He's Here! But Wait..

What a roller-coaster day.
WE welcomed into this world our third grandchild. Lincoln Neill Nimz was born at 12:20PM, he was a modest 6lbs. and 14 ozs., 18 inches long and cute little pointy ears, and an esophagus not connected to his stomach. Joy and high-fives, followed by dread and concern and a weeping daughter. Hopes buoyed up as the doctors explained the possibilities and the remedies, and that old, familiar dread in the pit of the stomach and the heaviness in the chest that things rarely turn out as they should. It occurred to me that I and my bride have spent far too much time in hospitals trying to parse the words of doctors and learning a new vocabulary, words we would rather not know. Veterans now of what needs to be done. Knowing that my bride will not eat while the crisis is acute, and I will not sleep until we know the future.

And so we drop into the familiar battle speak, reading each other like old warriors, knowing when she is close to the edge and her understanding the same. A bond with her that will never be shared with anyone else. We are like the old Roman soldiers, testing the wind, clenching our hands around the swords of prayer and feeling close against our chests the shield of faith. And knowing that our back is held by the other.

Now we have a new little guy to pray over. We are suffering through the delay of not holding him close, feeling deeply the disappointment of our youngest not getting to hold her first one moments after birth. But this will all pass, we will see it through.

My question is how do we fall so deeply in love with someone whom we have just met? How is this possible? The tears of my daughter bring me to tears, but under it all I know she will persevere, she is made of stern stuff, as is her mother and her sister and her brother. But how can I have the same confidence in the new little guy. My bride reached into the little bed and seemed to be imparting the stuff he needs. The vision of my bride's hand covering his entire back in a soothing caress is etched forever in my mind. I could almost hear her cooing the sounds of encouragement, of love.

So the doctors are positive, the grandparents will dig in and do what it takes and, last but not least, God is faithful. He will deliver us and little Lincoln.

Godspeed on the journey, while often difficult, it is never boring. And, man, you should see that little guy, he is a doll.
Don

Lessons Learned

A couple of lessons I thought I had mastered were reinforced yesterday while traveling to the City of Angels.

Lesson One: No kind deed goes unpunished.
I was booked in, settled in, strapped in and the flight attendant wanders down the aisle and is looking for someone to trade seats with a lady traveling with a small dog. She was in 3F, no under seat storage, I was in 5E, plenty of under seat storage. Apparently the mutt can't travel in the overhead bins. My hearing is diminishing just a bit, particularly on crowded airplanes and malls (this is why I can't hear my bride in the mall when she points out something she likes, I'm not ignoring, I can't hear) So I made the first tactical error by asking the flight attendant to repeat what she said..which forced us to make eye contact...which narrowed the conversation to just her and me..drat. Seeking to be an accommodating business traveler instead of what my youngest calls "those arrogant business men" I volunteered. Second tactical mistake, not checking who was in the seat beside me. The best description of my physical shape is that I am slightly "fluffy" as my D-i-L calls it, I prefer stocky. The guy next to me was, well, super-sized. Okay, in first class, not that big of a deal, but he did spill over into my side of the armrest. All through the flight I kept remembering the turf battles in the car with my two older brothers. "He's on my side!" "Am not!" "The line is right here" (drawing an imaginary line on the car seat)
I'm surprised my little sister was born with us three boys as the precursor. I wonder why we never took family vacations.hmm. Anyhoo, I kept my chagrin to myself and in a good-humored fashion took my seat...settled in, strapped in, ready to go.
Thus comes the second part of my mistake, the guy has a very ragged and constant cough. You know, the ones that seem to start deep in the chest and burst forth, causing all in range to duck and cower. No attempt to cover his mouth, no apologies, nada. Dude, I haven't gotten my annual flu shot, the H1N1 doesn't even come out for a month. I'm doomed. Next time the mutt can ride on the wing for all I care. Chances are they won't visit me in the hospital anyway. I'm telling you, being accommodating is overrated.

