“A Kind of Never Ending Story”

“I have found it very important in my own life to try to let go of my wishes and instead to live in hope. I am finding that when I choose to let go of my sometimes petty and superficial wishes and trust that my life is precious and meaningful in the eyes of God something really new, something beyond my own expectations begins to happen to me.”  ~ Henri J.M. Nouwen

I love the time between Christmas and New Year. In my current situation, it is a time that I am on holiday; of being away from work. It is time to rest and reflect on another year gone by. Then, with hope and longing, look forward to the promise of the year that is to come. 

Sitting here, thinking on this ending year, it is all too easy to present a laundry list of what I’ve done. Thinking on it, I have come to appreciate that it is not where I’ve been or what I’ve experienced that defines my year. Rather, it is what these experiences have meant and what are the lessons I have learned that seem important.

These lessons are some that I have learned in previous years. But in recalling this years experiences, these are lessons that speak to them and are renewed.

I have learned that there is no better thing I do than to begin my day with God! This has become for me as necessary as breathing. I have learned to spend a few moments each morning in scripture and considering the thoughts held in the spiritual classics. But what is most important is the quiet spent with my Creator. I have learned to turn off the media and the music and spend that time praying, listening and preparing for the day ahead. It makes a difference in my life. God is great! All the time!

I have learned that life is precious. Over these past few months our family has  experienced the pure joy of an announcement of new life and the sorrow of the  unexpected lose of life. Considering this, we have each been given this life to live, and being created with free will, it is our choice on how we live it. We can choose to make a difference in the lives of others; to our family, to our friends and to total strangers. It is our choice to create chaos or create peace. As for me, I hope daily “to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with my God.” 

I have learned that life is a journey that is to be enjoyed. I began this year trying not to focus on a destination, but rather, to enjoy the journey that I am on. I feel I have done fairly well. Yet, while on this journey, I have learned that life must be lived with purpose. I am not meant to drift, as a boat on an ocean. I must be purposeful, whether this means staying in or going out. I must know that what I do adds to the enjoyment and enhances the memory of the journey.

I have learned that laughing together, with family and friends, is marvelous! I will not very soon forget my wife, my daughter and I sitting in a New York theater laughing hysterically during a scene from “Peter and the Star Catcher”, or being in a Baltimore restaurant cutting up and laughing with my son, mother and sister. With friends, I have laughed so hard that I hurt! That is such a wonderful feeling. As Dickens wrote, “There is nothing in the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor.”

I have learned that a few truly wonderful friends makes all the difference in the world! Technology and media are redefining friendship. It occurs with the push of a button. But true friendship, a caring and nurturing friendship, is a gift. I have been told that in life I will find only a handful of true friends; that I can count them on my fingers. I have found them and I am blessed.

I have learned that less really is more. The accompanying lesson to learn is to apply this truth in a practical sense. Get small.

I have learned that our America is a vast and beautiful country. It cries out to be explored.

I have learned that staying in one place is not all that it is chalked up to be. The world  that God has given us, that we inhabit, is an incredible creation. The potential He has given us is far greater. To spend all of our lives working or staying in one place seems to me, a tragedy. Yes, we do what must to live, but we must hold to the truth that we work in order to live and not the opposite way round. I have learned that this old man still has  a few adventures left in him.

I have learned that the desire to create is still very much a part of who I am. I am learning that I must push my way through a “success by comparison” attitude and simply do what I want to do so that I can satisfy this creative need. The doodle, the drawing, the photograph that I take is but a window into my spirit. Should someone else find value in it, then that is good. Still the process of creating is but another way of expressing my experience. 

Tolkien said, “True education is a kind of never ending story - a matter of continual beginnings, of habitual fresh starts, of persistent newness.” I have learned that being a student, in school, is a great thrill. Learning and the desire to learn should never end. It is like dreaming. The moment we stop learning and the time that we cease to dream is when we begin to die. As we live in this moment, we surely must look to and dream of the moment that is yet to come. Even if that moment is the one in which we pass through Heaven’s door and are received back into God’s presence.

