WARMTH

It's been a wonderful few days here in Harrison, Arkansas, but this morning was just about as perfect as it gets for walking a couple of miles around the creek.  The morning air was moist and just a little cold around the edge of the creek, and the sun hadn't come out fully yet.  

There are a couple of old picnic tables along the walkway close to our new community center.  One of the tables sits in a grassy bend in the creek where the trees have been cut down.  It's one of the first places to get sunshine in the morning, and as I walked I could see a couple of sparrows cuddling together on the table top basking in the morning sun. I approached slowly and tried to get my phone out so I could take a picture. As you can guess, no sooner had I brought the phone up to my face than both of them took flight.  Kind of broke my heart because it would have been an awesome picture. 

It was obvious that the two sparrows were cuddling in order to get warm.  Just thinking about the two sparrows made me feel warm.  Later after I got back to the house, I began to think about how the need to be warm has shaped human behavior from the dawn of time. I couldn't help but wonder how much of our history is born out of the need to be warm. However, I also don't think warmth comes from being close to someone physically. Look at what happens to most people when they see a new parent holding a newborn baby. "Doesn't that just warm your heart?" someone will say.  They'll refer to the parent as being tender, and warm.  It's funny how acts of tenderness, and kindness 'warm our hearts'. If we see pictures of puppies, kittens, anything new, or young we feel 'warm' inside. If you post a video of a puppy or kitten doing something cute, that video will go viral before you know it.  Humans love this kind of stuff. I don't know if it heralds back to our ancient past when we had to huddle around each other to keep warm, or if it is a simple extension of our appreciation of innocence.  I know for myself, there are things that move me to tears of happiness more easily than other things.  The older I've become, the more sappy I've become.  Certain songs can utterly transport me to a happy and warm place in just a couple of measures.  I love to watch people dance the tango, or large groups of people dance the Syrtaki (Think Zorba the Greek). I love to watch team sports where the team is functioning as one. All of these things elicit joy, and wonder, and warmth.  

Like the two sparrows, I also think we need one another to keep warm. The whole courting process for us as human beings is a dance of love like the tango. No matter how much we try to dismiss our need for human touch (warmth) it is what bonds us together.  Love is often portrayed as a warm feeling...well...because it is.  They've proven that when a child is deprived of physical contact, they will not survive.  I know for myself as a widower, the one thing I long for more than anything else is the tender touch of my departed wife. I'm not talking about just sexual stuff, I'm talking about the joy of putting my arm around her when we'd go out to see a movie or when we'd be at home on the sofa. I miss her reaching out for my hand when she could sense I was stressed out and needed the warmth of her delicate fingers. Ask any person who has lost a loved one what they miss the most, and I promise you that it will be the simple ability to touch them or be touched by them. The warmth of physical touch somehow speaks of the depth of love in our hearts. Infidelity is heartbreaking simply because one spouse has found warmth and tenderness in another person's embrace. 

Lately, as I go to different places to eat, or visit, I often notice older couples who are still intimate, and have a natural ease with one another. This makes me feel warm inside because I am happy to see a couple who hasn't let the struggles of this life drive a wedge between them.  I have no idea what they've gone through, or if each day was filled with love and tenderness. I know I've been surprised to learn of couples I deeply admire that nearly split the sheet, but somehow managed to stay together through their struggle.  I would like to think that somehow Glenda and I would have been one of those sappy old couples gazing into each others eyes across a table in a crowded restaurant.  I'd like to hope we'd have enjoyed the warmth of one another if she'd have lived longer.  

Finally, I'd like to point to our God. In Genesis we're told that God walked with Adam in the cool of the day. God needs the warmth of love just as much as we do.  Companionship is formed into our DNA, which is His DNA.  Relationship is His invention, and it is His heart in us that makes us desire the warmth of relationship. Without relationships, we would die of loneliness.  

Enjoy the warmth of your spouse, your children, and your God. Find your place of tenderness, and kindness with others and let it be a source of strength in your life. 

SLACK

Spring has finally sprung here in beautiful Harrison, Arkansas.  I'm finally able to do my daily walk around our beautiful creek that runs through downtown.  I've been anxiously waiting for my sparrows to return to my house, but they are in full force at the creek.  I usually make my way to the walking path around six in the morning just before the sun comes out, and I get greeted with the songs of birds as they celebrate a new day.  A couple of days ago as I was walking along a portion of the path that just had some new landscaping done I watched a robin pulling at an earthworm that must have made the mistake of being to close to the surface.  To make matters worse, a couple of sparrows caught sight of the struggle and decided to help the robin out.  Well actually I think they were trying to steal the worm from the robin.  The robin was dancing around trying to fend off the sparrows while at the same time trying to hold onto the hapless worm. It was one of the few times I was feeling sorry for the robin.  "Cut the little robin some slack!"  I thought to myself. A few seconds later the robin took to the wing wrestling about half of the worm from the sparrows as he flew away.  I guess half of a worm is better than no worm at all.  

