Thoughts From the Porch: All is quiet and peaceful on the porch this morning. Everyone else is sound asleep and I get to indulge in extra cups of coffee all to myself. It may sound selfish, but moments like this are few and far between in family life. I intend to relish in the moment, enjoying the quiet and a sunrise hidden by the overcast skies.
Ms. Opal and I were invited to speak to a university class
about Opal’s Farm. It went well. You all know I love to talk about the farm. As
such, I’m rarely intimidated by public speaking. I must admit I was a bit nervous
as the class filled. Things have changed drastically since I was a university
student. There wasn’t an overhead projector to be found. It may sound silly,
but I felt really old. I still
remember how cutting edge it was to type my term papers on a gold old IBM
Selectric typewriter. Heck, I didn’t even bring a Power Point presentation.
Yes, things have changed.
As Ms. Opal and I were walking back across campus to our
vehicle, we spoke of sharing our experience with young people. The students at
TCU were attentive, interested, and engaging. Not all young people are. That’s
I am under no illusions. Young people are better navigating
the technologies available and I’m glad. If it weren’t for my grand-kids I may
never have gotten my phone to work right. Some of you know what I mean. Still,
young folks today tend to neglect the wealth of wisdom that comes from our
elders and that makes me a little sad.
I’m not saying I have any wisdom to impart mind you. Most of
my life has been an example of what not to do. I didn’t start growing up
until I was in my late forties. It wasn’t until then that I began to truly
appreciate my elders.
Appreciating my elders meant I had to spend more time with them. It began with my Mom and kind of spread out from there. Dad had already passed, and Mom was in an assisted living facility here in Fort Worth. I stopped by to check on her several times a week and see if she needed anything. I met the ladies who sat at her table in the dining room and several of the other residents, particularly those who didn’t have frequent visits from outside the facility.
I saw the sheer delight in their eyes as they began sharing
their life experiences and memories with me. It dawned on me that having
someone to listen was all-to-rare for many of them. I’ve found that listening
is not only a gift to them, it’s filled my own life with a wealth of joy.
Try to spend some time with your predecessors today. They
have a wealth of knowledge and experience to impart. Who knows? You might just
make their day, and yours will be blessed beyond imagination…
Thoughts From the Porch: Yesterday
would have been my father’s ninety-third birthday. He passed in 2002 and nary a
day goes by that I don’t miss him. Even after sixteen years there are days when
grief feels overwhelming. I often
stop by the cemetery on my way to and from so I can sit and “talk” to him. It’s
a great way to work through the grief I feel some days.
One can argue that the cemetery is a resting place for the body only. For those that share my religious faith it’s understood that Dad’s spirit probably left that place to go wherever it is that our spirits go after death. It may sound childish, but I believe it’s a place for our spirits to be together.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
says something to the effect that when one with a great soul passes, a strong
wind will begin to blow. I remember stepping outside the hospital to have a smoke
after he had passed. A blustery wind made it almost impossible to light my
cigarette. I was so overcome with grief that I didn’t put two and two together
until a cemetery visit some time later.
On that particular visit, I had
come to read my father a letter I’d written acknowledging the fact that I had
caused a lot of harm while in my active addiction. In my program of recovery,
it’s called “making amends” a cleaning up of the wreckage of my past. Some may doubt
that amends, the process of amending or righting a wrong, can be made to
someone who has passed away. My experience that day says otherwise.
I stood in front of the
headstone, wiping away the tears, and reading my letter. The details of my
letter are deeply personal and between Dad and me. Suffice it to say that my
father was an incredible man who loved me dearly and I never gave him much to
work with as a son. It wasn’t until he was gone that I realized his greatness.
People often said that he was
my chief enabler and, while that may be true, it was his love that showed me
what God’s love was all about. As frustrated, and oft-times angry, as he could
become with me, he never stopped loving (or forgiving) me. I can’t think of a
better example of how the God of endless grace loves me…
I finished my letter. The tears
began to subside. I looked up and the wind began to swirl around me. It had
been still just a moment ago.
Our family plot is in an older
part of the cemetery surrounded by beautiful old oak trees. I mention this because
as the wind swirled about, I could see that none of the tree limbs were moving.
That’s when it hit me: “when one with a great soul passes, a strong wind will begin
to blow.” Dad was telling me one more time, “It’s okay. I forgive you and I
love you more than you can ever know. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
I think of that day often,
especially when life shows up with all its occasional difficulties. If Dad, a
mere human, can love me that much – how much more so can the Creator of the
Universe love me?
