I can't believe that it's been 3 years since I posted anything. Either I have completely lost interest or this is one of the worst cases of adult onset ADD in recent memory (insert chicken joke here).
I hope to be a bit more diligent in my postings--at least for the foreseeable future. Perhaps I actually still have something to say. Whether it is worthwhile or not, I leave to others to decide.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Road Rash...(sort of)
The doctor walked briskly into the examination room and directly to where the patient lay in obvious pain. "So what seems to be the problem?", he asked.
The patient, rather than describing his injury, which is what the doctor expected, launched into to an exceptionally convoluted accounting of the incident that apparently led to his eventual arrival at the ER.
"OK. So it's really kind of silly, but it's not really my fault. The owner of the gym even admitted that the stupid thing was too close to the wall. But they bought all of this new stuff and had to really crowd everything in there and they just put it too close to the wall. *Deep breath* Anyway, I was getting up to speed gradually--just passing 4 and a half miles an hour--when I first noticed that there were mirrors on 3 sides of me and I could see myself in all 3 at the same time. Although the third one I could only see as a reflection in the other 2. Then there was the reflection of my reflection in the one in front of me and I could see the reflection of that reflection in the one behind me as a reflection in the one in front of me. And it seemed to go on endlessly, just one reflection of another one of another one. So I wanted to see if I could actually see all the way to the end of them to the very last one. You know, what it would be like--my back or my front at the very end. I guess it was about the time I was getting up to full speed--maybe 6 and a half miles an hour--that I sort of lost focus on what I was doing because of the mirrors and I fell. Then, of course, the belt kept on going and swept me off the back of the thing and then because the wall was too close, like I said before, I was pinned between the belt and the wall lying on my back against the belt and it just kept turning. I know I probably should have used the emergency stop cord, but nobody uses them. Heck, most of them are tied around the bars out of the way. And I couldn't get up because I was more or less trapped there until a couple of the other people came and grabbed me and pulled me off of the thing. Then the ambulance came and they...."
Finally the doctor interrupted and asked, "Where are you hurt?" And the patient rolled to one side so the doc could see his back and there was a symmetrical hollow all the way across his it just below the shoulder blades that was nothing but raw meat and blood. "You're telling me you did this by falling off of a treadmill?!!" he exclaimed.
"Yeah", the patient said. "That's what that whole story was about. I should get a hell of a settlement out of it," he smiled.
The doctor said, very calmly, "Close your eyes for me"; which the patient did. The doctor planted his foot firmly against the wall of the examination room, for leverage, and punched the guy dead in the face. "Idiot", he mumbled as he walked out.
The patient, rather than describing his injury, which is what the doctor expected, launched into to an exceptionally convoluted accounting of the incident that apparently led to his eventual arrival at the ER.
"OK. So it's really kind of silly, but it's not really my fault. The owner of the gym even admitted that the stupid thing was too close to the wall. But they bought all of this new stuff and had to really crowd everything in there and they just put it too close to the wall. *Deep breath* Anyway, I was getting up to speed gradually--just passing 4 and a half miles an hour--when I first noticed that there were mirrors on 3 sides of me and I could see myself in all 3 at the same time. Although the third one I could only see as a reflection in the other 2. Then there was the reflection of my reflection in the one in front of me and I could see the reflection of that reflection in the one behind me as a reflection in the one in front of me. And it seemed to go on endlessly, just one reflection of another one of another one. So I wanted to see if I could actually see all the way to the end of them to the very last one. You know, what it would be like--my back or my front at the very end. I guess it was about the time I was getting up to full speed--maybe 6 and a half miles an hour--that I sort of lost focus on what I was doing because of the mirrors and I fell. Then, of course, the belt kept on going and swept me off the back of the thing and then because the wall was too close, like I said before, I was pinned between the belt and the wall lying on my back against the belt and it just kept turning. I know I probably should have used the emergency stop cord, but nobody uses them. Heck, most of them are tied around the bars out of the way. And I couldn't get up because I was more or less trapped there until a couple of the other people came and grabbed me and pulled me off of the thing. Then the ambulance came and they...."
Finally the doctor interrupted and asked, "Where are you hurt?" And the patient rolled to one side so the doc could see his back and there was a symmetrical hollow all the way across his it just below the shoulder blades that was nothing but raw meat and blood. "You're telling me you did this by falling off of a treadmill?!!" he exclaimed.
"Yeah", the patient said. "That's what that whole story was about. I should get a hell of a settlement out of it," he smiled.
The doctor said, very calmly, "Close your eyes for me"; which the patient did. The doctor planted his foot firmly against the wall of the examination room, for leverage, and punched the guy dead in the face. "Idiot", he mumbled as he walked out.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
RUSH LIMBAUGH IS THE ANTI-CHRIST!!!!!
Ok. That's it. Nothing else. Just needed to get that out of my system. Carry on now.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Patchwork
It has been noted that from great heights--from a plane, for example--the earth looks like a patchwork. Different sections of land joining together at odd angles. Shades of greens and browns butting together and overlapping. Blues and blacks intermingled.
This is a view I have often these days, as I travel back and forth across the country.
Staring out the window on one of these seemingly endless flights recently I was struck by the patterns and the way the colors seem to change depth and shade, sometimes suddenly and sometimes gradually. I could see my life in those changes. I could see it from a great height and I saw the patchwork that it is; the days and years running together as different shades of colors. Bad times, angry times are very dark and difficult to penetrate--from above or on the ground. They are overgrown and uninviting, promising only wounds and danger. The good times are airy and light. A mild breeze blows through them, pleasantly. Birds sing cheerily, inviting me in.
It was interesting that sometimes the border between the light colors and the dark ones would be clearly defined; the transition immediate and easily discernible. Those were times when my life changed suddenly--a wrong choice or a right one; bad luck or good. Something changed things with frightening speed so that the colors could not blend. I could not prepare or be forewarned. The change from dark back to light was often less severe, as if exiting the darkness is more of a process that must be lived out. Or perhaps it's just that we must suffer the consequences of our actions; and, often, the actions of others.
I think the places where the transition from light to dark is more gradual are more frightening somehow. They seem to say that I should have seen this one coming. The warning signs were there and I missed them. Ignored them? Likely. The dark patches after these entries were deeper and wider, taking much longer to blend back into paler shades.
Waters run through the scene as well. Sometimes shallow brooks joyfully falling across stones with grassy meadows on either side; a few willows on the bank for shade and rest. Other times raging, gushing, angrily rushing torrents of the blackest depths. Screaming "Danger" and offering no way to cross. Filled with sharp edges and pain. I marvelled at them, that I had emerged from them.
The further along this path I was able to see, the less frequent the dark patches appeared. And they seemed to be less dense and narrower. Am I wiser, or luckier? Not a fair question, perhaps. Maybe just less energetic.
Try as I might, I could not make out what lay ahead. It was hidden from me in swirling mists and semi-darkness. For the best, I suppose. For the best.
This is a view I have often these days, as I travel back and forth across the country.
Staring out the window on one of these seemingly endless flights recently I was struck by the patterns and the way the colors seem to change depth and shade, sometimes suddenly and sometimes gradually. I could see my life in those changes. I could see it from a great height and I saw the patchwork that it is; the days and years running together as different shades of colors. Bad times, angry times are very dark and difficult to penetrate--from above or on the ground. They are overgrown and uninviting, promising only wounds and danger. The good times are airy and light. A mild breeze blows through them, pleasantly. Birds sing cheerily, inviting me in.
