September 14 – “Fishin’ with DadDad”

I went fishing with three little boys and their Daddy yesterday.  I have been the Daddy with the three little boys before, but this was the first time I had the opportunity to be somewhat the outsider looking in.  Quite an event, actually.  Kel and his three boys came over and we went over to Nathan’s house in Jamaica Beach so we could do a little fishing off the bank into the canal.  Prospects are generally kind of limited there as to the variety of fish available, but I figured there would be plenty of hardhead catfish, so they could at least have the thrill of reeling something in.  If a trout or redfish or flounder happened to show up, we certainly wouldn’t be upset, but with lowered expectations come greater prospects for surprise. 

Josiah, who is just three years old, took the rod from me after I cast it out for him, and immediately started reeling it in.  I have learned from past experience not to say anything about that.  He needs to be doing something, or this whole fishing experience won’t mean anything to him.  Besides, he didn’t see what bait I put on the hook anyway.  Sure enough, when he got it onto the shore, he was ecstatic to have caught that “little fish” on the hook there.  His “little fish” was the live shrimp bait, but he didn’t need to know that.  His day was a success.  And his fish being landed, he was pretty much ready to leave.  He began exploring the area to see what other treasure he might come up with, much to the chagrin of his Dad.  Kel did a good job corralling him, though.  The two of them got some bread that their Mom had sent and spent some time feeding the seagulls.  When that got old Kel set him up in the car to watch a video. 

Micah had the first hit, and sure enough, after a mighty struggle, he pulled in the first fish of the day, a hardhead.  He stuck with it for quite a while, too, before he began to get a little bored.  He joined Josiah in the car, so Kel now had to split his Daddy time between them and Jachin, who was doggedly determined to keep fishing until we ran out of bait.  Somewhere along this point in time Kel sighed deeply and asked me, “Was this what it was like when you tried to take us fishing?”  I assured him that it was, indeed.  He stood pensively for a moment, then added, “Parenting is hard.”  That one was easy to agree with.  Always has been.  Always will be. 

Micah returned to his pole after his hiatus, and eventually reeled in a small sting ray.  Jaching kept on casting, and he was rewarded with several sand trout.  I managed a fair sized speckled trout in the process, leading Kel to insist that my pole must be magical.  Jachin jumped all over that one.  He wanted me to cast out with my magic pole and then let him reel in the big fish.  We gave it a try a time or two, but the magic must have been worn out.  Guess that happens when the wizard gets old. 

The trip ended on what threatened to be a sour note.  Kel couldn’t get their car started.  I guess the movie watching and Josiah’s attempts to try out all the electrical properties of the car (windshield wipers, lights, horn) just wore down the battery.  After several attempts and a good screwdriver cleaning of the terminal, we managed to get it jumped enough to start back up and the alternator do its job.  I think the boys had a good time, and our next family fish fry will have a little more personal meaning to it when the fillets we pull out of the freezer have on the package: “Caught by Jachin, Micah, and Josiah on their September 13^th fishing trip.”

Psalms 111:5 says, “He provides food for those who fear him; he remembers his covenant forever.”

Father, thank you for the chance to do a little “throwback seafood shopping” with the boys.  It was fun.  Amen.

September 13 – “Fifth Anniversary”

I read a lot of posts yesterday about it being the fifth the anniversary of Hurricane Ike.  It struck me that the whole reason I started this blogging thing was at the request of some of the Seaside people.  We were trying to figure out a way to stay connected with all the evacuees in Louisiana and San Antonio and Austin and Mansfield and who knows how many other scattered places.  It seemed that everyone had access to the internet, though, so I tried to post something when I could about what I had been hearing from people.  It didn’t begin as a daily thing.  Who had time in the beginning to write something every day?  But then it became evident that one of the best things, for me anyway, was the chance to record my thoughts and perceptions of the chaos that was flying around me.  And there was so much to say that there ended up being plenty to record every day.  I did compile some of those early posts into book form to show what it was like day to day in the year following the storm.  Even included some of our storm photos.  I had great plans to get it published in time for the fifth anniversary.  Of course getting a book self-published these days is not exactly inexpensive.  Maybe I can reconsider at the next anniversary date.  Or maybe the tenth. 

