Christianity, Grief, Recovery, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized

Family dinners…

Spring is in full bloom here in North Texas. Bluebonnets, One-Eyed Susan’s, and Indian Paintbrush make driving, even during rush hour, a beautiful experience. The pink blooms of the Morning Glories are so thick on the freeway medians there’s hardly a trace of green. The Arizona Ash and Pecan trees are vibrant greens and offer shade from the late afternoon sun. We’ve had frequent visits from the Woodpeckers, with their bright red crowns, as well as Cardinals and other species that were absent in the past few years. Blooms are making their appearance in the garden and my mouth is watering in anticipation of homegrown veggies…

I haven’t written as much the last few days. I’ve had several projects going at once, alternating between the office and the outdoors, which I enjoy. I have what my friend calls “First World” problems today: work, home, recovery, and so forth. Busy, busy, busy. So, it was nice to have Sunday to slow down, relax, and stay home. I didn’t write or work on any projects. I read, piddled around the house, and worked in the garden. Sitting here this morning and looking back at the last week, I’m truly grateful for the Sabbath rest, even if it was on Sunday…

One of my regular routes through the city takes me by the Mount Olivet Cemetery. I always look at it as I drive by: my Grandfather’s grave is slightly visible from the road. For the last couple of months something else has caught my eye (and my heart!). The area of the cemetery next to my Grandfather’s is called” Babyland” and, as the name implies, it’s dedicated to the little ones. Rows and rows of tiny headstones line that section of the cemetery. The rows are much closer together and the dates on the headstones range from one day to a couple of years. Balloons, flowers, and crosses adorn many of the graves giving an almost festive, yet somber, atmosphere.

Death is part of life. I know that. Yet, it makes me sad that “Babyland” has grown large enough to expand to an adjoining section of the cemetery. It was there I saw the young couple for the first time that touched me so deeply. I’ve never met them; I don’t know their story except for the little part they’ve unknowingly allowed me to see. And I see it often…

I have experienced the loss of parents, a wife, as well as close friends. I’ve known grief, but I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like to lose a child, especially a young one. Parents aren’t meant to bury their children. I’ve watched friends go through that experience and I’m amazed by the amount of courage, strength, and grace it takes just to make it through the day. I also know there’s no time limit on grief.

That’s why I’m so touched by the young couple I frequently see at Mount Olivet. I have no idea how fresh their loss is, but now that Spring’s here, they’re out there almost every day. There’s always balloons and fresh flowers at the grave and they sit on a blanket sharing dinner, holding hands, until the sun begins to set, and Mount Olivet starts to close the gates. I’m sad for their loss and touched by their spirit…

I have no answers to offer, no words of wisdom. I don’t know why some parents experience the loss of their children and others don’t. What I do know is that by unknowingly sharing their loss and grief, they have shown me what it is to love. I’m more aware of just how precious the people in my life are. I want to hug my kids and grandkids. I become a little more present in the lives of the people who have so wonderfully touched mine. Ultimately, through the simple grief and love of two people I don’t even know, I’m reminded to cherish my family and friends more, love a little better and live each day to the fullest.

I’m always amazed at how God uses our grief, our loss, and our pain for good. Several years ago, my friend Rusty lost his mother. I never had the opportunity to know her. By the time Rusty and I met, she was already in a memory care center, suffering from Alzheimer’s disease. I attended her viewing to pay my respects to the family since I couldn’t be at the funeral the following day. Rusty showed me a picture of his dad, Dale, feeding her dinner one night. I found out that Dale spent everyday for several years visiting the center, helping feed the love of his life, and spending time with her even when Alzheimer’s robbed her of their life together. Rusty explained how everyone at the center knew and loved Dale. I can only imagine that his cheerfulness and his love for his bride was contagious.

