Category: Marriage

Christianity, Dogs, Faith, Family, Freedom, Gardening, Gifts, Grace, Gratitude, Hope, Marriage, Positive Thinking, Prayer, Recovery, Relationships, Simplicity, Trust, Writing

Mud on the floors…

gregoryjoel

Margaret and I were having coffee this morning when she spied the glimmering silver lines of a enormous spider web by the tree in front of the porch. When I say enormous, I mean huge. It extended from the lower canopy of the tree all the way to the ground. Although it was so large, you had to look carefully to see it as it waved in the spring-like morning breeze. It was the perfect trap for other insects and guaranteed our little eight-legged friend a hearty meal.

What truly amazes me about spiders is the seriousness and speed with which they work. We’ve had the privilege of watching one up close every evening for the last couple of years. I don’t know if it’s one of the offspring from the previous year, but it’s always the same species as far as I can tell. Then again, I’m no etymologist and Margaret’s content to watch from her chair, which is always a safe distance away.

We are always a bit awed by how quickly the little guy can get up, down, and across what looks like nothing but air. What’s amazing is that he does this night after night and in the same spot. In the morning the web will have disappeared somehow, and he must go about his business every night. It doesn’t seem to bother him that his fastidious work is needed each evening. He seems to have the idea of ‘one day at a time’ done pat. I could learn a lot from this tiny arachnid.

I came in the study and discovered it would be necessary to mop the floor before going any further into my day. We were blessed by a pretty good rain (for July anyway) yesterday afternoon. We haven’t yet figured out how to train the dogs to wipe their feet when they come and go through the doggy door. Thank God for laminate flooring.

In the spring, I tend to complain a lot about the continual mopping that comes with three large dogs and the springs rains. I begin to grumble over and over, forgetting that the day will come when I wouldn’t mind cleaning up after them at all. Today is one of those days! We’ve gone from above-average precipitation to moderate drought and burn bans in the span of two months. When the thunderstorm came yesterday, all I could do was sit on the porch, watch it fall, and say a prayer of thanks.

One of the few things I remember from high school science class is that “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction”. I don’t know if that’s still true. It’s been forty-plus years and many changes ago, but it has sure been my experience. My dad always called it the ‘law of sowing and reaping’ and I can get with that. I love to work in my garden. If I sow good seeds, I get a good harvest – simple as that – and every blessing comes with a responsibility. We were blessed with rain and now I need to mop the floor…

I’m learning how to plant better seeds on a personal level, but I sometimes forget that responsibility comes with blessings. In the Torah of the Hebrew Bible, God asks Abram (later called Abraham) to pick up his belongings and head for a land where God says, “I’ll make you a great nation and bless you”.

Sometimes however, I overlook the end of God’s talk with Abraham, “All of the families of the Earth will be blessed by you”. Maybe I’m stretching a bit, but what I hear is “I bless you in order to bless others”.

Blessing with responsibility. Go figure…

Sometimes the word ‘blessed’ seems so ‘churchy’ and trite. I prefer words like ‘gifted’ or ‘graced’. I’ve been on the receiving end of a multitude of gifts and I’ve come to understand that everything in my life is grace. I can’t help but ‘re-gift’ or extend the grace I’ve received. ‘Re-gifting” has somewhat of a dubious reputation at times. I guess it depends on the gift. The one I’ve been given is priceless, so I don’t feel bad about re-gifting.

It is my responsibility to pass on what I’ve been given so freely. Not only is it just responsibility, but it’s a life lesson. I get to learn the joy that comes from giving, and the freedom from the lie of scarcity that seems so prevalent today. The more I give, the better I am. Life becomes different the more responsible I become.

The irony is that I receive so much more than I could ever give away. That’s the amazing thing about grace. I guess I’ll think about it some more while I mop the floor…

Christianity, Emotional Health, Faith, Gardening, Gratitude, Hope, Marriage, Neighbors, Prayer, Simplicity, Texas, Writing

Just another Sunday…

gregoryjoel

The days roll by much faster than they used to. It’s hard to believe that July is already here. The heat came earlier than usual this year and the yard is littered with dry leaves that have fallen from the Ash trees. I have a feeling that we all need to get used to warmer weather. It seems like every summer makes it into the record books in one way or another. At least there’s a strong southerly breeze this morning. I still have an hour or so of comfort out here on the porch…

It’s difficult to stay in the moment this morning. I get my little IV infusion buddy taken out tomorrow and I can’t wait. It’s been an annoyance for a couple of months now. My days are planned out around when the IV needs to be changed. The thing that really gets me is not being able to work outside. I know I’ve gone on and on about this before but understand that I don’t do well locked away in the house. Besides, the horses need their cookies and I’ve stayed away from the stables for way too long. Jamison and I both could use some long walks again.