I have lived two score and fifteen years. There are fewer years ahead of me than years that lay behind me. But, with every day that I am given, there is a new prayer to whispered, a new step to be taken and a new lesson to be learned. It is a new day and  a new opportunity to press into God and say, Lord, here I am. I am yours.

“Even so, come Lord Jesus.”

Immanuel (God is with us)!

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.)  And everyone went to their own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.  He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to himand was expecting a child.  While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born,  and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.  An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.  But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.  Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.  This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

 “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger.  When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child,  and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.  But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.  The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

~ Luke 2:1-20

It Don't Come Easy

“It don’t come easy,

You know it don’t come easy.”

This is the opening of the song “It Don’t Come Easy”. Ringo Starr co-wrote the song with George Harrison and it was released as a single in April 1971. These next few paragraphs have nothing to do with the song. It does however make a nice title for what I want to write about; and that is writing.

Writing does not always come easy to me. It rarely does in fact. Writing in my journal is easy. It is for my eyes only. But this type of writing, writing that I intend to share with others, is a bit more difficult.  (I really wanted to say broader audience here, but since I haven’t one I felt the word ‘others’ would do).

I try to give some thought to a subject during week then usually wake up early on Saturday and will lie in bed thinking about what I’ll try to accomplish. I’ll then make coffee, pour a cup and walk upstairs. There are days when I’ll emerge in under an hour with a good first draft. Other times, I’ll labor for quite some time, take a break, then come back later to continue working.

Some of the things I have shared here I am pretty proud of. Others, I wish I had been better thought through or written. But these writings are what they are - better or worse.

As the year draws to a close I am reflective about this blog. It will continue and in fact, will continue as my primary outlet for sharing. My other blog will simply fade away with the conclusion of this year. I’ll write a farewell post, then, it will stay active only as long as it takes me to archive the contents. 

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Due to the events that took place in Newtown, CT this past Friday, I suspended writing this post. I felt it better to spend time with my family and friends instead of sequestering myself in my office writing. Regular posting will resume next week. And I'll explore the difficulties of writing at some later time. 

Until then, create peace.

Margins VI

"Don't chase after the wind. Chase after God!"

~ my wife

Four Down, One To Go

This will be a short post this week. 

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My wife and I attend The Donelson Fellowship. We have been there a little over three years and we can both say, we wish we had found the church earlier. It is such a wonderful place to worship God and to be in a fellowship of believers. It is a place where we can invest ourselves; not simply attend, worship and be fed be the message, but be involved. 

One thing that drew us to the Fellowship, other than the messages from our pastor Robert Morgan, is the music and drama ministry. It is, well, it is special! Such gifted leadership and amazing vocal talent. We’ve been performing our Christmas musical this week, Two from Galilee. I have been a part of the musical, portraying the role of Joseph’s father, Jacob. It is such a privilege to be doing this. 

When I look back on my life in the theatre, I can truly say there have been some memorable moments. Even so, it is doing things in church, for my Lord, that brings the most fulfillment. What I’ve done apart from church was hopefully entertaining for the audience. What I do in church, I pray, is but a small part of something that is life-changing for someone.

So, this week there are four performances down and one to go. God has been glorified and through the message of music has drawn individuals to Himself. That is awesome! 

Found Opportunities

We missed our granddaughters basketball game yesterday. A mix up on the time. We thought the game time was at 1:00 p.m. Turned out to be at 11:00 a.m. Turned out she played a really good game. We just weren’t there to see it. Oh well, there will be other games. 

Having the time wrong was a blessing though. It give Gerrie and I an afternoon to spend together. We had already planned to stop by a shop in the other side of the city. Had there been a game we probably would have visited the shop and then returned home. But missing the game gave us more time. We went to our planned store and then onto a few others. We stopped by a tea shop. We stopped by a coffee shop. We stopped by a book shop. We made an afternoon of it.

