So Overwhelming

 Good afternoon.

 Part of what I do with my work at RiverWalk is benevolence.  And part of that specific work is sometimes putting gas into the vehicle tank of someone who is in need.  I actually put the gas in for them; I don’t just give them cash or a gift card.  I’ll meet them at the gas station…usually a QuikTrip or maybe a Dillons…visit with them, and pump their gas for them.

I usually meet them at one of the downtown QuikTrips…Seneca & West Douglas, Kellogg and South Broadway, or maybe East Douglas and Washington.  I’ll usually get there before our client, and will park in one of the stalls that is NOT at a gas pump.  I’ll wait for the client to come in, then meet up with them and get them what they need.

Sometimes I arrive several minutes before the client, and usually take that time to just watch the goings-on at the QuikTrip.  It’s always busy there.  People are constantly driving in and out, going in and out the building, and generally creating movement.  Sometimes there will be a homeless person or two around outside, or maybe a QuikTrip employee will be outside emptying trash or doing some other kind of cleanup.

Sometimes I see a particular person and wonder what their day is like.  I wonder what kind of life they’ve been living the past years.  I wonder what the future may hold for them.  I wonder if they’re feeling positive today or are down.  I wonder just how healthy they are and if they have access to the care they may need.  Yes, I know these are questions with few answers…and that even the person himself or herself would not know how to answer some of those types of questions.

And then I visit with the one we’re helping with fuel.  Sometimes they don’t tell me much.  But sometimes they sort of pour it all out right there at the gas pump.

Like today, we pumped gas for a woman who seemed to be somewhat down.  I gently probed, and found out that her landlord has asked her to move from her section 8 house because he needs to do a complete renovation, and doesn’t have another place for her to go.

She knows finding a section 8 house is difficult at best, and the cost of private housing is even higher.  There’s the expense of moving, first and last month rent and deposit, getting the kids into a new school, the utilities, and all the other that comes with this kind of situation.

Her comment to me was, “It is just so overwhelming at times.”

Earlier today we helped a social worker with some food for someone she was working with.  The client was physically impaired, not even able to walk out to her mail box, let alone go to the grocery store or other chores we take for granted.  She got meals on wheels once a day and had been living on that.

The client needed some kind of mattress, because she was sleeping on a futon which was on a sheet of plywood.

The social worker volunteered that the client was raped awhile back and couldn’t bear to sleep on the same mattress that she was raped on.  She had tossed the mattress away and was making do with a futon.  She filed a police report, but was not told, she says, about support services that might be available to victims of sexual assault.  The police are supposed to provide that information, and may have tried, but in the emotions of the moment she may not have understood what they were trying to do for her.  However, there should have been some follow-up, but that evidently didn’t happen.

The social worker is working with her to obtain some of those needed services.  In the course of my conversation with her, the social worker told me, “It’s all so overwhelming.”  She was speaking about the load that she herself was carrying in trying to make a small positive dent in the lives of those who come to her for services who are so broken in so many places and ways.

It’s Thursday afternoon.  Each Thursday afternoon, I mentally feel like I’ve just run a marathon this week.  I don’t work Fridays, so have a three-day weekend to recover.  But even then I usually have responsibilities on Sundays at the church.  I too sometimes feel like it’s all so overwhelming.  The weekend, though, is welcome, and I usually spend a lot of it on the back patio…at the edge of the park…and just be for awhile.

I wrote on Facebook recently about a conversation I had with a friend who spoke of “finishing strong,” regarding our lives and how we as older folks choose to use the time remaining that God has given us.  I want to finish strong.  I don’t want to lay around the house doing nothing…and I think Pat wouldn’t want me there in any event.

The idea of finishing strong has become one that is at the forefront of my mind, and probably will be for a considerably long time.  It’s what I want to do should God give me the grace and mercy to do that.

The QuikTrip parking lot and gas pumps are, I think, a decent sampling of life for many.  Some time when you have some time, stop by one, park where you can see the action, and just observe for a few minutes.  Who knows?  It may open up a whole new understanding of our society and give you a much better shot at knowing and understanding how many people live their day.  It isn’t all unicorns and rainbows.  In fact, I have yet to see a unicorn at a QuikTrip.  But it is life…life in the here and now…life for many just trying to get through the day relatively intact.

 

 

Blessings…

Continue On

 Good afternoon.

 The wife and I like to watch old TV.  Ed Sullivan, Carol Burnett, Hogan’s Heroes, and M.A.S.H. are some of our favorites.  We enjoy these old shows for a couple of reasons.  First, because we won’t see anything on any of these shows that is beyond a PG rating.  Second, these shows remind us of times past and gone when we would watch them with our parents and family.  And third, there were some unique and truly professional people on these shows…people of the caliber that is difficult to replicate in today’s world.  Buddy Ebson, Dick VanDyke, Tim Conway and others were fun to watch and demonstrated great (dare I say “one of a kind”) talent and ability in their field.

One of the shows I most like to watch, and which affects me the most is M.A.S.H.  We’re on, oh, I don’t know…the seventh or eighth (at least) repeat of the shows.  There were a total of 256 shows produced, and we’ve seen them all multiple times.  Yet the show continues to touch my heart in ways few other things do.  Why?

I think there are a couple of things at work here.  First, I was in EMS and health care for a number of years, so I have some familiarity with the scenes in the show.  Not only was I an ambulance attendant, but at the small hospitals where I worked, I also was frequently called on to help in the emergency room, in patient rooms, X Ray, or some other patient-related area.  I’ve seen a lot in my health care career.  I’ve seen, I’m guessing, about 30 people take their last breath…many of them people I knew.  I’ve worked accidents and other scenes where the victim was already deceased.  I’ve done suction, CPR, oxygen therapy, and other procedures as directed by a provider in the emergency room, patient room, or ambulance.

However, in all of this, one thing stood out.  I wasn’t alone.  We worked together, the other staff and me, as a team to do the best we could for the patient.  In those times, it didn’t matter if I particularly liked another staffer or not.  We did what we needed to do; we did it the best we could; and we often had good outcomes.

