It seems over the past few years my bride and I have come across the friends we accumulated through the years. Facebook has reconnected us to high school friends and people we barely knew from high school. Circumstances have brought us together through college reunions and events that we knew from those formative college days, more years ago than I care to admit. One looked me up to ask for the phone number of another..should my feelings be hurt? Naw, he was like that in college. He wouldn't get it.
Let me say that we have all changed. For some reason the guys, though older, I can more easily recognize. Some of the women I couldn't pick out of a line up. By and large we have all gained a few pounds, we have all gotten grayer, our bodies have shifted. All of us carry scars from the battles fought in business, in church, in families, and in marriage. Some of the folks we knew as young couples are couples no more. Some have taken a mulligan in that arena and we recognize them even less. Most of us have kids that had kids, and the constant seems to be the worry over them all. There are constants that work for each one of us, death, loss, worry mingled and mixed with joy, contentment, and settlement.
This past week we were able to spend a few precious hours with some friends that we have known for years. My friend Don and I met when we were in about the 6th grade. Even though he moved away in high school, we kept up and remained good friends through college and all the years since then. When and he and Gay met, she blended right in with our crowd. So we had some time to sit and visit about all the circling constellations of our lives. Sitting on their deck overlooking the lake, drinking a really good cab and just connecting.
So how does this happen? How can we miss some really important years in each other's lives, then pick up like we had only missed them last weekend? Nothing had changed. The jokes were funny (cab talking?) We were able to open the locked closet of fear and anguish and let each other peek inside. We saw and I'm sure they saw the continued smoking cannons from our marriage wars. How can this be? There have been some desperate times in their marriage and in ours, yet the bond felt as close and tight as ever. Why do we blend some people even in face of absence, and can't make that bond with people we see everyday? I will tell you there is only a very small hand full of people who fit this category for me. Perhaps it is as simple as my inability to have and to hold close a great number of friends. We have some friends now in our lives that I feel is as close as my own biological family. If we were to be separated through life events, then reunite way down the road, it would only be a moment to reconnect. But these people are far fewer than you would imagine.
On the other hand, there are people that we were once close to that we can't seem to regarner the feeling. They have grown old and odd to us. They have strange pastimes and their kids have strange lives. I'm sure we look as strange to them as they do to us. Getting glimpses of the old high school friends has been an eye-opener. Reunion is next year and looking less and less likely.
Is this just me? I don't think so. For whatever reason we seem to connect to some people for the remainder of our lives. Perhaps it is a soul thing. Perhaps it is a training thing. Or maybe it is just the oddity of life that happens with no specific explanation. Maybe we will have adjoining rooms in heaven. Who knows?
Godspeed, this journey loops and cuts back on itself so we can see the beauty of a life spent with friends.
Don
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
He is Everywhere
We have made the pilgrimage to Amarillo for the my eldest grandson's birthday. We drove out with my youngest daughter and her son, my bride, and myself. It is not what one could describe as "scenic". Unless you like flat, brown, and boring. But the invention of CD players in cars and all the great animated classics (Toy Story, Cars, and Incredibles) the ride seems to move along at a snail's pace, and not like a glacier.
We arrived and unloaded. Then spent the afternoon and evening unwinding, getting dinner prepared, and visiting. By 10PM I was cooked, done. So off to bed I went.
This morning I was up before the herd was stirring. So I poured a mug of coffee, properly doctored with creamer and went outside to enjoy the cool morning.
What started out a reflection was turned again into a small, quiet moment of praise. The chorus ringing through my head, "I exalt thee, I exalt thee, I exalt thee Oh Lord." The music is wonderful, the words a great calm on my heart. The ever-present cool, high-country breeze only making the morning deep and quiet. There is something unchanging about the high plains, a sort of flowing constant, and ever-present.
