggling.
I then asked in that same blog if you have prayed for those who come after you, whether your blood descendents, fellow Christians, or leaders of some kind. That seems to me to be even more mind-boggling as I think of those possibilities and what it may mean for not only me, but for those for whom I am praying.
We seem so focused on the here and now. We seem to be so tuned in to our own lives and our immediate issues and problems. We think little about others even in our time frame, let alone those who will come after us 50, 100,or 500 years from now. It makes me think differently about prayer and how it “availeth much” as the King James Version of the Bible says in the New Testament book of James.
Some how, some way, I have to get out of the present time and the momentary problems I have now and focus more on others, their issues, and the greater vision of God’s plan for His creation and for its salvation. This kind of prayer may well be one of the keys to help me do that.
This also brings to mind my brother’s thoughts about praying for things that in our existence have already happened. It tends to lend a new credibility to his thought that maybe, just maybe it is acceptable to pray for something that has already happened, as if it hasn’t happened yet. He tempers this thought with the idea that in order for this to be effective, we must not know the conclusion of the event or incident…it is enough to know that something was to have happened or might have happened.
Of course, we quickly get into the notion of time and what it is; how it interacts with our existence and how God relates to time, if at all. We quickly develop many more questions than we have answers for, Einstein’s equations notwithstanding. And we can quickly get caught up in the nuances of such ideas to the exclusion of our mission as people of God…to live and love in such a way that others will know that we are children of God.
I challenge you, though, to give serious thought to who and what you pray for, and to use prayer not so much as a vehicle for your own comfort and satisfaction as a means to talk with the Timeless One about your thoughts, feelings, and concerns for others yet to come (or who have already gone, if you think there may be something to the notion of “praying in the past”). If nothing else, I think you will appreciate and enjoy your prayer life much more than you now do.

A Need to Start

Today marks, for those of us who are bound by time, the end of yet another year. I think I say something like this just about every time I write on the last day of the year. It is remarkable, however, to think that we have actually arrived at this point in the continuum that is the life of the universe.
If you have some age on you, can you remember what you thought life would be like now when you were but a youngster? I remember trying to visualize the turn of the century and beyond when I was a kid in the 1950’s and later a teen in the 1960’s. Science magazines and articles helped that thinking by talking of levitating automobiles, space colonies on Mars and beyond, and pills one could take which would provide all needed nutrition for the day.
The Apollo space program sort of pushed that thinking along with its can-do attitude and whiz-bang technical prowess. Movies (1984 and others) carried our thoughts (and fears) even farther down the path of the future.
So where are we compared with where we thought we were? In some respects, we are much farther than we ever thought possible. In others, it’s the same song, 145th verse. JFK rolled out the first 100 billion dollar federal budget for 1962, and LBJ imposed a 10% income tax surtax to help pay for the Vietnam War. Now look at where we are.
On the other hand, who would have thought that we have more computing power in our telephones than IBM had in all of its research and development centers back in those days? And who would have thought about that phone being attached to our hips and that it could literally access the world through the Internet?
But where are we in the things that really matter? Doing unto others as we would have them do unto us? Bearing one another’s burdens? Helping those in need? Loving God with all of our hearts? Have we learned anything in the last 40 or so years? Have we matured and grown? Have we come to realize our responsibilities as human beings?
Don’t generalize these questions for the nation as a whole or the world as a whole. Make them personal. You can’t change the world, but you can change yourself. And that’s where I need to start.

Day Trip

This afternoon we got in the trusty Buick and took a three hour or so trip down some back roads and past some places I hadn’t seen for awhile. Leaving Wichita on K 42, I turned west on 71st Street South and went all the way over to Kingman County. On the way, I stopped and checked the moisture level (scientifically, of course…I dug down a few inches with the heel of my shoe!) in a wheat field. That particular place was damp enough 3 to 4 inches down that the dirt could be mad into a ball and would hold together.
We went on to Norwich over the county roads and drove in town a few minutes. We talked a little about the church where I preached some in the 1980’s, and the nursing home building that didn’t make it as a nursing home, but now is, we think, a place for troubled girls. There was no sign out front, so we don’t know for sure.
Going west on 42, we passed through what is left of Adams (look that one up on your Google maps) and turned south on Murdock Road. Coming to the Harper County line road, we turned west again and went to Duquoin.
The little church there seems to be kept up, although I haven’t a clue if anyone is meeting there or not. There isn’t much else. I remember a small strip of old buildings on one street from my youth. Those buildings are no longer there.
We went west on what the locals sometimes call Ridge Road (not to be confused with the Ridge Road in Sedgwick County) until we got to the Attica turn off. We went down to Attica and drove around there some, commenting on the health center and a couple of other places we saw.
We then ventured eastward toward Crystal Springs. We stopped at the church there and used the restrooms (the building is always unlocked), and I did some walking in the cemetery. There were a lot of people and names in there that I knew. I remember thinking that the people in this area, and those in the cemetery, are and were good, solid people with traditional values, good work ethic, and a way of life that many people secretly covet, yet are not willing to make the changes necessary to experience it. Some of those changes would have to be the giving up of high-salary jobs, relocation to a rural area, taking on work that could well be hard, physical labor, displaying the virtues of honesty, trust, and friendliness, and willingness to do without Wal Mart, the Mall, the Warren Theater, and Old Town. To me, the fact of the unlocked door on a church on a dirt road across from a pasture in virtually the middle of nowhere is a huge indication of the kind of people who live, love, work, and die there.
From there we went to Harper and saw the new school construction, the new hospital addition, and noticed that some businesses and the library moved. We stopped in at a downtown business (one of just a few left downtown) and talked with Ron for a bit.
Getting gas, we headed back to Wichita and the civilization that we now know. Somehow, though, even though we no longer own any property in that area, and even though we have no close relatives in that area, I felt like some of me is still there. Although I have no plans to ever move back, there is admittedly a certain draw to what for years has been home. I’m not sure that feeling will ever quite go away. Nor am I sure I want it to.

