Memorial Day weekend found us on the road with long-time friends, heading south to the Hill country. We wandered down past Cleburne, cut through Hico, home of the Koffe Kup Kafe, whose initials always prompt the discussion of the affiliation with a KKK from another era and less tolerant time. Stopped in Hamilton in a very small, hole-in-wall BBQ place that advertised fried pies. The judge panel decided they were baked and not anything to write home about.
Then on down 281 to Lampasas, then jump west to Alamosa Vineyards for a wine tasting, loved the Texas Port and my bride loved the "amigo White", friendly place with friendly Australian Shepherds, which look like dogs who are trying to imitate appaloosa horses. Swung through Llano, then over to another vineyard near Horseshoe Bay, not worth going back to, unless you like really dry wines. We had one member of our party who loves museums and art, so we stopped outside Llano and studied the historical marker commemorating a group of settlers who defeated a group of Comanches "thrice their number" I had visions of well-armed settlers and natives with home-made bows and arrows, I would bet on the settlers. Oh well, they say history is written by the winners.
From there through Fredericksburg, a really bustling German village celebrating a "crawfish festival" It was a little disconcerting to try and reconcile the divergent cultures, but I guess even the German folks get tired of brauts and kraut.
Spent the night in Kerrville at a Hampton Inn with an aging motorcycle gang.
Sunday we met up with the rest of our group for a day of "culture" which means we went to the Capital...on Congress, and learned all sorts of stuff. We stood on the star in the atrium and sang a few phrases of a hymn, pretty cool.
Then the best part of the trip for me.
We stood for an hour and waited for the Mexican freetail bats fly out from underneath the Congress Ave bridge. A million and half bats all wedged into the seams of a bridge stretching only a couple of hundred yards. We waited and waited, people gathered, our traveling companions struck up a conversation with a couple from San Juan Capistrano. Then the bats started from the far end of the bridge, streaming out in a long undulating line towards the gathering dusk in the east, and they just kept pouring out. As the column moved towards us we realized that the bats under our section of the bridge were swirling, like a whirlpool in a stream, spinning faster and faster, occasionally slinging one out, who had to make his way back into the vortex, then joining the column that now stretched out of sight into the distance.
Stunning in the event, making me wonder how this had evolved. What forces made them act this way? Was it simply their nature?
It affirmed to me again that life is not random, it has random events, but the "orderliness" of our world can only be the work of an orderly mind. Here I am three days later and still a little awestruck over this natural event. It was nice to be surprised again, remembrances of a childhood spent being a little awestruck over rainstorms, Carlsbad Caverns, stunning size of the ocean, night sky, morning break, and a west Texas breeze, holding a promise of changing weather. There is something in these moments that is arboreal, naturalistic, profound. God in his glory of creation, God at his best.
What a weekend, friends, fellowship, fun, and fascination.
Godspeed.
Don
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Brain Lint
There may be something desperately wrong with my brain. It seems that the stuff that is vitally important to me is becoming harder and harder and to remember. Birthdays, anniversaries, people's names, social security numbers, scripture, important quotes, are all becoming harder to quote, place in context, much less remember. And it is getting worse. I tell the same stories over and over to the same people, I can tell partway into the story when eyes glaze over, impatience is barely hidden. Of course my kids have long since lost the hesitation to call it to my attention. Still ringing in my ears is the voice of my youngest, "Hey, old man, we have heard that story!" Which goes along nicely with:
- TURN YOUR BLINKER OFF, YOU'RE ON A FREEWAY!
- CAN WE PLEASE NOT LISTEN TO AM RADIO!?!
- THOSE SOCKS DON'T MATCH...EACH OTHER, OR WHAT YOU ARE WEARING!
- CAN WE AT LEAST GO THE SPEED LIMIT?
You get the drift, the old man is losing it.
So why do I remember and continue to enjoy stupid stories read on a whim, buried in the back of the paper?
Apparently, Sherman Texas had an alligator living in a city pond. Which made it unusable to the general public. I'm not really sure why. I guess letting your kids rot their brains on TV, roller blade in the street, take prescription drugs from toddler on are considered safe, but swimming or wading with an alligator is just beyond the pale. Go figure.
But here is what caught my fancy with this story. They trapped the alligator, in a metal trap, using a live chicken for bait. They caught the alligator for relocation, I guess to someone else's city pond, maybe a golf course water hazard. They didn't shoot the alligator, they didn't dynamite it out, they trapped it. Very humane. The last sentence in the story still makes me laugh, though.
"The chicken was unharmed"
Really??!?