Several weeks later, Rusty and I were having lunch and his Mom came up in conversation. He asked the question we all ask while grieving: why. Why did his mom have to suffer such a horrific illness for so long? I certainly didn’t have an answer. Until I remembered the picture he had shown me. Maybe her caregivers saw the love she shared with Dale and maybe they went home and were a little more loving? Maybe, just maybe, they had a little more patience, tolerance and gratitude for the people in their lives? Maybe his parents were simply busy sharing the Good News: preaching by example of just how much God loves us.

I’m so grateful for seeing a couple in a cemetery and a picture in a wallet. Sometimes the greatest joys come from the most unlikely places. I’m grateful for the ability to see that sometimes even grief can be Good News…

Christianity, Recovery, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized

I love you, too…

My grandson’s baseball game was cancelled this morning since the chance of severe thunderstorms is above the 80% mark this morning and I’m a little disappointed. It hasn’t started to rain yet, but I feel the leading edge of the front beginning to blow its way in. So, I’m grateful that the kid’s safety comes first. We don’t take chances in the Springtime in North Texas. I don’t remember ever thinking storms were a bad thing when I was young. They were an excuse to get soaking wet. But back then, I didn’t have to pay for new roofs, homeowner’s insurance, or broken car windows, either. I take severe weather alerts more seriously now.

I called my son to let him know I wouldn’t be picking him up for the game, and as we were hanging up, he said something that brought a flood of emotion and gratitude. He said, “I love you, Dad”. You may be thinking, “What’s the big deal? I say it to my parents, spouse, kids, or (fill in the blank…) all of the time”. Sitting here on the porch this morning I realized just how big a deal it truly is.

The words “I love you” get used a lot these days. I use them all the time, especially to my wife, kids, and grandchildren. I have a circle of friends I truly love and care about. Our conversations usually end with “I love you my friend”. Much of the time though, I catch myself saying them more out of habit than conveying their true meaning; kind of like the old beer commercial, “I love you, ma-a-a-n”.

I think that’s why I got so emotional behind my son’s words this morning. I always end our conversations with “I love you”. The usual response is “I love you, too”. Not today. Today he said, “I love you Dad”. It may sound corny, but it meant the world to me. I said, “I love you too, Son”, but it carried even more meaning than usual. It was a reminder of how blessed I am to have my grown children in my life.

He and I haven’t always gotten along well. Active addiction (on both our parts), left unique emotional scars on our relationship. I guess that’s why it hit me so hard? There were so many things I did (and didn’t do) when they were growing up. It was a struggle as a single father and made even more strained by active addiction. Despite all that, we still love each other. It was another reminder of the grace I experience in my life over and over and over, without end…

A simple , unexpected and unsolicited ,“I love you Dad” reminds me of all the love and grace I receive each every day – from my wife, our kids and grandkids, my friends – and most of all, from a God who loves me passionately and genuinely likes me: the God who pursued me relentlessly even though I didn’t deserve it. All of this because he loves me – warts, faults and all! He loves me because that’s what Father’s do – love unconditionally and without limit. Somehow that helps me love others better? I’m awestruck!

Today, I’ll keep this short. The low pressure system has arrived and it’s raining now. I’m going to relax with the rain day and bask in the love that surrounds me. I pray this post finds you well and if nobody has told you today – I love you, my friend…

Christianity, Recovery, Relationships, Spirituality

Grades…

The Spring rollercoaster continues here in North Texas. The weatherman says to enjoy the almost summer-like temperatures and then brace for another visitor from the north. I’m following his suggestion. I’m spending my time this morning with my beautiful wife and all is well in the world…

Our twenty-something daughter lives with us while she’s finishing college. I’m glad we can assist her in her academic and career pursuits. Still, having grown children move back home has its own unique challenges. I always laugh when I hear parents talking about “when kid turns eighteen and moves out”. If they only knew…

Earlier, I had been making coffee and overheard the conversation in the living room between my daughter and my wife. I don’t want to share their business or bore you with the details but there was one thing that caught my attention. My daughter, the aspiring teacher, said, “in an ideal world there wouldn’t be any grades”. In an ideal world there wouldn’t be a lot of things. In an ideal world…

My views of an “ideal” world have changed since I was my daughter’s age. Some of the issues are still the same – justice, peace, economic and social inequality – but my perspective has changed. I’d like to think that comes with experience, wisdom, and age – but it has far more to do with the relationship I have with God than anything else I’ve done over the years.

