Olden Times and Ancient Rhymes

during this busy time of year, it's easy to get caught up in the tasks that we feel must be done.  the decorating, the cooking, the gift-buying and wrapping, and the preparations for christmas guests can consume us so that we don't take the time to appreciate the season's magical qualities.  i hear people saying in voices filled with frustration that they don't know how they'll ever get everything done.

 i must admit to feeling a little of this pre-christmas anxiety.  i haven't wrapped any of the presents i'm giving my wife, and i'm not sure when i'm going to take care of that chore.  my wife and i spent some time yesterday figuring out when to cook each dish we need to have ready for our guests when they come next weekend.  we want to have as much as possible done in advance so that we can spend time with them rather than in the kitchen.  we hope our prior planning will make life easier for us and give us a more relaxing christmas weekend.  

 

perhaps this is a part of being mindful:  to stop and think through how to accomplish what is needed, thus developing a plan to help us avoid a last minute panic.  i can remember years when christmas arrived and i was too exhausted with preparing for it that i couldn't enjoy it.  when i talked with my sister on the phone yesterday, she reminded me of how tired our mother often was at christmas because of all the work she had to do leading up to it.  as the rest of the family celebrated together, she was busy in the kitchen.  when she finally was able to sit down, she had no energy left to enjoy what should have been a festive season for her as well.

 

may we remember to take time for reflection.  may we see what the purpose of all the preparation is rather than being so caught up in the process.  may we simplify our lives when we can and think of ways to give ourselves time to just be in the moment.  may busyness not become a goal itself.  may we enjoy all that this season offers us.  shalom.

 

Up a Lazy River

my wife was raised in a household where the prevailing philosophy was "idle hands are the devil's workshop."  she and her siblings were taught that they must always be busy at some task, except when they were eating or sleeping.  their father was a stern man who worked from home, so the children never had a minute at home when he was not supervising them.  their mother worked in a sweatshop making coats eight hours a day and then returned home to clean and cook.  none of the family ever had a minute to spare.  if one of the children completed an assigned job, that child was given another assignment, even if a needless job had to be invented.

their father, who operated a car repair shop attached to the home, might empty a coffee can full of different sizes of washers and order one of the children to sort them by size.  he might send a child in search of a certain tool, all the while knowing that it was in the pocket of his coveralls.  that child didn't dare stop searching until her father "discovered" the tool in his pocket.  he kept a collection of wrecked cars to scavenge for parts.  as soon as they could see over the dashboard, the children had to drive these vehicles out into a field beside his garage every morning.  every evening they had to be driven back from the field into the parking area in front of the garage.  there was no reason for this shifting of the old wrecks, except that it gave the children practice at driving and created a job for them.

as can be imagined, this constant insistence on work carried over into the children's adult lives.  my wife and her siblings can't sit and relax without feeling guilty.  they are constantly finding reasons to be up and "doing something useful."  my wife will tell me that the next day she's going to take some time just to unwind, but when the next day comes, she begins it with a recitation of jobs that she intends to accomplish.  by the time all her list is completed or she gives some of them up in exhaustion, the unwinding time is gone.  over the years, she has come to realize that there is more to life than constantly working at something.  she can now sit down and visit with guests, even though there may be jobs that need doing.  she can sit down in the evenings after the kitchen is cleaned and watch television or play on her ipad.  a few years ago, such time spent relaxing would not have been possible for her.

we visited one of her sisters over thanksgiving and watched as she worked all the time we were there.  she couldn't sit through a meal without getting up several times to fetch something that was needed or to wait on one of the others who were gathered around the table.  another of her sisters is the same.  i don't believe either of them has ever completed a meal undisturbed.  my wife often tells her sisters that there is more to life than work, and she tries her best to take time to stop and enjoy her life without feeling compelled to "be busy."  while my wife works far too much, i'm glad she has been able to slow down a bit and take time for herself.  i've learned that she can let go of some of her work if i work along with her, helping her finish her to-do list more quickly. 

may we each let go of the compulsion to constantly keep busy.  may we allow ourselves the freedom to just be still.  may we learn to appreciate the sweetness of doing nothing.  shalom. 

I Am Coming Home to Me

on the sunday before thanksgiving, the minister who preached in the service for which i played spoke of jesus' need for self-care.  he told of how jesus would withdraw from the world to go off by himself to a place of quiet to renew himself.  i thought of how each of us needs to learn from the example of people like jesus and the buddha.  these great teachers were filled with compassion for others, but they also knew how to have compassion for themselves.  they recognized that they needed quiet time for themselves in order to be able to meet the needs of others.

over the past several years, i've learned that i need this time each morning to focus on myself and prepare for the day ahead.  i won't be kind to others if i'm not first kind to myself.  no matter how busy the day ahead is, my time of meditation and quiet is essential if i am to accomplish what needs to be done.  it is not time wasted but rather time that is essential to my mental and emotional well-being.  i believe that this contemplative practice is something each of us should find time for.  we need to let our minds be free, to still the busy chatter that fills our consciousness, and simply be still with our breath.

from this stillness of mind arises the capacity for lovingkindness, compassion, tolerance, empathy, and forgiveness.  if we can't have these qualities for ourselves, how can we have them for others?  there is so little quiet in modern life, what with the noise of the media and traffic, the tyranny of the clock ticking, the endless list of what needs to be done, and the chatter of our minds.  it is imperative that we begin and end our days with some silent time during which our minds are at ease and our bodies are still.

 

may we find the "me" time that we all need.  may we remember that our minds are not who we are.  may we carry the sense of stillness into each day and slow down while the world whirls around us.  shalom.

For All - Not Just for Some

when i awakened this morning and went into the great room of our home, i looked at the beautiful christmas lights and decorations that surrounded me, and i thought of a relative of my wife's who finds no joy in christmas or any other time of the year.  i knew then that i wanted to write about my feelings toward her and how to change myself to see her differently.

this woman (i'll call her "j") is filled with bitterness and anger.  she finds it impossible to get along with anyone, including her husband and daughter.   j is suspicious of all who show her kindness, attributing their good intentions to a desire to take advantage of her in some way.  everywhere she has lived, she has made enemies of her neighbors.  my wife used to call j to try and keep up some sort of relationship with her, but every call turned into a disagreement, and j frequently ended the call abruptly and hung up.  finally my wife decided that trying to maintain the relationship was not worth the pain it caused.

just a couple of weeks ago, we discovered through another relative (j's sister"k") that j has moved with her husband, who is quite ill and over ninety years old, to the pacific northwest where j's daughter and grandchildren had moved.  k had called to check on j and asked j the name of the suburban town to which she was moving.  j claimed she couldn't recall the name of the town, much less her new address.  k had to contact j's daughter to find out the information and share it with the rest of the family.

my wife decided that she would not initiate any contact with j, but leave it to her to contact us, since it appears that j doesn't want other family members to know what is going on in her life.  my wife was deeply hurt that this relative would make such a move and fail to inform the family of her contact information.  

as i sit here, i think of how sad j's life must be.  she hates her husband, has a strained relationship with her daughter, and finds reasons to alienate her neighbors wherever she lives.  she believes that everyone is out to get her, that all who are kind to her are only trying to take advantage of her in some way.  i'm trying to open my heart to her and to imagine her as a small, mistreated child.  in the family, we know that her father was physically and emotionally abusive to her and her siblings and that her childhood was a misery.  we know that her first husband, though not physically abusive, was self-centered and controlling, offering her almost no emotional support.  as i think about that relationship, i try to imagine how awful life must have been for her, having gone from an abusive father to a husband that was little better.

i can't walk in her shoes, but i can try to picture her as a frightened child and unloved wife.  every male figure in her life injured her.  her present husband holds her captive by his illness, and she is now little more than his servant and care-giver.  she has been forced to give up the things she loves to do to care for him.  she had an outlet through the music program in her church, where she sang in the choir, played in the church orchestra, and had begun violin lessons.  his illness ended all that.  now she is more bitter and angry than ever.  i can do little to help her, but i can try to understand how she has come to be the person she is and have compassion for her.

may she see the harm she does herself and others.  may we see how easy it would be to become like her if we had experienced the pain she has suffered.  may we realize that there are many who are suffering just as j is and help them in any way we can.  may we love without condition and, at the same time, may we accept that we can't solve another's problems for them.  shalom.

