The Fly

I was listening to NPR today, and they had a story about a man who is doing research on flies…yes, the common fly. Specifically, he is photographing them with very high speed cameras that catch them in very slow motion.

The researcher (Michael Dickinson) said that the fly might well be the “most sophisticated flying device on the planet.” Think of it, folks. The common housefly has been relegated to the top tier of flying devices, and may in fact be right at the top.

Listen to what NPR says that Mr. Dickinson told them about how a fly perceives a threat and escapes out of its way. “What's remarkable about this body position is how fast it happens. In less than a 10th of a second, the fly has to perceive the threat using its eyes, determine what direction it's coming from, and then make the appropriate movement with its legs so it jumps in the right direction. And all this is accomplished by a brain that's the size of a poppy seed.”

High speed videos of the fly taking off from threats coming at it from various angles are at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=94070264

Of course, we could get into the evolution/natural selection debate again with this information. Or we could just marvel at the creation and give praise to the One who made it all…even flies.

Something to Learn

If I have learned anything by working in a nursing home, it is the related virtues of taking things slowly and with patience. Sometimes I recognize that on my own; sometimes it is forced upon me.

What I am about to say is in no way disparaging of or condescending to those in our charge at the home. Each one is an individual created by God, with his or her own personality, strengths, and weaknesses. Each one is at the home because of an inability to care for his or herself in some way. Each one probably wishes for (and longs for) a time when he or she once again can be self-sufficient; when a foot, an arm, or some other body part moves when commanded, when a mind works as it should, and when a medical issue was no more complex than a cold.

To turn a corner and come upon someone slowly shuffling down the hall, having to stop every few feet to catch a breath, and with the greatest of difficulty imaginable willing one’s feet to move in such a way that progress down the hall is made, however small, is one of the most humbling experiences I’ve ever had.

To put someone into a vehicle and hear them tell me that their feet don’t always do what they are commanded to do…meaning I will have to put their legs and feet into the vehicle because they just won’t move on their own…is not only humbling for them, but is also an almost spiritual experience for me, at times.

I have the privilege, five or more days a week, to be of service in some way to over 50 people with one or more disabilities that make it impossible for them to navigate this world and their environment on their own. Most of the time I see to it that the building is the correct temperature, the lights work, and the plumbing isn’t clogged up. Sometimes I am able to help with a resident in some way, or just observe as they, with great stamina and courage, make it through another day.

I would be a complete idiot if I didn’t take a lesson or two from these experiences. These people are, for the most part my senior, and I can learn from them things no one else can teach. “Slow down and be patient,” they seem to be saying to me. “Don’t let life run away from you.”

Will I learn? Intellectually, I already know. It’s the “taking it to heart” that is the problem for me. One of these days, I may not have much choice in the matter. I may be one of the ones who cannot live on my own. I may be one of the ones being cared-for by others much younger than I. I may be one of those who can yet teach those younger ones something about patience.

Endurance

I was watching the Olympics over my lunch hour today. I turned on the women's table tennis matches. I like to watch sports that are a little less-known and get a little less press, so I was on MSNBC cable instead of the NBC station.
The United States contender was pretty much having her way with the challenger from...I don't remember where. It was one of the smaller European countries. As I watched, I thought that as the match went three games to none (4 out of 7 wins the match), the European player would just give up. But that did not turn out to be the case.
Although out-gunned and out-matched, the European player played harder than ever, and even took the fourth game to deuce a couple of times. She won the fourth game, making a fifth necessary. She then lost the fifth game, which was the match loss.
While all of this was going on, I thought, “She knows she's going to be beaten. She knows she can't out-play her opponent.” Then I thought, “But this is the Olympics. This is the ultimate. Those who make it to the Olympics aren't quitters and people who give up. She's playing as a true Olympian.”
I've seen this in contest after contest. There are always some in these events that are totally outclassed and out-matched by the stars. But those folks try every bit as hard...train every bit as much...and put all they have into what may be this one moment in their lives.
They may run only one race. They may play only one volleyball game. They know that they probably will not go any further. Then they are eliminated from further competition. But they do it with all they have and with all their heart.
Paul says to run with endurance the race set before us and to look at the goal...the prize...at the end of it. He says to run so as to obtain the prize. The difference between the race that Paul is talking about and the Olympic races is that everyone who finishes the race described by Paul receives the prize. All one has to do is finish.
I am reminded of the vault of Kerry Strug in the 1996 Olympics...vaulting with an injury that would otherwise have sidelined many, and with that vault “finishing the race” as it were. For those of us that saw it, it was an unforgettable moment. For Kerry, it was the mark of a true Olympian...a true champion.
“I have fought the good fight; I have finished the course...”