It was interesting that sometimes the border between the light colors and the dark ones would be clearly defined; the transition immediate and easily discernible. Those were times when my life changed suddenly--a wrong choice or a right one; bad luck or good. Something changed things with frightening speed so that the colors could not blend. I could not prepare or be forewarned. The change from dark back to light was often less severe, as if exiting the darkness is more of a process that must be lived out. Or perhaps it's just that we must suffer the consequences of our actions; and, often, the actions of others.
I think the places where the transition from light to dark is more gradual are more frightening somehow. They seem to say that I should have seen this one coming. The warning signs were there and I missed them. Ignored them? Likely. The dark patches after these entries were deeper and wider, taking much longer to blend back into paler shades.
Waters run through the scene as well. Sometimes shallow brooks joyfully falling across stones with grassy meadows on either side; a few willows on the bank for shade and rest. Other times raging, gushing, angrily rushing torrents of the blackest depths. Screaming "Danger" and offering no way to cross. Filled with sharp edges and pain. I marvelled at them, that I had emerged from them.
The further along this path I was able to see, the less frequent the dark patches appeared. And they seemed to be less dense and narrower. Am I wiser, or luckier? Not a fair question, perhaps. Maybe just less energetic.
Try as I might, I could not make out what lay ahead. It was hidden from me in swirling mists and semi-darkness. For the best, I suppose. For the best.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Music
I wonder what it is about the music of our youth (and I'm speaking mostly to those of us who are old enough to look back at least somewhat wistfully) that transports us. Not all of the music from that time does it, but there are songs or artists or albums (that's what CD's used to be called before there were CD's, kids) that create strong emotional responses within us. They take us back in time and can make us feel like we did then. Especially if there is a particular event in our lives that we associate with a song or a group.
And I also wonder what it is about personalities that makes some of us eagerly seek these little side trips of life and some of us dread them. I had many awkward times as a teenager; many uncomfortable moments, times when I did or said something that I regretted or that was stupid and made me look foolish. There was pain and sadness like all people have in there lives. But that's not where I go when I go back. There's a fullness to the memories I have; a sense of longing for that time; a sense that it was good. I remember laughter that was easy and sincere, a sense of invulnerability and great good fortune, a belief that I could make the world better in some way. And there's a tonic in those memories that helps me to believe many of those things are still possible. Even without a teenager's idealism, vigor and ligaments, I can laugh with my friends and know that the life I have is filled with goodness and believe that there are things I can do every day to make the world a better place--for me and for others. I can look at the scars I've acquired--on my body and on my heart--and still know that God has a plan; that, in spite of the pain and carnage we've come to take for granted, human beings are capable of the most profound acts of kindness and love and courage. I can feel gratitude and freedom. I can feel the late spring sun shining on my face and revel in life itself--the sheer joy of being alive and in the universe.
I no longer believe that I am invulnerable to the ravages of time in this world, but I am invulnerable nonetheless. I am more comfortable with my own human-ness. I accept that I am not without faults. I turn my face to the sun each day with hope in spite of them; hope for my future, for the future of my family--my children. I refuse to wring my hands in frustration over the failures of the past or in desperation about the supposed inadequacies of the generation to which we will give way. I have seen them do great things even in the midst of facing greater challenges than we ever imagined. I see them care about things deeply. I see them seek God in spite of our poor example.
I have not accomplished all that I hoped to, but I have accomplished things I did not expect to--and I yet live. There is still time to do more.
My life is not as I imagined it would be all those years ago when I spent time imagining such things. But it is as God knew it would be, and I'm still here. There is some affirmation in that.
We complain so much--about politics, religion, our health, our neighbors, our kids, our spouses, the economy. Stop bitching. Stop it. Please. Stop complaining and act. Act out of love and respect for other people. Act out of a sense of our own fallibility, knowing that we will make mistakes because that's what humans do. Sometimes we fail, but sometimes we don't.
Forgive. Love. Temper anger with understanding; regret with faith; failure with fortitude. See the beauty in this world; see it even when it seems to be hidden by tragedy. In fact, don't just see it, but seek it out. Hunt for it as if your life depends on it.
Jesus said, "I have come so that you might have life and have it in a way that is fuller than anything you can ever imagine or understand." Live. Live fully. And listen to the songs of your heart with expectancy.
And I also wonder what it is about personalities that makes some of us eagerly seek these little side trips of life and some of us dread them. I had many awkward times as a teenager; many uncomfortable moments, times when I did or said something that I regretted or that was stupid and made me look foolish. There was pain and sadness like all people have in there lives. But that's not where I go when I go back. There's a fullness to the memories I have; a sense of longing for that time; a sense that it was good. I remember laughter that was easy and sincere, a sense of invulnerability and great good fortune, a belief that I could make the world better in some way. And there's a tonic in those memories that helps me to believe many of those things are still possible. Even without a teenager's idealism, vigor and ligaments, I can laugh with my friends and know that the life I have is filled with goodness and believe that there are things I can do every day to make the world a better place--for me and for others. I can look at the scars I've acquired--on my body and on my heart--and still know that God has a plan; that, in spite of the pain and carnage we've come to take for granted, human beings are capable of the most profound acts of kindness and love and courage. I can feel gratitude and freedom. I can feel the late spring sun shining on my face and revel in life itself--the sheer joy of being alive and in the universe.
I no longer believe that I am invulnerable to the ravages of time in this world, but I am invulnerable nonetheless. I am more comfortable with my own human-ness. I accept that I am not without faults. I turn my face to the sun each day with hope in spite of them; hope for my future, for the future of my family--my children. I refuse to wring my hands in frustration over the failures of the past or in desperation about the supposed inadequacies of the generation to which we will give way. I have seen them do great things even in the midst of facing greater challenges than we ever imagined. I see them care about things deeply. I see them seek God in spite of our poor example.
I have not accomplished all that I hoped to, but I have accomplished things I did not expect to--and I yet live. There is still time to do more.
My life is not as I imagined it would be all those years ago when I spent time imagining such things. But it is as God knew it would be, and I'm still here. There is some affirmation in that.
We complain so much--about politics, religion, our health, our neighbors, our kids, our spouses, the economy. Stop bitching. Stop it. Please. Stop complaining and act. Act out of love and respect for other people. Act out of a sense of our own fallibility, knowing that we will make mistakes because that's what humans do. Sometimes we fail, but sometimes we don't.
Forgive. Love. Temper anger with understanding; regret with faith; failure with fortitude. See the beauty in this world; see it even when it seems to be hidden by tragedy. In fact, don't just see it, but seek it out. Hunt for it as if your life depends on it.
Jesus said, "I have come so that you might have life and have it in a way that is fuller than anything you can ever imagine or understand." Live. Live fully. And listen to the songs of your heart with expectancy.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
An Oversight
In the previous post I said there were 4 who fit the description of true, lifetime friend for me, but there is a fifth who is likely the most steadfast of all. She and I have been through much together and have managed to stay in touch with some frequency through all these years. Perhaps that is why I forgot to include her. We did not just reconnect, we have stayed connected. She was the first friend I made at college and possibly the best. She has never judged me, in spite all of the times she probably should have. And I can only think of a very few times that she was ever really angry with me; again, in spite of all of the times when she probably should have been. A patient listener and an honest advisor, she is dear to me.
More evidence that we can so quickly overlook those who are nearest to us.
More evidence that we can so quickly overlook those who are nearest to us.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Old Friends
I have met and known a lot of people in my lifetime--a LOT of people. More than the average person I'm almost certain. In fact, I saw a statistic a few years ago that said the average American will have the opportunity to influence 10,000 people during their lifetime. I'm guessing I've already hit that mark.
