This past Sunday we sang the following. Those of us on the praise team sometimes miss the emotion of the songs we sing due to concentration on the music and the timing. But every once in a while a song, lyrics and music, stick in my head. I realized a couple of years ago through my disciplines that this is one of the ways that the Spirit whispers into my heart. Music is simply the theology of our heart. So the Spirit slips in the message disguised as a beautiful song.
This song has been running non-stop in my head and heart. In particular the line "only what I have done for love's reward, will stand the test of time." Have I loved sincerely? Completely? Sacrificially? I hope so, I wanted to, I can with the rest of the time. Gone are the actions instigated by guilt, by power, by recognition. I want to spend the rest of my time simply helping, pursuing "love's reward" I believe at some point we hit the place where secret service is the greatest accomplishment we can make. He can decide the value of the service, I simply did it because I love Him...and them.
When it's all been said and done
There is just one thing that matters
Did I do my best to live for truth
Did I live my life for You
When it's all been said and done
All my treasures will mean nothing
Only what I've done for love's reward
Will stand the test of time
Lord Your mercy is so great
That You look beyond our weakness
And find purest gold in miry clay
Making sinners into saints
I will always sing Your praise
Here on earth and ever after
For You've shown me Heaven's my
True home
When it's all been said and done
You're my life when life is gone
Lord I'll live my life for You.
Godspeed, the song is both deep and simple. You're my life when life is gone.
Don
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Dads and Daughters
Today I took a flight from Seattle to Dallas. I was going standby and at the airport earlier than I normally am. I made my way from the ticket counter to the looong security line. As I approached the entrance to the line, I had to side-step a young lady, a young man, and an older fella. As I slid by, I noticed the young lady was crying. Sobbing.Trying unsuccessfully to stop the tears that were rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. The young man stood to one side, glancing around, I think trying to be invisible. Guys usually are embarrassed by this scene, he was looking for a way out. The older fella stood talking to the young lady and trying to comfort. All I could think of was that he was as inept at it as I am. So I side stepped the emotional goodbye and found myself in line.
Naturally, the young lady and young man fell into line right behind me. She had composed herself a little and was making small talk with the guy. I wasn't following the conversation, but their looks and demeanor and body language indicated to me that they were siblings, not a couple. We wound our way through the maze and on the final long stretch to the TSA folks, the line wandered back by the people catching the final glimpses of their loved ones headed off to parts unknown. It also gave the daughter (my guess) and the dad one last chance to hug across the barrier and say a final goodbye. Which started the waterworks all over again.
I would like to say that my own travel challenges diverted my attention. But I kept trying to catch a glimpse of the young lady going through security. What had prompted all the sorrow? It took all of my will power to not reach out and touch the shoulder, to comfort, to tell her that her daddy's heart was breaking as well. My only hope was that he had done a good job of making her understand that he loved her and hoped only the best for her.
But it made me contemplate, AGAIN, my own struggles as a daddy to two young ladies. Had I given them enough strength and character to withstand the turbulence of their lives? Did I give them the template for how they should expect to be treated? Could they possibly understand how inadequate I felt most of the time of their raising? Would they ever know that if they have enormous gaps in their training it is my fault? Could they now forgive me my own failures as a daddy?
As I watched this other daddy struggle with tears and awkward attempts at comfort, I felt his pain. It may be the hardest thing on earth to watch your children suffer, to see the tears drop from their faces, to see the loss of innocence, to know that your best efforts were not enough to shield them from the merciless, implacable fate that seems to envelop our daughters.
Instead of simply throwing my backpack over my shoulder and setting out along the concourse with my roller bag, I walked and prayed. Prayed that this young ladie's sorrows would be replaced with joy, that whatever circumstances connived to separate her from her daddy would be thwarted and they would be reunited. I prayed that life would be kind to her, give her the chance to know love, and happiness, and contentment.
Then I realized I had been praying that prayer for 34 years. For whatever reason God gave me a tender heart towards all these young ladies. I have found, though, that a tender heart is poor protection against what this world can do to our children. It seems an unfair fight.
But now I look at my girls and I realize that they have fared far better than my expertise should warrant. They are a joy to my life in ways I can't quite describe. I'm sure both will tell you with a chuckle that sometimes my phone calls don't seem to have much point. In reality, all I wanted was to hear their voices and to tell them again that I love them.
Godspeed to the young lady flying out of Seattle, hoping all the best for you. Same to Jordan and Carrie and the newest daughter Sarah. Sometimes I just like to hear your voices.
