Thoughts From the Porch: It’s getting a little warmer every day. The Saint Augustine grass is making its appearance amidst the winter rye. Each passing day reveals new buds, blades, and leaves. The birds begin their singing earlier in the morning. Spring is waiting to burst. I love the anticipation. All is well here in our little corner of Fort Worth.

Sitting here it’s easy to forget the world beyond our cul-de-sac. Margaret and I are blessed to live here. We have friends and neighbors who just show up at our door and make themselves at home with us. Our life is full: full of people we’re grateful to have in our lives, full of peace, and above all, full of grace. It’s easy to share this with you because I want to share the blessings. I’ve come to understand what is meant by “you can’t keep it unless you give it away. Many of you know what I’m talking about.

Despite the quiet of our “little corner”, there’s a great big world out there where peace, serenity, and grace are difficult to find at best. All I have to do is drive a few blocks and everything changes. When I come to a nearby intersection, I see the guy standing there with the sign “Lost Everything. Please help. God Bless.”, I’m confronted by the reality that, to paraphrase a Sturgill Simpson song, “life ain’t fair and the world is mean”.

All too often, I find myself looking past the face of the man on the corner. I sit and hope for the stoplight to change so I can drive off before he gets to me as he walks down the line of cars stopped at the light. I usually drive off feeling guilty because I’ve been there and did nothing to help. I try to rationalize my failure to see the man as another one of God’s kids and extend the same grace given to me.

I can’t solve homelessness, poverty, or any one of the world’s myriad of problems. I’ve tried and felt drained, tired, and worthless. It’s overwhelming and I suffer from the same problem many of us do. If I can’t do it all, I just won’t do anything. The problem is that the problem doesn’t go away, and I’ve become part of the problem. So, I feel trapped in an endless cycle of guilt, doubt, and helplessness.

One thing I’ve learned from the people God has put in my life is that guilt, doubt, and hopelessness lie to me. I can’t do everything, but I can do something. My friend Edgar often reminds me “the only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time”. Moreover, “the good news” tells me that I don’t have to do any of this alone. I have access to a spirit and a power far greater than I that allows me to do things differently today, even if the changes and the actions seem so small.

Several years ago, I was blessed with doing several community projects with a group of young people from a local church, The Hills. For one of them, the young people gave up their Spring Break to build a community garden for the residents in a transitional housing facility assisting members of the HIV/AIDS community. My friend Rusty, who helped coordinate the project, asked me to speak to the kids and their parents about the project: to alleviate any fears they may have about being around people with AIDS. There’s many misconceptions about HIV/AIDS. I know because through first-hand experience. I was a resident there… not that different form the guy on the corner I talked about earlier…

I addressed the group, telling them that sometimes people who are homeless, who have disabilities, or health issues, and live marginalized lives just want to be “seen”. They, or rather “we” just want acknowledgement of our humanity. Most folks are uncomfortable around us. They look away so they won’t have to see the disabilities or dirty clothes and unkempt hair. They hurry past us, reminding us that they’re not like us, and everything else is more important than the simple acknowledgement we’re there. Sometimes, the mere act of acknowledgement, to “see”, another is the greatest act of love someone can perform.

God has been exceedingly good to me in the years since I spoke to the kids and their parents. I’m in recovery. I have a relationship with God. I’ve been blessed with an incredible wife, a house, food to eat, and far more friends than I ever could have imagined. I have “enough”. My needs are met and usually exceeded; and I tend to forget what it’s like to be one of the unseen. If I’m truly grateful for the life I’ve been given today, then I can’t forget, nor do I want to.

I’ve got some errands to run today. They’ll take me by the guy at the intersection. I hope there’s a red light and my vision is clear…

Spring is peeking out all over this morning. The Bradford Pears up the street are in full bloom and buds are noticeable on many of the other trees. Yesterday, I had to mow for the first time this year. I cleaned out the leaves from the flower beds, anticipating the approaching frost-free date later this month, so Spring color could be planted. It’s the perfect working weather – not too hot, not too cold.

