More Important Things

Well, it appears that the rain has stopped…at least for a time.  It’s cloudy out and cool.  Much too cool for May 30, 2015.  But that’s the way it is and we can’t change it even if we wanted to do so.

Which brings me to the topic of the day.  Suppose we could change that outdoor thermostat.  Suppose it was there, out there on a power pole somewhere, and we could just go up to it and select “heat” or “cool” or turn it up or down.  Can you just imagine the fights, screams, and outright inhuman behavior that would result?

We’d have gangs protecting the “territory” around the thermostat so no one else could get to it.  We’d have to have a federal agency to promulgate regulations so we didn’t get things too warm or too cold.  We’d have controlled access, but by whom would be an open question.  Some would like it warmer.  Others are having hot flashes and want it cooler.  And who knows what some folks would like.

Control of the outdoor thermostat would be of greater importance than what’s going on in Iraq.  Control of the outdoor thermostat would take precedence over a promotion at work or going on vacation.  Control the outdoor thermostat…and you control the world.  It’s mind-boggling to even think about it.

Someone would sell “time” with the thermostat.  For $1,000 you could set the thermostat to whatever you wanted for an hour.  And then there would be apps on your phone that would track what the thermostat was set on, who set it, and when it is supposed to be changed.  Someone would try to hack into the controls and bollix things up.

Then there would the lawsuits that would come when someone turned it too high or too low and plants froze or someone died of heatstroke.  It would be a litigation nightmare and a gold mine for lawyers.

Yes, it would definitely bring out the worst in folks.  And quickly.  I’ve often thought about what society would be like if for even a couple of days there was nothing on grocery shelves.  Or no gas in the fuel outlets.  Or electricity in the wires and lines.  Or there is no water in the faucets or natural gas in the pipes.  Just how benevolent and kind would we be toward one-another, and just how much (and how quickly) would we revert to the “everyone for himself” attitude?

We’re just a few hours away from chaos in society.  We’ve seen it in the blackouts that used to happen with some regularity.  We’ve seen it in disasters that have befallen cities and states.  We’ve seen the best; we’ve certainly also seen the worst.

I don’t know that I ever want to see what really happens.  But I do know that there are things much more important than whether there is food on the shelves and water in the pipes.  And we would do well to “think on these things,” as the Good Book says.

We Are Here

Some years ago, I would have occasion to drive through a suburban area of Wichita, Kansas City, or even smaller communities like Salina, Great Bend, or Hays.  As I drove through and saw all the newer homes, fescue lawns, and three car garages, I always thought I would never, ever have a home like that; nor would I want one.  We lived in rural areas for most of our married life, and I was raised in a small town.  I couldn’t fathom living some place where one had to drive more than a mile or so to go to anyplace one wanted to go…bank, grocery, hardware store, work, school.

And the fescue lawns were not for me.  Always they needed fertilizer, mowing, weeding, watering, attention.  Bermuda grass was my preference.  I won’t even start on the three car garages that I thought of as a symbol of excess and waste.

God evidently has a sense of humor, because we now live in a suburban area of the largest city in Kansas.  We have the fescue lawn, large garage, and there is nothing within a mile of our home that we can drive to and take care of some kind of business.  The grocery is four miles.  The bank is the same.  Work is 10 and 15 miles respectively, for me and for my wife.  Even the grandkids live about 6 miles away from us…more than half way from Harper, where we used to live, to Anthony, our nearest community neighbor.

I don’t know quite what to make of all of this.  I certainly don’t feel like a “genteel suburbanite,” but I have to play the game.  We don’t annoy the neighbors.  We maintain a respectable “distance.”  We cut our grass weekly and water it regularly.  We don’t keep junk in the yard.  Even our garbage can is stored inside the garage so it doesn’t show.  The house doesn’t need paint.  The bushes are trimmed.  I attack the dandelions regularly with the 2-4D.  And I keep the weeds out of the cracks of the drive with Roundup ™.

One thing I do know is that we are where our Father wants us at this time and in this place.  If He wanted us somewhere else, we’d be there.  So while we are here, and I haven’t a clue how long that will be, we’ll make the best of it even if I have to become somewhat more “genteel” than I sometimes have been.