Second, there is the continual storyline in the M.A.S.H. show that the work never really ends.  People die.  Nurses and doctors go home.  Others ship out to some other part of the war.  Some new people move into the life of the 4077.  Yet the patients continue to come.  They just keep on showing up.

Finish one 30 hour O/R session…another one comes around in a day or two.  Save this soldier; lose the next one.  Patch them up so they can go back to the front and the fighting.  It all seems so pointless.  Yet, they do it anyway.

They do their jobs and do them well.  Each one…each one from colonel to private can be relied upon to carry out their particular mission at the M.A.S.H.  They do the hard things.  They do them well.  And they do them one. Patient. At. A. time.

 

There’s a lesson there…a lesson for us all, and particularly for me.  Sometimes it’s hard to even get up in the morning, let alone come in to work knowing that the day is largely an unknown quantity.  Yes, I have some idea what I’d like to accomplish this day, but I don’t know from moment to moment who may show up at the office door.  I don’t know what the next phone call may be about.  The emails come all day, without advance notice.  A member suffers a medical emergency.  Maybe a member comes to my office door with bad news of some kind.  The office visitors to our entrance door usually have some kind of need that requires some kind of immediate attention.  And just as is portrayed on some M.A.S.H. episodes, the need expressed is often a felt need when the real need lies hidden behind eyes that have seen entirely too much suffering and pain.

I get inspiration to continue the work we do at RiverWalk from many of the M.A.S.H. episodes.  I also am inspired by those I know in the greater Wichita community who, along with thousands of others, get up each day, knowing that the things they’ve planned for the day often will be supplanted by some kind of emergent situation that becomes the priority of the moment.

They will see the parts of society that most will never see.  They will interact with and work with people whose full time job is figuring out how to survive the day.  They will be doing the hard things…and doing them with compassion, kindness, and competence.

None of us will see the full picture.  We will only see what has been presented to us, and we may occasionally glimpse the story of another co-worker.  But somehow, it all seems to fit together and work together toward the goal of renewal…renewal of body and renewal of spirit.  The things my friends Suzie, Jennifer, Ryan, Julie, Tim, Mike, Kristen, Alaina, and a host of others do every day are all geared, whether they always realize it or not, toward renewal and new creation.

The work can be difficult.  It can be intense.  More often than it should be, the client we are working with will not follow up or help their situation in any meaningful ways, and we may have to disengage from that situation.

The work tends to drain us of both physical and emotional strength.  It often seems, just like in the M.A.S.H. episodes, to be a never-ending battle.  And it often seems like we’re all stuck in the mud, never moving forward, and sometimes getting stuck even deeper in the mire and muck.

Yet we continue…churches and faith communities, non-profits, government, and most of all individual people…we all continue to, as the Apostle Paul said, “press on toward the goal.”  That same apostle also admonished us to “Always excel in the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.”  Good words.

Continue on…

 

Blessings…

An Intense Week

 Good afternoon.

 I say at the outset that I wrote most of this before September 11, but am recording it on Friday the 12^th.  You need to know that I very much have 9-11 on my mind today.  I watched it all unfold.  I grieved with the rest of the country as the towers fell…first one, then the other.  I thought about the future…what that might look like as we prepared for a war of the kind we had never fought before.  The Super Bowl commercial for Budweiser that ran only one time…the one with the Clydesdales kneeling still brings tears to my eyes.  This has been an intense week politically…with the Kirk assassination and the 9-11 observance.  It has also been intense for me personally this week as I had to attend to several situations that drained much of my emotional energy.  That’s one reason why I’m recording this on Friday instead of Thursday.  So, with that understanding, let’s launch into the thought for this week.

I don’t know who Charlie Kirk was.  I think I can truthfully say I had never heard of his name before his assassination.  I normally don’t pay much attention to political activists of any party or persuasion.  As an Independent, I do my best to try to find information from the least biased sources possible, something I find increasingly difficult and practically impossible to do.  Political activists just don’t fill that bill for me.  I’m sure they have their place, and I respect that.  Just not for me.

However, to silence anyone..anyone because of their political speech or belief is so far beyond the bounds of human decency.  I’m old enough to remember the assassination of JFK, RFK, and MLK in the 1960’s.  I’m old enough to remember the attempted assassination of Ronald Reagan.  And there are others…some relatively recently.

Let me say it again.  To silence or attempt to silence anyone because of their political speech or belief is far, far beyond the bounds of human decency.  There is no place for this kind of violence.  And, may I say, there is no place for most kinds of violence we hear about on a daily basis…political or otherwise.

In 1992, Rodney King famously said, “Can’t we all just get along?”  That question remains unanswered in the minds of many, and in the minds of others, the answer is a resounding, “NO.”  But in the hearts of multitudes of Americans today, that question has been eliciting a “Yes,” answer over the decades…an answer that daily is being tested and tried.

So, what is the answer?  How do we fix this?  I’ll tell you now that I don’t have the answer.  I don’t know how we fix someone’s desire and need to kill someone they disagree with politically.

What I do know is that we can look inward.  We can look at our own biases…our own beliefs…our own tendencies.  We can take a good look at what we hear on TV or radio, what we see on social media, what we read and absorb.  We can take another good look at how we think about others who disagree with us politically, religiously, or philosophically, and how we might act toward them.  We can check our speech…the words we say and how we say them.  We can control our own thoughts and motives.

And if we find we cannot control those thoughts or actions, we can get the help we need in order to bring those things under control so we don’t contribute to the problem, but rather become part of the solution.

In other words, we may not have any influence over what the President says, or what the Senate Minority Leader says.  We may not be able to influence the speech of our Governor or Attorney General.  But we CAN decide what WE are going to say and do and think, and we can find the help we need if we have trouble doing that.

