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On one special day of each and every year I wonder what will make this particular day special. I have had many of these days in my past. We all share that wonderment on our birthday.
My earliest memories of birthday parties are very vague. Friends, cake, presents, games and laughter are common components of days gone by. But, as the years slip by there are other memories that bring a smile from deep within on this special day.
This past Sunday was my special day of the year. But, life has been a bit upside down for me and my family. It’s one of those tough times when circumstances are much bigger than my ability to carry the load.
We all have those moments. No one is immune from them. There is hurt, pain, anguish and sorrow. Yet, anticipating this special day, I asked God for some encouragement. That’s the kind of hope and peace that only He can give. I asked not just for me but for my family as well.
The day rolled by with nothing extraordinary happening. So much of it was routine marked by splashes of unique moments. Finally in the early evening I was in my office composing and writing away.
Into my office my wonderful wife burst in exclaiming, “You’ve got to look outside!” My fingers kept typing. But, I looked up when she drew open the window blinds.
It was snowing! I had heard that there might be a dusting in our area. But, the entire neighborhood was covered in a blanket of freshly fallen snow. The darkening evening had been delayed by the reflective white covering, lighting up our entire street.
I stopped typing. It was a moment to take it all in. This special surprise made me smile.
The day of the anniversary of my birth was coming to an end. This special day was then punctuated by my family and friends with gifts and expressions of love. Finally, God took a little extra time to deck my world in peace. It was soothing, comforting, and very special.
If Sunday’s snowfall brought you any trouble then I hope that this recollection will give you a different perspective. One person’s trial can easily be another’s moment of blessing. How God orchestrates that medley of results is certainly a heavenly mystery. I am so glad that He is the one in control of the life that we all live.
photo credit: GoodSearch image
In every life there are moments when grief pays a painful visit. Grief is the aftermath of a tragic loss. For some it is as horrific as the death of someone we love. Yet, for others it is a personal loss of something special.
When someone or something that we treasure leaves our lives, it is a time when we feel grief. In this day of a slumping world economy the loss of a job is a time to grieve. It is a lonely, agonizing sense of lostness.
A friend is going through grief while his mother is in her last days of her earthlylife. She is stricken with Alzheimer’s and the constant care to make her comfortable is exhausting and grief-ridden all at the same time. This is that long farewell.
Another said “Good-bye” to a long time friend in the hospital. Cancer has spread throughout his body. He is a mere shell of the robust man that marked his life and friendship for decades. Now, his soon absence pours grief into the lives of those who treasured his presence.
So many have lost their jobs. Especially the men who find so much of their identity in what they do are struggling through grief while desperately trying restart their fire for the next job in their lives. The agony of grief is intense.
Skillful observers of human behavior have charted a grief-pattern. First, there is shock. Second, denial sets in. Third, there is anger. Finally, there is acceptance. It has also been noted that those who come through times of grief in the best shape are those who don’t try and short cut the process. There are no short cuts through grief.
Being surrounded by friends and relatives who sincerely love and care for us is immense. Their words and deeds of help are a great strength. However, the burden of what grief brings is in large part a solo operation for us. We hear the cheers of supportive people, but we know deep down inside that we must face the challenge on our own.
Grief brings us to the brink. It pushes us to the edge of a precipice and we don’t know how we will ever survive. That’s when loving family and true friends give us just what we need to make it. Do you have family or a friend who needs cheering? You may be God’s answer to prayer for them.
photo credit: GoodSearch image
Last year I pulled my aquarium out of mothballs, cleaned it up, and took inventory of all the accessories that were still in operable condition. I put it all together and primed the water. Once I double-checked all of the numbers, I was ready to head over to the pet store and buy my population of swimmers.
My first choice were neon tetras. These are small fish but their red and blue colors are stunning. What is especially enjoyable is having a large school of a dozen because they move throughout the fish tank as a group. They turn, flee, explore as if they are one.
Mixed in were some Zebra, Head & Tail light, and Cardinal tetras as well. For several weeks the tank was quite active and colorful. But, over time I noticed less and less activity.
That’s when I did some reading and experts told me that a Raphael catfish is a major predator. I had one in my tank. Once I got rid of it the rest of the little terrified fish just died.
The aquarium was beautiful but there were no fish. Off to the pet store I went. This time I tried some exotic goldfish.