A Mother Named Christy Remembers Her Miscarried Son On Mother’s Day

Please read.  It's a little long, but I challenge you to finish it.   Jay

Christal Cooper

caccoop@gmail.com  caccoop@aol.com

https://www.facebook.com/christalann.ricecooper

A Mother Named Christy

Remembers Her Miscarried Son

On Mother’s Day

June 2nd started like any other day in summer with four children. Busy. We had breakfast. Then I got the younger two girls dressed and ready for the day. I took my oldest to get her haircut. I also made a doctor's appointment that day. I was one day shy of being 15 weeks pregnant. I hadn't seen a doctor since they confirmed the pregnancy with an ultrasound at 9 weeks.

            I couldn't believe it. Me. Pregnant at age 40. We had 4 healthy, active girls at home. They kept me going from sunup to sunset with carpool and meals and activities and errands. How was I going to be able to add another little one to this crew and get all the necessities of running a home and raising a family accomplished? Also, what were people going to say? We had encountered all kinds of negative comments when our youngest was announced. So the previous 15 weeks had been filled with worry and doubt and fear.

Things were starting to turn around though. We had just told our children that they were going to have another one to add to their number in November. Greg told his employer. I had told friends and was beginning to tell the parents of my girls' friends. So off to the doctor's appointment I went, eager to hear the heartbeat and get on the road to telling everyone else and planning to add another little one to our family.

            Ever since I miscarried my first child at 20 weeks, I went through a phase between the first and second trimesters. Is my eating getting back on a more even level because the baby is getting what he/she needs and the morning sickness is passing or is something wrong?  Is that cramp because my intestines are full, my muscles are stretching to accommodate another life or is something wrong? Am I less tired because I am moving on to the second trimester or is something wrong? Having four normal, healthy pregnancies since then, I was quick to dismiss the questions during this pregnancy.

            I waited in the waiting room for my appointment. Then they took me back and checked my vital signs. Normal. The doctor came in and checked my fundus. Normal. She brought out the instrument so we could listen to the heartbeat. She wasn't able to find one. Leah had made the doctor chase her around the womb and he never got her to be still enough so we could hear it. Leah was checked on ultrasound to give me confidence that she was okay. As it was then, my doctor now said I needed to go to the ultrasound room to see what was going on. At this point I was getting a little nervous, but then again my nerves had played tricks on me a lot during the last four pregnancies.

            I laid on the table and the tech brought out the gel. Then there was my baby on the screen. I looked and looked and looked. The room was quiet, and I finally asked, "There is no heartbeat, is there?" This pregnancy was unplanned and some days, if I am completely honest, unwanted because after all, we were done with our family. In that moment though, I realized, in spite of the swirling emotions of the past 15 weeks, I am a mom, and I love my kids, this one included. I then asked the technician if the baby was measuring 14-15 weeks. She told me that he or she was measuring 11 weeks. This life has slipped away around four weeks previous, and I had no idea. I had continued my fretting and worrying.

            On Wednesday June 4 at 6:45 am, my water broke, and I held my baby. I kept looking at this little one. A head, a place for eyes, a mouth, arms, legs, hands, feet. Still underdeveloped, but they were there nonetheless. The body was about 4 inches long with papery white, thin skin so that the ribcage was visible. I kept going back to look at my baby over and over through the morning. Not a blob of tissue that the medical personnel told me it was. It was a baby, my baby. I had seen it. I had held it. It was tiny, and it was underdeveloped, but it was my baby.

            As the morning went on, I kept getting more and more light headed. I kept lying down waiting for my 4 pm doctor's appointment while Greg went on two trips to the store, did things around the house, and helped the girls with what they were doing. After that he came into our room and sat down. I am so thankful he chose then to come in because he was able to catch me as I passed out. When I came to, I was lying on the floor, and I felt terrible. I started calling out for him to call 911. I had remembered a girl I went to high school with having a bad miscarriage a few years ago, and it was then I thought I was bleeding too much.

As I was taken out of the house on a stretcher with my girls tucked into a bedroom so they didn't have to see me that way, I prayed that God would allow me to come back home and raise my girls. I wasn't raised by my parents, and I remember the struggles that I had because of it.