By the way, this kind of thing applies not only to political things…it also applies to religion and religious belief.  Belittling, talking down to, name-calling, and the like do nothing to promote harmony, peace, and unity.  They do a LOT to promote division, discord, and violence.  Think about it before you go off half-cocked on someone else because of their religious belief, their political persuasion, or one of any number of other things that we might use to stereotype or discriminate.

OK, now that I’ve said my piece on this, let me tell you we had a great weekend at the Eastwood Church of Christ in Hutchinson.  They hosted Keith Lancaster, founder of Acappella Ministries for a weekend “Songfest.”  The name tells what we did…we sang…acappella…both new as well as old songs of the church.  ‘Twas an experience of a lifetime, if I might say.

And, we, the bride and I, got to go to the Kansas State Fair on our own sans grand kids.  We separated pretty much as soon as we got through the entrance gate.  She went her way and I went mine.  We met up a couple of times and did some things together, but all in all it was a relaxing time for the both of us to get to see what we wanted to see, but not have to wrangle grand kids.

I saw some of the livestock exhibits, which she doesn’t care so much for…and she was able to see some of the more, um, domestic exhibits that are on the fairgrounds.  We rode some of the more tame rides that we traditionally go for…the train…the Old Mill…the sky ride.  We avoided the twirly, whirly, shake-em-up rides as well as the carnival games that no one can win.

We ate ice cream under the grand stand…had a funnel cake, and enjoyed lunch in the Cottonwood building.  I got my usual catfish lunch and she got the chicken & noodles lunch.  Pretty good stuff.  We bought some honey to bring home, and generally had a pleasant day of cooler weather and not a lot of sunshine.

If you have a chance, you need to take a day and go to the fair.  Yes, it costs some money to do it, but the entertainment is cheap, and they have a lot of free stuff on the fairgrounds.  The Lake Talbot boat rides, the giant slide, the train, sky ride, and Old Mill are all owned by the fair, which keeps prices in line so families can afford to have a really enjoyable day at the fair.

And while you’re in Hutchinson, check out Stratica the salt mine as well as one of the better aero-space museums around…the Cosmosphere.  The zoo is free admission and is a pretty nice one for the free admission.  Check them out soon.

 

Blessings, all.

Are You Trustworthy?

 Good afternoon.

 Over the course of a decade or more in working with the benevolent program at the church, I have become more attuned, I think, to the things people say and the possible meaning behind those things.  Many of those who come to the office looking for some kind of help are in a segment of society that many of us have little familiarity of.  The working poor and those who are disabled frequently visit the office asking for some kind of assistance.  Some are people I have worked with several times over the years, and have come to know more about their situations and life experiences.

In the course of conversation, people have told me about family members who are abusive or have been abused in some way.  They tell me about deadbeat boyfriends and adult children who won’t get a job.  They visit with me about someone they took into their home who was in worse shape than they, but have proven to be more of a burden than they could bear.  They speak to me about giving someone their last five dollars or their last meal rather than having that for themselves.

I have come to believe that most of what I hear by far is either the truth, or is the truth as they perceive it to be.  And even if only half of what they tell me is true, I still find it incredible that some of these people can even make it through the day, let alone weeks or months at a time.

I’m also finding out something else.  I have had several people, in the course of working with them over a long period of several years, and all of them women, tell me in the course of some conversation we were having that they trust me.

“I trust you,” they will say, stopping in the middle of some story to say that.  And then they will continue to tell about their latest run-in with a boyfriend, or their having to sleep on the street.  Or perhaps they will talk about a grown daughter who abandoned her children to Grandma.  Or they speak of some other thing in their life that is working against them.

These are, by and large, women who have suffered some kind of abuse from a man in their life.  A father or step-dad.  A boyfriend.  Or maybe a grown son.  It could be a friend or relative.

Whatever the circumstance, I have to wonder how many other men these women could say the same thing with sincerity…”I trust you.”  I have to wonder just how broken that trust factor is for them and how much courage it takes for them to say to me that they trust me.

I also wonder what it was, or is, that I have done or am doing that prompts these women to make that declaration to me…just how unusual it might be to have a man in their life who they feel like they can trust…and how many men have forfeited that relationship with them because of some abusive action.

I have to wonder just how this lack of trust has scarred these women, and how that scarring has affected their present circumstance…how things might be different for them if they only could have fully trusted other men who have been in their lives.  And I have to wonder just how I can work to help them regain appropriate trust in other people, and especially other men.

I then wonder, if I should introduce them to Jesus of Nazareth, just how they could possibly trust him.  Here he is, yet another man, telling them things that seem too good to be true, yet telling them to trust him implicitly, not only in this life, but in a life to come.  He tells them he can give them rest from their heavy burdens.  He tells them he will love them unconditionally and without reservation.  He says he can be their mentor and partner through life and will never leave them or toss them aside.

He says things that just seem to be utterly unfathomable to these women…women who have been abused, used, beaten and belittled.  Women who have endured so much pain and suffering at the hands of one or more of the men in her life.

Why, for heaven’s sake, would she want another man in her life such as Jesus?  She’s heard it all before.  The sky-high promises.  The “I love you,” language.  The lies wrapped in half truths.  He’s just another one of those who want something from me…he doesn’t really love or want me.  He just wants to use me and throw me away just like all the others.

“I trust you.”  That may well be something these women don’t say very often to very many others.  It may be something that is difficult for them to say even to me.  But it is something that I need to have a better grip on as far as the meaning behind it and my responsibility to not damage that trust in any way.  And rather suddenly, that short statement becomes a flashing sign in the darkness, telling me that I have a great responsibility, not only to this woman, but to all who I encounter…to emulate as best I can the life of Jesus…so that one day I may be able to tell them of this man who they too can trust.  Someone who can love them far more, and with a perfect love that I cannot fully emulate, even as hard as I might try.

I’ll leave this right there…and I’ll encourage you to take a long look at your relationships.  Can others say with sincerity that they trust you in the same sense that these women tell me?  Are you trustworthy?

 

Blessings,

One Real Answer

 Good morning and welcome.

