Category: Family


Things I Have in Common with Tom Sawyer

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August 21, 2012

Like Tom Sawyer, I had years while growing up when life was an adventure. Some adventures were real, some were imaginary, and some were real with an imaginary plot. Some were innocent, some bordered on the illegal. But one comparison to Tom Sawyer was the year my father had me paint the inside of the backyard fence of our house in Wichita Falls to make money for our vacation that summer.

Our back fence was considerably larger than the fence Tom Sawyer purportedly had to paint. With the fence surrounding the backyard – and not along the street – the chances of talking any friend into helping me were slim. Especially when they learned I was getting paid for it. It was summer in Texas and very little of the fence was in the shade.

The color I was painting the fence was the shade of red that all backyard picnic tables were painted for many years – a little lighter, actually. I do not remember how long it took me to paint the fence – probably about a week. It seemed to take forever. I remember taking fairly frequent breaks for refreshment.

Despite my best efforts, all of the paint did not reach the fence. My jeans and shirt jockeyed for drops of paint falling off of the paintbrush. Numerous blades of grass were painted red. Some due to drops of paint, but others painted simply under the pretext that it was not only fun (who gets to paint grass?), but painted grass can be mowed. Which would have had more  credence – and acceptance by my father – had I not decided one time to mow my name in the backyard.

When I finished painting the fence, I received fifteen dollars for my efforts, to spend on vacation. Dad still feels bad about underpaying me for the job. However, I did not have a frame of reference with which to know that fifteen dollars was not enough for painting the fence. It was not like I had a lot of other things to do, what with friends going on vacations and being involved in summer activities. Fifteen dollars went a lot farther then than it does now. And mom usually   helped my brother, Dennis, and I out if we really wanted a souvenir and did not have enough money.

Tom Sawyer did not go on vacations, unless you count the trip with Huck Finn down the Mississippi. And I did not have any friends to try to persuade to help me. Nor would I have been willing to give up any of my money. I also am not completely certain that Tom was able to pawn the entire task off on other children. Take it from me, painting a fence is nothing to envy. That  was the first, but not the last fence I would paint.

Be that as it may, Tom Sawyer and I both had to paint a fence. Neither of us looked  forward to it. One way or the other, we both got the fence painted. In both instances, paint was dispersed that did not find the intended target. So having to paint the fence is one thing I have in common with Tom Sawyer.

Peace be with you.

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Night of the Guinea Hens

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August 15, 2012

The past two weeks have been tough, for a lot of reasons. But a few interesting moments have popped up from time to time. After dark the other evening our dog, Misty, kept running to the fence and barking up a storm. There is a small dog next door that gets her teeth into the bottom of fence slats and pops them until they break. Since her owners fixed the broken slats, she has been less successful.

But I assumed that it was the dog that had Misty barking. I heard something on – or messing with – the fence. When I stopped hearing the noise, I went back inside. Not too much  later, Cyndy came in from the backyard, got a flashlight, and went back outside. When she had- been out there a while, I took the camera and went outside.

Sitting on the top of the fence were these two guinea hens. We were not sure at the time what they were. We knew the family had hens (one they found out later was a rooster), so hens were our first guess – just not guinea hens. Cyndy talked to the father the next day and he filled her in. But we do not know what is beneficial about having guinea hens nor do we have the inclination to spend time finding out. And it still might not explain why our neighbors have them and the father did not volunteer that information.

As you can see, when they are in pairs they each face the opposite way. It was pitch black so I could not see what I was aiming the camera toward, even when Cyndy aimed the flashlight at  them. I was afraid they would fly off the fence, which is what the other hens would do during the day when I make a sound – but I had not encountered the guinea hens before. But it did not seem to matter to them – particularly the one facing the camera. There does not seem to be a lot of thought going on behind the eyes. The flash did not seem to be at all bothersome.

It is interesting living next door to a family with animals other than dogs or cats – they have another small dog besides the dog that tries to eat the fence, but he is just as noisy. Before they got rid of the rooster it was really annoying. The rooster did not know a porch light from the sun. But even the hens spend a good part of the morning clucking.

I always enjoyed visiting farms, but I doubt now that I could live on one – at least a functioning animal farm. I would not be able stand the noise, not to mention the work when the noise meant I was behind with it. To re-phrase it, I might be able to live on a farm if someone else did the work. Not because I am adverse to hard work, but because working with animals is a whole nother, well, animal.

Animals, particularly in suburban areas, are not always consistent. The hens do not cluck at the same time every day. The dogs in the neighborhood, including Misty, cannot be depended on to bark consistently at anything except someone in the alley or stopping at every front door for whatever reason. The inconsistency makes each day the same, but different.