Are You Tough Enough?

I was listening to NPR the other day when they had an interview with one of the Olympic athletes. I believe he was an American steeplechase participant, but am not certain of that. Of course, they talked about a lot of things, but then he talked of his motivation to persevere through the training and then the competition.

I don’t know if this will strike you or not. It did me. When asked why he continues training in a sport that very few people know or care about, and if he ever felt like quiting, he said that when he gets to that place in his life, he just stops and asks himself one question: "Are you tough enough?"

Are you tough enough? Maybe we all should be asking ourselves that question at times. Now, I know that I’ll sometimes say no to that question. For example, if I think about skydiving and I ask myself that question, the answer will be “No,” although if it was a matter of life and death, I probably would jump out of that plane.

However, in everyday life and living, we face those giants that just seem to beat us down. The cranky boss, the unnerving traffic, the bad relative, never ending work, the chronic health issue, kids that never seem to grow up, or some such other issue. Maybe we are caught in a debt trap or find ourselves in an abusive situation of some kind. Perhaps we are addicted to something. Whatever it is, one key question we need to ask ourselves is, “Are you tough enough?”

The answer for many might well be no. However, for the Christian, there should never be occasion for that answer. Paul says that we have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear, but a spirit of adoption as sons. He also says that we have not received a spirit of timidity but rather a spirit of power and love. Paul also says that he can do all things through Christ, who strengthens him.

What’s going on in your life that is an issue right now? What are you battling? What is getting the best of you? Are you tough enough? If the answer is "No," maybe you need some help. Try adding Jesus Christ to the equation, then ask yourself again. You might be pleasantly surprised to find that you indeed can do all things through Christ, who strengthens you.

Porches and Perseverance

The wife and I stopped at a Braum’s ice cream store on the way home from evening church and got a hot fudge sundae. We were discussing the lesson we had just heard from a young man who was debuting as a speaker. He is a member of our church, and asked to be able to try his hand at speaking to the evening assembly. He did a great job, and we were talking about some of what he said.

We went just a few blocks with our sundaes to my sister’s house. I decided that whether or not she was home, we would sit on her enclosed porch and eat our sundaes. Sis was home, so she joined us on the porch.

She writes about her porch in her blog. It is a good place to congregate, visit, and just think. Sis has an older home with a large front porch that has been screened in and is very comfortable, especially in the evening.

I wonder how often we long for something that we can’t quite place or put our fingers on, and what we really need is a porch and an hour or so to just sit and ponder and visit. Modern lifestyles often don’t include time or space for such a porch, and we think it to be somewhat hokey in any event. But I think there’s a need for such a time and space in everyone’s life, from Warren Buffet and Bill Gates on down to the “least of these”.

Did we solve the world’s problems? No. Did we solve our own problems? No. But we did reconnect with each other and were able to sort out some things so that we could go into the week with a fresh perspective on some issues that at present seem to be rather intractable. And after all, isn’t that the thing? To keep on keeping on…running the race…finishing the course…that’s the thing. And porches can make all the difference in whether or not we’re successful in doing that.

