Where is He?

Where is He who is born King of the Jews?

We have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.

In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it is written by the prophets.

Where have you been for the past three days, my son?

We have been searching for you anxiously.

In the temple, about my heavenly Father’s business.

Where is the carpenter, the son of Joseph?

He is creating some furniture for my home.

In the workshop building, repairing…..waiting.

Where is the teacher about whom we have heard?

We have come to see a miracle and hear his words.

In the boat, commanding the wind, quieting the storm.

Where is the Messiah? Where is the King of the Jews?

If he is such, let him save himself and us….but He is

In the throes of death, suffering on a cross.

Where is my Lord?  Where have you laid him?

He is no longer in the tomb, and I must find him.

He is risen and goes before you.

Where is He who will liberate His creation?

Do we not all groan in bondage to decay and death?

He will come from the heavens with a shout!

He is building, repairing, waiting, commanding.

Suffering with us, He is about His Father’s business.

He goes before you and will come as the prophets have written.

When?  Will it be today?  This year?

It is not for us to know the times or dates,

The Father has set by his own authority.

Where?

When?

We wait.

Scriptures used:  Matthew 2:2-5, Luke 2:43-49, Mark 6:2-3, Matthew 8:23-27, 27:42, Mark 16:4-7, Romans 8:21-22, I Thessalonians 4:16, Acts 1:7

On a Quiet December Morning

In the quiet, still and windless dawn,

Snow hangs on trees undisturbed.

Dark branches silhouette against the gray

Of morning sky.

On the sidewalk snow, imprints reveal

Nighttime activity of small creatures,

Little feet with a purpose unknown to me

Have passed by.

Outside my bubble of quiet calm.

Lies a world of turmoil, in need of peace,

But with jubilant angel declaration, He came!

Is that not why?

And so my feet must move with purpose,

I must leave an imprint in the cold world,

Come with me to see the babe in the manger

And lullaby,

Glorify,

Magnify

Crucify! 

Crucify?

Ah, yes…the plan from the beginning of time.

Atonement requires a spotless lamb.

The Son of God grows up.  He lives

In order to die.

To the still and darkness of my heart

Comes a flash of blinding light…insight.

I see my need, your gift!  Oh, Savior…

Do not pass me by!

A Blog Worth Repeating at Christmastime

Every year at Christmastime, I reminisce about my first Christmas away from my family. I was 18 years old and in my second year of Nursing School. In those "olden days," nursing programs were based in hospitals, rather than colleges. The education was inexpensive, because the student nurse was basically the hospital's slave. We got four weeks of vacation a year, and it was not our choice when we took it. So it was that in 1963, I was hundreds of miles away from my family trying to discover Christmas on my own.

I attended a church in Oak Park regularly and sang in the church choir. Just before Christmas there was to be a Sunday evening concert by the choir. Although I often sang solos, duets and other special parts, the only one I had been scheduled to sing that night was with two other girls on the same part in one of the choir numbers. During the hour before the concert, the college and career group was meeting, and that's where I was when someone called me out of the meeting with, "Larry wants to see you."

Larry was the church pianist, and I couldn't imagine what he wanted with me. I soon learned that the program was to include a special arrangement by Larry of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear." It was to be a duet, but the alto was ill with laryngitis. Larry wanted me to sing the part, because he really wanted his arrangement to be included in the program.

I am not sure how clearly I expressed verbally what I was thinking, but it went something like, "You're crazy! I am a soprano. I have never sung alto in my entire life. The concert is about 40 minutes from beginning. How could I possibly learn the part that quickly? Plus which, it isn't just for the hundreds of people attending....it's going to be recorded. If I mess up, there will be lasting evidence!"

Larry calmly informed me that the alto had the melody in some of the piece, and he could teach me the rest. He was so confident that I could do this, that I gave in. I had some misgivings about my sanity, but I gave in.

In the next 15 to 20 minutes, he analyzed the part for me. He told me that when I had to pick out the harmony, he would emphasize my note in the chord just before my entrance. He described some of the intervals as being similar to those in other songs he knew I was familiar with. We went through it about 3 times.

And I did it.  Now listening to the recording, there is one note that makes me uncomfortable. Not because it is a clunker, but because I attacked it too vigorously.

When Christmas Day came, a group of us decided to go caroling in the halls of the hospital before work at 7 AM. One of the girls in the group knew which room was occupied by a reputed Mafia boss whose bodyguards never left his side. We decided we would sing right outside his door. When we finished, a voice boomed out of the room with a stereotypical, "Tanks, goils." We hastened into the stairwell before bursting into giggles, which I expect he heard.

