Making Us Think

I got up and around this morning, as I usually do when we have the girls, at about 5:45am. The girls start stirring about that time and it’s good to have someone out to help with things. Monday morning, though, I stepped outside and observed for a minute or two a phenomenon in the pre-dawn skies. The moon’s light was being eclipsed by the earth as it passed between the sun and the moon. It happened to be just a few minutes past the totality of the eclipse, and the moon was about 95% dark.
To be sure, as with most eclipses, even the dark portion was lit slightly due to reflected light. But the sight of the moon as a dark, reddish-orange orb was just a little disconcerting even if the scientific explanation was well-known to me.
We’re in luck here in America. The moon will eclipse next in February of next year (2008) and will do so in the evening just a couple hours after sunset. That will make for a prime viewing by many over the parts of the earth that will be able to observe it.
The sun, however, will not totally eclipse in this part of the world until 2017. Then, it’s expected to eclipse beginning in the Northwest part of the nation, and the path of totality will travel to the East Southeast right over Kansas and on down to the Southeast part of the United States. Surely, something to look forward to.
By now, we know the mechanisms by which these things happen. They are not a manifestation of some god’s wrath or anything magical or mysterious. They are, however, part of the creation and were obviously planned by the Creator.
Sometimes, it’s good to look at the eclipsed moon and understand that there are things that humans cannot control and that are bigger than we. Events such as an eclipse make us aware of our frailty and inability to provide even the basic necessities for ourselves. We are not as powerful and self-sufficient as we may think; and maybe that’s why the Creator chose to have the creation go through an eclipse once in a while…to help us understand that “God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse (Rom. 1:20).”

She Came Back

Corina came back today. I met Corina (not her real name) the first day we worked for the home. She had been in the older girls’ program (Intensive Life Skills), but had gone AWOL from that program and spent the night with “friends”. This wasn’t her first brush with the rules, and wouldn’t be her last.
She was bucked down (so to speak) to the Christian Family Program and placed on the lowest possible privilege level (level 0). She would remain there for two weeks or more, and only gradually over the next several months work her way back up to a level with good privileges. She would go up a level or two, then back down. She’d stumble, get up again, only to fall again. She was the great manipulator.
I visited with her the first day on the job. I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, and probably wasn’t doing anything right those first few months. But together we worked, and she finally made it back to the ILS program, graduated high school, made a commitment to God, and enlisted in the Air Force.
She’s back on campus for several days and will work in the recruiting office that saw her off some months ago. She’ll celebrate her 18th birthday this coming Saturday on the same campus that she almost swore she would never come back to once she left.
Corina had a reality check this past year or so, and seems to have come out on the bright side of things. She seems to be on her way to being the young woman she was intended to be. She seems happy and fulfilled.
I’d like to think we had a part in that transformation.

Monday Morning

It’s another Monday morning on campus. It’s a little past 6am and a couple of the girls are already dressed and have eaten. Some haven’t gotten up yet. Bacon is in the oven and the newspaper hasn’t come yet (which is unusual). The morning is muggy and promises another hot day with a good breeze.
I was struck this morning (yes, I do some of my best thinking this time of day) that there are only a finite number of Monday mornings left for me. Let’s see. Assuming I have about 25 years left in my life, there are only about 1,000 Monday mornings left for me to enjoy.
Now, when I think of it that way, Monday mornings carry a whole new meaning. Where they used to be something to dread…going into work, drudgery of another week, etc…now they are something to be cherished and savored. I want to soak up the experience, knowing that it will all too quickly be over.
When the boys were in high school, we had a young man stay with us who needed a home. He was the same age as our sons and was a joy to have around. One spring when the young man and our older son were seniors, our younger son was a sophomore. They all had vehicles that they drove to school. For a time in the spring of that year, I scraped the frost off the windows and started each of the cars for them a couple of minutes before they came out to leave. I checked fuel levels and put some gas in a tank if I needed to. I’d check the oil sometimes, look at the tires, etc.
I will probably always remember that time in the spring of 1998 when I did that. It was nothing, really, but it was something to me. And yet, even as I was scraping frost, I knew that all too quickly, it would all be over, the boys would be leaving, and I would be left with memories.
I don’t know how old you are. I don’t know how many Monday mornings you have left. Neither do you. This may be your last. Find something in it to savor and appreciate.

