Five Minute Friday — Jump

Posted on April 19, 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-jump/) 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.

To be honest, I came up blank with this week’s prompt …  JUMP. I thought about it for most of the day … and just couldn’t get the thoughts to click. I thought I had something going, but as I started to put words on screen {that sounds odd, doesn’t it?} it sounded awfully familiar. I was right. I wrote virtually the same words back in January under the five minute prompt DIVE.

I decided to re-run the part of the post and set the time for two and half minutes to expand the thought.

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

[There I was, about eight feet above the water, a scared seven year old who made the big mistake of listening to his friends.  “What if I break my neck?” “What if I drown?” What if I got hurt?” Those questions were swirling around in my head. But as the line started to form behind me and my friends started cheering and jeering, I knew it was time to just do it … jump into the placid pool.

It wasn’t a 10, but it was a clean entry into the water, a deep submersion and a quick exit to the top of the surface. I DID IT! I didn’t get hurt. I didn’t drown. I didn’t break my neck.]

It’s a lot like that in life as well. We spend so much time thinking about all the “what ifs” we take our eyes off the prize. Whether it’s a job, a business venture or even our faith choices, we often miss opportunities. [We don’t know what to expect so we procrastinate. We fill our minds with all sorts of crazy thoughts and … often do nothing.]

I’m also pondering thoughts on “passion” — as in pursuits — for things that matter and this exercise reminded me … STOP

… after you do due diligence there comes a time for action. Jump in and follow through.

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

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: If you don’t try, you can’t fail.

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Wednesday Writing XIX

Posted on April 17, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

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

I started crying whenever anything triggered a memory … and almost everything did …

I picked up the kids in mid-August.

When I got to Mom and Dad’s house, Mom greeted me with, “Samantha, you look like shit!” Thanks, Mom. I feel like shit, but I was hoping for a better greeting than that.

JR and Kate-D ran up to me with a big “Mommy” and a hug. That was better.

When Dad got home from work, he cradled me in his arms like he used to do when I was a little girl. “Love you, Pumpkin,” he whispered, causing my eyes to flood … and his too.

When I went to Mom Watt’s home, she greeted me warmly and started to lecture me over tea about taking care of myself. I love my mother-in-law, but all I heard was “Blah blah blah blah blah de blah.”

I went to lunch with Bernie and Lynn and the two of them tried so desperately to get me to go down to the shore over the weekend “just like we used to do.” I declined. “There’s too many memories,” I told them. I don’t think they understood but they respected my decision although Bernie stopped by Mom and Dad’s a couple of times. She sure has been a good, close, let’s talk over coffee type friend for so many years.

I only stayed for a couple of days before we headed home. The kids had to get ready for school. It was a quiet ride home, none of us really talking or playing license plate bingo or I spy like we generally did on car rides.

I don’t know why I rushed home. It wasn’t a home anymore, just bricks and mortar, wood and nails, a house. Even the normal commotion of two young kids couldn’t penetrate the eerie silence within the walls.

I still wasn’t sleeping well and I know we weren’t eating right. It wasn’t unusual for either JR or Kate-D to find me crying. I still couldn’t watch television at night and wasn’t focused enough to even read. So I would just pace or putter around the house or sit there in a darkened living room doing nothing … nothing, which would get me to thinking about Chad and all we did and all we planned to do, which drove me deeper into my despair.

That all changed on Sept. 12 — three months to the day after Chad died.

The night before was like so many others. For whatever reason, instead of my pajamas, I had on one of Chad’s old shirts — I just couldn’t get rid of them. I couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning for hours, I made my way to the couch and curled up in the fetal position, covered by the Cincinnati Bengals blanket that usually was on the back of Chad’s recliner.

I must have actually dozed off, and in that suspended state, I heard JR telling Kate-D to be quiet. Without opening my eyes, I could hear him pouring cereal for his sister in the kitchen. She asked who was going to brush her hair. He told her he would do it and I could hear a muffled “Ow” followed by a whispered “I’m sorry!” as he apparently discovered a knot. Kate-D said just as quietly, “That’s okay.” They came over by me and blew me kisses as they headed for the door, but I was incapable of responding. I tried, but my eyes and mouth and body remained motionless.