I love these afternoons with my wife. I love the drives we take. It could be a drive across town or a trip out of town, It may be an afternoon drive in the countryside. It really doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are together. It is time for us to slow down from the business of the week. We share our thoughts and hopes with each other. We bounce ideas off each other. We dream together. 

Whenever I get the chance I love to be with my children. It is easier with my daughter. She lives and works in the city. My son, on the other hand, lives locally but works wherever his work takes him. It could be in the Northwest. It could be in Europe or in Southeast Asia. He is well-travelled and he is a great provider for his family. 

But as I cherish time with my wife, I cherish times I spend with my kids. Recently, during a trip out of town for a family funeral, I was able to spend time with my son. We shared a few meals and had more than a few laughs. That is something we had throughout life; an ability to make each other laugh. With my daughter, we’ll take short trips together or maybe go to a concert. More often than not, I’ll simply stop by her restaurant after work and spend an hour or so visiting. They are both busy, successful people. I’ll take what time I can and cherish each moment.

Friday evening we had dinner with our closest friends. It all began with a photograph one friend sent and before you knew it, we had dinner plans. We sat in a local restaurant, had a good meal and more than a few good laughs. Then we went shopping. We really didn’t need anything, but it was an excuse to be together. It gave us more opportunity to talk and to laugh. While driving home I noticed that we spent over three hours with our friends and all we did was eat and visit one store. And that was fine. No, that was great!

It is in these found opportunities that my life becomes more meaningful. It is finding more time to spend with my wife, my family and my friends that bring me joy. 

As the year begins to wind down I begin to reflect on those things that will mean the most to me. Without a doubt I can look to the time I’ve spent being a husband, a father and a friend and know that these are the best of times. Then looking forward to the new year, the search will begin to discover those new opportunities to share our lives together.

More joy! More happiness! More memories!

A Burning Light

Some of my memories have to do with a light burning in a window.

As we enter the holidays I believe many of us are drawn to remembering our pasts. We set around the table following a grand meal and think about those who are no longer with us. Sentences will begin with “You remember when...” or “I remember a time when...” Then we share the stories; stories that we’ve all heard before but never tire of hearing again. 

My name for my grandmother was “Nannie.” It was what everyone called her. If she were still living, Nannie would have been 99 this past Monday. She was born while Woodrow Wilson was president. This was a time before we knew what World War was, before there was a League of Nations and before women had the right to vote. She was a little less than a month away from her 16th birthday when the market crashed and the country entered the Great Depression.

Chicken and Dumplings. That was Nannie’s recipe. No one made Chicken and Dumplings the way she did. People have come close, but they are just not the same. She was also very good with Cornbread Stuffing. It was all about the proper amount of sage to include. 

My grandmother was a kind, soft-spoken lady. But she also knew how to make her displeasure known when it was appropriate and deserved. One such time was in 1972. Actually there were a few times from that year, but I’ll only write about this one. 

I spent my Freshman year in high school living with my grandparents. That would be the 1971-72 school year. It was a wonderful year. One Sunday afternoon in the Spring of ’72, my friend Stephen Rogers and I were out doing what we did most weekends. We were out on our bikes, exploring. 

Not far from Stephen’s house were a few new houses being built. The foundations had been dug but not a lot more had been done. The rains from a few days earlier had slowed the progress. Stephen and I set there, on our bikes, at the edge of this hollowed out foundation. Some of the rain had collected into a rather nice pond in this hole. 

We didn’t have many ponds in Sikeston so this new pond was inviting. It posed a new challenge. We thought. If you were to drop off into the foundation, how slow could you actually go, peddling your bike, to remain upright? This meant that you had to slow your speed once inside the hole in order to test the question. This also meant that the slower your speed, the higher the probability of slipping into the pond.