Not A Good Day

Yesterday wasn’t a good day. I dunno. Nothing special happened either good or bad that set me off. I just wasn’t feeling good mentally. Physically everything was as fine as it can be for someone with arthritis and high blood pressure. But emotionally, it was not good.
Some days are just like that. You understand that the day was given to you by the grace of the Almighty, and you do fine in the day, but you just feel, well, crappy.
I started the day by reviewing in my mind the words of the song, “This is the day, This is the day that the Lord has made, That the Lord has made…” I don’t know what happened, but it went down hill from there.
Today, however, is a different day. I’m feeling reasonably well. My hands and fingers only hurt a little. The weather is hot, but there is a breeze outside which makes it tolerable. God has given me life and breath and health.
I think I’m ready for the day, whatever it holds. We’ll see how it goes.

The Dance Line

We went to a local steak house last evening. We’d been there a time or two before, and knew it would be busy. We also knew they had good steaks and the wait staff danced in the aisles from time to time…yes, they danced in the aisles.
We were no more than seated than the music started and 18 wait staff (all young people, by the way) did a dance to a country number. I can’t recall the title. They then went back to waiting tables. Toward the end of our time there, they danced again. This time there were 20 in the aisles dancing away to another country number that again I can’t remember the title of.
The steaks were incredible, though. Moderately priced, they were cooked just as ordered and seasoned just right. Many people think they can cook a good steak. The folks at this Texas-named place really do know how to cook one.
I guess my only comments on the dancing, though, are that the wait staff seemed to really enjoy doing the dances and providing some entertainment to their customers. They also have much more energy than I, and it shows. Of course, that could well be due to my pushing 60 and the folks in the dance line pushing 25, but who’s counting?

What Are You Waiting For?

Yesterday, I told you about a drive through the Flint Hills of Kansas through open range, crossing streams, and watching out for cattle. We traveled to the little community of Olpe where we met our son and his family, and our niece and her family. We met at a local restaurant there.
The Chicken House restaurant has been a fixture in Olpe for years. The building burned in the mid-1970’s and they rebuilt. They continue to serve some of the best fried chicken around along with chicken fried steak and other dishes sure to please hungry ranchers and cowboys. No calamari, frog legs, steamed broccoli, or garlic mashed new potatoes here. Just a lot of food on a plate that goes down easy and satisfies.
I enjoy those kinds of places. The conversation is usually brisk and friendly. There’s much more that goes on there than just eating. People make connection again with friends and neighbors. They keep up on the latest. They reconnect with the community. They are a part of something that is bigger than themselves. And they leave the place satisfied not only in their stomachs, but also in their guts knowing that they still matter.
The church was designed to be that same way. Church should be a place to make connection with friends and neighbors. It should be a place to reconnect with the community of believers. And it should be a place that gives a feeling of deep satisfaction knowing that one matters and is loved.
If the church you are part of isn’t that way, something is wrong. It could be something is wrong with the church, but it could also be something is wrong with you and your relationship with the God who made both you and the church, and created both to be a great match.
Just as we long to matter and be accepted by the neighboring community, so we also long to be accepted by God and the community of believers. Why do we persist in being part of a church that isn’t what God wants it to be, or conducting our lives in a manner that God never intended?
There really are churches that model God’s way. There really are people who have that relationship with God that you long for. What are you waiting for?

The Flint Hills

Last weekend we drove up to the community of Olpe (in Kansas) to meet a niece and her family at the local restaurant there. Our son and daughter in law, along with granddaughter drove down from Emporia to meet us there, too, and we went on to their home after lunch for a few hours to visit.
We drove through the Flint Hills to get there. No, we didn’t take the Kansas Turnpike through the Flint Hills. We went to El Dorado and caught Highway 177 east of there and took it up through Cassiday and on to Matfield Green.
At Matfield Green, we turned off and headed out of town on a dirt road that went into the heart of the hills. The road winds, turns, and has few side roads off of it. One really can’t get very lost, because if one encounters an intersection (an oddity there), just take the most well-traveled road and it will be the right one.
The road goes through some of the most breath-taking scenery in Kansas and is truly a delight. For almost 10 miles, the road travels through open range, meaning there are no fences to keep cattle off the road. Several cattle guards keep herds in certain sections of the pastures, but one always needs to be on the lookout for cattle on the road.
We forded several streams that were spring-fed and had fish in them (no bridges out there) and even saw a bobcat mama and two kittens along the side of the road. They scampered into the brush quickly, but not before we got a pretty good look at them. Of course, the cattle were everywhere.
One place a few miles east of Matfield Green has a little path that goes to the top of a rise. Take that little path and a whole world of hills, grass, and beauty wait at the top. Don’t linger too long, though, because you’re not on the public road any more.
One family had stopped and was playing in a stream. We saw one or two other vehicles, but that was about it for people. We saw a few ranches and several signs that talked of private roads or drives. Of course, one must respect those signs or be faced with someone who might not ask questions until after the shooting is over!
Honestly, though, most of those folks are good and decent folks who just want the peace and quiet of the hills. They don’t want (or need) tourists sallying in on them at all hours.
If you go, look first at a map. Google Maps offers a rather accurate map of that area. Know where you’re going, plan to take some time, and enjoy a little of what Kansas has to offer in that area. You’ll never regret it.