I was in that same fetal position when they came home. I didn’t hear them come in, but felt JR gently stroking my arm. “Mom? Mom? Are you okay?” he said quietly but with a tinge of fear in his voice. As I finally opened my eyes, I saw Kate-D standing next to him with tears streaming from her eyes. “Mom?” he asked again as I managed to pull my arm from under the blanket. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sweetie, I’m okay,” I said.

“You scared us Mommy,” he said, with Kate-D parroting him, “You scared us Mommy. We thought we lost you too.”

That woke me up. I gathered them up like a mother hen with her chicks under her wing. “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” I assured them.

With JR hugging me from my left and Kate-D from my right and me embracing both of them in a group hug, all I could say was “I love you. I love you” as I kissed each of them on their head. I could have lived in that moment forever.

“Give me a couple of minutes to get dressed,” I told them, “then we’ll go out for dinner. Where do you want to go?”

Without hesitation and with gigantic smiles on their faces, they said “IHOP!” Kate-D added, “Yeah, IHOP. Can I have pancakes?” she asked. When I said “Sure,” Kate-D responded, “Yeah! Just like when we go with Da…”

She stopped in mid-word, realizing what she was about to say. JR turned with a stern “Kate!”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Yeah, just like when we went with Daddy. Give me a couple minutes to get dressed and we’ll go to IHOP … just like the old days.”

That’s what we did. Breakfast for dinner. Over the pancakes and sausage, I realized how I failed to let the kids talk about how they were feeling about Chad’s death. I was so wrapped up in me, I forgot about them and their hurt and their grief. We talked about the happy times with Chad. “Remember when …” was a preface to a story each of them shared.

When we got home, we gathered around the table and talked some more. When it started getting too melancholic, I packed them up and we walked down the street for some ice cream. We got home and I told them to get into their PJs and brush their teeth. I had another surprise for them. As they were getting ready for bed, I got into my pajamas as well. When they came to kiss me goodnight, I told them we were sleeping together in my bed. “We can talk about Daddy, about how you’re feeling, about school, about anything you want,” I told them. “Tonight is for you. Okay?”

They loved the idea. They snuggled with me — it felt good — and we shared our feelings. There were plenty of tears, but there was plenty of laughter. I got a front row seat into what they were going through … and how I contributed to their angst. It wasn’t always pretty. For the first time in three months, they had an opportunity to share their thoughts and feelings.

We talked for hours. Kate-D gave in first, falling asleep around 11. JR hung on for another hour or so. 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…

There you go, readers. What’s next?

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. The complete story thus far is available on the blog under “Story.”

I hope we can have some fun with this.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Nothing is obvious to the uninformed.

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Bubble Baths

Posted on April 14, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

This is another excerpt from 50 things that really matter.

There’s something magical about a bath. It can become a refuge from the outside world that a shower simply can’t. Add bubbles to the mix, and I’m instantly transported into another world.

There needs to be mountains of bubbles for it to be a real bubble bath, whether those bubbles are created from regular dishwashing soap or some fancy floral-scented concoction from a specialty shop. With the bathroom door closed, the shower curtain drawn to keep out the drafts and a candle lit somewhere nearby, I’m in my own secluded little world. I run the water as hot as I can stand it — nearly blanching myself in the process. I sink in and spend the first few minutes heating up, releasing tension and cherishing the bubbly bliss.

Then I lay back and ponder words like “relaxation,” “peace,” “tranquility,” “alone” and even “ahh.” I inhale them along with the tub’s steam, then exhale any negative feelings. As the heat evaporates into the steamy bathroom air, taking along my muscle aches, I send my heartaches with it. I swish my hands under the water, creating gentle currents of soothing calm. With my eyes closed, I tune in to the sounds of the suds snapping. Then I take a deep breath and submerge, drowning out any other cares I may have.

