GUT PUNCHES AND NEAR MISSES

You know the kind of day I am talking about.  All is normal and then nothing is!  Every now and then, you are just going about your business and then the ground drops out from under you.  Today was one of those.

Well to be honest, it was not just today.  Over the past few days we have been deeply concerned over a family problem.  As this was consuming our thoughts and prayers, along with the uncertainty that accompanies such stressful situations – knowing that you are very limited in affecting any outcome apart from prayer – we were proceeding with a new day.

I arrived back home to have a message to return a call to my son-in-law in Idaho.  All I knew was that it was an emergency situation that apparently was okay, now; involving my daughter and granddaughter.  At that point, nothing else had priority.

Mark answered the phone from the emergency room.  He proceeded to describe the prior hour’s events.  Anne took the boys to swimming lessons.  She and Natalie were watching from the side and she decided to go sit on the top step.  As she stepped down onto the step, her foot slipped out from under her and she fell hard onto her butt.  Still holding the 14 month old baby and feeling somewhat disoriented from the jolt, she stood up, just to pass out.  They both fell forward into the pool.

According to others present, it only took about ten seconds to grab both and get them out of the water.  The baby was fine and responding but Anne was still unconscious and had taken in water.  The swim instructor began CPR and chest compressions which caused water to exit the lungs.  By then the ambulance and paramedics were on the way and they resumed CPR.  Anne gained consciousness and was able to call Mark from the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

Within minutes, all was well, again… except for Mark’s and my emotions. 

I don’t like those calls or close calls, but I will take them every day as opposed to the real gut-punches that take you down and you are not back up for a considerable time, if ever. 

Praise God!

The Things I Value(d)

As I sit here thinking about what was important to me at various stages of life, I have to smile.  I will give you a brief summary of the progression of my early "things of value":

Some of my very first memories include a homemade, wooden stool (painted white) with two steps.  This was specially made for me (around age 2-3) by my Dad so that I could reach the sink in the bathroom.  We had the stool for several years.  Why was a stool valuable?  Well, first of all, it was mine.  Second, it was important for many years as I was too short to reach very many things.  It also came in handy when I was around seven.  I stood on that stool to wash dishes.  Yes, I did wash dishes around that age.  Without that stool I would not have been at that sink washing dishes exactly when one of Santa's helpers peeked in the kitchen window to see who was being good.  Luckily, it was me!

When I was around three we rented a house while our next home was being built.  We had to rent because my Dad had sold our prior house (the "flat-top house") all of a sudden.  It seems that if a good deal came along, it was a sign to sell.  While in the rent house, the two things I remember being important had to do with the next-door neighbors, the Whipples.  Pete and Bryan Whipple were close in age to my brother and I.  We spent quite a bit of time climbing in their apple trees, playing in the drainage ditch next to their home, and watching the hogs get slopped.  The other thing was when Mrs. Whipple invited me in to have fresh, homemade bread.  As they had their own cows behind the house, the bread was served with fresh cow milk - which never quite seemed as good or safe as the milk that came from the milkman.

During the years when I was between four and eight, we lived in "the 2-story house".  We moved into this new house when it was just Mom, Dad, Ron (pronounced Wonnie-my older brother), Sharon (pronounced Shawon-my younger sister) and me.  During these years two more sisters (Carolyn and Paula) were born and we will not get into whether or not either or both of them were "accidents".  It was while we lived in this house that I was rewarded with the exceptional Christmas that was mentioned above.

These years were what I would refer to now, as a boy's dream.  Ron and I had freedom to explore the general area, which included an old pit which had been used as a dump many years before and had old, rusty cars plus the normal items a boy would enjoy from the local dump (such as bottles to shoot with our BB guns).  There was a small rodeo grounds nearby where Albert and I attempted to extinguish a small forest fire with our army shovels and canteens full of water.  (No, we did not set the fire.)

To the south of our small subdivision (two square blocks) was the city park which consisted of a pavilion with it's large stone fireplace and the town's little league baseball park.  The baseball field was dirt, it had no bleachers and above-ground dug-outs.  People sat around the home and visitor sides on the hoods of their cars.  If something really good happened, such as getting someone out at first, several horns would honk several times.  I still remember that George's mom was really loud, all of the time - always finding something to scream about.  It was at this field that Ron set the homerun record for Show Low.  It was not surprising that he could do this because, from my perspective, he was a little short from being a giant for his age.  Even though there were only two and a half years between us, there were several feet of elevation.  He grew tall fast and I grew short slowly.  Our Dad was the manager of the Cardinals so that is where Ron played and I was batboy and score keeper.  Don't get me wrong, I did get chances to play.  Whenever one of these opportunities came along, it made me more than a little nervous.  I was afraid of the ball and consequently played right field - the safest place to put me if the team wanted to win.  (At that time teams kept score and there were winners and losers.)  Rarely did anyone hit the ball to right field, so I could stand out there in my over-sized white and red uniform and pray.  Yes, I did have to bat.  But I had an advantage that helped hide the fact that my eyes were usually closed while the pitch was being delivered.  (If you close your eyes, the ball won't hit you in the face.)  I was so short that my strike zone was only about six inches tall.  In little league, the pitchers were not that good and I typically walked without having to ever swing the bat.

We each had our friends - one of mine I mentioned above - Albert.  He lived across the street and was the son of the doctor in town.  Albert and I got along pretty good.  Maybe it was because we each had our own issues.  His issue was that he had a wooden leg.  There is not a lot of things that make a boy more curious than a friend's leg that comes off at night. 

