December 14 – “Bethlehem Street Market”

The village street market in Bethlehem was a bustling place.  The tax station was of course there, where salt and various types of produce as well as animals were weighed and the customs on them calculated and paid.  A money changer’s booth was near at hand as well.  Passersby paused in the inner court to play games of chance.  Beggars frequented this area as well, crying out for alms while being careful to keep their distance.  Vendors, pedestrians, litter bearers, and pack animals all vied for space.  Wares ranged from fabric to fully sewn clothing, grains to baked bread, casks of wine to containers for cooking, scales for weighing, pottery for daily use, baskets for fruit, straw for animals, meats of all kinds hanging about, covered with flies and smelling stronger and stronger as the day wore on.  The market was more than merely a one-stop shopping center, however.  It was the place for meeting friends, making business contacts, recounting tales of the past, and expounding hopes for the future.  The street market was the heartbeat of the village.

Today, in the village of Jamaica Beach on the Island of Galveston, from 10 A.M. to 4 P.M., the Bethlehem Street Market will be revived on the site of Seaside Church.  Crafters from all over the county will man booths and pitch their wares just in time for the celebration of the birth of the One born right in the middle of such hustle and bustle a few thousand years ago.  Along with the crafts for sale, there will also be horse rides, puppets, and of course, food.

The thing that makes Seaside’s Bethlehem Street Market unique is that we aren’t trying to put on some elaborate production.  That would be better named the Jerusalem or maybe even the Roman Market.  But Bethlehem is not Jerusalem.  Jamaica Beach is not Houston.  Small town.  Down-home folks.  They make things.  They sell them to help get by.  They know each other.  And they care. 

It’s our second year of operation.  I understand the horse rides will be back.  As will lots of vendors with crafts to choose from.  There will be food.  And puppet shows for the kids.  Oh, and one returning booth back by popular demand will be Gentile-ly Used Goods.  This one will look remarkably like a garage sale, and proceeds will go toward sending teenagers to summer camp. 

So, take a trip with us into the past.  Set your new-fangled GPS for 16534 San Luis Pass Road and come on down.”  

Luke 2:13-15 says, “Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.’
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.’”

Father, thank you for the Bethlehem Event.  It really did change everything.  Amen.

December 13 – “It’s GFD’s fault”

I have mentioned numerous times before that I have been in a water therapy class twice a week.  It was something sanctioned and even encouraged by my rheumatologist since other forms of exercise had proved to be quite painful.  And the experiment has proven to be quite successful.  The heated pool at the brain injury center behind WalMart is a great venue, and the instructors, although each having their own peculiar approaches to teaching, have been very good.

And now to my complaint, of sorts.  For some reason several weeks ago the instructor decided that I needed to be treated like a special case.  Not that I was trying to be the teacher’s pet or anything.  Quite the contrary.  I have done my best from the beginning of this whole thing to stay focused on just doing the exercises and staying as nondescript as possible.  I figured with my gray hair I could blend in pretty well with everyone else in the class.  The only people in class who knew me were one couple who came to Seaside and my old high school biology teacher.  It was the perfect place to remain relatively in cognito.  Somewhere along the line, though, the teacher saw fit to notice me.  And then much began to change.

It started innocently enough, I suppose.  She came over to the side of the pool where I was and very quietly said, “If you ever want to know a different way to do some of these exercises that would be more difficult for you, just let me know.”  More difficult.  Why in the world would I want something more difficult?  I was having a hard enough time keeping up with what she was already showing us.  And there were certainly times when those twinges cried out a bit more piercingly than I would have liked.  Why would I want more pain?  I smiled and thanked her, although I never took her up on her offer.  And then it seemed that every class she found at least one exercise that would “benefit you much more if you would do it this way.”  Ever the dutiful student, I followed her commands, wondering all the while what I could possibly have done to warrant the extra attention. 

I finally found out the answer at my last class.  The teacher once again approached me, this time with a special version of the arm apparatus we would be using.  There were two things shaped like dumbbells.  Each had a “special” attachment on the ends, designed to make it more difficult to push through the water.  No one else got this breakthrough equipment.  Just me.  I was about to finally get up enough courage to ask the question that had been gurgling in my innards for weeks … “Why?  Why me?”  But suddenly she turned and walked away.  But this time she tossed one last comment over her shoulder.  One final thought that opened up the world of understanding to me.  Ready for this one?  She said, “I knew since you’re a fireman that you’d want more of a challenge.”  Wait.  What?  So that was it?  All this time she thought?  You mean it’s GFD’s fault?  Wait a minute, Teach, I’m just an old guy that loves those youngsters who run into fires on purpose.  It’ll be OK to cut me some slack here. 

