A Story for Marie

Editor's Note - This story could be for any of the six Kellar children.  Or really, it could be for any of my cousins.  You see, I am lucky enough to have the best cousins anyone could ever wish for.  We owe it all to the Irving siblings, an amazing group of women, and a couple men, who have endured and triumphed over so much to give us all a great deal of love and appreciation for family.  I love my cousins dearly, and they are the only reason that I suffer through maintaining my account on Facebook.  For those that know me best, I despise so much about Facebook, but the one thing that keeps me there is being able to get updates on what my cousins are doing. 

The one who keeps me in touch and connected the most is my cousin Marie, and because of her dedication and devotion to her father, Bob Kellar, I wanted to write a brief, and probably not so eloquent story about his recent passing.  As my cousins and I get older, we sadly face the reality that our parents are not going to be with us much longer.  Some have gone before him, and many will go after him.  Their love will endure the test of time, however, and it's up to us to carry that forward. 

My apologies to the great writers, my apologies to those who can come up with really good titles, this is my work of fiction titled

A Story for Marie

St. Peter walked pensively into the room, trying to figure out what to say.  He thought to himself, what will He say?  What will He do?  He can be such an angry God, I just don't want to catch Him on a bad day, but He has to be told!

"Um, God, can we talk?"

"Peter, come in, what seems to be troubling you?"

"We're having a, well a bit of a problem with the stars God.  We can't seem to keep them lit."

"Peter, that shouldn't be an issue, we have so many bright minds you can call upon, have you talked to Ben Franklin?  What about Tom Edison?  I'm sure one of them can figure it out," God said dismissively.

St. Peter let out a big sigh, "I've consulted them both, but, but all they know is theory, Sir!  If I hear one more time how to make a lightbulb for God's sake.... um, I'm sorry Sir."

God shook his head, "Peter, we've been around for ages of course, and it's not like a few flickering stars is the end of the world, I'm sure someone will figure it out, just let time take its course."

St. Peter got up some nerve and said, "But God, it's Christmas and all, and people really want to see the star.  I know it's not nearly as important as when your Son was born, but still, people really look forward to it each year.  It may not be that important to all of us, but it is to all of them."

God sighed again, "I know, Peter, you're right, we have to do something.  Are you sure Franklin or Edison can't help?"

St. Peter raised his arms to the sky, "They treat me like I'm an idiot God, if I hear one more theory on how electricity works.... I mean I'm St. Peter, I think I know!"

"OK, OK, we need to find someone else.  Is there anyone you can think of Peter?"

"Well, God, there is this one guy.  He's really good, one of the best.  There's just one problem."

"And?"

"He's still alive."

God got furious, "Peter!  What kind of insanity is this?  You know that this is against all the rules!"

"God, I know, but ... he's led a good life, he doesn't have a lot longer, can we at least approach him, talk to him, run the idea past him?"

God sat back, tapped his forehead, and thought for a few moments.  "Who is he, Peter?"

St. Peter quickly replied, "Bob Kellar, Sir!"

God fell back in his chair, "Peter, Bob's a fighter, he's endured hardships throughout his life, I'm sure he has a lot of years left."

"God, please, just let me talk to him, he's a good man, I'm sure he'd be willing to help if he knew the severity of the problem."

God sighed yet again, "OK, give it a shot, but do not mislead him, do not tell him he doesn't have a choice, remember, free will, we want to ensure they have free will, no matter what!"

St. Peter quickly scurried off to talk to Bob Kellar to see if he could fix this nasty lighting problem with the stars.  He was sure that it could be solved, all he needed was the right person on the job.

As St. Peter approached Bob, he could see that Bob was tired.  All the years of working so hard had left a toll on Bob.  Could this be the one that can help me, St. Peter thought?  He looks so worn.  St. Peter approached quietly and cautiously, and said, "Mr. Kellar?"

Bob raised his eyes up underneath his hat, "Yeah, who are you?"

"St. Peter"

Bob beamed at him, "Really?  Is it time?  I thought I had a few more years in me!"

"Well, a no, it's not time yet, but we have a, well a bit of a problem up in Heaven".

Bob shifted in his chair, sat up a little straighter, and said, "What kind of problem?  And why are you telling me?"