But the interesting thing about that number, which seems outrageous on the surface, is that out of that number I can probably narrow down the list of good friends that I have had--and I mean the kind of friends that are lifetime members of the club; where neither distance nor time nor circumstances nor any of the other myriad incumberences of life--(which means I still have them) to a number that fits on my fingers without having to use any of them twice. And I don't know if that is a sad thing, a common thing, a remarkable thing.........It can make me melancholy if I'm not careful; and I'm not one given to melancholy thoughts.
My suspicion is that it is typical; that most of us go through life making friends who are really acquaintances when it comes right down to it. They are people we know; that we like to hang out with. They're fun and funny, but they are not the missing piece to the puzzle we are trying to find.They are not bad people, usually just the opposite. They are likeable and dependable. We can count on them in a pinch and we'll miss them when they're gone, but they will eventually go--never to reappear.
But that handful--that favored few who stick to our lives no matter what; those are the ones I've been thinking about lately. And most of the ones who are that for me were made while I was in college the first time, right out of high school. And it is Facebook, of all things, that has me in this odd sort of humor.
You see, about 2 or 3 months ago a reasonably large number of people form that time in my life started to show up on FB. Or, actually, we began to find out that we were all on there; most of us having been on there for a while. And the most important out of that handful I've been talking about are present. Some of whom I have not spoken with for 25 years until just recently. And it was as if we had only been apart for a few days. There was no discomfort; no uncomfortable silences or feeling out. We fit. Seamlessly. Effortlessly.
I wonder, how many people go through life without ever experiencing that. How many people live all their years isolated from the realization that those relationships must be guarded as stingily as their last breath. I wonder how many times I sat uneasily, aimlessly casting about in my own mind for an explanation for my restlessness--not realizing that it all pointed to the missing pieces that are those friends. The real friends I have made. The people whose influence has always been present in my life regardless of the miles or the years. The longing was real but the answer was given to me 25 years ago.
For me, there are 4 people who fit: one from my service days (which followed immediately after my college days, coincidentally); and 3 from college. I have had a chance to sit with 2 of them face-to-face since November and have chatted, messaged and spoken on the phone with the other 2. And in each circumstance there has been no need to try and reassociate or reconnect. The trust and comfort with each other was immediate. It is, perhaps, one of the most encouraging experiences of my life. It gives me a sense that life does not necessarily pass us by, oblivious to our needs or desires. My faith and my family sustain me, but these friends are vital to me both emotionally and spiritually. And I feel immensely blessed and fortunate to have found that out in the middle of my life. I fear that so many either never realize it, or find it out far too late.
Twenty-five years of life have made us different people to be certain, but our bond, which is a bond of love, has kept us the same. I believe melancholy is fed by yearning, and cured by recognizing our blessedness through our friends--the real ones; that diminutive number of people we need and love regardless.
But the interesting thing about that number, which seems outrageous on the surface, is that out of that number I can probably narrow down the list of good friends that I have had--and I mean the kind of friends that are lifetime members of the club; where neither distance nor time nor circumstances nor any of the other myriad incumberences of life--(which means I still have them) to a number that fits on my fingers without having to use any of them twice. And I don't know if that is a sad thing, a common thing, a remarkable thing.........It can make me melancholy if I'm not careful; and I'm not one given to melancholy thoughts.
My suspicion is that it is typical; that most of us go through life making friends who are really acquaintances when it comes right down to it. They are people we know; that we like to hang out with. They're fun and funny, but they are not the missing piece to the puzzle we are trying to find.They are not bad people, usually just the opposite. They are likeable and dependable. We can count on them in a pinch and we'll miss them when they're gone, but they will eventually go--never to reappear.
But that handful--that favored few who stick to our lives no matter what; those are the ones I've been thinking about lately. And most of the ones who are that for me were made while I was in college the first time, right out of high school. And it is Facebook, of all things, that has me in this odd sort of humor.
You see, about 2 or 3 months ago a reasonably large number of people form that time in my life started to show up on FB. Or, actually, we began to find out that we were all on there; most of us having been on there for a while. And the most important out of that handful I've been talking about are present. Some of whom I have not spoken with for 25 years until just recently. And it was as if we had only been apart for a few days. There was no discomfort; no uncomfortable silences or feeling out. We fit. Seamlessly. Effortlessly.
I wonder, how many people go through life without ever experiencing that. How many people live all their years isolated from the realization that those relationships must be guarded as stingily as their last breath. I wonder how many times I sat uneasily, aimlessly casting about in my own mind for an explanation for my restlessness--not realizing that it all pointed to the missing pieces that are those friends. The real friends I have made. The people whose influence has always been present in my life regardless of the miles or the years. The longing was real but the answer was given to me 25 years ago.
For me, there are 4 people who fit: one from my service days (which followed immediately after my college days, coincidentally); and 3 from college. I have had a chance to sit with 2 of them face-to-face since November and have chatted, messaged and spoken on the phone with the other 2. And in each circumstance there has been no need to try and reassociate or reconnect. The trust and comfort with each other was immediate. It is, perhaps, one of the most encouraging experiences of my life. It gives me a sense that life does not necessarily pass us by, oblivious to our needs or desires. My faith and my family sustain me, but these friends are vital to me both emotionally and spiritually. And I feel immensely blessed and fortunate to have found that out in the middle of my life. I fear that so many either never realize it, or find it out far too late.
Twenty-five years of life have made us different people to be certain, but our bond, which is a bond of love, has kept us the same. I believe melancholy is fed by yearning, and cured by recognizing our blessedness through our friends--the real ones; that diminutive number of people we need and love regardless.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
A Little Catching Up--Part II
Other than the incident with our so-called friend, we have had a pretty good couple of months since the last posts. Pastor Vasile and his son, Daniel, (they are from the church where we went on our mission trip this past summer) came to America in November and were in St. Louis for a little over a week during the Thanksgiving holidays. We hosted them and a number of our friends for dinner on the holiday. We had the gathering at our church youth building so there would be more room and less mess at our house. The food was amazing and we had a really great time. Pastor Ian (pronounced Yon) is an amazing man of God. I admire him a great deal.
We were able to go home (to Alabama) for Christmas this year and that visit was excellent. We stayed for 9 days, which is a bit longer than our normal visits, but it worked out OK. It was almost over before we really started to wish we could go home. We love our families, but there's close and then there's too close. Living in Mom and Dad's house is no longer optimal. I did get to go hunting with my dad several times and we saw a lot of my sister and her family. I am very excited about moving back there in a year and a half. I can't wait. I miss the South and I miss my people.
Sandi's dad has a girlfriend now (her mom passed almost 2 years ago) and he's like a kid again. He really likes her and she's a great lady. Sandi and I went to high school with her kids; the ages were staggered, but we all knew each other. In fact, I played football with her son. She's really full of life and they are constantly going places and doing stuff together. I think it's been, and will continue to be, great for both of them. And Sandi and her brother are both very supportive, which her dad was worried about.
Our kids are doing very well, although they have both learned to dislike school now. Not sure where that came from. Well, the older one has always kind of been that way. Not that it matters, because it's not like they have a choice. Right?