Today

Today is August 8, 2008. That's 08/08/08 for those of you who are superstitious or count those kinds of things to be something. I don't, except for their unusual nature, but that's for a different day and blog. Today is special, however, for a different reason. Today is the birthday of my grandfather, Sol Plank.
Now, Sol has been dead for over 40 years (almost 42, to be exact). But I don't think there's a year that goes by that I don't stop for just a moment to enjoy some memories of him.
I've talked about him before. You may have heard how he came to Nebraska on the train with his family, or how he lost everything he had in the depression, or how he marveled so at television. You may, if you remember Sol, know that his full name was Solomon B Plank, and that the B was just an initial...no middle name that began with B was part of his moniker.
You may know other things...how he drove until well into his 90's; how he lost his wife in the early 20's; and how he reached out to people of different faiths in a time and as a member of a church that frowned greatly on such things.
But I guess that what I want to leave you with today is the certain knowledge that Sol, if he would be alive today (age 138, by the way), would probably be enamored with the computer, HDTV, and the Martian Rover while at the same time gently reminding his descendants that some things are timeless...faith, love, friendship, loyalty, gentleness, and generosity.
He would continue to spin stories of homesteading on the Nebraska plains, or farming over in the Danville (Kansas) area, or of some other aspect of a remarkable life that saw everything from the invention of the telephone to the internal combustion engine, to manned space flight. And we would sit, mesmerized by his ability to recall details and his knack for weaving together stories of the old times that entertained as well as informed.

It's Always Our Fault

So now it's our fault. It always is, I guess. Oh, I didn't tell you what is our fault, did I. Why, it's the plight of the airlines going bankrupt and hemorrhaging money like banshees. Our fault? Whose bright idea is that? No less than a Mr. Dave Castelveter of the Air Transport Association. This is what was reported by NPR Radio. http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=93376602
“Dave Castelveter, of the Air Transport Association, says consumers share in the responsibility for the airline crisis. He says airlines have to keep airfares below their market price in order to remain competitive online. When consumers visit a travel Web site like Expedia or Travelocity, they often view flights by clicking on a button that says "list flights by lowest fare."
While airline executives would like to make a profit, they're busy trying to stay on the first page of those search results — and they can't do that if they hike their fares. This is part of the reason they've begun adding "hidden" costs for checked luggage and aisle seats, for example. Those ancillary fees do not affect a flight's price position on Travelocity and Expedia.”
So, I guess that if we the consuming public wouldn't try to always find the best deals and just take whatever happens to be offered, the poor airlines wouldn't be in this position, or at least would be in better shape than they are. If we'd just stay away from the “flights by lowest fare” button, the CEO's of the various airlines wouldn't have nearly as much explaining to do in their board meetings.
Somehow, I don't buy that. The question was raised as to why airlines just didn't raise fares to cover expenses. The reply was that if they raised fares, the planes might not be filled. In the same piece, it was said that the airlines are losing money on each fare. Now, I'm no economist, but I would think that if every fare represents a loss of $100 or more (which they said was the case), the fewer fares that lost money, the better.
OK. Let's take another look at this. Wouldn't it be better to fly fewer fares that were profitable than to fly a lot of fares that were losers? Why not raise rates, ground some flights, lay off some employees, and be profitable? I know that's easy for me to say, not being an airline employee. However, I've had my share of that kind of thing, and have also had to do that as management. It isn't easy. It demands, as the politicians say, tough choices and tough decisions (and the guts to carry them out).
Of course, it would also be beneficial to make the flying experience something more than what a cow might experience being herded from one pen to another. But that's another blog.

The Things One Learns....

O the things one learns in a nursing home!
We have an older man living here who cannot live on his own due to age and chronic health issues. Ray (not his real name) came to us virtually unresponsive and seemed to be in his own world. He would sometimes be rather messy when it came to bowel and bladder habits. He would eat little, or not at all.
That is gradually changing as the staff works with Ray. He is more vocal now and recognizes when people are speaking to him. He sometimes clears off his place at the table on his own, and enjoys walking with the staff (especially the female staff). But today I found out something about this man that I had not known, and probably would not have known had I not taken the time to watch a video.
You see, Ray is a pilot. And not only that, but he also has built airplanes...not for Boeing or Cessna, but for himself and others. And, he's a flight instructor. Ray has taught many an aspiring pilot how to fly.
Just looking at him now, one would think that this is a poor, little old man who had a less-than-thrilling life, commuting to work and back again, for forty or more years. Not so. Ray has seen the world in ways that many of us can only imagine, and has memories in his mind that make anything we know seem as kindling for his fire and persona.
I will from here on look at Ray in a different light, knowing what I now know. O the things one learns in a nursing home!

The Goldfinch In Our Yard

This morning, Pat went out onto the upstairs patio, as often is her habit. In a few minutes, she called me out and pointed out a brilliant yellow and black bird that had perched at the edge of our little fish pond and was seriously eyeballing something in or on the water. I haven’t seen yellow so bright and brilliant in nature in a long time.

