T ruly Seeing Others

 

A few days ago, I found out that a relative of mine, a cousin, has spent the past five years or so in an abusive relationship that culminated earlier this year in the suicide of the abuser during an attempt by law enforcement to take him into custody on outstanding warrants.  My cousin had married this man, who had managed to hide his abusive nature from both her and her parents and family during the courtship.  They had children together.  Now she is a divorced widow and her kids have no father.  Her life is not at all what she or the family envisioned some years ago.  Even with all of the trauma this man brought to her, she is grieving the multiple losses and trying to piece life back together for herself and her children.  It’s a herculean task.

That same day I received a call from a woman we have helped from time to time with food and other needs.  She has been in poor health recently, with uncontrolled diabetes, a mass in her brain, other medical issues, and is grossly overweight as well as disabled.  In that call, she informed me that she also had one leg that had swollen to twice normal and is infected.  She had gone to the emergency room, but was dismissed because no bed was available for her due to COVID.  Because no bed was available, she could not receive IV antibiotics.  She was given oral antibiotics instead which have to date not helped.  She has no transportation of her own and is dependent on others for pretty much everything.  She is not sure what to do and is going pretty much hour by hour, day by day.

I also got a call that day from another woman we help some who has been in the hospital on and off for a couple of weeks with uncontrolled diabetes.  They are wanting to move her to skilled care, but she doesn’t understand what that all entails, and was concerned that she might lose her apartment if she was in skilled care for several months.  And if she lost her apartment, she would have to go back on a waiting list for government subsidies and navigate the bureaucracy to try to find a home when she was released.  Meanwhile, she would be essentially homeless, possibly while in skilled care, with no place to store her personal items.

She has some cognitive and mental processing difficulties, and in all probability the social worker who talked with her didn’t know that and didn’t explain things to her level of understanding.  We assured her that skilled care was a temporary thing, usually just two or three weeks, and that she could keep her apartment.  Another member offered to see that her rent was paid for September.  She seems to have a better understanding now, but is still apprehensive.

These stories are just three of the many that I hear regularly.  People who for whatever reason are falling behind in life in some way…financially, emotionally, or physically.  Some have only fallen a short distance, and with some effort and help get back on their feet.  Others have become what some would call a “train wreck,” and the way out for them is dark and virtually unattainable without a massive infusion of capital and resources.  Many times, no amount of resources, financial and otherwise, are enough to mold that person into what society expects.  There’s just too much damage that has been done in terms of abusive relationships, childhood neglect, lack of proper education, cultural upbringing, inability to adequately mentally process one’s circumstance, physical disability, lack of cognitive ability, and sometimes what many would call just plain bad luck.

It is these people…the people behind stories such as these…that I most think about and am concerned for.  I encounter these people in my work with the church.  Each time I leave such an encounter I am amazed and bewildered by the massiveness of the issues they face daily…hourly.  They battle constantly to stay alive, to keep their nose above water, and to provide for whatever family they may have.  They navigate the often byzantine labyrinth of government aid programs and bureaucracies.  They endure the indignity of being refused help by non-profits and NGO’s because they don’t meet some qualification or have some kind of paperwork.

They are constantly on the search for help for the immediate need…today…this afternoon…never having the time, energy, or wherewithal to even begin to think of future need or future plans.  Their long-term outlook stops at or before the end of the day that they are living.  Tomorrow is just a distant fog, and safety, security, basic needs met, and good health are pipedreams that serve only to amplify their present situation in their minds.  With me, those future visions are inviting and anticipated…pleasant thoughts of the future.  With them, the future consists of sinister apparitions that torture and put down rather than being a pleasant call to action to achieve.

I admit that even with several years of doing this, I have no idea how these people make their way from one day to the next, let alone one month or year to the next.  I can’t imagine how they think or plan.  I have no clue what motivates these people to live even into the next hour, nor do I have any comprehension of just how incredibly difficult life is for them.  Yet when I interact with them, for the most part they are pleasant, caring, asking about me and my well-being, and appear to be at least somewhat content to have made it as far in life as they have.  They have survived.  Against almost incredible and overpowering odds, they have survived.  They can truly be called survivors.

We in the middle and upper classes don’t have a clue.  We don’t now and never will fully understand.  We cavalierly take for granted the incredible blessings we have been given.  We somehow believe we deserve those blessings, and complain loudly if any one disappears for even a short time.  We are selfish and petty.  We are greedy and covetous.

I have to wonder what would happen if we lived in the shoes of a Rocky, Arlene, Rachel, or Bobby…real people I know who live what I’ve described every day…every hour.  May we repent of our arrogance, pride, and greed.  May we see others as Jesus himself sees them…precious souls of infinite value.

Blessings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Was I Deprived?

 

This is the time of year when all kinds of “back to school” photos and posts converge on social media.  Kids are decked out in new outfits and backpacks, and have hair combed, teeth brushed, and are on their best behavior…at least for however long it takes to take the obligatory photo in front of the house or school.

Moms, and even some Dads if you really want to know, post about shedding some tears at how quickly the kids grow.  They also are thankful that someone else will be looking out for them for awhile during the day.  They welcome them home if they rode the bus or walked, or they make certain they are there in the pickup line when they are dismissed for the day, asking them about their day and all that happened.  It’s really a big deal for both parent and child.

I also see moms, dads, grandparents and others at the Little League games, both baseball and softball, in the later summer months on TV.  They are waving flags, holding signs, cheering on their kid and their team, and doing all they can to sway the game results from their place in the stands.  They are supportive of their kids to the max, and it’s heartening to see.

I realize that the societal environment sixty years ago is not the same as today, but I don’t recall it being that way with me when I was that age.  When I came along…number 3 of 6, going to school was routine.  The first day of school wasn’t much different from all of the other days.  No photos.  No send-offs.  I don’t know if there were tears or not, but I suspect there was more the gratefulness that someone else was watching over me for awhile during the day than there was sadness at how quickly I was growing.

Mom and Dad did attend many of my school activities, including concerts, plays, and other events.  I never was very sports-minded, so didn’t do much of that.  But I did like to sing and later play in the band, both junior high and high school.  We didn’t talk much about the concerts, plays and the like though, either before or after, and they were just sort of like everything else…just sort of the routine.  I think there wasn’t even any comment my Junior year when our choral teacher, who loved musicals, had her show choir (which I was a member of) dance, sing, and act their way through several numbers taken from musical productions.

They attended my Eighth grade graduation, but never brought a camera.  They asked a friend from church if they would snap a photo of me getting my diploma…which the friend did, but since it was an old-style film camera, it was a double exposure and not worth anything.  Nor did they bring a camera to my high school graduation even though I graduated with honors and was a member of the National Honor Society.  There were no graduation parties, dinners, or the like.  Just the acknowledgement that I was going into another phase of life and living.

So, was I a deprived child?  Well, in some ways, one might reasonably hold that opinion.  After all, my folks never made a big deal out of pretty much anything I did.  It was just sort of expected that I do my best, and grind out everything I did as best I could.  There were never any big parties, photographic sessions, or grand to-do’s.  It was just life and living.

On the other hand, I had all I needed…I had food, clothing, shelter, family, friends, an education, religious training, and all the rest.  I had both a mother and a dad.  And even though it was difficult for them to express emotion toward me and the other kids having to do with parental love, acceptance and encouragement, once in awhile the barriers broke down and that came through.

