ARE YOU WILLING

 Today I went walking along the creek near where I live. I love walking there because our city has built a wonderful running/walking path along the creek, and if you follow the sidewalks you can count on walking or running two miles.  They also built a fantastic community center with a running/walking track that I use for bad weather days.  Kudos to our city for these fine facilities. I personally prefer to walk the creek whenever I can because it is never boring.  I try to vary my walks at different times of day so I can meet new people, and see new things.  This morning the robins were out in force.  I didn't see one sparrow, but there had to be over a hundred robins busily looking for whatever bugs were in the grass.  Every time I see scenes like this, I am reminded of God's tender care.  As I've often said, if He cares this much for a sparrow or robin, then how much more does he care about us.  It can be a hard thing to wrap our head around if we let it. Inversely, we can often look at our troubles and wonder what did we do wrong to deserve them? We might find ourselves scanning the heavens for the clouds to split open and pour out His favor upon us.  

Yesterday, Pastor Tony preached about having four kinds of faith.  He's bounced up against this thought before, and it is a challenging message. It is even more challenging when it seems as if the last four years have been a series of non-stop terminal illnesses, deaths, and even three deaths due to COVID.  We've been a fellowship that has seen healing after healing.  We've experienced miracles that defy explanation, and we've seen the hand of God provide when there was no obvious way for the provision to come.  We own a 27,000 sf building paid for in less than 24 years, while at the same time giving hundreds of thousands of dollars to missions, and charities. What's even more amazing is that our population has never exceeded a hundred people.  FAITH, we have it in spades, and that is not said in pride.  It is a fact.  Not one person in our fellowship is afraid to drop what they are doing and offer a prayer of faith when we learn of something needing our attention, AND God's attention. (I know He knows all things, but we are still encouraged to pray.) There are men and women in our fellowship who devote an hour (or more) every morning in prayer.  

Pastor Tony talked about faith that says: God Can do it.   He also talked about a faith that says: God is Able to do it, and he talked about a faith that just simply says; God does it.  There is another faith that sparked me to write this blog; it is a faith that says God will do it.  He had us turn to Matthew 8:1-4 and the story of the man Jesus healed of leprosy.  I'm not going to quote the passage in this blog because I believe that looking it up for yourself and reading with me will help you to remember it.  The story begins with Jesus coming down from a mountain to be greeted with large crowds of people.  He wasn't in a crowded busy town.  Along the road a leper suddenly leapt into his path and knelt down to worship him.  NOW, here comes the question I believe everyone of us has asked more than once.  "Lord if you are willing, You can make me clean."  Please, note carefully that the man made his declaration of faith and said: "You can make me clean!"  The leper was declaring the first kind of faith which is 'Jesus Can!' Personally, I think the leper had already heard about the many wondrous healings of Jesus.  The faith for healing was already there.  Many of us are right there with the leper.  We've seen the healing power of Jesus, as well as the deliverances, and the miracles without natural explanation.  I've seen all of these things in my sixty years of living for Christ, and yet there is one thing that I've found myself and others asking time after time; "Lord, if you are willing, you can..."  with the unspoken "will you?"  sitting on the edge of our declaration of faith.  

NOW would be a good time to point out the obvious.  The leper was an outcast of society.  They had to announce to everyone that they were 'unclean.'  They couldn't go to religious meetings, and they weren't allowed to participate in the daily social life of their families and friends. The question the Leper was asking was far more powerful than his declaration of faith.  Will you touch me?  Will you risk everything?  I truly believe the real question in this story is; How much do you love me?  Are you really who you say you are?  Are you willing to get your hands dirty for me?  Are you willing to touch me?   I believe he asked this question because he'd heard that Jesus often touched the people He prayed for.  He would sometimes embrace those He healed. The leper was declaring his uncleaness, while at the same time asking to be free of it.  

We're the same way, but we just don't have the social stigma that the leper had.  Worse yet, (and I've been guilty of this in the past,) we'll ask someone standing in the 'healing line'  "do you know Jesus?"  Or we'll ask "are you saved?"  I wish I could yank back every time I've uttered those words, or had those thoughts.  Jesus never asked them.  We even ask them of ourselves as we seek healing, or deliverances.  "God is there anything more I need to do?"  "Have I done anything that would make me unworthy of your healing power?"  The unspoken; "Lord are you willing?" is said often. When Jesus walked this earth, He was healing incarnate. This was born out of the Father's compassion, His tenderness, loving kindness, and love. Yet, we'll cheapen it with our own fears of not being worthy.  

Jesus gave the leper the answer he wanted when He said "I am willing."  BUT that wasn't the healing moment. The leper knew that Jesus had to touch him just as much as the woman with the issue of blood knew she had to touch the hem of Jesus' garment. Whether we realize it or not, or whether we're willing to admit it or not, everyone of us has a qualifier that we know will satisfy our faith. Sometimes Jesus responds to our qualifier, and then other times He shocks us by grinding spit mud into our eyes, or giving us a wet Willie.  Sometimes he says go jump in a muddy stream, or tells us tear a hole in the roof so we can let down our brother.  The leper knew Jesus could heal him, he just wasn't sure Jesus would. 

A quick personal example of what I'm talking about is something that happened to my mother.  She was in her early seventies and had just moved to Harrison when she was diagnosed with colon cancer.  After about two weeks of being silent about it, she asked me to come over and talk with her.  "Dave, I've always heard God before. You know that.  I believe God can and does heal, but I can't hear Him. I don't know whether I'm going to die of this or not. He isn't talking to me. I know you talk to God and you hear his voice, will you ask Him what I'm supposed to do?"  