We Struggle to Be Human and Search

the older i get, the less certain i am that i have the answers to many of life's most important questions.  when i was younger, i was convinced of who God is and of my place in the world.  i believed everything i had been taught about religion and its role in my life.  now, it seems more salient to question than to rely on beliefs i inherited from others.  my sense is that there is truth in many schools of thought and that there is more than one way to access the divine.

those who claim to have the answers repel me.  when someone says that God has spoken to them, i am suspicious.  such assertions suggest that, since someone has received a message from God, that person's beliefs must be beyond question.  if we doubt them, we're refusing "God's message" and messenger.  i am no longer convinced that God has a plan for every individual or group.  i don't belive in "divine missions."  i don't believe that this country or any country is favored by God.

as i watch what is happening in israel/palestine, i am reminded of the biblical story of the people of israel.  i think of their dramatic escape from slavery in egypt, their arduous journey to the "promised land."  i recall the mass murders they committed, supposedly on orders from God, as they conquered the inhabitants of what became israel.  that ancient battle, which likely is not entirely factual, continues in this small parcel of land, and my heart breaks for all the suffering that both israelis and palestinians continue to endure.  why must an enmity that dates back thousands of years continue?  why can't palestinians and jews live together peaceably in this land?  if the continued blood-letting is ordained by God, what sort of God must we worship!

we do great harm to ourselves and others in the name of religion and claim that God has given us the answers.  those who disagree must be wrong, since they are not accepting what we are convinced is what God has ordained.  we use religion as an excuse to force our own will on others, when in reality it is control over others that we seek.  claiming God's blessing on our oppression of others is a convenient excuse for our destructive behavior.

may we be persistent in questioning the teachings that have been passed down to us.  may we never accept something as truth without investigation.  may we admit our own folly rather than using religion as a cover for our failings.  may we be tolerant of the viewpoints of others, realizing that no one has a monopoly on truth.  may love be more important than control.  shalom.

A Time to Be Born, A Time to Die

each time i write a blog post i end it with the english rendering, "shalom," of a hebrew word.  this word has so many meanings and encompasses much of what we humans work toward and need.  shalom is that which we seek and only find when we realize that we cannot control anything beyond ourselves.  shalom is peace.  shalom is unity.  shalom is wholeness.  shalom is oneness with the universe.  shalom is the interconnectedness of everything that is.  shalom is hello.  shalom is goodbye.  shalom is wellness.

how do we find the wholeness, the unity, the "oneness," the health that is included in these six letters?  this is the quest on which many of us find ourselves.  perhaps shalom comes when we let go of the self that clings and craves.  this monumental task may take a lifetime.  as i look around me, i see a room filled with beautiful things collected over many years.  i ask myself how important are these things to me.  they represent so much of my history, and it will be difficult to let them go when the time comes.  

our lives are filled with the desire to cling to the things we hold dear.  we don't want to think of the time when those we love will be gone, or when we ourselves will end this present life, or when we must surrender much of what we have accumulated because we can no longer care for it.  but these things are not who or what we are.  they are a part of us and we are one with them, just as the memories that they evoke are a part of us.

the same is true of what we call the "self."  it is not who or what we are.  shalom means sensing that all-that-is is part of the wholeness of being.  everything is connected, and each of the parts of "everything" is necessary to the whole without being that whole itself.  i am my own mother, my father, my sister, my brother, my friend, just as each person we meet and each person we hold dear is all of those things.  we are one, and yet "i" am not one, but a part of "one."

to achieve shalom, i must learn to be at one with all that is.  the more i realize that the whole is more than the sum of its parts, the more i live in shalom, in wholeness.  so this day i wish "shalom" to each one of us who is a part of the whole.  may we each see how we are connected.  may we sense the vibrations of the seeming inanimate objects that we encounter as part of the connection that unifies the whole.  may we see that our memories are shared memories of all that is, all that has gone before, and all that will be.  may we accept the continuity of life that flows from the past and into the future and know that we are a part of that continuum.  shalom.

That Made Us Mellow

this week's post has been unusually difficult for me, so I'm taking a little extra time before i post it.  in the meantime, may i wish each of you shalom. may you be filled with lovingkindness, compassion, health, and peace.

The Corners of My Mind

each time i pick up our local newspaper, one of the things i skim through is the obituary page.  i seldom know those whose deaths are recorded there, but i note the ages of each person when they died.  i am reminded of how near to their ages i am and how grateful i should be to be alive and to be healthy.  i am also reminded that death can come at any moment, regardless of age or seeming health.  each day is a gift that we cannot earn, no matter how well we take care of ourselves.  each of us should be grateful for that gift and vow to make the most of it.

i am close friends with a couple whose lives have been long, happy, and fruitful.  one member of this pair is 88, and the other is 92.  it is fascinating to hear them recount their experiences from their youth to the present.  i am amazed at their youthfulness, despite their advanced ages.  though they are almost twenty years older than i am, they seem as full of life and as healthy as my wife and i.  they take care of a large home with a full, finished basement, as well as a huge yard that fills at least an acre, with many trees, flower beds, and fences to trim around.  their yard is full of plantings that are well-maintained, and their home is always spotless.  part of their good health is the necessity of taking care of their home and yard, which includes frequent trips up and down the stairs from level of their home to the other.

last night, my wife and i watched a movie about a woman who was forced her to give up the home in which she and her husband had raised their two children because she was no longer able to care for it.  her home was filled with happy memories.  everywhere she looked, she was reminded of her husband who had died several years before and of family celebrations that had been high points in her life.  she fought mightily to stay in her home, but a series of events convinced her that she could no longer remain there.  after trying to live with her daughter and her daughter's family, she realized that the best choice for her was to move to a retirement home where she could make new friends and have assistance with the daily necessities of life.  the inspiring point of the movie was seeing her embrace the opportunity to move on to the next stage of her life, as she saw that she could no longer live the life her younger self had loved.

may we each acknowledge that life is a series of changes to which we must adapt.  may we accept the aging of our bodies and work to keep ourselves as healthy as we can.  may we keep our minds active and engaged as we grow older.  may we impart what wisdom we can to those who follow us.  shalom.

To Ever Be Sincere and True

we have returned from our trip, and i'm glad to begin writing again.  while it was nice to have a break, i missed creating a little post for each week.  my thoughts lately have been about what goes on in my mind and comes out of my mouth regarding other people.  it's easy to be critical but hard to think only of the good in others.  i suppose most of us see others' faults but we are not inclined to look for their virtues.  it has been my intention for the past several days to "think kindly of others, and not to become angry or think badly of others."  this is a phrase i have repeated to myself every morning for many months, but recently i have been trying to live out this intention more mindfully.

i tell myself that, when i fail in my intention, i can forgive myself and renew my resolve.  the mind has a natural bent toward seeing what is bad rather than looking for the good.  our psyches are programmed in this way, and it takes much reprogramming to turn from this natural impulse.  buddhism teaches that we can train our minds, and it is my hope that by making it a special intention each day that i can learn to see the good in others and refrain from criticising the bad.

we cannot discern why others act and think in certain ways.  we don't often have detailed knowledge of their past, of their upbringing, of the factors that made them as they are.  what we see as faults in others may be misunderstood.  a person who is brusque and seems rude may not be so intentionally.  when we get to know such a person quite well, we often find that what we perceive as rudeness is something very different.  they may have been forbidden from speaking openly and honestly as children and forced to hide their natural exuberance in a "children should be seen and not heard" sort of household, so their speech patterns are short and to the point, while underneath their manner of addressing others is a tender heart.  ours is not to judge but to accept, to look beyond what seems to be and to try and discern the underlying truth.

may we look kindly on others, even when it seems difficult.  may we not dwell on their faults, but seek out their virtues.  may we be accepting, even when it is easier to reject.  may we not build ourselves up by tearing down others.  may we love without condition.  shalom.

Out in the Highways and Byways of Life

i am traveling with my wife for the next two weeks, so i will not be posting to my blog.  during this time, may you be filled with happiness, peace, health, lovingkindness, and compassion.  shalom.

They Have Their Exits and Their Entrances

last night my wife and i went with four relatives to see a play based on a biblical story.  i had seen another production by this presenter several years ago, so i knew something of what to expect.  what i saw confirmed my opinion of this company's approach to retelling a tale from the bible.  the production values were of the highest quality, with gorgeous sets and inventive use of mechanics to transform the stage for each scene.  when the action moved inside a building, the walls of the building unfolded so that the interior was revealed and returned to their original orientation when the scene moved back outside.  sets rose from beneath and above the stage smoothly and silently.   actors disappeared from the center of the stage, only to reappear in one of the center aisles to move back toward the stage as if by magic, as the set onstage changed.

the costumes were gorgeous.  characters who were members of the ruling nobility wore robes and crowns that sparkled.  others who were common people were dressed in garments of many different colors, each costume reflecting the status and personality of the character.  live animals adorned in brilliant trappings appeared from time to time when the story called for their presence.  the result was an amazing presentation with great attention to detail, and the audience often gasped at the beauty of both the sets and costumes.

these production values were enough to justify the somewhat costly ticket charge, so i was glad i had gone.  the quality of the acting, singing, and script was disappointing, though.  rather than tell the story in a straightforward way as it was in the bible, the plot was embellished so that it reflected the religious beliefs of the producers.  the actors were overly dramatic, as was the music.  in a heavy-handed manner, the point was made that "God is in control."  every event, no matter how tragic, was a part of "God's purpose."  the characters were mere pawns playing their part to make the outcome what "God intended it to be."  every song reflected the singer's angst about where the plot was taking them, and the underlying orchestral accompaniment, though well-played and orchestrated, contributed to this feeling of uncertainty.

after the play concluded, members of the staff and some of the actors stood in front of the stage, and members of the audience were invited to come forward to "make professions of faith" or to discuss "prayer concerns" with the employees of the theater.  all-in-all, it was too obvious that the story was not intended to stand on its own and allow the audience members to draw their own conclusions.  rather, the play was merely a vehicle intended to lead the observers to embrace a particular religious viewpoint.  i left this heavy-handed propaganda piece with mixed emotions.  i went expecting to leave with this impression but i wanted to see the production values of the costumes and sets, knowing that i would not agree with the attempts to manipulate the audience to adopt a particular set of beliefs.  i expect most of those who attended agreed with the perspective of the play's producers, and those who did not, like me, left unchanged but satisfied with the beauty of the scenery and costumes.

may we not allow ourselves to be persuaded by those who put the value of propaganda over honest storytelling.  may we use our minds to separate fact from opinion.  may we be tolerant of others' beliefs even when they are not our own.  may we look for beauty where we can find it and give credit where it's due.  shalom.