I have also considered retiring from the whole blog scene altogether.  It would certainly give me more time in the mornings.  And in the grand scheme of things, who would miss it anyway?  I’m afraid I might miss it, though.  Besides, it gives my kids a peek into this strange head of mind.  I guess maybe it’s better to do it a little at a time than to have to try to remember everything all at once for one of those “You were there” memory books.  So, hats off to you, Hurricane Ike.  At the very least you provided Galveston with yet another life-changing, Island-history-altering, never-to-be-forgotten (here on the Island, anyway.  Can’t speak for the folks at FEMA) event.  You have actually made it easier for us feeble-minded old dudes.  Now all we have to remember is “BTS” (Before The Storm) and “ATS” (After The Storm).

Psalms 111:4 says, “He has caused his wonders to be remembered; the Lord is gracious and compassionate.”

Father, I guess it is more than appropriate to remember your grace and compassion in the wake of a disaster.  We sure saw and experienced it through the help and sacrifice of so many after the storm.  Amen.

September 12 – “A new generation of respect”

The Galveston version of the 9-11 Memorial observances went well yesterday.  Fire fighters, police officers, port authority officers, EMS workers, and the local Veterans of Foreign Wars organization all worked together to pull off a tribute to the victims of the terrorist attack back in 2001. 

We gathered just west of the central fire station for a silent march to the gazebo across the street from Rosenberg library.  An honor guard carrying the American flag and Texas flag, flanked by an officer with a rifle and a fire fighter with an ax led the procession.  Four honor guard members carried large reproduction of the shields of the New York City fire, police, port authority and EMS organizations.  The mayor and a lady who would lady sing in the ceremony were next, followed by the VFW flag bearers and others carrying the flags of the various entities represented.  One other flag had the American flag’s field of stars along with the names of all those killed in the disaster.  Bringing up the rear were the rest of us to be involved in the ceremony and others in uniform.

As we marched past station one, the on-duty guys were lined up in front, standing at attention and saluting the flag.  The children from the Satori private school lined the street, each one holding American flags.  More salutes as we passed the two fire trucks blocking traffic at the intersection where we turned.  I glanced toward the relatively small crowd gathered near the gazebo.  Many were filming or snapping photos with cell phones.  I found out later that a Spanish-language television crew was there, as was a Galveston Daily News reporter.  But the one sight that for me was the most iconic of the occasion was a small boy, maybe 4 or 5 years old, dressed in full, child-sized fire department bunker gear.  He was standing at attention and saluting the procession as it marched in front of him.  A symbol of a new generation learning to respect the flag and the sacrifices made by many who came before him. 

Galveston Fire Marshall Robinson, master of ceremonies for the event, led in the pledge of allegiance and I followed with the invocation (which I included as the prayer that follows).  Mayor Rosen read a plaque commemorating the event and presented it to the fire marshall.  A lady sang a beautiful rendition of Amazing Grace.  As tributes were read by representatives of the fire department, police department, port authority, and EMS, an honor guard member solemnly rang the bell indicating last call for those heroes.  The VFW presented a wreath to honor those who have lost their lives in the war on terror in the years following the initial attack.  The vet who played taps did an incredible job.  The notes rang loud and pure through the silenced crowd.  And the final blessing ended the ceremony the proper way – acknowledging God in the midst of sorrow.

After the ceremony, media crews began interviewing the mayor and the event organizer.  Final photos were taken.  Bubba Gump Shrimp Company provided a lunch for the fire department.  The other fire crews returned to their stations.  The police officers continued their shifts.  The citizens returned to their homes.  And spurred on by the indomitable spirit that has become synonymous with America … life goes on. 

Psalms 111:3 says, “Glorious and majestic are his deeds, and his righteousness endures forever.”

Father, it seems that the most tragic events are always the easiest for us to remember.  After all, that’s why we are here today.  A lot of families experienced some really intense pain and grief that probably hasn’t yet subsided.  We pray for them today.  A lot of heroes lost their lives on this day.  We honor their memory today.  And yet, as with most tragedies, a spirit of hope peeks through the gloom.  Join with us today, Father, as we, through our simple effort of remembering, strive to expand that tiny sliver of hope into a beacon of optimism for our future.  In your name.  Amen.