Did anyone ask the chicken? You're in a nice little pen, having a nice corn snack, when suddenly a 6' reptile made up mostly of jaws and teeth lunges into the other end of the pen with one thought on his mind....dinner. You.
Let me just say, if I were the chicken, you wouldn't have to plant corn in that spot, you could dig down 6" and still not find the corn kernel.
Hey, we caught the alligator! Thanks, chicken!
You can kiss my feathery white...
Unharmed, really?!? Who is going to pay for the therapy?
Right here I would drop in a really pithy quote...but I can't remember any.
If you find yourself in a nice little enclosed dining space with a nice corn salad...watch your back.
Godspeed.
Don
- TURN YOUR BLINKER OFF, YOU'RE ON A FREEWAY!
- CAN WE PLEASE NOT LISTEN TO AM RADIO!?!
- THOSE SOCKS DON'T MATCH...EACH OTHER, OR WHAT YOU ARE WEARING!
- CAN WE AT LEAST GO THE SPEED LIMIT?
You get the drift, the old man is losing it.
So why do I remember and continue to enjoy stupid stories read on a whim, buried in the back of the paper?
Apparently, Sherman Texas had an alligator living in a city pond. Which made it unusable to the general public. I'm not really sure why. I guess letting your kids rot their brains on TV, roller blade in the street, take prescription drugs from toddler on are considered safe, but swimming or wading with an alligator is just beyond the pale. Go figure.
But here is what caught my fancy with this story. They trapped the alligator, in a metal trap, using a live chicken for bait. They caught the alligator for relocation, I guess to someone else's city pond, maybe a golf course water hazard. They didn't shoot the alligator, they didn't dynamite it out, they trapped it. Very humane. The last sentence in the story still makes me laugh, though.
"The chicken was unharmed"
Really??!?
Did anyone ask the chicken? You're in a nice little pen, having a nice corn snack, when suddenly a 6' reptile made up mostly of jaws and teeth lunges into the other end of the pen with one thought on his mind....dinner. You.
Let me just say, if I were the chicken, you wouldn't have to plant corn in that spot, you could dig down 6" and still not find the corn kernel.
Hey, we caught the alligator! Thanks, chicken!
You can kiss my feathery white...
Unharmed, really?!? Who is going to pay for the therapy?
Right here I would drop in a really pithy quote...but I can't remember any.
If you find yourself in a nice little enclosed dining space with a nice corn salad...watch your back.
Godspeed.
Don
Monday, May 18, 2009
Where have all the young ones gone?
Yesterday was one of those days where the intellectual input was discordant all day long. It started with "Senior" Sunday at church. The youth minister delivered a non-sermon about his "vision" for recapturing the youth of America. Terrible statistics, 2/3 of them reject the manifestations of their parents, 70% believe the net will be much wider than their parents. Most never darken the door again after college, etc. etc.
Problem is, I'm right there with them. Over the past three years or so, my bride and I have hung tenuously to the tribe of our youth. Instead of the grip getting stronger it seems to weakening. I look at the folks who are in my generation and realize that spiritual formation was stunted 30 years ago, and very little growth since then. More and more church leaderships are being staffed with my contemporaries, and while we rejected authority in our youth, most of the guys have apparently had a conversion expereince. I now refer to them as "neo-authoritarians." So, instead of having men who are wise and experienced, we have men who are proven corporate managers, with little or no spiritual formation expereince, in themselves, yet alone for a community of faith.
The other problem is we have rejected the strenuous task of teaching the fundamentals. They won't listen, they won't come, we will be deemed irrelavant. Well, guess what, that ship has sailed. If rlevance is our gospel, we need to tear down the buildings and erect Free-WiFi coffeeshops...oh wait, we already and guess what, we are still irrelevant. Unfortunately, most of our professional pulpit guys seem to think that the quality can be judged by the number of cool slides, or the video. There are two ways to plan a sermon 1. Figure out what you want to say and go find the scripture/pictures/video that support your message. or 2. (and this one is, by far, the more rare) Wander through the scripture and see what it says to you, see how it changes you, then share that message.
We have way too much opinion and way too little orthodoxy.
You are thinking to yourself, this will never win back to the young people. I left the assembly and went to have my conversation with my little band of 20-somethings. They love the deep questions, they love the purpose it provides them, they love thinking that they might actually have a place in the kingdom that baby-boomers haven't co-opted.
I am here to tell you, there is nothing wrong with these younger generations that good, old-fashioned spiritual formation won't fix. And there is nothing wrong with my generation that can't be fixed by the same cocktail. The real hitch is that spiritual formation is not easy, it takes discipline, desire, and mentors, which are almost non-existent with my generation. A new way to pick spiritual leaders might be in order.