Well, thanks, Galveston fire fighters.  I guess it’s true that people often judge you by who you hang around with.  But I have to admit, I was proud to be lumped in with you guys for a brief moment there.  It sure gave me a little extra determination to use that “special equipment” she graced me with.   I’m nowhere close to Mr. Crossfit, Chief Varela, but I’ll sure do my best to represent the department well amongst the gray-hairs.

Proverbs 12:26 says, “A righteous man is cautious in friendship, but the way of the wicked leads them astray.”

Father, thank you for the chance to associate with some great folks at the fire department.  Keep them safe and draw them close to you.  Amen.

December 12 – “Many hats”

Well I was told something yesterday that I can honestly say no one has ever said to me before.  One of the female fire fighters told me that I look like Alan Alda.  “You know.  That guy who played on M.A.S.H.”  She also listed a movie that he was apparently in, but I wouldn’t know about that.  He never played Superman, so I probably didn’t see the movie.  I gotta admit I was flattered to be compared to a movie star.  Of course the more she talked the worse it got.  The points of comparison she emphasized centered around the gray hair that both of have and something about our eyes.  I don’t know.  How old is Alan Alda, anyway?

I did get to go by the hospital and check on Jamie after his heart surgery.  Everything is still progressing well on that front.  He is having the usual rough time with the breathing treatment to keep his lungs clear of pneumonia, but that will take some time to overcome.  He is still on medication for the pain, so as those are weaned away he will have that pain to contend with as well.  Jamie is quite determined, though, and I know he can handle those challenges.  His friends and family have really surrounded him with love, and from what I hear, that support will only grow as he moves out of ICU and into a regular room. 

I also stopped by two of the fire stations, and in both places I was encouraged to go to the City of Galveston Christmas party.  I wasn’t technically a city employee, so I kind of felt like an outsider crashing the party.  Once I got there, though, I was really welcomed as member of the fire department family.  I even won one of the door prizes.  It was a Black and Decker toaster oven.  Not sure how I’ll put that one to use. 

Most of the fire fighters on duty either got to stop by or had some of the turkey and ham and green beans and mashed potatoes and dressing and cake taken to them at their stations.  Pretty good food.  Several of the GFD guys were also rewarded with pins for their years of service to Galveston.  I know Jonathan Cook got a five-year, and Danny Weber, Jr. was really proud of his twenty-year.  I tried to find a list of all the awards so I could list the GFD guys, but it is not posted on the city website.  Congratulations to all you, whoever you are.  I ran into our city manager Michael Kovacs.  He assured me that I was indeed welcome, and he introduced me to some folks as, “The pastor of Seaside Church out West – my church.”  So two of the hats I wear were revealed – pastor and chaplain. 

And a third of my many hats will be coming out this afternoon - son.  Mom was up just about every hour on the hour last night, and she has been really complaining about unspecific pain – all over her body and including her teeth.  Chris just made appointments for her to the doctor today and the dentist on Monday.  So here we go on that one. 

You know, this is one of those times when the Trinity seems totally reasonable to me.  If I can squeeze in being pastor and chaplain and son (not to mention husband and father), then God can surely handle being Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  And I know he’ll be better at his job than I ever will be at any of mine.  

Ephesians 1:17 says, “I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better.”

Father God, thank you for creating and holding this thing together, Jesus, thank you for living perfect and dying and rising from the dead for me, and thank you Holy Spirit for

walking with me every day.  Amen.

 

December 11 – “A pastor’s day at the hospital

So what happens when you are a pastor and one of your parishioners is scheduled for open heart surgery?  Well, here’s a window into that experience.

I arrived 5:40.  Yep, that would be in the morning.  I wanted to get there before all the pre-op hoopla started so I could pray with Jamie and Melissa.  Just barely made it, too.  In fact he was already getting ready to take his shower with that special disinfectant soap.  We prayed for protection and wisdom for the docs and peace for Melissa (she had to go to work) and even for a good nap for Jamie.  He was going to get that one anyway as soon as the anesthesia took effect.  Not long after that his Dad, brother, and good friend arrived.  They were there for the long haul. 