In my newly populated tank were several Orandas. One was a lion head. He was very handsome. That special species was joined by a Ryukin, several fantails, Black Moore and a red cap oranda. Yes, slowly they all died one at a time as well.
But, I was not giving up easily. I read more. Whenever I was around fish enthusiasts I asked questions. I tested my aquarium water several times. Everything checked out. It was time to try again.
Now, as I write I have a peripheral view of my aquarium. Inside my waterplant decked scene, bubbles floating lazily to the surface, fluorescent light casting a great view over the seascape, my three koi swim happily among the rocks. Two are calico and one is white with a red cap. All three have grown past 3 inches already.
Quietly, they will float, suspended in the water. If something startles them they dart quickly to a favorite hiding place. Other times they seem to be playing tag, dancing together through their watery home.
Watching, experiencing and enjoying them let’s me enjoy a tranquility that ancients discovered long ago. This is a reminder of God’s wonder of creation. Life lived in peace is a life well lived.
Like everyone who loves to ride a motorcycle I am eager to ride when I can. But, there are still frustrations in the skill level department that have eluded me. All of us who ride see others who do things with their bikes that we wish we could do.
In all aspects of life those who really live are always learning. Motorcycle enthusiasts must keep on learning to ride safely. I am convinced that the best riders are always improving their ability to ride.
There’s an old saying among us bikers, “Anyone can ride fast and straight.” What separates skillful rider and the amateur is the ability to perform slow speed manuevers. Tight turns and close quarter drills are often a part of a riding experience. Those who are able to operate their mighty machines in diminuative spaces are the ones that we all want to be like.
So, when a good friend ordered a dvd that showed how skilled police motorcycle riders handle their “hawgs” I was eager to watch it with him. With a bowl of chili, corn bread in hand, and a tall glass of ginger ale to accompany me the dvd began.
With a mix of humor, clear instruction, visual simplicity, repeitition of key points, the lesson on the dvd made so much sense. Several points clicked immediately. For all of you riders out there the tricks are three: clutch friction zone, rear brake application, and eyes focusing on the destination.
Yeah, it sounds like code to a non-rider, right? But, each of those three key features resonates with all of us on two wheels. Most of those principles are not natural.
Retraining riders who are in their midlife is easy. . . NOT! The dvd not only displayed skilled riders performing their phenominal feats, it also featured students who were making mistakes all over the road. I could actually visualize myself in those lessons that I was watching. No, I was not the instructor deftly riding his bike through an obstacle course without knocking down cones. Rather, I was watching the mistakes of the students and identifying with them.
I sat watching the entire dvd. My chili was gone. Then, the program ended and I wondered why they never got to the part that I do so well. There was no lesson on riding straight and fast. Hmmm…I think that that must be a lesson in the advanced course.
Back in my favorite state of Oregon I was often on long windy roads at night. Black asphalt lay like a ribbon through the mountains draped in massive Douglas Fir trees. Rivers of crystal clear water snaked through those mountains following the contours of the land and rushing toward the ocean.
These two lanes roads had very little traffic. They were the most direct route to adventures on the Pacific Ocean coast, to pristine forest camping sites, or fishing holes tucked away far from human traffic. Whether I was on those roads early in the morning trying to catch a steel head or on the road late after a great visit with great friends, night time driving was common in my days in the Northwest.
I was familiar with most of those roads. Yet, the night swallowed up most of what could be seen. My headlights had a limited illumination. But, they lit up enough of my journey that I could drive safely ahead.
It was impossible to see my final destination but I could see enough of where I was going to make the journey safely. Mile after mile with care and concentration I arrived securely each time. While I could never visually capture the entire route, I could move into every segment step by step.
Faith living is like that. While I don’t see the entire journey at once, nor can I see all of the perils and blessings along the way, I can see enough to make it through one day at a time. I can see enough to keep moving.
The engineers and other travelers have made it down these roads many times before me. They knew the route. It was safe. Many others had made the trip safely.
Faith is like that too. God knows the way. He can see the entire pathway. He lets us see enough to keep moving. He lights our way enough so that each step can be taken.
I’m in that kind of phase of life now. I can’t see very far into the future. Without a job I feel uncertain and displaced. It would be wonderful to see the destination but I can’t. So each day I get up and keep moving, making phone calls, connecting with those who might help and I step out in faith trusting Him that there is a way that will be good in the end.
My dentist is very skilled. The speed at which he can get me settled and mentally prepared for a procedure is astounding. It’s not a one-off kind of event either. He’s been managing the care of my ivories for a decade.
