tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-123704442024-03-19T01:52:23.490-07:00In His GripThinking about, occasionally questioning, marveling in, & enjoying the journey.
Mike Madaris
Ephesians 2:10the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.comBlogger297125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-45013063153375684842016-11-11T10:14:00.000-08:002016-11-11T10:14:08.946-08:00Behind the parades & fireworks...<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(Slight update of an earlier post; I think of this
guy often, but especially on Veterans’ day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His deeply-rooted faith became sight a little over a year ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t wait to see that smile again.)</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">6/25/1950 - North Korea
invades South Korea. A small conflict in a rather remote corner of the
world...</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Meanwhile, at a junior
college in MS, this handsome young man with blue eyes & a great smile was
arriving from Choctaw County in SW Alabama to go to school, and to play
football on a pretty good JC team.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I believe it was the
following summer that the entire football team--that's the <b><i>entire </i></b>team!—were
activated into the military.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(They were
all in the Reserves; full scholarships didn’t really happen back then). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They volunteered their services to go take a
stand in South Korea because their country thought that was worth doing.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The details of that
conflict & the countries who participated in it's motivations are murky. Which
is OK, as this is not a geo-political analysis of that war. Nor of any
war. Nor of war in general. Today, 60+ years later, the Korean war has never officially
ended. There's a line of demarcation that's guarded on both sides, and
official hostilities have been at a cease-fire for some decades now.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Back to the point of this
entry: The young man from Choctaw County & his teammates scattered to
various branches of the service & various training centers. He
trained to be a combat medic. His training would unfortunately come in quite
handy in the months to come in the combat-laden frozen wasteland that was much
of the Korean peninsula, ca. the early 1950s.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">He survived,
thankfully. (I say "thankfully" for reasons that will become
clear shortly) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To his dying day, he was
still a tough guy physically & emotionally; mentally, his mind began slipping gears during the last couple of years
of his life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Courage beyond what I can
imagine, both during wartime and after coming home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worked building airplanes in Mobile, AL,
before a hearing problem ended that job for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Had a couple of children. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
the hearing problem kicked into high gear, he moved his family back to Choctaw County.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He built the house they lived in on a pretty
spot of land that he cleared off to raise cows & have a few horses for
fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His youngest child
"helped" him build it, since she wasn't in school yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever met a softie who's worked with cows
& horses for much of his life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me
neither; they don’t exist. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recall
going to feed the cows with him some 30 years ago. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in my 20s, he was in his 50s...he tossed
a big 100-lb sack of feed over each shoulder & away he went. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to toss one over one shoulder; it didn't
go well, & I was actively lifting weights at the time. As I say, he
was a tough guy.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I knew him pretty well
for the last 35 or so years of his life; 31 of those as his son-in-law, who
married the younger daughter who helped him build the house.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">She has the same gorgeous
blue eyes as her Daddy, plus the same hard work ethic. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loves the land like he does. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is as close to a Daddy's girl as a tough
cattleman/soldier will ever have. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
particular cattleman/soldier was just crazy about his grandchildren, who added
a dimension of tenderness to him during his last 30 or so years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They, in turn, dearly loved their
"Papa."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">All of that said to say
this: it's Veterans’ Day, a day on which we honor our military, as we should on
a daily basis in my opinion. But my challenge to each of us is to take
the time to ask questions along the lines of "so, what was it like?"
and then shut up & listen. Or perhaps a step back from that
emotional brink would be just to say "thank you" to them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I listened to some tell
their stories on the radio recently while driving home; at times, it was rather
hard to see. (Must've been rain or fog or something...or
something...) One of the radio stories was another guy who was in Korea
& as squadron commander ordered his best friend from back home to go do
some recon; several months later, the guy found his friend about to die in a
Chinese P.O.W. camp. He buried his friend just minutes later on a
hillside there in North Korea. Another guy was just back from Iraq a few
years back, where he was at the proverbial end of the spear, doing
necessary-but-regrettable things outside the wire at night with his unit.
Some jackass HS acquaintance said to him shortly after he returned, "So,
you're like a certified baby-killer now, huh? What's that
like?" (If "jackass" is offensive & not the right
word, there are others that are more offensive and perhaps more appropriate that I considered using.)</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Papa's Korea stories
unfolded over several decades, in small bits & pieces. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems that once he had a grandson, they
unfolded a bit more rapidly & freely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were buried deeply within his memory, locked away until that
glorious day when the swords are hammered into plowshares & spears into
pruning hooks, at which point the stories will no longer be needed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they did spill out every now & then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mostly around Christmas. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Especially if Christmas is a cold one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><strong>"I remember that Christmas we spent in the field in
Korea..."</strong></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Usually a quick, short
piece of a story, occasionally adorned with a picture or the worship bulletin
from the Christmas Day service there. Just little glimpses into the
unspeakable horrors that we all (understandably) blow past on holidays like Veterans
Day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><strong>"I remember going around from sleeping bag to sleeping bag
in the morning & checking to see who was still alive & who had either
frozen to death or suffocated when the snow covered their face"...</strong></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><strong>"See this little guy from the Phillipines in the
picture? I've seen him stack up North Koreans like rats using just his
bayonet & knife"...</strong></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><strong>"I remember seeing Chinese troops line up across the valley
from us & just walk toward our lines, getting mowed down by our fire. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They figured we'd run out of bullets before
they ran out of soldiers”…</strong></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><strong>“I remember our unit’s machine gun barrel starting to bend due
to excessive heat caused by shooting boxes of shells non-stop…”</strong></span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I love the parades &
the pageantry of Veterans Day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm
descended from a long line of patriotic types, in the best sense of the word. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I married into that too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we shake hands with those who came back
& have a moment of silence for those who didn't & as we celebrate
victories they won...PLEASE take time to try to listen to them if they'll talk
about it. (I know many who won't; I certainly am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><strong>not</strong></u></i> going to insist that
they go back in their memories to the darkest days of their young lives!) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just try to fathom what seeing &
experiencing things like being in a front-line combat unit in Korea does to,
say, a small-town boy from Choctaw County AL’s soul & psyche.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I close with this.
A pastor I know in small-town north MS told me that when the movie "Saving
Private Ryan" came out, he had several of his salt-of-the-earth tough guy
farmers with families & homes & such come to his office, & sit just
weep about memories they had locked away, never sharing them with <i><u>anyone</u></i>.
Not even their brides of 50+ years. Seeing "Saving Private
Ryan" triggered those memories & brought them to the surface. My
pastor friend said, through his & my shared tears, one guy who's a deacon @
his church & a very quiet, gentle, hard-working farmer shared that every
single Christmas, every birthday, & every family gathering of any kind brought
clearly to mind the faces of a couple of young German soldiers he killed in
Europe in late 1944 & early 1945. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guy said it always bothered him greatly
that those young Germans would never experience marriage or family or owning a
home or children or grandchildren...</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">That, ladies & gents,
is so very often what's behind the sober salutes & pinning on of the medals
& attendance at the squadron reunions & the wearing of hats, t-shirts, and jackets & the faraway stares today.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Thank you, Father, that
you raise up men & women who put on a uniform & take an oath &
undergo tough training in order to be willing to ship out to places like
Normandy...North Africa...Saipan...Iwo Jima...Korea...Viet
Nam...Afghanistan...Iraq...Thank you for the freedoms we have, which have NEVER
been free.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Thank you especially that
you've promised that day...that GLORIOUS, AMAZING day...when, in the words of
Scripture, “they will all hammer their swords into plowshares & their
spears into pruning hooks & <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">they
shall remember war no more</b>.” Until then, may we as a nation honor
them and be as thankful for them collectively & individually as I am for
Jimmy Mixon, "Papa" to me & my children. Grant them all
peace, Father.</span></i></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Gratefully & humbly,<br />
bb </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></span></div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-86835711479787151682015-12-14T05:12:00.000-08:002015-12-14T05:12:09.927-08:00Dear Dad<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All the merry-hearted sigh…</span></span></i></b></div>
<div align="center" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Isaiah 24:7 (excerpt)</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dear Dad,</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s been 41
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hard to fathom.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">December 14,
1974 wrecked my world when your faith suddenly became sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After your funeral, I walked away from the
Christian faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least I tried to; thankfully,
God wouldn’t let me leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite a
very challenging 10 or so years in the wilderness, He kept wooing me back with
situations & with people (one of whom put this ring on my finger 31 ½ years
ago).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So here I am, a walking, talking
Christian who takes our shared faith very seriously, albeit one who’s still flawed
& imperfect in so many ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amazing
grace indeed!</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve served
our church in a few ways these past 26 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I even teach in our College Bible Fellowship now!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(You’d have called that “Sunday School”)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unlike you, nursery work didn’t fit me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>LOVE</u></b>
teaching college students about the Gospel on Sunday mornings.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dad, my life
is <u>great</u>, despite myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve
blown it so many times in so many ways, but as you know better than I, God’s
grace & presence are incredible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
can’t wait to experience that fully there with you.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve been
missing you HARD for 41 years now, Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a guy wrote in a song some years ago, “I would give anything I own
just to have you back again.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But as true
as that is, I’m equally certain you wouldn’t come back given the choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And looking through a glass darkly (as Paul
wrote), I see that requesting your return would be NOT the best for you, just
because of how indescribably awesome Heaven is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Your arrival there didn’t improve Heaven nor make it sweeter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But your departure sure made this world less
so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today—and every
day—I’ll just be thankful for you & the life you lived & the faith you
demonstrated before me for 15 ½ years of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks, Dad,
for giving me more “Daddying” in 15 ½ years than most get in a lifetime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks for
showing me how to love one woman & cherish her & honor her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for working hard for your customers
and for your family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for having
so much fun, and for bringing your family along for the ride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for the ping-pong matches & pool
games & basketball coaching & tennis matches & games of catch in
the yard & card games & board games.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(I’ve never been able to switch hands & hit a tennis ball left-handed
like you did, which is unfortunate since you may recall that my backhand was
not great in my playing days.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks
for being a good friend to the Hays & Huddleston families.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for the fishing trips to the pier on
Okaloosa Island and the hunting trips to Central Alabama and the water-skiing
lessons and the times sailing in the Bay behind the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for buying me my first-ever album—Peter,
Paul, & Mary’s <em>In the Wind</em>—thereby launching me on a deep & abiding
love of listening to a lot of types of music. My two children inherited that love of music by the way. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I still have that album by the way; it’s framed & in my home
office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for buying me a saxophone
and getting Charles to give me lessons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thanks for being a “band parent” on all those Friday nights at
Choctawhatchee HS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(& Thursday
nights at Meigs Jr. High too)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for
all the travel, both the long trips like our Europe & Alaska trips—I’m
still in awe that you drove us around Europe and that we drove all the way from
FWB to Alaska & back!—and the weekend and nearby summer camping trips to
Rocky Bayou & over to Pensacola.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks
for spanking me when you did; I definitely deserved more of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks that it hurt you every time you had to
give me one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for tearing up when
Jim or I would threaten to run away from home like knuckleheaded little boys
sometimes do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for laughing with
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for letting us see you cry on
occasion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for teaching me to
cherish family heritage and to thoroughly enjoy time with extended family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for showing me how to honor your
Mother; I’m working on honoring mine like you did yours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for working in the three-year-old nursery
all those years; I’m still astounded by that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thanks for honoring your pastor and church, & thereby showing me how
to honor mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for being well
ahead of the curve in terms of race relations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thanks for modeling excellence in business and grace toward customers
and suppliers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And everyone else, for
that matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for giving me my
first job with an actual paycheck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thanks for making us come help with inventory at the store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for playing with Jim & me when you’d
come home after work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still can’t
decide whether that was more for Mom’s sanity or simply because you enjoyed
time with your boys; I’m pretty sure it was both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for the fact that your coworker Gabe
would instantly cry when Mom, Jim, or I walked into the office supply store even
15-20 years after your passing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
speaks volumes about what kind of boss you were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks that my family name is well-respected
in northwest FL 41 years later not because of me, but because of you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks for
printing the poem “The Little Chap Who Follows Me” on the back of every
business card you ever gave out for Madaris Printing & Office
Supplies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>41 years later, I still get
chill bumps—and a few tears—pulling your business card out of my drawer &
reading it again (which I just did).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“A
careful man I have to be…a little fellow follows me…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim & I still follow, Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope—I <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i></b> hope—you’d be happy of how
the last part of that poem looks in our lives: “I’m building for the years to
be, the little chap who follows me.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love you,
Dad, and miss you very hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Especially
tonight, looking at the lights on the Christmas tree the night before the 41<sup>st</sup>
anniversary of your homegoing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll be
fine, Dad; really I will..but not today.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Gospel
that you believed & lived is the same Gospel Jim and I believe & live. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jim & I speak often of the hope of Heaven;
for you it’s no longer hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
reality!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As another song says, I can only
imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But one day, I won’t have to
imagine it any more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I won’t have to
long for another chat with you, for we can sit by the waves on that heavenly
shore & talk.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can’t
wait!</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thanks
again, Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See you soon!</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mike</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">p.s. – There’s
a new guy there named Jimmy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’s just
been there a couple of months by our time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Would you please thank him for filling in some of the gap in my soul
left when your faith became sight?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
called him Papa, and I am missing him pretty hard this Christmas season
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He raised your younger daughter-in-law
Lisa, and he had a HUGE impact on me & on his other son-in-law these past
35 years.</span></span></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-no-proof: yes;"><img height="358" 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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 16pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">He will swallow up death forever;</span></i></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 16pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from
all faces…</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 13pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Isaiah 25:8a</span></div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-23620653498083028832015-12-01T17:47:00.000-08:002015-12-01T17:47:00.041-08:00To An Absent Friend On World AIDS Day <i>(Update of a post from a few years back)</i><br />
<br />
He was a tall, strapping, muscular guy who had worked in the offshore oil business.<br />
<br />
He had a very nice high tenor singing voice, and loved to use it.<br />
<br />
He loved to talk. And to laugh. He & Lisa & I did both rather frequently.<br />
<br />
And he had HIV. Which became full-blown AIDS. Which took his life far too soon.<br />
<br />
The means by which he contracted HIV is utterly irrelevant here. HIV can be transmitted/contracted in multiple ways, some sexual--homosexual <em><u>and</u></em> heterosexual--and some not.<br />
<br />
It's World AIDS Day. Which always causes me to remember my friend, and to miss his company.<br />
<br />
I met him at the church I attend. His was a faith that inspired...inspires...me greatly. He confessed that he had not been faithful to live according to his faith. I assured him that I have my own batch of sins, which I submit is a much larger batch than his was. I 'spect you have your own batch too...we all do.<br />
<br />
He taught me oh-so-much about love and grace. He gave both freely.<br />
<br />
In one of our chats, he told me that he felt like a man without a country.<br />
<br />
1. He said many in Christian circles who knew of his illness kept their distance from him because of his illness.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner.”</em></strong><br />
<strong>Luke 7:39</strong><br />
<br />
<u>Shame on us!!</u><br />
<br />
<strong><em>Then turning toward the woman he [Jesus] said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much. But he who is forgiven little, loves little.” And he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” Then those who were at table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this, who even forgives sins?” And he said to the woman, “<u>Your faith has saved you; go in peace</u>.”</em></strong><br />
<strong>Luke 7:44-50</strong><br />
<br />
2. My friend also said that when he went to the AIDS Support Group meetings, <em><u>they</u></em> kept <em><u>their </u></em>distance because of his Christian faith. Ironic, isn't it? One of the more marginalized groups in our society would further marginalize one of their own because of his religious beliefs.<br />
<br />
<strong><em>"I left the church because I found so little grace there...I came back because I found <u>none</u> anywhere else."</em></strong><br />
<strong>Philip Yancey</strong><br />
<br />
<strong><u>So what will <i>you </i>do with World AIDS day?</u></strong><br />
<br />
Will you ignore it completely?<br />
<br />
Will you wag your finger & speak of HIV/AIDS as God's curse on a lifestyle?<br />
<br />
(If so, you need to ponder how you'd respond to the heart-broken parents of an infant in, say, Africa, who has been diagnosed with AIDS & explain to them God's curse on their tiny baby's lifestyle...)<br />
<br />
Will you wag your finger at the church and at Christians for the above finger wagging?<br />
<br />
Or...<br />
<br />
Will you honor the memories of those you know who have suffered and died from this horrible disease by how you live your life?<br />
<br />
Will you pray for and love and serve those who have the illness now?<br />
<br />
(BTW, what's your stereotype of an HIV sufferer? I ask, because I have a HS acquaintance who is HIV positive. And a fitness <em><u>machine</u></em>. A lawyer who rides his bicycle all over the place competitively & who does triathlons & such. He regularly does stuff like high-speed 100-mile bike rides. A few summers ago, he was the first openly gay, HIV-positive person to do Race Across the West where he competed with the world's greatest endurance athletes. The race is from Ocean Side CA to Durango CO. That's 860 miles in 3 days! It's billed as the toughest part of the toughest race in the world ["Ride Across America"]. Jim, too has helped crash my own stereotypes...)<br />
<br />
Will you pray for and give toward those who are spending their lives to eradicate this illness?<br />
<br />
<em><strong>God have mercy on us. All of us. Those with HIV and those without it. Help us be thankful for the days and the health you give us, and help us love redemptively and NOT judge pre-emptively. And above all, I ask You to magnify Yourself today on World AIDS day through Your church and Your people. May we reflect Your grace and demonstrate it far and wide. Today, and always. In the name of Your Son Jesus, Who was tortured and killed unjustly, Whose death offers redemption and life, Amen.</strong></em><br />
<br />
Thanks, Cecil, for all that you taught me. See you later. Can't wait for that next hug, bro!<br />
Mikethe beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-49164436176336859822015-11-12T14:00:00.001-08:002015-11-12T14:00:43.009-08:00The Long Stare<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I saw it recently in the eyes of a young boy.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The long stare.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Every single one of us guys wants to be noticed and
recognized by older guys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I contend that
a significant part of growing up is being seen as a man by other men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At some point, we want to be welcomed into
manhood by other men.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Ideally, this comes from our Dads, but sometimes that’s not
possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In such situations, it falls
to other men we look up to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Aside: I’d
love to say that by age 56, this innate desire is gone…but in at least one
56-year-old guy’s case, that would not be true. <clears amp="" around="" looks="" throat="">)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In those settings, there is
a huge, pressing need for men to recognize this desire in younger men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And don’t miss the reality that we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>will</u></i> find it somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sports, bullying, gang membership, the local
bar,…somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, us guys WILL keep
looking until we find that validation & welcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Personally, I’m SO VERY thankful for older
men along the way who filled this need in me after age 15 when my Dad died suddenly.</clears></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">One guy in particular did this for me in a very big way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that’s getting ahead of our story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back to the young boy...</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">He came from a VERY bad family situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No Dad present at all, and a Mom who had her
own troubles prior to being killed in a car wreck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This boy was adopted by a couple in his
extended family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came to live in a
small town in southwest Alabama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
adoptive family are great folks; hard-working country folks, very connected to
all of their children, including the new adopted son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are faithful to their Lord and thus to
their local church.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Shortly after moving to his new home, this boy met a retired
teacher & a semi-retired farmer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Does one ever really “retire” from farming?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have my doubts.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They smiled at him & talked to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The semi-retired farmer would smile at him,
talk to him, and give him a piece of peppermint or some other sort of candy.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’m told the boy would get out of the car on Sunday mornings
looking around for “Mr. Jimmy & Mrs. Mona.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Can’t you see it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A young boy who was abandoned & cast
aside for the first few years of his life…who has been adopted into a <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>great</u></i></b>
home…befriending a couple who were 60+ years older than he…and coming to REALLY
enjoy his chats with Mr. Jimmy.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">That welcome to manhood mentioned above?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He found it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the smile of a 70+ year old man of not many words.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Which brings us back to the long stare.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Just a few weeks ago, the faith the preacher speaks of in the
boy’s church became sight for Mr. Jimmy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It had become sight for Mrs. Mona a couple of years earlier.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">So there we were, standing awkwardly around the chapel in the
funeral home chatting about all sorts of random topics, which is what we do at
funeral homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Death is MUCH too vivid
for us to ponder, let alone talk about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After all, the death of someone we know & love reminds us all of our
own mortality.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">The boy walked in with his adoptive Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walked straight to the open casket bearing
the earthly remains of Mr. Jimmy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And he
stood there, staring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He leaned on the
casket much like guys lean on a fence when discussing the weather or college
football or politics.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">And he stared.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">For a
long time, he just stood there, leaning on his elderly friend’s casket and just
stared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No bogus theological musings as happen
at such times & places, no deep questions for his Dad, no idle
chatter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just the stare.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Only God knows the boy’s thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I can imagine some of them.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“So this is what death looks like”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“This is why the preacher & my parents always talk about
faith & Heaven”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Wonder if anyone in this room desires Mr. Jimmy to smile one
more time as much as I do, even though he doesn’t have a piece of candy right
now”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">And perhaps even something like this: “Now who’s going to
talk to boys like me & welcome me and give me the manly legitimacy we all
desire?”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">His folks chatted with the rest of us a bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After some time went by, the boy walked over
& leaned again as if chatting with a friendly neighbor and just stared
again for another long while.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">If I could’ve pulled it off without making people look away
awkwardly, I’d have done the same thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One other guy in the room that night would’ve also.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Jimmy welcomed us & gave us manly
legitimacy over the past three & a half decades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was always “Mr. Jimmy” to most, and
“Daddy” to his two beloved daughters, and “Papa” to his treasured
grandchildren…But to us two, he was our father-in-law whom we both love &
adore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the boy was chasing his
memories, I was chasing mine.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Guys, what younger man—or not-so younger man, for that matter!—is looking to you
for validation as a guy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’re a
boy’s Dad, I’ll answer the question for you decisively: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">your son</b>!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If, like me, your
son is grown & out of the house, that may still actually be the
answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’re not a boy’s Dad—or even
if you are—look around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">enormous</i> crisis in America right now
that cuts across racial & economic boundaries, in that we Dads are either
asleep at the switch<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or are not present
in our sons’ lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who do you have
regular contact with who needs your acknowledgement?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who needs you to notice them & talk to
them?</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">And <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">who will fix the
long stare when <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>you</u></i> pass into
eternity?</b></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Thanks,
Papa, for loving on William & me and for welcoming us into your
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for showing us how to be
men, for we both have needed that for years now for different reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for the smiles & laughs &
memories & stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for raising
your baby girls the way you did, for they are now the wives William & I
have loved for 30+ years now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for
growing in your faith such that you hit the finish line running.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for loving us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See you soon!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By the way, say “Hello” to my Dad, will you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a BIG way, you helped fill the giant
crater in my life created by his own faith becoming sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I can nearly guarantee that decades from now he’ll still recall you
& your impact on his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to
imagine him as a grown man seeking out younger men of whatever age and building
into and encouraging them just like you did for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On behalf of all us lost boys, thanks for
that.</span></span></i></div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-38022903302761197772015-11-11T11:14:00.004-08:002015-11-11T11:14:54.052-08:00Behind the parades & fireworks...