It was then that I realized that God is either everywhere, or we carry Him with us wherever we go. I have sat next to lakes and watched the sun emerge over the far shore and dapple the water. There have been times on the side of mountains with friends from long ago where the air was thin and pure..and He was present. There have been hotel rooms far from home on work trips.. and He was there. Mission trips in foreign lands knowing that the work that day would be hard, with sore muscles and peaceful heart.. and He was there. There have been hospitals and dark nights, funeral homes, and empty tombs..and He was there. He apparently is everywhere, because I have found in those moments that I am just as apt to close my heart and not feel Him near me at all. I do not believe that our inability to fully understand will keep us from Him. I believe it our ability to ignore Him is what will doom us. You see in this moment in my life where it feels that I have been wandering in the wilderness He is there when I open the eyes to my heart. As A grandaddy I watch my grandkids with joy, and humor, and concern, and compassion. It makes my heart leap when they jump into my arms and acknowledge our special bond. There is nothing that sinks my heart like being ignored by my grandkids. I think this is a close feeling that God carries for His children.
Anyway, a few moments well spent this morning.
Godspeed, there is nothing like a cool morning, anticipation of the day, and God being near.
Don
We arrived and unloaded. Then spent the afternoon and evening unwinding, getting dinner prepared, and visiting. By 10PM I was cooked, done. So off to bed I went.
This morning I was up before the herd was stirring. So I poured a mug of coffee, properly doctored with creamer and went outside to enjoy the cool morning.
What started out a reflection was turned again into a small, quiet moment of praise. The chorus ringing through my head, "I exalt thee, I exalt thee, I exalt thee Oh Lord." The music is wonderful, the words a great calm on my heart. The ever-present cool, high-country breeze only making the morning deep and quiet. There is something unchanging about the high plains, a sort of flowing constant, and ever-present.
It was then that I realized that God is either everywhere, or we carry Him with us wherever we go. I have sat next to lakes and watched the sun emerge over the far shore and dapple the water. There have been times on the side of mountains with friends from long ago where the air was thin and pure..and He was present. There have been hotel rooms far from home on work trips.. and He was there. Mission trips in foreign lands knowing that the work that day would be hard, with sore muscles and peaceful heart.. and He was there. There have been hospitals and dark nights, funeral homes, and empty tombs..and He was there. He apparently is everywhere, because I have found in those moments that I am just as apt to close my heart and not feel Him near me at all. I do not believe that our inability to fully understand will keep us from Him. I believe it our ability to ignore Him is what will doom us. You see in this moment in my life where it feels that I have been wandering in the wilderness He is there when I open the eyes to my heart. As A grandaddy I watch my grandkids with joy, and humor, and concern, and compassion. It makes my heart leap when they jump into my arms and acknowledge our special bond. There is nothing that sinks my heart like being ignored by my grandkids. I think this is a close feeling that God carries for His children.
Anyway, a few moments well spent this morning.
Godspeed, there is nothing like a cool morning, anticipation of the day, and God being near.
Don
Thursday, June 2, 2011
ER..
You miss a couple of weeks and the world changes. Blogspot had a problem, so I couldn't write the blog. Several things happened that I wanted to write about, but I was unable to, then lost interest. For whatever reason I didn't visit Facebook either, mostly due to just being in a funk. But below are a few hospital observations.
Spent the best part of the day in the ER a couple of weeks ago with Atrial Fibrillation. Never happened before, probably won't happen again. But now I am "in the system" The cardiologists are all over me. You have to understand that in the last 57 years the only hospital stays for me have been one event in childhood where they removed my tonsils. The other was 15 years ago when I had a virus that mimicked heart problems. The second event was more fun because they introduced me to morphine. Now there is a drug! You may still feel bad, but YOU DON'T CARE!
Here are my observations about ER from the perspective of a 57 year old guy with grey hair:
When you walk in complaining of chest pains, they move you to front of the line. No taking a number. She called an orderly to come get me and move me to a room right next to the nurse's station. Customer service in the medical industry is never at a higher level than in this singular instance.
Secondly, there is a fascination with my name and birth date. Every single person asked these two questions: What is your name? What is your birth date? After the fourth one, I wanted to tell them, "Write this down, share it with all your friends, Stop asking me!" I'm stuck here with an IV, pressure cup, heart monitor, and sticky electrodes from the EKG. Somewhere someone has my name and birth date. I considered giving them a false name or making up a birth date, but I was afraid it would delay my release.
