Veteran's Day Journey

Last Friday I sat in on the Veteran's Day program performed by the student body of Red Oak Elementary. There was the usual themes and songs from each of branches of service. A rousing and emotional program, and I don't mean that in a sarcastic way. For the entirety of the program I thought about my dad, now 93 years old, flying combat missions over Germany at the age of 22 or so. Having to be responsible for 9 other men, wondering every time it was wheels up if he would return both to base and home. He has never talked much about it. I don't think it is the trauma of the missions he flew, but more that Dad never really looks back. He has always dealt with the next moment and doesn't concern himself with the history or the contemplation that brought him to this moment. And now that the memory is failing and the body is grinding to a halt he is thinking of the next moment about final arrangements and making sure there is not going to be a problem for those he leaves behind.

But in the moment of the Veteran's program I reflected on the happenstance of my not serving all those years ago. Of course in those days, no one willingly joined. There was not the sense of national devotion to all things military. My contemporaries were compelled to go via a process called "the draft". For those of you who don't know or remember how this worked, it was known as the lottery. A bad kind. 365 birthdays were dumped in a wheel and whenever your birthday came out of the drawing was your "draft number". At the age of 18 every male was required to sign up for the draft. There were a lot of conversations about what we would do if drafted, the preference of service, and the uncertainty about what that meant. My 18th birthday came towards the end of the Vietnam war. By mid-1972 (I graduated in spring 1972) the US was beginning to pull out of the war. So the draft numbers would have to be pretty low to worry about the prospect of being drafted. All I remember was that while comparing our numbers between a good friend of mine, the number I drew was in the 300's, his was 9. Not good. He joined and never saw time outside the USA. But the idea that one would join out of patriotic duty, or sense of service  was foreign in that moment. While my dad and his contemporaries rushed to the enlistment centers after Pearl Harbor, my contemporaries were looking for loopholes or the most direct route to Canada to sit out the conflict. Theirs was a noble war, ours was a point of national debate and contention. And to summarize what my friend with the bad luck to draw a low number told me later, "you can avoid anything in the military if you learn to use the system". It was a different time and a different war and a different attitude.

As the program wore on I wondered (again) how my life would have been different had I served at the moment of my 18th year. Would I have survived? It is hard to imagine not surviving when there is a 40+ year history since that moment. If I had survived I would have come home a couple of years after a normal college start. Would I have met my bride? Probably not. What would my life have been like without her? I can't imagine it. And all the things that follow, kids, grandkids, jobs, friends, places we have lived, would have been entirely different. Not to mention (and perhaps the most compelling thought string) how would I have been changed by the events? How would I be different? What would my journey look like now? What would my views be on the different journey that I would have traveled? It is almost impossible to imagine because we are the sum of our decisions. And each decision is based on the experiences we alone have had.

Which brings me full circle to the program last Friday. We each travel our own journey. There is no changing the moment just past or the cars in the long train leading up to it. You see the sum of who I am in this moment is less conscious planning and more opening doors that lead one to another until I find myself in this place. Our journey is as unique as our fingerprints. Would I now go back and change the moment of an 18 year old and miss the journey with my bride, my three kids, their spouses, my grandkids, our friends (both old and new), on and on and on? I can't trade and wouldn't if I could. The things I find most precious came to me because of MY journey and the sum of MY decisions. And as I thought of my dad and his journey that included placing his life on the line, it occurred to me that it is part of what has made him important to me. Our journeys were not the same, but it is important that they not be.

My hope is that my journey will reap some of the same results as my dad's journey which included a time of uncertainty over the skies of Germany. Hopeful that the fruit will be compassion, integrity, honor, mercy, faith, and last and certainly not least is a sense of humor about it all. The success of the journey is in the satisfaction we have received. And each of us is the only one who can determine if the journey we have traveled has been worthwhile.

So on this day of honoring our veterans, it is important to note that this portion of their journey has crossed for a moment with ours. But the journeys are all meaningful, all part of who we are, all are important.

Godspeed to those who have gambled it all, in particular the veterans. And more specifically my dad. 1st Lt. Grady B. Jolly.

Don

The Enemy in the Mirror

It seems we are surrounded with arguments on every side. Each sentence in the conversation seems to grow more strident and more hateful. The spiral is downward in every arena of life.

 The Left and the Right are at each other. The only portion of the battleground that is emptying is the moderate group in the middle.

The US of A is scatter shooting all over the middle east. ISIS hates Americans and Americans seem willing to oblige ISIS, its just that we are so much more sophisticated and humane in our killing.
America has managed to keep the racial wars going. Now the war has centered more directly on police, which seems the height of irony.

And Christians have found a way to hate everybody. While clinging to our guns and bibles Christians are a formidable bunch. But the homosexuals, the Muslims, peace mongers, and the democrats better beware, Christians are out for blood. Of course the last thing you will hear as an enemy of this group is the refrains of "God is Love". 

Where did this world take a turn to violence and stridency? When did we lose the ability to debate, reason, and treat each other with deference? The downward spiral can't continue. As a Christ-follower, a Kingdom resident it seems we should be this voice of reason.

But now we see the decline and erosion, at least in numbers, of the Christian world view. I have noted this in other blogs, but the fact remains that this world view has been marginalized and generally ignored.

I came across a quote in a book I am finishing called "Torn: Rescuing the Gospel from the Gay-vs-Christians Debate" by Justin Lee ( by the way, this is nice starting point if you are really interested in discovering what a devoted Christian and a gay man struggles with)

"And while so many of us in the church have been focused on the "threat" to our culture posed by homosexuality, we've missed the realization that the church in our culture is under attack-not by gays, but by Christians. We Christians are the sleeper agents. The bomb is in our car. We have become the unwitting assassins of people's faith. The Christians are killing Christianity"

Christianity is being erased by the actions of those who are the most fervent about making this world view dominant.

It is time to place on the ground the armaments we cling most closely to, the entitlement of righteousness, the lofty place of condemnation, the battle cry of "rights". As a Christ-follower, I have no rights. The mental image for me is standing on a battlefield and stooping down and quietly placing my gun on the ground, waving a hand in salute to the other side, and walking away. I cannot kill them into understanding.
So the ratios may change. Instead of my side killing them 10 to 1, it may take my side experiencing the loss ratio of the same magnitude. Only when we see that the harm we have done has at least matched the harm they have done will we begin to understand the true dynamics. We can no longer have a voice in this if we continue to insist on resolution only on our terms.

Godspeed to those who seek another way.
Don

Forever Young

Forty years ago today, October 4, 1975, I married the person who would become my partner, my most constant companion, my critic, my love, a traveler through the world, my bride.