There were five other boys near the ages of Ron and I in the neighborhood.  We would ride bikes, shoot our guns, explore the woods to the west and north, hunt for pottery and arrowheads, shoot frogs in the cow pond, catch polliwogs and watch them grow into frogs in jars on our carport.  We had dogs and cats that had litters in the wood shed behind the house.  We made ant farms in large jars and had the usual, small turtles which only lasted a few weeks after Easter.  We dug foxholes and made tunnels in the field to the east of our home.  We camped out in the lean-to we made from small pine trees and explored the two old log cabins in the forest.  We were in Cub Scouts together, where we learned about how far a skunk can squirt.

There were no paved streets and when you crashed on your bike, you went home with cinders in your knees and elbows.  This happened to me several times as my bike was a 24 incher and that is a little taller than I was at the time.  In order to get started, I pulled my bike behind my Dad's green and black Dodge pickup and climbed on the bumper.  It being a boy's bike, stopping was a delicate matter and required planning - or crashing.

We had all we could need and want.  BB guns with a "block" of shells in the top of the coat closet, bows and arrows (both were fiberglass bows - Ron's was 35# and mine 25# - with $0.25 arrows from A&A Sporting Goods), pocket knives, army shovels, canteens, bikes, a hatchet, Ron's electric train set, and a bunch of friends.  As I have previously written about the cross-bows Dad made for us, the afternoon naps for a wide-awake boy, and the daily enemas for a brief period, we will not go into those again, here.

I will bring up one story that includes the doctor mentioned above.  One day Sharon stuck a BB up her nose.  (Don't ask me why.)  When Mom could not remove it, she loaded Sharon, Ron and I into our Ford station wagon and we headed to the doctor's office.  Mom took Sharon inside and Ron and I waited in the car.  (At that time you were not concerned about every passerby calling the cops on the parents due to leaving a kid in the car unattended.)  As boys will get bored, somehow or another, by the time they returned to the car, a cinder had been placed in one of Ron's ears.  Mom was excited that it was such a convenient situation, being still in front of the doctor's office - so excited that, as I remember, I was on the receiving end of a spanking when we got home.  I still do not understand why I was to blame without a through investigation.

Sorry girls, but I don't really remember when Mom and Dad brought Carolyn and Paula home, but I do remember when they came home one night after trading in the '55 Ford blue station wagon for a "57 Ford blue and white station wagon.  I also remember that around the time I was seven or eight, we got our first TV - black and white (of course).  It had a converter box that sat on top which was used to fine tune the signal for the one station we received from Tucson, off of Porter Mountain, by way of the TV antenna mounted to the top of the house.  I remember the crank telephone being replaced with a dial phone.  Things were good!

Then, again, Dad came home one day after receiving another good offer.  We were moving, but only to a house to rent in the same neighborhood. 

Now, I have trouble remembering names of people, but our five friends were:  Bobby Knox, Albert Armstrong, Kent Bunger, Mike Birdno, and Jimmy Welkner.  Mrs. Birdno and Mrs. Welkner each had Den Mother duties at different times.  It seems that the "short-term" memory is a factor but the long-term memories are priceless. 

The "Bone Yard"

I like to go to my parents home to see how I might be able to help them around the house and yard.  They live in a 50 year old home and have a fairly large yard to maintain.  Typically, there are some chores that need to be done and something that may require minor repair.  Behind the house is a small workshop where my dad works on his various projects.

My parents had their home built and have lived in it all of these years.  During that time, my dad has accumulated a stock pile of odd-and-end pieces of material that just might come in handy some day.  Besides all of the wood material stored in the rafters of the workshop, or those that bulge from the shelves and from behind most every stationary tool in the place, there is a pile out in the yard, near the back fence, that is special.

This is the "bone yard"!  It has a little bit of just about anything you can imagine.  Over the years, as I have worked with him on fixing things, it seems that we always need some part to replace what is broken.  I used to automatically think that we will have to run to the hardware store, but I have learned better.  Whether it is a piece of wire, conduit, screen, sheet metal, drip flashing, hinge, latch, piece of pipe (of just about any diameter, lead or plastic), elbow, joint, "T", junction box, piece of steel, etc.; that we need, he always suggests that we first check the "bone yard".  Over and over again, to my amazement, we will go out to that pile of junk and after scavenging around for a few minutes, we find either exactly what we are looking for or something else that we can "make work".  It may take some elbow grease with a wire brush before we can use that old, lead elbow, but we eventually have just what we wanted. 

Most of the stuff in that pile, most of us would have thrown away years ago.  But not him!  He keeps teaching me how some old piece of junk, saved for 20 years, will save me a buck and a trip to the store.  But, it is more than the dollar saved, it is a lesson in being thrifty and using imagination.  Every time we walk away from that pile with something in our hands, there is a smile on our faces and a sense of satisfaction - even victory, as we have just conquered a problem without spending a cent.  I think that to him, it is a personal challenge to fix things without leaving the back yard.  He also enjoys the look on my face as we pull out of the dirt just what we went to find.

Some of the lessons have begun to catch-on, over the years.  Now, in each corner of my garage I have an assortment of various items (junk to most eyes).  I have shelves and an old dresser full of the miscellaneous things that I just might "need" some day.  In the crawl space, under my home, is my lumber "bone yard".  I have lived in this house for almost five years since having it built and am still using the left-overs from construction for my projects.

