Random Thoughts Around the Christmas Season

The Bethesda Center - The Bethesda Center is a Winston-Salem homeless shelter. Our Seeds (the name of our small Monday night worship group) folks went to the shelter a couple of weeks ago take refreshments and to lead a short devotional period. We had about 40 men and a few women join us. It was a wonderful evening. A couple of the guests sang spontaneous solos. Prayer requests were for family and friends, none for self, except for one request for a job. No one seemed to feel sorry for themselves. Instead, the room was filled with the Holy Spirit, with men who know and love God, with men who want to know God, and with all of us who want God to draw closer to us. I hope to have my Sunday school class do an evening there soon. The Love Feast - The Focus Sunday school class has hosted a Love Feast at church for many years now. It used to be held in the classroom. It was moved to a bigger room several years ago and for the past two or three years has been held in the fellowship hall. A week ago, on a very messy-weather Sunday, almost 100 celebrated together. The Love Feast is held during the Sunday school hour, between our 3 church services. It is one of the few times of the year that folks who attend the different services not only worship together, they fellowship together afterward. It is a Christmas blessing to see (and hug) those friends you don't see so very often. Worship services - My pastor, Terry Matthews, presented a really good sermon this morning. I wonder, is he getting better, am I getting more receptive, or is God directing my thoughts in a such a way that I hear the message that He has for me through Terry? Music is also a very important part of my worship experience. The music at every Sunday's service leaves me feeling blessed for attending. On Monday, Katie's soft voice and guitar open my mind and heart. Gifts for my Navajo friends - I wanted to get presents for my friends on the Navajo reservation at Four Corners Native American Ministry. When I realized that wasn't going to happen, I wanted to send Christmas cards to each of them. I couldn't seem to find the time to do personal cards, so I went to plan "C". Plan "C" stands for cyber-gifts. I tried to think of 3 or 4 gifts for each friend, gifts that they would appreciate, but would not or could not get for themselves. I sent them word of the gifts I would have bought, if possible, via email. I had a lot of fun doing that. So much fun that I'm thinking of doing it for even more friends next year. I have to admit that the thought of cyber-gifts wasn't original. Sara and I were watching one of the many Christmas feel-good movies in which members of a poor family were given clippings from a Sears catalog in place of the real thing. Doing this wouldn't help the economy very much, but it would certainly help my budget, let friends know that they are thought of, and be just plain fun picking things that fit . The Christmas Spirit - It seemed much easier to get into the Christmas spirit this year. Last year, I don't think it happened until Christmas eve. This year, weeks before Christmas, the spirit seemed to be there. More people smiled. More people were wishing "Merry Christmas!" More friends were being made. We had decided not to go into debt for presents and were holding to it. We were going to Lynchburg for Christmas at Ross & Danylle's house. I was working full-time and training for a part-time job as well. A Christmas to remember. The greatest gift of all - Ross and Danylle have bought a house in Lynchburg. Danylle's daughters are with them for week days and were there for Christmas. Maddie is 6 years old and Reese is 4 years old. I have been wondering what to ask them to call me as we draw closer. The problem is resolved and it was perhaps the greatest Christmas present I've ever received. As I got to the front door on Christmas eve, I was met by two beautiful girls who were yelling, "Grandpa, we're glad you're here!" How special - celebrating Christmas with two new granddaughters. God is good.

It's Just Not That Easy In A Telephone Booth

"Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird. It's a plane. No, it's Superman!" If you don't recognize that famous TV and movie line, you'll probably not know that in the years BC (before cells) there were lots of phone booths to be found many places. If you don't know about the Man of Steel, you might not have ever even seen a phone booth. Superman, cleverly disguised as Clark Kent, a mild mannered reporter for the Daily Planet, often found telephone booths handy for a quick change of clothes. You know, you just can't rip off your business suit and prepare to fly off in your tights right in public. That will blow your disguise completely. You have to find a place to change in hiding, therefore, the phone booth changing room and the maintenance of the clever disguise. Tuesday morning, I got up early and met my friend, Burnie Little, for coffee and conversation. Tuesday was a work day for me so being early wasn't much of a sacrifice. It was Burnie's day off though, so I really did appreciate his giving up some early morning sleeping hours. Readers of my blog know that I haven't been excessively happy lately. When I returned from the Navajo Reservation, I really wanted to go into full time religious service. That was my prayer. But it just doesn't seem to be God's plan. Although I was deeply disappointed at first, and am still disappointed, I am becoming more comfortable with whatever God's plan for me may be. That is some of what Burnie and I talked about early last Tuesday. My pet phrase has been, "full time service," as in church ministry or social outreach ministry or domestic / foreign missionary work, whatever, as long as it was full time service. Burnie shared an interesting take on this notion. He feels that all Christians are in full time service. We are all full time disciples of Christ cleverly disguised. Perhaps we are disguised as a physician's assistant. Perhaps we are cleverly disguised as a volunteer at Old Salem. Perhaps we are disguised as a thrift shop manager or a retired minister. Maybe our full time Christian disciple disguise today is as a friend with the right word of encouragement at the right time or an ear to listen. I, for one, have decided to disguise myself as a short, pudgy worker in a local office (this is not an easy disguise for someone 6' 6" tall with a 32" waist, but I am managing quite well, thank you.) Burnie made his point with me. Now I just need to try to live his philosophy. Oh, yes, it wouldn't hurt for me to know where the closest phone booth is either. I wouldn't normally do it this way, but I want to take blog space to say thank you to all those friends who have taken the time to be so supportive of me as I've struggled with some of my own demons. You've taken the time to speak to me, to write to me, to pray for me. I've heard from friends that I've not seen nor spoken with in months, if not years. You will never fully know how very grateful I am. I also have to share a real blessing with you. Today was my extended family's Christmas party. We had 31 people that I love very much there. Ages ranged from 2 to 88 years old. One of the great things is that no one left us this last year. My mother, who has been moving from extended care to the hospital and back for the past several months was there. My brother-in-law, Will, is great with her and managed to get her to agree to come out on a pretty messy day. I began the day knowing that I would be able to lead the blessing. This is something that comes hard for many of us, not because we don't pray, but because we love our family so very much that we get choked up from the blessing of reunion. Each new arrival at the site, every person hugged, brought tears of joy and thanksgiving to my eyes. By the time for the blessing, there was just no way for me to get through it. Once again, it was Will to the rescue. He sure is special! Bailey, Mary Lynn, Danylle, Cindy, Jason, Mindy, Patrick and Kim, Adam and Petty, you were all missed. My prayer is that you are all well and will all be able to join us next year. To quote Tiny Tim, who had also just finished a big meal with his family, "God bless us everyone!"

Mowin' Lawns and Old Dogs

I mowed the yard today for the last time this year. I really missed someone. I hadn't thought about her, while mowing, at any time earlier this year, but somehow she was there today. During the summer of 2008, Abby, my big, black Lab was still alive. Every time I would mow, she would trudge patiently along behind me. She didn't care about where we were going, just that she was going with me. It was never the journey or even the destination, it was all about the company. At least that's what I would have said if I had ever been asked. Sara and I have been married for 43 years. She, too, has spent years patiently trudging behind me wherever I thought I needed to go. It was never the journey or even the destination, it was all about the company. I took her from small-town North Carolina to our first apartment in the very center of Philadelphia. Over the years, we've moved from that city of well over a million people to a very rural, southern Mississippi town of about 600 people and to several other different places of various sizes. Somehow, Winston-Salem grew to be home, the place we seemed to always return to, but it never was about the journey or the destination, it was all about the company. At least that's what I would have said if I had ever been asked. Today, I wonder. If Abby, the Lab, had decided to start down the road on her own, would I have followed without question? Years ago, if Sara had decided she wanted to finish college in Idaho, would I have followed uncomplainingly? If she had received a great job offer in Vermont or Cleveland, would I have wanted to go? I think that I can honestly answer, yes (well, maybe not Cleveland.) What I recognize at this time of my life, is that, at least for me, it has not only been about the company, it has also been about the journey and destination. I love Sara more than words can ever say and I am very blessed to have her in my life. I cannot imagine better company in the past, today, or as we move into the future together. I've rarely traveled anywhere without her nor seen anything special without her that I didn't want to be sharing with her. The great thing is that she hasn't minded, at least too badly, the journey or the destination. Here is where I am a little bit worried. Sara has settled down. If I am committed to the company, and I am very committed to the company, that means that I have settled down as well. I'm not ready. I can't imagine never knowing what is just over the next hill or just around the next curve in the road. I can't imagine never again meeting a cowboy or a trash man or a brew master or a woman firefighter or a shrimper or a lumberjack. I can't imagine not continuing to have my life enriched by tales of different lifestyles from those who have lived them. My friend, Rodney Aist, is just barely older than my own children. He is a PhD, an ordained Methodist minister, has lived in Scotland and Jerusalem and on the Navajo reservation. He has made a pilgrimage walk through Spain and has managed a summer camp for several years. He has hiked and camped and slept beneath the Northern Lights. I can sit and listen to him tell about all of those things for hours without being even a little bit bored. Maybe he wishes he had a wife, children, a dog, a house, and a truck. He still has a chance to do those things. Some or all of them may be the next thing over the hill or around the next curve in the road. The thing about Rodney is that he wasn't going to find me at my house, I had to go find him. Another friend like Rodney may be waiting for me to find, but I believe that I have to be on a journey to a different destination to have that opportunity. I don't believe that God's plan for me includes new journeys and new destinations. I am trying hard to accept whatever that plan may be. In the meantime, I'm going to try hard to be the best "me" that I can be right where I am. After all, I may no longer have the journey or the destination, but I can continue to be eternally grateful for the company.