My job is going very well. I find that I like being a manager more and more and that I like being in safety more and more. How blessed is that? So many people hate their jobs--the title and the work itself. And I suppose a big part of what makes me like it is that I am good at it. I wasn't sure that would be the case when I first jumped off into it. I have an inkling that my attraction to it has something to do with how closely it mirrors ministry. Don't laugh. Getting people to support and adhere to safety processes, regardless of their position within the company, is not really disimilar to getting people (who, remember, don't have to do what you say in church because they are there voluntarily) to rally around the cause of Christ and support the direction you are trying to take them. You have to inspire, lead by example, wield influence subtly, etc. in each circumstance. Or, at least that's my style in both. And how well I do my job can have profound influences in both arenas; although one is obviously moreso than the other. But you get my point.
I have another interesting thing that has been going on over the last several weeks, but that's for the next post.
We were able to go home (to Alabama) for Christmas this year and that visit was excellent. We stayed for 9 days, which is a bit longer than our normal visits, but it worked out OK. It was almost over before we really started to wish we could go home. We love our families, but there's close and then there's too close. Living in Mom and Dad's house is no longer optimal. I did get to go hunting with my dad several times and we saw a lot of my sister and her family. I am very excited about moving back there in a year and a half. I can't wait. I miss the South and I miss my people.
Sandi's dad has a girlfriend now (her mom passed almost 2 years ago) and he's like a kid again. He really likes her and she's a great lady. Sandi and I went to high school with her kids; the ages were staggered, but we all knew each other. In fact, I played football with her son. She's really full of life and they are constantly going places and doing stuff together. I think it's been, and will continue to be, great for both of them. And Sandi and her brother are both very supportive, which her dad was worried about.
Our kids are doing very well, although they have both learned to dislike school now. Not sure where that came from. Well, the older one has always kind of been that way. Not that it matters, because it's not like they have a choice. Right?
My job is going very well. I find that I like being a manager more and more and that I like being in safety more and more. How blessed is that? So many people hate their jobs--the title and the work itself. And I suppose a big part of what makes me like it is that I am good at it. I wasn't sure that would be the case when I first jumped off into it. I have an inkling that my attraction to it has something to do with how closely it mirrors ministry. Don't laugh. Getting people to support and adhere to safety processes, regardless of their position within the company, is not really disimilar to getting people (who, remember, don't have to do what you say in church because they are there voluntarily) to rally around the cause of Christ and support the direction you are trying to take them. You have to inspire, lead by example, wield influence subtly, etc. in each circumstance. Or, at least that's my style in both. And how well I do my job can have profound influences in both arenas; although one is obviously moreso than the other. But you get my point.
I have another interesting thing that has been going on over the last several weeks, but that's for the next post.
A Little Catching Up
It has been what seems like forever since my last post. A lot has happened during that time. I won't burden you with all of it, but I'll try to fill in some of the spaces.
First, our friend with cancer has moved out. She is in remission and the prognosis at this time seems to be for a full recovery. She had the cancerous kidney removed and the other places where it had appeared are either gone or shrinking. Good news for her. But there's more to the story. She did not leave because she was ready to. We asked her to.
When we first learned of her condition and decided to ask her to live with us (see previous posts), we also knew that we were going to need to find a way to help her financially so that she could get back out on her own once her condition improved. Otherwise, knowing her as we do, we knew that she would not be able to leave because she would never come up with the money on her own, nor would her family help out. Thus we decided to have a fundraiser. There is a surprisingly close network of people in the real estate business in this area and many of them know her and many more know Sandi and the lady that she works for. So they (Sandi and her boss) set about organizing a trivia night with all the proceeds to be placed into a trust for our friend. Sandi and I would be named as executors of the trust because we knew that if she had control over the money it would be blown long before she could move out of our house and, well, let's just say that would be bad.
The event was a success with many people from the real estate community as well as our church responding generously. We raised nearly $5000 for her. Sandi and I went to the bank and made all of the arrangements and deposited the money. We told her how the trust would be set up and why. The money was to be held until she was well enough to move on and none of it would be spent until then and it wasn't. That was in early September.
In November we received a call from the bank asking a bunch of questions about the account. It felt very much like an accusation. As we pressed the guy from the bank for details he told us that our friend had been in that day, unbeknownst to us, seeking access to the funds. It had set off some sort of inquiry and the end result was that the bank told us that we could not have the account as it had been originally intended. We had to give her the money and close the account. It made us both pretty angry (actually, Sandi was fit to be tied) to be placed under such scrutiny when we had done nothing wrong--only tried to help. And it demonstrated yet again that our 'friend' has no real concept of the nature of friendship or self-control. When Sandi confronted her (remember, she didn't know that the bank had spilled the beans) she tried to deny everything and when that didn't work she tried to make excuses and say the bank had misunderstood her intent.
To keep a long story from getting any longer, the final result was that we told her she could no longer live with us. I gave her until the end of January to find a place and move. We knew that if we didn't get her out of our house soon the money would be spent and then there would be real trouble. The funny thing is that she ended up moving in with the guy I talked about several posts ago who has pined away for her for so long.
I could go on and on about this, but I'm tired of talking about it. The end.
First, our friend with cancer has moved out. She is in remission and the prognosis at this time seems to be for a full recovery. She had the cancerous kidney removed and the other places where it had appeared are either gone or shrinking. Good news for her. But there's more to the story. She did not leave because she was ready to. We asked her to.
When we first learned of her condition and decided to ask her to live with us (see previous posts), we also knew that we were going to need to find a way to help her financially so that she could get back out on her own once her condition improved. Otherwise, knowing her as we do, we knew that she would not be able to leave because she would never come up with the money on her own, nor would her family help out. Thus we decided to have a fundraiser. There is a surprisingly close network of people in the real estate business in this area and many of them know her and many more know Sandi and the lady that she works for. So they (Sandi and her boss) set about organizing a trivia night with all the proceeds to be placed into a trust for our friend. Sandi and I would be named as executors of the trust because we knew that if she had control over the money it would be blown long before she could move out of our house and, well, let's just say that would be bad.
The event was a success with many people from the real estate community as well as our church responding generously. We raised nearly $5000 for her. Sandi and I went to the bank and made all of the arrangements and deposited the money. We told her how the trust would be set up and why. The money was to be held until she was well enough to move on and none of it would be spent until then and it wasn't. That was in early September.
In November we received a call from the bank asking a bunch of questions about the account. It felt very much like an accusation. As we pressed the guy from the bank for details he told us that our friend had been in that day, unbeknownst to us, seeking access to the funds. It had set off some sort of inquiry and the end result was that the bank told us that we could not have the account as it had been originally intended. We had to give her the money and close the account. It made us both pretty angry (actually, Sandi was fit to be tied) to be placed under such scrutiny when we had done nothing wrong--only tried to help. And it demonstrated yet again that our 'friend' has no real concept of the nature of friendship or self-control. When Sandi confronted her (remember, she didn't know that the bank had spilled the beans) she tried to deny everything and when that didn't work she tried to make excuses and say the bank had misunderstood her intent.
To keep a long story from getting any longer, the final result was that we told her she could no longer live with us. I gave her until the end of January to find a place and move. We knew that if we didn't get her out of our house soon the money would be spent and then there would be real trouble. The funny thing is that she ended up moving in with the guy I talked about several posts ago who has pined away for her for so long.
I could go on and on about this, but I'm tired of talking about it. The end.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Consistency
I've remained quiet for the most part throughout the recent run-up to the election, but after reading all of the melodramatic status updates and hearing all of the gnashing of teeth and religious posturing of so many within my tiny sphere regarding their personal angst over the results, I have a few things I need to say.
If you have seriously referred to Barack Obama as the antichrist at any point during this process please navigate away from this page. I do not want you here; I have nothing to offer you.