September 11 – “Where were you?”

I just read in the newspaper that the official designation for today is now Patriot’s Day.  I’m not sure how that actually matches up with the memory of the terrorist attack on September 11, 2001, but I have no problem going with it.  I guess it has something to do with the surge of patriotism that occurred after the attack.  There was certainly such an outpouring around here.  It definitely became one of those “defining moment” kinds of events that will be part of history classes and coffee klatches for years to come.  You know, like, “Where were you when John F. Kennedy was shot?”  Or for Galvestonians, “Which was worse, the 1900 Storm, Hurricane Carla, or Hurricane Ike?”  Where were you when you heard about the attack?

I was at home.  I had just stepped outside to retrieve the newspaper when Mr. Glinski, our neighbor across the street, came over with a grim look on his face and his ever-present cigarette hanging from his mouth.  Now Al always had a grim look on his face, so that wasn’t necessarily a clue to anything unusual.  It’s what made him good at telling jokes, and he was always telling jokes.  Some were pretty funny.  Others not so much, but it never stopped him.  So when he came across the street and asked if I had seen the news, I wasn’t sure if it was the beginning of another Al joke or if he was serious.  I told him I had just picked up the paper, so I hadn’t had time to read it yet.  Without batting an eye he replied, “It won’t be in the paper.  It just happened.  You have to go inside and turn on the television.  Right now.”  Well, that was a sense of urgency I didn’t remember ever hearing from him.  I asked him what channel.  His deadpan reply?  “All of them.”   And now he had my attention.  I thanked him and headed inside, my curiosity now really inflamed.  I called out to Chris to turn on the TV, and there it was.  One of the World Trade Tower buildings in New York was burning.  Stunned, fascinated, and still more than a little bit confused, we moved in closer and began to piece together from the ongoing commentary just what had happened.  We got that an airplane had hit the tower, but at that point no one knew for sure what any of the details were.  The image had been on our screen for just a minute or two when the second plane came into view and smashed into the other tower, bursting into flames.  And then news of another plane hitting the Pentagon.  And another going down in a field somewhere in Pennsylvania. 

And then the speculation began.  The second plane immediately changed the game from a possible horrible accident to a probable act of terrorism.  Here on American soil.  The others expanded the scope of the horror.  Would there be another one in Houston?  That’s a big city.  Or maybe even Texas City.  There are all those plants there.  It would be a great target.  And if so, how would that affect the Island? 

I can’t even begin to tell you all of the thoughts that raced through our heads.  I remember the first thing, though, that popped into my thoughts and continued to nag at me throughout the whole ordeal.  In 2001 our three sons were 24, 20, and 16 years old.  I had flashbacks to my high school years, back in the era of the Viet Nam War, of the draft, and of the uncertainty and fear surrounding the drawing of those draft lottery numbers.  And now two of my own sons were of prime draft age, and the third was close behind.  Viet Nam had lasted what seemed like forever, so there would be a good chance for all of them to have to face that same fate if we ended up at war because of these attacks.  I know.  It was irrational at the time, way too early in the event to even consider such things.  My own advice to others did its best to crack through the fog in my head, “Don’t make it a problem until it becomes a problem.”  But it is so hard to hear and heed good advice when you are in the middle of a situation that is so intensely personal. 

Along with the rest of the country we were glued to the television set for the next few days.  The lump in my throat rose more than once, first when it became evident that so many had died, then again and again when the sacrifices of the first responders were showcased, and then yet again when the personal stories of the victims began to be told.  Each one had a family and friends that would be affected.  The political posturing began.   This was too well planned to be random.  Who would step up and claim responsibility?  The president vowed reprisals.  “We will hunt you down …” 

Whew.  Talk about a country in turmoil.  But then, wasn’t that part of why the act happened in the first place, to strike fear into the hearts of Americans?  Did it work?  Honestly, yes.  We were afraid.  But did it have the long-term effect of crippling us with that fear?  Not so much.  Didn’t work at Pearl Harbor, either.  Americans are weird like that. 

