September 22 – “Unlucky Luke”

Ah, flashbacks.  Memories.  Tiny, seemingly insignificant occurrences that trigger a return to “the good old days.”  Or maybe in some cases, the “not so good old days.”  I had one of those this morning when I took Cailyn to school.

She was in a great mood the whole time we had her.  Ate breakfast with a chuckle.  Got dressed by herself.  Brushed her teeth by herself.  Even brushed her hair by herself.  Amazingly pleasant morning.  We chatted amiably on the drive over to the school.  And when we arrived she took my hand instead of the other way around.  And so we began the walk up to the front door.  Her the cute little five year old and me the very proud and doting grandfather.

As we crossed the street and reached the final walkway, though, she happened to notice the three people walking behind us.  Another old dude like me was holding a hand of each of two little girls who looked astonishingly alike.   Cailyn called them by name, so I asked if they were in her class. 

“No, DadDad, that’s the twins.  I think they are in first grade.” 
“Ah, the twins.  So they are older than you?”
“They are with me in cheerleading.” 

And there you have it.  My flashback moment began.  Not that the scenario was exactly the same, mind you.  But the feel of it was there, somewhere in the dark recesses of my memories, struggling to get out.  I had been here before, and the memory, though fuzzy, was, well, not happy. 

Cailyn’s pace slowed markedly.  Her head dropped to her chin so she could more easily sneak a peek at the older and wiser twins.  She didn’t speak to them, or even acknowledge that they were there, but very soon we were almost neck and neck with them.  But by this time we had reached the drop off point.  I gave her a quick kiss, but she did move.  She was staring, but this time not at the twins.  Off to our right, coming from the other side of the school was boy.  All by himself, he shuffled along, obviously not in any hurry.  His bushy blonde hair was quite disheveled.  His eyes scanned only the sidewalk directly in front of him.   His movements were slow … awkward.  And Cailyn seemed fascinated by this young creature.  Finally, a shy grin arose on her face.  She spoke:

“I think I’ll wait and walk in with Luke.”

There it was.  Dumped for a chance at romance.  She waited.  He moved slower.  She waited.  He stopped at the corner to … he didn’t do anything.  He just stopped.  And about that time the twins breezed past, grinning and holding hands with each other.  And they acknowledged Cailyn’s presence.  They actually spoke to her.  And thus began her dilemma.  Join the cheerleaders or continue to wait for the snail man?

Alas, the lure of the perky blonde twins and the brunette cohort who had since joined them proved just too much to resist.  Cailyn skipped happily away with her cheerleader friends, leaving poor rejected Luke in the dust, a choice, I might add, that probably added a few years to his life had Cailyn’s Daddy seen him.  Thankfully, though, he had no idea of what had just happened, which is, sadly, a typical male reaction.  As the new pack of females talked and laughed their way into the building, Unlucky Luke continued his slow shuffle, oblivious to the world around him.  One day, young Luke.  One day you will notice.  You will ache for the beautiful girl to smile, to simply notice that you are there.  And when she does, your heart will flutter.  Your stomach will ache.  And everything within you will desperately want to walk up to her and say “Hi.”  At that point, Young Luke, at that point you will face the decision of a lifetime.  Speak up, or shuffle on?  Consider carefully, my friend, and choose wisely.  Oh, and be careful if you choose Cailyn.  Her Daddy is a firefighter, and he knows a lot of people.  Big people. 

Psalms 9:9-10 says, “The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.  Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.”

Father, walk with all the Young Ones as they discover themselves and relationships.  Amen.

September 21 – “A Viking Funeral”

So I’ve learned a little Icelandic.  As in the language spoken in Iceland, I mean.  And whatever for, you might ask?  Believe it or not, it was for a funeral.  I received a call about two weeks ago from a guy I had never met.  Seems he had been at a funeral I had officiated for a friend of his named Steve.  That was one I remembered right away.  He was the guy with the huge sci-fi paraphernalia collection.  That was also the funeral I ended by flashing the Spock double-fingered victory sign and saying “Live long and prosper.”  The caller had been one of the people who spoke words of encouragement and memory to the family there.  That connection really helped as I talked with him about the sudden death of his son and the prospects of me doing a similar type funeral for him.  The son Troy’s main request as far as his death goes was that he be given a Viking funeral.  No specifics there.  Just Viking.

