It is the Best of Times...It is the Worst of Times

The fact that we are currently “locked in” with our family or perhaps with just a spouse will be a real blessing for some.  Some of us will look back on this as one of “the best of times.”  My family has been previously “quarantined” by blizzards and ice storms and a microburst.  We have played “survivor” for real, with life being pared down to the essentials...keeping the house warm, cooking food over a fire, lighting our way with candles and flashlights.  My family members actually have fond memories of those crazy times.

In the isolation we are now experiencing, we at least still have all our normal services to make life comfortable.  There are even ways to have groceries or meals delivered if we can’t go out at all.  We have electricity and internet, so we can watch television and browse the web to feel connected.  We have telephone service.  I remember the sadness with which I watched ice tear down the telephone lines.  Now we have cell phones not dependent on wires to the house.

The notion of spending days on end with only my husband is not the least bit upsetting.  We have been best friends for over 53 years…married for over 51 years.  We are both currently sick, but that doesn’t change our relationship.  We cough up our guts in unison and use the same spittoon.  Not sexy?  After all these years, we are past such worries.  We manage each day by doing what we each can do and hoping the other has the strength and energy to pick up the slack.  This, of course, means that dishes are sitting in the sink longer than normal, and meals are bare bones, if not take-out.  Neither of us has an appetite anyway.  Lacking energy and ambition, we collapse against each other on the sofa and watch dumb stuff we have already seen.

But, we will get through this because our relationship is based on love and respect and a commitment to each other’s well-being.   When we disagree, neither of us feels we have to “win” an argument.  We discuss and debate, but we don’t yell.  Neither of us says mean or hateful things.  The idea of hitting one another is unthinkable.

I fear that there are those for whom this may be “the worst of times.”  In homes where there is a tendency toward lashing out angrily and abusive behaviors, the tension of being isolated as a family may push things over the edge into spousal or parental abuse.  Mothers who can’t wait for summer vacation to end so they can send the kids back to school are now confronted with the need to oversee some semblance of education.  Many will be ill-prepared for this.  Children who are not used to their parents establishing limits may not want to cooperate.  Being out of work and the resulting financial difficulties will contribute to rising tensions between spouses.  If there is a tendency toward domestic abuse, there will be plenty of opportunity for it being triggered.

I can see the potential for all of this, but I feel powerless to do anything about it.  I live in a retirement community, so I am not near families who may be struggling.  Also…I am presently sick and avoiding contact with anyone.  I have laryngitis and can’t even talk on the phone for very long without coughing.  So, here I am, sitting on the shelf.  From this vantage point, I pray that those who are in need will find help, and that churches will find ways to reach into their communities.  It may be that during the worst of times, hearts and minds are more open to learning that the best of times comes from a relationship with a loving heavenly Father.

Taking the Wrong Advice

 Solomon’s kingdom was recognized throughout the known world for its splendor, and Solomon himself was recognized for his wisdom.  The Queen of Sheba had said, “…not even half the greatness of your wisdom was told me; you have far exceeded the report I heard.  How happy your men must be!” (II Chronicles 9:6-7)

 But it seems not everyone was happy.  The wealth described must have resulted from a burden of taxation and enforced labor.  When Solomon died and his son Rehoboam ascended to the throne, he was approached by a group of his subjects under the leadership of Jeroboam.  They requested that the “heavy yoke” placed on them by Solomon be lightened by Rehoboam.

Rehoboam did not answer immediately.  He asked that they return in three days for his answer.  This would have been to his credit, if he had used those days to pray for wisdom and to seek the counsel of godly men.

He asked the advice of two groups.  The first group was comprised of the elders who had served under his father.  They advised, “If you will be kind to these people and please them and give them a favorable answer, they will always be your servants.” 

Rehoboam should have stopped there.  It sounds as though he had already made up his mind in the other direction and was just looking for someone to agree with him.  He then went to the young men with whom he had grown up.  They offered the opposite advice.  He should, they said, answer harshly and tell his subjects, “My father laid on you a heavy yoke, I will make it even heavier.”

Rehoboam went with the advice of his young friends.  As a result, the kingdom was split.  Rehoboam ended up ruling only over the tribes of Judah and Benjamin.  The remaining ten tribes gave their allegiance to Jeroboam.