Lesson Two: Know your current events/people.
One of the other first class passengers was apparently a star of some sort. He and his 10-year-old kid had come to Dallas to see the Cowboy/Giants game (they were Giant's fans, I don't blame them after having to hear Jerry Jone's blather all year)
AS people filed on the plane, they kept trying to take his picture with their cell phones. This guy was right behind me, and I could not place his name. He looked vaguely familiar, but I had nothing. Finally, someone pointed out that he was on an HBO series called "Entourage" Okay, cool, I'm on a journey called life, let's give each other a break. This is not, however, my first time being clueless in the face of notoriety.
Several years ago I was flying on SW to Houston on some business deal and standing next to me in line was a tall, distinguished gentleman and his wife and I guess an aide of some sort. People kept looking past me at him and whispering. Finally, I turned to the guy and said, "You know, you look familiar, do I know you?" I thought his wife was going to hurt herself to keep from laughing. He replied, "I'm Lloyd Benson..." Oh yea, politician of some sort. So I made the only response I could, "Nice to meet you, I'm Don Jolly" At this point the aide was blocking the lane to prevent me from driving to the basket. My bride and kids have laughed about my obtuseness in the event for years. I have got to start watching TV instead of writing at night, I have no clue what is going on.

Well, on to other lessons.
Check your options before volunteering.
Cover your mouth.
Say, "Excuse me" when you have exposed others to a deadly illness.
Be kind to dogs...even little ones.
Read popular literature every once in a while.
Be cool around celebrities.
Leave your cell phone in your pocket...give the guy a break.
Man, there are a lot of lessons.

Godspeed,
Don

5 Issues

If you keep up with this blog you know I am in the midst of reading Foster's book Celebration of Discipline. I am now on the chapter on "Prayer" This time through I have decided to slow down and spend an extra week on it.
Below are 5 reasons why:

1. Prayer is the most overused, under-utilized discipline. We toss the phrase around to mean several different things from "I'm praying for you" means "I'm thinking about you." to "I'll pray for you because obviously you can't get out of the mess you are in with out me praying" No one intercedes like me.

2. I have stopped making lists. If I'm not deeply affected by what's going on in your life, that a list will help remind me, then someone who really cares for you needs to be doing the praying. Guess what? I don't need a list to pray for my bride or my kids or their kids. They all have enough in their lives that keeps me in constant prayer. People, events, circumstances are all important enough that a list is superfluous. Plus it is one more thing I have to keep up with.

3. It is much easier for me to teach about prayer, read about prayer, discuss prayer, think about prayer...than to pray. There would be a lot more good done in the Kingdom if we tossed the experts and simply prayed. What if our spiritual leaders simply looked at an issue, shrugged and said, "We'll pray over it, but right now and perhaps forever, we have no clue." There is great wisdom in confessing lack of knowledge.

4. Scripture is terribly inconsistent about prayer. The only aspect where scripture stays constant is the directive to do it. Do we pray for trivia? or do we wait until the prayer has substance? The case can be made either way.

5. Prayer is the one discipline that has brought me the greatest comfort and insight and provided the greatest test to my faith. I have felt God fold me close, and I have endured the thundering silence of unanswered prayer. Frankly, I find this frustrating.

If anyone out there on this journey would like to respond the floor is yours. I will write more later as I find my way through the chapter..again.

Godspeed
Don

Boot Camp

This is a story I wrote for our friends a couple fo years ago.
By the way, I still work out a couple of times a week, even on the road, so I guess it was not all that bad..enjoy.