            I got to the emergency room and things stabilized. The doctor started talking about letting me go home. I had to go to the restroom several times while I was there, and I used the wheelchair to go up and down the hall because I was still weak. Greg, meanwhile, was settling our girls in at home with the older girls taking care of the younger girls. He then got to the hospital and filled out all of the paperwork. As soon as he got to my room, I needed to go to the restroom again. He had to catch me from falling out of the wheelchair as I passed out yet again.

            About this time my doctor showed up and checked me. The doctors decided I was definitely to be admitted, and they took me to the labor and delivery wing because I needed more monitoring than a regular room would allow. They rolled me to L&D on a stretcher, and I sat up a little bit to move from the stretcher to the bed. The nurses left the room. I muttered that I felt like I could pass out again, and Greg wasn't sure he heard me correctly so he asked me if I was going to pass out again. All I could do was nod. I am so thankful he was there with me because I couldn't have pushed that call button for anything in the world. I could hear, but I could no longer respond. I began praying that God would let this feeling of passing out cease so I could feel normal again. I didn't yet realize it, but my blood pressure dropped to 57/30. My room filled not only with the L&D nurses but also an emergency response team and a chaplain. They began more IV fluids in the tubing that I received in the ambulance. I was then lying with my head lower than my feet, and I felt well enough to answer all kinds of questions being addressed to me.

            The nurse on the emergency response team, Karen, is an ICU nurse part-time at the hospital where I was. She is also a full-time L&D nurse at another hospital in town. While the other L&D nurses reported to the doctors that all of their assessments of me were normal, Karen was paying attention to the amount of blood I had lost. While the doctors were seeing other patients because they were relying on these assessments, Karen began advocating that they give me blood, and the internal physician agreed with her. I ended up with 5 units of blood that day. The next day the chaplain was sure to let me know that God was mighty to save me because so much of my blood had been lost. When I saw Karen three days later, she told me that she has said for a long time that God puts her where He wants her.

            They finally got me stabilized, and I had a d & c to stop the bleeding. A small piece of the placenta had remained behind and kept me from healing. I spent that night and the next day and a half in ICU, and then I was moved to a regular room.

            During this time lots of people came in and out, but three people I remember well. One was a nurse in ICU. I was her only patient, and we would talk when she came in to check on me. I was talking to her about wanting to know if we had a boy or a girl because the baby needed a name, and I needed a way to remember him or her. She told me she was going to cry if I kept talking like that. I was completely confused so I asked her what she meant. She said I was talking about it like it was a baby. She was from Jamaica, and she said she had seen a lot there. I am not sure if she meant miscarriage or abortion, but her views were definitely different from mine. I went on to explain that this was a baby; I had had held it. I told her what my baby had looked like. She didn't respond, but I hope God uses my experience to help her in some way.

            The second person was a lady who came to take my order for my meals once I was moved to a regular room. She had seen my four girls in the hall when they had come to visit earlier. We were talking about them, and I told her I have two more babies in heaven that I get to meet some day. She told me she hadn't thought about it like that before, but she has sisters in heaven waiting for her. She left my room with a smile on her face and wonder in her voice. I am praying God gave her some comfort through this story that day.

            Then there was Heather, my nurse the first day in a regular room. She came in to check my vital signs when I arrived in my new room. This was after they had told me I was to have another nurse that day. A last minute change. She told me that the best they could tell we had had a son.  She hugged me while I cried over the loss of our son. She was full of so much compassion and care.  I love it when God reaches down and gives us what we need when we need it, especially in the hard times.

            These events are part of the life God has given to me to be lived out, but this is really His story. The story of His amazing mercy and grace flowing freely to those who accept His Son. The love and patience and kindness He gives us. The pain placed at just the right time so we rely on Him and not on ourselves, and then we can begin to become more like Jesus-thankful and willing to do the Father's Will above all else because God will be glorified.

            You see I had been fretting, which God calls evil. I was worried about people's opinions and being able to handle the changes in our family in my own strength. I had not yet come to the point of repentance and relying on and resting in God in this situation. God put Greg right next to me when I needed help that day. He put Karen on ICU duty that day, an experienced nurse in ICU to care for me.  Without her care, I might not be here today. But that is just another small detail God worked out in advance-to save me, to let my kids have their mother, and my husband his wife.