Third, when the ER doc asked me when all this started, my bride was sitting in the room trying to control her panic and dealing with my kids, who were all calling and texting, it occurred to me that I had not mentioned to her that it probably started about midnight the night before. Particularly since we worked out at our usual 4:30AM, and I only then mentioned that I did not feel well. She was not going to be happy that this was the first time hearing it. So my quandary is this: Do I lie to the doc? or tell the truth and catch a LOT of mischief from my bride...hmmm. Reluctantly I told the truth, saw the lovely jaw set,knew that any heart condition was the least of my worries.
Fourth, I have a theory about hospitals. If you keep your clothes on, including shoes, they have to let you go home. Right? So kept my jeans on, my workout shoes, lost my shirt when they did the EKG, but kept all else intact. My youngest kept asking how I could be comfortable in jeans on a hospital bed. Comfort is not the issue, escape is the primary focus.
Finally, at the end of the day, after two IVs, sitting strapped to all kinds of monitoring equipment, I needed to hit the restroom. I called the nurse, they were working on my discharge papers. 20 minutes later still no nurse. My youngest went to track her down, the nurse was on her way. 10 minutes later when she showed up, she started unhooking all the paraphernalia then became transfixed by the story on the TV about the little boy found dead in Maine by his N. Texas mother. The nurse literally stopped moving and stared at the TV with her hands at her side. Meanwhile, I am squirming like a little boy on a long car ride. Get me unhooked or go get a mop! Like a dog let out of a kennel, as soon as the last constraint was removed I bolted for the john. Whew, it was close.
6PM headed home. Starving. We stopped and got me a loaded baked potato. Heaven.
A-fib is uncomfortable, but imminently manageable. What disheartened me about the entire day was the emotional harm on my bride. She handled it like the combat veteran she is, but it twisted my heart to realize I had caused this trauma. As we were going out the door at the house she put her fingers to her lips,as if trying to stifle a scream. Guilt washed over me like never before. Oh we have taken chunks out of each other in our 36 years together, but to harm is always a trauma for me. How could I say I was sorry for something I couldn't control? Emotions are funny things, they just show up, unbidden and unwanted. They are what they are. This is probably the only lasting damage done, to scare her with the unknown, the uncontrolled.
Anyway, the heart is fine. A lot of people out there probably are glad to realize I have one. Wore a monitor for 24 hours, tracking my heart rate, etc. I tried to get my bride to participate in a little action, just to see if we could set the thing off, a firm "no". Stress test next week. As if our lives alone aren't stress enough.
Godspeed, the journey is rejoined. The heart is good, I hope, not in the physical sense, but the integrity sense.
Don
Spent the best part of the day in the ER a couple of weeks ago with Atrial Fibrillation. Never happened before, probably won't happen again. But now I am "in the system" The cardiologists are all over me. You have to understand that in the last 57 years the only hospital stays for me have been one event in childhood where they removed my tonsils. The other was 15 years ago when I had a virus that mimicked heart problems. The second event was more fun because they introduced me to morphine. Now there is a drug! You may still feel bad, but YOU DON'T CARE!
Here are my observations about ER from the perspective of a 57 year old guy with grey hair:
When you walk in complaining of chest pains, they move you to front of the line. No taking a number. She called an orderly to come get me and move me to a room right next to the nurse's station. Customer service in the medical industry is never at a higher level than in this singular instance.
Secondly, there is a fascination with my name and birth date. Every single person asked these two questions: What is your name? What is your birth date? After the fourth one, I wanted to tell them, "Write this down, share it with all your friends, Stop asking me!" I'm stuck here with an IV, pressure cup, heart monitor, and sticky electrodes from the EKG. Somewhere someone has my name and birth date. I considered giving them a false name or making up a birth date, but I was afraid it would delay my release.
Third, when the ER doc asked me when all this started, my bride was sitting in the room trying to control her panic and dealing with my kids, who were all calling and texting, it occurred to me that I had not mentioned to her that it probably started about midnight the night before. Particularly since we worked out at our usual 4:30AM, and I only then mentioned that I did not feel well. She was not going to be happy that this was the first time hearing it. So my quandary is this: Do I lie to the doc? or tell the truth and catch a LOT of mischief from my bride...hmmm. Reluctantly I told the truth, saw the lovely jaw set,knew that any heart condition was the least of my worries.
