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A while back I was embroiled in moving. Actually, it was pre-moving. I had hired a moving company to do the heavy lifting of my worldly possessions.
Our house sale closed and now I had ten days to vacate the house. It is a helpless feeling when your know that your house has closed but you don’t have a place to live. Add to that the need to have a place to store your earthly belongings and the adventure of the unknown begins.
This small moment when I didn’t know the future was uncomfortably unsettling. Yet, right when we needed it, a very good friend offered her spare room for us to store our goods. We were amazed!
Each time I brought over a load, I thanked the Lord for such a generous friend. Carefully, I stacked our boxes, consolidated our possessions, and made this precious space as efficient as possible. I drive away each time thinking that God’s mercy is seen in special friends like this.
My muscles ached. I was winded with the heavy lifting. My clothes were usually soaked in perspiration. But, in my soul I was so thankful that the details of my move are watched over by the Almighty through His children.
My wife and I have looked at a number of apartments. We gathered as much information as we could. Again good friends helped all along the way.
This is a time when friends define themselves by their initiative. We love the bounty of the love that has been directed toward us. We have not been in want for people who wanted to offer a helping hand.
Then, at the eleventh-hour another good friend asked how our apartment searching was going. I gave him the run down. He offered to make it possible for us to rent a place from him.
He invited us for a personalized tour. It was fun! My wife cried. We accepted his offer. Now, we have a home were we rest after long work days.
Not long ago I was surrounded by unknowns. Now, God has provided friends to help us store our priceless possessions. He has given us a faithful friend who has made it possible for us to have a beautiful cozy home. So many helped in every small way, many little ways that added up to big time joy. What an adventure!
photo credit: Google image
Whenever I meet a new group of guys, conversation eventually moves its way to our favorite hobbies. One thing common among men is fishing. Afterall, it is America’s most popular outdoor sport.
As the conversation continues, fishermen emerge. We share stories of our favorite angling adventures. Laughter, wonderment and ideas are exchanged.
Some times those conversations lead to an invitation. Fishing is more fun when shared with friends, new and old. Companionship is a part of this sport.
But, I don’t have the time to fish a lot. When I can go, I like to go with those who not only like to fish but especially with those who catch a lot of fish. Nothing is guaranteed but fishermen are not all created equal.
I like to fish with those who are effective at catching. They are always eager to teach. Passing on secrets and techniques is a common habit by those who invite you to join them on the waters.
Those who are effective leave clues. It isn’t just the stories. True fishermen don’t exaggerate. Knowledge and details mark their conversation.
You fish for their answers. When their answers match with skills then you have clues that the words are an accurate report not an empty hope. Experts never oversell. There is a modest confidence that they exude.
Prayer is similar. All Christians pray. But, among the many there are some who are very good at it. They bring a request to the throne of grace and experience a high number of answers to those prayers.
James describes effective prayers. Prayers are almost always good. But, prayers that are answered are special. What is the formula for successful prayers?
Effective prayers first and foremost are offered by lives that are righteous. A righteous person is someone who habitually makes right choices. These choices are not “lucky” guesses but deliberate choices made with full knowledge and desire to do what is right.
This righteous life is not lived by a super hero. Rather, Elijah, is an example of such living. He was a man just like us. Yet, his prayers stopped the rain and brought it back as well.
That kind of success in prayer can’t be faked. Elijah is the kind of man who I want praying for me. His kind of prayer life is the kind that I want for myself. Live this way and the resulting prayer life will also be this way.
James 5.16-18
photo credit: Google image
With time on our hands during the second week in October in the state of Michigan means only one thing. It was the perfect opportunity to do a color drive into the country. In addition the sun was shining and the Lord has kept the normally vigorous Autumns winds at bay.
We drove down Maple Road. It came to a T intersection at the Huron River. For no particular reason we turned right. It proved to be a spectacular choice.
The sun shone through the yellow leaves lighting up the route. Nearly black tree trunks stood out in great contrast. It was a stunning drive.
The road along the river does not have a shoulder. A ditch follows the road on my right. On the other side of the road was a cliff down to the river.
But we had to find a place to stop. The color and lighting was perfect for photos. It was time to take a risk.
A wide spot along the side of the road appeared. Traffic behind me was growing impatient as I slowly looked for a place to pull over. The beauty of creation surrounding that lady right behind me was being wasted.
She glared at me when she drove by me. I shot her a smile. Maybe a pleasantry could linger in her bitter life just for a little while.
