Don’t Look Up

Posted on May 9, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

Today is Ascension Thursday … the day Jesus departed from this sphere. It reminded me of when our pastor announced he had been called to a congregation in Chicago. He was out of town that particular Sunday just prior to the Feast of the Ascension and I filled in. Well, here’s what came out as I walked into the pulpit looking up and all around …

When I first heard the news Harold was leaving, for whatever reason, my thought was the Ascension. I know I’m a couple of weeks early but I thought I would go with the flow.

Over the past couple of years, Harold and I have become good friends. His leaving certainly isn’t the same as Christ’s leaving so, maybe instead of looking up, I should look west (I looked west). He was not our savior, but he was our pastor and teacher … and now he’s gone.

Maybe that’s what struck me. It wasn’t the parallel events but the people left behind. In a sense, we can relate to what must have been going through the minds of the apostles. And that’s really what I want to focus on today.

Some of you have gone through this before. From what I gathered, when Harold was called, it was mutually expected a full time pastor could be the means to a deeper spiritual understanding and a growth spurt to bring this local church back. We looked laterally and missed the point. We look back a little dazed and bewildered, asking what’s next for this tiny church in Tyre, New York.

I really don’t know what’s in the future, but I do know we have the benefit of a road map of sorts in this (as I held up a bible), something even our first Christian forefathers didn’t have. I suspect they, too, were a little dazed and bewildered.

Let’s go back a little bit. The apostles believed in Jesus … but maybe they didn’t actually realize what they believed. I think they caught His passion and zeal but initially, I don’t think any of the 12 actually caught on to what this Jesus was all about. They were looking for a physical savior … not a spiritual savior. They were looking for a political leader, someone to lift them out of bondage.

And what happened. He was killed … no, not only killed, but humiliated and made an example of. Historically, other zealots have emerged on the scene and with their passing, their cause went with them.

What made this Jesus different?

Three days after His death, He re-appeared to them … not as a hologram, but in flesh and blood. It was the beginning of an epiphany for them. Their eyes were still clouded, but their ears were slowly being opened. This resurrected Jesus ate with them, talked with them and taught them for an additional 40 days. Lord, I believe … help me with my unbelief!

And there they stood on the mount that fateful day and … poof … He was gone again. And they looked up watching Him ascend upward. Why do you stand here looking into the sky?

Ironically, it’s an interesting allusion. They were looking for Jesus — again — by looking up. It’s a pretty safe way to go.

But the sequence brings us back to the original premise. Here they were, alone again, dazed and bewildered. The seed was planted, but it was far from germinated. They had all these ideas and premises and they had no idea what to do with them. Was what Jesus told them true? Would they go to the mat for Him and His ideas?

I think there is a very strong possibility the story could have ended right there … except for two things. The apostles didn’t understand, but they continued to believe. They had listened to the teachings of the Lord. They remembered His words. But most important, they prayed.

Just past the verses we read is the key to success. When they arrived [in Jerusalem], they went upstairs to the room where they were staying … They all joined together constantly in prayer ...

Peter stood up among the believers — a group just slightly larger than our congregation, about 120. Without fully realizing what he was saying, Peter tells them, The Scripture had to be fulfilled when referring to Judas. They replaced Judas by again coming together in prayer.

The full realization, however, comes in Chapter 2 when they were filled with the Holy Spirit. Again they were all together in one place in Jerusalem. Although Scripture doesn’t record it, I suspect they were praying when those tongues of fire descended on them. The commotion draws a crowd. Infused with the power of the Holy Spirit, Peter — who is known more for acting than thinking — addresses the crowd. Some great and wondrous words rolled off his tongue.

… and everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved …

… God raised Him from the dead … because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on Him … God has raised this Jesus to life, and we are all witnesses of the fact …

… Exalted to the right hand of God, He has received from the Father the promised Holy Spirit and has poured out what you now see and hear …

Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit …

And about 3,000 were added to their number. Not bad for a fisherman turned impromptu preacher!

And the story continues … each time with prayer as a cornerstone.

Did the apostles know what was around the corner? Did they know what tomorrow would bring? Were they prepared for their calling?

No. No. Yes.

Yes, I believe they were prepared because they were grounded in faith … not their faith … Faith. They believed the words of Jesus even in the face of failure. They anticipated something miraculous happening even when they feared for their lives. They were humanly dejected and depressed but they stuck together … prayed together … believed together … and were delivered together.