Strangely Comforting

There is something strangely comforting about the last two chapters of Joshua. As I read those chapters, I wondered again about Israel and their propensity to fall into idolatry. I wondered why, when they had experienced the majestic power of God in so many diverse ways, and experienced the good life that God had given them in the promised land, that they worshipped articles of metal and stone.
But given all of that, God was faithful to them. He kept all of his promises…even the ones regarding punishment for idolatry. Not only that, but God continued to love them as a father loves a son or daughter. He continued to work with them…to counsel them…to foster a sweet relationship with them.
Yes, he said on more than one occasion that they wearied him, or that he was through with them, or would no longer save them. But that didn’t mean that he no longer loved them or no longer was concerned about them.
We have, I think, a warped sense of what love is. We try very hard to please, mistaking that for love. We become enablers of bad behavior. We don’t allow the natural consequences of behavior to do what they were intended to do…teach and admonish. Then we wonder what is wrong with us, with others, with the world.
God must be rather put off with how we have perverted his notion of love and have made it something that is cheap, selfish, and self-destructive. Yet he continues to love us just as he did Israel when they sinned. He continues to work with us, counsel us, and foster a sweet relationship with us.
There’s something strangely comforting in that.

Promises Kept

As I read through the middle part of Joshua, where the conquered land was divided among the tribes of Israel, I am struck by the detail and preciseness of the descriptions of the borders of each tribe. The descriptions are not at all generalized, but refer to specific cities, landmarks, and places where the border could easily be found.
It’s not an easy read. The names of the cities and landmarks have been translated into English from Hebrew. And although many of the names probably have some kind of meaning attached to them, I haven’t a clue what that might be and so don’t relate well to the names.
But it’s worth it to work through those middle chapters. The writer and compiler(s) thought it important to outline very specifically what the borders were for each tribe, which cities were given to the Levites, and which cities became cities of refuge. The fact that these writings are included in the Jewish canon, and by extension the Christian canon, causes us to stop and think about the relevance of these chapters to us. We did not inherit any of the land. The names have little meaning to us. What could possibly be so important to Christians in these several chapters?
The beginning of this saga rested with Abraham and God’s promise to him that his descendants would be blessed and that they would be given “the promised land”. We fast-forward several hundred years to the time of Joshua and see that indeed those promises of God were kept, and we see in great detail the evidence of the keeping of those promises. In fact, Joshua himself says in his farewell speech to the people that “Not one of the good promises of God has failed.” They all have been fulfilled.
Therein, I think, is a lesson for us. Every single word in those chapters screams to anyone who will listen the promise-keeping nature of Jehovah. Every detailed description, every boundary description, every city name tell of the provision of the God of the universe for His people. It becomes personal when land boundaries are described. It becomes intimate when specific cities are named and when specific families are given specific places in fulfillment of promises made long ago to an ancestor.
Stay with me here. How do we know but what some portion of our lives right here, right now, are the fulfillment of a promise God made to one of our ancestors? How do we know but what one of our great-great-grandparents (or some such ancestor) prayed for us and that God has honored (and is honoring) that prayer in our lives right now? I know that the descendants of Abraham knew well the promises Jehovah made to their father Abraham. We don’t know who has prayed for us in the past, or present, or even the future (time is irrelevant to God) and has “availeth much” according to James in the New Testament.
Have you seriously considered praying for your descendants? Have you asked God to intervene in the lives of those to come after us so that they may live in peace and follow the way of God fully? I admit that I have never thought of such a thing, although I’ve done plenty of thinking and even some mild worrying about my children, grandchildren, and those who will come after them. Why not give those thoughts and worries to the One who will be there and can (and will) fulfill the fervent prayers of an ancestor.

"There's a Stirring"

God, you’ve not promised us a life of ease. You have made it such that we can be content, however. Our work may be difficult. Our lives may not be easy. We may (and do) have what seem to be roadblocks in our way. You, though, make us successful if we persevere, are diligent, develop resolve, display patience, practice industriousness, and maintain tenacity. And you make our service joyful and satisfying.
Israel’s conquest of the promised land was a long, hard row to hoe. Although it’s covered in just a few chapters in Joshua, it took several years, much planning, hard fighting, and a lot of work.
“Do not fear. I will give them into your hand.” So says the One who is the same today as He was then, and forever will be. He was also up front with them and told them that they would not cleanse the land quickly…that it would take time and effort.
Living life takes time and effort. Things won’t come quickly, easily, or without difficulty. Perseverance, diligence, resolve, patience, industriousness, and tenacity are words easier written than done. Israel was not always patient. Israel was not always diligent. Israel did not always persevere. And they ended up paying the price…and did not receive the full measure of the promise of God.
I believe I am being called to continue my service, but in a different venue, on a different stage. How do I know that call is real, and not my longstanding impatience and desire for the greener grass I see on the other side? How do I know I’m not taking a shortcut and trying once again to make things work out the way I want them to work out? How do I know but what I am to continue in the service I am now in?
And how do I know but what I have been brought to this place (to quote Mordecai in the Book of Esther) “for such a time as this”? Why do I feel guilty about the prospect of service that is joyful and satisfying? What is it about my current service that is neither joyful nor satisfying? Shouldn’t I be content with what I am doing?
Borrowing a couple of lines from a song I know, I feel exactly like it says when it comes to my service as a Christian (I know the theme of the song is different). “There’s a stirring deep within me. Could it be my time has come? Is He calling me? Is He calling me?”

When the Night is Falling

God, you were right there with Joshua and all of Israel as they crossed the Jordan and conquered the land you promised to give them. Even though they told Joshua that you were his God (and by implication not theirs), you were faithful and saw them through to the end.
You then remained with the nation through their many ups and downs…through the period of the judges, the kings, the captivity…until the Offspring of David came and fulfilled your plan.
You weren’t distant. You weren’t aloof. You weren’t uncaring. You weren’t nonchalant. You were intimately involved with the everyday life of each individual, each family, each tribe, and the nation. You completed (or perfected) that intimate involvement with the advent of the Eternal Son on earth.
And that involvement didn't stop there.
So why would I think of you any differently when it comes to your relationship with me? Sometimes (actually, more than sometimes…often) I think you are distant. Aloof. Uncaring. Nonchalant. Sometimes (Often) I think you watch from a distance, and that you have more important things to do than work with me and be concerned about the things I’m concerned about.
Am I being selfish to want you for myself? Is it only a human thing to want a father to revel in his children? Should I be willing to “share” you, even if it means that I feel left out? Is there really enough of you to go around?
Then you put to my thoughts the song “When the Night is Falling”. Oh if I could only make the words live and not just be words on a screen.