V!

Are you familiar with a TV show, new for this year, called "V!"? If not, maybe you remember a mini-series of the same name a few years ago. If you have missed both of these, the TV series named "Aliens" came close to the same type of story. In the new series, V!, the V stands for Visitors. These Visitors are aliens who have huge space ships hovering over 20 some of the largest cities in the world. The Visitors appear to be of human form and claim to have come in peace. Not far into the story: we find that the aliens really don't look human at all, but are disguised; that they don't come in peace, but to take over the world; and that they have been here for ill-purposes for some time already, but are just now making their presence known. Disguised as humans, it is impossible to tell a Visitor from anyone else. By now, you are probably asking yourself, "where in the world (no pun intended) is he going with all of this?" To add a bit more confusion, let me tell you that I don't sleep at night. I haven't slept for several months. Some nights I read or watch TV or work on my PC. Some nights, I stay asleep, but am plagued by nightmares. I strike out at things in my dreams, sometimes putting Sara at risk and sometimes knocking everything off of the nightstand. Sara and Pepper (the puppy) are about to vote me out of the bedroom! Sometimes I talk in my sleep and sometimes I shout out loud. Last night was a nightmare, shout out loud night. That's the bad news. There is good news. The nightmare, as best I can recall, involved me being attacked by the Devil. He disguised himself (now you see the tie to V!) as a human: as strangers, as friends, and even as my mother. All of these people, actually the disguised Devil, were trying to convince me to turn away from God and turn to Satan. Somehow, I was able to see through the disguise each time and, although I was very fearful, I was able to call for help. These shouts for help were what woke up everyone in the house and set the puppy to growling. The good news... the shout was "Help me, Jesus!" I have been down lately and felt that God was drawing away from me. Thank God, that seems to be only my conscious thoughts. I take comfort, not from the lack of sleep, but that, in my unconscious thoughts I am still and always turning to Christ for my help. I know that Christ has saved me and will never let me go. My plan is not God's plan and my time is not God's time, but that seems to be becoming more bearable. Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I more accepting? Yes, slowly. Do I still want to be in full time service? Of course. I miss the Navajo Reservation and my friends and work there and wish that God had planned to replace the thrill of service there with service here. With the help of my Christian friends here, I'll work on being more patient and more aware of what God does plan for me and ask of me. I would really be remiss if I didn't thank all of my friends who have reached out to me over the past few weeks. I've been hurting and I've needed you. Hopefully, there will never be the opportunity to return the favor, but I pray that I'll be there for you if you need it. I love all of you.

I Think We're Back In Kansas, Toto!

Many years ago, I drove through Kansas just as the wheat was ready to harvest. I remember the day well, not because there was so much to remember, but because there was so little. The black, two-lane highway was arrow straight. It was bordered by equally spaced telephone poles. The overwhelming colors were the brilliant blue of a cloudless sky and the gold of wheat fields stretching for as far as the eye could see. There were no houses, no driveways, no fences, no animals or people, and for miles on end there was no other traffic. In the right frame of mind, this drive should have been wonderful. It was... for about the first 30 minutes. After a while, the feeling of awe became one of being trapped. Trapped in sameness.

Well, Toto, I think I'm back in Kansas. Sara and I aren't financially positioned to live off of her salary alone and we have vowed not to touch our retirement savings until she is ready to retire. That means that I work. I have been out of the IT field for so long now that it would be very difficult to find a job even if the market was wide open. For right now, I'm luckier than many. I'm working full time for the US Census and probably will be until next September. I'm working part-time for H&R Block and probably will be until mid-April. That means 5 days a week for the Census and nights and weekends for Block. At least that will keep me off the streets and out of trouble. Like the Kansas highway, as I begin I will feel great about working. In the long run, the sameness of it will probably drive me crazy. As far down that Kansas highway as I can see, nothing changes.

Have you ever watched a good carpenter choose lumber? One of the things that they will do is to eye along the length of a plank to check for bowing. If a piece is bowed, it is set aside. It won't be used for first quality building. As a carpenter, Jesus must have looked along many boards and set aside many that didn't measure up. I feel like I've been measured for my usefulness as good lumber, found wanting, and set aside. A couple of months ago, a missionary from our church, Christina Lowder, presented a homily in which she told of a Liberian woman being put into a deep hole as punishment. Her point was that there is always a need for someone not just to reach a hand down to the woman, but to get into the hole with her and support her in her trial. I want to be the type of person who gets down into the hole. I no longer believe or hope that is going to happen. I've been measured by the Carpenter and found wanting.

This is probably going to be my last blog entry for some time. The scenery at the bottom of a rut doesn't change much or often. When and if it ever does, I'll post again.

Peace?

On March 23, 1775, Patrick Henry addressed a gathering of the political leaders of the colony of Virginia. At that gathering, he gave an impromptu speech which is still considered one of the most powerful patriotic speeches ever given. Within his remarks, he said, "Gentlemen may cry, 'Peace! Peace!' -- but there is no peace." He was right! Shortly after this speech, the colonies were in a full scale war with Great Britain fighting for the right to form their own country. We all know how that turned out. On October 3, 1938, British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, in an address to the British Parliament gave his infamous "Peace In Our Time" speech. He had just returned from meeting with German Chancellor, Adolph Hitler, where he signed an agreement giving after-the-fact approval to Germany's military partitioning of Czechoslovakia. He was trying to convince Parliament, the British people, and perhaps himself that Hitler was a man of honor who would take no further military actions. We all know how that turned out. Is there peace to be found this side of heaven? How about in the sanctuary of His church? On September 15, 1963, members of the Ku Klux Klan bombed a Birmingham church, killing four innocent, young girls. On July 27, 2008, a deranged gunman opened fire in a church containing a crowd gathered for a children's program. He managed to kill two and wound another four before being stopped. This isn't uncommon news nor is it current news. In 1170, Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, was killed on the steps of the church alter. Where are we safe? Where is there peace? Romans 15:13 says, "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Just this morning, a member of my church collapsed during the worship service. She was carried to the hospital by ambulance. I believe she will be okay this time, but what of her joy and peace? What of the peace of other congregants? I am tired and drained, so undoubtedly that contributed to how very much this morning's incident bothered me. I trust in my God. I trust that Christ came to give us eternal joy and peace as we abide with Him. I have very big problems in believing that the promise of joy and peace means that it will be this side of heaven.