I’ve been thinking about Dad a lot this week. Not only was it his birthday, but the Stock Show and Rodeo opens on Friday. After Dad retired from the railroad, he would work the Harley Street gate for the Stock Show every year. He would be there a week before the show and a week after, so for a month straight he worked twelve-hour days. We usually didn’t celebrate his birthday until afterwards because he just came home, ate, and went to bed. As tired as he was, especially as he got older, he wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Since 1918, the Fort Worth
Stock Show was called the Southwestern Exposition and “Fat” Stock Show. Now it’s
just the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo. I’m not sure why they changed it. I
guess it’s no longer politically correct to call livestock fat. Maybe “weight-challenged”
is more acceptable. I’m not sure Dad would approve. Cows are supposed to be fat
and it violates tradition. Dad was big on tradition…
Saturday I’ll watch the annual
Stock Show Parade and I’ll think of Dad. Afterwards, I might go by the cemetery
on the way home. It’s no surprise that Saturday is supposed to be a really windy day…
Thoughts from the Porch: It was a bit chilly on the porch this morning, just enough to make the coffee taste better. The sun is obviously up but the overcast lends some doubt to that fact. The rain is coming once again, according to the weather folks. Although it’s not forecast to last more than a couple of days, heavy rains impede work on the farm. It looks like I’ll be mopping up after the dogs here at home for the next couple of days…
Margaret reminded me that today is December 7th, theanniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. It led to the US entrance into World War Two seventy-seven years ago. Growing up, it was huge part of history classes. Movies celebrating America’s victory over the Axis were common, the age-old tale of good triumphs over evil. Things were more clear cut then. We had a sense of purpose.
I lost an uncle in the European theater and another who served in the Pacific. We all had fathers and uncles who had fought in “the war”. There was no need to refer to it as the Second World War. We knew what war one was talking about.
I’m a Baby Boomer, one of the generation of children born when GIs came back from the war. Over time, our parents came to be known as the“Greatest Generation” – people who had survived the Great Depression and emergedfrom the world’s largest and most deadly conflict as heroes. We all need heroes…
Today, Pearl Harbor day is more significant than past ones.
It’s the climax to an eventful week, ever reminding me of time’s passing.
I lost my mother a little over a year ago. My dad and my uncle passed over fifteen years ago. I have one aunt left, my mother’s younger sister, and she’s seventy-nine. I realized that the “Greatest Generation” will soon be gone, and with it, a store of wisdom that has been often forgotten.
As my generation has grown older, we’ve come to appreciate ourparent’s generation a little more. Perhaps that’s because we’re aging ourselves. Time seems to erase the negative memories and replace them with only happy ones. We become a tad more willing to listen to our elders now that we wish our own children would listen to us. Life has a way of doing that.
I certainly didn’t want to listen to my parents when I wasyoung. Given the tumultuous earlier years of my generation, I’m confident I’m not the only one. Foolishness and youth tend to go hand in hand. If you had told me that my parents were part of the “Greatest Generation” some thirty years ago, I’d have angrily pointed out all the mess of the sixties and seventies.. They were the problem and wehad the solution.
The last week also marked the passing of President George Herbert Walker Bush at the age of ninety-four. I could go on and on about our political differences and my extreme opposition to his policies. I didn’t respect the man in that sense, but I did respect the values he exuded.To be honest, it’s not the man I mourn, as much as it is the reminder that the “Greatest Generation” is soon to be no more. What I felt this week has been a sadness for those I respected, loved, and lostto the passing of time.
However, I was able to spend some time this week with anicon of the “Greatest Generation”, Ms. Opal Lee. She’s not only the namesake ofour urban farm. Ms. Opal, at ninety-two, has long been a community activist, teacher, and humanitarian. Her love of others radiates. She’s a wealth of wisdom of the generation I’ve come to respect and love. We attended the Fort Worth Development Group together on Wednesday. It couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time.
Wisdom has been the theme of the group for this last quarterof the year. One of our members, Joseph Lockhart, Jr., a business owner and Pastor, spoke on the topic. He reminded us of the value of wise counsel. Ms. Opal’spresence was just that. I was reminded one more time of the experience and thewisdom of those who have walked this journey of life longer than I have.
Things change. That’s the only thing certain in life. I’m not who I was thirty or forty years ago. Nor are my friends. The only constant in life is the wisdom we leave to the next generation. Unfortunately, I often been an example of what not to do. Wisdom doesn’t choose sides. It prefers experience.
Sometimes I’m not too optimistic about the future. I’m notsure “Baby Boomers” have done such a great job and “Millennials” don’t appear to be great listeners. My pessimism can probably be attributed to getting cranky and overly nostalgic as I get older. I’m sure our parents said the same of us.Kids can be pretty hardheaded. It’s the cycle of life…
December 7th doesn’t mean as much to our kids andgrandkids as it did to us and our parents. Pearl Harbor Day is quickly becoming just another date in the history books as more of the “Greatest Generation” pass. It serves as a reminder to me how important it is to hand down the lessons learned and the wisdom of our predecessors.