We have shared the struggles and the joys of growing older. Our bodies once slim and sound have begun to shift and falter, sputter a bit as Father time has exacted his toll. There is not much illusion left between us. She knows my faults and insecurities and I know hers. We still each know the ways to make the other happy or sad or mad. There is not much left that would surprise either one of us. Because neither of us are willing to avoid a good old fashion confrontation, we still can mix it up like newly weds, except that now we know where to hit causing the most damage. Even the arguments are long-standing, we don't have much new stuff to bring to the table. I have always felt that long marriages are made up of two tough-minded people, each demanding that the other bring their best to the marriage daily. Sometimes this means that it can get a little tense.

But along with the tough, hard, implacable existence we call marriage and life, there is another ledger being filled. There is the tenderness that can only come from someone who understands and without words comforts. We have both suffered loss of parents, she has agonized through her parent's divorce. There have been very long nights worrying and praying over our kids when they were suffering. The number of nights where we crawled exhausted into bed; her head tucked under my chin, clinging to each other as the dark and merciless world did its best to plow us under. But the common determination, the common fight in us both gave us the strength to batten down the hatches  and lift a defiant unified fist in the face of the overwhelming odds. This woman, this lover, this fighter, this mother of my children has always had more strength and determination than I can fully explain. And together we have fought, at least to a draw, what the fates have thrown at us.

So the bodies have changed shape and the spirits are covered with scars, there is a part of us that has stayed forever young. The heart never seems to grow old. Perhaps this is the illusion we all hold until the very end. Perhaps this is the quiet voice in the final moments saying, "Not yet" You see there is still the moments that catch me by surprise. The jump of the heart when I open the door, cinderblock weight of my backpack and suitcase forgotten, and she stops and hugs and kisses me like the young lovers we once were. When we find a meal at home after a long week on the road and she scoots her chair to sit as close as possible simply because she has missed me, and how silly this sounds to outsiders and how precious it is to me. To wake up in the middle of the night and realize that the arm is numb from holding her, but not wanting to shift because it would mean just that little bit of separation that I am not yet willing to give up. The old heart would see all these things as mundane and familiar, the young heart cherishes all of these little moments, fresh and new as the first time we met. And now I realize that the heart we share will never grow old. She will always be my bride. My heart will never grow old as long as she is with me.

Godspeed to my bride, Beverly Jolly. As I have told you for the past 40 years, I have always loved you and always will.
Don

What I Did This Summer

This was one of those summers that ended up being rather mundane. We all carry into our adulthood the idea that summer is a time of dropped schedules, impromptu ice cream and snow cone missions, cooking out, swimming in the creek (my childhood) swimming in the wide spot in the river in a spot called "the jenny hole" by my bride's family. Summer evenings with light until 9PM. And catching "lightin' bugs" after that. These summer memories are long and bring to mind the phrase "endless summer".

However, this year my bride had numerous school training sessions, both online and on campus. The normal cousin's camp never materialized. My work was both intense and stressful with little time to enjoy the moment. Grandkids had numerous camps and schedules just never seemed to sinc up.

But there was one event that can be fully accredited to the rites of summer.
I went camping with my son and my grandson. We managed to dodge the Noah-esque rains of early summer, and managed to find a weekend in the midst of the 100 degree stretch.

There was some purchasing of tent, lanterns (battery powered) fishing poles, throwing out old and non-working camping gear from service years ago. A general plan for menu. By the way, we got a pancake mix in a bottle, just add milk and shake. Other than a little lumpy it was pretty good. Of course anything cooked on the same griddle with the bacon is going to be good. I took a cot. The days of sleeping on the ground are over for this older body. We took my '92 Chevy pickup and just piled all the equipment in the back, lashed it down, and headed out.

We arrived well after dark and spent some time wandering around amongst the RVs, trailers, until we found a site. Rummaging around in the back of the truck we pulled out the tent and a lantern. The box holding the tent said it could be up in 60 seconds. What they mean is if you read the directions, it might be up in a reasonable length of time. After my son made me stop and read the directions by lantern light, we had the tent up, the cot set up with Isaac's bedroll stationed between us. The tent boasted it was a "6 man" tent, but those men would have to be a lot more comfortable with sleeping close than I am. It was fine for 2-1/2.

During this hour or so of set up I realized that there was absolutely no breeze under those trees. And it was close to, if not at, 100. By the time everything was set up I was completely dripping with sweat. When I finally settled on  the cot I could feel the sweat gather up and run from under my hair into and around my ears and off my neck. I could remember only one other time I had camped in the old days with the Wrays, Frys, Jollys at Lake Coleman when I was that hot while trying to sleep. With no breeze sleep was a little long in coming.

But lights out created some memories that I will cherish. The tent had a mesh roof that we could see through. From our angle it looked like the trees were bending over and peering into our tent.

Me: "Isaac, it looks like the trees are looking into our tent!"
Isaac: "Grandaddy, trees don't have eyes"
Me: I had no response.

Then the reading of "The Hobbit", bedtime prayers, and the excited chatter of a little boy in the midst of two grown men trying to find a way to sleep. Sleep finally arrived about the time the temps dropped into the 80s.

The next morning was filled with fishing (they weren't biting, apparently they took the summer off) swimming in the lake (with those hot and cold streaks and the squishy mud) and lunch at the swimming area. We headed back to the tent to get some rest. When Ben and Isaac went in the tent to change from their swim trunks it was obvious that it was far to hot to rest in there. So I suggested a quick run into town and hit DQ while we decide what to do. I think the Blizzard helped us decide that one night was enough. So even with a disappointed camper we had a great time and have vowed to make a return to the camping when the weather is cooler.

This is the huge take from the weekend. The best memories are created  while wasting time together. I think we get so focused on schedules, and production, and meaningful thoughts and words that we forget that the memories that last are the ones we didn't plan or anticipate. But I wouldn't trade this moment for anything. It was too hot, the fish weren't biting, sand and dirt infiltrated everything, and I loved every minute. I remembered that we don't have to have a reason or an agenda for spending time together.

Godspeed to those who have found the value in wasting time with those they love.
Don

When Worlds Collide

For those of you have been kind enough to follow (and occasionally comment) you know that I rarely write or even mention my work. There are a variety of reasons, but mainly it is just that work is not my primary focus in life. I work hard, as we all do, but my work has never really defined me. You also know that I have been on a decade long (or longer) journey in the spiritual disciplines. Hence the name of the blog. The struggles in this area have garnered far more space here than nearly anything else. The "disciplines" as I call them are both a comfort and a pressure. When I am stressed and lonely and depressed the disciplines bring me focus and discernment, it is also these times when the disciplines are the hardest to maintain. Consequently I find them to be the most valuable and most aggravating thing that I do.

