Category: Christianity

Christianity, Emotional Health, Faith, Gardening, Growing Up, Prayer, Recovery, Spirituality, Uncategorized, Work

Somebody please, take out the trash…

gregoryjoel

I didn’t spend much time on the porch this morning. I headed to the garden instead. A steady breeze blew this morning and I thought I’d take advantage of the cool morning to check on things out there. I have another four weeks of my little IV buddy and the heat is difficult, at best. Why waste such a gorgeous morning, right?

The beans are still putting out and the squash maintain steady production for harvest. The above-average temperatures are already taking their toll, but the garden fights back, refusing to surrender except on its terms. I thank God for its resistance because the ultimate harvest has begun in earnest – homegrown tomatoes. In an age of convenience, fast, and just plain crappy food, homegrown tomatoes probably aren’t a big deal to many younger folks (a brief aside – I asked one of the young guys working on a community garden project with me if he knew where tomatoes come from and he replied, the store?” I felt sad…), but they are to me. I know in my heart the world would be a better place if people would simply eat homegrown tomatoes…

Anyway, I’m back at the desk, perusing the newsfeed, with my mood alternating, as I read the various stories, from happy to sad to “what were they thinking?”. One headline from The Hill caught my eye. It was a report titled “White House Tasks office with taping together papers after Trump rips them up”. I had to read on, although not much surprises me anymore.

Apparently, Trump has an annoying habit (one of many, I might add) of ripping up whatever papers are on his desk regardless of whether they are official papers or not (I’m pretty sure he’s destroying evidence…). Since papers from the Oval Office are supposed to be archived, there are records management staffer who have been tasked with taping together all the little pieces of paper like a jigsaw puzzle, so they can be preserved according to Federal law. It seemed to be just another silly story from a silly place about a silly man, but something caught my eye as I read on.

The article goes on to say that a couple of those staffers were recently fired, one after three decades of service, and they talked to Politico about it. What struck me was the remark one of them, Reginald Young, Jr., made to his Director. He said, “Are you guys serious? We’re making more than $60,000 a year, we need to be doing something far more important things than this. It felt like the lowest form of work you can take on without having to take out the trash cans”.

His statement reflects the root of the problem with common folks and government, and people in general. His attitude of ‘I’m too good for that’ is often one that I’ve had in the past; and if I’m not careful, I can have in the present as well. It relegates people’s worth to some imagined scale of what’s important and what’s not. One of the first questions we ask new acquaintances is often, “So, what do you do?” as if what we do defines who we are. That’s rarely the case. Still, every business has a hierarchy: bosses look down on their employees, employees look down on new hires, and everyone seems to think they are too good to clean up their own messes and leave them for the janitorial staff. And so, it goes…

Fortunately, I had a father who called me on this. Nothing was beneath me. If I signed up for a job, then I needed to do whatever the job required. I wasn’t ‘too good’ to do anything and I sure wasn’t better than anyone else. Every job needed to be done and to be done well. I wish everyone had a dad like him. Maybe we’d find it easier to get along…

I didn’t always listen to Dad.  I spent years imagining new ways to please him and make him proud, even though I didn’t have to. He loved me just the way I was. It didn’t matter what I did for a living because that wasn’t who I was. I was his son and that, my friends, was enough. I remember him telling me over and over, “Son, I don’t care if you want to be a garbage man, be the best garbage man you can be”. It took me many years to find the truth in his wisdom. Simply do my best…

I really began to appreciate my father’s wisdom when I discovered a hidden treasure in my reading several years ago. It was an old French text from the 17th century by a man known as Brother Lawrence. It was called “Practicing the Presence of God”. Brother Lawrence was a lay brother, a monk in a Paris Priory. For fifty years since he said his vows, he worked in the kitchen of the priory and later, repaired sandals. I guess neither job was thought of any more highly then, than it is now. Yet somehow, this simple monk’s life revealed more about the nature of work and our relationship with God, than anything I have read before or since.

Working in the monastery kitchen, Brother Lawrence discovered that “common business”, no matter how mundane or seemingly insignificant to others, was the “medium of God’s love”. Therefore, work became an instrument of worship and relationship with God. Suddenly, washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen wasn’t some lowly job, it was an act of worship and partnership with the Creator. It was done with love and exuded love. Maybe that’s why so many people flocked to this simple monk over the years to seek spiritual advice and comfort.