<em>(adapted & updated from an earlier entry from a few years back)</em><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">6/25/1950 - North Korea
invades South Korea. A small conflict in a rather remote corner of the
world...</span><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Meanwhile, at a junior
college in MS, this handsome young man with blue eyes & a great smile was
arriving from Choctaw County in SW Alabama to go to school, and to play
football on a pretty good JC team.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I believe it was the
following summer that the entire football team--that's the <b><i>entire </i></b>team!—were
activated into the military.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(They were
all in the Reserves; full scholarships didn’t really happen back then). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They volunteered their services to go take a
stand in South Korea because their country thought that was worth doing.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The details of that
conflict & the countries who participated's motivations are murky.
Which is OK, as this is not a geo-political analysis of that war. Or any
war. Today, 60+ years later, the Korean war has never officially
ended. There's a line of demarcation that's guarded on both sides, and
official hostilities have been at a cease-fire for some decades now.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Back to the point of this
entry: The young man from Choctaw County & his teammates scattered to
various branches of the service & various training centers. He
trained to be a combat medic. His training would unfortunately come in
quite handy in the months to come in the combat-laden frozen wasteland that was
much of the Korean peninsula, ca. the early 1950s.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He survived,
thankfully. (I say "thankfully" for reasons that will become
clear shortly) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To his dying day, he was
still a tough guy physically & emotionally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mentally, his mind began slipping gears during the last couple of years
of his life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Courage beyond what I can
imagine, both during wartime and after coming home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worked building airplanes in Mobile, AL,
before a hearing problem ended that job for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Had a couple of children. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
the hearing problem kicked into high gear, he moved his family back to Choctaw County.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He built the house they lived in on a pretty
spot of land that he cleared off to raise cows & have a few horses for
fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His youngest child
"helped" him build, since she wasn't in school yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever met a softie who's worked with cows
& horses for much of his life? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me
neither; they don’t exist. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recall
going to feed the cows with him some 25 years ago. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in my 20s, he was in his 50s...he tossed
a big 100-lb sack of feed over each shoulder & away he went. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to toss one over one shoulder; it didn't
go well, & I was actively lifting weights at the time. As I say, he
was a tough guy.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I knew him pretty well
for the last 35 or so years of his life; 31 of those as his son-in-law, who
married the younger daughter who helped him build the house.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She has the same gorgeous
blue eyes as her Daddy, plus the same hard work ethic. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loves the land like he does. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is as close to a Daddy's girl as a tough
cattleman/soldier will ever have. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
particular cattleman/soldier was just crazy about his grandchildren, who added
a dimension of tenderness to him during his last 30 or so years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They, in turn, dearly loved their
"Papa."</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">All of that said to say
this: it's Memorial Day, a day on which we honor our military, as we should on
a daily basis in my opinion. But my challenge to each of us is to take
the time to ask questions along the lines of "so, what was it like?"
and then shut up & listen. Or perhaps a step back from that
emotional brink would be just to say "thank you" to them. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A while back, I listened to some tell
their stories on the radio while I was driving home; at times, it was rather
hard to see. (Must've been rain or fog or something...or
something...) One of the radio stories was another guy who was in Korea
& as squadron commander ordered his best friend from back home to go do
some recon; several months later, the guy found his friend about to die in a
Chinese P.O.W. camp. He buried his friend (& fellow P.O.W.) just
minutes later on a hillside there in North Korea. Another guy was just back
from Iraq a few years back, where he was at the proverbial end of the spear,
doing necessary-but-regrettable things outside the wire at night with his
unit. Some jackass HS acquaintance said to him shortly after he returned,
"So, you're like a certified baby-killer now, huh? What's that
like?" (If "jackass" is offensive & not the right
word, there are others that are more offensive and perhaps more appropriate...)</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Papa's Korea stories unfolded
over several decades now, in small bits & pieces. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems that once he had a grandson, they
unfolded a bit more rapidly & freely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were buried deeply within his memory, locked away until that
glorious day when the swords are hammered into plowshares & spears into
pruning hooks, at which point the stories will no longer be needed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But they did spill out every now & then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mostly around Christmas. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Especially if Christmas is a cold one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I remember that Christmas we spent in
the field in Korea..." Usually a quick, short piece of a story,
occasionally adorned with a picture or the worship bulletin from the Christmas
Day service there. Just little glimpses into the unspeakable horrors that
we all (understandably) blow past on holidays like Veterans Day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I remember going around from sleeping
bag to sleeping bag in the morning & checking to see who was still alive
& who had either frozen to death or suffocated when the snow covered their
face"..."See this little guy from the Phillipines in the
picture? I've seen him stack up North Koreans like rats using just his
bayonet & knife"..."I remember seeing Chinese troops line up
across the valley from us & just walk toward our lines, getting mowed down
by our fire. They figured we'd run out of bullets before they ran out of soldiers”…“I
remember our unit’s machine gun barrel starting to bend due to excessive heat
caused by shooting boxes of shells non-stop…”</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I love the parades &
the pageantry of Veterans Day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm
descended from a long line of patriotic types, in the best sense of the word. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I married into that too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we shake hands with those who came back
& have a moment of silence for those who didn't & as we celebrate
victories they won...PLEASE take time to try to listen to them if they'll talk
about it. (I know others who won't; I certainly am not going to insist
that they go back in their memories to the darkest days of their young lives!) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Try to fathom what seeing & experienced
things like this small-town boy from Choctaw County AL experienced when he was
in Korea does to one's soul & psyche.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I close with this.
A pastor I know in small-town north MS told me that when the movie "Saving
Private Ryan" came out, he had several of his salt-of-the-earth tough guy
farmers with families & homes & such come to his office, & sit just
weep about memories they had locked away, never sharing them with <i><u>anyone</u></i>.
Not even their brides of 50+ years. Seeing "Saving Private
Ryan" triggered those memories & brought them to the surface. My
pastor friend said, through his & my shared tears, one guy who's a deacon @
his church & a very quiet, gentle, hard-working farmer shared that every
Christmas, every birthday, & every family gathering of any kind brought
clearly to mind the faces of German soldiers he killed in Europe in late 1944
& early 1945. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guy said it
always bothered him greatly that those young Germans would never experience
marriage or family or owning a home or children or grandchildren...</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That, ladies & gents,
is so very often what's behind the sober salutes & pinning on of the medals
& attendance at the squadron reunions & the faraway stares today.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qp0LYc4IHnY&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">>>Take 3 & 1/2 minutes<<</a> & be humbled, blessed, & broken as today's soldiers honor their predecessors with a LONG overdue welcome home.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thank you, Father, that
you raise up men & women who put on a uniform & take an oath &
undergo tough training in order to be willing to ship out to places like
Normandy...North Africa...Saipan...Iwo Jima...Korea...Viet
Nam...Afghanistan...Iraq...</span></i></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thank you for the freedoms we have, which have NEVER
been free. </span></i></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thank you especially that you've promised that day...that
GLORIOUS, AMAZING day...when they will all hammer their swords into plowshares &
their spears into pruning hooks & they shall remember war no more.
Until then, may we as a nation honor them and be as thankful for them
collectively & individually as I am for Jimmy Mixon, "Papa" to me
& my children. Grant them all peace today, Father.</span></i></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Gratefully & humbly,<br />
bb</span></div>
</span><div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;">
<br /></div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-52208186387063591912015-02-28T12:13:00.001-08:002015-02-28T12:13:56.726-08:00The Music Man<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">There is less music in the world now, for the Music Man has
left the building.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Don Madaris died earlier this week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was my much-loved Uncle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">His funeral is today in New Mexico.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, my body is in MS this beautiful, but a
significant part of my heart is in a small town in New Mexico with a subset of
my Madaris family helping say “goodbye” to our beloved Don<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thus, this world is less joyful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s less piano playing…and fewer
smiles…fewer laughs…fewer jokes…less singing…fewer people who can lead a group
in in a broad array of sing-alongs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">There’s also less faith in the world now.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Don was my Dad’s younger brother, the youngest of his eight
siblings that reached adulthood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two of
the girls are still here; my beloved Aunts Margaret and Frances.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Who flew out to New Mexico for Uncle Don’s
see-you-later service this weekend.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Uncle Don was a musician.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>real</u></i> musician, as
opposed to one like me who sings loudly in the car when nobody is around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a college-educated musician who made
his living for a few years at the music business up in Nashville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like all good musicians, he was creative and
talented, but was also diligent to work at bettering himself in his artistic
medium.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It paid off, Unc!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A gifted piano player & singer, Uncle Don
could switch from Broadway Show tunes to classic hymns without skipping a beat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He played/acted in musicals—a family favorite
was his role in “The Music Man,” and was typically called upon at family
reunions to sit at the piano and play some songs to make us laugh, worship, sing,
and cry.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Uncle Don was also a missionary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lived out his faith vividly, at least
throughout these past 55 years when I knew him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our Lord called him into the ministry, and he answered that call.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Music minister, and then the foreign mission
field.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Caribbean and then Mexico.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Uncle Don was a devoted husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He met and married his beloved Kay when he
was around 40 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was so much
fun to watch that love story lived out before us!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were a very good match.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Similar senses of humor, similar
callings,…truly a match made in Heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Uncle Don was funny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One of my favorite traits of my Madaris relatives & heritage is a
deep love of laughter, including at ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our family gatherings are filled with the sound of laughter, and Uncle
Don was right there, leading the pack.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">But there was a depth to Uncle Don that was quite
remarkable, and that leaves a significant wake for me to live in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At some very crucial points in my own faith
journey, Uncle Don was there, offering just the right words of wise council.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember being crushed at his brother’s
funeral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, HIS brother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pulled me aside & talked me through
how to deal with that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the time, I
was in the midst of my own “wilderness years,” but I never heard nor sensed
judgment from him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing but wise,
loving, faith-filled council that was never forced on me, but was always
welcome when I remembered to ask.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another time, he talked to me about marriage shortly after
he & Kay married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We laughed, and we
got serious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last year, Lisa & I
celebrated our 30<sup>th</sup> anniversary; part of our own marriage success is
Uncle Don’s wise council before we were even engaged.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">I remember once when I had to step outside at a family reunion
there at Uncle Jr.’s house in Lowndes County, Alabama because Uncle Don was
playing the piano and singing, and I was overcome with sadness & grief about those like
my Dad, his older brother who were no longer around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow, it did me good to encounter one of
my older cousins who had stepped out for the same reason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I apologized to Uncle Don, & he said
something like “If I wasn’t the one playing & singing, I’d have stepped
outside too.”<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Uncle Don had fairly serious health concerns for a bunch of
years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By medical probabilities, I
probably should’ve been mourning his passing 20 years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But God in His grace, preserved Uncle Don’s
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I and many others are thankful for
the extra years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During these recent
years, Uncle Don served on staff at a church in New Mexico, and still found
time to write articles for various magazines and perform in musicals (church
and local) as he was able.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">We Madarises are sadly very experienced at saying “goodbye”
to a beloved family member.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As one of my
cousins said to me some decades back, “that’s one thing that bonds us together;
our experience in dealing with death.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One might think, therefore, that by now we don’t get too upset about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One would be wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I join my two aunts, a BUNCH of cousins, and
a small church out in New Mexico in grieving deeply for the Music Man who left
us this week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">As one of the next generation down of cousins wrote, “Last
night I preached a sermon on 2 Timothy 4:6-8.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>‘For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time
has come for my departure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have fought
the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now there is in store for me the crown of
righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that
day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.’… At
the end of his life, he could look back and say he gave it all for Christ. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His life had been completely poured out like a
beautiful fragrant offering to The Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the time I preached this, I didn't realize Uncle Don would be going
home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uncle Don was such an example to
me of what it truly means to be "poured out like a drink offering".