At the time I wondered if they really loved me or just tolerated me because I was their kid.  Looking back, I see their attempts at demonstrating love through their provision and work toward keeping the family unit humming along.  Times were difficult then, and we often were just a few days away from not having basics rather than having.  I’m sure that more than once they retired for the night wondering what the next day would bring…praying that we all would be taken care of somehow.  But they persevered, worked tirelessly for us…that is the family…and showed their love through what they did for us rather than what they said to us.

And as I look back, having known many of their siblings, parents (my grand parents), and other ancestors in each family, I can see where their matter-of-fact ideas of parenting and family came from.  The frontier of the later 1800’s, the flu epidemic of the 1910’s, premature death in the families, WWI, the dust bowl, the Great Depression, WWII, Korea, the mini dust bowl and drought of the 1950’s…these tragic events and others served to mold them into people who were matter-of-fact, working class, persevering people who much of the time, it seems, slogged through their days working and providing as best they knew how, trusting in God for strength and wisdom.

So in total, I see no deprivation.  It was a different time…a different era.  Even though I don’t have a single good photo of any of my first days of school, or either my eighth grade or high school graduation, I see love, manifested in food, clothing, shelter, training, educational opportunity, health, family, and God.  And I am blessed beyond measure.  Sometimes, one needs to look at the half full glass rather than the half empty one and just count his blessings.

Back to School

 This is the time of year when all kinds of “back to school” photos and posts converge on social media.  Kids are decked out in new outfits and backpacks, and have hair combed, teeth brushed, and are on their best behavior…at least for however long it takes to take the obligatory photo in front of the house or school.

Moms, and even some Dads if you really want to know, post about shedding some tears at how quickly the kids grow.  They also are thankful that someone else will be looking out for them for awhile during the day.  They welcome them home if they rode the bus or walked, or they make certain they are there in the pickup line when they are dismissed for the day, asking them about their day and all that happened.  It’s really a big deal for both parent and child.

I also see moms, dads, grandparents and others at the Little League games, both baseball and softball, in the later summer months on TV.  They are waving flags, holding signs, cheering on their kid and their team, and doing all they can to sway the game results from their place in the stands.  They are supportive of their kids to the max, and it’s heartening to see.

I don’t recall it being that way with me, however.  When I came along…number 3 of 6, going to school was routine.  The first day of school wasn’t much different from all of the other days.  No photos.  No send-offs.  I don’t know if there were tears or not, but I suspect there was more the gratefulness that someone else was watching over me for awhile during the day than there was sadness at how quickly I was growing.

Mom and Dad did attend many of my school activities, including concerts, plays, and other events.  I never was very sports-minded, so didn’t do that.  But I did like to sing and later play in the band, both junior high and high school.  We didn’t talk much about the concerts, plays and the like though, either before or after, and they were just sort of like everything else…just sort of the routine.  I think there wasn’t even any comment my Junior year when our choral teacher, who loved musicals, had her show choir (which I was a member of) dance, sing, and act their way through several numbers taken from musical productions.

They attended my Eighth grade graduation, but never brought a camera.  They asked a friend from church if they would snap a photo of me getting my diploma…which the friend did, but since it was an old-style film camera, it was a double exposure and not worth anything.  Nor did they bring a camera to my high school graduation even though I graduated with honors and was a member of the National Honor Society.  There were no graduation parties, dinners, or the like.  Just the acknowledgement that I was going into another phase of life and living.

So, was I a deprived child?  Well, in some ways, one might reasonably hold that opinion.  After all, my folks never made a big deal out of pretty much anything I did.  It was just sort of expected that I do my best, and grind out everything else as best I could.  There were never any big parties, photographic sessions, or grand to-do’s.  It was just life and living.

On the other hand, I had all I needed…I had food, clothing, shelter, family, friends, an education, religious training, and all the rest.  I had both a mother and a dad.  And even though it was difficult for them to express emotion toward me and the other kids having to do with parental love, acceptance and encouragement, once in awhile the barriers broke down and that came through.

At the time I wondered if they really loved me or just tolerated me because I was their kid.  Looking back, I see their attempts at demonstrating love through their provision and work toward keeping the family unit humming along.  Times were difficult then, and we often were just a few days away from not having basics rather than having.  I’m sure that more than once they retired for the night wondering what the next day would bring…praying that we all would be taken care of somehow.  But they persevered, worked tirelessly for us…that is the family…and showed their love through what they did for us rather than what they said to us.

And as I look back, having known many of their siblings, parents (my grand parents), and other ancestors in each family, I can see where their matter-of-fact ideas of parenting and family came from.  The frontier of the later 1800’s, the flu epidemic of the 1910’s, premature death in the families, WWI, the dust bowl, the Great Depression, WWII, Korea, the mini dust bowl of the 1950’s…these tragic events and others served to mold them into people who were matter-of-fact, working class, persevering people who much of the time, it seems, slogged through their days working and providing as best they knew how, trusting in God for strength and wisdom.

So in total, I see no deprivation.  Even though I don’t have a single good photo of any of my first days of school, or either my eighth grade or high school graduation, I see love, manifested in food, clothing, shelter, training, educational opportunity, health, family, and God.  And I am blessed beyond measure.

Monday Morning

 

Monday morning as I was driving into work, I had the radio in my pickup on the NPR station as it usually is in the mornings.  Of course, the situation in Afghanistan was on, and there was much consternation, much talk of what will happen now with the Taliban in control, and much ado about the international response, the swiftness of the takeover, and all of the other that goes along with this tragic situation.

I had been following the news most of late Sunday afternoon and evening, so I already knew much of what they were discussing Monday morning.  The news was not good, and I was already in a sort of depressed state from the news on Sunday…so hearing a repeat of it all on the radio just reinforced my depressive mood Monday morning.

Before I go on, you need to know that what I am about to say in no way is intended to diminish or dismiss the tragic and horrific events of these years of war, nor any of the disastrous, dreadful, and heart-rending events to come.  People have died horrible deaths, and people will continue to tragically lose their lives.  Families, towns, and indeed whole societies will be uprooted.  Women and girls will be especially vulnerable, and the nation and the society will be chaotic at best for some time to come.

Those who serve in various national militaries have given their lives, health, and well-being for what appears to be an abject failure diplomatically, militarily, and societally.  The lives and families of these men and women who have served and are serving are forever changed.  People have loved ones and family who are trapped in the country with no way out.  I’m sure basic necessities either are or soon will be in short supply or non-existent.

Most of us have no comprehension of the terror, stress, and fear that many people in that nation are experiencing right now.  Too many of us offer our opinions on what we believe should have been done or should be doing now…those opinions are made in ignorance without much factual basis and have little to no value.  We are not privy to the intelligence briefings, the diplomatic efforts, the clandestine meetings between opposing factions, the surveillance data, the discussions in the Oval Office, and all of the other.  We don’t relate.  We don’t experience.  We don’t know.

Well, I say all of that to say, as I get back to my point, that I grew very weary that morning of hearing the news about Afghanistan and decided I needed an attitude adjustment before I got into the office.  I knew I’d be pretty much worthless if I didn’t do something.  So I punched the CD button on my radio and the CD that was already loaded started playing.  Carrie Underwood’s hymns CD was playing, and I heard words that gave me some perspective as I drove to the office.

“Blessed assurance; Jesus is mine.  Heir of salvation, purchase of God.  Great is Thy faithfulness.  Great is Thy faithfulness.  Morning by morning new mercies I see.  Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.  Because He lives, all fear is gone.  Because I know He holds the future.  Come home.  Come home.  Ye who are weary, come home.”