Just as my Dad used to tell me to strive to do well and give credit where credit is due, I’ve come to value the principles and “Maxims” of Brother Lawrence. I’ve come to see that our work, no matter what it is, is a physical manifestation of God’s love and my relationship with him. If that’s the case, then nothing is ‘beneath me’ and one job is not more valuable than the other. Given that, what right do I have to look down (or up) on another’s work. We’re each a treasured child of the Creator and maybe, just maybe, I should treat folks that way…

I don’t expect attitudes to change in Washington D.C., or Fort Worth, or anywhere else for that matter. CEOs and men in powerful positions will continue to make exorbitant salaries at the expense of the very people who make their lives possible. We’ll still assign value to one’s work and put the somewhere on the ladder and thus, assign their worth. While attitudes may stay the same in general, I’ll pray that mine continuously change so I can see the value and the worth of each of God’s kids I run into every day. If I treat them as one of God’s kids, maybe they’ll treat themselves, and others, the same way. Before you know it, courtesy and respect begin to spread and maybe those White House staffers start taking out the trash because it needs to be taken out. Just sayin’…

Christianity, Emotional Health, Faith, Family, Growing Up, Health, Hope, Marriage, Prayer, Recovery, Relationships, Spirituality, Trust, Uncategorized

Sunday Morning…

gregoryjoel

I can’t think of a better way to start a Sunday morning than getting to spend time on the porch with my lovely wife. The heat may be here to stay in North Texas, but the porch is shaded and inviting. On morning’s like these, it’s not too hot to enjoy yet, so we lingered a little longer and soaked up the gorgeous morning…

This past Spring has brought more wildlife around our home than usual. The cardinals are in abundance this year, which I take to be a blessing. The old folks say that a cardinal in the yard is a visit from a loved one from “the other side”. If that’s true, our whole family is back together again. They’ve been in abundance this year.  The young mockingbird, who has claimed our yard as his own, flew down to see what we were up to and then flew off to the pecan tree to sing and seek a mate. A toad hopped across the porch chasing the bugs that hang out in the bed of wildflowers in front. Apparently, we have a new opossum family frequenting our backyard. A raccoon (which I pray does not figure out how to get in our attic) drops by just to aggravate the dogs late at night. A host of other bird species, the plethora of squirrels, and the occasional bobcat or coyote sighting ever remind us how blessed we are to have found our little home here.

I think about all the years I went about without seeing any of these simple pleasures – the birds, the wildlife, the flowers, the neighborhood. I was so self-centered, I couldn’t see anything beyond my own needs and pursuits. Even when I tried to do something for someone else it was to gain points toward something I want. I remember thinking my Dad was so silly because he was so intrigued and grateful for the little things in life. Now I’m becoming him. My kids laugh at me because I find myself doing the same things that he did. Go figure…

After my time on the porch I came in to go online for my church’s Sunday morning service. I still haven’t ventured back inside the building itself (baby steps…), but I try to attend online since my friend Rusty is the “online minister” and a couple of friends are hosts. I enjoy the insights that are shared “from the pulpit”. Still, one of my biggest frustrations is the one-sided communication that is called “preaching”. It’s probably a personal thing. I have never responded well to preaching. It always seemed like a way to remind me I wasn’t good enough. Then again, maybe I’m just one of those folks who doesn’t take to auditory learning. Perhaps it’s from far too many years of hearing “do as I say, not as I do”. Unfortunately, that wasn’t limited to preachers. I guess I’m just a “touchy-feely” kind of guy when it comes to learning lessons…

I’m fully aware that I bring a lot of baggage to the table when discussing “church”. My experiences were not always positive and usually left me with more self-loathing than when I got there. That’s why I love recovery meetings so much. They allow me to start peeling back all those layers of erroneous understanding about God and begin seeing him in a new light. Heck, they didn’t even say I had to call him God; a Higher Power would suffice. Besides, I’ve come to believe he doesn’t care what you call him. He just seems to love our conversations.