Psalms 111:2 says, “Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them.”

Father, help us to keep our pondering centered on you in spite of the rampant acts of mayhem around us.  It’s truly our only hope for peace.  Amen. 

September 10 – “Solving some crises”

I went with Nathan and April the other day to the AT&T store so they could get some new phones.  They have been having a lot of trouble connecting with people on their old Androids, so they were moving into the future with iPhones for each of them.  It was loads of fun for the old guy here to be the one teaching the youngster how to use the new-fangled technology.  Of course they have had them for a day now, so they already know more about how to use it than I know about my old antique 3G thing.  I guess if this one ever wears out we’ll be entering the new world of 5G or 6G or whatever it will be called by then. 

Here’s an update on how Mom has been doing.  She took another tumble the other day.  For some reason she made her way noiselessly into the laundry room.  I guess she wanted to visit the dogs or something.  She must have lost her balance somehow.  We heard a loud crash followed by indecipherable clanging that continued for several long seconds.  Of course we both jumped into action to see what had happened.  She was sitting in the floor with a box of Chris spare fabric on her lap and various craft implements spinning haphazardly on the floor around her.  Fritz and Heidi were standing guard cautiously, but both seemed hesitant to get too close.  Mom was groaning a bit this time, and clutching her hand.  Sure enough, there was a scratch on one finger that was bleeding, and blood always cries out for attention.  The bigger worry, however, turned out to be what we fear may be another cracked rib.  She kept her arm in a protective position against her waist.  We managed to get her to her feet and over to the couch again, and Chris got her cleaned up and bandaged up.  We are watching her progress carefully, following the same protocol from last time she cracked one. 

More recently, she has had some nosebleeds.  Three yesterday.  That has happened before, too.  This time though, the first one came while Chris was at the library with Cailyn.  I was working at my desk and she was sitting on the couch.  The air conditioner kicked, so it took me a while before I noticed a sound that just didn’t fit with the AC noise, the refrigerator ice maker noise or the ice maker noise.  It was something kind of eerily soothing, like a swiftly moving brook, or when Christina is rocking Noa to sleep and does her shushing sound.  Something just wasn’t adding up, so I got up to investigate.  As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, Mom was standing hunched over the sink, which was running full blast – there was the unusual sound.  I gently approached her and saw that she had the sprayer in one hand and with the other she was cupping water back and forth to her face.  It seemed an unusual way to get a drink of water, but then, I have done it that way myself.  That’s about the time I saw the first large glop of blood spatter into the sink.  Already a bit skittish since her fall the other day, I quickly readjusted my position so I could see better.  And sure enough, there it was, blood was gushing from her nostril, and she was trying frantically to wash it away.  And she was losing the battle.  I grabbed a paper towel and hastened into action.  I pinched her nose with one hand and got the water turned off with the other.  One sleeve of her blouse was pretty well drenched, and spatterings of blood covered the front.  I convinced her to hold the compress so I could get her a chair to sit in.  It was becoming more and more obvious that she wouldn’t be able to stand up much longer.  After what seemed to me to be hours, though I’m sure it was just minutes, of blood spurting and her trying to push my hand away “so I can check it,” we finally got the bleeding stopped.  That was a scary one for me. 

She had two more later in the evening, but Chris was home, and she saw it before I did on both occasions and got it under control quickly.  Oh, and by the way, Chris has been battling a cold herself.  She could sure use some prayer.  I sure am thankful for that wife God gave me. 

 

Psalms 111:1 says, “Praise the Lord.  I will extol the Lord with all my heart in the council of the upright and in the assembly.”

 

Father, again, please walk with Mom closely each day.  Amen.

September 9 – “Unexpected creativity”

The kid’s sermon at church yesterday had everyone laughing hysterically.  I didn’t think it would be that big of a hit, to be honest.  It was designed to introduce John 5, where Jesus calls witnesses to defend himself against charges of working on the Sabbath.  I wanted to show them how hard it was to get people to agree on things, even when everybody saw or heard the same thing to begin with.