Now for Us in Life

when i opened the insight timer app on my phone this morning to begin my daily meditation, this sentence by eckhart tolle appeared:  "wherever you are, be there totally."  these are six difficult words.  i began to look around our living room where i was sitting and to think about what being in this space totally might mean.  first, i looked all around me, to the right and to the left.  

next my eyes settled on a good-sized round table that sits in front of the large window that looks onto our deck and off to the mountains behind our house.  on this table is a beautiful lamp with a floral pattern on a white background.  the bulb is covered by a graceful shade.  this lamp is switched on and off by a timer, so it is usually on by the time i sit down to meditate each morning.  the lamp is only one of several beautiful objects on the table.  in front of it are three lladro figurines.  one is a young girl holding a kitten with a larger cat at her feet.  the other two are of angelic children, one seated and the other reclining.  all three are perfect representations of innocence and peace.  to the right of the lamp is a display of three pocket watches, one of which belonged to my paternal grandfather and the other to my father.  both are treasures that have great meaning to me.  i don't know how we came to possess the third pocket watch.  to the left of the lamp is a lovely waterford crystal biscuit jar, and in front of the biscuit jar is a small round tray commerating the coronation of queen elizabeth ii that i found in an antique shop in a nearby town.  altogether, these pieces make a lovely display on the table, one i pass every day without really noticing it.

i could go around the round describing all its contents that i pay little attention to each day.  much of our lives are like the experience i'm having as i write this post.  we move through our days and, if you're like me, you are seldom totally present.  our minds are taking us off to recollections of past events or worries about the future.  we drive past beautiful scenery in our cars without noticing what is just outside our windows.  we sit in beautiful rooms and fail to pay attention to all the lovely things that surround us.  we see people in distress as we move through our lives and do nothing to help them.  tolle suggests that we should be totally present wherever we are, and that's an admirable goal to work toward.  it's also a difficult goal.  my intention today and for the next few days, and, if i work at it, for the remainder of my life is to wake up and pay attention.

may we each awaken as fully as we can.  may we not waste the present with regrets about the past or worries about the future.  may we treasure where the past has brought us and plan for the future while paying attention to what is around and in us in the present.    "wherever you are, be there totally."  shalom.

O'er Moor and Fen

this morning my thoughts arising from my meditation turn to the idea of intercessory prayer.  i can't recall an instance where jesus prayed that someone would be made well.  instead, jesus acted to heal the ills of those around him.  i think of the woman who simply touched his clothing and was instantly cured or the centurion whose servant was healed without jesus ever seeing the sick person.  while i don't believe such miraculous cures really happened, the stories of such events in the gospels indicate that jesus taught that human action, rather than superstitious prayers, was the effective means for helping others.

if God really is omniscient and caring, God already knows when we are in need of healing care.  we don't need to ask God to heal us.  we may ask God to give us the knowledge to turn to those who can take action to provide the care we need.  we may ask for strength to endure the necessary treatments or wisdom to seek out the best provider for our care.  we may ask for those who treat our disease to have the skill needed to help us, but i believe it is selfish and wrong to ask God to heal us.  why should God heal us while condemning another to die when that person has uttered the very same prayer?  God is not the cause of our illness any more than God is the cause of our cure.

praying for God to intervene in our lives is not the same as saying, "may i recover from my illness" or "may i find healing with the help of those treating my disease."  this change to "may . . ." from "God, please . . ." recognizes our deep wish for recovery but it does not place the responsibility on God but rather on the person praying and on those caring for that person.  God gave us minds for a reason and that reason is not blind faith or abandoning personal responsibility.  so often i hear a sick person or a member that person's family say, "it's in God's hands now."  no, it is in our hands.  we may say, "may i have the strength and intelligence to endure or to recover," but i believe it is a mistake to ask God to take responsibility for our lives.

may we rely on our own initiative, reason, and abilities to effect change in our lives, rather than insisting that God must be responsible.  may we have a faith that teaches us that God gives us what we need and expects to use what God has given us.  shalom.

Through All the Circling Years

i've been working on remembering to be grateful for all the many blessings i enjoy.  when we reach a certain age, we begin to see that our days on this earth are limited, at least in this present life.  upon awakening, i realize that i've been given a new day and that every moment of this day is precious.  there is no guarantee that i will see another.  as i've begun to realize this, i've become more aware of the many gifts each day brings.

the fact that this body which is aging still functions reasonably well is something to be grateful for.  i have a few aches and pains, but my legs still carry me wherever i want to go.  my back hurts some of the time, but i'm still able to do exercises that help alleviate the pain and strengthen my core muscles that help to support my spine.  i can eat pretty much anything i want without suffering ill consequences from the foods i enjoy.  i think my brain is still about as sharp as it ever was.  all things considered, as i approach my 77th birthday, i am grateful that my body still enables me to do whatever i demand of it.

i have the financial resources to live comfortably, to travel wherever i want to, and to make the home repairs and improvements that are needed.  i live in a lovely home.  i have two dependable vehicles to drive.  many of the world's people do not have such financial security.  while i worked hard for over fifty years to be in this position, there are others who have worked as hard or harder who struggle in their old age to make ends meet.  for the gift of a steady, plentiful income and healthy savings, i am grateful.

i am glad that my financial position affords me the opportunity to share what i have with others.  my wife and i are able to contribute to many worthy causes that make the world better for others.  we give much of what we have to charities that provide clothing and food to those in need.  each time we send money or goods to these charities, i am grateful that we are able to do so.

i can still delight in making music.  i play two or three sundays each month for a local church.  i look forward to each opportunity to play, and the congregation is quick to show its appreciation for the music i share with them.  i will always be grateful to my parents for giving me music lessons as a child and to my beloved teacher who showed me how to appreciate great music.  i am fortunate to have had many wonderful teachers over the years.  i hope that as i make music for others, they will be inspired to value the power of music to enrich all of our lives.

i am grateful for my loving family: for my wife of 55 years, for my two wonderful children and their partners, and to those who have gone before and for their contributions that made me who i am.  we are not isolated individuals who belong solely to ourselves.  we are an amalgam of all those who have played a role in our lives, including many ancestors of whom we know little or nothing.  

may we be grateful for all of life.  may we realize that blessings flow to us, the gifts of so many.  may we see that even our adversities bless our lives, helping us to become stronger and pushing us in directions we might not have chosen but which are nonetheless beneficial to us.  may we take time to count all those things for which we should be grateful and remember the importance of gratitude.  shalom.

 

Let Inward Love Guide Every Deed

a few days ago, my wife and i traveled about 70 miles from our home to tour two homes that had been the dwellings of a famous writer.  both homes are on the same property, so seeing both in one trip was convenient.  we had talked about making this trip ever since we moved here six years ago but had never gotten around to it.  as we drove, my wife told me that she didn't really care to spend the money to tour the homes and would be happy just to see and photograph them from the outside.  i wanted to see the interior of the homes, so she suggested that i go on the tour while she waited outside for me.

when we got to the welcome center and museum where tickets could be purchased, we talked with the young woman at the reception desk about the length and cost of the tours.  we discovered that a museum of artifacts belonging to the writer and her family were part of the tour tickets, as well as a short film about her life.  we went into the gift shop in the welcome center to look around and discuss what we wanted to do.  i told my wife that i would be satisfied just seeing the homes from the outside, while she insisted that i take the tour alone.  i replied that i didn't want to take the tour without her.  to my surprise, she said that we ought to go ahead and buy tour tickets for both of us.  i was struck by her willingness to go with me on the tour, even though i knew she wasn't really interested in the homes' interiors.  as a compromise, i suggested that we only tour the first home and simply take pictures of the outside of the second because it didn't have as deep a connection to the writer as the first home.

that pleased my wife, and we agreed on that plan.  we both enjoyed the tour, the film, and the museum.  the timing worked out perfectly, since we had several errands to run on the way back to our home.  by leaving out the second home tour, we were able to get back home earlier and have a restful evening at home before retiring for the night.  

my wife's desire for me to be able to do what i wanted on this visit to the writer's property made me aware of her deep love for me, as i hope my willingness to give up some of what i wanted touched her.  this is what love for one another is all about: putting the needs and desires of another on an equal footing with our own.  a few years ago, one of us would have insisted to having our own way, while the other would have been angry because they didn't get their own way.  by reaching a compromise, we both got some of what we wanted, and the end result made the day work out perfectly.

may we realize that part of love is not insisting on one's own way.  may we express our needs and desires honestly without demanding that others fulfill them.  may we be willing to give as well as to take.  shalom.