Stephen and I took up the question and spent the better part of an hour riding along the slope of the foundation, and yes, on occasion, slipping into the pond. The extremely muddy pond. 

We heard his mom calling. It was time to get ready for Sunday evening church. We said our “See you in little whiles” and went home; he to his house and me, the 10 minutes or so to my grandparents house. The bike ride would help dry out my clothes. 

When I got to my grandparents I was a surprised at the reception I received. My usually kind, soft-spoken Nannie was livid! “Where had you been? What have you been doing? How did you get so dirty?” All good questions. I answered. “I was over at Stephen’s. We were riding our bikes. And there was this construction site you see and there was this big hole in the ground where they were digging the foundation and there was water in the hole from the rain we got a few days ago. Well, anyway, we were trying to see how slow...” You get the picture. 

What I haven’t told you is this. When I got home from church that morning and wolfed down my lunch, I ran out the door and headed off to Stephen’s forgetting one thing. I forgot to change clothes. I went riding, in the mud, in my Sunday church clothes. She was more than a little upset. Looking back, I really can’t blame her. But, kid’s will be kid’s.

During the last years of her life, she along with my mother, lived in the house behind mine. She had the back corner bedroom and in the corner, between two windows set a rocker. This is where she would spend a good amount of her time. She set in her rocker and she would read. She was a ferocious reader.

Some evenings when I would be getting something from the kitchen, I’d pause by the back door and look out across the yard. There in back corner of my mom’s house would be the light burning and I knew it was my Nannie, reading. There would always be a smile on my face when I turned away from the door. 

I often think how wonderful it would have been to have had Nannie write down some of her memories. There was so much she experienced. There was so much she knew. Every day she lived shaped the lady she became. It strengthened her and molded her. Now these stories live only in our faltering memories.

I once knew a woman who knew she was dying of cancer. She set up a video camera in her kitchen one evening and taped herself. She sat at her table and shared her recipes; the ones that had become her daughter’s favorites. She included the little this and thats, the nuances, that only the cook knows. The things that aren’t written down. 

What I do here is much the same. It’s a place to share my thoughts, my dreams and some of the stories of my life. It is my small contribution to the tapestry that is our families history. It is for a time, many years from now, when my grandchildren will be setting around the holiday dinner table with their children and grandchildren. Devon or Shelby will push their plate away and begin, “You remember that time when Papa got in so much trouble with Nannie?” 

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Some evenings now I’ll be getting something from the kitchen and I’ll pause by the back door and look out across the yard. There in back corner of my mom’s house a light will be burning and I know it is my Mom reading. Perhaps she is writing some of her stories. There is a smile on my face when I turn away from the door.  

Wanderlust

“I love to go a-wandering,

along the mountain track, 

and as I go, I love to sing,

my knapsack on my back.

“Val-deri, val-dera,

Val-deri,

Val-dera-ha-ha-ha-ah-ha.

Val-deri, val-dera,

My knapsack on my back.”

I have long loved the word wanderlust. It holds such possibilities where each day holds the gift of something new. 

Wanderlust is waking up to find a new adventure, a new journey for that day, a new sight to see, a new person to meet and a new experience to be enjoyed. When it is at its best, it is a new revelation of God! Wanderlust is proclaiming that I am no longer satisfied with routine; with waking up and going through the same motions.

The word wanderlust has a German origin and literally means “a desire to hike.” We define it in English as a strong desire or impulse to wander or to travel and explore. Fitting for how I have been feeling of late.

It seems an odd statement, but I don’t think I am wired to stay in one place for very long. As I have been thinking and writing lately I have been caught on my desire to get more out of life. My thoughts are constantly drawn to doing and seeing more. I am not wanting my “one of these days” to be spent comfortably right where I am. 

