Saying Goodbye

First, the picture. Several months ago, my cousin Roberta posted this picture, I had never seen it before. I fell in love with it immediately because my parents and my Aunt Bessie and Uncle Richard were still “young” and having fun in life. It’s how I wanted to remember them. Since then, we have lost Aunt Bessie, and now, my Dad. I want to continue to hold that picture in my mind, not the picture of him after cancer had taken over.


Second, as many of you know, dying can be an awful process for the person dying as well as the loved ones. I still hold a very pragmatic view of dying, if someone has lived a good and long life, we should be celebrating the life, not mourning the death. As much as I know that in my head, your heart oftentimes is telling you something different. That is the battle I’ve faced the last few months as my Dad was heading to Graduation Day. Graduation Day is a wonderful way that a friend from our church put it when he talked about our journey. We will never graduate on this side of Heaven, we can only be so good here on earth. Ultimately, the only way to graduate is to die and enter Heaven, where all of our sins are forgiven.

The following represents the correspondence I’ve had with my Dad, my Mom and friends as my Dad has headed to Graduation Day. I don’t believe it’s any different from what all of us face as we watch our parents age and get ready for the next life, but I wanted to share it in case it would help anyone else. Here are the final stages I went through on that final journey of saying goodbye and letting go.

When the cancer spread

Dad,

Whenever I face a difficult path in my journey, what always keeps me going is knowing that no matter what, God is with me on my journey. I hold close to the 23rd Psalm, which is listed below, and there’s one sermon that has always stuck with me, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Dr. Sandy McConnel. The one line that sums it up, “God was not present to intervene and prevent the wreck, but nonetheless God was not absent.” God walks with us through everything, and He is right there with you now. I know this is going to be difficult, but you can get through this with God’s help. We’re praying for you.

The LORD is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
2 He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.
3 He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
You anoint my head with oil;
My cup runs over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
All the days of my life;
And I will dwell[a] in the house of the LORD
Forever.

My First Visit After We Realized How Bad the Cancer Had Spread

Went to see my Dad. Essentially, he’s not living anymore, he’s dying. He’s lying in a hospital bed in the living room, doesn’t get out of bed, can’t get out of bed, he’s down to 115 pounds, at most, lost his hair, is barely eating or drinking, sleeps most of the day.

Dying is such a difficult process, I’m sure for the dying and the living. Realistically, I’ve been hoping or wanting him to die soon, since he’s in so much pain and is suffering so much. But as that time gets closer, as you know you have such little time left, the thoughts that go through my mind are just one more time, just let me get back here one more time before you die. I’m hoping to get back there in a couple weeks or so, get that one more time. I know at some point, or maybe it already has, that one more time will be gone.

From his standpoint, I’m sure he has similar feelings or thoughts, or I guess he does. He’s really not living anymore, he’s just dying. I’m sure on one hand, he just wants the pain, the battle to be done. But I’m sure once you get so close, it’s hard to give it up. Just let me see my kids one more time, let me see my grandkids one more time, let me tell my wife I love her one more time. I just can’t imagine.

My Letter To Him After That Visit

Joy:

As you’ve suffered through the last two years of cancer, I know it’s hard to find joy. Let me take you back to some of the memories you have and the accomplishments that you’ve made through your life. Maybe you can find joy in those.

• You’ve been married more than 60 years. With the divorce rate at much greater than 50%, that is a huge accomplishment.
• You raised 3 sons.
• You helped raise 7 grandchildren.
• You now have one great-grandchild.
• You quit school at 16, but you got your GED eventually.
• You drove a truck for many years and were very successful at that.
• You eventually ran truck terminals and were very successful at that.
• You owned various homes and eventually built your own home.
• You gave two of your sons land to build their own homes and you gave me money to compensate for that.
• You got to visit California and tour some great and beautiful places out there.
• You got to visit Las Vegas and see the glitz and glamour of Las Vegas.
• You got to see the majesty of Niagara Falls at various times.
• You helped us outfit our homes with the various things that a home needs but we had no clue how to do.
• You got to retire early.
• You got to move and live in Myrtle Beach, a great place to retire to.
• You have been very successful in managing your properties and investments.
• You honored your father and mother and all of the elders within your family.
• You have been a great brother to Uncle Pal.
• You taught us to honor our Mother.
• You taught us the value of our children and how important our children are to us.
• You taught us the value of hard work.
• You have been a great father, great husband, great friend to many people, great boss, you have led an incredible life.