These words changed my reality from one of the here and now to one that encompasses the eons from beginning to end.  God is bigger than Afghanistan.  God is bigger than the Taliban.  God is bigger than the awful events that war inevitably brings.  There so much more to life and living than opining in ignorance on what should have been done in Afghanistan.  For the Christian, there is still hope.  There is still God who loves.  There is still contentment in whatever situation one may find himself.  There is still a peace that passes all understanding.  And for the Christian, life is worth the living just because He lives.

 

May God bless you today and give you peace.

One...Human...Being...At...A...Time

 

I had just gotten to work yesterday when the buzzer at the office door sounded.  I opened the intercom and asked if I could help.  The woman said she’d like to visit with a pastor.  I told her I would be there in just a minute, put away what I was doing, and went to the door.  I recognized the woman as someone we had helped a couple of years ago with a utility bill, although I couldn’t recall any details, and certainly couldn’t remember her name.  I never meet with a woman in the office when I’m the only one there, but since another minister was present in the office area, I asked her to come in and we went into my office to visit.

 She was in need of another utility bill to be paid.  Since we had helped her last time, she obtained work, bought a house with the help of her father co-signing the loan, and was getting back on track.  She had a temporary setback at work, losing one of her clients…she’s a home care aide…and for now was only working about 25 hours a week.  She anticipated being back to full time shortly, however.

 We visited a bit, caught up on things, and as she met our guidelines, I agreed to help her with her bill.  She also mentioned needing gas in her vehicle to get to and from the work she had.  So after arranging for the utility payment, we met at the nearby QuickTrip and I began to fill her tank.

 While I was doing that, I noticed an older woman walking in the parking lot.  Mary was her name.  Mary is homeless, and a frequent visitor to the church office.  She usually asks for water, some food, and so on, is friendly, and we consider her to be one of our “outdoor friends”.  She is, she says, my age, but looks much older.  Her lifestyle has taken a toll on her physical appearance.

 She told me that someone had stolen some of her belongings the night before, but she was doing OK.  She had a QuickTrip coffee cup and told me that yesterday’s coffee was in it.  We visited a bit and I gave her a couple of dollars for fresh coffee, gave her a brief hug, and sent her on her way.  She went on a few yards and sat in the shade with three men younger than she, which is where she was when I left the premises.  I don’t know if she got coffee or not.  It doesn’t matter.  What mattered was our visit and connection in the QuickTrip parking area.

 Also while I was filling the woman’s tank, Nathan, another frequent visitor to the office, happened to drive up in his vehicle.  Nathan isn’t homeless, but has been on the brink of falling into that pit for several years.  Each time, though, he manages to stay just above water.  He’s old enough now to receive Social Security, which is what is keeping him from living on the streets.  His check, though, often goes for things other than food, clothing, and housing,  Even though he tries hard to make things work, he sometimes succumbs to behavior that isn’t the best for him.  I finished filling the woman’s tank and turned my attention to Nathan.

 Even though life hasn’t been good for Nathan and given that he was showing more wear and tear than normal for a man in his mid-60’s, I was surprised at Nathan’s appearance.  He was coughing, appeared somewhat gaunt & thin, and was having some difficulty breathing.  Maintaining my distance, I offered to fill his tank as well, and asked him how he was.  He admitted to having some health issues, said he was tested for COVID a couple of weeks ago, and the test came back negative.  We visited a little more while his tank was filling, and I urged him to go get checked out again, and even if the COVID test was negative, to have a provider see him for his cough and trouble breathing.  He said he would…I finished filling his tank…and he left.

 Having finished my business there, I left as well, thinking about my interactions with all three of these people.  Mary, in all probability, will be perpetually homeless, and will most likely die on the street, possibly due to injuries suffered in an attack of some kind.  Nathan, if he doesn’t quickly get his body back on track, is traveling toward some kind of disability such as COPD, cancer, or liver disease.  He may already be suffering from something like that and just doesn’t know it.  His family, what I know if it, is not especially helpful to him.

 The woman who initially came to the office is literally one minor setback away from losing the battle to stay afloat, especially if additional work does not come her way.  She is overweight, doesn’t walk well, and even though she has what I consider to be a good attitude and desire to get ahead, probably will not be able to do so without making substantial changes in her life and living arrangements.  Her son and daughter live with her and help out some with the bills, but they aren’t earning much either, and together the three of them have more need than they have resources.

 The overriding question I asked myself as I drove back to the church building was, “How in heaven’s name are we supposed to help these people with what they really need?”  In the first place, I don’t even know what they really need.  In the second place, if I did know, I wouldn’t know where to send them or what to do to help them fill that need.  And in the third place, the cost of meeting the need would be more than we as a church or individuals could ever bear.

 All of this gets back to the original question of how are we supposed to help.  And I concluded by thinking that what we as a church did for these people…the gasoline, the utility help, the coffee money, and perhaps most importantly, listening to them & validating their dignity and worth as persons…that’s what we can do.  And so we do it and do it to the best of our ability, in the name of Jesus Christ, with a generous heart and compassionate attitude.  We do what we can with what we have…one…human…being…at…a…time. 

You and I can’t fix the world.  Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Jeff Bezos, and Elon Musk can’t together fix the world.  But we can do what we can do…one person at a time using what God has given us.

 May the blessings you receive from God be multiplied as you in turn give to others.

Medicare, et al

 My wife and I are both working.  She happens to work for an organization that has good benefits in the health care area, so I have been riding on her insurance for several years, including years that I could have been on Medicare.  I did sign up for part A when it became available to me, but refused part b, drug coverage, and so on.

Now with her retirement coming in a year or so, I am working to get on full Medicare well before my benefits under her employment cease.  To that end, I’ve been talking with SHICK volunteers (SHICK is the Senior Health Insurance Counseling for Kansas program) I’ve been talking with them about how to enroll, the rules and regulations, what I can expect, etc.  By the way, SHICK volunteers in Kansas are knowledgeable, well-trained, easy to speak with, and best of all the service is no charge.

I’ve also done research with several different companies that offer supplemental health coverage including the newer Medicare Advantage plans that one hears so much about on TV at certain times of the year.

In the end, after a year of thought and consideration, I’ve decided to enroll in traditional Medicare part B along with drug coverage, a supplemental plan, and a dental plan.  That decision, however, and its implementation, was not without some angst and a little bureaucratic slowness.

I won’t get into the details, but when one signs up for old age insurance, one practically needs a crystal ball to be able to read the future.  Because, with few exceptions, once one has made a decision on the kind of coverage he or she will have, it cannot be changed, or at a minimum can be changed with financial penalties attached.  Will I need many hospitalizations?  Will I have to take a name-brand medication at some point in the future instead of generic?  Will I need skilled care?  Am I better off to have dental insurance or pay the dentist cash when I need something done?  Is the network I’m signing up for adequate for my needs?  Are my providers in-network for the insurance I am considering?  What happens if I have an emergency when I travel out of state or out of network?  And with these questions are a host of other questions along with multiple places to find answers.

And then there’s the bureaucracy.  Having to work with the Social Security office to sign up for part B, I had to do so the old fashioned way…with paper.  And with COVID, there was no in-person counseling by a Social Security worker.  And no on-line for Part B sign-up.  Sending the paperwork in by mail, I waited a couple weeks without comment from them.  I called.  My paperwork was incomplete, I was told, and they were waiting on the information needed.  Of course, it would have helped had they notified me that the information was missing in the first place.  Sending in the corrected form by FAX (yes, they still have those things), I waited another couple of weeks with no word.  Contacting them again, I was told that they hadn’t worked the FAX’es yet and to be patient.  The actual comment was, the person hadn’t picked up the faxes yet.  Say what?

