The Little Things

 

My wife and I recently received a card in the snail mail.  I could tell from the return address who it was from and wondered why we were getting a card of any kind from her.  We hadn't given her any kind of gift.  Nor did we celebrate some anniversary or birthday recently.  When I opened the envelope, I saw that it was a thank you card.  That made me even more curious as to why we were receiving a thank you card from her.  The answer was in what she wrote on the inside.

“I'm trying to get caught up on thank you cards!  About eight years ago you two very kindly took me to lunch at Red Lobster.  I've thought about that lunch many, many times over the years and I truly cannot express how much your kindness meant to me.  I do not look back on that time of my life with much joy, but these moments of kindness kept me going when I was not sure I could.  So, thank you!  Sorry it took me eight years to express this.”

Well, I honestly don't remember taking this woman to the Red Lobster or anywhere else.  I will have to presume we did, as that is sometimes where we go on Sunday noon when it's just the two of us.  But it is the message that really struck me.

I do know that she was going through a hard time back then.  Her husband had filed for divorce, going off with another woman.  They had just both lost their jobs...that is they had been terminated...not that far back from the divorce situation, and things didn't look good, especially for a newly-single woman.  My wife and I could relate because although we weren't in a divorce situation, we both had lost jobs in the recent past from termination, although by the time of our lunch with her we had gained employment.  I presume we talked about that and encouraged her in whatever ways we could at the time.

I tell you this story in order to say this:  One never knows what an act of kindness...even one so mundane as buying lunch for someone else...may accomplish.  If you go back to her comments, you will notice that she had been thinking about that lunch quote “many, many times over the years.”  Unquote.  And then she says, “These moments of kindness kept me going when I was not sure I could.”

It is a privilege to know that something we did for someone apparently paid big dividends far beyond any discomfort or financial loss that may have occurred in doing what we did.  We don't always know when we have touched someone like this.  In fact, we most of the time DON'T know how what we do affects others and what kind of ripples down the road of time are created by what we do.  So it's nice to get a card like this that expresses some of that.

I don't know what your situation is in life.  Some of you may be able to eat at Red Lobster or some other nicer place without having to worry about whether you can afford it.  Others of you may barely have enough resources to squeeze by the month.  But you don't need to be well-to-do in order to be kind to someone who may be going through a difficult period in life.  A phone call, a card in the mail, some kind words when you are with them...or maybe some homemade cookies, bread, or other goodies...the instrument of the kindness isn't important.  What IS important is that you cared enough to do whatever it is you've done.  You were concerned enough that you spent time and energy on their behalf.  You thought of them.  You prayed for them.  You encouraged them.  You helped bear their burden.  You validated their humanity and the inherent dignity and respect that goes with that humanity.  You were a friend when they needed one.

It isn't rocket science to figure out what you might be able to do and who may need what you can do.  Find someone in the next 7 days that you could encourage or build up.  Find someone who could use a friend.  Find someone who needs someone to share a burden.  And then step up in kindness toward that person.  You may never know how much you will change the world with your actions.

An Old Crisis

 I know someone right now…I’ll call him Brad…who is in the middle of not only a mental health crisis, but also is trying to navigate the incredibly complicated world of insurance, placement, and treatment at the same time.  Brad not only is clinically depressed; he also has had suicidal thoughts and has begun at least once to act on those thoughts.  He has a provider, is on prescribed medications, has insurance, and recognizes that he needs help.  Those things alone are much more than many of the mentally ill have.  Brad’s checked himself into an area mental health treatment facility more than once and is there now.

Brad is a single man who has parents living, and in fact lives with his parents.  His parents aren’t much help, generally disbelieving in mental health issues and saying that he soon will “snap out of it.”  His ex wife and her family are very concerned for Brad and are helping him as best they can from the distance of an ex-in-law family.

As I said earlier, Brad is now in an area treatment facility that is a short-term placement.  His insurance is covering a short term stay, but will not go farther with this facility.  Brad needs to check in to a facility for a long-term treatment plan.  He is willing to do so and knows he needs to do so.  There is only one such facility that is appropriate for him in Kansas.  But according to those working with him, it may be weeks before all of the paperwork, permission from his insurance, and an open available bed come together.