The wisdom with which Rehoboam’s grandfather David and father Solomon had ruled had been derived from God Himself.  David had remained in a constant relationship with God recognizing his sovereignty.  Although Solomon had in later life strayed from some of God’s commandments, he had on initially becoming king requested that God gift him with wisdom, and God had promised that He would grant that request.  Rehoboam apparently had no such inclinations.  He thought his young friends…his peers…could advise him.

It is heartbreaking to see a young person follow the lead of his/her peers rather than the wisdom of his elders or more importantly, the directives of the God who loves him.  This is all too common.  A young person does not want to believe that his parents have much to offer.  He desperately wants to go his own way.  He may ask advice, but he will keep asking until he finds someone who agrees with what he wants to do anyway.

How different for the young person who keeps his eyes fixed on Jesus and doing what is right in God’s sight…no matter how difficult.  God loves each of us as individuals and has a plan for each life.  It is His intent to bring blessing. 

The wisdom of Rehoboam’s father Solomon from Proverbs 3: 1,5,6  “My son…trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.”

Advice not taken by Rehoboam.

He's Going to Lose His Job!

I just came back from a quick trip to Walmart.  I was looking for some buttons which I didn’t find, but I picked up a couple of other items.  I could see that there were two employees at one of the check-out aisles where there were no customers.  That usually means someone is being trained, but that was OK with me.  I wasn’t in a hurry.   Good thing!

My purchases came to $14.97, and I gave the young man a 20 dollar bill.  Of course, I was able to speedily determine that my change should be $5.03.  I didn’t need the machine to tell me that.  The young trainee handed me a wad of bills and a whole handful of change.  I said, “This isn’t right,” before I had even counted it.  By the time the trainer had ripped off the register tape and looked at it, I noticed that there was a $10 among the bills, so I said, “You’ve given me too much!”

I handed back the 10 dollar bill.  The trainer said to the trainee, you owed her 5-O-3.  The trainee then began to remove 3 dimes from the till.  It took considerable time to straighten this all out.  At some point, I ended up with 4 singles, 3 quarters, one nickel and 2 pennies and the drawer was shut. The trainer couldn’t get it open.  He had to go get a supervisor. 

While the trainer was gone, I said to the young trainee, “You need a math tutor.”  I tried to say this kindly and sympathetically.

He replied, “I took 8^th grade math, but I didn’t do well.  My father punished me for my bad grades, and my mother said it was the school’s fault.”

Eventually, I got the right amount of change, but I felt so sad.  This poor young fellow probably really needs a job.  He is probably OK as long as someone uses a credit or debit card, but he is totally lost if someone uses cash.  This is basic math, but he didn’t even really need it.  The register itself said my change should be $5.03.

As someone who has tutored math, I am wondering, should I be trying to help someone like this? How would I go about it?  It makes me so sad to see someone without such a basic skill.

The Alligator's Teeth

It’s not quite teleportation, but isn’t it amazing how small the world has become?  I can travel across the country in one day.  I woke up this morning in California.  My son drove me to the San Jose airport, and by early evening east coast time, I will be in Florida.  Travel internationally is, of course, even more amazing.  One can enter the wormhole in one country and step out into a different culture and language.  It may take a long and tiring day to do so, but it can be done.

As with other technological advances now available to us, both good and bad can come of this.  I can easily cross the country to see my grandchildren.  I don’t have to travel by covered wagon across the wasteland of deserts and impassable mountains I looked down upon today.  That’s a good thing.  The bad thing is that disease can spread as quickly.  Anyone on this plane could have been exposed to the novel virus now so feared…or even ebola.  Who knows?

When I miss my long-distance family, I can video chat…what a great invention!  But that kind of technology also makes vulnerable people easily available to scammers, radicalizers, sex trafficers and others with evil intent.

Genetic tinkering can be used to prevent or cure diseases once fatal, but it has the potential to also be used to make “designer” babies.  Do we really want to live in a world where only the “perfect” have value?

Lives can be prolonged by complicated surgeries…transplants, stents, radical excisions and reconstructions, but quality of life may be sacrificed in the process.  Do I want to live 2 more years in agony at great monetary and emotional expense to my family or would six less stressful months suffice?

