Recently, I was with very good friends staying in their beautiful home. It was the first time that our smiles connected since they relocated to a new job. My travel schedule took me out of town when word of their departure reached me.

Email and texting kept us in touch. We kept looking for an excuse to catch up. Finally, it worked out. My GPS led me right to their country home. Climbing up to their front porch, I took in the gorgeous surroundings.

Everything fell away when the smiling face of a dear friend came bounding down the hall way and threw open the front door. It’s the glistening cheer of sparkling eyes that give a clear look into the sincerity of the soul. The words that flowed were joyous, loving and energizing. Our embrace lingered.

We all went out to share a meal together. The fare was scrumptious. News items in our lives filled the evening.

Then, we retreated back to their house. The evening entertained us with conversation and fellowship. That’s when the observation from my friend stuck with me.

In times of difficulty you find out who your friends really are. What a poignant statement. It puts great value on true friends.

I have been blessed to both have true friends and be one. Those who embrace us, fellowship with us, cheer us on, speak well of us, and give help just at the right time are all wonderful friends. God seems to send them along as His messengers.

One true friend helped fix our ailing airconditioning unit. Another friend brought boxes for us to pack some of our fragile items. Yet, another helped us arrange temporary storage. Then, two others have offered us temporary housing. One took me out to see a movie.

A true friend covered the cost of my oil change. Then, yet another made it possible for a very expensive vehicle repair to come out a lot more inexpensive than I was expecting. Another sent a gift card in the mail.

Hugs abound. Encouraging words flow freely. Prayers are lifting me up daily.

One of my favorite movies is It’s a Wonderful Life. George is declared by his brother at the end of the movie to be the richest person he knows because of all the friends that he has. I too have been blessed with a wonderful life because of true friends.

photo credit: Google image

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

The song “Cats in the Cradle” profoundly moved me before I ever had children. It became one of those moments in life when I made a deep commitment as a future father.  I wanted to make sure that I would be a Promise-keeper to my children. Here are those words.

A child arrived just the other day,
He came to the world in the usual way.
But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay.
He learned to walk while I was away.
And he was talking ‘fore I knew it, and as he grew,
He’d say, “I’m gonna be like you, dad.
You know I’m gonna be like you.”

And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
“When you coming home, dad?” “I don’t know when,
But we’ll get together then.
You know we’ll have a good time then.”

My son turned ten just the other day.
He said, “Thanks for the ball, dad, come on let’s play.
Can you teach me to throw?” I said, “Not today,
I got a lot to do.” He said, “That’s ok.”
And he walked away, but his smile never dimmed,
Said, “I’m gonna be like him, yeah.
You know I’m gonna be like him.”

And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
“When you coming home, dad?” “I don’t know when,
But we’ll get together then.
You know we’ll have a good time then.”

Well, he came from college just the other day,
So much like a man I just had to say,
“Son, I’m proud of you. Can you sit for a while?”
He shook his head, and he said with a smile,
“What I’d really like, dad, is to borrow the car keys.
See you later. Can I have them please?”

And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
“When you coming home, son?” “I don’t know when,
But we’ll get together then, dad.
You know we’ll have a good time then.”

I’ve long since retired and my son’s moved away.
I called him up just the other day.
I said, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind.”
He said, “I’d love to, dad, if I could find the time.
You see, my new job’s a hassle, and the kid’s got the flu,
But it’s sure nice talking to you, dad.
It’s been sure nice talking to you.”
And as I hung up the phone, it occurred to me,
He’d grown up just like me.
My boy was just like me.

And the cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon,
Little boy blue and the man in the moon.
“When you coming home, son?” “I don’t know when,
But we’ll get together then, dad.
You know we’ll have a good time then.”

More than elaborate assurances, I determined to be a man of my word.  It is too easy to make good excuses or at least excuses that sound good.  James said it well. Just let your Yes be Yes and your No be No. 

Fancy promises sound more like a salesman trying to make a quick sale.  When we make promises, keep it simple.  Our word is sufficient.