We got a good look at the bird. I went in the house to get my binoculars, but when I returned, Pat said the bird had gone into the trees behind our house. Going back inside, I got my bird book and looked it up.

It didn’t take much to connect what I had seen with the American Goldfinch picture in the book. The match was almost exact. I then looked in the book for a little more information on the visitor we had briefly a few minutes before.

Among other things, the book said the birds were chiefly seed eaters. They also, unlike many species of birds, nest in the late summer and only hatch one brood due to that quirk. The book went on to explain that since seeds become more prevalent later on in the growing season, the birds wait to hatch their young until food becomes more plentiful.

Thinking about that, I wondered just how the theory of natural selection might explain how and why these birds ended up not even trying to hatch young ones until more of their preferred food was available. I imagined eons ago these birds trying, but failing to keep their young alive as they hatched broods in the spring like many other birds. I guess natural selection would say something like, “These families of birds died out, not being able to reproduce. However, some of the finches who (for whatever reason) happened to wait until later in the year to hatch their young, were successful and passed that trait on to their offspring.”

That may sound good to many of you, but it presupposes a lot of things. First, it assumed that the birds were totally unable to reproduce in the spring, which is not supported by any factual information. Second, it assumes that some of the species somehow did not hatch until later on in the summer…again, not supported by fact. Third, it assumes that the seasons; spring, summer, fall, and winter, were always what they now are. We know that isn’t so. Fourth, it assumes that those that did hatch in the late summer were somehow able to pass along that information in their DNA to their offspring.

I don’t know about you, but it seems to me much more likely that an intelligence of some kind planned for the goldfinch to do exactly what it does rather than a series of random chances that rely on unproven assumptions caused the end result of the American Goldfinch in my back yard today.

Carrie Lou

I was looking through a publication from my college of the early 1980’s, Oklahoma Christian College (now, it’s Oklahoma Christian University). I don’t often look in the obituaries in the Christian Chronicle, but did this morning. In those obits, I saw the name of someone who possibly single-handedly saved my marriage, my well-being, my career, and my family.

This woman took me under her wing immediately following my unceremonious termination from employment at a church in Ardmore, Oklahoma in 1983. Many church workers call such terminations massacres, and I tend to agree. In any event, Carrie Lou, a woman of elegance, intelligence, sense, means, compassion, and love offered to pay my way to my choice of either Harding University in Arkansas or Oklahoma Christian in Oklahoma City. She was on the Board of Trustees at both institutions. Anything I could charge to my college account would be paid for by Carrie Lou.

I spent just over a year at OCC. During that time, I amassed 62 credit hours toward a degree. I will forever be grateful beyond words to Carrie Lou for her faith in me.

Not only did she enable me to start on my path to a degree, more importantly, she gave me and my family time to heal, reflect, validate, and grow. Her acceptance of the responsibility to provide for us provided us with a first-hand understanding of unconditional love and acceptance. She gave us a chance to reconnect, to “find” ourselves, and to understand that God has a plan for us.

Although I could not finish my degree at that time due to health concerns of my parents, I used that education to forever change, I think, my direction in life and begin to understand the purpose of my being. I am who and what I am today in large part because Carrie Lou had compassion on a young man who showed the promise of a better life.

Carrie Lou passed away in late June. Her husband passed away just a few days ago and was buried on August 1. If you care to, you can see her obituary at http://www.ardmoreite.com/obituaries/x833719071/Carrie-Lou-Scott-Little-Davis

Rest in peace, Carrie Lou, and thank you.

We’ve had an unsettling thing happen this past week. We received a call during the week that some rather unusual charges were being put on one of our credit cards. We found that one of the two cards we had been issued was missing. We thought that we may have inadvertently lost it the prior weekend at a store. Obvously, we closed that account and are having a new card issued to us. The thief got away with almost two hundred dollars.

Today we were looking at our checking account and found added unauthorized charges. We discovered that one of our debit cards was missing. We know that we had the card Thursday afternoon, so suspect that both cards were stolen by someone rifling through a desk while we were at work. We also have some checks missing…checks at the bottom of the stack so we wouldn’t miss them right away.

