FINDING GOOD

Well, summer has officially began here in the Ozarks.  It's been 10 days since we had measurable rain, and it was 76 degrees when I stepped outside this morning.  One part of me wants to get out and get going, but there just isn't any way to escape the heat. It's a Saturday, so I'm not going to walk around the creek like I usually do, and many of the things I like to do in the yard send me into an immediate sweat.  It's even been too hot to sit out on my back porch and take in the pleasant morning air as I usually do after my walks.  So, here I sit at the dining room table tapping away on my laptop.  All around me are reminders of Glenda's presence, and even some reminders of my parents. If you came to my house to visit me, I could show you the mileposts of my life, but it wouldn't just be my life, it would be the life that Glenda and I shared. Our past surrounds me, and sometimes seems to press in on me like the hot humid air outside. Just outside the dining room window is a small birdbath that Glenda bought to be able to watch the birds from her beloved porch.  When it isn't as muggy as it is today, you would find me out there reading or playing solitaire. It is a good place to be to find my center before the day gets underway.  It's too dang hot to be out there today. So, as I sit here at the table, I can hear a couple of sparrows mixing it up around the bath and it makes me laugh. It made me thankful that humans aren't the only ones in God's creation who mix it up over stupid stuff. I can't help but wonder if sparrows ever think about the past?  What happens to that fat old male sparrow if his mate is taken from him way too early?  Does he revisit their time together?  Does he move on and hope for another mate?  Does he sit in the old nest, surrounded by the artifacts of their life together?  

When we moved from our home on Lone Oak Dairy road, we made ourselves throw  out as much of our past as we could. Over our years of being married, my mother had given Glenda many home decorating items, which helped to fill lifeless spaces and give the house an eclectic look. To say the least, Glenda and Mom had very different tastes, except for floral displays.  Every floral decoration in our house was done by my Mom, and they still adorn tables and vases around...my... house. When my Mom died there were many floral decorations that disappeared that Glenda had wanted more than anything. Now that Glenda is gone, I don't even think about it anymore. What would I do with them?  They would just be one more thing my children would have to decide what to do with. At the time though, Glenda was furious, and threw all kinds of accusations around.  The truth is, we don't know where they went, but the consensus was that my Dad accidentally threw them away.  Every daughter-in-law grieved the loss, as they were truly spectacular. They didn't mean anything to my dad. I have vivid memories of my mother sitting in the middle of the living room floor with boxes of artificial flowers all around her as she fussed over the color and placement of each flower. Those memories are written in stone in my brain. I can also remember the irritation in my father's voice as he tried to negotiate the minefield of flowers to get into the kitchen. So, I kinda lean toward the idea that he threw them away after she died. It doesn't matter to me because she'd filled our house with plenty of arrangements.  It's funny how without Glenda to keep the issue alive, I really don't care. Sometimes the things from our past that we hold on to can become a poison to us. I know for Glenda, she groused about it even as she faced death. 

A couple of years before Glenda was diagnosed with cancer, she and my daughter decided to make our hallway into a wonderful display of our family.  It was my daughter's birthday gift to her mother, and it was one of the greatest gifts she could give.  It is a wonderful way to recount our story to visitors and for family to stop and remember what family is.  Still, it is in the past. It's like a soft blanket that you carry with you because someone gave it to you, but you can trip over it if you're not careful. The moments in those pictures mean nothing to anyone else but our family.  The memories are in me, not on the walls. There isn't a picture that can relate the love bursting in my heart when Glenda said 'I do.'  There isn't a picture that can make anyone feel the immense awe, and fear I felt when I picked up my infant children for the first time.  Each child came with a promise, and a responsibility that only the future knew. Because I was the photographer for our little family, I don't have as many pictures of me as I do of Glenda (it's a physics thing). There are no photos of me carrying two sleepy little girls through the flea market in Mountain Home, Idaho while their mother went from table to table.  There aren't any pictures of those same little girls making snow angels with me during a blizzard in Idaho. There aren't any pictures of me holding them in my arms in church and dancing with them during the song service.  There isn't any proof I loved them and worried continually about their safety. There aren't any pictures that show my pride as we went to innumerable elementary school programs where they played instruments, or sang in choirs. Those are things that are written in my heart along with a million other moments that you can't put into words. Some of those memories will die with me, and never be recounted again because they were my memories.  They are meaningless to anyone else.  There are a few, that I've never shared with my own children because they were so special that there was no way to make those memories about them, even though they are the only reason I remember them to this day. 