How Blind Can She Be

this morning i was awakened by a dream.  it was troubling, and i couldn't go back to sleep, so i got up and began my morning routine.  in my dream, i was working on a project to benefit another family member.  i was trying to do something unique and special for this loved one.  the project involved a lot of trial-and-error experimentation to get my intention just right.  every time i seemed to be on the right track i would be interrupted by someone who needed my help.  when i set my project aside to help the person who had called for my assistance, another person would come along and thoughtlessly undo what i had accomplished on my project.  i was never able to complete what i wanted to do and was left feeling as if my work was unappreciated and that i was not valued by others.

as i reflected on the feelings i was experiencing in my waking moments, i tried and am still trying to discern the meaning of my dream.  i wonder if my unconcious mind wants me to discover something.  perhaps, the dream was inspired by a conversation between two dear friends that occurred the previous evening as we were playing cards.  in this instance, the husband of the pair was complaining, as he often did, about the pastor of the church they attend.  this pastor often brings his personal political convictions into his sermons, and our male friend disagrees with his pastor's politics in the profoundest way.  our friend's wife became quite agitated as he spoke of his discomfort with their pastor's pronouncements from the pulpit.  while she agreed with her husband regarding their shared political beliefs, she thought her husband should accept their differences with their pastor and try to get what good they could from his sermons and their participation in worship.

i could see both of their viewpoints, but i was left feeling that the husband in the couple was being told that he shouldn't express his frustration with their pastor, that he was wrong to voice his deep distress, and that his wife didn't want to hear him because he was wrong to speak about how he felt.  as i reflected on that conversation and my dream, i wondered, too, if i hadn't suppressed my own opinions and emotions in the name of being thoughtful to others around me.  perhaps my dream was telling me that i needed to be more assertive and forthcoming, rather than constantly giving in to others and trying to please them.  i recalled an evening some days earlier when my wife had said something that hurt me deeply.  rather than telling her how i felt, i became angry and lashed out at her, trying to hurt her as she had hurt me.  she hadn't intended to be hurtful in her remark, and after i allowed anger to arise in me, i realized how i had inflicted the same hurt on her that she had on me.  as i calmed down and realized what i had done, i apologized and promised that i would handle the situation differently if it arose in the future.

her remark had made me feel as if my feelings weren't valued, that i could be spoken to in any way another chose without regard for how another's words hurt me.  i realized then, and my dream may have been reinforcing that realization, that i had a right to let others know when their words or actions were hurtful or offensive.  my feelings are just as important as anyone else's, and i do myself or them no favor by feeling guilty for being hurt and refusing to acknowledge how their words or actions have wounded me.  my obligation is to express my hurt without trying to retaliate, to let the other person know how their behavior has caused me pain.

may we each stand up for ourselves in ways that are non-retaliatory.  may we honor our own feelings rather than suppressing them.  may we not allow our emotions to rule us so that we lash out at others when they have injured us.  may we realize that lovingkindness isn't the same as suppressing our feelings, but rather lovingkindness extends to ourselves as well as others.  shalom. 

I Move in My Own Timing

as i continue to write about those who've gone before me and to honor them in this way, i remember my aunt bess.  she was my maternal grandmother's sister and my favorite of all my grandparents' siblings.  aunt bess was like a third grandmother to me.  she grew up in rural southwest arkansas with my mamaw and her other siblings, the youngest of my great-grandmother's children.  after mamaw and papaw married and moved to magnolia, arkansas, aunt bess joined them there so she could complete high school and go to college.

because of the opportunities that education afforded her, she was interested in art and music in a deeper way than any of her siblings.  none of her brothers or sisters had gone beyond the eighth grade, since that was as far as the rural school they attended would take them.  since aunt bess was able to enroll in the high school and college in magnolia, she was much better educated than most people in those days.  she was more independent and adventurous than women were supposed to be in those days.  when lindbergh returned from his record-setting flight from the united states to france, she traveled by train to st. louis by herself to see him honored by that city, an unheard-of trip for a single woman to make in the society in which she lived.

she insisted that my mother take piano lessons, an opportunity she never had.  she knew that her sister, my mamaw, played by ear and hoped that my mother had inherited that ability.  because my grandparents didn't have the money to pay for lessons and a piano, aunt bess paid for them herself.  by that time she had married and had gotten a job working in a large building supply company in magnolia, so she had more financial security than my grandparents who put everything they had into caring for their four children and keeping their business afloat.

after her first husband died, aunt bess remarried.  as i have written earlier, my great-grandmother lived with aunt bess by that time and couldn't stand my aunt bess's second husband, ben, because he was a "yankee."  her distaste for ben, who died after the birth of his and aunt bess's only child, caused grandma kate to move in with my mamaw and papaw.  aunt bess doted on her daughter, betty sue.  she and my mother were like sisters, and i remember betty sue as a beautiful, vivacious woman with a wonderful sense of humor and a laugh that was like music.  aunt bess gave her piano, voice, and violin lessons, and she became an excellent musician.  i'll have to write more about her later.

aunt bess owned a large home on one of the main streets in magnolia.  she created two apartments in the home, leaving a large suite of rooms consisting of a living/dining room, a large eat-in kitchen, as well as two bedrooms and two bathrooms, for herself.  she had arranged the rooms in her part of the house so that she could subdivide her quarters into a private space for herself while the other side of her area could become a third apartment because there was a small kitchen behind one of the bedrooms.  at times when housing availability was tight, she would consent to letting out half of her living quarters, though she preferred to keep all of her space to herself.

when i became a teenager, i would stay with my aunt bess while attending week-long music workshops for high school students that were held on the local college campus.  aunt bess loved having me stay with her and spoiled me with delicious food.  she talked to me as if i were an adult, and i always felt happy in her presence.  later, when i attended college in magnolia, i often visited with her and attended church with her.  after my wife and i married we lived in a town about thirty minutes from aunt bess, and i continued to be close to her, often stopping by to visit with her when we travled through magnolia.

as she got older, she had difficulty caring for her large home and longed to see more of her daughter and her grandchildren.  betty sue and her family lived in one of the suburbs of phoenix, arizona, so aunt bess decided to sell her home and move to live with betty sue and her husband.  by that time her two grandchildren were grown and living on their own, so there was plenty of room in betty sue's home.  i was heartbroken that aunt bess was moving so far away, but i understood her need to be with her daughter and her daughter's family.  by that time, mamaw had passed away, and aunt bess longed for more companionship, especially since she had given up driving.

i learned many lessons for aunt bess.  she was the exemplar of kindness, always looking for and desiring the best in others.  she was an independent woman in a day when women were supposed to be dependent on their husbands.  she was an astute businesswoman who lived on her own terms but always treasured her family connections.

may we learn from women like aunt bess.  may we refuse to conform to the gender roles society assigns us without becoming hard and callous.  may we remember that business acumen and kindness are both possible.  may we know the value of family.  may we treat others, no matter how young, with respect.  shalom.

They Spell Mother

this morning when i awakened, my mother was on my mind.  she died about twenty years ago, a victim of pancreatic cancer.  she was about my age when she died.  at the time she was stricken with cancer, she was still a vibrant woman.  when she was diagnosed with cancer, we took her to a major teaching hospital where the doctors initially held out some hope that they might be able to surgically remove the cancer.  upon further investigation, they found that the cancer had spread to her liver and told us that surgery was no longer an option.  this meant that her death was inevitable within a few months.  

she remained at home as long as she could, but eventually the pain became too great and she had to be hospitalized.  her doctor in the town where i lived and where she was hospitalized assured us that he could keep her pain-free until the end.  in the last weeks before she died, she was given heavy doses of morphine and was largely unconscious.    my sister, my dad, and i took turns sitting at her bedside, but it was my sister who was with her when she took her last breath.  

one of the things she told my wife and me, while she was still lucid, was that the only regret she had was not seeing so much of the world that she had longed to see.  "go while you can, don't put it off," was her advice to us, advice we have taken, and continue to take, to heart.  at the end, my sister said that she longed for mom to say something to her that would let her know that mom was aware of her presence.  we assured her that mom knew she was there, even though our mom couldn't acknowledge it.  i'm not sure that was true, but we wanted my sister to feel that in mom's last moment it was worthwhile for my sister to be with her.