Of course I will.  And, I did.  Every day for two weeks I asked God about Mom. She never once asked me to pray for her healing, but that was something she didn't know if I had the gift for.  So, I prayed.  It took two weeks, but it came one night while I was in the shower.  "Tell her, the cancer won't kill you, but you will have to go through it, but I will be on the other side."  It wasn't the kind of thing you want to tell your frail mother, but it was all God gave me.  It was her way of asking 'are you willing?'  Jesus was willing.  She went through a year of Chemo, and radiation therapy.  At the end of that year they removed a monstrous tumor.  She lived to be 85 years old and didn't die of cancer.  We have to know when we are asking Jesus if he is willing.  I have a good brother in the Lord who has been through hell and back with circumstances beyond his control.  He once told me that 'He'd done all he could do, and didn't know what more he could do.'  God's willingness isn't based on what we do, but on what we believe.  Even then, in the midst of the fire, you're left standing in the fire, with Jesus standing beside you. So, resolve within yourself now, before you step into the fire, that Jesus will be there, and that He is willing to be there.  

 

IT IS WELL

 The month of March will always be an emotional time for me, and today was an emotional rollercoaster.   It was 2 years ago that my wife, Glenda, had surgery to remove a walnut sized tumor from her brain.  At the same time that Glenda was recuperating in the hospital, they had to put my Dad into a rehab center to recover from a fall that had left him on the floor of his bedroom overnight. Little did I know that within twelve days, he would be gone.  It was the beginning of an eight month long journey from hope to hopelessness, joy to sorrow, and everything in between.  Over the course of the next eight months, I would lose four good friends, and loved ones.  2023 will always be my "Annus horribilis" (horrible year).  

This morning as I was getting ready for church, my google photos feed pumped about eight pictures from Glenda's hospital stay, and Dad's hospital stay. To say the least, after that, I really didn't want to go to church, because I wanted to stay home and not have to paste on a fake smile. I wanted to have my own little pity party.  I didn't want anyone to have to pat me on my back and comfort me, but I went anyway, and put on my best glad rags. At the same time, the emotions were right there at the edge of my heart, and I couldn't hide them.  So, I went, and wouldn't you know it while I was on my way to church, my Spotify feed played "It is well" by Bethel Music.  Believe me, the last thing I wanted was to hear was "It is well."  I pulled into the parking lot, slammed my car into park, and began to sob. It's funny how grief can sneak up on you and slap you without warning.  After about five minutes of debating whether to drive back home or go in, I opted for going in.  Please don't attribute anything noble to that decision.  It was a coin toss at best.  It wasn't a brave decision, nor did I behave well.  Just because it is well, doesn't mean it is great. In Horatio Spafford's hymn "When Peace, Like a River"  he wrote; "When Peace like a river attends my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, you have taught me to know, it is well, it is well with my soul." Sorrow, and pain often break over us like giant waves as we journey on this ocean of life, and sometimes there is no way to avoid it. Sometimes our faith plunges through wave after wave driven by the storms of life. Sometimes all we can do is lash ourselves to the ship of faith and believe that in the end it is well.  We are allowed to grieve, and actually we are told to mourn with those who mourn.  Of late, our fellowship has battled an unending battle with health issues. Never mind that most of us are getting on in years and these things are to be expected.  These earthly tents get worn out and we have to discard them in order to get our new ones. It's heartbreaking to watch as the ravages of time make our bodies threadbare, and even get folded in the storms that rage around us.  Our voyage is fraught with peril no matter what we do.  While I always expected to be taken up in the rapture, living this long has also forced me to endure the loss of loved ones, and the slow decline of my own body.  

I never thought I would live longer than Glenda, and I truly miss the woman who shared my life for forty seven years, but am assured that my grief will be erased one day because I have been given a blessed assurance that I will see her again. Till the day God takes me home, I will always be moved by certain songs that spoke to my heart during her illness, and special places we went together in her last year. My heart will always be broken in the month of March as I confront the worst times in my life with the tender memories of our life together.  It's complicated, and I know it doesn't sound like I'm a very good Christian.  I should be rejoicing more about how we'll be spending eternity together, but this is now, and for some reason almost two years later it still hurts.  

As a final note, as I was looking up who wrote "When Peace, Like a River,"  I saw a meme that made me laugh and feel better.  I can't share the meme because the language is something I wouldn't say, but I did like this part of it; If fate whispers to you, "You can't withstand the storm"  Whisper back "I am the storm."   

I won't go quietly, and....I am the storm! 

 

SEVEN TO SEVENTY

 One of the things I've taken up since my wife Glenda passed away is walking.  Well, not that I've floated around without walking for seventy years, but walking for exercise.  Being only five feet tall, walking for exercise isn't something I thought I'd be doing at this stage of my life.  I used to joke that for every step a normal sized person takes, I had to take two, but that isn't true.  I've since learned that my stride is about a fourth shorter than men of normal height.  In other words, a person of average height will take about 2,000 steps to walk a mile.  I deliberately walked a mile today and it took me 2,443 steps.  Over the course (pun intended) of a lifetime, a man of average height will have taken approximately 70 million steps.  A person with a moderate level of activity will take about 7,500 steps a day.  Ten thousand steps equates to about five miles a day.  When I log in 7,500 steps I do good to clock about 3.5 miles.  I hurt just thinking about it.