Once the automobile traffic dissipated, I got of mine. I looked up the road and back down the road. The color was amazing.
When I raised my camera, I could see the framed shot. My shutter snapped at my command. I reframed an optional sighting. Then, I changed the settings and snapped more photos.
Traffic was picking up again so I climbed back into the safety of my vehicle. We drove down the road and found a parking lot by a bridge that crossed the river. Our short hike never made it to the other side. Instead, the view from the middle of the bridge captivated our attention.
The hillside was filled with trees in full dress color. The blued sky was a fitting backdrop. Water reflected the color and highlighted the scene. This grand show is missed by so many who are in a hurry to get some where and probably go inside. I chose to take it all in and on top of that it’s free. Free is a very good price.
photo credits: Bruce Fong Photography
After thirty years of suburban living, Yvonne and I are living in an urban apartment. Our new digs are not in a major city center. But, the little downtown where we live is a very fun place to call home.
We live on the fourth floor. A modest balcony serves as a haven for relaxation. The view gives me many moments to take in the daily sunrise. They are stunning.
Evening strolls around town are a new for us. We have taken that opportunity several times. Walking out of the apartment and finding a local eatery so that we don’t have to do the shopping or the dishes is an option that neither Yvonne nor I have to debate very long.
Our complex has underground parking. Not only does it make us safe, it also keeps out of the weather. There’s even a self-service car wash unit that is available to us.
Garbage collection is every day. We don’t have to wait for a special day of the week. And I don’t have to bundle up and go out to the curb. Instead, the garbage closet is right across the hall from our unit. It is very convenient.
Saturday our schedules were open for the first time since our move to our new address. Our son had recommended a tasty place for breakfast. We walked the two and half blocks to check it out. Yum! It was delicious! Most likely we will be back.
The temperatures were low. So we went back to our haven, picked up a coat and were back out on the streets for a stroll. Shop after shop welcomed us in. It was fun.
Autumn colors are finishing up. Their countless leaves litter the sidewalks and fill up the flower beds. What’s so nice about observing this? I don’t have to rake any leaves!
The sound of a lawn mower filled the morning air. It’s time for the final cut of the season. I don’t have to do that any more!
An air compressor was puttering away. A local company was blowing out the lawn sprinkler system of a home. This is the month to contract that service. I don’t have to do that this year!
I drove past the home improvement store today. That made me smile. I didn’t have to stop. Maintenance is included in my service contract. I don’t have to do that stuff any more!
My host invited me to try his massage chair. I was shy. Chuckling out loud I deflected the offer.
But, the same curiosity that killed the cat kept nagging at my mind. Each time I walked past his living room, that chair seemed to be waving me over. It looks like a leather recliner on steroids.
Instead of a panel that lifts your legs into the air, it has slots for each leg. When you sit in it three sides of your legs and feet are compressed into a space designed to make relaxation complete. The rest of the chair looks very normal.
No one was around so I climbed into the chair. It seemed natural to press both of my legs into the well padded slots. Then I picked up the control panel.
I pressed the ON switch and selected a Shiatsu massage. Whoa! I thought that I was mentally ready for what was to come but I was not. As far as massages go, I am firmly ensconced in the ranks of the uninitiated.
Yeow! If this weren’t a machine I would have wheeled around and slugged the person who had the gall to touch me like that! Yo! ooh! Hey, the initial moments seemed awkward and verged on being painful.
That’s when I decided not to fight the chair but to let this preprogrammed machine have its way. Seconds after that decision to relent I began to feel the ooze. Yup, I was being transformed into a bowl of jelly.
My legs were feeling the joy first. Pressure on my calves, vibration on my feet and squeezing my legs felt like a loving hug that melted my day’s aches and pains away. What joy!
Then, my back was getting a roller work out. Tense muscles that may not have ever remembered what it was like to relax were now being cajoled into repose. I could actually feel the relaxation growing inside of me.
My mind started to relax. Ooh…yeah, the fingers built into the chair were pressing out the stiffness that I had just grown accustomed to having. My heart rate that started out racing was now pulsating calmly.
What surprised me was how my mind began to feel soothed and de-stressed. The more I relaxed the deeper the massage actions did their magic. OK, no one bother me. I’ve been morphed into Jell-O.
photo credit: Google image
Steve is my medical doctor. That’s common. Most of us have a medical caregiver that we visit when our body goes awry.
My doctor is very skilled. He is also a friend. When I step into his office we spend as much time talking about our lives as we do going over my medical condition.