Two years ago I left one of the most secure jobs in the industry to try and launch a little company. Only a small part of my motivation was financial. Mostly I wanted to create a company that had a certain culture. This was an opportunity to create a system built on integrity, honesty, collaboration, and ownership. The only flaw in the plan was the current ownership. They/he did not share my vision. It could be a cultural difference with him being Korean, and me being West Texas. Or it could be more personal. But to make a story short in this space, he decided to end our relationship, cutting corners on the original agreement. It would be easy to vilify him and his actions, but in the end I think it came down to the fact that he wanted to deal with people that he could better control and who spend less time making him think through his decision making process (that last sentence just took me 10 minutes to clean up).

So after 20 months of sales increases, bringing legitimacy to his brand, he found a way to cut me loose, to end the agreement and deprive me of the pay out at the end of the agreement. Angry, vindictive, vengeful, ashamed, fearful were the immediate reactions. Response options were numerous. Call all the accounts and tell them in no uncertain terms how unfair it was; legal action to claim my rights under the original agreement; stomp and fuss and try to create all sorts of mischief; these were the thoughts for the first several days.

But the mistake I made in carrying out all those satisfying responses was that I dug deeper into my disciplines. Silence and solitude were especially tough. Prayer and meditation were turbulent at the beginning. The scriptures from the old psalmist about "breaking the teeth of my persecutor" were scanned dozens of times in my studies. Righteousness demanded that I launch an all out spiritual war on this infidel, that the Creator's children could not be abused in this way!

Then in the midst of all this sound and fury, there came a small, still voice, "Don, listen to me." So I finally began to listen to the movement of the Spirit through the disciplines. My ears work pretty good, my heart can be stone deaf. It took two weeks to finally hear the entire message. The first part was pretty straight forward:

Do nothing in revenge.
Let it go.
Look to the future.
Trust Me.

I bucked and pitched and argued and fumed...and finally listened.

For the second part I am still like the little kid who has been forced to apologize, but you can tell by his stance and tone that the words are there, but the intent is still belligerent.
Second part of this message from my disciplines:

Find a way to help.

No! Absolutely not! I will not help him be successful at my expense!

Days later  I wrote a letter to the owner and pointed out three areas where he is vulnerable. Revisions to this letter were numerous. I explained the spiritual side of my decision. I assured him I would do nothing to harm his efforts. And I wished him luck. This still sticks in my throat.

My decade long spiritual quest led me to this moment. In a world and industry that does not value integrity, does not practice honesty, and does not reward spiritual formation, the disciplines drove me to action that was so against my nature that it still stuns me and makes me wonder how foolish I am to even contemplate this action and to share it on this blog.

The other portion of this response is to let all of you know, who read this blog, that this is still an enormous struggle for me. I am still afraid of what this will do to me and my bride. We both are living sleepless lives. But I have never been more aware or more sure of the Spirit's leading through my disciplines than I am right now.

So the worlds collided in my head and in my heart. Who won? Who lost? What good did it do?

I have no idea.

Godspeed to those who practice the disciplines; Prayer, Silence, Meditation, Solitude, Study are great in theory, but SCARY in practice. Stick with it, the results are down the road.
Don

What's In It For Me?

Moments of self-realization these days tend to be less “Aha” and more, “well crap”. Navel gazing tends to simply illustrate how large my belly is and not how deep my thoughts are. Recently there have been a few moments that have illustrated how my well- intended actions are really just a cover for some of my deepest insecurities.

My dad is 93. Just in the past few months he has lost most of his mobility, a lot of his acuity, and sadly some of the humor and good grace that has always been his character trait. So over the past year I have been trying to “get his affairs in order”. This has all been done with the highest sense of duty and dedication. We have arranged his estate, we have made sure all the contingencies have been rehearsed, and I am confident that the transition will be smooth and seamless. During all this time I have been keeping my siblings informed, I have made sure all was above board, I have even sought council and listened to advice regarding all the aspects of caring for an aging parent. To the best of my abilities I have tried to make sure he and his wishes are fully implemented.

 

And I have fooled myself into thinking that I was doing it for his good. When in reality I was doing it to make my life easier when the final moments happen in the not-to-distant future. So the moment was a “well crap” moment in my life. I would have preferred the “Aha” moment.

 My question is a simple one. Have all these efforts made this a better moment for him or for me? You see at some level I think it is a way for me to sponge up the little remaining moments with him. Every time I go see him we end up working on some aspect of his business. Of course some of that is because he can’t remember from one visit to the next what we have done. He gets something lodged in his head and becomes anxious that this issue is left unresolved. When one of the other siblings or step-siblings ask about any of his life he gets confused and consequently anxious. I have tried to coach the rest of the crowd to simply tell him that I have it handled, but the anxiety remains and the questions keep coming.  But as I continue to handle the issues the question nags at me, “Is this what HE needs at this moment?” How can I know that his preference would be a nice conversation about the farm, or Kiwanis, or the bus ministry from years ago? But the rest of it may be the selfish knowledge that this is the only thing that will help me deal with the final transition. Then I spend the ride home, morose, close to tears, and wondering what happened to the funny, hyper-active, compassionate guy that I have known for 60 years. And wondering about my own motives.

So the line from Kevin Costner in “A Field of Dreams” sticks in my head and in my throat. “What’s in it for me?” Burned with shame and remorse all at the same time. I suspect, to my chagrin, that what is in it for me is a way to cope with his absence. We are interesting creatures that we can build our own rationalization even knowing we are doing so. And it works.

In some ways I already miss him. The family calls me “little Grady” and it is a misnomer. I look like him, act a little like him, but fall short of his integrity and his accommodation to people and life. I will miss those guideposts. Simply put, I will miss him and the knowledge that he is here.

Godspeed to those who know this part of the journey well. I seem to spend a lot of time looking at the map and wondering if I have wandered off the path a little. Sigh.

Don

Old and Still Learning

Yesterday I had one of those golden moments with my eldest grandson. He and two of my other grandchildren rode with me to the family reunion in Dublin, Tx and he was instructed by his  mother (who rode in the other car with 3 adults and only one of the grandkids) to stay off his iPhone. Phoebe had her headphones on and had worm-holed her way into some musical. Lincoln was tuned into the 18th showing of Berenstein Bears. Eli  mostly obeyed and really his mother left him with me, the one  who has long since left the disciplining to the parents who thought these kids were a great idea. I am just along to lend a little humor and perspective.

So when we rolled through Glen Rose and Fossil Rim, we got to talking about dinosaurs and T-Rexs  and mastodons and all things dinosaur-ish. We talked about the different "enes" with Jurassic dominating the conversation. But the conversation really took an interesting turn when I asked him, "What do you think about the Bible not mentioning these animals at all?" For the next few minutes we talked about the early chapters of Genesis and I mentioned a few theories that I had studied while getting my masters, when he said the most amazing thing.

"I think the dinosaurs happened before the bible, then God started the bible, (and this is the place where my mind was blown) and after that is finished he will start another bible"....