In a sensible world, this is dangerous. It goes against what we were taught. We  were supposed, expected, to grow up, get good jobs and work through to the age of retirement (or beyond). Once we’ve reached that age, and if we’re still able, we could  then chase I dreams. That is how it’s supposed to work. But, that isn’t always the case. Some never get the chance to chase their dream or they simply can’t do it. They spent themselves, spent their lives, working to fulfill someone else’s dreams and no longer have the time or energy for their own. 

To me, that is the real danger; chasing after something that is not our own. We are convinced of what life is supposed to be like and have lost sight of what life could be like.

What life could be like - Gerrie and I had that once. We felt God calling us to the mission field. So we went against the grain and took a chance. It wasn’t always easy. It was difficult, at times, for us and our families. But as I have said before, it was perhaps one of the happiest times of our lives. 

That time, well, it really wasn’t wanderlust was it? It was more like obedience. Yet, it had some of the elements. It gave us a new adventure, a new journey, a new sight, a new person to meet and new experiences. And most importantly, a new revelation of God!

We may never make it back to a time like that. With family and friends, being far away for a long time, doesn’t seem like what God is calling us to do. But is God calling? We believe He is. We feel He is calling us to something

Last week Gerrie commented about our experience in Italy and about what may be on the horizon. In her comment she said, “Our restless hearts are, to me, a sign to be ready for absolutely anything!”

We’re listening.

Familiar territory. 

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Update @ 12:55p  Gerrie and I got in from church a few minutes ago. This morning in LifeGroup, we were left with two thoughts to consider. First, how do we make our lives count.? Second, when God asks you what you did with the time He gave you, how will you answer?

An "Ah-ha" Moment

15 October 1996

I have had this particular date on my mind for a few weeks now. My wife and I woke up that morning in Arquata Scrivia, Italy. Arquata Scrivia is a small town in the Province of Genoa, about 34 miles north of Genoa. We had fallen asleep the night before with a light drizzle of rain falling and woke up with the same light drizzle. If only it had stayed that way.

We were in Italy on a prayer walk. This walk, the Reconciliation Walk, was the outreach of our missions training class. For us, the walk began in Dijon, France on September 23rd and ended in Bari, Italy on November 24th. We covered a distance of 1,020 miles crossing the Jura Mountains, the Alps at Saint Bernard Pass and the Apennines. But we didn’t walk every mile. A good many of them yes. But not every one.

This is what we were doing in this small, obscure town in Northern Italy on this damp morning. We had our breakfast, packed our gear and set out. 

The drizzle became heavier as the first hours passed and finally gave way to a steady rainfall that accompanied us through the day. It would lighten up at times and become heavier at times. Light or heavy, it was raining all the time. About that day, I noted in my journal that “even the inside of my coat was getting wet. My sweater and undershirt were getting wet around the neckline and I could sense the wetness creeping higher up my legs. There was no keeping the rain out.” It was a rain that would eventually soak me, and everyone else, thoroughly. 

It was also becoming colder. About the only thing that would keep you warm was to keep walking. Normally we would take turns having a break from walking as a day would progress. But not this day. Walking fought back the chill.

In time, we made it into Genoa and found a small church where we would spend the night. There wasn’t much room, but enough to have a place to change and get dry, to cook a warm meal and to drop my pack and spread my sleeping bag. I laid down pulled out my journal to write. Gerrie was beside me, laying on her sleeping bag, reading. 

“Another revelation of today is the appreciation of dry socks, shoes and cloths. Also having a dry place to lay your head. This whole day, and other events and locations we have rested for the day have taught me the appreciation of the simple pleasures of this life. So often we chase after so much comfort feeling that they are the necessities of life. But when it comes down to it, we all need few things than we think.

“Laying here in my sleeping bag I have just come to understand that all I really felt was needed for this two months, is under my head. It is a nice understanding. True, if I were settled somewhere, which I will be sometime in the near future, I would like my books and music. But I know that it doesn’t take all these things to live. They are add-ons that can make a life more enjoyable, but they are not needed to live. I am beginning to understand more about the teaching the Jesus in Matthew 6:25-34. He will provide.”