Sometimes I’m jealous of those who had no religious upbringing. The “God or “Higher Power” thing comes somewhat easier for them. When they experience the liberation of grace, God isn’t such a foreign concept. They experience God in fresh, new ways so it’s not surprising they find him to be loving and caring, instead of judgmental and pissed off all the time. It has taken me a long time to figure that out. My family and friends loaded me down with some well-meaning, but serious misconceptions about God, and it has taken me many steps along the path to get rid of the onus. Now I finally get it – His burden is light and a real pleasure to walk with…

Still, I’m grateful for the family (and community) I was raised in. While their view of God and grace were somewhat suspect, their motives and moral education were always well-intentioned. I never learned about (or experienced) grace until I found recovery. I think that’s why recovery meetings feel more like I always thought church was supposed to be – a bunch of ordinary people who have found a relationship with a God of their understanding, still don’t have all the answers to life, aren’t afraid to say so, and are finding out it’s okay to be human.  Like the Rabbi says, “Those who have been forgiven much, love much”. I like “churches” like that…

I’m grateful that my baggage has gotten much lighter over the last few years. I’ve been open to the guidance of my predecessor’s in this life and sometimes I get to learn from their mistakes and not make them mine. I’m grateful that I’m able to hear what I need to hear and that I’m able to see the beauty of the world around me, whatever the situation is. I know none it would’ve happened had I not been around a bunch of folks who, if I may paraphrase the Apostle James, “confessed their struggles to one another so that the healing may begin”.

I guess that’s why I struggle with ‘church’ as most of us know it. I seem to learn better when I hear others be honest about their struggles. They go through the same things as I do and through our sharing our experience we collectively find the strength and hope to make it another day. I just don’t sense that when I’m sitting in worship services. I used to think that was “just” me, but I know a lot of folks for whom that’s also true. It’s nice to know I’m not alone.

Maybe it’s time we re-evaluate what constitutes ‘church’. That’s probably way above my pay grade so for now, I’ll just have ‘church’ every morning here on the porch. Worship usually starts after I wake up, sit down on the porch, and have my first cup of coffee. I get to see the goodness of a loving God all over my front yard. Maybe tonight, I’ll make a recovery meeting. Church isn’t just for Sunday’s anymore…

Christianity, Chronic Illness, Emotional Health, Faith, Health, Hope, Marriage, Prayer, Relationships, Trust, Uncategorized

When Life Shows Up…

gregoryjoel

My time on the porch is once again becoming shorter as the temperature begins to return to last week’s glimpse of late summer. While I enjoyed the temporary relief of the “cold” front that passed through, the above-average temperatures are becoming the new normal. NPR reported that the folks who keeps tabs on his kind of stuff say that May was a full five degrees hotter than last year across the board. It seems that every month seems to be either breaking records or least landing in the top five warmest years. I wonder what the world will be like for my grandchildren. I think about things like that and quite frankly, I get fearful for them. But that’s another story…

A young male mockingbird has laid claim to one of the trees in our front yard. He’s a cocky little fellow and a bit a bully when it comes to other birds in our yard and our cat. He’s quick to chase off the other birds, especially the doves, when they land in the yard. He loves to drop down and get close enough to Wallace, our cat, daring him to catch him and indulging in a very dangerous game of tag. Little does he know that Wallace isn’t really interested anything other that sleeping on my truck and periodically wandering over to the front porch to make sure his food bowl is constantly full. Still, I love watching the little guy just because he’s so full of self-confidence and bravado. It doesn’t matter that he has little to fear from Wallace. He’s still very courageous…

I went to my doctor yesterday for a follow-up to my recent hospital stay. I have another four weeks with my little IV buddy by my side. I still feel as if I’m under house arrest at times. Everything is scheduled around my infusion and the heat outside. I’m still not supposed to sweat, which seems futile given the Texas summer. I’m already tired of staying in either the bedroom or my office, which are the only rooms in the house that stay cool after about 10:00 AM. I sneak outside to work in the garden for a few minutes at a time. It’s only been a couple of weeks and I have serious cabin fever, which has been a truly eye-opening (and somewhat guilt-ridden) experience.

I’ve experienced, to a very tiny degree, what my wife has had to go through for the last two-and-a-half years. Some of you that are reading this know the difficulties my wife, Margaret, has had to walk through since her back surgery back in October of 2015. So, it makes sense when I say to you that I have no right to complain. Doing so reminds me of how self-centered I can be, even with the ones I love the most.

For those of you who don’t know Margaret, there are a few things I need to tell you. I don’t feel I’m speaking out of line, since we are both very public about our physical issues – not to seek pity, but to help others going through the same things. One thing I’ve learned over the last several years is that there are a lot of people who live with terrible isolation and depression. That’s often the consequence of chronic pain and illness. Our openness is hopefully beneficial to others, and for that I’m grateful. We both firmly believe that our purpose in life is to help others. Still, I forget that sometimes, I forget about the one closest to me.