Don
Naturally, the young lady and young man fell into line right behind me. She had composed herself a little and was making small talk with the guy. I wasn't following the conversation, but their looks and demeanor and body language indicated to me that they were siblings, not a couple. We wound our way through the maze and on the final long stretch to the TSA folks, the line wandered back by the people catching the final glimpses of their loved ones headed off to parts unknown. It also gave the daughter (my guess) and the dad one last chance to hug across the barrier and say a final goodbye. Which started the waterworks all over again.
I would like to say that my own travel challenges diverted my attention. But I kept trying to catch a glimpse of the young lady going through security. What had prompted all the sorrow? It took all of my will power to not reach out and touch the shoulder, to comfort, to tell her that her daddy's heart was breaking as well. My only hope was that he had done a good job of making her understand that he loved her and hoped only the best for her.
But it made me contemplate, AGAIN, my own struggles as a daddy to two young ladies. Had I given them enough strength and character to withstand the turbulence of their lives? Did I give them the template for how they should expect to be treated? Could they possibly understand how inadequate I felt most of the time of their raising? Would they ever know that if they have enormous gaps in their training it is my fault? Could they now forgive me my own failures as a daddy?
As I watched this other daddy struggle with tears and awkward attempts at comfort, I felt his pain. It may be the hardest thing on earth to watch your children suffer, to see the tears drop from their faces, to see the loss of innocence, to know that your best efforts were not enough to shield them from the merciless, implacable fate that seems to envelop our daughters.
Instead of simply throwing my backpack over my shoulder and setting out along the concourse with my roller bag, I walked and prayed. Prayed that this young ladie's sorrows would be replaced with joy, that whatever circumstances connived to separate her from her daddy would be thwarted and they would be reunited. I prayed that life would be kind to her, give her the chance to know love, and happiness, and contentment.
Then I realized I had been praying that prayer for 34 years. For whatever reason God gave me a tender heart towards all these young ladies. I have found, though, that a tender heart is poor protection against what this world can do to our children. It seems an unfair fight.
But now I look at my girls and I realize that they have fared far better than my expertise should warrant. They are a joy to my life in ways I can't quite describe. I'm sure both will tell you with a chuckle that sometimes my phone calls don't seem to have much point. In reality, all I wanted was to hear their voices and to tell them again that I love them.
Godspeed to the young lady flying out of Seattle, hoping all the best for you. Same to Jordan and Carrie and the newest daughter Sarah. Sometimes I just like to hear your voices.
Don
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
And I am Running!
Whenever I run, I feel like I look like Forest Gump running with the leg braces on. The only difference is that the leg braces never come flying off and I just churn away, making minimum progress. It is a highly inefficient and frustrating way for me to move from one place to another. (Although, I would like to point out that most runners end up at the starting spot..not much progress there) Cars and airplanes may be the greatest inventions ever, and pockets, and those little tubes in the toilet paper roll, and of course those great enamel juicers that you can do with one hand, and ratchets, and Velcro...but I digress.
My grandson ran in a 5K a month or so ago and encouraged me with his dedication. Of course this dedication was encouraged by his mother who had to threaten and cajole and beg and plead to keep him on track. But now he has the same parent strapping on shoes, along with my other daughter (only 4 months removed from the birth of her second child) and me. At the event, as we watched runners stagger by after the 1/2 marathon, my grandson said to me, " Grandaddy, will you run a 1/2 marathon with me?" Thankfully, the organizers won't let him run until he is 12, which means I get a 3 year reprieve. But in the spirit of getting ready, I have decided to run in a few 5K's to get ready.
My daughters are using a program called " From Couch to 5K"...I don't know what is wrong with their couches, there is nothing wrong with mine, particularly early in the morning. This ominous turn manifested itself in Amarillo a month ago when I was informed that I was in charge of keeping the babies while the women ran. This all seemed ironic to me because if they had been better at running maybe we wouldn't have had all these babies. Right? But like a tornado gathering dust in her skirts out the door they went, to return 35 minutes later, wind-blasted, and "glowing".
This morning I "street" ran for the first time in years. The extent of my exercise for the last several years is 30-40 minutes on an elliptical at a pretty good pace. It claims it to be 2.75 miles. Who knows? There are several reasons I like the gym workout. It is never raining, or foggy, or humid, or hot. I can watch TV while I sweat. There is no fear of a pitbull taking a chunk out of the back of my leg for breakfast. The texters rarely hit anyone in the gym, I guess it could happen, but it would take out the entire treadmill crowd first. Gyms are safer, cleaner, and better climate controlled.