"Well, the fact of the matter is, we can't seem to keep the stars from flickering, and it's getting to be Christmas season, and people really want to see the star, you know, the star, and we can't seem to keep them lit."

"Come on St. Peter, I'm sure you have some great minds up there in Heaven, what can I do?  Can't one of those famous guys fix it?  What about God himself, can't He do it?"

"Well, God doesn't like to deal with these 'small issues', you know, He's quite busy.  And the famous guys, my word, if I hear one more time how Franklin flew the kite and got struck by lightning, I think I'm going to scream."

"St. Peter, I'm just a normal electrician, a simple man.  How in the world could I help?"

"Mr. Kellar, you're supposed to be the best, and you're one of the hardest workers the world has ever seen.  But, I'm just a little worried, you seem a bit more, um, tired, than I imagined.  I'm not entirely sure you're up for the job."

Bob Kellar sat up straight and glared at St. Peter, "Worn?  Come a little closer Pete, and let me show you how worn I am!"

St. Peter quickly backed off and apologized, "I'm so sorry Mr. Kellar, I didn't mean to offend you, I just wasn't sure you were up to the task."

"OK, tell me the deal, what do you need?"

"Well, the difficult part of it all of course, is that you would need to, well, ah, leave this world.  Then you would have to figure out why in the world the stars aren't working."

"Leave this world huh?  That's a tough one.  I got six great kids.  13 grandchildren.  Just had my first great grandchild.  Be tough to leave all that, I don't know St. Peter."

"I understand Mr. Kellar, I understand.  We'll get by I'm sure.  Maybe that insufferable Ben Franklin will figure something out, I don't know, but I do understand."  St. Peter lowered his head and started to leave.

"Wait, hold on a second, St. Peter.  You know, I do have six great kids, and really, there's really not a whole lot more I can do to make their lives better.  But I'll bet I can do a lot up in Heaven to help things out.  If you need me, I'm there for you."

St. Peter was elated, "Mr. Kellar, thank you so much, you can't imagine what this means to me and to God, I'm sure.  Mr. Kellar, I'm sure you won't regret this."

"Well, I will miss seeing my kids.  And those grand kids.  And that sweet little great grandchild.  But it's time, I have so much left to give, and I'll be able to see them every day and touch their lives somehow.  I may be gone, but I'll still be there."

As God was sitting admiring his creation the one day, St. Peter walked in proudly, beaming from ear to ear.  "Peter, what are you so happy about?"

"The stars are fixed Sir!  Even the Christmas star!"

"Fantastic Peter, how did you manage that?  Franklin?  Edison?"

St. Peter laughed, "Oh my God, oops, sorry Sir, no.  They only know theory.  I brought in someone who can make things happen.  Bob Kellar fixed the problem for us!"

"I told you that you should get Bob Kellar, I knew he could do it.  He's a worker, a doer."

St. Peter looked surprised, "You told me... ah, yes Sir, yes, You had a great idea, I should have listened to You sooner."

A Prayer for Civility

I need to provide a little background for this post.  I'm really not a big fan of discussing politics, and I've become less of a fan over the last few years with the negative tone that all political ads, debates and discussions have taken.  There has always been contention and fighting between the parties, that's the way the system was designed, and for the most part over the years, it seemed to have worked.  The goal always seemed to be the greater good, but maybe I was just too naive.  Maybe the goal always was to make yourself look better, or better yet, make your opponent look much worse. 

Anyway, the tone from the two parties has been largely negative, and in the era of continuous and constant connectivity, it has spilled over into our everyday lives and in all of our communication.  Whether it's news feeds on the internet, television or social media like Facebook, we get a constant barrage of negativity.  Very little "my candidate is the best because ..." or "my party has the best interest of the country because ...", but negativity or personal attacks on the various candidates.  OK, I'm not telling anyone anything new here, I realize that.

Where it really hit me was when two of my cousins, who I love dearly, started sniping at each other on Facebook.  While politics can be and will be contentious, it doesn't have to be personal.  When I saw the posts back and forth, it reminded me of hearing the stories from history that talked about brother versus brother fighting in the Civil War.  So, it inspired me to a Prayer of Civility, that is not affiliated with any political party, it's bi-partisan, not endorsed by Fox or MSNBC, not affiliated with any particular religious denomination.  And it goes something like this:

"Gracious God, I'd like to lift up the following people to you in prayer, and ask you to look over them and help them see their way through these difficult times. 