 As I write this on Wednesday afternoon, at least three are dead and many more are injured in a shooting at a Catholic school in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Evidently, from what we know as of this writing, a gunman opened fire on a mass being held at the school.  He apparently fired through windows indiscriminately at children and adults who were attending the mass.  He then killed himself.

I’m saying at the outset of this thought that I don’t know the answers.  I don’t even know the questions to ask.  I don’t know if there are any real answers…other than, perhaps, one.  And we’ll get to that a little later in the video.

And I also want you to understand that this kind of thing is absolutely horrid…an affront to the very fiber of society…and an act that dehumanizes us all…deprives us all of the dignity and respect that should naturally come with the fact that we are human.

There are obvious socio-political factors involved here.  Mental health care and services, the breakdown of the family unit, poverty, laws that govern gun ownership, involuntary commitment laws, and a host of other social, legal, and political factors & issues all play into the responses to these kinds of assaults on society.  Sometimes the partisan rhetoric drowns out any attempt to make any substantial changes that may lessen the incidence of these kinds of tragedies, because we all have our soap boxes.  And we obviously believe OUR soap box is the correct one (otherwise, we wouldn’t be standing on it…we’d be on a different one).  Additionally, we not only believe we need not listen to other points of view, but we feel the need to drown out those viewpoints which are espoused by others that may not agree with ours.

I’ve heard all kinds and all manner of possible solutions.  Most of those solutions are at best simplistic and unworkable in my view, but many people hang their hats on them and believe they are the thing that will save us from ourselves.  And that may well be the crux of the whole matter…we are trying to save ourselves from ourselves.

Throughout human history we have been doing it that way.  We get ourselves into trouble…then believe if we just do this thing or that thing, we can get ourselves out of trouble and begin living in some kind of fairyland world where unicorns and rainbows are everywhere, and there’s not a care to be found.

I said at the beginning that I thought that perhaps there was indeed one answer…one that would go far in relieving the trials and tribulations of our common societal ills.  I’d like to share my thought with you.

First, we need to recognize that we cannot possibly save ourselves FROM ourselves.  Human beings are a marvelous and wondrous creation of God, but human beings are also irreparably flawed…destined to succumb to the temptations thrust upon us and powerless to, on our own, overcome them.

Having said that, I think some of you may know where this is going.

Second, there is a way out.  Even though we can’t save ourselves, the God who created us, loves us, and understands us DID make a way out.  God in the person of Jesus Christ has set us free from the power of evil and death.  He has given us, by means of His grace and mercy, a way to escape the horrid mess we humans have created for ourselves.

I’m here to tell you that Jesus Christ is indeed the answer….the only answer that makes any sense at all.

Yes, there will still be mental illness.  There will still be people who do things they shouldn’t.  There will still be the need for police.  There will still be the need for laws.  But just think how things could be different if we all took to heart the command to love our neighbor, and did the best we could to honor that command.

Or the command to do to others as you would like for them to do to you.

Or the command to love God with all one’s heart, soul, mind, and strength.

Think for a moment how societal acceptance of and devotion to those commands would change how we deal with mental health issues, with those who are hurting, with those who are poor, hungry, or neglected.

Think what might happen should we get serious about what our Creator has said to us…taught us…and shown us.

Converting the world to Jesus isn’t in our individual job descriptions.  But demonstrating the love of Jesus and letting others know about His power to save IS in our care.  And we do that, not necessarily with a crowd of thousands, but rather most of the time just one person at a time.  Just one.  One at a time.

The hurt is real.  The tragedy is unthinkable.  We struggle to capture even a glimpse of the answer to why.  Jesus said, “Come unto me all you who are heavy laden…and I will give you rest.”  Maybe we need to take  Him up on that.

May God Bless Us...Every One

 Good morning and welcome.

 This past week has been especially intense at times.  As you may know, I deal with a lot of the benevolence that the church does for folks, both members and non-members.  One of the things I do with those who ask for help is try to engage them in conversation, asking them about their day, their family, and life in general.  It usually doesn’t take much prompting for the floodgates to open, and I often hear things that make me wonder just how people survive in today’s world.  And it’s good, I think, for them to be able to tell their stories to someone who  listens without judgment.

Sometimes, these encounters are especially intense, and sometimes come one right after another.  When the day is over, I am tired and worn, not from physical exertion, but from mental and emotional exhaustion.  Such was the day on Monday of this week.

The next day, a member of our congregation asked me how I was doing.  I told her that I was OK, but not great.  I told her that I had dealt with some difficult encounters the day before.  She then strongly encouraged me to sit down and visit with her.  I knew she wouldn’t rest until I did so, and because I knew she was familiar with confidentiality and all that goes with it, I found a chair and sat across from her.

After some initial conversation regarding the encounters on Monday, she asked me how I manage to maintain my faith, especially on days when things are emotionally intense and there seem to be no answers.  She knew that my work often consists of listening to someone describe their life that is falling apart, or perhaps life has already fallen apart for them, and they need some basic thing such as food or shelter.  Or maybe it consists of providing not only a listening ear, but also whatever lay-counseling I can provide.  Or perhaps I can do nothing except commiserate with someone who is trying to get her family into a family shelter only to find the beds constantly filled day after day.

I gave my friend three reasons or ways that I maintain my faith.

First, God provides.  He encourages, supports, and lets me know that He's on the job, so to speak.  He provides a measure of peace and fulfillment even when things don't end up being rainbows and unicorns for those we are trying to help.  His strength, power, and compassion are endless.  He continually works to refill my cup.

That work of “refilling my cup,” as I put it, is often through others.  Others who look after my health and well-being.  My wife, other staffers, the other Elders, and people I know and love who I can trust implicitly.  And this woman who I am visiting with is one of those people.  Without God's work through those I encounter day to day, I don't know where I'd be now.