I just hope that some day I graduate to a level where my "bone yard" is anywhere close to my dad's.  I will be using it to teach my kids and grandkids some familiar lessons on life. 

Live THAT Way!

How now should I live?

To break that question down, further:

1. How? How are you living? Does your lifestyle demonstrate what is truly important to you? Would others understand what motivates you based on what they see in your life?

2. Now? Is there a priority for your life that you feel you will get around to, at some time in the future? Are your so-called priorities worth your time, now? Are they important enough to live for, now?

3. Should? Is there something you know you should do, or something you should change in what you are currently doing? What should you be doing now, that you are not?

4. I? Now it is hitting close to home and getting personal. It is not about what others should do and how and when they should do it. It is about you and me. Salvation is personal. Your walk with God and in this world is unique. "No one else can walk it for you, You have to walk it by yourself." from "The Reverend Mister Black".

5. Live? It is not enough to teach or tell others what is important to you. You have to live it! Your life demonstrates what is really important to you. As has been said, "Your life is an open book." Whether or not you realize it, others are reading your pages. What message is being transmitted?

Let me ask the question another way. Is there something or someone you would die for? Not hypothetically, literally! Is there anything that is so important to you that you would be willing to lay down your life in support of or in defense of? If not, I would have to ask, what is the meaning of your life? How have you found yourself in a position where there is nothing and no one worth your life? How has your life become so important and valuable that it should not and cannot be sacrificed for any cause or person? Or, maybe, you feel that it is your life that others should be willing to die for.

Our lives are but a vapor soon to be forgotten. We, physically, will return to where we came; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In Gen. 18:27, Abraham acknowledges that he is but ashes and dust. If it were true of him, it is true of you and me. What will you do with your life that will survive your death? What difference will your having been here make to the future or to others?

Each day we gather a little closer to eternity. Some day, we will reach that destination. At that point, in the absence of time, how will your time spent on Earth measure up? Did you matter to anyone other than at the time you were here? Did you make a difference in the life of someone? What did you demonstrate, by your life, that will be an example for others to follow?

Will you die with regrets over those things you should have done, but did not? We have but one period of time in which to live to make a difference. That is right now! Tomorrow is not promised to you. The legacy you leave may be determined today.

Mankind has a history full of examples worthy of following. There are countless ones who gave up their lives for a cause or for the sake of others. This is not to say that your goal is to go out and die for something and hope someone notices how noble you were. Sometimes, when someone gives up their lives, death is not involved. They give up their life in order to serve others. Their sacrifice is a living sacrifice. (Rom 12:1 KJV) "I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service."

"Reasonable service"? Giving up my life as a sacrifice to God is a "reasonable" service? If that is reasonable, what would be unreasonable? Not doing that would be unreasonable.

If you do not already know what those things are that you would die for, examine your life and your priorities. If you do have an idea as to what is that important to you, make sure that they are of such that will have a lasting effect. When you are through with that self-examination, take a look at your present life. Are you living in such a way as your life-priorities are evident and effectual?

In other words, figure out what message you want others to read from your life and then live in such a manner that they cannot misconstrue that message. Find it and then live that way!

Have you asked, "What does it mean to follow Jesus?" The answer is one step beyond what is described above. Following Jesus is to make the self-examination to see if your life is reflecting God's priorities, not your own. This is where having a lasting effect makes a difference. Seek the Lord to know Him. Find Him and follow. Live THAT way!

"60"

Wow, I really have trouble believing that this is a fact! I have joined the segment of our population that now views those once believed to be old, as kids. It does not seem that long ago that those who were 40 were pretty darn old. Now I think of them as just getting started with life and living. If I had known then what I know now...; wait, what is it that I know now that I did not know then? I don't remember!

Mentally, I am still (I started to write "young") middle-aged. That is another concept that seems to be constantly in a state of flux. Once, "middle-aged" was 30-40. Now, for some reason, it encompasses those 50-61 (sorry Ron).

I admit that I have witnessed some changes. These are probably not evident to any of you, but they have each caught my attention recently. 1. The Suns have really been playing good. I catch myself losing my train of thought. 2. I have more trouble remembering things, such as names and details of recent events (recent, as in earlier in the day). 3. I can't hear what you just said. That's fine, because if I did hear you, I would wonder why you were talking to me because I do not remember who you are. 4. I catch myself losing my train of thought. 5. I recently noticed that I am beginning to lose some of my hair and that my hair is beginning to gray, in places. 6. Denial is another condition I have discovered. 7. Running in races is beginning to resemble a fast walk. 8. I have begun to think about a retirement plan - no action yet, but I am thinking about it. 9. Did I say that I do not remember things? 10. There were some others but I forgot what they were.

Now, I am only 60! During the past few years, as I have observed some other older men (on TV, in movies and in real life), I watch them, thinking about how old they look. Then, something is said about their age and I find out they are younger than I am. I have to admit, a state of shock comes over me for a few minutes. But, before long, I forget about the whole incident and go merrily along my way. My wife constantly reassures me that I do not look that old, but then she tells me that she needs stronger glasses.