As I've said before in many of my past blogs, I grew up in El Paso, Texas.  My Dad was transferred there in 1960 when I was five, and we lived about a mile from what would become my elementary school.  I didn't start school until I was seven years old, and many of my neighborhood friends had already been in school for a year before I was.  My first day of school, my Mom walked with me to the school (they didn't have busing back then.) I didn't know what a mile was back then, but I could tell you that it took me about thirty minutes to walk to the school and about twenty five minutes to get home so I could get there in time to watch Superman on TV.  Because most of my buddies were already a grade ahead of me, and taller than me, I had to walk at a brisker pace.  Before I knew it I could walk home in less than 20 minutes.  As boys will often do, I would walk backwards so that I could talk to them, and found out that I could walk just as fast backwards as they could walk forward.  Running?  NO WAY! 

All my life from the time I was seven, I've walked a much quicker pace than people who are eight to ten inches taller than me.  I also soon discovered that people who were taller than average deliberately slowed their pace down in order to allow for people like me.  They soon discovered that they didn't need to slow down for me because I could outpace them.  When I was in the third grade a stranger tried to abduct me on my way home from school and within a week my Dad had bought me a brand new bicycle.  It was entirely too tall for me, and I had to put wood blocks on the pedals just to ride it.  Now that I had a bicycle, I could be home in time to see the afternoon cartoon shows before Superman came on. From that point on, two wheels was my favorite means of getting anywhere.  I eventually went from a bicycle to a motorcycle.  Walking???  Forget that.  

Why am I going on and on about walking?  Because now that I'm 70 years old, I find myself wearing a fitness watch that keeps track of my steps, my sleep, my heartrate, and things like my cardio load, and even my pace.  I wish it would give me my oxygen level, but I didn't buy an expensive watch.  Now that I'm retired and a widower, I find it reassuring that I can even walk at all, let alone put in over three miles a day. Walking actually gives me satisfaction, which I thought I would never say.  I haven't rode a motorcycle in over ten years, and probably never will again.  Walking is fine with me now. 

Today, I was walking along Crooked Creek here in Harrison, and was thrilled to see sparrows once more bouncing along the walkway.  I suddenly started laughing at how funny they looked as they hopped along in the grass. If something spooked them, they would take to the sky in a flutter of wings and disappear into the trees lining the creek.  I wondered how many wing flaps they took to fly a mile?  I also wondered how many times they flap their wings in a day?  What made me laugh was the thought of a bird wearing a fitness watch.  I could see them sitting on a telephone wire talking with one another about how many wing flaps they accomplished that day.  It is the mundane things we do as human beings that we take for granted, yet are often times wondrous beyond description.  I wear a device on my wrist that monitors my body, sends that information without wires to another device in my pocket, and that device then sends that information to a company that wants to sell me walking shoes, and active wear. I don't doubt for a minute that somewhere there is a government listening post that collects my data, and determines that I am a seventy year old man who can't even walk a mile in under 19 minutes. Which brings me back to when I was seven years old and could barely walk a mile in under 20 minutes.  What is even more amazing to me, is that of all God's creatures, we are the only species who've figured this out, and even care.  

Scientists put tags on all kinds of animals, birds, and fishes to learn more about them.  Those same animals don't care one bit about why, and how we do what we do.  When my wife was still alive, we would take her dogs for a walk and never once did they turn around and ask me how many steps did I take that day. On the other hand, my wife would ask me with a smug smile, and then be proud that she'd walked a good thousand more steps than I had. No other creature thinks about these things, and these are the things that let me know there is a God.   As the Bible says, we are wondrously made.   

REFLECTIONS UPON A LIFE

(I found this blog as I was cleaning out my other blogs seeing if I needed to delete some.  I'd forgotten I'd written it, and it languished in my draft folder for over two years. I have come out of my grief enough that I can begin to write again, so, it's time to put this one out.  I didn't change the tenses or the tone.  I took this picture in late November of 2022 as my Dad looked down at the headstone above my mother's grave. Little did he or I know that within the short space of fifteen months we would be placing him alongside her. ) 

Dad is a complicated man, full of contradictions, yet resolute in many of his ways. Everything he told us boys not to do, he'd done.  He told us never to steal, lie, or cheat, but then would regale his peers with stories of how he'd done those very things as a young man.  He would gleefully tell about how he used to run moonshine and got busted one night.  He would often tell how he took my mom out on his motorcycle, and got in a bad wreck after promising my mom's mother that he wouldn't take her out on it. It was always told in a way to make her out as the wicked girl who disobeyed her parents. I think in a way he needed to bring her down a notch so that he didn't have to feel like she was better than he was. Like I said, he was a complicated man.  

As I watched him looking on that cold marble stone, I wondered what he was thinking.  Dad very rarely talked about love, or touchy-feely things. You got the sense that he loved you, but he could never say it.  I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he said it to me in 67 years.  More than that, I can't remember him telling Mom that he loved her.  On the other hand, Mom breathed the words with every breath, and lived them out through years of loneliness, and unspoken love.  

Actually, I felt sorry for him as he stood there in the cold November morning with the leaves of their 67 years together laying all around him. Time has a way of stripping the vibrant greens of our youth to leave us with empty branches and fallen leaves. Mom was the bright spring of his life, and without her he was just a bare and lifeless tree.  