            He also revealed more of Himself to me that day. I tend to panic during trouble, fearing I won't make the right decisions or be taken care of. I had peace all day long-during the times I passed out, during the administering of anesthesia. I knew He was with me. I also live in fear at times. My greatest fear is death. My dad died when I was six years old, so from an early age I learned we are mortal. My grandfather who raised me passed away four and a half years ago, and my fear of death multiplied. At times I would keep repeating Jesus's words "I will never leave you. I will never forsake you", and I would hope for the best as I tried to lay down my fear. Do you know what God showed me?

At the time of my greatest need and when I was completely powerless, He was there, and He was mighty to save. He stood between me and my greatest fear. He stood between me and death. And doesn't He do this for all of us? Isn't this the reason He sent Jesus to die on the cross?

            June 4th was not my day to pass from this life, but I will come to the day when it is my turn.  Because I believe in Jesus and that His blood covers my sin, when that day comes for me, my God will still stand between me and death. My body will pass from this life, but my spirit will live. God allows pain because we live in a fallen world and we have free will, but He can and will use our pain for our good and His glory. It takes faith. It takes not leaning on our own understanding. It takes believing in His goodness and His love and believing His Son is our atonement for sin. Not just for the world.  For me.

Little Blip—Large Screen

I like to go back into the city park that is just behind our house, especially in the spring and fall evenings.  The park is primitive in many areas…filled with woods, creeks, and grassy areas.  There are paths that have been cut into these areas.  Some of the paths were cut by park employees; some by the deer that live in the park, and some by people.  These paths criss-cross each other, and I’m trying to learn where most of them go.

The park is about 1 ½ miles long and ½ to ¾ mile wide.  So there is ample space in the middle of it for peace and quiet, and the feeling that one is far, far from civilization when at most it’s about ½ mile in one direction or another to find it.

Last evening I purposely went to what I perceived to be about the middle of the wooded area of the park.  There was a path used to get there.  I found a rock to sit on near to a grassy, somewhat open area.  And I sat and listened.

Other than the occasional noise of the airport which is close by, there was nothing except birds and breeze.  That was one of those times when I should like to have bottled that moment to savor again.  All was well in the world, and all was well with me at that time.  But there came the time for me to get up and follow the path back to the civilization that was waiting for me just a quarter of a mile or so from where I was.

I’m just a very little blip on a very large screen.  Most of the time, I can’t be seen at all without some kind of magnification.  Sort of like the balloon I happened to spy in the sky overhead yesterday evening.  I had gotten out my binoculars to take a closer look at some hawk-like birds that were soaring above the park.  In the course of that, I spied a colorful passenger balloon vey high in the sky.  I could not see it with my eyes only.  I had to use the magnification of the binoculars to spot it.  (The birds were turkey vultures soaring beautifully and gracefully in the high skies looking, no doubt, for something dead to eat.)

Sometimes we start thinking that we’re some kind of big deal in the world.  But that rock, the grassy area, the path, and the birds will all be there in the park long after I’m dead and gone.  They won’t notice or care that I was there…or not.  And except for a few loved ones who will have lives uprooted by my demise, the world will go on for as long as it is upheld by the word of Jesus Christ (Hebrews 1:3).

Yet, I know that I am loved and cherished, even as the creation also is.  As the children’s song says, “God sees the little sparrow fall; it meets His tender view.  If God so loves the little birds, I know He loves me too.  (Matthew 10:29) 

Harder Than Anything...

On my Facebook page today was a post by a friend who had posted a message.  The writer of the message was talking about all of the bad-mouthing and trash-talking that goes on in politics today, with special reference to the President of the United States.  The writer’s point was that for the Christian, we are told to “Fear God; honor the king,” and pray for our leaders and those in authority.  Bad-mouthing and name calling is not part of the equation, in the writer’s view.

Of course, the post had commenters, some of whom were trying to worm out of the respect part of it by saying they should respect the office but not the man.  Others were struggling with coming up with any respect at all.

I seldom do, but couldn’t resist a comment myself.  I’ve repeated my comments below for you.  And before you look at it, I want you to know that I struggle with this respect and honor thing as much as you do.  I find it extremely difficult to love my neighbor as I love myself.  And I find it very difficult to understand how God can forgive some people, but I am “more worthy” of forgiveness than they (not true, by the way).