As the flame of the candle flickers outside the tub, I know it is my spirit reviving and dancing, eagerly awaiting my body to resurface and join life again.
By Jennifer Kushnier, 50 things that really matter, Rodale Press for Hallmark

I’m not a bath person. I prefer showers. So at first blush, this would not be on my bucket list of 50 things that really matter. Karen did prefer an exhilarating bath — preferably with, but not necessarily with bubbles. She would emerge from a foggy bathroom a new person.

That being said, I have to relate a different type of bath I rather do enjoy. After Karen died, I spent more time crying my eyes out until there were no more tears {actually there are always more tears}. As a result, my sinuses were — in a word — a mess.

As part of Karen’s holistic treatment, she enjoyed a soak in natural spring water with high magnesium, calcium and sulphur content and massages. By happenstance, shortly after she died, she [I] received a coupon for a sinus treatment, which included a dip in the tub filled with mineral spring water, aromatherapy and a massage. I took advantage of the offer … and have been hooked ever since. I still get seasonal allergy attacks, but not nearly as bad as before.

And I can relate to the soak sans the bubbles. The initially hot water immediately releases tension.

Then I lay back and ponder words like “relaxation,” “peace,” “tranquility,” “alone” and even “ahh” too. I inhale them along with the tub’s steam, then exhale any negative feelings. As the heat evaporates it takes along my muscle aches. I send my heartaches with it. I swish my hands under the water, creating gentle currents of soothing calm. I don’t want to leave my place enveloped in the water. When I do, I am blessed to have a massage therapist work on any specific aches or pains that may linger.

It’s a luxury I’ve indulged in over the past four and a half years. In fact, I have an appointment tomorrow. It’s an investment in me … so maybe bubble baths — with or without bubbles — should be one of the 50 things that matter.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: A good memory is one trained to forget the trivial.

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Five Minute Friday — Here

Posted on April 12, 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-here-2/) 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.

The prompt this week is HERE.

Here goes. The timer is set for five minutes {clock starts now}

Stop. Look around. Listen to the sounds. It’s the present … here … now.

There are so many things we gloss over because we don’t take the time to take in the here and now. We’re too busy focusing on the past or planning for the future that we don’t hear the children laughing in the kitchen over breakfast, or the dogs getting ready for a day of play and protection or the sound of raindrops or the cars sloshing through the rain.

Look around. You’ll see the memories in the swatch of paint that didn’t quite cover the wall or how the picture on the wall miraculously shifted from “right on” to one or two degrees off center. You’ll remember when those memories were made.

Look around. You’ll see the extraordinary in the ordinary … the pieces of God’s puzzle we just take for granted. … STOP

… Yesterday … Last hour … Five minutes ago … They are gone. Later … Tomorrow … Next Week … Next Year. They are yet to come. Here … Now. Treasure the moment.

Five minutes. It flees faster than you might think!

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER:  One good head is worth more than a great many hands.

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Wednesday Writing XVIII

Posted on April 10, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

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

Dr. Walker gave us six months. I got 16 days …

I don’t remember much about the calling hours or funeral. I remember keeping my children close under my wing as we greeted an endless line of visitors, but I couldn’t tell you who they were or what they said. I was surprised by the number of people who showed up to pay their respects to Captain Watt … military and civilian. He touched so many lives.

But there he was, decked in his dress uniform, surreally sleeping in his high gloss red cherry casket on almond velvet sheets. An honor guard stood at the corners, watching over my fallen hero.

Pastor Rick officiated and eulogized Chad. I can’t remember all he said, but I do remember him saying a person’s life is like the residue left after drinking a glass of milk. You really have to scrub it to remove its effect. Otherwise it just stays on the glass. Even just a quick rinse can’t remove it. I don’t remember where he was going with the analogy, but it did resonate with me. Chad’s “milk” left its mark on the world.