Second, I know several in the non-profit community who I know are also “out there,” so to speak, doing the hard things every day.  They keep going even when things are tough...and things are tough much of the time.  I keep up with them and their ministries.  I talk with them, visit with them, lunch with them.  We exchange ideas, new ways to serve, and share successes.  And we commiserate with each other.  And we understand each other.  We encourage each other.  We help each other as we can.  The non-profit community is an incredible resource to help me maintain my sanity and my faith.

Third, the RiverWalk congregation supports me in the work that we do.  They contribute financially to the church so we can do what we do.  They encourage me and others.  They help out when they can.  Many of them themselves are busy pretty much behind the scenes doing the everyday things that help other people.   Providing transportation.  Offering a listening ear.  Sitting at a bedside.  Sitting with children.  Preparing food.  Buying groceries.  Cleaning house, and running errands for those who can't do those things on their own due to illness or trauma.  It is gratifying, humbling, and incredibly empowering to have such a church family who supports servant ministries the way RiverWalk does.

Yes, the work is sometimes hard, but I’m not the only one God has endowed with a sometimes hard job.  There are countless others who have been given the good work of helping, restoring, relieving, uplifting, and just caring & listening.  With all of those jobs, however, comes the needed resources from God Himself to complete the work.

 

As that great Apostle Paul has said, “Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim that anything comes from us, but our competence comes from God.  And the Hebrew writer likewise, makes this statement at the end of that letter,  “Now may the God of peace equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever.  Amen.”

 

May God bless us, every one.

Blessings, 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seasonal Changes

 Good afternoon.

 This is the time to begin thinking about change of seasons.  Now, I know you’re thinking about the change of season having to do with summer turning into fall and cooler weather, but there are other seasonal changes afoot as well.

Take our winged wildlife, for example.  Most birds either have raised their young by now, or are in the finishing days and weeks of doing so and kicking them out of the nest.  Some birds are beginning to molt…that is, lose feathers in preparation for growing a new set of feathers that will protect them during the cold winter months.  And soon we will be seeing more of the migrating birds hit our neighborhoods for anywhere from a few hours to several days while they rest up, stoke up on food, and find decent water.  Those birds who have been with us for the summer will, in some cases, migrate away from here and we won’t see them again until next spring.  I’m thinking specifically about our Mississippi Kites which are numerous in our neighborhood, but there are also others.

School is beginning shortly, or has already begun.  Buth public and private schools have first day of classes.  Home schoolers also have their own first day photos and celebrations.  Another calendar year, another school year.  That is in a very real way a change of season.

Vacation days are coming to an end.  Yes, I know some can vacation during the fall and winter months, but most of us either like to, or must do that during the summer months when kids are out of school and it’s easier to get to places without having to deal with the snow and ice.

There’s one more change that comes around in these few weeks of late July and early August.  The runners come out.  The runners.  You’ve seen them.  They’re teens who usually are running in a park, along the river, on sidewalks or on running tracks.  They usually don’t run alone, but are in some kind of group.  Most of the time you can hear chatter as they run, especially if it’s a group of teen girls.

They don’t run fast, but run for endurance.  They’re Cross Country participants, I’m guessing, and are getting in shape for competition that begins this fall along with the normal football program for most schools.  These kids will run miles a day, seemingly unfazed by the distance they’ve already run and the distance they have to go.

And that amazes me.  I never was a cross country runner, and ran the mile only once in my life, during my freshman year of high school for phys ed.  I sometimes am sitting out on my back patio when they go by in the park on the path that’s just behind our house.  They’re in a pack of anywhere from 3 to 12, and seem to be effortlessly running at an endurance pace, chatting with each other as they go.

Or I’ll see them along or near the river downtown when I’m out and about down there.  It’s the same thing.  A pack of several, enjoying the time with each other, are running to get and stay in shape for the upcoming Cross Country season.  West High school isn’t that far away from where I usually travel, and I am assuming most of them are from that school, or at least live in nearby housing neighborhoods.

These young people probably don’t stop to appreciate just what their bodies are capable of doing and how effortlessly they can run 6 to 8 miles an hour for long distances.  I’m a little jealous, actually, as I watch, knowing that my running days are largely over, and even if I do go into a trot, it’s not very long until certain body parts begin to hurt more and my breaths become very labored.

The last time I ran, I was out in the park behind our house on my evening walk when it began to rain.  Of course, I was as far from the house as I normally would be on my walking route when the rain began.  So, I began to walk in the sprinkling rain, which soon became more of a downpour.  I became concerned for my hearing aids getting wet, so I took them off and put them in my handkerchief, which was still somewhat dry and carried them wrapped up in my fist.  And yes, I do check the weather and local radar before I go out.  At the time I left the house, there was no rain within 30 miles of me.  This rain cloud evidently formed and started downpouring in about 10 to 15 minutes time pretty much overhead.

I was about 200 yards from the house, and even though I was soaked, decided to try to run a short distance.  Surprisingly, I made it almost the entire 200 yards before I became winded and had to walk the rest of the way.  I didn’t run fast…about 5 to 6 miles an hour.  That’s about the limit of my speed nowadays when running.

I’m happy to see these young people out running, even though there’s a tinge of jealousy when I do.  It pleases me to see that they are working to keep in shape and, even though they appear to be chatting and having a good time while practicing, they are doing some of the hard things in life.  Cross Country isn’t easy.  Both of our boys ran it in high school.  It takes endurance, commitment, energy, drive, and sweat.  The public rewards aren’t great because football takes all the glamour and glory.  Not many get out and watch the cross country meets.

The next time you see a gaggle of teens casually running down the sidewalk or along a path, you can probably assume they’re in cross country or perhaps the football program.  Smile a little and offer some private encouragement and, if you’ve a mind to, a prayer for their safety and health.

 

Blessings,

Right Use of our Minds

 Good afternoon.

 A few days ago, I was in our multi-purpose area of the church building.  I noticed someone setting up chairs and tables for a grief group meeting later that evening.  I engaged him in some conversation, and a short time later learned that he was my first cousin once removed.  Now, you may not be fully aware of what a “once-removed” cousin is, so I’ll tell you.  First cousins are people who have parents who are siblings.  If my dad and your mom are brother and sister, that makes us first cousins.