His nurse came in to check on him and he was still in the shower.  She wanted to know if he was trying to scrape a whole layer of skin off.  I guess technically that’s what you do in the shower, isn’t it?  I knew what she meant, though.  Very good-natured lady.  Helpful and fun and good at setting her patient at ease. 

Things began to happen rapidly.  The transport bed arrived from the operating room, with the OR nurse dutifully doing her best to untangle all the wires they would be hooking him up to.  Melissa was scrambling to get her stuff all together so she could get on the road as soon as they took him to the OR.  Wires all hooked up.  Rolling down the hall.  Alarms going off on the transport box.  Wait.  What was wrong?  Stop to check.  Quick question, “What is your usual heart rate, Jamie?”  OK.  All good.  On to the elevator.  Squeezing all six of us in.  The pause by the waiting room to do the final goodbyes.  Watching the bed roll around the corner.  Whew.  It’s a whirlwind.  And then … nothing.  Time to wait.  Nothing else to do but leave it in the doctors’ hands and trust that God will be in there as well.  I know it was tough on Jamie’s Dad.  I understood his pain when we hugged and he whispered, “It should be me.”  Exactly how I would feel if it was one of my boys. 

Shortly after that I left for my water therapy.  I had plenty of time to get there.  It was, after all, only 7:00.  All of that in less than two hours.  Makes me tired even now just thinking about it.  I got to garage and suddenly realized that I only had a $20 bill in my wallet.  Not that I wasn’t grateful for it, but the parking garage unattended costs $5, and the largest bill the machine accepts is a ten.  So I walked all the way back into the hospital’s Starbucks franchise.  Only thing open that could get me change.  I returned to the garage with my small large cup of coffee (Starbucks drinkers will understand that one.  Their smallest drink is designated “large.”  Doesn’t make much sense to me).  All set now, I drove up to the exit gate and dutifully extended my five dollar bill into the proper receptacle.  But nothing happened.  It wouldn’t take it.  I tried again.  Nothing.  I turned the bill around.  Nope.  I creased it in the middle to give it more body.  No.  My struggle continued until the lady who was coming on shift to work the garage exit walked up.  I told her it simply refused to take my money.  She kind of grinned, looked over her shoulder and said, “The gate’s open.  Just drive through.”  Oh.  Oops.  I didn’t see that.  I tried the old “I meant to do that” and “I just wanted to do the right thing” trick.  Sounded kind of hollow to me.  I can imagine what was going through her head.  “What a knucklehead.”  That's sure what I was thinking.

After therapy I went by the house and got in about an hour’s worth of study for the sermon on Sunday.  And then it was back up to the hospital to join the wait club.  They were all gone when I got there.  The volunteer  checked on me and let me know they had gone for some lunch.  Lunch.  That’s right.  You are supposed to eat something in the middle of the day, aren’t you?  I went downstairs and had one of those heavenly hospital hamburgers on a huge dry whole wheat bun.  Scrumptious.  By the time I got back to the waiting room, the guys had returned as well.  And I think I only fell asleep once while doing a crossword puzzle.  I did begin to wonder where Teri was.  She is Melissa’s closest friend, and Jamie is like a brother to her.  I expected her to be there.  She was the one who was posting the “official” updates about Jamie.  That question was answered with a FaceBook check.  Seems Teri’s Dad had been taken to the emergency room in Houston and was now in ICU up there.  Bless her heart.  She can only be in one place at a time.  I whispered a prayer for her and her Dad.

It really didn’t take long though before the information board changed to indicate the doc had switched to closing Jamie up.  And not long after the report came out that everything had gone well.  Three bypasses done.  All looked good.  Pretty soon he was wheeled by and into ICU.  That would be his home for the next few days, but the breathing tube should come out by five or so in the evening.  All excellent news.  And now the prayers for recovery begin.  And for his ability to adapt to an entirely different lifestyle. 

Ephesians 5:1-2 says, “Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

Father, work that healing you are so known for in Jamie’s life.  And draw him close to you for the long haul ahead of him in learning his new way of living.  Amen.