You are coming up on Graduation Day. While we can accomplish so much on earth, we truly can’t graduate until we pass to the other side, until we reach Heaven. It’s OK to let go now. You really can’t accomplish anything more. You’ve left a great legacy, you have given us more than we could ever want or imagine. We know the pain is great, we know that you are suffering, it’s OK to give up the fight. You’ve given us everything, we can’t ask for anything more. When you know you’re ready, when you know that you’re ready to graduate, don’t feel badly about it. Ultimately, it will be time for all of us to graduate to Heaven, eternal life has already begun for all of us, some are just closer than others. Just know that we all love you, you’ve given us so much, and of course, God loves you, He never started loving you, His love is endless.

I really hope I get to see you again Dad, I really do, but if I don’t get to see you in this life, I so look forward to seeing you in Heaven. You can’t imagine what you’ve meant in my life, and I’m eternally grateful.

Prayers Answered and Unanswered

God answered my prayers, He let him go peacefully yesterday. And no, He didn’t answer my prayers, I didn’t get back there. I had a business trip to Germany, which is where I’m at right now, but as my brother Jim said, he would have wanted me to go on the business trip, and my Mom wanted me to go too. I know that in my head, but it still doesn’t help my heart. We had planned to go over this Monday once I got back to see him that one last time, just one more time, but somehow I knew, that one last time wasn’t going to happen.

I don’t question God’s plan or timing in all of this, I know He knows so much better than I do. Ultimately, I’m so thankful for the life my Dad led, the legacy he left behind, and the memories and wisdom he left me with. I’m happy his pain and suffering is over, and he has reached his Graduation Day. Thanks be to God.

The Altar Call

One of the interesting things we encountered when we moved to the South was the difference in worship from what we experienced in the North. For so many years, we worshipped at Westminster Presbyterian Church in Dayton, Ohio, which we loved and still love. But as we would jokingly say about our church or our form of worship, we were the “frozen chosen”. We worshipped, we prayed, we sang hymns, we wore suits, but Heaven forbid, we did not show any emotion. We maintained decorum, no matter what.

When we moved to Georgia, we searched for a church. We had some misses along the way, and we eventually found a phenomenal church, First United Methodist Church of Lawrenceville. In so many ways, it is different from Westminster, but in so many ways, we love it just as much as we loved Westminster. As much as I would have never imagined it, we are even attending the Contemporary Service, and I’m sure if he were dead, the Reverend John Neely, the Pastor of Music at Westminster, would be rolling over in his grave. Westminster had a world-renowned pipe organ, with a huge incredible choir singing traditional hymns, oftentimes in Latin. We are attending a service with guitars, drums, contemporary music, with everyone singing along, raising their hands to Heaven, sometimes dancing and swaying to the music. In many cases, people wear blue jeans. Whew, I still find it hard to believe!

In any event, the one tradition that has enthralled me and captured my heart is the “Altar Call”. Toward the end of the service, as we prepare for the last song, the Pastor will say something like, “The altar is open, if you’d like to join the fellowship, make a faith profession or just come and pray.” This has become one of my favorite parts of the service. You’ll see various people or groups of people go to the front of the church, and kneel down at the altar. They will pray for whatever issues, pains, problems that they are facing in their lives. In many cases, it’s one solitary person, going forward to pray alone, silently sharing with God their pain. In other cases, the Pastor will come down, pray over them, comfort them for whatever ails them in life.

In many cases, you will see other people, or groups of people, heading to the front of the church, praying over them, holding them, comforting them for whatever is going on in their lives. In most cases, I have no idea what is going on in some of these people’s lives. It’s just so compelling to see so many people coming forward, being there, praying over them, being there for their brothers and sisters suffering. I honestly tear up just about every week watching the love of God in action through these people. Once, I was one of those people, coming forward for one of my brothers, along with probably 15 other men, comforting someone who needed the love of God in his life. It was incredible feeling the love of God, the power of prayer as we all stood with him, laying on hands, supporting him as he laid himself bare into the hands of God. It probably did as much for me as it did for him, being a part of praying over him.