Fourth, I have a theory about hospitals. If you keep your clothes on, including shoes, they have to let you go home. Right? So kept my jeans on, my workout shoes, lost my shirt when they did the EKG, but kept all else intact. My youngest kept asking how I could be comfortable in jeans on a hospital bed. Comfort is not the issue, escape is the primary focus.
Finally, at the end of the day, after two IVs, sitting strapped to all kinds of monitoring equipment, I needed to hit the restroom. I called the nurse, they were working on my discharge papers. 20 minutes later still no nurse. My youngest went to track her down, the nurse was on her way. 10 minutes later when she showed up, she started unhooking all the paraphernalia then became transfixed by the story on the TV about the little boy found dead in Maine by his N. Texas mother. The nurse literally stopped moving and stared at the TV with her hands at her side. Meanwhile, I am squirming like a little boy on a long car ride. Get me unhooked or go get a mop! Like a dog let out of a kennel, as soon as the last constraint was removed I bolted for the john. Whew, it was close.
6PM headed home. Starving. We stopped and got me a loaded baked potato. Heaven.
A-fib is uncomfortable, but imminently manageable. What disheartened me about the entire day was the emotional harm on my bride. She handled it like the combat veteran she is, but it twisted my heart to realize I had caused this trauma. As we were going out the door at the house she put her fingers to her lips,as if trying to stifle a scream. Guilt washed over me like never before. Oh we have taken chunks out of each other in our 36 years together, but to harm is always a trauma for me. How could I say I was sorry for something I couldn't control? Emotions are funny things, they just show up, unbidden and unwanted. They are what they are. This is probably the only lasting damage done, to scare her with the unknown, the uncontrolled.
Anyway, the heart is fine. A lot of people out there probably are glad to realize I have one. Wore a monitor for 24 hours, tracking my heart rate, etc. I tried to get my bride to participate in a little action, just to see if we could set the thing off, a firm "no". Stress test next week. As if our lives alone aren't stress enough.
Godspeed, the journey is rejoined. The heart is good, I hope, not in the physical sense, but the integrity sense.
Don
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Revolution
There is a revolution taking place and we are unprepared for the next skirmish. I have spent the past 4 or 5 years wondering if my displacement from organized church was a serious flaw in my spiritual walk, or if there was a problem with the entire system. It occurred to me not long ago that while my relationship with God continues to move and is rewarding in so many ways, my relationship with organized church continues to erode.
I have a couple of observations that might help a little. One is that there is a substantial shift from organized church in general. We thought 10 years ago it was the kids (anyone younger than us) but then I began to run into a lot of contemporaries who were experiencing the same displacement. Our expectation of "community of faith" was running headlong into our experience of "organized church" This is sure cocktail for disillusionment. It is easy to feel isolated by this phenomenon until I read (scanned really) George Barna's book Revolution. He claims this shift is widespread and permanent. I tend to agree.
Most churches are a study in a church "unbalanced" This all relates back to danger of the singular voice of the pulpit guy. They have the incredible pressure to keep the numbers up (attendance and contribution) and providing the entertainment and outlets for numbers to be counted. Consequently, most senior ministers are not "deep" men or preachers. They are activists in all the right terms, but could care less about spiritual formation. They hope that service alone will create and provide the depth that is needed. I disagree with the approach, but understand the dynamics of their concern.I believe if we focus on spiritual formation, service will be the natural outgrowth of this deeper walk with God. However, this is a slow and sometimes arduous process. Churches will always be a place that will attempt keep folks busy, but it won't develop individual, deep, spiritual depth. You have to remember that the instincts and actions of any established organization is the continuity of that organization, usually at the expense of any individuals who might threaten that organization. This tendency is not even consciously articulated, but is simply the nature of the beast. We have suffered this reality in ways great and small, so the evidence is experiential, not theoretical. My "professional" ministry was subverted by church leaders who preferred to see "busy" people over "developed" people. It is not uncommon, but sad nonetheless.