Time

Life is a trip. God put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation and three months later returned me home. To see how the whole story began click here. I never much minded someone else getting a raise when I didn't. It never came directly out of my own pocket and I tried to believe in fairness and honesty. I was lucky enough to be in a vocation that paid pretty well, based mostly on experience and not education. The Marine Corps trained me in data processing in the mid-60's. That was a time when most households weren't even getting computerized bills, let alone anyone imagining that there might come a day that computers would be almost as common in homes as were televisions. I led in with that paragraph in order to say that I hope you'll be fair with me. I'm set to do some good old belly-aching. I know many people who are so much worse off than I am and I don't mean to take anything away from their problems. I'm certainly not trying to trump any complaints they may feel justified in making. I hope that they won't think that, like the pay raises I mentioned, I'm trying to take anything out of their pockets. I'll try to always have a sympathetic ear, but this is my blog and my complaints, so I'll tell you up front, if you don't want to read them, pass me by right now! My last great day was on Thursday, August 6th of this year. That doesn't sound like too long ago, but let me put it a bit in perspective for you. August 6th was just over 70 days ago. We now have exactly 70 days left in this year. Within the next 70 days, you'll pass out candy on Halloween. You'll eat turkey for Thanksgiving. You'll celebrate the birth of the Christ Child. You'll veg-out in front of the TV and watch a New Year's Day full of football. I will begin work at H&R Block on the 2009 tax season. Are you ready for the next 70 days? I wasn't ready for the last 70 and those seem to have been 70 long days. How do I know that August 6th was the last great day? I know because it was the day before I found out I would be leaving FCNAM and the Navajo Reservation at the end of August. The 2+ months prior to that were packed with great days. The week of the 6th, the Maple Springs UMC mission team was in Window Rock and I spent most of the week with them. I spent one day that week taking my son, Ron, back to Shiprock to see the kind of things I did at work and meet some of my friends. I spent a couple of days doing the kind of things that I had learned helped to make FCNAM run just a little bit more smoothly. I loved them all! I've had a few pretty good days in the last 70 days. The Friday before I left, there was a lunch for me. There were hugs and tears and I knew that I was leaving lifelong friends. On the way home, I was able to visit with Jerry and Lynnette Harris, who have been friends for the past 25 years. Also on the way home, I was able to visit my sister and brother-in-law in Tampa and spend a little time with their sons and daughter-in-law. My brother-in-law, Steve, and I have been friends since 4th grade and he had just had serious cancer surgery. Seeing the family helped fill a real need within me. A weekend ago, Sara and I visited with my son, Ross, and his friend, Danylle, in Lynchburg, VA. All of those were certainly good days. There have been some hours of some days that have been pretty good as well. I've spent some, not nearly enough, time with close friends. I've spent most of a couple of days helping Twyla Pardue and Jeremy Pegram move what seemed like a ton of food from the local food bank to the church food pantry (does it always rain on the days food needs to be moved?) Believe it or not, one of my pretty good hours was at the doctor's office. My friend, Burnie Little, is a PA there. I made an appointment with him because I wasn't sleeping and had a general feeling of malaise (I believe that, without my daily medication, I could drop into depression faster than I could fall off a cliff.) Burnie is a strong Christian who listened to me carefully and then spoke to me wisely. I am sleeping better, but the sense of malaise hasn't abated much. I'm not sure it will until I once again experience some great days. It was just over 70 days between the time I got laid off by Old Salem and the time I was sure that I was going to the Navajo Reservation. During that time, I looked for non-existent jobs, I volunteered some, and I did some small extra part of the household chores. Since I've been back, I've looked for non-existent jobs, I've volunteered some, and I've done some small extra part of the household chores. That has been just 70 long days. I want to be able to see more clearly just what it is that God has planned for me. I daily pray that it won't be the same thing for my remaining years that it has been for the past 70 days. I'm not sure that there has been enough Cymbalta manufactured to keep me together if that turns out to be the case. God hears my prayers. God knows that my desire is to serve Him full time. God knows that I am discouraged. How can I know I am not stumbling off of God's chosen path for me if I cannot see it?

Paths

Life is a trip. For each of us there is only one destination. For each of us there is a path to that destination. None of us walks the exact same path. I know my destination. I do not know the path. The Navajo Reservation was not a destination. It was an area through which my path led. Being back home in Winston-Salem is not a destination. It is a continuation of my path. God will guide our feet along the path if we wish, but He will also allow us to chose to wander from His chosen path. Sometimes the paths are very steep and rocky and the effort of continuing along them is almost more than we can handle. It is often during this time that we blame God for putting us on such a difficult path and wonder why. Sometimes the path winds downhill, is tree shaded, and the birds sing for us. We are prone to pat ourselves on the back for choosing such an easy way and we forget God's involvement. If we are within God's will, often our path will touch the path of another. The best of this situation is when we join as husband and wife. Our paths are not one, but we can reach out a hand to help each other along difficult places when help is needed or we can just reach out a hand in love and companionship. Sometimes, two paths meet for such a very short time that it is possible for us to miss the opportunity to reach out a helping hand or to take a hand that is offered to us. If we are on the path that God has chosen, there is always a reason for the paths to meet. Yesterday, I was working alone in the Maple Springs pumpkin patch. A girl, probably the age of an average Wake Forest coed, stopped by. She asked a question about pricing and then wandered out into the middle of the church yard. In a couple of minutes, I noticed that she was kneeling, head bowed, and shoulders shaking with sobs. I went to her and knelt beside her (a surprise, since my knees usually won't bend that well.) I put my arm around her shoulders and asked if she wanted to tell me what was wrong. All she told me was that she had done something terrible. Her pain broke my heart and I'm positive that it broke God's heart as well. I told her that Christ would forgive anything and would never stop loving her no matter what. In a couple of minutes, she was able to get herself under control, dried her eyes, and asked me to sell her the pumpkin that she had been holding. Before she left, I gave her my email address and phone number and told her that I would like to hear from her that she was okay. I also told her that I would be glad to help arrange for her to talk to our associate pastor, Anne Elmore, if she wanted. She left me to wonder what it was that she had done so terrible and to pray that she would find peace. I didn't hear from her today and really didn't expect to. Our paths touched for only a very few minutes, but I was able to reach out a hand to help. This is God's gift to me. I pray that more opportunities will come and that I will always be aware and ready to respond as God would have me do.

A Holey Man

Life is a trip. God put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation and three months later returned me home. To see how the whole story began click here. I know that you are thinking that there is a major spelling error in the title of this posting, but you would be wrong. In this posting, I'm going to talk a bit about a man with a hole inside him. I returned from the Navajo Reservation not understanding why God brought me back home so soon, but sure that He had great things planned for me. After all, I had just begun to really fit into life in the Four Corners ministry and feel like a productive part of the team. Why else would I be returned home if it weren't to do even greater things? That doesn't seem to have been the case, or at least I'm having trouble identifying the great things I'm back home to do. Six weeks ago tomorrow, I left Shiprock. I knew then that I wanted to be involved in full-time service to the Lord, but didn't know where or how. Six weeks later, nothing much has changed. If I am a part of God's plan, shouldn't I be doing something? Those of you who know me best and, for that matter, some of you who know me hardly at all, know that patience is not my long suit. I'm ready to do God's work NOW! Why isn't God ready? For about five of those last six weeks the feeling of despair that I would ever again be allowed to experience the joy of being about God's business, the feeling I had when I left the Navajo Reservation, left a huge hole in me. I am the holey man. Within the last week or so, some things have happened that have begun to help me close that hole, at least a little bit. I am schooling to work for H&R Block again this coming tax season. I also fully expect to be picked up again to work on the 2010 census (I worked on it in the spring of 2009.) I continue to search for other jobs and, in the meantime, I am lucky enough to draw a bit of unemployment. This allows me time for volunteer activities, always an important part of my life. As a part of the job search, I asked Rev. Bill Medlin, the District Superintendent of the Winston-Salem District of the Western North Carolina Conference of the United Methodist Church for time to talk with him about my goals and my feeling of being called to full-time service. He graciously and quickly scheduled the half hour I requested and allowed the meeting to stretch to almost twice that length. I didn't know until that meeting, and many of you may not know, that the Methodist Church has a position called a Licensed Local Pastor. A Local Pastor is heavily trained, not nearly so much as those who want to be ordained, which takes a masters in a religious discipline, but trained none the less. A LP is assigned to a single church (charge) and can perform for only that church any functions that an ordained minister can perform for any Methodist Church. A LP preaches, teaches, performs marriages, funerals, baptisms, communion, etc. He or she is just restricted to doing it only for the church assigned. The road to becoming a LP is not quick and an assignment is not guaranteed even after all the training. I have asked Rev. Medlin to accept me on the LP candidacy track. My very best friends and advisers have been straight forward with me. They have advised tempered enthusiasm and patience. They have pointed out many of the trials and tribulations of being a pastor, especially the only one at a church. My friend Jeremy Pegram, a staff member at my church, Maple Springs UMC, and a full-time divinity student as well, advised that I go for it. His thought was that the time is long, the study and training extensive and intensive, and that there is no stigma attached to discovering, after beginning, that I really am not answering a call. He pointed out that anything I learned in the process was bound to benefit me in later endeavors. Anne Elmore, who works hard serving as the Associate Pastor at the church, when she isn't working twice as hard being my friend and confidant, was very straight forward about the life of a minister. She also took the time to talk with me about the hole that I am feeling by sharing a prayer by John Wesley: "Lord, make me what you will. I put myself fully into your hands: put me to doing, put me to suffering, let me be employed for you, or laid aside for you, let me be full, let me be empty, let me have all things, let me have nothing. I freely and with a willing heart give it all to your pleasure and disposal." I haven't slept through the night in weeks now. Part of it is the hole. Part of it is concern over my elderly mother and concern for family and friends who are fighting cancer and other diseases. I scheduled a visit with my friendly neighborhood Physicians Assistant. Burnie Little is another one of those who would probably have more time to do medicine if he weren't so busy working at being my friend. (I guess being my friend could turn into a full-time job if only people who befriend me would allow it to be.) I told Burnie about the hole and that I didn't think God was using me right now and that I couldn't sleep because of that. Burnie told me about a preacher he had read about. This preacher felt a call to move from area to area preaching and starting churches. Although he was very good and felt like he was doing exactly what God wanted him to do, things changed for him. This far, the story reminded me of my time on the Navajo Reservation and how, just I felt good about my calling, things changed for me. To continue Burnie's story, this preacher actually ended up in prison! While he was in prison, he began to write. His writing was to become a large part of our New Testament. This preacher's name was Paul and God changed Paul's plan to God's plan. Some of Paul's churches still exist, no small thing, but his writing became a major part of the greatest selling book in all of history. And now you know the rest of the story. Burnie's point was that God's plan is unfolding in my life, just as it did in Paul's, whether I recognize it or not. After helping to begin the healing in my soul, Burnie gave me a prescription to help with the lack of sleep too. I want to end by sharing something else I read just lately. "Many times, there are angels at work in our lives. When they don't have wings, we call them friends." Thank you, my friends. I love you.