While I do not think I would be comfortable living on a farm, with all the violence and death in the world, it is somewhat comfortable and reassuring to hear the sounds of animals during the day. It reminds me that life goes on and God is still in charge. It would be nice to get some eggs once in a while, though.

Peace be with you.

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Bird in the Window

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July 18, 2012

The bird in the window was about half the size of this bird.

We had a small visitor at our old house. She spent most of the day outside each of our sons’ rooms going in rotation to all three windows. Cyndy and I thought at first it was a Finch, but Cyndy decided it was a female cardinal. I have large hands and could probably hold the bird in a loose fist without any part of the bird showing. I do not know much about birds, but I do know that this particular bird had the common sense of a tree trunk.

She began to visit in the early afternoon after lunchtime. Which is one of my main reflecting and writing times so the intrusion was quite unwelcome, at least at first. I mistakenly took the sound to be our dog, Misty, scratching at the window trying to get out at a squirrel. But the tapping was more melodic and deliberate and did not result in the harder thump that our medium-sized dog would make as she hit the wall.

The first sudden tap made me jump, expecting to hear glass hit the wood floor at any moment. Less than three minutes later, another tap. Sometimes it would stop for as long as five minutes, leading me to believe it had ceased. But sure enough, as soon as I started working again – another tap. I realized Misty was laying on the floor in front of the my desk so she could not be making the sound. Then I heard a deeper, heavier noise follow the tap, as if someone had thrown a rubber ball at the window.

I went down the hall quietly and stood in the doorway of Conner’s room at the front corner of the house. The bird was standing in the middle of the window sill of the window facing the side of the house. She would look at the window, look around the side yard, then back at the window. Then, suddenly, she would tap the window hard with her beak – as if she had forgotten it was there, or just to be sure she had not been wrong the first five times. It was also entirely possible that she had tapped her beak so hard she had rattled her brains.

Then, in between periods of tapping, so suddenly it made me jump, she backed up a step and flung her little four inch, 20 ounce body against the window as hard as she could. Only appearing to be dazed for a few seconds, she flew around in a small circle and landed back on the window. She looked at the window for a few minutes, looked around a bit, and the whole cycle began again. I stood transfixed, thinking surely she would not do it again. But sure enough, after a series of taps, she backed up and body-slammed the window.

I leaned against the doorframe and watched for a while. Either the bird was so daft that neither thought nor pain registered in her small brain or she was so stubbornly persistent that constant failure was not enough for her to give up her task, whatever it was. Regardless, her task was a painful and fruitless one. Stubborn persistence can sometimes be beneficial, but more often than not it is simply detrimental.

While I thought the bird’s actions were ridiculously naive and mistaken, they reminded me of our stubborn persistence in not listening to what the Lord is telling us. Rather than having faith and trusting in God, we insist on looking for an easier way. Which actually turns out to be more difficult in the long run.

We have a chance to fly free, as it were, and explore all that the Lord’s world has to offer. Yet we insist on constantly tapping on the glass representing the things that we think we want or should have, but would never give us the fulfillment we long for. In our stubborn persistence we “body-slam” the glass, throwing our entire body into the refusal to accept what is before us. But,  as if that is not enough, we turn right around and start the whole process over again.

Like the Israelites of the Old Testament, we keep giving in to our temptation to slip back into sinful ways. We begin to find excuses to not read the Bible, pray or attend church or volunteer regularly. When life is going okay, we’re too busy for God. Then, when tragedy strikes, we wonder where God is – when, in fact, he has been there all along.

After God saves the day, yet again, and life returns to normal, we begin the insistent tapping all over again. We need to have faith in God, trust in his mercy, accept the grace he freely offers, and strive to live the way we were taught to live by Jesus. What is on the other side of the glass is ultimately unimportant.

Peace be with you.

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Washing Dishes – Life’s Toil?

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May 28, 2012

I washed dishes two or three times the other day – I lost count. Which, with a family of five – three of whom are teenagers – is not unusual. I have a love-hate relationship with the task of washing dishes. I do not enjoy the task, per se, but it gives me a chance to think. Not surprisingly, no one seems to bother me when I am at the sink. I wash them by hand and use the dishwasher as a draining board.

Be that as it may, a thought occurred to me while I was washing dishes for what I hoped was the last time. I realized I was washing the same dishes for the third time. The same plates, the same glasses, and the same silverware. Over and over. Time after time. Day after day. So on and so on.