I cannot escape the feeling that most in the Christian community vote Republican based on only 2 issues: their opposition to abortion and their feelings about gay rights--specifically, gay marriage. I do not disagree that abortion is wrong or that homosexuality is a sin--Scripture is clear on those things. What I cannot fathom is that people whom I know to be otherwise astute and intelligent have not realized that the strategy of the entire Republican party, for the past 6 elections at least, has been to use these issues for the sole purpose of inciting such an emotional response from voters that they ignore key issues that are firmly grounded in Scripture as well. And that an unforeseen result of this strategy was that the leaders of the religious right would become hungry to maintain their positions of power and influence within the political arena and subvert their faith to make that happen.
For example, I know of 2 or 3 verses in the Bible that allude to the sanctity of life beginning in the womb, but over 2000 that refer (most of them quite explicity) to our responsibility to care for those who are less fortunate. These verses are replete with specific references to the poor, orphans, widows, aliens (as in 'immigrants', not ET), the sick, etc. etc. etc.
Dr. Dobson literally spent millions of dollars to defeat ballot initiatives providing either marriage rights or partner's rights to homosexuals in states where there was never a hope of defeating them. And even if they had been defeated I suggest that there would have been no change in the fate of the traditional American family as a result. Those millions of dollars spent helping people in need could have made a difference in families if used in a constructive and biblical manner. Perhaps he should change the name of his ministry; he is no longer focused on the family, but rather on politics.
Statistics offer us some interesting insight on some of these political ping pong balls. It is statistically valid to say that during times when the country does well economically and poor people are being helped in real ways--job training; day care for working moms; food programs for children; improved access to better health care; educational assistance--to name a few--abortion rates and divorce rates go down. It is also statistically significant that the Republican party controlled the White House and both houses of Congress during the first six years of Mr. Bush's presidency and during that time they did nothing significant to legally limit abortion or gay rights. I hear people shout that it's the "liberals'" who stopped it, but you know in your heart that that's not true. Ever astute in their political dance, the GOP knows that if they somehow managed to legislate abortion and gay marriage out of existence that they could not be relected. Once their smoke screen was removed and their underlying agenda exposed, only the rich would support them with any consistency.
If you are willing to step back for just a few moments I believe you will see that neither party lives up to its billing. Both have deep flaws that need to be healed. But we as Christians need to be consistent in our causes. We need to be consistent in our ethic--in our call for justice. And we need to consistently hold our elected officials' feet to the fire to see that they are responsive to our beliefs and moral convictions. Does a consistent ethic of life, for instance, say that all life is precious or only the lives of the unborn? Do we say that all life is precious or only the lives of Americans? Is torture wrong or is only the torture of American soldiers wrong? Are we commanded to love everyone or are we commanded to love everyone who isn't gay? Is greed (corporate and personal) always wrong or is greed only wrong when it starts to deplete MY retirement accounts?
And when did it become part of the Apostles' Creed that war is the desirable course of action? When did Christians become the solicitors of doom upon any group that opposes America? When did it become unpatriotic to favor peace? I suppose Jesus was unpatriotic; seems I remember him claiming that his Father is the God of peace; that peacemakers are going to be blessed. I support our soldiers with every bit of faith that I have; my heart breaks at the thought of their sacrifice for my freedom and safety; but I cannot support a political/economic war that had nothing to do with an immenent threat to our country. And I make that statement based on my understanding of the teachings of God.
We have failed our own tests, I'm afraid. We have not maintained a consistent ethic of life or for life. We have sold out to the bidder most capable of inciting our emotions.I believe that you can be a Christian and be a Democrat; and that you can be a Christian and be a Republican. But please be whatever you are because you know what's going on, what the issues are, and because you believe the person you have chosen is most capable of representing those beliefs in a consistent manner throughout the breadth of a well-thought-out and consistent biblical ethic.
Finally, I believe that you cannot be a Christian if you hate--anyone. That's in the Bible too; New Testament; Jesus said it, so did John.
If you have seriously referred to Barack Obama as the antichrist at any point during this process please navigate away from this page. I do not want you here; I have nothing to offer you.
I cannot escape the feeling that most in the Christian community vote Republican based on only 2 issues: their opposition to abortion and their feelings about gay rights--specifically, gay marriage. I do not disagree that abortion is wrong or that homosexuality is a sin--Scripture is clear on those things. What I cannot fathom is that people whom I know to be otherwise astute and intelligent have not realized that the strategy of the entire Republican party, for the past 6 elections at least, has been to use these issues for the sole purpose of inciting such an emotional response from voters that they ignore key issues that are firmly grounded in Scripture as well. And that an unforeseen result of this strategy was that the leaders of the religious right would become hungry to maintain their positions of power and influence within the political arena and subvert their faith to make that happen.
For example, I know of 2 or 3 verses in the Bible that allude to the sanctity of life beginning in the womb, but over 2000 that refer (most of them quite explicity) to our responsibility to care for those who are less fortunate. These verses are replete with specific references to the poor, orphans, widows, aliens (as in 'immigrants', not ET), the sick, etc. etc. etc.
Dr. Dobson literally spent millions of dollars to defeat ballot initiatives providing either marriage rights or partner's rights to homosexuals in states where there was never a hope of defeating them. And even if they had been defeated I suggest that there would have been no change in the fate of the traditional American family as a result. Those millions of dollars spent helping people in need could have made a difference in families if used in a constructive and biblical manner. Perhaps he should change the name of his ministry; he is no longer focused on the family, but rather on politics.
Statistics offer us some interesting insight on some of these political ping pong balls. It is statistically valid to say that during times when the country does well economically and poor people are being helped in real ways--job training; day care for working moms; food programs for children; improved access to better health care; educational assistance--to name a few--abortion rates and divorce rates go down. It is also statistically significant that the Republican party controlled the White House and both houses of Congress during the first six years of Mr. Bush's presidency and during that time they did nothing significant to legally limit abortion or gay rights. I hear people shout that it's the "liberals'" who stopped it, but you know in your heart that that's not true. Ever astute in their political dance, the GOP knows that if they somehow managed to legislate abortion and gay marriage out of existence that they could not be relected. Once their smoke screen was removed and their underlying agenda exposed, only the rich would support them with any consistency.
If you are willing to step back for just a few moments I believe you will see that neither party lives up to its billing. Both have deep flaws that need to be healed. But we as Christians need to be consistent in our causes. We need to be consistent in our ethic--in our call for justice. And we need to consistently hold our elected officials' feet to the fire to see that they are responsive to our beliefs and moral convictions. Does a consistent ethic of life, for instance, say that all life is precious or only the lives of the unborn? Do we say that all life is precious or only the lives of Americans? Is torture wrong or is only the torture of American soldiers wrong? Are we commanded to love everyone or are we commanded to love everyone who isn't gay? Is greed (corporate and personal) always wrong or is greed only wrong when it starts to deplete MY retirement accounts?
And when did it become part of the Apostles' Creed that war is the desirable course of action? When did Christians become the solicitors of doom upon any group that opposes America? When did it become unpatriotic to favor peace? I suppose Jesus was unpatriotic; seems I remember him claiming that his Father is the God of peace; that peacemakers are going to be blessed. I support our soldiers with every bit of faith that I have; my heart breaks at the thought of their sacrifice for my freedom and safety; but I cannot support a political/economic war that had nothing to do with an immenent threat to our country. And I make that statement based on my understanding of the teachings of God.