That’s the parallel I would like to make today.

I deliberately chose Psalm 46 as a reflective reading because it is a tremendous example of God as an ever-present help in our every day lives.

The psalm points us to our refuge, our safe house. God is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear…

But the poet adds, Be still, and know that I am God. “Let be” reads a marginal notation, but in a colloquialism we have it even more clearly, “Relax.”

This is not a theory of knowledge, to rest is not necessarily to know. But psychology has something to say about the relationship of relaxation to sanity. Indeed, the treatment of minds broken by catastrophes or the inhumanity, fancied or real, of one’s fellow man demands relaxation as the first step in therapy.

We know two things about modern life — tensions are increasing and each of us has a breaking point. This means unless we learn to ease our tensions, they will break us. There is no evasion of that fact.

For those of us for whom tension is not yet a malady or likely to cause a breakdown, the words of the ancient psychotherapist are important. How is one to know God amid the din and clatter of the modern world?

While there may some who find noise as proof of God, for the rest of us the noise distracts us from God. Mountains are shaken, waters roar and are troubled, nations rage and kingdoms — and pastors — move. The result is people are likewise shaken and troubled, enraged or moved. Is it possible at least a part of our growing unhappiness lies in the fact not only tensions grow, but even when we are able to be still, we are not interested in knowing God? These are matters, to be sure, remote in time from our poet, but are they not very near to the things with which he was realistically concerned?

Amid the tumult of nature, he not only affirmed faith; he rested in unagitated calm. When nations raged, he heard above the noise the quiet voice of Yahweh. It was good to be confident but in order to be confident it was necessary to first be still.

One day a little girl slipped into her father’s study. Without saying a word, she quietly sat on the floor close beside him, watching him at work. After a while he said, “Honey, is there something you want?” “No,” she replied, “I am just sitting here loving you.” Soon she left as quietly as she had come in.

Little did she know the lesson she had taught her father. She had not come to ask him for anything. She had just wanted to be near him and love him. The thought came to him, “How often do I spend time in God’s presence, just loving Him and becoming acquainted with Him? Or do I only come to Him when I have a request to ask of Him?”

God not only wants us to bring our requests to Him, but He also wants us to spend time with Him. Yet we are so busy and have so many needs we often rush into His presence, make our requests known and rush out again without taking time to be quiet enough to hear Him. Through the psalmist, God tells us, Be still, and know that I am God.

The true Biblical heroes have something in common. They had a close friendship and walk with God. God spoke of Abraham as “My friend” in Isaiah 41:8. David was described as “a man after Mine own heart” (Acts 13:22). In the lives of Christians through the ages who were strong in their faith, we learn they took the time to be still and become intimately acquainted with God.

Quietness is not just the opposite of noise. It is not the absence of excitement, haste and confusion. These dissipate strength while calmness conserves it. The world’s mighty men have grown in solitude.

In stillness, we can wait and listen … just like the apostles. They came together in prayer, entering their spiritual closet, closing the door and becoming quiet in His presence, meditating on who God is and what He had done for them through their closest friend, Jesus. And as they became quiet before Him, God spoke and revealed Himself through the Holy Spirit.

We, too, must come before the Lord in prayer — communally and individually. But we must be still and know He is God … He is in control … He knows how He wants to use us, each and every one of us, to further His kingdom … He has determined the future of this Tyre congregation …

So, don’t look up on this Ascension Day or any other day. Look around.

And let the faithful say, “Amen.”

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: If you don’t know what you want to do it’s harder to do it.

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Wednesday Writing XXII

Posted on May 8, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

It’s Wednesday so we’ll add to our story.

Here’s where we left off.

As Mom appeared in the kitchen and sat down at the dining room table, I hardly recognized her. How did she age so much in just a few weeks? What was going on?  …

The nurse in me led to tackling the parade of orange bottles sitting over the sink. Certainly, some of them, no, most of them, were probably Dad’s. I figured I would weed them out and take them down to the pharmacy for disposal.

Sure enough, the first five or so were Dad’s. But there were still a number of bottles left, along with aspirin and vitamins. They were for Mom.

Okay, potassium. That make sense. After all Mom is 76 years old.