My ministry travels take me to parts unknown. During those travels I pick up bugs that take away my energy, make me sneeze or worst of all make my voice disappear. Since I am a speaker, losing my voice is a huge problem.
On one trip I was a long way from home, a bug was creeping after my throat. I called Dr. Steve and explained my symptoms. He diagnosed the problem instantly.
What’s great about Dr. Steve is his concern. He keeps me healthy for the ministry. He is a delightful cheerleader.
Over the years he knows that I am not a hypochondriac. Rather, I am the typical guy who waits to the last desperate moment to ask for help. In fact if I miss a regular check up he has called my private number just to chat and then casually reminds me that we need to get together.
That kind of familiar care is special. I am a regular customer to Dr. Steve. He knows me. That connection gives me a feeling of confidence and certainty.
James takes this same kind of familiarity and applies it to his instruction on prayer. He teaches us that when we are experiencing troubles we should pray. Take those difficulties to God.
Or when troubles are absent and we are happy we should still go to God in prayer. God loves to hear from His children when their lives are filled with joy. Celebration is as much a part of prayer as pleas for help.
Of course when tragedy visits prayer is expected. The faith learned in the routine of life will fuel those prayers. God promises to answer, to care and to bring healing when prayers offered in faith are given.
At the heart of James’ instruction is something about prayer that we should remember. God has a way of blessing his regular customers. Those who come to God in prayer for everything, forge a relationship that prepares us for those really tough times. God knows us. We know Him. Come to Him often for everything.
James 5.13-16
photo credit: Google image
Driving in the city of San Francisco is an adventure. It is city driving without a doubt. Urban maneuvering skills in a motorized vehicle is not for the faint of heart.
The numbers of smaller cars here in the peninsula-by-the-sea is huge compared to my Motorcity experience. Tiny Smart cars, Minis, and subcompact versions abound. They are like tiny buzz bombs zipping around corners, switching lanes and whipping into any open parking spaces on the street.
If decisiveness is not a part of a person’s driving repertoire, then they might as well ride the bus in this world-class city. My hosts have loaned me a Toyota Corolla. It has plenty of power, a good suspension and has a tight turning radius.
Gentleness on manuevers works for me. But besides the crowded streets filled with cars, buses and trucks there is a unique addition. Bicyclists abound on the streets of San Francisco.
These two-wheeled machines are not shy around motorized traffic. They pedal hard and quick into traffic. Riders are quite adept at balancing a latte and checking out a free space to squeeze into a lane leading them to their destination.
Don’t forget the motorized two-wheelers either. Big hawgs aren’t the prolific bikers in this category. Rather they are the under 200cc motor scooters.
They sound like a big rubber band whining up a hill with a centrifugal transmission. Different riders have decorated their scooters with decals, psychedelic colors and an endless variety of cargo baskets. So many of the scooter riders look oversized for the tiny little bike that they are on.
Whoa! There’s a guy using the pushy-technique. This method is where you drift into the lane you want, forcing the other driver to bake and by default makes room to merge. He jerked back into his lane when I gave him the Michigan horn-blast response.
What a dope! If you try to drive with intimidation but are chicken to follow through there’s no hope. Well, he’s an amateur, so I dropped back and let him in. In Michigan such a gesture usually wins a wave, but he just crowded in, so I laid on my horn once more.
Startled again he floored his little car only to slam on his brakes because the traffic stopped. He has a lot to learn. But at least this little Michigan manuever lesson might be one that he remembers.
photo credit: Google image
Travel is a part of my life. The airport is a common destination on my busy calendar. In domestic and foreign destinations, I have both hurried and waited in airports.
Thursday I was admiring my roller duffel bag. It appeared on the airport conveyor system, seemingly popping out of no where. Then, it slid down on to the carousel.
The seemingly endless line of luggage was like a semi-orderly parade of lost orphans hoping for a reunion with someone who would claim them. Off to the side, surrounded by yellow warning tape was a pile of unclaimed luggage. They all looked so sad.
My Navy, grey and black bag with striking orange highlights had no worries. I have been waiting for that personal luggage many times and have only had an occasional episode of a temporary separation. It was separated from me in Israel, Amsterdam, Johannesburg, Seoul, Singapore and Phenom Phen.
But we’re together and still racking up the long air miles. While more and more travelers bring as much carry-on as possible, I still choose to check as much luggage as I can. My check-in personal cargo unit always my choice for travel.