His life was completely given to serve Jesus Christ. And Jesus has given him
his crown! Thank you, Uncle Don, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for
showing me and so many others how to fight the good fight and how to keep the
faith. You have finished your race and one day I pray I will run my race as
fiercely as you have. I love you Uncle Don.”<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another cousin—this one of my generation—said this: “A sad
goodbye to my Uncle Don Madaris, who died last night. As he was only four years
older than I, we were more like brother and sister. I cherish the memories of
our childhood together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a
professional singer for years and his favorite role continued to be the
con-man, Professor Harold Hill. He'll always be The Music Man to me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Also well said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Please join me in praying for his beloved Kay as she says
the brutally painful “See you later” to her beloved Don.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for two sisters who are the only ones
left of their generation now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>many</u></i> of us nephews & nieces
as we grieve, chase memories, and share them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(The Family Facebook page has been a blast today as people have been
chiming in with memories of Uncle Don.)<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><span style="font-size: large;">Thanks, Uncle D for living a life & faith worth
emulating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for the times you
& I shared laughter, tears, and wise counsel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for your ministry in Mexico all those
years, and in New Mexico in recent years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I like to picture your parents, brothers, & sisters standing around
a piano in Glory as you take your seat there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“We’ve been waiting for you,” they say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And then they’re joined by the One Who created music in the first place &
then gifted you with a LOT of musical talent, as He says, “Me too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well done, good & faithful servant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Play us a song.”<o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<em><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">See you
later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meanwhile, I’ll be practicing the
baritone parts of the hymns & show tunes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe when I join you, I’ll be to fully sing those sings well like you
did when you were here.<o:p></o:p></span></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></em><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Where is the good in goodbye?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lyrics from The Music
Man.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">Here it
is:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know Whom I have believed &
am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I’ve committed unto Him against
that day.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Apostle Paul.</span></div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-80773576678378384432015-01-16T09:55:00.001-08:002015-01-16T09:55:59.821-08:00That's Not Dancing!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dad would be 88 years old today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This blows my mind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When his faith became sight, he was just 47.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used to think that was old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then 47 loomed, arrived, and faded back into
my own rear-view mirror.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In case you’re
still wondering, 47 is most assuredly NOT old.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Somehow, Dad’s birthday is less of a thing in my memory than
December 14, the date of his passing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m not sure why that is, but it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, as this reminder popped up on my calendar this morning, a
concurrent blog entry popped up in my head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dad was a country boy from central Alabama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was also a lifelong Southern Baptist,
including serving the last years of his short life as a deacon in a Southern
Baptist church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever things come to
one’s mind at the words “country boy from central Alabama” and “Southern
Baptist deacon,” I’m quite confident that “dancing” is not one of those
things.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And yet, that’s exactly what came to my mind this morning
when the calendar showed “Dad’s birthday.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Kkg9zdL4J6eIiMSwIwGAGEUEbPLD6dl47YjTGxGRx8E5oIPUtJhYzq9fp-qW6ybOLH24uvRlOP6G3rb2EYJ9LHkOiLF5_AC_Ixn70VbZPxofXRXW1KrOg_0OjcAKBU8YgQRS9g/s1600/20140519_124525-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Kkg9zdL4J6eIiMSwIwGAGEUEbPLD6dl47YjTGxGRx8E5oIPUtJhYzq9fp-qW6ybOLH24uvRlOP6G3rb2EYJ9LHkOiLF5_AC_Ixn70VbZPxofXRXW1KrOg_0OjcAKBU8YgQRS9g/s1600/20140519_124525-1.jpg" height="320" width="120" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Despite the awesome hair <br />& clothes--esp. the belt!--I <br />still wasn't a good dancer.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shalimar, FL (across the bayou from Ft. Walton Beach where
we lived.).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meigs Jr. High School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Early 1970s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>An abundance of long hair, bellbottom pants, and cluelessness (the
latter of which is present at most any junior high school.) Exhibit A: That picture right there==></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A weekend dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Being driven by your Dad to pick up your date if you were one of the few
who had such a strange & mystical & wonderful thing, or straight to the
school lunchroom for the dance if you didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Chaperones, both schoolteachers who were required to attend and assorted
parents who ran out of things to do & thus volunteered to do so.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Enter James E. Madaris, Sr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Never one of those overbearing, in-your-kid’s-face parent who must
appear cool to all of his/her friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Sadly, I think I just described myself a few years back!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad was pretty good at being present without
having to be the center of everyone’s attention (again, the previous
parenthetical sentence). It's a lot of cool to me that a number of my peers have very fond memories of Dad, despite those previous sentences.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the haze of time & ever-more-present aging, I can’t
recall if this chat occurred on the way home from the dance or later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it made me laugh then and makes me laugh
now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad summed up our dancing “skills”
with this simple, powerful sentence: “That’s not dancing!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At some point, he imitated our oh-so-goofy
moves that we thought were amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By
“imitated” I mean “mocked.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
deservedly so because we just were not the great dancers we thought
we were. (Pro Tip: In all likelihood, you're not either. You're welcome.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The point of the dancing critique was that it was often
unclear who anyone’s dance partner was, as we were all out on the floor
flailing away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very little connection
with our date or with the girl who probably asked us to date since most of us
guys were too cool to ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By which I
mean “too terrified to actually initiate a conversation with a girl by asking
her to dance.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’d like to think I agreed with Dad back then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>definitely</u></i>
agree with him now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He explained that
dancing was best done with an actual partner and involves synchronized moves
with each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What we did was more
like swatting mosquitos or at least hope the mosquitos laughed so hard at our
dance moves that they lose concentration and crash into a wall.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lisa & I haven’t danced in years (to my regret!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither of us holds ourselves out as great
dancers, but we used to enjoy it back in the day, despite both being lifelong
Southern Baptists ourselves (wait…did I just drum myself out of the corps
there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh well...).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aside: she & I grew up in different
states; thus, she never saw my jr. high dance moves & attire, which might
be why she was willing to go out with me in the first place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And yet in another sense, like my country boy Southern
Baptist deacon Father did with his beautiful Bama coed for 20 years, I’ve been
dancing with her for 30 ½ years now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
her husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A couple of years back, it
occurred to me that observing a couple who has been happily married for a
number of decades is much like watching two very skilled dancers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Synchronicity…harmony of motion…anticipation
of each other’s next move…reaction to the other that adds to the picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I look at many of my generation and those
younger in relationships, I sometimes feel like my Dad at our jr. high
dances.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That isn’t dancing!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gLfeaVZEwNo/S-6OROeCOpI/AAAAAAAAJBs/SKec0cxm84w/fredastairegingerrogers_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_gLfeaVZEwNo/S-6OROeCOpI/AAAAAAAAJBs/SKec0cxm84w/fredastairegingerrogers_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://grahamsdownunderthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/reminiscing-fred-astaire.html">http://grahamsdownunderthoughts.blogspot.com/2010/05/reminiscing-fred-astaire.html</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few takeaways:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Younger folks in
relationships—and especially in a marriage—watch those who’ve been at it for a
while.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You might learn
something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now sometimes what you learn
is by counterexample.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“OK, see what they
did there?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That did NOT work!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s try something different.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if that’s all you have as examples, look
around & find some new examples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They’re out there, I promise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Don’t give up too
soon!</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember your first
dance?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bring you bad news:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you were absolutely not an awesome dancer at
first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopefully, though, you kept at it
& improved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my case, I like to
think I improved to the point where I was not the worst dancer in the room, despite
almost surely being the shortest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
terms of my relationship with Lisa, I’ve come a long way…and I have a VERY long
way to go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Listen to wise
counsel!</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even from a
hopelessly-out-of-date Dad who says of you, “That’s not dancing!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It turns out that there’s often a lot of
wisdom in the words of an older person than you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not always, but often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, there’s a lot of wisdom in the
words of a younger person than you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m
very thankful for any number of younger men who speak truth to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever the age, if someone you love &
trust says, “That’s not dancing!” pay attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Note that my Dad’s world growing was utterly
different that mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, he lived
& doled out wise counsel from his that applied in mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The music
changes—often quickly and dramatically—but dancing is still dancing.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Culture changes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pressures change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Family size changes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living arrangements change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Work situations change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Money arrives—or doesn’t—and brings
change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But keep dancing anyway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Finally, enjoy the dance!</i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sure, it’ll be hard at times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>VERY hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever had multiple
young ones all crying at the same time about different things?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Metaphorically, Dad danced until his last day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After his first heart attack that fateful
morning, he even joked with Mom about finally getting some time off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You read that right; in the hospital
recovering from a heart attack a couple of hours earlier, just a couple of
hours away from another that would end his life, he was laughing & making
others laugh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUwIZ0NQr1g0a6L0t157Y6TIfZ_2VwirQGxCdDuZmTcEnFzpnpC1rM4pdIVzFVM4mdRtpx1QG_dPVQeBt7nlo3KEEjw5MNWBE_QBoXt3g0icaxBSRiYtzuEOkxa-5AFMG5cnS4Q/s1600/20131214_071832.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwUwIZ0NQr1g0a6L0t157Y6TIfZ_2VwirQGxCdDuZmTcEnFzpnpC1rM4pdIVzFVM4mdRtpx1QG_dPVQeBt7nlo3KEEjw5MNWBE_QBoXt3g0icaxBSRiYtzuEOkxa-5AFMG5cnS4Q/s1600/20131214_071832.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our last family pic, taken in the summer of 1974.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happy Birthday, Dad!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I miss you hard on a daily basis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And yet, somehow, it seems right that you’re forever in your 30s &
40s in my mental picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for living
out & telling Jim & me the art of the dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re both working on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day, we both want to hear you say, “Now
boys, THAT’S dancing!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="ln-group"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">O
God, from my youth you have taught me, </i></b></span><span class="indent"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and I
still proclaim your wondrous deeds.</i></b></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
<span class="ln-group">So even to old age and gray hairs, </span><span class="indent">O God, do not forsake me,</span><br />
</span><span class="br-ln-group-10"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">until I proclaim your might to another generation, <br />
</span></span><span class="indent"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">your power to all those to come.<br />
</span></span></i></b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="indent">Psalm 71: 17-18</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="indent"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="indent">p.s. - Know anyone who has this metaphorical dance down & is putting on a clinic for the rest of us to watch? <strong>Tell the rest of us about it in the comments section!</strong></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span>the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-7775540559155278712014-12-13T18:18:00.001-08:002014-12-13T18:18:16.374-08:00What Was He Thinking?
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wonder what went through his mind on this night 40 years
ago.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Did he have an inkling that it would be his last night in
which eternity was but a dream & a promise out there in the future?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last night in which this world would be
all he knew of reality?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last night
before meeting his Savior face to face and hearing those magnificent words “Well
done, good & faithful servant!”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I wonder if
he pondered the greatness of God, before Whom he would stand the next
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Probably
so; a favorite hymn of his was “In the Garden”—“And He walks with me, and He
talks with me, and He tells me I am His own…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Did he
think about his sons’ future lives?</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Somehow, I think he did, for he thought of that often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder if God’s grace gave him a glimpse of
daughters-in-law…and of 5 grandchildren…whose life journeys would forever be
inexorably linked to his, despite their having never met him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Did he
think about his beloved wife’s future?</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I ‘spect he did here too, for he was a man who loved her much and who
did all he could to provide for and shape that future.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Did he
think about finishing the race & keeping the faith?</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overwhelming evidence from the previous 47
years (his lifespan) suggests that he did.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Did he
think about the gigantic hole his passing would leave in the lives of so many?</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m sure he had thought of that now &
then, as ours is a family that knows how to live life well and how to deal with
its end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Regrettably, we have a good bit
of experience with that “ending” part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had that experience too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, no 47-year-old spends too much time thinking of his own life’s
end.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Did he
think of Christmas & the Incarnation & family & how all of those
seem intertwined?</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think so,
for on this night 40 years ago, he & his family decorated the tree and
fired up the music of the season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
absolutely deplored the ever-lengthening “Christmas season” as cheapening the
meaning of itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, the tree went
up about two weeks before Christmas, & never earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT55NFFtbCTEid29rCEIFgi9IJM3QC0gu6CMR_XpInIvwUzogOU03PufKvT9U4jIHPoZYGw4bjdgD8H8VWlJJMGHJN5FbI65DoLw3WnF3zKZkX4BFysH6treq1psVol5ki1fo3PQ/s1600/20140514_132201-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT55NFFtbCTEid29rCEIFgi9IJM3QC0gu6CMR_XpInIvwUzogOU03PufKvT9U4jIHPoZYGw4bjdgD8H8VWlJJMGHJN5FbI65DoLw3WnF3zKZkX4BFysH6treq1psVol5ki1fo3PQ/s1600/20140514_132201-1.jpg" height="320" width="226" /></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Whatever <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i>
thoughts were on Dec. 13, 1974, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mine</i>
on the forty Dec. 13’s since have always focused on him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And on the overwhelming influence the short 15
½ years we shared on earth continue to have on pretty much the totality of my
own life and faith and family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Influence
like a good Daddy should have on his son.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And thus, I both love and hate staring at the Christmas tree
here late in the evening on Dec. 13.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doing
so brings memories to the fore, both good and painful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Questions that I won’t get answered until until
that Great Day, when my feeble-minded questions will fade into insignificance
beside an eternally long, “Thank You, Lord!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">December 13, 1974, I ‘spect Dad might have stared at the freshly-decorated
Christmas tree and chased his own memories a bit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Think I’ll go stare at ours and chase mine.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-39688550518619273012014-11-09T18:13:00.001-08:002014-11-09T18:13:44.337-08:00To End All WarI've been thinking quite a bit lately about what we know as "World War I." First, because I'm reading a remarkable book by Richard Rubin. In the early part of this century, he tracked down and interviewed a number of veterans of that war, which ended in <strong><u><em>1918</em></u></strong>. Thus, the veterans he tracked down were all over 100 years old. He does a good job of capturing the history, the national mood, the music, etc. of American culture in the early 1900s, all as the backdrop for telling these veterans' stories.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51qMZ0v6s%2BL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51qMZ0v6s%2BL.jpg" height="320" width="211" /></a></div>
<br />
Second, because it's Veterans' Day. 96 years ago, the "War to End All War" ended on this date. The 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918. The guns went silent. That is why Nov. 11 is "Veterans' Day."<br />
<br />
Charlie was there, somewhere in western Europe. A handsome doughboy. A cook, and also a sharpshooter due to his very rural upbringing in SE Alabama. He came home & married Mattie. Charlie died when I was not quite one year old. Mattie died when I was in college. <br />
<br />
Charlie & Mattie are my beloved Grandparents. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<table align="left" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY4Lr4taLa0XxBzLKWPaIZVnUHxruLMWsJUqefJPOAsJQYZ0sXEW3sFAtoYJR5MBSiOM5imioGfxz_nDKco1klsAtiZcFaHp-Wg3nseFbrpY-E_WqSEJ4SQe_qwXCB_2qj0lfS5Q/s1600/20131205_075905_Richtone(HDR).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY4Lr4taLa0XxBzLKWPaIZVnUHxruLMWsJUqefJPOAsJQYZ0sXEW3sFAtoYJR5MBSiOM5imioGfxz_nDKco1klsAtiZcFaHp-Wg3nseFbrpY-E_WqSEJ4SQe_qwXCB_2qj0lfS5Q/s1600/20131205_075905_Richtone(HDR).jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie & Mattie, early 1900s</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaQWokZrMuA-hkB834zE2EtuBSybPYKxpQbBqvUgOI4vpXf7SM1Ryp1c4Qvt9unE7BAXzK2bOLEYwqWfpFSE3FpsNcb-0caCqnfeJHng-oLosrTlzNvAX5pVffC8V-T2OOb3bi9Q/s1600/20131205_075812_Richtone(HDR).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaQWokZrMuA-hkB834zE2EtuBSybPYKxpQbBqvUgOI4vpXf7SM1Ryp1c4Qvt9unE7BAXzK2bOLEYwqWfpFSE3FpsNcb-0caCqnfeJHng-oLosrTlzNvAX5pVffC8V-T2OOb3bi9Q/s1600/20131205_075812_Richtone(HDR).jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in Charlie's lap, 1960</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I am forever marked by these two remarkable people from the woods of central Alabama.<br />
<br />
Third, because this past August marked the 100th anniversary of the beginning of the War. England has marked the anniversary well with an exhibit that's taken months of preparation. The legendary Tower of London has a display. Have a look.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/09/12/1410516116218_Image_galleryImage_LONDON_ENGLAND_SEPTEMBER_.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/09/12/1410516116218_Image_galleryImage_LONDON_ENGLAND_SEPTEMBER_.JPG" height="210" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Source: <a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2753362/The-Red-Sea-Tide-red-poppies-continues-sweep-Tower-London-ahead-Armistice-Day-remembrance.html">http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2753362/The-Red-Sea-Tide-red-poppies-continues-sweep-Tower-London-ahead-Armistice-Day-remembrance.html</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Know what those red things are? Ceramic poppies. <strong><em><u>888,246 </u></em></strong>of them. That's how many British soldiers died in World War 1. Essentially, a generation of young men paid the ultimate price.</div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/world-war-one/11212312/Poppy-memorial-time-lapse-at-Tower-of-London-from-dawn-to-dusk.html" target="_blank">Click HERE for an article</a> from the Telegraph describing the exhibit. Take a minute & a half & watch the time-lapse video of sunrise to sunset at the top of the article. And the two-minute video at the bottom that shows the exhibit from above.<br />
<br />
And these poppies represent but one nation's combat fatalities. In total, the combined allied forces would suffer the loss of over five million men, over 116,000 of which were Americans. Note that the American forces did not officially go to Europe to fight until the War had been going for a couple of years. <br />
<br />
Charlie & Mattie's sons & sons-in-law would be in the next "Great" war. George, a son-in-law, served in the south Pacific. Leldon, another son-in-law, serviced planes in Italy. Charles & James, sons, both served in Japan. Charles & James also served in Korea a few years later.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PP9drZkvaQRvyChyphenhyphenP4Qs412zL8yWvIPJFSqladYehi1VflyhG2QCMwVFsIPFjhCs_xdCDWwSUsGH2Z9OOLqz1jSu0tfdA_ohX7szKCkJFT0Unkc0zHusETpTTMv8o5AlUJT_iA/s1600/20131205_075823_Richtone(HDR).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PP9drZkvaQRvyChyphenhyphenP4Qs412zL8yWvIPJFSqladYehi1VflyhG2QCMwVFsIPFjhCs_xdCDWwSUsGH2Z9OOLqz1jSu0tfdA_ohX7szKCkJFT0Unkc0zHusETpTTMv8o5AlUJT_iA/s1600/20131205_075823_Richtone(HDR).jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charles ("Uncle Jr." to us) & James ("Dad" to Jim & me)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Some of Charlie & Mattie's grandsons & grandsons-in-law would serve in a distant place called "Vietnam." Another guy named Leo who married into the family flew fighter planes on multiple tours of duty over Vietnam, and had to write those letters that begin "It is with great regret..." to families of pilots who served under his command.<br />
<br />
One grandson, Jim, flew a plane around the north Atlantic chasing Soviet submarines during the 1980s for the U.S. Navy. Meanwhile, back home, a lady named Sandi was an officer in the United States Air Force. Just like her Dad was.<br />