The big question is, what is Brad going to do between now and some nebulous time in the future when a bed may become available for him?  Go back home to his parents, who believe he doesn’t have a genuine health issue?  Find a friend to live with?  Go it on his own, hoping either he or someone else will stop him from carrying out his suicidal tendencies?

Mental health care, not only in Kansas, but nationwide, is and has long been in crisis mode.  Far too many mentally ill people are living on the streets.  Far too many mentally ill people cannot get the care they need.  Far too many mentally ill people have to somehow navigate the incredibly complex world of insurance, medical records, facility beds, transportation, and other issues at the same time they are in the midst of some kind of mental health crisis.

There are thousands of Brads just in the Wichita metropolitan area, to say nothing of nationwide.  When, in heaven’s name, are we going to recognize our responsibility as a society to care for these moms, dads, sons, daughters, grand children, grand parents, aunts, and uncles?  When are we going to prioritize mental health as we do entertainment & leisure, social media, and accumulation of wealth?

I don’t know the answers.  I’m not even sure of the questions anymore.  But I am certain that Brad and those like him will continue to receive no care or substandard care for the foreseeable future.  And for that, other than advocate for change, all I can do is say, I am so sorry.

Change the World

 

My wife and I recently received a card in the snail mail.  I could tell from the return address who it was from and wondered why we were getting a card of any kind from her.  We hadn't given her any kind of gift.  Nor did we celebrate some anniversary or birthday recently.  When I opened the envelope, I saw that it was a thank you card.  That made me even more curious as to why we were receiving a thank you card from her.  The answer was in what she wrote on the inside.

“I'm trying to get caught up on thank you cards!  About eight years ago you two very kindly took me to lunch at Red Lobster.  I've thought about that lunch many, many times over the years and I truly cannot express how much your kindness meant to me.  I do not look back on that time of my life with much joy, but these moments of kindness kept me going when I was not sure I could.  So, thank you!  Sorry it took me eight years to express this.”

Well, I honestly don't remember taking this woman to the Red Lobster or anywhere else.  I will have to presume we did, as that is sometimes where we go on Sunday noon when it's just the two of us.  But it is the message that really struck me.

I do know that she was going through a hard time back then.  Her husband had filed for divorce, going off with another woman.  They had just both lost their jobs...that is they had been terminated...not that far back from the divorce situation, and things didn't look good, especially for a newly-single woman.  My wife and I could relate because although we weren't in a divorce situation, we both had lost jobs in the recent past from termination, although by the time of our lunch with her we had gained employment.  I presume we talked about that and encouraged her in whatever ways we could at the time.

I tell you this story in order to say this:  One never knows what an act of kindness...even one so mundane as buying lunch for someone else...may accomplish.  If you go back to her comments, you will notice that she had been thinking about that lunch quote “many, many times over the years.”  Unquote.  And then she says, “These moments of kindness kept me going when I was not sure I could.”

It is a privilege to know that something we did for someone apparently paid big dividends far beyond any discomfort or financial loss that may have occurred in doing what we did.  We don't always know when we have touched someone like this.  In fact, we most of the time DON'T know how what we do affects others and what kind of ripples down the road of time are created by what we do.  So it's nice to get a card like this that expresses some of that.

I don't know what your situation is in life.  Some of you may be able to eat at Red Lobster or some other nicer place without having to worry about whether you can afford it.  Others of you may barely have enough resources to squeeze by the month.  But you don't need to be well-to-do in order to be kind to someone who may be going through a difficult period in life.  A phone call, a card in the mail, some kind words when you are with them...or maybe some homemade cookies, bread, or other goodies...the instrument of the kindness isn't important.  What IS important is that you cared enough to do whatever it is you've done.  You were concerned enough that you spent time and energy on their behalf.  You thought of them.  You prayed for them.  You encouraged them.  You helped bear their burden.  You validated their humanity and the inherent dignity and respect that goes with that humanity.  You were a friend when they needed one.

It isn't rocket science to figure out what you might be able to do and who may need what you can do.  Find someone in the next 7 days that you could encourage or build up.  Find someone who could use a friend.  Find someone who needs someone to share a burden.  And then step up in kindness toward that person.  You may never know how much you will change the world with your actions.

Keep On

 

 In June of this year, I told you about my friend Rebecca…a person who was my classmate throughout our school days, and with whom I reconnected a few years ago at the memorial services for her mother in our hometown.  I hadn’t heard much out of Rebecca in the past weeks, so I emailed her to ask if everything was OK.  As you may recall, Rebecca has been battling MS for over 20 years, and because of that physically is nothing like she was in earlier life.  She is an academic, and to my knowledge still teaches some using on line resources.