Metformin. Well that must be for her diabetes.

All right, furosemide, a diuretic. Makes sense.

Whoa. Norvasc. I know Mom has high blood pressure, but that seems like a pretty potent dose.

Huh? More high blood pressure meds? Lisinopril?

What in the world is this? Aricept. Isn’t that for dementia? When was Mom diagnosed with dementia?

“Mom. Mom.” I called out.

“Yes, dear.

“Have you been taking your meds?”

“Yes,” she said confidently. I looked at the bottles again. When I checked fill dates, the pills used didn’t match.

“Are you sure?” I asked as I carried the handful of bottles into the living room. “I haven’t seen you taking any pills since I’ve been here.”

“You just didn’t see me,” she responded, flicking her hand dismissively.

I sat down next to her. “Mom. What’s going on? What are these all for?”

“I don’t know,” she said candidly. “The doctor said I needed to take these, so I do.”

“But do you know why? Do you know what you’re being treated for? What’s the Aricept for? Are you being treated for dementia?”

“No. No.” she said. “I forget some things sometimes. These are just to help me remember.”

“Well, how are you feeling?” I continued.

“I’m tired … real tired.”

She also looked a little pale, so I pulled out my stethoscope to take her blood pressure. Even though she balked at first, she let me take it. 88/52. Too low. Much too low. No wonder she looks pale and is so tired.

“Okay, Monday I’m calling Dr. Gibson. I need to know how you’re doing and what you’re being treated for,” I told her.

Sheepishly, she responded, “Whatever…”

There you go. Where do we go from here?

Interest — and feedback — seems to be waning, so I think we’re going to wrap this up over the next week or two.  Do you have any thoughts? Are there any other storylines we should clean up?

You can post your ideas as comments on the blog – but remember everyone will see them, so the “surprise” factor might get lost – or you can e-mail me directly at revblt@rochester.rr.com. Each Wednesday I will continue the story on the blog, along with that week’s attribution and periodically update Reveille/Between the Lakes readers.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the story thus far. I’ve had fun. Let me know.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Most things people fail to do are caused by failure to start.

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Five Minute Friday — Brave

Posted on May 3, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

Here’s this week’s installment of Five Minute Friday. You might remember the task is to write for five minutes on a specific prompt word. The initiative was started by Lisa-Jo Baker (http://lisajobaker.com/2013/05/five-minute-friday-brave-2/http://) who thought about writing and how often our perfectionism gets in the way of our words. And she figured, why not take five minutes and see what comes out: not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing.

This week’s prompt is BRAVE.

So, the timer is set … so here goes. {clock starts now}

When I think of the word brave I think past tense. It’s not really an action, but more of a reaction. We describe people as being brave or having bravery, but at the moment of decision, that’s the furthest thing from their mind. It’s reacting — selflessly– to the situation and moving forward. It doesn’t matter whether you’re referring to a soldier in battle or a person battling a debilitating illness. They do not enter the situation brave. They react to the situation … which makes them brave.

The bravest person I know was my wife. Karen faced her cancer head on, never complaining despite nagging pain. She vowed through the illness she was going to live every day to its fullest {I wish she had felt that way earlier, but, hey}. She wasn’t going to let a silly little thing like cancer beat her spirit.

One of the last things she said to me was, “Keep me comfortable if you must, but I have a final destination to go to. I’ll meet you there.”

That’s bravery. A five month journey into the unknown.

You hear that from soldiers as well. I knew a Medal of Honor recipient who never considered himself “brave” or a “hero”. He told me once all he did was follow his training and instinct. He wasn’t trying to be a hero. But he and a fellow soldier cleared seven bunkers during an ambush in Vietnam, driving an enemy platoon from a well prepared position.

That’s bravery in action.

The list just goes on and on.  … STOP

Well, that’s what popped into this mind this week.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Procrastination makes an easy job seem more difficult.

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Wednesday Writing XXI

Posted on May 1, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

Wow. Twenty-one weeks. There seems to be some interest — although not much feedback — so, since it’s Wednesday, we’ll add to our story. The story thus far is on the blog under “Story.”

Here’s where we left off.

C-R-A-S-H!!! …

Chapter Five
C-R-A-S-H!!!

“Shit!”

The crash and shrill comment awakened me from my nostalgic Neverland and brought back into reality. “Mom?” I cried out, at the same time realizing my hands were immersed mid-forearm in soapy water.