Looking back on my life, there have been quite a few things I thought I might be  remembered for doing. I have also thought about what my purpose in life might be. Yet I never actually considered washing the same dishes day after day for years on end to be my toil in life. True, it is not anywhere close to the only thing I do or have ever done in my life. But do I really want to put it on my resume?

Qohelet would say it does not matter. It is all vanity and a chasing after wind anyway. “This is what I have seen to be good: it is fitting to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun the few days of the life God gives us; for this is our lot.” (Eccl. 5:18 NRSV)

So should I try to find enjoyment in washing the dishes? Derive some pleasure from washing wasted condiments from plates and dried milk from bowls? Receive brief satisfaction from having clean dishes – albeit temporarily?

While it made for interesting thoughts during my dishwashing toil, my consternation at continually washing dishes was causing me to miss the point. The New International Version (NIV) says “satisfaction” in place of enjoyment. The New Living Translation (NLT) says “accept their lot in life.” Which I think might be closer to the point Qohelet was making. ;

In verses 13-15, Qohelet laments the fate of those who hoard wealth and find that they still – through circumstances during life and the finality, and pennilessness, of death, end up with nothing. “All their hard work produces nothing – nothing they can take with them.” In verse 19, he states that “whenever God gives people wealth and riches and enables them to enjoy it, to accept their place in the world and to find pleasure in their hard work – all this is God’s gift.” Concluding the chapter in verse 20, “people shouldn’t brood too much over the days of their lives because God gives an answer in their hearts’ joy.” (CEB)

The answer lies, not in my receiving some weird satisfaction from such mundane tasks such as washing dishes, but in enjoying the life that God gave me. Whether pleasure or toil, I am fortunate to have the opportunity to experience either one. Which is a theme Qohelet returned to more than once.

Earlier in Ecclesiastes, in 3 10-11, Qohelet says that “God has made everything fitting in its time, but has also placed eternity in their hearts, without enabling them to discover what God has done from beginning to end.” He ends the book of Ecclesiastes with “So this is the end of the matter; all has been heard. Worship God and keep God’s commandments because this is what  everyone must do. God will definitely bring every deed to judgment, including every hidden thing, whether good or bad.”

The fact that I am tired of having to wash the dishes – or any other task which I am required to undertake – is inconsequential. Having faith in God, attempting to live Christ-like to the best of  my ability, and enjoying the life I have been blessed with, both good and bad, is what is important. God will take care of the rest.

Peace be with you.

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National Constitution Center and Bruce Springsteen

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April 25, 2012

On Friday the 13th, the second day of the RCC convention, we took the train into Philadelphia from the Airport Marriott. After eating lunch at a rather crowded food court, we met at the National Constitution Center. Unfortunately, we only had 45 minutes to an hour to tour the  museum before the special museum program began. I would like to return with Cyndy, if not the rest of the family, to have time to explore the museums and sites of Philadelphia. Much has changed since traveling there with my family when I was a teenager.

I discussed my family’s trip to Pennsylvania in an earlier post. I also mentioned the trip our family took in 2010 from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio, through  Pennsylvania, and down to Washington, D.C. The special exhibit at the Hall of Fame that year was a Bruce Springsteen exhibit. Fast forward to the convention trip to the Constitution Center. I ate most of half of my sandwich (the “real” pastrami – as opposed to the turkey pastrami you get in Dallas – was a welcome treat) and wrapped up the remaining half in my bag.

I wanted to get to the museum in order to have as much time to wander around the museum as possible. It is the 225th anniversary of the signing of the Constitution this year. I was walking through the mall taking pictures when I came close enough to clearly read the banner hanging above the entrance. There was a special exhibit at the time and it was – you guessed it – a Bruce Springsteen exhibit (it was, in fact, the same exhibit).

Now the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame I completely understand, but the National Constitution Center? Come to find out that they had put a different twist on the exhibit and were demonstrating Springsteen’s “use of music as a tool to express his First Amendment Rights.” Which makes sense. But here is the “kicker” as they say. The National Constitution Center is the first and only venue where the Springsteen exhibit is to travel from the Hall of Fame. What are the odds that I would be at both venues at the time of the exhibit?

The museum program, however, entitled “Freedom Rising” was very entertaining. The narrator stood in center of the circular theater swathed in lights and sound, with slides running around the upper part of the theater. The presentation told the story of the beginning of our country and government. Although the presentation was a little louder than absolutely necessary,  the narrator’s voice was uniquely appropriate for the material.