Boot Camp
Reservations

I haven’t fully decided if our best friends are trying to help us or kill us. As an anniversary gift this past year they decided to give each other joint sessions with a fitness trainer. Beverly and I listened to them talk about which muscles were sore, which were fine, which ones they didn’t realize they had. We took it all in good stride, never really even talking about it between us. But then their “gift” took an ominous turn. They said the fitness club was going to have an eight week “boot camp.” Would we like to join?
Okay, I’m pretty much on board with anything folks want to do, but this had several drawbacks. Number one was that I hadn’t been in a gym in years. I travel a lot and use the hotel “fitness centers” about three times a week, but it is really just to relax a little, spend 30 minutes on a stationary bike, stretch a little and go eat. It reduces stress, doesn’t make me sore, and deludes me into believing I’m doing something to stay in shape. But having a personal fitness guy looking over my shoulder and telling me what I’m doing wrong or should have been doing all these years…well, I have a boss, I don’t need another one.
Secondly, I was never the best athlete. I was pretty small in junior high and high school, so third string was about all that I could manage. 40 years later I suspect the group has not come back to me. Plus, I would be in this thing with at least two other women and probably more, but the number was a little vague. There is every possibility that I was going to be in with a number of women (my wife included) and might not even be in the top half of the class. Now this is not a huge concern, I’ve never desired to be the top in anything. I learned very early in life that if you bring home an A the first six weeks, you’ve set the bar too high. Growing up it became a fulltime job just managing my parent’s expectations. So I would ramp up from a C to an A over the course of the year. After 12 years in public schools they finally were able to enjoy the progress, and I had fewer and fewer “you can be whatever you want to be” lectures as time went on. This has become a tremendous skill in 30+ years of marriage.
Third, the “boot camp” was on Saturday mornings at 8AM. Who thought of this schedule? I’m not a late sleeper, but Saturdays are the only day of the week that I can be lazy. Plus this “boot camp” was going to seriously cut into my sex life. So let’s see, boot camp with pain and sweating or lazy morning with my sweet wife followed by coffee and breakfast and a newspaper? Hmmm.
Finally, tell me again what we are doing this for? They say you will look and feel better. Let’s be honest, looks aren’t going to get better for a 50+ year old guy. We have hit the age where something hurts all the time anyway, why risk making everything hurt? Besides, men my age are great self-deceivers. We look in the mirror, see paunch and handles, hair and splotches and are able to say, “You still got it” “you da’ man” “love machine” We know we aren’t like we once were, but it is okay. Women simply do not have it in their power to do this. My wife is lovely in every way, but she looks at herself in the mirror and obsesses over the part of her anatomy that she can’t even see, I just figure if folks aren’t happy with my backside, they can stop looking at it, she worries over hers. So what will this boot camp do for me? Make me look 52 instead of 53? Turn me into a guy that the young, attractive ladies will strike up a conversation with? As a hint guys, if a really young, hot lady starts hitting on you, it is either a sting operation, or she has mistaken you for someone with money, or has such epic emotional problems you don’t have the skills to deal with them. My advice is run as fast as your flabby, paunchy, hairy, aching body will take you. Well, at least I found a reason for the class.

Sign Up and Sign In

The initial conversation with the fitness trainer went fine. He said there was room for us in the camp. It concerned me a little that he said there would be some “tests” we would have to complete, so we needed to be there 20 minutes early. What tests? Multiple choice? True/False? Hey, give me essay, I’m a salesman, words are my friends.
So we show up early and “Sean” and “Utawna” (husband and wife, names were not changed, there are no innocents here) begin the paperwork and the “tests.”
Sean is a lean, almost wiry guy with very short hair, almost cut to the scalp making it hard to tell what color it might be. Wire-rim glasses, easy manner, covering a sadistic side that surfaces when he has us “fats” going through our paces. I bet he was picked on by guys with hair when he was in grade school. Utawna has short blonde, streaked hair; she is wearing those spandex outfits so popular with the female gym crowd. My guess is that the only bounce of a coin off her butt or abs would be the bounce in the coin. Of course the first thought I had was, “Are those real? Or bought?” My money is on bought.
As it turned out, the tests were fairly benign. We had to walk on a treadmill after taking heart rate resting and after 5 minutes, then we had to see how many push-ups we could do in a minute, then sit-ups. Which reminded me that when Bev and I were first married and for several years afterward she would do sit-ups everyday, hundreds of them, it made me a little queasy just to watch. I have never had 6-pack abs, mine are more keg-like. Then they used a caliper to measure body fat, I think I finally won a contest. I will say that I’m not sure they could have used a colder instrument. If they had been measuring something else, they could have used a much smaller caliper.