But my baby girl wanted to run. So I ran. Not too many people in this world can get me back out on the concrete, but my girls can, and my grandkids, and any life threatening situation that might come up. I am not a runner. I am not built like a runner. You know, the slender, slightly hunched, bald guys. I am thick through the chest and legs. My ancestors were better at lifting things than running things down. But my girl needed the company, and I was concerned about her safety.
So off we went, Walk 5 minutes, run 5 minutes, walk 3, run 5, walk 3 run 5, walk 3. Not bad for the first time. Remembered why I hate the running thing. Knees and right hip are still sore, small of my back was sore for a bit. Wind and legs good, probably could run the entire time, but why increase the displeasure? Besides, I loved the visit with my daughter.
I read somewhere that a guy like me was explaining why he didn't run. He claimed it would cause a panic. You see some guys running with that well-balanced, earnest, jock expression and you know they are exercising. You see someone like me, you look behind me to see what is causing me to run. Then, seeing nothing, you pick up your stuff and decide, "What the heck, why take a chance? It could be nothing, but the guy is running." Then a few more people begin to hurry along and before long you have a stampede, wild-eyed people crushing everything and everyone in their path. I can't take the chance.
So I will run early with my daughters, maybe in a 5K or two, then if God decides to play a cosmic joke and leave me here until my grandson is 12, perhaps a 1/2 marathon..or as much as I can stand.
Godspeed to all the runners of the world. I will have to explain my theory of "finite energy" someday.
Don
My grandson ran in a 5K a month or so ago and encouraged me with his dedication. Of course this dedication was encouraged by his mother who had to threaten and cajole and beg and plead to keep him on track. But now he has the same parent strapping on shoes, along with my other daughter (only 4 months removed from the birth of her second child) and me. At the event, as we watched runners stagger by after the 1/2 marathon, my grandson said to me, " Grandaddy, will you run a 1/2 marathon with me?" Thankfully, the organizers won't let him run until he is 12, which means I get a 3 year reprieve. But in the spirit of getting ready, I have decided to run in a few 5K's to get ready.
My daughters are using a program called " From Couch to 5K"...I don't know what is wrong with their couches, there is nothing wrong with mine, particularly early in the morning. This ominous turn manifested itself in Amarillo a month ago when I was informed that I was in charge of keeping the babies while the women ran. This all seemed ironic to me because if they had been better at running maybe we wouldn't have had all these babies. Right? But like a tornado gathering dust in her skirts out the door they went, to return 35 minutes later, wind-blasted, and "glowing".
This morning I "street" ran for the first time in years. The extent of my exercise for the last several years is 30-40 minutes on an elliptical at a pretty good pace. It claims it to be 2.75 miles. Who knows? There are several reasons I like the gym workout. It is never raining, or foggy, or humid, or hot. I can watch TV while I sweat. There is no fear of a pitbull taking a chunk out of the back of my leg for breakfast. The texters rarely hit anyone in the gym, I guess it could happen, but it would take out the entire treadmill crowd first. Gyms are safer, cleaner, and better climate controlled.
But my baby girl wanted to run. So I ran. Not too many people in this world can get me back out on the concrete, but my girls can, and my grandkids, and any life threatening situation that might come up. I am not a runner. I am not built like a runner. You know, the slender, slightly hunched, bald guys. I am thick through the chest and legs. My ancestors were better at lifting things than running things down. But my girl needed the company, and I was concerned about her safety.
So off we went, Walk 5 minutes, run 5 minutes, walk 3, run 5, walk 3 run 5, walk 3. Not bad for the first time. Remembered why I hate the running thing. Knees and right hip are still sore, small of my back was sore for a bit. Wind and legs good, probably could run the entire time, but why increase the displeasure? Besides, I loved the visit with my daughter.
I read somewhere that a guy like me was explaining why he didn't run. He claimed it would cause a panic. You see some guys running with that well-balanced, earnest, jock expression and you know they are exercising. You see someone like me, you look behind me to see what is causing me to run. Then, seeing nothing, you pick up your stuff and decide, "What the heck, why take a chance? It could be nothing, but the guy is running." Then a few more people begin to hurry along and before long you have a stampede, wild-eyed people crushing everything and everyone in their path. I can't take the chance.
So I will run early with my daughters, maybe in a 5K or two, then if God decides to play a cosmic joke and leave me here until my grandson is 12, perhaps a 1/2 marathon..or as much as I can stand.
Godspeed to all the runners of the world. I will have to explain my theory of "finite energy" someday.
Don
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Wandering Around
These are a few of the thoughts just sort of simmering in my head. No particular order of importance.