As noted, my history, my tradition is nothing like this, I was a part of the “frozen chosen”. I never thought I would ever need to or feel moved to go forward for an “Altar Call”. But, life has a way of doing things to you that you would never imagine. As we’ve faced the greatest struggles we’ve ever faced in our lives, as we’ve fallen into the deepest depths we’ve ever experienced, Laurel and I did the unimaginable, at least from our history, we went to the altar to pray. As we got there, the emotions poured out, I couldn’t stop crying, praying for God to help us, to heal us. And then, the hands started coming. I felt the hands of friends, the hands of God upon us. To this day, I have no idea who those hands were, other than I knew they were the hands of God. And then Dr. Chappell started praying over us. And a certain calm, a certain peace came over me. The words I’ll never forget, the words that I still cling to, Davis spoke, “God has this”. Yes, God has this. Just like everything else, God has this.

The Altar is open. More to come.

Sandy's Greatest Hits

Recently, we had the opportunity to go back to Dayton, Ohio to our former church, Westminster Presbyterian Church, for the retirement of our former pastor, Reverend Dr. George H. “Sandy” McConnel. We had been members at Westminster for most of our adult lives, roughly 20 years. Sandy was our pastor for roughly 12 of those years, and he served Westminster for 21 years. Sandy had many gifts he brought to the ministry, he was a great leader and led some important initiatives at Westminster. He was also a member of our small group, a group of 10 men, that started in 1997, and is still going strong today. A couple of us have moved from the Dayton area, but we still talk, e-mail, share, pray for each other, and get together once a year for a retreat. These men have become the most important men in my lives outside of my family.


As members of my small group know, I carry around “Sandy’s Greatest Hits”. I have about 10 of what I consider Sandy’s best or most moving sermons that I periodically refer back to and share with others when the situation is relevant to one of his sermons. Most recently I shared one of them with my Dad as he is continuing his fight with cancer, and I’ve shared them with my son Patrick as he is facing a very difficult path in his road. Sandy’s sermons are incredible, they are poignant, moving, they make me think, they make me challenge what I believe. I may not always agree with him, but he always makes me think and pray about whatever the topic is, and I come through it much better than I was before. We joked when I was in Dayton, that I should send all of them out to my small group, but instead, I’ll cite my favorites, and a brief excerpt that has meant so much to me in the sermon. Sandy’s Greatest Hits, at least from my perspective are:

1. A Rose in Winter, 12/8/96 – “The greatest oppression is that things are what they seem and no more. Hope denies that.”

2. The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, 11/12/95 – “When the Edmund Fitzgerald went down in Lake Superior 20 years ago, God was not present to intervene and prevent the wreck, but nonetheless God was not absent.” My all-time favorite and the one I share and cite the most.

3. Play the Ball Where the Monkey Drops It, 11/13/05 – “Not only is God with us in our affliction, I believe God offers to assist us in weaving every tragedy into a new and meaningful life.”

4. Learning To Be Content, 8/24/97 – "Paul’s “yes” to Christ is so strong that his “no” to all other competing gods is possible. Paul has a burning “yes” to Christ – a “yes” that burns so deep that it makes it possible for him to say “no” to other things. Paul’s commitment to Christ is so real, so meaningful that material goods, social status, creature comforts are of no account."

5. It’s Not Fair, 2/27/00 – "The Bible does not promise that by “being good” we shall escape evil and suffering! But, it does make evident on almost every page that when evil and suffering come to us, as they inevitably will, we need not succumb to them but can live through them in such fashion that we are the conquerors, not they."

6. I Love You … I Love You … I Love You – God, 11/21/99 – "There may be times that you are out of God’s will but there has never been and never will be a time when you are out of God’s heart. Every prodigal that seeks grace finds grace."