The garden, except for the tomatoes and peppers, has surrendered to the heat. After I go to the doctor in the morning I already have my work out there planned. There’s something about working the soil that soothes the soul. I find a lot of peace and a great deal of joy working in the garden. Between the soil, the dogs, and the horses my life is complete!

It’s been busy this week and there’s really no news nor thoughts to share from the porch this morning. Margaret and I shared some time together. My son stayed the night and joined us for a bit, despite the fact he’s not much of a morning person. Life is simple. Life is good.

I skipped church service this morning. I wanted to steal every moment of cool from the porch this morning. When the sweat finally began to roll I headed inside for my morning ritual of daily news. The most beautiful thing about Sunday is that it’s a slow news day. I’m grateful. Everyone needs a day of rest.

I hope this finds you all well. I’m so grateful for the people God has placed in my life, whether family, close friends, or readers of these wandering thoughts. I spend a lot of time reading your blogs as well and I’m grateful for our community. May you all have a blessed Sunday!

Christianity, Communication, Dogs, Emotional Health, Faith, Family, Gratitude, Immigration, LGBTQ, Marriage, Politics, Recovery, Spirituality

Foxes and protest marches…

gregoryjoel

Disclaimer: My editor, (Margaret) is out to a late breakfast and a movie with a friend of ours. It’s really hard to edit myself so please excuse any errors. I love you Margaret and your help is greatly appreciated. I love baby…

 

I slept in this morning. It was after nine o’clock when I was finally awakened by Miss Maggie giving me my morning bath. All you pet parents will know what I mean. Please understand that Maggie is half Catahoula and half coyote. She has her “wild” moments and she’s quite the huntress, catching birds in mid-air, and bringing dead rats and possums in the house. Her eyes are different from most dogs I’ve known. You would have to see them to know what I mean, but there’s an alertness and an awareness that’s goes well beyond that of domesticated dogs. I guess that what makes our bond so special. Our other two, Jameson and Sadie, favor Margaret, but Maggie is all mine…

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The porch was unbelievably pleasant this morning even though the sun had been up for a while. I sat with my wife for a while and got to speak to our kid before she left. I was curious as to why she was up so early. Classes are out for the summer and I know she was binge-watching Jurassic Park movies with friends last night. The only reason I was up early on Saturdays when I was twenty-seven was because I had kids by then.

 

I was extremely pleased when she told me she was off to the Families Should Stay Together march in downtown Fort Worth, protesting the insane, inhumane, and immoral immigration policies of Mr. Trump and his cronies. I’d love to be there, but I’m still tethered to my little IV buddy (only until Monday!) and can’t be in the heat. Margaret wanted to go as well. Even though she’s far more conservative than I am, she’s a mom and she’s outraged that families are torn apart. We asked Gael to please raise her voice a little louder and represent us as well.

 

Our daughter has officially `come out’ as transgender. Since she posted it on Facebook I don’t have a problem with saying it (or writing it) aloud. I’m not sure what all that means. She has asked us to refer to her in the third person. As a writer I have some difficulty with that. It’s just not proper English. However, out of respect for her I’ll refer to her in the third person for the duration of this post. I’m not sure how I feel about that if I’m honest with you and with her. It doesn’t make a difference though as I love our kid no matter how `they’ identify.

 

It’s taken me a long journey to reach that point. I was raised in a very conservative religious background, so I carried a lot of baggage into adulthood. Like everything else in life, it requires a lot of conversations, a lot of prayer, and a lot of meditation. I still don’t have all the answers, but I refuse to preach drivel when I know that all of us are God’s kids. If I’m wrong, and I don’t believe I am, God accepts us where and for who we are regardless of labels and identification.

 

I must admit that I don’t often understand all the labels. I know it’s important for people who have lived with discrimination and, often hate, to come out and let everyone know that they’re one of God’s kids just like everyone else. Growing up as a socially awkward introvert, I know what it’s like to bully to fit in with the crowd and be bullied because someone is different. I’m thankful that as time goes on, we’ve become more tolerant and less judgmental as a people. We still have a long way to go. I’m grateful for those who take a stand for dignity, equality, and what is right. I’m proud of who `they’ are.

 

When Margaret and I married five-and-a-half years ago, we decided that we had no `step’ kids. They were all our children, even if they were grown. So, when Gael asked if `they’ could move in with us, so `they’ could go back to college, we invited `them’ home, and this is `their’ home.  I emphasize that because we are known to have our occasional conflicts and frustrations. The reason has more to do with the fact that she’s so much like me than anything else. Even though I didn’t come to know her until she was a young adult, she’s like me in so many ways. She’s as passionate about loving others, social equality, and injustice as I am. It’s not surprising that we but heads from time to time…

 

So, that being said, `they’ probably don’t have a clue how special this morning was to me. I’m proud that `they’ are marching today, and a heartfelt thank you out to `them’. More than that, it was when `they’ were leaving this morning, Gael went in a brought me out a cup of coffee. I know that sounds incredibly trivial and unimportant. It’s what `they’ brought in that was super special.