I don't want to make this a condemnation of his life.  By and large, he was a good man, who tried to raise us boys to not be like the worst side of him. He would, and often did give those he loved anything he could give to help them.  I was often the recipient of cars, motors, motorcycles, and cash during my early years in the Air Force.  He had a huge tender spot for all of his daughter-in-laws, and all of his grandchildren. BUT, His help didn't come without harsh words for stupid actions.  If you were being rescued because of something dumb you did, you would suffer his ridicule forever.  Everybody would know how stupid you were.  Even if he didn't approve of you, he would help you...(end of original blog)

I don't remember where I was going with the thoughts I was trying to write down. As I look at the picture of him alone, and grieving I know I felt sorry for him.  The last five years of my mother's life were hell, and Dad was helpless as a caregiver. Severe dementia took away the vibrant woman who shaped my life in ways that still affect me long after her death.  Dad couldn't, and didn't handle her dementia well at all. Our weekly breakfasts at the local diner became gripe sessions for him to unload his frustrations.  It was a mistake for me to assume that once Mom was gone that he would be happy and free.  You can't just erase 67 years together.  

Now, I know what he was feeling after losing my own wife of 47 years together.  In talking to a very good friend who lost a spouse after over 50 years of being together, I realize that despite their flaws, and even despite your own flaws, the melding of two lives is a powerful, spiritual act, that transcends the physical, and sexual bonds of being married.  You become we, and us, with titles like DL and Beverly, Dave and Glenda...and on, and on, and on.  

As I stood there taking this picture, I snapped two more as he walked around her grave, being careful not to step on the bare soil above her casket.  With a somber, subdued smile he said; "She was a gooder ol' girl, wasn't she boy?"  

"Yes, she was."  I said softly as I grabbed him by his arm and walked with him to the truck... 

That's where the original blog draft ended, I think where I wanted to go with this blog is to show how short life can be, and how we love, and even who we love matters.  When we're young, love is measured in how they make us feel, what they can give us, and whether they make us look good. I cant' imagine the loss Dad  felt when Mom passed away, because he really never expressed whether she was important to him or not.  He always couched his attachment to her in terms of the years they'd been together, or the things they did together.  To say the least, I wasn't always happy about the things my dad did to my mom, or most of the things he said to her. Not too long ago I figured out he was just a great big kid still stuck in his teens. It didn't matter how old he was, the memories that brought a smile to his face were from his teenage years. 

I never got to mourn him when he died because Glenda had just had brain surgery, and I was facing the bitter reality of losing my own wife, and Like Dad, I am left to grieve the loss of the person who shaped me more than I'll ever know.  That's often the course of our lives, especially for those of us who have the misfortune to outlive our wives. It's like a book that's half written, you know what the ending should be, but you'll never really know for sure. 

So, there you have it, our lives don't really play out much different no matter how we wish they would.  Actually, I kinda wish someone could have taken a picture of Dad and I standing together.  That would have really been a reflection upon a life.  

AN UNINTENTIONAL PRAYER

 There are times you say a prayer, and you don't even know you said it.  I've been quietly writing on this blog for a while without posting my articles to friends, simply because I've been working my way through the trauma of seven years of being a caregiver in one way or another.  It began slowly with my mother first.  I don't know the mechanism of her mental decline, but all I do know is that sometime around 2015, I began to notice that she wasn't remembering things correctly. The worst result of this was the eventual loss of friends, due to misunderstandings largely due to her failing memory. A severe bout of shingles on her face, colon cancer, and eventually breast cancer forced her to retreat to home.  By 2017 Mom had begun to seriously decline, both physically, and mentally.  The once ultra-smart woman who'd learned C and C+ without a college education was only a shadow of what we'd all known.  Her life story which she easily shared to people in need of hope began to change to something unrecognizable. The once patient, and long-suffering woman I'd idolized would launch out into tirades of profanity that I never even thought she knew.  Through this time I would  go to their house, making sure she took her meds, and visit with her, and dad before going to work.  

It was during this time of her decline that Dad suffered numerous panic attacks, fueled by A-fib.  These attacks led to numerous visits to the ER, week long stays in hospitals far from home, and endless apologies to nurses for his behavior if the visit went more than two days.  When my Mom finally passed this vale, it was almost merciful.  Like I said in my last blog, it took Dad nearly a year and a half to follow her.  

Then came Glenda.  I've written enough times and I won't go over it again, but from the day it was discovered to the day she went home with the Lord, it was barely seven months.  At the end of the ordeal, I was exhausted, and spiritually drained. Because my immediate family all live in other cities, and states, it fell upon my church family to hold me together. They did!! My children, my siblings, and even a couple of my grandchildren made me feel wanted and loved.  Still, 2023 will forever be the year of my sorrow.  I lost 3 family members, and 3 good friends, all in the span of a year. In many ways, I was alone, and felt abandoned by God.  I knew in my head I wasn't, but my heart sure felt empty, and alone.  At 69 years old, how could a short, fat, worn out old man ever hope to have the love I'd enjoyed with Glenda? 

The Unintentional Prayer;  In my last blog I mentioned that I'd been asked whether I was dating or not.  At that time I didn't think I could.  I listed a few things I would like if a woman offered.  I also said that I would never ask, but it would have to be God who brought someone into my life.  I don't know if God took it as a challenge, but without my knowing it, he answered my unintentional prayer.  I fully placed it into God's hands as to whether I would ever know a woman's company again.  Sometimes, I believe God has a vast sense of humor.  Sometimes, when he answers our unspoken prayers, he will gently remind us of when we asked him for something.  There it was in my last blog! 

About a week ago I was asked to take a young lady from our church to work because her car had suffered two flat tires.  As I drove her to her job, we talked about how she was feeling, and other mundane things.  Then as soon as I dropped her off, I broke into sobs and had to pull over in the parking lot.  It felt like an eternity since I'd heard a woman's voice in my car.  It wasn't HER voice in particular, but a woman's voice.  That morning, our men's group worked to get her car fixed, and get her on the road. Still I battled with what the feeling of hearing a woman's voice in my car did to me. and from the depths of my heart came the prayer that God answered.  I told the men that I would gladly take her back and forth to work just to have a woman's voice in my car again.  Later that day, when I got home, I sank into my recliner and vented my heart to God.  I told him that if I was going to be alone for the rest of my life, I'd rather he take me home now.  That wasn't His plan.  