How do I really feel about being 60? Well, for one thing, I have taken up a habit that I do not like in others - asking and answering my own questions. Here is my answer: I feel blessed, truly blessed! So far, turning 60 does not bother me. As I examine my life, current and past, I reach the same conclusion for both, I have been and continue to be blessed. I do not know how I could have asked for or expected more. I have all I could want - faith, family and friends. I thank God and I thank each of you for being such a special part of my life. You have made me a happy man.

Whas Up?

Well, since you asked...

Sandee and I have two dogs, as most of you know. The golden retriever, Tahoe, is eleven; and the German shepherd-mix, Cody (not to be confused with my new grandson), is twelve. Recently, we have noticed some swelling under Tahoe's jaw. The vet put him on antibiotics for the infection. Last week, on Tuesday, we noticed that he had lost his eyesight. His eyes were half full of blood. Being very sharp about these things, I determined that this probably was not normal. So, back to the vet we went.

After running tests, he determined that Tahoe has cancer that seems to be pretty far along. His eyesight seems to come partially back for brief periods but then goes away again. It's sad to watch him bump into things and get lost under a desk, etc.

When I stand on one side of a piece of furniture and call him to me, with his tail wagging, he runs right into the furniture. To see if he learned anything, I do it again with the same results. Being scientific, I realize that this test has to be run several times - all to my disappointment and with nose marks on my furniture. He has now convinced me that he is not faking it just to get attention.

(Just kidding!!!)

On to another sad picture for you to imagine -

Yesterday, I ran in my 8th half marathon. It was the 5th time I ran the Rock-and-Roll race in Phoenix. For some reason (and I am sure it has nothing to do with conditioning) my times seem to get a little slower each time.

Not having the longest of legs or the most athletic abilities, you can imagine this 59.8 year old guy running the 13.1 mile course. For some reason, each and every time I go do this, I have the belief that this time my time will be faster, my legs stronger, my stride longer, and the wind at my back. Well, the weather was good - not to hot or too cold and no wind.

Six years ago, when I ran my first half marathon, I had no idea what would be a decent time as I had no exposure to any such thing. So, I trained hard and ended up at 1:53. That was not bad for someone who was 53, in their first race, and clueless. In that run, I beat 82% of all runners. Realizing that I had found my path to fame and fortune, I decided to do it again the next year - 1:58. The next year - 2:03. The fourth year I missed while building the house. The following year - 2:10. Last year I got sick and missed. Now - 2:13. I don't know how the fame part will end up, but so far, no fortune. Who says that age does not take it's toll?

Having some sore and tired legs this morning, I have to remind myself that this is "good for me". And, yes, I do plan on doing it again. Next year I will be in the next age bracket and my competition will only be similar old farts.

A Child is Born

I'll bet you have an idea where this is going. Well, you are half right.

I just received a phone call from Anne. She is at the hospital and preparing to have a baby.

As Christians, we dwell on the amazing birth of Jesus during this holiday season.

You may remember that I wrote about death being the last of many miracles that make up a life. Well, birth is one of the first. I don't know what all of your experiences have been concerning births, but I am sure that each of you have experienced the process first hand - or maybe first foot. I cannot imagine, after having witnessed the process, that anyone could not believe that a birth is a miracle.

This miracle is about to take place in Idaho with Anne and Mark having Cody. Around the country and world, similar miracles are happening while I am writing this. But, right now, I want to concentrate on the reason for the season.

The birth of Jesus was a miracle. In fact, it was a miracle several times over again. As with any birth, it was the miracle of a new life coming into the world. That in itself is an unbelievable event. Second, it was a miracle due to the virgin birth. That in itself is a must-be-believed event. Third, it was a miracle because this baby Jesus was God in the flesh coming to dwell among the people. That in itself changed the course of history for the unbelievers and believers alike.

Setting aside the miracles of a birth, a virgin birth, the appearance of God in the flesh; what was the importance of the birth of Jesus? Why is this such a big deal? I believe the answer is tied to the miracle at the other end of the life. The birth of Jesus became a history changing event due to the life and death that followed.

If the plan of God had not been what it was, then this birth, over 2,000 years ago, would not be noticed today. Even if that birth was still a virgin birth, I do not believe we would take notice. The world takes notice, each year, of the Christmas holiday. They do not all believe that Jesus is or was who He claimed. They do not all believe the Bible, but they almost all do take notice of this day whether it is to celebrate it or deny the reason for the celebration.

The birth was the beginning of the unique life of the God-man. Jesus was all God and all man at the same time. What would we remember and celebrate about the birth of Jesus if the birth and the unique life was all that happened? These two parts, together, may be enough for us to still remember and talk about. Maybe even enough for us who love God to have set aside a holiday in remembrance of that special thing that happened a long time ago.

The celebration of the miracle of the birth of Jesus is directly tied to the miracle of the death and resurrection of Jesus. It is the ending events that make the beginning events so special. The plan of God not only included a virgin birth for the Son of God, but culminated in the three days that changed everything since then. It is the death of the Son of God and what that means for us that is so special. Without Jesus dying in our place we would be without hope.

It is because of the miracle of the death of Jesus that I celebrate the miracle of the birth of Jesus.

Destiny

Do you believe in destiny? Do you believe in the idea that there is that "one and only" for you? Do you believe in finding the "true love" of your life? Is there one "miss right" or "mister right" for you somewhere? Do you believe that you have found, already, the only one meant for you?

If you answered "yes", then I would have to assume that you also believe in Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. In those fairy tales, the damsel in distress was rescued by her true love, the one and only hero that could sweep her off of her feet, or kiss her back to life.