I had been working with the same patients for several days, so I took Christmas cards for them with me to work that morning, only to discover I had been reassigned to the other end of the floor. Being short-staffed had caused some realignment. I was disappointed when I realized that I had been assigned to two patients who had had strokes and were comatose. I had wanted to interact and spread some Christmas cheer.

When I entered the room of these two totally unresponsive ladies, I was startled to see that a beautiful orchid had been pinned to the pillow of one of the women. Her son had come in early that morning and placed it there as a token of his love for her. For me, it was a reminder that these ladies were not just blobs of humanity, but mothers who were loved. My whole attitude was abruptly altered.

As I bathed them, changed their positions, put clean sheets on the bed and gave other care that Christmas Day, I sang carols to them. I had no idea if they could hear the songs, but if a son cared enough to leave an orchid, I needed to care enough to make an attempt at helping them know that it was Christmas....a day for joy in the midst of pain.

Now every year, I listen to that old recording of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear." Over the years, the record became scratchy, and I put the song on a tape. Eventually I put it on a CD. I listen somewhat in awe of how well I actually did, but mostly because listening calls me back to that era of my life. It makes me remember my 18 year old self having the courage to perform a piece I didn't know well, laughing over "Tanks, goils," and having an orchid on a pillow adjust my attitude.

Being with family for Christmas is wonderful, but the real meaning is in experiencing the love, peace, joy and salvation that the Baby in the Manger entered our world to bring.

I knew that in my head before I was 18, but that year, it filled my heart.

Wake Up!

It seems to me that the majority of teens and young adults have no ability to think about anything substantive.  Well, maybe this isn’t just a young person’s problem.  Maybe it is true of people in general.

Their heads seem to be full of the occurrences in the “lives” of people who aren’t REAL people….i.e. characters they see on TV or in the movies.  They bounce to the beat of music with incomprehensible lyrics.  They travel “in the zone” while playing video games. They blather on endlessly in totally empty-headed conversation.  Meanwhile, actual LIFE passes them by.

Does anyone ever think any more about who they are and why they are here?  I mean, beyond the notion that one must do something to obtain money in order to obtain material possessions and maintain a cell phone with unlimited calls, text and data.  Notice I have not stipulated whether this money is earned or derived from a government program.  Also, whether or not material possessions are obtained honestly or dishonestly is not even a consideration.  The line between right and wrong has become so blurred that the possibility that a line exists is shrugged off.

To be fair, I do know a few people who consider their motives and the implications of their actions, but I also know a bunch who don’t…..who seem incapable of this level of thought.  How can a person like myself even talk to such people?  Where does one begin?  It is as though their heads are so full of white noise that they can hear nothing.  Or perhaps, instead of the emptiness that white noise implies, they are so full of the disorganized clutter of unrelated debris, that there is no chance of bringing order into the chaos.  No logical thought can precipitate out of the mess.

I would dearly love to confront certain people with some truths.

*There is a God who is creator and sustainer of the universe.

*He loves you enough that He sent His Son to die in your place as a payment for your sins. 

*He has a plan for your life.

*If you even begin to comprehend this and look to Him for guidance, your life will have meaning and you will understand what it means to experience joy.

*It seems so obvious to me….why don’t you get it?  Stop believing all those lies the world is telling you.  This really works! 

But, they continue in their mental and spiritual fog.  When they are upset, they look to me for help in the form of money or other marvelous solutions to their dilemmas.  But…they don’t want the REAL ANSWER, which is admitting they don’t have the answers, and God does. 

Wake up!  Swallow some pride, and throw yourself at God’s feet.  Let Him lift you up.  You are here for a reason.

Little Brown Mouse

Little brown mouse, little brown mouse,

Running through the house, running through the house,

The ladies all shrieked and ran away,

The children all laughed and wanted to play,

And so there was chaos Thanksgiving Day

With the little brown mouse.

Little brown mouse, little brown mouse,

Running through the house, running through the house,

At bedtime Grandpa set a trap,

At midnight Grandma heard it go snap,

And so began the unending nap

Of the little brown mouse.

By the Time I Get to Phoenix....

I am not supposed to be in Phoenix.  I am supposed to be home.

But….

When my husband I and returned from 18 days in Europe on Monday evening, we learned that areas east of the Great Lakes were getting hammered with lake effect snow.  We had planned to stay in a hotel in Philadelphia Monday night, and on Tuesday, Bill was to fly to Phoenix for a trade show, and I was to return home. When I checked my flight status, I learned it was cancelled.  The weather forecast didn’t offer much encouragement that flights would be going in my direction any time soon.