Listen on YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKSyFOsAp6c&playnext=1&list=PL95C856F854F05B52&index=34

When the night is falling,
And the day is done,
I can hear You calling, “Come.”
I will come while You sing over me.
When the night surrounds me,
All my dreams undone,
I can hear You calling, “Come.”
I will come while You sing over me.
When the night would hide my way,
I will listen until I hear You say…
How I love you, child, I love you.
How I love you, child, I love you.
How I love you.
How I love you, child, I love you.
How I love you, child, I love you.
How I love you.
When this life is over,
And the race is run,
I will hear You calling, “Come.”
I will come while You sing over me,
How I love you, child, I love you.
How I love you, child, I love you.
How I love you.
How I love you, child, I love you.
How I love you, child, I love you.
How I love you.
–Dennis Jernigan

Remembering the Choirs

I get a little teary-eyed at times, especially this time of year. Oh, there are several things that can set me off; one of them especially. Tonight, I turned on the public station and they had some “long-haired” Christmas music being performed by an orchestra and chorus. They were singing some of the more conventional songs. Among them were the Hallelujah Chorus and O Holy Night.
I used to sing in a choir that met beginning in September and performed a Christmas concert for the community. I also sang in choirs in high school many years ago. We performed many of these “warhorse” pieces, and some others that are lesser known.
I always recall with fondness my participation in those choirs and the joy I had singing some of these songs along with others. We didn’t sound as good as the professionals, but we did our best, and did a pretty good job overall. I even recall my bass part on many of the songs and sing along at times with the pros.
My voice isn’t what it used to be, and I don’t know if I would even qualify for a choir spot, even if it was a smaller community choir. Many people can sing better than I can, and I know that. But it was always a thrill to work with and then perform music such as O Holy Night or some other piece like it, and I relish the memories of those times.
I don’t know what you have been part of over the years that you enjoy recalling, but I hope that you have the same kinds of memories you can tap at times. These tend to keep one grounded and provide perspective and experience. And those things aid us as we tumble through the present tense and these uncertain times.
May the Holy Night and the peace that comes from knowing the Eternal Son and the love of the Father abide with you this holiday season.

Doesn't Make Sense

The last couple of evenings when I came home from work, I noticed the neighbor kids a couple of doors down outside, playing. Monday, they were in back playing on their rope swing they have in a large tree at the edge of the park. They were doing something else on the ground, but I couldn't tell what. This evening, they were out front, just being kids.
Now, you may not think much of this, and certainly you may think it isn't worth writing about. But it is. Far too many kids spend all of their time indoors with their games/phones/computers. Far too few spend quality time outside interacting with other kids and nature, exercising their imaginations through unstructured play, unimpeded by adults smothering and hovering.
I know times have changed. I know there are bad things that can happen to kids. But I also know that the risk many times is minimal, and the rewards are great. I don't have a lot of sympathy for parents who think nothing of risking their kids in the car as they speed, change lanes, and cut off others just to get to the restaurant/grocery store/church a minute before someone else. Yet these same parents refuse to allow their kids to play outside because a kidnapper might come around. Doesn't make much sense to me.

The Solstice

OK, so today is the winter solstice. I really look forward to this day, because as I get older, winter, darkness, and cold seem to me to be more and more depressing. I'm much more in tune with growing plants, chirping birds, and lengthening days. And now, for the next six months, the days will be getting longer and the nights shorter. The air will begin to be warmed and the earth, at least in my temperate zone, will awaken from sleep.
Having said that, there is also something to be said for the change of season. I'm not sure what it would be like to live in Hawaii or Equador or on a tropical Pacific island. I understand the weather never varies all that much in some of those places. I'm not certain I wouldn't welcome just a few days of zero-degree weather or strong northerly winds or freezing rain or snow. Yes, we have to cope with temperature extremes in our part of the globe, but there are, I am sure, things to cope with in those parts of the world that don't change.
But when it's all said and done, although the Pacific island might be a good place to visit, or even live, for me the place to be is right here, right now. First, because I believe I was brought here for a reason and a purpose, and I'm where I'm supposed to be. Second, because family and friends are here in abundance and home is (or should be) where loved ones are.
This holiday season, I hope you are able to be with family and friends. I hope that you enjoy the time you spend with others. And I hope that you will always understand that God loves you and that you respond positively to that love in service and devotion to Him.