This was one of those quintessential moments in life. An “ah-ha” moment when you catch a glimpse of something bigger than yourself. It was a moment in time when I could pause and truly say that I was happy in that moment.

Life is full of distractions. We race around doing all in our power to achieve, to acquire, to accumulate all the things that we were told “makes life worth living.” As Tom Hodgkinson writes in the preface of his book, How To Be Idle, “In the West, we have become addicted to work. Americans now work the longest hours in the world. And the result is not health, wealth and wisdom, but rather a lot of anxiety, a lot of ill health and a lot of debt.”

When Gerrie and I returned from foreign missions, this is world we returned to. It is not the world of our creating, but the world of our necessity. It is the world that demands a quickened pace simply to keep up. It is a world that chips away at dreams and says that you can’t do something. You can’t do the thing you want to do because it takes time that you do not have. It takes time that you should be working, achieving, acquiring and accumulating. 

But this is not the life I want. Is is not that life we want. So I dream. We dream. We dream about “one of these days” and wonder if we might be able to manage one or two them. We dream about striking out on an adventure again where the experience, or the lesson from the experience, is gained. We long for those “ah-ha” moments again where we are given a glimpse of something grand. Something spectacular!

Many moments in life are meant to happen only once. Yet still, there are moments that I wish for, that I dream for, to happen again. I pray that someday I'll have a moment again, like that evening in Italy, when I realize that what I have with me, is all that I need. That I am at peace in a moment. Living simply and simply living.

Gerrie and I don’t know what it is, or when it will come. We don’t know where we will be. It could be right here at home for all we know. But we know that something is ahead of us. We know that before we close our eyes for the last time, that there is still a time for us. A time when we will say, “this is what it is all about. This is our life. This is profound. This is God!“

Defining Style

I have just completed a Digital Photography I course this past week. Actually the course ends tomorrow evening, but I am traveling on family matters this weekend. So, I’ll miss the last class.

The course was one of the better investments of time and money that I have made in recent years. Each Monday provided me with “ah-ha moments” and areas of being challenged. The instructor said he would engage the right side of our brains, and he did. I look at the world differently now. This means, I am actually taking time to look at it; not just rush through it. I look at the world through a camera lens in hopes of finding art. 

A few weeks ago there was a discussion about style. Find your style. What is it about a photograph that says, that it is your photograph? Think Ansel Adams. When you see a black and white landscape, you immediately think of Ansel Adams. In truth, it may be that someone else shot the photograph, but you first think of Adams. That was his style, his genre; and that is what he is known for.

I made a note in my class journal. “What is your style? Develop your style. What is it about my photographs that will define them as my photographs.” That is a question.

Finding my style will be like like finding my voice, but only with the camera. It is like a writer experimenting with words or a painter trying a different brush. It is that thing that makes one unique, causing one artist to be distinguished from another.

I read through my notes and think. I look at the work I produced for class. Is there something there? I know that I enjoy shooting landscapes. I like cityscapes. I am not that good at photographing people. This comes from being an introvert and shying away from people I don’t know. What abstracts I shot I enjoyed. And I had a little success with black and white (still a bit of work to do there though). There is a profile emerging.

Can I tell a compelling story with a black and white landscape? Can I marry that with my flirtation with high dynamic range processing? Maybe.

This past weekend Gerrie and I spent a few hours on the loop trail at local state park. We actually didn’t make it too far on the trail. The sky was overcast so shooting a broad vista of the changing colors would not work. We were forced to look at the trail; look at our feet. What was there? Was there anything interesting? What we saw was texture. A marvelous variety of texture that God laid before us. 

It isn’t Ansel Adams. It isn’t remotely close.

But it is a beginning perhaps.

