November 22 – “View from a fifth-grade mind”

I was a fifth grader at Island Elementary school, now called Parker (Miss Parker was our principal at the time as well as my neighbor down the street in Gulf Village).  The rumblings began while we were at lunch.  The teachers were not nearly as invasive as they usually were.  They often delighted in going out of their way to “remind” us to “keep both feet on the floor” or “eat quickly” or “finish your milk” or the ever-popular “stop talking or you’ll never finish” or the inevitable “go back and throw your trash away.”  That day the teachers instead seemed to huddle in tight clumps, whispering feverishly and stopping all conversation quickly should a student roam nearby.  Yes, it was evident that something was up, but as per protocol at the time, students were not privy to anything of import. 

Which of course led to all sorts of attempts to fill in the blanks.  What secret could be so special that no one would let it slip?  The Dixon house was still going to be decorated for Christmas this year, wasn’t it?  It was too early to worry that something might happen with the summer baseball leagues.  It was obvious that the secret wasn’t something exciting, like a surprise party for Miss Parker or a special one-day-only early release day.  No, it couldn’t be anything like that because there was not a single grin or conspiratorial wink passing among the adults.  Everyone looked, well, grim.  Towards the end of the lunch period our very best eavesdroppers finally began to spread what little they had been able to pick up on their way to the trash cans or to ask permission for a bathroom trip.  One reported that he had clearly heard the word “president.”  And the other couldn’t be sure, but she thought it had something to do with sticking his finger in a light socket and being shocked.  And that’s all.  Nothing else.  Too careful.  Too guarded.  But why?

Well, as will generally happen in situations where vast holes of information exist, the students began using our equally vast imaginations to fill in those blanks.  Now at the time it was not a common thing for youngsters to care about politics.  Oh, we had heard some strange things over the past few years, but to us a Bay of Pigs generated a hilarious image of thousands of actual swine struggling to make their way across Offats Bayou.  The only thing we knew about the president was that he was that young guy with kind of long hair and a gorgeous wife.  Hey, we were in fifth grade.  What else do you think boys would notice?  He looked young because most of the president types we studied about in school were really old, and we had learned that you had to be really old before you could even consider running.  Forty-five.  Man, that was ancient.  And we noticed his wife because, well, did I mention we were in fifth grade?  I remember coming to the conclusion that if the guy stuck his finger in a light socket and got shocked, then maybe he wasn’t as cool as everyone thought.  No, that couldn’t be what happened.

It wasn’t until we arrived at Mrs. Littman’s music class that we were finally read into what was happening in the world.  She called us to order.  And that didn’t take much.  She had somewhat unkempt white hair and a propensity for being, well, demanding.  In a nutshell, we were pretty much scared of Mrs. Littman.  As silence fell over the room our thoughts had shifted to “John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith, his name is my name, too” and “Mine hands by my side, vas iss dat here?  Dis iss mine head-knocker, my teacher, dear.”  But Mrs. Littman stood quietly at the blackboard.  Now she had often used this technique to get our attention.  The “absolute quiet stare that was really a glare” technique.  Few could withstand it for longer than a few seconds.  She most assuredly had our attention.  And finally, with her voice breaking ever-so-slightly, she made the announcement.  “The president has been shot.”  Now, I know she said a lot more than that.  She probably gave us what little details had already been pieced together from news reports that had made their way into the school office.  But I didn’t hear any of that.  I was a fifth grade boy.  And with the other fifth grade boys in the room, we made up an indestructible force to be reckoned with.  As a few of the girls sniffed at their tears, we began planning.  The most reasonable response I remember hearing was, of course, the one I came up with.  “If I could get my hands on that guy who shot him, I would beat him to a pulp with my bare hands.”  Ah, the bravado of a ten-year-old.  To her credit, Mrs. Littman let us have our time of mini-chaos to process the news in our fifth-grade way.  I don’t think we got much singing done that day. 