7. The Conviction of Things Not Seen, 12/19/04 – "Now, hope is “the conviction of things not seen.” Hope is faith pointed towards the future. If faith puts us on the road, hope keeps us there."

8. Dealing with Difficult People, 12/19/99 – "If you want to deal with difficult people, start with the one in the mirror. If you want to change the world, start with yourself. Most of us spend too much time trying to change others and not near enough time trying to change ourselves."

9. Where Seldom is Heard an Encouraging Word, 11/14/97 – "Certainly telling someone something you like, admire or appreciate about them is a small thing. It takes almost no effort. Yet, when done with sincerity and love, encouragement pays enormous dividends."

10. The Family Values Debate, 11/8/96 – "How can any intelligent parent, knowing the negative influences that are a part of our high schools today, not encourage their child – even dare I say make their child – go to Sunday School and Youth Fellowship? Obviously I’m biased but I don’t understand. I mean if “family values” are important, why is church an option?"

I have a few others I carry with me, but these are the ones that touched me the most. Sandy’s last sermon centered on the beautiful Benediction he would give at the end of his services. It was so funny, I had forgotten about it, but I hadn’t forgotten it. As soon as he went into it, I remembered it, even though I hadn’t heard it in close to seven years. The Benediction goes like this:

Now go forth into the world in peace

Be of good courage

Render to no one evil for evil

Support the weak

Comfort the afflicted

Honor all persons

Love and serve the Lord

Rejoicing in the power of God’s Holy Spirit

And may the blessings of God

Father, Son and Holy Spirit

Be with you, this day and forever.

Amen. What a great career and service Sandy gave us all. He touched so many lives, and he definitely touched my life and my family’s life in so many ways over the past 20 years. He leaves an incredible legacy.

Memories of Gramma Dorfee

I remember when the kids were little, hearing that name – Gramma Dorfee. I guess Dorothy is tough to pronounce for little ones, at least my little ones, but she was always there to answer to it. My daughters, Megan and Kelly, used to wear her out, particularly Megan, but she could wear anyone out (sorry Megan). As much as they wore her out, she kept right on going, she loved her grandchildren.

About a month ago, we had the honor of attending Dorothy Bernardis’ funeral. Dorothy was my mother-in-law, she lived a long life, a difficult life, but she was always there for all of us. As best as possible, I try to look at death as a time to celebrate as well as to mourn the passing. So I’d like to celebrate some of my best memories of my mother-in-law, and all that she did for us.

My First Encounter – She Won My Heart

After a couple months of dating Laurel, I went to her home and I met my mother-in-law. For some reason, my father-in-law, Norman (or as everyone affectionately called him Norman T.), wasn’t there, can’t remember why. We were eating dinner, and I can’t remember what prompted it, but all of a sudden, Dorothy said, “well you know Laurel, you can be a real bitch on wheels sometimes.” How I didn’t spit out any food is still a mystery to me. That is the first time in my life I’ve ever heard the phrase bitch on wheels and the last time. But I loved it, and I’ve loved telling that story ever since, especially to my kids. Somehow, Laurel doesn’t have the same fond memory of that story. I took an instant liking to my future mother-in-law.

My Shield From Norman T.

Norman T. had a reputation. He chewed boyfriends up and spit them out. Norman T. was a stone mason, he was big, he was strong, he was tough, he was a prototypical man’s man. To be honest, after having daughters, I really don’t blame him, but his legend is amazing. After some time, I heard from my future brother-in-law’s how ruthless Norman T. was with them. He’d yell at them, tell them to get the Hell out of the house, treat them as badly as possible to test their merit. With me, it was a different treatment. He ignored me. It was as if I was wearing Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak. He would talk around me, look through me, it was if I wasn’t there, I assume he was hoping I wasn’t there. Dorothy always looked out for me. She wouldn’t let Norman T. mistreat me and she always ensured I felt welcome there. By the way, once Laurel and I told them we were getting married, Norman T. treated me like I was his best friend in the world, somehow my invisibility cloak disappeared.