The problem in each of these cases is that scientific research and the resulting knowledge has allowed us to come to a point where our knowledge far exceeds our wisdom.

This week I read a book to my grandchildren in which the author tried to explain the difference between wisdom and knowledge.  The idea was that you could know every possible fact about an alligator, but what if you stuck you hand in his cage and got it chomped off?  You might be smart, but you wouldn’t be wise.  We live in a world with many “alligators” about which we know many facts, but we aren’t wise enough to avoid being bitten.

I am a lover of science.  My undergraduate degree is in chemistry, and I tremendously enjoy learning new things.  I am not suggesting we should stop learning and exploring and trying to use our knowledge to improve lives.  But….what do we do about the inherent risks of evil associated with our advancements?

An alligator may have as many as 3000 teeth during its lifetime, but how do we avoid being punctured?

What if Covid19 Comes Here????

What makes us think we are entitled to live in a world without hardships...that we should always be prosperous, have all our needs and wants met, be free from disease, never suffer loss?  In the United States we have become so accustomed to a comfortable lifestyle that we forget most of the world is still suffering and that we are only a generation or two past such times here.

We watch a “reality” show called survivor which isn’t remotely akin to reality and has little to do with actual survival.  It is a foolish game that we watch, because most of us haven’t dealt with the genuine situation.  Hardship for us is going without one meal, or feeling cold because we forgot our sweater, or having our sleep disturbed by the neighbor’s dog barking or the occasional bout of the gastrointestinal bug.

We have forgotten that there was a time when hurricanes and snow storms could not be predicted, when immunizations weren’t available to prevent diseases and antibiotics weren’t available to treat them, when diabetes and cancer were an automatic death sentence, when building and maintaining a fire were essential for warmth and food preparation.

Sickness and death seem foreign and like an unimaginable tragedy rather than a routine part of life.  My grandparents were born in the late 1800s.  Their lives were so much more difficult than mine.  My paternal grandmother lost her mother to cancer when she was still a young girl.  She lived on a farm where she worked as hard as a boy.  Her father was physically abusive.  My maternal grandmother’s father was murdered when she was young.  She had to drop out of school after the 8^th grade and go to work as a seamstress.  Two of her siblings died young of kidney disease.  She and my grandfather lost a baby to measles.  My grandparents lived through the depression.  All of their sons served overseas in World War II.  What have I suffered by comparison?  Very, very little!

And so we are now in a panic over the corona virus.  Some of us will get sick and some of us may die.  We feel as though this is some sort of personal insult which our government should be able to prevent.  Conspiracy theories, finger-pointing and apocalyptic pronouncements abound. 

I believe in a God who is sovereign over human history.  I do not know what He is planning or will allow, but I trust Him to do what is right and what will bring about His purposes for the world in general and for me personally.

Tomorrow I will get on a plane on the west coast and fly to the east coast.  I will probably use some hand sanitizer along the way, but I do not feel anxiety about the possibility of exposure to corona virus or the flu or about the chance of the plane crashing.

I do not expect my life to be free of difficulties, and I do not expect my government to be responsible for all my personal needs and wants.  I know I live in a broken world.  Only my Savior can rescue me and make the crooked straight.

Vision or Coincidence?

A few days ago, I finished reading a novel in which the main character had visions.  There was discussion in the book about whether or not it is possible for a person to see what is going on in someone else’s life when they are not in physical proximity.  One of the characters in the book, who was counselling the person who had the visions, believed this was possible if there was a close emotional bond between the person in the vision and the person having the vision.  I was reminded of something my Mother told me years ago.

During World War II, all the men in my family in the generation before me were in the military.  My Dad was in France.  His brother was a medic on a hospital ship in the Pacific.  One of my Mother’s brothers was in north Africa, and the other two were in Europe.

It was a difficult time for both sides of my family.  My grandfathers were the only men around in either household.  There was a lot of stress, and my Mother was pregnant with me.  One night during this time, my Mother awakened in a cold sweat.  She had heard her brother Frank call out, “Laurena, I’ve been shot!”