I lift up to you, President Obama and Vice President Biden and I ask that you look after them as the Republican National Committee and groups such as Fox News and the Tea Party unleash their venom of hatred and lies toward them during this election year.

I lift up to you, Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney and his running mate Paul Ryan and I ask that you protect them as the Democratic National Committee and groups such as MSNBC and MoveOn.org attack them with vicious attacks on their personal character and beliefs during this election year.

I lift up to you all of those people that use you and your son, Jesus Christ, and try to align their party with what you would have us do.  Help them to understand, Jesus would never be a Republican, He would never be a Democrat, Jesus was a radical, and He would be appalled at anyone trying to align their political agenda with His teachings.

I lift up to you our nation as we have grown more and more into worshipping other names besides yours, names like Prada, Gucci, Lexus, Nike, help us to see that the worship of things, and the money that buys those things, is very short-sighted and short-lived.

I ask that you help some of us to see that not everyone who is on welfare is on welfare because they are shiftless and lazy. 

I ask that you help some of us to see that not everyone who is rich, or corporations that are rich, are greedy and self-serving.

I ask that you help some of us to see that just because someone is different, a different religion, different national origin, different sexual orientation, different race, that doesn't mean that they are inherently evil or bad.

I ask that you help our politicians see that compromise, working together, listening to one another, isn't a weakness, it's a strength.  We're all in this together, and the only way to grow and improve this nation, and our world, is through working together.

Finally, Lord, I ask that you help me to walk the talk.  It's easy to say all of these things, but it's much harder to live them.  Help me to practice what I preach.

In Jesus name, I pray, Amen."

The Death of Sandlot Sports - And So Much More?

Many, many years ago, I remember we used to go up to Scharman Field everyday during the summer for pickup baseball games.  We'd have a handful of kids show up, someone would have a bat, someone would have a ball, some would have baseball gloves.  If you were lucky, at least one person was left-handed and had a left-handed mitt, if not you'd have to wear a glove on the wrong hand.  When you'd go from the field to batting, you'd throw your glove to a guy from the other team because you never had enough gloves to play.  You'd always end up with an odd assortment, various kids you didn't know, never enough to field two full teams.  You'd pick up teams, sometimes an even number, sometimes not, usually something like five against five.  For those who understand baseball, traditionally, it's nine against nine.  When you have five against five or less, you had to get creative.

You'd have a pitcher, two infielders and two outfielders in the field for those times you were lucky enough to have five against five.  Right handed batters could hit to center field and left field, left handed batters could hit to center field and right field.  Outfielders would shift from left field to right field when a left handed batter came up after a right handed batter and vice-versa.  If you hit to the wrong field, it was an automatic out.  The team at bat would have to supply the catcher.  For those times you weren't lucky enough to have five against five, sometimes you'd have imaginary runners.  Sometimes, if you didn't have a first baseman, you'd throw to the pitcher to get the person running to first base out.  You'd then have to judge if the runner beat the throw or not.  You'd have to judge whether the imaginary runner beat the throw or not.  You'd have to imagine ....  Ah, you'd have to imagine.  We imagined so much, we'd imagine we were Willie Mays, Roberto Clemente, Bob Gibson.  By the way, I was always Vida Blue.  But as usual, I digress.

As you can imagine, there would be many points of contention and argument.  Did my imaginary runner beat the throw?  That hit to the outfield, was it directly to center field or slightly to the wrong field, meaning an out.  We threw that guy out at the plate, but your catcher dropped the throw on purpose!  We'd argue and argue, and eventually we'd come to an agreement, and go back to playing.  Or not.  Sometimes, we'd end up fighting.  Sometimes, someone ended up with a bloody nose.  Sometimes, you'd have a kid, who brought the ball or bat, get mad and take his ball or bat and go home.  Then, of course, the game ended, we didn't have a key ingredient to play.  More often than not, that didn't happen, we all had a vested interest in the goal - playing baseball.  We'd play until lunchtime if it was the morning, until dinner in the afternoon and until it was too dark to see the baseball in the evenings.  We lived to play baseball.