Camp

This reminds me of high school football. A bunch of people standing around, wondering who is the best athlete, who will be the surprise, who is the lagger. Now, of course the question may be, who will stroke first? Who will drop on their face, causing concern for the rest of us. I was a little dismayed to see a couple of young ladies, one young man, but encouraged to see some women who looked like the child-bearing years were tough on them, some guys who looked like me, a little embarrassed that we had let it go this far.
Then Sean began to explain the drill. Seven “stations” for one group, aerobics for the other group, then we would swap events. Bev and I were assigned to the “stations” group, along with Doug and Janet, one of the teeny-boppers, and a couple of the moms.
Here’s how this works. You spend one minute on each station, then shift to the next station with no rest between. The stations were lunges, and sit-ups on a big plastic ball, push-ups, modified push-ups on a bench (its too hard to explain, but it kills the little, hidden muscles in your arms) leg lifts, sitting position while holding a ball between you and the wall, one exercise at a machine that you pull towards your chest (sitting and pulling weights, that’s useful) and one station where you “jump” starting with one foot on the half ball and landing on the other side of the ball with the other foot on top of the ball. I just tried to act like a ninja jumping over the station, but I discovered that somewhere in the past 30 years my feet apparently had a falling out and weren’t speaking to each other. Of course the teeny-bopper was shooting off that thing. This looked like a hamstring pull waiting to happen. I stopped watching.
The real exercise is the mental work. How can I dog it on each of these stations with Sean standing right there staring at me? Well, the lunges were easy, I look like a goof just walking around, so I just exaggerated the look. The stations that were essentially standing or sitting were pretty easy to fake as well, it just looked like I had poor form. The push-ups are a little hard to fake, but I decided that if I just barely moved from the top of the push-up to the bottom, Sean wouldn’t know if I was on my way up or down. After all, he had to be watching the others a little didn’t he? Sitting and pulling the weights was tough to dog, I put more weight on than he suggested, but did fewer repetitions. Also, this station was right in the middle of the gym, Utawna and the girls could be watching.
Then we switched to aerobics. Let me just say that at the age of 53, there is simply not many things left in this life that I feel compelled to run away from. In my mind this is a mark of maturity. Apparently the creator of this boot camp comes from a long line of people being chased by large, savage critters. Utawna told us to either get on a treadmill or an elliptical. Aren’t there any other choices? We were going to start at a slight 5 degree incline, walking at a brisk pace. Okay, this is not so bad. Then she says, “When I say go, go as hard as you can for 30 seconds.” 30 seconds is not so bad, I can do anything for 30 seconds. GO! Ellipticals are like trying to climb stairs with ski poles, legs are pumping, arms are flailing, oxygen is sucked out of the room, clever trick. Now, slow down to your original pace, this is your restoration mode. Bad news, the slowdown pace is a challenge. Poor judgment on my part was to actually push as hard as I could for the 30 second sprint because I hear Utawna over the roaring in my ears, “we will do this 4 times!” Wanna’ bet? Let’s just say that the third and fourth sprints would have to be renamed.
We survive the eclipse (as in our lives being faded from view) machines and are returned to Sean for another round of his particular fun and I realize that Doug and Janet are trying to kill us. They are such conflict avoiders. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just say, “We want new friends, you guys are too old and cranky for us.” No, they choose to be diabolical. So instead of Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with a candlestick it is Dr. Doug in the gym on the elliptical. Did I win?
But wait, Utawna is not finished. She has a game she wants to go outside and play. It’s the beanbag game, and we pair up (I choose Bev, it is a winning combination for 30+ years) We run 30 feet, pick up the first of five beanbags and sprint back, drop the beanbag, spin around and go get the next one until they are all retrieved. All of sudden I hear coach in my head, yelling and telling us how slow we all are, and the last place guys will have to do it all over again. What was that called? Oh yeah, wind sprints, the scourge of high school football. And we are doing them at the end of practice. Man, I haven’t even thought about this in 35 years, another 35 would be too soon.
This I know how to do. Sprinting is an art form in sports. The first thing coaches work on is how to make small, white, slow kids a little faster. Nice forward lean, slide the feet along the ground, head still, good arm action, remember to breath. First set of sprints were fine, got beat by the teenybopper, no one else. Halfway through the second set of sprints I hear Utawna yelling, “Faster, faster, you can do it!” For a split second my eyes come up and see her standing there and I begin to measure my steps, like Bret Favre on a naked bootleg, plant my left foot, use the big muscles in the legs, hips, back, turn the hand out, producing a nice spiral of the beanbag, stick the thing right between implant-L and implant-R. Teenybopper could be in the way, Doug and Janet’s car right behind Utawna, this is what is known as a target rich environment.
But there is another problem. The oatmeal we had at 6:30AM is now threatening to make an appearance. This is not good. Oatmeal is unsightly when it is being served, I can’t imagine that it gets better 3 hours later after a heavy workout. Slow down! We can do this if I don’t push it. The heart is pounding, the stomach is trying to decide if it wants to unload. Utawna is yelling and telling me I have another gear. Listen lady, it’s not the transmission, but the fuel pump and exhaust system.