And the rest of the week we barely left the television set.  We watched the funeral.  I remember being impressed with the horse-drawn carriage and I wondered why his pretty wife was forced to walk behind it.  I saw the little guy in the coat that looked like a dress salute his Daddy’s coffin like the guards all around him were doing.  I saw the footage of Oswald being shot.  We were shocked, yet eerily relieved at the seeming justice of it all. 

And then it was over.  That other, old guy was taking over as president.  And he was from Texas, so how bad could it be?  Slowly the “regular” TV shows returned to the air.  Christmas was in the wind again.  My Dad still had to go to work.  Mrs. Littman had some more goofy songs for us to sing.  And Spring Training started in April.  Maybe I could actually go to Houston and see a Colt 45’s game.  And with that, my world began to take on an order once again.  And the “order” of the bigger world?  Well, it continued on.  Trips to the moon.  War in VietNam.  Organ transplants.  Presidential scandals.  Super-Sonic Transports.  Terrorist attacks.  Home computers.  It continues on.

Colossians 1:16-17 says, “For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.”

Father, thank you for walking with our country through that terrible time.  Please don’t leave us alone now.  We need you more than ever.  Amen.

November 21 – “What’s that smell?”

I just remembered that I never finished telling about that video Kel pointed me to a few days ago.  I think I was down to sharing some of the things that the guy actually said.  Here’s a few of his highlights:

Greatness is never a product of giftedness.  It is always a product of faith.

I like that one.  It takes the pressure off you while allowing you to be obedient.

Your ministry is the means God uses to sanctify you.

Gotta admit, there have been some days when it has felt like I have been getting more sanctified than I could handle.  Wouldn’t trade this ministry thing, though.  Getting to see people’s lives changed is amazing. 

You gotta know what it feels like to believe God when there is no emotional affirmation in your heart.

Ah.  This is the tough one.  I can’t count the number of days when emotional affirmation – encouragement of any kind – would have been so welcome. 

The problem with success is it seduces you into self-reliance.

I guess that is true when there are repeated successes.  Not that I have had repeated successes. 

And my personal favorite …

90% of the stuff you go through is designed to make you smell like Jesus.

That is one image I never thought to apply to my relationship with Jesus … smell.  But, hey, if you ever see me and something doesn’t smell right to you, please let me know … on so many levels. 

Genesis 8:20-22 says, “Then Noah built an altar to the Lord and, taking some of all the clean animals and clean birds, he sacrificed burnt offerings on it.  The Lord smelled the pleasing aroma and said in his heart: ‘Never again will I curse the ground because of man, even though every inclination of his heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done.  As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.’”

Father, it’s kind of hard to see life with you as a deodorant, but I really do want to be so like you that people can smell it.  Amen.

November 20 – “Water”

I paid ahead for another couple of months for my water therapy class.  I think I’m good to go all the way through May now.  I know it’s not technically a therapy class.  It is “officially” just water exercise, but it is certainly serving the therapy purpose for me.

I got to thinking about it last night.  Why have I responded so well to it?  What is it about this class that makes me actually want to go?  We seldom have the same instructor, so I know it’s not a personality thing.  In fact the one I prefer took a leave of absence because of her school schedule, so she hasn’t even been there in several weeks.  One of the instructors is like a German drill instructor who is struggling to be nice but not doing such a good job of it.  The other is actually is nice, almost too much so.  We never get a lot of cardio work when she is in charge.  So what is it?  Beyond the fact that I need it really badly, of course.

Here’s the list of reasons I came up with last night while working my nightly crossword puzzle in bed.  Why I enjoy water therapy:

1.  It happens at the right time.  7:45 in the morning.  Yep.  I am a morning person.  I most assuredly function better in the morning.  Always have.  Just ask my older brother.  I used to drive him crazy by singing early in the morning.  Of course I’m a terrible singer, so that had something to do with it as well.