Margaret has dealt with chronic pain for the last several years. We’ve joked that if it pertains to her back and ends with “-osis” she’s probably experienced it. She will tell you that she was 5’7” when she was twelve. She’s 4’10” today (and I’m 6’3” so it’s not always easy to frame our photos in a camera lens…). Despite the difficulty caused by her back issues, she’s been fiercely independent. If a doctor tells her she can’t do something, her response has always been “watch me”. Her attitude and her reliance on God led her to do many things she wasn’t supposed to be able to do. That’s one of the things I’ve always loved and admired about her. She’s a beautiful, strong, an independent woman.

However, her situation changed in 2015. She began to experience new back pains. It soon became apparent that another surgery would be required to alleviate them, which she had in October of that year. The surgery relieved much of the pain it as designed to do, but also left a new problem – healing was to be extremely slow around some of the new hardware in her back. The last two-and-a-half years has been tenuous at best. It’s like modified bed rest and it’s debilitating to her emotions as well.

If you deal with chronic pain or medical conditions, you know how easy it is to succumb to depression after all the frustration and powerlessness that comes with them. If my situation feels like house arrest, then I can only imagine how my wife must feel. I realize how my current “inconveniences” are nothing compared to the ones that she, and many others, constantly deal with. In fact, I feel like a bit of a jerk for saying anything at all.

We were talking yesterday afternoon about her frustration and depression. Sometimes she feels like she has no purpose anymore because of her limitations. It cut me to the core to see the love of my life feel that way. She’s been an unbelievable role model so many people, and she’s loved by so many folks, but sometimes knowing that and feeling that are two completely different things. So, I’ve been thinking a lot about what her (and my) purpose is the last few days.

We both have our faith, which calls us to love God and love others. She’s far better than I am at that, but with her help (and God’s!) I’m getting better at it. She’s clothed in humility and in tune with the needs of others. Humility is not “thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less”, and she truly exemplifies that virtue. Moreover, if I ever have difficulty with feeling (and practicing) gratitude, all I need is spend a few minutes with Margaret and I’m back on track again. Ultimately, our purpose is to be of service to God and our fellow travelers in this world and she meets that in so many ways. Still, that seems kind of vague and general when you’re stuck at home so much of the time.

The road hasn’t always been easy, but we’ve been down the road together, and God has graced us in ways that are unimaginable. There are days when she feels very lonely and isolated, even when I’m at work in the next room. So, I thought Margaret and I together could share some of our experience, strength, and hope of living well (and sometimes not so well) with chronic pain and illness. Hopefully, you’ll be hearing from her, in her voice, and hear her story soon. It’s one that needs to be shared. Maybe in sharing the grace that has been extended to us, we can help others see the love and grace in their own lives even when life “shows up”.

I haven’t talked to her about it yet, but we’re usually on the same page. I hope it all makes sense because she’s also my editor and she’s resting following a procedure on her back this morning. It’s just as important to us that we share our struggles as it is the share the incredible life we’ve been graced with. The old Hebrew prophets tell us that God “rains on the just and the unjust alike” – life shows up no matter who you are. Sharing how she and I work through it sounds like a pretty good “purpose”, so maybe we can be of help to someone along the way. I’ll keep you posted…

Christianity, Communication, Emotional Health, Faith, Family, Marriage, Prayer, Recovery, Relationships, Trust, Uncategorized

A Few Ground Rules…

gregoryjoel

A line of thunderstorms came through last night while we were sleeping. Our Catahoula, Jameson, assumed his “thunder” position in the corner. Jameson is one of our rescues (although we’re not sure who rescued who) and spent his first nineteen months in the shelter. I’m so happy that the Humane Society of North Texas is a “no-kill” shelter. I’m sure they kept him all those months because he was waiting for him to come home to us. Still, I can only imagine what it must’ve been like for him when thunderstorms came through: the cacophony of barking and howling reverberating off the concrete floors and walls. I’d probably be a little nervous, too.

The rain is absolutely, positively wonderful. I don’t care if I’ll spend the rest of the day mopping up dirty paw prints. We haven’t had a good rain in a while now. Not only did my garden need it, our A/C did as well. It’s had a well-deserved break this morning. I’m not looking forward to our electric bill this month.