Troy was also a believer, so preparation for his funeral was instantly a lot easier.  Always is when you know the ultimate outcome of a life.  His Dad had a lot of ideas for how he wanted the ceremony to go.  In fact he planned pretty much the whole thing.  I just enhanced it a bit here and there and added the plan of salvation, of course.  One of the things he wanted me to read was a dialogue between a guy trying to say the Lord’s Prayer and God. I made a phone call to the funeral home and enlisted one of the guys who works there to help me out.  He was the unseen voice of God in the dialogue, answering the comments I made.  It was incredibly effective, too.  Well, once we got past the first phrase.  I began with the first line, “Our Father, ho art in heaven.”  He then answered “What?”  Problem was, the entire audience started praying the prayer out loud, so a lot of them missed his interruption.  It took a second or two for them to realize I hadn’t continued with the prayer and was talking to someone else.  It was the perfect opening, since the story line was about praying rote prayers and not paying attention to what you are saying.  I may use that one again in an appropriate situation at future funerals.  It wouldn’t work in every case, but for some it would be great. 

There were lots of comments and stories at the open share time, and the family was very appreciative of the memories.  Troy’s Dad let everyone know that the family had arranged to have a tiny Viking boat built, and a family friend had offered to take it offshore on his own boat.  The plan was to place Troy’s ashes on it, push it away from the big boat, and set it on fire in true Viking fashion.  After I said the benediction I added one little part as my nod to Troy’s wish for a Viking funeral.  I had learned a bit of Icelandic, which I found out was the closest existing language to what the Vikings might have spoken.  My phrase was, “leeva lingee ogsh dafena.”  Roughly translated it means, “Live long and prosper.”  When I read the translation, Troy’s wife laughed out loud and said, “Did you hear that?  Steve’s even here.”  Friendships that transcend death?  Certainly possible in Jesus.

Psalms 146:5-6 says, “Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God, the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them — the Lord, who remains faithful forever.”

Father, be with Troy’s family over the next few weeks as they adjust to a different kind of life.  Thank you for Troy’s faith in you that spoke so highly to each of them.  Amen.

September 20 – “Picture Day”

It was our responsibility to get Cailyn to school yesterday.  Not that unusual a task, I know.  But this time there was a heightened sense of accountability.  Just a little more than usual pressure to make sure the morning went well and the drive to school was without incident.  Why?  Picture Day. 

When she arrived her hair had already been meticulously curled and swirled or whatever it is they do to it.  It looked very nice.  She assured her Daddy that she had already brushed her teeth.  All she had to do was change clothes and look beautiful and the school picture was sure to be a masterpiece.  Piece of cake, right?  Of course.  Except for one tiny detail.  It was pouring down rain at the time, with no real prospects of it stopping any time soon.  Not to mention the other insignificant little details of her hour or so with us before time to leave.  You know, simple things like eating breakfast.  Of course her food of choice here is always that breakfast of champions … frozen waffles with lots of syrup.  We used to pull her long hair back into a pony tail to keep it from finding its way into the syrup.  We have been informed of late, however, that she is a big girl now, and we just have to trust her to keep her hair out of her syrup.  Sigh.  To her credit, though, she is pretty careful.  No problems this time.  The actual getting dressed part has had its challenges as well on the days that the choice of school uniform has not met with her approval.  This day was special, though.  On picture day the kids are allowed to dress to the hilt.  No uniform required.  Of course in the eyes of this old geezer, she absolutely rocks whatever clothes she wears.  She had selected a really pretty dress made out of some blue jeans, I think.  Even had some long pink things that covered up her legs.  Kind of like panty hose with no feet in them.  Oh, and some boots, well, “riding boots” as I was corrected.  They came up to her knees.  About the only mishap was that she couldn’t find any socks.  Not that it was a problem.  I found out later that she doesn’t like to wear socks anyway.  And there were socks in her bag, so it wasn’t a Daddy packaging error.  More of a Cailyn freedom of choice declaration. 