(If you are getting concerned about where this might be going, be patient and read on.)

God, in the Bible, tells the husband to love your own wife. He does not say that He hopes that the husband loves his wife or that He wants the husband to feel love for his wife. He commands the husband to love his wife (period). We husbands seem to notice real quick that the wife is commanded to submit to the husband. She is not told to feel submitous toward her husband. It has nothing to do with feelings. The same is true as relates to the husband. What God tells us has nothing to do with feelings or emotions. You cannot command someone to have a feeling or feel and emotion, you command them to take an action.

What about "falling in love", or for that matter, "falling out of love"? Those phrases are tossed around as if we had nothing to do with the event, it just happened to us. We were there minding our own business and all of a sudden, we fell in love. Or, we were happily married and the next thing we knew, we had fallen out of love - we were just innocent bystanders who are now asking, "How could this happen to us?"

You may be thinking, "What about the feeling I get in my heart when she comes near? Isn't that the feeling of love?" There definitely is an emotional side of the love relationship, but it is not correctly labeled as "love". It may be attraction, affection, affliction, attention, etc. It may be an emotion that resulted because of the love - feeling secure, wanted, desired, etc.

Love is a choice or a decision. In the marriage relationship, this decision is a commandment. In other places in the Bible, God tells us to love our neighbors. Clearly, He is not intending us to have the same emotions toward our neighbors as we have toward our spouse. He is commanding us to act in a manner that demonstrates love toward others. In marriage, God expects us to act and express and live in a way that demonstrates love to our spouse. This is lived out in many ways: showing preference to her over myself, protecting her, making her feel secure, showing a longing and attraction for her only, being affectionate and intimate, sharing private matters only with her, doing my best to make her feel she is most important to me, telling her that I love her, etc. Living a life of love also involves not doing things to discredit her confidence in your love for her. You do not give her reason to doubt that you are continually choosing to love her.

Love is a choice, a choice we make each day. Love is meant to be a way of life. If you are falling in love, it is because you made that choice. If you feel you are falling out of love, it is because you made that choice. If your relationship is not what it used to be or what you want it to be, check your own life. Where might you have made decisions or have taken actions that resulted in your pulling away.

Choose love! Live according to that choice. Emotions and feelings will follow the decision you make. When someone makes a decision to pull away from a relationship, even ever-so-slightly, the corresponding emotions will follow. On the other hand, when we choose love and make the effort to demonstrate that decision, the corresponding emotions will follow.

Commitment, too, is a choice.

So, is there a "one and only", somewhere out there in the wide world and you only hope that someday you will find the only one who would be right for you? I do not believe so. I believe that God made us with the capacity to love others. For sure, there are those we are attracted to and those we are not, but to choose someone to love is just that - it is a choice.

Remember, love, as used here, is a verb - an action verb, similar to: run the race, fight the good fight, win the prize - love your wife - hold her hand, hug her more, listen intently, keep her safe.

I also just ran across an article that demonstrates action in love: http://ncaafootball.fanhouse.com/2009/10/28/twenty-years-ago-one-hit-changed-two-lives-forever/?icid=mainhtmlws-sb-ndl1link1http%3A%2F%2Fncaafootball.fanhouse.com%2F2009%2F10%2F28%2Ftwenty-years-ago-one-hit-changed-two-lives-forever%2F

Your Window

“YOUR WINDOW”

By: Mike Foil


When I look into your window
When you are not aware
As you feel all alone
I always find you there

As I search out your being
Finding secrets deep within
I can see where you are
I can tell where you’ve been

As I notice little details
The ones you do not see
I find all your goodness
That backs your love for me

I also see the deep hurts
That left a lasting scar
They tried to defeat you
But made you who you are

As I look into your window
I see the pieces of the whole
I see the love of God
In the window of the soul

63 and Counting

October 19th is Mom and Dad's 63rd anniversary.

From Sandee and I, Happy Anniversary! Thanks for setting the bar high and establishing a living example of marriage, love and service. We love and appreciate both of you will all of our hearts.

The Reverend Mister Black

For some of you, the title will spark memories. For the rest of you, the rest of the story -

When Ron was in college and I was in high school, Mom and Dad decided to do a family vacation that would bring all of us together for something special. They rented a houseboat on Lake Powell for about a week. It was a good sized boat but not so big that there were beds for all of us. We also towed a small row boat with small engine for exploring some side canyons.

As we planned for the trip, Dad told the older kids that they needed to earn some money to buy their own sleeping bags. So, I saved some money from my summer job and bought a nice, new sleeping bag.

When we took off from Wahweep Marina it was decided that some of us would sleep under the open stars, on the roof of the cabin. We swam, did a little fishing, some sight seeing and exploring on the trip.

When we found a place to stop for the night, we anchored off of a small beach. After eating, we were all sitting around on the roof. For some reason, I was asked to sing "The Reverend Mister Black". Being the shy guy that I am, but also realizing that when I do that song, it is an exact reproduction of the original, I finally agreed. As I got a few words into the song, everyone began laughing. Naturally, not wanting to be rude, I stopped. Eventually, they stopped laughing and started telling me to continue. Did they think I was a fool? Yes! After considerable pleading, I began again. Same result. They laughed even harder and I stopped again. I began to wonder if they really wanted to hear the song. But, when they all finally stopped laughing, they assured me that they did want me to keep singing and they promised to not laugh again. Being a trusting soul and not wanting to spoil the whole trip for them, I began again to sing for the third time.