At the cemetery, all I could do was stare at that flag-draped casket. I don’t know whether I was squeezing JR’s and Kate-D’s hands or they were squeezing mine. The three of us accepted his folded flag and, even though I had been to many military funerals, the staccato of rifle volleys stunned me to my core. Maybe it was the sudden sound amid the eerie silence. The parents took the kids while I just sat there for like what seemed forever, not wanting to leave. The casket took on strange shapes and hues through the lens of teared-up eyes. Dad had to come back from the car to get me. I completely broke down in his arms.

I was still in a fog at home, politely greeting friends but wanting to be anywhere but there. The parents stayed for about a week and we decided to let the kids go back with them. We figured the grandparents could keep them occupied while I went through the mundane chores of widowhood. I’m still not sure if that was the right decision … for the kids or myself.

I wasn’t sleeping well. Okay, I hardly slept at all. I wasn’t eating right. It was too much trouble cooking for one, even going to the well-stocked freezer for something quick and easy. I broke down at the silence in the house. I couldn’t watch the television shows Chad and I watched together. My first trip to the PX ended three steps inside the door. I just couldn’t go on. There were forms to be filled out, simple forms that took hours to complete. I really had to focus to make sure the check for the electric company actually went into the envelope for the electric company. I started crying every time I wrote a check that still had Chad’s name atop mine and I started crying every time I went to the mailbox and found mail addressed to both of us. I started crying whenever anything triggered a memory … and almost everything did …

There you go, readers. What’s next?

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 can have some fun with this.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: When truth stands in your way, you can be sure you are headed in the wrong direction.

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Closet Extrovert

Posted on April 7, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

I had lunch the other day with a production manager, sales rep and another publisher. It was a great lunch with good conversation. The production manager made a comment that sort of caught me off guard. He said, “I knew you two would get along together {referring to the publisher and myself}. You both like to talk.”

No one ever said that about me before … liking to talk, I mean. Generally, I’m more introverted, especially on first meeting. I speak when I’m spoken to, but — at least I thought — I typically size up who I’m around, discerning whether they are all bluster or sincere and trustworthy before saying too much.

I used to think my middle son was the extrovert in the family. A few years ago, his wife and I were teasing him about his extrovert tendencies over lunch. As he was denying our charges, he went to the counter to get some more ketchup and struck up a conversation — about ketchup — with a perfect stranger. As my daughter-in-law gave him that “see what we’re talking about” look, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “What?”

Now, apparently, I find he may have gotten the gene from me, not Karen as we always thought. She could talk to anybody, anytime with ease.

At any rate, the comment at lunch started me thinking. Maybe I’m more extroverted than I thought. There was, of course, Karen … and Mary on the plane … and Maria who I rescued from a bus stop during a spring shower  … on each of my job interviews … with other publishers … with special friends … at board meetings … Now, I didn’t just reach out my hand and start talking, but I guess I did start talking rather quickly to a lot more people than I thought. Maybe I’m just a quick study of others … or a closet extrovert.

Yeah, I’m probably a closet extrovert. Who knew?

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Ignorance is more difficult to conceal than knowledge is to acquire.

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I’ve Got You Under My Skin

Posted on April 6, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

As I was driving yesterday, I heard a familiar tune. I think this version was by James Darren, but the one I remember vividly is the Four Seasons’ rendition of I’ve Got You Under My Skin, a Cole Porter song written in 1936 for the film Born To Dance and a signature hit of Frank Sinatra.

As I listened my mind was transported back to 1966. The Four Seasons recorded the song in 1965 and it was frequently played well into 1966. It became an anthem for me when I started to court my future wife.

You need a little background. In spring 1966, Karen was dating my best friend, which is how I was introduced to her. Karen and Bernie and Nora and I went on a number of double dates before Bernie had to report for basic training. Knowing he would probably end up in Vietnam {he was}, he decided to break it off. Of course, he wanted me to do it for him, but instead I drove her down to Fort Dix so he could do it in person. I was left with a puddle on the drive back and felt so helpless.