We got her to school on time.  She didn’t even want to carry her own umbrella, choosing instead to walk with me under the big black one.  She looked great when she gave me that final hug and kiss before easing her way next to the identical twins and slipping into the crowd.  Can’t wait to see those pictures.

Psalms 72:5-6 says, “He will endure as long as the sun, as long as the moon, through all generations.   He will be like rain falling on a mown field, like showers watering the earth.”

Father, thank you for the rain and for images of pony tails and baseball bats, Barbies and basketballs, hugs and kisses.  Amen.

September 19 – “Thank you for your service”

We went to a most unique funeral yesterday.  One of Chris’ cousins died while serving on active duty in the army.  There had already been a military ceremony in Germany.  This one was at his home church. This was the final one that culminated in his burial in the family plot near his home.  It was a most unusual hodgepodge of army men in uniform, church people in their Sunday best, masons in aprons, volunteer fire fighters on their old truck, good friends in their finest blue jeans, and the Patriot Guard on their motorcycles.  All there to honor the memory of Chris’ cousin Tony Auld.

After a mini-sermon from the pastor to introduce the proceedings, a power point of pictures ran to the accompaniment of five different patriotic songs. The pastor then opened the floor to comments from the crowd.  Only one lady stood to speak, but the pastor quickly introduced what turned out to be a stand-up comedian army buddy of Tony’s.  In what was truly the most peculiar part of the service, he told several really funny stories about his exploits with Tony, all laced with what one would consider the “minor” curse words.  The pastor was doing his best to remain engaged in what was going on, but it was obvious that the language really threw him for a loop.  Then, when the guy made use of that most dreaded of all socially unacceptable words, even the most coarse among the crowd were taken aback.  Not something you would expect to hear in church, that’s for sure.  The shock must have shown, too, because almost immediately he back-tracked and apologized.  The stories, though, revealed a real bond between the guy and Tony.  He really must have loved him.   And they did bring some good memories for the family as they nodded knowingly at the exploits, murmuring, “Yep.  That’s Tony.”

The pastor then followed with a sermon about the army of God and the Israelite army.  The story was about the time the Israelites had been fighting all day and some of them had to stay behind at the river to rest while the rest of the troops finished off the battle.  He made the point that “Tony is now resting at the River in the hands of God.”  A bagpipe rendition of Amazing Grace followed, before the military pall bearers moved in with their precision moves.  One guy almost jumped the gun on one of the turns, but he caught himself and joined the others. 

In the parking lot, a sheriff department escort joined the honor guard for the trip to the cemetery.  At the graveside, the rain really began to fall, so people were crowding under the awning as well as the umbrellas of those who had thought ahead.  The military was first in their honor segment, firing off a 21 gun salute and playing taps.  Quite a powerful display that never grows old every time I have seen it.  The flag folding and presentation was handled with precision and grace, although one of the young men was in tears when he walked away.  Then came an array of presentations that we could barely keep up with.  A lady made the first one, and because of the loudness of the rain pelting down on the umbrellas, we never did hear what she was saying.  Next the volunteer fire department of Boling, Texas, of which Tony had been a member, presented his wife with a flag of the department in a flag case.  Very nice touch that I hadn’t seen before.  I’ll have to find out if the Galveston department has a flag, and perhaps include that as a part of what we do as well.  The Patriot Guard made a presentation as well, and the masons then led their portion of the ceremony.  They turned it over to the pastor for a benediction.  He read the 23^rd Psalm, allowing King David to close the ceremony.  In spite of the potpourri of tributes, the ceremony turned out well.  Tony certainly received the honor due one who so effectively served his country and represented his family.