Years later, when I coached soccer, I'd always let the kids just play for the last 10-15 minutes of practice, instead of doing drills.  I'd say "no rules, just play, have fun".  Most of the kids could do it, they enjoyed the lack of structure and the chance to just play.  But you had certain kids that just couldn't handle it.  Every couple of minutes, they'd come over to me complaining that the other kids weren't playing according to the rules.  I'd try to explain to them that there weren't any rules, they were just supposed to have fun, but they couldn't deal with it.  They wanted or needed a grown-up to tell them how to play. 

We've given our children complete structure now for sports, set practices, coaches there all the time, parents at practice, parents at games, referees for games, set times, set positions, structure, structure, structure.  No creativity, no negotiation, no fighting, no imagination.  We want to control everything for our children, "protect" them, and in the process, we've taken away their ability to grow and learn and develop their skills for their future grown-up lives. 

I've been wondering lately, is that the problem we have now in our government?  It used to be, or at least it seemed, our political parties could work together.  Sure, they would argue, they would fight, they would bloody each other's noses periodically, but they figured out a way to work together.  They practiced the Stephen Covey approach - seek to understand, before you can be understood.  In the end, they had a vested interest, the good of the country.  It really doesn't seem that way anymore.  It seems like they are looking for someone to tell them what the rules are and how to play fairly together.  They are focused on their own good, their own party's good, and not the good of the country.  In the end, they are willing to take their bat and ball and go home, even if it means the country suffers for it. 

Maybe we need to dump all of the fancy uniforms, the fancy shoes and gloves and bats, the leagues, the "select" programs, the coaches, the referees, and most of all, the parents, and let our kids play again.  Let them grab whatever tools of the trade they can pull together, meet up at the local field, pick up some teams, and just play.  Maybe then we'll develop some future leaders for this country that know how to negotiate, compromise, do what's best for the good of all, and build a better country, and world, for all of us.  I can only imagine.

A Test From God - I Failed

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.   I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."

The stress level is high, everything is coming together in a crescendo of activities as we come to the end of a school year, busy times at work, and Easter week, one of the greatest weeks of the year for many of us.  Patrick just got home from college for his spring break, Sean will be coming home in a few days, Kelly will be coming over this weekend.  My classes are heating up, I'm coming to the end of the term, and I have so much to get done before the end of the year, tests to prepare, homework to grade, classes to prepare for.  And then there is work, who can forget that, life is busy at work, and we can never complain about that.

Patrick wanted to go to see his favorite teacher, Mr. Burkholder, at Music and Arts, so I decided I could drive him over and multi-task (really, is there such a thing?).  I would get gas in the car, stop by the grocery store and then sit out in front of Music and Arts on this glorious Monday night, preparing my accounting lesson for class that week.  As I sat down, reviewing some of the homework from Chapter 19, Share-based Compensation and Earnings Per Share (really, really exciting stuff), I had little idea what was in store for me. 

I settled in on the bench in front of the store, basking in the evening sunlight, and started reading the homework problem, "On October 15, 2010, the board of directors of Ensor Materials Corporation approved a stock option plan for key executives ...."  Just then, a man came up, and said, "Do you mind if I sit down and talk to you?" 

I looked up, and I'm sure I had that look of dread on my face.  Here in front of me was an old, semi-toothless man.  He had on an old multi-stained white t-shirt that carried many past meals and dirt on it, old blue sweat pants and a piece of paper in his hand, it seemed to say something about food, I thought to myself, he's going to want to work for food, give me some sad story about being out of work, homeless, whatever.  Just what I needed, I'm trying to get my work done for class, and I have to deal with this.

I semi-politely said, "Sure", and he sat down next to me.  "America's not what it used to be, people used to sit out on their front porches and talk.  Now they just sit in front of the TV, no one wants to talk anymore"  I thought to myself, "Yeah sure, that's what I'm doing, sitting in front of the TV, I have got to get back to studying.  OK, Ensor Materials Corporation approved a stock option plan for key executives..."  I just kept on reading and grunted out an "uh-huh".  Please take the hint and move on.