Were they respectful? No, same song, same result. This time, I began catching onto their evil scheme. They laughed so hard that the Park Patrol was summoned by other boaters up the lake and into Utah. Well, maybe not Park Patrol, but it was loud and long, very long. Being much the wiser, I refused to sing it again.

After watching stars and having a good time, it was time to get setup for the night. We climbed down and got our sleeping bags and took them back onto the roof. I rolled out my nice new bag, the one the rest were all envious about. I then went back down to get something else. Just when I climbed back to the roof, a gust of wind came along and blew my sleeping bag off and into the lake. Some believe it was because I had a reputation for being frugal, but the real reason I jumped off of the roof and into the lake, in the dark, when I could barely swim; was because I was loyal. Yes, loyal to the bag that was planning on serving my needs and keeping me warm. As the bag drifted away from the boat, I swam after it, grabbing ahold. Someone grabbed a light and someone else threw me a life preserver.

As I am here now, you can safely assume I and my bag were rescued. By the next night the bag was dry and I used that same bag for many years after that.

One of the next evenings, after we had dropped anchor in a small cove and were settling in for the evening, we heard a speed boat zip past us from a fairly close distance. Since it was dark, it caught our attention and as we listened. We heard it run ashore on the far side of the cove. Ron and I got in our small boat and went to check on the occupants. If I remember it right, it was a man and two women, all of which were drunk. They were not hurt and we were able to drag their boat back into the water, where they climbed back in - thanked us and told us how strong we were - and took off again.

On the trip, we saw Rainbow Bridge, before water was in the canyon as far as the arch. We had a great time and established some lasting memories.

Compassion

I thought I would share a little poem I wrote for Sandee.

I'll hold you when it hurts,
I'll comfort when you cry,
I'll be right beside you,
Til the day that I die.

And if you need your space,
And pull your hand away,
I'll stalk you from a distance,
All along the way.

Something is Creeping Up!

You may wonder what my hand has to do with anything. Well it is not the fact that it is a hand, but the fact that it is an ageing hand. The other day, I was struck by what I saw when I really looked at my hand.

It seems like it was just a few months ago that the skin on my hand was fairly smooth. Now, all of a sudden, my hand is full of wrinkles and getting brown spots. My knuckles are starting to show some bending in undesirable directions. My fingernails show the ever present sign of "the fungus". When I pull on the loose skin on the back of my hand, it sort of stands there awhile before settling back down.

How did this happen? I have always prided myself on being the only one from my high school class who has not aged! By our 50th reunion, I probably will not be able to truthfully say that anymore.

I remember turning 40. That was not that long ago. Just recently, I turned 50. As of a couple weeks ago, I am officially "turning 60" and on the countdown during this next six months.

This past weekend, Dad mentioned that he feels like he peaked, physically, around the age of 45. If that is generally true, that means I am 1/3 of the way back down the shady side. Not only that, but the more I descend, the steeper it gets and the faster I slide.

It is not just my body that seems to be ageing. I now find myself referring to people in their 40's as kids. I believe that is a sign of a mindset shift. I have begun to think about what I would be doing if I were retired. All of the choices sound good.

So, as I proceed towards the really big "6-0", maybe you will help me keep track of where I am. After all, the memory is not quite as sharp as it used to be. As next March approaches, wear black in celebration of the occasion and if you are in the neighborhood, plan on attending the surprise BD party I am throwing myself.

A Hole In My Heart

Today is the funeral for Sandee's mother. As, I am sure you understand, the recent past has been very difficult and painful for Sandee and her family. As her mother's mental and physical health deteriorated over the past couple years, she became more dependent upon external help for daily needs. Tara, Sandee's sister from Dallas, came several times to help for a week at a time. This would give Sandee somewhat of a physical and emotional break. But, for the most part, Sandee's dad and Sandee cared for her mother on a daily basis.

Sandee and her mother were very close and she has very fond memories that now become even more special and valuable. Recently, Sandee told me that her mom was the only "constant" throughout her life. Right now, she does not know how she will make it without her mother around. She tells me that, "I have a hole in my heart."

My nature is to try to fix things. This is not something I can fix. I can hold her, wipe away her tears and try to comfort her the best that I can. I will take her away for a few days for a break, but I cannot heal the hole in her heart.

I believe that God gave me an illustration for her. A couple days ago, as she was telling me how much it hurts, all of a sudden I had a thought that I wanted to share with her. It took her by the hand and led her outside and down into the front yard where I had planted some aspen trees a couple years ago.

This past spring, elk ate some of the leaves and chewed off some of the bark from the trunk of one of the trees. In one spot, the bark is missing half way around the tree. Aspen trees send nourishment from the roots to the tree through the bark. If an elk eats all the way around the trunk, it is called "girdling", and it will kill the tree. On this tree, there is a large hole in the bark, the tree still lives, but it is damaged. The edges of the hole are jagged and have not changed much in the past few months.

On the next tree, there is another hole in the bark. This hole was from damage done to the tree at some time prior to me getting the tree and it has been in the healing process for several years. Though you can tell that the hole began as fairly large, it is now much smaller. The edges are smooth and have been growing back towards the center as the hole is being healed. The tree will never fully recover from the damage done and the evidence of the hole will always be there, but it is getting better and the healing is progressing.