Later that afternoon, we had a church function and I was relating to our music pastor what happened to me.  Then from a corner of the kitchen I heard a woman(not the one I took to work) say; I'll go in your car with you anytime you want. It was as if time stood still.  A million questions raced through my brain: Is this from God?  Is this right?  Is this fair to her?  What do I say?  What do I do?  Without warning I felt like a sixteen year old boy again, with all those self-doubts, fears, and gawkiness that goes with having a girl give you permission to date her. 

Because I am transparent above all things, I want to share with friends and family where I am now in our relationship.  I don't believe in dating, I believe in courtship.  Until she gives me permission to say her name, suffice it to say "LR" and I are pursuing a prolonged courtship.  Her husband died during the COVID pandemic, and he was a good brother in the Lord. It brings about some awkward feelings for me, but at the same time, she knew Glenda just as long as I knew her husband.  I'm saying all of this because I didn't realize that I'd made an unintentional prayer until I'd re-read my last blog. I've always believed in the Edwardian rules of etiquette, so her honor is critical to me.  As a matter of fact, I feel sorry for her in many ways because she is going to have to explain how this fat, ugly, little sparrow is sitting on the telephone wire next to her.  So far, she hasn't flown away even though I've pressed her pretty hard.  

So, there it is. Within one day I went from being alone, broken, and hopeless, to being alive, and excited about tomorrow.  I went from feeling that I would never find someone again, to someone finding me.  Most of all, I realize that sometimes we pray unintentional prayers from the bottom of our hearts to the throne room of God that he loves answering more than our most eloquent prayers.  Maybe this old fat sparrow can know happiness again.  Maybe, just maybe I can bring her happiness again.  All I know is that this happened outside of any manipulations I could have done.  

So, on this Thanksgiving day in 2024, I want to give thanks to God for knowing what I needed even when I hadn't asked for it.  I sure hope she feels the same way.  

NEW JOURNEYS and AN OLD SPARROW..The questions you get asked at weddings

DISCLAIMER: This post is longer than I usually post. Not real long, but longer. I don't usually write them this long, but it's long. That's my disclaimer. But, in my defense, with Glenda gone, I don't get to talk with very many people, so this is...well, it's long.

Saturday, October 12th 2024, my oldest grandchild, Elijah Landers married the fetching Carolyn Dysart and made her part of our family. It was a beautiful day spent with my children, Amanda, Amy, and Anthony. I also got to see my two brothers and their fetching brides, my awesome neice Courtney, as well as a host of people I didn't recognize. It was obvious they were the friends and acquaintences of the two young love birds, and whose faces I wouldn't recognize tomorrow. The past two days were a blur of preparations, cooking, hoping, and praying that we'd all done what was necessary to send the young couple into wedded bliss with a memorable wedding. I was thrilled to spend yesterday morning with my brothers DL, his bride Jenell, and Jeff, and his bride Liz.  We guys did what guys always do at weddings, we did what we were commanded to do by the womenfolk who had a plan, and the materials to execute said plan. We were going to transform a lowly picnic pavillion at Table Rock State Park into a wedding chapel.

All throughout the morning we were asking my daughter Amanda where things went, how she wanted it, and where everything was. She was an awesome force of nature executing the desires of the two young people stepping into a life of love. I was also so thrilled to meet up again with Peter's brother-in-law, Ron. Ron, his wife Rachel, Pete, and Amanda worked tirelessly with Glenda and I during our 2023 bucket list trip to Mackinac Island. I can't speak highly enough of Ron, and Rachel and the easy grace they showed us. They made the trip to Mackinac Island an unforgettable experience. Here's to you, Ron! 

It was also fantastic to work hand in hand with my brother DL, and my youngest brother Jeff as we joined together to transform the pavilion into a wedding chapel! I can't tell you guys how much fun it was to be with you and to share that moment with your lovely brides. I also want to put a big shout out to my Son-in-law Peter Landers. He preached an awesome ceremony even though you could tell he was a little nervous performing the rites for his own son. He fulfilled the role of 'gopher', making numerous trips to town for emergency last minute detail stuff. Huge thumbs up to you Peter! Good job. 

As with all homespun weddings, things get hectic, and things get crazy. Thankfully any craziness was only for a few brief moments. Amazingly, there were also wonderful lulls between the crazy, and hectic to converse and catch up with one another. As the day moved on, there was a question asked of me by almost every family member, as well as a few loving friends; "So, Dave, what are you doing?" 

 It's a fair question, and the answer was simple: "Nothing." 

 Now, in my family, being as there were just the three of us boys the thought of doing nothing is like saying you are an ax murderer. My Dad instilled in all three of us a well defined work ethic that had one primary rule; if you are not doing something all the time, you are useless. That thought was reinforced by my Dad's constant reminder to never bring shame to the Bragg name. He would often say; "If a man pays you a dollar you give him more than a dollars worth of work." Growing up, we boys were expected to be doing something all the time. In all fairness, our father led by example. He would work at his job six days a week, and then have a home project for Sunday after Church. I began working for my Dad and getting paid for it from the age of ten. When I turned 13, he bought me a motorcycle and I was expected to go to the corrals every morning and evening to feed the horses. When I turned 14, I was expected to ride my motorcycle to work after school, and on Saturdays. From the time I was 14, I worked alongside my father till I was 21. Resting was not an option. So, I say again,doing nothing is a difficult concept in my family. You have to be doing something. HOWEVER, when Glenda got sick I stopped working, and I dedicated every minute to being with her. After she died, I couldn't make myself do anything. Now I like it. It feels good to NOT have to do anything. 

