Category: Emotional Health

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Too Late to be a Good Samaritan

gregoryjoel

Fall is normally my time for self-introspection. North Texas summers usually keep that habit away – one can only think of finding air conditioning! It’s been above one hundred degrees for most of the summer with constant excessive heat warnings. Nights have stayed above eighty degrees since the first week of July so there’s little relief when evening comes. Most of North Texas is in severe drought. I suspect the media is right when they refer to this as the “new normal”. The sad thing is that everyone seems to accept it and do little to mitigate the problem, but that’s another blog post…

Back to reflection…

It was 111 degrees according to my truck thermometer when I left the farm. I cranked the air conditioning and headed to the house for a Zoom meeting. It was a brief hour break on a hot summer day to enjoy the AC, grab a snack, and change out of sweat-soaked clothes. I headed towards the turn to Interstate Thirty and there he was – lying next to the entrance ramp – sun beating down on him a mere three feet from the shade of an overpass. He was on his back and his arms outstretched slightly to the sky above. He was in the direct sunlight with shade only a couple of feet away. It was obvious he wasn’t merely sleeping. He was dead. His arms were stiff, rigor mortis had set in, and his body bloated from the afternoon sun.

One officer from the Fort Worth police came followed by the Tarrant County Medical Examiner’s van. I stayed long enough to give a statement and notice all the cars going by. How long had he been there, and no one noticed, or cared enough, to stop and call 911? I remembered the parable of the Good Samaritan. I guess I wouldn’t qualify here. I didn’t get here soon enough. I wondered what I would’ve done if I did…

The crime scene tape was never put up, no investigation made, and the ME loaded the body to take back to the morgue. The whole affair was over in about thirty minutes. The police seemed put out that the ME was taking so long. Just another homeless guy. No signs of violent trauma so time to get on to more important things like the comfort of air-conditioned squad car.

The scene has been seared on my brain ever since. I can’t help but wonder who the man was – what was his name, where was his family? Few people are totally alone in this world although many feel that way. He was somebody’s son, maybe a father, or maybe a brother. Would they find his family and report his death? Would he be missed? Would anyone grieve over his passing? Would anyone care? The news came on that evening. No one talked about the passing of another homeless person. I wasn’t surprised. Anonymous dead homeless guys simply aren’t newsworthy.

The farm is close to the night shelter and Union Gospel Mission. The city has worked hard to isolate the homeless (or more PC – “unhoused”) population to the “mission district”. Still, there’s far more homeless people than there are beds. Around the bend in the river there are several acres of thickets between the old drive-in and Gateway Park. There you’ll find several homeless camps and their number is growing every year. If you look closely, you find camps all around the city – under bridges, wooded areas, abandoned houses. The Tarrant County Homeless Coalition reported that “more than 5,000 households experienced homelessness throughout 2022 in Tarrant County” (Fort Worth Star- Telegram, February 13th, 2023).

We often have some homeless folks who make their way along Trinity Trail above the farm. They will occasionally ask for a bottle of water or rest in the shade of the farm’s only tree. Sometimes they carry on loud, and sometimes angry conversations with people unseen by us. Mental illness accounts for a significant portion of the homeless population. Panhandlers covered all the main intersections from the freeway to the farm. It’s easy to look past them; to avoid eye contact and hope the stoplight changes before they approach the car. I know. I’m guilty at times.

I’ve been praying about that a lot the last couple of weeks. I’ve been in their shoes and yet I forget all about them when my life got back on track. Suddenly, I’m too busy “doing good things with the farm” to notice them, to really see them, or to have a kind word. I become the priest or the Levite in Jesus’ tale of the Good Samaritan. It’s not that I don’t care. I’m just in too big of a hurry and don’t want to have any distractions from the day ahead. I have important things to do – at least in my own mind – and I fail to see Jesus right in front of me (see Matthew Chapter 25…?). Nothing is too important to not to see and acknowledge the divine in each of God’s kids.

Joan Osborne recorded a song in 1995 that resonates with me today especially. It reminds me that I can see God everywhere. He might even be panhandling on the street corner.