my mom was my friend and my champion as i grew up.  she always encouraged and believed in me.  she was sometimes exasperated with me because i was not always as kind or as gracious as i should have been.  she tried to teach me to think of the feelings of others.  i think she succeeded in the main but it took many reminders to my younger self before the lesson sunk in.  she expected me to do well in school and was ready to help me whenever i was baffled by something i needed to learn.  she accepted me as i was, never trying to make me into something someone else wanted me to be.  when other boys took up sports or engaged in rough play, i wasn't interested.  i preferred to stay inside and read or play the piano, and she let me be myself, even though others thought she was wrong.  her belief that i should be allowed to find my own way was a lesson that we practiced with our own children, and i think it's the best way for a child to grow up.

when the church in which she had been raised and in which we children grew up took a turn towards extreme conservatism and began to demand a rigid conformity in beliefs and behavior from its members, my mom spoke out strongly against the direction of her denomination.  she agreed with other members of the church and her pastor that, so long as the national leaders of the church continued on their current path, contributions from their local congregation should be withheld from the national body.  when i changed denominations as a result of the church's move to the right, she was encouraging and supported me and my wife.  she had raised me to stand up for what i believed, just as she did.

when the democratic party nominated george mcgovern for president, she reluctantly supported richard nixon, believing that mcgovern was too extreme.  she later told me that was one of her biggest mistakes.  nixon betrayed the trust americans placed in him, and my mom said she would never support anyone who was not a democrat again.  she didn't condemn me when i voiced my support for mcgovern and encouraged me to vote my conscience.

i could always go to my mom when i was uncertain about a decision i had to make.  she was never judgmental, but she led me to decisions that i think were wise ones.  she had a way of simply asking questions that caused me to see things from other perspectives without injecting her own opinions.  her approach made me believe that the decisions i made were my own, because she didn't say, "this is what i think you should do."  i trusted her completely.  when she died, i was bereft, feeling that i had lost a mother, a confidant, a supporter, and the greatest source of strength in my life.  there is a piece of my heart that is missing that only she could fill.

may each of us find people like my mom who are there for us when we need them.  may we honor their memory when they are gone.  may we give them credit for helping us to become our best selves.  may we do whatever we can to be that someone for others.  shalom.

What Makes A Sad Heart Sing

this week i write about my paternal grandfather, papa w.  he and my grandmother, mama w, lived in a large brick three-bedroom home they had built on the main highway leading through town.  it was on a huge lot.  in front of the home were towering hickory trees which produced delicious nuts that we grandchildren loved gathering when they were in season.  they also owned a large pasture behind the house.  in the middle of the pasture was a barn where boxes and boxes of records from papa w's business dealings were kept for reasons known only to him.

papa w's domain in the house was a suite of rooms that included his bedroom, a den with a wall of windows on one side, and a small study.  his den was called "the sunroom" because it was so filled with light.  a door made up almost entirely of small window panes led to the yard.  the floor was covered in linoleum in a pattern that looked like rectangular reddish-brown stones.  in front of the window wall was a small gas heater on which papa w set a small pan of water to humidify the room when the heater was lit during the winter.  opposite the window wall, was a long couch where papa w often napped during the day.  a large radio housed in a dark wood cabinet stood at one end of the couch.  papa w often listened to the bbc on the short wave band of the radio when he was alone in his den.

papa w had severe arthritis.  while he was mobile to the end of his life, his legs ached and his activity was largely limited to walking to the opposite end of the house at meal times and driving to church services in a nearby town on sunday mornings.  i was always perplexed as to why he and mama w slept in separate bedrooms.  their bedrooms adjoined a jack-and-jill bathroom which they shared.  the furniture in his bedroom was made of a dark wood that looked oppressive to me.  i always found his bedroom to be somewhat frightening.  the bed was positioned so that the tall headboard of the bed almost completely covered the only window in the room, so it was always quite dark, in marked contrast to his well lit sunroom.

it was obvious that papa w was a well-respected man in his small town because, when he need a haircut, the barber came to his house rather than him waiting his turn in the barbershop.  in like manner, the president of the local bank came to see him in his den when he had business matters to take care of.  papa w kept a stock of silver dollars in the chest-of-drawers in his bedroom.  when we grandchildren came to visit, he usually gave each of us a silver dollar when it was time to leave.

during the time their children were growing up, papa and mama w led separate lives which may explain why they didn't share a bedroom.  he operated a large sawmill in a town about 150 miles away from their home.  because road conditions were so poor in those days, he stayed in housing at his mill from late sunday afternoon until the following saturday morning each week.  this meant the mama w had all the child-rearing responsibilities, and his children saw little of him.  the mill operated through most of the 1920s and even through the depression.  as the country prepared for world war two, the demand for wood increased, and the mill prospered as never before.  it must have been quite an operation, with worker housing and a company store.  during the depression when cash was scarce, workers were paid in company scrip that could only be spent at the company store.  at one time, i had a wooden coin manufactured for use in that store, but over the years it has disappeared.

because of this arrangement between papa and mama w, their children were all a little distant from papa w.  it was clear that my father and his siblings loved him, but they never seemed comfortable around him.  papa and mama w continued their pattern of living separate lives even after papa w sold his mill and other properties and retired.  she had her domain on one end of the house, while he had his on the other end, and they met only for meals and church attendance.  i think this is one of the reasons mama w and i had such a close relationship.  during most of the year, she was alone in her end of the house, and she delighted in having some company during the weeks i stayed with her during the summer.

like many of his generation, papa w was a racist.  i never heard him speak ill of members of another race, but he and mama w left the church in the town where they lived to become members of a church in the next town that had as one of its principals the belief that the white race was superior to all others and that those of african descent were ordained to be inferior and the servants of others.  i know that mama and papa w both held these beliefs, and it was painful to me to realize as i got older that their religious and political beliefs were so bigoted.

my father seemed to resent attempts by his father to control him.  after he and my mother married, papa w wanted to provide a house for them, but my dad refused, choosing instead to buy a home on his own.  my dad's older brother and papa w were much closer.  it seemed as if my uncle curried favor with papa w, often acting as his driver when papa came home and being his business partner when my uncle was old enough to take part in the family business.  my dad kept his distance and worked for the business but never owned a part of it.  my uncle tried to get dad to go into business with him when my uncle and his family moved to the northern part of the state to operate a large mill up there, but my dad refused.  he wanted to stay in the little town where we had settled and divorce himself completely from reliance on papa w and my uncle.

like my dad, i was never quite sure how to relate to papa w.  he was always kind to me but we were never close.  like many successful men of his time, he viewed child-rearing as "woman's work" and was uncomfortable around young children.  in return, we grandchildren were never comfortable around him.  he didn't talk to us directly, beyond asking how we were when he first greeted us each time we visited.  all his conversation was directed toward the adults present in the room, while we children either went someplace else to play or set silently as the adults conversed.

i suppose papa w did the best he knew how for his family.  he provided well for them and left mama w well off when he died a few years before she did.  i'm sorry that i was unable to have a close relationship with him but i always knew he loved me and all the other members of his family.

may we try to understand those who have gone before us, even when their actions are difficult to fathom.  may we look for the good in them and forgive the bad.  may we remember that all of us wrestle with flaws that we may have difficulty overcoming.  shalom.

A Time For Heart To Care

as i've been doing for the past few weeks, i continue to write about those who've gone before me, to honor my ancestors and learn from them.  this week i write about my father's mother, known to her grandchildren as "mama w."  mama w was my grandfather's second wife, the first having died at a young age.  she raised his son, her stepson, along with my dad and his older brother and sister.  

mama w was a woman of many talents.  she loved photography and took photos of her family and friends throughout her life.  in the days when only black and white photos were possible, she learned to colorize her photos beautifully.  these hand-tinted photos were real works of art in her hands.  she also was adept at needlework, creating beautiful pieces of knitted and crocheted yarn.  i still have the pillow and blanket she made for me in my school colors when i graduated from high school.

she was fortunate that my grandfather was well off, so that she could pursue her hobbies without worrying about their cost.  the downside of that good fortune was that she had to raise her stepson and their own three children with little help from him, because his work kept him away from home six days a week.  she was alone with the children except for a few hours on the weekends.  because of his absence, she developed into a very independent, self-confident woman who managed her household and finances quite well.  

she loved her extended family deeply.  her four sisters and their families lived nearby in the same county where they were all born, and she visited or was visited by them frequently.  her three brothers didn't live close enough to visit often, but they all got together at least a couple of times a year and kept in touch frequently.  when she and my grandfather built a new brick home not far from their first home, two of her sisters moved into their older wood-frame home.  another sister lived in a small house behind the old home.  later in life, after all the children were grown and married with families of their own, the fourth sister and her husband moved their home from out in the country onto a lot mama w owned right behind her own yard, so all four lived only a few steps from one another.