However, I also discovered I have a problem requiring immediate resolution. I have squirrels in my attic. To some of you that comes as no surprise, but I’ll address that in a bit…

I thought I’d been hearing something up there when I’d get up in the morning. I hoped I was just hearing things in the fog of awakening, but I found out where the little critters were getting in when I was working in the yard yesterday. I hate having to get in the attic. Unfortunately, I can’t procrastinate in this matter. The reality is the furry little tree rats can do a lot of damage. So, I need to climb up there and put out the mothballs, fox urine, or poison the little devils: do whatever it takes. Then I have repair the area where they’re getting in. It’s a pattern I’ve become familiar with in my life.

Those of you to whom “squirrels in the attic” are no surprise know exactly what I’m going through. They’re annoying and probably causing all kinds of damage and mess, but I find all kinds of reasons to put off going “up there”. They’re in the smallest part of the attic. I’m too big to get back there. Maybe I can just wait until they’re out doing what squirrels do and block up where they’re getting in. Maybe they’ll go away on their own. The list goes on and on.

The truth of the matter lies is that I’m scared. Fear takes hold when I think of dark recesses and furry little rodents. It doesn’t seem very manly, but it is what it is. Fortunately, I have friends who have gotten the squirrels out of their own attic. They don’t want to admit they were scared too, but they got the little demons. And they’re more than happy to help me out.

Metaphorically speaking, I started getting the “squirrels out of the attic” several years ago. You know, the crazy thoughts and subsequent actions causing tremendous damage and mess to my world. Complete strangers became close friends and taught me how to deal with the “squirrels”. The biggest problem was admitting they were up there in the first place. If I could just pretend they weren’t there, I wouldn’t have to get the ladder, if you know what I mean.

I’m so grateful you helped me chase them out. And even more grateful you’ve helped me find their entry points and close them up. They still find ways to get in even the tiniest hole, but I’m not as apt to put off getting rid of them. You help me stay more vigilant by keeping them out of there in the first place. “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure” as the old saying goes…

Keeping the attic clear has become a necessary evil at my house. Stuff gets shoved up there. The squirrels come and make a mess so every now and then, I have to clear it out. I throw out what’s old or unusable. It’s remarkable how that process seems to lessen my fears every time I go up there…

Anyway, I’ve got the mothballs, poisoned peanut butter, and the ladder ready; not too mention a big work light. The light comes in handy in the dark places and reminds me I’m not scared anymore…

Thoughts From the Porch: I don’t watch a lot of television. I usually have other things to do. In fact, until Margaret and I married five years ago I hadn’t even had a tv set for several years. I find that if I do sit down to watch the small screen I might as well right off the rest of the evening. Somehow, I slowly become one with the recliner until the 10 o’clock news…

Last night was different. I wasn’t feeling well so I crawled into bed to watch tv an NCIS “marathon” (a nicer sounding term for “binge-watching”), hoping I’d nap a bit instead. That’s not what I got though. I won’t bore you with the details of the episode. It had to do with the death of one of the character’s father. I applaud the screenwriters and actors. It was well done and elicited an emotional response: unusual for the small screen with it’s laugh tracks and brevity. Even though my Dad has been gone almost 15 years, the tears flowed. Unresolved grief has a way a making an appearance at strange times.

I reflected on that a lot this morning on the porch. There’s some promises offered in the recovery community that may seem like a real “no-brainer” to the rest of society. The one that grabbed my attention this morning is that we’ll “not regret the past…”. Church had another version: “forgive and forget”. I’m not sure that either are entirely true.

I do have regrets today. At least I think so. Identifying what I’m really feeling is still hard sometimes, even after some years of practice. I spend my days trying to find the right word when writing for my clients or my thoughts from the porch. Today I feel inadequate doing so. I‘m not sure how to label it. I guess regret will have to do.

I look back at my life and I find things I just wish I had done differently. I wish I’d been a better father and a better son. I wish a lot of things, but as Dad used to remind me, “Wish in one hand and crap in the other and see which gets full first”. I learned to admit my failures and make amends, to make things right, to the best of my ability. That’s brought me a sense of freedom, forgiveness, and peace. But it doesn’t change the fact that I wish none of it had ever happened; or at least Dad were here to talk to about it. Grief must not have an expiration date…

Maybe regret isn’t what’s really going on. It’s not regret as much as it is grief. The reality is he is here to share this with. As I sat reflecting this morning I heard him remind me all that “what’s done is done, life is what it is, and God is good. What am I going to do about it?” Thanks for the reminder, Dad. Good advice for a wonderful morning…