Cool Down

Made it. There is nothing left in the tank, total expenditure. Then I remember that we haven’t paid. I track down Utawna and ask her how much. She tells me and as I begin to write the check I realize my hands and arms aren’t really working all that well. The pen is in my hand, but the signature doesn’t look right. Their problem, not mine. Only seven more weeks of this.
I wonder what Doug and Janet’s back up plan is?

Meditation - Spiritual Wondering

Last week I read the chapter on Meditation from Foster's book Celebration of Discipline several times. This is my third trip through this little book, but every time something surprises me. For a strongly extroverted guy (though over the last few years this seems to have been tempered a bit...wisdom maybe?) meditation is one of the disciplines that I have to really stay after. The art of driving deeper into the thoughts of God is at once fulfilling and frightening. But this time around the word that kept popping into my mind was "wonder."

Wonder is a word that eases the competition of what God is thinking. It is less trying to pry it out of the mind of God and more letting the revelation come to me. I have mentioned "thought strings" and I think this is the result of spiritual wondering. If you see God in a particular way, then what does it mean to pursue his take on events, on creation as we now move through it, what is the final destination and what does it look, feel, smell like? Can I be at ease about events around me? Does this discernment then drive me to any particular conclusions?

The quick answer is, I don't know. The longer answer is that discernment is not training, not skill, it is simply taking the time to sit and listen and wonder. But here is the problem in our society (even church society) we do not want to take the time. We prefer answers to realization. We prefer programs and process to enlightenment. Wisdom comes through time and a constant bending of our ear to God's quiet voice. Time wondering about God can't be scheduled, it can't be programed, and it certainly can't be fitted into a Day Timer.

Our world conspires to keep us from this moment. Our church world conspires to keep us from this moment. Deep, discerning people frighten even our church leaders. They simply don't know what to do with the "mystics" amongst us. To speak as one who has spent long moments with God is like loading down the conversation with enormous weight. Weight that slows the conversation and frustrates those who simply want to rush ahead and get things done. God does not work like that, his words, spoken in a quiet voice of conviction exposes agendas, motives, false thinking. It moves the conversation from project to providence. Have you ever noticed that when this happens, it is often not very many words? but words that each hit the very core of the moment?

This week is about prayer. The articulation of our wondering about God.