 Lord knows, I've paid my dues! 

 When I moved to Harrison, Arkansas in 1995 after leaving the Air Force, it wasn't for a job, or opportunity, it was to be available for my Mom and Dad as they entered into the later years of their life. This wasn't noble or done with some pure purpose. Mom and Dad had helped Glenda, and I throughout our life in major ways, and I felt like I owed them that much. When we moved to Harrison, I didn't know anyone!  Glenda left the job of a lifetime to move here. I was a highly trained aircraft repairman, but there were no jobs for me in my skill set. There was nothing for Glenda either, so moving here was not to get rich. By the grace of God, we eventually found good jobs, meaning, and purpose. Our children married, and gave us grandchildren to spoil. Most importantly, we found a church fellowship that welcomed us, and met our spiritual needs. 

Everything went well until sometime around 2018 when my mom began to show the first symptoms of dementia. Over the next three years I spent every morning making sure she took her meds because she wouldn't take them from Dad. (She was convinced he was trying to kill her.) Dementia is a cruel killer that steals your loved ones away one memory at a time until there is nothing left of the person you knew. On October 28th, of 2021, her body gave up and her spirit went to be with the Lord. My mother and I were a lot closer than I was to my Dad, so her passing really hurt me. Actually her long bout with dementia hurt me more than anything. It was a prolonged agony to see her forget me, and worse for her to forget who she was. After Mom died, I thought Dad would fold up shop and move away to where my brothers lived in Corpus Christi because he was closer to them than he was with me. I knew they would be thrilled to have him, but he was happy with his 'little frog pond' as he referred to his house and seven acres in Harrison. So, over the next year and a half I watched as he too began to slip into dementia. Unlike Mom, his dementia was forgetting to do those things he needed to do on a daily basis. He didn't take showers every day like he used to, and he would take food out of the fridge and leave it out. It quickly became apparent that he too was losing his memory. Every morning and afternoon, I would stop by to make sure he was alive, give him his meds, and talk with him. At first, he was thrilled to hear what I'd done that day, who I'd done it for, and any news of the kids, or Glenda I would tell him.

Then he fell. 

The bruises looked bad, and he'd thrown his rotator cuff out. He also had a bad knot on his head, which should have given me a clue as to what was next. It was at this point that my brother secured a company to come in and help him for four hours a day. This seemed to help for a while, but after the fall, his personality changed. He became irrational, and ill tempered. At least more so than I remembered.  He accused the help of stealing, and other things, and he couldn't remember if they'd been there or not, even when there was physical proof that they'd been there. He also was starting to have small fender benders around the house with his truck. My brothers told me to take the truck from him, which I knew was not a good idea. Two weeks later, he called me in a rage and said he'd called the cops on me. He wanted his truck back. In a fit of anger, I took his truck back and didn't go see him for 2 weeks. During that two weeks I looked for assisted living facilities that would give him 24 hour care, but he wouldn't have any of it. 

Everything changed in one terrifying moment in February of 2023 when I found out Glenda had Glioblastoma (brain cancer). Dad was oblivious to the situation, called me all kinds of names because I wasn't checking up on him. In defense of him, his memory, and his compassion were failing. The week of Glenda's brain surgery, he fell again and they took him to the hospital because he'd suffered a stroke. On March 22nd, just 11 days short of his 88th birthday, and 18 months after momma died, he passed away. I'd done my job. I'd nursed both of my parents in their last days. I was there for my Mom's death, but with Glenda getting ready to go through chemo and radiation, the last thing I could do was sit at my father's side as he passed this vale. Thankfully, my brother DL and my other brother's wife Liz, came and were there with Dad when he took his last breath. He got his wish and died in his recliner at his silly frog pond. 

 I've already blogged about Glenda's passing, so I won't wear you out with it again. I was thrilled that she didn't pass away alone. Thankfully she passed away in my arms on September 21st of 2023, six months after Dad died.  I was just so relieved that she did not go through the dementia and long term pain my parents went through. 

 It's now been a year and a couple of weeks since she died, and I learned one thing through everything that I've experienced over the last six years. As you are headed through the exit doors of this life, the last thing anyone talks about is their jobs, and all the work they did. It's always about the love they knew, the loved ones who brought them joy, and love they felt for them. Things, journeys, and possessions mean nothing as you approach the end. It's as if you are finally able to focus on the really important things in this life.  There is nothing wrong with doing nothing.

 So, now to the other most asked question from yesterday; "What are you gonna do?" 

 Nothing! 

 Like I said in my last blog, I have a couple of places on my bucket list I'd like to visit, but if I don't get there, it doesn't matter. I spent the last week before the wedding going to visit old customers who sent me condolence cards when Glenda died to let them know personally what it meant to me. I have two more people to visit and that list will be done. Like I said before I want to visit a couple of Glenda's family who live over on the far eastern edge of Arkansas. They supported me when Glenda and I got married, and I want to thank them before they pass this vale. 