Once-removed first cousins are people, one of whom has a parent who is a sibling to another person who is a grand parent to the cousin once removed.  So, if my dad and your grandmother are siblings, you are a first cousin once removed in relation to me.

In any event, we reconnected and talked about relatives now gone.  I’ll call him Jim.  Jim’s grandmother was my aunt on my dad’s side of the family.  His father Vernon, my aunt’s son, was a Psychiatrist.  His practice began, I think, in the later 1950’s.  He had a long and successful career in that field of practice.

What makes that unusual was the fact that Jim’s family was part of a faith denomination that, at least in that day, seemed to not fully understand mental health issues and tended to either dismiss them or treat those illnesses as something mysterious and unknown.  Those who suffered from mental health issues were often said to be “not right,” a kind of catch-all phrase to explain away something that most didn’t understand and weren’t interested in discussing.  There was even sometimes the notion that something sinister was going on with the mentally ill…that somehow the devil or Satan was involved in creating the state of being “not right.”

I asked Jim how it was that his dad came to be a Psychiatrist at a time when his faith community held a generally negative viewpoint on mental health and mental illness.  Jim told me it all stemmed from a prayer that was given by Vernon’s grandfather Sol…my grandfather too.  Intrigued, I asked him for more information.

Jim told me that back in that day when prayers were given at family gatherings, usually before meals, and usually by the family patriarch, a common sentence of that prayer in that faith tradition would be asking God to, “Give us the right use of our hands.”

Jim told me that when his dad, Vernon, was just a boy of about five years old, he was at one of those family gatherings, and his grandfather Sol was asked to say the blessing before dinner.  As part of his prayer, Sol said, “Give us the right use of our minds,” instead of the normal sentence referring to the right use of hands.

That phrase stuck with the five year old Vernon.  He heard that same phrase more times from Grandfather Sol in the next year or two…then told his mom that he wanted to grow up to help people have the right use of their minds.  That began Vernon on the long road to Psychiatry where he ended his incredible career decades later at Prairie View in Newton, Kansas.

That phrase strikes me as well, even today.  I’m not sure exactly what Sol meant when he invoked the blessing of God to the right use of our minds.  It could have more than one meaning.  But to even consider asking God for such a thing, even today, is not common.  And then…well…it was probably unheard of, except when Sol was praying.

It could mean something similar to the verse of the old hymn, “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind.”  The first verse says, “Dear Lord and Father of mankind, forgive our foolish ways.  Reclothe us in our rightful minds; in purer lives our service find.  In deeper reverence, praise.”

We all fall short of God’s expectations.  We all sin.  We all struggle with living pure lives.  We all are participants in “foolish ways.”  Sol was well aware of the “foolish ways” of mankind.  His life was not a bed of roses, in part due to the “foolish ways” of both himself and others.  That phrase may be a plea for God to help us live pure lives of service.

Or, it could mean exactly what Vernon had in mind…asking God to heal our mental health issues and give us minds that we can use which are free of those struggles.  Sol had a son, Robert, that “wasn’t right,” as many phrased it, and died young back in the 1920’s.  Sol may well have had Robert in mind, which could have been the impetus for that sentence in his prayers.  And God very well could respond positively to that plea by sending people who are especially equipped, such as Vernon was, to help people regain the right use of their minds.

Either way, that sentence in those prayers had an effect…a positive effect…and it seems that God answered that prayer by sending Vernon into the psychiatric profession...possibly along with countless others…in service to humanity to give us “the right use of our minds.”

 

Let It Go

 As I was driving into work this morning, I happened to think of what it might be like to have my mom and dad in the pickup with me, shadowing me as I did my daily routine of work today.  My parents were born in the 19-teens and were young adults during the Great Depression.  They married at the end of the 1930’s decade and both passed away in the 1980’s.  They lived in small towns pretty much all their lives and raised their family in a small town in Kansas.

They both worked hard all their working lives, and often, I think, were just a hop and skip away from not having enough to feed their growing family…although we never knew that until later on in life when we siblings reminisced about some things that happened from time to time while we were growing up.

They also were trusting.  They left their keys in their vehicles.  They didn’t lock the house up when they went somewhere.  They left garage doors open, things out in the yard, and generally weren’t that cognizant of nefarious things that might happen.  And pretty much nothing DID happen.

I first have to wonder what they would think of the home we live in.  Four bedrooms, three baths, and more room in just the main floor than the entire house where six of us were raised.  The lower level of our house adds another amount of square footage that exceeds the entire house where we lived as kids.  Our home backs up to a park…a park with deep woods, a creek, and paths for people, bicycles, and horses.  This kind of thing would have been unthinkable in their day except for the most financially favored of the day, and would have been grossly extravagant spending in their opinion.

As I drove into town to work, I wondered what they would have thought of round-abouts…you know, those things at intersections which are supposed to result in better traffic flow.  I wondered how Dad would have navigated the traffic had he been driving.  I thought about all the businesses I passed on my way to work and wondered what they would have thought about all of the shops, small businesses, apartment complexes, and big box stores.

I don’t know what they would have thought about the homeless I saw on my way in to work.  As products of the Great Depression, they were people who raised their own food, sewed their own clothes, and built (actually, remodeled and expanded) their own house, I wonder if they could even comprehend the idea of someone not being able to feed, clothe, and house himself.

The Paxton’s Blessing Box on the outside of our building…what would they have thought about our putting food in the box for anyone to take?  How would they react if they sat in on one of my interviews with someone who couldn’t pay their electric or water bill and needed help?  What would they say about the fact that we have security check out church property each night multiple times during the night, and sometimes have to tell a person loitering on the property to leave?  How would they react to our building being locked down even when we are here and inside?  And what would they say knowing the government is interested in how we maintain our fire sprinkler system, our emergency lighting, and our chair lift that is on our basement stairs at the church?