Melons

I looked at the watermelon plant we have growing out our back door the other day. I marveled at the complexity of that plant and what it was doing. The watermelon plant is a vine. It has a central root and runners that grow upwards of 20 or more feet from the main stem. Unlike some runner plants, it relies solely on the central root system and not on sucker roots that grow from the runners.
Our plant has three or four melons on it. The melon vine is busy manufacturing sugar and transporting it to the melons. It also is busy gathering water and transporting it to the melons. In fact, everything the vine is doing, it is doing for the melons that are hanging on it right now.
I wondered how it knew to shuttle the sugar manufactured in a runner over here to a melon on another runner over there. I wondered how it manufactured the red flesh inside the melons and how it manufactured that pigment. I also wondered how it could continue to stuff water into a melon that is already about 90% water. Normally, water flows from the greater to the lesser. In this case, it seems to be flowing from the lesser to the greater because the roots of the plant are in soil that certainly is not 90% water.
I probably will have to continue wondering. The fountain of all information (the Internet) only talks about something called transpiration, which is how trees get water from roots to leaves. That says nothing about how to stuff an already soaked melon with still more water.
Someone smarter than I am will have to explain it to me some day.

Happy Slogging

We’re working on our old house that we used to live in, but have rented out for the past several years. It’s in another community in southern Kansas about an hour’s drive from here. We went there today to do some work and were there yesterday evening for awhile.
The work is going rather slowly, it seems. I know it will pick up and if we’re persistent, it will look nice when we’re done. But right now, we’re kind of in the messy, tearing-out phase and it just seems to drag on and on.
Life is like that sometimes (you knew there would probably be some kind of “lesson” in this, didn’t you?). We seem to just plod on and on with little progress, getting “another day older and deeper in debt” as the old song goes. Sometimes we even wish we were somebody else or could move or get another job, etc. We wish we could win the lottery and not have to work any more. I don’t know what your fantasy is, but those have been mine in the not-too-distant past.
God put us here for a reason and for a purpose. Life indeed can be drudgery. Life indeed can be boring. Life indeed can be old. We may not know why, or even how, but that’s not for us to necessarily know. God loves us. That should be enough.
And that’s what makes the prospect of life with God so great. Some day, we’ll no longer be bored. No longer old. No longer slogging through the day. And it will last forever. Get that? Forever.
Now, that is something to think about.

