February 7 – “that one old couple”

Yesterday was one of those plodding days where I spent the great majority of it sitting at my computer, plunking letter after letter, word after word, sentence after sentence, thought after thought.  And what evidence is there to show that my efforts were worth the time and thought (and keystrokes)?  Well, here’s the thing.  It’s just that the tasks I was working on were not really things that had measurable response generators.  Some things you do give you immediate feedback.  You know, like if you poke at an alligator long enough he will most likely try to eat you.  This stuff was just not that dramatic. 

One thing I worked on was a response to some questions that came up in a meeting I went to.  That response ultimately amounted to a mini-treatise on the place of tithing and offerings in the church today.  Not exactly my favorite research topic of the decade.  But an important one, I guess, as topics related to discipleship go.  I’ll eventually be able to use it in a teaching, but for the time being I hope it helps answer some questions for one person.  The other project amounted to a bit of consulting for a church up in New Jersey.  Well, not exactly for the church.  One of the members there is a good friend, and he asked for my input on a presentation they have put together to be used as an introduction to the church for people who might be interested in checking them out.  That’s what took up most of the time.  I have always loved doing stuff like that.  I know I never get to see any of the benefits of my efforts, but it seems like a good use of energy to help out churches that may not have the benefit of high dollar consultant firms.  I have seriously thought about going into that sort of thing full-time, but then I guess I would be becoming one of those high-dollar consultant firms.  Sigh.  Still … it has an appeal.  Maybe in a few years …

I greatly prefer days like Wednesday.  That was the day I went with Cailyn to a play at the Grand.  Hanging out with about a thousand 4 and 5 year-olds was right up my alley.  Then I met Chris for lunch.  Yep.  Just me and Chris.  Jennifer came over to stay with Mom.  It was Chris’ turn to pick where we ate, so we ended up at Salsa’s.  I knew it would be Mexican food.  Just didn’t know where.  After lunch we went to the local furniture store to see if they had a cabinet for Chris’ Precious Moments collection.  It has been in storage since Hurricane Ike, and she hasn’t been able to find just the right one she wants.  I may have to ask one of the fire fighters to build her one.  Tanya does incredible work with wood.  Not sure how much she would charge, but I’d sure like to see Chris get exactly what she wants.  From there we drove around the Strand area to see if there were any antique stores that might have something.  Obviously we didn’t connect there, so we stopped by the fire department admin offices.  I wanted to introduce Chris to the administrative assistant, Trish.  No one was around the office, though, so we did the next best thing.  Target run.  Got some honey covered cashews and a booster seat for the car.  Aren’t we just the best grandparents ever? 

And that was about the essence of our special day together.  Lunch, a walk, a ride, and trip to Target.  All with the love of my life.  Doesn’t get any better than that.  So does that make us officially … “that one old couple”?

Psalms 36:5 says, “Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies.”

Father, thank you for allowing us to experience a taste of your love through the relationships we have here that are so special.  Amen.

February 6 – “Going on a Bear Hunt”

Boy, did I ever have an experience of a lifetime yesterday.  I had the privilege of seeing a production at the Grand Theater in Galveston, that wonderfully restored opera house built in the 1800’s.  It has been the venue for hundreds of nationally renowned theater companies, operatic associations, and musicians.  Why, I even saw the Beach Boys there in one of their revival tours.  And what classic production was I so blessed to experience this time?  Hold onto your hats.  It was called “Going on a Bear Hunt.”  And who was I so fortunate to share this wonder of wonders with?  An entire theater full of four and five-year-old school children. 

I sat with Cailyn and Sophie and Sriru and Gabe the Infamous Kiss Attempter (That’s a whole other story) and Bruno.  Actually Bruno was separated from us by his mother, so he was essentially out of the picture.  Strangely enough, the rest of the class was seated in an entirely different section, so we had not the benefit of the watchful eye of the all-powerful teacher Mrs. Applegate and her ever-present sidekick Mrs. Murphy.  As a result, my charges had just a bit more leeway, more range of motion shall we say, than the average oppressed youngster.  Now they each stayed within the confines of their chair area, but they were allowed to stand or sit or kneel as their energies demanded.  I think it added to their overall enjoyment of the play.

And now the play.  What a classic tale.  Searching for the elusive beast.  Trudging through rivers and mud and forests and snow and a deep, dark cave, not to mention dealing with an unexpected discovery of bear poo.  And every so often a chorus of “We are not, not, not, not, not, not, not, not scared.”  All leading up to an encounter with the dreaded giant brown bear, and a spirited escape back through all the obstacles and safely back home and into bed.  Whew.  It was almost more than I could bear.  Er, bare. 