My dentist comes in with his typical friendly greeting. Then, he explains the procedure that I am about to experience. He walks me through each of the steps and outlines what will occur.
My chair was tipped back, radically tipped back. I opened my mouth and the drilling begins. Even though the local anesthetic was working well, I can never get use to that sound of drilling in my mouth.
When the electrical pulsations have been completed, there is the insertion of a new filling. Again the swiftness that he performs this task is amazing. He talks me through each step. Suddenly, he is done. That’s when the humor starts.
I am invited to gargle with the mouth wash at the sink next to my chair. The dentist and aide must have picked up long ago that this event is a private one. I down a mouthful of wash and wonder why my chest fills so wet. The Novocaine has dulled the right side of my face so I have no control over drooling.
When I spit out the wash, my ejection is sloppy and I am trying to wipe everything down before the staff comes in to say goodbye. When I smile my farewell, I notice that no one is looking my way. They must not want to laugh at the lopsided smile and the flabby lips of a face gone wild.
Sitting down to a light lunch with meat to chew was a mistake. On my first chomp I remembered the Dentist warning me not to chew my tongue or cheek accidentally. Oops. I think that hurt. Chewing slowly and meticulously I was weary of lunch and tried to wash it down with a glass of water. Wash is a good term.
My cell phone rang and I answered it with what I thought was a cheery “Hello!” Apparently, it sounded more like “hawoe” The caller asked, “What?” All I could do was laugh. Laughter sounds fairly normal with a half-paralyzed face.
After a visit to the dentist, it’s a good time to fast until facial feeling returns. Fast from eating, drinking and talking to people. Smiles, anyone?
This past Saturday I was out in the field with some friends. One of them is a dog trainer. He brought six of his dogs out for specialized training. I was enthralled.
His reputation for handling dogs is renown. Whenever his dogs have a litter, they are claimed by dog lovers around the country. But more than just the breeding, he is known for his skill in training dogs.
His field trials with dogs searching for wild birds, coming to a point and holding until released is a marvel. One observer was so impressed he traded him for his show dog on the spot for his brand new 4×4 pick up truck that had only 30 miles on it. That kind of reputation follows a guy around for a long time.
For the first run of the day he brought out his spaniels. He called his English Springer and a Brittany to come to him. With enthusiasm and tails wagging as fast as an oscillating fan, they jumped into his arms and he loved on them with slobber flying in all directions.
“Are you guys ready to hunt?” he inquired. The howling that filled the afternoon air was music to an outdoorsman’s ears. With endless energy the dogs raced into the sorgum patches.
The handler never raised his voice. Simple calls were his consistent expression. Sometimes they were gentle other times authoritative. But always under control amazed me as these enthusiastic animals raced through patches of growth scouring everything for the elusive pheasant, quail, or chucker.
Occasionally, the trainer would call a dog back that was extending its distance to far ahead. He would talk quietly to the dog while holding it close to him. Then, he would release it again always with a commendation.
These dogs ran until I got tired of watching them run. When they caught the scent of a wild bird, they froze like statues. Their tail was up like a flag and their nose was pointing to the hidden prey. Nothing would move them from that posture until their master gave them a release command. Then they would be off to find the next bird.
The release was enjoined with lots of pats, strokes, and words of commendation. That energized the dogs for another systematic romp through the field. When God created dogs, He gave them a kind of loyalty and devotion at which we humans can marvel and hope to some how parallel into humanity with one another.
photo credit: Google image
I marvelled at the weather. This is March but everything outside was great! The sun was shining and the streets were dry. I glanced up at my on-board thermometer and it read 58 degrees.
It’s been a long and cold winter for us in Michigan. There have been more than one snow storm that we have dug through to get out of our driveway. Bundling up to survive the single digit temperatures, life was slipping from one heated building to the next.
While that particular day was filled with appointments, I did have a distant thought that entered my mind. Musing at my day’s obligations I wondered if I could slip in one more event. That’s when a surprise emerged.
Roaring passed me on the road was a motorcyclist. I heard the rumble before I saw the biker. The rider rounded the corner ahead of me and turned down the road where I was waiting for my red light to change its mind.
This motorcycle accelerating to cruising speed, with lightbar on high, full leather decking the rider, glistening chrome capturing reflected sunlight, and dark face shield slipped by quickly. That’s when I felt a grin grow on my face. I stole a glance away from the stagnant traffic ahead to gaze at a fellow rider.