The rain continued, and one of the soldiers escorted us to our car, handing us an umbrella on the way.  Chris tried to get him to join us underneath as it was plenty big enough.  He informed us, however, that it was against regulations for him to stand under an umbrella in uniform.  Wow.  I had never heard that one either.  Pretty impressive.  Once again, I am proud to have had the honor of just being present when a soldier was honored.  “Thank you for your service” always seems so inadequate when you consider the sacrifices made and dangers faced. 

1 Samuel 30:24 – “Who will listen to what you say? The share of the man who stayed with the supplies is to be the same as that of him who went down to the battle. All will share alike.”

Father, walk with Kasie and Karen and all of Tony’s family as they work through their grief.  Amen.

September 18 – “It’s a symbol”

I did get the results of the CT scan and x-rays the other day.  The scan showed that there was indeed some gray matter inside my head, contrary to popular opinion.  And it appeared not to have been significantly damaged.  The x-rays on my shoulder revealed cyst in the joint as well as some arthritis (like I didn’t know about arthritis already).  It is exactly the same problem I had in the other shoulder several years ago that eventually required surgery to remove the cyst and file down one of the bones.  My doctor now, though, has to follow proper procedure, of course.  That means the first step is high levels of anti-inflammatory drugs.  I’m already taking them for the rheumatoid arthritis.  Stage two is a steroid shot in the shoulder.  I remember that not helping with the other one, but I understand his predicament with the insurance coverage.  Surgery is the final stage.  We’ll see how all that pans out.

When Cailyn was over the other day she got very excited when she saw a little American flag that we had around the house for some reason.  She brought it over to me and quite properly explained, “DadDad, this right here is a symbol.”  Now I have always been fascinated by the world of symbols.  I have even taught a class on symbols within Christianity.  Here’s the interchange that followed:

Me: “A symbol?  I thought it was a flag.”
Cailyn: “Oh, DadDad.  A flag is a symbol.”
Me: “Well, what is a symbol?”(I know, I fully expected her to say “a flag,” but she didn’t).
Cailyn (Proudly holding the flag up to her chest):“A symbol means this is what I am.”
Me (firmly resisting the urge to say something like “Oh, so you’re a flag”): “Oh, so you’re an American?”
Cailyn: “Yes, DadDad.  And so are you.  And every place has one of these.”
Me (Someone has been listening in school): “That’s right.  Every country has a flag symbol.  And some people also call us Texans, right?”

By this time I had googled “Texas” to show her the Texas flag.  As we scrolled through the images, one in particular caught her eye.  It was, indeed, the flag of the Texans.  Complete with a star and red, white and blue, and a cow’s head.  The Houston Texans.  Football team. 

Cailyn: “That’s the Texan flag, right, DadDad?”
Me (sighing): “That’s right.  If you’re a football player.
I did point out the real Texas flag.  She looked at me like I was a dinosaur, shook her head a few times, and condescendingly noted, “That’s right, DadDad.  Good job.”

We then switched over to a google of the term “symbol” to see what others she could pick out.  She had no trouble at all with “Recycle.”  The little letter c with a circle around it was intriguing.  Have you ever tried to explain copyright law to a five year old?  She knew the cross was “Jesus died on the cross for us.”  She thought it was kind of funny that the fish was all about Jesus as well.  The caduceus (the snake crawling up the cross that is the symbol of the medical profession) got her excited.  “That one means they sell scrubs, right?”  She knew a few others: bathroom, smiley face, up, down.  The ones she didn’t know but was very interested in were fascinating as well: the symbols for male and female (she thought they were hilarious), the dollar sign (hey, I’m confident she would have known credit card), the skull and crossbones poison symbol (“that just means pirates”), and the Rx symbol for prescription drugs (“but it’s just an r and an x”). 

It was an eye-opening and incredibly fun few minutes.  I recommend it highly as an experience for any youngster and adult.  The adult just might learn something.

Psalms 145:7 says, “Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations.  The Lord is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made.”