Last night I couldn’t sleep. In the wee morning hours I got up and did some work. Even in the dark I can reach into my duffel bag and find the same pouches, slots, cubby holes that I use to keep myself organized. That kind of calming familiarity comes over time.
What is certain and familiar about travelling together gives me confidence and personal ease. He now shows his years. There are flaws in his fabric.
The tough braided handles have frizzled. One of the seams on the back pouch is torn. Red electrical tape at points helps quickly identify my bag in case someone else has the same unit.
It happened once. She glared at me when I grabbed the bag off the conveyor. I said sorry when I looked at her name tag. I remember the burning red embarrassment that must have been visible to everyone within 10 yards of me.
There are worn spots, other minor tears and a couple of sliding pieces that don’t work well any more. But we are familiar companions. That kind of comfort is hard to replace.
Familiarity doesn’t always breed contempt. In fact this is one of those times when familiarity boosts confidence. Two old bags moving through an international airport…together as usual.
photo credit: Google image
Today I left the beautiful Autumn woods of Michigan and entered into the concrete forests of San Francisco. My vistas were replaced over a five hour flight from the stunning colors of spectacularly painted woods into the hustle and bustle of a worldclass city. My serenity was now put on hold and the excitement of a city that has by-in-large escaped the economic collapse of many other American cities would arrest my attention for five days.
Airports help to ease the shock of that contrast. These mega-gathering places of people all seem the same. At least the similarities of Detroit International Airport and the San Francisco International Airport have many striking similarities.
Concrete is part of the generous motif of both facilities. It’s difficult to make that construction stuff ever seem warm and inviting. The character of grey mud now hardened and molded just communicates a utilitarian cold environment.
My temporary digs has me perched up on the 9th floor. The window overlooks a forest of steel buildings, massive high rises, and a plethora of other buildings crowded in between those gigantic structures, filling up every nook and cranny for human use. Green is not a common color out there in this city landscape.
Is there an upside to this concrete jungle? Yes, of course! It’s the people. I love people.
No, I’m not a big party guy but engaging people in deep conversation is my energizer. Walking through life and cheering others on in that journey is what turns my crank. Observing others pick up the mantle and serve other people as they have been blessed is what inspires me.
But, just like what man makes out of concrete and steel can be ugly, people can get very ugly too. Those who are righteous in their own eyes cause pain in te lives of other people. Too many times they think only of themselves at the expense of others.
Helping the healing process and correcting errors is a part of being involved with people. Giving others hope when there is so much hurt is a flag that I love to champion. Applying a salve on wounds is a gentle task waiting for anyone who will truly care.
Yes, I will be enjoying the amazing FOOD of the Bay Area. No doubt I will see more great sites. I plan to embrace the mild weather. But, mostly I have come to serve the people in the name above all names.
photo credit: Google image
My family’s favorite Oregon memories were our treks to the Pacific Coast. The Northwest beaches are family friendly. There are only people scattered about every half mile or so.
The shores of these oceans are constantly cold. You need a jacket and hat to be comfortable. But, with the sparse crowds it is easy to keep track of the kids.
My wife and I would settle into sand chairs, read or converse. Occasionally, I would sit up and count our three frolicking children. All were account for so I would settle back into my reading.
One time however, I looked up and something strange caught my attention. There were three children. But, while two were running around one was standing perfectly still.
I got up and trotted down to the water’s edge to see what oddity had occurred. As I got closer, it was easy to assess the situation. I started to fight the emerging smile.
On the Oregon coast there is a lot of sand, sea water and seagulls. One of those seagulls took off for its morning flight. But, it had to lose a lot of ballast.
It released its load in mid-flight. The trajectory resulted in a bull’s-eye right on the side of my son’s head. It was dripping down over his ear, on to his shoulder and dripping off of his arm.
He stood there completely frozen. All he could say was, “Dad, get it off, get it off!” I tried very hard not to laugh.
I suggested that we make our way back to our camp site and wash off at the water faucet. He did not hesitate. His legs ran as fast as they could.
Naturally, I followed him. While his legs were churning like a propeller on a 300 HP Mercury outboard, everything from his waist up was still locked in the frozen state. Back at the camp all he could do was to wash until he was free of that filth.
This is the picture in my mind when Peter tells us to rid ourselves of all malice,deceit, hypocrisy, envy and slander. The language of this lesson is precise. The meaning of the phrase “ride yourselves” means to wash off filth.
My son wanted nothing to do with that bird bomb. He knew what it was and wanted only to be separated from it. This is one of those good dirty lessons about life.
photo credit: Bruce Fong Photography