That settled it for me. I would find a way to fire up my trusty steed and go for my first ride of 2009. Before the weather changed I would roll on my throttle today.
My duties for the day were complete. I pulled on my leathers and pulled off my motorcycle cover. Rolling up my storage gear I smiled at my awesome machine.
With a soft rag and a shine-n-spray bottle I wiped away some of the winter dust that slipped under the winter cover. The shine returned with eagerness. That’s when I threw a leg over the bike and rolled it out of the garage.
I did a quick check-down of all the specifics for my initial ride. Everything was as it should be. Now, I smiled and pressed the start button and the mighty 1600cc engine roared to life after a winter of hibernation.
My machine lurched forward to swallow its first gulp of asphalt. Mile after mile rolled under my feet. This first ride of the year is a promise of hope for an entire year.
photo credit: Google image
I’m used to long hours on any given day. 5:30AM as a wake up call is normal for me. My alarm doesn’t ring. I just wake up and go.
A big part of my day used to be planning my calendar. Forward thinking was my modus operandi. Scheduling my upcoming speaking and teaching sessions, was thrilling. I loved being busy preparing for one event, looking forward to meeting people, or cheering others on in their lives. Now that I’m unemployed, things have changed.
I was up at 5:30 AM as usual. That part hasn’t changed. My time in the Word and prayer are all the same. Even my writing keeps chugging along during the wee hours of the morning.
My wife leaves for her work as usual. That’s when things get really weird. My schedule isn’t on a high plane of planning any more.
Instead, I did the dishes today. There was enough time to empty the dishwasher and fill it up again. Then, I cleaned up the kitchen. After that was done I then had my bowl of cereal and the whole day still stood before me inviting me to fill it up with something.
Research filled my morning. I was corresponding, organizing information, and updating my plan for a job search. By the time lunch rolled around I was done with all of my administrative chores for the whole day. That is very different for me.
I met a good friend for a meal. He picked up the tab. I didn’t like that. I miss treating others. I love being generous just to bless others. Besides I believe deep down inside that the Lord honors that quiet unassuming spirit of giving to others. Checking my desire to be generous is different.
What did I do after lunch? I went grocery shopping. That’s not unusual for me. I shop often for our groceries. But, I’m not used to doing that in the middle of the day. It felt different to be there in the middle of the afternoon.
But, while my days are different, I am determined to make them stimulating. I am still studying. Besides my contacts for a new position I am keeping up my discipline of hard work. Prayer is intense. Time with friends is a priority. Faith steps are relentless. My days are different but the same God that I have glorified in all that I do remains the same.
This season of life that I am experiencing is shockingly exhausting. I know that I am not alone during this world-wide downturn in the economy, but I feel alone. Everyone of us who is jobless feels isolated.
In Michigan this phenomenon is the worst on the national scene. The rhetoric that drums incessantly from the newsrooms whether on radio or television doesn’t do anything to change my reality. Again I am just one of the numbers lost in a sea of unrecognizable faces.
There is very little that feels good about being jobless. Distractions don’t make sense to me either. Definitive steps and contacts that will lead to the next job is the exclusive focus that brings relief to the daily growing burden from this holding tank in life.
That’s where great friends have made a difference. Some times it is a phone call. There are text messages that flash on my screen. Emails wait patiently for me to log on to my computer. A lunch meeting brings a face and life into mine for a rendezvous that makes a difference.
The words are encouraging. Belief in who I am and certainty expressed of what others believe that I can still do give me a surge of confidence. Strategy and initiative by great friends make contacts on my behalf. They dial the numbers, they talk to decision makers, they pass on my name, they zero in on what can be done to give me a real hand to pull me up and out of the pit.
That’s a lengthy description to describe networking. Maybe in God’s great providence my life is blessed with friends who He will use to direct me to my next challenging life assignment. When hands clasp at the end of a meal or a sign off in cyberspace is impending, real friends pour out their compliments and assurances with generosity.
I don’t depend on others doing my work for me. My hours on the computer making national searches is relentless. But, the bolstering by great friends is a boon to my confidence.
They do for me what I cannot do for myself, they make me realize that others still have confidence in me. Their devotion to me speaks so deeply of their loyalty that I am convinced that that special human quality may be the most treasured of all. My life is filled with great friends reaching into my life.
photo credit: Google image