"Tell me which of the 12 classic disciplines cause you the most angst.
What does your journal say about your growth?
Who are you mentoring right now?"
We may as well try the new approach, the old one sure isn't working.
Does anyone else out there feel that it is a bit ironic that the one group at the church where we currently have camped have asked me..the outcast to teach the other outcasts? The irony is not lost on my bride.
Oh well,
Godspeed
Don
Problem is, I'm right there with them. Over the past three years or so, my bride and I have hung tenuously to the tribe of our youth. Instead of the grip getting stronger it seems to weakening. I look at the folks who are in my generation and realize that spiritual formation was stunted 30 years ago, and very little growth since then. More and more church leaderships are being staffed with my contemporaries, and while we rejected authority in our youth, most of the guys have apparently had a conversion expereince. I now refer to them as "neo-authoritarians." So, instead of having men who are wise and experienced, we have men who are proven corporate managers, with little or no spiritual formation expereince, in themselves, yet alone for a community of faith.
The other problem is we have rejected the strenuous task of teaching the fundamentals. They won't listen, they won't come, we will be deemed irrelavant. Well, guess what, that ship has sailed. If rlevance is our gospel, we need to tear down the buildings and erect Free-WiFi coffeeshops...oh wait, we already and guess what, we are still irrelevant. Unfortunately, most of our professional pulpit guys seem to think that the quality can be judged by the number of cool slides, or the video. There are two ways to plan a sermon 1. Figure out what you want to say and go find the scripture/pictures/video that support your message. or 2. (and this one is, by far, the more rare) Wander through the scripture and see what it says to you, see how it changes you, then share that message.
We have way too much opinion and way too little orthodoxy.
You are thinking to yourself, this will never win back to the young people. I left the assembly and went to have my conversation with my little band of 20-somethings. They love the deep questions, they love the purpose it provides them, they love thinking that they might actually have a place in the kingdom that baby-boomers haven't co-opted.
I am here to tell you, there is nothing wrong with these younger generations that good, old-fashioned spiritual formation won't fix. And there is nothing wrong with my generation that can't be fixed by the same cocktail. The real hitch is that spiritual formation is not easy, it takes discipline, desire, and mentors, which are almost non-existent with my generation. A new way to pick spiritual leaders might be in order.
"Tell me which of the 12 classic disciplines cause you the most angst.
What does your journal say about your growth?
Who are you mentoring right now?"
We may as well try the new approach, the old one sure isn't working.
Does anyone else out there feel that it is a bit ironic that the one group at the church where we currently have camped have asked me..the outcast to teach the other outcasts? The irony is not lost on my bride.
Oh well,
Godspeed
Don
Monday, May 11, 2009
To Be or Not to Be
Have you ever wondered what makes some people generous and others stingy? It seems to me that as life moves on and I get the opportunity to see people in various situations, situations that are often stressful, often trying, usually hidden from plain sight, some people reveal a generous nature while others reveal a true nature. A nature that they keep carefully hidden, masked by reasonable behavior, but letting peek through the miserly side of themselves.
Sometimes it is an employer, taking advantage of an employees desire to stay, to remain part of the team. I have discovered there are only two reasons to underpay an employee. Either you can't pay a reasonable salary,which often happens in small, local companies. Or you refuse to pay an employee the market rate because you think you can get away with it. In other words, you reveal a stingy nature. I have seen both, and without fail, the company that truly desires to pay a fair, and yes, a generous wage usually ends up keeping top level employees for a very long time. Look at a company with a very high turnover in management and usually you find a miserly approach to employees.
But this face of human nature is not limited to the corporate world, not by any means. Families have a way of enacting events in such a way as to reveal this nature.
Divorces can be especially drained of generosity, as savings and houses and kids are divided and argued over and used as clubs to extract the last bit of revenge. Stinginess of mind and nature create more damage than any infidelity.
Mediation has brought me into the midst of family struggle with the resolution of a a loved one's estate, this generous/stingy conflict emerges. I'm not really talking about money, but the catalyst becomes money. Generous considerations given to a sibling over the course of decades is not extended to another in the matter of weeks. Ultimatums disguised in the cloak of "fair" are rationalized, while disrupting and disenfranchising another family member because they are not as agreeable...or perhaps as loved. It is sad to see siblings rip and tear and attempt to annihilate in the course of "settling the estate" when in fact all that is being settled are old scores. Of course not all are participating, but the ones who aren't are not stepping in to prevent the damage, so blame is spread all around. There are no innocents here, merely winners and losers, or perhaps only losers.