“I’m okay,” Mom said. “I just knocked over a table.”

Simultaneously, I cried out again, “Mom, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she repeated as I fumbled for a dish towel and headed into the living room.

There she was, on all fours on the floor, picking up 1,000 jigsaw pieces. I noticed a wet spot on her behind, shadowed by a dried, slightly larger stain. I went over and helped her scoop the pieces back into the box and right the table. Then, trying to be discreet and sympathetic as I helped her back to her feet, I said, “Mom, you must have spilled something. Let’s…”

“Or I pissed myself again,” she interrupted.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up. Then I’ll make some tea, Okay?”

“Okay,” she said as she squeezed my hand and we made our way into the bedroom.

The bedroom. Now, Mom was never Mrs. Homemaker. Her forte was in the kitchen. But when I walked into her room, I was aghast. The bed wasn’t made, there were clothes thrown on it and the floor, drawers were half opened with clothes hanging out, shoes and slippers littered the floor. It looked more like … well, my room when I was a teenager.

As she started changing, I went into the bathroom. The hamper was overflowing, powder was all over the floor, the shower curtain liner was all bunched up with flecks of mold in the creases and the medicine chest was slid wide open.

When I got back to the kitchen to put water on for tea, I was overwhelmed by not only the dishes and glasses and cups I had washed and dried, but also with how many more still had to be done. Where did they come from?

It had been just a few weeks since I was home, visiting then burying Dad. I guess I was so wrapped up with him, I neglected to take notice of Mom. And in that moment, I remembered my last conversation with Dad.

“You have to promise me something, Sweetheart,” he said.

“Anything, Daddy,” I responded through tears. “You know that.”

“You have to take care of Mom.”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it,” he said sternly in a tone I rarely heard from him. “I know you and Mom don’t always get along, but she’s a good woman.”

“Well, I know,” I said.

“Believe it or not, you two are so much alike. But she is going to need you. Give her a chance and promise me you will take care of her.”

As Mom appeared in the kitchen and sat down at the dining room table, I hardly recognized her. How did she age so much in just a few weeks? What was going on?

There you go, readers. Where do we go from here?

All you have to do is put down your thoughts and get them to me. You can post your ideas as comments on the blog – but remember everyone will see them, so the “surprise” factor might get lost – or you can e-mail me directly at revblt@rochester.rr.com. Each Wednesday I will continue the story on the blog, along with that week’s attribution and periodically update Reveille/Between the Lakes readers.

I hope we’re having some fun with this. Let me know what you think.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Contentment stifles progress.  Dissatisfaction breeds success.

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Puppies

Posted on April 28, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

This is another excerpt from 50 things that really matter.

My husband, Matt, wanted to get a dog for years, but I always resisted. “We’ll be chained down.” I said. “Think of the dog hair!” I whined. Then a neighbor put up a sign advertising her litter of yellow labs. I relented, baby Lulu came home with us, and she started teaching me lessons about life — one lick at a time.

Within 24 hours of her arrival, I was reduced to human dust mop, shimmying around the floor, gripping plastic toys and squeaking, “Oh, what a sweet little girl! Give Mommy a kiss!” (Lulu Lesson #1: When you’re really enjoying play, you don’t care how foolish you look.)

Soon, Matt and I both were hooked. We’d fret over her whining. We would buy books on how to socialize her. We fed her by hand. Against all good judgment and advice, we’d let her sleep with us. She repaid us — with poops on the carpet. (Lulu Lesson #2: Parenting can make you more neurotic than you’ve ever dreamed possible.)

Before Lulu arrived, I’d sleep until 8:30 a.m. one day; the next I’d be up at dawn. Now Lulu will be standing on my chest by the time the sun crests the horizon, demanding to get out the door within the next 15 minutes. (Lulu Lesson #3: Ritual is the glue that holds love together.)

Although I used to stay at work late, I now can’t wait to get home t night. When I arrive, Lulu will be standing on a chair, peeking out the window. And the moment I cross the threshold, I’ll be rewarded with what feels like the kind of welcome normally reserved for pro athletes and legendary rock stars. A few licks, and I can forget the petty details of the day. (Lulu Lesson #4: Unconditional love is a renewable resource.)