"You know, I teach a sailing course over at Lake Lanier, five weekend course, you have to really work hard in that course.  I've sailed to the Bahamas many times, spent a great deal of time down there."

I glanced over, I really didn't want to make any eye contact, and looked at him, what teeth he had were really rotted out, he just kind of stared off into the distance, really didn't look at me.  He just went on and on, jumping from topic to topic, not leaving much time for breathing in between.  "I've spent time over in France and Italy, took my wife over there, had some really good white Merlot over in Italy, could never find it over here.  I kept trying to get Merlot, and I finally realized I wanted white Merlot.  It's really a lot like white Zinfandel, I liked to drink that too."

I could feel my insides boiling, I had so much to prepare for this week, I had to get this lesson done.  Should I just excuse myself and go sit in the car?  Should I tell him to just leave me alone?  When will he take the hint, I really don't want to talk?  "key executives.  On January 1, 2011, 20 million stock options.  Wait a second, didn't I just read this?"

"I used to teach in Dekalb County schools.  Taught for over 30 years.  I went to graduate school in the summers at Georgia State.  It was a lot of work, but I did it.  I'm 77 now, I came to Music and Arts because I'd like to learn to play the piano."

"Wait, what?  You taught in the school system?  You want to learn how to play piano?",  I thought to myself.  I looked over again, I took a longer look.  Still that blank stare off into space.  He didn't really ever look at me, just looked off into space and kept right on talking.

"My wife died two years ago, she had Parkinson's disease.  It's a terrible thing to get.  She got to the point near the end, she didn't even know my name.  I miss her terribly.  I guess that's why I talk so much to people, I just miss her and need someone to talk to."

At this point, I set my book aside, I really looked, I didn't glance away, I took him in for who he really was, or at least used to be.  And my heart fell as I thought to myself, there but for the grace of God, go I.  And I realized, I had failed.  It was Easter week, when we celebrate the risen Christ, what Jesus has done for us, the ultimate sacrifice that He has given us, and I failed Him miserably, I couldn't give 15 minutes to one of the least of us, someone who could be me a few short years from now, depending on what life brings me.

Just then Patrick came out of Music and Arts, and I said, "That's my ride, I need to be going".  He finally looked into my eyes, and he really looked at me, looked into me, and he said, "My name's Paul, I didn't catch your name." 

"Me?  Judas.  My name's Judas." 

Of Bambi's Mother and Turkey Buzzards

Editor's Note:  As many of my friends know, I'm a huge baseball fan.  I use baseball analogies for just about any instance.  In this case, I had to go to the bullpen.  I just couldn't finish this blog post.  I tried for weeks, but the ending just wouldn't come to me.  So, I called in the greatest relief pitcher I know for writing.  Depending on the era you're from, he's the Rollie Fingers, Lee Smith or Mariano Rivera of writing.  He's better known though as Patrick McCullough.  Thanks to Patrick, I have an ending to my post.

Recently, as I was driving home from work in the evening, this beautiful doe came running across the road right in front of me. Thankfully, I was able to slam on the breaks and nearly miss hitting this beautiful creature. A couple weeks later, nearly in the identical spot, it was deja-vu all over again, as Yogi Berra would say, same doe, same vehicle, same driver, I almost hit her again. Since the scene of the almost accident was at one of the more heavily trafficked intersections in our area, I figured that Bambi's Mother wasn't long for the world. She just wouldn't be able to survive such a highly traveled area for too much longer.

While I hate to say it, we'll get back to Bambi's Mother, and her fate, in a minute.  First I must digress, and make a confession.  I have anger issues when I drive.  I get irritated with those who text, those who talk on the phone, those who cut me off, those who have no driving etiquette, etc.  Most days, I drive in anger as these idiots who surround me do stupid things.  It's obvious that it takes absolutely no intelligence to get a driver's license.  Recently, I had one of those experiences that just makes your blood boil and makes a normal person into a raving lunatic.  As I was about to pull out on Lawrenceville Highway when my light turned green, a car came flying through the red light, and would have hit me if I hadn't hesitated, just because I know how crazy people drive around Atlanta. 
Enraged, I flew up the road, wanting to "get even", ride on the offender's bumper, yell and scream, make sure he knew what an idiot he was.  I got my justice, I tailgated him, until he turned off, I gave him a piece of my mind, I let him know how dangerous a driver he was. 

