The End

Thoughts tumble in my mind. It seems to me like watching clothes dry in a machine with a glass front door. My thoughts are picked up on the bottom, carried to the top, and then, with a solid "thump", coming crashing back to the bottom. I imagine myself as a hamster in a glass cage. I run and run on the wheel, going nowhere. Once in a while, knowing beforehand that it will be hopeless, I go over to the glass wall peer out and scratch on it, just trying to reach for something different in my life.

I've determined that this will be the last entry in my blog. I grow tired and angry and I don't really feel disposed to share that, over and over, with anyone. Over two years ago, I just knew that God had called me. "Here I am.", I called back and did what I thought I was being asked to do. In the past two years, I've found God to be failing in many ways. There are darn few of "His" children, with whom I have any contact at all, that I care about identifying as my brothers and sisters. Those that I don't know, God seems to not know either.

Here, where we are mostly fed, clothed, warm, and dry: We want to go armed so we can kill. We drive as if we are more important than anyone else and the safety of others, even children in our own cars, can't be our concern. Politically, we try to legislate morality as we see it, telling women what they can and cannot do with their own bodies and telling others who they may and may not love. Financially, we seem to have an "I've got mine and I don't intend to share it." attitude. On Sunday morning, we attend a pep rally for God and then we leave the game to be played by "professional" Christians.

I've always felt that the example of management went a long way in establishing the demeanor of those being managed. If God doesn't care, why should we? Even if I agree that God doesn't cause bad things to happen, how can I deny that, with all of his power, He doesn't do anything to stop them either. Do you stop one child from touching a very hot stove and then allow another child to be badly burned? When a child dies, I don't want to hear that "God has a plan." or that "God must have needed another little angel." Using that logic, God must have a gracious plenty of young angels who have starved to death or been killed in wars.

I fear God. I fear His anger. I fear His indifference. I fear that I will never feel His arms around me. James writes that, if we draw closer to God, He will draw closer to us. The very best that I can do is to approach tentatively. I am not able to run enthusiastically to His arms no matter how much I long to do so.

And so now, I return to my hamster wheel where I'll continue to run and run and get nowhere. I am such a coward that I could never cause harm to myself. On the other hand, there are many times that I ask God for painless release from the tedium and weight of this life. How long must I run in this wheel, my God?

Blessings and MoWing

My granddaughter, Reese, who doesn't turn 6 until the end of this month can teach us all something about blessings. She is really into leading the mealtime blessing. We all hold hands and she prays out loud. She thanks God for as many individual blessings as occur to her (sometimes the blessing goes for an extended time, but always worth paying attention.) On occasion, she has been known to end the blessing by saying, "God, please don't send us any more blessings. We have enough already." From the lips of a child to the heart of this adult; there is a real lesson to be learned here and probably a sermon or two as well.

Since March, I've been MoWing. This isn't a typo, it is the acronym for Meals on Wheels. Since I have a school bus driving gap each day about the same time as MoW delivers, I've managed to find 3 days a week that I can take a route. The blessings are many. It is logical, of course, to figure that some blessings accrue to those receiving the meals. I'm ready to tell you, however, that those blessings don't begin to compare to the blessings that I receive.

First off, I get to work with and for two very special people. Sally McLeod and Anita Abernathy have had plastic surgery... I'm sure because they never stop smiling (is that natural?) They seem to love their jobs and they make all of the volunteers feel needed and valuable. MoW can always use more volunteers (336-721-6910). They begin delivery about 9:30 a.m. and most routes can be completed in an hour to an hour and a half, usually twelve to fifteen stops. MoW will be glad to put you to work one day a month, one day a week, every day, or some combination. They are wonderful about working out a schedule to fit what the volunteers are able to give. So far, I've met volunteers who are old friends from Maple Springs UMC, First Baptist Church, and Old Salem. There are probably others that I know, but our days just haven't overlapped yet.

The folks to whom I deliver meals are just like everyone else in that they have good days and bad. I run mostly the same two or three routes, so I see them at least once a week and sometimes more often. Many have pains. Some try to hide them and some share their anguish. Many are immobile and you can tell that they would like to be working in a garden or on their yards or just walking the aisles of WalMart. Many seem to enjoy the couple of minutes that I visit with them more than the meal itself. They all have life stories and, slowly, I'm hearing them and getting to know the folks as individuals. One wrote a well known, early '60s hit song, sung by one of the "girl" groups. When I see him, I always leave singing it. Some of the professional caregivers that I meet at the homes are all heart and, I believe, would probably work for free if they could and the need was there.

Besides the blessing of getting to know people, God has placed a couple of reminders on my heart. I am never allowed to forget that there are and always will be people in worse circumstances than my own. A day out on a route reminds me that there is always food in my refrigerator. Another blessing dawned more slowly. As you might imagine, some of the neighborhoods are not the best. Though this is true, I began to notice that squirrels still play in the yards and trees and birds sing without regard to their surroundings. This is God's reminder to me that we are all His and are blessed. Sometimes, we just have to open our eyes and ears to know it.