I started out by asking a question.  It was a random question.  The answer really didn’t matter.  I just wanted to get a few possibles and then have them choose which one they wanted to agree on.  The first question was, “Why is the letter “U” the happiest letter?”  Now the proper answer was supposed to be “Because it is in the middle of FUN.”  Ha Ha, right?  Well, I was surprised to start off with by the first answer.  Someone called out, “Because it looks like a smiley face.”  Not a bad answer, actually.  That’s pretty creative.  I did want to allow the creative juices to flow, so to speak, so I asked if there were any other possible answers.  And when you allow for creativity, you have to accept the consequences.  One of our new little guys was obviously in deep thought.  And suddenly something occurred to him.  I was confident that he had come up with the answer of the day.  I was right, but it was just not what I expected.  I called on him and, as a hush descended on the crowd, he spoke: “Are dinosaurs extinct?”  What?  Where did that come from?  Apparently everybody in the room was thinking the same thing.  After about a three count, most everyone burst out in laughter, with a smattering of applause.  It was all I could do not to join in, but I was determined to respect the young man’s honest query.  With my best show of appreciation for his interest, I managed to squeeze out, “Pretty much, yes.”  And the tone was set for the rest of the sermon. 

They made it through, “In storyland, who fell off a wall?” with some help from Mrs. Rita, and all agreed that it was Humpty Dumpty.  When we moved into the Bible questions, though, things got interesting.  Check out these responses:

“Who had the face of an angel: Jesus, Moses, or Stephen?”  Several chose Jesus, of course.  That’s the usual churchy answer, isn’t it?  There were a few for Moses, and even an adult or two wanted Stephen (the correct answer, by the way).  But one guy in the back of the room had another suggestion: “How about an extinct dinosaur?”  OK.

“Who ate locusts and wild honey: John, Paul, or Ringo?”  Be careful now, your response to that one may date you, as it did Matthew, who said, “Who is Ringo?”  A few other suggestions came out from the crowd: “What about George?”  and “An extinct dinosaur” were my personal favorites.

“Who got to ride in a chariot of fire: Elisha, Elijah, Eli?”  Elijah is the right answer there, but I did hear another dinosaur mention from the back of the room.

“Which of these are Bible characters?” drew some interesting responses.  Francis didn’t get any takers, so we started out good.  Socrates only got some snickers.  They hadn’t heard of that one yet.  Peter was good to go for everyone.  Aladdin caused some confusion.  Hey, he dresses kind of like a Bible guy in the movie, doesn’t he?  My favorite in this category, though, was Ham.  The kids hooted with laughter on that one.  William said, “That’s something I eat, not a person.”  In an effort to clarify, I suggested that maybe they had heard of Ham’s father.  But when I asked if anyone knew Ham’s father, the answers came fast and furious.  These are just the ones I was able to discern: “Pig,” “Bacon,” “Bacon and eggs,” and of course … “Extinct dinosaurs.” 

It’s not always easy to agree on everything, is it?  But then, that was the point.

The second part involved showing a picture and then removing it and seeing what you could remember.  The kids were amazing at that one.  They remembered details that I hadn’t noticed for the first time.  It did help with the transition to the final point, though:

“That’s why one of the most important times when someone is on trial in a courtroom is when the witness takes the stand to give his testimony about what he saw.  It’s important for him to tell the truth because someone’s life could depend on it.  Today we’re going to be talking about the testimony Jesus pointed to when he was challenged.  And he had some pretty good witnesses, the first two being John the Baptist and the miracles he performed.” 

In John 5:33-36 Jesus says, “You have sent to John and he has testified to the truth. Not that I accept human testimony; but I mention it that you may be saved. John was a lamp that burned and gave light, and you chose for a time to enjoy his light.

     I have testimony weightier than that of John. For the very work that the Father has given me to finish, and which I am doing, testifies that the Father has sent me.”

Father, let me pray again what the kids prayed:  Jesus, help us to be truthful in everything we say so we can be good witnesses for you.  Amen.