Mottos

Life is a trip. God put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation and three months later returned me home. To see how the whole story began click here. I've had occasion to ponder on two different mottoes lately. Both are well known, at least in the United States. The motto of the Boy Scouts of America is "Be Prepared". The motto of the U.S. Marine Corps is "Semper Fidelis". In English, the Latin phrase, semper fidelis, means "always faithful." Like Paul, I tend to do the things I ought not to do and to not do those things that I should. This is where I need to train myself to be better prepared. While on the Navajo Reservation, I always carried a two-gallon gas can in my truck and usually carried a case of bottled water tucked behind the seat. I was told, early on, that I needed to be prepared for New Mexico and reservation conditions. I often drove to places where there was no ready supply of gas. Sometimes I forget to check the gas gauge in the truck, so the gas can was my attempt to be prepared. It wasn't unusual to find Navajos thumbing for rides to various places on the reservation. This is where the bottled water came in handy. In the Four Corners area, there is a constant need to stay hydrated. I was able to offer water to anyone that I picked up thumbing and the offer was never turned down. I was prepared to help them. I am not always so prepared. On the way across the Florida panhandle, I stopped one morning for breakfast in a small town. As I pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the restaurant, a large, black man leaned into the passenger side window. He told me that he was going from business to business through the town applying for work and not having much luck. In fact, that was the reason he was just leaving the restaurant, he said. He went on to say, however, that he had no money to eat and hadn't had a meal since the previous day. He asked for money for food. Anyone approaching me to beg for money or to try to sell me anything is almost always out of luck. I immediately raise defensive walls and this time was no different. I mumbled some excuse for not giving him any money and went on inside for my own breakfast. As I was leaving town, I happened to get caught at a stoplight. I glanced over at a strip mall and saw the same man leaving one store and turning into the next store. I realized that, perhaps, he was actually doing exactly what he said and going from door to door looking for work. I now know that I should have been better prepared to consider his plight and I will try to be better prepared. Instead of throwing up those defensive walls, I will be better prepared to listen to and consider the stories of anyone who approaches me. That doesn't mean that everyone will get money from me. In fact, most people still will not. In this case, however, I was already stopping to eat. I like to talk to people. Inviting him to join me for breakfast would probably have been a good experience, certainly no hardship, for me and would have allowed me an opportunity to witness to him even if it was only by a little act of charity. I want to be better prepared to recognize everyone as a child of God and to follow through with a small act of charity when it is possible for me to do so (sometimes, I really just don't have any money!) I am not always faithful. The United States Marine Corps is always faithful: to the USA, to the Corps, and, most of all, to each other. God is always faithful. To quote a fellow blogger, "The phrase is 'Always Faithful.' It isn't 'Sometimes Faithful.' Nor is it 'Usually Faithful,' but always. It is not negotiable. It is not relative, but absolute." God's motto could be "Semper Fidelis." Mine will never be, no matter how hard I try. Sometimes, it is hard for me to remember that God is always faithful. I've been home for a week. In some ways, that doesn't seem like a very long time. In others, it seems like forever. Try standing in a room with all of the doors closed to you for a week. You will probably begin to feel trapped. You might start thinking that there is no way out, that no one will ever open a door to you. I am having trouble remembering that God is always faithful. I want to work in full time service to God here in Winston-Salem. Nothing seems to be happening, though I have tried hard to network. Am I meant to go back to work in some part-time job and volunteer when I can? That is not what I want nor how I feel. God's motto is "Semper Fidelis," but I wonder, is He being faithful to me? If He knows my heart, why does it feel so empty at this moment? Please pray that I will be able to except that God is always faithful to me and that I will have the love and patience to remain faithful to His plans for me. I love all y'all, Ross

One Door Closes

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. As I write this, I am in the process of packing to head back to North Carolina and home. I said, in the past, that I wasn't going to worry about funding. I was at peace in my mind that, when God had other plans for me, the funding would stop. As of the end of August, the funding runs out. Several things happened that could have extended my stay, but they were not going to give me the freedom to extend it for a much longer time. I believe that I am following God's will. Life isn't always fair, but God is. That doesn't mean that following Him always seems fair. Sometimes, I want to shout at God. "You put me here, you allowed me to make friends and to begin to see a little bit of progress in the things I'm doing, and then You ask me to change directions. How fair is that?" If the past 3 months haven't done one other thing, they have allowed me to realize that the rest of my life needs to be committed to God's service. Since, like all of you, I need to keep a roof over our heads and keep us fed, it probably won't be fulltime service, although I am open to that, but I know that God has plans to use me. There are many opportunities in Winston-Salem. Like I learned in the "Experiencing God" study some years ago, I just need to find where He is working and join Him there. I intend to keep my blog going wherever I am, and I hope that you will join me in it. Let me tell you about the week that the mission team from Maple Springs was on the reservation. As I spent time with them, it was so very good to renew old friendships, begin new friendships, and spend a week on a mission trip with one of my sons. I discovered that unexpected talents abound within the group. Jordan can lead a group of children and keep their attention. Joe is like the Pied Piper. He had kids following him everywhere. Bryan can sit down with a pad and pencil and make a construction project come out right. My own Ron can paint (a talent I plan to make use of!) There were 23 of us involved and every single one brought something to the trip and, I expect, left with more than they came with. Even a short mission trip is a life changing event. I expect to see some of these people continue to blossom around Maple Springs and I hope to see some of them going on the next trip. The Navajo benefits from our being on the reservation, but we benefit so very much more. My own PC is trashed, so I'm typing this at the Farmington Library. My time is almost up and I need to get off this machine. I hope to see each one of you sometime in the near future. I'll be driving home beginning on Saturday, 8/29, but expect to visit with some old friends in Mississippi and family in Florida along the way. Prayers for safe travel are always appreciated. I love all y'all and miss you. Ross

God Is Truly Awesome!

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. Let me tell you about Jerrod. Some of you have already heard me tell my story of God's sense of humor. I was complaining that I didn't feel very useful here sometimes. I expected to be helping to relieve people's burdens and that didn't seem to be happening. God laughed. For the next two weekends, I delivered pew cushions to two of our small, isolated churches. In just a few hours, I relieved the burdens of a hundred people! After helping me to laugh at myself, God got serious. He gave me Jerrod. The Navajo Nation has a funded, summer youth opportunity program. Young people are helped to be placed in jobs at which they can work 100 hours over several weeks. Pastor Coleman was approached about having one of the young persons placed with the church. She agreed and got a 14 year-old young man. After only a day or two, it became obvious that she just didn't have the time to supervise him. I was asked if I minded taking him under my wing and, of course, I agreed. When I met Jerrod, I was favorably impressed. No piercings. No tattoos. No flashing underwear. He spoke without mumbling and shook hands with me. I know. I know. I'm being judgmental. But Jerrod made a very good first impression and had nothing obvious to overcome with me. He works hard and doesn't have to be told every little thing to do. He will even look for work sometimes. Although he wasn't wild about having to get rid of the dead mice we found when cleaning out church closets, he did it without complaint. We carry bags of trash and dirty diapers from the day care center. He tries to work and hold his nose at the same time, but he does work! Jerrod is lucky. He and his sister both live with their father and mother and his father is employed as a truck driver. He lives almost into Colorado, out in the high desert. No running water. His mother keeps the house immaculate and keeps Jerrod and his sister the same way. The whole family is a joy to be around. They accept life as it is and work around any bumps in the road - a lesson for Christian and non-Christian alike. The family, including Jerrod, is not Christian. In fact, they are in the process of building a new ceremonial hogan on their grounds now. Oops! God, did you really mean for Jerrod to be assigned to me? I don't have any experience working with non-Christian young people, You know? Jerrod and I talk sometime and sometime we just enjoy each other's company in silence. I invite him to church functions (none yet) and answer any questions, and he has had a few, as simply and truthfully as possible. We are building a bridge of trust between us. Yesterday, we were confronted by two very drunk Navajo men as we were leaving the mission compound. It got serious, but not especially dangerous. It provided me with the opportunity to give him my carefully prepared "grandpa's speech #3". That's the one where I told him that he was a better person than those men and that, however he perceived the god that he worships, that god would be greatly disappointed in him if he followed the drunks example and that my God loved him and would be disappointed too. I told him that his family worked hard to make him the person that he is today and that they would be terribly disappointed as well. I ended up by telling him that I expected to attend his high school graduation (class of '13) and that, if I heard that he was drinking, I would come back to Shiprock early and personally kick his butt all the way back to the Colorado state line. We ended up laughing together at that image, but he knew I was serious about considering him a fine person and continuing to be one. He leaves me Friday. I'll miss him. I don't intend to forget him or even let him go. He likes to fish and I'm going to find time to take him. He doesn't care much for football, but hey, everyone has some little fault, and together, we can overcome this one. I'll stay on him about his grades and find some way to acknowledge his accomplishments. He may become the only grandson I ever have and I want him to grow into a man I can respect. Last Saturday, I drove north through the Rocky Mountains. I visited some of the old mining towns: Telluride, Placerville, Rico, Ouray, Durango, that today are high-end winter sports and tourism sites. The views were truly awe inspiring. Except maybe for the fact that I should probably have been taller and smarter, God doesn't make mistakes, and He certainly didn't with the Rockies. I cannot begin to imagine what the first man to view them must have thought. I saw rivers that ran crystal clear and rivers that ran gold from the minerals in the rocks. I saw waterfalls tumbling hundreds of feet and waterfalls stepping down the mountainsides in baby steps. I saw aspen groves and towering pine forests. At times, I don't believe that I could have been more in tune with God had I been in the world's greatest cathedral. If awe is worship and wonder is prayer, I spent about 6 hours in the most meaningful worship service ever. I will be going back and would like nothing better than to be able to take all of you with me. I love and miss all of you, Ross