So, how did this little story start?  Instead of going outside this morning, I went into my office where my 'love me wall' is, and found myself staring at the accomplishments of my time in the Air Force. I am proud of my service, and thankful for the opportunity to have worked on three distinct weapons systems. When I went into the Air Force in 1980, the world was in total chaos.  We were at the height of the Cold War, and involved in minor incidents in the middle east. The end of my service was marked by Desert Storm and eventually operation Deny Flight. Those days are gone! They're in the past and time has gone on without any memory of my contribution.  This is the way of things, and isn't something to be concerned with. As I sat in my recliner trying to put together the events that were marked on my wall, I realized that none of it meant anything. I doubt seriously any of my children will want my 'shadow box' nor the flag that flew in one of the hangars at Tonopah. My achievements, held within cheap plastic frames, means nothing to anyone else but me, and even now they hold very little importance.  I find myself trying to find the good in holding on to those memories. The thought occurred to me to just take them down, place them in document protectors and place them in a binder. Yep, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to put my past into a binder and close it up.  I'll put those memories in a plastic tote and let my children decide how they want to handle those memories.  At the same time, I'll cherish Glenda's 'love me wall' filled with the faces of friends and family, and happy times. You see, I think I've finally learned that finding the good in our past means cherishing those who will live on in the future.  

Besides, I'm not a sparrow.  

WHEN GOOD IS NOT GOOD

 When I began writing the 'Sparrow's Perch' blogs in 2012, I began it as a discussion of living in God's presence.  I'd just finished reading Psalm 84, and was overwhelmed by the heart of the Psalmist as he yearned to be as close to the presence of God as the sparrows who nested in the Holy Place of the temple. Since beginning this blog, I've seen sparrows as examples of God's tenderness, and His love of His creation. 

Since beginning of this blog, I've learned a lot about the common house sparrow. They are some of the most prolific birds throughout the earth, choosing to dwell mostly in the presence of men.  They make their nests in almost any structure we humans build, and they actually help to keep down annoying insects, as well as help clean up around our trash bins, parking lots, and restaurants. They are monogamous as far as we can tell, and they rarely live longer than 3 - 5 years.  

Yet...

Jesus chose these inconsequential animals to exhibit God's concern, and care for us human beings. In Matthew 10: 29-31 Jesus points toward the Sparrow as an example of God's care for even the tiniest, and common of animals.  "Are not two sparrows sold for a Penney?" This selling is in reference to the price of a poor person's sacrifice at the altar of God. "Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. SO, don't be afraid, you are worth more than any sparrows."  

Our lives in this present age are much better than we can ever imagine. Most of us who live in this great country live in the comfort of air conditioned homes, own one or more cars, and have more food than we can eat. Life is good!  The average lifespan for men is 75 years, and for women it is almost 80 years. About 2% of the population in Europe and the United States provide the food for our entire populations, and even provide foodstuffs for many other nations throughout the world. The current work week is on average less than 40 hours per week.  In many developed countries the work week is 32 hours.  In other words, we have it good.  We have it so good, that obesity, heart disease, and diabetes are among the biggest killers in our modern society.  Sometimes having it good, isn't good. Depression, loneliness, and anxiety have increased exponentially within the last 60 to 70 years as our standard of living has become better. Sometimes being blessed, is not as good as it appears from the outside.  We become convinced of our ability to provide for ourselves without the provision that God has promised. 

There is a benefit to being dependent upon God for our needs, and that is captured in the words of Jesus when he tells us to "take heart" (Don't be afraid.) I've come to believe that trusting God is essential to a happy life.  So, if you find yourself being overcome with fear, or feeling that God has somehow forgot you, take a moment, and think of just being a sparrow and nesting in the Holy Place, the presence of God.  Look around you, and see that God is good, and that He will take you through whatever you are facing and be there with you through it all, and even on the other side.  

Psalm 84:

How lovely is your dwelling place, Oh Lord of Hosts! My soul longs, yes, faints for the courts of the Lord; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God.

Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself where she may lay her young at Your altars, O Lord of Hosts, my King, my God.

Blessed are those who dwell in Your house, ever singing your praise!  Selah!

Blessed are those whose strength  is in you, in whose heart are the highways to Zion. As they go through the Valley of Baca they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it with pools. They go from strength to strength; each one appears before God in Zion. O Lord God of Hosts, hear my prayer; give ear O God of Jacob!  Selah!