Now in the weeks from when I first met her to their breakup, Karen and I developed a close bond. We really became good friends — not in the romantic sense, but in the confidant sense. She helped walk me through my breakup with Nora {that’s another story}. We would talk for hours — mostly about Bernie, but also about our dreams for the future. We would meet for lunch and it wasn’t unusual for me to stop at her house for a cup of tea.

This continued after their breakup as well, but it wasn’t until late summer that I asked her out on a “date.” I didn’t want anyone to think I stole her from my best friend. I took her to a drive-in to see Doctor Zhivago {we both hated it and actually fell asleep, her with her head on my shoulder}. When I took her home, I gave her a polite good night kiss, expecting a small thank-you peck. But she surprised me. There we were on the porch under a dimly lit light kissing good night the way it should be done.

Before school started, I went to North Carolina for some time with my aunt, uncle and cousins. But I dropped her a letter before I left. You guessed it, I used the lyrics of I’ve Got You Under My Skin as the basis of the letter. Part of the lyrics are “tried so not to give in, I’ve said to myself this affair never will go so well. But why should I try to resist, when darling I know so well, I’ve got you under my skin” and “you know you never can win, use your mentality, wake up to reality. And just before I do, I stop … just because I think of you.” And I invited her to meet me at the airport when I got home.

Of course, I didn’t tell my mom or dad. They had no idea I even knew a Karen let alone invited her to go with them to the airport. When I called home midweek, I told mom Karen might be calling.

“Karen? Karen who?” she asked.

“Uhhh, just a girl I know.”

“Who is she? How long have you been seeing her? Where did you met her? Is she your girlfriend?” she asked.

“Long story,  mom,” I said. “I’ll bring you up to speed when I get home. Don’t even know if she’ll call. Uncle Joe wants to talk to you. Love you. Bye.”

The story takes a couple of little twists. Remember, I had no idea whether Karen was coming to meet me or not.

So I get on the plane. Usually, you’re sitting next to an overweight businessman {like me today} or next to squalling kids or some other indescript fellow traveler. Not this time. Next to me was a drop dead gorgeous blonde heading north to go to school. I mean, she was every teenage boy’s dream. Her name was Mary. The problem was I didn’t know if Karen was going to be at the airport. Although we chatted on the flight, I knew full well if I walked off the plane with Mary, any chance I would have with Karen would be gone forever. But to hedge my bet, I did find out Mary was going to NYU. Don’t know what I would have done with that information if Karen wasn’t there.

But she was there. While I was researching for my tribute to Karen for the kids, I stumbled across a letter or journal {I don’t call it that because I don’t journal} I wrote which summed up my thoughts at the time. It was written after Karen and I had started dating when, out of the blue, she broke it off for a month “to be sure.” I don’t particularly remember writing it, but it is in my handwriting. I don’t know why I wrote it. But I did. I don’t know how Karen got it or why she kept it all these years, but she did. There it was nestled among her papers and cards and letters. Here’s part of my description of the moment I saw Karen at the airport {remember I was all of 18).

“I can’t describe the feeling inside me when I saw her. Nothing else mattered. My heart flew and I was in a world of my own. I could have been greeted by the president of the United States and I would have brushed him off like a fly from my shoulder. It was there in the airport when I started liking Karen very, very much and when I got home I said a prayer thanking God for making that the happiest day of my life.”

You just never know what’s going to trigger a memory … a song … a movie … a phrase. This song — I’ve Got You Under My Skin, even though not the Four Seasons’ version — was the trip for just another of 40 years of memories … in the blink of an eye.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: One pound of learning requires ten pounds of common sense to apply it.

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Five Minute Friday — After

Posted on April 5, 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-after/ 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.

There are a couple hundred bloggers who pause to post on the prompt word of the week. It’s fun getting the prompt, thinking about it for a couple of minutes and getting to work producing something readable (you hope) in just five minutes. You should link over and read some of the posts. They don’t disappoint.

The prompt this week is AFTER.