Legacy is something that I’ll explore as time goes on. But this space, this blog, is part of the legacy that I wish to leave for my children and my grandchildren. For them, the photographs that I hope to make are simply other expressions of how I see the world. They help to chronicle how I lived my life. My wish is that after I have left this life, that they will look at photograph or a drawing and be able to know straight away that “Papa took that picture” or “Dad drew that.” They’d just know and, they may even be a little bit proud.

That is my wish at least.

"One of these days..."

"I have learned that I have fewer and fewer 'one of these days' left in my life, so I better get busy doing the things I dream of."

~ me

“One of these day.” How many times have I said this in life? Too many to count. I don’t know. Maybe it is a danger of being a dreamer. Maybe it comes from reading too much. Although I don’t think there is a such thing as reading too much. Wherever it comes from, these words have crossed my lips many many times. And sometimes, the “one of these days” actually comes to pass.

When I returned from my first trip to England and France in ’75, I said, “One of these days I’ll go back.” I did. I even took it a step further when in 1996 my wife and I moved to England. But still, there are some things that are left undone. There are still some “one of these days” that need to be taken care of.

This became more obvious to me at 9:50 p.m. this past Friday. I got a telephone call from my mother. She was crying. Her sister, my Aunt Bonnie, died that day. It was unexpected. She wasn’t sick. There was no warning. She simply went into her kitchen, suffered either a heart attack or massive stroke, we don’t know, and died. Her son found that evening.

My mother, Bonnie and her brother Bill would spend every Fourth of July together. They started doing this when my grandmother was still living. They’d get together every year at that time and spend one or two weeks. They’d visit, talk, reminiscence, look through old photographs and eat. There was always a plan on where to eat and on what days. After my grandmother died they’d still get together. They would take trips to my hometown to visit the graves of my grandmother and grandfather. They would change the flowers, wipe away the mud and dust, and tell a few stories. Then they’d drive home. A trip to Sikeston, coffee on the back porch, breakfast at Loveless Cafe, lunch at Cock of the Walk or Miss Mary Bobo’s, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were together and sharing life.

It will be different now. I’m sure that my Uncle Bill and my mother will still get together next Fourth of July. They’ll visit, share a few meals and remember stories of my Aunt. They’ll laugh some and there will be a few times that they’ll simply be quiet. 

That is what families should do I think. We should remember each other. We should rejoice in each others triumphs and soothe each others sorrows. We share our memories and we tell the stories. It is how families continue from generation to the next. 

But setting here and thinking about my Aunt and this past Friday, I am reminded of the frail nature of life and how suddenly it can be taken from us. When I go to bed tonight I will do so with a confidence that I’ll wake up tomorrow. But, I really don’t know that. None of us do. I hope that I have another sun rise in my future just as I hope that I will enjoy another sunset in the evening. But that is all it is - a hope. God will determine my days.

What I do know, and this too is a gift from God, is that I have this moment in time. I have this moment to hug my wife and tell her that I love her. I have this time to let my children and grandchildren know how much I love them and how very proud I am of them. I have this time to let my mother know how happy I am that she is still a part of my life. I have this moment to think about my sister and pray that her allergies get better soon and let her know how happy I am that her husband has a job that he loves. I have this moment to celebrate the wonderful friendships that I have been blessed with. I can be thankful for the hours we’ve had sharing our lives, laughing, breaking bread and the simple joy of being together. And most importantly, I can be forever grateful that God looked down upon me and determined that I was in need of salvation. So, He sent His Son to bring me home. That, I can do. And with whatever breath He gives me, I can use them to bring Him glory.

So, I’ll get up from my chair here and I’ll go about my day. I will continue to think about the “one of these days” that still (hopefully) lie before me. There is still a lot I want to do and places I wish to go. But, knowing that I only have this moment, I’ll get to doing what I can while I can. 

God Bless You Aunt Bonnie. Be at peace.

~ Greg