Father, thank you for connections … with Cailyn and our grandkids … with our :big  kids” … with you.  Amen.

September 17 – “One for the books”

We had a few rookies in our water therapy class yesterday.  Glad they came when our regular teacher was in charge so they could experience a typical day without the trials and wackiness of our substitutes.  We actually had two other newbies, but they thought the class started at 8:30.  That’s when it ends.  And as it turned out, I actually knew those last two.  They were sisters who grew up in the house I now live in.  They were both older than me when we lived across the street from each other, so I suppose I was more of a pain in the neck to them than anything back then.  We have connected several times since then, though, so they see me in a slightly better light now.  At least I hope they do.  Chris starts in the class the first Tuesday in October.  It will be great to have her there so she can experience first-hand what I’ve been telling her about the last year or so I have been doing this. 

We are block captains for our Neighbors Night Out, but that’s not until next month.  All we have to do is put a flier on everyone’s door and let them bring their $5 to us to help buy the hot dogs.  We were going to wait until at least next week to hand out our fliers.  If we do it now people will tend to forget about it.  Of course someone came to our door yesterday with their money in hand to turn in.  Guess we are already behind. 

I spent some time working on the funeral I am officiating this weekend.  The father of the deceased has been calling with ideas of what he would like to see, and yesterday he even emailed me an order of service.  If I wait long enough he’ll have the whole thing done.  Actually, he was very gracious, and said whatever I want to do will be fine.  I think he is doing all this as part of his grieving process.  It is going to be quite a chore, though, to put what he really wants to have happen together with what really needs to happen and come out with a unified expression of honor and consolation.  The really good thing, though, is that he wants it to be light-hearted and fun and heavy on the celebration side of things.  In fact he even had a little dramatic comedy skit he wanted me to work in somehow.  Light-hearted.  Fun.  Heavy on the celebration.  Comedy.  I think I can do this one.  Promises to be one for the books, to be sure.

Psalms 145:3-7 says, “Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom.  One generation will commend your works to another; they will tell of your mighty acts.  They will speak of the glorious splendor of your majesty, and I will meditate on your wonderful works.  They will tell of the power of your awesome works, and I will proclaim your great deeds.  They will celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness.”

Father, thank you for giving us plenty of reason to celebrate, even in sad times.  Amen.

September 16 – “Research”

So … yesterday …

It started out with a doctor’s appointment in the morning.  Well, it wasn’t actually a doctor’s appointment.  I had to go to UTMB for a CT scan of my head to see if there was anything there.  After winding through the maze of the clinic building I was directed to lie down on the table.  Now I have done a boatload of MRI’s over the years, with all my neck surgeries, so I closed my eyes and settled in for the long haul.  And in about three minutes, maybe less, my escort was again standing by my side.  I figured something was wrong with the way I held my head, or maybe I hadn’t been still enough, but no.  The test was over.  What?  Then why do the MRI’s take so long?  I didn’t even have time to get in a decent nap.

From there we headed to a different door in the maze for an x-ray of my shoulder.  Actually that turned out to be five x-rays of my shoulder in five different odd configurations.  She asked me after explaining each position if it was painful.  Actually, the position was not painful, but the transition into it was.  I guess that all went well, too.  It sure seemed fast to me.  In fact, we arrived at the clinic building at 9 a.m.  We were getting into the car to come home at 9:40.  That’s hard to believe about any hospital, much less UTMB.  Something must be going right out there.

I spent most of the rest of the day working on church stuff.  Late in the afternoon I did go to the beach for about an hour.  Call it research for the baptism coming up on Sunday.  I sure didn’t catch any fish.  Way too rough.  Too windy too.  So, yes, that’s it.  Research.

Psalms 138:8 says, “The Lord will fulfill [his purpose] for me; your love, O Lord, endures forever — do not abandon the works of your hands.”

Father, thank you for those modern day miracles we see every day at hospitals.  Now give them some wisdom to interpret what those tests show.  Amen.