Here goes. The timer is set for five minutes {clock starts now}

My first thought or image was of Spencer Tracy sitting in his arm chair after marrying off his daughter in Father of the Bride. His tuxedo tie is loosen and the living room is in shambles. He looks at Joan Bennett and says something like, “Well, Kitten, we did it.”

It started me thinking about after any event, knowing the pressure was off.

Our wedding was the same. I can’t tell you much about the preparations — mainly because I was a passive participant — but I can remember minute details about the wedding itself and especially afterwards.

I can see my wife smiling as she held each of our newborns after giving birth, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable pregnancies and the pain and tumult of birth.

I can remember the birthday parties and weddings and sitting back, like old Spencer Tracy, after the event knowing it … STOP

… either all came together or we got through it.

And without being maudlin, I can imagine the moment after life’s struggles and trials are over, standing before my Lord in the presence of family and friends who have gone before me and hear Him say, Well done, good and faithful servant.

It’s amazing how little time five minutes actually is!

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: You are successful when people tell you you are a lot smarter than you are.

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How Not to Break What You’re Trying to Fix

Posted on April 4, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

I’ve said it before. I am a Ron Hutchcraft fan. His down-home illustrations just resonate with me. And his connection from the ordinary to the spiritual is amazing. Today’s “A Word with You” was a prime example. I can relate to his mechanical skills and his transition into the Word. It was about “How Not to Break What You’re Trying to Fix.” I could paraphrase it, but instead I’ll share his wisdom. So, here’s Ron …

“Dad, can you fix this?”

I used to hear that every once in a while. And with my mechanical abilities being what they were, my best answer was usually, “It’s doubtful.” But I would pull out my trusty tool chest and give it a shot.

One thing even I know though, it’s important to use the right tool. For example, let’s say a wheel needs to come off a bike and be taken to the bike shop to be repaired. Now because I was usually in a hurry, my first choice would be to reach for a hammer. Hammers get jobs done quickly, right?

Well, it would also be my worst choice. I might be able to knock that tire off the bike, but the damage isn’t going to be worth it. It’s quick, but I wouldn’t call it efficient.

Some jobs require a wrench, and of course you have to find the right sized wrench. Some require a screwdriver and you’ve got to find the, you know, Phillips, standard, whatever. You’ve got to get the right kind; the right size. Some jobs require pliers, and they almost all require patience.

You know, fixing people is much the same.

I’m Ron Hutchcraft and I want to have A Word With You today about “How Not to Break What You’re Trying to Fix.”

Our word for today from the Word of God comes from Paul’s last letter in 2 Timothy 4:2. Here’s what he says: Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season, correct, rebuke and encourage — with great patience and careful instruction. Okay, Paul just gave us three tools in the tool box. Three tools you and I can use in fixing people.

Now I’m sure there’s someone in your life who could use some work right now, right? Yeah, you’re thinking of them; maybe you’re married to them, or maybe it’s your parent, or a child, or a friend, or somebody in your church. How do you most effectively get that person to change?

Well, you have to pick the right tool. And Paul suggests three here: rebuke, correct, encourage.

Okay, rebuke? That means to confront someone with what they’re doing wrong. Once one of our youth staff decided she had to confront — or rebuke as it were — a young girl who was professing Christ but who was living very promiscuously and had that kind of reputation with guys. And she said to the young girl, “I care enough to tell you what people are saying about you.” The girl was shocked at what her reputation was. That was rebuke.

Then there’s correct. You don’t just tell a person what not to do. You’ve got to suggest a better way to live. You’ve got to give a “how” with every “should.”

And then there’s another tool called encourage; noticing the good in a person, praising what they’re doing right, building up their confidence, showing trust in them.

And it’s important to reach for the right tool. Don’t encourage someone you should be rebuking. Don’t rebuke someone who really needs encouragement.

But notice how you use all three tools: …with great patience and careful instruction. See, we want quick results, so we drop bombs on people. We push them, we nag them, and they rebel. They don’t change. We use the hammer because it will get quick results, but it smashes everything. We break what we’re trying to fix.