Decisions…decisions….stay by myself in a Philadelphia hotel waiting for the weather to break at home or try to get on a flight to Phoenix?  No brainer….but there is where the complications began.

When we approached USAir about getting me on the same flight to Phoenix with my husband, the agent was downright snotty….no way, it could not be done.  My husband expressed exasperation, “What do you mean you can’t do it?  If there are seats available, of course, you can do it!”  Then we figured out that she was assuming we were trying to get a free ticket to Phoenix, which was not our intent.  Once we assured her that we intended to pay for the ticket, she quickly determined there were seats available on all of his flights and was even accommodating about trying to find a way to reduce the cost.  In the end, it didn’t cost much more than it would have cost for me to be in the hotel room for three days.

It was a bit of a jolt to deal with USAir personnel after traveling on British Airways.  When compared to British Air, the USAir folks are downright surly.

In any event…off to Phoenix I went, thinking about the next issue.  We had packed for my husband figuring on the extra days in Phoenix after the European trip, but of course, I hadn’t planned on that, so I had a suitcase full of dirty clothes, and not much left to wear.  I figured that when we arrived at the hotel, I would send a few items of clothing to the laundry service.

By the time we got to Phoenix, we were exhausted…..we had crossed eight time zones since leaving Europe.  We were hungry.   We desperately wanted a bit of food and a bed.  My husband had been told there was no reason to rent a car, as there would be a shuttle to the hotel downtown near the convention center.  Uh…whoops..wrong….no shuttle!  So, we got a taxi.

We arrived at the downtown Sheraton, thinking we had reached our journey’s end.  But wait…..the hotel had overbooked and needed to send us elsewhere for just one night.   They were unclear about the location of the Arizona Grand, and we assumed it was close by, since Bill needed to be at the convention center at 10 the next morning.  The desk clerk said that the bellhops would take care of our luggage, and she was going to “walk us over there.”  But, what she meant was that she was walking us to a waiting car.  We got in the car, still assuming we were only going a couple of blocks.  Pretty soon we were on the freeway heading south….and south…and further south.  We went past the airport at which we had just recently arrived.  I wondered aloud if we were heading to Mexico. My normally calm husband was becoming agitated…..how was he supposed to get back to the convention center?  The Sheraton had given him a voucher for his ride back, but he was worried about what would happen to me.  They were supposed to have a room available the next day, but what time would it be available?  Was I going to be stranded in the lobby for hours waiting for a room?

The Arizona Grand is a gorgeous place, but it was hard to appreciate it given that on check-in, we were still tired and hungry, and I didn’t have clean clothes. I couldn’t send anything to their laundry service, because I wasn’t going to be there the next day to receive it back. 

The Arizona Grand is so spread out that you can’t get anywhere without calling for a golf cart to take you.  Fortunately, the young men who tool around on these golf carts are very considerate and accommodating….and yes, they said, there is a laundry facility available for me.  We came up with the plan that I would sort out what I needed to wash.  The golf cart would take me to the laundry.  Bill would go on the golf cart transport to one of the restaurants on the premises and get take-out to bring back to the laundry.

This may not seem like a big deal, but remember, we are totally exhausted at this point.  We arrive at the “laundry” and discover it is just a washer and dryer in a hallway….no detergent dispenser, no change machine at which to get the necessary quarters, no table or chairs to sit down while we eat.  The nice young guy driving the golf cart was determined to solve these issues for us.  He made a phone call and found that the front desk could sell us some detergent and of course, make change for us.   So, off we go to the front desk and back.  After making sure I was settled in the laundry, he took Bill to one of the restaurants for food, and then ushered us to a lounge area near the laundry where we could eat.

Much relieved, we ate hamburgers large enough to feed a family of four in a third world country and waited for the washing and drying process to be completed.  When it was done, we called the golf cart guy and he returned us to our “villa.”

We had a restful night’s sleep.  In the morning, Bill called the Sheraton to see when a room would be available.  He made it clear that he was unhappy about the notion of leaving his wife stranded with nowhere to go while he went off to the convention center.  I assured him that I would be fine.  I was sure the hotel would put our suitcases someplace safe, and I was sure I could entertain myself somehow…..shopping, perhaps?

We called the bellhop to arrange our transportation back to the Sheraton.  He said that he actually had a car sitting there waiting.  They loaded us into the car, but before we were out the driveway, we discovered the driver had no knowledge of our transportation voucher, so back to the Arizona Grand we went.  We had to wait about 20 minutes, while the bellhop got in touch with the correct transportation company.  Meanwhile one of those nice young golf cart guys got each of us a cup of coffee.