A Left-handed Compliment

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. This is written by me to me. I forget so often. Like Paul said, those things that I should do, I do not, and those things I should not do, I do. You know what a left-handed compliment is? It is like the old joke. A young man is trying to get a friend to go on a blind double-date with him. The friend asks why he should and wants to know something good about the blind date girl. The young man replies, "Well, she doesn't sweat much for a fat girl." That is a left-handed compliment. I don't think it would make anyone feel very good. I am terrible about paying God left-handed compliments. How often I pray that He will heal someone or correct some problem or injustice. How often I ask Him to take care of me or to assure me that what I am doing with my life is the right thing to be doing. Those are left-handed compliments. Of course, I am saying that I believe God is capable of healing, of fixing problems, of giving me assurances. But, and this is a big but, I often forget to tell Him directly. I pray for help, but forget to praise Him. God already knows what I need and what I want. He is going to take care of me even without my prayers. What He wants is a relationship with me. As a mother or father, how would you feel if the only time your children came to you was with their hand out? Isn't it great when, for no reason at all, they take the time to tell you that they love you? I heard at two different worship services this weekend that God wants a relationship with me. That means not just when I need something, but all of the time. He wants to walk with me and to talk with me. How awesome is that! I invite you to join me in turning your eyes, ears, and heart to God. Walk with Him. Listen to Him. He will always be there for you and for me. I love all y'all. Ross

A Heart Does Better Listening Than Speaking

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. I am making friends with a member of the Shiprock church. He is divorced and living alone. His wife and 9 year-old son live in Flagstaff. He gets to see him about once a month. He has traveled a very hard road, but is back to where he needs to be. He is a member of one of the church boards and a very hard worker. I had an opportunity to help him with a church building project last week. With my help, we finished the project in about 4 hours. Without my help, he would have probably finished it in about 3 hours! He is patient with me and I enjoy spending time with him. One of the things that the court told him, when he was divorced, was that he had to have a much better place to bring his son before the son would be allowed to visit him in his home. The house he lives in was terrible. A mission team that was here in Shiprock for 2 weeks worked almost exclusively on repairs and rebuilding of his house. There is still a week or two worth of work to be done by the next team or two we have here. The house looks much better and, by and large, he is pleased with the results. However, there is something that we overlooked. We had a 4th of July celebration at the church. I was talking to him about the changes to his house and how he liked them. He made a comment that really set me thinking. He said that he loved the work that had been done, but that he was afraid that some of the changes, moving pictures to paint walls, for example, were erasing memories. You all know me, it could easily have gone the other way, but at that moment, the ears to my heart were open instead of the mouth of my heart. His comment really made me stop and think. Many of our mission teams, and I include myself among that number, come here and work on houses. To us, they look poor, crude, and maybe even, by our standards, uninhabitable. It is so easy for us to overlook that, to the families that live in them, these aren't just houses, they are homes. They don't just represent shelter. They represent family. They represent memories. They represent a bit of pride in that they have a place to live and are not on the street. They may well represent all of the wealth in this world for the residents. Our attitudes, as Christ's representatives, must always be accepting. A really good attitude may or may not even be noticed, but a bad attitude will be recognized immediately. This is a lesson that I'm trying hard to carve into my heart forever. Love to you all, Ross

One Body, Many Parts

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. I haven't done this before, but I want to begin with some scripture that has become more meaningful to me since I've been here in the Navajo Nation. From I Corinthians 12:4-6, "There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but the same God works all of them in all men." From I Corinthians 12:12 "The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ." (NIV) These readings are from Paul's letter to the church at Corinth where he addresses gifts of the Holy Spirit. I saw a great example of this at work yesterday. Rodney held a staff meeting in the morning. There were 13 of us gathered. Among that 13, 9 were women and 4 were men and 8 were Navajo and 5 were Anglo. Ages ranged from somewhere in the 20s to somewhere in the 70s. Different jobs represented included: director, office administrator, thrift store manager, church pastor, church administrative assistant, director of the child care center and her 3 assistants, 2 men who work directly with the mission teams doing hosting and building, and two staff volunteers (yours truly was one of those.) We traveled around the circle introducing ourselves, telling about our jobs, and the joys we are finding in doing them. I'll admit that I've been a little bit low sometimes out here. My mental image, before coming out, was very hands-on. I pictured myself holding the hands of ones in grief. I pictured myself, delivering lifesaving food to those with nothing to eat. I would carry the sick to the doctor and visit those in the hospital and in jail. Of course, I would be offering to pray with everyone. Each and every one of those with whom I came into contact would want to hear my testimony. Well, it didn't turn out like that and it took Paul, writing almost two thousand years ago, and a staff meeting to bring it home to me. Thanks to a glorious and giving God, I have gifts to use. Can I take care of a crowd of 2 and 3 year old children? Nope. Can I keep the financial books and track the money that must flow through the ministry? Well, maybe, but I would hate every minute. Can I lead building teams? Shoot, I can't even tell a right-handed screwdriver from a left-handed screwdriver. Can I run a thrift shop for 20+ years, like our current manager, and witness to customers in her quiet, loving way? That is an emphatic "no" and I wouldn't even want to try. Can I minister to a congregation? Not in this lifetime. But I have gifts! Do I feel comfortable talking to a busy store manager and asking for financial support? Yes. I've been a manager. I know how to cut to the chase or engage in friendly conversation if there seems to be time for that. Can I help unload a truckload of donations? You bet. I would much rather do that than swap places with the young people working repairing a house roof. Can I go get the mail and sort it out so that checks get deposited and bills paid? Yes, and with only a few lessons. That gives our office administrator more time to try to keep our director straight. Can I visit other social outreach ministries, whether secular or religious, and get them to consider ways that we can partner with them? Yes. I'm pretty good one-on-one and love to hear from people who are excited about the work they are doing. So, my family and friends, here's what I need from you... I need your continued prayers. I have too much to do to get bogged down in feeling sorry for myself because I'm not Mother Theresa. Pray that I will always feel that I am gifted in a unique way and that I am able to do things to ease burdens that others either can't or won't do. Continue to help support me financially if that is something you find possible and you want to do. Times are hard, but I'm living in a place where recession isn't recognized. Not because the economy isn't bad, but because it has always been bad. Lastly, join your heart with mine in the love of a Christ who gave more for us than we will ever be able to give to others. Oh yes, the joys that I spoke to in the meeting included new friends, a better understanding of how God works, and new information that I can bring home with me to better help those in need in my own community. I love and miss all of you, Ross