I looked at him trying to get my mind around the implications of that thought. Then looked at the road, then back at him, road, him. He had said it with such nonchalance, such assurance of thought. It had never ever occurred to me that this experiment we call humanity might simply be a phase of God's cosmic timeline. Yet this 12 year old, this cherished boy, this young man who has great athletic ability, strong in math, weak in reading, could easily get his mind around a concept as profound as he had just simply stated. There will be those of you who will see the true miracle here, I was speechless.

Think about the implications of this simple theory. What does this do to our science vs religion debate? What does this do to most of our philosophical "ologies"? End times debate becomes a much different conversation. And as often happens in my head the thought strings started going in all directions. Rex's peeking through the knothole in the fence in heaven (because you know they will keep us all separated) and wondering, "Who are those puny little creatures and how did they get here? God let them in?" Then centuries later, we are looking over the fence and wonder how the new "chosen" are so tiny that a universe of them fit on the surface of a golfball. Plus they look like mold. And on and on and on. It is only the human's arrogance that deludes us into believing that we are the end of the work that is called GOD. After all, we claim he is eternal. You think he wants to spend eternity with only us? Just look at the current debates on FB and I don't want to spend eternity with us.

This thought will keep me going for months. And it was uttered by a 12-yr-old boy who would rather be playing on his iPhone than talking to me. Humility comes in all forms.

Godspeed to all you grandparents out there. These grandkids are more than just little people to be spoiled. They bring insight and understanding and mind blowing new thoughts. Wow, just wow.
Don

The Force Is Strong..

At a certain point in our lives we experience a portion of the journey that seems mundane. We get up, go to work, work, go home, go to bed.. Hit reset, do the same tomorrow. The world becomes routine and the people are always the same. There is certain blandness to the entire deal.

But every once in a great while we have something happen that gets the juices flowing. It can be something that starts another leg of the journey or it could be a split second of adventure.

Yesterday I was driving to work in my 2005 Blazer. I had gotten a late start due to a dust up between my youngest daughter's dog, newly named Knucklehead, and a donkey. Of course as I write that last sentence I realize that may be the better blog post. Focus is going to be an issue today. So the drive was a little different because I took a route that I normally avoid due to traffic. But today, because of my late start, I was clanking  along at 50mph minding my own business and drinking my Starbucks. I was in the left hand lane as the highway was about to merge with another main highway. Suddenly I realized that out of nowhere someone's hubcap had come off and was spinning in my direction.

Now this hubcap was normal hubcap size, but I could see the little clips that are supposed to lock it onto the wheel spinning at highway speeds. And this is where my imagination kicks in. As I registered the enormous and seemingly unavoidable spinning wheel of death heading towards me at supersonic speeds, I found myself channeling an odd mix of Neo and Luke. The Blazer and I had only micro-seconds to bend ourselves (remember that now all this is in slow motion) away from the whirling blades of destruction. A dodge to the left onto the shoulder, a readjustment to the right to miss the barrier, a snap of a glance at the projectile as it spun past the copilot window, and then safely past the ominous danger. I looked ahead to find the enemy vehicle and spotted a beat up, small, white sedan. It was the moment of coming back to earth. It was simply a ride to work. Sigh.

In reality I probably looked a lot more like Po, and less like Neo. But the great things about imagination is that you can look any way you want. You can channel whatever you want. You can live in a world of danger and intrigue and wonder. For a moment your adrenals get this great workout, leaving the little guys in your adrenal glands clasping their hamstrings from the sudden effort. For a few minutes longer you get to enjoy the rush of adrenaline and be the star in your own movie.  Perhaps we should have a little moment like this every day. Maybe it would alert us to the fact that life should be lived with a good load of adrenaline.

So I survived the attack. But I still had to park in my spot at work. Heft my backpack into my office. And begin the day dealing with unimaginative people and situations I had dealt with for years. Neo and Luke and even Po had to come inside and finish the paperwork.

But for one split second...the Force was with me...

Godspeed, to those who still live an exciting life, even if it is only in their head.
Don

What If...?

There is a current debate and more then a little angst swirling around the data showing that the religious institution called "church" is eroding. It is clear indication from the number of attendees to the number of located churches that are diminishing that the institution is in decline. We can argue the finer points of this statement, but all the indications, which are numerous, point to a slow and agonizing death.

Along with the analysis of the data is the following concerns. Whom to blame and what can we do seem to be garnering a lot of the conversation. And the list for blame is extensive from the current entrenched leadership to the ungrateful young people and all in between seems to grow by the day. We have developed terms to catalog the different sections of this erosion, "Dones" and "Nones" and "Fringe" and "unchurched" all are marked as contributors to this demise.

A much shorter list is the "what can we do" column. It is, in fact, blank.

We blame the current leaders and assign them the motives of power hungry old guys. Almost without exception we say, "Individually they are nice guys, but as a group, they are to blame." My instinct tells me that it is easy to blame a group of men, but when we put someone's face to it that we know and love and respect, then we need an out. Thus the above statement.

The Dones and Nones have just said, "Screw it, we're out" and have left the building. Even though they/we still stand in the parking lot and toss religious rocks at the windows. It is much easier to stand outside and feel religiously superior to having to quash our natural instincts for argument and trying to help.

Young people of every generation have been on the road to hell since Cain knocked Abel to the ground and tried to cover it up. Nothing new here. It's just that they are so smug in their indifference. Drives me crazy.

Each group has their own issues and their own preconceived ideas about how this works and they are all partially right and mostly wrong. We have also blamed the erosion of the moral fiber of our culture. The Dems and Repubs can't get along, Breeders and LGBT are at each other, the number crunchers and the word eaters, the left and the right, the white and the others, on and on and on. The slow, but accelerating descent has most of us gasping for breath. And the church has not kept up with all these events and factions.

So the church is declining because the few reasons above and blaming all above. But WHAT IF the simple reason for all of this is because we have missed an important element of God's mission. You see, we tend to believe the mission is a static. It is a level to be attained, or a position to be defended, or a bulls-eye in the middle of a target. But if the mission is constantly moving from here to there and onward, then the "spot" we fixate on will be behind the place where God is moving.

An analogy that occurred to me this morning was mobile phones (by using that term I realize I have just given an indication of my age). The first mobile phones were called mobile because we could move about with them. It was not easy because the battery pack was equivalent both in size and weight  to a cinder block. You had to have a shoulder strap and be in relatively good shape just to carry them. And they only had one function, to make a call or send a call. That was it. And you had to remember the numbers (yes, kids, like in your head) to dial them up. Of course you never knew who the incoming call was until you answered. Scary by todays standards. I think what the church has done is put a death grip on the technology of the earliest mobile phones, believing that this is the spot in technology that God has ordained as the end of the mission. So church leaders clamp down on this spot in the technology, squinch their eyes shut , and brand anyone with newer technology as a heretic.

"But just look at this new IPhone 6, it can send and receive emails, it can play music, it can..."