There were four main characters in the play.  One guy was clearly identified as the Dad.  The boy and girl were apparently his children, as was the puppet baby he carried around on his back.  The other character was supposed to be the dog.  He barked a lot.  Oh, and there was a cameo appearance at the end by a guy in a bear suit.  Except for the bear, the characters all had great singing voices, and a few of them even played guitar and mandolin as part of the production.  It took them about an hour to do it, but they sang through the whole bear hunt song.  It took so long because they creatively acted out each verse.  Crossing a river meant laying out some blue towels, placing buckets on them, and stepping into each bucket.  Of course when there is water involved, you kind of have to devolve into a water fight of some kind, and sure enough, that’s what happened.  They came out with water pistols and shot at the kids on the front row.  Then they brought out super soakers and managed to reach the first rows of the balcony.  A final touch came when they pulled off a Harlem Globetrotters style “soaking” of the front rows with two of the buckets.  The buckets were actually filled with blue fabric, though, which streamed out of the buckets just like water, eliciting squeals of delight from all the kiddos.  Each obstacle brought a new level of creativity from the cast.  They did some fingerpainting with brown paint on posters as well as each other as they dealt with the “mud.”  The imposing forest was a series of stacked boxes.  Dimmed lighting created the mood for the ominous cave.  And finally the guy in the bear suit leapt from backstage to chase them all back through all the obstacles, into the half-sized front door of their house, up the stairs and into their bed (which was a huge bedspread.  As they each snuggled with teddy bears, they promised never to go on a bear hunt ever again. 

Like I said, it was quite a production.  It probably lasted about fifteen minutes too long for the attention span of the kids, but all in all, I’d have to say, it worked.  The biggest problem I noted was after everything was over.  The kids had to sit there for about fifteen minutes waiting for their buses to arrive at the front door.  Fortunately for us, our bus driver was second in line, but it was still a little scary.  But wait.  I forgot.  “We are not, not, not, not, not, not, not, not scared.”

John 14:27 says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

Father thank you for rivers and mud and snow and forests and caves and even for bears.  But really thank you that we don’t have to be afraid of any of them.  Amen.

February 5 - “Escape from the attic”

I know.  The title sounds like an episode of Criminal Minds.  I had another chance yesterday to witness some of the training our Galveston fire fighters go through.  The scenario on this one was working your way through an attic while in full bunker gear and breathing pack.  Just the thought of it may awaken latent feelings of claustrophobia in many people, but these guys attacked it with a vengeance. 

They started out by making their way through two two-by-fours that were set up to be about the distance between the studs of a house wall.  Sounds easy enough, right?  Not necessarily.  Remember the bunker gear and breathing pack.  They had to turn backwards, allowing the breathing pack to enter the space first.  Then they made a motion as if they were swimming the backstroke through the space, first one arm, then the other as their body twisted through in response to the motion.  And some of them had to almost duplicate the motion to get their hips through. 

Next came a crawl across what would be some of those rafter beams in the attic.  I’ve been in our attic enough to recognize the effort it takes to keep your body on the rafters so you don’t fall through the ceiling sheetrock.  That’s not easy in shorts and a t-shirt.  And on their way the guys had to deal with occasional wires strapped across the track.  Why wires?  Again, I remembered back to my own jaunts in the attic.  Wires just like that are used to hold the air conditioning and heating ducts in place.  Of course in the simulation all they had to do was clip them with wire cutters.  But wait.  That meant they had to reach down into their pocket with gloves on their hands and find them.  And have you ever tried to operate a pair of pliers with gloves on?  Not so easy. 

Next was a drop down a few feet into what simulated a sub-ceiling.  They had to turn completely around and crawl on their stomachs to retrace their path, now underneath the rafters.  The instructor gave them the option of going from rafter to sub-ceiling either headfirst or feet first.  I would like to have seen someone try headfirst.  That would have been quite a gymnastic move.  But they were all wise enough to take the other option.  As the made their crawl, they then had to make a hard left-hand turn into a small, enclosed space that led to the final exit point.  I thought the turn might be a tough skill, but every one of the guys handled that with ease.  I guess that was a good thing, because to make their exit from the maze they had to squeeze through an exit hole about sixteen inches high.  That task, by the way, was impossible to perform with the breathing tank still on their backs.  So the backpack had to come off before they could “escape.”  But safety protocol required calling a “Mayday” before the tank was removed.  And any time a “Mayday” call comes across the radio, virtually everyone who hears it who isn’t actively involved in fighting the fire instantly stops what he is doing and listens.  So in a real life situation, that final extrication is probably the longest few seconds of the whole ordeal, as everyone waits for the “Self extraction completed” indication.  Of course they still had to exit through that same set of studs that was the entry point, and it was somehow not quite as easy as the first time. 