While I had little time to explore the museum, I did discover that the museum is remarkably interactive. Unfortunately, the crowds of school children and families made listening to the recordings difficult and required constant movement – leaving little time to absorb the information. But I certainly plan to make an effort to return and further explore the National Constitution Center and other fine museums in Philadelphia. Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell are a short walk from the NCC.

Back to the odds of my being at both displays of the Bruce Springsteen exhibit. I agree with Albert Einstein that “coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.” But then there is the thought that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes, though, there just does not seem to be a reason.

So I put it to you – what do you think? Is there always a reason behind everything? When there does not seem to be a reason are we simply unable to discern it? Are there such things as coincidences and happenstance occurrences?

Peace be with you.

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Sweet and Salty, Fellowship and Faith

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April 9, 2012

Since attending my uncle Jack’s funeral this past week, I’ve been thinking of times I remember being with him on family occasions. My daughter, Jennifer, took her first steps at Jack and Juanita’s house. Eventually my thoughts traveled to other experiences of my younger days. Such as our family trip to Pennsylvania.  Cyndy, the three boys, and myself replicated part of that trip in August of 2010. The trips were also on my mind because I am flying to Philadelphia this week for the Religion Communicators Council’s national convention.

Be that as it may, the story from the Pennsylvania trip when I was a teenager that came to mind was when we were driving through the farms in Amish country. The view was gorgeous and breath-taking. I think I even put down the book I was reading – I always read when we drove long distances. We drove through miles and miles of farms and fields.

We passed several produce stands – which were larger, as a general rule, than the stands I was used to seeing in Texas. The stands in Texas were mostly single farm stands whereas the Pennsylvania stands were co-op. After the third stand, my mother said “we need something sweet.” We pulled into the next stand, mom went looking and came back with several pounds of cherries.

We left the produce stand and continued our journey. The four of us ate cherries until we were nearly sick. Then mom spotted a nut stand.

“Now I need something salty,” mom said, after which dad pulled into the stand. This time she came back with a pound or two of a nut mixture.

We continued down the road, stuffing ourselves with nuts. Fortunately, we had some cherries leftover. With the sandwiches and lemonade mom had made, we were able to stretch the sweet and salty cycle for most of the day. However, during the unfolding of the sweet and salty saga, another story unfolded.

As we ate lunch and switched between salty and sweet, we put our reading material down, turned down the radio, looked out at the scenery, and shared observations and stories.

After a while we quit eating and were just talking and sharing. The salty and sweet episode was, at the outset, giving in to selfish urges. But, rather than simply giving in to the urges, we used it  as a time to have a conversation and draw closer to each other.

Which is a lesson I have kept with me since our family vacations all those years ago. For one thing, a family vacation is not about having a perfect time, leaving all the problems behind. A vacation is about having an experience together out of the ordinary (facing different problems) as a family. When the vacation is over, you remember the good times the most, not the difficulties.

The other part of the lesson pertains to the sweet and salty episode in particular. In different forms it occurs in every vacation, and life itself. Satisfying urges is not, in itself, a bad thing. But if we let the urges control the circumstances, the urges become more important than the fellowship and our faith. God made food to feed us, but Jesus also said “is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”

Peace be with you.

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Happy Easter!

Filed under: Current events, Family, Music, Theology, writing — 1 Comment
April 8, 2012

I hope everyone had, and is having, a wonderful Easter. Fortunately, the rain held off here until after the third and final service of the morning. The sunrise service at Jaycee Park and the two services in the sanctuary were glorious celebrations of the risen Christ. Our music department at Christ UMC in Farmers Branch, is one of the best around and proved it once again this morning. From Trevor Shaw and Will Nieberding during the sunrise service to the Christ Alive Band, the Children’s Choir, the Celebration Ringers, and the Easter Choir (Celebration Choir and Sunshine Gospel Singers) in the worship services, the music was excellent.

Bob Spencer ruminated on Judas and Peter – the two pivotal figures of Christ’s final days in human form – during his message at the sunrise service. Pastor Kenny Dickson gave an inspirational sermon on Resurrection faith during the two worship services. The United Methodist Men served a delicious pancake breakfast in the gym following the sunrise service.

The rain began immediately after the 11 a.m. service as everyone was going to their cars. A couple of hours later we heard the loudest thunderclap we have heard in quite some time. It seemed to rip the sky apart. It immediately reminded me of the tearing of the “curtain in the sanctuary of the Temple” down the middle as Jesus “breathed his last.” No doubt I felt closer to God for two reasons today. Hallelujah, Christ is risen!

Peace be with you.