What is driving me now to find an alternative are the futures of my grandkids. I am beginning to see the need for a smaller, more intimate community of faith, that will ignore the magnetic pull of organized religion and embrace the scary and exhilarating leadership of the Spirit. In my head is a vision of folks meeting in my home, your home, several homes that include a bond of friendship over the doctrinal distinctives that we have trumpeted for way too long. I am rapidly hitting the moment in my journey where making sure my grandsons and granddaughter will recall honest, deep questions about God in a loving and close community rather than some antiquated version of my childhood "church". This will provide them with the spiritual tools they will need to continue their journey. Each of my kids are eyeing ways in which they can influence the lives of their children and are rapidly losing faith in the "system" that has been established. Church leadership had better be worried about these informed, discerning young adults. These young people will find a way, and it will not be in the best interests of organized religion.
So a revolution is taking place and this revolution will shake the concepts of church and society. It is going to happen. As part of the crowd who has been voted off the island of organized church, it is now my job to help facilitate the revolution for the sake of my kids and grandkids and ultimately the kingdom.
Godspeed, there is much to do, but more importantly, there is much to pray about.
Don
I have a couple of observations that might help a little. One is that there is a substantial shift from organized church in general. We thought 10 years ago it was the kids (anyone younger than us) but then I began to run into a lot of contemporaries who were experiencing the same displacement. Our expectation of "community of faith" was running headlong into our experience of "organized church" This is sure cocktail for disillusionment. It is easy to feel isolated by this phenomenon until I read (scanned really) George Barna's book Revolution. He claims this shift is widespread and permanent. I tend to agree.
Most churches are a study in a church "unbalanced" This all relates back to danger of the singular voice of the pulpit guy. They have the incredible pressure to keep the numbers up (attendance and contribution) and providing the entertainment and outlets for numbers to be counted. Consequently, most senior ministers are not "deep" men or preachers. They are activists in all the right terms, but could care less about spiritual formation. They hope that service alone will create and provide the depth that is needed. I disagree with the approach, but understand the dynamics of their concern.I believe if we focus on spiritual formation, service will be the natural outgrowth of this deeper walk with God. However, this is a slow and sometimes arduous process. Churches will always be a place that will attempt keep folks busy, but it won't develop individual, deep, spiritual depth. You have to remember that the instincts and actions of any established organization is the continuity of that organization, usually at the expense of any individuals who might threaten that organization. This tendency is not even consciously articulated, but is simply the nature of the beast. We have suffered this reality in ways great and small, so the evidence is experiential, not theoretical. My "professional" ministry was subverted by church leaders who preferred to see "busy" people over "developed" people. It is not uncommon, but sad nonetheless.
What is driving me now to find an alternative are the futures of my grandkids. I am beginning to see the need for a smaller, more intimate community of faith, that will ignore the magnetic pull of organized religion and embrace the scary and exhilarating leadership of the Spirit. In my head is a vision of folks meeting in my home, your home, several homes that include a bond of friendship over the doctrinal distinctives that we have trumpeted for way too long. I am rapidly hitting the moment in my journey where making sure my grandsons and granddaughter will recall honest, deep questions about God in a loving and close community rather than some antiquated version of my childhood "church". This will provide them with the spiritual tools they will need to continue their journey. Each of my kids are eyeing ways in which they can influence the lives of their children and are rapidly losing faith in the "system" that has been established. Church leadership had better be worried about these informed, discerning young adults. These young people will find a way, and it will not be in the best interests of organized religion.
So a revolution is taking place and this revolution will shake the concepts of church and society. It is going to happen. As part of the crowd who has been voted off the island of organized church, it is now my job to help facilitate the revolution for the sake of my kids and grandkids and ultimately the kingdom.
Godspeed, there is much to do, but more importantly, there is much to pray about.
Don
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Book Ideas
There are a ton of ideas floating around in my head. Some come and go, others float around for quite some time, others get stuck permanently in the gray matter. One of these ideas that is developing pressure in my head is the idea of a book..or at least something longer than the 800 or so words I slide into these posts. You may wonder why I haven't written one before. Well, it comes down to impulse for me. I write when I want to, when something compels me to write, when I am bored, when I find something funny or meaningful in my world. But there are some ideas that just won't go away. Below are a few of them.