We’ve learned to read her body signals: the cocked head of curiosity; the ears pressed back with excitement and adoration; the sigh that comes from deep within a warm, rubbed belly. Even one of her looks almost knocks me off my feet: “You’re a dog,” I’ll think. “But what great conversations we’ve been having!” (Lulu Lesson #5: True communication is only possible when we don’t rely upon language.)

By Mariska vanAalst, 50 things that really matter, Rodale Press for Hallmark

Ah, puppies. The frustration. The fun. The bonding.

I’ve been a dog person all my life, although I assume the same bond exists with cats as well.

Mariska learned some real life lessons through Lulu. I learned them through Jet and Snoopy and Harrigan and Mandi and Patches and Tag and Tess. The biggest lesson (Lulu Lesson #4) is unconditional love is a renewable resource. The more you love your puppy, the more they will love you back. It’s empowering.

She didn’t touch on companionship … especially in an empty house. After Karen died, it was the puppies that brought me back into the house. They needed me … and I, quite frankly, needed them. Many a time, I sobbed into a ball of white fur without any hesitation on Tess’ part. And a little lick here or a little lick there would snap me out of my funk.

Tess and Tag were also traveling companions. I took them with me on road trips from Maine to the Jersey shore to Ohio and Illinois. Tag was the restless one in the car, jumping from front seat to back seat and back. Tess, a couple of miles into a trip {probably to make sure we weren’t going to the vets} would lay down and curl into a ball until we reached our destination. People got used to seeing their faces poking out the window as we tooled around town.

Puppies. Dogs. Cats. Unconditional friends … and just another thing that really matters.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Nobody ever got his mind dirty doing hard work.

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Not So Empty Nest

Posted on April 27, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

Empty nest. Don’t think I’m going to experience that too soon.

As you know, my son, his wife, their three children and their menagerie — two dogs, an outside cat and guinea pig — moved in with me. It’s been going well. There’s life in the house again and all of us have settled in nicely.

But we did have a situation last week. Well, let me just share it from the beginning…

While visiting their other grandfather, Poppa’s cat dragged in a baby bunny. Eldest granddaughter “rescued” the frightened bunny from the cat’s claws, and insisted she would mother it back to health. So, she came bouncing in the house with a “Grandpa! Grandpa! Look what I have!” as she showed me the tiny little bunny held tightly in her arms. “I’m going to keep him.”

“Oh.” That was all I could say. Then I made the mistake of asking what’s it’s name was.

“Well, it was going to be Mr. Bun Bun, but I don’t know whether it’s a boy or girl, so we’re just calling him Bun Bun.”

Welcome to the family, Bun Bun.

I did have some reservations, not because I was concerned about the bunny, but the circumstances he found himself in. Bun Bun didn’t appear to have any punctures, but internally … who knows? And he was awful small, probably six to inches in length.

My son figured it was a jack-rabbit, which added to the skepticism. Jack-rabbits, while leaving the nest soon after birth, are born with a coat of fur and are about six to inches when born. That describes Bun Bun perfectly. The last sentence in the Internet-driven description was jack-rabbits cannot be domesticated.

At any rate, we got through Tuesday night and Wednesday in a makeshift box “cage.” Bun Bun appeared to be eating some of the lettuce and granddaughter was bubbling.

Then came Thursday morning. Bun Bun was found lying on its side with its paws stiff. Taylor’s mood crashed. A “funeral” was planned with a backyard interment Thursday afternoon.

But that wasn’t the end of the story. Mom and Dad felt so bad for Taylor — and were looking for a birthday present — they asked if they could buy her a bunny for her birthday. After all, she’s been begging for a bunny for, well, forever. What could I say?

So, welcome to the house Mr. Fluffy. At least you have a decent cage, not a makeshift box.

I guess my kids and all of God’s creatures know I have an open house policy. Friday morning, my grandson discovered a mouse in the bathtub — a very live, very wet mouse since my granddaughter had just finished her shower. First words out of youngest granddaughter’s mouth? “Can we keep him?

“Ah… No,” was the quick response.

And note to cats: you guys missed that one.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: You can always tell luck from ability by its duration.