Later on that day, I was watching the highlights of a WNBA game, and how the refs weren't calling fouls for a certain player.  The commentary went something like; 'the refs will blow the whistle against her if she even gets close to another player, but they'll let other players assault her all day long.  When are they gonna cut her some slack?'  Suddenly my mind went back to the robin and the two sparrows.  What does cutting someone some slack even mean?   

So, I looked it up.  I figured it had to be a nautical term, which it is.  It comes from when a ship is being moored to a dock. A man on the ship will usually throw a thin line tied to the mooring lines to a dock worker, who will grab the line and begin pulling the line toward himself.  Once the mooring line begins to be pulled from the ship it becomes a difficult task because the mooring lines are usually very heavy, and hard to pull.  The dock worker would yell out 'cut me some slack' which meant to play out a little bit of line as the worker pulled it toward the dock.  It simply means to make the line slack, or loose so that it is easier to pull.  Eventually, someone used the term as a call to leniency, or 'grace'.  AND, so we use it today.  

Everyone of us want to be cut some slack at some point in our lives.  We hope that we will be given grace whenever we make mistakes, or fall short of expectations. To a degree most people will be lenient, or gracious when dealing with someone who has failed. Mostly because we would want to be given grace ourselves.  It sounds kind of selfish, but it's not. It is what God expects of us.  Everything from the ten commandments, down to the sacrifice of His son is Him given us some slack. He gave us instructions how to deal with those that injure us, or those who take from us, or those who lie to us.  While God's law gets a bad rap from modern Christians, actually, it is meant to help us cool our jets before we do or say rash things that can't be undone, or unsaid.  Then when Jesus came, he tried to point out to the religious leaders of the day how hard they'd become in not giving people grace (slack) while living loose and free with the law themselves.  (It's an age old problem that has been around from the creation of man.) Enter Christianity, and the law is replaced with...law...again. Suddenly you aren't a Christian if you are doing...whatever you are doing. I remember when I was a young man attending a denomination that made it a sin to go to movies, attend football games, dance, or wear jewelry. Believe me, it was a tough pull.  It still amazes me when I point out how draconian this kind of belief system is, how people will point out that it had its good points.  No, it didn't!! Somehow we have this idea that God has no slack or leniency when dealing with us.  I'm like, excuse me!! Did I miss something in the story of Jesus?  Somebody please show me in the word of God where there is a time limit on God's grace?  How often are we allowed to fail living up to His standards before He throws us away?  This kind of rigid mindset is just as bad as the mindset that says you can do anything you want to do and still be a Christian.  A matter of fact, I tremble when I think I might be cut out of God's presence as I write this.  Because in my minds eye, I'm seeing people who I've known over the years who cut off a struggling believer because of a sin they were caught in.  It makes me angry at those arrogant, self-righteous, pontificating, prideful....oops!   

Some people never grow out of their weakness despite loving God, and believing in Christ. Think about the worst sin you can imagine, but have never done.  I guarantee you that not soon after you begin to think on it, Holy Spirit will begin to convict you of a 'lesser' sin that you still do to this day.  

Do I believe in personal Holiness?  Yes, I do.  BUT, I'm glad that God is patient with me as I walk through those things He wants to remove.  Some sins are visible and affect others. Some sins are invisible and affect God.  You may not like what I have to say, but when we announce to people what we avoid, what we are not like, we become like the Pharisee that Jesus pointed out who thanked God that he was not like that 'other' man.  

Like I said earlier, I don't know how long we have to give grace to, or cut some slack to another believer, but I'd sure hate to be the one who cut someone off before God was done. Because over my adult life, I've seen drug addicts come to church stoned time after time, and then one day they are miraculously delivered.  I've seen alcoholics stumble into church crying their eyes out for forgiveness, only to find deliverance.  I've seen sex addicts seek God Sunday after Sunday to finally break free after years of promiscuity.  Yet, as bad as all these are, I've never seen someone come up and ask God to release them from gossiping, or lying, or even stealing. 

The things that I've wrestled with over the years are the invisible sins.  In my self-righteous spirit, I've put down so many others who are fighting visible sins and wondered why they weren't delivered.  I want deliverance for myself every time Holy Spirit points out something I need to clean up. I would hope to be given slack if I confess my sins to my brothers. I would want them to pray for me and hold me up in love.  

So when do we give up on the weaker brother?  How much slack do we give someone?  How many times do we give our brother slack?  

When the ship is safely tied off at the pier, and Holy Spirit says all is tight.     

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.