Category: Spirituality

Christianity, Recovery, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized

I love you, too…

gregoryjoel

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, Gardening, Recovery, Service Organizations, Spirituality, Uncategorized

Connections

gregoryjoel

I apologize in advance for any errors in this morning’s post. My “editor” is out of pocket this morning. It’s difficult to edit myself, but I wanted to get this morning’s thoughts out there. I hope you understand…

I’m a little “bum-fuzzled” this morning. Margaret was up early this morning to accompany our nephew and his wife to their final custody hearing at the court in Dallas. It threw a wrench into our (and of course, “my”) daily routine. I’m constantly amazed to find that I’ve become such a creature of habit. I’ve always thought of myself as somewhat spontaneous in spirit, but as I grow older, quite the opposite is true. I’m becoming my father. That’s not such a bad thing, mind you. My Dad was a loving and wise man who found joy and freedom in structure. I’m not sure how I feel about it though…

Margaret has a rough time in the mornings. She normally eases into the morning, allowing her body to adjust from sleeping to waking and moving about. It takes a lot of strength, perseverance, and determination to overcome the pain she suffers upon awakening to an early schedule. I’m reminded how much I love my wife and what an example she is for me. If someone needs her, she’s there regardless, of painful physical obstacles. I hope that I can be as self-less and loving as she is. I’m a better man because of my wife. Sometimes, I feel she was short-changed in this deal. Grace is truly a wonderful thing…

Anyway, I admit I’m a little scattered this morning. I pray gentle reader, that my thoughts are somewhat coherent. I had a couple of cups of coffee and some time to regroup my faculties, so here goes…

Over the last several weeks I’ve been blessed to be working with a local non-profit on an urban garden project. Although they are not a faith-based organization, I’ve had a good look at how ecological stewardship and community-building works in God’s world, in his kingdom. I could’ve have missed it if I relegated them to “just” another secular organization. Sometimes I think good Christian folks could learn a great deal from people who simply help others without regard to their religious belief or lack thereof.

I’m grateful that my consulting work has introduced me to a group of people, believers, who truly are workers in God’s kingdom. They don’t preach with words. They preach with action. They love others and plant seeds – literally. As a result, they have an incredible harvest with an abundance of fresh produce and fresh hearts. It seems I’ve heard that parable before…

So, I’d like to give a shout-out and a thank you to the folks at Bonton Farms in Dallas. I could write all day about stewardship and service in God’s kingdom. I’d like to show you how it works instead. I encourage you to visit their website at www.bontonfarms.org and see for yourself the transformation taking place in the lives of individuals and the community there.

“The kingdom is like…” It’s like Bonton. It’s like recovery. It’s like a mustard seed or a wee bit of yeast…

I always loved parables – wisdom coming from ordinary, everyday things, and situations. My favorite ones are the “kingdom is like” stories that draw on nature. I’ve found recovery, and hence my faith, is like a tiny seed that transforms into something bigger and better, bearing a great harvest. That tiny seed some wonderful people planted in me is growing, and I pray I bear better fruit today; that my actions are attractive and appealing to others.

What really strikes me over the last few weeks is the connection between people that takes place from the simple act of planting a seed. I saw it at Bonton Farms and I’ve seen it in the gardens I’ve been honored to work with in the past. Something about tending the soil and allowing God to produce the harvest has a profound effect on the people involved. The food and the flowers are important. They improve people’s lives by their simple taste and beauty. What’s really important, though, is that by connecting with the soil, we begin to connect with one another.

The kingdom really is like  a tiny mustard seed…

Christianity, Recovery, Spirituality, Uncategorized

Ragamuffins

gregoryjoel

The sun shines brightly on the porch this morning. The cold front that came through last night is far less severe than the last few ones. Winter is spent, even though it still throws waves of cold air, hoping to hang on. Spring is not having it, though. Shorts and a t-shirt are the garb of the day…

I started reading The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning a few days ago. It’s an annual thing I do. I was first introduced to Brennan early in my recovery by my brother Craig. Although I’ve given many copies away over the years I still have the first one he gave me: well-worn, loved, and treasured. I find something I missed each time I read it. I choose to believe that’s because of Brennan’s great insight and not the fact that my memory isn’t what it used to be…

If I may, I’ll share a little of Brennan’s background for those of you who may not be acquainted with him. He called himself a “vagabond evangelist”, a former Catholic priest who also happened to be a recovering alcoholic. That’s what initially sparked my interest in him early in my own recovery. Brennan knew, in no uncertain terms, that everything in his (and our) life is grace given by a God who is absolutely, crazy in love with him (and us). He influenced and helped so many people throughout his ministry as a “vagabond evangelist”. He passed away a few years ago. I cherish his insights and words of wisdom today.