One Life

Tomorrow is my grandfather’s birth day. If he was alive, he would be 137 years old tomorrow. Now, you might think, why in heaven’s name would anyone remember a birthday for someone who has been dead for over 40 years?
Normally, I don’t do a very good job remembering birthdays. I know a few of them, my own included. But I don’t know all the nieces, nephews, etc. Besides, birthdays normally aren’t a big deal for me. But this one somehow is a little different.
Grandpa Sol was one of those larger than life people in my young life. Although an old man when I was but a youngster (he died at the age of 96…I was 16), he was one of the most genuine and kind people I knew. His mind was sharp until the end. He told stories of times long ago and far away. He lived with his daughter for many years, but was independent regarding caring for himself until the last few weeks of his life. My time with him was all too short, and in some cases my young mind didn’t fully appreciate his presence in my life.
I remember his birthday primarily because I remember his 88th birthday celebration. We traveled to LaCrosse, Kansas on August 8, 1958 to celebrate his 88th birthday. Think about it…88 on 8/8/58. Sol’s granddaughter lived there with her new hubby, and they put on the party.
As a young boy, I don’t remember much except it was hotter than Hades and our ’56 Ford wagon (with a Thunderbird engine) didn’t have air conditioning. (Or did we take our ’54 Ford sedan??? I can’t remember.) At the time, LaCrosse had a public water supply that had high concentrations of minerals, and the water didn’t taste or smell at all good. But the celebration in the park was great, and we enjoyed the day.
In his last year or two of life, he and I talked about television. He had a set, one of the first to get one in the community. He marveled that we had figured out a way to send pictures and sound in the air from a great distance, and have those pictures and sounds hit a conglomeration of tubes up in the air on a pole (antenna), come down a little wire, and appear on the box in his living room.
He’s right, of course. Those who know how television works would truly understand what a marvelous invention it is, and that we far too much take it for granted. This was a man who saw the spread of the railroad across the prairie, the establishments of counties, towns, and states, the taming of the west, the demise of the buffalo, and the harnessing of electricity, the patenting of the telephone, the internal combustion engine, and other monumental events. He also saw manned space flight, the harnessing of the atom, the conquering of polio, the invention of the computer mouse, and was dead only two years before the first flight by Apollo to the moon. He was fascinated by all of it.
What about you? What have you seen in your lifetime? What will you yet see? Only time will tell.

"I Can't Believe You're Here!!"

I’m seeing something in both my and my wife’s families that is interesting. We both are gradually, it seems, coming back together as a family either in or close to the places where we grew up.
My wife’s brothers and sisters will, by the end of this year if things go well, all be within about 75 miles of each other, except for one. Other assorted relatives, nieces, cousins, etc. are also in this radius.
My family is centering, it seems, here in Wichita. Three of the six of us are here now. There are also other family members in this area. Whether or not we will all eventually gather here, or even if any others gather here, I don’t know. But at least we are here.
This is not an unexpected thing. Families many times do this in the latter stages of life. I just wasn’t expecting it with our families quite this soon. But it’s also comforting to know that others we know and love are just a few minutes away, even with the instant communication of Yahoo Messenger, email, or cell phone.
As sis has said to me more than once, “I can’t believe you’re here!”

Another Time, Another Place

I just watched an old video of Peter, Paul, and Mary in 1986. It was a PBS special, and they were celebrating 25 years together. The songs they sang were timeless and their voices were still in good form that year. “Blowin’ in the Wind,” “Puff, the Magic Dragon,” “If I Had a Hammer” and others were sung with enthusiasm and received by the huge audience with equally great enthusiasm.
Watching this video was kind of a thought-provoking time for me. I grew up with their songs. I sung along on the radio with them when they played. I have their earlier recordings. And I’ve followed them through the years. Sometimes during the performance, I was able to take myself back to those years. Other times, I thought about how much we’ve all changed, yet nothing really has changed. Sometimes, I’d just enjoy the music, the professionalism, and the performance.
They did not sing “The Great Mandela” or “Its Raining, Its Pouring,” but they did sing many others of my favorites. It’s an old video, but one I’ll keep. My boys will, when I’m gone and they’re going through my things, wonder why I kept it. I’ll watch it only a few more times in my lifetime, I suspect, but that’s OK. Sometimes, we need to be taken to another time, another place. For me, music is a good way to do that.

The Vacation's Over

This is a busy time for us. One might think that with summer vacation ending and the hot days upon us in full force, it would be a rather lazy time. I am somewhat surprised, though, that we are as busy as we are with the girls.
There’s school that starts in a couple of weeks. We’re taking the girls to dental and eye appointments, finding clothes, enrolling girls, and generally trying to get things going so we don’t have all of that to do at the last minute.
Then there are the remnants of summer activities. One of the girls is staying with her folks for a few days. One of the girls just got back from camp. We still have classes and other activities going on here at the campus for the others.
We have much to do on campus. The garden is in full production. The grass has only recently begun to slow down its growth due to a lot of rain this spring. The trees need to have limbs trimmed, trash is ever-present on campus due to a business district next door with a McD---- there, and other repairs and projects beckon as well.
To add to all of that, for us personally, we are looking forward to helping my brother move to new digs soon. We also are working on our rental property, trying to keep up with our granddaughter, arranging our finances, and finding time for ourselves.
Yes, it may be a busy time, but I think it’s really a matter of perspective. You see, school is just a couple of weeks away. Then the vacation is over.

What's Normal?