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Five Minute Friday – Friend

Posted on April 26, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

Here’s this week’s installment of Five Minute Friday. You might remember the task is to write for five minutes on a specific prompt word. The initiative was started by Lisa-Jo Baker (http://lisajobaker.com/2013/04/five-minute-friday-friend/) who thought about writing and how often our perfectionism gets in the way of our words. And she figured, why not take five minutes and see what comes out: not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing.

This week’s prompt is FRIEND.

So, the timer is set … so here goes. {clock starts now}

It sounds simple. After all we all know about friends and Friends. We have friends throughout our lives, but Friends are harder to come by. Capital Friends are those people who know you maybe even better than yourself. They are there unconditionally.

Karen had a couple of special Friends. They were tuned in to each other. They connected with each other from 1,000 miles away when either needed some reassurance.

You’re fortunate to find one or two special Friends. I have a couple. Although I may not see them every day or every week or even every year, I know they would drop everything to have my back. They know instinctively when I need a push or a challenge or a stern talk — all given in love. They can finish my sentence.

They are the reflection of … STOP

… a bigger Friend, Jesus. I hope I am, too … to them.

Well, that’s what popped into this mind this week.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Only one who can see the invisible can do the impossible.

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Wednesday Writing XX

Posted on April 24, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

Well, it’s Wednesday so it’s time to add to our story.

We’re following a flashback of our main character, Samantha. The story thus far is on the blog under “Story.”

Here’s where we left off.

And despite knees in my back and an arm slung over my face, it was the best night’s sleep I had had in months…

The next day, after I dropped the kids off at school, I stopped in the Guidance Office at Wright State. I figured if I needed to move on, I should probably get a refresher nursing course and get my certification. While I was waiting for her, I picked up the local weekly newspaper sitting on one of the tables. By happenstance — is there ever really happenstance? — there was an ad announcing a grief counseling series at Miami Valley Hospital … the same hospital where Chad died. I wasn’t sure I could step back in there, but also knew I couldn’t go on the way I was going. So, I jotted down the number and signed up.

I had opportunities for grief counseling through the Air Force, but I knew so many military families. I just didn’t want to expose myself to people I knew.

When I walked into the chapel for the meeting, I still wasn’t really sure this was the right route to go. But when I looked around and saw the grief on my fellow travelers’ faces and heard Susan’s reassuring voice, I knew I was among friends.

It was painful. I was the rookie of the group — the youngest and the most recently widowed. I allowed the others to step up as I quietly listened. One woman nursed her husband for years battling cancer. Another lost her husband to a heart attack. A woman and her daughter lost a son and brother to suicide. A man came home from work and found his dead wife at the bottom of the stairs. When it was my turn, I offered my tale of woe and, like the others before me, through plenty of tears.

But as I drove home, it dawned on me I was blessed. I had a chance to say goodbye and I knew Chad didn’t suffer long.

Susan kept us on track, touching raw nerves and helping us understand the chaotic emotions we were going through. She played a tape of a song, Be Still by the Celebrant Singers that first night. The opening lyrics are “You’re asking me to tell you how I feel. Well, there’s an ache inside, I don’t think it will heal. But when hope is hard to see, I hear you say to me, ‘Be still and know that I am God’…” She replayed the tape at our last session and instead of the opening lyrics, our focus shifted to the closing lyrics, “…You’re asking me to tell you how I feel. Well, there’s an ache inside, But I think it will heal. “Cause when hope is hard to see, I hear you say to me, ‘Be still and know that I am God’…”

Over the years, whenever I feel myself spinning out of control, I remember those words from Psalm 46:10.

C-R-A-S-H!!! …

There you go, readers. Now what?

All you have to do is put down your thoughts and get them to me. You can post your ideas as comments on the blog – but remember everyone will see them, so the “surprise” factor might get lost – or you can e-mail me directly at revblt@rochester.rr.com. Each Wednesday I will continue the story on the blog, along with that week’s attribution and periodically update Reveille/Between the Lakes readers.

I hope we’re having some fun with this.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Work while you wait.  It’s easier to be patient when you’re busy than when idle.

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Passion

Posted on April 21, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

This is another excerpt from 50 things that really matter.

My father wore suits and ties for 30 years. But his hands were, and are, those of an artist. They transform marble into sculpture, coax herbs and vegetables from the earth, and cook meals that would bring tears to your eyes. Everything he touches turns to art.

Not everyone can have talented hands like his. But we each harbor the same ability to be passionate about our lives.