Eventually we arrived back at the downtown Sheraton which actually had a room ready for us….a very nice room on the 22^nd floor.  I can see all the way to the airport from our window.  The mountains surrounding are beautiful, and all is well.  Between the clothes I washed at the Arizona Grand and a couple of things I purchased at the store across the street, I have adequate clean clothing.

I even contacted a good friend and former co-worker, who lives in Phoenix now.  She got off work early in order to come and see me.  We had a great visit at the local Starbucks.

By the time I got to Phoenix, I was exhausted and felt like Murphy’s Law had been operating in my life …..but I’m fine now, and appreciative of the people who went out of their way to be helpful in fighting off Murphy.

In Love with Autumn

Oh, autumn, I am so in love with you!

Every sense responds to your embrace.

The crunch of dry leaves under my feet,

The honk of geese heading south,

The riotous palette of colors,

The tingle of fresh-pressed cider,

The aroma of garden tomatoes simmering into sauce.

You surround me with a coolness that invigorates.

I pull my sweaters out of storage,

Snuggle under the blankets at night.

Savor spicy chili at suppertime.

My mind revs to a higher speed.

I want to think new thoughts.

How many more autumns will I see?

Will twenty be enough?

If I was dying in August,

Would I hang on hoping for one more?

How could I ever leave you, autumn?

Your beauty refreshes my life.

Some associate spring with new life,

Winter with death, and autumn

As winter’s precursor, is depressing.

But I love you, even as bare trees

Are stark against the few remaining

Splashes of color and dark evergreens.

In your lingering days, as you fade,

You slide me gently into other arms.

Thanksgiving brings family.

I rise early to roast the turkey

And see the blaze of sunrise,

Through your barren branches.

By the time you have left me,

I am embraced by the holiday season.

You have slipped away with such stealth,

That your departure is not painful.

But my love for you is never-ending,

And I will welcome your return.

Oh, autumn, I am so in love with you!

The End of Human History

When human history is over, God will be totally justified in how He deals with mankind.  He has given us every opportunity to seek and find Him, and we collectively have failed.

At first, God gave us a set of rigid laws to follow.  The Jews were not only given the Ten Commandments, but many detailed rituals were prescribed.  Although specific punishments were also to be meted out for infractions, and judgments fell for disobedience, man found many creative ways to disobey and attempt to assert his independence from God.  Mankind in general refused to come to God through rules and sacrificial ritual. 

From the beginning of time, however, God knew He would reach out to us in another way, and so, He changed His approach.  Instead of detailed rules, He set forth the law of love.  He demonstrated the change through Christ, who became the ultimate sacrifice.  The sinless One died for our sin, and we entered the age of grace.  God, who knows our hearts, is more interested in our motives than in our specific actions.  But, mankind finds many creative ways to abuse this grace, and we shake our collective fist in the face of God.

God bides His time and watches.  We have refused to come to Him in repentance either through the law or through grace.  He has given the human race both opportunities, and we have persisted in our desire to set ourselves up as our own gods.  We want no sense of responsibility to Him.  Many in our culture even deny His existence.

But, He does have a claim on us.  He did create us and loves each of us uniquely.  He values each of us individually.  We are our brothers’ keepers.  How great must be His grief when we abuse and take advantage of one another.  Human cruelty and hatred knows no bounds, in contrast to God’s boundless love and mercy.

How will any of us be able to stand, when at the end of human history, the Lion roars?

The Pursuit of Happiness

We are all (or we all should be) familiar with the fact that the Declaration of Independence says we are entitled to “the pursuit of happiness.”  Please note:  It does not say we will all achieve it…only that we have a right to pursue it.

I have been wondering lately if the pursuit of happiness is a worthy goal. I pondered the idea this morning from a bath tub filled with warm water, which is one of my “happy places.” We all want to be happy, but can we be happy, if that is what we are attempting to achieve?

My daughter-in-law recently posted a video clip of her baby.  She can be heard singing in the background to the tune of “If You’re Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands.”  However, she has altered the words to “If You’re Happy and You Know it, Eat Your Hands.”  As she sings, her 3-month old daughter chews on her fists and fingers, obviously pursuing pleasure.  But then, she removes her hands from her mouth to smile at her mother.  There are multiple cycles of this as the song is sung through once.  Now, if the little sweetie was alone in her crib and chewing on her hands, would she remove them from her mouth and grin aimlessly at nothing and no one?  I doubt it.  Her happiness is not in the pleasurable sensation of fingers in the mouth; it is in interaction with her mother.  Although her mother’s face is not visible, you know as you listen, that she is smiling and almost laughing as she sings.  So, the baby’s pursuit of happiness is not what is actually making her happy.  It is her mother’s love and delight in her to which she responds with such a happy face.