So, the heat relief came and I was quite comfortable as I sat on the porch this morning. I enjoyed the day more than I have in the last few weeks. I spent time with my lovely wife, followed by a long phone call with my sister in Georgia. Life doesn’t get much better than that…

Sometimes my time on the porch is nothing more than a time to reconnect with the people in life. It’s also a chance to think about absolutely nothing. The days when nothing’s happening are some of the most treasured days I can have. My wife and I will often sit in silence together, each lost in our own little world, but somehow together. One of the greatest pleasures in our life is being able to enjoy each other’s company without having to fill it with meaningless conversation and noise. I’ve always been envious of couples that were able to speak volumes without saying a word.

I know it was soon after Margaret and I had been dating when I felt a need to lay down some communication ground rules for our relationship. I told her that there were a couple of things she needed to know about me to avoid any hurt feelings or seeming disinterest through any miscommunication. First, if she asked me what I was thinking, and I replied nothing, then I was actually thinking, “nothing”. I really mean it! Science may argue that it’s impossible for anyone not to be thinking something, but believe me – it is absolutely, positively possible for me not to be thinking about anything at all. So, ladies trust me on this, men can be completely mentally blank at times. It’s nothing personal. It just is what it is…

Secondly, I told Margaret that if I were to ask her how it’s going, and she replied, “okay”, then I’m going assume she’s telling me the truth and everything is okay. Since I’m not a mind reader I’m going to take her at her word. I trust her. If there’s something going on and she’s not ready to talk about it all she has to do is say so. I can be patient and go about life until she’s had time to process whatever is going on. I won’t lie and tell you this is easy. There are times when this is difficult: I am, by nature, a “fixer”. I think most men are. It’s hard to watch someone we love deal with something and we can’t do anything about it right now. I made the commitment to her that I would allow her the space and time she needs for herself because I trust her implicitly.

Margaret and I have been married for five and a half years and those two ground rules work well for us. We’re not perfect by any means, but we just don’t have very many spats (even little ones) because both of us practice these simple rules as best as we can. Maybe we can practice them because we were both in our fifties and had been single for so long before we started dating. It’s hard to play the dating games as you get older. You get more direct and to the point, especially when you don’t “need” anyone to make you feel like a whole human being. I have a friend that says, “One times one equals one, but fractions just don’t add up the same”. I know what he means. Believe me…

We have a good marriage. Notice I said “good”, not perfect. Then again, that’s what the Creator said when he looked down at the Earth and all of creation, “It is good”, not perfect. That tells me we’re on the right track. There’s still times when I wish it didn’t take Margaret so long to process her thoughts and feelings about something. Patience isn’t always my strong point. If I’m honest with myself, it’s still easy for me to become self-centered and think her feelings are all about me when they may be about something going on with one of the kids or with a friend. There are times when I want her, as with many issues in my life, to just “get it over with” because I need to find resolution. I still want to know outcomes long before I need to know them. I’m still able to drive myself crazy with all the unlikely scenarios running through my head. I just want to “know” what’s going on. As my friend Edgar always likes to remind me, “What do you know when you know?” Fortunately, we share the core value of faith in a loving God and it doesn’t take near as long to get out of self-centeredness and back to letting God run the show. That seems to work better for all involved. Go figure…

I know the rules sound silly, but they work for us. We’ve have learned to keep it simple and that may not work for everyone else. The rules work so well because we trust one another. We trust each other because we learned to trust ourselves. We learned to trust ourselves by learning to trust the loving God to whom we surrendered to. If he has our back it’s become pretty, darn easy to look out for, and love one another, the way he loves us.

I know it’s only been five-and-a-half years, but I’m beginning to realize that we share the same thing as all those old couples I used to be so envious of. The irony is that I always thought I had to work so hard for happiness, but the reality is that when I quit working for it, I received it in abundance. Now I get to share it with the love of my life and sometimes I don’t even have to say anything at all…

Christianity, Emotional Health, Faith, Family, Growing Up, Hope, Prayer, Spirituality, Uncategorized

Pomp and Circumstance…

gregoryjoel

(My “editor” is resting from yesterday’s events so please excuse typos, etc. I have a difficult time editing myself, but I felt a need to get this out, given the time of year it is…)

It’s a fine Sunday morning here on the porch. A “cold front” came through last night and the morning was a bit cooler than recent days. Instead of triple digits we’re looking at the mid-nineties temperature-wise, so I’ll take the “cool” whenever and wherever I can get it. The last couple of days have been rough – my air conditioner in the truck went out followed by the driver’s side door latch breaking. Of course, it waited until after my mechanic was closed for the weekend. That’s just the way things go sometimes…

It’s hard to believe it’s already June. Graduation season is in full swing. My granddaughter, Baillie, graduated yesterday. It probably just me, but she looked different after the ceremony – more like a young adult than a graduating teenager – and I felt myself beaming on the inside. She’s growing up and I’m so proud of her. Her parents like to remind me of her “imperfections” and I know that no one, not even my granddaughter, is perfect. Still, as her grandfather, it’s my prerogative to see only the “perfect” young lady she’s become.