Contacting them yet again a few weeks later, I was asked to hold the phone after a 20 minute wait to talk to a live person, to whom I explained my situation.  Twenty five minutes on hold after the initial conversation, that person came back on the line, told me he found the form in a stack of papers, walked it through the approval process for me, and I was all set.  Incredulous, I asked him what else I needed to do.  He said “nothing…you’re good to go.”  A few days later, I got the approval letter in the mail.  May that man who did that for me be forever blessed !!

Now that I have part B coverage, I was able to complete the process by signing up for the supplemental, the drug plan, and the dental plan.  I should be well-insured now.

 The one thing that stood out for me during this several month ordeal is, how do people successfully navigate this system who may not have the health care background I have, don’t know about the SHICK volunteers, or don’t have the boldness to call, check on, complain, and generally be a pest until things are done to one’s satisfaction?

How many people are taken in by shysters who hawk substandard insurance policies, sign people up for multiple unneeded policies, or take the money without giving anything in return?  How many know that the Kansas Insurance Commissioner is on their side and will advocate for them in the event of an issue with an insurance company?  How many people don’t understand that when they sign up for a particular plan, there are restrictions on what kind of changes they can make in the future?  How many understand that their medical provider may well NOT be in network for their particular plan and know that they need to check on that before they sign up for a plan that sounds too good to be true (like the one that says they pay you to sign up and send a check to you every month thereafter)?  The list goes on…

 I don’t know how they could make this process any more difficult and taxing.  I think they managed to hit all of the “buttons of difficulty” in this menagerie of rules, policies, paperwork, and decisions to be made.  Thank heaven for the Kansas SHICK volunteers, and thanks be to the man who shepherded my part B application away from the stack of paperwork and through the process of approval.  May you be so fortunate when it comes time for you to sign up.

 Blessings…

Rebecca

 

Good morning.  It’s Thursday again.

 Rebecca, a good friend and former classmate, corresponds regularly with me by email.  We grew up in the same small town, which means that I knew her family well, and she knew mine.  Intelligent, ambitious, and a truly kind person, Rebecca and I had a sort of friendly rivalry going on in school in terms of grades.  It seems that she usually won that rivalry, but it was all good-natured.

Recently, she suffered the loss of an older sister to cancer and a younger brother to a sudden stroke.  Her mom passed away a few years ago, and her dad has been gone for some time.  She also lost her last uncle recently.  And her husband lost his aunt at the same time as all of this other was happening to her.

She wrote to me talking of traveling to Kansas recently to attend the services for both her brother and sister, as well as her husband’s aunt.  At the end of the paragraph she said, “I can’t stand any more losses.”

The kicker to all of this is that Rebecca has for over 20 years been battling multiple sclerosis, an insidious and debilitating autoimmune neurological ailment that causes gradual weakening and disabling of body functions.  Using a walker is difficult for her, as are many of the activities of daily living.  The medications that help suppress the out-of-control immune system also allow other illnesses to thrive that otherwise may have been controlled or eliminated before they could take hold.  I suspect that just getting out of bed and facing the day is a herculean challenge much of the time.

Rebecca told me in the last couple of sentences of her email that, “I thought I could unwind to you…I promise that my next message will be far more upbeat.”

 

I tell this story in order to give you a couple of observations.

On days when I’m feeling less than optimal, which is happening more and more frequently nowadays, I sometimes think about Rebecca and the constant level of pushback she has to give in order to just get through the day.  I can’t imagine the amount of resolve it must take for her to get out of bed and try to have a somewhat normal day.  Nor can I imagine what it must take for her husband and others to care for her and help her with her needs.  Sometimes when I would like to have a pity party for myself, I think of Rebecca and others like her that I know.  That’s all it usually takes.

Second, I really don’t mind being someone who others feel like they can “unwind” to.  I’m getting better, I think, at listening.  And I believe that I can, when asked, most times offer some kind of encouragement.  Sometimes people need someone else that they can confide in, unload on, or as Rebecca said, “unwind to.”

You may be one of those people who others have felt comfortable unwinding to.  You may think that your listening to them doesn’t really accomplish much and is such a small thing; however, in our individualistic society, people are desperate for a relationship where they feel comfortable talking about life and living.  I continue to be amazed at the loneliness many people suffer in a world where they are surrounded by others and have an almost all-consuming desire to actually connect and communicate with another human.  The need for connection is often as strong as the need for food and water.  If you can help fill that need, lower your personal space walls, open your ears, your heart, and your soul…be that connection.

And when you feel like feeling sorry for yourself because of a minor ache, pain, or setback, think of others instead.  Pray for and if possible with them.  Encourage them.  Help them with a need they may have.  Find some way to serve someone else.  Give of yourself.

Have a blessed day today.

Savoring Time

 

Good morning.  I trust your day has begun well, and will end well.

 

As you know, last weekend was the annual Memorial Day celebration.  Many probably used the long weekend as a time to go to the lake, travel, or just relax.   Some used the weekend for its intended purpose…remembering those who have given their lives in service to the nation, and by extension remembering those of our families who have gone before.  The Plank family did some of both, as we usually do.  We visited several cemeteries, placing flowers and plants at the appropriate markers.  We visited about ancestors, recalling their service, their relationship to us, and telling stories about them.

We also gathered together as a family…32 of us by one count…all together.  Yes, it was raining for much of the day.  And so it was a good thing we gathered at a 5 bedroom ranch-style home with a full basement that was on about 3 acres of land with outbuildings and garages where we could be together.  We brought food, ate, told stories, played indoor games, and generally had a good day.

The other thing about the day on Monday was that it was the last day of the month of May.  That may seem to be a non-thing to you, but to me anyway, it was the recognition of the swiftness of the passing of the days.  May, 2021 is in the history books.  And before we know it, June will be gone, followed by July…then August.  The birthdays are coming entirely too quickly at this stage of life…I don’t have that many more to celebrate, and they’re coming all too fast for my liking.

As a child, I thought summers were pretty much endless.  School was out in mid-May, and there were endless days of childhood activities before having to go back to school in the fall.  But, as I got older, those days seemed to go by more and more quickly until now, it seems like those few days of summer quickly give way to fall and winter.  And in the process, one more birthday is marked off the calendar.

In less than three weeks, the sun will be at its most northern point in the sky, and the summer solstice will occur.  That means that the sun will then begin its travel back to the south, eventually bringing the onset of cooler weather and the winter.  It used to be, in my mind anyway, that the time between the equinoxes and solstices…about 90 days…was a long time.  Anymore, those days fly by with hardly time to recognize that they’ve come and gone.

So, as you go through your daily routine this day, stop for just a few minutes, get quiet, and savor the passage of time.  Maybe you will be in a place where you can hear a clock ticking off the seconds.  We have a grandfather clock we can hear in our house.  And if it’s quiet enough in my office, I can hear my wall clock tick the seconds as the second hand goes around.

Normally, this might be a place where I would insert words of vast wisdom and comfort.  However, I have no such words for you now.  Those words just aren’t coming to mind…rather, I’m hearing the ticking of the wall clock as it counts off the seconds…minutes…and hours in the day.  And I’m working on doing that savoring I mentioned a minute or so ago.  Sometimes that’s harder to do than it might seem.