I have heard of elderly men and women whose spouses are in nursing homes and no longer recognize them.  They feel they should not have to be lonely, and that they should be able to pursue happiness by dating someone else.  I also know of people who have faithfully visited their incapacitated spouse or cared for them at home themselves in order to keep their marriage vow and pour back into their spouse’s life, the love they have received from them.  While acknowledging their loneliness, they have felt right about their commitment.  Which situation actually produces happiness?  I can’t answer that question.  I haven’t been there.  But, I suspect those who are faithful have an inner peace that makes mere happiness trivial.

I know of a woman who broke up a friend’s marriage and married her friend’s husband.  She said that they had “a right to be happy.”  Did they?  Is the pursuit of our own happiness to be our chief goal in life?  Are we to pursue our own happiness at the expense of someone else’s happiness?

Nowhere in the Bible are we told to pursue happiness.  II Timothy 2:22, however, tells us to “pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace.”

While I was having my nice happy soak in the tub this morning, I started to sing a song I learned as a child.  I couldn’t quite remember all of the lyrics, so I looked them up.

"Happiness Is The Lord"
By Ira Stanphill

Happiness is to know the Savior, 
Living a life within His favor
Having a change in my behavior, 
Happiness is the Lord

Happiness is a new creation, 
Jesus and me in close relation
Having a part in His salvation, 
Happiness is the Lord

Real joy is mine,
no matter if teardrops start
I've found the secret 
It's Jesus in my heart
Happiness is to be forgiven, 
Living a life that's worth the livin'
Taking a trip that leads to heaven,
Happiness is the Lord

This is, of course, not the perspective of most of the world, but I have made it mine.  This will be my pursuit.

Inside My Head

Sometimes when I lay awake at night, strange thoughts float around in my head, which in the light of day seem even stranger….or are they more profound?

Last night I was pondering the fact that none of us really knows anyone else.  We see the blob of organic material that represents another person visually.  We hear the person’s voice and think we have connected with the other in conversation.  But, if I am typical….which, of course, I may not be….we are full of thoughts and ideas which are never verbalized.  I do not know what other people think when they see me.  I do not know how they interpret what I say.  I do know there is a whole lot more that goes on inside of me than what I am able to express in words or by actions.  I don’t know if it is safe to assume that others are like me, since I can’t know what is inside their heads any more than they can know what is in mine.

During the course of a day, I write stories and create dialogue for them, but I never expect to publish the vast majority of what my brain generates.  I explore the possibility of various creative projects and discard many of these ideas as impractical.  I daydream about various goals I could set for myself and shrug off most as unattainable.  I talk to God with great frequency about the people and events that I encounter during the day.  I have varying degrees of success in my quest to turn my thoughts of people into prayers for them.  Sometimes I get sucked into internal gossip.  I let my thoughts wander into criticism of others and their conduct, instead of my more worthy goal of praying for them.  I agonize over how I can best help people I see struggling.  If I tried to help would it be viewed as meddling?  Or crippling them with too much assistance? Or would I outright offend them?

I have heard someone refer to what goes on in some people’s heads as “white noise.” I don’t begin to understand that.  It is very difficult for me to shift my brain into neutral.  I am thankful for the “down time” of sleep….which brings me back to the fact that all of the mental gymnastics here described were happening last night about 3:30 AM when I should have been sleeping.

I may be paraphrasing some here, but my son once said to me, “Sometimes I think about the fact that I am thinking.  Then when I think about the fact that I am thinking about thinking….well, that could drive a person crazy.”

So if I don’t know what you’re really thinking, and you don’t know what I’m thinking, how can we really know each other?  I guess we have to content ourselves with what we do know for now, and appreciate that at least God knows us…. even better than we know ourselves.

Otherwise it’s off to the loony bin.

Dawning of a New Day

The morning dawns,

Gray and humid.

Fluttering leaves

Belie a gentle breeze.

A new day

Stretches before me,

All unknown.

I sit motionless.

The breeze increases.

But I am waiting

For life to happen.

Looking into the void.

Shall I remain still

And melt into the gray?

Or shall I jump up

And fly on the breeze?

I teeter on the edge.

Indecisive. Hesitant.

The wind can’t decide

Which way it wants to blow.

Gravity favors the gray.

It could carry me

Spiraling downward

Into increasing darkness.

But I can choose,

To climb aboard the breeze,

Lofting upward

Toward the sun.

Heracles Mad

This play is a real “downer.”  I can imagine what it would feel like to leave the theater after watching this performed!