"STOP, STOP, Leave me Alone, God wants us all to lug around this mobile phone!"

"Listen, if you will just try it.."

"You are from SATAN, this mobile is just the way God WANTS it! Get out! "

Dones and Nones: "Forget it, these guys are just trying to control us, they are power hungry and don't care about us"

Young people: " Is he ok? Weird."

The trajectory of technology forges onward, as does the mission of God. It is not his place to slow down and help find comfort in old doctrinal distinctives or even old theology. It is a mission and it will move forward at the pace that works for the mission. We must find ways to constantly shed ourselves of the old "technology" and embrace technology that matches the moment. Before my email blows up, yes I am familiar with the "same yesterday, today, tomorrow" view of God. But I do not believe this pertains to method or practice. It pertains to the Nature of God. He is and always will be love, compassion, truth, integrity, etc. But He has shown both in the old book and in ticking through the decades since a willingness to change His methods and means to accomplish His mission.

To the leaders: unclench a little, peek around a little and see if you can see the trajectory of the mission instead of the moment in time that provides the most comfort.

Nones and Dones: Give the leaders a break, instead of categorizing their current posture in the least favorable light, how about we understand their fear of letting go and their stomach churning responsibility towards the community of faith?

Young people: You are way ahead of us. New theology is second nature to you, it terrifying to us.

But lets drop the pretense about having ANY answers and lift our eyes to the blazing comet above us that is the mission of God and try to find our place in that trajectory. None of us will see the end, none of us saw the beginning, but we can ride along while we are here.

Godspeed to the Spirit walkers who help us see the blaze, and to the ones who have just enough faith to let go of the cinder block of old doctrine. It is a wild and crazy ride!
Don

New Relational Assets

Over the past few years I have picked up "relational" assets I never had before. All my life I heard things like, "I'll have to call MY lawyer." Who keeps or needs a lawyer that they can identify and name? I don't have a lawyer. My eldest son-in-law is a lawyer, but that is way down on the list of identities he is to me. He is first and foremost the husband of my eldest daughter, and a very good one. More importantly he is the father of my first two grandkids, the ones who called me "granddaddy" before all others. And he is a spiritual man, a faithful man, and an industrious man. And somewhere down the line he is a lawyer, but he is not MY lawyer. (I've always had a little uncertainty about having him represent me in a legal battle. I'm sure there are things in the past 15 years or so that he was not happy with me about and as we all know payback is a b....well you know.)

But in the past few years I have picked up a few of these Assets. Did you know I now have a cardiologist? These are not cheap acquisitions. I see him more often than I do MY dentist. Hey there's another one, however, he is one of my dearest friends, so I'm not sure that counts. And day before yesterday I went to MY skin doctor. Ok, ok he is also distantly related and is far more to me and my family than the guy who bores holes in my scalp digging for who knows what. He claims he did not go very deep, but I suspect he was stunned at how thick the skull was. He is a plastic surgeon, but I keep him humble by having to deal with my body's ability to produce all sorts of weird looking skin bumps, lumps, and colorings. It does tickle me when he fusses at me for waiting to see him. He always asks the trick question, "How long have you had this?" Most of time I do not remember. I can identify when my bride pointed it out, but at my age and in my defense, the mirror is not my friend.

So what am I missing? Here is a short list of assets I need to work on.
Trainer - these people tend to be mean, see my blog post about "Boot Camp"
Therapist - Yes, I need one more person to ask me, "What is WRONG with you?"
Preacher- Another person telling me what IS WRONG with me!
Accountant - Hmm, not much to count.
Personal Physician - I actually have one that I never see. He seems preoccupied with my prostate.

Some of these I will never acquire. They are far more expensive than I have interest in paying.

But it also occurs me that there are a few professions we are a one time interaction, or just a part of our lives but not able to achieve the status as "MY" :
Funeral Home Director - you never hear anyone say that. This is a one and done.
Policeman - My policeman just sounds wrong.
Dry Cleaners Person - way too long a title.

So here I am at this stage of life, picking up all these relational assets with apparent ease. Who knew I would be so successful?

Godspeed to those out there who are just beginning to acquire the finer things in life, it is the true measure of success!
Don

Times, They are A'Changin'

Over the past few years I have had the opportunity to work with and manage young people (under 40).  During that time I had a chance to sit with them as we drove from one appointment to another and visit about work, life, dreams, worries..the entire gamut of the human experience. And these visits have been concerning and enlightening and encouraging. It eventually comes up that these young people are no better at judging age than I am. Generally they all think I am younger than their parents, when in reality, usually I am older and sometimes by a good bit. It would do my ego much more good if I thought it was my youngish looks or my "hip" demeanor, but I think they just don't have a clue. So the immense pride is tempered. Of course I could start complaining about all the aches and pains. That would set them straight, but then they would compare me to their grandparents and that would not do my ego any good.

There are a couple of things I have learned about this group. Some of it is encouraging, some of it has me shaking my head, and some of it makes me a little jealous that my life does not contain some of their philosophy and approach.
One of the primary differences between them and me is the simple view of all things "organizational". My approach has always been to rely on the organization as the sole benefactor for my career, my marriage, my life. The generation I belong to relies heavily on the organization to care for and feed us, to give us purpose, to create a safe and nurturing harbor. In this I have been both generously rewarded and deeply wounded. It has only been in the past couple of years (by "couple" I mean 10-15) that I have seen and understood the tragic misperception this is. This younger crowd has a deep suspicion of all things "organizational". Their attitude is that they put up with the organization because it supplies a few of their basic needs. In their world if they could walk away from it, all we would see are heels and elbows. And this applies to politics, religion, business, marriage, nationalism..the list goes on and on.
And this is being played out at all levels of society. Corporations are having to completely overhaul their work structure to make sure they can retain some of these younger workers. I have lived right through the transition from the 9-5 workforce to the flex hours, the shared workload, the cross-training. A majority of this shift is positive. But the loss falls in the categories of employee loyalty, dedication etc. But the truth is that the corporations made the first move by shifting from corporate healthy workplace to corporate shareholder health. This younger generation understood long before my generation that this reality existed.
The most visually dramatic is the outflow of religious organizations. Ten years ago, if you were on the inside of the organization, you could hear the growing sucking sound of the younger generation leaving. It was like watching the tide run out, the water just never returned to same spot on the beach. It shifted further and further out. Unlike the phasic tide, this was a one-way shift. I've got news for the religious leaders, get a day job. They ain't coming back.
Marriage may be the most jarring organization that has been deemed unnecessary. I take great pride in the tenure of my marriage (almost 40 years) and to the credit of my bride the quality of our life together. And the young crowd will slow clap this accomplishment, while shaking their heads in puzzlement. And they are staying away from this organization in droves. The number of sales people I manage who are living with their significant other far outnumbers the ones that have gotten married. And while I might be tempted to point out to them the error of their ways it occurs to me that they have a far different understanding of this than I do. I think it is this one element of the "gay marriage" debate that the youngsters just don't get. They are a little puzzled why we (breeders) would heap such condemnation on those wanting to get married within their gender, when they are completely willing to ignore the concept altogether. Which makes me wonder why the religious leaders aren't dog-piling on them instead of the "gay marriage" crowd. At least the "gay marriage" crowd agrees with us that marriage is important! Maybe we need to realign our angst with anybody who agrees with us on marriage. We have been fussing at the wrong group all along! Nothing new here.