I Don't Know

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. I feel good about what I'm doing here, but am I doing any good? I don't know. A week ago, my friend, Jeremy Pegram, who is on staff at my home church of Maple Springs UMC, preached a sermon using Jesus' parable of the sower and the seeds. You know the story: some seeds fall on the path and are eaten by birds; some seeds fall on shallow soil and don't have the roots to grow; some begin to grow, but weeds spring up and strangle them; and some have everything go right and grow and bear fruit. Instead of mustard seeds, Jeremy used the pumpkin seed as an example in his sermon. I'm not much of a gardener, but even I know that a single pumpkin seed, if cared for, can grow a vine that will take over a yard and which, in turn, will produce lots of pumpkins. To bend Jeremy's use of the pumpkin seed just a bit, think about how many people will eat pumpkin pies, spend time with their children carving pumpkins, and enjoy lighting them up on the night of Halloween. The youth at Maple Springs will sell pumpkins and use that money for mission projects (do you know that those pumpkins are grown right here on the Navajo Reservation?) The final results of a pumpkin seed might feed, create quality time for families, create memories for children, and earn money to do more good for more people. But does the sower of the pumpkin know this when he plants the seed? Does he think about it? Does he even care? Does he know that the results of his effort might mean so much to so many? Doing the things that I am doing here makes me think of being the sower. Some of the seeds we attempt to sow will never bear fruit. Some will fall on closed minds. Some will fall on closed hearts. Some, however, will touch the fertile ground of worried minds, aching hearts, and wondering souls. Which of the seeds will produce positive results? I don't know. I'm not called to know. I'm called to sow. Last week, I worked on a project to get FCNAM on a Lowe's Home Improvements donation list. I also worked on a project to submit a proposal to the same Lowe's to have some of their volunteers help set up the buildings necessary to a church outreach. I took several boxes of children's books to the women's shelter. I helped unload a whole trailer load of clothes for the thrift shop. Will any one of these efforts save even one soul for Christ? I don't know. I'm not called to know. I'm called to sow. Each one of us is called to sow wherever we are. Will we succeed? I don't know. We aren't called to know. We are just called to sow. Peace and Love Ross

Doing What I Do Best

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. One of my very favorite things to do, in the whole wide world, is to talk one-on-one with folks (I am 64 years old after all, what do you expect?) Rodney is putting that to, what I hope will be, good use. He has asked me to begin to visit, establish a contact, and summarize the services, schedules, etc. of various outreach groups here in Shiprock. Some of these are religious, some are secular, and some are governmental. For the past several days, I've visited everywhere. I've been to the Boys & Girls Club and the Senior Citizens Center. I've visited the Pediatrics section of the Navajo hospital here and will be doing a small project with them very soon. I've visited the battered women's shelter and delivered lots of dolls (donated in Winston-Salem for me to bring with me) for gifts to the families there. There are 20 different families represented at the shelter right now and that fills them to capacity. There is a waiting list of women and children who have nowhere else to go to get away from an abusive life situation. I've visited the local Catholic church. They sponsor the AA meetings here. There are two meetings a week and, from what I'm told, there could be more if more leaders were available. I've wanted to visit the day care centers, including our own Methodist church run one, but they are all closed for some reason. School is out, so I don't know where the children are. I'll soon find out. What else have I done? I participated in a 'paint the town' day. Gang graffiti is a real problem here. The Shiprock Navajo Police Department sponsored a day to paint over the graffiti. I worked with about 30 - 40 other folks. Only 3 of us were not Navajos. By and large, I was either treated very nicely or ignored. Mostly, I was treated very nicely. The Navajos that I spent the day working with were curious about me, why I was here, and where I came from. It was pretty hard work and, much to my horror, I found that my hand will fit not only a paint brush, but a roller handle as well. I sure hope that word of this doesn't get out back home. I've worked very hard to protect my "I can't do anything with my hands" reputation. I'm still not sure how I got paint in my arm pit, but let me tell you, it was sure no fun getting it out. Since it turned out that I was good at painting, Rodney assumed that I was probably good with tools in general. Oops! He asked me to get together with the two men who are the most responsible for working with mission teams when they come here to Shiprock. He wants to establish an inventory of tools that we maintain here all the time; tools for every purpose that we can think of. My approach has been to begin an inventory list on paper. From there, the three of us charged with trying to build this inventory can work on what we have, what we need, and where we might be able to get it. It hasn't been all work. I've visited Mesa Verde National Park, home of some 600 pueblo dwellings in one condition or another. I've visited Durango, Colorado. Durango is a place I could grow to really love. After visiting, I described it to someone as a place where old hippies go to die, young hippies go to age, yuppies go to blossom, and tourist go to watch it all happening. Durango is undoubtedly going to be my "get away from it all and preserve your sanity" place. I've also driven to Farmington (30 miles away) to have dinner with some new friends. We had a great evening together and I believe that they will turn out to be life-long friends. This afternoon, I'm going to put out posters of a concert that will soon be held at my new church, so I had better get started. Please keep me, FCNAM, and the Navajo in your prayers. Peace and Love, Ross

Random Thoughts From The Road

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. I haven't counted, but I've probably visited 40+ states in my life. I still haven't found one to match my own (the mountains of Colorado run a close second.) If you can't get close to God on the Blue Ridge Parkway, you are probably going to have a hard time getting close to Him anywhere. Arkansas has the worst interstate highways I've ever been on. There's irony in the fact that a past president was a past governor there. Crossing the Mississippi at Memphis doesn't make it seem so mighty. There are so many small islands that you seem to be crossing several smaller rivers. I've never seen a city that looks good from an interstate highway running through it. Nothing's changed that opinion on this trip. In Texas, cows seem to have more living area than most people. Speaking of cows, I passed several very large cattle feeding lots. Someone should suggest that old cemetaries be used for that. Surely the dead are the only ones who can stand the odor. Oklahoma seems to have an average of 1 casino for every 2 exits off of I-40. This is a good state for anyone with a gambling addiction to stay well away from. I saw a couple of what seemed to me to be large wind turbine farms. At least, there were lots of fans turning. They seem to be randomly placed and pretty far from each other. I wonder why. Although I saw the entrances to several ranches, I couldn't see the ranch houses. Each entry gate displayed the brand. Do we still brand cows or just use ear tags now? Do the ear tags have the brand icon? Oklahoma has (and I saw it from the highway) what is advertised as the largest cross in the western hemisphere. I couldn't help but wonder why you would want to build something like that ("Ha, my cross means I honor God more than you do.") and how many people the funds would have fed, clothed, and educated. I drove about 50 miles on the original Route 66 concrete highway. In the west, it is dead straight and hugs the contours of the land. Two lanes the whole way, I can't imagine the traffic. I read that, during the Dust Bowl, Oklahoma lost about 60,000 in population, mostly to California via Route 66. Can you imagine doing that today with no a/c, no DVDs for the kids, and none of the other things we take so much for granted. With no internet, when you got hungry you looked for a restaurant and when it was time to sleep, you looked for a motel. Tucumcari has about 40 motels, of which, only 20 are still operating and Tucumcari is right on the interstate. Closing 66 put an end to a lot of dreams I suppose. One last thought... I am a creature of habit. Toilet paper has to come off the front of the roll, not the back. The toilet seat has to be left down (1 mother, 3 sisters, 1 wife and 1 granddaughter - I've learned!) My cell phone has to be put into my right front pocket. On a trip, Sara has to repack our suitcase in the morning while I get the coffee. Why is it that I can't seem to get everything back into it the same way it came out? I bought the t-shirt today, so that can't be the problem. The next trip, Sara is going to have to come, like it or not. I don't have time to spend worrying about how to pack neatly. It is 7:30 here and still bright daylight. At home it is 10:30. My watch is on time, but my brain is running fast. I am pooped so this is all for now. The adventure really begins next week, so follow along as you will. Peace and Love, Ross