September 8 – “Battle of the Badges”

I went to my first Battle of the Badges last night.  It is an event where representatives from the different fire, EMS, sheriff, and police departments in the county square off in boxing matches.  It was held at Moody Gardens Convention Center, and all the proceeds went to charities such as the Wounded Warrior Project and Boys and Girls Club.  It has been going on for several years now, but this was the first chance I have had to attend. 

I got there pretty early.  The floor of the Convention Center was arranged with the ring in the center, of course.  Around it were tables set up for the many local dignitaries who were there as well as, I’m sure, for those who contributed a little extra to the event.  Nathan was going to be involved in the honor guard that was starting the whole thing off.  I guess because I was with him, or maybe because the event coordinator was fire department Captain Williams and he recognized me as the chaplain, I was allowed to accompany Nathan “back stage.”   I just wandered around for a while, acting like I knew what I was doing.  I talked to Seasider Mike Bell, who was taking pictures for the sheriff department, and Tonya from the fire department.  The building was filling up rapidly, though, so I made my way out of the VIP area and into the realm of the “normal folks” so I could find a seat.  I hadn’t been there long before a few of the fire department guys sat nearby to enjoy the event. 

The honor guard started the event by presenting the American flag, Texas flag, and flags of each department involved in the event.  A police officer also carried a rifle.  Nathan carried the fire department ceremonial ax.  Behind them marched a soldier.  Once they were in place an eleven-year-old girl sang a rousing rendition of the National Anthem.  Quite a powerful voice for such a small kid.  Then the soldier marched to a bell and rang three sets of five in honor of those officers and fire fighters who had been killed in the line of duty over the last year.  A slide show provided the names of the honorees while the bell rang.  That was quite moving and very well done.  Galveston Fire Department’s own Anastacio Urbina coordinated the honor guard segment, and he did a tremendous job.  Couldn’t have had a better kick off to the event.

And finally the matches began.  Actually, in some cases the matches were almost anticlimactic after the choreographed entrances of the individual fighters as they were introduced.  Some, like GFD’s Ryan, just made a simple walk down the ramp, preferring to show his prowess in the ring.  Others, though, made me feel like I was at a pro wrestling match.  One guy was preceded by a trio of girls in cowgirl attire doing one of those cowboy dances.  When he entered he was flanked by a team of guys in cowboy hats, his entourage.  The flashiest one I saw, though, was started by the announcer pointing out a really big bearded guy dressed in a long, flowing robe.  He had a girl slung over his shoulder, and he was carrying her all around the arena.  The announcer identified him as a “terrorist who has kidnapped someone,” and indicated that it would take a real hero to save her.  About that time a squad of four or five guys dressed in combat fatigues and carrying rifles with laser scopes appeared on the entrance ramp.  They were on patrol searching for that terrorist.  Meanwhile, the terrorist pushed his captive into the center of the ring.  Then the soldiers had him in their sights, laser dots lighting up his forehead and chest.  Suddenly, from the sky right above the bad guy, the next fighter rappelled down from the ceiling on a cable, head-first, and knocked the terrorist to the ground.  After unbuckling from his harness, he kicked the gad guy out of the ring.  The hero had arrived.  See what I mean about the bout being anticlimactic?  I have no idea who one that one. 

The fire department guys made a great showing.  Schaefer won his bout hands down.  Kirsner had a bit harder time, though.  He was doing quite well at first, but you could tell when his arms began to give out.  It has to be incredibly draining physically, even though the rounds only lasted one minute.  I had to leave before Rico came out, but I heard he was pretty dominant as well.  I’m sure the whole thing lasted until well after midnight, but this old guy can’t last that long any more without an afternoon nap. 

The event made the papers in a big way this morning.  The honor guard had a great photo.  Schaefer was in there, blocking a blow to the head.  Kirsner was in there, too, but his photo was ... well ... not all that flattering.  I guess the bouts lasted beyond press time, because I still am not sure if the red or blue team won.  But that doesn’t matter anyway, right?  The GFD guys handled themselves admirably.  I was sure proud of them.  And the event was a rousing success for all the charities involved.

Psalms 109:1 says, “O God, whom I praise, do not remain silent”

Father, thank you for watching over those guys last night.  And thank you for the spirit of camaraderie that prevailed.  Amen.