In many ways, life has come full circle for me today. I recall being idealistic and, like our daughter, angry at the injustices and inequities suffered by so many in the world. Back then, I wanted to change the world. Today, I want to change my actions and let God change my heart. Consequently, I see the world differently.

It took me a long time to figure out the difference. Trying to control the means to manipulate my surroundings, however noble the ends, only brought frustration, cynicism, and apathy. Trying to cooperate with the will of the God of my understanding changes the means and brings me hope. The biggest difference between the youthful and the older idealist is who’s in control of the ends, the outcomes.

All that idealism talk got me thinking about grades – or the lack thereof. I understand they can often be used to define a person’s worth or to divide people into less-than or better-than. If that’s the case, then my daughter’s probably right. However, grades are often the things that spur us on to greater endeavors. Grace and grades are not mutually exclusive terms.

I’m not sure if Mr. Monninger my “favorite” teacher, but he was certainly the most “memorable”. He taught creative writing in my senior year of high school. One of our assignments was a short story. I waited until the last minute to complete it, knowing I’d turned in “A” work. When the papers were graded and passed out I was shocked to find an “F” written across the top. I stewed over the grade all through class. I knew I had turned in good work. I may not have been an “A” student in all my academics, but English (we called it Language Arts back then…) was my strength and I knew I’d turned in superior work. WHAT WAS THIS CRAP!???

I approached Mr. Monninger after the bell rang and the other students filed out. I demanded to know what the “F” was about. To my surprise, he agreed with me: I had written an “A” paper. The problem was that it wasn’t an “A” paper for me. He told me I was better than that and he wouldn’t accept less than my best. Then he said if I wanted to write what I was capable of, rather than just enough to get by, he would reconsider my grade.

I rewrote that story. I gave it my best and he changed my grade. He refused accept mediocre work – but more importantly, he refused to let me accept mediocrity. He wanted me to reach inside and pull the best out of me. I doubt he remembers that moment, or even me for that matter. I do! He taught me a very valuable lesson that day. I still remember…

I know I’m infinitely loved by the God of my understanding. I know that everything in my life is grace. I know that His acceptance of me isn’t based on “grades”. I also know He wants me to “have life and have it abundantly”. Sometimes that requires “grades”, experiences that make me reach inside and pull out the better self. He stretches me well beyond my comfort zone; not to earn His approval but to learn how to love others (and sometimes myself) better.

I don’t know if there are grades in an ideal world or not, but I’m grateful for a Teacher that believes in me – brings out the best in me. People tend to live up to what’s expected of them. Thank you, Mr. Monninger…

 

Christianity, Recovery, Relationships, Spirituality

Happy Birthday to…

My time on the porch was brief this morning. Texas weather has a lot to do with that. Yesterday, it was 80 degrees outside. This morning, we have the furnace going. Go figure. It didn’t freeze though, so the tomatoes are safe…

One of the blessings of the morning is seeing the first blooms of the heirloom roses in our backyard. The roses in front are “knock-out” roses. They bloom regularly, even during the warm spells that Texas winters are famous for. Unlike heirloom (or real) roses, they lack any rose scent. That’s why the one in the back is so important to me. It smells like a rose should smell. Damn cross-breeding and gene splicing! The blooms remind me that Spring is here despite the cold north wind: a reality I really enjoy…