Gifts

I just saw a “60 Minutes” piece on people who have the ability to remember every day of their lives (at least from about age 12 on up) and recite the events of that day as if they happened just yesterday. They interviewed five people, along with a scientist and a researcher. They also went through testing of these people, checking their memories against events of the day to be certain they were correct in their memories. The scientist stated that these people were correct at least 99% of the time, and many times were 100% correct in their recollections.
Imagine being able to recall what you ate for dinner on January 19, 1992. Or who won the World Series in 1977 and several of the plays in that game, along with names of those who participated. Your first date would be as fresh as yesterday.
Of course, bad memories would be just as fresh. A bad accident you may have had. Your breakup with your mate or your stint in the hospital would be fresh as yesterday. Obviously, these people have to cope with some challenging things as they deal with life on a daily basis, yet are able to have near total recall of every day for the past 30 or 40 years.
They are not savants, it is said. They are more “normal” than not, with normal lives and normal behaviors. Science is studying these people to see what indeed is different and whether we can learn anything from their biology.
These people say that they “see” the day in question. Given a date without a year, they say they “scan” through all of those dates and can see snippets of each of those days. Given the year, they zero in on that “playback” and recall based on that. There is no mathematical contortion, they say, and no tricks to memory. It just sort of “plays” in their minds and they see the happenings of those days.
Nor do they think it’s necessarily a big deal for them. And it isn’t, for them. It’s a normal thing they live with all the time. Of course, it IS a big deal for the rest of us. And it provokes more questions than we have answers for very, very quickly.
Although I do not claim to be in the same league with these people, I was reminded when watching this piece of how I discern tones on the musical scale. I have at least a form of absolute pitch. The best way I can describe what I experience is that I “feel” the notes. Each note “feels” different. As I think about the C scale, there is a certain feel that comes to me when I think of C, D, E, and so on. I have attached qualities like soft, hard, warm, cool, etc. to each tone. When I hear a specific tone, I recall the feel and can name the note.
Of course, such a gift has its crosses to bear as well. If I am singing a song in key, I do just fine. But if it’s pitched high or low, many times I have to transpose notes as I go…for example, if the note is B flat and the pitch is a step and a half low, I have to mentally convert that B flat that I see on the music to G (1 ½ steps lower), recall the “feel” for G, then I can sing the proper pitch.
Over the years, I have taught myself to sing much as many others do, with the do re me method, and find myself having to transpose much less now, although when I read music for the first time, I still have to have the right pitch (or within a half step or so of the right pitch); else I get lost easily. Gifts usually come with two sides to them.
Others have other gifts. But all gifts ultimately come from the God who created us all and who wants us to use our gifts wisely and for the glory of God.

Traditions

We will shortly be leaving to go to my sister’s church building where my family will play and sing Christmas-themed songs, and will conduct a “skit” involving candles and the Christmas story as found in the Bible. We’ve done this in some form or another for several years, now. Sis invites those from her church to come as well. This year, we’ll eat a “crock pot” supper before the services.
Also, this year, Sis has a broken rib due to a fall in a parking lot. She stepped in a hole in the asphalt and tumbled over. I don’t know if the Lortab will allow her to come tonight or not. Initially, she wasn’t going to come, but since most doctors (and this one was no exception) say that you can do about whatever you feel like doing with a cracked or broken rib, if the medicine deals with the pain, she may be there.
This has become a tradition…one of many that we have. Surely, you have them too, and not just at Christmas. There are traditions wrapped around many of the holidays, and other events and times in the life of an individual. Some traditions are shared…others are personal. Sometimes others know about the tradition…sometimes no one knows except the one carrying on the tradition.
Traditions are good. They provide a sense of normalcy. They tend to ground a person and keep them from flying off, so to speak, aimlessly. They bring family and friends together. They promote a sense of belonging and camaraderie. And they many times bring good and altruistic things to pass.
Traditions can hinder as well, if one is inclined to allow them to stifle and quench new ideas and ways of doing things. Not everything new is good, but we won’t know, many times, until we’ve tried them. We can become so bound up in our traditions (Fiddler on the Roof) that we can’t see where reality is taking us.
But today, here’s to a tradition that is good and deserves yet another year of carrying out. There will come a time when I and many others in the family will no longer be able to carry out this or other traditions. The younger family members will carry on, and may well discard some of our traditions in favor of newer ones. So be it. It’s all good.

Good For Her

An unidentified Dayton, Ohio area woman came to the aid of a police officer along the side of a highway as he was wrestling with the driver of a vehicle he had pulled over because of a broken headlight. The officer asked the man to step out of the car. The man stepped out, then began fighting with the officer. He began to reach for the officer’s pistol when a woman came from nowhere and started beating the man on the head, making it possible for the officer to gain the upper hand in the fight.
About that time, police help arrived, and they were able to subdue the man, who was wanted on several warrants. The police do not know the name of the woman, where she came from, or why she helped.

Good for her.

The Thought of One Mind Leaping to Another

Sometimes it seems like a chore to write, knowing that social networking apps are much more likely to gain visitors than the “old fashioned” blogs of yesterday. However, I’m kind of a yesterday kind of person, and have often said that I write for myself as much or more than for anyone else. I’ll never be a great writer, and certainly won’t sell what I write, but seem to enjoy seeing black pixels become letters which form words that communicate a thought. There’s something magical in that, if you just stop to think about it for a minute.
And maybe that’s why I enjoy this kind of thing. It’s a real way to make magic happen. I arrange black pixels on a white background in such a way that I communicate a thought (intangible, yet real) to you…one mind communicating with another. Let’s see. How did that verse go in “For Heaven’s Sake”? “Just so, we communicate, you and I, the thought of one mind leaping to another, given shape and form and substance…” Now, if that’s not magical, I don’t know what is.
Think about it. I can enter your mind, and you into mine, just by the proper arrangement of black pixels on white background, or by the correct arrangement of sounds emanating from my vocal cords, which strike your ears and are processed as intelligence. Of course, there are many more forms of communications…facial expressions, actions, the five senses, and so on. And different people may be able to communicate better one way than another.
So is there communication that does not involve the five senses? Is there “something” there which imparts information that doesn’t use the normal pathways? Call it intuition. Call it supernatural. Call it paranormal. Call it spiritual. Call it whatever you will…does it exist? And if it does, but does not use the five senses to manifest itself, how do you know it exists?
It’s like the old Christian song, “He Lives” by Alfred Ackley. The last line says, “You ask me how I know He lives. He lives within my heart.” I suppose that’s OK, but it really doesn’t do much for me to answer that question. I could truthfully (as far as I can know and experience) say that many things live in my heart. My Dad lives in my heart. A couple of my good friends who have now departed live in my heart. So do my sons, my wife, and others. Love, jealousy, anger, envy, kindness, faith, and other things live in my heart. How could you refute that statement? And just what does that mean…”live in my heart”?
Besides, when it comes to Jesus Christ, which is what that song is about, I’d much prefer to think of Him living in reality and fact…not just in someone’s heart. The bodily resurrection of Jesus is indeed the crux…the cornerstone…the foundation of the Christian faith. That song doesn’t go nearly far enough to make that reality.
Well, I got off track a little and started preaching. But you get the idea. Words are just one form of communication, but very powerful indeed. The very nature of the nature of mankind demands some form of communication, imperfect and prone to misunderstanding though it be. May we continually perfect the tools we use to cause “the thought of one mind (to leap) to another.”