We have failed our own tests, I'm afraid. We have not maintained a consistent ethic of life or for life. We have sold out to the bidder most capable of inciting our emotions.I believe that you can be a Christian and be a Democrat; and that you can be a Christian and be a Republican. But please be whatever you are because you know what's going on, what the issues are, and because you believe the person you have chosen is most capable of representing those beliefs in a consistent manner throughout the breadth of a well-thought-out and consistent biblical ethic.
Finally, I believe that you cannot be a Christian if you hate--anyone. That's in the Bible too; New Testament; Jesus said it, so did John.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Love Demanded
Our friend, the one with cancer, is all moved in with us now. Actually, it's been nearly 2 weeks since the last stuff came over. The adjustment is ongoing.
One byproduct of her arrival has been the concurrent arrival of the man who would be her suitor. We've known him for several years, and have known of his desire for our friend. He is disabled by Parkinson's Disease, but still lives independently--driving, cooking, etc. Some days are better than others for him, but he does OK. In addition to carrying a torch for our friend, he is the father of another friend of ours. It's all very interwoven, but my current interest in the subject has to do with his tireless pursuit of companionship.
I don't want to use his name, so let's call our lonely friend Pete. I suppose my deciding to write about this is related to how we as people of faith handle our loneliness. And it's not just how the lonely ones handle their loneliness, but how the observers--those of us who get that they're lonely--handle it.
Pete has had to deal with a lot, just like his would-be girl friend (for crying out loud, let's just call her Betty; I'm sick of trying to come up with analogous phrases). He lost his wife when he still had kids to raise. He has a crappy disease that's slowly robbing him of life and quality of life. He is somewhat estranged from his family. (As an aside, don't go banging on the family too hard. I've discovered over the past few weeks that he can be difficult to deal with.) It's been a tough go for him.
As I watch him diligently pursue Betty I am struck by the ultimate futility of it all. She has been very forthright with him in telling him that she does not want a relationship other than a strictly Platonic friendship. He says he has accepted that and is fine with it, but that cannot be true. His loneliness trails behind him like an open parachute. The wind has caught it and he struggles to move ahead. Life, people, streak past at break-neck speed.
We are promised by God that he knows us; loves us. He implores us to release our cares to him; to allow him to bear our burdens--our loneliness. We cannot do it, though. Almost never do we remit our vanity to him. And I think it is vanity. We wear our loneliness like a martyr's shroud. We let it wash over us and through us as we covet the sympathy, empathy, of others for our condition. And as we watch the lonely and make the dance of sympathy for them we secretly celebrate our superiority because we know that we truly do rely on God to strengthen us in our times of loneliness. All the while holding our golden martyr's statues high above our heads for all to see so that they can pay homage to our courage and perseverence.
My God. Am I really that cynical (isn't that a small island nation)? Or is that really what I see; what I've seen in my own life over the years? I know I've worn the shroud sometimes. It feels good to sink into that place where self-absorption rules the day and the pain and suffering of those around us can be ignored. The place where we can feel justified in being completely focused on ourselves. It's quiet there most of the time. Only the little voice that tells us how brave we are--how misunderstood we are--gets through. Such a comfort, that little voice. Oh how we love to listen to how evil and lucky those others are; those others who don't know our pain; those others who shuffle about stupidly oblivious to their own sinful and futile lives. We revel in our own anguish. We eagerly crave the overwhelming waves of self-pity. We drink it; we gorge ourselves on it. God is sad. We have lost our way. The trap is sprung.
Fellowship is God's response. Fellowship with him; real fellowship, not a potluck dinner. The kind of fellowship that realizes that we share in the very nature of the divine (Peter's words, not mine). We are partners with, sons and daughters of, the uncreated creator of the universe. That kind of power, access to that kind of holiness, does not lend itself to loneliness and self-pity. Nor does it allow for hypocritically glaring down our noses at a lonely brother. It demands patience, forebearance, kindness, humility--it demands love. It demands love. It demands love.
Reach out in love. Our fellowship with God, if it is real, demands it (John's words, not mine).
Pray
Mike
One byproduct of her arrival has been the concurrent arrival of the man who would be her suitor. We've known him for several years, and have known of his desire for our friend. He is disabled by Parkinson's Disease, but still lives independently--driving, cooking, etc. Some days are better than others for him, but he does OK. In addition to carrying a torch for our friend, he is the father of another friend of ours. It's all very interwoven, but my current interest in the subject has to do with his tireless pursuit of companionship.
I don't want to use his name, so let's call our lonely friend Pete. I suppose my deciding to write about this is related to how we as people of faith handle our loneliness. And it's not just how the lonely ones handle their loneliness, but how the observers--those of us who get that they're lonely--handle it.
Pete has had to deal with a lot, just like his would-be girl friend (for crying out loud, let's just call her Betty; I'm sick of trying to come up with analogous phrases). He lost his wife when he still had kids to raise. He has a crappy disease that's slowly robbing him of life and quality of life. He is somewhat estranged from his family. (As an aside, don't go banging on the family too hard. I've discovered over the past few weeks that he can be difficult to deal with.) It's been a tough go for him.
As I watch him diligently pursue Betty I am struck by the ultimate futility of it all. She has been very forthright with him in telling him that she does not want a relationship other than a strictly Platonic friendship. He says he has accepted that and is fine with it, but that cannot be true. His loneliness trails behind him like an open parachute. The wind has caught it and he struggles to move ahead. Life, people, streak past at break-neck speed.
We are promised by God that he knows us; loves us. He implores us to release our cares to him; to allow him to bear our burdens--our loneliness. We cannot do it, though. Almost never do we remit our vanity to him. And I think it is vanity. We wear our loneliness like a martyr's shroud. We let it wash over us and through us as we covet the sympathy, empathy, of others for our condition. And as we watch the lonely and make the dance of sympathy for them we secretly celebrate our superiority because we know that we truly do rely on God to strengthen us in our times of loneliness. All the while holding our golden martyr's statues high above our heads for all to see so that they can pay homage to our courage and perseverence.
My God. Am I really that cynical (isn't that a small island nation)? Or is that really what I see; what I've seen in my own life over the years? I know I've worn the shroud sometimes. It feels good to sink into that place where self-absorption rules the day and the pain and suffering of those around us can be ignored. The place where we can feel justified in being completely focused on ourselves. It's quiet there most of the time. Only the little voice that tells us how brave we are--how misunderstood we are--gets through. Such a comfort, that little voice. Oh how we love to listen to how evil and lucky those others are; those others who don't know our pain; those others who shuffle about stupidly oblivious to their own sinful and futile lives. We revel in our own anguish. We eagerly crave the overwhelming waves of self-pity. We drink it; we gorge ourselves on it. God is sad. We have lost our way. The trap is sprung.
Fellowship is God's response. Fellowship with him; real fellowship, not a potluck dinner. The kind of fellowship that realizes that we share in the very nature of the divine (Peter's words, not mine). We are partners with, sons and daughters of, the uncreated creator of the universe. That kind of power, access to that kind of holiness, does not lend itself to loneliness and self-pity. Nor does it allow for hypocritically glaring down our noses at a lonely brother. It demands patience, forebearance, kindness, humility--it demands love. It demands love. It demands love.
Reach out in love. Our fellowship with God, if it is real, demands it (John's words, not mine).
Pray
Mike
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Life Changing
Wow, it's been a while. Quite a bit has happened--is still happening. Let's start with the more mundane.