Communications at this time were not instantaneous as they are now.  Time passed…I don’t know if it was days or weeks…before the family received word that Frank had indeed been shot by a German sniper.  His elbow was shattered and required a metal plate, but his life was spared. 

Apparently, he got most of the use of his arm back, as my Mother told me that when he came home, he used to lift me to the ceiling and purposely hit my head on it.  This apparently caused me to call him Bink instead of Uncle Frank.   In any event, I was delighted and would squeal, “Do it again Bink.”  Perhaps I was unknowingly participating in his physical therapy.

I have wondered about this incident.  My Mother didn’t dwell on it and never mentioned any similar experiences.  I suppose one could say it was a coincidence.  Obviously with all the young men in harm’s way, the family was experiencing anxiety.  But it was Frank she heard call to her, and it was Frank who caught the bullet.  My Mother had a great deal of affection for all three of her brothers, and they all seemed to adore her…so who knows?  Perhaps an emotional bond can span the Atlantic Ocean.

What a Night in the ER Reveals

Yesterday afternoon, I began to have pain in my lower right chest.  I laid down, but I could find no comfortable position.  By suppertime, I had no appetite, and I was having difficulty breathing.  Every normal breath created sharp pain along the lower edge of my rib cage.  Around 6 pm, I decided I had to do something about it.  Bill and I discussed options.  We found the nearest ER on Google maps, and off we went.

The ER was an absolute zoo.  About 40 people were crowded in the waiting area.  If some had not been in wheelchairs there would not have been adequate seating.  We could hear people around us saying they had been there waiting for 7 hours.

I was taken into triage quite quickly.  Even though the chest pain was on the right, I guess chest pain is chest pain, so I had a speedy EKG. 

Then the wait began.

We were seated next to a couple who were about our age or a bit older.   They were not happy with each other.  They were quiet about it, but we were close enough to be aware of the friction.  I think she probably had some beginning dementia, and he was not able to deal with it patiently.  He felt there was no reason to be there.  She asked if he thought she was making up her reason to come to the ER.  He said “yes.”  She was obviously hurt.  They had been waiting for over 7 hours, and she wanted to just leave and go home.  He was gritting his teeth and refusing to leave after having waited so long.  They clearly did not have a supportive and loving relationship.

A few hours later, an argument erupted between a young couple.  She was crying and he was berating her in Spanish.  I don’t speak Spanish, but the tone of voice could not be mistaken.  She got up and went outside.  He followed her.  She came back in and sat down in a spot where he could not sit next to her.  He sat nearby and continued to speak loudly and angrily as she sobbed and made repeated attempts to get away from him by moving around the room.  Finally, a man sitting in the waiting room intervened.  At this point, we were sitting with our backs to the situation, so I don’t know if he was physically imposing, but he took the guy on verbally.  He told him he wasn’t going to tolerate his treatment of the young lady, and he’d better leave.  The young idiot then called 911 and tried to say he was the victim.  Hospital security arrived and separated the young man and his crying girlfriend.  The problem was taken outside, so I don’t know what happened from there, but that was not a loving relationship.

Meanwhile, my sweet husband was hovering over me trying to do whatever he could to be helpful.  Did I need a drink of water?  Was I warm enough?  He hung on to me as I walked from one place to another.  When I finally was taken to a room and was on the stretcher, he was afraid my feet were cold.  He sat at the foot of the stretcher and put my feet against his body under his sweater.  He never complained about the long wait.  I told him I was sorry, because I knew it would mess up his being able to play softball in the morning.  He shrugged it off.  I was able to doze off after I had been given some pain medication by IV.  He catnapped in the chair near me.

After a total of 10 hours, an EKG, lots of blood work, a chest x-ray, a CAT scan of my chest, a bag of IV fluid, visits by a medical student and a physician, we headed home with a diagnosis of pleurisy, and the revelation that I have scarring at the base of both of my lungs, but it is worse on the right.  As to why the pleurisy was triggered yesterday, no suggestions.  Although a blood test marker for a blood clot and possible pulmonary embolism was elevated, that was ruled out with the CAT scan.  They did find a very small nodule in my left lung which we should keep an eye on.

But, the main take-away from the long night was something I already knew.  My husband is a prince, and we have a loving relationship for which I am very grateful.