<br />
A great-grandson, Jerry, loads bombs on planes now for the USAF.<br />
<br />
Friends, relatives, students, & former students serve now or have recently served. Brett, Gary, Lance, Jim, Jimmy, Cathy, David, John, Brian, Bob, Marshall...So many men & women.<br />
<br />
Where do they come from? Why do they do it? Why take an oath, put on a uniform, take up weapons, & move to distant places?<br />
<br />
Many reasons. They are are diverse as they are many (both the warriors and their reasons!). But what they all share in common is a willingness to put themselves in harm's way because their country asks them to do so. Simple as that. Courage beyond what I've ever had to summon.<br />
<br />
Question U.S. foreign policy & those who formulate it. I certainly do!<br />
<br />
But DO NOT slam the men & women who wear or have worn the uniform! <br />
<br />
To Jim the Navy pilot (my brother), Sandi the former USAF officer (Jim's wife), James the Army Air Corps vet (my Dad), Charles the Army Air Corps & later USAF vet (my Uncle), Marshall the USAF vet (my cousin), Leo the fighter pilot (my step-Dad), Jerry the USAF weapons loader (my nephew), Jimmy the former US Army combat medic (my father-in-law), Charlie the doughboy (my grandfather),...To my friends who stand proudly at Veterans' recognition times at church when their branch of the service is called out...To my classmates who have served & are serving...To my students who have served & are serving...<br />
<br />
<strong><em>THANK YOU!</em></strong><br />
<br />
<strong>"There's not much I can tell you about this war. It's like all wars, I guess. The undertakers are winning. The politicians talk about the glory of it. The old men talk about the need of it. And the <u>soldiers, well, they just wanna go home</u>." </strong><br />
Jimmy Stewart, in <em>Shenandoah</em><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>In Flanders Fields the poppies blow</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>Between the crosses row on row,</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>That mark our place; and in the sky</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>The larks, still bravely singing, fly</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>Scarce heard amid the guns below</span></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow; font-size: medium;"></span></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>We are the Dead. Short days ago</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>Loved and were loved, and now we lie</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>In Flanders fields.</span></span></b> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>Take up our quarrel with the foe:</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>To you from failing hands we throw</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>The torch; be yours to hold it high.</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>If ye break faith with us who die</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>We shall not sleep, though poppies grow</span></span></b> <br /><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span>In Flanders fields.</span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Arial Narrow;"><span></span></span></b> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Written during World War I.)</div>
<br />
Today is Veterans' Day (not Memorial Day). But every veteran listed here, like every other veteran you know and like every active duty member of our military, has no desire to die young. And yet, they are willing to do so.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>They went with songs to the battle, they were young.<br /> Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.<br /> They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,<br /> They fell with their faces to the foe.<br /><br /> They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:<br /> Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.<br /> At the going down of the sun and in the morning,<br /> We will remember them.<br /><br /> They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;<br /> They sit no more at familiar tables of home;<br /> They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;<br /> They sleep beyond England's foam</strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(The Ode of Remembrance, published by a British poet in 1914)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">He shall judge between the nations,</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">and shall decide disputes for many peoples;</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">and their spears into pruning hooks;</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">nation shall not lift up sword against nation,</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">neither shall they learn war anymore.</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Isaiah 2:4</div>
<br />
Amen. Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus, so they may all come home and learn war no more. Until that day, thank you for raising them up throughout the generations.<br />
<br />
To all of you who serve, I am humbled this day & every day to know you, teach you, & be related to you,<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mike</div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-36797090347583445302014-10-25T08:09:00.000-07:002014-10-25T08:09:44.139-07:00The Last Lecture
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A friend & colleague from
across campus retired this summer, after a long & distinguished
career.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During this past year, three
friends & WCU colleagues died (one from the School of Business, two from
across campus).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And we are just in the
process of the first trimester in our new School of Business building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Exciting stuff, although there is the
occasional hassle of re-booting office filing & learning new technology
& such.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not to mention the
ever-present new-building glitches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(As
I wrote the first draft of this, I was sitting in an office with a temperature
registering 85.5 degrees. Thankfully, that problem is now resolved.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then there’s the beginning of
the academic year pondering & reflecting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Aside: I can’t speak for every teacher, but for me, late August is the
beginning of the year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>January 1 is a welcome
day off in the middle of the year.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All of which has me remembering anew
that one day I’ll give my last lecture.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have absolute no idea when
this will occur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For some, like my
colleague mentioned in the first sentence, that is their decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her last lecture was as she had planned in
August 2014.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For others, like my
colleagues mentioned who are not around any more, it was not their
decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were here…and then they
weren’t.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">No clue which it will be for
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor when it will be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s entirely possible that my last lecture
was the one yesterday on some of the finer points of risk & return in BUS
315.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no expectation that this is
the case, nor any plans for it to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(So, BUS 448 students, better come on to class Monday. [smile])</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If my last lecture is caused
by my retirement, then I’m planning for that to be a LONG time into the
future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Sorry, students! [another smile])</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But what if it’s not due to
retirement?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What if I teach one day, and am not here
to teach the next?</span></span></b></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This thought is ever present,
though by the grace of God I do not live in fear or anxiety of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every single one of us has a “that day” on
our calendar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A day on which our earthly
existence will cease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We probably haven’t
a clue when nor how, but that day is absolutely there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Example: a friend of ours went to a deacons’
meeting & then church Sunday night; on the way home, he was killed in a
wreck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was around my age.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Since I recently added
“bladder cancer” to my medical resume, perhaps the thought of the last lecture
is even more present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Note: the
prognosis is quite good!)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">While all of us professors
like to think we add to our universities and certainly try hard to do so,
William Carey University was doing just fine for nearly 100 years before I
arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m pretty confident that William
Carey University will continue to do just fine for years after I leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Unless the Lord returns first, of course.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember talking to a
professor friend who had just retired from a large research university.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he was there, he averaged ~$2 million a
year in grants for his engineering lab.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had assembled quite the team & large amounts of resources for his
cutting-edge scientific research.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
friend said he went back to campus about four months after he retired for a
visit, and there was no evidence he had ever been there!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His lab had been parceled out in the
department, his office was occupied by someone else, and the university was
rocking merrily on.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That is sobering to consider!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One day, my time will come to
deliver my last lecture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d love for my
students to remember me fondly (don’t we all want to be remembered fondly by
those whose paths intersect ours?).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d
also love for them to actually be using things they learned in my classes in
their work lives after graduating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d
also love for them to have applied the relevant material to their personal
lives (students, finish this sentence from DocM’s BUS 315 class: “with your
next paycheck, however great or small,…” [grin])</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But an overriding goal of
mine is captured in a song from some years back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I’m pretty sure I’ve never sung in
class (you’re all welcome, students!), I think these guys capture a bit of what
I’m trying to say with this post.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I feel quite sure if I did my best, I
could maybe impress you with tender words and a harmony</span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A clever rhyme or two<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But if all I've done in the time we've
shared is turn your eyes on me,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then I've failed at what I've been
called to do.</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">There's someone else I
want you to see</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></i> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></i><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Will
you love Jesus more when we go our different ways?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When
this moment is a memory will you remember His face?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Will
you look back and realize you sensed His love more than you did before?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I'd
pray for nothing less than for you to love Jesus more</span></span></i></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></i></b> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I'd like to keep these memories in
frames of gold and silver,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And reminisce a year from now about the
smiles we've shared.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But above all else I hope you will come
to know the Father's love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And when you see the Lord face to face,
“You'll hear Him say ‘well done.’”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I pray for nothing less than for you to
love Jesus more<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">(from Phillips, Craig & Dean)</span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">More than grasping the finer
points of the mechanics of time value of money or bond duration or the
relationship between risk & return or the definition of marginal product
and oligopoly, that’s my hope & prayer for what will remain after my last
lecture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our university—like most
universities—is fond of thinking/saying that “what happens here doesn’t end
here.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May that be ever & eternally true
on my case, by the grace of God.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We are His workmanship, created in
Christ Jesus for good works, <br />
which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.</span></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ephesians 2:10</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>p.s. - Would you join me in praying for our friends who've lost their beloved husband & father? Based on what I knew of him, there's absolutely no doubt in my mind that last Sunday night, he heard "Well done, good & faithful servant" spoken by One Who embraced him with nail scars on His hands. But there's still a grieving family, church, and community here.</em></span></span></div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-72180420834101455762014-08-14T11:19:00.002-07:002019-09-27T12:42:37.765-07:00Pecans, War, Family, and Forgetting: Connecting with Grandpa<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
I felt a deep connection with my two amazing Granddaddies
today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>OK, I often feel a deep
connection with those two guys I love & admire so much; but today brought
them both to the forefront of my memories, longings, & emotions.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Charlie Madaris was a poor, hard-working country boy from
Alabama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>College didn’t happen, &
wasn’t really an option for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grew
up in a rather tough home environment (Aside: why do we talk & act like tough
home environments are a new thing?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Charlie worked until his dying day, because that’s how he lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sawmills for much of his life, followed by
less physically-demanding jobs as he aged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To my non-stop regret, Charlie entered eternity when I was just one year
old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t remember him, but I do have
the one really cool picture of us, plus the stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s also the love of laughter Charlie’s
descendants share.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like to think I
catch an echo of Charlie’s laugh when I hear one of my children’s.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizk_NWg1L0JnUjjMNzq5gd2l-rcDYyymfBHNfjcFRsqcOQ9dIkGakVMsXPSim3TPtPOG9Yc9W1syxelZnqYYwNDpKaiygkw3iDygbnpXxLt6BMAd4wkg2_eNXeNQN9vgbF2CCpA/s1600/20131205_075812_Richtone(HDR).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiizk_NWg1L0JnUjjMNzq5gd2l-rcDYyymfBHNfjcFRsqcOQ9dIkGakVMsXPSim3TPtPOG9Yc9W1syxelZnqYYwNDpKaiygkw3iDygbnpXxLt6BMAd4wkg2_eNXeNQN9vgbF2CCpA/s1600/20131205_075812_Richtone(HDR).jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Granddaddy & Grandma with (L-R) me, my brother Jim, & our cousin Gary.<br />
Grandaddy died not long after this picture was taken.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Actually, I have several really cool pictures of Granddaddy,
one of which jumped all up in my memory this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s Charlie in his uniform from his military
service in World War 1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope you’re
aware that 100 years ago this week, World War 1 officially started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>America would sit out the first part of the
War; but then a generation of young American men—including a country boy named Charlie
Madaris—would answer the call.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Let these numbers sink deeply into your soul:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nearly <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>900,000</u></i></b> British soldiers lost
their lives in that War.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>115,000</u></i></b>
Americans lost theirs in just a couple of years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every combat fatality represents the end of a
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m here because Charlie’s story
didn’t end there in the trenches in France.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Why’d my mind lock in on Charlie today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just started a book called <u>The Last of
the Doughboys: The Forgotten Generation and Their Forgotten World War</u>, in which the author interviewed the last remaining American veterans of World War 1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was reading the preface this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The author makes this stunning summary of the
lives of so many of Charlie’s brothers-in-arms: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"...people who, having
triumphed, came home & quietly set about trying to rebuild their lives. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">And were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">forgotten</i>."</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(emphasis mine)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Those simple lines just crushed me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pictured Granddaddy coming home from the
War, marrying his beloved Mattie, working whatever jobs the central Alabama
countryside offered, raising a family, and going about his
responsibilities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know, like men
used to do (& some still do, thankfully).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then I realized it’s been <u>54 years</u> since Charlie’s sudden passing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Granddaddy, all I have is pictures, echoes of
your laugh, lots of pride in being descended from my favorite Doughboy, and a
deep & wonderful family heritage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
won’t forget.</span></div>
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</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIG4disGSZDu6eISdzgno12pXbPuJCRHcZCC6HwUJbIWCnP5vBM4KmpGZmL4CJLDycCfCY0PH-FPQpGrw5tkvzQfQ32_RU-iMTyLYY2goBR7-UItK3nqhlq1zuuK3AXm68lwCtg/s1600/20131126_115537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIG4disGSZDu6eISdzgno12pXbPuJCRHcZCC6HwUJbIWCnP5vBM4KmpGZmL4CJLDycCfCY0PH-FPQpGrw5tkvzQfQ32_RU-iMTyLYY2goBR7-UItK3nqhlq1zuuK3AXm68lwCtg/s1600/20131126_115537.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie & Mattie Madaris. The newlyweds.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Then, at lunch, we got started talking about eating pecans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m a pecan-a-holic, and I know exactly
why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>John Benton was a gentle, quiet
giant of a man who I knew & loved dearly for the first eight or so years of
my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember slow, deliberate
movement, and words that mattered greatly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I remember the pipe, the sweater, & the Fedora that were required
for a proper stroll through the woods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or around the corner to Goodson’s Store in Enterprise with his grandsons
to buy & eat some peanuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I’m also
a peanut-a-holic, & for the very same reason as my love of pecans.)</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And I remember the pecan trees around Papa’s house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Huge & majestic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One served as both the out-of bounds line and
the goal line for the front-yard football games back in the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Speaking of football, and since football
season is upon us, I remember that Papa was ordered by his Dr. to stop
listening to Alabama Crimson Tide football broadcasts on the radio because it
was bad for his heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(So, yeah; I come
by it honestly. <span style="font-family: "wingdings"; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span>)</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I remember Papa teaching me to crack pecans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I remember what a rite of passage it was
when my tiny hands finally got big enough to crack pecans without the metal
cracking device.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just put two in my fist
& smack my fist into my other hand, & presto!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like Papa did it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>love</u></i>
eating pecans still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Note:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my preference is straight out of the
shell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not a fan of pecan pie (I
know; heresy!), nor of pecans cooked in any way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just basic pecans from the shell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like cracking them too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VspygewD8owLF9JXE7hUpA3X76eVq2UrFgBddELmllhfbdPsyFL5MFNP9HbWnzNvf5wmMyY34r9HcHJ6dzq0oT_CKVTlxl0GtaJKonURjmkZySqNguSmcDwVNf_ceRhg3DOaZA/s1600/20131126_121315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VspygewD8owLF9JXE7hUpA3X76eVq2UrFgBddELmllhfbdPsyFL5MFNP9HbWnzNvf5wmMyY34r9HcHJ6dzq0oT_CKVTlxl0GtaJKonURjmkZySqNguSmcDwVNf_ceRhg3DOaZA/s1600/20131126_121315.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole tribe in Papa & Granny's front yard. (I'm rt in front of Papa on the left)<br />
Three more cousins would join us later.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Papa, I’ll never forget you either.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Charlie & John--Grandaddy & Papa--an oft-repeated prayer of mine is that,
decades after my own faith becomes sight, others farther down the family tree
might remember & think of me as fondly as I remember & think of you
two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More, my prayer is that my
descendants would thank God for what He did through the life of Charlie Madaris & John Benton. And perhaps even through their
deeply flawed grandson.</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thanks, Gentlemen, for your lives & your legacies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>May we, your descendants, continue the
excellent legacy you forged for us.</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"> So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me,<br /> until I proclaim your might to another generation,<br /> your power to all those to come.</span></i></b><br />
(Psalm 71:18 ESV)</div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-47278165271917781332014-07-12T05:28:00.004-07:002014-07-12T05:32:54.103-07:00Giants<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="font-size: 130%;">Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.</span></em></strong><br />
Psalm 116:15</div>
<br />
I'm not a poet. But I <em>definitely</em> agree w/ John Piper who said (paraphrase) "there are some emotions so deep in the soul that they can only be captured with poetry." As best I can recall, this is one of two poems I've ever written. (the other one was a few years back when another friend died). I've posted this before here, but today is the 6th anniversary of my buddy Jason's Homecoming at the ripe old age of <strong><em><u>33</u></em></strong>. I started this in July 2008 in a room at M.D. Anderson's ICU when I heard that the time of Jason's departure was at hand; finished it the next day when I heard he had gone on the glory. (I was undergoing a cycle of high-dose immunotherapy for my metastatic melanoma then.)<br />
<br />
Stephanie had her Dad read this at Jason's funeral. I'll likely never receive a higher honor this side of glory. (We <em>did</em> make it back for his funeral, btw). A quick testimony about Steph: On the morning of Jason's funeral, this 33-year-old sudden widow & sudden single Mother of three <u><strong>texted me</strong> to ask how Lisa & I were doing</u>. I'm still in awe.<br />
<br />
Six years after his homegoing, I agree all the more with these sentiments captured when I heard of Jason's passing. Don't read this for quality of the literary value of the poem, for you'll surely be disappointed. Rather, read for the depth of the emotions I'm trying to capture. This comes close, but doesn't fully capture what I felt this in July 2008. And today....<br />
<br />
As was the case last year, I do not focus on how he died. I choose to focus instead on how he <strong>lived</strong>.<br />
In one of my favorite movie scenes (from "The Last Samurai"), the emperor says to the Samurai's friend, "Tell me how he died." The friend replies, "I will tell you how he <strong><em>lived.</em></strong>" Exactly.<br />
<br />
<em>Please pray for Jason's beloved Stephanie and for his treasured children Anna Lea, Jon Brent, and Ally. </em>(All are doing well, but could probably use a prayer today. Stephanie married a <u>great</u> guy, John, a couple of years ago, and he is doing a simply remarkable job of being a Dad to Anna Lea, Jon Brent, and Ally.)<em> Also, please pray today for Jason's parents, Jon Mark & Peggy; I can't begin to contemplate the journey they've been on since Jason's AML diagnosis, treatment, and passing. In addition, pray for Jason's brother Brad, who has taken that same journey. My brother & I have caught glimpses of where Brad has been during our cancer journeys...<shudder>. </shudder></em><br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">And finally, would you treasure this day and treasure those in your life who make the days lighter and more pleasant? </span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;"></span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">And would you live a life that is pleasing to God, in light of eternity?</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