Heracles has gone to Hades on one of his assigned tasks and has not returned for a lengthy period of time.  While he has been gone, his wife’s father Creon has been killed by Lycus, who has taken over the kingdom of Thebes.  Lycus plans to kill Megara, the wife of Heracles, and their three sons, as well as Amphitryon, who is Heracles’ father….well, at least, sort of his father.  Heracles was born after Amphitryon shared his wife with Zeus, so it is believed that Heracles is actually son of Zeus, and therefore, half god.  This, of course, means that Hera, wife of Zeus, is no fan of Heracles.

Amphitryon, Megara, and the three young sons plead before the altar of Zeus for help and rescue.  When it does not appear to be forthcoming, they decide to die with dignity.  They don burial clothes with the intent of surrendering themselves to Lycus.  However, in the nick of time, Heracles returns.  He surprises Lycus and kills him saving his family from death at the hand of Lycus.

But….at this point Madness arrives on an errand for Hera.  She does not really want to do what has been asked of her, but she gives in to the will of the goddess.  Madness possesses Heracles, and he himself kills his wife and three sons.  He falls and hits his head and is knocked unconscious.  While he is out cold, his father has him bound, lest he inflict more carnage if he awakes still in a mad state.

When he awakens, he is again rationale and distraught over what he has done.  He believes life to no longer be worth living.  At this point, Theseus arrives.  Heracles has, in the past, done an enormous favor for Theseus, so Theseus now is willing to stand by his friend in spite of what he had done.  After some discussion, he convinces Heracles to come home with him, and Amphitryon is left to bury his daughter-in-law and grandsons.

Commentary throughout the play comes from a chorus of elderly men, who bemoan the frailty of age, and the fact that they can no longer defend the weak and stand up for what is right.

Interesting quotes:

Megara:  …how uncertain are God’s dealing with man…

                …the man who wrestles with necessity, I esteem a fool.

                …what must be, no one will ever avail to alter.

Amphitryon:  The bravest man is he who relieth ever on his hopes, but despair is the mark of a coward.

                O Zeus….either thou art a god of little sense, or else naturally unjust

Chorus:  Had the gods shown discernment and wisdom, as mortals count these things, men would have gotten youth twice over, a visible mark of worth amongst whomsoever found….the mean man would have had but a single portion of life; and thus would it have been possible to distinguish the good and the bad….

Heracles:  For the deity, if he be really such, has no wants; these are miserable fictions of the poets.

I find this last quote particularly interesting.  Euripides apparently had some understanding that a true “God” would be complete in Himself.  He would not be dependent on man for anything.  He would not have had to create man.  He would not have needed adoration.  He would be the “I Am” that is described in the Bible.  This is the God I believe in…..eternally existent, all-powerful, who created man by His choice knowing He would also have to redeem man.  He does not “need” our adoration, but He is worthy of it.

Teaching Someone to Write

Recently I was asked if I would be interested in tutoring a student who is having difficulty writing college essays.  Since I have not yet met the student, I am not breaching any confidentiality by writing this piece.  My mind immediately began working on the possible reasons for a student to have difficulty writing essays.

First, there might be difficulty with basic mechanics.  Students do actually graduate from high school still unable to construct a complete sentence and with no concept of varying sentence structure to make their writing more interesting.  Through the miracle of spell and grammar check, some of these problems can be found and corrected, but these checks are not perfect.  Some understanding of the basics is still required.  Having recently encountered multiple English teachers who do not know how to identify a direct object, it does not surprise me that the students they produce have difficulty.

Second, a well-written essay should have some structure and logic.  When I home-schooled my son, I would say, “Nail your argument to the wall!”  In other words, prove your premise with enough supporting statements that the reader can logically follow along with your thinking.  I have sometimes said that if I ever taught any subject in a classroom again, I would be tempted to begin with a lesson or two on logic which seems to be sorely lacking in our society.

There is, however, another possibility.  The student may need to “psyche out” the teacher in order to receive a decent grade.  I took a creative writing course while in college and spent the first half of the course totally frustrated at my inability to get an A.  Eventually, I started thinking about the teacher’s personality and the way in which she presented material.  She wasn’t into hard edged logic.  She was a soggy sentimentalist.  I decided for my next assignment I would write syrupy drivel, although it nearly gagged me to do so.  When the paper came back, there was my A, along with the comment, “What happened?  You have finally become a writer!”  I groaned inwardly, “Oh, no!  Is this what I have to do to get a good grade?”

So, at this point, I don’t even know if I will be tutoring this particular student, but maybe this analysis will be helpful to someone.