Always to the Rescue

We had a couple problem pregnancies (I’m sure Laurel is thinking how did this become we?) first with Kelly and then with our twins, Patrick and Sean. In both cases, Laurel had to spend months on bed rest to ensure she finished her pregnancies for the babies to be healthy. In each case, Dorothy came and lived with us to take care of the family. She cooked, she cleaned, she took care of the kids, and she took care of Laurel. I’m not quite sure how we would have gotten through those pregnancies without Dorothy’s help, but thank God we didn’t have to worry about it. She was there to take care of us all. One story that I’ll always love surrounding this was the time I came home from work for dinner, and it was Dorothy, Megan and me having dinner, I think Megan was about two or so. As we ate dinner, I asked Megan if she wanted anymore French Fries, and she said, “no God damn it!”. As I jumped back in shock, figuring she had heard this at some point from Laurel (not me of course), Dorothy quickly jumped in and apologized. She said, “I’m so sorry, I burnt myself on the tray, and I said that, it’s not Megan’s fault.”. I was just thankful Laurel dodged a bullet and Megan didn’t hear it from her!

Devoted to God

Dorothy had the unfortunate and most painful task a Mother could ever have, having to bury a child. And she had to do it twice. She lost two of her daughters, Karen and Kathy, to cancer much too young in their lives. She also had to watch her husband, Norman T., battle cancer, a battle he lost about 15 years ago. While she questioned God, wondered what she had possibly done wrong to anger God, she never lost her faith. She was one of the most devoted Christians I’ve ever come across. She prayed incessantly, attended church no matter what, she worshipped God with a fervent faith that very few have. I wish I could someday claim to be the faith warrior that Dorothy was.

We gathered and put her to rest about a month ago, and all I could think was how great it will be for Dorothy to be reunited with Norman T., Karen and Kathy in Heaven. She suffered way too much the last several years, and while you never want to see someone die, when the pain and suffering gets to be too much, you want to see someone get the relief they deserve and move on to a greater life. Just like the picture above, I can just imagine Gramma Dorfee up in Heaven, dancing with Norman T. What a wonderful picture to see!

The Short and Happy Life of Minnie McCullough

Minnie McCullough (born 2005? - died March 6, 2013)

Previously known as Zinnia (seriously) and Minnie Pearl.

Also known or called Minnie Moo, Minnifer, the Baby, Princess Minnie.

About six years ago, I got the brilliant idea (as I tell people I have lots of ideas, most of them aren't really good ideas, but I have lots of them) that Snickers needed a playmate.  So, I searched the internet for rescue beagles.  After months of searching, I found this cute, sweet beagle, who needed a home.  We went and met her, with her foster mother, and our spidey senses told us something was amiss, but she seemed somewhat quiet and shy, so we took her in as our new family member, and playmate for Snickers.

Little did we know what we were in for.  Minnie was probably two years old or so at the time, and she obviously had been abused, most likely by men.  She had the constant "flight or fight" mentality in all that she did.  Taking her for a walk was a challenge.  Taking her to the dog park was an adventure.  I still remember the one time (I think our last time at the dog park) when she took off at a sprint of about 30 feet and rammed into the side of this poor unsuspecting basset hound.  The poor dog had no idea what hit him and certainly had no idea why it hit him. We quickly exited never to come back.

It wasn't just other dogs that felt the wrath of Minnie, humans, mainly men, also felt the wrath.  I don't think any of us has not been bitten by Minnie at least once in our lives, you learned to watch closely the sides of her lips, to see if they were raising, ready to snap at you.  My Dad and Jim Dyer can both attest, she really didn't like men.  Again, I think it came from her beginning years of abuse, but my Dad and Jim both felt the wrath of Minnie.  Poor Dumb Ass, Snickers, felt her anger a few different times.  Most of the time, he had absolutely no idea what hit him, just that Minnie wasn't happy with him.  Being the typical man, he usually went back, very apologetically, no idea for what, but he went back groveling, trying to earn her forgiveness.