She’ll be starting college in the Fall and I’m somewhat relieved that it’ll be here at Tarrant County Community College, so she can nail down her basic curriculum before moving a little farther north to finish at the University of North Texas. I’m a little envious. College was a great time in my life. For her parent’s sake, I hope she doesn’t follow my path though. I liked it so much that I attended on the “ten-year plan…”

As I sat through the ceremony yesterday, I was reminded that some things have changed since my own graduation. For one, it appeared that everyone wore clothes underneath their graduation gowns. That wasn’t the case when I graduated. Of course, my ceremony was held outside at Red Rocks Amphitheater in Denver and several classmates chose to wear shorts under their gowns. Unfortunately, not everyone wore anything! In the mid-seventies, the cultural fad called “streaking” had reached its peak during my senior year. Today such behavior would be rewarded with a designation as a sex offender. Anyway…

I know there will be a whole host of new memories created as she grows and blossoms into adulthood, but I’m feeling a little melancholy this morning. Baillie’s not a little girl anymore. She’s a beautiful young lady. It’s silly to think that I can ride around with her in my old truck, singing silly songs, and talking about things that mean absolutely nothing to anyone else but us. She’s moving into adulthood with all the prerequisite changes that come with it – new friends, new places, and new experiences. I’ve known that since she became a teenager – schedules and obligations change so there’s less time for grandpa –  but high school graduation seems so final. If I dwell on that, things could get depressing real fast. So today I chose to dwell on the happiness I feel when we get time together. The melancholy takes on a whole new face…

I don’t run around with that “little” girl any more, but I have happy, cherished memories of the times we spent together in those younger days. Besides, when we do get time together today, I spend it with an incredible, beautiful young lady. I enjoy our dinner’s out and the talks we have. The conversation may be different, but she’s still my little girl and for that I’m truly grateful. We still get to make memories together, and they will be as cherished as all the rest.

That being said, I feel a little older now that her graduation has come and gone. Between Baillie’s graduation and the recurring medical issue that I’m dealing with are making me feel older than I am. The world is changing, kids grow up, and I find a few more wrinkles, aches, and pains in places I’ve never had them before. I’d love to say that I have no regrets about the last sixty years, but I’d be lying. There are things I wish I’d done differently, especially with my kids, even if they’ve all contributed to making me the person I am today. Besides, I probably have a lot more years to travel this path and looking backward probably slows me down. I try to travel light. God and a lot of grace has helped me lay down a lot of excess baggage.

I’m not always comfortable with the journey. Things are difficult to understand sometimes. For instance, Friday I was scanning through my news feed and I found that words don’t mean what they did when I was a kid. According to the Washington Post, Trump (I still can’t use “President” and Trump in the same sentence!) has been in office 497 days and made “false or misleading statements” to the public 3,251 times. That’s an average of 6.52 times a day. Apparently, “false and misleading statements” are not that big a deal anymore.

When I was a kid, they called “false and misleading statements”, lies. I used to get my butt smacked or sent to my room if I was caught lying. “Even a half-truth is a whole lie” as my friend Jim used to say. I should have told my parents I was just making “false and misleading statements”. Maybe I could have been President…

I hope that Baillie and her classmates don’t put up with “false and misleading statements”. I hope they are never afraid to call a lie a lie. As I watched them come forward one by one, name by name, to receive their diploma I felt hopeful – maybe their youthful idealism doesn’t have to fade away like so many generations before. After all, human history doesn’t have a great track record, but then again, weren’t records meant to be broken?

I haven’t always been so hopeful about the future. As an employer, I’ve dealt with employees and prospective employees that people call “millennials” and quite frankly, “hopeful” isn’t an adjective I used very often. If it wasn’t my granddaughter’s graduating class I’d probably feel somewhat apprehensive about the future with them as well. It’s more likely that seeing her class reminds me that we’re all given another chance to change the future every day – none of us has to “settle” – and the grace I’ve discovered, so much later in life, is available to them every day as well. And that my friends, gives me hope…