Suicidal Thoughts

The news this week is full of the fact that Robin Williams committed suicide.  Discussion centers on how someone who brought so much joy and made so many smile could be in such despair himself, that he would take his own life.  Anyone with suicidal thoughts is urged to reach out for help.

I have had suicidal thoughts during two eras of my life.  On both occasions, I decided that if I could prevent myself from trying to figure out how I would do it, then I wouldn’t do it.  I consciously rejected making a plan.

As a teenager, I struggled with despair that was more intellectual than emotional.  My increasing ability to understand the world and its potential for evil and tendency toward futility caused me to wonder why anyone bothered to put up with life.  It was my personal belief in a God who could and did give meaning to existence that caused me to reject the notion of suicide.  I could see that life could be without purpose and significance, but that it didn’t have to be.  I exercised faith that God had a plan for me, and that He would guide me into a life which conformed to His greater plan.  I believed that if I daily prayed and sought for His will, He would make my life fit into the big picture which He could see even though I could not.

Decades passed with no thoughts about ending my life.  But in 2000-2001, I had an experience which rocked me to the core.  People who I had totally trusted and believed to have my best interests at heart chose to believe a gossip version of some of my words and actions.  This was especially devastating, because it happened in a church setting…..a place I had attended for over 30 years.  This time the belief that my life had purpose and meaning didn’t work, because the whole point of the accusations was that, in the view of my “friends,” I had not been fitting into God’s plan…I had been “destructive” and hurtful.  Incidents going back decades were dredged up in altered form.  I didn’t recognize my own life.  I certainly didn’t like the person they were describing.  They gave me no way of making any of my supposed “misdeeds” right.  They would not tell me who my accusers were.  None of this was in keeping with biblical principles or the policy of our denomination.   Further details of all of this aren’t important.  The crucial point is that I found suicidal thoughts floating through my mind during sleepless nights and days of turmoil. 

In a way, my faith played into such thoughts this time.  I trusted God.  He knew my heart.  He knew the intentions with which I had lived my life.  I was not afraid to face Him.  It was everyone else I really didn’t want to be around anymore.  My friends were inflicting pain.  I was sure God was merciful and would welcome me home.

But…..

I could not hurt my husband and my son by leaving them.  They were both never-endingly loving and supportive through those horrible days.  Suicide would have been cruel to them.  Neither of them ever gave any indication of believing the accusations against me.  They lived with me and knew my heart.  As even some family members turned on me, I came to feel they were the only two men in the world worthy of my trust.

Years have passed and as it turned out, God did have a plan.  After months of agony, I came out of the dark valley.  My husband and I found a new church.  I found a challenging job.  I made new friends.  The passage of time gave perspective to some of my old friends.  The hand of God was underneath me all along, and I was bound to life with the steel cable of love from my husband and son.

I grieve for those who have no faith in a loving God. 

I grieve for those who do not have family ties.

I grieve for those so blinded by despair that they forget God’s plan and the love of their family.   

I grieve for the family whose loved one temporarily forgets their love and carries out the irretrievable act leaving them to feel the pain of unnecessary loss.

It is interesting to ponder that at this exact moment in time some in the world struggle to survive, while others look for a way to die.

Fired!

I would not be writing this particular blog, if I was worried about an employer seeing it.  But, I am an old lady who is retired and only working part-time for the fun of it, sooooooo…..

In the late 60s, I was in my senior year in college and paying my own way by working about 16 hours a week as a registered nurse at a local medical clinic.  It was a unique practice with a surgeon, internist, and obstetrician/gynecologist all seeing general medical patients and referring to each other as needed.  I worked two evenings per week and on Saturday ….almost always with one other nurse.  We might have one or two doctors to keep up with during a given time period.  We did all sorts of lab work right there, took X-rays and EKGs, helped put on casts and had many other nursing duties.

As the academic year was drawing to a close, and I was soon to graduate with a Bachelor’s degree, I resigned from this position.  I also had a wedding to plan, so my life was pretty full at that point.  However, I received a call from the person who hired the clinic nurses and coordinated their hours.  Although I had given plenty of notice, they had not been able to replace me in time.  She pleaded with me to work just one more Saturday, and I agreed.

The other nurse that Saturday had graduated one year after me from the same nursing school that I had, and we knew each other pretty well at that point.  We prepared for the day, but Dr. N who was the surgeon in the group and the only physician assigned that day, had not yet arrived, so we went into the employee lounge at the back of the clinic.  A window in that room gave us a view of the parking lot, and we saw Dr. N, who had a reputation for having a very short fuse, emerge from his car red-faced and scowling.  One of us commented that it wasn’t looking like it would be an easy day with him.