 One of the questions that surprised me was when I was asked if I was going to start dating. I haven't thought about it.  Why would I make another woman go through putting up with me? It took Glenda and I the better part of 47 years to figure each other out. I think any widow or widower if they were being honest, would tell you that the simple touch of another human being is the biggest thing they miss after their loved one has passed away, but dating just doesn't feel right to me.  However, what I would like, is to meet a lady friend who would enjoy riding in my little convertible, and who would be willing to talk for hours about family, and loved ones. I'd also enjoy having someone who would like going out to eat and going on one day journeys around the area. I don't want another bride, nor do I want a lover, I just want to hear a woman's voice, listen to a woman's laughter, and see through a woman's eyes once more. I don't want to live with another woman, nor do I want to wake up next to another woman. However, I would like a home cooked meal by someone other than me. AND, if I found a woman amenable to it, I would like to feel the touch of a woman's hand in mine again. These are wants and likes, but if they don't happen, I'm happy being alone. I'm not looking, and if God wants me to have these things, he'll have to bring her to me. Like I said before, I truly miss the intimacy and ease Glenda and I shared together.  I doubt I would feel comfortable with anyone else. 

Alright, we're coming to the end of the blog, I think.  If I were to offer advice to my grandson, and his fetching bride, it would be simply to cherish each moment with one another, to make vivid memories with one another, to make passionate love to one another, to make children with one another, and to tell those children how much you love one another so that they know that there is more to life than making money, buying things, going places, or impressing bosses. Even though I was never asked, I would tell them that they are at the beginning of a new journey, and how it ends is up to them. Life comes with it's share of problems, devastation, death, and fear whether you are married or not. Doing the laundry, cooking, cleaning house are just a part of living, whether you are married or not. None of that stuff is gender exclusive. Having each other makes those things easier to deal with. 

 As for me, this old fat sparrow has known love, given love, and I have love left to give. I did learn something during the build up to the ceremony that caused me to change how I view things. All through the day I found myself saying; "Glenda would have loved this."  When I got home from cleaning up and packing away everything I'd taken to the wedding, it suddenly dawned on me that I'd used Glenda for a crutch. Sure she would have loved being there. Everyone else knew that! She would have eaten it up! Really what mattered was that I was loving it! It was like I was feeling guilty for being there instead of her. I loved everything about that wedding. I loved watching two little love birds set out on a new journey together. I loved the obvious joy their friends had watching the couple tie the knot. I loved the fellowship with my brothers, and their wives. I loved helping my children as they did what we'd done for them over the years. I loved it!! Suddenly I could own my feelings for my grandchildren without quantifying it through Glenda. She had the Grandma anointing in the worst way, but you know what, I love my grand-kids just as much. Darn it, I loved it, and I can't wait to help another one walk the aisle if the Lord should allow me. 

 As a final note: Way back in 2018 my granddaughter Eva, who was 8 at the time asked me if I would come to her wedding. At the time I didn't think I would be alive to see that moment. Glenda promised her that she would be at her wedding, and that she would make me go. This made Eva ecstatic, but Glenda didn't make it, so, I have make it, and if the Lord shall allow me to tarry long enough, that is the last thing on my bucket list. And if any of my other three grandchildren should meet the love of their life, I will go to your weddings too, and love it. 

 I didn't share the pictures of the bride or groom simply because it's not my place to do that. I assure you, he is extremely handsome, and that's not just because I'm his grandpa. Carolyn is drop dead gorgeous in a wholesome way, and with a beautiful spirit inside. Later, if they say it's okay, I might post some pictures on my instagram page.  Then again, I may not.  

 A YEAR OF TEARS

When someone you love passes from this vale to the next, it leaves a huge hole in your heart that hardly anything or anyone can fill. When Glenda, and I began our journey 48 years ago, I never dreamed that it would be me who would be widowed.
So, here I am, a year out from Glenda's death, still grieving my fetching bride.  It's hard to believe that it was a year ago today that I held her in my arms as she took her last breath. Initially I blamed myself for not being right there by her side as she had her heart attack. It's taken a long time, but I've come to accept that it was a merciful death, without the prolonged stages of death that took my Mom and my Dad.  Within minutes she was gone, leaving a 48 year wide hole in my heart. I don't know what sparrows do when their mate dies, but I know this old fat sparrow doesn't have much of a desire to do anything.  Somehow through the grace of God, I've been able to find reasons to do stuff, and keep going. Mind you, they haven't been world changing or even constructive things. Most of the time, I just put one foot in front of the other and keep moving.

The greatest challenge I've had over this last year has been trying to get my will and trusts done before I die so that my children don't have to go through a legal nightmare.  I found out that when someone dies, everyone has their hands out.  That has been the saddest thing I've discovered.  

On a more positive note, since Glenda's passing, I've taken a few wonderful trips to places I've never been before, and visited family who probably wished I'd never shown up.  I still have a desire to go see some of Glenda's family along the Mississippi river.  I'm thinking about going there sometime before winter.  I've been treated so well by my own family and hers, so I just feel a need to visit and let them know how much she meant to me, what she went through, and how much she loved them.  

I've spent the last year doing things she loved to do.  I bought a season pass to

Silver Dollar City, and now I usually go there at least once a week.  I used to only go there to get a funnel cake, but now I go stand outside her favorite rides and wish I could hear her infectious laughter one more time.  She loved thrill rides.  

I went to my oldest daughter's home for Christmas. 
It was the one thing Glenda wanted to do before she was going to put herself on hospice care, but she never made it.  I felt guilty going there without her, but I was able to work my way through it thanks to Amanda, and my granddaughter Eva spending time with me.  

I also drove to Ponca City in February to celebrate my birthday and visit the place where Glenda and I met, and where we were married.  So much has changed in the 48 years since we fell in love there. 