It seems that right now, instead of savoring, I’m thinking of all of the things I haven’t had the time to do in the past few days…how I’m going to work those things in the next few days…and how many of those things may not get done at all.

Oh well, the thought of “savoring” was good, even if the implementation has been somewhat lacking.

May you receive blessing in abundance this day from the One who created time…and gives us the opportunities to make the most of the time we’ve been given.

Memorial Day Thoughts

 

This coming weekend, the nation will be celebrating Memorial Day.  Years ago, it was always on May 30, but the Congress in 1971 changed the observance of the holiday to the last Monday in May.  This has resulted in a three-day weekend for many of us who work for a living, and has changed how we celebrate the day.

Yes, we still honor those who are deceased, especially veterans of our nation’s military services.  However, we also take short trips, have cook-outs, go to the lake, and do many things having nothing to do with the observance of the day itself.  In fact, Memorial Day has become known as the unofficial start to summer, since many schools have dismissed for the summer by the time the holiday rolls around, and it’s usually warmer and more summer-like by that time as well.  Meteorological summer is also usually marked as the months of June, July, and August, lending more credence to the idea of the beginning of summer.

This year, we will do what we have done for many years.  We will visit the cemeteries where both the Planks and the Vincents are interred, and we will gather as an extended family at one of our homes…this year at our son’s place just outside of Wichita.  We’ll have a cookout, bring side dishes, play games, visit, watch the kids, and generally enjoy the day.  I’ll probably make my “famous” potato salad.  The wife will probably make her “famous” chocolate sheet cake.  We may bring the homemade ice cream freezer filled with frozen goodness, and might even have a couple of surprise items for the family to dine on.

I can recall Memorial Days when it was so cold one had to have a coat on to be outside.  Others have been rainy, muddy messes.  Some have been hotter than the norm.  And a few have been, as the baby bear said long ago, “Just right.”  I don’t know what the upcoming day holds, although the long range weather forecast isn’t bad right now.  But regardless, we’ll gather as a family, reminisce, and celebrate.

As one with a Mennonite background, I don’t have many among my ancestors who have served in the military.  Mennonites, as you may or may not know, generally espouse pacifism along with service to others through programs like the VISTA program, Americorps, and other similar national service programs.

I do have some who have served as combat medics and in other non-combatant ways, and my wife has many relatives who have served in the military in several capacities.  We honor them all as they have devoted a good chunk of their younger lives in service to the nation, regardless of their branch of service or when and where they served.

We need a military that is ready and able to defend us.  We might have a discussion about just what it means for us to be ready and able, and how much that should cost, but the fact is that from time immemorial, nations have had to raise some kind of military in order to assure a measure of peace and tranquility for themselves.  Equally so, nations and their more local governments need police agencies of some kind to maintain the public order and enforce the law.  Again, we might have a discussion on just what that agency looks like, how it functions, and what it costs, but the fact is we need police departments of all kinds to maintain some kind of societal order and peace.

So, while Memorial Day is often a time for relaxation, family gatherings, and the like, it is also a time for sober reflection…reflection on those who have offered…and in many cases given…the ultimate sacrifice for this nation, this society…for you.  This weekend, do your part.  Just stop for a few minutes and reflect on the true meaning of the holiday.  May your weekend be one that is relaxing, fulfilling, and peaceful…because of those who have and continue to serve this society, watching out for our good.

Backyard Thoughts

 

As I often have done this spring and prior years, I've taken advantage of the nice weather and our back patio, sitting in a comfortable chair, watching the goings-on in Pawnee Prairie Park, which is immediately behind us.  We are on the back side of the park, but there is a developed trail about fifty feet behind our back fence that is used regularly and often.  Additionally, there is an entrance to the park about a hundred feet away that is used a lot by the neighborhood.  As I sit either on my lawn chair or on the glider swing, I notice the people  who pass by.  Young, old, men, women, kids, dogs, the occasional skateboard, bicycle, and even folks on horses go by.  Some are walking.  Others are running, jogging, bicycling, skating, and in even one case awhile back, unicycling.

Some are keeping fit.  Others are out to exercise their dogs.  Still others make it a family outing with dogs, kids, and the adults.  Some younger people are running, I think, because they are in some kind of high school or college sport and are keeping in shape.  It's a kind of eclectic bunch that go by our back yard...all sizes, weights, ages, genders, ethnicities, and whatever else might describe a very diverse group of humans.  Generally, they follow the rule of no motorized vehicles in the park, although sometimes the occasional moped or gasoline-powered bike makes it in.

As I watch people go by, I often wonder, especially when I see a young couple, a couple with a young family, or perhaps teens, what their older days will be like.  Many of those people will see the 2080's, 2090's, and even the turn of the century, depending on longevity and a host of other factors too numerous to mention here.  I see a good number of these same young people looking at their phones as they walk, using earbuds of some kind as they exercise, and even some doing the old-fashioned thing of visiting and talking with each other.  And I have to wonder just what it will be like for them, just as I wondered in the 1960's just what it would be like in 2000, 2010, and beyond.

I'll not speculate here on what technology, medical advances, transportation advances, and the development of alternate energy sources might be.  And space travel?  Well, we just have no idea, really, about any of this stuff.  So much depends on the condition of the world society in general, and individual societies in particular.  A lot rests on global warming, or lack thereof.  And, of course, things such as pandemics, revolutions, and the continuing specter of nuclear annihilation cause us to give pause to speculating on the future.

I really wonder if the post-Christian era will persist, or perhaps morph into something more sinister.  Or perhaps anti-Christian and anti-religion feelings will moderate or perhaps the pendulum will begin to swing the other way.

These young people are going into a future that is totally unknown, unknowable, and precarious to say the least.  Of course, the same could be said for any era of the past; however, it seems to me that as fast as the world is moving...as quickly as information multiplies nowadays...as much as those in charge of things refuse to look at the long term and concentrate instead on looking good and prospering in the short run...it bothers me to think that these young people are going to be the ones who will have to cope with whatever we older folks  have laid the foundation for, yesterday and today.

If God gives me length of days, I'll be lucky to see 2040.  In many ways, I'm content to NOT live until 2100...to not see the long term effects of some of the disastrous decisions we as a society and a world have already made and are being carried out.  I think there is wisdom in the plan of God to cause an eventual end of years in the current creation.  But I am concerned for those who will go after us...especially my children, grand children, and others I know and love who are young enough to see many more decades of life.

You may think I'm being overly-pessimistic and am really down on life and the future.  I'm not.  There may well be a renaissance of sorts and a social and spiritual awakening either sooner or later.  It's happened before, and can well happen again.  I am, however, trying to be realistic as we continue to interact with our own kids and are also present to be some influence on our grand kids.  They need to know that the future may indeed be unicorns and bunnies.  But they also need to know that the future could hold some of the more ominous things that have plagued mankind for untold centuries.  And they won't be immune just because of technological and scientific advances and knowledge.

So I pray for peace, tranquility, and quietness of life, just as Paul the Apostle told Timothy.  “Pray this way for kings and all who are in authority so that we can live peaceful and quiet lives marked by godliness and dignity.”  In times of the Roman Empire, this statement by Paul to Timothy is all the more exceptional.  And it applies equally to us as we all live out the length of days given by our Creator, whether those be short or long.