But the other important shift is the willingness to help. They are deeply moved by causes that help people. Their willingness to align themselves with less fortunate, to fight the injustice that corporate America has created. I think this may be why Facebook is such a valuable tool to span the gap between their generation and mine. It allows me to peer into their world, without judgment, and acknowledge that they may have a point. But the moment we olders try to develop a little organization around their causes...they are out. And this is what drives my crowd nuts. We can't handle the chaos, the freedom of allowing other opinions, the tolerance and dissonance that actually defines their world. If I point out their inconsistent views, they simply shrug their shoulders and withdraw from the conversation.

So here is my simple solution. My generation needs to come to grips with the fact that the organizations we hold dear are dead already. We will keep them running for the time we are still here because we have the money to do so, but these kids are going to outlast us. They will grieve when are gone, but they will not feel compelled to sustain the organizations we hold so dear. My solution is spend whatever time I have left in helping them with the relational issues we all face. To help them understand that indeed the needs of the one, outweigh the needs of the many (scripture, by the way, please don't tell them) So while I still have a voice I will encourage them to be honest, to have fun, to cherish words like integrity, compassion, and perseverance. To love with abandon.

Godspeed to the kids on the block. I think you will make this a better place.
Don

Endarkment

We are taught from the time we are little that "darkness" is evil and "light" is good. It is the daily reminder that these two are opposed and opposite each other. Our society uses this in the public conversation through our movies, Darth Vader is dressed in black, Luke is in white. In the old westerns the bad guys wore black hats and the good guys white hats. Movies and television that deal with evil or trauma are referred to as "dark". We even have a genre known as "dark comedies". Pirates of old were "black-hearted" and even named Blackbeard. Do you remember at dusk your mother calling you for the night, from the creeping darkness to the light in the house. She was protecting us from the evil of the night. Even in our spiritual walk we view darkness as evil, several scriptures use the night or darkness as a metaphor for evil, as contrast to the light. It is inescapable, darkness is evil. Or so we have been told.

These thoughts have been rambling around in my head for a while, so forgive me if this comes out a little random. What has me stumped is the inevitability of the darkness for each of us. There is simply no escaping the "darkness". It could be circumstances beyond our control that has dimmed the light. There might have been poor decisions or poor responses that brought on the darkness. It might be the disillusionment of life that happens to us all.  I wrote about this in a blog post "Living Plan B" July 21, 2009, but really I have sprinkled this idea all through my blog and shared it publicly. But the struggle to understand still needles me.

Perhaps the dissonance I feel can be found in our society's preoccupation with happiness and security versus the reality that happiness is elusive and security is a myth. This societal bent has placed a patina over our entire existence and left us dissatisfied. And the articulation of this dissatisfaction is frowned on. Our home and family should all be healthy and happy. Our church life should be "solar" as one writer put it, full of joy and peace and good will. Our workplace should be fulfilling and successful. So when there is something missing from the above, when I am not performing at the level that it seems everyone else is, then the darkness slides in and the great cover-up begins. Which only bangs open the door for the darkness to rush in with even more force. We run from this darkness because it reflects, at some deep level, our own failures to craft the life we envisioned from the beginning.

But there are a couple of things that make me pause and reflect on the "darkness". In the most elemental way, the Creator built our entire universe with each "day" half light and half dark. Could we stand to live in the light all the time? No. Would all darkness be the best? Also no. Each serves its own purpose. The light is for purpose and action. We keep moving and accomplishing in the light. But the dark is for rest and more importantly reflection. It is in the dark quiet moments that we can come face to face with the reality of our lives. It is in those moments when the Creator whispers his message.

Barbara Brown Taylor says, "While this darkness was only a poor cousin of araphel, it alerted me to a question that would preoccupy me for months to come: when we run from darkness, how much do we know about what we are running from? If we turn away from darkness on principle, doing everything we can to avoid because there is simply no telling what it contains, isn't there a chance that what we are running from is God?"

The other thing that gives me pause is on closer investigation of the old book, there are some comments and references that indicate that darkness or the emotions that are ascribed to it are not all bad. In fact a few of them have a pretty elevated place:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit.."
"Blessed are those who mourn.."
"Blessed are the meek.."

Even the man who manifested God was known as "a man of tears" Darkness was not a stranger to him, but was a moment to hear the whispers of illumination.

So while I struggle with the societal disdain of darkness and my own residency in that darkness, I have come to value the lessons learned during those moments. The other primary lesson for me was to give myself a break in the midst of those dark nights, to be unapologetic that discernment is not easy and is not cheap and does not come while in the midst of the sunshine, but in the dark and aloneness of the night.

Godspeed to those who have known more than their share of the dark, we should listen to you because the Creator has granted you a wisdom beyond the norm.
Don

Snuggling With A Diva

This past Saturday morning dawned calm and clear and borderline cold. As is the usual routine I woke up before my bride and our oldest daughter who was here visiting and my oldest granddaughter. The coffee had percolated just right and I was scrunched up on the back porch rummaging around in Matthew in response to some new thoughts I had been having. My 10-year-old ACU sweatshirt and long flannel sleep pants were just able to keep the cold at bay. The morning disciplines were hitting just the right level of thought, questions, and a few insights that kept slipping in and out of my conscious, linear mind, refusing to be articulated. At this precise moment my 8-year-old granddaughter having beaten both her mother and her Nena out of bed came outside and promptly crawled up in my lap. No invitation, no question, no hesitancy. This left me scrambling to move my coffee out of the spill zone, power down my Kindle and make room for this new moment.

We spent the next 20 minutes or so looking at and identifying the various birds strafing our bird feeder, finding the helicopter that made its presence known with the familiar thup-thup-thup before we could see it, and talking about all things of concern for an 8-year-old. With the usual forethought she had only her sleep pants and sleeveless sleep shirt on, so she was relying on me and my old sweatshirt to keep her warm.

What was so compelling to me was the reminder of how it had been when she was little. Now her legs hang off one side and her head and arms stay close only because I wrangle them in from the other side of the chair. But she cozied up, squeezing her head onto my shoulder and neck and there we sat and visited.