Behold our shield, O God; look on the face of your anointed! For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.  I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of wickedness.  For the Lord God is sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor.  No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.  O Lord of Hosts, blessed is the one who trusts in you!

*The Holy Bible English Standard Version (ESV) copyright 2001, by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

THE NEST

 About two years before my wife Glenda passed away, she came into my office and asked to borrow my cordless drill. I did a quick double take because she had never asked to use it before.  Being a handyman by trade, I'd grown accustomed to her telling me she needed me to do something for her. My job around the house was relegated to killing bugs, fixing cars, replacing ceiling fans, and other 'handyman' stuff. Occasionally she'd ask me for my hammer or a screwdriver, but never one of my power tools. Hmmmmm! She had me wondering what she was up to, so I asked her.  She smiled, and said not to worry, she didn't require my help. Now, she had me really interested.

I said, "Okay." It was a strange request, but after being married to her for nearly 44 years, I knew better than to press. She was perfectly capable at hanging pictures, nailing boards together, and even turning an occasional wrench, or vice grips. Years back I'd made her a little plastic box filled with a few odd screws, nails, and even fencing staples, and I would keep it restocked any time I went to use it. I also bought her a cheap tool box with a hammer, screwdrivers, and a few little things I knew she'd never use. Asking to use my drill was a step beyond the usual, but I went out to my truck and brought it to her.  

"Are you sure you don't need my help?" I asked.  "Yep, I'm sure." she said as she glided out the door. 

 A little bit later I could hear my cordless drill motor just outside the window where I was sitting watching TV.  She was humming, (as she often did when she was working around the house), and about twenty minutes later she came back inside with her box of screws.  She put the drill on the table next to my recliner with a smug smile and went into the kitchen.  I calmly got up and went outside to see what she'd done and found that she'd put up some kind of funky wire type plant holders, with a funky grass like mat in them.  She'd put one on each leg of our trellis. Better yet, they were hung better than what I'd have done.

Hmmmmmmmm!

For the next two years she would change the matting until she got stung by a red wasp that had made a nest in the bowl of matting.  She went out with wasp spray and killed them...dead, I mean the mat was dripping with wasp killer.  It was like the great flood with drowned wasps falling to the ground. Hell hath no fury like a woman stung!

The next summer she didn't get a chance to change the matting because she was fighting for her life against brain cancer. Sadly, she didn't live more than eight months and during that time I didn't bother to check the condition of her planters, and she didn't ask me to.  She died in September of 2023, and I moped around through the winter doing small things around the house that I couldn't do while she was fighting cancer. She'd had a 'honey do' list before she was diagnosed with cancer, and to say the least none of it got done.  A couple of months after she died, I found it in a drawer in my office, and I stuck it to my work order board. I felt like I needed to do the things she wanted done even though she was gone. Our little 80 year old house was our nest, and I still felt the need to finish the things she'd wanted done. BUT, the wire plant baskets were not on her list.  I blindly walked past them day in and day out without giving them a thought until the other day when I was walking with my grandson around the yard. He stopped suddenly and pointed toward the basket and asked; "What's that Grandpa?" I looked closely and could see where the small hole that had once only been big enough to let wasps go in and out was now big enough for a wren or a sparrow to nest in. I got on my tip toes and could see the remains of eggs at the bottom of the nest. In my mind's eye, I could imagine two sparrows feverishly working to build a soft mattress at the bottom of the nest, while awaiting the eggs that would soon appear.  Nature goes on even through tragedy and death.

Now, I don't think Glenda had ever foreseen that her little decorative plant holders would be used for a bird nest, but I knew her well enough to know that she would have enjoyed it, and forbid me to do anything to ruin it. My love of sparrows will keep it 'as is' as long as it endures the weather. It will be a home for a new sparrow family next year.

Seeing that empty nest started me thinking about 'home' a lot. Glenda, and I put a lot of work into our remodel of this old house, and with the exception of about five projects, it was what we'd planned for it to be before she died. It was 'our' home. It has a garage that she laid claim to, and she'd been with me through the nearly 18 months of remodeling we did before work, after work, and over weekends. It was her home, her little nest, and has her stamp on it.  For me, it was a place I could finally call...Home! It was a place to hang my hat, and to know that my 'heart', Glenda was there. 