You see that I’ve not mentioned cellular communications, the Internet, or any of that.  I’ve stayed with some of the more, shall we say, basic things in the modern world.  The “gee-whiz” stuff such as flat screen television and world wide instant communication, artificial intelligence, video streaming, 300 channel cable television, self-driving cars, and the like would be as foreign to them as galactic space travel might be to us.

But, my parents aren’t here…they’re not with me today as I go about my daily tasks at the building.  And it’s probably just as well that they aren’t.  They would be hard-pressed to fit in and understand the changes that have taken place.  It was beginning to be like that back in the 1980’s as they went into their final years.  And it would be all the more difficult now to have any kind of understanding of what society is like in the modern day.

And, you know, it will be the same for us.  We too, if suddenly transported into society forty or fifty years down the road, would have a difficult time comprehending, understanding, and getting along.  We might well feel just as lost as my parents might should they suddenly experience today’s society.

Change is constant.  While we’re part of it, it’s easier to cope with it and often embrace it.  When we’ve been away from it for awhile, it’s more difficult to catch up, and sometimes we never get caught up.  And as we age, it often becomes less important to us to try to keep up.  I’m finding myself in a sort of a middle ground with this.  In some ways, I like to keep current, but in other ways, I’m satisfied to just let it go.  I’m guessing it’s much the same with you if you are approaching or are past about 70 years old.  That’s just the way life often is.

Thanks for listening this week.  Blessings.

 

Looking Upstream

 Good morning!

We in the Wichita area are hearing a lot about the MAC…the multi-agency center that is being constructed to help address what many call the homeless situation.  The center, which now has the name “Second Light,” is a place where not only is shelter offered for men and women, but there also are many agencies which have a presence in that same place where the unhoused can find “one stop” services, help, and support.  They don’t have to go from this place to that…from this building on the East side of town to that building on the West side…the essential services and support are right there in one physical place.

Over 120 non-profits and agencies are interested in having a presence in the center.  Health care, mental health, veterans’ services, faith-based services, housing, assistance with getting identification, and other services will be offered to those who choose to avail themselves of those services.

The shelter isn’t just for overnight stays.  It’s open 24-7 so those who shelter there don’t have to continually move around or find safe places to store their personal effects.  Shelter operators anticipate stays of 90 to 120 days will be needed in many cases in order to provide the kind of help through the partner agencies that the unhoused will be needing.

All of this is well and good…and necessary.  However, there is also a concerted effort to “go upstream,” as it were…to look beyond the unhoused in order to determine the causes of homelessness and address those concerns BEFORE someone drops into the culture of the unhoused.

One of the things I do at RiverWalk is the benevolence.  Over the past ten or so years I’ve been doing this, I have been amazed at the number of people who are barely hanging on…barely meeting their need for housing…shelter…food…transportation…job.  Many of these people are literally…and I do mean literally…one tank of gasoline from homelessness…one unpaid utility bill away from having to live in their car or on the street…one filled prescription medication away from not being able to maintain a job or home…one flat tire away from having no transportation which will take them to that job.

Think about it.  If one’s gas tank is empty and their job is ten miles away from their house, they may not  be able to get to work.  And many who employ general laborers, which is what many of these folks are, don’t take kindly to no-shows, even if for legitimate reasons.

If their electricity is turned off for non-payment, they may be evicted.  And with an eviction on their record, it will be difficult if not impossible to find other housing.  IF they happen to be in a Section 8 or government subsidized home or apartment, having one’s utility services cut off for non-payment is an automatic eviction, with a lifetime ban on ever using Section 8 again.

We at RiverWalk don’t have a large benevolence budget.  So we have to be careful in how we use it.  Of course, we help our members with whatever they need.  But for non-members…those who show up at the door or make a phone call, we are limited in what we can do.  We have chosen to do what we can to help those who are on the brink of being unhoused stay in their homes.

Depending on the situation, we can sometimes pump a tank of gas into a vehicle that is used for work, school, or medical appointments.  And we can also sometimes help with a utility bill to keep the lights, gas, or water turned on…again, depending on the situation.

These helps aren’t automatic.  The one seeking help must come to the office and submit to an interview.  We limit how often one can ask for help.  We limit the amount of help.  And we try to guide them to other resources that may be available.

We also operate a food pantry that can help with food and sometimes hygiene items or things like laundry detergent, toothpaste, etc.  We will offer them the information on that ministry as well.

We keep track of the help we provide.  We have an extensive record that goes back several years.  Some people have asked for help many times.  Others just once or twice.  We do our best to treat each person with human dignity…to be a neighbor (according to the teachings of Jesus Christ) to the one asking for help…and to listen to their story.  Listening…just listening…is a vital part of what we do.

It may surprise you to know how many times someone has thanked me with obvious gratitude for just listening to them and conversing with them, even when I’ve told them we cannot help them.  It certainly has surprised me over the years.

I don’t know how many people we have been able to keep off of the street over the last ten or so years because we gave them a tank of gasoline or paid a utility bill.  I suspect the number is well into the hundreds.

As my friend Jennifer White has said, “I may not be able to do everything, but I can do something.”  May God bless the efforts of a multitude of people who are working daily to redeem the creation…to make their corner of the world a better place for all…and bring about positive change in our society.

Blessings,

God in the Ordinary

 Good afternoon.

I haven’t done one of these thoughts for a week or two…at least on Thursdays.  Last week we were at a reunion in Illinois, and this week I spent Thursday catching up on the work I missed while in Illinois.  But there’s always Friday, I guess.

I don’t really have a lot to say even though we spent several days in Illinois or driving to or from that state.  We don’t hurry anymore when we go some place.  We stayed in Des Moines both going and coming back and made the trip a two-day affair each way.  Neither of us can weather those twelve hour road trips anymore with any kind of comfort, so we try to split it up if possible.