Yesterday was Margaret’s birthday. I won’t share her age, that’s her business to share. Today is my oldest son’s birthday. He’s still under forty so I don’t feel so bad about telling you he’s thirty-seven today. I’m extremely proud of my children, and especially proud of him. The night he was born is crystal clear in my mind, and the subsequent years have left moments indelibly stamped in my memory

All of this got me thinking about “choice”: the one’s we make actively and the ones we make by default. I spent many years trying to meet up to other people’s expectations, whether it be from my family, my friends, or my peers. I lived life by default: others made my decisions for me. When my disease of addiction progressed, it made all my decisions. It controlled every waking moment; where I went, what I did, and how I did it. When I came into recovery I had no difficulty understanding that I had no control, no ability to manage my own life, and totally powerless over my ability to make my own choices in life. Talk about as state of hopelessness…

I don’t normally share publicly about recovery. It’s not a matter of “look at me now”. I prefer the anonymity of the twelve-step program I attend regularly although I have no more shame attached to my past. I made a conscious choice to be open about my failures in the hope they could benefit someone else. That’s what the God of my understanding called me to do. Sometimes the best lessons in life are what not to do…

Recovery gave me hope. It gave me the ability to make choices and decisions of my own free will: an ability God gave all of us (and we often surrender just as freely). It also gave me a path to an interactive relationship with God. Although I grew up in a religious (and loving) household, I never knew such a relationship was possible. I had some pretty conventional misinformation about God as a judgmental, detached deity that set impossible expectations for piety and religious service: one that comes from human constructs rather than divine reality.

Recovery was much like what I imagined the first century church to be like, because I found people who, for the most part, love God, love and help each other, and have a lot of fun together. I found community. The deeper I stepped into community and my relationship with my “Higher Power”, the more I began to understand the “Good News” I’d heard about growing up. It wasn’t so “good” back then. Today it’s a reality in my life. That reality dictates my decision-making process.

What I know today is that people make choices and act on their beliefs. “Show me how you act, and I’ll tell you what you believe”. That won’t come as a surprise to some folks, but it was earth-shattering for me. My definition of common sense has changed. Piety no longer has a place in my life but respect for myself and others does. Trying to meet unreasonable man-made expectations has been replaced by simply doing the “next right thing”: taking care of whatever’s in front of me to the best of my ability. The Zen proverb, “chop wood, carry water” makes perfect sense today.

In many ways, I’ve been blessed to have a religious background. It taught me a great moral and ethical code. It taught me to be kind and concerned for “the least of these”. Unfortunately, it also taught me to fear the very God they said, “was love”. Talk about some mixed messages. It’s somewhat of an irony that I discovered my relationship with God among the very people I was told to stay away from, the “least of these”. Go figure…

I’m not perfect by any means! But I’m comfortable with that today. My choices are far less fear-driven – how do I fix it? – and much more trust-based – how do we fix it? Once I believed that God had my back, my choices and behavior began to change. That was “Good News” to me. Simplicity has replaced complexity and over-thinking the difficulties that inevitably show up in life. Isolation has been replaced by a sense of belonging, by a sense of community.

We celebrated Margaret’s birthday over dinner last night. The celebration’s really been going on all week. Our house has been full of friends and family and by God’s grace, we’re fully present to enjoy it all. Some of you know exactly what I mean when I say that, “just for today”, I’m going to enjoy life, my family, and friends. My actions aren’t dictated by falsehoods and pretentious piety, but by believing God loves us all…

Christianity, Recovery, Relationships, Spirituality

Easter

I haven’t been able to post “Thoughts” for the last few days. There were doctor appointments (which are more frequent these days), a roofing crew that scattered thoughts with every bang of the hammer (thank you for the great job, guys!), and the constant cleaning that comes with a couple of days of rain and three dogs (mopping should be once a week and not ten times a day…). So, my thoughts have been a bit scattered…