I would wager that almost everyone has heard the saying "anywhere I hang my hat is home," or "Home is where the heart is."  In my childhood, I always associated these sayings with wanderers, or vagabonds. As a child, I always thought of home as where my mom was. She was as solid as a rock, tender, kind, loving, and wise. She was a place I could run to when I faced things I didn't understand. My dad, was a truck driver during my formative years and didn't have much influence over my early development. On the other hand, my mom was the center of my universe until I graduated from school. She was the one who told my Dad that they were going to buy a house instead of living in the 12 x 60 foot trailer we lived in. So, buy a house we did!  She was the one who went to work out at White Sands Missile Range so that she could furnish her new home. Dad was forced to leave his truck driving job and become a mobile home repairman in town so that he could help provide the stuff for the nest and help her raise us boys. It was 'my' home for nearly ten years, and the memories of that small tract house in the suburbs are still with me to this day.  It's funny how "home" stays with you forever.

I have fond memories of that old house on Wilshire Street in El Paso. Later when us boys grew up and moved away, we always referred to it as the 'Wilshire house'. I saw a picture of it on Google Earth a while back, and it looks nothing like what I remember. During the 60's, and 70's it was a magical place with a lush green carpet of grass in the front yard, bicycles abandoned all through the yard, and the laughter of children everywhere. We lived in a great neighborhood, with fantastic kids for friends. Over the years the house was given a few remodels inside, and the walls covered in paneling which was the rage back then. My brothers and I were required to dust the living room every day because...we lived in the desert southwest. My mom taught us how to do the dishes, how to do laundry, how to vacuum, make beds, and as we grew older, how to cook. She made sure we could take care of ourselves, but she also liked being the kind of Mom who provided everything we needed. Mom had her little nest, and she was happy with it, until...we all began to grow up and leave home.  I was gone about ten years after they'd bought the house, and my younger brother left 3 years later.  The youngest brother had the house to himself for about 6 years before he left. As time went by, I noticed that my mom wasn't as happy as she used to be.  She'd stopped playing the beautiful organ my Dad had bought for her, and she didn't sing around the house like she used to.  The only time she was happy was when we brought the grandchildren home to visit. I'd seen the old adage come to life that a house isn't a home without people in it.  She, and Dad spent more time on the road going to see all of us kids than they'd ever traveled before. Mom definitely suffered from empty nest syndrome, while Dad was just happy for any excuse to get out on the motorcycle.  

I saw the same thing happen with Glenda and I. After our youngest left home, Glenda went into a blue funk that I couldn't fix. Then the grandchildren started coming, and she was filled with joy.  Only the grandchildren could make her smile.  Don't get me wrong, I love our grandchildren, but they were hers. She made their visits fun, and allowed them to do things their parents wouldn't let them do. Our home was filled with laughter and love once again.  Now that she's gone, I find myself sitting alone at home trying to figure out what I want to do. The grandchildren are almost all grown now, and my children have their own lives to live. I've tried not to put any demands on them for visits, or guilt them into visiting. Still, I miss the busyness, the noise, and mostly the wonder of children. It's especially bad when the weather gets extreme like this summer has been, and eventually like the winter will be, I sit inside wondering what I can do with my time.  Now, before someone jumps up and says go back to work, let me tell you that having had to 'work' since I was eight years old, the idea of going back to work isn't what I want to do. I believe every man, and woman deserve a time of rest in their life, if finances allow it. I'd hoped to go through this time with Glenda, but I guess it wasn't meant to be. I'm not depressed, and I'm not destitute.  Glenda, and my parents all died within two years of each other, which left me a good inheritance, and a small compensation. I can't afford to go crazy and spend that money on silly stupid stuff, but I have enough to last a few years thanks to my parents.  

What amazes me, is that the little 'empty' nest I made for Glenda, is not really a home without her here. I watch 'youtube' videos, play video games, and do all the necessary daily things that everyone does. When I think about home, there isn't a time that I don't think of my Mom and all that she taught me to do.  It's because of her that I can cook, I keep the 'house' clean, and do my laundry. Good job, Mom! Because of my Dad, I have to be busy, so I try to do one spruce up project a month. Sometimes when I'm busy cleaning the house, I'll find myself thinking about my mom and hearing her sweet alto voice singing hymns. It was part of my childhood and is written in deep memories that I hope never fade. Other times, I swear I can hear Glenda humming in the kitchen, or laughing in the living room.  She was the life that made our house a home for 47 years.  I'm just marking time till I join her, but still thankful for the home she left me. Don't feel bad for me, I'll get going again this fall once the weather cools down a little, and I'll do a few things in the yard that need doing. One thing I won't do is change out the planter material.  Sparrows need a home just like we do.