The girls who were here and I went with my brother and sister this morning to pick blackberries at a nearby blackberry orchard. I don’t know what the real name should be, so I’ll use the word “orchard”. We got up early, were out of the house by 6:25, and on our way to the restaurant for breakfast and to meet Sis, then on to the berry farm.
The girls did generally well at picking, but mostly had fun with each other and with the “berry bugs” and the “berry snakes”. One of the girls saw a garden snake and called it a berry snake, and there was some kind of insect, like a locust, that one of the others nicknamed a berry bug. Of course, the bugs and snakes were going to eat them, etc and there were appropriate shrieks and laughter about the critters.
My brother said during the picking time that if one didn’t know differently, one would think that these girls were “normal”. I replied that most of the time they were indeed normal, but there were times where triggers of some sort, usually unknown even to the girls, cause them to not think clearly and do something they otherwise would not have done. Or they have not been taught proper interaction techniques or responses to certain environmental stressors. Or there is something else going on of some kind.
We all have times when we’re not normal, I suppose. It’s just that most of us react appropriately to those times and redirect ourselves back to normal or accepted behavior. These girls, for some reason, can’t do that appropriately.
By the way, what’s normal?

Cultural Ruts

We attended a performance by some Chinese acrobats today. As you may know, these folks are just pretty good, and today’s performance was no exception. They made the very difficult seem very easy, and made the impossible seem just a bit harder than easy. Along with the acrobats, some Chinese yoyo performers showed their skill, and some dancers did a Chinese dance. All in all a very enlightening and entertaining afternoon.
I was struck this afternoon with the idea of the incredible diversity that is built into this world of ours. Venues such as this performance allow one culture to contact another in a non-threatening and educational manner. We are privy to a small piece of China and are blessed and made better by our appreciation of these people and what they do.
All too often, we are stuck in our cultural ruts, rubbing elbows only with those who are like us. We don’t have experiences that get us out of our cultural boxes, and when such experiences are made available to us, we often turn away from them as something that is new and different. We want everything to be the same.
Thanks to all who made this performance possible. It was good for me to get out of my rut and appreciate another people and another culture.

Worth Knowing

A few days ago, I was over at the little shopping center that’s just a block or so from the campus. There’s a drive-up mail box there and I noticed a postal service vehicle there and a mailman at the box. I didn’t think much of it at first, but did a double take when I processed the fact that the mailman was putting mail INTO the box instead of taking it out.
Now, that may not seem like much of a deal to you, but it struck me as kind of different that a mailman would be putting mail into the box. My thought was that this was a route carrier that had picked up mail from his route and instead of taking it back to the post office to put into the system, he was putting it into a box to be later picked up by someone else.
You may look at this and just say, “So??” If you do, so be it. You don’t have to read anything into this if you don’t wish to. But some of you undoubtedly will see the irony here; that someone who is supposed to deliver and process mail instead deposits it into a box to be handled by someone else…he’s just a regular Joe who is mailing some things.
So now you know. If you give a letter to your carrier, the chance may be good that he’ll just pull up to a drive-up box somewhere and mail it for you instead of carrying it all the way back to the post office. And isn’t that really worth knowing?

Going Soft

Well, it’s Friday. We have our girls back and we’re in the middle of the Friday schedule. Right now, the girls are at tutoring. We have some adults that come on campus twice a week during the summer and help the girls with math, reading, and writing. These volunteers are a godsend and we are indebted to them greatly.
The day promises to be warm and sticky. I’ve some work to do outside, and am not looking forward to it, but it must be done. I don’t know why, but the heat seems to bother me more than it used to.
I can recall younger days when we had a swamper at home. That’s a water cooler; one of those boxy things that went into the window. Water ran down pads of some kind of material (which smelled wonderful the first few days) and cooled air that was sucked through them and blown into the house. On dry days, it worked great. On humid days, it wasn’t so good.
But as a boy, I wasn’t that concerned about humidity, heat, and discomfort. There were too many things to do in the summer and not enough time to do them. There were tree houses to build, field work to do, drain ditches and railroad sidings to explore, summer recreation, and a host of other things to keep a young mind occupied. The swamp cooler was just a brief respite at times from the heat and outdoors.
Now we lament that we are going soft. We have to have air conditioning and plenty of it. We don’t spend much time outside and when we do, we slather lots of sunscreen. We sweat and think it’s somehow unnatural. And to even think of building a tree house with old boards found on the board pile under the elm at the back of the place is not possible, because there are no more board piles laying around.
I don’t know if we’re going soft or not. In some respects, we’re tougher than ever. I’ll leave that up to you. But for right now, I’m donning my hat, my gloves, and a steely will to brave the heat and humidity of Wichita in July. If I make it back alive, I’ll let you know how it went.