We put a stop payment on the checks, closed the debit card, and Monday will go in to the bank and have a new checking account issued to us. That sounds good and it is, but just imagine what we now will have to do with that new number.

We’ll have to order checks. We’ll have to get new debit cards. We’ll have to change the payment method on all of our automatic and on-line payments. It’s a mess.

We put a fraud alert on both of our credit accounts and are thinking about having new credit cards issued to us from other issuers in the off chance that the thief copied down numbers, but didn’t take the card. We also filed a police report. I don’t quite know where to go from here.

This isn’t identity theft per se. However, the consequences are much the same. We suspect an employee at the place where we work (not a specific employee…we don’t know that much). I feel sorry for them on the one hand, and on the other, I hope they get caught so they can get help, perhaps.

I’ll be working tonight on some of our other accounts. I’ll let you know if we have further problems. Life is complicated, sometimes.

Normal Weekends

I thought I’d say a few words before beginning the day. Yes, I know it’s 10am, but it’s on a Saturday and it’s been a hard week.

I look forward to the weekends for the change of pace and letdown that they provide. For example, today I got up at 9am, which I admit is late for me. Usually, I arouse around between 7:30 and 8am. Today, though, it just seemed like a good day to be lazy. I got dressed, went out and retrieved the paper, then read it while eating whole-grain cereal (Grape-Nuts).

I’m getting ready to load up the mower and take it to our other house and mow the yard that has been sadly neglected for the last month. I imagine the grass and weeds will be rather overgrown, and will probably take down the weed whacker as well.

This afternoon I’ll help with some housework and prepare my Sunday School lesson for tomorrow. The topic for the quarter is the names for Jesus. Each week we discuss a different name for Jesus, such as Son of Man, Good Shepherd, etc. Tomorrow we will discuss Jesus saying of Himself that He is The Way.

The yard here at home needs some work and I’ll probably do some of that this evening. Then tomorrow is church, which is always the highlight of the week (yes, that is really true). Tomorrow evening our small group will meet, which also is a great time.

Most of my weekends go something like the above. They can be punctuated with some shopping, visits by relatives or others, trips somewhere for the day or part of a day, or perhaps being called in to work for something. I never know.

So, time to get some coffee around, load up the mower, and head out. I should be back in about four hours or so. Hi-ho, Silver!!

The List

This has been, I think, an unusual spring and summer for the Wichita area. We’ve had plenty of rain and rather cool weather up until now. Our rainfall for the first six months of this year is about what we would receive in a normal year, so we are plenty damp. And, as usually happens with wet weather, the temperature has stayed cooler than normal.

So, what is it about the weather that seems to be a good conversation starter or a convenient way to segue from one topic to another? You’ll notice that I began this blog with the weather. I did so because I couldn’t think of anything else about which to blog and decided, as I often do, to just start writing and see what comes out. What has come is a question out of a long line of questions about why we do what we do.

Weather is something we feel we have a right to cuss and discuss, yet is something about which we can do nothing. It transcends even the federal government in being unreachable and unyielding. It will be what it will be, and nothing on earth can change it.

I suppose our propensity to discuss the weather as a conversation piece may have something to do with that notion. It’s a safe topic, yet one that everyone knows (or thinks they know) something about.

There are other topics like that in our conversation. The traffic on city streets, nameless bureaucrats that make decisions on our behalf, large corporations that seem to have a life of their own, taxes, and death. You can name your own and probably greatly expand the list.

For those who were at the reunion a few days ago, I suppose the quote that would most aptly describe what to put in a list such as the above would be the one heard from one of the grandkids (about 4 years old) during the birthday party for another. She was desperately trying to make sure the party went according to how she wanted it to go, and wasn’t having a lot of luck due to the presence of so many adults. She was heard in frustration to say, “I can’t control this!”

Yep. That list will be MUCH longer than I thought it might, now that I think about that short sentence and apply it to the things to go on the list.

Back

Well, we’re back. We got back home about 5pm and got the rental van back on time. We’re tired and don’t wish to do it again any time soon, but are thrilled we had the chance to go and take our son and his family with us.

I’ll not write much today, except to say that we’re all fine and had a great time in Michigan, seeing all the relatives. There is a lot to write about, probably more than I’ll have the time or inclination to do over the next several days.