Brennan wasn’t perfect. Many people felt let down by his relapses with alcohol, especially people in recovery. We can be a harsh, judgmental lot. We tend to think of relapse as failure. Brennan was consistent in his recovery – he brushed himself off and “got back on the horse” as we say here in Texas – and more importantly, in his relationship with God.

I think that’s why I re-read The Ragamuffin Gospel so many times. I need to be reminded that I, too, fail more than I’d ever like to admit. I need to be reminded that I desperately need the God of my understanding, the one that Brennan helped me find. I need to be reminded that no matter how imperfect or how many times I fall, God loves me: not just unconditionally (a word that has been so overused it has lost its impact), but in an incredibly awesome way I can’t even imagine. That fills me with hope and best of all, trust.

I’m okay with being a ragamuffin today. As a friend of mine tells me, “we’re just one beggar telling another beggar where we found food”. I came to God beaten-down, ragged, and dirty. My life was a mess and I hope I never forget that it still can be. The Teacher I follow today reminds me, “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule”. I trust that is the case today. It seems to work for me. Today I’m just a ragamuffin who gets to eat at the banquet. So, Brennan, thanks for sharing the feast…

Recovery, Spirituality, Texas, Uncategorized

Go Yankees?

gregoryjoel

I didn’t have much time on the porch this weekend. I was at my grandson’s first baseball game of the season (and of his) on Saturday. I never thought I’d be a Yankees fan, but his team is the Fire Station Yankees. So, I can wholeheartedly admit that I’m a Yankees fan, although I still choke a little on the words. My Grandson had two singles and an RBI and they won. Yes, they did keep score, but I’m sure everyone will get a participation trophy (because in an ideal world…). Go Yankees!!!

I wish I’d taken my coat. Another visitor from the Arctic northland crossed over into Texas Friday night and the mornings have been close to freezing. My long-sleeved shirt did little to take the bite out of a bone-chilling north wind (Note to self: just because the sun is brightly shining doesn’t mean the jacket can stay at home…). Such is the rollercoaster of Spring here in Fort Worth. Apparently, other parts of the country are dealing with the same up and down of the thermometer. While those in other places deal with snow, we deal with tornado warnings. At least we’re not shoveling snow, right?

Texas is known for many things, most of which I’m extremely proud of. I’m a native Texan, born in Fort Worth. I come from a very traditional Texas home. My father taught me early on to always be proud of where I was born. After all, I could’ve been born in Dallas. People from outside Texas think Dallas and Fort Worth are one and the same. I can assure they are not. One of local radio stations, The Ranch, says it best – “Fort Worth is where the west begins, and Dallas is where the east just kind of peters out”.

I’ve lived other places over the years. I spent high school and college in Colorado and my youngest son was born there. I loved the time I had there. I had an internship in Washington D.C. and soon learned I’m not an east coast kind of guy. I’ve lived in Houston and moved back to Colorado. They were nice places to visit but I’m glad to be back in Fort Worth. It seems God knew the perfect place for me. I’ll probably be laid to rest in our family plot a couple miles from here. I’m not sure what heaven is like, but I can’t help but think it will be a lot like Texas…

Yet, as much as I love my state, I’ve become honest enough to admit it has its defects, particularly in the political, educational, healthcare areas. For which I wish to apologize to the rest of the country. We’ve been egotistical and arrogant when we’ve ventured into other parts of the world (like Oklahoma for instance…). We’ve fostered a feeling of superiority, of “us and them”. Dad used to have a bumper sticker (the only one I’d ever seen him put on a vehicle) that read, “If you love New York, take I-30 east”. The immigrants to our beloved state, particularly those from north of the Red River, were different. They weren’t like “us”. They brought with them a manner of living that was different from ours. Too often, we have equated “different” with “bad”. I look back at my youth and not only was race or culture a dividing line, but religion as well. When we moved to Colorado, all our friends were ex-patriot Texans from the same church for the most part; everyone else was suspect.

I’m grateful to have been able to step outside of the state lines and look inside. I’m glad I can see my home, and myself, with a degree of clarity today. My perceptions of the world around me have changed. Dad always told me that if you could identify the problem, you were halfway to the solution. That’s been true for me: and the solution was a new lens through which to view life. I just hope it can be true for all of us…

Christianity, Recovery, Relationships, Spirituality

Grades…

gregoryjoel

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…