"Don't Drink the Kool-Aid"
This would be a book based on my observations about business from someone who has never been ultimately in charge. I am actually working on this one. My friend Doug has been tasked with keeping me accountable for writing. So far he has done a good job. He has made me feel guilty for not writing anything worthwhile. My first attempt was a dismal failure (my words, not his) His face was a study in being a good friend, an honest critic, and a supporter. But it was simply an abysmal attempt. So I am working on funny stories that I will make into the chapter titles: Reality is always your Friend; Don't Breath Your Own Air; Lean Into the Wind; You Can Tell Me What To Do, or How, But Not Both (chapter title is too long)
Of course I could always write about the things I know best..Doggin' It; my version of efficiency.
"30/50"
This would be a relationship book. You know, the marriage thing? The premise would be that there are a number of us out here in the world that are about 50 years old and have been married about 30 years. I have talked to all sorts of people about this moment in life and my conclusion is that there is a galactic battle going on in these marriages. Reality has set in and the fallout can be tough. Titles would be in the nature of: The Mirror is Lying To Me Again; I'm Talked Out; Where is My..; and then my favorite chapter..I Shouldn't HAVE to Get Lucky!
This book will be written from one who is clueless and incautious and untrained..me.
"Raising God-Fearing, Well-Adjusted, Mature Kids: A Man's Guide to Child Rearing"
Family help book. Problem is that I only have one chapter...Marry Well.
There are dozens of others. But with my attention span and the permission I got from Meyers-Briggs (being an ENFP, strong in all categories)for being "forward thinking" There is a chance I will have to take my 800 word blog posts and turn them into a book. Of course the problem there is that you have already read them all.....right?
Then there is the problem of finding a publisher who gets my humor.
Hey, there is always self-publishing, which just sounds like self-help/self-medication/self-ish.
Godspeed to the budding authors. The titles are easy, the message is tough.
Don
"Don't Drink the Kool-Aid"
This would be a book based on my observations about business from someone who has never been ultimately in charge. I am actually working on this one. My friend Doug has been tasked with keeping me accountable for writing. So far he has done a good job. He has made me feel guilty for not writing anything worthwhile. My first attempt was a dismal failure (my words, not his) His face was a study in being a good friend, an honest critic, and a supporter. But it was simply an abysmal attempt. So I am working on funny stories that I will make into the chapter titles: Reality is always your Friend; Don't Breath Your Own Air; Lean Into the Wind; You Can Tell Me What To Do, or How, But Not Both (chapter title is too long)
Of course I could always write about the things I know best..Doggin' It; my version of efficiency.
"30/50"
This would be a relationship book. You know, the marriage thing? The premise would be that there are a number of us out here in the world that are about 50 years old and have been married about 30 years. I have talked to all sorts of people about this moment in life and my conclusion is that there is a galactic battle going on in these marriages. Reality has set in and the fallout can be tough. Titles would be in the nature of: The Mirror is Lying To Me Again; I'm Talked Out; Where is My..; and then my favorite chapter..I Shouldn't HAVE to Get Lucky!
This book will be written from one who is clueless and incautious and untrained..me.
"Raising God-Fearing, Well-Adjusted, Mature Kids: A Man's Guide to Child Rearing"
Family help book. Problem is that I only have one chapter...Marry Well.
There are dozens of others. But with my attention span and the permission I got from Meyers-Briggs (being an ENFP, strong in all categories)for being "forward thinking" There is a chance I will have to take my 800 word blog posts and turn them into a book. Of course the problem there is that you have already read them all.....right?
Then there is the problem of finding a publisher who gets my humor.
Hey, there is always self-publishing, which just sounds like self-help/self-medication/self-ish.
Godspeed to the budding authors. The titles are easy, the message is tough.
Don
Thursday, May 5, 2011
An Odd Moment in Time
Yesterday was an odd day for me. Twenty nine years ago my mother passed away at the age of 57. I turned 57 this past February. It was a day where I wondered what would become of my little tribe if this were to happen to me. The day was also filled with trying to objectively see what I had contributed to the world around me. And the day was spent pondering the arbitrariness of who goes when and how. I tried to stay busy, tried to fill the day working and arranging and shifting around. Anything to put my mind in neutral, but it did little good.
Mom spent the last several months in a wheelchair because the cancer had attacked her bones in the back and hips making mobility almost impossible. The final straw was the liver cancer, which is dreadfully painful. She spent a great deal of time trying to manage between the pain medication and being lucid. It was a harbinger that a few months before my bride and I were married she had a mastectomy to get at the breast cancer. Five years of peace and cancer-free, then the return in the bones and finally the liver. She knew the final fight was over for several months.