My comments reflect my view of God’s Word…not how I always deal with such things in my life.  I fall short of the Word of God…just like you.  But that doesn’t make the Word of God any less true or any less the standard.

Comments:  We respect the office (of President) because he's there by God's design. We respect the man because he's a human being and is "our neighbor" whom we are to love as we love ourselves.

We have to separate ourselves from the petty bickering. We have to stop cold the notion that we can harbor resentment, malice, and grudges against another human, whoever it is and whatever they believe or have done. We have to forgive as readily as Christ forgives us...immediately, completely, and assuredly.

To respect someone does NOT mean we agree with them, or even like them. But it IS part of loving them...as we love ourselves. To respect someone means that we honor that person as a creation of the Almighty God, and in need of (or having been saved by) the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ.

There are no ifs, ands, or buts. There are no sidesteps. There are no alternate versions. Hard? Yeah. Harder than anything else we might do in our lifetimes. But if we're going to appeal to the blood of Jesus and the grace of God for ourselves, we've no choice.

Fracking and Our World View

There are a considerable number of earthquakes happening in the neck of the woods just to the south and west of where we live.  Used to be there were none…then the oil drilling started, and so did the quakes.  Some folks are just sure the quakes are caused by fracking…a type of drilling for minerals.  Others say there isn’t any direct evidence.  Still others say that fracking doesn’t cause it…the disposal of waste water (which comes as a result of drilling and fracking) causes it.  Who says what depends on which side of the environmental/oil fence one happens to be on, it seems.

I suspect that all of them are partly right — and partly wrong.  And I suspect that they have nuanced their talking points to just what they want to say, telling the truth but not telling the whole truth.  They aren’t alone in this screwing around of the English language.  Politicians have been doing it for centuries.  Preachers too.  And lawyers…well, you can make up your own mind about them.

What is so fearful about telling the entire truthful story?  Why is it so difficult to admit that one’s preconceived ideas and notions may not be entirely on the level?  What is so hard about making a change in how one perceives things when confronted with evidence to the contrary about one’s perception?

We all are guilty.  We all like to think that the way we perceive things (our world view) is the correct one.  Of course we do.  Because no one has a world view that is contrary to how one perceives the world.  That would be not only illogical, but self-defeating.

No, that’s not the issue.  The issue is how one changes one’s world view when confronted with evidence to the contrary of that view.  Some of us ignore the evidence…we say it isn’t there, or it really isn’t evidence.  Others of us see the evidence, but say that it is incorrect (according to one’s world view).  Still others will twist the evidence to the point that it conforms to their world view.  And a very few will take the time to logically examine the evidence, examine one’s world view, and make any changes to that world view that the evidence calls for.

As Christians, that is our challenge in taking the message of and about Jesus Christ to the world.  That message has to have the power within it to overcome the world view and perceptions of the person it comes to, and provoke a complete change of heart and mind.  It’s a tall order for any message.  No wonder the Bible talks of God’s work in a person to prepare him for the message.  No wonder it talks of the message being the power of God.  No wonder it says that the message is sharper than any sword.  These things have to be in order for the message to penetrate and effect the change that it calls for.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made, the Good Book says.  And so we are.  One of the things which enables us to live and work in this existence is the stubbornness and stamina that we develop as a result of forming and defending our world view.  But when that view is clearly contrary to what we know to be true, we need to be man enough (pardons to the ladies) to admit our error and go in another direction.  That’s harder than it might seem, but it’s possible and is done countless numbers of times each day.

Get your world view out from time to time and dust it off.  Take a good, honest look at it.  Check it against the evidence.  And wise up and make the changes where they need to be made.  You’ll be a better man (or woman) for having done so.

The Texas Roadhouse

Sunday noon, we were invited to the Texas Roadhouse by our son and his family to have lunch.  Although I enjoy going there, it’s always very, very noisy and busy, and this time was no different.  There were eight of us all together, and I couldn’t hear the conversation at the other end of the table much of the time due to all of the noise and hubbub.

So as I sat at the end of the table and enjoyed my filet medallions, I began watching the wait staff as they went about their business.  And I counted five different employees, besides the manager, who stopped by our table to bring something or take something away, or just ask how things were going.  One of those five was our server, but the other four were people who did who-knows-what who brought the salads, drinks, etc., or who took away empty plates.