Future Holdings

 

As I often have done this spring and prior years, I've taken advantage of the nice weather and our back patio, sitting in a comfortable chair, watching the goings-on in Pawnee Prairie Park, which is immediately behind us.  We are on the back side of the park, but there is a developed trail about fifty feet behind our back fence that is used regularly and often.  Additionally, there is an entrance to the park about a hundred feet away that is used a lot by the neighborhood.  As I sit either on my lawn chair or on the glider swing, I notice the people  who pass by.  Young, old, men, women, kids, dogs, the occasional skateboard, bicycle, and even folks on horses go by.  Some are walking.  Others are running, jogging, bicycling, skating, and in even one case awhile back, unicycling.

Some are keeping fit.  Others are out to exercise their dogs.  Still others make it a family outing with dogs, kids, and the adults.  Some younger people are running, I think, because they are in some kind of high school or college sport and are keeping in shape.  It's a kind of eclectic bunch that go by our back yard...all sizes, weights, ages, genders, ethnicities, and whatever else might describe a very diverse group of humans.  Generally, they follow the rule of no motorized vehicles in the park, although sometimes the occasional moped or gasoline-powered bike makes it in.

As I watch people go by, I often wonder, especially when I see a young couple, a couple with a young family, or perhaps teens, what their older days will be like.  Many of those people will see the 2080's, 2090's, and even the turn of the century, depending on longevity and a host of other factors too numerous to mention here.  I see a good number of these same young people looking at their phones as they walk, using earbuds of some kind as they exercise, and even some doing the old-fashioned thing of visiting and talking with each other.  And I have to wonder just what it will be like for them, just as I wondered in the 1960's just what it would be like in 2000, 2010, and beyond.

I'll not speculate here on what technology, medical advances, transportation advances, and the development of alternate energy sources might be.  And space travel?  Well, we just have no idea, really, about any of this stuff.  So much depends on the condition of the world society in general, and individual societies in particular.  A lot rests on global warming, or lack thereof.  And, of course, things such as pandemics, revolutions, and the continuing specter of nuclear annihilation cause us to give pause to speculating on the future.

I really wonder if the post-Christian era will persist, or perhaps morph into something more sinister.  Or perhaps anti-Christian and anti-religion feelings will moderate or perhaps the pendulum will begin to swing the other way.

These young people are going into a future that is totally unknown, unknowable, and precarious to say the least.  Of course, the same could be said for any era of the past; however, it seems to me that as fast as the world is moving...as quickly as information multiplies nowadays...as much as those in charge of things refuse to look at the long term and concentrate instead on looking good and prospering in the short run...it bothers me to think that these young people are going to be the ones who will have to cope with whatever we older folks  have laid the foundation for, yesterday and today.

If God gives me length of days, I'll be lucky to see 2040.  In many ways, I'm content to NOT live until 2100...to not see the long term effects of some of the disastrous decisions we as a society and a world have already made and are being carried out.  I think there is wisdom in the plan of God to cause an eventual end of years in the current creation.  But I am concerned for those who will go after us...especially my children, grand children, and others I know and love who are young enough to see many more decades of life.

You may think I'm being overly-pessimistic and am really down on life and the future.  I'm not.  There may well be a renaissance of sorts and a social and spiritual awakening either sooner or later.  It's happened before, and can well happen again.  I am, however, trying to be realistic as we continue to interact with our own kids and are also present to be some influence on our grand kids.  They need to know that the future may indeed be unicorns and bunnies.  But they also need to know that the future could hold some of the more ominous things that have plagued mankind for untold centuries.  And they won't be immune just because of technological and scientific advances and knowledge.

So I pray for peace, tranquility, and quietness of life, just as Paul the Apostle told Timothy.  “Pray this way for kings and all who are in authority so that we can live peaceful and quiet lives marked by godliness and dignity.”  In times of the Roman Empire, this statement by Paul to Timothy is all the more exceptional.  And it applies equally to us as we all live out the length of days given by our Creator, whether those be short or long.

May God bless you this week as you search out His will for you.

The Overcomer

 

Good morning.  I’m glad you clicked on this post, and trust your day is going well.

 One of my current friends is a childhood friend from long ago.  Rachel (not her real name) and I went to school together all throughout our elementary and high school years.  She always did just a little better I did in school, constantly out-grading me by just a few points here and there…enough so that I always was in a sort of friendly competition with her…and seldom won.  I also knew her family…her mom and dad, older sister and younger brother.  The whole family was intelligent, hard-working, and successful in life.

 I lost track of Rachel shortly after high school, but maintained a relationship with her mom and dad, as they stayed in Harper, my hometown, and were there when we moved back there some years ago as a young family.  I knew Rachel had become an academic and was in a successful career in that field.  I didn’t know much of anything of her older sister or younger brother, however.

 A few years ago, I heard that her mother had passed away.  Her dad had passed some years before, and her mother carried on for several years on her own.  I found out when the memorial service was to be held, and went to the service to pay my respects to the family.  An ulterior motive was to try to reconnect with Rachel and if possible her sis and brother.

 I arrived a few minutes before services, explained my relationship with the family, and asked if I could go into the area where the family was.  There, I immediately noticed a redhead using a walker, talking to someone.  I can’t mistake that hair…it was Rachel.  I re-introduced myself, we visited a few minutes, exchanged contact information, and attended the memorial service.  I also was privileged to visit with her brother, but didn’t see or visit with her sister.

 Well, to shorten this story a bit, sometime after the service, we reconnected via email…she doesn’t do social media.  My wife and I also visited her and her hubby in Tulsa, and they came to the memorial service of one of our mutual classmates sometime later.  We exchange emails every couple of months or so, or if something unusual happens, we will visit via email about that.  I’ve learned a lot about Rachel’s life and the stories of her family as well in these encounters.

 Her older sister is terminally ill with cancer.  Her younger brother died a short while ago after a stroke and a fall…possibly due to a brain malfunction of some kind.  He had surgery for brain cancer some years ago.  Whether that had anything to do with the fall and stroke, I don’t know.  Her sister has only days to weeks to live.

 Rachel has been battling M.S. for well over 20 years now, and is less mobile than she was at her mom’s memorial service a few years ago.  She had scarlet fever as a child, and has had other maladies hit her during her lifetime.  Her brother and sister were on opposite coasts of the country, and Rachel is in Oklahoma.  She was able to travel to see her sister, but was unable to see her brother before his untimely and relatively quick passing.  She did attend his service.

 Looking at Rachel’s life, I quickly see a woman who has had her share of grief and pain.  Her parents are both gone.  Her older sister is terminally ill, 1,500 miles away.  Her younger brother had a sudden fall and stroke, and quickly passed away.  She has always been less than exceedingly healthy due to the scarlet fever.  And she’s been battling MS and all that comes with it for decades.

 Yet she perseveres.  She continues living life.  She keeps on doing what she can with the physical abilities she has.  And seems to have a decent attitude about it all.  In all of our conversations, the most I have heard her complain is what she said as she contemplated attending her brother’s memorial service, weighing her options and the inevitable difficulties of travel.  I quote:  “All of these factors add to my fatigue, close down my ability to even move, and probably make my walker very difficult to use.  Do I seem frustrated?”

 I don’t know what’s going on in your life.  Nor do I know how well or how poorly you’re dealing with those issues.  And I certainly am not qualified to offer advice.  But what I can do is point you to people like Rachel who continue to persevere even in the midst of what many would consider overwhelming problems and trials.  The human spirit has been created by God to, as the old saying goes, “Keep on keeping on.”  The trials of life and the struggles of living are a part of ourselves and our environment.  We celebrate the Rachels of this life…the overcomers…the perseverers.