While we all experienced the dark side of Minnie, most of us also experienced the loving side.  Just like any other woman, her venom could be turned to honey in an instant.  She melted my heart just about every day by waiting at the front window for me to come home from work.  She'd stand at the front window waiting for my car, and when I pulled into the driveway, she'd rush to the garage door and wait to greet me.  She'd stand there and shake all over, crying when I came in.  No one has ever greeted me this way, and I have to be honest, it made me feel so special.  Of course, I'd give her a treat, and after a while, Snickers figured out that there was something to this, and he started greeting me also at the back door, but Minnie always got the first hugs and pets and treats, because she was the one who started it all.

Minnie was also the proof positive of how far we'll go for our pets.  She tended to have "accidents" throughout the house.  We tended to believe it was more to irritate us than anything, since she had just been outside most of the time when she did it, but she had to show us that we've done something wrong.  So, instead of dealing with Minnie, we ripped up all the carpeting, and replaced it with wood flooring, because she didn't like to go the bathroom on smooth surfaces (yes, I know, there's something wrong with us, not her).

Minnie also had her certain mannerisms that we grew to love.  She'd go to the backdoor, like she wanted to go out, and pull the "Minnie fake out" as we called it.  She'd stand at the backdoor until you opened it, and then she'd walk away.  She would oftentimes put her paw up on your hand, leg, computer, whatever to let you know that you weren't paying enough attention to her.  If you happened to lay on the floor for whatever reason, she would plop on top of you to let you know that you belonged to her.  And furniture was meant for Minnie to sleep on, not nice plush dog beds on the floor, that was for normal dogs.

I called this the Short and Happy Life of Minnie McCullough because that is what I want to remember.  I feel so badly that she was obviously abused before we got her, I really struggle with the fact that people abuse animals, children, etc., but the reality is that it happens.  I feel badly for Minnie for the last six months or so when she had cancer and life was a daily struggle, dealing with the pain and the inability to use her one front paw.  I want to focus on the middle five or six years or so when Minnie was the Princess, when she ruled our house, when we let her run our lives.  OK, I know you all may think I'm crazy, but I just loved that dog, with all of her faults, with all of her quirks, she made me feel special.  And that is why, Minnie was the Princess, the Baby, and she will always be in my heart.  I'm going to miss her, I'm going to miss that greeting at the end of the day.  But I'll always know in my heart that we gave Minnie a great place to live, and I wish all rescue dogs were that lucky. At the end of the day though, the amount of love that we gave to Minnie doesn't even come close to the love she gave us.  Just like with any dog, Minnie's love for us was limitless. 

Rest in Peace, Princess Minnie.

Is This Heaven?

Little Bit tentatively inched her way over toward Minnie, and finally got up the nerve and put her front paws up on the side of the couch.  "Um, excuse me, Miss Minnie?"

Minnie lifted her head off the couch cushion ever so slightly, and said, "Yeah kid, what do you want?"

"I was wondering, is this Heaven?"

Minnie turned her head sideways for a second, and said, "Why in the world would you think that?"

"Well, I've only been here a couple months but there's some things I just don't understand."

Minnie sighed, "Such as?"

"Well, the yard is incredible, it's all fenced in, so no mean animals can get in.  It's full of trees, and shade, and plenty of places to poop and hide it.  And there's tons of squirrels.  That doesn't do much for me, but Dumb Ass seems to love them"

"Dumb Ass?" Minnie said quizzically, "Do you mean our man owner?"

"Oh no," Little Bit said, "I mean the boy dog". 

"Oh," Minnie laughed, "You mean Snickers.  His name isn't Dumb Ass, that's just what the man owner calls him sometimes when he gets frustrated with him."

"Oops, sorry about that, I just assumed that was his name."

Minnie laughed again, "Here watch this.  Hey, Snickers, I think I see a squirrel on the bird feeder."

Snickers jumped up, and ran for the door, and started scratching frantically, "Squirrel, squirrel, squirrel, squirrel."

I jumped up from my computer, and yelled, "Just a second Dumb Ass, I'll let you out!"

As the door opened, Snickers rushed out, barking like crazy, and the hunt was on.  Less than a minute later, there was a frantic scratching at the door again.

"Ahhhh," I yelled, "Just a second, I'll let you back in."

As Snickers came in, he headed for the couch toward Minnie and Little Bit.  "Hey Minnie, there weren't any squirrels out there!  What are you talking about."