You have to understand how special this was. This girl is not a shy, quiet, hesitant little thing. No, this girl is all drama. Singing and dancing and playing and all done with the volume turned all the way up. When she is happy, she is borderline hysterical. When this girl is sad, she is weepy. She has all the range of a teenager, she might be an emotional prodigy. They were in town to see "Newsies" which I am told is a musical. Since it was not a requirement that I go, it was up to her and her mother and her Nena to fill me in later. But she walks in from the musical with a newsies cap on, a t-shirt, and the CD playing in the car stereo with the volume just this side of a landing jet. Every portion of this girl's life is full volume and full speed ahead.

So when this cyclone known as my eldest granddaughter wanted to snuggle for a moment, I set aside my study, my thoughts, my disciplines for this one moment. I am at the stage in life where I don't know when I will go from beloved granddaddy to an old fogey they don't particularly want to be around. These moments get soaked up and stored away in the memory savings account.

By the time we got cold enough to come in, the parent and the grandmother were both up and making plans for breakfast. I never got back to my study, or my coffee, or my thoughts. Except to realize that our creator must have been okay with this trade. I think sometimes he would prefer we snuggle instead of study. I know from some darker moments that He is a snuggler of hearts.

Godspeed to you all who get a "Phoebe" moment, a moment to sit and visit and snuggle while the morning warms up.
Don

Mr Magoo

If you are under the age of 40 you probably don't know who this is. He was a cartoon character who was constantly bumbling into situations because he could not see very well. In fact the character always looked like his eyes were closed . As life swirled around him he seemed to make his way while all sorts of chaos erupted around him. But he plodded on with a charming and cheerful salute to all around him.

This past week while in transit from Dallas to Grand Rapids MI via Charlotte. I came to panic stricken realization while on the last leg of this journey I had lost my glasses. These are not reading glasses. I take them off to read. I have 20/20 within a 10' radius, but get out beyond that the world loses its sharp edges, and the further out you go it gets worse and worse. Oh I can see cars..or at least I think they are cars; and buildings; and mountains apparently do not have tops, they just stretch to the galaxy. Usually there is a rep to cart me around, but this entire trip I was driving. To complicate matters I was only going to be in Grand Rapids for a day then shift over to Boston, where again I would be driving.

So how do you fix this? Hmmm. The grocery store glasses are all reading glasses. Optometrists work in terms of weeks, not hours. I was stuck.

The next 4 days of driving was maddening. Street signs were the worst. If I squinted really hard I could just make out the sign from about 20' away...at 8 mph. Thankfully the chick on the IPhone GPS was more accurate than normal and I was able to creep my way around and not cause any pileups..that I know of. The lady who was to join me to attend the meeting with the customer was quite funny. She is Korean and very polite. When she landed in Boston we gathered our things, took the shuttle to the car rental building, loaded everything and struck out for Braintree MA, about 30 miles away.

As we rode along, this was the conversation:
Me: "Want to hear something really exciting?"
Her: "Yes, Of course!"
Me: "I lost my glasses on Monday and really can't see very well."
Her (very hesitantly and after a very long pause): "Would you like me to drive?"
Me: "Of course not! Just keep a close eye out that side of the car. You're seat belted, right?"

It seemed very funny to me. Koreans are not known for their sense of humor.

She went back to Dallas the next day and seemed really relieved to be going home. I had another day, then a 6AM flight back out.

3:30 AM, dark, raining, no glasses. And the GPS chick is not a cheerful early riser. Drove like a 90 year old in a Studebaker all the way to the airport. Exit to airport was blocked, so had to circle. I believe I achieved an almost 100% success rate of getting my fellow motorists to honk at me. They are so friendly in Boston. I just waved like royalty in a parade!

Wearing my old glasses until new ones can be purchased. Prescription had expired which meant I had to get an exam. My dad was an optometrist, so I know all the reasons for all the tests which did not prevent the good doctor from explaining them anyway. Taking a certain amount of abuse from the ladies in the office due to the look of the old glasses. I just keep waving!

This is probably a preview of my later years. Driving slow, can't see. If things keep going this way, though, I probably won't be able to hear them honk either. Anyway, the investment in some really cool and hip glasses is probably money well spent.

Godspeed, the old scripture came to mind, "Without vision the people perish" Well not this time.
Don

Weightless

There are times in our lives when the world turns so completely from the axis we are used to that it casts us into another dimension. We are running along in our lives thinking that we know the answers, we know the journey we have chosen, we know what to expect. Then, in a blinding awful moment we are jettisoned into another orbit, another reality.

What makes this so disconcerting is that most, if not all, that we think we know is spun in a different direction and is of no use to us. So we find ourselves naked and alone, scared and unsure, and without the tools with which we had become so familiar. This does not keep us from trying to find a use for those tools, to find something of value from our past. Do you remember Navin (played by Steve Martin) in The Jerk? As he is leaving his home for good, being expelled from his family, he rambles on as he wanders through the house:
"And that's the only thing I need is *this*. I don't need this or this. Just this ashtray... And this paddle game. - The ashtray and the paddle game and that's all I need... And this remote control. - The ashtray, the paddle game, and the remote control, and that's all I need... And these matches. - The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control, and the paddle ball... And this lamp. - The ashtray, this paddle game, and the remote control, and the lamp, and that's all *I* need. And that's *all* I need too. I don't need one other thing, not one... I need this. - The paddle game and the chair, and the remote control, and the matches for sure. Well what are you looking at? What do you think I'm some kind of a jerk or something! - And this. That's all I need. "

When we are suddenly catapulted from the life we clung to into this new dimension, we grasp for the things that helped define the old life. And none of those things are helpful or even meaningful in the new life.

Some of you about now are saying, "What in the world is he talking about?" But if you have been jettisoned, with or without your permission from the life you thought you were building you don't have to ask. And it could be anything. You could have been shot from the cannon of your career soaring over the three rings and screaming at the knowledge that someone didn't stretch the net. It could be that far too soon the body has begun to wear down, to stop functioning as it should, instead of parts not working so well, entire systems are shutting down. Maybe she/he came home and piled all your stuff in the front yard, changed the locks, and moved the money and you never even had a moment to state your case. It could be any number of events, but the fact is that you are now alone and scared and without emotional or physical or spiritual tools to handle this sudden and cataclysmic moment.  Perhaps this was self-inflicted, where all you could think of was that you had to get out, you had to step into the abyss without a parachute of any sort.

Fear breeds anger. It is easy to think that the universe and the One who made it have decided to turn your existence into some sort of sorry, cosmic joke. The brunt of divine laughter and derision. So it is natural to be angry, to be willing to blame, to assume abandonment.

But I read an interesting quote the other day that has been swimming around in the grey matter for over a week:
"The world for which you have been so carefully prepared is being taken from you, by the grace of God." The emphasis is mine. The attributed author is Walter Brueggemann, a Hebrew Bible Scholar.