<em>Jason...bro...I cherish your friendship and your life. Thanks for leaving such a large wake in your 33 short years, and for making all of us in it long all the more for that glorious, eternal "what's up?" from you in the land where there will be no more goodbyes forever.</em><br />
<br />
I love you, buddy. Rock on.<br />
Mike<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Giants</strong><br />
Mike Madaris, 7/12/08, on the coronation of my buddy Jason Weathers<br />
<br />
Giants still walk the land occasionally.<br />
I know this, because I knew one.<br />
Physically strong and imposing<br />
But that’s not the topic here,<br />
For, he was not fearsome<br />
Unless you lined up opposite him<br />
On a football field<br />
Or tried to throw him into a pool against his will.<br />
Those aside, He got along with everybody.<br />
Literally, everybody, as far as I knew.<br />
Calm of demeanor, yet loved to laugh.<br />
Quiet in personality, yet loved hard rock.<br />
Intelligent, but not desiring to flaunt that.<br />
Private, yet the son of a very public man<br />
And later, married into another very public family.<br />
In the midst of all, he was a giant.<br />
<br />
The courtship. She was the only one.<br />
They met when her Dad took a job at the giant’s church.<br />
And his Dad’s. And his Granddad’s.<br />
The realizing came quickly to most.<br />
These two were a match.<br />
They realized it too.<br />
The courtship lasted until they finished college.<br />
And he remained a giant.<br />
Always loving, yet always honoring.<br />
Serving. Cherishing. As it was intended to be.<br />
Both of them Role models. Giants.<br />
Who else marries a giant, but another giant after all?<br />
<br />
10 years of marriage. A move to FL.<br />
3 children deeply treasured.<br />
One looks like her mother, yet like Dad in temperament.<br />
One looks like his Dad, yet tempered like his mother.<br />
And one too young to answer these questions<br />
Though she surely looks like her Dad.<br />
Each nurtured. Treasured. Celebrated.<br />
Giants are like that about their offspring.<br />
<br />
A servant’s heart.<br />
Toward his lady. Toward his children.<br />
Toward his friends. Toward his Lord.<br />
Church service involved the out of the way<br />
The behind the scenes<br />
The un-glamorous<br />
The invisible.<br />
Sometimes giants stay in the background.<br />
Perhaps that is why so few of us believe in them any more.<br />
<br />
The servant heart spilled over into career choice.<br />
Especially poignant to me this week<br />
As I have been greatly served and blessed by multiple nurses<br />
As a patient, the best in that field are wired as servants.<br />
Others-centered. Paycheck almost incidental.<br />
Towering over the rest of us.<br />
Giants.<br />
<br />
The dreadful disease with the nasty prognosis<br />
The treatment nearly as nasty<br />
Uncertainty. Doubt. Fear.<br />
In this case, for others more than self<br />
Beloved wife and treasured children.<br />
Parents. Parents-in-law. Brother. Brother-in-law.<br />
Not wanting to burden others with the battle he fought so well.<br />
The larger men among us worry about us like that.<br />
<br />
7 months of desperate fighting.<br />
Interspersed with time spent with family and with lesser mortals.<br />
Like me. At Starbucks. Still dreaming of an earthly future that would never be.<br />
Then the end; rather, the beginning.<br />
What, after all, is a last, horrendous week against 30+ years of a towering-above life?<br />
<strong>Faith became sight. </strong><br />
Death & disease forever vanquished.<br />
Ultimate Healing. No more illness, no more treatment, no more pain.<br />
<strong>“Well Done, good and faithful servant.” </strong>The stuff of dreams.<br />
Thankfully, not of legends.<br />
Hopes and dreams realized.<br />
Sin not only defeated, but now utterly removed.<br />
As has been sung, <strong>"I can only imagine." </strong>He need not imagine any more.<br />
This makes me smile through tears.<br />
Victory won. Decisively. Forever.<br />
<strong>It is well…it is well with his soul. </strong><br />
In that land, there are only giants. Now one more.<br />
And this land seems all the more empty.</div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-91127617781436901392014-07-07T16:39:00.003-07:002014-07-07T16:39:58.682-07:00Searching for Barnabas<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This post is aimed mostly at guys, for a couple of reasons. First, it seems to me that you ladies are much more automatic at what I'm writing about. Second, it also seems to me that we guys are much more prone to run off the rails and cause much devastation in our lives & the lives of those around us. With that said, whatever the girl version of "Barnabas" is, you ladies should perhaps adapt this to her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So very many of us are searching for Barnabas. And what's sad is that we may not even realize that we're searching for Barnabas until we crash & wonder where he's been.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In recent years, I've watched two guys I considered VERY close friends crash & burn morally. Both left behind angry & hurt wives and crushed & wounded sons. A good many years back, a pastor--a <em><u>pastor!</u></em>--crashed & burned morally, shortly after he resigned his pastorate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">From what I know, all three of these guys were & <em>are</em> Christians. All three have had significant impacts for the Kingdom of God. And there is <u>no doubt</u> that all three have had a significant impact on me personally, in multiple ways. Before their respective crashes, they impacted my life & faith through teaching & example & fellowship. So <u>please read my emphatic statement</u>: I am SO thankful for all three of these guys and for the providential ways their paths crossed mine and for their impact on my life & faith & marriage & parenthood. And tragically, as a result of their respective crashes, they have impacted my life & faith by counter-example. I've been reminded of some boundaries to enforce & some behaviors & thought processes to guard vigorously & intentionally. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Also, from what I know, none of these guys really had found Barnabas. So many of us guys haven't yet. In all three cases, it's possible or perhaps even <strong><em><u>likely</u></em></strong> that I should have been Barnabas to them and I wasn't.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(If you're wondering, I've seen all of them since their episodes & thanked all of them for being my friend & for impacting me. I still have fairly regular contact with one of the three, despite geographical distance. And only God knows how much grace I personally have needed over the years from Him but also from friends & family! You won't hear arrogance & condemnation from me. As my Mother used to say, "There, but for grace, go I." Neither will you hear "oh well, boys will be boys" excuses by me. In fact, those two ideas--condemnation & excusing--are part of the main point of this.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So, who's this Barnabas we need to be searching for?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Joseph, who was also called by the apostles Barnabas (which means <u>son of encouragement</u>)...</span></strong></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Acts 4:36</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Son of Encouragement." Dr. Howard Hendricks--a long-time seminary professor whose faith became sight just last year, & who I wrote about back then--used to say to guys that we all need three guys in our lives. We need a Paul, a Barnabas, & a Timothy. Paul--a more mature guy who's building into us; Timothy--a younger guy whose life we're building into...and Barnabas--an encourager. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">According to Prof, this Barnabas would be our <strong><em>co-laborer</em></strong>. "<strong>Someone who loves us dearly, but who is not impressed by us."</strong> Our Barnabas will genuinely <strong><em>encourage </em></strong>us, while at the same time <strong><em>holding us accountable</em></strong>. He will--with our permission--speak truth into our lives. One guy I know quit smoking because his Barnabas looked at him one time & said, "That's a really stupid habit that you need to quit. I love you & so does your family, and we want you around a long time." A simple example, but if that particular Barnabas didn't love the guy, he wouldn't have spoken that truth to him in love. And if he were impressed by him, he wouldn't have spoken it to him at all!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u>Guys, have you found Barnabas?</u> If not, with all the love I can muster, put that at the top of your list of things to work on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Before I describe some Barnabases in my life, a VERY important reminder: "Son of Encouragement" does NOT equal "Enabler"! Again, loves you but is not impressed by you. He has your best at heart, & thus will occasionally speak hard truth into your life. Barnabas will not let you off the hook with weak excuses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With that, let me tell you about a few sons of encouragement I know. I won't name them, but I'll describe them. Hopefully, doing so will show the importance of Barnabas and also will show how easy it is to be in Barnabas' orbit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>One guy regularly asks me--and a number of other guys--when our last date with our wife was</strong>. If we stammer, he'll smile, pat us on the back, & tell us he'll ask again next week, and will expect a different answer. Countless guys--me included--need reminding that right after our faith in Jesus Christ, our wife comes next. Before church. Before work. Before kids. Before sports & other entertainment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Another guy once <strong>confessed a deep struggle to me, saying "I know you'll pray for me & keep this just between us. I also know you'll hold me accountable to deal with it." </strong>What a high honor, to be invited into the depths of another man's soul like that! By the way, in the years since, I've asked him about the issue a few times. (Again, he <em>asked </em>me to ask him.) By the grace of God, his prayer--and mine--for himself on this issue has been answered affirmatively. After he has shared victories with me, he <strong><u>always</u></strong> says, "Thanks for asking! I love you, Brother."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This other Barnabas I know <strong>connected the dots between some work issues I was dealing with and my near-total slackness in my Christian life</strong>. He told me pretty directly to stop being a perfectionist, stop being passive about my faith, and get on with life. Then he prayed for me, and promised to continue to doing so. I'm pretty confident that he has prayed for me pretty regularly for 25+ years now, despite us not living in the same city or state for over two decades.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Another guy <strong>showed me the value of time away from work with just my wife & kids.</strong> He was selected for a position of honor that a number of guys in my community would love to have. To the shock of most, he declined, saying that he had committed to travel with his wife & kids, which was a higher priority to him. He was told, "You may not have this opportunity again, you know..." He said, "Yeah, I know. But I <em><u>know</u></em> my boys will never be this age again. I appreciate the offer, but No." He & I laughed about this, & then he looked at me & asked when the last time <strong><em><u>I</u></em></strong> had taken a vacation with Lisa & James & Anne. When I stammered a bit, he smiled. I got the point.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One more: there's another guy who <strong>shaped some boundaries for me early in my married life</strong>. There were unsavory & totally untrue rumors circulating about me. I was furious & ready to do violence to the perpetrator of the gossip. Thankfully, I sought my friend's counsel. He said two things: (1) "Nobody who knows you believes these; I don't and neither does anyone else who has contact with you & Lisa." (2) "Here are a couple of things you might consider in the future to avoid such rumors even getting started..." And he suggested some hard boundaries that I have tried to stick to in the years since. As expected by him, my marriage which was already good has become great as I have tried to actively & intentionally honor Lisa in my heart, my words, and in actions I take intentionally and actions I avoid equally intentionally. PLEASE do not hear me boasting here! Rather, read that "As expected by him" sentence as evidence of the grace of God poured out first & foremost via a trusted brother. Barnabas.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 20pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><strong><em>And Barnabas and Saul returned from
Jerusalem when they had completed their service, bringing with them John, whose
other name was Mark.<o:p></o:p></em></strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 20pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Acts 12:25<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></span><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As others much wiser than I have noted, there's a significant and growing absence of men finishing well these days. We have short-changed our wives and our children. We have left women to fulfill leadership roles in the home and in the church. We are fairly well absent, far too often under the guise of "Well, I'm working hard making money." I'd really <em>love </em>to tell you that I'm innocent of these things; I'm not. But hopefully, by the grace of God and through the encouragement of multiple Barnabases in my life--sons of encouragement--I'm much closer to "innocent" than I used to be.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thanks guys. I'm a better man, husband, father, professor, and follower of Christ because of you. Please don't let up, gents. I have a ways to go yet; so do you. Please pray that we all hit the finish line running strong in the faith. Let's lean into the tape and finish well! May God bless each of you sons of encouragement. Thanks for "bringing me with you" on our life & faith journeys.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">May we all find Barnabas. May we all BE Barnabas.</span>the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-31158292257434306352014-03-26T13:24:00.002-07:002014-03-26T13:24:37.117-07:00**Please Pray for my Brother, Jim!**<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
<em>Was out of the social networking loop yesterday; what follows is a compilation of Facebook status updates on Jim; most were posted by his wife Sandi, with the exception of the very last one.</em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">Synopsis: Jim experienced a rather serious situation with fluid building up in his chest & around his heart on Wed. 3/25. As I type--3:15 p.m., Thursday, 3/26--he's better, but still in the hospital back home in NW FL. (They were down for his daughter's Spring Break)</span></em><br />
<strong><em><u><span style="font-family: Arial;">PLEASE pray for Jim & for his medical team, as well as for Sandi.</span></u></em></strong><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Arial;">The following are the status in chronological order, fyi. First one was Wednesday.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Please pray for Jim! We are in ER in FWB FL--he has fever
over 100, difficulty breathing and extremely fatigued. Pray for the medical
staff here to determine quickly what is going on and for his breathing and pain
to get better. Please no phone calls--I will update later as I can. Humbly
thanking in advance for your sweet submissions to God on his behalf. Love and
blessings!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. Jim being admitted to hospital. They are running lots of
tests and doing a CT on him. Signs of some sort of infection...thx again for
all your prayers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Jim has fluid around his heart. They have moved him to
cardiac lab and are doing periocardiocentesis on him right now, he will be
under conscious sedation. Please pray for steady hands, accurate placement of
needle and drain, and a general prayer cover over him and the surgical team.
Blessings!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">4. Just saw cardiologist. He got almost a liter of fluid out of
his chest. Jim will be in ICU tonite and had a drain in his chest. He should be
able to breathe easier now. I haven't seen him yet, so will let y'all know when
I set eyes on him myself! Excellent doctor and surgical/nursing staff! Keep praying
for swift and full recovery! Blessings!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">5. Jim was moved to ICU. I saw him and talked with him. Some
pain at the drainage site but breathing is better. Pray that all the fluid is
drained and his vital signs stabilize. So appreciate your love and prayers!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">6. Jim stable and resting when his mom and I left him tonite in
the ICU. He will probably get some red blood to help with his anemia. His fever
still there and white blood cell (WBC) too high, so some sort of infection is
present. The nurse said lots of rest will help him feel better. He didn't eat
too much dinner and was just glad they could finally give him pain meds.
Prayers definitely appreciated and I will let locals know when he is ready for
sweet visits from y'all! Your love means so much to all of us!</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><strong>(This next one was the first from today.)</strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7. Update on Jim: he slept fairly well last nite, ate a small
breakfast, had another echo test and still has drain and foley cath in. Still
running slight fever and has elevated WBC. His heart rate & BP are
returning to normal. He still has difficulty breathing and a slight cough. The
lining around his heart has a bacterial infection which is being addressed thru
antibiotics. Fluid around heart is greatly reduced. Pray for the infection to
be eliminated, for his breathing to totally improve, and for overall continued
healing. God is over all and He is good! Thanks again for your love and
prayers!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">8. Update again on Jim: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pray for his fever to come down! It is 102.2 & specific
infection needs to be found. Blessings!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><strong>(This one was posted by Jim just a bit ago</strong>.)</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">9. hi all... Too sick to post & converse, but it sure is
great to read all your love & prayers. Thanks especially for being there
for Sandi.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In His grip... Jim<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><em><strong>(end; back to Mike now)</strong></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Again, on Jim & Sandi's behalf, we welcome & deeply appreciate your prayers, my friends. Thanks so much for all you folks do to serve my family!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Mike</span>the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-71185817771508069572014-03-03T11:26:00.001-08:002014-03-03T11:26:21.800-08:00For Those Facing the Loss of a Loved OneFor some folks I know who are grieving the imminent home-going of a friend & family member. For other folks I know who have already faced a loved one's home-going, especially those who did so through the devastating, overpowering road that is cancer.<br />
<br />
This song absolutely wrecked me many years ago when I saw Wayne Watson perform it live (long before my own cancer journey began.) Especially when he introduced it by talking about its inspiration: a family friend who died of cancer, leaving behind a husband & young children. I love the brutal honesty of the words: "I'm trying hard not to think You unkind, but Heavenly Father, if You know my heart, surely you can read my mind..."<br />
<br />
After hearing this song, and singing along with it several hundred times in my car & home, I adopted the phrase "The Ultimate Healing" into my regular language. To be very clear, my clear P.E.T. scans are amazing & unlikely & unwarranted gifts from God. I am SO thankful for them & so humbled by them & so prayerful for them to continue! But with that said, my friends Jason & Margaret (among others I know) are utterly, totally, and ultimately healed, whereas I am not. My existence still requires faith; their faith, on the other hand, is now sight. They, not I, have received the ultimate healing! (Very easy to say; VERY hard to process & internalize & live through!)<br />
<br />
Note: No song--including this one!--has the power to take away your pain. I wouldn't presume that at all. But maybe, just maybe, it will help a few days down the road.<br />
<br />
(Video of Wayne's song; no need to watch, just listen. 4:31) <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6l1kpJ0x5k" target="_blank">"Home Free" by Wayne Watson</a><br />
<br />
(Lyrics follow)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>I'm trying hard not to think You unkind,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>But Heavenly Father,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>If You know my heart,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Surely You can read my mind.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Good people underneath the sea of grief;</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Some get up and walk away,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Some will find ultimate relief.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em></em></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Home free, eventually.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>At the ultimate healing,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>We will be home free.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Home free! Oh I've got a feeling.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>At the ultimate healing,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>We will be home free</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em></em></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Out in the corridors, we pray for life;</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>A mother for her baby,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>A husband for his wife</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Sometimes the good die young,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>It's sad but true.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>And while we pray for one more heartbeat,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>The real comfort is with You.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em></em></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>You know pain has little mercy,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>And suffering's no respecter of age,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Of race, or position.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em></em></strong> <strong><em>I know every prayer gets answered,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>But the hardest one to pray is slow to come:</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>'Oh Lord, not mine, but Your will be done.'</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Let it be.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em></em></strong> </div>
<strong><em><div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Home free, eventually.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>At the ultimate healing,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>We will be home free.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Home free! Oh I've got a feeling.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>At the ultimate healing,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>We will be home free.</em></strong></div>
</em></strong><div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em></em></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Home free, eventually.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>At the ultimate healing,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Gonna be home free</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em></em></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Home free, oh its more than a feeling.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>At the ultimate healing,</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Gonna be home free</em></strong><br /><br />Published by</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Come, Lord Jesus. Come near-term, to those facing the death of a loved one. Come ultimately, to all of us, as you usher in the new world where cancer & death will barely be a memory. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I. Can't. Wait!</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a alt="esv_01" class="va" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="v19090010"></a><strong><em>The years of our life are seventy,</em></strong></div>
<div class="indent line" id="p19090010_08-1" style="text-align: center;">
<a alt="esv_08" class="va" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="v19090010"></a><strong><em>or even by reason of strength eighty;</em></strong></div>
<div class="line" id="p19090010_15-1" style="text-align: center;">
<a alt="esv_15" class="va" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="v19090010"></a><strong><em>yet their span is but toil and trouble;</em></strong></div>
<div class="indent line" id="p19090010_23-1" style="text-align: center;">
<a alt="esv_23" class="va" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="v19090010"></a><strong><em>they are soon gone, and we fly away...</em></strong></div>
<div class="indent line" style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><u>So teach us to number our days</u></em></strong></div>
<div class="indent line" id="p19090012_08-1" style="text-align: center;">
<a alt="esv_08" class="va" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="v19090012"></a><strong><em><u>that we may get a heart of wisdom.</u></em></strong></div>
<div class="line" id="p19090013_01-1" style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>Return, O <span class="small-caps">Lord</span>! How long?</em></strong></div>
<div class="indent line" id="p19090013_06-1" style="text-align: center;">
<a alt="esv_06" class="va" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="v19090013"></a><strong><em>Have pity on your servants!</em></strong></div>
<div class="indent line" style="text-align: center;">
Psalm 90:10, 12, 13</div>
<div class="indent line" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a alt="esv_01" class="va" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="v18026014"></a><strong><em>Behold, these are but the outskirts of his ways,</em></strong></div>
<div class="indent line" id="p18026014_10-1" style="text-align: center;">
<a alt="esv_10" class="va" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="v18026014"></a><strong><em>and how small a whisper do we hear of him!</em></strong></div>
<div class="indent line" style="text-align: center;">
<a alt="esv_20" class="va" href="https://www.blogger.com/null" rel="v18026014"></a><strong><em>But the thunder of his power who can understand?”</em></strong>Job 26:14</div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-83313944783029532072014-02-07T14:57:00.004-08:002014-02-07T14:59:51.634-08:00“This light, momentary affliction…” Seriously??<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Today, my brother Jim begins a new phase of the battle with
mesothelioma.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWZTid3kXpXm6m1t5F2Rbtvwc5NSA9XqjrzN02IleOQyj_KCFN-Z_BejCMndqt2q77Fi7txoIJhc7rdBJgEJ9TIjz_jBIcAT7891kjNujUH-uYkybp9derC9EhmRXCA_rtxBXaQ/s1600/Imported+1+9+14+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoWZTid3kXpXm6m1t5F2Rbtvwc5NSA9XqjrzN02IleOQyj_KCFN-Z_BejCMndqt2q77Fi7txoIJhc7rdBJgEJ9TIjz_jBIcAT7891kjNujUH-uYkybp9derC9EhmRXCA_rtxBXaQ/s1600/Imported+1+9+14+036.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></span></a></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Easily the ugliest Christmas sweater ever. <smile></smile></span></td></tr>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Last May’s phase 1 involved a 14-hour surgery/internal chemo