Enjoy This Time

It is Thanksgiving weekend. We’ve had one side of the family on Thursday; we’re looking forward to the other side tomorrow. The weather promises to be pleasant, but cool, and the day should be a good one for all.
This time of the year, I also look forward to the winter solstice. That is the day when the sun travels, so to speak, to it’s farthest southerly point (Let’s see…that’s the Tropic of Capricorn) and begins the slow trek back to our end of the globe. It’s also the shortest day of the year and the beginnings of warmer weather to come. I know that there is a lot of cold weather in January and February, but at least we can see the days grow longer and the periods of cold grow shorter.
I don’t know how many more Thanksgivings I have left on this earth. Nor do I know how many more times I will see the sun begin coming back to the northern hemisphere. I may not see it this year…I may see it 30 or more times in the future. I just don’t know.
Nor do you. Whether you’re 20 or 80, you never know when your time will come. So enjoy the time you have been given, and enjoy the gift of the creation and the blessings that come with it.

Thanks For the Blessings

In years past, on this day (Thanksgiving), I made it a point to call my sister in Wichita and visit about whatever happened to come up. During the cell phone era (that sounds weird, but with texting, Facebook, Skype, and other means of communication, simple conversations on cell phones seem rather passé), I would many times call while we were on our way to somewhere for Thanksgiving dinner.
Now that we live in Wichita and see her more often, that phone call doesn’t seem so important anymore. We have better contact with one-another, and with many others in our circle of friends and relatives, due in large part to the Internet and modern communications. I don’t know that we communicate earth-shattering things to those others in our circle, but certainly we catch glimpses of life and living that we otherwise would not see. For some, that means little. For others, it’s a healthy way to maintain those ties that bind.
I remember years ago when communication was by letter. Long distance phone calls were a luxury and were saved for the most important news. In our family, the death of a loved one was fodder for a long distance call. Sometimes engagements were too, but most often those were handled by letter. A tragic accident or someone in the hospital usually resulted in one or more long distance calls. Other than that, it was a rare privilege to speak to someone in another town in Kansas, let alone across the country.
Now, however, I can keep up with friends in Western Kansas where we used to live, loved ones from various communities and churches where we lived and worshipped, high school classmates, relatives, and others I know. It’s easy and it’s enjoyable for me to know some things that these people choose to reveal, and a privilege to be counted among their friends, even if that friendship is Facebook friendship, and not the more traditional meaning of the word.
So, this Thanksgiving season, enjoy what God has given you. Thank Him for His abundance and blessings. And count among those blessings the opportunity to keep in touch, however you choose to do it.

The Holidays

It's not often that I lack for something to say or write. This weekend was one of those times. I don't know if it was the tired-ness of the work week prior or something else. I do know that I put on my Facebook on Saturday morning that I didn't feel like doing anything. That feeling lasted for awhile, but I finally got out and cleaned up some back yard dead stuff and did some trimming. That seemed to help a little, anyway. And today has been good.
The holiday season is fast upon us, and although I like this time of year, it's not necessarily my favorite time. I never was one to "yippee-yea" for the holidays (any holiday), and personally could take 'em or leave 'em. That attitude may have started with my earlier-in-life jobs where I had to work many of the holidays, and found I didn't mind doing that at all. Or it could be from my general personality that doesn't go too far either way emotionally, either happy or sad. Or it just could be that I am somewhat of a non-conformist and would rather be on the minority side most of the time. I dunno.
I'm not a party pooper. I'm just not a fanatic about the celebrations. Should we remember the birth of the Christ child? Absolutely. Should we remember that we've been bountifully blessed? Of course. Should we celebrate our nation's birthday, labor, veterans, and all the rest? Yes, yes, we should. Should families get together and spend the day (or days) visiting, bonding, and strengthening the ties? That's one of the bright spots in holiday celebrations.
Should we make the Christmas season a make-or-break time financially for the retail community? I don't think so. Should we overlook Thanksgiving by massing at the doors of retailers at 3am on black Friday? Ugh. Should we make Labor Day a three day holiday and put the "labor" part of the day in the background to eventually disappear all together? I don't think so.
And that, I think, is what makes me a little jaded about the holidays. They have morphed into something that resembles little of the innocence and joy of
holidays gone by. Oh, I know I can celebrate in my own way, and all of that. And I do. I shun Black Friday with a passion. My gift-buying takes up at most about 30 minutes of my year. And I really try to remember the original intent of the holiday, whether Labor Day, Veteran's Day, or whatever it may be.
So, however you celebrate the day, do so in a way that is true to your convictions. For we who celebrate the days a little differently, please honor our decision. And I am getting ready for family, friends, and pleasant and good times coming up shortly, and I promise I'll not be an Eeyore, but will willingly and happily join in. Deal?

How We've Grown

I can’t believe that it’s been only 20 years that we’ve had the term “World Wide Web”. So says NBC News tonight in a story recognizing the genesis of widespread public use of the Internet.
It seems that it’s been almost forever since the Internet has been part of our lives. It’s everywhere and is used for everything. It has revolutionized information sharing and society as a whole. The world is a lot smaller, by an enormous factor, because of it.
It’s ubiquitous. It’s a necessity. It’s part of us.
I recall well the first time I logged on to the World Wide Web. It was at the hospital where I worked in the 1990’s. It was, I believe, 1993. I had to make a long distance phone call to Salina to connect, and what I found on the web was not at all what is there now. Pretty much limited to text…reports, papers, statistics…one had to know exactly what one wanted because there was no search engine.
I thought it was extremely cool that my computer (probably a 386 processor running Windows 3.1 and 4mb of RAM) could actually connect with another and view files on that computer.
My, how we have grown. Or have we??