There were over 40 at the annual Plank reunion over the Independence Day weekend.  Some have “reunioned” ever since the tradition began some forty or so years ago.  Others come when they can, and we always, it seems, have a newcomer or two due to marriage, birth, adoption, or just a friend.  We welcome all who have good connections with the family and have a good time during the three days we are together.

We generally avoid politics and religion, which, I think, helps everything hold together.  We run the gamut in the family on both of those topics.  And we usually have enough to talk about just catching up on things that those topics rarely come up with any kind of serious nature.  Most all of us respect the views of the others and try not to antagonize or start some kind of conflict.  The six of us siblings made the promise long ago that we would stay together as a family following the deaths of our parents.  And I think we’ve done a pretty good job of that.

It’s the middle of the summer, and that means the heat and often the humidity are higher than a cat’s back when she’s in fighting mood.  We have had a decent amount of rainfall over the past month or so, and things continue to grow and look pretty good outside.  I’m thinking, though, that there will come some kind of hot dry spell…there usually is…before it’s all over and the autumn cool breezes come our way.

I’m not sitting out on the back patio nearly as much as I have been…due to the heat and humidity…and also the mosquitos.  I usually like to do that and listen to the varieties of birds in the area; however, there aren’t as many during the summer…or at least they don’t’ make themselves known with their singing.

I usually can hear a cardinal, a Carolina wren or two, a dove, and sometimes robins and the occasional woodpecker gnawing away on a dead branch somewhere close by.  The spring influx of migratory birds as well as the corresponding fall influx just doesn’t happen over the summer months as birds have found their places, built nests, are raising their young, and carrying on with life and living.

And we are quite often like that.  Sometimes we can take time off and “sing” so to speak by going on vacation, attending a reunion, visiting relatives, or taking on some other special event or thing.  But most of our time is spent doing the usual…the routine…the ordinary events and things in life.  We make our homes livable.  We raise our kids (or help with the grand kids).  We wash clothes, do the laundry, pay the bills, and a hundred other “ordinary” things in life every day.

Most of life consists of the ordinary…the routine.  James Carroll, in a recent book he wrote called “Christ Actually…The Son of God for the Secular Age”, says “The presence of God lies in what is ordinary.”

Skylar Spradlin, writing in an article called “The Power of Ordinary Moments,” says this:  “We should not ignore or neglect the small, ordinary, and simple moments of life.  God doesn’t necessarily flaunt Himself in the big, grand events of the day, but He is working, and dare we say hiding, in the mundane and ordinary aspects of our lives.”

It can be difficult at best to see how God is at work when we are folding laundry, cleaning up a mess on the bathroom floor, or driving to the store in heavy traffic.  But maybe that’s because we aren’t looking for Him there.  Maybe we’re looking for him to swoop down in some kind of majesty and power, and fix our problems with something akin to magic.  But life doesn’t go that way.  It often is the ordinary slogging through our chores and, if you make one, our “to do” list that we encounter God.

Just as the birds in their summer busy season already know, we may not be able to see Him in the ordinary even if we try our best.  But He indeed is there and is loving on you even as you burn the toast or break a glass on the floor.

There is much truth in the line from that old children’s song “He Loves Me Too.”  “God sees the little sparrow fall; it meets his tender view.  If God so loved the little birds, I know he loves me too.”

Blessings,

The Things We Say and Do

 Good afternoon, and welcome to windy Kansas.  I’m doing this thought on Friday afternoon, and the wind has come up from the south hot and strong.  I’m not sure of the temperature, but it feels like middle 90’s out there.  What a change from just a couple of days ago when we were dealing with flooding rains, downed trees, and low clouds.

 I’ve been thinking this week about something we rarely, it seems think about until it’s too late.  The things we say and do, or conversely don’t say and don’t do, often have far-reaching effects far beyond our own sphere, and often beyond anything we could ever have imagined.  I’m thinking this week specifically of things we might do that are in some way contrary to ethics, morals, and right living, but this can also apply to things we do that are good, kind, right, and decent.

 Think for example of some kind of sexual indiscretion done by someone to or with another.  That kind of thing can easily “blow up,” so to speak, and involve not only those two who were involved, but also spouses of the two, families, friends, fellow employees and employers, and can also involve law enforcement, the court system, and have far-reaching consequences for decades to come.

 Or think of something good and decent.  Think of someone who goes a little “above and beyond,” and for example buys a tank of gasoline for someone else who couldn’t afford it at the time.  That too can have far-reaching ripple effects in that person now being able to go to work, not losing his or her job because of absence, take kids to the doctor, or one of any number of things that would require transportation in this modern day.

 The job thing…if that person could keep her job, she wouldn’t be evicted from her apartment because she couldn’t pay the rent.  She wouldn’t be homeless.  Her kids would continue to have food on the table.  She could get medication for herself or her family.  And the list of good ripple effects just goes on and on because someone decided to spend a few dollars on a tank of gasoline for someone else.

 The things we say and do, or conversely don’t say or don’t do, can even have effects far down the road…years and even decades later.  An entire generation may be in a different place and situation far in the future because of a small gesture of kindness or because of some kind of indiscretion or moral or ethical failure.

 The same goes, for those who are Christians, for prayer.  Prayer today has the ability to change things for many people…both now and in the future.  It humbles me to know that the prayers of my grand parents, aunts, uncles, Sunday School teachers, and parents decades ago may well be influencing who I am and what I am doing today.  That even my ancestors farther back…centuries ago…may have been praying for their descendants to come much later, and those prayers may be influencing my life right now.

 Remember, God does not change, and God is timeless.  When fervent prayers are said now by, as James says in his New Testament letter, “a righteous person” for unknown people 200 years in the future, God knows…God remembers…and God acts.

 This week has reminded me that I need to not only be aware of those things I say and do…I also need to understand the possible far-reaching effects those actions or inactions have on possible multitudes of others.  And I need to understand that prayer indeed has the power to be effective, not only in the here and now, but for decades and possible centuries to come.  What a wondrous thought that is.

 Blessings.