Work is tomorrow. From the tone of a couple of emails I’ve received while on vacation, I think there may be a little different work “climate” now than when I left. It should be interesting, and for me is a little disconcerting…nothing bad, but I like my ruts.

Thanks to all who had a part in making the reunion a success, especially the Michiganders who hosted us and fed us and entertained us. You’re terrific!!

We're Off

Well, this should prove to be quite the adventure. We're in Emporia as I write this and it's 6am. We're at our son's home and we're all up and getting ready to take off for our family reunion in Michigan.
The grandkids are up and around and we're getting last-minute things in the van we've rented. Coffee is done and we're looking forward to the next several days together. It's been awhile since we've traveled with babies, and the laws have changed since then regarding car seats, etc. So it will be a sort of a re-learning experience for us grandparents.
We'll be back here a week from today dropping off the kids, then back to Wichita. In the intervening time, we will have renewed ties with many in the family, had a lot of fun, reminisced, taken pictures, and whatever else families do when together (like eat??).

Past and Future

In today’s Sunday School class that I taught, we were talking about the importance of ancestry and where we came from. The topic was timely because we are studying some of the names for Jesus of Nazareth and today we were talking about Jesus the Son of David and what that meant.

The Jewish people spent a lot of time and energy making sure they knew first that they were descendents of Abraham, and second, which of Jacob’s sons they came from. They also were interested in whether or not they were descended from Royalty (the lineage of David the King, or some other person in their history.

One of the people in the class, during the initial minutes of the class when I was introducing the topic of ancestry, talked of her grandmother, who lived to age 109 and never liked to talk about the past, but look forward to the future. That is a noble thing, to be sure, but I wonder if there was something lost there.

No, we can’t live in the past, but we can learn from the past. To know what happened years ago…how people lived, the conditions of society, etc…is to be able to better understand the world today and how to survive and navigate within it. To hear of the struggles and trials of those in the Great Depression, one of the Great Wars, or some other major time is to better appreciate what we have now and to determine that we will not repeat the mistakes of the past.

I told the class that I marvel even now at my grandfather, who died when I was 16 years old. He was 96. Born in the mid to late 1800’s, he was witness to Reconstruction following the Civil War, the addition of all of the states from Colorado on, the founding of the WCTU (Womens Christian Temperance Union) and the Suffrage amendment to the US Constitution, five wars, the defeat of Custer, the Kodak camera, alternating current (forerunner of modern electrical systems) the light bulb, the machine gun, the x ray, the airplane, the vacuum tube, Prohibition, the Cyclotron, the Roaring 20’s, the Great Depression, the advent of plastics, Social Security (he was already eligible for Social Security when it went into effect), radio, television, the transistor, UNIVAC, nuclear submarines, the integrated circuit, Bob Dylan, the computer mouse, and space flight (Gemini XII).

He especially marveled at television and how those pictures and sounds could be transmitted through thin air, picked up by aluminum tubes (antennas), and converted by a box in his living room to picture and sound. I really think that if he thought he could have done it at his age, he would have gone to school to learn how television worked.

I had the privilege, three years after he died, to go to school and learn how television works (the new digital television is a whole ‘nuther animal). I marveled then at how it works and still am amazed that anyone could have thought up all of the intricate interplay and delicate balancing acts that have to occur in the circuitry and the concept for television to be reality.

Had he not experienced the coming of the light bulb, would he have marveled so at television? Had he not witnessed reconstruction, would the nuclear submarine have meant anything to him? Do you get my point? The past helps to drive who and what we are today and who and what we will be in the future. The past isn’t our roadmap to the future, but the past helps us choose the path we will take.

The Unwashed

At our Wednesday Bible class this evening, the leader was talking about the time in Matthew when Jesus ate “with the tax collectors and sinners.” The leader was saying that we are much more comfortable in our own circle of church people than we are when outside that circle. He also said that some people have great difficulty naming even one friend that is not a church friend or someone outside of our comfort circle.

I have had the opportunity over the years to make friends with several people outside of my circle of church friends and family. I don’t feel that uncomfortable around people like that; I used to be one of them. However, I’m not sure that my witness of the Good News has been at all stellar during the times I've been with my “unwashed” friends. Oh, I don’t get in the mud with them, necessarily; I just may not always be as overt in the teaching part of it as I could be.