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Celebrating Juneteenth and Freedom

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Happy Juneteenth to you all! Ms. Opal’s Walk for Freedom starts at 9:30 this morning. I hope you can be there. I will be at Opal’s Farm irrigating since veggies don’t like the hundred-degree heat. It is June in Texas!

I hope you all take a moment to reflect on the celebration of emancipation and what that means for all of us. I keep hearing Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song” in my head this morning – “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery none but ourselves can free our mind”. Freedom from racism, from hate, from all the isms and ways of thinking that hold us all in bondage. As Ms. Opal Lee always reminds us, “If someone can be taught to hate then they can be taught to love” and “No one is free until we are all free.”

I hope you all celebrate release from bondage today in the spirit of Juneteenth and freedom for all. Ms. Opal says we should celebrate from Juneteenth to July 4th. I can do that and hope you all will too!

Side note – Taste of Juneteenth will be on July 1st at Panther Island Pavilion. There will be BBQ pitmasters competing in the BBQ cookoff and delicious sides. Come for a day of celebration and great food!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOFu6b3w6c0

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Enough is Enough

gregoryjoel

I sat on the porch this morning drinking coffee and soaking in the morning. It’s been sprinkling off and on all morning but not enough to keep the mockingbirds and the doves from their vibrant singing and cooing. It’s been unseasonably cool and overcast this morning, but the birds reminded me Spring is really here.

It’s times like these I see how blessed I am. I most certainly don’t deserve it. I spent most of my life making poor choices and living the way addiction dictated how I live. It wasn’t until almost twenty years ago that I finally surrendered, choosing life, and living in the Spirit as best I can. I haven’t been wealthy – this is not another “Prosperity Gospel” tale – but I’ve always had enough. Enough truly is enough…

I was speaking with a friend the other day. They have lived a life of escaping poverty. They grew up in the rural Midwest where the average income was less than ten thousand dollars a year (substantially less) and they didn’t even have electricity for many years of their young life. It’s still difficult for me to remember that there were (and are) people who lived like that in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. As a result, they spend time worrying about never having enough and the fear of losing what they have.

I have also lived in poverty in the past, but mine was of my own making. It was something I never imagined growing up in an upper middle-class home in the suburbs. The fear and constant looking over my shoulder and harming the very ones I loved was something I never intended, but it became more real as my addiction progressed. I often fail to understand the trauma that comes with poverty forced on someone by birthplace and circumstance. I can’t pretend to know the fear that comes with falling back into such a state. I can, however, be present to the reality of my friend.

I believe that has led to so much introspection over the last few weeks. Most of the fear has been removed through my years of recovery. I’m no longer confused. As Brennan Manning says, “Everything is grace.” I have what I have, not because of my own efforts, but because God has graciously provided enough – enough of life’s necessities so I can share and be of service to those around me. I work hard because I have something to offer the world around me. As such, it’s become much easier to live in the world and to be present.

Photo by Hugo Magalhaes on Pexels.com

Saint Francis said, “Above all the grace and gifts that Christ gives to his beloved is that of overcoming self.” It constantly amazes me when I find joy in driving in rush hour traffic because the bluebonnets and other wildflowers are in full bloom along the side of the freeway. When I let go of who I think I am, both when I have an over-inflated ego or tell myself I’m the scum of the Earth – I’m free to acknowledge what a loving God thinks of me. I see the God lives in everything that surrounds me.

“We have very little, so we have nothing to be preoccupied with. The more you have, the more you are occupied, the less you give. But the less you have, the more free you are.”

– Mother Teresa

As I sit at my desk writing this morning, I have four dogs sleeping all around my feet. Ricky and Lucy – the “twins” have exhausted themselves playing together. Jameson is laid across my feet, most likely keeping me working (I’m afraid to move but my foot’s going to sleep!). Sadie is gently snoring by my side. I’m not sure life will get any better. They remind me constantly that I’m important to them and somehow, it’s a constant reminder that God loves me unconditionally. They remind me that “everything is grace” …

If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don’t fuss about what’s on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count more than birds.

Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller. All this time and money wasted on fashion – do you think it makes much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby beside them.

If God gives such attention to the wildflowers… don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do what’s best for you. What I’m trying to do is get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving… Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your human concerns will be met.”