combo up in Pittsburgh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A considerable
portion of his guts was removed then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And it was successful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But with mesothelioma—as with metatastic melanoma—“successful”
will not be final in this life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meso
patients always live under a shadow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So, in recent followup scans, some lymph nodes were somewhat
enlarged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No lighting up as cancerous on
the P.E.T. scan, which is good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However,
because it’s mesothelioma, Jim’s medical team is being aggressive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so, as I was writing this earlier today,
he’s in Nashville having his first chemo infusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is an experimental protocol that
involves a biologically-targeted chemo regimen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Therefore, rather than just wiping out his entire system & hoping
that the chemo destroys the cancer before destroying him, this one is somewhat
less bad to endure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Context is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>crucial</u></i>
as you read that last sentence; my own focus is on the phrase “somewhat less
bad.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chemo is still chemo, and brings
unpleasant side effects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The good news
is that the side effects from this regimen are much less than from how more
general chemo affects the patient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
bad news is, he’ll be heading up to Nashville every Thursday for his Friday
infusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every single week.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">How long is the regimen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Let this answer motivate you to pray for Jim & his fam if you’re
not already doing so.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The experimental
period is for two years; they’ve told Jim that he can count on six months.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Every.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Single.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>Six Months</u></i></b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or
maybe longer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As usual, his attitude is great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He says this is a good problem to have, which
it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But a good problem to have is
still a problem.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Light & Momentary?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Doesn’t seem like it when one is in the fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the hope in Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians
4 is at least twofold.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“…is preparing for us…”</span></i></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">First, consider the word <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">preparing</i></b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Elsewhere in Ephesians 2:10, Paul describes
us Christians as God’s “workmanship” (Greek: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">poema.</i>)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consider your own
workmanship: your job, parenting your kids, growing your faith,…None of those
happen automatically nor quickly, does they?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The hope is found in the One Whose workmanship we are; the One Who is
doing the preparing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“…an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison…”</span></i></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Second, consider the words <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">eternal weight of glory beyond
all comparison.</i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eternity is a
very long time, isn’t it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the late,
great musician Keith Green said, “Life is short, eternity is long.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we look back from the perspective of
eternity, the trials of this life will truly seem “light & momentary.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t wait, & neither can Jim!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Weight of Glory”…what an awesome phrase, in
the true meaning of the words!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Sovereign God is not just preparing Jim to be tough, or manly, or
whatever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(He flew an airplane armed
with nuclear torpedoes around the north Atlantic chasing Soviet missile subs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also played the trombone <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>at our Dad’s funeral</u> </i>[I’m still
in awe all these years later].<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus,
there’s the 14+ hour surgery last May…“tough” & “manly” were surpassed long
ago.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, God is preparing Jim—and you
& me as believers—for an eternal weight of glory beyond all
comparison.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is shaping & molding
us to bear His image & to reflect His glory.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sometimes, that preparing & workmanship & shaping
fall light & easy on us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Often the
same shaping & workmanship are <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>tough</u></b>
to go through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like, say, six to 24
months of weekly chemo.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Hallelujah!</strong><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day,
all the shaping & molding will be complete, and we will bear that eternal
weight of glory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then, in ways we
can only glimpse now, all of our trials & tough times here will seem light
& momentary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will even thank God
for them!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But that day is not here yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not for you, for me, nor for Jim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Therefore, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">would you please join me in holding him before the throne of grace in
prayer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would you do so at least every
Friday?</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> But we have this treasure in
jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are afflicted in every way, but not
crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair…struck down, but not destroyed; always
carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be
manifested in our bodies. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For we who
live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of
Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh…knowing that he who raised the
Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his
presence…to the glory of God.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> So we do not lose heart. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though our outer self is wasting away, our
inner self is being renewed day by day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory
beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the
things that are unseen. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the things
that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(2 Corinthians 4:7-18 ESV)<o:p></o:p></span>the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-62606566500830219482014-01-14T15:46:00.001-08:002014-01-14T15:46:19.666-08:00A Glimpse Behind the Curtain[updated version of earlier post as I gear up to head back out to Houston]<br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">"Rumor grew of a shadow...a nameless fear..."</span></em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fellowship of the Ring</div>
<br />
I'll name that fear: <strong>metastatic melanoma</strong>.<br />
<br />
<em>(Apologies for letting you all see behind the curtain, so to speak....but here it is.)</em><br />
<br />
The line above from the opening narration of the movie version of Fellowship of the Ring absolutely nails what happens every four months. Mercifully, that shadow is hidden most of the time; but it's still very much there for anyone who has ever had an aggressive form of cancer that's prone to come back. (Like, say, metastatic melanoma.)<br />
<br />
But then comes the trip out to Houston. And the reminder that this is NOT one of those fun travel adventures that Lisa & I really love to have. We're here for a reason. And that reason makes the shadow grow, slowly & steadily.<br />
<br />
We check in to the Motel. "We'd like the medical rate, please." And the shadow grows.<br />
<br />
Lodging is not far from where the NFL's Houston Texans practice and play. As much as I <em><u>really</u></em> love football, it won't really pierce the shadow very much.<br />
<br />
I'll drive through Baton Rouge; Lisa & I enjoyed attending our first-ever LSU game there last Fall. But the shadow...<br />
<br />
I'll drive through south Louisiana, a fascinating part of the country to me. The Achafalaya Swamp, Po-Boys sold everywhere, rice fields,...None of which pierces the shadow.<br />
<br />
The familiar Houston traffic. The signs "610 South." And the shadow comes out of hiding.<br />
<br />
<em>(Again, forgive my whining here; just trying to let you in on what this trip does to one's psyche every. single. time. Well, to mine, at least.)</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nature.com/naturejobs/2009/090618/images/nj7249-1022a-i1.0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://www.nature.com/naturejobs/2009/090618/images/nj7249-1022a-i1.0.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Partial view of M.D. Anderson Cancer Center<br />
A fantastic facility populated with tremendous folks doing amazing work; <br />a place I wish wasn't necessary.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This past year, my beloved brother began his own cancer journey. Mesothelioma in his case. By the grace of God as exhibited through some highly-skilled Drs. in Pittsburgh, his first year has gone about as well as possible. Most of the time, the shadow of his journey is hidden too, as we talk of much more joyous things. A visit to M.D. Anderson brings that part of our family's shadow out of hiding too.<br />
<br />
I <em><u>hate</u></em> cancer!<br />
<br />
I do not fear a P.E.T. scan. An IV stick, the injection, a mandatory 1-hour nap to allow the stuff to circulate, and the ~40-minute scan. No biggie.<br />
<br />
However, my blood pressure will be elevated Friday morning as I watch the clock tick S L O W L Y toward 11. Walking in for the results appointment is good for an extra 20 points on my systolic number.<br />
<br />
In a matter of seconds, we'll get the word. Eight times in a row now, we've heard the magic, shadow-dispelling words "Your P.E.T. scan looks great; all clear!" Three years of P.E.T. scans prior, we did not hear those words. I have the nasty scars & unpleasant memories that go along with that.<br />
<br />
Thus, the shadow. The nameless fear (OK, it's now named.)<br />
<br />
I do not fear death, for I know Whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I've committed unto Him against that day. But I do fear what a bad P.E.T. scan could imply between now & that day.<br />
<br />
I fear its effect(s) on me physically in terms of treatment, but also its effect(s) on my life. I fear an epitaph that says "A nice enough guy I guess." I fear dishonoring my faith & my Lord by not making a difference for the Kingdom & for the Gospel. I fear leaving my family ill equipped & provided for. And, to be sure, I fear chemo (which I've never had). I fear bone marrow transplants (ditto). I fear immunotherapy (which I <em>have </em>had). I fear not finishing well.<br />
<br />
So, if you're expecting a lighthearted post with a pleasant conclusion, it's not happening. Maybe next time. *smile* <br />
<br />
And should I hear the magic, shadow-dispelling sentence again, this post will be an embarassing bad memory that makes me have a sheepish grin. <br />
<br />
For four months. At which point I could write it again.<br />
<br />
Thanks so much for your prayers & friendship during this journey!<br />
Mike<br />
<br />
<strong><em>"And You were the one Who filled my cup. And you were the One Who let it spill. So blessed be Your Holy Name, if You never fill it up again. If this is where my story ends, just give me one more breath to say, 'Hallelujah!'"</em></strong><br />
from "Broken Praise," by Todd Smith (based on the story of Job; one of my very favorite songs)<br />
<br />
p.s. - I drive out Wednesday, have all the medical fun Thursday, the latest most-important-of-my-life Dr. appt. Friday, followed by the drive home. Your prayers for safe travels & clear, accurate scans showing nothing are MOST welcome & appreciated beyond mere words.the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-77120695675626900232013-12-25T08:05:00.001-08:002013-12-25T08:05:10.779-08:00Echoes & ShadowsDo you see the shadow? It's always there.<br />
<br />
Today is Christmas morning, which at our house means presents, lights, laughter, food, family...one of our most fun days of every year. I love Christmas and all the trappings of the season--I am my Daddy's son after all! But in all the echoes of making new memories & chasing old ones (I do a lot of both this time of years), there's a shadow.<br />
<br />
I love Christmas cards. Greetings from friends & relatives, both near and far. A reminder of family and friendship, two things that make me very happy. But even looking at pictures and reading cards & letters, there's a shadow.<br />
<br />
I love to look through my own pictures from days gone by. My family I grew up, and my family that began when Lisa & I got married 29+ years ago. I can hear the joy-filled echoes, again, laughter, family,...But even then, hearing the echoes of Christmas laughter gone by, there is a shadow.<br />
<br />
I love taking pictures of landscapes and looking at others' pictures of landscapes. The beaches of my youth, the woods along Longleaf Trace (where I ride my bike), the mountains of TN & CO & Southern Poland, the high plains of the upper midwest...again, I'm my Father's son. But even looking at the beauty & wonder of earth, or when gazing into a clear star-filled sky, there's still a shadow.<br />
<br />
Luke's Gospel records a humble birth, out in a stable in a small, overcrowded town of little consequence at the time. Smelly shepherds were the only guests to "ooh & ah" over the infant boy in the stable. But all of heaven rejoiced, even as a throne was emptied for the first & only time in all of eternity. A star lit up the sky. Multitudes of angels sang & heralded the arrival of this One long promised.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>"Unto you is born this day in the City of David, <br />a Savior Who is Christ the Lord."</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em></em></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em>"You will call His name Jesus, <br />for He will save His people from their sins."</em></strong></div>
<br />
This is what the angels said. One was anouncing His arrival to the shepherds on a hillside. The other was said to the baby's Mother when her role in the unfolding of God's redemptive plan & the fulfillment of so many prophecies & promises was made known to her.<br />
<br />
And there, the shadow fills in. How, after all, is one "saved from their sins" before a Holy & Righteous & Just God? By a sacrifice. One death for another. Temple worship in those days was a bloody affair. Innocent animals screaming as they were brutally killed to atone for the sins of people. For people back then couldn't follow enough rules well enough to make themselves good. Better than another, sure; but when compared to a Holy & Righteous God? Thus, atoning sacrifices were required. Scapegoats bore sins into the darkness. And the shadow became much more clear.<br />
<br />
People today can't follow enough rules well enough to make ourselves good either. This is confirmed by a quick glance at the news. Or into a mirror. We live under a shadow. The same shadow Jesus was born under. The shadow of death, depravity, destruction, despair.<br />
<br />
<strong>My God, why? Why are so many things amiss? Why is there such death, destruction, disaster in our world today? <em>Why have you forsaken & forgotten us?</em></strong><br />
<br />
And then we celebrate Christmas. And if we look closely enough, we'll see a shadow behind the celebrations. Both our celebrations today and the angels' celebration that first Christmas. Stare long enough, and the shadow becomes a bloody cross outline on a hill. The only truly innocent person to ever walk this earth screaming as he's brutally killed to atone for the sins of others. Me. You. Only, unlike all the sacrificial animals through those years, He gave Himself up, facing death voluntarily. Joyfully, even.<br />
<br />
Spend a moment wondering why there's Christmas at all. As Mr. Tumnus said in C.S. Lewis' <u>Chronicles of Narnia</u>, "Always winter & never Christmas...just imagine." Imagine living only in shadow. Another illustration is Tolkien's Nazgul characters, who live forever, but who have fallen into shadow.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."</strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">"It. Is. <u>Finished</u>!"</span></strong></div>
<br />
And the veil of the temple separating the very presence of God from His people was torn in two. And the shadow fled.<br />
<br />
One day, the shadow will never again be seen. The One born that first Christmas will return and make all things new. Redemption of His people will be complete and eternal. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong> <u>No longer will there be anything accursed</u>, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face....<u>And night will be no more</u>. </strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><u>They will need no light of lamp or sun</u>, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.</strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Revelation 22:3-5 ESV)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><em> He who testifies to these things says, “Surely I am coming soon.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!<br /> The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Revelation 22:20-21 ESV)</div>
<br />
Merry Christmas! Rejoice, for any shadow we now experience is but temporary. Tolkien's Sam Gamgee in Lord of the Rings: <strong>“Is everything sad going to come untrue?” </strong>Yes it is, Samwise. Yes it is.the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-90255512026421118192013-12-14T09:50:00.000-08:002019-09-27T12:41:48.378-07:00Two Ticket Stubs<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
It’s just two football ticket stubs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Specifically, two 40-year-old football ticket
stubs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">December 31, 1973.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
rainy night in New Orleans, LA at the old Tulane Stadium.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An epic showdown between two storied college
teams coached by two legendary coaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Notre Dame Fighting Irish v. Alabama Crimson Tide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>#3 v. #1.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ara Parseghian v. Paul “Bear” Bryant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were future college coaches dressed out & playing in that
game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were also future NFL Hall of
Famers playing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And there was a short kid with a bad haircut up in the
stands, sitting with his Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also in
their group were a couple of aunts and a cousin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(All were wearing Crimson.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boy wanted to wear his hair long like his
peers were doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Dad preferred high
& tight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The compromise was not a
thing of beauty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But none of that mattered that New Year’s Eve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were there to watch their much beloved
Crimson Tide play football.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The short
kid had cheered for the Tide for as long as he could remember, dating back at
least 9 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Dad had cheered for
the Tide a lot longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither had ever
attended the University, though the kid would do so in a few years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In truth: the kid began cheering for the Tide
mostly because the Dad did so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In short
order, his fandom became his own.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They shared some heroes, one of which was head coach for the
Tide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, they got to meet and
shake hands with Coach Bryant shortly after the game due to a family
connection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their official seats were
Section UB, Row 18, seats 19 & 20.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They wound up sitting just beneath the press box in an unsuccessful
attempt to stay dry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They watched a fantastic game between two very good
teams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, Alabama had already been
named the U.P.I. National Champion; back then, the champions were voted on
before bowl games commenced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The game
went back and forth, as often happens on a wet and sloppy field.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Coach Bryant would say later that it was the
best game he was ever part of, as a player or a coach.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The short kid would agree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But not because of the game’s outcome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Notre Dame won, 24-23, on a late field goal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alabama had downed a punt on Notre Dame’s
one-yard line, but couldn’t keep them hemmed in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Irish were able to run out the clock.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So, why did this kid think this was the best game he ever
saw?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because there was a hero in the
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not Coach Bryant, although he was
a hero of the kid’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not John Mitchell
or John Hannah or John Croyle, though they were (& are) heroes of the kid’s
too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This particular hero was sitting in Section UB, Row 18, and
either seat 19 or seat 20.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The boy
idolized his Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others who knew the Dad did and do too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This would be the only Alabama Crimson Tide football game
the boy and his Dad would attend together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Just 11 months later, the Dad would die suddenly of a heart
attack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the kid’s world went
gray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In some significant ways, the
kid’s world is still gray all these years later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are parts of his soul and psyche that
were wrecked and crushed by his Dad’s passing that haven’t been restored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every kid—especially every boy—wants to be
welcomed into manhood by his Daddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
that doesn’t happen…when it <u>can’t</u> happen…when it will never <u>happen</u>…the
world never quite seems to get fully back in order.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But there are glimpses of that order and of a long-promised,
long-awaited restoration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>19 years after
that Sugar Bowl game, the kid went to another bowl game in New Orleans with
another man he deeply admired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once again,
Alabama was playing in a big game against a powerful foe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once again, it was the Sugar Bowl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Alabama Crimson Tide v. the Miami
Hurricanes this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though Miami had
the Heisman-winning QB then, Alabama destroyed them, dominating in every phase of
the game.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But that’s not why this is near the top of the kid’s
favorite-game-ever list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kid was
sitting next to his Father-in-law this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thus, the kid’s tears were discrete—but still very present—as he both
treasured the moment with another of his heroes and role models, and as he ached
with longing to rewind the clock back to the 1973 Sugar Bowl one more time and
shake a Crimson & White shaker alongside his Dad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Recently, the kid and his beloved wife were going through
some boxes, and found a treasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two
ticket stubs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“40<span style="font-size: small;"><sup>th</sup> Annual
Sugar Bowl Classic.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“December 31<sup>st</sup>,
1973.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Section UB, Row 18, Seat 19”
& “Seat 20.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the memories
flooded back again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As they do every
football season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And every December.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8so9gvtFn3CmGJr15f35egAVElgoe8dyL7tu0M4-KSRQ_cI80SZgJhJE0wovsnMM6_sKNpcCM_tm9sC91xY6qATBI3viXtW3GHwNU5AoZSFhdhBI55D8yzvbpTV3fxNtXZujshw/s1600/sugar+bowl+tix+1973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8so9gvtFn3CmGJr15f35egAVElgoe8dyL7tu0M4-KSRQ_cI80SZgJhJE0wovsnMM6_sKNpcCM_tm9sC91xY6qATBI3viXtW3GHwNU5AoZSFhdhBI55D8yzvbpTV3fxNtXZujshw/s320/sugar+bowl+tix+1973.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This Saturday will be the 39<span style="font-size: small;"><sup>th</sup> anniversary of my
Dad’s passing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A couple of weeks later,
his beloved Crimson Tide will once again play a traditional powerhouse in a
Sugar Bowl.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My hope is that 40 years from now, any number of little boys
will be hearing from their Dads about the Sugar Bowl when they sat next to