 Well, she responded to me a couple of days later.  Yes, everything is OK.  Because of the MS and the medications she has to take, her immune system is greatly compromised.  The vaccination for COVID will, in all probability, never cause her to develop antibodies, and if she catches the illness, it would be an almost certain death sentence.  The first line of her return email to me reflects that reality.  She writes, “I feel like a frustrated prisoner these days.  I have lost all sympathy or empathy for the unvaccinated.”  Whatever your viewpoint on vaccinations, I’m sure you can understand her point of view.

 So, what does someone with long term chronic MS who can’t go out anywhere because of a severely compromised immune system do with her spare time?  Well, if that someone is Rebecca, she signs up for chemical biology and immunology courses with Rice University with the goal of completing a course of study, and becoming knowledgeable enough about what is going on with her body in that field of knowledge to contribute to the ongoing discussions in that area by researchers, physicians, and others, especially as it relates to MS and related chronic conditions.

 I don’t know about you, but I am nowhere nearly as physically compromised as she is.  Yet going back to school for some kind of advanced degree isn’t even on my lowest priority bucket list, let alone go for an advanced degree in an area of study that is completely foreign to me which might help me better understand the osteoarthritis I have or perhaps some other thing related to my existence.  In fact, when I finally obtained my undergrad degree in my mid 40’s, my advisor recommended I go on for an MBA.  I politely declined and have never regretted that decision.  I’m not anti-advanced education; I just have too much I’ve not yet done in life that I want to do, to carve out time for that.

 I greatly admire people like Rebecca who “keep on keeping on,” as the saying goes.  I told her that she inspired me…not to go back to school, but to continue in life and living as fully and completely as I can.  I only have to begin a pity party for myself when I think of her and others I know who are in much more difficult straits than I am in, and I quickly realize it’s time to put away the party stuff and get back into life.

 I don’t know where you are in life.  I don’t know if you are having some kind of chronic issue, whether medical or something else.  I don’t know if you are young or older.  I don’ know your beliefs regarding God, religion, and so on.  But I do know that regardless of all of that, the human condition generally has always been one of pressing on.  For a guy named Paul, who wrote much of the New Testament, that was also his mantra.  Here’s what he said about that:  “This one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

For Paul, that prize was the eternal hereafter in the presence of God and the reward for Paul’s faithfulness in this life.  Above all else, this should be our goal as well as we press on in our daily lives…keeping on keeping on…as we count our days with gratitude and thanksgiving.

 Blessings.

The Unsigned Criticism

 

Good morning.  It’s Thursday morning!

 Well, we got one of “those” notes this past Sunday from who we think is one of our members.  It was one of notes that sometimes comes when someone is unhappy about a decision that was made on behalf of the congregation.  This particular decision is regarding some upgrades and maintenance projects that we need to complete.  We’ve told the congregation about them and have told our members that if they would like to contribute to the cost of the upgrades and maintenance over and above their normal contributions, we would certainly appreciate any help they could give.

 I won’t tell you the exact words in the note, but the gist of it was that these things are not needs, but rather wants.  The writer wondered why we didn’t instead spend those funds on gospel meetings, door knocking, prison ministry, homeless outreach, and other endeavors.

 And, of course, it was an unsigned note.

 Well, I won’t go in to all of the ministries the church is involved with…everything from feeding the homeless to mentoring in the public schools, along with providing support for and volunteering at a local home for troubled teen and pre-teen girls.  I am gratified at all of the outreach, work, and support by our members in the name of Jesus Christ in the Wichita area as well as world wide through various missions points ranging from Cambodia to India, Africa, South America, Russia and others.  No, we are not perfect.  But I believe we have in general a heart for people and a love for Jesus Christ and His good news which we willingly share whenever given the chance.

 Notes such as this, along with accusations, criticisms, and other such which come to me unsigned are in my mind worthy of nothing more than the paper they are written on.  I remember back to an older man who since has gone to his reward, who was a long-time member of this congregation.  A businessman, Bob was very polite and also very astute.  Whenever some kind of thing such as this came his way, he would say, “I’ll give this all the consideration it deserves,” and promptly would toss it away and forget it.  I will do the same with this unsigned criticism.