 In the Bible, I could point to great people of faith such as Abraham, Elijah, the prophets, Esther, Ruth, the Apostle Paul, the Apostle Peter, and of course Jesus Christ as overcomers…perseverers.  And there are countless people in history who have overcome the greatest of obstacles in life to earn that place they occupy in history.

 And there are Rachels even now all around us and among us.  May we always see their examples, emulate their fortitude, and work for their good in all things.  And may God continue to bless not only you who are listening, but all of the Rachels who daily, hourly, and even minute-by-minute, overcome.

It's Good, Now

 Last week was the time for my annual physical checkup.  It's the time when I'm poked, questioned, looked over, and generally checked out.  I don't particularly enjoy these annual visits, but they are necessary since I also take medications that I fully believe have kept me alive to this day, and I must see a provider at least once a year to have those medications renewed, modified, or discontinued...depending on my specific needs.

One of the questions my provider asked me was in general how things were going.  My response to her was, “It's good, now.”  I didn't think much of that response until I left the clinic a little later.  I went out into the cool spring sunny morning and thought back to that short response.  There was a moment when I stopped beside my pickup, not getting in, and just savored life for a moment as it pertained to that response.  “It's good, now.”

Of course, in no way to I wish to hint that life hasn't been good before now.  It has.  However, there's something about this stage of life that is just, well, special.  Yes, I have aches and pains I didn't have some years ago.  Yes, I have to take medications to keep my blood pressure and other aspects of my physical self in line.  Yes, I no longer do some of the things I used to do.  My physical limitations are many more than they used to be.  And I know I have just a limited time left in this body, regardless of the medications and checkups.

But there are also those other things that make life at this stage worth living.  I have great flexibility regarding my work hours.  Or, I could choose at any time to not work at all and be fully retired.  I am mobile.  I can drive a vehicle.  I can walk, and even run a bit if needed.  My mind seems to be working well.  The miracle of lens implants has enabled me to continue seeing clearly.  It's good, now.

More than all of that, however, are some of the more intangibles.  A wife who loves me unconditionally.  Grand kids who I can watch grow and develop into the next crop of leaders and doers.  A church family that I adore.  A walk in the park.  Visiting the in-laws.  Friends on social media.  Emails to and from childhood friends.  Sons and daughters-in-law who are greatly loved and love in return.

Most of all, there is a God who loves me.  A God who has taken away all of my spiritual filth and placed it upon Himself.  A God who upholds the universe by the word of his power.  A God who shows me His awesomeness, patience, and grace daily.  A God who is gently but surely bringing me toward Himself day by day...and preparing me for that day.  A God whose faithfulness is constant and never-ending.  It's good, now.

Earlier last week, I got a copy of Carrie Underwood's new CD, My Savior.  On this recording, she sings twelve of the old hymns, including Amazing Grace, Great is They Faithfulness, Victory in Jesus, Softly and Tenderly, and others.  By the way, if you don't happen to know Ms. Underwood's life story, check it out.

I put the CD into the player in my pickup the day I got it, fully intending to listen to it once, then go back to the FM station I normally listen to…the local public radio station.  At the end of the first time through, I did pull the CD from the player.  NPR news was on when I did that.  I listened for about 10 minutes to the news, then suddenly realized I was tired of hearing the news.  I put the CD back on and have kept it on, letting it recycle time and again.  That CD has been my constant pickup companion for over a week, playing over and over, probably 20 times or more.

There is something cathartic about those old hymns on that CD.  There is something very attractive about listening to those statements of faith, grace, and forgiveness on that CD.  There is something about that CD and about Ms. Underwood’s singing that gently tells me, “It’s good, now,” with each song.

May God bless you this day, such that you can also say, even with all that is going on in your life…”It’s good, now.”

The Passing of Time

 

Good morning.  Welcome to the April 8^th edition of Thursday Thoughts.

 

Years ago, almost in another life it seems, I was a commercial broadcast technical engineer in radio and television.  My job consisted of several facets, among which was keeping the electronic equipment in good repair, doing some on-air work, producing local commercial content, and other duties as assigned in a typical small market operation.  At the time, we didn’t have computers, the internet, cell phones, and all of the electronic trappings of modern life.  We did many things the old fashioned way.  Telephones were connected to the wall or sat on a desk.  They had dials rather than push buttons.  We looked up information at the library or in printed encyclopedia sets and dictionaries.  Computers with memories of up to 16 kilobytes where files were saved on a cassette tape were just beginning to appear in some outlets.

One of my jobs was to be certain that the clocks in the control rooms of the stations were at the correct time.  That was, after all, a critical part of the operation.  We had to know down to the second what time it was so we could insert commercials, take a network show feed, or do whatever else needed to be done in a timely fashion.

In order to do that, we needed a standard of reference for the correct time.  The United States government conveniently provided such a standard out of what then was called the National Bureau of Standards…now the National Institute of Standards and Technology…an arm of the Commerce Department of the Executive Branch of the federal government.

Now, for those of you wondering why I’m chasing this particular rabbit, I assure you I have a purpose in mind.  Stay with me here.

The government operates a clock so exact that its error rate is estimated to be one second in well over a billion years.  They make this precise timekeeping available to the public in several forms, one of which is to broadcast time signals by several means.  These signals are available to someone with a shortwave receiver at certain shortwave frequencies.  They are also available through a very low frequency radio wave that is used by what is commonly known as atomic clocks.  These clocks are not really atomic powered…they use regular batteries or are plugged into the electrical wall socket.  They are inexpensive, self-adjust in response to the radio wave, and are accurate to within about one tenth of a second at any given time.  You may well have one or more of these clocks in your home.

Another way to obtain the correct time is to make a phone call to the radio station that broadcasts the signals.  When the phone connects, you will hear the same sounds as you would hear if tuning in to the shortwave signals.  The time will be given second by second with an announcement of the correct time on the minute.  Go ahead and try it.  The number is area code 303   499 7111.

I have this phone number in my cell phone’s directory.  I call it from time to time to reset our grandfather clock we have at home.  When I listen to the time signals coming from this phone number, I am immediately struck by the reality of the passage of time.  The prior minute…the prior hour…the prior second…will never repeat.  Each tick of the second reminds me that time continues unabated, regardless of what I am doing, where I am, or whether or not I’m even alive.  And there’s something that is relentless about time’s passage.  We can’t slow it down, reverse it, or speed it up for ourselves in any meaningful way.  It just continues…continues…continues.

God had something to say about time and the passage of time.  The Apostle Peter, in what we know as his second letter in the New Testament says this about the passing of time.  First of all, you must understand that in the last days some people will appear whose lives are controlled by their own lusts.  They will make fun of you and will ask, “He promised to come, didn't he? Where is he?  Our ancestors have already died, but everything is still the same as it was since the creation of the world!”

These, Peter says, are people who refuse to believe that there will be a time when time itself will be no more, and there will come a day when we will have to account to God for the precious gift of life and time that he has given us.

Peter goes on to say this:  “But do not forget one thing, my dear friends!  There is no difference in the Lord's sight between one day and a thousand years; to him the two are the same.  The Lord is not slow to do what he has promised, as some think.  Instead, he is patient with you, because he does not want anyone to be destroyed, but wants all to turn away from their sins.  But the Day of the Lord will come.”