 

When Gael moved in, `they’ had a coffee mug that was singled out as one we couldn’t use. It was `their’ `fox’ mug and had special meaning for her. We’ve always respected `their’ wishes and we’ve never drank from it before. When Gael brought my coffee, guess what it was in! I wouldn’t have been surprised if we were short on coffee mugs, but the dishes are done and there’s no shortage in our house, believe me. I don’t know whether it was intentional or not, but Margaret tells me it’s a big deal. Heck, I was just thankful `they’ brought me a cup of coffee. I didn’t know I was getting so much more.

 

So, Gael, I’m sure it’s hot and uncomfortable downtown this morning, but thank you for being there and for simply being you. I’m proud of you and want you to know I love and appreciate you – even when I’m a stubborn old fart…

Christianity, Emotional Health, Faith, Freelancing, Gratitude, Marriage, Service Organizations, Simplicity, Uncategorized, Work, Writing

Passion…

gregoryjoel

I had an early morning doctor appointment this morning, so my time on the porch was brief. By the time I got home the porch was getting a bit warm. According to the meteorologist on last night’s news, it looks like the upper nineties and triple digit heat will be here for a while. That leaves a smaller window for enjoying the porch (in comfort, at least).

I read a brief article this morning about how finding one’s passion isn’t always the best advice when it comes to employment. It seems it tends to create a certain degree of tunnel vision that may not allow one to see other possibilities and limit human growth. I’m not sure why, but that’s been bothering me all morning.

My wife and I have this conversation from time to time. One of my sons is an artist. He comes complete with all the personality one might expect when one thinks of an artist. He’s incredibly bright and, has what he calls, an extreme case of Adult ADD. He started drawing on the walls when he was a toddler and hasn’t stopped since. Many of his personal and collaborative murals can be found throughout Fort Worth

Jeremy is one of the ‘up and comers’ in the art scene. He’s curated several shows and exhibited in other cities. His gallery opening at Fort Works Art was a huge success. Last week he made the cover of Fort Worth Weekly, our weekly magazine and the headline said, “Inside Jeremy Joel’s Brain”. I must admit that the idea scared me a bit. After all, I’m his father and anyone with kids knows, eccentricities aren’t always pleasant to deal with. Still, I’m unbelievably proud of him, though I’ll be the first to tell you I’m not very objective.

I’m proud of all our kids and I don’t want any of them to think I’m singling out Jeremy for praise. I never wanted to stifle any of my children’s passion. They are all very different, with unique talents, interests, and careers. I mention Jeremy because he struggled with the question of art versus work and passion versus making a living. I haven’t always liked his decisions along the journey, but it appears he’s on track with the thing he loves to do.

I’m always a little jealous of those that seem to find a way to make their passion their living. It wasn’t that way for me. It took me almost fifty years to become passionate in my work.  Today, I ‘get to’ get out of bed, put the coffee on, and spend some time on the porch getting centered in my day. I step into my office where I often share some thoughts with all of you and spend the rest of the day working on writing projects and events that I’m extremely passionate about. I work mostly with non-profit and faith-based organizations. I feel like I make a difference in the world. I wish I’d done it a long time ago.

I’ll be sixty years old in a couple of months. I’ve worked since I was eleven years old. I started as a paper boy and went on to become a gas station attendant (do any of you remember them?), a cook, and a construction worker by the time I was ready to start my ‘career’. I won’t bore you with all the details, except to say that when I got to college (I went on the ten-year plan), all I wanted to become was a college professor or teacher. I tell you this because that was my passion, and that’s not what I followed…

I decided that pleasing my father was more important than doing what I loved. You see, my parents lived through the Great Depression. That experience shaped the way they viewed work. My Dad was fortunate enough to land a job with the railroad when he was seventeen. A railroad job was coveted employment back in the forties. Except for the months he was drafted, he worked his way up through the ranks and continued there until he took early retirement at fifty-seven, with forty years of service. That my friends, was the job he wanted for me.

That wasn’t the case for me. My parents lived back here in Fort Worth and would call me in Colorado every week (we still used landlines and got charged for long distance calls – I know! Crazy, right?). My Dad would ask about school and then ask me if “I was still going to teach or was I going to get a job”. He would often remind me that “those who do, work and those who can’t, teach”. I certainly didn’t agree with him, but I chose to please him rather than continue with teaching. It wasn’t long before I found myself a single father and had felt like I had no choice but to follow my father’s advice. I went on to work for various companies and, while I was good at my work, always regretted not pursuing my passion for teaching.