I could tell you some stories here, but I prefer that most of the details stay with me for the time being. Some of you may have heard me talk of my friendship with local media personality Kevin Craig, who tragically took his life a couple of years ago here in Wichita, and how I had intended to contact him again after moving here…but didn’t.

Some of you may have heard of some other story, such as the time the CEO of Maude Carpenter Children’s Home and I went to a nightclub in Old Town over a Christmas holiday because they were doing a fundraiser for the home and we needed to be there. I was chosen to go because I was the only one on staff who was not uncomfortable with the smoke, booze, loud music, and drunks. Shellee went because she had to. The live music was pretty good. I rather enjoyed the night. I don’t think she did.

I'm not necessarily proud of my prior "unwashed" life. I'm not particularly thrilled that I once picked up a girl in a bar in St. Paul, Minnesota, or that I frequented the 13th and North Hydraulic area in Wichita with friends (and a girl friend), or that I walked the streets and alleys of downtown Wichita at night back in the late '60's, or that I had a four year relationship with a woman that, to put it delicately, was not in my best interests.

However, that is who I am and that is my history. I believe that even in all of that, my God can take those times and circumstances and make something good come of them. If that something good happens to be a level of comfort with the unwashed and their culture, so be it.

I don’t know that it’s just “eating with the tax collectors and sinners” that’s required. I think it’s having some of who I am wash off on those I eat with. That can be a horse of another color. There can be a fine line between enjoying the company of such people and immersing oneself into the culture as one of them. Not all of us may be capable of discerning the difference, but for those who can, perhaps is also given a responsibility to use it wisely.

Gritty Living

I am from the Anabaptist tradition. Both sides of my family were (are) firmly set in that tradition both by heritage as well as practice. One component of that tradition is that of being “a people of peace”. The practical effect of that is that those who subscribe to the Anabaptist philosophy do not serve as police officers, military, or other vocations of that kind and type. They also affirmatively champion the cause of peace (not just absence of war, but real, lasting peace) and work toward that end.

One thing I never heard much about when I was growing up was the effect that WWII had on those who were Anabaptist. My uncle, in his blog, gave some insight into that time recently. He did a series of blogs on the topic and admirably provided a good apologetic for his belief. His blog can be found at http://kings-continuingthejourney.blogspot.com/

The church we attend has no position on serving in the military or in law enforcement. That is left up to the individual to make that choice. It has been an effort, at times, for me to meld my Anabaptist upbringing with (for example) the sight of a uniformed police officer on duty on Sunday mornings (member of the church) stopping by for services. That happened regularly in Oakley, KS where we lived for several years, as Chuck and his family would meet for worship with the congregation. Sometimes he would have to leave during services to go to a call. Other times, he could be there the whole time.

I must admit I'm in the great gray middle on this issue. I like to hear both sides of any issue, and certainly appreciate and honor my uncle’s series of blogs as well as him for writing them.

The older I get, the more I have concluded that life isn't always the black and white that we sometimes have thought. The ideal is not always the reality, nor can it be in a fallen world. That doesn’t mean, however, that we should discard the ideal in favor of wallowing around in the reality without hope of something better. It does mean that sometimes we find ourselves in a position we’d rather not be in, but have no practical way to escape.

Jesus Christ and His example to us is the ideal. Just because we will never meet that ideal doesn’t mean we don’t continue to scratch and claw (that phrase doesn’t sound very peace-like, does it), giving all we have, pursuing it with every fiber of who we are.

On the contrary, as Christians we are called to do just that, while at the same time living, working, coping, and dealing with the imperfect and the effects of it. Loving one’s neighbor and doing unto others sometimes means being gritty and grimy. It sometimes means getting out of our comfort zone. It sometimes means sacrificial giving. It sometimes means disrespect and contempt. And it sometimes means giving the ultimate gift…life itself.

Not Me, Man

The last several days have been days of emotional ups and downs for me. I know I don’t often display emotions as some do, but I can certainly feel them inside. One such time happened today as I heard some beautiful music.

Sis came by the home today and serenaded the residents and staff with some selections on the baby grand we have there. As soon as she started playing, I was struck with emotions that I cannot describe several hours after the fact.