All we have to do is search our hearts for our special passion.

Passion satisfies a vital spiritual need: the need for connection. It’s the feeling we get when we’re in tune with something larger than ourselves. Passion makes us feel alive, makes us certain that we walk this planet for some purpose.

Opportunities to experience passion are everywhere. Sometimes they’re quiet, like growing prizewinning tomatoes or creating beauty and delight with a sewing needle, gardening spade, or mixing bowl. Sometimes they speak ringingly and draw is to our faith, a social cause, or civic involvement.

Like a battery powers a car, passion powers our souls. Without it, our hearts go hungry.

My father doesn’t talk about his passion. His hands do. Each chisel-cut knuckle and earth-grimed nail says: To find your passion, open your heart and let the world flood in.
By Julia VanTine, 50 things that really matter, Rodale Press for Hallmark

We  all have a dream, sometimes a secret dream. That’s your passion. It’s not necessarily what you do, it’s what you really want to do. It’s what you enjoy doing.

We’ve all been through it. We’re “forced” to do something else to pay the bills or put our passion on the back burner to allow someone else follow their dream. So, there it sits.

It doesn’t have to. Like Julia’s Dad, he works in his passions — sculpting, gardening and cooking — into his life. What she doesn’t say, but implies, is those passions carry him through the suit-and-tie days.

Karen’s lifelong passion was cooking. Without a day of formal training, she was able to plate breakfasts, lunches, dinners and snacks that would rival five-star chefs. She wasn’t afraid to experiment in the kitchen.

She never thought of herself as a writer or editor, but would up being an award-winning editor for a food page in Illinois. It was her idea to begin the page, involve readers and execute Sugar & Spice. That experience led her to printing a local Christian magazine, Manna {notice the connection to food}.

The point is she parlayed her passion into purpose.

Sometimes you’re fortunate enough to actually work in the field where you have your passion. I have that. I enjoy writing {and I hope you enjoy reading what I write}. I enjoy the newspaper business, new each day. I’ve covered presidents and other political leaders, bishops and cardinals, professional athletes and everyday people. I’ve been to the White House, the National Cathedral, Yankee Stadium and the Little League World Series in Williamsport, PA. I have been blessed.

As I approach the next season of my life, my passion is to continue writing and, perhaps, share my experiences with others as a guest speaker. That would incorporate another passion of mine … traveling. We’ll see.

Open your heart and let the world flood in to fan that passion in your heart and soul.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Failure is the path of least persistence.

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Remember When

Posted on April 20, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

I was sitting in my recliner checking my e-mail and surfing Facebook this morning listening to some Malt Shop Oldies when my granddaughter came in and asked if she could play a game. Of course I said yes, and while she was loading Mindcraft from X-box, she innocently asked me, “What video games did you have when you were a kid, Grandpa?”

“None,” I replied. “We didn’t have video games back then.”

“Wow,” the eight year old urchin answered, wisely deferring from saying any more.

But it did get me to thinking. Times in the dark ages were certainly different … not necessarily better, but certainly different. So I decided to take a trip back in time when I was eight years old. Welcome aboard.

Dad worked, Mom stayed home and I went to school, did my homework and went outside and played … in the sunshine and in the rain and especially in the snow. I rode my bike in the street with no helmet, knee pads, arm pads or any other pads. I rode my bike … I did not perform death-defying Evil Knievel tricks. I pedaled fast on my one speed Huffy bike and wiped out a few times.

I knew everyone on the street and I knew they knew my Mom and Dad. I went to the corner candy store where I could buy a whole strip of pure sugar “dots” on waxed paper for a nickel. I could really sugar overdose on a dime.

We played stickball and football around parked cars on Virginia Avenue, occasionally {but not always} calling time out when a car approached. When we could get a dozen or so guys together {which really wasn’t that hard to do}, we would go down East 19th Street to a vacant lot owned by who knew and actually play baseball with a tattered baseball and well-worn gloves. Most of the bats were cracked and our uniform consisted of baseball caps worn bill in front, t-shirts, usually ripped-and-repaired dungarees and our Keds sneakers. We learned our football offensive and defensive schemes on that field and looked forward to playing in the mud or snow {it was northern New Jersey} — without coats and scarfs and boots and hats. We would play basketball at the school with rims that always had nets.