Shortly thereafter, I saw a group of turkey buzzards, at least 10 of them on the other side of the road, picking at something.  Have you ever seen a turkey buzzard up close and personal? They are incredibly ugly, and they really don't care if you happen upon them, all they care about is their prey.  As I drove by, I realized what they were picking at - it was Bambi's Mother.  My immediate thought was, they are the ugliest creatures in the world, I'd love to just run them all over.  Almost instantaneously, I had another immediate thought, no, they're God's creatures, He loves them.    The thought of those grotesque creatures feeding on that beautiful doe made me sick.  But as noted, they are God's creatures too.  When God sees them, He doesn't see that ugly face, that ugly beak, He sees something that looks as beautiful as that doe.  Don't know how, don't know why, but God sees beauty in those creatures.

This then took me back many years to a time with my Uncle Bob.  There is always that person in your life that you say is the closest to God that you know.  For me, it's my Uncle Bob.  If you ever imagine meeting Mother Teresa, you imagine someone like my Uncle Bob, someone who always has a "God world view", everything is based on how God views us or God views the world.  I remember telling my Uncle Bob about how awful a singer I was (and still am), and I remember him telling me, "God doesn't care what you sound like.  Have you ever listened to blackbirds and how they go "caw caw" and how awful they sound?  God doesn't care, He loves to hear them sing.  No matter how you sound, God loves to hear you sing." 

And as I come full circle, I go back to that turkey buzzard that ran the red light and almost hit me.  What an ugly creature he was.  Unfortunately there was another really ugly turkey buzzard in this situation, and of course, it was me.  As I drove up the road, yelling and screaming and acting like an idiot, I was just as ugly as those nasty birds feasting on that sweet doe.  As much as I'd love to look in the mirror and see that beautiful doe, I still see an ugly, ugly bird looking back at me.

No matter how hard I try, I'm never going to look as beautiful as that doe.  While I can improve, I can make positive adjustments, there is nothing else I can ever really see in the mirror but that incredibly ugly bird, feasting on whatever is beautiful in this world.  As Jeff Poynter, a great man, said recently, "I've come to realize that I'm never going to graduate on this side of Heaven."  So do I have to wait until I get on the other side of Heaven to not look so ugly?  I guess the answer is yes, but ...

While I'll always be ugly like that turkey buzzard, when God looks at me, all He sees is someone who looks as beautiful as Bambi's Mother. Don't know how, don't know why, but God sees something beautiful when He looks at me.  He doesn't see me as I am, but He sees me after graduation day.  Through the cross, through Grace, He sees me as I will be, rather than as I am.

As my mind began to fully take in this scene and what it all means, I couldn’t help but see Jesus. As Jesus hung there on the cross, the weight of our sin literally picked at his flesh. But now, His beautiful act of love redeems us, and we can become more and more like that beautiful doe each day.

Solitude

Editor's Note - The following is the devotion I gave at the Men's Retreat on January 14, 2012. 

After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone – Matthew 14:23

But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed – Luke 5:16

But when you pray, go to your room, close the door, and pray to your Father, who is unseen. And your Father, who sees what you do in private, will reward you – Matthew 6:6

Solitude can be found in many places. As we can see from the Bible, Jesus would recluse himself when He needed to so that he could re-energize himself. Many of you have your own method to attain solitude. The one who inspired me is someone who has probably inspired many of you here, Nathan Schroeder. I’d listen to Nathan’s stories of how he would have his time with God, and I’d be envious because, quite frankly, I just couldn’t do it. But then, I figured out, I could do it in my own way.

I run, but before we have any misconceptions, I need to paint the proper mental picture for all of you. When you think of a runner, or at least when I do, I think of someone like Jay Fulmer, and the picture of Secretariat, the greatest athlete of all time comes into my mind. I am by no means a runner in that sense, I’m more of a plow horse, and I run like I’m dragging that plow behind me (those who attended the Flashlight 5k can attest to this). I’m a plodder, but I love to run. I go six days a week, the only day I miss is Friday’s when we have our men’s group. My wife recently posted on Facebook, "thunder, lightning, pouring down rain, and my husband just left for a run.  Is he crazy, obsessive or dedicated?"  She would vote for the first two, I would vote for the latter.