Minnie just sighed and said, "They must have heard you coming Snick, they know how ferocious you are."

Snickers slumped toward his pillow and laid back down, disappointed in the lost opportunity.

Minnie turned to Little Bit and said, "That trick never gets old.  Ferocious?  The next squirrel he catches will be the first.  OK, now your question, is this Heaven?  Why do you ask?"

Little Bit was still mesmerized by the squirrel adventure, but got her thoughts back, "Well, there's something I don't get.   I could be wrong, but it seems like every time you do something good, we all get treats."

Minnie looked back at Little Bit, and said, "Yeah, that's correct. And?"

"Well, it also seems that every time Dumb Ass, I mean Snickers, does something bad, we all get a treat."

Minnie smiled, "Yeah, it's great isn't it?"

Little Bit shook her head and muttered, "I don't get it."

Minnie sat up a little and said, "Look kid, don't try to understand it.  Just enjoy it.  I'm good, we all get a treat.  He's bad, we all get a treat.  You just have to play the game.  Have you seen what I do each night?  I wait at the front window for the man owner to get home, and then I run to the back door, and when he comes in, I do the shake.  He loves the shake.  He gets all excited and calls me his baby, and rubs my back, and gives me a treat.  And of course you and Snickers get treats too.  You just have to figure out how to play the game."

"So is this Heaven?"

Minnie looked wistfully away and said, "No, it's not Heaven kid, but it's close.  Listen kid, there's been something I've been meaning to talk to you about.  I really don't have a lot of time left, and there's some things you need to know."

Little Bit's ears pointed straight up, "What do you mean, where are you going?"

"Easy kid, it's OK.  But there's a few things you need to know.  You have to look after Snick, he may not be the brightest bulb, but he's a good boy, he has a huge heart, and he's really going to miss me.  You need to take care of our owner's kids when they come around, they don't show up every day, but when they do, they'll spoil you with toys and treats and lots of belly rubs.  Look forward to those days.  You need to figure out a routine for when our man owner gets home at night.  You can't use the shake, that's my move, you have to come up with your own.  Maybe that little dance step you do, he seems to like that.  And most of all, take care of our lady owner, she's the one who takes us places, feeds us, cleans up after us, she does it all.  Look after her."

Little Bit's eyes bugged out, her ears pointed even higher, and she started squeaking, "You can't leave?  I can't do this on my own!"

Minnie rested her head again, "Sure you can kid, I wasn't much older than you when I got here.  I became the Princess.  They treat me like I'm royalty, and they'll do the same for you.  You know kid, you might be right, this place just might be Heaven.  Heaven here on earth.  I'm going to miss this place."

Little Bit, dropped down to the floor, a little confused, and wondering what this all meant.  She looked up at Minnie on the couch, who was starting to nod off to sleep again.  She glanced over at Snickers, asleep on his bed, and as a devilish grin came to her face, she said, "Is that a squirrel I see on the bird feeder?"

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.

When You Are Facing Death - Or At Least You Think You Might Be

For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord - Romans 6:23

Recently I was on a flight from Chicago to Pittsburgh on a small commuter jet. I had been in Chicago all week for work, it was a long, grueling, intense week. Long days, long nights, lot of good work accomplished, but it was nice to come to the end of the week. Friday night, I had the opportunity to have dinner with Megan and Thomas, I had seen them recently at my niece Molly's wedding, but it was still nice to get some time with them. Saturday morning, it was off to Grove City College to see Patrick for the first time since he had gone off to college. I was meeting Laurel at the Pittsburgh airport before heading up to Grove City, hence the flight from Chicago to Pittsburgh.

As I waited for the flight, I saw many members of the "Steeler Nation". The Steelers were playing New England that Sunday in Pittsburgh, so the fans were descending from all corners. One couple was from Iowa. One gentleman was from Arkansas. I listened with amusement, hearing the stories of past visits to the hallowed grounds, Heinz Field. The outfits are always fascinating, the one woman had a pair of Nike shoes that were black and gold, I had no idea you could get something like these. Since I'm originally from the Pittsburgh area, these discussions, stories, are music to my ears. I love to hear people talk about Pittsburgh and Pittsburgh sports. While my greatest allegiance is with the Penguins, and then the Pirates, my sports heart in general is always in Pittsburgh.