Matthew 6.27-33 (The Message – Jesus quoted by Eugene Peterson)
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Impatient Patient

gregoryjoel

I’ve learned that if you won’t take a break from work then the universe tends to make you! I’ve spent the last five days in the hospital (more on that in a minute) due to a raging infection that started with what appeared to be a fire ant bite. No one knows for sure but that triggered it. The swelling, redness, and heat have gone down a lot, thanks to some high-powered IV antibiotics. I can actually see my knuckles again! Hopefully I will be discharged from the hospital and switch to oral antibiotics on Monday and then it’s back to the farm.

When they admitted me, they put me in the “Hospital at Home” program. I feel like I should have an ankle monitor since I’m required to stay home (it’s a good version of house arrest), but “facts are not feelings”. This is a wonderful care program developed by Texas Health Resources. They put in all the tech equipment necessary to keep me in touch with my care team. I receive several visits per day from paramedics to help with medications and IVs as well as from Nurse Practitioners. The iPad keeps virtual doctor and nurse contact, and my vital signs are monitored the same as in the hospital itself. They’ve also discovered that patients heal quicker in their own homes. I get it. I never thought I would say that I’ve enjoyed a hospital stay, but the care team is amazing. Texas Health Resources is not only a great sponsor of the farm but a great health partner personally.

Amber and Amanda have done an outstanding job of keeping things going at the farm. This is probably the worst possible time to be down, but they have kept the growing season going strong. They’ve also kept me updated several times a day. They had the best day so far at Cowtown Farmers Market this morning for Opal’s Farm. Amber has done such an incredible job with the biointensive beds that we have more produce than we have storage for. That’s a great problem to have, but it’s still a problem. Thanks to the Rainwater Foundation and Grow SE we will be getting a cargo trailer and a chill bot to handle cold storage issues.

I’ve tried to be a good patient and follow doctor’s orders. I stay in bed much of the day and prop my arm with a pillow. I’ve seen more Netflix in the last five days, than I’ve seen in a year. I’ve been able to catch up on the endless stream of paperwork that comes with the farm. I’ve also had time to reflect on this life I’ve been given. I recently reconnected with my best friend in high school and college, Tim Dwyer. Twenty years and quite a few miles have come and gone since we’ve talked. Facebook provided a wonderful opportunity to connect with each other.

I remember little of my childhood. The mental health folks assume I must have some kind of repressed trauma that restrains my memories. The only trauma I can think of was growing up in the Church of Christ but that didn’t become apparent until my adult years. What I do remember is having loving parents and growing up in a white middle class home, but never quite fitting the mold of all the other kids.

Music made life tolerable, but when I discovered alcohol, the world became alive – at least for a while. Music was always by my side. Alcohol and drugs betrayed me. Tim was my friend through both.

That’s why this reconnection was so important to me. True friends, like Tim, are rare.

Enough of waxing nostalgic for now anyway. I can hardly wait to get back to the farm and although I will have to stay “out of the dirt” for a few days I can still do the tractor work waiting for me there. I will try to be better at posting updates and writing. It’s been quite infrequent over a very long Spring. Amber and Amanda have posted some great stuff on Instagram though. See what’s coming to market there – @opalsfarm.

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Jim-isms

gregoryjoel

February has long been my least favorite month of the year. I’m the only one with that opinion. I’d like to think the greeting card industry invented Valentines Day not simply as a way to sell more cards, but an attempt to take the edge off the shortest, most miserable month of the year. Heck, even the corporate types at the National Football League extended the season so that the Super Bowl falls in February. I’d like to think they did it out of compassion for my fellow February sufferers, but I’m pretty sure that the motive was simply to line their pockets with increased ticket and ad revenue. Besides, it offers a distraction from those Christmas bills that just came due…

Despite the twenty-eight-day (Julian had a little too much wine while figuring out calendar calculations, so he threw in an extra day every four years – it’s a leap, I know) depression that is February, it does have one saving grace – Groundhog Day. I’m not really into the weather prognostications of a fat, furry little rodent, but the movie is one of the all-time cinematic greats. Grace, whether in secular or religious form is one of my favorite stories. It’s a reminder that we always have the opportunity to reinvent ourselves daily. We don’t have to settle for continuing to be a butthead.