mama w was fascinated by genealogy, having researched her family history back to the time of the american revolution.  she was in possession of the family bible that had been brought by her grandfather and his family when they moved to arkansas before it became a state.  like her, i was interested in family history, which endeared me to her.  when she died, she left a note in the bible that said, "i want j to have this bible."  it still sits on a bookshelf in our study.  one bit of family lore she told me was about my great-great-uncle jim, her mother's brother.  uncle jim had died long before i was born, so what little i know of him comes from mama w.  it seems that uncle jim went to st. louis as young man to study medicine and became a doctor.  he returned home to practice, but early in his career one of his patients died.  he was so distraught about his inability to save this patient that he abandoned his dream of being a doctor in rural arkansas and was a farmer the remainder of his life.

i always spent a week or two in the summer with my paternal grandparents, and mama w and i became great friends.  she took me everywhere she went when i came to visit.  we did the grocery shopping together, visited her firends and family, and attended church services.  she even would take me with her to doctor appointments if they fell during the time i was visiting her.  she talked in a calm, quiet voice, and her calm manner was a great influence on me.  her home was always quiet and peaceful, even when it was many family members were there, a marked contrast to my maternal grandparents' home which was always filled with boisterous conversation and laughter.  i loved both atmospheres, and they combined to make me who i am.

when i was to enter my second year of college, i planned to live with my grandmother and commute the ten miles or so to the next town where my school was located.  in august of that summer, just before my college was to begin the fall semester, mama w suffered a massive stroke.  i remember driving over to visit her in the hospital.  she lay in her hospital bed, unable to speak.  i could tell from her eyes and the expression on her face that she recognized me and was happy to see me.  a few days later, she died.  her children and their spouses were gathered around her bed, but we grandchildren weren't allowed in the room.  i was so sad that i hadn't been able to be with my dear mama w during those last moments of her life and that i was unable to spend that year living in her home and enjoying her company.

may we learn that the differences between those we love don't make one person better than another.  may we accept others as they are and love them for being who they are.  may we honor those who've gone before, remembering what they contributed to making us who we are.  shalom.

Still In Heart and Conscience Free

my papaw, my mother's father, was a giant of a man, or at least he seemed so to me.  he was well over six feet tall with a large, powerful frame.  he had a shock of white hair on his head and a rugged, wrinkled face, full of character.  he dwarfed most other people.  when he spoke, his voice had a tenderness that belied his appearance, though he was a man of few words.

he was a skilled butcher.  when i was a small child, he and my mamaw had a large meat locker in their store, in which huge quarters of beef and pork hung from hooks in its ceiling.  the locker was made of beautiful oak wood.  on its front were small doors with glass in their center where smaller items like dairy products and eggs were kept.  the main door to the locker was heavy with a locking mechanism to keep the cold in.  i was terrified to go into the locker, fearing that i might be trapped in it if the door closed behind me, despite there being a big button with a spring behind it that would open the door from the inside.  as he got older, he reduced the amount of meat that was stored in the locker, and by the time he died from heart failure, he and my mamaw had decided to do away with the locker and end the butcher part of their business.

i remember being in the store one day when a man from out in the country came in and asked papaw if he would be interested in buying some racoons the man had killed to sell in his store.  i was shocked when papaw took him up on the offer.  i couldn't stay around when the beautiful animals were brought in.  papaw prepared the carcasses for sale, skinning them and and carving them up for cooking.  they sold quickly, because several of his customers thought "coon meat" was a delicious delicacy.  i'm sure that it was a violation of the food laws for such wild meat to be sold in this way, but no one was going to report it, so delighted were the people who bought the meat to be able to enjoy this wild game.

papaw was a "new deal" democrat.  he believed that franklin roosevelt was one of the greatest men who had ever lived, second only to jesus.  for as long as i can remember, a framed portrait of fdr hung on my grandparents' living room wall.  for both my grandparents voting a straight democratic party ticket was a religious exercise.  papaw wouldn't brook anyone speaking ill of a democrat officeholder and particularly saying anything bad about president roosevelt or any of his policies.  he also revered eleanor roosevelt, who was the ideal first lady, in his opinion.

neither of my grandparents went to church.  papaw had been raised a methodist, though his ancestors in north carolina were presbyterians.  when his grandfather came with his family to settle in arkansas, there was no presbyterian church in the county where they lived, so the next best thing for them was the methodist church.  succeeding generations of arkansas members of the family remained methodists.  my grandmother's baptist church practiced "closed communion," which meant that anyone who wasn't a baptist was excluded from communion, and my papaw refused to attend a church where he and other members of his family couldn't take communion.  likewise, my mamaw insisted that the only valid baptism was by immersion, and most methodists were baptized as children by "sprinkling."  for that reason, she wouldn't join the methodist church, so after they married, they both stopped attending church.  once that decision was made early in their marriage, religion was not discussed between them, though either was happy to debate on the subject with anyone else.

all through his married life, papaw owned several acres of land somewhere out in the countryside where he would raise cattle.  he always called this little ranch "his farm."  one or two days a week he would leave town and drive out to "the farm" to check on the land and cattle.  i never knew of him killing any of the cattle he raised or butchering one to sell in his store.  instead, he would sell his cattle at auction so someone else would have the job of killing them.  he always bought beef that had already been prepared for butchering from a meat wholesaler.  when i visited, i would sometimes go with him to his farm.  we would spend all day walking the land, ensuring the barn and other structures were in good repair, the fence was intact, and the cattle were alright.  papaw took great delight in these exercises, but i was bored with it all and ready to leave after an hour or so.

papaw was not as important a figure in my young life as mamaw, though i loved him deeply and enjoyed his company.  he was a private man, not given to idle talk.  when a subject interested him, though, he could talk at length with anyone who wanted to engage in conversation about that topic.  he loved mathematics.  his idea of a relaxing evening was to sit alone in his bedroom and study a math textbook, while mamaw and i watched television.  he was determined that his oldest two sons would have the opportunity to study geometry, trigonometry, and calculus and that they would attend the university of arkansas to become engineers after high school.  when the high school in magnolia refused to offer those subjects, he sold his store in magnolia and moved the family to texarkana, where the high school did offer advanced math classes.

like mamaw, he didn't continue his formal education beyond the eighth grade, but he was a brilliant man who could hold his own in debate with anyone.  i admire his determination to see that his children received the best education he and mamaw were able to provide for them and to instill in them a life-long love of learning and the belief that their own children should be well educated.

may we learn from the example of people like my papaw.  may we value learning and realize that not all education comes from books.  may we pass a legacy of respect for knowledge to our children.  may we use whatever skills we have in the service of others.  may we remember that true religion consists of caring for one another.  shalom. 

Missing Your Smile and Your Song

my mother's mother, known by her grandchildren as "mamaw," was a big influence in my life.  she grew up in rural southwest arkansas.  early in her life, her family discovered that she could play the piano by ear, and she became the pianist for the small baptist church that was the center of social life in their community.  her grandfather, the scoundrel her grandmother had left to return home from pine bluff where mamaw's mother was born, is said to have played the violin.  perhaps she inherited her musical ability from him.  

mamaw and my grandfather met when she was teaching school in a little village near where my grandfather worked as a surveyor for a lumber company.  in those days, schools in rural arkansas only went through the eighth grade.  in order to continue education beyond that point, it was necessary to move to a larger town where there was a high school or go a college that supported a high school on its campus.  mamaw's family didn't have the resources for her to do either, and completion of the eighth grade qualified a person to become a teacher, as mamaw did.  teachers were expected to be single women, so when my grandparents married, mamaw had to give up her teaching career.

my grandparents lived in a logging camp deep in the woodlands of southwest arkansas that could only be reached by train.  the lumber company laid tracks, and a train carried in laborers and supplies and carried out the logs that had been harvested.  there is a story that my great-grandmother, grandma kate, made the journey to the railhead to catch the train to visit my mamaw after my mother's oldest brother, my uncle winton, was born in the logging camp.  she was told that there was not room for her on the train because it was so full of supplies.  she was so insistent that she was going to ride the train into the logging camp that the engineer told her that the only way for her to ride was to sit on the cattle catcher in the front of the engine.  she did that and arrived at the camp covered in soot from the steam engine's chimney with her little parasol blown wrong side out after she tried to use it to keep the smoke out of her face.

some time after winton's birth, my grandparents moved their young family to magnolia, arkansas, where they opened a small grocery and cafe near the town square.  mamaw's delicious cooking and my grandfather's skill as a butcher, a trade he had learned growing up on the family farm, caused their business to prosper, and they were able to buy a home and welcome mamaw's sister, my great-aunt bess, into their home while she attended the local college with its affiliated high school.  it was in magnolia that my mother and another son, my uncle bob, were born.  

when my mother was in the fifth grade, my grandparents moved to texarkana, arkansas, which was a much larger town than magnolia.  their grocery/cafe flourished, and they were able to move from the house they were renting into a new brick home.  shortly after the move into the new home, the stock market crashed.  the bank called in their loan, and they lost their home.  they were able to hold onto the business and move it to a storefront attached to a home.  they did away with the cafe part of the business, since few people could afford to eat out, but continued to sell groceries.  there they stayed until both my grandparents had passed away.