Yesterday was Easter Sunday. Margaret and I slept in this morning. The three days prior were extremely busy, and we had to recover. Late nights are better left to the younger folks. Anyway, we didn’t make church services this morning. I’m sure church buildings were full today. I appreciate that attendance for Easter services far exceeds any other Sunday. I guess second place goes to Christmas. I suppose two days a year is enough to cover one’s bases, ease guilty consciences, and carry on like before. Sometimes I hate my cynicism. I’m so glad you all taught me to see it for what it is…

I go back and forth about the whole organized religion thing. Sometimes I run away from it; sometimes I run toward it. I still consider myself a member of the church I attend although I rarely go in person. I like the online community now that my friend Rusty is the administrator for their online services. Plus, there are people there from around the country. It’s somewhat more diverse than our local congregation.

I know large churches do many good things for others. To their credit, the congregation of which I’m a member helps hundreds of people, many of them my neighbors, in a myriad of ways. They helped me through some rough times when I had health issues that limited my ability to work. I formed some great relationships there. I’m a firm believer in Jesus’ observation, “You’ll know who they are by the fruits they bear”.

I also know that the same church takes in millions (that right – 6 zeroes – I guess they qualify as a “mega-church”). While there’s some degree of transparency in their budget (which can’t be said among the bulk of “Mega-churches”), the reality is that they’re a business first and foremost, even though they strive to “make disciples”. Becoming “seeker-friendly” (I hate buzz-words) means increased tithing and donations. I would be foolish to think differently. The mission statement often takes second place to preservation of the institution. It seems an issue all organizations, churches and non-profits (faith-based or not) face. Sometimes the purpose gets muddied. They are human after all.

Still, I can only imagine what it’d be like if people really believed what Jesus said. Show me how you act, and I’ll tell you what you believe. My Dad used to say it was “a lot harder to walk the walk and not just talk the talk”. I get it. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy to write-off things like “loving your enemies” and “turning the other cheek” to some promise of an after-life that can’t possibly work here and now.

When I first got into recovery I used to hear things like, “You can’t adapt your recovery program to your life; you have to adapt your life to recovery”. It was another way of saying “you can’t put “new wine into old wineskins”. If you do the wineskins burst; just like “you can’t graft a new idea into a closed mind”. Some of you know what I mean. The old ways haven’t worked…

So, I’ve discovered that my old ways of thinking don’t work for me anymore. What made sense before doesn’t; and what made absolutely no sense in the beginning has brought about incredible results. I have a new way to see the world I live in. That’s good news to me. I think it’s good news for everyone. We’re all in desperate need of “good news”; especially these days.

I often think of the tagline for “Red Letter Christians”, an organization started by Shane Claiborne and Tony Campolo, “What if Jesus really meant what he said”. I can only imagine how differently we’d relate to one another. I can only imagine what the absence of fear would be like. I can only imagine how people would see the “Good News”; the idea that we’re a part of God’s dream for the world. I can only imagine people seeing Jesus’ followers living truly happy, joyous, and free; taking care of each other and the creation around them. I can only imagine a place where people are valued over things, where justice is combined with mercy, and the grace one receives is freely shared with everyone else.

I imagine these things and then I realize how much further down the path I wish I were. The real blessing is knowing I’m not alone on the path. I’ve been blessed by the relationships I have with other disciples on the way. Sadly, I’ve met most of them in places outside church buildings. They’re just folks like me who believe in a nonsensical way of living life. They do things like forming intentional communities to live out the “Good News” among people left behind in a world of ego, power, and rampant consumerism. They do things like building a garden in the midst of urban blight, inviting their neighbors to feast together and share in their joy. They do things like loving God and loving their neighbor; an everyone’s their neighbor. They choose to live as disciples, as living students of the risen Jesus, and what was once common sense has become “uncommon sense”.

Today is Easter, resurrection Sunday. I’m kind of glad I wasn’t at church this morning, but on the porch instead. There’s a holiness here I’ve been blessed to experience and I get to go on with the day refreshed, knowing that everything is new…