So, I urge you on this December 7th, in thisholiday season, spend some time with your elders. Listen and glean the wisdom from those that ventured down the path before us. Maybe, just maybe, we get to do the same with our kids and grandkids. Maybe, just maybe, we can be heroes too…
Thoughts From the Porch: Yesterday was the big day for our son and our new daughter-in-law. We welcome Amanda into the family with tons of love and gratitude. She’s a beautiful, remarkable young woman and incredible addition to our family. We pray continued blessing and happiness for the Brandon and Amanda.
It was a beautiful ceremony with pastoral surroundings. Despite the rain and grey skies, the wedding and reception went well, and a good time had by all who attended. We received a text from the happy couple this morning as they boarded the plane bound for the honeymoon. The best thing about the whole affair? It’s over!
I’m not a crabby old man mind you. I love weddings. I’ve had the privilege of performing many wedding ceremonies over the years. Couples, especially the brides, look more stunningly beautiful than ever, and I get to see the love in their eyes up close. There’s something incredibly holy about that moment. I’m always awed by the power and beauty I witness. It was no less holy seeing it from the attendee’s point of view.
However, I’m happy it’s over. The lead up to the big day was stressful for everyone in the family. It feels like a pressure valve a has been released and we can all breath again. No more worry about invitations, dresses, and food choices for the reception. After yesterday, Margaret and I slept in this morning. I can’t remember the last time I slept until 9:30! We spent an inordinate amount of time on the porch this morning. As I write this morning my thoughts are more about binge watching Netflix than finishing this post, so you may not be seeing this until Monday…
And so, it is Monday…
Monday has arrived, and it feels beautifully normal. Up early, coffee on, and time on the porch. I shall not bore you with the details. It feels like Fall though. For that I’m unbelievably grateful.
Looking back at this weekend, I was reminded of my own marriage and how blessed I am. It will be our sixth anniversary in March. I know that doesn’t sound like a long time to folks who have been married for much longer, but it amazes me. I’m sure I’m not always the easiest person to live with.
Margaret and I had been friends for several years before we dated. I always wanted to go out with her, but quite frankly, I figured I was out of her league. I had been single for a long time and, because I had chosen to be public about my HIV status, I thought I’d remain that way. Being positive kind of screws up the whole dating thing. I’m not complaining, mind you, because looking back, I know God was preparing me for what was to come. I had to learn to love myself, and by His grace, my willingness, and an incredible group of men, I did. Loving myself allows me to love others fully. Maybe that’s why Jesus placed such importance on “loving others as you love yourself”.
During that time, He was also preparing Margaret. I guess it was no surprise that our courtship was short – only ninety-one days. Thanks to our many friends who banded together to pull off a gorgeous wedding in only eight days (many of you know the story), two became one. If such haste seems foolhardy, each day since has reaffirmed our (or at least my) decision. Apparently, we became a ‘magnet couple’ – I’m HIV positive and she’s is, and remains negative…
We’ve had some hurtles since our wedding day, most of them physical. A month after our wedding, I ended up in intensive care behind a post-operative meningitis infection for a month. It was touch and go. Margaret worried about planning a funeral a month after planning a wedding. Then a couple of years later, Margaret had complications from back surgery leading to chronic pain and decreased (and sometimes extremely little) mobility. Neither of us planned on these challenges, but it is what it is, right? All they are is speed bumps on this wonderful journey we began together.
Sometimes the challenges we face cause self-doubt. We’re not exempt, nor is anyone I know of. While Margaret isn’t an invalid by any means, there are days when she’s really hurting and needs more of my attention. I’m grateful that I work from home most days and can be there to help. She apologizes and wonders if I’m second-guessing getting married. I can say with absolute certainty that I’ve never had second thoughts. Yet, I can tell you that on the days I’m irritable, frustrated, or depressed I wonder if she’s rethinking this whole deal. Sometimes my brain is not my friend…
For both of us, self-doubt is fleeting, erased by the love we share. Feelings are one thing and, at least in my case, rarely have anything to do with reality. The reality is that I’m still awed that God could have blessed me so richly. I still get giddy when Margaret walks in the room. When I look into her eyes, I see the love there and I come back to reality quickly. I still can’t believe that she said yes…
I know that Saturday was Brandon and Amanda’s special day, but I need to tell you, it was truly special for me, too. Margaret stepped out of the bride’s room as we prepared to walk down the aisle. I was floored. She’d been locked away all day with the bride and bridesmaids getting ready for the ceremony. I saw my bride. She looked even more beautiful than the day we wed. I truly am the most blessed man in the world…
I hope that our kids have the same joy and love that Margaret and I share. If the vows they wrote for one another are any indicator, then I’m certain they will. If I could offer any advice to the newlyweds, it would be this: never lose you sense of wonder that your spouse chose to spend the rest of their life with you. When in doubt, remember how they looked at you on your wedding day, and perhaps more importantly, how you looked at them.
My prayer for you all is that you feel the butterflies and the awe every time the love of your life walks in the room…