The funny thing is that I wasn’t so dedicated about it until I changed the music I listened to, and changed my running behavior. I used to listen to the normal stuff, theme from Rocky, Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch (prior to Mark Wahlberg's career spiraling downward into acting), whatever I could find upbeat to keep me going. Then I started listening to praise music, see my list at the bottom of the page, and my behavior and desire changed dramatically. The music focused me, and I found solitude with our God. Most days, I run alone, in the dark, with just my music and my Clinging Cross, seeing virtually no one. And yes, I have become obsessive, and I really hate to miss a day, not because of the run, but it’s my time with our God.

It’s really a good thing that most of the time, it’s dark and no one can see me. Sometimes I’m smiling like an idiot as I run, thinking about the beauty of Grace that we’ve all been given. Sometimes I’m crying, wondering why in the world did God bless me with such an unbelievable life. Sometimes I sing along, and even Jay can tell you, it’s not easy to sing when you’re running, but I do my best. Sometimes I shout it out, shout to the glory of God. Most days, I pray for those who need prayers, my Dad going through chemotherapy, my cousin Marie who just put her Dad in a nursing home, my cousin Michele, whose son Shawn is in Afghanistan, and the list goes on. And some days, the Holy Spirit comes down, you know how it is when Dr. Chappell or Allen have a really poignant moment in a sermon, and it comes down my spine and spreads this warmth all over my body.

So I run. A solitary runner plods along, singing, crying, laughing, talking, praying, shouting, searching for answers, in the best place to find them. Let us pray:

Gracious God, thank you for solitude, thank you for those times that we can talk to you in private, when you hear only us, and we hear only you. Let us follow the lead that Zack gave us last night, and do as the song says, "There's an army rising up, to break every chain, break every chain, break every chain."

My Playlist

You Never Let Go – Matt Redman

Sweetly Broken – Jeremy Riddle

Not To Us – Chris Tomlin

Point of Difference – Hillsong United

God of Wonders – Third Day

The Time Has Come – Hillsong United

Break Every Chain – Will Reagan

Revelation Song – Phillips, Craig & Dean

Our God – Chris Tomlin

Be My Escape – Relient K

How Great Is Our God – Chris Tomlin

I Will Rise – Chris Tomlin

Everlasting God – Lincoln Brewster

Let God Arise – Chris Tomlin

Jesus Mystery – Charlie Hall

Song of Hope – Robbie Seay Band

A River Runs Through It

Prologue:  I owe this blog to my Muse, Brittany Terry, who inspired me to finally address this topic.  I just hope I can do her inspiration justice.

This is my brother Bill, my oldest brother, an incredibly intelligent and personable individual.  My brother Jim and I tend to be a bit introverted, but Billy was very extroverted.  He could talk to anyone, he had many friends, was popular with women, he had a way about him that endeared him to many people.    Unfortunately, this is the last picture I have of Billy, it's from Christmas in 1991 less than a year before he took his life about 19 years ago. 

Suicide is a topic that most people like to avoid.  No one likes to talk about it, and God forbid that it strikes your family.  It's one thing to tell people that you lost a relative to a heart attack, cancer, a car accident, but tell them that you lost a relative to suicide?  You can see in the reaction that they are shocked, dismayed, even repulsed by the admission.  It's just not something anyone wants to talk about. 

Do you know what it's like to lose a relative to suicide?  As a sibling, it hurts, you struggle with what could you have done to change this, prevent this.  You miss the person you lost, but you also struggle with so many emotions.  The pain of the loss, the anger at them, the uncertainty of how in the world it happened, so many whirling, swirling emotions that you just can't seem to get a good handle on.  After Billy killed himself, I would find myself daily sitting at stop lights, wondering, thinking, struggling with what happened, how could this happen, what could I have done, what could have changed this.  Those daily struggles eventually went to semi-weekly, weekly, monthly, etc., but the pain never goes away.  I'd have dreams periodically where Billy would be back, but of course, you wake up and life is back to normal.