The girls started school since I last posted. Liz is a junior this year and will be getting her driver's license very soon. She's a pretty good driver, but it still scares me for her to be out there because there is no shortage of idiots and retards driving about with complete disregard for the public safety. Becca started middle school this year--a sixth grader. Man, my wife must be getting old if Becca's in middle school :).
I got a promotion at work about 3 weeks ago--I KNOW...I've only been there for 3 months! It's kind of a convoluted story, but it's basically the job they originally contacted me about in March. Some of the circumstances changed--mostly they removed the requirement to move to Seattle--which allowed me to accept it. So now I'm the Safety and Training Manager. A couple of the guys who now work for me are a little stunned by it, but they are good guys and I don't think it will be a problem. And now I have plenty of work to sink my teeth into, plus I got a very nice raise. SWEET.
Now to the more serious stuff.
Back in the Spring we found out that a friend of ours has kidney cancer--stage 4 (and, apparently, there is no stage 5). She is 60. Her life to this point has been no picnic. I guess it was 20+ years ago that her husband committed suicide leaving her to raise their son. She's been selling real estate for 16 years, which is volatile enough when the market's up. And we all know that it has not been up as of late. This means that her financial situation, which is always in some state of flux (and typically not a good flux) is in the crapper. The real down turn started a few years ago when her son's drinking problem became a drinking and driving problem. His fourth DUI was issued shortly after he drove a friends borrowed car (he had neither car nor driver's license) into the back of a parked police car. Our friend spent everything she had trying to keep him out of jail and he still ended up in prison for a couple of years. There are a lot (and I mean a LOT) of details that I'm leaving out, but I want you to have some idea of what she has faced. And on top of all the other things, she is basically estranged from her family. I think she sees some of them on occasion, but they are not a resource for her now that she's sick and broke. She had to sell her condo a while back and lived with a friend for a while. She finally got back on her feet enough to move into an apartment a few months ago, but that's beyond her resources now as well. It's been a tough go for her, to say the least. None of this is to say that she has no culpability in her situation. Even though she's had some rotten luck, she's also made some bad choices, but most of us have. She's never been able to say no to her son, even when she should have. And now that she's in trouble and he's working, he's still no help. It's very sad and frustrating.
To keep a long story from getting even longer, I'll try to cut to the chase. We were able to help her get some financial help from the church so she at least was able to pay her way out of her lease and pay her health insurance through the end of the year--which is obviously a big deal right now. And we are moving her in with us until, hopefully, she recovers and gets back on her feet. I don't say that to try and glorify what we're doing, but because it provides the context for the rest of what I'm about to write.
Sandi's had a tough time with it all from an emotional standpoint. How can a person whose been through so much now have to face this potential death sentence? Why would God do that to her? Is he so ruthless that he just picks people to punish? Valid questions under the circumstances, I suppose. Our friend thinks she is being punished for something she's done wrong. And it's been overwhelming for her (Sandi) as we've tried to make the adjustments and get everything ready for our friend to move in. There was a good bit of work to do moving stuff around and out of the basement. Plus we've been moving our friend's stuff into a storage unit--at least what of it she won't be bringing here. It's also sad to see your life reduced to a 150 square foot pile of furniture and cloths.
We started the moving process last Saturday and will finish tomorrow. As the day approached I found myself getting angry about having to deal with it. I didn't realize what it was at first. I could obviously tell I was getting crabby and short tempered, but I really had to stop and think about why before I figured it out. Then I had to deal with how I felt about that. It seemed very selfish and that made me feel pretty crappy. But it's really about the disruption, isn't it? We don't want to have our lives disrupted by anything. We have plans and visions of how things are supposed to go--and they're typically very short-sighted--and when something interrupts that we get all pissed off; often not even realizing why. The more I thought about it the more I realized, thankfully, that I wasn't mad at our friend. I just didn't want to be bothered with all the things we had to do to get ready. I don't like that I felt that way, but I had to deal with the fact that I did. It made me sad about me and I hate that too. Once things were finally under way I was glad to be started and actually started to finally feel good about what we were doing. Working has a way of doing that.
Tomorrow's the big day; the final move--then she'll be in and staying with us and we can settle into the time of helping her become part of our family and working to get her on the road to recovery. It's sad and hard an dreadful, but also uplifting and good. We have a ministry to her, whatever the outcome, that's as important as any we've done. If she recovers, we thank God for the miracle of life and help her get on her feet again. If she doesn't (and we have to prepare for that as well) then we thank God for the miracle of life and we figure out how to grieve and continue on.
Pray for her and for us during this emotional time.
Mike
The girls started school since I last posted. Liz is a junior this year and will be getting her driver's license very soon. She's a pretty good driver, but it still scares me for her to be out there because there is no shortage of idiots and retards driving about with complete disregard for the public safety. Becca started middle school this year--a sixth grader. Man, my wife must be getting old if Becca's in middle school :).
I got a promotion at work about 3 weeks ago--I KNOW...I've only been there for 3 months! It's kind of a convoluted story, but it's basically the job they originally contacted me about in March. Some of the circumstances changed--mostly they removed the requirement to move to Seattle--which allowed me to accept it. So now I'm the Safety and Training Manager. A couple of the guys who now work for me are a little stunned by it, but they are good guys and I don't think it will be a problem. And now I have plenty of work to sink my teeth into, plus I got a very nice raise. SWEET.
Now to the more serious stuff.
Back in the Spring we found out that a friend of ours has kidney cancer--stage 4 (and, apparently, there is no stage 5). She is 60. Her life to this point has been no picnic. I guess it was 20+ years ago that her husband committed suicide leaving her to raise their son. She's been selling real estate for 16 years, which is volatile enough when the market's up. And we all know that it has not been up as of late. This means that her financial situation, which is always in some state of flux (and typically not a good flux) is in the crapper. The real down turn started a few years ago when her son's drinking problem became a drinking and driving problem. His fourth DUI was issued shortly after he drove a friends borrowed car (he had neither car nor driver's license) into the back of a parked police car. Our friend spent everything she had trying to keep him out of jail and he still ended up in prison for a couple of years. There are a lot (and I mean a LOT) of details that I'm leaving out, but I want you to have some idea of what she has faced. And on top of all the other things, she is basically estranged from her family. I think she sees some of them on occasion, but they are not a resource for her now that she's sick and broke. She had to sell her condo a while back and lived with a friend for a while. She finally got back on her feet enough to move into an apartment a few months ago, but that's beyond her resources now as well. It's been a tough go for her, to say the least. None of this is to say that she has no culpability in her situation. Even though she's had some rotten luck, she's also made some bad choices, but most of us have. She's never been able to say no to her son, even when she should have. And now that she's in trouble and he's working, he's still no help. It's very sad and frustrating.
To keep a long story from getting even longer, I'll try to cut to the chase. We were able to help her get some financial help from the church so she at least was able to pay her way out of her lease and pay her health insurance through the end of the year--which is obviously a big deal right now. And we are moving her in with us until, hopefully, she recovers and gets back on her feet. I don't say that to try and glorify what we're doing, but because it provides the context for the rest of what I'm about to write.
Sandi's had a tough time with it all from an emotional standpoint. How can a person whose been through so much now have to face this potential death sentence? Why would God do that to her? Is he so ruthless that he just picks people to punish? Valid questions under the circumstances, I suppose. Our friend thinks she is being punished for something she's done wrong. And it's been overwhelming for her (Sandi) as we've tried to make the adjustments and get everything ready for our friend to move in. There was a good bit of work to do moving stuff around and out of the basement. Plus we've been moving our friend's stuff into a storage unit--at least what of it she won't be bringing here. It's also sad to see your life reduced to a 150 square foot pile of furniture and cloths.