About the only emotion that this evokes in me for the stingy heart is pity. They will never learn the joy of generous living. They will never understand that generosity is only worthwhile when it is at the giver's expense. It is sad that family members can do so much more harm than Death, the prince of evil, was able to do. How very sad.
And the only responses from the stingy heart will be, "it is not logical," or "this isn't fair." No, generosity is giving when it is abundantly clear that fairness has been rejected and compassion rules the day.
They say that innocence is the first fatality of war. Well, in a family war, generosity must be the second to fall.
Live your lives generously, give all that you have, even to those who do not deserve it. Stand in the presence of the King and apologize for a generous life with, " Lord, I GAVE it all away."
And He will respond, "Welcome home, my good and faithful servant."
Godspeed. Perhaps it is time to lighten the pack.
Don
Sometimes it is an employer, taking advantage of an employees desire to stay, to remain part of the team. I have discovered there are only two reasons to underpay an employee. Either you can't pay a reasonable salary,which often happens in small, local companies. Or you refuse to pay an employee the market rate because you think you can get away with it. In other words, you reveal a stingy nature. I have seen both, and without fail, the company that truly desires to pay a fair, and yes, a generous wage usually ends up keeping top level employees for a very long time. Look at a company with a very high turnover in management and usually you find a miserly approach to employees.
But this face of human nature is not limited to the corporate world, not by any means. Families have a way of enacting events in such a way as to reveal this nature.
Divorces can be especially drained of generosity, as savings and houses and kids are divided and argued over and used as clubs to extract the last bit of revenge. Stinginess of mind and nature create more damage than any infidelity.
Mediation has brought me into the midst of family struggle with the resolution of a a loved one's estate, this generous/stingy conflict emerges. I'm not really talking about money, but the catalyst becomes money. Generous considerations given to a sibling over the course of decades is not extended to another in the matter of weeks. Ultimatums disguised in the cloak of "fair" are rationalized, while disrupting and disenfranchising another family member because they are not as agreeable...or perhaps as loved. It is sad to see siblings rip and tear and attempt to annihilate in the course of "settling the estate" when in fact all that is being settled are old scores. Of course not all are participating, but the ones who aren't are not stepping in to prevent the damage, so blame is spread all around. There are no innocents here, merely winners and losers, or perhaps only losers.
About the only emotion that this evokes in me for the stingy heart is pity. They will never learn the joy of generous living. They will never understand that generosity is only worthwhile when it is at the giver's expense. It is sad that family members can do so much more harm than Death, the prince of evil, was able to do. How very sad.
And the only responses from the stingy heart will be, "it is not logical," or "this isn't fair." No, generosity is giving when it is abundantly clear that fairness has been rejected and compassion rules the day.
They say that innocence is the first fatality of war. Well, in a family war, generosity must be the second to fall.
Live your lives generously, give all that you have, even to those who do not deserve it. Stand in the presence of the King and apologize for a generous life with, " Lord, I GAVE it all away."
And He will respond, "Welcome home, my good and faithful servant."
Godspeed. Perhaps it is time to lighten the pack.
Don
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
I'm sorry....
Tuesday morning finds me waiting to board a flight to OK City to meet up with one of my new reps. We had a full day planned of visiting customers, talking about his territory, and my brainwashing him into my vision of sales. My flight was at 6:50AM, so I arrived and flew through security about 5AM. Plenty of time to get a coffee, a doughnut and check my emails. Big Problem, SW Airlines has cheaped out on us and doesn't do the free coffee and doughnuts anymore. So where is this growing boy going to find something to eat? Starbucks and MCDees are not open that early at Love Field, so I sat and grumbled along with my stomach. Stupid economy, a few doughnuts, really?
My boarding pass said A33. Not too bad, didn't do the $25 upgrade, but as it turned out it wouldn't have mattered. You see, there was a entire flight squadron of octogenarians from WWII, all from Ellis county headed to Baltimore, you guessed it, through OK City...my flight. About half were in wheelchairs and all boarded first, not a problem, I am as patriotic as the next guy and besides my dad would have been in this group had he lived in Ellis county. But SW Airlines decided to pre-board ALL of them, and their "care-takers" That means that my A33 was devalued to about B60. Now my stomach is grumbling at me, my head is grumbling at SW Airlines, and my patience is grumbling at Hitler for invading Poland.
So we got the 60 or so early boarders on, then the few suckers that bought the upgrade, then what was left of us. While edging down the aisle on the plane, I recognized one of the contingent headed for Baltimore. He had been an elder at the church where we attended for 25 years. He and I had always had a very well defined relationship, he represented all that I found intolerable about church leadership from his generation, and he found intolerable my lack of respect for tradition. Needless to say, we had had our differences over the years.