their Dad and watched their beloved Crimson Tide play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Or their beloved OU Sooners, for that
matter!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Just as I’ve been remembering that game 40 years ago when my
Dad & I sat there in Section UB, Row 18, seats 19 & 20.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ticket stubs are just pieces of card
stock paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The memories they evoke are
rich and amazing and priceless.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I remember, Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still miss you hard and often.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for 15 years of absolutely fantastic
Daddying!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m a cheap knockoff of you in
every regard, but your two grandkids who grew up in my house are fantastic, despite
their non-fantastic Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like you, I
married an amazing Bama coed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Speaking
of your grandkids, you’d be very pleased to know that I’ll be attending a bowl
game in Nashville with your 3<span style="font-size: small;"><sup>rd</sup> grandson as we watch his alma mater
play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can so easily picture you
wearing Red & Blue and cheering on your grandson’s Rebels for all but one
game every Fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expect I’ll both
smile at random times and shed a discrete tear while sitting beside my
son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(He’s named after you, by the way.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, your 1<sup>st</sup> granddaughter just
completed her testing process, and will soon begin working in her trade of
choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like you, she’s a craftsman
entering a trade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She now cuts my hair;
by the way, you’d like how it looks now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Much closer to your preferred length than to mine ca. 1973.</span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I love you, Dad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See you soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Can’t wait!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roll Tide!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks.</span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Mike</span></i>the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-24089058995341810372013-11-11T08:33:00.002-08:002013-11-11T08:33:22.626-08:00Glimpses of Eden<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Saturday, I caught a few glimpses of Eden. (There were other glimpses too; I'll get to those in a minute.)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was driving through north Mississippi, enroute to a
football game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>North Mississippi is
absolutely beautiful this time of year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hardwood trees shedding their leaves, which means they are in the glorious colors of Fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cotton fields
white unto the harvest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Garden patches
lying dormant, awaiting Spring & planting season.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a gorgeous reminder to me that once
upon a time, there was a place rich with color and life and growth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The One Who created that place pronounced it “very
good.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every now & then, He sends a
reminder of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My drive across north MS
was such a reminder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then there was my arrival on Ole Miss’s campus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like pretty much every university--hopefully
including the one where I work--Ole Miss reflects to me the latter part of
Genesis two.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adam was charged to work
the garden and cultivate it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Aside:
work is absolutely <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>not</u></i></b> the result of sin!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Another topic for another day…)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My son has a very significant job that grants people hope where there
was none before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was trained &
educated for that job at Ole Miss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
join him in being quite fond of the place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(See my post from a while back “An Alma Mater That Isn’t Mine” for
more.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the university & its beauty (Ole Miss is really a
beautiful campus, btw) & the buildings on it were just a quick
reminder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the people, gathering
to watch a football game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were
joyfully greeting friends, hauling food to the early-morning tailgates all over
campus (11:20 kickoff), teaching their children about things like why the speed
limit on campus is 18 mph (hint: guess what number Archie Manning wore while playing at Ole Miss), and what the alma mater is, and what “tailgating”
means.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was joy there, as there
almost always is on gameday in Oxford.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Aside:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ole Miss’ alma mater is
beautiful both musically and lyrically; it came up on the radio as I was
nearing campus.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">James & his buddies were there, in full regalia
(suspenders, bowtie, peacoat, red shoes,…the works!) working their
tailgate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They share food & drink
with passersby, whether fellow Ole Miss fans or fans of the visiting team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two of the guys are married, & one of the
ladies is expecting a child soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
swapped hugs, greetings, & delivered some goodies my wife had prepared for
the occasion.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was to me a grand reminder of Eden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But unfortunately, I didn’t get to attend the game. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, there was another set of reminders
Saturday morning…glimpses also of Eden, but sadly, of Eden in an entirely
different direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the Eden of Gen
1 & 2; rather, reminders of Eden after the Fall of man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Brokenness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Irreparable brokenness. Devastation.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got the call as I was nearing town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lisa’s Mother had taken a turn for the worst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Markedly for the worst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, I hugged my son & his buddies,
delivered the food, and turned around to head toward a hospital ICU in
Meridian, MS.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her heart was not able to keep doing its job
sufficiently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her husband of ~60 years—himself
recovering from a serious medical concern—was brought to the hospital to visit
with his wife.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our bodies are broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Words like “broken hip”…”cancer”…”congestive heart failure”..."chemotherapy"..."intensive care"...even "hospital" confirm
this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even hard-working country folks
who love the Lord reside in bodies that are broken and will ultimately
fail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like my inlaws.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our world is broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My Father-in-law was a front-line combat medic in Korea during one of
the many wars of the 20<span style="font-size: small;"><sup>th</sup> century—bloodiest century in human
history, despite all of our amazing areas of progress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowing that Veterans’ Day was approaching, I
spent time pondering while driving through the beauty of north MS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And time remembering him, my Dad, my Grandpa,
my brother, my sis-in-law, my nephew, my uncles, my friends…and praying that a
day will come when there will be no more war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But being thankful that until that day comes, there are so many who are
willing to put on the uniform and swear an oath.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why was my Father-in-law transported to the hospital
Saturday morning?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Essentially to say “goodbye”
to his wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The impact of this world’s
brokenness reaches VERY far…even as far as ripping apart marriages, by divorce
in far-too-many cases, or by the passing of one faithful spouse into eternity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wept when Lisa told me of her Daddy’s coming to say
goodbye to his bride.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wept for him a
long time; then, selfishly, I wept for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For one day, unless the Lord should return first, one of us will say the
long “see-you-later” to the other one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Think marriage is all giggles & grins & puppy dogs? You should've been there in the ICU, watching a man's man say goodbye to his life companion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Brokenness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got to be in the room with my Mother-in-law for a good
while Saturday afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I kissed
her head and left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(At Lisa’s
suggestion; we begin a new term today at WCU, and I had a sudden & dramatic
schedule change late last week when a colleague passed away suddenly. Again, brokenness.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m pretty sure Lisa’s Mom never really knew
I was there, which is OK.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This morning, I got the phone call from Lisa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her Mother’s faith became sight around 3:30
a.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No more labored breathing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No more pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No more old-age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No more wondering
what lay ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is well with her
soul, for she knew Whom She had believed, and was persuaded that He is able to
keep that which she had committed unto Him against that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This day, as it turns out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the midst of many glimpses of the far-reaching impact of
sin & the resulting brokenness, there were yet more glimpses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Glimpses not of the Fall nor of brokenness,
but of the grand & glorious restoration by the One Who said “Behold, I am
making all things new.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Glimpses of
grace-filled promises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To repair…to
rebuild…to do away with death and sickness…to restore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Mother-in-law believed in those things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Lisa says her passing was very peaceful. She was restored. Her death was precious in the sight of God (Psalm 116:15). </span>An old Southern Gospel song that she loved
spoke to this hope and to what lies ahead for us; to what she now knows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have heard her sing this while cooking or
cleaning in the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have heard her
quote this when lightheartedly pondering the next life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just a taste of those lyrics:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will meet you, I will meet you,<br />
I will meet you in the morning over there.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></i></div>
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</span></strong><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you hasten off to glory,<br />
Linger near the Eastern Gate,<br />
For I’m coming in the morning,<br />
So you’ll not have long to wait.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></i></div>
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</span></strong><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Keep your lamps all trimmed and burning;<br />
For the Bridegroom watch and wait.<br />
He’ll be with us at the meeting<br />
Just inside the Eastern Gate.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></i></div>
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</span></strong><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">O the joys of that glad meeting<br />
with the saints who for us wait!<br />
What a blessed happy meeting<br />
Just inside the Eastern Gate.<o:p></o:p></span></strong></i></div>
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</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Written by Isaiah
Martin, 1905.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One day, brokenness will no longer be present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will not need soldiers, doctors, nurses,
bone-marrow-transplant pharmacists, funeral homes…and we will no longer need
the word “Goodbye.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There will be no
more glimpses of pre-Fall Eden; there will only be the place that He is
preparing for all who love Him; a place whose glory far surpasses that of pre-Fall Eden.</span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>I. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wait!<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Until then, we have only glimpses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pray that we see them and ponder them,
whether glimpses of Eden, or of brokenness, or of restoration.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bye, Granny.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are
greatly loved and will be greatly missed by all of us in your family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks for welcoming an outsider from NW FL
into your home and family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Thanks for being a school teacher and for modeling how to impact students' lives through education. </span>Thanks for praying
for me, for cooking biscuits for me, for raising a daughter that I love, for
loving your husband before us all, and for loving my children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t worry about Papa; he too is greatly
loved and will be well cared-for.<o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></em><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">See you there in the morning, just inside the Eastern Gate.</span></em></div>
the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-70789390334551001482013-07-13T10:13:00.001-07:002013-07-13T10:13:32.507-07:00A Giant Remembered<em>So, yesterday was the 5th anniversary of my buddy Jason Weathers' faith becoming sight. As I remembered Jason, I concluded that nothing I say will more closely capture the feelings in the depth of my soul 7/12/08--or 7/12/13--than this. This piece was started in the intensive care unit of M.D. Anderson, where I was experiencing my first round of high-dose immunotherapy. I got word that the time of J's departure might be at hand, and started writing. Then I got word that he had received what Wayne Watson calls "the ultimate healing," and finished writing. Don't read this for literary merit, for I am most assuredly NOT a poet. Rather, read it as a celebration of the impact one man's life on another. Stephanie had her Dad read this at Jason's funeral, which is one of the highest honors I will ever receive on this earth.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>BTW, to my </em><u>great</u><em> delight, Jason's beloved Stephanie just celebrated her one-year anniversary with her husband John, another man who lives out Ephesians 5:25 in Steph's life ("loved her & gave himself up for her"). I couldn't be happier, and somehow, I think my buddy Jason has smiled at God's goodness to his sweetie & his three treasured children. (I saw his youngest last night at a restaurant w/ Stephanie's folks; she's such a precious five-year-old! I didn't cry, btw. Well, not until I got back to my car...<smile>)</smile></em><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong>Giants</strong><br />
Mike Madaris, 7/12/08, on the coronation of my buddy Jason Weathers<br /><br />Giants still walk the land occasionally.<br />I know this, because I knew one once.<br />
Physically strong and imposing<br />But that’s not the topic here,<br />For, he was not fearsome<br />Unless you lined up opposite him<br />On a football field<br />Or tried to throw him into a pool against his will.<br />Those aside, He got along with everybody.<br />Literally, everybody, as far as I knew.<br />Calm of demeanor, yet loved to laugh.<br />Quiet in personality, yet loved hard rock.<br />Intelligent, but not desiring to flaunt that.<br />Private, yet the son of a very public man<br />And later, married into another very public family.<br />In the midst of all, he was a giant.<br /><br />The courtship. She was the only one.<br />They met when her Dad took a job at the giant’s church.<br />And his Dad’s. And his Granddad’s.<br />The realizing came quickly to most.<br />These two were a match.<br />They realized it too.<br />The courtship lasted until they finished college.<br />And he remained a giant.<br />Always loving, yet always honoring.<br />Serving. Cherishing. As it was intended to be.<br />Both of them Role models. Giants.<br />Who else marries a giant, but another giant after all?<br /><br />10 years of marriage. A move to FL.<br />3 children deeply treasured.<br />One looks like her mother, yet like Dad in temperament.<br />One looks like his Dad, yet tempered like his mother.<br />And one too young to answer these questions<br />Each nurtured. Treasured. Celebrated.<br />Giants are like that about their offspring.<br /><br />A servant’s heart.<br />Toward his lady. Toward his children.<br />Toward his friends. Toward his Lord.<br />Church service involved the out of the way<br />The behind the scenes<br />The un-glamorous<br />The invisible.<br />Sometimes giants stay in the background.<br />Perhaps that is why so few of us believe in them any more.<br /><br />The servant heart spilled over into career choice.<br />Especially poignant to me this week<br />As I have been greatly served and blessed by multiple nurses<br />As a patient, the best in that field are wired as servants.<br />Others-centered. Paycheck almost incidental.<br />Towering over the rest of us.<br />Giants.<br /><br />The dreadful disease with the nasty prognosis<br />The treatment nearly as nasty<br />Uncertainty. Doubt. Fear.<br />In this case, for others more than self<br />Beloved wife and treasured children.<br />Parents. Parents-in-law. Brother. Brother-in-law.<br />Not wanting to burden others with the battle he fought so well.<br />The larger men among us worry about us like that.<br /><br />7 months of desperate fighting.<br />Interspersed with time spent with family and with lesser mortals.<br />Like me. At Starbucks. Still dreaming of an earthly future that would never be.<br />Then the end; rather, the beginning.<br />What, after all, is a last, horrendous week against 30+ years of a towering-above life?<br /><strong>Faith became sight. </strong><br />Death & disease forever vanquished.<br />Ultimate Healing. No more illness, no more treatment, no more pain.<br /><strong>“Well Done, good and faithful servant.” </strong>The stuff of dreams.<br />Thankfully, not of legends.<br />Hopes and dreams realized.<br />Sin not only defeated, but now utterly removed.<br />As has been sung, <strong>"I can only imagine." </strong>He need not imagine any more.<br />This makes me smile through tears.<br />Victory won. Decisively. Forever.<br /><strong>It is well…it is well with his soul. </strong><br />In that land, there are only giants. Now one more.<br />And this land seems all the more empty.<br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
<strong><em>Rock on, Jason. See you there in the land of the eternal hello, where leukemia & melanoma are seen only through the eyes of grace-filled providence...and only then understood fully. You are still loved much and missed hard by many of us, Bro. Looking forward to that next cup of coffee & to you showing me around!</em></strong><br />
<strong>Mike</strong>the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-1016534876909758182013-06-25T18:52:00.000-07:002013-06-25T18:52:16.921-07:00The Long Space In Between (updated post from the archives)<em>It's that time again; time for the latest followup P.E.T. scan & the next in a series of most-important-of-my-life Dr. appointments. The scan is Wednesday, and the appointment is Thursday morning. My typical sequence is to have the scan one day & get the results the next. The purpose of the scan is to determine whether my cancer has come back. (I've had seven clear scans in a row, praise God!) Thus, I thought I'd pull back the curtain & reveal what goes on in my mind & soul every time I come out here for a scan.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>To do so, I'm going to rewind the tape & re-post something I wrote for an earlier scan. As I type this, it's the night before the scan. I wrote the entry that follows after the scan & before getting the results. Thus, it's real, true, & perhaps raw. </em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>Important note: Dr. Bedekian said last time that if this scan is clear, I can drop back to once every four months, which would be great progress, after coming every three months for five years now. The reason is that I just passed the two-year anniversary of my last melanoma surgery. Prayers are most welcome, by the way.</em><br />
<em>Mike</em><br />
<br />
<em>(original entry starts)</em><br />
What goes through one's mind the morning after a P.E.T. scan & before getting the results? The <em><u><strong>critical</strong></u></em> results?<br />
<br />
Here are some thoughts I have two hours before that appointment.<br />
<br />
<strong>--Anxiety</strong><br />
Not fear per se, but definitely anxiety that mounts as the clock moves. A blend of "What will he say this time?" and "How will I react to whatever he says?"<br />
<br />
<strong>--Calm</strong><br />
Not to contradict the previous, but there's an amazing calm that comes along with the anxiety. Of course, I attribute this to the overwhelming grace & presence of God, and to His graciously answering the prayers of many friends who are praying even as I write. My favorite name of God in Scripture is <em>Jehovah Shammah</em> as I've mentioned here before. Basically it means "the personal God Who is present."<br />
<br />
<strong>--Memories</strong><br />
Of the distant past, friends, family, places, etc. And of the recent past: surgery, hospital rooms, etc. Mostly, these fall under the category of things that bring great comfort (even the MDA ones!). Strangely, I smile a lot as memories come. And rest assured, I let them come, and even chase them now & then.<br />
<br />
<strong>--Regrets</strong><br />
Not all of the memories are wonderful though. Mercifully, these are quickly re-channeled into a wonderful appreciation of grace in the Gospel. "Though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow" (etc.)<br />
<br />
<strong>--Hopes</strong><br />
I'm a bit of a dreamer anyway, and this morning in particular brings up quite a number of hopes for the future. Stay tuned. Be scared. *smile* The future in general gets collapsed into 2 phases: between now & the appointment, which is crystal clear, and afterward, which (mercifully, I think) sort of goes into a fog that I cannot see into very clearly.<br />
<br />
<strong>--Family</strong><br />
My family is never far from my thoughts, but especially out here. And especially on Father's Day weekend. I'm struck this morning with the overpowering awareness that--as a writer once said--I am the narrow funnel where history & heritage meet legacy. My inherited heritage is so deep & rich that I can hardly take it all in. I pray often that 100 years from now my descendants will be making much of Jesus because of what God did in & through Mike Madaris' life. Aside: I often teter over into the arrogance of thinking "Boy, I hope they make much of me!" But as one of my favorite pastors, Crawford Loritts, says, I'm just a clap between two vast eternities; He is the One of Whom much needs to be made.<br />
<br />
<strong>--Worship</strong><br />
Always...ALWAYS!...worship seems to just bubble up. PLEASE don't be impressed with Mike's spirituality here! I don't create this worship, nor grit my teeth to do it; it's called forth from me almost involutarily, which is just a marvelous experience. Yesterday, about 5 minutes before boarding the shuttle to MDA for my scan, I was overwhelmed by a couple of hymns that came from my soul. ("At the Cross", especially the verse "Amazing mercy, grace unknown, and love beyond degree!" and "Precious Lord, Take My Hand" of which I prefer the version by Selah.) So, yeah, that was me doing the subtle macho guy tear wipe that we disguise as scratching our face or fixing our hair or something.<br />
<br />
There's a brief glimpse into what the long space in between a scan & getting the results of that scan looks like for me.<br />
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In about 2.5 months, I'll go back out there & do this all again.<br />
<br />
Rejoicing in Jehovah Shammah,<br />
bbthe beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-49234108893070332632013-06-16T04:51:00.002-07:002013-06-16T04:51:34.622-07:00To Timothy, My Beloved Son<em>(It's Father's Day. Better freshen up your coffee.)</em><br />
<br />
As you're aware if you've read much I've written, my Dad died suddenly when I was 15 years old & when he was seven years younger than I am now. I haven't fully gotten over that, & don't expect to this side of Heaven. Indeed, I've reached the place where I don't even wish nor intend to get over it. One day, though, I won't have to miss him any more. Lord, haste the day!<br />
<br />
But meanwhile, this Father's Day post is not about my Dad.<br />
<br />
Instead, I'd like to celebrate some Dads who have had a significant impact on my life despite the fact that I'm not their son. My hope in doing so is four-fold. First, I hope that any Daddies reading this will realize the HUGE impact they have on their children's lives, and will endeavor to make that a positive impact. Second, I hope any men--Dads or not--will realize the huge impact they can have on people who aren't their children, and will begin/continue to do so. Third, I hope any single ladies will wait for a real man, rather than settling for a gutless punk little boy who thinks he's a man because of what he convinces you to do for him physically. Finally, I simply wish to celebrate some men who I view as huge grace notes in the score of my life. None of these men wish to be celebrated; all will/would be embarrassed to see this. And certainly none of these men can ever take the place of my amazing Daddy, James E. Madaris, Sr., who I miss palpably on an almost-daily basis; all of them would agree with this, by the way. <br />