I showed this to Sandee and told her that the fresh hole is like the hole in her heart. It is raw, jagged, damaged, and it hurts a lot. Gradually, it will begin to heal. It will loose some of the painful, jagged edges and the size of the hole will grow smaller. It will begin to feel better, with a lot of time, but it will never go away, completely. There will always be sign of the hole and some pain will always exist, but, it is survivable. Your heart has not been girdled and it will recover.

Roots

Some of you have seen the movie, "Roots". Did you wonder where the name came from? It seems clear, as we use the term "roots" to describe earlier generations of our families. I wonder if the use of that term is due to the concept of a family tree. The roots of the tree show where we came from. The branches and twigs show the generations that are following. The generation of the one filling out the tree, fits into the trunk.

The roots are set, they are firm and immovable. You cannot alter your roots. Good or bad roots, they are what they are. Your roots have a lot to do with who you are but are not the final determination of what you are. The roots and trunk have a lot to do with who the next generations are and will be, but they do not decide what the next generations will be.

Having good and strong roots probably gives a young trunk a better start. How that trunk grows and develops is not totally dependant upon the roots. There are other influences that have an effect on the maturing of the tree. When the young tree is nourished and properly cared for, it has an advantage over the sapling which tried to grow strong without any help (hence, the phrase - "you poor sap!"). As we grow, the roots and outside influences can have a lot to do with what the young adult becomes. As stated, they do not have final determination, but they do fulfil a part.

The person, even with good roots and proper nourishing, still has the ability to make decisions that can and will affect the rest of their life. These decisions can be for better or worse and some can be irreversible. Some good decisions change your destiny, just as some bad choices become obstacles that are hard to overcome. These choices then affect the quality of trunk you grow into. As for following generations, these choices affect the quality of root you were for giving the next trunk a good start.

"No man is an island" is a famous quote. This concept is true in our lives. None of us live in a bubble where what we do and what we choose only affects us. Our choices reflect back on the root and affect the branches and twigs - for good or bad.

It has amazed me, over the years, as I have made and observed others making decisions that change the course of history for them and those that follow, without giving much thought to the issue. Many of these decisions have to be made and what the differences are that result, cannot be known or predicted at the time the choice is made. When you later look back, you realize how your life is completely different based on that one decision.

The point is this, whether you look back and see that you did nor did not have the greatest of roots, you are still responsible for the direction of your life. You cannot blame your roots or your trunk for what you are. Those who came before us may have made things better or worse, easier or harder for us; but, ultimately, we each must take responsibility for our own lives.

This does not mean that if you find yourself in a difficult situation that you must just accept it and learn to live with it. It means, take responsibility for improving your life. Make decisions that will help alter your future in a more positive direction. At the same time, be so careful about those bad choices - the ones that seem so minor at the time but have the ability to grow into life altering events - the kind we regret later but find ourselves unable to overcome the consequences.

If you are presently a twig, you will become a branch. If you are a branch, you are becoming a trunk. If you are a trunk, you are establishing the quality of root that will exist forever. Do what you can to be a good trunk and establish a good root. You will not be able to set the course for the branches and twigs, but you can give them a good start.

Guns on Campus

I can't help but notice a lot of changes between now and then...

Now, if a boy draws a gun on a piece of paper, he can be expelled from school and the story is all over the media.

Then, I would have never been allowed in school based on all the guns and knives I drew during the years in class.

In high school, we were passed the drawing of guns and were into bringing of guns to school. It was not unusual for a student to have a gun in his car while it was parked at high school.

My senior year, for the last semester on almost every Friday afternoon; Brennon, Peter and I would leave at noon and go hunting. You cannot do this without guns and ammo. As you are very keen, you have noticed that guns on campus is only half of this story. What about ditching school that many times? Well, we had to get creative. Every Monday morning the three of us would go into the Attendance Secretary and report the reason for our absences, in order to get back into school. All three of us, being such great guys and so friendly to this lady, were always welcomed back with a smile.

The only excuse that I can remember using is this. We told her that Peter needed to go to the dentist and he asked me to take him, but I did not have my car that day so Brennon had to take all of us. Almost before the words finished falling from our lips, the passes were written.

It pays to have connections!

The Gift Horse

We have probably all heard the saying, "Do not look a gift horse in the mouth".

Well, around 1991, Anne was taking riding lessons from the daughter (Amy) in a family we knew. Anne grew attached to Pepper, the old horse Amy had that she rode on. Anne was told one day that they would like to give Pepper to Anne as Amy got a new, younger horse. Yes, a gift horse, literally. She was so excited and as you can imagine, it was too hard to say "no thanks", and we became the proud owners of a 27 year old horse.

Not everyone, including us, had a place to keep a horse. So, the gifters made us another offer that we could not refuse. They would board our horse for us. It started out costing $100 per month for hay and boarding. We also bought a saddle from them, which also stayed at their barn. In case this is not all coming across clearly, all of a sudden we bought their saddle and received their horse and began paying them a monthly fee for them to keep the horse they always had at their own property. It was also my responsibility to tend to shoeing the horse and to pay any vet bills.

For them, it worked out great, they still had everything they had before with one difference; I was now paying them $100 every month and covering some of the work and other bills.

We ended up having the horse for around three years with the last portion of the time being a trade for a place to board Pepper in exchange for us feeding some horses for the property owner.

Our gift horse probably ended up costing us around $3,000.