They were all physically and emotionally charged by the time they completed the exercise.  One of the safety measures involved in this kind of a drill is a blood pressure and pulse measure before and after to keep an eye on their health.  All of that entered into my response when several of the guys “invited” me to give it a try.  One even suggested that it would give me something to write about in my blog.  Come on.  Like I would write about something like fire department training procedures.  I assured them that I was never going to be running into a burning building, much less a burning attic.  They didn’t give up easily.  I heard some pretty ridiculous scenarios.  “What if your house in on fire and on your way out you come to some stairs so you go up the stair but they lead to your attic and you find yourself up there?”  Uh … right.  If my house catches on fire I promise to get my family out and run away.  And if any of my family is in the attic?  Again, that would be a strange scenario, but we have some highly trained professional fire fighters who have proven themselves before my very eyes to be proficient at just such a skill.  I think I’ll wait the four or five minutes and trust them to do their job. 

Psalms 33:20-22 says, “We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield.  In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name.   May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you.”

Father, thank you for the men and women who happily risk their lives to crawl through attics and run into burning buildings.  Be their hope and shield.  Amen.

February 4 – “Superbowl Commercial review”

We had a little bit of that super bowl fun at church Sunday.  I asked the group who they were rooting for in the big game.  The responses came quickly: “Denver, Denver, Broncos, Denver.”  Then an obviously compassionate visitor, noting the alarming trend, offered, “Well I’ll be for the seagulls.”  Broke everybody up.  SeaGULLS, SeaHAWKS.  What’s the difference, right? 

And, yes, we also had one of “those” parties.  Ours was more focused on the commercials, though.  And as the game score turned out, it was a good thing.  Tough loss for the Broncos but at least they have been there before.  In more ways than one.  They have lost the big game often enough.  But they did win it a time or two as well.  And cudos to the youngster quarterbacking Seattle.  He gave credit to the Lord for his talent in the postgame interview. 

Now on to more important things - the commercials.  I did some research this year ahead of time, and it really made it easier to keep up with who was doing the advertising.  I have never been able to do that.  I can usually remember some of the commercials, but rarely remember the product.  Says something about the real value of the ad, doesn’t it?  This year we were connected by FaceBook and texting to two other parties.  One was a crazy bunch of college kids in Waco.  The other was the Boyer family in Dickinson.  I don’t know about their groups, but ours was loud and crazy and we even had a few who really were into the game.  Especially the Seahawks supporters.  I think they were so surprised by the way the game was going that they couldn’t help themselves.  They were positively giddy. 

All three of the groups liked the Doberhuahua dog one.  That was some pretty frightening stuff.  Of course the little puppy and his devotion to the Clydesdale was just … sweet.  There were a few others that drew reactions from our crowd.  Morpheus in the back seat with all those cars flying through the air that was the Matrix – that was impressive in a cerebral sort of way.  I liked the Doritos one with the little brother riding his dog/horse to rope and hogtie his big brother.  How could anyone who has ever been a little brother not relate to that one?  And from the parents’ perspective, that Hyundai one where the little kids are saved from imminent disaster at the last second time after time was altogether too familiar.  The pistachio one was really strange when the guy’s head peeled back to reveal a peanut head inside.  Gotta mention the Doritros time machine, too.  I saw that one ahead of time, but it did bring a chuckle or two.  Radio Shack’s was a blast from the 80’s past with all those favorites.  I remember Alf and Hulk Hogan right off the top of my head.  Oh, and the bear ransacking the convenience store in search of yogurt had that surprise factor.  And finally, I guess we need to send a nod out to those that gave tributes to service men and women, as well as the ones who did their best to come across as patriotic. 

Bottom line … everyone enjoyed Mama Chris’ taco soup and the dips and banana pudding that others brought.  We’ll do this one again next year.

2 Corinthians 13:12-14 says, “Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the saints send their greetings.  May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.”

Father, thank you for times of fellowship.  Always great to know you enjoy, have fun, smile, laugh … Amen.

February 3 – “A penguin, a cheetah, a sabre-toothed tiger, and ‘It feels white’”

I heard that groundhog up in Pennsylvania saw his shadow.  Here in Galveston?  Well, we don’t have a groundhog, but word has it that one of the nutria (that’s those really big rats) stuck his head out and most assuredly did not see his shadow.  Spring is almost here on Galveston Island.  Can’t wait.  It back down to 39 degrees here again. 