I will let your grey matter struggle with this a little. I could apply faith, restoration ideas, hope, etc. But this quote comes with so much personal baggage that it probably means something completely different to you than it does to me. It just depends on where the exit burns are inflicted.

But the essence is that the One you follow has other plans than the ones you built. And try as we might to grasp the lamp or the matches or whatever, they will be useless in the new dimension. Grace and pain can never be separated. I feel an entirely different writing for that statement.

Godspeed, so carefully prepared, so completely lost, so redeemed by the grace. Still trying to fully grasp the idea.
Don

Reading and Writing

The three "r"s. This always confused me a little because it is really the "r", "w", and "a". of course you can switch the letters around to get a couple acronyms that might not convey the most positive message, raw, or war. However, both might best describe my time in the public school scene. That is not a time that I look back and reminisce over. I do remember fondly the non-school portion of my life then.

This spot has been a little neglected over the past several months. Ideas would come to me and soon be forgotten. Stories that make a showing in my mind get lost in the clutter of life and soon jettisoned. There are several drafts sitting on the site that will probably never be published. I wrote them then realized they were atrocious both in style and content.

The reasons can be numerous for stopping the blog posts. First and foremost after 300 or so it is quite possible I have run out of things to say. My bride and my kids will probably argue the point. Along with this point is the suspicion that not only does my writing have little value, but you out there in the big world have better things to do than read about my brain lint. This wouldn't surprise me at all.
There is also the chance that this phase in my life has taken a different turn. I wonder what has happened to me that the words no longer flow. 99% of the time I write a post at one sitting, running it through spell check (a nod to my bride) and try to make sure my fingers posted all the words my brain asked them to. It is not uncommon that production doesn't do what upper management asks, so I go over it once and make sure there are no incomplete sentences or thoughts not correctly stated.

But the primary reason I tend to run out of things to write about is because I have stopped reading. Ever since I was a little kid on a farm in west Texas I have found the world through books and stories. Words mean a lot to me. Numbers, not so much (sorry Sarah). The words of fiction writers took me to magical places, later the words of actual people, celebrities some, heroes and cons, saints and scoundrels all opened places in my head and in my soul for inspection. Reading gave me chance to try out ideas and philosophies that made me think differently, pushed my head in another direction, stretched my ability to absorb. Reading set me free. Then I began to write.

Writing has pushed the boundaries even further. Even as I type these words I have no idea how this little moment will end. But it will have pushed me to another place I have never been before. There are two kinds of people in this world, pioneers and settlers. Pioneers strike out and find new places and new horizons. Settlers come later and tame the very horizon that the pioneer first embraced. And in taming the horizon push the pioneers further out because the horizon has been irrevocably changed. However, as romantic as that sounds, pioneers also tend to take a lot arrows and in some cases (me for instance) can become skeptical of the entire notion. If we can regret the future, the greatest regret I can think of is to cross the final horizon into the great uncounting and not be able to write about it. This is a frustration for me because I should have plenty of time to write unless there is an agenda I am not aware of, which is entirely possible.

So I have started reading again. And reading stuff that matters. I blitzed through Learning to Walk in the Darkness by Barbara Brown Taylor, which opened me up to accepting the darker portions of my own journey. (Stick with me over the next several posts, you will probably get to endure some that reading) Biographies have always been a favorite, and it is hard not to like a really well crafted fictional story. I wish I had that sort of creativity. But I am learning to live with my jealousy.

With the reading I am finding my sense of humor has come back, my perspective has poked its head out a bit, and life seems to have a better flavor.

Godspeed to those who read, even this little shot every once in a while. I appreciate your patience and rely on your kind words.
Don

Just Get Me Home

It is a normal trip to Reno for a trade show. Trade shows are typically a little boring anyway and I was getting a lot of planning done, along with observing other salesmen in their booths. Just a typical day. Went to dinner at a new place and it was pleasant, but not extraordinary. Did hear a funny conversation at the table next to mine between a young couple that I thought were marrieds, but turned out they were fairly new in the relationship, but he had progressed further than she. Anyway, it was with great restraint that I didn't interject (particularly for his part, he was headed for a very rude awakening) But we all live and learn in our own ways. By the way, I always take a table and never eat at the bar, One simple reason, if you eat at the bar it seems to be an invitation for everyone to talk to you. After a long day of talking to people I don't know I did not want to continue with more people I did not know. Besides the weird ones all sit at the bar. So I grab a table and just eavesdrop on the folks around me. Anyway, I seem to have wandered off topic.

So while eating dinner I had the first faint little hints of an Afib episode. I am a veteran of these. Three episodes bad enough to send me to the ER, and numerous little ones that keep me guessing. Woke up  the next morning to work out and realized my old buddy, Afib was still with me. Heart rate about 100, not bad but uncomfortable. For the uninformed Afib is the top part of the heart keeping the big bottom part primed to squirt blood all over the body. When the top part stutters, the bottom chambers just keep working harder and harder to no avail. The immediate symptom is shortness of breath because the blood is not carrying the oxygen very effiecntly. So you pant to get enough air.
It either gets worse or it goes back into rythym and all is good.

I texted my bride just after waking up and told her what was happening and that it was mild. Then as I was walking to the car to find a Starbucks, it kicked back in. I felt fine. So I texted her again and said no problem, all was good. When she answered she said, " Oh good. You better have a plan in place."

Hmm, a plan. The extent of my planning is to hope it doesn't happen. Sort of the ostrich approach. Of course there are ERs in nearly every place I go. So my real plan is to panic and call the EMTs.
But then I wondered what I needed to do if this really took an ugly turn and I stepped into the great uncounting while on the road.

I have developed two lists. The first is a list of places that my bride can just leave me. Seattle, Charlotte, in fact nearly anywhere in north or south Carolina. Boston is nice, but cold (I know, some of you are thinking I may need the cold to offset the heat I may find on the other side, but I don't think it works that way). Scottsdale and Phoenix are just as good, but the opposite problem of heat. Texas is the best, but the purpose here is if I am somewhere else.
The second list is longer, DO NOT LEAVE ME IN Los Angeles. It is NOT filled with Angels, it is crowded and ugly and my least favorite place. Keep me out of Chicago and upper Midwest..they talk funny. If I am in Colorado it is just a noncontiguous Texas county, there are more Texans there than in El Paso. Speaking of which, not El Paso, or Clovis NM.
But if at all possible get me home. As in where all my crowd is located. I don't want to travel the heavens to watch my kids grow old or my grandkids grow up. I'm also hoping to be close enough that my bride can join me at some point and I don't want her to have to travel beyond the single step we will all take.
Home for me is where the ones who love me outnumber the ones who don't know me. The ones who love me will be my final resting place.
So my plan is to make the final step at home, but if not I will find my way there.

Godspeed, home is the resting place we all long for.

PS to my bride, if the plane falls out of the sky, sue 'em.
Don