The music was beautiful, but that wasn’t the reason for my feeling. Instead, there was something about the relationship I have with the one doing the playing that made the whole afternoon. I looked forward so to her coming so my friends at the home could meet her, and look forward to her coming back. I was proud of her and her accomplishments in life and wanted others to know about her. And I was grateful and proud for her service and willingness to volunteer an hour or so doing what she does so well.

I also had a good evening at our Wednesday Bible classes. Our class is viewing a video on the life of Jesus. We are watching the book of Matthew portrayed as it is translated in the New International Version. I can’t think of the video series right now…some of you would know about it if I could remember it.

In this video, Jesus is portrayed as a man who has a sense of humor, shows emotion, and seems to sincerely enjoy his ministry and being with people. I understand the producers of the video have taken some license with it in order to produce something that has some attraction to those who would watch.

However, I cannot abide by the old notions that Jesus went around with a frown on his face all the time, used “thee” and “thou”, and had not a bit of fun in his life. He was fully human, according to the Scriptures, and that means he ran the full gamut of emotion including humor, sarcasm, wit, and others.

The Bible says that “the life” was in him. The Bible also says that Jesus came to earth to give us all life, and to give it abundantly. Jesus is The Life. To me, that means that He embodies all that is good about life and living, including humor and emotion.

I am grateful that I am receiving another perspective on the life of this God-Man, the Eternal Son. I am humbled and awed by the possibility that Jesus may well have lived and worked much as he is portrayed in this video. Why else would the crowds respond to him as they did? Would you want to follow someone who frowned, had no fun, and spoke in the king’s English (so to speak) all day? Not me, man. Jesus came to give me life…the abundant life…eternal life. And that means (at least to me) that I have some abundant living to do.

We had some friends over this evening for a hamburger cookout on the back patio. We were talking about some of the wildlife we could see behind our home when Eric brought up the fact that an owl had made an appearance at their place (which backs up to the Little Arkansas River).

I immediately thought of times past and gone when I would hear a hoot owl (great horned owl) in the hackberry tree just outside my bedroom at home where we grew up. I was a teenager then, and the sound of the owl in the middle of the night brought shivers to me as well as a comfort in knowing that I was safe and warm. I usually went right to sleep again for the rest of the night.

Later in life, when I moved our family to that same place, owls once again would roost in the hackberry tree and hoot during the night. I felt that same strange combination of spine-tingles and comfort that carried me through those teen years. And in Oakley when we lived in our first house there, an owl would sometimes hoot during the night in the large tree out front. I’m not sure what it is about the sound of the horned owl that brings those powerful feelings to me. However, as I live and work in the Wichita area, I long for that sound to manifest and bring back the flood of memories and simpler times and lives.

As I write this, I am reminded of several sounds in that old house where I grew up. The great horned owl was one. Trains passing through town at night are another. We lived about ¾ mile away from the BNSF main line from Chicago to Los Angeles. Over 80 trains a day go through there at 70 miles an hour. The sounds carried far and wide. We could easily hear the trains.

Back when there was a switching yard at the railroad, sometimes locomotives would rumble as they started and stopped while switching at night. That low frequency rumble was sufficient to rattle a spring inside one of the windows in my bedroom. I got to where I listened specifically for that sound whenever I heard a loco in the distance. I loved that sound.

Our furnace made a peculiar sound just a few seconds after the blower came on. I could count on it and that sound, again, was comforting to me as I lay in bed.

Finally, probably the sound I miss most is the sound of our large black Labrador as she would come onto the front porch and plop down against the screen door in the middle of the night. I always knew when Dynamite (my son named her) was back from her nightly rounds of the neighborhood, and there was a certain comfort there, too, as I knew she kept a watchful eye out for unusual things. There is still, 15 years later, a worn place on the screen door where she lay.

The saddest sound of all was that same sound of Dynamite plopping up against the screen door one Sunday evening some 15 years ago. I knew it would be the last time I heard that sound, because the next day I knew I would put her down as she was full of cancer and was suffering too much. She’d already been to the vet. I already had made arrangements for him to come to the house and put her down rather than my hauling her there. Besides, I could bury her out back and come to the reconciliation that she was no longer with us much better that way.

I can remember that sound like it happened five minutes ago….