December 10 – “When you grow up”

I have to make a quick trip up to the hospital to pray with a friend having open heart bypass surgery.  Or to pray for him if I miss him before he goes into surgery.  You never know when they will actually come to take him back.  So here’s a quick one.  It’s another Cailyn story, so here goes.

The other morning Cailyn was here for breakfast before we took her to school.  She calmly commented to Chris between bites, “Nani, I don’t know much about nurses.”

Well, that came out of nowhere.  But with a Mom and a Nani who are nurses, I guess it had been on her mind. 
Chris responded, “Well, what do you know?”
And Cailyn had an immediate answer.  Without hesitation she noted, “Well, they give shots and put casts on people and help with surgeries, and blood pressure and listen to your heart and to your tummy and even to your back.”
Whew.  For someone who doesn’t know much about nurses, she sure came up with a right decent job description.
Ever the teacher, Chris had a question: “Why do they listen to your back?”
Cailyn hesitated a second, so I jumped in to be of assistance.  “That’s where you breathe, right?”
Shaking her head with that oh-so-patient look on her face (the one that says, “Oh, DadDad, you are so ignorant”), she granted me a quick lesson of her own.  “Yes, it’s your lungs.”
Dutifully shamed, I determined my place would better be served as a silent observer.
Nani took over.  “Are you going to be a nurse when you grow up?”
And Cailyn replied, “Yes.  No.  Maybe.”
Confusing thing, that choosing a vocation when you are just four years old.
With a sly grin, Chris pressed on just a bit.  “How about a firefighter?”
There you go, Chris.  Bring dear old Dad into the picture.  Everybody loves a hero.
Cailyn thought that one over before answering.  “Yes, a firefighter.”  And after a noticeable pause, she added, “Or maybe a doctor.”
I have a hunch her Mommy and Daddy might be pushing for that doctor in the family.

2 Peter 3:18 says, “But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever! Amen.”

Father, help our little ones see that the important thing is not so much what they grow to do in their life, but rather who they grow to become.  May they grow to become like you, and may they discover something to do that makes them happy in the process.  Amen.

December 9 – “On enzymes and elevations”

I received some more medical education on Saturday evening.  I got one of those phone calls that every pastor knows is coming eventually.  One of our Seasiders was at the hospital.  He had apparently had a heart attack.  Now I know that happens every day to someone, but this guy in particular was a real surprise.  He is just in his thirties, I think, and he owns and operates a lawn service, so he is quite active.  I headed out to UTMB to check it out and pray with him. 

My medical education came after I arrived.  The RN friend who called me had said things like “enzymes” and “elevated” and other nursing words that are relatively meaningless to me outside of Gatorade and transportation to upper floors.  I did understand “heart attack,” though.  It was the incredibly young-looking Doogie Howser-ish resident who did the explaining that helped me understand.  There are two different types of heart attack.  Not that I would interested in choosing one over the other.  One is the “emergency” kind.  OK, I thought, how could any heart attack be anything but an emergency?  But I held my tongue and listened.  The emergency kind does immediate damage that shows up right away on an EKG as abnormal.  Those indications point to an immediate trip to the heart cath lab or even emergency surgery.  That’s not what Jamie was experiencing.  And that was good … I guess. 

His problem instead only shows up in the blood test they always take that reveal “elevated enzyme levels.”  Ah.  That I had heard before.  Teri’s nursing words.  He continued.  When the heart has an “event” it releases some of its enzymes into the bloodstream.  It takes a while for the enzymes to be distributed through the body to an extent that begins to show up in the blood tests.  Then it takes some more time for the levels to return to normal.  Then only much later the EKG will begin to show the disrupted patterns that indicate something has happened.  So the blood testing gives an earlier look so treatment can begin sooner.  Ah, the miracles of modern medicine. 

Jamie seems to be doing better.  He messaged me Sunday morning at 5:30 to say thanks for the hospital visit, and again later in the afternoon to say his levels were going down.  He faces the usual demands involved in carrying out some major lifestyle changes.  But better to make LIFEstyle changes than to experience the alternative. 

Psalms 51:10 says, “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.”

Father, walk with Jamie through his next phase of life.  Draw his heart, and mine, closer and closer to you.  Amen.