 What the writer doesn’t know is that our Elder board and staff have wrestled with many of these issues for over three years.  We’ve discussed, thought about, prayed for, and did our best to come up with the most cost-effective and best projects that were most needed in order to operate a church ministry in the middle of downtown Wichita.  We have done nothing flippantly or quickly.  The bureaucracy has moved very, very slowly sometimes in these last years.  We believe we have done the best we could do, asking for the hand of God to guide us all along the way.  We have no second thoughts about our actions and decisions.

 If the writer of the note, or anyone for that matter, wishes to do one of the ministries mentioned in the note…organize another homeless ministry, get a door-knocking campaign together…or do it himself…organize a gospel meeting, start a prison ministry, or one of any number of outreaches, he or she is free to do so.  And we the church will support them in their endeavors.  We always have supported volunteers who wish to be part of an outreach, and we will continue to do so.  Meanwhile, we will continue on the path we believe God has chosen for us as a congregation, taking care to do so with sober judgment and due diligence.

 We will always, it seems, occasionally have to deal with anonymous writers of notes which are critical and have no purpose other than to make the writer somehow feel better or, dare I say, superior in some way.  We will, however, continue to give such anonymous notes and criticisms “all the consideration they deserve.”

Blessings,

Grace & Mercy

 

Good morning.  It’s Thursday morning !

 Any time the church embarks on something new and different, there will be those who will embrace the new and different, and those who long for the old ways of church life and living.  I suppose it’s inevitable that this kind of thing happens, because whether in church, politics, family life, the work environment, or wherever, there will always be differences of opinion regarding what, how, when, where, or who.  Each one who has an opinion of course believes his or her opinion is the correct one; no one honestly holds an opinion that he knows or believes is wrong.

This kind of behavior is common not only in church life, but in many areas of life and living.  Politics is a prime example, along with business or work decisions, family relationships, and other areas of life.  But it isn’t as simple as just looking at some issue for a few brief moments and making some kind of informed judgment.  Much of the time the issues involved are not nearly as black-and-white as one might believe.  Additionally, most of us who form opinions don’t know enough about the situation to be able to form a truly educated and informed opinion.

We aren’t privy to all of the information.  We aren’t sure whether the information we have is biased or not, or even truthful in some cases.  We allow our own world view to shape and form our opinion, creating our own bias.  We tend to gravitate toward that information and those people who share our world view, thereby reducing or eliminating ideas or thoughts that might be contrary to what we already believe and would open up our thought process.  And sometimes we even develop a sort of self-righteous attitude which invades our thoughts and tends to further polarize the situation and our opinions.  We are indeed fallible individuals.

So, why do I bring up all of this?  Just this.  It’s fine to hold opinions.  It’s fine to express those opinions in a proper way and in the proper venue.  But to allow opinions which in most cases by far are inaccurate or incomplete to become dividing walls is foolish and ignorant.  And for the Christian, such behavior goes against clear Biblical teaching.

Proverbs 18:2 says this:  “A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only expressing his opinion.”  Paul, in Romans 14 talks much about differences of opinion.  Here is some selected text from that chapter as Paul talks about some who observe dietary restrictions and others don’t; and some observe certain holidays and others don’t.  The principles in this text are timeless even if the specific examples don’t necessarily apply.

Do not quarrel over opinions.  One person believes he may eat anything, while another eats only vegetables.  Let not the one who eats despise the one who does not, and let not the one who does not eat pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him.

One person observes one day as better than another, while another observes all days alike.  Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.  The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord.  The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, while the one who abstains, abstains in honor of the Lord and gives thanks to God.  For none of us lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself.  Why do you pass judgment on your brother?  So then each of us will give an account of himself to God.

I readily confess that it is sometimes a herculean challenge to refrain from comments and thoughts that serve to divide rather than unite.  To admit that I am wrong in an opinion I may have held for many years is also a huge hurdle to overcome.  However, I am not infallible.  I am not the end-all and be-all of knowledge.  My world view is a natural and powerful bias.  My life experiences, my environment, my family, education and perceptions of things color how I form opinions.

In political circles, the Democrats aren’t perfect.  Neither are the Republicans, the Socialists, the Libertarians, the Progressives, or anyone else.  And all political activity operates in accordance with its own agenda.