Have you been patient in your rebuking, patient in your correcting? Or are you too demanding? Do you expect immediate response or you’re going to escalate the rhetoric?

Help a person see himself or herself as God sees them right now and then back off. Allow time for the truth to sink in. Give them some space to change without having to crawl. Use these people-fixing tools with great patience, and then you won’t break what you’re trying to fix.

To find out how you can begin a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, please visit: Yours for Life at http://www.hutchcraft.com/yours-for-life/ or call (888) 966-7325.

“A Word With You” by Ron Hutchcraft is a daily radio challenge, with slice-of-life illustrations and insights — providing practical help on the issues that matter most. If your local Christian radio station does not air this program, please let them know how much it is of value to you. “A Word With You” is a radio outreach and production of Ron Hutchcraft Ministries.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Curiosity is almost essential to education.

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Wednesday Writing XVII

Posted on April 3, 2013 by wisdomfromafather

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

To think, we might not have had that conversation if Chad hadn’t suggested a trip to Grace Community Church …

We headed home to visit the parents for Easter 1989. When we arrived, Chad was complaining about a headache. I gave him a couple of aspirins and all seemed well. By midweek, however, he was complaining of a headache again. Again, aspirin did its magic,

But headaches were unusual for Captain Watt. He was in good shape and regularly passed his physicals with flying colors. To have two bouts with headaches in a week — actually three, he had another one while we were driving back home — were a source of concern for me, although they weren’t constant and easily managed with aspirin.

When he continued to complain over the next few weeks, I suggested he get his eyes checked. He agreed and, sure enough, he was now a candidate for glasses. When he went to get the specs fitted, however, the doctor brushed the side of his head just above the ear. Chad said the casual contact resulted in an immediate, deep, migraine type headache. The eye doctor discovered a swelling just under the hair line and told Chad — and me when I came to pick him up — it should be checked.

So, we headed to the doctor’s. The news was not good. After tests, Chad was diagnosed with a glioblastoma multiforma tumor, one of the fastest spreading cancer of the brain and the most deadly. It had already started to metastasize and Chad started feeling worse and worse. Ultimately he had a seizure that sent him to the hospital over Memorial Day weekend. Dr. Walker scheduled surgery to take a section for a pathological diagnosis and to remove some of the mass pressing against his brain. He said we would follow with radiotherapy and chemotherapy. But the prognosis, he warned, was not good. Chad’s age and physical shape were a plus, but typical survival was only about a year.

The parents flew in. JR and Kate-D were lost … and there wasn’t much I could do to help them. I was lost, too, stunned and shocked by the sudden turn of events.

We had a chance to talk and pray before Chad went into surgery. We walked down Memory Lane and he told me he never regretted a moment of our time together. “I knew,” he said, “you were my soulmate the first time I talked you in that club in New York. I told you, you were the most beautiful girl I had seen.” I reminded him he also added “tonight.”

He also said he was sorry. “For what?” I asked.

“For this. For making you go through this. For everything I ever did to hurt you. I never meant to,” he said, with me hushing him and holding him as tight as I could amid the wires and tubing.

“You … never … hurt … me. You … always … loved … me … unconditionally,” I sobbed. “Get … through … the … surgery … tomorrow. One … day … at … a … time.”

Dr. Walker was less optimistic after the surgery. He said the finger-like tentacles couldn’t be removed and were growing into the temporal lobe, cerebellum and dangerously close to the brain stem. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I think we should consider palliative care.”

Chad wasn’t Chad after the surgery. He had a hard time focusing or recognizing people or places. But he always held on to my hand, squeezing it between pangs of pain. He died June 12 at 12:35 p.m. — a day after our 12th anniversary — with me holding him tight and telling him “I love you.”

Dr. Walker gave us six months. I got 16 days …

There you go, readers. What’s next?

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. The complete story thus far is available on the blog under “Story.”

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: A man soon learns how little he knows when a child begins to ask questions.

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