I can laugh about it now...

America appears to be on the receiving end of a "gift horse" in the near future. We all need to step back, reconsider the consequences and unintended consequences of socialized health care. Do not be too quick to think that all of a sudden you will get free health care. What will be the cost to you of this? Nothing from the government is free and with no strings attached!

The health care plan, being proposed, does not have coverage of the "uninsured" as one of the main goals. This plan is designed to eliminate competition, gain a monopoly of the health care system by the government, increase taxes on the achievers, put more of the public's money in the hands of the government, and basically set the government up to dictate and control most every aspect of our lives. Those are the intended consequences. Some unintended consequences will be a lower quality of health care, fewer doctors who make less money, longer waits for medical appointments and procedures, and less choice by the patient.

There are exceptions to every rule. I believe that this time, we need to not only check out the horse's mouth, we need a through inspection - the shoulder length glove kind.

Ah Ha! Now it All Makes Sense

After closer inspection (and believe me, I was close enough to tell the difference), it all makes sense. I have been having trouble making sense of the foul mood of Buffalo Bill. Well, I have noticed that the simple answer is the monster is actually Buffalo Betty.

Hope you girls do not take this personal, but I now believe the whole problem must have been PMS related. She never smiled, she glared, she snorted, she attacked and then walked away as if nothing had happened. Sound familiar, guys?

The Dinner Table

How busy is your family? Is everyone going in different directions at the same time? What is dinner time like in your home? Is it a variable situation where each one grabs something as they are rushing out the door or heading to the TV or computer? If you do sit down together, are cell phones allowed?

As I was growing up, our dinner times provided consistently good memories. We were a busy family, especially as some of us kids reached high school age. Dad had to work hard and had various meetings in the evenings. Ron had sports practice and games. I had some sports after school. I would imagine the three girls did something but who knows what it could have been - they were girls. Also, making things more complicated, the high school was 20 miles away.

Still, with everything going on, Mom cooked dinner and kept us all on schedule to sit down to eat together most evenings. This was a consistent family time and an opportunity for catching up on what each of us was doing, share stories from the day and just have a good time together. We had some of our best times sitting around the table eating supper.

This did not happen by accident. It was a priority for both Mom and Dad. They had to make it happen and keep working at it year after year. The easy tendency would have been to give up and scatter in all directions. They did not and I am glad.

It may not seem like gathering around the supper table is a big deal right now for your family, but if you will make it happen on a consistent basis, it has the potential to grow into one of the best memory generators you will find. Make it happen - it does not have to be a big production. It is not the fancy meal that makes it special, it is the people sharing and laughing together.

Do Not Be Food For The Animals

I have a confession. When Ken Land and I went to Yellowstone in 1973; we, like many other visitors to the park, read and heard the warnings about not feeding the animals, etc. But, as you drive around and see the various animals and how tame they appear to be, it is very tempting to venture out to get a "good photo". I remember that we went into a meadow with several buffalo in order to get close enough for a good picture. We let a bear stand at our truck window eating the crackers we slid down the glass through the opening at the top of the window. We ventured into brush to photograph a mama and baby moose. We did not treat these creatures as wild animals. We acted more like they were in a zoo and there was a virtual fence between them and us.

Well, upon returning from another visit to Yellowstone, I have a new perspective and appreciation for the beasts. Sandee and I just went through the Tetons and Yellowstone with Wayne, Tandi and the kids. We had a great time seeing the sights and looking for animals. While driving along Yellowstone River, we spotted a buffalo swimming across the river. This being what we considered to be a rare sight, I wanted to capture the event with a photo. Wayne parked, I jumped out to run down to the river's edge as the ledge along the bank blocked the view of the monster. I ran through a meadow to the top of the bank, thinking that the vicious carnivore would still be swimming and would be drifting downstream.

I found myself along the edge of the forest with the meadow to my right and the river ahead. Sure enough, the bison was standing in the edge of the river looking right at me. Realizing that it was already too late to turn around and get back across the meadow, I stopped to photograph the blood red eyes sizing up his prey. He began to climb up the bank just to my left. I waited for him to shake off some water before taking the next photo from a distance of around 15-18 feet. He looked at me and for some reason appeared to be in a very foul mood. Being a kind person, I calmly spoke to him, asking, "So, what are you going to do now?"

His answer was quiet but clear. He turned and began walking towards me. Being "one with nature", I moved to the side and positioned myself behind two small trees. The trees were about six inches in diameter and had a gap between them of around eight inches. He stopped again, looked at me as I looked at him (taking another picture from about ten feet away) and we each sized up the other. In hind sight, I now believe that I was more impressed with his stature than he was with mine. I did notice that he stood about six feet tall and that his giant head should not fit between the two trees. Maybe if I had not been partially blocked by trees he would have been more impressed and would have turned and ran away.

At this point I am thinking that he will just stroll out into the meadow. That would leave me with a dilemma, should I wait him out or try to make my way back to the road through the forest? He shook off some more water, looked back at me, snorted and charged at me. That solved one dilemma. His face came within three feet of my face before he stopped. We looked into each other's eyes, I acknowledged that he had made his point, he turned and walked out into the meadow and eventually crossed the road so that I could get back to the van.

It is one of those stories that after the fact, you can laugh about it (that is everyone except Sandee - she has not found it real funny). The photo above is the one taken just prior to him charging at me.

Yes, boys and girls, they are wild animals!