i loved the store.  every summer i would spend two weeks with my grandparents and help out in the store.  i went swimming with one of my cousins, my uncle winton's daughter, and played with another cousin, richard, the son of my mother's first cousin.  when i got older, richard and i would walk to the busy downtown area.  sometimes we would go to a movie matinee and get a soda at either kress or newberry, the five-and-dimes downtown.  we'd take the bus back within a couple of blocks of my grandparents' store and walk back from there.  the public library was about ten blocks from the store, and i loved to go there and read or look at their books on stamp collecting, a favorite hobby of mine.  those times in the summer with my grandparents were great experiences for me.  

in my teenage years, i would spend most of the summer there, and after my grandfather and great-grandmother passed away, mamaw was especially thrilled to have my company.  by that time, i could be a real help in the store and could run it by myself, except for waiting on customers in the meat department.  after my grandfather's death, mamaw relied on a local butcher shop where her brother, my great-uncle arch, worked.  he had learned his trade from my grandfather and always made sure mamaw had the most choice meat to sell in her store.  mamaw prepared my favorite lunch, a breaded veal cutlet and french fries with a glass of iced tea with lemon, almost every day.  i can still taste those cutlets, on which a pat of butter would be melted while it was still hot.  i don't believe i've ever eaten any meat as delicious since then.

like her mother, mamaw was a lover of coffee.  there was always hot coffee in the kitchen, and i never saw her without a coffee cup in her hand or nearby.   she doted on all her grandchildren, but i was a special favorite because of the time i spent with her every summer and because i loved the store as much as she did.  i remember one summer she took me with her to see my uncle bob and his family who lived near kansas city.  mamaw didn't drive, so we took the bus from texarkana to fayetteville, arkansas, where her youngest son, my uncle maurice, was a student at the university.  he picked us up at the bus station, and the three of us rode in his car to uncle bob's house, where i played with my three first cousins for several days.  mamaw had brought a box of millionaires, the delicious chocolate candy with caramel and pecans, on the bus trip, and we ate them all the way to fayetteville.  that trip is one of the most memorable events of my childhood.  mamaw would sometimes go with me to the movies in texarkana.  she would call a cab, and off we'd go.  one of the ones i remember most fondly was "the horse soldiers" starring john wayne.  

one of the things mamaw taught me was to be myself.  she never insisted that i think a certain way or behave in a way that conformed to any preconceived notion of what was appropriate for a boy my age, no matter what age i was.  when i was with her, i felt free in a way i never felt anywhere else.  in her company, i felt like i was with a dear friend, a companion who was interested in what i had to say and in what i loved doing.  i'm sure she had her faults, but in my eyes she will always be the perfect grandmother and friend.  i'll always miss her physical presence in my life, but she occupies a special place in my heart and will be with me forever.

may we all be that "special" person to another.  may we seek to see through their eyes and walk in their shoes.  may we give love without condition.  may we remember that we influence others in ways that we will never know.  shalom.

 

There's A Better Day A-comin'

my great-grandmother, my maternal grandmother's mother, was born during the civil war.  no one is sure of the exact year of her birth, but she could recount events from that war that occurred in her childhood.  it seems that her mother, my great-great-grandmother married a man who came through their little  community in southwest arkansas.  he was from pine bluff, arkansas, and after their marriage, he and his bride moved back there.  he was known by the title of "doctor," but we're not sure if he was a medical doctor or had given himself that appellation.  he seems to have been something of a scoundrel, and after several years of marriage and several children, including my great-grandmother, my great-great-grandmother left him in the middle of the night while he was out carousing.  she loaded the children and all the belongings that she could on a wagon, hitched up the horses, and returned to her family's home in southwest arkansas.  such a journey took great courage.  the distance was over 200 miles over primitive roads in the aftermath of the civil war.  

this is where my "grandma kate," as we all called her, grew up, and married a man from her community, my great-grandfather orren.  they had seven children who lived to adulthood, three sons and four daughters, of which my grandmother was the oldest.  after the birth of the youngest child, orren passed away, leaving grandma kate to raise these children on their small farm.  my grandma kate could recall the difficulties this presented in the midst of recovery from the war.  she told of her contempt for the ku klux klan that terrorized people in her area, both black and white, and the struggle to hold onto her land in an era when taxes were difficult to pay from the meager proceeds she and the children could earn from their crops.

after her children reached an age where they could live independently, grandma kate sold her farm and went to live with her daughter, bess, in magnolia, arkansas.  she lived with bess for several years, until she married a man from indiana after her first husband had died.  grandma kate believed that her struggles raising her family on their farm was caused by the northerners who had come into the south after the civil war and told bess that she couldn't live with "that yankee" in her home.  she moved to live with my grandmother and helped raise my grandparents' four children.

grandma kate was a lively woman.  she was a staunch baptist and believed that games that involved cards or dice were the work of the devil, so any time she discovered her grandchildren playing any such game it was burned.  she was a talented seamstress and did lovely embroidery work.  some of it is still in my possession.  despite her strict baptist convictions, she was a loving person.  she and my grandfather had lively discussions about religion and politics, and, though they agreed on many things, when they disagreed, sparks flew.  

one of the things she passed on to her descendants is a love for coffee.  i remember her taking her small great-grandchildren who could barely drink from a cup into her lap, where she would spoon some coffee with cream and sugar into her saucer.  taking a spoon, she would cool the coffee by blowing on it and let the child sip it from her spoon, as she declared that she once had to do without coffee when it was scarce after the war and no one in her family would ever have to do without coffee again.  under her influence, we all became avid coffee drinkers.

when television became commonplace, my grandparents bought a small set for their living room.  grandma kate was scandalized by the costumes women on tv shows wore.  "they might as well be naked," she would say, but she watched them nonetheless.  one of her granddaughters smoked cigarettes, and grandma kate would admonish her for her "unladylike" habit.  she said that while dipping snuff or smoking a dainty pipe was acceptable for a woman, cigarettes should only be smoked by men.  for many years, grandma kate dipped snuff, and i remember her coming home from church one sunday in a huff.  the preacher had exhorted the congregation to abandon the evils of tobacco, mentioning not only cigarettes and cigars but also snuff and pipe tobacco.  grandma kate said he had stopped preaching and started meddling.

one of the many things i learned from grandma kate is that women are the equals of men.  while she adhered to strict gender roles, she was adamant that a woman could do anything as well as a man when the situation called for it.  she never backed down from her position when someone disagreed with her, and she insisted that a woman ought to be able to take care of herself without help from a man.  she also taught all us of the importance of family.  no matter how much someone disagreed with a member of the family, family was still family and should always be there when one needs it.  she said that if we can't or won't take care of our own, how can we be trusted to take care of those outside the family.

may i remember the lessons i learned from grandma kate.  may we all value our families, even when we dislike or disagree with some members of them.  may we learn to help one another and remember that there is really no such thing as "self-reliance."  may we pass on the values of those who've gone before to those who follow after us.  shalom.

The Years I Spent With You

for the next several weeks i want to write about those who have gone before, whose influence and presence in my life have contributed much of what and who i am.  i am fortunate to have known all four of my grandparents for most of my formative years, as well as an extended family that included my maternal grandmother's mother, many great-aunts and great-uncles, my parents' brothers and sisters, and their children.  we lived less than an hour's drive from both sets of grandparents.  for most of my life while living with my parents, we went to one or the other most Sunday afternoons and were often joined there by other family members, including some of my first cousins.

those afternoons with my grandparents and their children and grandchildren were among the happiest of my life.  i was deeply attached to some of my cousins, especially those who were near the same age as me.  i've stayed in contact with those first cousins throughout my life.  i have reached the stage of my life that my parents, their parents, and all of my great-aunts and great-uncles, as well as my parents' siblings and their spouses, save one, and two of my first cousins have died.  my one remaining aunt, the wife of one of my mother's three brothers, is in her nineties and lives in an assisted living facility two states away.  i hope to get one more visit with her during her lifetime and to see her son, my first cousin, who is a year younger than me.  

sundays at my grandparents' homes were magical times for me.  it was the tradition of my maternal grandmother to prepare a meal to be eaten in the early afternoon.  we all gathered around her huge dining table and ate the wonderful food she had prepared.  she was a great cook, and, because my grandparents owned a small grocery store that was attached to their home, she had instant access to every ingredient she could possibly need.  usually there would be ten or more of us at the table, and the chatter was endless.  everyone could speak, and even the smallest children were made to feel as though what they had to say was important.  no topic was off-limit.  we talked about politics, religion, the weather, other kinfolk and friends and reported to the others what was going on in our lives.  this type of family gathering is almost unheard of now, but it was most wonderful for me as i grew up surrounded by so many who cared for me.

when we went to my paternal grandparent's home on sunday afternoons, the atmosphere was much quieter.  my father's brother and his family lived a block from my grandparents, and they would often join us until they moved away when i was in the six years old.  my aunt and uncle had two children, a daughter who was my age and a son who was two years younger.  i enjoyed playing with them both at my grandparents' and at their home down the street.  occasionally, my father's sister, her husband, and their two children would join us for part of the afternoon, but they didn't usually stay for dinner.  they lived about ten miles away in the next town.  my aunt and uncle's two children were a boy two years older than me and a daughter the same age as me.  my father's family was very reserved, and there was much less conversation, even at the dinner table.  my grandmother prepared an evening meal, so we usually ate lunch at our home before we left to visit them or stopped at a restaurant or burger stand along the way.  while this grandmother's food was tasty, it didn't compare to the meals my maternal grandmother served.  there was a sense of calm and quiet that prevailed in their home, a marked contrast to that of my other grandparents.  nonetheless, i enjoyed being there, and because i was always somewhat introverted, i was comfortable with my father's family.  his mother was a very kind person and took a special interest in me.  it was always obvious that for some reason i was her favorite grandchild, perhaps because our temperaments were so similar.

this connection with my extended family on both sides was an important part of my young life.  i will always be grateful for those sunday afternoons and early evenings at their homes.  i look forward to writing about many of the individuals who made up our close-knit families.  

may we cherish those who are important in forming the people we've become.  may we remember happy times that made our childhoods wonderful and be forgiving for times that may not have been so happy.  may we be grateful for those who have gone before us and appreciate the legacy they left behind.  shalom.