I had never had an incident with him before and felt I had always behaved professionally when working with him.  This included the time he came out of a patient’s room looking a bit dazed and said, “I think I am in atrial fibrillation.”  He turned to go to the next patient, but I went into I-am-the-nurse-and-I-am-in-charge mode.  I sat him down, checked his pulse and blood pressure, and then called the other doctor who was there that day.  I was relieved that it happened to be the internist.  The internist gave him medication and called Dr. N’s wife to take him home and make him rest.  Other than that, I had never challenged him, and that challenge had seemed the right thing to do.

On this Saturday, Dr. N strode in and went into the first patient’s room.  We waited in the nurses’ station for him to come out with instructions, but that is not what happened.  The clinic had just been renovated, including installation of a new intercom system.  The last time either Alice or I had worked, it had not been operational.  Neither of us knew that it was now ready for use.  Neither of us had been given any instructions regarding its use. His voice hollering “Nurse” boomed out of the box, which was loaded with buttons and switches, and we were clueless as to how to work the thing.  He was clearly upset and there was no time to be fiddling around, so we raced down the hall to the room he was in.

By this time, Dr. N was in the hall in a rage, because we had not answered him on the intercom.  After he had thoroughly ripped into us regarding our incompetence, and Alice looked like a deer caught in the headlights, I calmly (or at least, I remember it as calmly) said, “Dr. N, I don’t think you should be treating us this way.  Neither Alice nor I have been instructed how to use the new intercom, and we didn’t even know it was ready to be used.”

“You are nothing but a smart-mouth,” he roared.  “Get out of here!  You’re fired!”

I suppose it totally supported his contention that I was a smart mouth, but I returned, “Actually, I don’t think you can fire me.  I quit a week ago.  I only came in to be helpful today, since I was told you were short-staffed.”

I then turned and walked away, went to the nurses’ station and collected my purse, said ‘good-bye’ to the receptionist, and started out the employee exit at the back of the building.  On my way out, Dr. N was in the mechanical room fooling around with something.  I’m pretty sure this was a pretext for accidentally seeing me as I left.  He apologized and asked me to stay….which I did.  I choked back tears most of the day, but I did my best not to let him or any patients see it.

That was the only time in my life I was fired.  It is also the only time I was rehired in less than 10 minutes.  Roller-coaster ride!

Walking Out Alone

Clean gleaming floors stretch before me,

Corridors leading to elevators,

Which lead to more corridors.

I walk alone toward an exit.

I have walked out of this hospital

And left my mother as a patient,

My father, my mother-in-law,

And most recently my father-in-law.

Each in their turn,

I have left behind in a bed,

As a patient in this hospital,

And I have walked out alone.

But this time is different,

Painfully, achingly different.

My husband is in the bed.

The love of my life is the patient.

We did not anticipate this event,

He eats healthy, he exercises,

He is still a runner.

The last person you would expect.

I cannot wrap my head around it,

The slurred speech, the drooping mouth

The symptoms don’t compute,

It can’t be happening.

But this is the reality,

He has had a stroke,

I walk toward the exit alone.

More alone than ever before.

I feel his mortality,

I feel my mortality,

I am walking in a dream.

And I am by myself.

Weeks pass and he is better,

The stroke was minor,

The residual is minimal,

A haunting melancholy remains.

A flashback of walking out alone.

Productivity Lost

Before the age of television, computers and video games, people had to find a way to spend their free time without such entertainment.  Even in the age of radio only, a person’s hands were free to work at something.  Of course, one could read, but suppose a woman wanted to fill her evenings in some quiet activity other than that.  Women in the pre-electronic era busied their hands with knitting, crocheting, tatting, and quilting.  Eventually they actually had a tangible product…something to show for even their “down time.”

Today we have many modern conveniences to give us more free time.  Automatic washers, dryers, dishwashing machines, vacuum cleaners, microwave ovens and other marvels reduce the time spent in tedious drudgery.  But, we have less to show for our free time.  No product results from an evening of television watching or web-surfing or online gaming or X-boxing.  These activities so absorb our focus that we don’t even think of them as wasted hours with no tangible outcome.

I have been thinking about this recently, because we are cleaning out my in-laws home.  In a box under a bed upstairs, we found four hand-pieced quilt tops.  My mother-in-law did not do this type of work, so we are fairly certain that they came from her mother.  It is mind-boggling to look at all of the tiny handmade stitches that went into their construction.  Various family members have expressed interest in these works of an ancestor’s hands.

So, I am wondering, what will members of the present generation have to pass on to their descendants?