Amazing

I am amazed that anyone would second-guess a sitting President's decision (whichever party...they did this to Mr. Bush too) to travel abroad to conduct foreign policy. This second-guessing and President-bashing is based on economic data that is at best a flaky guess, and at worst, an outright lie. The fact is costs of Presidential trips are never released for public scrutiny. No one in the public really knows (and I, for one, don't care to know).
Security procedures are not decided by the President...they are decided by the Secret Service and cost the same regardless who is in office.
Recession or no, the foreign policy of this nation must be conducted. I'm certainly no expert on whether the President should go. I've not been privy to the daily briefings, the advice of counsel, the content of intelligence, or the communications of ambassadors, heads of state, and our own state department. Are you privy to that?
There have been scads of misinformation about the financial aspects of this trip. I'm tired of the lies and deceit from both sides. Is there anyone in the media who conducts his/her life with honor and dignity? Makes me want to go live under a bridge somewhere and "tune out".

Remembering

My sisters and I were talking (on Messenger) last night. The conversation turned to things medical in nature. I’ll not elaborate on the conversation except to say that it prompted me to think back to past experiences in my work in health care. The variety of experience I recalled surprised even me.
I was an EMT for 15 years. I also worked at two small, rural hospitals during that time. It’s a little difficult to explain, but in that environment, we did many different jobs with the overriding purpose being to provide the best patient care possible. It made little difference if I was an x ray tech, for example, or not. If they needed help in x ray, I often helped with the positioning of patients, working with films (they didn’t have digital images then), or whatever else needed to be done. It was just that kind of environment, and provided many opportunities for experiences not anticipated.
As an EMT on call (volunteer service), not only did we respond in the community, we were even sometimes paged to the hospital to help out in the emergency room or otherwise if the hospital was short of help. That was the hospital’s reservoir of “last resort” to find adequate staffing for whatever situation was presenting at the time.
I have performed CPR and bagged more people than I can count. I’ve started IV’s, calmed patients, suctioned, held traction, provided oxygen therapy, held hands, taken vital signs, provided assurance, and stopped bleeding. I’ve helped out in X Ray, lab, maintenance, pharmacy, central supply, sterilizing, dietary, housekeeping, the operating room, the ICU (when we had one), and on the patient floor. I’ve helped birth babies. I’ve worked in surgery. I’ve sat with dying patients. I’ve driven the ambulance…and provided patient care in the back of an ambulance. I’ve made blood runs. I’ve transported dead bodies. I’ve even set up and operated a makeshift morgue more than once at the hospital during a disaster.
I’ve announced code blues over the hospital’s public address system. I’ve announced codes over the public safety radio frequencies. I’ve responded to codes called over those radio frequencies. I’ve even called for a medical evac helicopter to airlift a patient to a facility.
Many of the most intense memories are those of patients who died while I was there. A fourteen year old girl going through town on a trip with her parents walked into the hospital complaining of a bad headache. She died an hour later in our ICU of a brain hemorrhage.
A man driving a truck going through town stopped complaining of chest pains. He died about 45 minutes later in that same ICU of a myocardial infarction.
We picked up an older gentleman in the ambulance and took him to the hospital. He was quickly diagnosed with a bleeding aneurism and was told (tactfully) he would be dead in an hour or less, that nothing could be done. He called his daughter, who came in. He was dead 45 minutes later.
Most of the people who were patients there, I knew. I knew that some families’ lives would forever be changed because of what was happening. I saw families cope, fracture, heal, love, deny, and triumph. I saw secrets made bare, hopes and dreams vanish, and miracles happen.
It was an amazing, wondrous time…one that has forever changed me and, I hope, one in which I was able to be the hands and feet of God as He worked in our world. I will ever and always cherish that time and trust that God now has me where He wishes me to be at this time in history. I am blessed.

Fact of Life

Tonight we gain back the hour we lost last spring. Or so it seems. Standard time once again will resurrect itself for a few brief months in the dead of winter, only to be replaced by daylight time next year. I don’t know how much things really change because of this man-made event, nor do I know how much it really affects the human internal clock. Some people say it is a chaotic time; others seem to slide through it with no thought.
I guess I’m really wondering just how many more of these time changes I’ll see. I’m not really old. However, I know I have many more years behind me than I have ahead of me, even if I live a normal life span. Increasingly, I see a kind of wall that is being built in my future, through which I’ll not go, and on the other side of which I’ll not see. I’m not the builder of the wall: time is.
There’s nothing macabre or melancholy about this line of thought, at least in my mind. It’s a fact of life and happens to everyone. I would think that one would be prepared as best as possible, and welcome the change from life in a broken world to life in perfection and peace. Of course, if one is not inclined to faith in Jehovah God, that future may not be readily apparent.
And, of course, there’s always the possibility that the men and women of faith who have inhabited history past are wrong. There may be no God. There may be no future. There may be no perfection and peace.
Much as I sometimes wonder, I choose to believe. I choose to look forward to a future of peace and security. I choose to look toward the answer to my faith. So, in a way, it doesn’t matter much how many more time changes I’ll see. The wall that is being erected in my future is only a temporary hold-back.
I don’t know all the details. And that’s OK, even though I admit it’s frustrating at times. All I need to know is that one day, time itself will go away, and whatever that looks like, I will be there in peace, safety, and security.

Some Observations

Oh, where to start? This weekend, we drove to Colorado Springs to see our niece and her family and take in an Air Force football game. The missus and I had gone to one other AF game a few years ago as guests of a retired Colonel, and enjoyed ourselves immensely. We got the opportunity to go again at the invitation of our niece, who is a Chief Master Sergeant stationed there. Our older son and his wife met us there. We had a great time with the family and at the game. However, there were some things I noticed that didn’t have much to do with either of those topics (family and game) that I’d like to share.