In Christian circles, I am not the final and perfect arbitor & interpreter of holy scripture.  I certainly don’t know it all.  I am just like everyone else…my need for grace and mercy from the Living God is mandatory to my well-being.  And as I receive grace and mercy, so I am to give grace and mercy to others.  As I forgive others, I will myself be forgiven.

May God help us to find grace and mercy in these troubled times.  Blessings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some Random Thoughts

 

I have struggled this week to find an acceptable topic for my Thursday Thought.  I have had an avalanche of thoughts and ideas go through my head over the weekend and earlier this week, but none have really gelled as they usually do.  So let me just give you an idea of what’s been happening this week in the way of my thoughts for this Thursday video.

I’ve had thoughts about both the beauty & loveliness of the created order, and also about the brokenness of that same creation.  Earlier this week, I stood about three feet away from the hummingbird feeder we keep in our yard and I observed that beauty, watching up to five hummers fighting and tormenting one-another for control of the feeder.  Of course, none ever really got hurt…it was all aerial acrobatics, divebombing, and posturing.  And the hummers seemed unconcerned that I was within touching distance of them when they managed to land on the feeder and sip some nectar.  It was a sort of surreal experience, and one that held me for probably 15 or so minutes…just watching and marveling.

On the other side of that, and in line with the brokenness of the creation, one encounter with a homeless person stands out.  Mary is a frequent flyer at the church.  She never has a lot of need, but always has some small need…a bottle of water, food enough for a sort of a meal, or just someone to talk to who isn’t going to take advantage of her in some way.  She’s an older woman, and I have no idea how she’s managed to survive on the street for as long as she has.

This week, she needed a little food & water, and someone to talk to for a few minutes.  She also wanted us to keep a prized possession of hers…a small rock with a John Deere tractor logo embedded in it…in the office for safe keeping so it wouldn’t be stolen.  Her rambling explanation of the small limestone rock didn’t make much sense to me except that I gather it belongs, or once belonged to her daughter.  We visited some out on the lawn in the shade of a tree, and I accepted the rock and told her she could come get it any time the office was open.

I’ve also had thoughts about the state of the world today, politics, Afghanistan, COVID, elections, and all that goes along with those topics, which I’ll melt into a sort of unified thought.  And that thought is this:  I don’t know enough, and will never know enough to truly know whether this policy, that decision, some rule or regulation, or a court decision is really the right and correct one for the time and situation.  I’m not an expert in international relations.  I have very little knowledge of the law, the courts, and the legal system.  I’m not privy to the conversations, diplomatic cables, intelligence briefings, and other information needed to make an informed decision regarding policy and practice.

I have opinions, yes.  But my opinions are no more and no less valid than anyone else’s.  And the opinions I hold are based on very little factual information, which has been further biased by my world view and the world views of those who gave me the information.  I am in no way the all-knowing god of what is right and wrong, good and bad.  And neither are you.  It’s time we all accepted that fact, speak less, listen more, and lavish grace upon one-another.  As the Apostle Paul says in the New Testament, “Let your conversation be filled with grace…”

I have had many more thoughts this past week, but I’ll end with this one.  I’ve seen the value of human relationship.  Now, I’m not talking about the casual, “How are you?”  “I’m fine,” relationship, but rather the deeper, more personal, and beneficial relationships that we have with a relative few individuals.  People who will, with a text or phone call drop what they are doing and come to the aid of their friend, whatever the need may be.  People who will listen without judgment.  People who will enjoy just being there.  People who can be counted on unconditionally, in any circumstance, at any time, in any way.

These people may be best friends.  They may be someone who is part of the family.  They may be a co-worker or member of the church family.  Or they may be someone you don’t even know who has stepped up into the gap, so to speak, to protect and serve…with their life if necessary.  I’ve seen that in action this week.  And it makes me proud to be a human being…grateful to have such people in my life.

I trust you too have such people in your life.  I also trust that you will see the beauty of the creation that surrounds you, will understand and work to mitigate the brokenness that is among us, and will measure each word you speak, think, or write in terms of the grace that accompanies it.

May your Thursday be a blessed day.

"Grace Bats Last"

 

This coming Saturday is September 11, 2021.  For some of the very young, this date may not mean much; but for most of us that date is one that will forever be burned into our conscience.  Just as December 7, 1941 was burned into the hearts and minds of a couple of generations ago for what we now call Pearl Harbor Day, so 9-11 will be on our minds and hearts for many years to come.