2.  The exercises are varied.  That, I’m sure, speaks to my attention span.  I can remember a time in my life when I thrived on solitary pursuits like long distance running.  When we lived in Colorado I reached a point where I was running six miles every day.  Of course I always wore headphones so I could listen – not to music necessarily.  I have always wanted a connection to reality, to what is happening right now.  I even listened to radio talk shows while I ran.  So I have never been one to just listen to cd’s for example.  I welcome the comments from the on air personality, because they give the sense that if something happens that I need to know about, then they will tell me.  May or may not be true, but that’s the assumption my head operates on.  Chris, on the other hand, can’t stand the interjections by the DJ’s.  She would rather drive hundreds of miles in silence than have someone on the radio talk.  So much for listening to radio talk shows.  But I digress.  The variety of exercises keeps my attention.  I don’t get bored.  And they work every part of my body, not just my legs.

3.  And, there is water.  The volume of the water really does make it easier on my joints.  I am able to do so much more than I can on land.  Oh, there is a tweak every now and then, but overall, the total support makes a huge difference. 

4.  And finally, the water is heated.  It feels good.  So good in fact that I would really like to get our hot tub repaired.  We haven’t ever had it fixed since Hurricane Ike, so it probably needs a new engine or motor or whatever it is that swooshes the water around.  And we still have to have the electricity rerun.  But just imagine … the “feels good” without the workout.  Put it on the list. 

Psalms 42:1 says, “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.”

Father, thank you for the qualities of water that have made it possible for me to exercise again with so much less pain.  Amen.

November 19 – “Turkeys”

The Thanksgiving season has officially begun around our house.  Now for us that doesn’t mean we got down the Christmas decorations.  That won’t happen until just after Thanksgiving Day.  Chris insists.  Besides that’s when we have help around, and I don’t have to drag it all down from the attic by myself.  No, Thanksgiving season around here means we are getting serious about frying turkeys.

We have two of those big pots and two outdoor propane flame machines.  The kind you can also use to boil crawfish or shrimp or crabs in.  Probably around next Tuesday I’ll be pulling those out of the shed and firing them up about six in the morning, and they will keep on going most, if not all, of the day.  Last year we ended up frying eight or ten of the birds.  Our family gathering usually accounts for two of them.  We give some of the others away, but we also freeze some.  They are great to use all year round for turkey and dumplings or turkey pot pie or turkey/shrimp gumbo or turkey sandwiches.  It ends up being a great use of resources. 

And speaking of resources, that brings us back to the WalMart run.  They had Butterball turkeys for 98 cents a pound.  Anything under a dollar a pound is fair game according to Chris, so I picked up three.  We already have one, so that means we still need to get at least six or eight more.  I would really like to take some to the firehouses if we can this year, but that would mean six turkeys just for them.  Not that they are not worth it, but we’ll just have to check the budget.  And the time schedule.  It takes about an hour for each turkey.  We have the two fryers, so six turkeys means an extra three hours of coming time.  It’s doable.  We’ll see …

The checker at WalMart made a comment about the three I had in my basket.  She said, “Someone must be planning on a really big Thanksgiving.”  I explained about our frying plans and our hope to give some away.  She then got really excited.  She told me all about her church’s plans for feeding the homeless next week.  I let her know that I appreciated their ministry, and then I encouraged her because she was going to church in the first place.  By that time she was beaming.  The words kept bubbling out of her mouth, and her final comment was, “I have to go to church.  I have to have my Lord.  Life wasn’t worth living without it or him.”  When she finally took a breath, I handed over my coupons and thanked her for being so open about her faith.  At that point I noticed the lad in line behind us.  She was smiling broadly as well, and nodded vigorously in agreement, with tears in her eyes.  I wanted to stick around and find out her story, but decided to leave her in the hands of the Jesus-loving checker.  She’ll be fine. 

Psalms 119:24 says, “Your statutes are my delight; they are my counselors.”

Father, thank you for the encouragement that comes just from being kind and talking about your love.  Amen.