She and I visited about all of this and I would find out later that she only remembered some of it. She attempted to teach me even in the last impaired days. She had me read Psalms 116, "I love the Lord because he hears my prayers and answers them.." and then later in the same psalm, "Precious in the eyes of the Lord are the death of His children.." I read this psalm at her funeral, it still strikes so deeply within my soul. A psalm of fear and glory, of overwhelming grief and reassurance, a psalm of trauma and peace. I cannot read this, even now, without tears in my eyes. This single event changed my entire scope of prayer and suffering, salvation and perseverance, it toughened me for the years ahead when I would have to summon all the lessons for the fight against this detestable disease in my daughter.
So in this moment, what do I feel? Well, the pain has subsided. There are events now that I wish she could see, my grandkids, kids-in-law would all make her proud. She would say I have received more than I deserved. It makes me want to hug them all close, to imprint on them my love for them and my love for our gracious God. My youngest never met my mother, my older ones probably don't remember her all that well either. But I want my grandkids to see her through me. My love of self-styled spiritual study came from her. She never went to college, but taught generations of younger women at church. My devotion to things spiritual came from her, she was a spiritually disciplined person long before it became a fad. The 5:30AM study where she drew close to God and through prayer, the rest of us. She was a warrior within the church, cajoling, confronting all who needed a word; a constant pursuer of things spiritual.
I will tell you she was a tough-minded woman. She ran her home with untiring vigilance. I have tried to to imagine what she was like as a mother-in-law, or a grandmother, but nothing comes to mind. Do I share some of this? I am told that I do.
Have I made an impact in the world around me to the same degree that she did? I don't know. I know that I have tried. Will people remember my teaching, or my take on this world? This blog might be some sort of marker. Will my kids laugh when they remember? Will they hold bitterness? I hope not. It is a hope for us all that kids tend to remember the good times and as parents we tend to remember our mistakes.
Anyway, the day has passed. Navel-gazing is done. But the effort always leaves me slightly unsettled.
Godspeed, it is a strange moment for me.
Don
Mom spent the last several months in a wheelchair because the cancer had attacked her bones in the back and hips making mobility almost impossible. The final straw was the liver cancer, which is dreadfully painful. She spent a great deal of time trying to manage between the pain medication and being lucid. It was a harbinger that a few months before my bride and I were married she had a mastectomy to get at the breast cancer. Five years of peace and cancer-free, then the return in the bones and finally the liver. She knew the final fight was over for several months.
She and I visited about all of this and I would find out later that she only remembered some of it. She attempted to teach me even in the last impaired days. She had me read Psalms 116, "I love the Lord because he hears my prayers and answers them.." and then later in the same psalm, "Precious in the eyes of the Lord are the death of His children.." I read this psalm at her funeral, it still strikes so deeply within my soul. A psalm of fear and glory, of overwhelming grief and reassurance, a psalm of trauma and peace. I cannot read this, even now, without tears in my eyes. This single event changed my entire scope of prayer and suffering, salvation and perseverance, it toughened me for the years ahead when I would have to summon all the lessons for the fight against this detestable disease in my daughter.
So in this moment, what do I feel? Well, the pain has subsided. There are events now that I wish she could see, my grandkids, kids-in-law would all make her proud. She would say I have received more than I deserved. It makes me want to hug them all close, to imprint on them my love for them and my love for our gracious God. My youngest never met my mother, my older ones probably don't remember her all that well either. But I want my grandkids to see her through me. My love of self-styled spiritual study came from her. She never went to college, but taught generations of younger women at church. My devotion to things spiritual came from her, she was a spiritually disciplined person long before it became a fad. The 5:30AM study where she drew close to God and through prayer, the rest of us. She was a warrior within the church, cajoling, confronting all who needed a word; a constant pursuer of things spiritual.
I will tell you she was a tough-minded woman. She ran her home with untiring vigilance. I have tried to to imagine what she was like as a mother-in-law, or a grandmother, but nothing comes to mind. Do I share some of this? I am told that I do.