The Church we were married in

The hospital where I was born

The old parking lot where we first met is still there but it is in bad shape. The church we were married in is no longer a church.  The building looks as if its been abandoned for twenty years or more. 

From there I drove over to Amarillo, Texas and had lunch at the Big Texan steakhouse.  This was to celebrate childhood memories of Mom and Dad stopping there on our way from El Paso, Tx  to Ponca City.  Dad always knew the best places to stop and eat.  I can't begin to tell you the magical Christmas stops we made there.  I'll never forget those wonderful stops there.

We walked 14 miles 

From Amarillo, I drove all the way to Corpus Christi to spend a week with both of my brothers.  It was an awesome trip and they treated me like a king.  My sister-in-law Liz helped me to discard some of my guilt over Glenda, while treating me to a wonderful time.

Of course you have to do Whataburger when you're in Texas

My Brother DL moving stuff around so I can sleep in the barn.

From Corpus I went to Houston and I spent four days with Glenda's sister Carla and her husband Ken. I felt so guilty while I was there because I felt like I'd let them down in caring for Glenda. Instead, they welcomed me with open arms and gave me undivided attention while I was there. You might be wondering why I felt guilty, but my guilt comes from believing that God loans us his daughters for us men to take care of and to love.  While no one could deny I loved her, I feel I didn't take care of her as she deserved.  After a wonderful visit to all my family in Texas, I drove home, and lived out of my suitcase for the month of March.  

In April I drove all the way to Buffalo, New York to visit with family there.  It'd been over 60 years since Dad had served on the Nike/Hercules unit stationed on Grand Island, and I wanted to see Niagara falls, which was one of my bucket list items.  It was an awesome trip spent with wonderful people. 

There is not enough words to say to describe this beautiful family

After living out of a suitcase from Christmas till April, I came home, emptied it out, but left it on the spare bed. When I sat down with my google maps, I discovered that I'd done over 8,000 miles of travelling.  I hope to do a repeat with a few deletions and a few additions.  

My final trip was to go back to see Amanda for the 4th of July.  Amanda, Peter, and Eva went on a journey with me to Quincy, Illinois to do research on one of our Bragg family ancestors who had a candy factory there during the early 1900's.  It was a wonderful day full of discovery and fellowship. 

Wow, what a fireworks show, and what a wonderful time.  After this trip, I finally put my suitcase under the bed, and haven't traveled any further than Springfield. I will enjoy seeing my oldest grandson, Elijah getting married in October, but I won't have to pack for that.  Glenda would have loved this, and she would have been busy making everything just right. I'm going to try and help, but I'm a poor excuse for Glenda. 

So, am I through traveling?  Not by a long shot.  Even though I've done a good portion of my bucket list, I still have a few more things I'd like to do before I can't do them anymore.  Since Glenda passed, I've become an Indiana Fever fan thanks to Caitlin Clark.  Next season I'd like to make a trip to Indianapolis to watch her play at the arena.  I've been told that it is beyond belief.  I'd also like to make a trip to Scotland to visit the places where my families hail from.  My DNA shows me being 57% Scottish, with both maternal and paternal lines higher than that.  The Mackeys, Matthesons, Merrells, and Trouts are all of Scottish descent.  So, maybe next year I'll go there.  I know people who've been there that say it is a beautiful place with lovely people.  I also want to go to Amanda's and do the Polar Express again as well as visit Belleville.  I love the Christmas festival they do every year.  I'd also like to do Niagara falls again as well as return to Mackinac Island to celebrate Glenda there. I'd like to do some airshows, and go to visit Universal Orlando once more, before I can't do it. 

Our last Anniversary together on a lake cruise at Table Rock Lake.
 

Yes, I still grieve, but the days of constant tears are over.  My last 'bad' day was when I realized I couldn't remember her voice anymore.  That took the breath out of me all day long.  I felt so guilty!!  I stormed around the house looking for old videos of her, but the tapes were ruined.  Even old voicemails were gone. These things are hard to explain to someone who's never lost a spouse.  Thankfully I finally found a video I'd taken on her birthday in 2022 a year before she was diagnosed with cancer.  I play it when I want to hear her voice.

I'm told not to say never, but I don't think I'll ever fall in love with someone else again.  Don't get me wrong, I don't relish the thought of being alone for the rest of my days, but I also can't imagine anyone else filling those days.  Besides, Glenda was made for me, and I hope I was made for her.  I wouldn't want to put someone through the same thing I've gone through.  Loneliness is my biggest battle, but I'm learning how to channel it into positive things. When you've been married to someone as long as Glenda and I were, it's the simple things you miss most. I miss holding her hand while walking together. I miss her calling out for me when she needed something.  I miss her advice and counsel more than I can say.  She was so wise when it came to relationships, and I was, and am so clumsy at them. I miss being able to pat her butt when I would pass by her. She would grouse about it but she couldn't hide her smile as I did it. There are so many things I miss.  I miss the intimacy, and human touch of 48 years of living together.  The last eight months of her life were hard, but she was tough, and she showed me how to be selfless, something I'd never done before.  Have I told you I miss her laugh most of all?

There you have it, one year later I still miss my fetching bride, and she still impacts my life. This wasn't written for sympathy, but just to let people know how I'm doing. More than anything, I want people to know how special she was by how big the hole in my heart is.  I have a great church family that love on me whenever I'm there, and with their help I hope to finish this journey with honor and dignity  I know that God is watching over me, even as he keeps his eye on the sparrow.  And as Jesus said; I am of greater value than a flock of sparrows.  

    

The absolute best day from which all my other best days have come.