I had planned to continue the study of John 9, but one of the young men who grew up at Seaside and now lives in Houston came back and asked if he could share a testimony.  It turned into quite a sermon, so I let it stand.  When the Holy Spirit changes something, who am I to force my plans?  And the Holy Spirit was obviously with us.  Lots of great feedback.  Everyone was really touched by Nick’s changed life. 

The plan was for the children’s sermon to introduce the story in John 9 about Jesus healing a man blind from birth.  This took place before Nick began, so here’s a look at what happened.  I took a deep breath when we announced it and seven children came to sit on the front pew – all boys.  I asked a few lead-in questions:

“What does it mean to be blind?”  That was an easy one.  “It means you can’t see anything.”  They looked at me like I was crazy for insulting them with such an easy question.  So I tried again.
"What do you think it would be like to be blind?”  That brought a bit more out of them.  “You couldn’t see what you were eating.”  “You couldn’t watch TV.” 
A few of them were obviously thinking hard about that one, so I moved on to,
“If you knew someone was blind and just got his sight, what would you tell him he needs to go see first?”  And there it was.  The light bulb turned on and the creative answers started to flow.  The very first answer that came out was my favorite.   The youngest of the batch of boys offered, “A penguin.”  Now that was not what I expected.  Not in a million years.  The second answer was in the same category, I suppose, “A cheetah.”  So we had the exotic animal lovers in the bunch.  Another added “his family,” and finally the oldest boy decided I must be wanting a Sunday School answer, so he tried, “A cross.”  From there we moved to some participation.  I had a mystery box draped in a very dark cloth.  One at a time, I put three different things inside and had a boy reach in and describe what he was feeling.  The rule was that he couldn’t guess what he thought it was.  All he could do was describe it to me.  They did a really good job, all things considered.  The first hidden item was described as “Soft.  Has four legs, but the back legs aren’t there.  Oh, and it has something like tusks.  I finally called time and asked what he thought it was.  His guess was a sabre-toothed tiger.  Fortunately, he was wrong.  It was a stuffed animal version of the Taco Bell dog.  The next guy actually figured out that his object was one of those allegedly eternal light bulbs with the curly glass.  It had just burned out.  The final one was a bit more difficult, but the description was great.  “It feels like a kind of long stick or straw with what feels like the top of a cupcake on one end.”  Not a bad description of one of those pinwheel things that spins when you blow into it.  I was impressed with all of the descriptions.  Even when one of the adults yelled out, “What color does it feel like?”  The youngster didn’t miss a beat and replied, “It feels white.” 

That activity made it easy to continue with the point:

You did a good job figuring out what was in the box.  But you had an advantage.  You have seen some of those things before, so you kind of knew what they might look like.
But what would happen if you had been blind ever since you were born, if you have never seen anything?  That would make it even harder.  That’s what happens in the story today.  A man who was born blind meets Jesus and Jesus heals him.  He can see for the first time ever!  That had to be a really exciting day for him. 

John 9:3-5 says, “’Neither this man nor his parents sinned,’ said Jesus, ‘but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work.  While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.’”

Jesus, thank you that we can see.  Help us learn to recognize when what we see is: you at work!  Amen.

February 2 – “Interesting logic”

Happy Groundhog Day, I guess.  I understand that rodent up in Pennsylvania saw his shadow, so they are looking at six more weeks of winter.  I can guarantee he wouldn’t see that shadow if he lived in Galveston.  It is a foggy, foggy day here.  One would think we were an Island off the coast of Texas in the Gulf of Mexico.  Spring is on the way.

Well, how about another day of grandchildren?  We had a passel of them here the other day.  Started out with Cailyn, of course.  I picked her up at school and, as has become our habit, we played on the playground for almost an hour.  I had some assistance this time, though.  She took up with a four-year-old little boy and the two of them just about wore out the twisty slide.  Not sure how her Daddy feels about her consorting with younger men.  It was a little easier to convince her to leave once her young man departed, but she still came up with a tool for slowing down the inevitable.  We walked to the car on our knees.  Yes, that was a “we” there.  I didn’t last nearly as long as she did, but the old man was scooting along like a penguin on ice there for what sure felt like a mile or two.  It was not a pretty picture.