November 18 – “Schnitzel”

We had a great day in church yesterday.  One visitor even said this to me: “The Holy Spirit didn’t completely bowl me over when I walked through the door, but I could sure tell he was here.” 

It was our Harvest Celebration, where everyone was asked to consider things they are thankful for, and then present some kind of special offering to God.  I thought it would be interesting to share some of the responses.  Human being names have been omitted to protect the innocent.  Pet’s names, however, have been included.

Things I am thankful for:
Being born in a land such as America (USA).  Much is given, much is expected.

I am thankful for a family with no major death threatening illness at this time.

I’m thankful for: family (includes pets and friends), a roof over my head, memories, health, relationships, EVERYTHING.

For family and friends, for my mother & father, food, home, roof over my head, Jesus on the cross to save my sins, clothes, pets (my cat Panther), music, love.

I’m thankful that I get to help so many people in my profession and use Godly principles and love with my people.

Family.

Friends, food (tacos, chicken & chips), family, pets (Pooky, Lilly & Little Pee)

Christ saved me, my wife, my family.

I’m thankful for my home and my time with my daughter.

Family, peace among Christians, absence of pain.

I am thankful for my husband & our children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

Food, pets, life, & water.

 I don’t look at the offerings that come in, but I did notice there were quite a few envelopes in the giving boxes.  I also saw a gift card.  Now that’s being a bit creative.   I like it.  Now here’s a few of the responses related to what you will commit to give God.

I commit to: forgive people who will not ever ask for it or understand or care that what they do is hateful, continue to tithe and look for ways to do more offerings, reach out to my neighbors, share my faith more without worrying about people questioning why.

To be obedient, to help where I’m needed, to pray when I’m upset and when I need some comfort, to repent.

I commit to pray more for those I know who are facing life threatening diseases.

To have a closer relationship with the Lord.

To be a better friend and forgive.

To be a better person to everyone, to be more kinder to siblings.

To renew my purpose in serving God.

I will bring a snack breakfast for the youth on Sundays.

To give an extra amount in offering today, help teach when needed.

To see my family more often.

Be the best man I can, pick people up in happiness & peace within.

I will do good when they call the kids up.

It was exciting to me that even the children participated in the experience today.  And we had more people stay for dinner on the grounds than we have had in a long time.  And speaking of dinner on the grounds, I tried the schnitzel that someone brought.  Very good stuff.  It helped when I was told that it was actually chicken fried pig.  And I didn’t even put a whole lot of ketchup on it.  Check off one more new and exotic food.

Psalms 119:15-16 says, “I meditate on your precepts and consider your ways.  I delight in your decrees I will not neglect your word.”

Father, thank you for all the different ways people expressed their thanks it.

November 17 – “Storage Wars”

We made a flying trip to Bay City yesterday.  Bay City, Texas, not Michigan.  Chris got a call that if we could be there by 3:00 p.m. we could pick up some of the articles mentioned in her Mom’s will that she had not yet received because they have been in storage.  Jennifer and Bryan came over to stay with Mom, and we hit the road around one.  The drive was uneventful except for the fact that it sprinkled a time or two and the pump on the windshield squirter was broken, so we ended up with some massive streaks.  It wasn’t that bad going up there, but on the way home it was dark, and that made matters much worse.  Guess I’ll be forced to get that replaced.  Soon.  Some day. 

After a quick stop at the Bay City WalMart (where else?) for something to drink, we located the storage facility.  It wasn’t really a Storage Wars thing.  We didn’t have to bid on anything.  In fact there weren’t even that many boxes to go through, but Chris did go through every one of them.  We had to transfer stuff into our own boxes that we brought anyway.  The buried treasure we ended up bringing home with us consisted of a lot of dishes and lamps.  I know that is grossly oversimplifying things, so let try to get specific about a few things.  First, we did get Chris’ grandfather’s old pipe.  It was the only artifact that her Mom had kept of him, so Chris was particularly glad to have found it.  The other significant find was a crystal bowl that had belonged to Chris’ grandmother.  Again, it was the only real souvenir left that for sure had belonged to her, so it was quite special as well.  After those two finds, everything else was like gravy on top or maybe dessert.