But I said "hi" and wished them all a good trip, and bumped my carry-ons to the back of the plane. I went through my routine of settling in, getting out the material to work on, making sure my cell-phone is off, strapping in, etc. When all of sudden, this former elder is leaning over into my seat and trying to get my attention.
"I just wanted to come back here and apologize for being rude that time. I've already apologized to Jim Miller (an associate minister at the church) and just wanted to make amends. My health was acting up."
As I struggled to get my head away from the sales history print-outs, I looked at him with what I am sure was pure puzzlement. I have no idea what he was talking about.
Now, there was plenty for him and I to apologize for to each other, but I had no specific event to conjure up. I could have said, "you should be, you were an old, crusty codger that no one particularly liked."
But I took the high road and said, " Forgotten (true) and Forgiven (also true, I guess, since I couldn't remember) He seemed pleased and marched back to his seat, mission accomplished. The guy in the seat next to mine was looking at me like, What the ...
I shrugged, I still have no idea what the elder was talking about. I have been far more deeply wounded by elders since this guy's term, but anther blog.
Here is what I took from that. Treat people right TODAY. Then you don't have to spend your fading years apologizing to some random punk on a plane about treating them poorly 20 years ago.
Better yet, there should be a statute-of-limitations on these grievances, say 10 years. After ten years the sentence gets commuted, we are all clear. I don't have to remember the event, nor do you.
So here is my suggestion, if you feel you have wronged me prior to 10 years ago, let it go. You need the forgiveness and the freedom to live in today, and I probably don't remember it. If I have transgressed on you prior to 10 years ago, I apologize and I probably don't remember it.
Now, don't we all feel better?
Godspeed, the journey is too good ahead to look back.
Don
My boarding pass said A33. Not too bad, didn't do the $25 upgrade, but as it turned out it wouldn't have mattered. You see, there was a entire flight squadron of octogenarians from WWII, all from Ellis county headed to Baltimore, you guessed it, through OK City...my flight. About half were in wheelchairs and all boarded first, not a problem, I am as patriotic as the next guy and besides my dad would have been in this group had he lived in Ellis county. But SW Airlines decided to pre-board ALL of them, and their "care-takers" That means that my A33 was devalued to about B60. Now my stomach is grumbling at me, my head is grumbling at SW Airlines, and my patience is grumbling at Hitler for invading Poland.
So we got the 60 or so early boarders on, then the few suckers that bought the upgrade, then what was left of us. While edging down the aisle on the plane, I recognized one of the contingent headed for Baltimore. He had been an elder at the church where we attended for 25 years. He and I had always had a very well defined relationship, he represented all that I found intolerable about church leadership from his generation, and he found intolerable my lack of respect for tradition. Needless to say, we had had our differences over the years.
But I said "hi" and wished them all a good trip, and bumped my carry-ons to the back of the plane. I went through my routine of settling in, getting out the material to work on, making sure my cell-phone is off, strapping in, etc. When all of sudden, this former elder is leaning over into my seat and trying to get my attention.
"I just wanted to come back here and apologize for being rude that time. I've already apologized to Jim Miller (an associate minister at the church) and just wanted to make amends. My health was acting up."
As I struggled to get my head away from the sales history print-outs, I looked at him with what I am sure was pure puzzlement. I have no idea what he was talking about.
Now, there was plenty for him and I to apologize for to each other, but I had no specific event to conjure up. I could have said, "you should be, you were an old, crusty codger that no one particularly liked."
But I took the high road and said, " Forgotten (true) and Forgiven (also true, I guess, since I couldn't remember) He seemed pleased and marched back to his seat, mission accomplished. The guy in the seat next to mine was looking at me like, What the ...
I shrugged, I still have no idea what the elder was talking about. I have been far more deeply wounded by elders since this guy's term, but anther blog.
Here is what I took from that. Treat people right TODAY. Then you don't have to spend your fading years apologizing to some random punk on a plane about treating them poorly 20 years ago.
Better yet, there should be a statute-of-limitations on these grievances, say 10 years. After ten years the sentence gets commuted, we are all clear. I don't have to remember the event, nor do you.
So here is my suggestion, if you feel you have wronged me prior to 10 years ago, let it go. You need the forgiveness and the freedom to live in today, and I probably don't remember it. If I have transgressed on you prior to 10 years ago, I apologize and I probably don't remember it.
Now, don't we all feel better?
Godspeed, the journey is too good ahead to look back.
Don
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