And crowded though the place was, everyone seemed to zig at just the right time or zag over to the other side to avoid collisions with other wait staff who were busy carrying this or going here or there.  I don’t know what it’s like at that restaurant behind the scenes where the meat cutters hand-cut the steaks, or where the bakers bake the delicious rolls, or where the dishwashers clean up the messes.  But from what I see in the public area, the wait staff and employees do a good job of working together, getting done what needs to be done, even if it may not necessarily be their job or their table.

I don’t want to go so far as to say they were a well-oiled machine, but they did give the impression of a group of people who, if they didn’t truly enjoy what they did, at least they didn’t hate it.  And they seemed to have the best interests of the customer and of other employees in mind as they went about their work.  There was no room for slackers or malcontents on the day I was there.

It’s like that, of course, in many arenas of living.  Families, work, civic groups, church…people need to work together and look out for others, offering to help out wherever needed even if it isn’t in their job descriptions.  It seems we’d do a lot better as a society if we practiced this kind of helpfulness and cooperation in what we do and how we do it instead of working desperately to get whatever is “in it for me.”

Jesus said as much when he said, “As you would that men should do to you, do also unto them likewise.”  This, the Golden Rule, is also said like this, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

He also said that the two greatest commandments are to love God with all of your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love your neighbor as you love yourself.  He then went on to explain that one’s neighbor was virtually everyone else besides oneself.  Loving our neighbor means that we’ll desire the best for them and work to that end.  Loving our neighbor means that we’ll put our desires below the needs of our neighbor.  Loving our neighbor means that we’ll sacrifice if necessary for them.

How are you doing in following the Golden Rule or the greatest commandments?  What are you actively doing to train yourself to look at others first?  How are you coming along in the greed and selfishness categories?

The Texas Roadhouse bunch seemed to have it together Sunday, and they showed it in their ability to serve many people in a crowded, noisy environment and make it a pleasant experience for everyone.  Can we Christians do any less?

An Enigma

”The power to unlock tomorrow is found in a box.’  So says the TV ad for Kellogg’s Mini Wheats cereal.  Now, if you think about that more than for just 1/10 of a second, you will quickly realize just how dumb (yes, I’m using that word) that sentence is.  Shredded wheat has the power to unlock tomorrow??  Give me a break.

Of course, there are those who are not ad executives who will “absorb” that statement over time and gradually, gradually, gradually, that statement will grow on them.  They will become convinced that, if not Mini Wheats at least, they can find the power to unlock tomorrow from any of a number of “things” from vehicles to cans of beer to toothpaste.

I have a couple of comments.

First, I’m not sure I even want to unlock tomorrow.  “Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”  The words of Jesus in Matthew 6:34.  I have enough to deal with today to have to think about tomorrow.  Do I really want to “unlock” tomorrow today?

Second, although I know what they were saying in the ad, and why they were saying it (the healthy effects of eating whole grains), they were just awfully presumptuous, I think, in how they said it.  Of course, that’s what makes ads successful, but it seems to me that we the public are all too gullible to believe just anything that’s told to us.

We are manipulated.  We are managed.  We are maneuvered.  And we not only allow it; we embrace it.  We go along with it all.  What is it with the human race, and western culture specifically, that makes us that way?  And why?

I am told that there is an app making headway that will reserve a table for you at a restaurant…for a fee.  You will pay anywhere from two dollars to fifty dollars or more just for the privilege of getting a table at a restaurant.  The price depends on demand, the popularity of the restaurant, and who else you’re apt to see there (or who else may see you there).  I’ve never paid to get a table at a restaurant and I don’t intend to do so.  I’ll eat at  Burger King before I do that.

We are truly an enigma.  We like to parrot our independence.  Yet we pay big bucks so we can say we’ve been to the fancy restaurant that some star goes to from time to time.  We say that no one is going to make decisions for us.  Yet we blindly accept what we’re told in TV ads that range from the absurd to the ridiculous.  We say we’re open-minded, yet we vote straight tickets in elections.

Ira Stamphill said it well in 1950 in his song, “I Know Who Holds Tomorrow.”  Listen to the refrain of the song.

Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
But I know who holds tomorrow
And I know who holds my hand