We started the moving process last Saturday and will finish tomorrow. As the day approached I found myself getting angry about having to deal with it. I didn't realize what it was at first. I could obviously tell I was getting crabby and short tempered, but I really had to stop and think about why before I figured it out. Then I had to deal with how I felt about that. It seemed very selfish and that made me feel pretty crappy. But it's really about the disruption, isn't it? We don't want to have our lives disrupted by anything. We have plans and visions of how things are supposed to go--and they're typically very short-sighted--and when something interrupts that we get all pissed off; often not even realizing why. The more I thought about it the more I realized, thankfully, that I wasn't mad at our friend. I just didn't want to be bothered with all the things we had to do to get ready. I don't like that I felt that way, but I had to deal with the fact that I did. It made me sad about me and I hate that too. Once things were finally under way I was glad to be started and actually started to finally feel good about what we were doing. Working has a way of doing that.
Tomorrow's the big day; the final move--then she'll be in and staying with us and we can settle into the time of helping her become part of our family and working to get her on the road to recovery. It's sad and hard an dreadful, but also uplifting and good. We have a ministry to her, whatever the outcome, that's as important as any we've done. If she recovers, we thank God for the miracle of life and help her get on her feet again. If she doesn't (and we have to prepare for that as well) then we thank God for the miracle of life and we figure out how to grieve and continue on.
Pray for her and for us during this emotional time.
Mike
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Flying High
I had one of those days today that do not come that often. One of those days where you can look back at it and say, 'Wow. I don't think I would have changed anything about that.' Such days are rare and need to be cherished.
First, today was the big preaching day. Three weeks ago, Bruce asked me to speak during the 2 Sunday morning services at our church today. I was very excited about it for a couple of reasons. First, I love to preach anytime God provides the opportunity; and this was a big one. Coming right on the heels of our return from the mission trip, it felt like the culmination of something that had been gaining momentum for a while. And I think that turned out to be the case. Even the disappointment from finding out that I'm not really in the running any more to be our interim preaching pastor didn't tarnish it. (As I noted in previous posts, our church is currently without a head pastor. In the interim, they are going to hire a pastor who will fill in every Sunday for the 2 services until a new pastor is called. I had hoped that I might fill that interim role, but that is apparently not to be. And that's alright. God has plenty of other things for me to do.) I felt empowered by the Holy Spirit in a way that I haven't felt very often in the last couple of years. I felt very much like God was using me to accomplish something bigger than myself. And that is an amazing thing. When I was finished, I was drained but confident that I had delivered the message I was supposed to. And that is a feeling that inspires awe in me every time it happens.
After church we had lunch with friends and that was a great joy. It was one of those times when I could pull back from what was going on and truly appreciate the pureness of life in the simplest things. Smiles and conversations take on a surrealistic quality that make them somehow special, even though they are in essence no different than a thousand other smiles or a thousand other conversations. But it's as if a heightened awareness of God's presence in the world allows us to experience people as he does, if only for a few moments in time. Those moments become untainted by rancor, selfishness, worry, busyness. It passes; but the memory of it is like a drug.
After lunch and a brief repose, I went flying. My friend, Scott, has his pilots license and a plane (how jealous am I) and had invited me to fly with him. We probably spent an hour and a half aloft and I got to fly the plane for about 30 minutes. And I mean I actually was doing the flying. How cool is that? I mean it's not like I was doing loops and barrel rolls, but I made the turns, changed altitude, picked landmarks. It was amazing. And seeing God's incredible creation from that vantage point, while doing something I always dreamed of was a most excellent exclamation point on a most excellent day.
And then I got to go to Sno Biz (awesome shave ice) with 2 of my 3 favorite girls--Sandi and Becca.
God is good--all the time.
Mike
First, today was the big preaching day. Three weeks ago, Bruce asked me to speak during the 2 Sunday morning services at our church today. I was very excited about it for a couple of reasons. First, I love to preach anytime God provides the opportunity; and this was a big one. Coming right on the heels of our return from the mission trip, it felt like the culmination of something that had been gaining momentum for a while. And I think that turned out to be the case. Even the disappointment from finding out that I'm not really in the running any more to be our interim preaching pastor didn't tarnish it. (As I noted in previous posts, our church is currently without a head pastor. In the interim, they are going to hire a pastor who will fill in every Sunday for the 2 services until a new pastor is called. I had hoped that I might fill that interim role, but that is apparently not to be. And that's alright. God has plenty of other things for me to do.) I felt empowered by the Holy Spirit in a way that I haven't felt very often in the last couple of years. I felt very much like God was using me to accomplish something bigger than myself. And that is an amazing thing. When I was finished, I was drained but confident that I had delivered the message I was supposed to. And that is a feeling that inspires awe in me every time it happens.
After church we had lunch with friends and that was a great joy. It was one of those times when I could pull back from what was going on and truly appreciate the pureness of life in the simplest things. Smiles and conversations take on a surrealistic quality that make them somehow special, even though they are in essence no different than a thousand other smiles or a thousand other conversations. But it's as if a heightened awareness of God's presence in the world allows us to experience people as he does, if only for a few moments in time. Those moments become untainted by rancor, selfishness, worry, busyness. It passes; but the memory of it is like a drug.
After lunch and a brief repose, I went flying. My friend, Scott, has his pilots license and a plane (how jealous am I) and had invited me to fly with him. We probably spent an hour and a half aloft and I got to fly the plane for about 30 minutes. And I mean I actually was doing the flying. How cool is that? I mean it's not like I was doing loops and barrel rolls, but I made the turns, changed altitude, picked landmarks. It was amazing. And seeing God's incredible creation from that vantage point, while doing something I always dreamed of was a most excellent exclamation point on a most excellent day.
And then I got to go to Sno Biz (awesome shave ice) with 2 of my 3 favorite girls--Sandi and Becca.
God is good--all the time.
Mike
Final Romania Post
We've been back in the U.S. for almost a week now and I wanted to add a closing chapter to the story. When I last posted, we were packing for the trip home. We obviously made it, but not completely uneventfully. First, I slept virtually none at all the night before leaving--maybe an hour and a half. Then the first 2 legs of the journey went off without a hitch: Bucharest to Munich and Munich to Chicago. And, of course, as soon as we got back into the states the whole thing went into the crapper. All the flights, including the one we were booked on, from Chicago to STL were cancelled. I still don't know why. The weather was perfect in St. Louis and just a light sprinkle in Chicago. Plenty of other flights were taking off. We ended up renting vans and driving the final leg of the trip. None of us had any intention of spending the night in Chicago after being gone for 11 days and spending the previous 20 hours either on planes or in airports. We finally made it home about 8 PM--roughly 3 hours later than expected, but home nonetheless. Hooray. I make this pledge to you today: Unless I have absolutely no other option, I will never fly to, through or out of Chicago O'Hare Airport again so long as I live. For the second time in less than a month I was nearly stranded there for no apparent reason. Heck with that.
A few quick final observations about Romania:
A few quick final observations about Romania:
- We couldn't flush toilet paper through their system (no one can; it wasn't just because we were American), so after you wiped the TP had to be deposited into a waste can positioned next to the toilet.
- There are blueberries in Romania that are smaller and sweeter than the ones we have here and they are FREAKING DELICIOUS!
- Romanian roads are, generally, very rough.
- I got to drive a car while I was in Romania.
- I have 3 Romanian friends on Facebook now.
- I desperately hope to return to Romania next year.
Pray for peace.
Mike
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