Later that evening Kel and Christina and their brood all came over to hang out for the evening.  Actually it was Josiah who made the phone call to Nana asking if he could come over.  I guess the rest of them just tagged along.  Kind of tough for a three year old to make the drive from LaMarque all by himself these days.  Of course with those four kids plus Cailyn all running around, we had quite an evening.  While it was still daylight we went outside so they could ride bikes and scooters and crawl in and out of the bed of the truck and just run.  Kel sat on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs.  I wheeled out my old desk chair from the garage and put my feet up on the car in the driveway.  I imagine we looked like a couple of hillbillies.  And the fun continued once we got inside.  Micah, for some insane reason, asked me the loaded question that inevitably leads to a period of raucous behavior on the part of all of us children, “Are the cows hungry?”  That phrase was made famous by a certain grandfather who discovered that a gentle squeeze to the leg just above the kneecap resulted in what apparently feels like a cow attempting to nibble a succulent blade of grass.  (That, of course, is code for “It tickles”).  And for the next hour or so we played hide and seek and hungry cows and unrestrained tickle madness.  Quite the fun evening.  I was exhausted.  And to top off the evening Christina shared a bit of motherly wisdom that she has gleaned over her years of Mommy-ness.  “It takes having four to appreciate how easy having two is.”  Interesting logic. 

Psalms 33:2-3 says, “Praise the Lord with the harp; make music to him on the ten-stringed lyre.  Sing to him a new song; play skillfully, and shout for joy.”

Father, these kids of ours sure have that skillful play thing down cold.  Thanks for that window into your kind of joy.  Amen.

February 1 – “She’s in there again”

We had a home visit yesterday from a nurse representing the Meridian.  That is one of the places here on the island that provides resident living facilities for senior citizens.  They were checking to see if Mom would benefit from any of the services they provide.  We do want to do whatever is best for her.  The whole thing didn’t start out on a very good foot, to be honest.  They office called about 1:00 to arrange for an appointment and asked if someone could come by that day around 2:00.  I checked with Chris and then asked a few more specific questions about what they would be doing and about how long would it take.  We had to pick up Cailyn from school at 3:00.  She said she would have to check with the nurse who would do the actual visit and promised to call me right back.  Well, that never happened.  No return call at all.  But right at 2:00 the nurse drove up anyway.  Just didn’t seem like a very professional things to do.

But we got past that and they did the interview.  I say “they” because she brought along someone who works at the Meridian “because she was bored.”  Interesting comment.  The questions were pretty much what I expected.  They call it the BIM questions (whatever that stands for), and the questions haven’t changed much since Dad thought they were the dumbest things he ever heard.  What day is it?  What month is it? What year is it?  Now that particular question brought a funny moment.  Mom said she had no idea what year it was, and the nurse replied, “That’s OK.  It’s 2013.”  Her “bored” accomplice quickly corrected her with a not-so-quiet attempt at a furtive whisper, “It’s 2014.”  I just about guffawed out loud.  We finally got to ask some of the specific questions we had, and she did the same to us.  As a result it became obvious right away that they didn’t have the kind of facility that Mom would do well in.  They have totally independent living, which she cannot handle.  She has to have someone with her 24 hours a day.  They do have a rehab facility which is not a permanent place.  And then they have what amounts to a bedridden ward.  The nurse said that is absolutely not what Mom needs either.  She needs a place where someone can administer her medications, and help her to the bathroom, and fix her meals.  But she also needs the stimulation of social interaction and activities.  So she falls into the middle category of services that they do offer.  She did recommend a place in League City called “The Cottages.”  So I guess for the foreseeable future we will continue with what we have been doing.  Chris is a fabulous full-care nurse, of course.  Nathan and April are good about coming over to help.  And we do have Jennifer to come in and stay here on those occasions when we need to leave town. 

I have to add one more thing here.  I mentioned that we picked up Cailyn, and she stayed with us for a few hours.  She was on the floor working very hard at drawing pictures and cutting them out.  Every so often Mom would make a comment about a drawing or ask what something was.  Cailyn was pretty patient with her.  But at one point Cailyn turned to me and said, “I wish MeeMaw was not here sometimes.  I wish she would go away.”  I tried to keep it simple and just asked “Why?”  Her reply was classic.  As she pointed to her temples, she said, “She just keeps getting inside my head.”  Well, OK, then.  I think I understand that.  I assured her that everything was fine, and that her head had plenty of room in there.  Then a few minutes later Mom spoke up again.  Cailyn turned and looked at me with one of her sly grins on her face and said, “See?  She’s in there again.” 

Philippians 4:8-9 says, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable — if anything is excellent or praiseworthy — think about such things.  Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me — put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

Father, thank you for those special people in our lives who “keep getting inside our head.”  Help me to add to those thoughts memories that fit the qualities in those verses.  Amen.