A Creep of Faith

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. Did you ever watch a very careful person prepare to go swimming in an icy lake? They approach the edge most slowly; no dashing into the water for them. They don't even want to take the chance of getting splashed before they are ready. They carefully dip one big toe in, quickly draw it back out and shake the water off. They stand there for a moment considering the differences between how cold the water is and how much they want to go swimming. Here they go! One step. Two steps. All the way up to their knees. They stop and look longingly back to the shore. There is still time to turn back, but how badly will that damage their pride if anyone is watching? Continuing to advance all the way up to their waist, it is time now to make the 'get your head wet' decision. Is it best to splash a little bit of the ice cold water on their chest, under their arm pits, and then on their face, or do they finally suck up all of their courage and take a big dip or a dive all the way under? Either way, there is a bit of sputtering and gasping and then, look, they're in! The water is still cold. Their lips begin to turn blue. But, by golly, they've done it. They are in swimming. Folks talk about making a "leap of faith." For me, committing to missionary service with the Navajo has been a "creep of faith." I'm just like the person entering the icy lake water. First, I stick my big toe in. This doesn't mean actually listening carefully to the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit. What if, instead, I just ask a few close friends what they think of the idea? They know me well. They wouldn't lead me astray, would they? The majority seem to be at least somewhat in favor of me taking the next step. I hear a lot of, "Are you crazy!? Well, you might as well do what you feel like you need to do." I wade in cautiously up to my knees. I'm talking to my pastoral staff about what I believe to be a calling and asking for their advice. They are kind enough to leave off the, "Are you crazy?" part of the response and help me to pray and to begin listening more carefully to the voice of the Holy Spirit. They help me to search for actual opportunities to be in service to God. Oops! An opportunity shows up and it sounds like it is made for a person with my desires to serve and my few gifts. I can still turn back to shore, but at what cost to my selfish pride? More prayers and quiet meditation. An interview. An offering to accept a position of service. I am now in the icy water up to my waist. God has pointed a way for me to go. The only decision left is the 'head' decision. I can go with the church group for a week and sort of splash my way in or I can take a deep breath, say a fervent prayer, and take that big plunge, going for months of service. I decide to immerse myself all at once and I dive in. The shock of the icy water, of someone like me presumming that God really wants me to serve, takes my breath away. The thrill of God being always with me quickly dispells the bit of fear that I feel. The water is still very cold and my lips will still turn blue, but I know that God will hold me close, keep me safe, and allow me the shear joy of swimming in the waters of service. That, my friends, is where I am on my "creep of faith." I am committed. On Tuesday morning, I will hug my Sara so tightly that I'll be able to feel myself holding her for miles and miles and, I hope, for days and days. She will go east to her job and I will go west across almost 3/4 of the United States to mine. I'll have to be careful driving for the first few miles, because there are sure to be tears in my eyes. John Denver wrote in a song, "How can I leave you again? I must be clear out of my mind." Sometimes, I wholeheartedly agree. Already, I find myself lying awake at night, anxious because I know that in just a short time I won't be able to reach out and just touch her in order to calm my fears and share my concerns. I pray that God will be with her, protect her, and let her know every single day how much I love her. God gave me Sara and surely, He will keep her for me. I leave other family and friends who are so very important to me. For one reason or another, there are probably some that I won't see again in this world. Layoffs, education, and other opportunities will always create movement. Some family and friends are older than me and may be called home before my return. My prayer is that, whether they just move or actually leave this world, they will know I love them and anticipate the day we will be together again. I leave my church: the body of Christ. I know that I will miss those members and friends on Sunday morning, Monday evening, and even in those doggone committee meetings. I am equally certain that they will support me; with gifts, if possible and with prayers always. This might sound a little maudlin, but I don't mean it that way. I'm excited! God's time is not our time, so maybe I'm making a leap of faith after all. Look out, Navajo Nation, here comes God's servant! Peace and Love, Ross

Go, Cat, Go

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. Country music great, Carl Perkins, first wrote and recorded "Blue Suede Shoes" in 1956. The opening line reads, "Well, it's one for the money... Two for the show... Three to get ready... Now go, cat, go. For a couple of months now, I've thought that I would never get to the "go, cat, go" stage of my Navajo mission trip. Now, with just over two weeks to go, I'm working hard on the "Three to get ready" step. I've been making lists and checking them twice. I've already packed a couple of boxes of books (no TV for me!) and started using the guest bedroom as a staging area. The summer months alone would not be too hard to pack for, but since I fully expect not to come home until at least Thanksgiving, I have to prepare for cold weather as well. Every time I think I have it all together, someone (usually my Sara) asks me if I've thought of something I haven't even considered. I've erased my lists so many times, they are beginning to feel like Kleenex. A couple of out-of-the-ordinary things have happened to / for me and I want to share them with you. Farmington, New Mexico is a town of less than 20 thousand. It is the largest town near Shiprock and is located about 30 miles to the east. As continuing proof that God works in mysterious ways, I've already made a friend in Farmington. About a month ago, I was on Facebook hoping to find a friend and fellow church member. I didn't find her, but I did find someone with the same name who was listed as living in Farmington. I emailed her, told her a bit about who I am and what I am going to be doing, and asked if she minded being asked some serious and some not-so-serious questions. We've exchanged several emails since that time. She teaches gifted children and, I suspect, that she thinks I wouldn't qualify for her classes. However, she has been very upfront about answering anything I thought to ask. For example, I now know that her classes are about 1/3 Navajo, 1/3 Anglo, and 1/3 Latino. This poses some interesting teaching problems for her and, in the larger arena, poses some political problems for the area. She does not speak Navajo although she has taken classes. She says, "Navajo is incredibly difficult and almost impossible to learn. The sounds used in the language are very different from sounds used in English. The structure of the language is extremely complex. Words build not only at the beginning and the end (prefixes and suffixes), but also in the middle. The language doesn't include articles (a, an, the) or plurals or verb tenses (those are figured out in context.) Also, Navajo is a very visual language and many nouns are actually descriptive phrases and quite long." The country is wide open and she tells me that people out there approach distance very differently from what we would do. "We'll go to Albuquerque and back (360 miles round trip) in the same day to attend meetings, go to a medical specialist, pick up parts, etc. So the 30 miles from Shiprock to Farmington is considered to be in the same neighborhood." Just in case any of you have the idea that I'll be totally isolated, she's set my mind at ease. At least in Farmington, I'm not sure of Shiprock, there are independent pizza parlors, Chinese restaurants, movie theaters, and legitimate theater and symphony. The high schools have active athletic programs and Farmington even has a semi-pro football team. There are two Walmarts in Farmington, but none in Shiprock. The best news that she was able to share with me is that both grits and Jif peanut butter are available without me having to drive much more than 60 miles round trip! I really look forward to meeting Susan and her husband. The great thing that has happened for me is the results of the silent auction held as a part of this year's mission fair. The financial results were great enough to pay for another month of my stay in the Navajo Nation. I had great help in setting up the auction and in monitoring it as the time passed. I hesitate to try to name all of those who so kindly donated items to be sold. I'm afraid that I might miss someone and I really wouldn't want that to happen. As I write this, I'm not sure how the powers-that-be at Maple Springs feel about me touting the businesses who so kindly donated to a person that they didn't know, at a church they didn't attend, for a missions project they didn't know much about, but I'm going to try to let you know who they are so you can support their businesses. We had 40+ items and sold all but one of them. I'll be writing thank you notes to the majority of the donors, trying to express just how much their support meant to me. I guess that's it for now. Love and Peace Ross

Departure Date and Silent Auction

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. My arrival date in New Mexico has been set. I will be meeting Terry Matthews at the Albuquerque airport on Monday, May 25th. Backing up 5 days from there means that I expect to leave driving out on Wednesday, May 20th. Sara sat me down and talked to me about the trip out. She knows that I will be excited and will push to get there as soon as possible. I'm not sure why that's so since I can't do anything much until Terry's plane arrives. She has insisted that I drive normal hours, i.e., not very late at night or very early in the morning. She wants me to be on the road when help is available if I run into trouble. She also insists that I stay each night at somewhere safe, clean, and with a continental breakfast. Her point is that I can not only eat breakfast, but can also grab a couple of pieces of fruit to help me through the day. She knows me well enough to know that I'll neglect myself rather than take the trouble to do the right thing at the right time. Knowing myself, I would probably only stop to use the bathroom and grab a biscuit at the Bo's or when I was so dead tired I couldn't safely continue on. I told her that I would text her when I crossed state lines, went through major cities, etc. That way she can follow me as I make the trip and raise the roof if I begin to loose control. Maple Springs UMC, my home church, will be including my commissioning as a missionary representative as a part of the church services of Sunday, May 17th. I invite all of my family and friends to be a part of one of the services and help me to celebrate the acceptance of my calling. There is a man and his three children that I met when I was working at Old Salem this past fall. Ben Newell is the director of Together For Hope of Arkansas. He and his family live in Helena, AR which is on the Mississippi River an hour or so south of I-40, my direct route to New Mexico. I've been in touch with Ben a couple of times via email and we hope to get together to break bread on my way out. I'm guessing that I'll be able to get there around lunchtime on my second day traveling. I am looking forward to seeing him and his children again, maybe meeting his wife, and taking the time to share with each other God's plans for our missions. I know from experience that a two person support group is not a bad thing to have. On Sunday, April 26th, from 2 p.m. until 5 p.m., Maple Springs UMC is holding a Missions Fair. We will be using the day to showcase the missions that are going on within our church, community and around the globe. We are teaming up with the group, Stop Hunger Now to make and distribute 10,000 meals. We will have crafts for kids, VBS registration, Sundaes on Sunday, and great music in our fellowship hall. We will also be holding a silent auction. Proceeds from the silent auction will be going to help support my own ministry to the Navajo. (I want to take a second right here to thank all of those who have donated items for the auction.) There are some neat items and you may find that you have to bid against me for a couple of them. If you are a member of Maple Springs, please volunteer to support the Missions Fair with your time or gifts. Whether or not you are a member, please plan to attend. I know that you will have fun. There is just one last thing for now. If you have found a way to support my mission trip with money or donations for the silent auction, thank you very much. If you would like to make a donation of either cash or a quality auction item, that would certainly be appreciated as well. I can feel the power of prayer behind my effort. If you are one of those praying for me, please don't stop. I will never have too many friends praying. I love you all. More later.