And he continues in the same vein regarding what those of us who are understanding these words should do: “And so, my friends, as you wait for that Day, do your best to be pure and faultless in God's sight and to be at peace with him.  Look on our Lord's patience as the opportunity he is giving you to be saved.”

So, as I close this thought, I ask you again to call the number for the correct time.  Area code 303  499 7111.  That’s 303  499 7111.  Listen to the ticks of the seconds as they go by.  And understand that as relentless as they are now to continue, one day those ticks will cease and the Day of the Lord will indeed come.  Be at peace with your God.  Rest in His promises.  And look forward to that day.

 

May God continue to bless you this day.

 

An elderly man, a widower, lives in our neighborhood close by.  I’ll call him James, but that’s not his real name.  James uses a walker, and even at that can hardly get around.  It is a major effort for him to drag the trash dumpster out to the street for the weekly trash pickup, and it is all he can do to slowly and carefully get into and out of a vehicle.  He doesn’t drive any more…family and friends take him where he needs to go.

 One night last week, I went outside into our front yard just before bedtime.  My wife had told me earlier in the evening that when she came home, James’s garage door was up, and would I check on it later in the evening.  I often go out at that time of night just to get some fresh air and take in the night sky before retiring.  While outside, I noticed that James’s garage door was still up and the garage light was on.  It was about 11:30 at night, so I knew he had already gone to bed.

 I wondered what I could do short of waking him or calling his son (I have the son’s phone number in the event of an emergency).  I knew I couldn’t go inside the garage and push the button to activate the door, then get out before the door closed.  Nor did I have the PIN code that activates the remote opener on the side of the garage door.  The only other thing to do was to release the door from the opener and manually lower the door.  I knew, however, that when I did that, the next time James pushed the activator button, the door wouldn’t open, but rather the opener mechanism would travel to the other end of its range and hopefully re-connect automatically with the door.  And he would wonder what had happened and why it was the way it was.

 Fast forward to the next day.  As I was pulling out of our drive to go on an errand, I noticed a car in James’s drive.  I knew from prior encounters that the car belonged to his grand daughter, who often comes to the house to do minor cleaning and care for her grand dad.  I wanted to say something to a family member about finding the door open and what I did, so I stopped, knocked on the door, and Lisa (again not her name) answered.

 I have visited with Lisa before.  She has not had the best that life has to offer, but is doing what she can to make her way in the world.  She’s had her share of issues in life and living, both within her family as well as in her relationships with others.  I don’t know enough to know what the exact issues are, but I also know that she often helps other family members such as her grandfather, with basic care needs.  I believe she is medically trained as a certified nurse aide.

 We talked for a few minutes about James, his health, etc., and I also told her about the garage door incident, which she said she would report to her uncle, a son who has primary care responsibilities for James.  We visited for a few minutes at the front door, and then I felt the urge to ask her a question.  I said, “Lisa, are you OK?”

 Immediately, her facial expression changed and she started shedding tears, crying.  I felt rather like the typical man, thinking maybe I shouldn’t have said anything to her about that and began to apologize.  She said through her tears that no, it was all right for me to ask.  I asked her if she wanted to talk about it, and she simply said, “No one has ever asked me if I’m OK.”

 I asked, still in kind of a shock and in a fumbling way if there was anything I could do and I think I repeated my request to Lisa that I would be willing to listen if she was willing to talk.  She just told me that she needed strength.  I then asked her about her concept of God, mainly because I couldn’t recall what she had said in prior conversations about that, and she only said, “I know he’s there.”

 I wasn’t sure what to do then, but I knew also that she and I had talked in the past about faith, spirituality, and related topics, that she was receptive to those conversations.  I also told her that I was a minister during those conversations.  So I asked her if I could pray with her, and pray for her later as well.  She readily agreed, and we had a prayer session right there on the front porch.

 She seemed somewhat relieved as I left, and as I got back into my vehicle and went about my business, I thought about that encounter and what it was that made me ask that question.  To this day, I don’t know the answer to that.  I do know, however, that I don’t normally ask that question of others, and am thinking that I may need to ask it a little more often.

 We often say, “How are you?” and expect to hear a “Just fine,” even when things aren’t so fine.  But when we say, “Are you OK?” that for many people portends a different level of interest and demands a more honest answer.  And when we ask the question in that way, we need to be ready as God’s people to do some ministry right then and there…because we never will know just why it was that the person we’re talking with was brought into contact with us, and we’ll likewise never know what the answer will be until we ask.  So, as I found out in asking James’s grand daughter Lisa, we need to be ready for any answer.

 The Bible talks about being ready.  These verses don’t directly address the scenario I was part of, but they do express the principle of always being ready to give a proper response.  In your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.

Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.

 May God continue to bless as you seek out ways to demonstrate the love of Jesus Christ.

Fearfully & Wonderfully Made

 

Good morning.  It’s Thursday again.

 

About a week and a half ago, we had guests at our place and I was helping the wife prepare dinner in the kitchen.  We had something baking in the oven for the meal, and it was time to take it out of the oven.  As I reached in to take out the dish, the back of my hand brushed against the hot edge of the oven.  The area was about an inch and a half long by about half of an inch wide.  It didn’t look too bad at the time…just red.  I put some water on it and went ahead with the prep for the dinner.

 Later on, the red place started to look a little more sinister, and eventually a rather elongated scab formed on the burn.  I kept the area clean, bandaged it from time to time, and although I’ll spare you from having to see photos of it or showing it to you now, live, will tell you that it has just about healed.

 OK, you say.  What in the world does this have to do with a Thursday Thought?  Just this.  I’ve been watching that area on the back of my left hand with interest over the past days as a protective layer was formed over it, new tissue grew, skin grew over the wound, and healing is nearing completion.  I’m sure there will be a scar of some kind there, but just observing my body healing that wound has been an almost spiritual experience.

 I’ve never consciously told my body what to do in order to heal that area.  I have no clue what is actually going on on a molecular or cellular level in that place on my hand.  I’ve not had any conscious part in the actual healing process…I only have tried to keep it clean and covered it when I felt I needed to do so.

 Blood vessels, nerves, skin, underlying tissue…all is being created, rebuilt, and retro-fitted as I watch.  Dead tissue is being carried away and disposed of.  Germs and viruses trying to enter the breach are being killed off.  The protective covering gets smaller by the day, and now is covering only the deepest portion of the burn area.  That place on my hand is a veritable repair shop with tools being used there that are beyond anything I know or understand.  There is an itching sensation in the area, which I know is a symptom of the healing process.  In a short time, my hand will be “good as new,” and the only thing I will notice there is a small scar where the outer skin has knit itself together.

 When the Bible says that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” and that we were “knit together in our mother’s womb,” and when I look at what’s going on on and inside of the back of my hand, I begin to understand that there is something special and wondrous about this house of clay that has been prepared for me.  That there is something or someone beyond this life and beyond this existence that has inserted a wisdom into the universe from another place…because there is nothing in this sphere of existence that can conceive of, create, and sustain the wonder that I am seeing on that place on the back of my hand.

 It’s no wonder that humanity itself is called to humility…to walk humbly.  What we don’t know and what we can’t do far, far exceeds what we do know and can do as human beings.  And when we acknowledge that fact…when we understand our dependence…when we realize that we are indeed “fearfully and wonderfully made,” we will have taken a giant step toward being the humans that the Creator has always intended for us to be.

 Blessings.