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“Fortunately…Unfortunately” – The Beginning

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April 2, 2012

The beginning of my aforementioned “fortunately…unfortunately” week was a week ago yesterday, when the computer crashed as I was starting to backup the most recent files. I only lost the recent files, which was regrettable and annoying, but not a major loss. I did not know I lost the files until I took it to the technician. The saga that ensued made the loss of files irrelevant.

I took the computer in on Monday morning. He kept saying he would call me at a particular time, but I had to call him back each time. The last time I called Monday evening he was about to install the operating system. I asked him if he would get the files off of the hard drive first. Meaning no computer for another day.

Tuesday afternoon when I called, the tech ask if I had a flash drive to copy the files to. I drove back up to the store with my external hard drive. Which is when I learned what files were missing. Or so I thought at the time. Suffice it to say, the tech was off on Wednesday which made Thursday afternoon the earliest I would possibly get my computer back.

Which was maddening. Our middle son, Cameron, let me borrow his computer in the meantime. Which helped me get online, pay bills, and so forth. But without the programs I needed, I could do little else. I was still in limbo as to whether they would be able to retrieve my files from the hard drive or not.

Trying to concentrate on writing was more difficult than usual. My mind kept wandering,  thinking of software I would have to replace or find the installation disk for. Thinking of files I was not sure were included in my last backup. And simply feeling completely out of sorts because my routine had been upended and thrown into the corner behind the waste basket.

Of course I was praying. Even so, I was not sure God, other than being with me through the Holy Spirit and his grace, could provide digital assistance. I did, however, feel the moments of comfort – letting me know God was with me, regardless. Yet the situation dragged on.

I finally got my computer back and re-installed most of the programs. Which extended the period of feeling out of sorts with no control. Hours upon hours of waiting for files to load and  updates to run. Having to restart my computer for the changes to take effect and wait for even more updates to run.

Everything seems to be loaded and running at the moment. At least until I think of some other program I no longer have and need to load again. There was one odd thing though. I was going through the file containing  what the technician retrieved from the hard drive. I figured if there was nothing in some of the files, I might as well delete them. Fortunately, I started with an insignificant file.

When I hit delete, I found myself waiting for the computer to delete thousands of files that were not supposed to be there. Which would explain why they could not find anything on the hard drive after he had transferred the files. It also leads one to think that the files are potentially retrievable. So after I sufficiently recover from last week’s episode, I’ll find someone who can possible retrieve them. I don’t want to get my hopes up and have them trampled on again any time soon.

But come to think about it, maybe God has gone digital after all.

Peace be with you.

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The Passing of an Uncle – Jack Robertson

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April 1, 2012

This has been one of those “fortunately…unfortunately” sort of weeks. Yesterday was the most significant of the unfortunate days. I received the news that my uncle, Jack Robertson, passed away in his sleep Friday night. Jack was the last living uncle on either side of the family and was my uncle on my father’s side through his marriage to my aunt Juanita.

One of the first things I thought of as my mother filled me in on the situation, was how Jack would tie my shoelaces, and/or my brother, Dennis’, shoelaces, on family occasions such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. He would sneak up behind our chairs while someone distracted us. When we got up to go to the bathroom, sort presents or the like, we began to take a step and fell flat on our face. Which, to our dismay, everyone found amusing.

Jack was in the Navy during World War II. He and Juanita never had any children, but they always enjoyed entertaining Dennis and myself when we were younger, then my daughter, Jennifer, and then our three boys when they were little. As the boys grew older, Jack’s health deteriorated to the point to where he was confined to a wheelchair. My father helps them manage their affairs, including hiring a caregiver when Juanita could no longer care for Jack herself.

Juanita fell Friday morning and Dad went over to help get her to the hospital. While we were at J.D.’s baseball game Friday afternoon he talked to the doctor. Juanita had some bruising, but no bones were broken. Since being confined to a wheelchair, Jack has felt bad that Juanita had to care for him and he could not take care of her. Juanita’s fall was too much strain for him and he went quietly in the night. Rest in peace, Uncle Jack.

Peace be with you.

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Man Sweeping Water from Parking Lot?

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March 20, 2012

While my son was taking his driving test (he passed, thank God), I watched this man sweeping water. Yes, that is correct, and fortunately I have the picture to prove it. Most of the time he was smart enough to stand on the sidewalk at least, instead of standing in the water as he was before we left – as shown here.

He would stare intently at something in the water for a while. Then he would start sweeping as if he was trying to get the water to the higher part of the parking lot. Quite obviously, each time the ripples ceased, the water returned to its original position. 

Other than trying to sweep the water away (futile though it was), anyone else have a clue or guess as to what he was doing?

Peace be with you.

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