Have I made an impact in the world around me to the same degree that she did? I don't know. I know that I have tried. Will people remember my teaching, or my take on this world? This blog might be some sort of marker. Will my kids laugh when they remember? Will they hold bitterness? I hope not. It is a hope for us all that kids tend to remember the good times and as parents we tend to remember our mistakes.
Anyway, the day has passed. Navel-gazing is done. But the effort always leaves me slightly unsettled.
Godspeed, it is a strange moment for me.
Don
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
200
This is the 200th post since my bride set me up with a blog site. I know some of you are thinking this is probably 199 too many. But this has been a great activity for me. It gives me a place to journal, a place to vent, a place to observe, and a place to share. There have been some posts that I look back on and wonder what I was thinking at the time. There have also been a few that I know what I was thinking, but it makes me wonder why. A few posts have come dangerously close to being deleted, but in the spirit of emotional honesty I let them stand, good or bad, it was what was going on in my head at the time. I never claimed to be consistent.
There have been a few favorites, though. The deer crashing into my truck. The news that my son and D-i-L were expecting our precious Isaac, news received in the outback of New Mexico. Most of the posts surrounding Lincoln's birth and surgery.
My insight on life is usually sharpened by trauma. I'm not sure why this is so, but it puts my head in the "God wondering" mode. I have become, by nature, a contemplative, reading and thinking and meditating on the spiritual questions that seem to linger. Discernment (wisdom) is a product of suffering, not sure why, but this seems to be a theme in my writing.
But what astounds me the most is that you folks out there seem to keep coming back. You can't imagine how humbling it is that you continue to read, even when I know the writing is not particularly good or the insights very unique. It has been my stance that I write for me, but it overwhelms me that you read and respond. By the way, I get about as many responses via email as I do on the blog. That's fine, keep me in line, keep me challenged, that is what makes this fun. This post is to those out there who follow and respond, or not, but continue to read. Thank you.
So for a little bit of response. Should I change the way the blog looks? Over two years and the page still looks the same. I love the picture of my bride and my grandson. The metaphor of a journey is still the strongest in my life, so it will stay. Let me know what you think. Also, what were some of your favorites? Most of the folks I talk to just say they don't know what to say, but they tell me when something strikes a chord. I have one dear friend who keeps telling me to write a book...working on it. I did tell her to take all my posts, bind them, and sell the 20 or so copies that would sell and give the money to my bride when I am gone.
Thanks for the venue to write. Thanks especially to my bride for setting this up, it is the highlight of my week when I sit down to write. Thanks to all of you who follow.
Godspeed on this crazy journey we call life.
Don
There have been a few favorites, though. The deer crashing into my truck. The news that my son and D-i-L were expecting our precious Isaac, news received in the outback of New Mexico. Most of the posts surrounding Lincoln's birth and surgery.
My insight on life is usually sharpened by trauma. I'm not sure why this is so, but it puts my head in the "God wondering" mode. I have become, by nature, a contemplative, reading and thinking and meditating on the spiritual questions that seem to linger. Discernment (wisdom) is a product of suffering, not sure why, but this seems to be a theme in my writing.
But what astounds me the most is that you folks out there seem to keep coming back. You can't imagine how humbling it is that you continue to read, even when I know the writing is not particularly good or the insights very unique. It has been my stance that I write for me, but it overwhelms me that you read and respond. By the way, I get about as many responses via email as I do on the blog. That's fine, keep me in line, keep me challenged, that is what makes this fun. This post is to those out there who follow and respond, or not, but continue to read. Thank you.
So for a little bit of response. Should I change the way the blog looks? Over two years and the page still looks the same. I love the picture of my bride and my grandson. The metaphor of a journey is still the strongest in my life, so it will stay. Let me know what you think. Also, what were some of your favorites? Most of the folks I talk to just say they don't know what to say, but they tell me when something strikes a chord. I have one dear friend who keeps telling me to write a book...working on it. I did tell her to take all my posts, bind them, and sell the 20 or so copies that would sell and give the money to my bride when I am gone.
Thanks for the venue to write. Thanks especially to my bride for setting this up, it is the highlight of my week when I sit down to write. Thanks to all of you who follow.
Godspeed on this crazy journey we call life.
Don
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