I guess that’s why I’m a little bit jealous of Jeremy. I wish I had followed my passion. I’ve heard it said that “do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life”. I’ve found that to be true over the last few years. So, when Margaret and I have these conversations I tend to lean on the side of passion. She tends to lean towards the ‘do whatever you have to for your family’. I’d like to think that maybe there’s a balance, but maybe balance is often just ‘the beam I trip on while running between extremes’.

One thing I know for sure is that ‘making a difference’, no matter what I’m doing, has become a core value in my life today. I’m inclined to think that maybe work, no matter what it is, should be a way of ‘making a difference’. Maybe if that’s the passion, we can all find jobs we love. Just a thought…

Christianity, Faith, Family, Gratitude, Marriage, Neighbors, Prayer, Recovery, Relationships, Simplicity, Trust, Uncategorized, Writing

Going Underground

gregoryjoel

I feel a little bit like Garrison Keillor sending you news from Lake Wobegone when I tell you about the porch, but I don’t think I’ll stop. I enjoy sharing the peace I find there. I hope it’s not too much information, but it’s my porch, my wandering thoughts, and my blog so here goes…

It’s back to being unseasonably warm here on the porch. We were blessed by a decent rain and cooler temperatures for a couple of days, but the heat has returned with a vengeance and it looks like the first full day of summer will top out at 100 degrees. Our dogs run outsider to bark at passers-by and then run back to lay down in front of the air conditioner vents. Even the squirrels seem to have slowed down with the heat…

Despite the warm morning, I sent quite a while with my lovely wife, discussing the comings and goings of the day. She tends to wake up before I do, which is early, and I usually turn on the news whilst going through my morning routine. It provides fodder for our coffee time on the porch, though some mornings we say nothing at all other than ‘good morning’. I never imagined I’d be so comfortable sitting with someone in complete silence, simply enjoying one another’s presence.

I’ve become a voracious reader since I started Thoughts From the Porch. I’ve encountered a fantastic community of other writers who share their thoughts and feelings, and in turn stir my own thinking. For that I’m truly grateful. One of the benefits of growing older is that I can pull books that I’ve already read a couple of times from my home library and re-read them like they are brand new (or almost brand new as I haven’t yet reached that stage of dementia…). One of my favorite writers is Brennan Manning. I’ve mentioned The Ragamuffin Gospel before, but he writes of deep spiritual insights in each of his books. I guess one can never cease writing of the love and grace of the Master…

One of his ideas kept ringing through my head this morning: the idea that perhaps the church should go underground once again. In the early days of Christianity there were no church buildings, only the occasional local synagogue and temples to the various gods worshipped by the Greco-Roman world. Early followers of Christ worshipped in various homes, often starting and ending their days together in prayer and worship. They’d then go about their day, usually along a path that often brought them in conflict with the rest of the culture.

There was something that identified them as ‘different’. I don’t think it was the same pious, self-righteousness that people tend to think of when they think of the ‘church’ today. I think it had more to do with the fact they followed a different Lord than the rest of the Empire. While the Roman Empire declared Caesar to be the ‘Son of God’, these people followed a different king. Their King offered a new commandment, one strange enough to the people around them to identify them as followers of Jesus.

Jesus said, “Let me give you a new command: Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another. This is how everyone will recognize that you are my disciples – when they see the love you have for one another.” (John 14.34-35 The Message). Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t time to ‘go underground’ again, to meet quietly somewhere so that folks don’t identify Jesus followers with a building or a denomination. Rather, Christians would by identified by how they love one another. I kind of take Jesus at His word and that’s how I’d like to be known.

Sharing one’s faith is done by action and not by words. Dad used to tell me that words mean nothing until they’re put into action – “talking the talk instead of walking the walk”. Maybe that’s why churches receive such a bad rap sometimes – words and actions don’t always match up. I’m not sure I want to be identified with them…

Nobody is perfect. I get it. I’m not perfect by any stretch of the imagination and there are more times than not that my words don’t match up to my actions. Just ask my wife, my children or anyone who knows me (thank goodness the grandkids are still young enough to think I am…). I’m just another one of the Rabbi’s disciples and I still have a lot to learn. Maybe it is time to go underground, to become identifiable by how I love one others, instead of being associated with a building or self-righteous, often condemning view of non-Christians. I can’t help but think that it would either invite persecution for being ‘different’ or it would invite conversation about the Good News. I don’t know. Think about it. It’s just a thought…