There was a set of dishes.  I think Chris called the pattern Desert Rose.  Apparently that is some kind of hard-to-find thing.  There may have been another set in there as well, but the Desert Rose is the only one I actually saw unwrapped samples of.  Amidst the china was a set or two of crystal glassware as well.  Oh, and a wine decanter and wine glasses that looked very pretty.  There may have been some other things in there, too.  I imagine I’ll be seeing them soon as Chris unwraps everything and designates which things go to her sister. 

There were also a bunch of lamps.  Her Mom collected Aladdin lamps.  Apparently the Aladdin designation is something special, but I rubbed a few of them and no genie ever appeared.  They are interesting items.  Some of them were kind of quirky looking, if you ask me.  Most of them were glass, but we also got two that were some kind of metal.  I was interested in looking at those more closely.  I kind of assumed that at least some of them were antiques.  But what do I know about lamps?  They may have been fresh out of the box for all I know.  A few of them did still have kerosene in them.  Nice and safe, right? We ended up bringing home six of those sterilite plastic tub boxes full of the dishes, and three boxes with the lamps. 

Now the only thing left to finally close out her Mom’s estate is the transfer of a little bit of stock and distribution of it among her siblings.  She is so ready for the whole ordeal to be over and done with.  Me too.

Psalms 119:14 says, “I rejoice in following your statutes as one rejoices in great riches.”

Father, I found it fascinating that the items Chris was most excited about finding were a tiny pipe and a small bowl.  Their value came not from monetary assignment, but from their ability to bring forth relationship recall.  That’s where true riches are found.  Amen.

November 16 – “Lost”

We lost Fritz the other day.  No, he didn’t die or anything.  We just lost him.  Fritz is the younger of our two dogs, a jet black mix between a Boston terrier and a spitz.  At least that’s what the vet told us.  He still acts a lot like a puppy, much to the chagrin of our older dachshund, Heidi.  He tends to drive her crazy sometimes.  The other night I went to close up the back door for the night, but Fritz wasn’t in his usual place - by his kennel napping.  Heidi was there, but she didn’t offer any clues as to his whereabouts.  I naturally assumed he had gone outside, so I rattled the handle of the storm door, an action guaranteed to get his attention.  But nothing.  Now the only thing that brings him running faster than rattling that door handle is rattling the handle on the back door.  For some reason that one can bring him running no matter where he is.  But nothing.  Very unusual.  I flipped on the back porch light, but couldn’t see anything.  I went outside and made a walk-around calling his name.  But nothing.  By this time Chris was involved.  She turned on the deck lighting and checked up there.  But nothing.  I grabbed a flashlight and retraced my steps, shining it into bushes and crevices that are favorite relaxing places.  But nothing.  We double-checked the gate to make sure it had not been left open, but it was locked tight.  Chris went to the front yard and walked around out there.  But nothing.  And then on a hunch I tried one final place.  I remembered that earlier in the day I had gone into the garage to crush an aluminum can for our recycling bag.  The door to the garage from the inside as attached to where the dogs’ kennel is, so I thought I would check just to make sure.  And sure enough, when I opened the door, there stood ol’ Fritz, wagging his tail and chomping at the bit to get back inside.  He apparently snuck in behind me that afternoon and had not been quick enough to get back inside.  I never saw him.  All was well, though.  It gets too dark in there for his to do too much exploring, so he probably just slept the whole time.  Welcome back, Fritz.

Luke 15:3-7 says, “Then Jesus told them this parable: ‘Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?  And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.'  I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.’”

Father, I can’t honestly say we were ready to have a party when we found Fritz, but we did sleep more soundly that night.  And losing, then finding him did give us a little more insight into this parable.  Thanks for that.  Amen.