Godspeed to all the mystics out there.
Don

Canton...Not Hall of Fame

This past Saturday my bride and I along with our son and D-in-L went to First Monday Trade Days in Canton Texas. For the uninformed, this is billed as the largest flee market in Texas..maybe the US? or the world? I'm not sure. My bride goes every month as far as I can tell, I hit about every third or fourth trip. I am usually invited when there is a pretty good chance something will be bought that is too big for the ladies to load by themselves. As was the case this time. My Amarillo daughter bought a dining table and a sofa table last month that had to be produced. They made arrangements for me to go get it this month. We convinced our D-in-L that they needed to go, in case they liked the table and wanted one as well, which they did. Now, it occurs to me that I may have to go back next month and help with that table, this is serious error in judgement on my part.

We spent the night at our son's house and got up early for a breakfast stop at Panera Bread and a road stop at Starbucks. Fortunately they are right around the corner from each other. It would be nice in these shifting economic times if they would merge..Panera food and Starbucks coffee. Of course the way the world works we would get Panera coffee and Starbucks food..or 7-11 as we know it.
On the road and since I couldn't help but give directions, we took the wrong highway and my bride got to use her handy-dandy new I-phone to get us back on track. She and I are being dragged against our will into the 21st Century. But we did get to see some nice countryside we wouldn't otherwise have explored.

A little late to Canton and my bride a little anxious to get at all the stuff spread out on 25 or 30 acres. She is like a little kid at Christmas time, dancing on one foot then another trying to drag us along as quickly as possible to the first booth, then slowing to a snail's pace, or shopping mode, while the guys kind of stand around and wait for each booth to be examined, item by item. We hit one booth that had a lot of frill and lace and necklaces. I remarked to my son that aside from his bride and mine, there was absolutely nothing in that booth that I had an interest in. That did not prevent some of the Jolly household income from taking residence there.

What I didn't realize was that my D-in-L was on a mission as well. She was looking for 6 chairs that apparently the only criteria was that they did not match. There was other criteria, I just didn't know what it was. I am fairly certain that there was maybe 2,937 chairs that match the description of "kitchen" chairs and we inspected at EVERY one. Two were selected (talk about "few will be chosen") on opposite sides of the 30 acres. My son carried one of them from the opposite side of the park to the truck.. Awww young love.

So we chowed down on corny dogs and lemonades, then loaded the two tables, the two chairs, two old steamer trunks, a old iron bedstead my bride wanted for a guest room, and four hot, sweaty and shopping satisfied Texans.
Fortunately for us the temperatures were only in the mid-90's so the day was pleasant, the company was great.. but man, I was whipped by the time I got home.
So if you are looking for almost anything and a lot of nothing, Canton Texas on the weekend that contains the first Monday of the month is the deal for you.
Godspeed,
Don

Where Has the Time Gone?

A year ago, my bride set up this blog for me as a gift, as a thoughtful way of saying, "I love you and your thoughts and ideas are important" Anyway, that is way I choose to interpret the gesture.
But like all journeys, some of it has been good for me, perhaps good for you, at times not particularly good for anyone, but I thought it needed to be said. From the beginning I wrote because it is my way of putting the world in perspective. Since I travel a lot, and spend a lot of nights on the road by myself, I write. A lot of it doesn't get to the blog, my journal catches some, I save some to my laptop, I write some and erase it (usually after reading it and realizing it is just bad writing and doesn't need to inflicted on anybody) Just as a side note, the only thing I really hate about traveling is eating alone. My bride keeps telling me to order room service, but I find that just a tad more pathetic than eating alone in a restaurant. So to our close friends in Texas, that is why I love eating with you folks, it helps me feel like community. If I never eat alone again, I would be fine.

But I seem to have wandered off track. I wrote the first blog last year about this time. In that time my blogs have covered the journey of humor, sadness, venting, frustration, criticism (just and unjust)..all the range of action and reaction that I encountered.

So the blog today is just a "thank you" to my bride for setting this up. To my kids for keeping me in line with their comments (usually off line) to my friends who read because they are my friends, to those of you out there whom I have not met, but follow anyway. I find it humbling that you follow, that you occasionally respond.
Thanks and thanks again.

So, I pick up the pack again, another leg of the journey awaits.

Godspeed,
Don