Photo by Joël de Vriend on Unsplash

As I’ve grown older, I’ve learned to take February, and most things in life, with a dose of salt. Most of the things I’ve deemed tragic episodes in my life have turned out to be some of the biggest blessings. The inverse is true as well. The things I was ecstatic about turned out to be not so great. I’ve decided to just take it as it comes. As my friend Jim always reminded me, “Chop wood and let the chips fall where they may…”

It was February 15th, 2018 when I lost my friend Jim. I guess I didn’t really “lose” him. I have a pretty good idea he’s off fishing with Jesus and telling fisherman’s tales (no lying about the one that got away Jim, okay?). I simply wish he’d stayed here a bit longer. I guess it’s that way with all the people you love and care about: especially those who impacted you in a big way. Maybe that’s why February remains at the bottom of the list.

We held a celebration of Jim’s life on Tuesday at two o’clock in the afternoon on a mild February day. I’m not sure how many people were there, but it was a big crowd. He impacted the lives of so many. It was an eclectic bunch of church members and some not-so churchy- folks from recovery groups that Jim attended (seeing bikers sitting next to proper Baptist folks was a treat!). Before the service, I asked his wife, Sharon, if she had intentionally planned the service for Tuesday at two. She looked at me a bit puzzled and said “No, why?”

I had to laugh. Only Jim could pull this one off. I explained to her that when I would tell Jim about the difficult times in my life, he’d always say, “it’ll get better”.

“When Jim. When is it going to get better?”

He’d always reply somberly, “Tuesday at two o’clock. It’ll all be better on Tuesday at two o’clock”. He never knew what Tuesday or whether it would be two in the morning or two in the afternoon, but he was always right. It always got better. I didn’t always know the exact moment it happened, but it was always by Tuesday at two o’clock. I’m sure he still gets a good laugh out of that one…

There are three men who are my heroes. They all share the superpowers of unconditional love and wisdom – my father, my friend Edgar, and Jim. Each had their own way of using their superpowers. My father gave me solid values and wise counsel, which I usually failed to heed. When I finally surrendered my rebellious self-centeredness, he was awaiting my return like the father in the parable of the Prodigal Son (and more than just once I can assure you). If God has a human face, I’m pretty sure He looks a lot like Dad.

My friend Edgar has been my friend, confidant, and mentor of sorts for almost three decades. He’s seen me at my very worst. He’s been there to dust me off and help me back on the proverbial horse more times than I’d care to admit. He believed in me when no one else would. Not many people have friends like Edgar. This blessing is not lost on me.

Then there’s Jim. A few Februarys have passed since that day in 2018. Not a day goes by that I don’t hear Jim’s voice telling me one of his “Jim-isms” – things he would say for whatever life might throw at me. “Jim-isms” were not always original, some came from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, some from older guys in recovery programs, and some were just time-tested West Texas sayings he’d grown up with. Somehow they all became Jim’s.

While the list of “Jim-isms” is long, there are two or three that stand out above the rest. First, there’s “This thing is too damn simple to be taken so damn seriously”. That was often coupled with “Son, don’t complicate the corn flakes”. Quite trying to be so intense. There’s nothing new under the sun. Above all, quit trying to make the simple so damn difficult. Remember Occam’s Razor- “the best solution to any problem is usually the simplest one.”

The other “Jim-ism” that hits home on a daily basis (and usually several times a day) is this, “When it’s over it will all be okay. If it ain’t okay, then it’s not over.” When I listen to the torrent of news about hate-filled people doing hateful things, about systemic and brutal racism, and about Christian Nationalist who blatantly misrepresent God in their pursuit of power and hegemony I have to remember this “Jim-ism” above all. It’s the one that reminds me that God is in control, that love always wins, and the arc of justice may be longer than I’d like, but it is an arc that is leading to the Kingdom of God.

Lately, there has been a lot of talk among my friends and neighbors about how tired everyone is – tired of COVID, tired of grief, tired of the police shootings and oft repeated news of insane mass shootings, and most of al, tired of the vitriol and division we live with every day. Faith and Jim-isms tell me to remind you all that:

“When it’s over it’ll all be okay and if it ain’t okay, then it’s not over” and “It’ll be better Tuesday at 2:00”