A Decent Place

We spent yet another day at the rental house in my hometown…the one I’ve been telling about in previous posts. We didn’t spend a lot of time there. Maybe we were there four or so hours today. We were both tired today and I hurt from yesterday’s work.
We did get some sheetrock (excuse me, DRY WALL…Sheetrock® is a brand name) mudded and got some wet sanding done. We also prepared to do more dry walling tomorrow and maybe some more mudding and taping.
It’s getting a little more dry down there, as it hasn’t rained any great amount for almost a week. The humidity is even going down some. Now, maybe we can get back to some semblance of normal, whatever that is, with the weather.
We’re getting our girls back on Thursday afternoon. We’ll go down there tomorrow and work, but stay here Thursday to prepare to get them back. On Monday, three of the girls will be going to camp, so that will leave us with just three for about a week. Then following that, we need to begin thinking about school. We need to do some shopping, get school supplies, etc.
We’re going to see our sons and their families this evening at Emporia. They’re meeting us there. It’ll be just for a couple of hours or so, then back to Wichita. These weeks off never seem to have enough days in them. We always have more to do at the end of them than we had at the beginning, it seems!
Thanks to all who have encouraged us as we work with our old house. It’s nice to know that there are others who care. We care, too, and will do the best we can with the resources we have to make the place a decent place to live once again. Thanks.

Listening

The wife and I went down and worked on our rental house today. We’ve been down there several times over the past two or three weeks, and we’re just now beginning some re-building following a lot of tearing up, down, and out. It’s been a discouraging process to go through, because the house is where we raised our family and is where I grew up. It just doesn’t seem right to have to see the old home place look like this.
Every time we go down, we are welcomed by a house wren and his missus. They’ve taken up residence in an old wren house attached to a post that isn’t more than about six feet off the ground and about 15 feet from our back door. Regardless of the weather, the man of the house is singing away either in a nearby sycamore, on top of the post, or on top of the wren house. He helps his wife take in various kinds of bugs…I am assuming there is a family inside.
I think God sent him there to keep me on the right track. This house repair is awfully discouraging. But the wren doesn’t care what the weather is, what shape the house is in, or anything else. He knows what he knows, and he knows that he needs to sing his song. And he does sing…and he cheers me whenever he sings.
We’ve had wrens in that house (one I built as a teenager) for years. Even when we moved and rented the place out, they still came. I’m glad they’re here this year. It’s just one more reminder that God loves me and desires what is best for me. Now, if I’d only listen….

Attitude Adjustments

We have a home in this area that we’ve owned for many years. When we had to move away several years ago, we kept the house and rented it. Recently, we found several things wrong with the house and asked the renters to move so we could work on the house.
When we took a good look at the place, it was obvious that it needed more than we could give it in just a day or two. Several of us spent three days earlier this month at the place, and we uncovered issue after issue that just sank us deeper into discouragement. It turned out the house was a lot more in need of attention…major attention…than we had thought.
We kept thinking that we had found all that we were going to find, then something else would manifest itself, causing us to THEN think we’d found all that we were going to find, etc. We reached a low point, I think, on the night of the third day. Since then, it’s been a struggle to maintain a good attitude while working to correct the problems.
Having a good attitude and a positive frame of mind is so important in any aspect of life and living. I must confess that I don’t have that kind of an attitude nearly as much as I should. I tend to take things personally. I want to make things worse than they are. I think that no one in the world has the problems that I have.
Then all I have to do is look at the girls we serve here and their families. All I need do is look at the people of Greensburg, Kansas or Coffeyville, Kansas (tornado and flood, respectively). Or I can look in any nursing home or hospital, any prison, any mental facility, any of a number of places to find people who would gladly trade places with me.
Why is it that we have such a hard time figuring out that we have a lot going for us and that God is indeed good? Why do we continue with the martyr complex? Why can’t we see life as good? Why do we dwell on the bad, the negative? I don’t know the answers to those questions. I don’t know if anybody does. But I do know that I’d better get an attitude adjustment quickly, or I’ll miss out on what is truly special about living.