I remember growing up, Billy would wax philosophically about suicide. He would talk about it like it was a badge of honor. I guess this should have been a sign of what was to come, but how do you know? I remember writing a story about him in high school, and I ended it with some lines from a Jackson Browne song, "The Pretender" - "Say a prayer for the pretender, who grew up so young and strong, only to surrender". Maybe I subconsciously knew something ahead of time, but just didn't realize it?

I went to a counselor at one point, and talked to her about it.  At one point, I said, "my family all feels guilty about this, we feel like we should have done something".  She said, "you should feel guilty".  You should feel guilty?  I'm not a trained counselor, but I can't imagine this is classified as good counseling, to tell someone in pain, you should feel guilty. 

This counselor though isn't the only ill-informed person that has raised my ire.  I've heard other people pontificate about suicide, what suicide victims have going through their mind, why they do it, what their issues are.  These blanket opinions of suicide really piss me off, as there are no typical suicide victims.  They come in all shapes and sizes and there are no easy patterns to tell you if and when the fatal event will occur.  Talk to family members and friends and you will get hundreds of different stories, there are some patterns, but they are so diverse, it's hard to garner a good diagnosis of what a typical suicide victim looks like.

Finally, those people who state unequivocally that suicide victims will go to Hell obviously have an inside track to God that I don't have to know this for a fact.  I'll avoid dealing with the topic of whether suicide is a sin or not, my focus will land squarely on Grace.  I'm a sinner, a horrible sinner at least from my perspective.  I can easily, but not proudly, say that I've broken most if not all of the 10 Commandments, in some cases, daily.  While I'm a sinner, I still believe that through the Grace of Jesus Christ, I still will have a place in Heaven.  If I have a place in Heaven, even though I have sinned throughout my life, how am I to say that someone who committed suicide will not have the same place in Heaven, if they have accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.  Does Grace not apply to them?  If suicide is a sin, is it a worse sin than all of the sins I've committed to condemn all suicide victims to Hell?

As difficult as suicide is from a sibling's perspective, I can't imagine what it can be like for a parent, spouse or child. I know from watching my parents, they've never been the same since Billy ended his life 19 years ago. They were close to retirement, so they were looking forward to those years of relaxation, travel, enjoying life with no worries of getting up and going to work each day. That all changed. As bad as it's been for them, I can't imagine a spouse going through this. I can imagine even less, a child having to deal with a parent committing suicide.

Which brings me back to my inspiration.  I've kept my thoughts and feelings about this topic inside for so many years, but Brittany inspired me because of her courage and convictions.  She's been through a suicide, which impacted her and her children dramatically.  Instead of burying this inside, she's waged a war, trying to encourage those who are contemplating suicide to reconsider and get some help.  From my standpoint, if she saves just one life, if she keeps one family from having to deal with this pain, she will be very successful.  If suicide victims could only see the devastation they leave behind, it would be like the movie, "It's a Wonderful Life", they would never even consider suicide.  It wreaks so much havoc on those left behind, I can't believe they would still consider taking their life and destroying so many other lives in the process.

I wish I had some easy answers to this.  As noted, suicide victims come in all shapes and sizes, and it's difficult to tell if and when it's going to happen.  The toughest part is that sometimes those closest can see the signs the least or don't know what to do with the signs they see.  After many years of soul-searching, I came upon a scene from the movie "A River Runs Through It" where Reverend Maclean delivers a sermon after the death of his son that really hit home for me.  It goes:

"Each one of us here today will, at one time in our lives, look upon a loved one and with need, ask the same question: 'We are willing to help, God, but what, if anything, is needed?'  For it's true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give, or more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted.  And so it is those whom we live with and should know who elude us, but we can still love them. We can love completely without complete understanding."

If you have any thoughts of suicide, the easy answer is, don't do it.  If you need the reasons why, talk to anyone who has lost a loved one to suicide, and hear and feel the pain that they are going through that will never go away.  If you have a loved one that you are concerned may be contemplating suicide, have them talk to someone who has lost someone to suicide.  Or have them read Brittany Terry's blog on Facebook, it is a powerful tool for those thinking about suicide or those who have loved ones thinking about suicide.  As I said above, every person saved is a victory.  Let's work to save some lives, and save some families and friends from needless suffering.