Over time our consistency of character will validate what others are willing to trust.  When we deliver what we say we will, then it is adequate to give others confidence.  What we do with our word of promise will be a legacy that will follow us throughout our lives with the people who we love the most.

James 5.12

My wife and I are complementary partners in parenting our children. We each add a component to the other’s strength in parenting our offspring. It has been fun reminiscing over high points of our legacy investment.

When the children were babies and toddlers, Yvonne was the primary influence in their lives. She was great at the cooing and pampering. But, when they turned into teenagers there was a chemistry that called for a different interaction. I loved the conversation with our growing children.

They all had questions about life, people and faith. None of those explorations ever threatened me or worried me. They are part of the growing process. I relished every conversation that we had.

When our oldest son was in High School he was feeling his emergence into intellectual prowess. He graduated from the largest high school in the state and had the highest SAT scores in his graduating class. Debate was a favorite pastime for him. Of course he tried to pour those new skills into our family discussions.

But, age and treachery has an advantage over youth and inexperience. One evening he was trying his best to dominate the conversation. But, his facts were not holding up nor was his logical argument standing up to objective challenge.

He could feel that his position was eroding. His sister and brother were beginning to snicker, which didn’t help his position. Finally, he burst out, “It’s no fun arguing with you and mom because you two always win.”

To which I replied, “It’s no problem for your Mom and me. We debate you with half of our brains tied behind our backs just to make it fair.”

That’s when the snickers of his sister and brother broke out from supressed chuckling to boisterous laughter. Caught up in the moment and trying valiantly to stem the tide he had a good thought but didn’t quite wordsmith his response, “That’s nothing, I don’t even use my brain!”

Our whole family erupted into one of those explosions of laughter that shook the roof. Sure, he tried to say that was not exactly what he meant to say, but he was laughing too hard to make much of a case for his faux pas.

Laughter and memories are some of life’s greatest treasures that we share with our children. It makes being a Dad one of life’s greatest divine blessings.

photo credit: Bruce Fong Photography

My wife and I were expecting our first-born.  It’s one of those amazing never-to-be-forgotten experiences that alters life.  I was going to be a “Dad.”

Of course we read everything that we could put our hands on.  Every feasible preparation was on our to-do list.  Whether it was medical, transportation or nursery care we had it on our list.

One of the lessons that I learned was that Lemaze training was useless.  We fathers don’t do much of anything significant during the birthing process.  Our greatest contribution according to this method is to teach my wife how to breath in a stressful situation and to feed her ice chips.

When our friends came over for dinner, my wife told me it was time.  That’s when I assured her that I knew that our friends were scheduled to arrive soon.  In fact they had just pulled up in their car. 

That’s when a repeated statement by my wife sent me into a tizzy.  She told me that it was time, time for the baby to come.  Her water had broken.

Panic never gives us a warning.  I raced out of the house, told my guests to make themselves at home and I backed the car out of the garage.  My friends laughed, “Don’t forget Yvonne!”

Up in the labor room, Yvonne was hooked up to monitors.  The doctors and nurses told me that we had plenty of time.  So, I settled in to watch a Bruce Lee Kung Fu film. 

When it was time we went into the delivery room together.  Our daughter was born.  The nurse gathered up that new life.  She congratulated me and exclaimed, “Isn’t she beautiful!” 

Well, no, she looked slimy and purple.  On top of that she looked really angry.  The nurse took away my baby, cleaned her up and brought her back to Yvonne. 

Our daughter began to nurse.  That was the only thing on her mind.  She never stopped to ask for $20.  Nor did she ask to borrow the car on her first night out. 

A newborn baby has on one thing on their mind: food and plenty of it.  No wonder the Apostle Peter chose this metaphor to describe how to hunger for God’s Word.  As a newborn baby craves milk, we are to crave the Word of God.  That day I became a “Dad” and have never forgotten the picture of how to crave what is good.

photo credit: Bruce Fong Photography