Homeward Bound

Today another one of my friends went to rest in Wood Colony Cemetery. Most of you never knew him, but John Wolf was an inspiration whenever you did get to know him. From his faithful selfless devotion to "Ginny" and the countless patient hours of card games he played with her through her Alzheimer journey to his quiet, unassuming attitude about life, his joy at the joy of others, and his repeated embarrassment that we would actually stop to talk to him when we had others around, I hope to be more like him.

Another "Well done!" rolls down from the courts of Heaven, calling another son to glory, and the little truck and hard hat will be seen no more on the country roads of Stanislaus County. And so we wait, we weep a little, and we rejoice in return at his newfound joy.

Tradition!

“Tradition! Tradition!"
Never did this script ring with with such meaning and poignancy as it did one hot summer evening in 2009 when Amy and I went to the Sonora playhouse for an evening, recently bereft of church membership and with no clue what traditions might come along on our journey and what would be left behind. It was my first experience with Fiddler On The Roof, and I spent the evening shaking my head at the parallels to our own little world. Nearly a decade later, I have come to realize Tevya will raise his head no matter where you go...

“Because of our traditions, we’ve kept our balance for many, many years. Here in Anatevka we have traditions for everything: how to sleep, how to eat, how to work, how to wear clothes. For instance, we always keep our heads covered and always wear a little prayer shawl. This shows our constant devotion to God. You may ask: How did this tradition get started? I’ll tell you: I don’t know. But it’s a tradition. And because of our traditions, every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do.” 
-Tevya

So... How do YOU know what God expects you to do?

Mark Twain on Patriotism & Christianity

"A man can be a Christian or a patriot, but he can't legally be a Christian and a patriot -- except in the usual way: one of the two with the mouth, the other with the heart. The spirit of Christianity proclaims the brotherhood of the race and the meaning of that strong word has not been left to guesswork, but made tremendously definite -- the Christian must forgive his brother man all crimes he can imagine and commit, and all insults he can conceive and utter- forgive these injuries how many times? -- seventy times seven -- another way of saying there shall be no limit to this forgiveness. That is the spirit and the law of Christianity.

Well -- Patriotism has its laws. And it also is a perfectly definite one, there are not vaguenesses about it. It commands that the brother over the border shall be sharply watched and brought to book every time he does us a hurt or offends us with an insult. Word it as softly as you please, the spirit of patriotism is the spirit of the dog and wolf. The moment there is a misunderstanding about a boundary line or a hamper of fish or some other squalid matter, see patriotism rise, and hear him split the universe with his war-whoop. The spirit of patriotism being in its nature jealous and selfish, is just in man's line, it comes natural to him -- he can live up to all its requirements to the letter; but the spirit of Christianity is not in its entirety possible to him.

The prayers concealed in what I have been saying is, not that patriotism should cease and not that the talk about universal brotherhood should cease, but that the incongruous firm be dissolved and each limb of it be required to transact business by itself, for the future."

- Mark Twain's Notebook

Until the day dawn...

The inauguration came and went. The marches and fear mongering followed. And life goes on anyway.

In other news, Amy's Aunt Martha died today. 60 years old, down syndrome, her condition exacerbated by seizures/ministrokes. Her death will have little effect on most of the people I know. We, on the other hand, are going to miss her. No more coloring books. No more "Hi, Sweetie!" No more laughs. No more cheek pats and hugs. Tuesday we go down to lay her beside Grandma and Grandpa for awhile. But she's free now, and that's better than any memories we have of her. Next time we meet, I expect a hug, a "Hi, Sweetie!", and the first of many clear, lucid conversations getting to truly know her at last.

To Be Understood

Every get the feeling people just don't get it? Found this CS Lewis quote this morning, and he absolutely gets it. Unfortunately, he's dead.

"Writing is like a 'lust,' or like 'scratching when you itch.' Writing comes as a result of a very strong impulse, and when it does come, I, for one, must get it out."

Post Number 1

"The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater."  Perhaps it would have been better to begin with a Scripture passage or inspirational verse, but the above quote from the Lothlorien elf Haldir from Tolkien’s “The Fellowship of The Ring” seems to aptly capture the essence of our past year. 

For those of you who have asked, I'm taking a Facebook break, other than some picture posting for the out of state family. I'll re-evaluate in a couple months. This first post will not be a long one; just a little reflection on 2016. What was 2016 like for you?  

Our 2016 found us living in southern Pennsylvania, a place I never imagined in a million years that we might live, surrounded by more plain people than you can count.  So much has happened in so little a time.  A new house, a new job, a new church family, a new baby, etc, etc.  Getting 3 feet of snow in a day and being unable to get up and out our farm lane to go see our baby boy laying in the NICU while doctors talked about possibly transporting him to Hershey or York for a transfusion (thank God for amazing neighbors with 4x4 trucks).  Getting used to a more independent, hurried and less friendly Yankee culture (as opposed to Virginia and the rest of the South).  Making new friends, trying to stay in touch with old ones. 

Watching my 4 and 2 year old playing together, and the almost 1 year old (our first kid NOT in the 10^th percentile of everything) trying to keep up.  Trying to answer all of the 4 year old’s questions and learning again and again that I don’t always have all the answers.  Being patient with the 2 year old and discovering the good intentions underneath his stubborn will. 

Trying to ignore the insanity of the Clinton vs Trump election debacle.  Witnessing international upheavals.  Monitoring Christian persecution and often wondering at my responsibilities.  Watching friends make major life changes, some positive, some not so much. 

A few quick trips to Virginia, a long weekend in GA at Tom and Betty’s Georgia cabin with friends, a wedding and conference in Indiana.  Months of house hunting with Harold Burkholder.  Changing occupations again.  Unexpectedly parting with a necrotic gallbladder, with a few days in the hospital.  Nearing completion on my book.

Getting two different night time calls from a husband and then a dad that two close friends had died unexpectedly (separate occasions), one a wife and mom, and the other a son and brother.  Helping to bury those friends and watching as others stepped up and reached out to their families.  Starting to text those friends and then having to remind myself that there’s nobody on the other end now.  Watching two other kind, gentle, and godly older men pass away from cancer (apparently I’ve hit the stage of life where old people become just as dear of friends as do those our own age).

Buying and moving into a new house, and having friends step up to help above and beyond.  Going to California for Christmas (too rushed as always), spending time with family.  And so much more…

Of all the years, I really think 2016 possibly been the most trying.  Many of the highlights seem to be challenges or difficulties, and yet it was not a bad year, just a tough one.  Difficult and emotional at times, nerve wracking and exhausting at others (but really, who sleeps when your kids are 4, 2, and 1 yrs old anyway?). In some ways, 2016 was a year of tears more than of laughter, but without tears could we ever truly appreciate joy?  Psalm 30 says that joy comes in the morning - in between some of the tough highlights are all those beautiful moments of friendship and family and learning and new experiences, and yes, joy.  We are blessed. 

And now we have been given another year.  What it may hold, we can only imagine, but God is still faithful.  And we trust Him.  Until next time, a blessed New Year to each one.