Why do we get such a thrill out of fireworks? I love the joy it brings to my grandkids, my kids, and my bride, but I really don't get it. It is pretty (for the girls), it has noisy booms (for the guys), it draws a crowd (for the cops), and it seems to be getting more and more of them each year. It is a exotic blend of lawn chairs, pickups, chiggers, beer, sweat, ants, and dirt. There is the obligatory flag-waving, the long lines to get out of the parking lot, or grass field, and the loud people who can't figure out the every-other-car deal. But I always come away from them being glad I went. Human nature is a funny thing. Parades sort of fall into the same category for me.
I have been home for 5 days, don't go anywhere for another week. This has been a great moment. I love being home because the coffee is good, the company is better. My curmudgeoness comes out in that I like to sleep in my own bed, with my bride of all these years. Kids, being apart does not get easier the older you get, it gets much more difficult. You handle it better due to the maturity deal. It is nice being home.
Andy Griffith died. All my new (old) friends on Facebook are posting nostalgic posts about Mayberry, the flag, and America. They are also vilifying the sitting president. Does anyone not remember that Andy, good old, country personified Andy supported ObamaCare? In fact, it was his last acting gig, an ad to smooth the waters for the bill. Who said any of us had to be consistent?
Praying deep and worrying about my six grandkids. Eli, Phoebe, Lincoln, Isaac, Lola, and Abby. How I wish I could smooth the way for them. Give them something that will hold them solid when the world goes chaotic. My nature seems a little threadbare and worn to pass on to anyone. But it is all I have. My shield of faith has dents in it, both from battle and from me running into things. The belt of truth has notches carved through the years by taking it up and letting it out depending on the current whim of religious thought, my helmet of salvation doesn't fit just right, seems my head is either too big (my doing) or too small (world's doing) to ward off much anymore. So what can I leave these gifts of my life? The only thing I can leave is the worth of knowing the One who loves them more than I do. It is all that will carry them through.
Our democracy is messed up. No one wins anymore, we all lose. One vote doesn't even count as one vote. Electoral college makes the decision on who wins and loses. I think it is time for all of us to take a deep breath, step away from the fray, find something to laugh about. Did you hear the one about the farmer's daughter...? Andy would know the joke.
Well, glad to clear out the mind lint.
Godspeed, a purposeful blog is in the near future.
Don
Why do we get such a thrill out of fireworks? I love the joy it brings to my grandkids, my kids, and my bride, but I really don't get it. It is pretty (for the girls), it has noisy booms (for the guys), it draws a crowd (for the cops), and it seems to be getting more and more of them each year. It is a exotic blend of lawn chairs, pickups, chiggers, beer, sweat, ants, and dirt. There is the obligatory flag-waving, the long lines to get out of the parking lot, or grass field, and the loud people who can't figure out the every-other-car deal. But I always come away from them being glad I went. Human nature is a funny thing. Parades sort of fall into the same category for me.
I have been home for 5 days, don't go anywhere for another week. This has been a great moment. I love being home because the coffee is good, the company is better. My curmudgeoness comes out in that I like to sleep in my own bed, with my bride of all these years. Kids, being apart does not get easier the older you get, it gets much more difficult. You handle it better due to the maturity deal. It is nice being home.
Andy Griffith died. All my new (old) friends on Facebook are posting nostalgic posts about Mayberry, the flag, and America. They are also vilifying the sitting president. Does anyone not remember that Andy, good old, country personified Andy supported ObamaCare? In fact, it was his last acting gig, an ad to smooth the waters for the bill. Who said any of us had to be consistent?
Praying deep and worrying about my six grandkids. Eli, Phoebe, Lincoln, Isaac, Lola, and Abby. How I wish I could smooth the way for them. Give them something that will hold them solid when the world goes chaotic. My nature seems a little threadbare and worn to pass on to anyone. But it is all I have. My shield of faith has dents in it, both from battle and from me running into things. The belt of truth has notches carved through the years by taking it up and letting it out depending on the current whim of religious thought, my helmet of salvation doesn't fit just right, seems my head is either too big (my doing) or too small (world's doing) to ward off much anymore. So what can I leave these gifts of my life? The only thing I can leave is the worth of knowing the One who loves them more than I do. It is all that will carry them through.
Our democracy is messed up. No one wins anymore, we all lose. One vote doesn't even count as one vote. Electoral college makes the decision on who wins and loses. I think it is time for all of us to take a deep breath, step away from the fray, find something to laugh about. Did you hear the one about the farmer's daughter...? Andy would know the joke.
Well, glad to clear out the mind lint.
Godspeed, a purposeful blog is in the near future.
Don
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