December 8 – “Testing Day”

Saturday was yet another fire department first for me.  I went up to Central Station to watch the agility testing for prospective fire fighters.  Nathan had told me that the event would start at 7 a.m.  I was puttering around the house when I suddenly remembered about the testing.  It was already a little after seven.  I hustled into faster gear, poured a cup of coffee for the road, and, after my experience with the cold weather the day before, grabbed two coats so I could layer if necessary.  As it turned out the 7:00 start time was for those who would be setting up the course.  I didn’t miss too much of that.  The actual applicants didn’t start arriving until after eight. 

Apparently there were over forty who had taken the written part of the test.  Only 28 of those passed.  Now I have never taken it, so I can’t really speak from experience, but I always heard the civil service exam was not that difficult.  Of course any test is a highly stressful experience.  That I have plenty of personal experience in.  But 28 passed.  I’ll focus on them.  Of the 28, 27 of them were present and ready to begin on time.  I heard the one missing had car trouble and arrived too late to check in and have his pre-test medical exam.  That had to be tough for him.  He looked plenty strong enough to handle it.  Hope he tries again next time Galveston hires.  When I left the station there were still four or five guys left to try out, and only seven or eight had passed up to that point.  Those seven or eight looked like fairly strong candidates, though. 

The test itself was fascinating.  Well, to me, at least.  But then I didn’t have to take it.  I guess I could have.  A lot of the fire fighters there to run the stations and cover fire calls asked if I was going to give it a try.  I assured them I was just there to observe this time.  After all, I wouldn’t want to show up any of the youngsters.  And after watching the first guy go through, I was assured beyond any doubt that I would be staying an observer.  My rheumatoid arthritis and neck surgeries and spinal stenosis all cried out in fear and trembling at just the thought of attempting what these candidates were tackling. 

First order of business, after standing around in the cold for almost an hour, was check in with Trish and the preliminary medical evaluation.  That just meant a blood pressure and heart rate check so they could do some comparing after the test was over.  Each candidate was assigned a number, and then returned to waiting in the cold, until Chief Winn led us through the course to show what would be expected.  The test itself had eight parts.  Doesn’t sound like much, but when taken all together, it was more than enough to show what these men (and one woman) had in them.  One event which is usually part of the test had to be canceled.  Climbing one of the tall truck ladders was deemed too dangerous because predictions indicated we might have wind gusts of up to 30 miles per hour.  And remember, the temperature at the time was already down to thirty-nine degrees.  Not a pleasant work environment.  Here are the events as I remember them.  There are probably technical names for what they were doing, but I sure don’t know them.  I’m just trying to describe what I saw.  Oh, and all the activities had to be performed wearing fire gloves, a helmet, and a breathing pack. 

1.  Carry a rolled-up hose up a flight of stairs and back down – twice.

2.  Something called a Keiser sled.  The candidates used a sledge hammer to knock a big iron girder past a set mark on the sled in less than 30 seconds. 

3.  Go upstairs, then raise and lower an object in a shaft using hand over hand technique both ways.

4.  Drag a dummy 40 feet and back within the set time limit.

5.  Lift a 75 pound ladder off the truck, set it on the ground, and put it back.  One of our fire fighters told me that was over half of her own body weight.  Gave me a little perspective there.

6.  Do the Keiser sled again.

7.  Pick up a charged water line and drag it 150 feet.

8.  Repeat #1.  This replaced the ladder climb.

And it all had to be completed in less than nine minutes.  With no running allowed in any event except number seven.  Oh, and the chief clearly pointed out that the large trash can at the end of the course was there for a reason.  He didn’t want to have to wade through anyone’s breakfast. 

I guess they each had different things that were strengths and weaknesses, but from what I saw, it was the Keiser sled that really gave them fits.  My neck aches just thinking about the pounding that it took to move that iron girder.  Chief Winn did an excellent job putting the whole thing together, and all of the fire fighters who had been called in to help run the event were consummate professionals in their dealings with the candidates.  So that’s two days in a row old Chappy has been impressed by department activities.  Wonder what today will bring …

James 1:2-4 says, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

Father, thank you for your protection of the ones who did the testing yesterday.  Encourage those who didn’t make it this time to keep on trying.  Give patience to those who now fact the application process.  And give wisdom to the chiefs as they determine who will be offered positions.  Amen.