The flight for the most part was like any other flight. It was a foggy, ugly day, but I've flown in worse. I had plenty to keep me busy work-wise on the plane, so I settled in to getting work done, and didn't think much more about anything else. After a while though, I realized that the flight was taking a really long time for some reason. We should have landed a while ago, but we were circling and not getting to our destination. I was getting antsy, I had to meet Laurel, I wanted to get to Grove City in time for the game and seeing Patrick play in the band. It was getting very frustrating.

Then, the flight attendant told us why it was taking so long. There was a minor problem, nothing to worry about. The flaps weren't working. This kind of thing happens all the time. We will most likely make an emergency landing, but no need to worry. You should "assume the position", put your hands against the seat in front of you, and put your head against it, to prepare for a crash landing.

Soon thereafter, the pilot came on, and largely reiterated the theme. No big deal, we'll be coming in fast and hard with no flaps and have to rely on reverse thrust and the brakes. Don't worry about the fire trucks lining the runway, it's just a precaution. We do this all the time, no big deal.

I guess it's probably the fact that I've flown so much that I've become callous to flying and the potential risk. I heard these explanations and assumed everything was completely under control. How often do planes really crash anyway, it's very rare, less risk than driving on the highway. Besides, the flight attendant and pilot said that everything was fine, this happens all the time, there was no risk.

But then, I started thinking, what else would they really say? "Hey guys, we have some serious shit going on here, and you all may die!" That probably wouldn't work. The plane got very quiet as all of us started thinking about the possibilities. As we started descending, I could see the fire trucks lining the runway. I finally figured out that this was probably part of the reason for the long delay in landing, they were trying to get the fire trucks in place. Of course, this was all a bit disconcerting. As they had noted, we were coming in fast and hard. With no flaps, there wasn't really anything to slow the plane down.

While most people would have had reality hit much sooner than me, reality finally hit. There was the potential, I was about to die. No flaps, fire trucks on the runway, emergency landing procedures, hmmm, I'm no rocket scientist, obviously, but this may not turn out well. I turned to prayer as potentially my last minutes laid ahead of me. My prayers? Surprisingly simple. Maybe it was the surprise of the situation I was in, maybe it was my callousness to the dangers of flying, maybe it is where I am right now in my spiritual journey. As I looked down at all of those fire trucks, and that plane was moving so quickly toward the ground, my prayer went something like this:

"Dear Lord, if this is it, I'm OK with it. You've given me a great life, and I can die a happy man. I know you are with me, and you will protect me. My only regret is I will miss my family. Please look after them and help them through this. Please make sure Laurel finds someone else and lives a happy life, she deserves it. Please make sure that my children are looked after and taken care of."

Nothing more, nothing fancy, just a very simple prayer. I felt surprisingly calm, surprisingly confident that God would look after me. Let me be clear about this though, this had nothing to do with me, who I am, what I've done, but everything to do with God. As the line from "Be My Escape" says, "But the beauty of Grace is that it makes life not fair". There is no fairness or reason for me to feel confident in my life after death other than my confidence in the Grace of Jesus Christ dying for me, and for you, on the cross.

So, the landing. It was fast, it was hard. As soon as we hit the ground, the pilot was hitting the reverse thrust and the brakes to slow us down. Afterward, I thought about it, and I was thankful it was a commuter jet, because we used up a whole lot of runway, so I'm not sure what it would have been like with a large jet. We eventually got stopped, and all of a sudden, there was one hesitant clap, and then a round of applause for the pilot. I was quickly texting my family to tell them what had happened and that everything was OK.

Which brings me to the next point. I've been planning for a while to write my desire for my funeral, but I've worried that it would seem too creepy. I figured I had plenty of time to deal with this, and I hope that I still do, but based on my experience above, you just never know when you have to be prepared for the inevitable. Am I prepared? I think that's a question we all wrestle with continually. As I have to keep reminding myself, it has so little to do with me, and so much to do with Him. Therein lies the beauty of it all.