• I don’t know if stimulus money is buying all of the road construction in Southwest Kansas or not, but there’s money somewhere that’s buying all of the tearing up of the roadways and bridges.
• It hasn’t rained in awhile in Eastern Colorado. It shows.
• There isn’t much between Kit Carson and Colorado Springs. A couple of wide spots…Wild Horse, Yoder, Rush. And Ellicot has a convenience store. Other than that, it’s about 80 miles with no services. And not many people.
• I had almost forgotten just how black the night can be when there are no lights and no moon to foul it up.
• I had also forgotten that the air is noticeably thinner there, and it’s not hard to tell once you are there and exert just a little.
• There have been rumblings of the Academy favoring Christianity over other religions. As far as I can see (and from what my niece tells me…and she is in a position to know), they are bending over backwards and doing the splits to accommodate all religious faiths equally. Seems to me to be much ado about nothing…little people wanting to make a big splash.
• I was caught off guard a time or two when a cadet addressed me as “sir”. I sort of looked around to see who he was talking to…and it was me.
• If the traffic in our part of Colorado Springs was any indication, the economy is doing “real well” there. Either that or a lot of people are burning through savings and credit in order to drive.

And now, some things about the family.
• Big dogs are nice, but I’m glad Chief is staying out there instead of being with us (no offense, Chief).
• Having a daughter instead of a couple of sons would have been a “whole ‘nuther world” for us. I think I’m glad God gave us what He gave us (No offense, Kayla. I think I would have been thoroughly befuddled by girls.)
• Cole, there will come a time when your mother won’t let you entertain a friend who happens to be a girl at your house when your parents aren’t home…even for a few minutes. Enjoy it now while you can.
• Children are indeed a gift from God.

And now a couple of observations about the game.
• When F-16’s fly over at low altitude, then turn straight up and open the throttles, they rumble even your toenails and tonsils.
• Those F-16’s were only a few (5 to 10) seconds early for the flyover…amazing timing given their speed. (BTW, the official name for the F-16 Viper is the "Fighting Falcon".)
• Cadets on the march are an amazing sight.
• The falcon had his own mind following the working demonstration. “I’ll come back and let you pick me up when I’m ready,” he seemed to be saying. Way to go, falcon!
• The concessions were very reasonably priced…the parking was free…there were many people to guide those who were arriving and departing. Good job. KU could learn a lesson from them.
• Parachutes are so controllable nowadays, one can guide himself down to practically wherever he likes.
• The key of C is a horrid key in which to try to sing the National Anthem.
• The music emanating from the stadium speakers during “downtime” was even more horrid. Enough, already.
• Free tickets on the 40 yard line, free concessions, free parking…what else could one ask for? Thanks, Angie, for everything.

Grace to Live

Our church sponsored a fun night at one of the local elementary schools this past week. We provided hot dogs, chips, drinks, popcorn, and games for parents and kids to play. We went to help with the festivities, and as I often do, I stopped for a few minutes and just watched people as they went through the hot dog line.
Most all of the families were working class, and many were, it seemed, of the poorer working class. That is a reasonable assumption as the neighborhood is generally the same. Many were of an ethnic variety besides anglo, and there was a good mix of younger and older, male and female.
Many of the adults who were there seemed to show the strain of living and raising a family. There were very few frills, no foo-foo outfits (whatever they are), and there were a lot of grizzled, dirty hands and tired, worn faces. The kids were excited, loud, and expended energy at a phenomenal rate. (If we could only harness that energy, I think we could solve the energy crisis.)
I could only imagine some of the issues that the adults in line may have been dealing with at the moment. Lack of health care, out of a job, being evicted, working long hours for substandard pay, no food in the house, kids not doing well, grandma living with the family, older brother in jail…you name it…it came through that line that evening.
In spite of all of that, however, the parents (and grandparents, uncles, aunts, etc) came to the fun night. They brought their kids. They had, for a few minutes, some time when they didn’t have to worry about being safe or warm or fed.
My problems and issues pale in comparison to some of this, and pale even more to what I know some of my friends and loved ones are working with. The human spirit is as tough as nails. God grants to each of us the grace to live, love, and celebrate Him as we carry on in a fallen world…with the promise of a future that is beyond anything we can know or understand.

One More Political Writing

As I said on Facebook, I think I’ve figured out why I am so disappointed with politics and the elections this year. I’ve always wondered just why it is that I can’t seem to get enthused about a candidate these past several years, and I think I now know. It only took me umpteen years to figure this out, and maybe it doesn’t apply to you, but it sure does to me.
Republican and Democratic candidates both may say lots of words, but when they’re boiled down to the base stock, what they are saying is nothing more or less than the current Republican or Democratic lines, straight from the party. There are no independent thinkers, it seems, and no one who is courageous enough to be his or her own person. The parties both tell us that they welcome divergent views, but heaven help the candidate that treads outside the lines set by the party.
You may think the minor party candidates are better…not so. Libertarian, Reform, Tea Party, you name it, they spout the party line. Their ideas just seem to be a little kookier than the ones of the major parties, although no party has an exclusive hold on stupidity and knot-headedness.
Where is the individual who thinks for himself? Where is the person who has ideas never expressed by anyone else? Where is the woman or man who isn’t afraid to stand up and articulate a core belief rather than the party line?
I watched part of the Wisconsin senatorial debate tonight on C-SPAN between Senator Feingold and his Republican opponent. Although the Senator has a record of reaching across the aisle (McCain-Feingold legislation, for one), and for saying what he thinks, and voting not always in accordance with his party, he really didn’t have any new ideas, nor did he say anything that showed he thought for himself. His Republican opponent didn’t even answer some of the questions posed to him for fear of saying something out of line with Republican principles.
Call me cynical. Call me uninterested. Or call me sarcastic. I don’t care. I’m disappointed, and I’m angry. And I think I’m in the company of lots of others in this nation of ours. Who knows? But one thing I do know. I’ll vote this year even though I don’t want to, and even though I may have to hold my nose a time or two. Otherwise, I’d have no cause to gripe and complain as I do.

