Having Your Flowers Now

I work 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. It is an unusual job. We know already that it will end no later than the last part of September this year. With very strict job parameters, very important goals, and pressure growing on a daily basis, it is an easier place to work some days than it is others. I've not been bored for even a minute and I look forward to going to work every single morning. The boss is a veteran of the job. In the past, his offices have set performance records. He knows that we have the ability to be a record setting office ourselves. Most days he is from the Dean Smith school of management. Once in a while, he leans more to the Bobby Knight (my apologies to those who don't follow college basketball) school of management. Naturally, I like the Dean Smith school better, but sometimes all of us need the Bobby Knight method to shake us out of our complacency and wake us to the urgency of our job. One of the things that he does that I really like is to walk through the office every morning greeting each of us. Another thing he has done is to involve the whole office in a monthly potluck lunch. At that time, we get a more detailed overview of what's happening and what our expected role is and is expected to be. We also use that time to recognize employees who have gone above and beyond the call of duty in job performance the previous month. Since the census (okay, now you know where I'm working) is only held every 10 years, the boss has been involved in other vocations. Among them is included work in the funeral business. From that job, came something that he shared with us prior to recognizing the outstanding employees this last month. What he said stuck with me and inspired me to share it with you. He told us that, during his time in the funeral business, he had seen many flowers given in memory of persons who could no longer enjoy them. This had inspired him to develop recognition programs wherever he worked. His point was that he wanted his employees to be given their "flowers" while they could enjoy them. I have to admit that, when the nomination policy for recognition was first announced, I thought it was a bit hokey. Now, I'll be the first to admit that it made me feel good seeing several employees honored by their managers and peers. I liked seeing them enjoying their "flowers" now. Here is my final point... now is the time to share your flowers. Do you owe someone an apology? Don't wait to send flowers to their funeral, give a heartfelt apology now. Have you been remiss in keeping in touch with friends? Don't wait to attend the funeral. Get in touch now. Have you been meaning to volunteer at a mission, but just haven't found the time? Bring those "flowers" with you and find a way to share them with those who need the boost they will give. The boss and I will never see eye-to-eye on everything, but on this one thing, he has been able to share a small "flower" with me that I'll cherish forever.

"Roots and Wings" and Some Other Things

I want to talk about the Other Things before I get to Roots and Wings. It's early in the year 2010, the time we all talk about resolutions, at least those of us who live in eternal optimism do. I've proven to be much better at pointing others toward the resolutions that they should make and trying to help them keep them than I am at making and keeping my own. This year, I've resolved to try to work harder on my own resolutions. I began by not resolving to loose weight, eat more healthy food, and get more exercise. I've made those same three resolutions for 50 some years now with limited success at best. In truth, I weigh just about what I did 50 years ago, so I haven't been a total failure. At least I've held the line. This year, I've made two resolutions that I don't believe I'll have as much trouble keeping. The first resolution concerns family and friends. I resolve to get in touch with every single family member, friend, and personal acquaintance listed in my email address book, my cell phone contact list, my Facebook friends, and my PDA contact list. I want to make this a face-to-face contact when possible, a phone contact if necessary and will fall back on email when all else fails. I'm only making one other resolution. With apologies to my pastor, Terry Matthews, I resolve to shorten my "lag time". In his sermon on Sunday, Terry recounted a personal story. Not so long ago, he had been caught having to drive on some iced over streets. As he slowly and carefully made his way up a hill, a woman driver (the driver's sex is not pertinent to the story, but I can't resist a jab at women drivers - she was probably on a cell phone and didn't realize how close she was) began to tailgate him. As us folks from the South know, we don't care how much snow you had back home, ice is almost impossible to drive on. Anyway, to return to Terry's story, the closeness of the driver began to make him very nervous. Terry said that it took him no time at all to think of things to say to the tailgating driver. I'm sure that these must have been things he learned back in his college days and hadn't recalled since. Realizing that it would be unseemly for a pastor to hang out his car window and share his thoughts and being certain that at least one member of his congregation would be standing around in the cold doing nothing but hoping to catch the preacher out, Terry refrained from verbally expressing his thoughts. Terry told us that, as he drove on, thoughts and expressions of a more Biblical nature came to mind. His only regret was that the "lag time" between his original thoughts and his second ones created enough time for the other driver to be on her way. His point, in a nut shell, was that, if we are more knowledgeable of the Bible, we can shorten our personal lag time. If an experienced pastor needs to work on his personal lag time, just think of how much work I have before me. I resolve to spend more time in the Bible. Now, let's talk about Roots and Wings. I still keep a small plaque on my bedroom wall. It says, "Two of the greatest things we can give our children are roots and wings." My own parents did a great job of both. I grew up in a neighborhood filled with friends and love. I always felt safe. Not only did I have roots, several of my closest friends grew up considering our home a part of their root system as well. I got to really spread my wings before I ever turned 17. In the summer following my 16th birthday, my father and I did a driving tour of the northern part of the US, and some of Canada, from the Atlantic coast to the Rocky Mountains. I saw Mount Rushmore so long ago that Lincoln hadn't even started growing his beard yet. Over the years since, I've been able to live in Center City Philadelphia, very rural Mississippi, and the eastern part of North Carolina. I've been lucky enough to work in Maine, South Carolina, the Caribbean and Central America. I've been on mission trips to the Dominican Republic and spent a summer on the Navajo Reservation in the Four Corners. I'll never know the extent to which I've been able to give my own children roots and wings, but I hope that I've been a bit successful. What of my current roots and wings? I'm afraid that I've reached a time defined by strengthening roots and weakening wings. I can live with that. I'm rooted in a home and neighborhood that I like and a wife I love. On the other hand, I sometimes ache for the wings that once were. I won't ever stop longing to see what is just over the next hill or around the next bend in the road. I know that there are "blue highways" (William Least Heat-Moon) that I'll never travel. There are small villages and great cities that I'll never visit. There are new friends that I'll never meet and strangers I'll never laugh and kid with. I sometimes ache at the thought. With additional apologies to Terry Matthews, as I sat in church last Sunday, I suddenly thought about how much I missed the small church in Shiprock, on the reservation, and my friends there. Later in the afternoon, I called Kenneth Lee, one of my Navajo friends there, just to hear his voice and catch up on the latest happenings. There are rich persons who have homes in NYC, San Francisco, and maybe Paris. It would probably seem very strange to them to know that my dream would be a home in Winston-Salem and a home in Shiprock. When I first hit the high desert, I didn't like anything about it. Terry Matthews (shows up a lot this blog, doesn't he?) cautioned me to be patient, that I might change my mind. In the 3 months I was there, I learned to love it. I want to see the Shiprock again. I want to walk the streets of Durango. I want to drive the countryside. As long as a person is able to believe, love and dream, life is well worth living.

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.