Ever Open to Joy and Love

in the last few days, i've been thinking about gratitude.  as i meditate, i try to list many of the things for which i am grateful.  it's impossible to compile a complete list of everything that blesses our lives.  i am amazed, as i contemplate those many things and people.  my list seems endless.  i was talking with a friend about this topic a few days ago.  his wife had placed a tray of cookies in front of us, and i said, "just think of these cookies.  how many people were involved in making it possible for us to enjoy this treat!  there are those who produced the raw products, those who processed them, those who delivered them to the store, the store employees who made them available to us, the person who devised the recipe to combine the ingredients, the manufacturers of the implements, bowls, and oven that made it possible to bake the cookies, and finally your wife who prepared them, not to mention those involved in the creation of the tray on which they are being served."  when we say we are thankful for the cookies, we forget most of those who made our reason for gratitude possible.

in every facet of our lives, we encounter similar situations.  we are dependent on so many people, people we have never seen or thought of.  our lives are made up of an interconnected web of people to whom we owe a debt of gratitude without ever realizing it.  we can take any one thing for which we are thankful and meditate on all those who made our object of gratitude possible.  every sunday in most churches we sing "praise God from whom all blessings flow," but we don't stop to think of all those through whom that flow takes place so that we can enjoy God's blessings.  it is not God alone that blesses us, but a myriad stream of others who are the agents of blessing.

may we not forget that we are dependent on many others for everything that we have and enjoy.  may we become a part of the stream of blessing that flows from God and passes through an infinite number of other beings.  may we take time to be grateful and, in so doing, become the object of another's gratitude.  shalom.

If It Makes You Feel All Right

i had a conversation with a friend yesterday about the complications that our reliance on technology has caused us.  we don't think we can go anywhere without our cell phones.  we believe that we need to have our questions answered immediately by looking up information on the internet.  we watch 24-hour news channels that bring us the latest happenings instantly.  along with this instant access to information and to other people via our phones have come myriad problems.  we have difficulty functioning in our daily lives when we can't access the internet.  we spend large portions of our income on internet access and to have huge numbers of channels on our televisions.

as our conversation continued, my friend and i both longed for the days when we had to wait for the evening news on tv when walter cronkite or huntley and brinkley would inform us about what had happened earlier in the day.  we didn't spend our days seeking the most recent news and worrying about the implications of that news.  we were not instantly accessible to whomever wanted to talk to us.  if someone called and we were not at home, they couldn't even leave a message.  they had to call again later.  we had to go to the library and pull the appropriate volume of an encyclopedia or a book on the subject off the shelf when we needed an authoritative answer to a question.

of course, there was a great deal of inconvenience to the "old way" of doing things.  we couldn't always go to the library at the time we needed an answer to a question.  we couldn't reach someone in an emergency.  we couldn't even leave a message if someone we needed to talk to was unavailable.  we couldn't let another know if we were going to be late for an appointment.  events that had a major impact on our lives couldn't be forseen and prepared for as readily.  

in many respects, the reliance on technology that began with the industrial revolution and continues through the innovations of today's information revolution has made our lives more convenient and less physically demanding, but we pay a price for that convenience.  we become less healthy if we spend much of our time seated in front of one screen or another.  we are more stressed as we try to figure out how to make our new technologically advanced gadgets work and as we are constantly available to whomever calls us.  of course, the solution to these problems is to control the technology rather than allowing it to control us.  no one forces us to sit with our computers, cell phones, and televisions staring back at us.  we don't have to answer the phone every time it rings with a call, text, or email.

may we learn to use what technology has given us responsibly.  may we control the technology rather than allowing it to control us.  may we weigh the advantages these advances have brought us against the harm they may do to us if we are too reliant on them.  may people always be more important than technology.  may we use whatever tools are at our disposal to make our lives and the lives of others better.  shalom.

If You Hear the Song I Sing

we have returned safely from a wonderful trip to canada.  the scenery in the canadian rockies was breath-taking, despite the haze of smoke from the forest fires in northern canada that obscured the views during much of our trip.  during our stay, we went to butchart gardens on vancouver island, and that was the highlight of the trip for me.  the beauty of the flowers there was overwhelming.  i could have spent several days wandering along the paths and marveling at the wonders of the plants and blooms of every hue.

the remarkable kindness of the canadian people touched me even more than the wonderful sights we saw.  on every trip we take, i come home with a heart filled with gratitude to the strangers who showed us kindness on our travels.  the graciousness of those we encountered in canada surpassed any we have experienced elsewhere in the world.  that every person we met was considerate and helpful was beyond anything i can express in words.  we'd always heard that the word "nice" is the best descriptor of canadians, and i can concur with that assessment.  

now that i'm home, i wonder why this is.  the aggressive behavior of americans contrasts with the patience of those who live north of our borders.   even on the highways when traffic was at its busiest, drivers never attempted to cut each other off or refused to let another car change lanes as is often the case here.  during the entire trip, we didn't see one traffic accident.  on the whole, canada appears to be a prosperous country.  we saw no homeless people on the streets of vancouver, the largest city we visited, or anywhere else in canada.  those with whom we spoke never expressed complaints about anything in their society.  their positivity was consistent and refreshing.

perhaps it is the origins of our country that has made us as we are.  the usa was borne from a violent conflict with our british rulers.  our economy was based on the enslavement of africans who were forced to labor in order to enrich their owners in the south and provide the raw material for factories in the north.  a terrible civil war was necessary to bring an end to this vile system.  our canadian friends never experienced any of these things.  maybe that is why the national psyche of our two countries are so different, despite our many commonalities.

may we learn from our "nice" friends to the north.  may we americans see that kindness to others is the best way to live.  may we learn to be more patient.  may we bless rather than curse.  may we learn to seek good for each other rather than seeing life as a struggle to get the best of another.  may we let go of our violent past and learn from it.  shalom.

On the Road Again

we are on our trip to canada, so there won't be any posts for the next couple of weeks.  i hope to get back to writing by may 30.  may all be filled with lovingkindness and compassion, may all be well, may all be peaceful and at ease, and may all be happy.  shalom. 

No Matter What May Be the Test

my wife and i will be leaving on a two-week trip to canada in a few days.  this morning i woke up early, and my mind was racing with details that need to be seen to before we leave.  all this past week, i've been trying to figure out how and what i need to pack.  now i'm thinking about all the paperwork and organizing our belongings to get through the airport.  it's difficult to focus on any one thing because so many things must be done.  perhaps my best solution for being able to concentrate on one thing at a time is to make a list so that i can tick things off as they're accomplished.  

i don't usually have this much difficulty keeping my mind calm and focused.  i'm wondering why this particular trip is presenting so many problems for my busy mind.  perhaps, it's because of the hassle that air travel has become.  if we were traveling by car or by train, many of the petty annoyances of planning would disappear, but the trip would take much longer and be more expensive.  i suppose this is a trade-off to give us more time to see the things in canada we want to see, since the time getting there and back is reduced by several days.

one thing i'm trying to do as i deal with the hassles of preparing for getting through the airports and onto the planes is accepting the way i feel with honesty and without self-recrimination.  why shouldn't i feel stressed by the demands of complying with security regulations and the possibility that flights will be delayed or cancelled and connections missed?  all i can do is my best to be prepared and accept that airline schedules are beyond my control.  the fact that anxieties are creeping into my mind is natural under the circumstances.  these worries are not failures but part of the fabric of travel in post-911, post-pandemic times, and i haven't failed if i experience them.

may each of us accept what we feel without condemning ourselves.  may we step back, seeing our worries and stresses for what they are:  part of the normal course of being human.  may we remember that there are thousands of travelers who are going through the same thing as they prepare for trips of all sorts.  in the midst of suffering, may we find peace and acceptance.  shalom.