<br />
In no particular order, here are some Daddies worth celebrating. (Note: there are <em>many</em> such Daddies; consider these but a sample.)<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Dr. James L. Monroe</u></strong><br />
Dr. Monroe was pastor--and then pastor emeritus--of First Baptist Church of Ft. Walton Beach, FL, my home church. In the memory blur that is Saturday, Dec. 14, 1974 & the next few days, Dr. Monroe stands out. He came to our house & was there when Mom told us Dad had died. Others were too, and I'm thankful for all of them. But Dr. Monroe was the embrace I ran to immediately after hearing the news. There in our living room, I remember crying out "But I wasn't ready!" I can still hear his calm voice, "Mike, nobody's ever ready for this." I've gone back to that great word many times in the 38 1/2 years since. Though a superb theologian & preacher, Dr. Monroe didn't try to explain things to me, nor did he preach me a sermon; both would've been ill-received at that moment. Instead, he just showed up & sympathized with a hurt, devastated, angry 15-year-old. I'm so grateful!<br />
<br />
In the days, weeks, months, & years after, I attempted to abandon my faith (which journey has also been written about here). I pretty much gave up on church. And sadly, on God. Despite that, Dr. Monroe never gave up on me. On multiple occasions, I spent time in his office seeking his wise counsel.<br />
<br />
The last time I saw him I was on staff with the faculty ministry of Campus Crusade for Christ. (I wonder which of us was more surprised that I, of all people, was in full-time vocational ministry...) Dr. Monroe took me to a restaurant where we pounded down some BBQ ribs. With sauce running down our forearms, he told me he was proud of me. Then he asked me what the Lord had been teaching me lately. Thankfully, I had an answer. Then I asked him the same question (which was pretty cocky of me!). He said, "You know, I've been reading in Haggai,..." & away he went. I marveled then & now that this man who had been a preacher for decades was still learning new things about God & the Gospel. May we all finish so well, straining toward the finish line, never thinking that we know all we need to know!<br />
<br />
<strong><u>William D. Huddleston</u></strong><br />
The Huddlestons are lifelong family friends of ours. Mrs. Huddleston taught with Mom, and Mr. Huddleston was a principal. We also went to church together, and I still see them when I'm at FBC back home. Well, most of them. Mr. Huddleston's faith became sight some years back. But that's the end of the story, getting ahead of myself.<br />
<br />
Do you know folks that are just easy to talk to? Who laugh a lot, without being frivolous & unaware of the gravity of life? That was Mr. Huddleston. Just a solid guy. Our families hung out before Dad died, and after. Somehow, after Dad's homegoing, I found myself gravitating more toward Mr. Huddleston. Mostly, just listening, though we did talk college football (he had season tickets to FSU games for a while.)<br />
<br />
His faith became sight some years back too. Like Dr. Monroe, he finished the race & kept the faith. And along the way, had a significant impact on this weasly little guy who was in his daughter's class & who seemed to be around his house periodically. Mr. Huddleston's handshake & smile & congratulations on my marriage, college degrees, and the birth of my children were big "welcome to manhood" moments for me, even though I didn't realize it at the time.<br />
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<strong><u>Dr. John Morrow<o:p></o:p></u></strong><br />
<strong><u></u></strong>Uncle John is my Mom's brother-in-law. He's a radiologist, now retired. I have several outstanding uncles; Uncle John is one of them. A very wise man, but always humble. Not many wise men can balance it with humility, but Uncle John does & always has. A superb sense of humor, that I've treasured for decades now. Uncle John will speak hard truth when needed, but always with a sense of optimism & "You can do this" and "I believe in you." <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
After Dad died, Uncle John would call periodically to check on us. Sometimes he would talk to Mom & see if there was anything he could do to help. Other times, he would talk to me & ask me how (a) I was doing, and (b) how Mom is doing. That's an easy question to ask; the difference here is, Uncle John <em><u>always</u></em> stood ready to drive down from Alabama to FWB if needed. How I cherish his wisdom, his example, his making us laugh, & his being a role model of what a patriarch should be! Also, the fact that he trusted me enough to ask me how Mom was doing was another big "welcome to manhood" moment, as were the times he has told me, "I'm proud of you." Just now, I'm remembering that he was among my first phone calls when James Madaris was born in Indiana; somehow, that seems important now.<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Charles T. Madaris, Jr.<o:p></o:p></u></strong><br />
<strong><u></u></strong>My Dad's oldest brother. Uncle Jr. was another favorite, before Dad died & after. A retired Colonel in the Air Force, he & his family had lived all over, but he landed back in the hills of Lowndes County, AL where he and his wife grew up. Somehow, that sense of connectedness with roots is inspiring. Uncle Jr. was servant-minded& amp; fun loving; great combination! He always wanted us city boys to have fun whether we were visiting his home in Braggs or the lake house on Lake Martin. There were motorcycles to ride through the woods, inner tubes to roll down the hill into the lake, guns to shoot, animals to hunt, fish to catch, and indoor games as well. Some deeply-treasured memories are of hunts with Uncle Jr. Not so much for the hunt itself, but rather for the circle of men that I felt part of on those days. Uncle Jr. always <em>shot </em>last; "There he is, Mike; take him!" Then after I usually missed, he'd knock down the quail or the dove or the squirrel & attempt to give me credit. It was as if Uncle Jr. extended a hand & pulled me up toward manhood in so many ways (the hunts just being one of those ways.) <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I only saw him lose his composure one time. At the family Christmas right after Dad died, I took the present I had bought for Dad with me--a collection of Hank Williams' greatest hits. (Back story: Hank grew up not far from where the Madarises had grown up, and not far from where Uncle Jr. lived.) During the family gift exchange, I gave it to Uncle Jr. instead. Seeing his emotions brought home to me that it's OK to love a brother, and also that it's OK to grieve & to show emotion. Uncle Jr.'s passing has always been poetic to me. It was the only time I recall him going hunting by himself. His heart gave out while out in the woods; his tombstone reads "Gone to the Hills." I still thank God for this man who's been gone several decades now, & who I still miss quite often.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<strong><u>George Styles<o:p></o:p></u></strong><br />
Was married to my Dad’s oldest sister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uncle George & Aunt Daisy were our neighbors & landlords when Lisa & I were first married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His impact on my life, faith, & marriage is incalculable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember my “Learning to Dance” blog entry last week about couples married for a long time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lisa & I saw two great dancers live it out before us for the first three years of our married life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m eternally grateful.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Uncle George exemplified the phrase “green thumb.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He made things grow more and better than most people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still miss his “German vegetables” dish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was also very handy around the house, helping me fix a number of things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though a quiet, gentle man by nature, he had as strong a set of forearms as I’ve ever seen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And though a principal, he worked hard outside building, cutting, gardening, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A military veteran; South Pacific in World War II.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of our absolute treasures is a collection of letters compiled by his younger son, Ben.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uncle George & Aunt Daisy were relatively newly married during that time when he was away, and so they wrote letters very regularly to each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A long-distance, time-travelling clinic on how to love a spouse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then, Lisa & I saw the live version 40 years later.<br />
<br />
I’ve written here before about how Uncle George & Aunt Daisy got me back to attending church when I moved to Tuscaloosa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He usually sang in the choir, but I personally enjoyed the times he didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That way, I got to enjoy his beautiful tenor voice singing the hymns. Uncle George’s faith became sight some years back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can’t wait to hear that tenor voice sing again, and to see his smile, and to tell him “thanks.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<strong><u>Don Madaris<o:p></o:p></u></strong><br />
My Dad’s youngest brother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uncle Don also helped my faith in a number of ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember when Uncle Jr.—his older brother!—died, I fell apart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I snuck away to fall to pieces in private, he followed me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There, through our shared tears, he loved me & helped me begin to make sense of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uncle Don is a very talented musician and a good writer as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He served in south American and in Mexico, before retiring in New Mexico.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thank God for him helping teach me how to praise God again after some years of not wanting to.<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Jim Parker<o:p></o:p></u></strong><br />
<strong><u></u></strong>Mr. Parker taught us 9th grade Sunday School at First Baptist. A man's man; big game hunter, strong, handsome, and truthful. I still recall him telling us, "Boys, some folks will tell you that sin isn't fun; let me tell you, they're not telling you the truth! And that, fellows, is why we're so susceptible to it. It's fun, and dangerous, and spiritually deadly." Frankly, I don't recall much of his actual teaching other than the previous sentences. But I recall that he loved a bunch of knot-headed 9th grade boys, while helping us have fun and teaching us the Word and telling us the truth about life & faith. Some years back, I took him to breakfast when I was home. As I thanked him for his impact on me, this picture of masculinity broke down & cried. Through his tears, he said, "Thanks, Mike, but there are so many I missed..." I'll never forget that breakfast nor his words. A passion for the Gospel and for people.<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Dr. Ronnie Kent<o:p></o:p></u></strong><br />
<strong><u></u></strong>A local pediatrician. Ronnie would be my Adult Bible Study teacher today if I weren't called to teach myself. I still consider myself one of his students. Lisa & I landed in Ronnie's Sunday School class the first day we visited Temple in 1989. And all these years later, I still find myself wondering "What would Ronnie do with this passage?" Earlier today, as I was preparing my teaching for Sunday, I again had that thought.<br />
<br />
Ronnie helped teach me "the depths of the riches of the knowledge of God" by being my teacher. He taught me how to serve the church by being a deacon & lay leader. He taught me how to be a husband and father by letting me see him lead a family. He taught me how to take prayer seriously on multiple occasions when I've shared a prayer concern with him, and he stopped & prayed for it right there on the spot, in public or in private settings. He taught me how to be an encourager by, well, being an encourager! I'm delighted and humbled and honored that Ronnie is my friend, and a role model of mine.<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Dr. John Mayfield</u></strong><br />
<o:p>A local veterinarian. A country boy from Smith County, Mississippi. And a discipler of men. I still remember that Sunday night in 1990 when Johnny locked that strong, forceful arm around me in a hug & said, "Listen, Me & Sandy are starting a Masterlife group, and you & Lisa need to be in it." (It wasn't really a question! <smile>) And he & Sandy poured themselves into us for the better part of the next year. I'll never be the same. The first time I wrote my story & shared it was during that time. The first time I ever had a serious evangelistic conversation was during that time (with Johnny by my side). I still remember our three-hour prayer time one Sunday; before that, I doubted I had three hours' worth of things to pray about. That afternoon revolutionized my prayer life! He's the one who first spoke of "my ministry." I thought church staff folks & missionaries had ministries, while the rest of us just sort of hung out & supported them financially. Johnny helped me see otherwise. I could take you to the spot in the parking lot where I asked him to pray with me about a possible job change; he did, but said "How would this new job affect your ministry?" I said, "<em>What</em> ministry?" and he said, "The one you have over there at the university." Changed my whole approach to my job, and I'm forever grateful. Johnny's one of the few guys who has unfettered access to my life & thoughts. I remember him putting that same hug on me a few years back & saying "When's the last time you & Lisa went on a date?" After I stammered, searching for an answer, he smiled, interrupted me, & said, "I'll ask you again next week, & I'll expect a better answer."</smile></o:p><br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<o:p>Praise God for men who hold other men accountable & who ask hard questions!</o:p><br />
<br />
<strong><u>Ethan Pope</u></strong><br />
A minister who now lives in Dallas, and one who had a HUGE impact on me. Aside from being my friend & wise counselor in many areas, Ethan helped teach me how to study the Bible in depth. I came to realize that he was basically passing along what "Prof" Howard Hendricks--his seminary professor--had taught him. Ethan had been on staff with the Josh McDowell ministry, which is a division of Campus Crusade for Christ. (I'm still a fan of Josh & am still awed that he & Ethan are on a first-name basis.) Ever know anyone who just never gets rattled? Who is always steady & confident & wise? Who has helpful council in virtually any situation? That's Ethan.<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Johnny Tatum</u></strong><br />
A businessman, Johnny's the other guy who helped teach me how to study the Bible in depth. Once I spent a couple of days with him going through 2 Timothy in depth. And then, Lisa & I spent approximately two years under his leadership studying the book of Romans. Just Romans. And I came to realize, we had not nearly exhausted the book! I thank God for Johnny building into me a love of studying the Bible, along with some tools for doing so.<br />
<br />
<strong><u>Keith Seabourn<o:p></o:p></u></strong><br />
<strong><u></u></strong>Keith is Chief Technology Officer for Cru (formerly "Campus Crusade for Christ"), but when Lisa & I were on staff, Keith was part of Christian Leadership Ministries--the faculty ministry that we served with for seven years. Do you know anyone who <em><u>always</u></em> has a good, wise, biblically-sound, humble answer to any question you ask? That's Keith. Keith & his beloved Kay served in Nigeria for some years before moving back to the states. I have two vivid memories of life-changing moments I spent with Keith. One was when I asked him how he was called to ministry. He said when he was a student at Texas A&M, Dr. Bill Bright came & spoke on campus. As was Bill's wont, he challenged the large group of students to "come help change the world" by joining staff. Keith to me: "Mike, that Gospel call resonated with me then, and still does now." The other was when we were all in CO for staff training one year when Keith turned 50. We had a small party for him that was a lot of fun. But Keith asked if we could have a shared prayer time. I still remember his quoting from Psalm 90; "So teach us to number our days, that we may present a heart of wisdom." One of the most vivid prayer moments of my whole life, realizing that this guy who had already been part of very significant ministry for the Lord was still desiring to use his time wisely, rather than chilling out & coasting.<br />
<br />
In his last letter before his execution, the apostle Paul referred to Timothy as "Timothy, my beloved son." Paul was not Timothy's biological father, nor his adoptive one. Paul was recognizing Timothy as a leader and as one who had been impacted by Paul's life & message. None of the men listed here have referred to me that way, but I consider myself the recipient of a small piece of the mantel of their leadership & gifts.<br />
<br />
I thank God for raising men. Real men. Men who are unashamed of the Gospel. Men who love their wives, publicly and privately. Men who raise their families and sacrifice for them. Men who love the church, and who celebrate when any part of the Church--not just their local fellowship--brings honor & glory to God. Men who are themselves humbled to be recipients of God's grace in the Gospel. Men who will wake up tomorrow morning, numbering their days, and impacting lives and eternity. Men who are believing Jesus' Great Commission, but more, are <strong><em>living</em></strong> it out in their daily lives. (Take note, by the way: only <strong><em>one</em></strong> of the men listed above was actually a paid minister.) Men who are finishing the race & keeping the faith, while impacting us other lesser men with the Gospel and encouraging us to also finish well.<br />
<br />
Go, and do likewise! And hold me accountable for doing so too!<br />
<br />
Humbled and honored to be friends with such giants,<br />
bb<br />
<br />
p.s. - Again, these are but a sample of the <u>many</u> men who have connected with me & impacted me. There are so many others who deserve mention too.the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-40470798579840895512013-06-06T07:58:00.002-07:002013-06-06T07:58:10.873-07:00The Vivid Air Signed with Their Honor69 years ago last night, this guy I know--one of my heroes--didn't get any sleep. I imagine it's rather hard to sleep when yours will be among the very first Allied military boots to land on Hitler's fortress Europe. My friend was a pathfinder with the 101st Airborne; he parachuted in very early in the a.m. on DDay to mark the drop zones for the massive drops a few hours later. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://ts1.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4769880030249264&pid=1.7&w=209&h=173&c=7&rs=1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://ts1.mm.bing.net/th?id=H.4769880030249264&pid=1.7&w=209&h=173&c=7&rs=1" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">General Eisenhower addresses a group of paratroops preparing for the DDay invasion.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
He won't talk about it. I can only imagine, but I understand, and most assuredly do NOT press him on it.<br />
<br />
There aren't many of them left. And we are worse off because of that.<br />
<br />
Important note: there are still heroes walking among us doing amazing feats of arms in the face of a hostile enemy. I salute them all; men before whom I stand silent, except to say "Thanks."<br />
<br />
But World War II in gen'l--and the DDay invasion of Normandy in particular--seems to have produced heroes in very large volume. Some made it home; some didn't. In just the first four hours of daylight in June 6, 1944, there were <strong><em>9,000 </em></strong>U.S. casualties (combo of wounded & killed.) During the next few weeks of the campaign, there were tens of thousands more.<br />
<br />
Some, like my friend, parachuted, jumping into what looked like a maelstrom of gunfire, often landing in flooded fields. Some were towed across the English Channel in gliders; these crash-landed on purpose. Some went over the sides & out the front of landing craft like the picture below.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-W5oHzKlCeK0MUPKmPhhty0OwhQLSI4h6GYa5ALWr7FpoxfulbTSG-l-iEu65hToSMdaeseXW59mU8IQNx6usIwqbTpB0KIQaxZnxEr9fSycBh_S8Ql2pzIbXtsvj9xIPlbyaCw/s1600/View+from+inside+a+small+landing+craft+shows+American+soldiers+wading+ashore+under+heavy+German+fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-W5oHzKlCeK0MUPKmPhhty0OwhQLSI4h6GYa5ALWr7FpoxfulbTSG-l-iEu65hToSMdaeseXW59mU8IQNx6usIwqbTpB0KIQaxZnxEr9fSycBh_S8Ql2pzIbXtsvj9xIPlbyaCw/s320/View+from+inside+a+small+landing+craft+shows+American+soldiers+wading+ashore+under+heavy+German+fire.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">U.S. Troops wade ashore toward Omaha Beach.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
All of them displayed a level of courage I've never approached. When I was in my late teens & early 20s, I was focused on being cool, making it to the beach, learning to scuba dive the springs of central FL, attending college football games, and getting a date. These guys were focused on living until sunset. And then living until the following sunrise.<br />
<br />
Four years ago, on the 65th anniversary of DDay, a buddy & I drove down to the DDay museum in New Orleans. The museum staff had invited every known survivor of the 1944 invasion to come. A couple hundred showed up.<br />
<br />
I doubt I'll ever walk among so many towering heroes again this side of Heaven. It was awesome in the truest sense of the word.<br />
<br />
Last year, my buddy brought me some hallowed ground.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9cpZv3j0V5RUynECnx0CYNpBJX7pnEQzccOMnkWRVy0YTrwO0BQ-zH9kVB-t43PdyjMuLDc4SWCGf3YxNgjZsrEiPlnbYKcxEi_5OYRdPN2eGt0-Yep7gs3wqgoEiKjN5Eb2_Gg/s1600/IMG-20130606-01649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9cpZv3j0V5RUynECnx0CYNpBJX7pnEQzccOMnkWRVy0YTrwO0BQ-zH9kVB-t43PdyjMuLDc4SWCGf3YxNgjZsrEiPlnbYKcxEi_5OYRdPN2eGt0-Yep7gs3wqgoEiKjN5Eb2_Gg/s320/IMG-20130606-01649.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
This is a small bag of dirt from Omaha Beach & Utah Beach in Normandy. Omaha & Utah were the two American landing zones. I keep these where I do my morning times with the Lord & with reading books. Looking at them just now reminds me that I need to be thankful more often.<br />
<br />
One day, I hope to visit Normandy. I hope to stand on the beaches. I hope to stand atop Pointe du Hoc. I hope to visit the U.S. cemetery just inland from the beach. There is absolutely no chance of me remaining composed when that day comes.<br />
<br />
One final story. A guy recently spoke of his uncle who was tasked with cleaning up the beaches of Normandy. He never spoke of that day to anybody for the rest of his days.<br />
<br />
I hope we always remember, even as those who were there leave us on a daily basis. As President Reagan said in his <a href="http://www.realclearpolitics.com/articles/2012/06/06/the_boys_of_pointe_du_hoc_96877.html" target="_blank">fantastic speech at Pointe du Hoc</a> on June 6, 1984, <strong>"Gentlemen, I look at you and I think of the words of Stephen Spender's poem. You are men who in your 'lives fought for life and left the vivid air signed with your honor.'"</strong><br />
<br />
War is hellacious, brutal, uncomprising, deadly,...and sometimes absolutely necessary. As on June 6, 1944. If you know any veterans of World War II, make a point of thanking them.<br />
<br />
Now I need to go look at my two small bags of dirt--hallowed ground--and remember & celebrate & pray & give thanks for some heroes I never met. (And for one that I see quite regularly.)<br />
<br />
bbthe beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12370444.post-39111857524048656202013-06-02T19:43:00.003-07:002013-06-02T19:43:48.564-07:00Learning to Dance
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’ve seen the dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It’s so great that it almost goes unnoticed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A senior adult couple is best at the dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A young married couple is surprisingly not nimble
at it, contrary to what I thought when I was half of a young married
couple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Perhaps contrary to what you
think as well.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Next time you’re around a couple that has been married for
decades, observe the dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will take
your breath away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the manner of highly-skilled dancers, this couple moves
together while retaining their separate identities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their movements are separate & unique,
but they work in combination so well that it seems choreographed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They anticipate each other’s moves &
reactions & wants & needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
great description of a friend of mine, they go beyond completing each other's sentences...they complete each other’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>thoughts</u></i>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">(And that’s why young married couples don’t dance so
well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not an indictment at all, but the
dance as I’m describing it above only comes after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">years</i> of studying each other & living in very close proximity
through good times and bad.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m learning to dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve come a long way, by the enabling, transforming grace of God through
the love of my wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’m quite
certain that I still have a LONG way to go.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today is Lisa’s & my 29<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> anniversary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got married, I basically didn’t have a
clue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I may not have many clues now,
but I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lots</i> more clues than I had
June 2, 1984 in that church in southwest Alabama!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A couple doing the dance will laugh a jokes unspoken, but
shared in memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ll finish a
sentence that the other one hasn’t even started yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ll smile at each other, knowing that
they just shared a thought & perhaps a reaction to the thought…without a
word ever being spoken. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lisa & I have had multiple instances recently of one of us
saying something that the other was thinking at that very moment. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maybe we’re learning how to dance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I hope so.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can’t wait to learn more of the dance, for among men, I am
most blessed in being given the extremely high honor & privilege of being
Lisa’s husband.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With thanks for 29 years & hope for many more,<br />Mike</span>the beach bumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03831431306322474984noreply@blogger.com0