What They Are Made Of

For some time I’ve been wanting to take pictures of things around the house that have sentimental or family historic value, label them somehow, and write a brief summary of what it is and why it has value. My boys haven’t a clue what the story is behind many of these items and would just consider them to be old. They would probably discard or sell many of them.
Doing this will at least give them the story behind the item and allow them to make a more intelligent decision regarding keep or toss. It will also give me a chance to put some of my thoughts on paper, for whatever that is worth.
I decided yesterday that if I was going to do this, there was nothing like the present to start. I took my camera, checked the batteries, and began. Thinking I would have 20 to 25 photos, I started in the back yard with the “memorial weenie sticks”.
I took 71 photos, and know I am not finished yet. I am amazed at the number of things I found that have stories behind them, used to belong to an ancestor, or are important for some other reason. I’ve written a “commentary” about each photo after numbering the photo by using the number as the file name. As technology changes, I will have to migrate these to the newer formats. I can also just have prints made and print out the commentary, put it away, and tell the boys about it.
I don’t know the full story behind many of the things that are old to me and were handed down by my parents. I only know snippets and my memory may or may not be reliable. I am writing, however, what I think I know about the item, even if I may not be really sure of it. I think they need to know those thoughts that I have attached to the items. They can make their own decisions.
It’s been good to write this stuff down. I will probably review what I’ve written and add/subtract to/from it as we go on and as I recall more. I’m not certain how the boys will react, but hope they will appreciate it for what I intend it to be…a passing of history, not necessarily just things, to them for their appreciation. May they ever and always know and understand what they are made of.

Paying It Forward

I was working today in transportation instead of my regular job. We have a van we use to transport residents to doctor’s appointments, pick up new residents, etc. The regular person who does that needed the day off, and I substituted for her today.
It was a busy day. I made a total of ten pickups and deliveries today, most of which were fine-tuned in timing so I could just finish one and get to the next. Some were taking people to the doctor or to dialysis. There were some, though, that were pickups of new residents that had been dismissed from the hospital and needed further rehabilitation and care.
I was at one of the urban hospitals picking up an older gentleman. He had weakness on one side due to a CVA (stroke), and he had some other issues as well. Because of his weakness, he couldn’t sit in the wheelchair very well, nor could he maneuver into or out of his chair on his own. We had to use the lift to get him into the wheelchair so he could come to our place for rehab.
The man seemed at times to be somewhat confused as well. The combination of apparent confusion, listing to one side, and inability to sit in the chair straight made a prime opportunity for him to just tumble forward out of the chair. To help cope with that, he would tend to grab anything he could with his good hand and not let go willingly.
I got him into the elevator of the hospital and was on my way down when the car stopped to pick up another passenger. We then continued down to the first floor. By that time the resident had grabbed the handrail in the elevator car and was listing rather precariously to one side. The lady who was riding with us held the door open for us, and I worked with the man to get him to loosen his grip on the handrail as well as keep him sort of upright in the chair.
As I exited the car, the woman put her hand on my shoulder and said, “God bless you.”
I’m not sure what she was thinking, but I suspect she may have been thinking that I was taking home my dad to take care of him, or some such. She didn’t have any way of knowing, I think, that I would have him in my care for only a few more minutes.
However, I certainly appreciated her comment and compassion for me. It gave me a lift that lasted the rest of the day. I hope that sometime soon, in some situation, someone pays forward to her the gift she gave me today.

Tradition

“I like change better when everything stays the same!” So says, I believe, Archie Bunker in an episode of All In The Family. I and many others can certainly relate to Archie as he struggled to catch up with the times, while desperately wishing to maintain some semblance of tradition and what he would consider normalcy in his life.
“Fiddler On The Roof” has tradition as a main theme. Churches are steeped in tradition, as is government, the educational system, the military, and many other organizations. Tradition even rises to the stature of law or rule in the minds of many, even though nothing of that particular tradition was ever codified.
We attended a Kansas University football game yesterday. It’s not the first time I’ve been to a KU game, and KU isn’t the only college game I’ve attended. I’m not so much of a sports nut, though, as I am a student of people. I like to watch, as many do, the traditions that accompany a sporting event on a university campus. The release of the falcon at Air Force Academy games, the appearance of the KU band out of the stadium entrances, and many other traditions you can think of which are attached to such events are as much a part of the experience as the game itself.
I was thinking yesterday as I watched some of the tradition play out for the millionth time how even in this day when we have instant access to virtually anything via smart phones and the Internet, some things just don’t change. And if someone were to try to change some tradition at a college sporting event, I dare say the earth itself would move to swallow up the one trying to make that change.
Much as we like to think we’re progressive and open, there is a gene within us that longs for the familiar and the traditional. There is a longing within us for the time-honored and customary. There are some venues into which innovation, novelty, and improvement just aren’t invited.
And that’s OK.

Hope

I had a few minutes of free time this afternoon after calling a couple of Bingo games at work. I sat and visited with a lady from our church who is also a short term resident at our place. As we were visiting about this and that, an older lady who also is a resident sat down at the piano and started playing.
She was playing in (how shall I say) an evangelical protestant style similar to what one might hear in a Baptist church. And she was doing very well for her age (90 years or more old). She had lost her husband, a retired preacher, just 10 or so days ago. He had suffered with dementia for several years. They both moved here when they got just too frail to remain at home.
The first song she played was “Because He Lives”, written by Bill and Gloria Gaither. If you don't know the words to the song, you should. “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. Because He lives, all fear is gone. Because I know He holds the future; and life is worth the living just because He lives.”
I have to admit that I teared up a bit while she was playing that song. She's not always “with it” herself at 100%, but today at least, she knew, apparently, where her hope lay.
I saw a quiet strength and witness in this woman today that I've not seen before in her. I don't think I'll soon forget the evangelical musical recital I heard today.

Do It Again??

I was perusing a couple of blogs down here on my computer. The TV was on, and someone was singing. One of the lyrics caught my ear. It was, “I love life; I’d do it again.” I stopped perusing blogs and thought about that line. No, I would not say that. I don’t want to live life again. I like where I am at this time in this place, and look forward not only to the future here, but eternity.
I’m tired. I’ve worked for almost 45 years, earning money for myself and for my family. I’m ready to do something else. No, I’m not ready to give up and die. I have too many plans…too much on the hook…too much in mind to ever spend a lot of time in my easy chair. The kids are raised, we’re enjoying the grandkids, and we have more than enough of the basics of food, clothing, and shelter.
We have been, and are being blessed beyond compare. Why, in heaven’s name, would I want to go back and do it all again?

Louis

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.

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?

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.

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.