 If you are like most of us, you know exactly where you were and what you were doing when you heard the news of the first plane ramming one of the twin towers…then the second doing the same thing to the other tower.  You recall President Bush’s face when, as he was reading to a group of elementary school kids, he was told that the nation was under attack.  You recall at least some of the wall-to-wall coverage by the media, the look of total astonishment and bewilderment on the faces of the responders, and the sight of people leaping out of the windows of the towers multiple tens of stories up…looking at certain death one way or the other.

 You recall some of the memes that were put on social media.  You recall talking with family and friends, trying to process the events of the day.  As time went on, you began to wonder why we didn’t know this was going to happen and why we didn’t take measures against terrorism on American soil to protect us from it.

 As you processed the events of 9-11 over the next weeks and months, something changed within you as well.  Almost imperceptibly, you began to feel a bit more nervous and concerned about things in general.  You became weary of the news cycle.  You wondered in the back of your mind when the next shoe would figuratively drop.  You began to feel a bit less safe and secure in your everyday environment.  You were trying to adjust to a “new normal” and a “new reality,” but you were somehow still connected to the old and were  having trouble moving over to that new thing called terrorism.

 And things haven’t changed much over the years.  Yes, we’re finally out of Afghanistan, which was a result of 9-11.  I don’t know if it was the right thing to do to go in in the first place, and I don’t know about leaving, and how we left.  And I don’t know if we really accomplished our purpose in being there.  I’ll leave all of those decisions, and the responsibility for them…to those who are supposed to know and whose job it is to make those decisions.

 Yes, it’s true there hasn’t been another attack on American soil like the one on 9-11 since that day 20 years ago.  And yes, we now have the TSA and other measures designed to protect us and even thwart future terrorist activities.  We’ve spent trillions of dollars on protection, military conflicts, and safety in one way or another.  Yet for some strange reason, I don’t feel much safer.  I still am some nervous and concerned.  I still tire of the news cycle.  I still wonder when the other shoe will drop.  I still remember those who lost their lives, those who jumped out of 80-story windows, and those who ran toward danger rather than away from it.  I recall with thanksgiving those who have served and are serving, whether in the military, or in public service such as police, fire, and EMS.

 And one other thing I recall.  I recall a recent post by Anne Lamott as she mused about the current situation regarding COVID, the hurricanes, Afghanistan, and other major events of the day.  In the post she talks of how the current situation has affected her and how she would respond to her Sunday School class of kids…well…rather than tell you what she wrote, I’ll just read what she wrote and let these words enter into your conscience.  This is Ann Lamott now.

 I am having trouble remembering all the things to be freaked out about right now. It’s once again like trying to put an octopus to bed; just when you think you’ve finally tucked in all the arms, one pops out. I feel alternately crushed, enraged, and flabbergasted; also, hopeful and amazed by the roaring and tender humanitarian response to Afghanistan, hurricane Ida, and Texas.

What would I tell my Sunday School kids today if we were in person? I always tell them the same things—that grace bats last: to notice the beauty all around us, the meadows near us, tawny beneath the soft grey fog; to know that God calls them Beloved, as is and no matter what; to listen and hear each other.

 This is Jay again.  Did you catch that phrase, “Grace bats last?”  That’s a signature phrase of Lamott, using a baseball analogy.  And here is another quote from her explaining more about what that phrase means to her.  This is from an interview in 2013.

 Interviewer: We live in a supposedly religious country. Yet we are bitterly divided and not very civil with each other.

Lamott: I believe that against all odds, grace bats last, and that little by little, in ways that may not be visible for awhile, this polarization will heal. For my part, I pray not to be so self-righteous, and to keep remembering that we are all one family.

 This is Jay again.  So, on this 20^th anniversary day of 9-11, as you recall the events of that day and of the months and years following, please also remember that “Grace bats last,” and that we truly are all one family.  And take that truth into the present as you navigate this uncertain world of COVID, freaky weather, political turmoil, polarization, and tragedy.  Notice the beauty that surrounds you.  Notice the work of God as He works through His people to redeem the creation.  Notice the love of God as he calls us to Himself.

 May God bless his creation this day and bless us, the crowning glory of that creation.

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.