We ate dinner as a family and we often watched television as a family … on our black and white television with about an 18 inch screen and those “rabbit ears” that had to be adjusted every time you got up to change the channel. Since we lived in a metropolitan area, we got four channels out of New York City — ABC, CBS, NBC and WPIX, the latter featuring mostly movies but more important, Yankee baseball.

I was entertained by Howdy Doody and Kukla, Fran and Ollie. I was challenged by Captain Kangaroo and the Mickey Mouse Club. My heroes were Roy Rogers and Superman. I watched The Ed Sullivan Show, The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show, I Love Lucy and The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriett with Mom and Dad.

Bedtime was bedtime and set at 9 p.m. No dawdling if I wanted to watch television.

I walked to school — okay, Dad usually dropped me off at St. Anthony’s in the morning, but I walked home, about nine city blocks. In fact, I never took a school bus — a regular yellow school bus — in my live, although I did take public buses after we moved to Totowa.

Our “toys” were non-motorized cars and trucks, accessories for the bike {like the rocket headlight}, plastic soldiers, colored pencils, yo-yos, slinkys and Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs. For Christmas I received a hockey game with players in slots you controlled. You picked the teams by changing jerseys on the metal stakes.

When we visited family or friends, we packed into a 1953 Plymouth with a standard on the column shift. There were no air bags or seat belts. Dashboards were made of steel with no padding. We only had an AM radio complete with static on almost every station. Cars were about a mile long and a half mile wide and weighed 10 tons. Parking was adeptly done by hand with no power assists or ever power steering. Even at that age, I was chomping at the bit to get behind the wheel.

The house had one telephone, tethered in the kitchen with a short cord. Gone were the days when you had to get an operator to place a call, but we did have a “party line”, a line shared with other families. Mom hung her wash outside on a line to dry. We shopped at a small hole-in-the-wall A & P and we went to a neighborhood theater to watch movies.

We wrote letters by hand. We wrote thank yous by hand. We never had spellcheck and no one could envision anything like the Internet or social media. We read newspapers and magazines.

I don’t know if life was better, but it certainly was simpler. There was no such thing as political correctness.

I’ll finish my rant by adding thoughts by Yahoo writer Diane Zoller-Ciatto. Here are several statements that were probably made by my parents or your parents or grandparents when stating their disgust at prices and trends of 1955:

  • I’ll tell you one thing, if things keep going the way they are, it’s going to be impossible to buy a week’s groceries for $10.
  • Have you seen the new cars coming out next year? It won’t be long before $1,000 will only buy a used one.
  • If cigarettes keep going up in price, I’m going to quit! Twenty cents a pack is ridiculous.
  • Did you hear the Post Office is thinking about charging seven cents just to mail a letter?
  • If they raise the minimum wage to $1, nobody will be able to hire outside help at the store.
  • When I first started driving, who would have thought gas would someday cost 25 cents a gallon. Guess we’d be better off leaving the car in the garage.
  • I’m afraid to send my kids to the movies any more. Ever since they let Clark Gable get by with saying “damn” in Gone with the Wind it seems every new movie has either “hell” or “damn” in it.
  • I read the other day where some scientist thinks it’s possible to put a man on the moon by the end of the century. They even have some fellows they call astronauts preparing for it in Texas.
  • Did you see where some baseball player just signed a contract for $50,000 a year just to play ball? It wouldn’t surprise me if someday they’ll be making more than the president.
  • I never thought I’d see the day all our kitchen appliances would be electric. They are even making electric typewriters now.
  • It’s too bad things are so tough nowadays. I see where a few married women have to work to make ends meet.
  • It won’t be long before young couples are going to have to hire someone to watch their kids so they can both work.
  • I’m afraid the Volkswagen car is going to open the door to a whole lot of foreign business.
  • Thank goodness I won’t live to see the day when the government takes half our income in taxes. I sometimes wonder if we are electing the best people to government.
  • The drive-in restaurant is convenient in nice weather, but I seriously doubt they will ever catch on.
  • There is no sense going on short trips anymore for a weekend, it costs nearly $2 a night to stay in a hotel.
  • No one can afford to be sick anymore. At $15 a day in the hospital, it’s too rich for my blood.
  • If they think I’ll pay 30 cents for a haircut, forget it.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: We often discover what will do by finding out what will not do.

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