When and What?

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. It seems that the most common two questions I'm hearing now are, "When are you going?" and "What will you be doing?" I expect to be able to arrive in Albuquerque, NM, in order to meet my pastor and friend, Terry Matthews at the airport there sometime in the last two weeks of May. The exact date has not yet been set. Terry will fly out to help me get my feet on the ground. He has been there many times by now and understands much that I will have to learn. I'll meet him at the airport in Albuquerque and we will travel together the rest of the way to Shiprock. I'm sure that he will be a great help to me and I really appreciate the fact that he is willing to give up some of his valuable time in order to be with me. The time available to get to know each other better and have one-on-one conversation is a big plus for me too. I actually expect to leave 5 or 6 days prior to our planned meeting. The drive doesn't take that long, but I want to be able to see a little something of this country as I travel. Some part of the time, I'll travel off I40 and on what little remains of the old Route 66, the Mother Road. That appeals to the romantic in me. I'll post the actual departure date and expected arrival once the date is set. Just exactly what I will be doing is not tightly defined at this time. Rodney Aist, the Director of FCNAM, has drawn up an eight-point job description for me. Each point defines an area of hoped for impact, but until I begin my service, it is difficult to say where we will be most successful. I use the 'we' there to describe the team of Rodney and me. In football terms, Rodney is going to be the player / coach, plan the offense and defense, and call the plays. With his guidance, I'll try to be successful blocking, tackling, and running the ball. Yeah, it is hard to imagine this chunky body carrying a ball, so it is a good thing that I won't really have to run very often. Briefly, here are the eight points defined in the job description: 1) Advocacy Program - Work with the director in developing the initial phases of a ministry advocacy program, i.e., advocating for the Navajos and helping them to advocate for themselves. 2) Men's Ministry - Work with the Shiprock UMC pastor to strengthen the men's programs of the church. 3) Local Missions - Explore possibilities of engaging with the church's local missions program. 4) Congregational Development - Become familiar with the curriculum of the Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations and implement its language in the work with FCNAM. 5) Mission Team Program - Work with the Cove church (35 miles away) to develop the congregation's summer mission team program for 2010. 6) Navajo Undergraduate Program - Research and document undergraduate education available for our member congregations. 7) Promotion and Development - As determined by the Director, engage with various local promotional and developmental projects. Liaise with the Western NC Conference and the W-S District in developing ministry support. 8) Administration and Supervision - Needed administrative work as defined by the Director. As you can see, the scope of these areas is wide and exciting with many opportunities for His service. They are areas that are very open-ended and the work on them and the impact from them may well outlast me by years. At least that is my hope and prayer. I hope that this answers, at least somewhat, the two questions I mentioned at first. As always, I ask for your prayers. I know that God will never fail me. I would like for you to pray that I will have the strength and skills not to fail God.

There's More To It Than Just Packin' A Suitcase!

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. For the past few days, I've been using almost every means available to begin to raise money for my ministry. I've sent emails, written snail mail letters, contacted Sunday school classes, and talked to folks face-to-face. Now, one of the very hardest parts, staying steadfast in the belief that God will provide and that the money will be available as needed. I've found out that some things will be more expensive than I had hoped, but hey, I'm a fan of peanut butter and Ramen Noodles and I need to loose some more weight anyway. Yesterday, I received the job description for the job I will be doing. There are 8 areas noted on it. I'll have no reason to ever be inactive or bored. The job description excites me a great deal. It provides me with opportunities for research and planning on big picture, long range project areas, hands-on work with the Navajos through our churches and other social advocacy groups, and work with the mission groups that visit the area each summer. There is a lot more detail, but the big thing is that it makes me feel like my prayers about my calling are being answered. There are several items that I'll be able to start work on even before I go out. Can you say "Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations"? I've been spending a lot of time with my nose in a monster book called, "The Foundation Directory." I borrowed it from a local foundation in an attempt to find funding for my own ministry. I've not been very successful there, but it has given me wonderful ideas on possible support for our programs. Now I just have to make about a million pages of notes before returning the book. I'm told that the book is very expensive, so I don't think I'm going to buy it just for casual reference. Still 6 or 7 weeks before I start packing my suitcase, but I don't think I'm going to be able to just wait for the time to pass. More later.

The Hardest Part

Life is a trip. God has put me on the road to service in the Navajo Nation. To see how the whole story began click here. Today I begin to work on the hardest part of my call to being a missionary... raising money. I'll be using email, snail mail, the church bulletin and newsletter, speaking to Sunday school classes, applying for grants, and anything else I can think of. I have to make myself remember that I'm not asking for money for myself. I'm asking for money in order to be able to do the things that God wants me to do. When Moses fled Egypt after killing the Egyptian, he left a life of untold wealth and became a shepherd. He had less than nothing when God called him to return to Egypt and lead the Israelites out of captivity. I'm pretty sure that Moses didn't tell God he couldn't go because he had no money. I'm also pretty sure that God didn't plan to pack him a bag lunch. God just expected Moses to begin his mission and assume that he would be provided for. I believe that God will provide the resources for me to make this journey, but He expects me to do the work. Today I intend to write a letter / email to be posted to family and friends asking for donations; a difficult thing to do in this economy. Today I'll also work on comments I want to be able to make to Sunday school classes, during the church hour, or to anyone who will listen. Today I'll begin an address list of family and friends I want to contact. Today I'll contact a friend who understands grants and who has the resources to help point me in the right direction to seek one or more grants. God will provide, but like Moses, I have to at least make the effort to strike the rock with my staff before I am granted water. Prayers for success are requested.

In The Beginning

I'm sure that this blog will start slowly, but I hope that it will soon explode with new thoughts, ideas, and experiences. I was once an active member of First Baptist Church in Winston-Salem. Although I didn't pay much attention at the time, First Baptist and First Presbyterian were making several joint trips each year to Mission Emanuel in the Dominican Republic. My friend, Monty Y., went with a mission team, for a week, one summer. He returned changed. He sat in our Sunday school class and tried to recount his experiences. He got pretty choked up telling of his visit; the things he had seen and the things he had done. It was clear that the Holy Spirit was moving in him. I wasn't sure where the thought was taking me, but I knew immediately that I wanted and needed some of whatever blessings he had received. Each of the next two years, I made a DR mission trip myself. The work was hard, but the reward was so much greater. As time allowed, I tried to stay involved in Mission Emanuel and in reaching across cultures in my own home town. Because my mother and other members of my family were active at Maple Springs UMC in Winston, my wife, Sara, and I moved our membership back to Maple Springs, the church I had grown up in. From my experiences, I knew, and told family members and friends that, should Sara happen to leave this world before me, I would need to involve myself in missions in order to keep my soul alive and my heart from breaking. I now believe that God has plans for me that don't include doing things based on my idea of when a good time to begin would be. That takes me up to now. A couple of years ago, I retired from a career in computer systems and went to work as a historic interpreter at Old Salem . In January of this year, I got caught in an economic layoff. Even without a "burning bush" experience, I strongly feel that God has spoken to me and said, "I want you to work for me now." So, with a loving and supportive wife still beside me, I began to look around for doors that God was opening. I first approached Jack Larson, the director of Mission Emanuel. Although I thought I would be a good fit, Jack lovingly and logically let me know that Mission Emanuel was not a door that God had opened. He encouraged me to keep praying and seeking God's will. Two days later, on Monday, February 16th, I met with Terry Matthews, the senior pastor at Maple Springs, to talk about service opportunities. In hindsignt, Terry is a resource I should have approached earlier. I've known him for a lot of years and have grown closer to him over the last couple. Terry has long been active in working with the Methodist churches, on the Navajo reservation, in Arizona. He was instrumental in leading Maple Springs to unite with the Window Rock, AZ church in missions to the Navajo. I told Terry that I felt that I was being called to mission work, but that I needed to get out of my comfort zone and to immerse myself in a different culture. Being able to go home to dinner and my own bed each night was not where I felt I was supposed to be. Terry had an idea. As our church becomes more active in missions to the Navajo, there would seem to be a benefit in having a presence on the reservation. Terry knows the director of FCNAM (Four Corners Native American Ministry) and promised to contact him for us. Yesterday, exactly one week after our meeting, I heard good news. There is a need and a position for me on the Navajo reservation. I will begin in May serving a three month internship - the oldest intern they've ever had. The internship can be extended if all parties agree and this is something I fully expect to happen. Although the needs must be fleshed out, initially I will be involved in helping to coordinate the mission trips made by other churches to the reservation. I will also accompany the Navajo youth on two summer trips that they have scheduled. Other times will be given to assisting the Navajo pastors of the Methodist churches at Window Rock and Sawmill. Between now and May, I will be involved in raising funds to support the trip and will be preparing myself spiritually, mentally, and physically. Life's a trip and I'm beginning a new leg of the journey. More later.