Watercolors

March 17, 2024 1 Comment

A short story . . .

On a cold and damp March afternoon, Maeve met with funeral director Finn Joyce to discuss final arrangements. The appointment was set up after she responded to a mailer asking if it “would give you peace of mind to plan in advance so that your family would not have to make the arrangements themselves” and after reading an article about “Unexpected Deaths in The US Are Rising at an Alarming Rate.”

Director Finn, a tall thin man with dark auburn hair, pale skin, soft hands and a whisky voice, greeted Maeve and showed her to the Arrangement Room. There, he offered her coffee and water.

Finn began their conversation by pointing to a photograph on his desk: “My wife Fiona and I have lived in the area and have operated this funeral home for twenty-five years. Fiona works with families of the deceased to arrange details of the funeral and the obituary wording. She also does the makeup and . . .”

Maeve broke in. “I was here for Eileen Delaney’s funeral. She was a friend of mine.”

“By the number who attended the funeral, she was well-loved. How long had you known her?”

“We worked together at the Evercrest Nursing Home for some thirty-five years.”

“I know the place. I been called there many times. Do you still work there?”

“Yes. I’ve taken over Eileen’s responsibilities.”

“Ah, well then, maybe I’ll see you there. My wife helped Eileen’s husband with the funeral arrangements and wrote the obituary with the help of her husband and family. We have a list of services that we can offer you and we can talk about your last wishes.” He handed her a brochure.

“We prepare obituaries, arrange clergy services and pallbearers, coordinate with the cemetery or crematory . . .” Finn stopped when he saw that Maeve wasn’t paying attention. She was looking over his shoulder at something on the wall.

“That watercolor. I know it.” Maeve said.

Finn turned around. “My wife bought it at an art show here in town. I love how the light filters through the trees.”

“That’s Summer at Blossom Grove.”

“You know the artist?” Finn got up from his chair and looked at the corner of the painting. “You know M. Monahan? Wait. Is that you?” He looked at the application on his desk. “Well Maeve, you’re quite an artist.”

Maeve blushed. “I painted the same scene at four times of the year. I wanted to show the greening and flowering and the fading and falling of leaves and the limbs in winter.”

“You know, Maeve, people have brought watercolor portraits of the deceased to the wakes here. The portraits are a beautiful memorial. They have a graceful ethereal quality to them. I provide an easel next to the casket for the portrait.”

“I paint them. I paint portraits of the people in the home. When they pass, I give the portrait to the family. I got the idea when I attended my Irish grandfather’s funeral. Family and friends came to look at his dead body the night before he was buried. They drank and shared stories about his life. When a person dies at the home, the funeral home is called and the deceased is abruptly taken away. With my portraits, I give the family a corporeal reminder so they can share stories about the person’s life.”

“The portraits are well done. You’ve must have been doing this for a long time.”

“Thank you. Yes. I started as an oil painter years ago when I worked as an ER nurse. I wanted to depict the actual strangeness of the real world I encountered every day with surrealism, in a Frida Kahlo kind of way. But over time, the work and my life were becoming too dark. So, I decided to make a change and work in a nursing home where there is a less tragic and more of a long-suffering realism. And, that’s when I became a watercolor portraitist. I like the medium. Watercolors have a life and a flow of their own when you brush them on the paper. You let go and see what happens. They are kind of unruly to a certain degree as are the subjects I paint.”

“From the comments I overhear at the wake, you certainly capture the essence of the person,” Finn remarked.

He went on to explain his services and then invited Maeve to the display room where several different caskets were showcased. He then showed her the Reposing Room where the prepared body rests until the funeral takes place. He went on to show her a Reception Room where memorial services are held.

“There will be a wake in this room tomorrow. A tragic story,” Finn shared. “A 46-year-old man – a husband and father and founder of an investment firm – was killed in a car-jacking. The newspaper said the killer got away.”

“How terrible. The sudden loss of a husband and father must be devastating for that family.”

“Yes, it has been. I met with his wife this morning. She is having a hard time . . . How does one reckon with the out-of-the-blue senselessness of what happened?”

At that moment, Fiona walked up and introduced herself to Maeve. She recognized Maeve from the art show and praised her work. She then mentioned to Finn that a call had come in. She gave him the name and location.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Finn said. “Feel free to call if there are any questions. Maeve offered her hand. Finn took her hand and put his hand on hers.

“Sorry to share that with you. I am deeply saddened by what happened. After all my years as a mortician, I have never become accustomed to such unforeseen tragedy. And, sadly, there will be no watercolor portrait to place by the casket tomorrow.”

Maeve nodded her understanding and then thanked Finn and went on her way.

~~~

The next morning, after working a night shift at Evercrest and then making a stop, Maeve drove home to Valley Mobile Home Park and found two cars parked out front of her mobile home. She parked next to her trailer, grabbed the mail from the mail box, and then ran to the door and walked in. Sitting at the kitchen table were her younger sisters Molly and Morren and her niece Maisie. Duffy, Molly’s Pomeranian, began barking wildly when she walked in. Maeve put her purse and the mail on the counter and looked at all three.

“Who died and why is Duffy carrying on like that?” Maeve asked, taking off her rain coat. The three women sitting before her reminded her of nesting dolls – Molly the largest of the three and Maisie the smallest.

“Duffy doesn’t like that black cross running down your face.” Molly replied.

“It’s raining.” Maeve grabbed a napkin form the table and began dabbing her face.

“And Duffy doesn’t like that guy next store.” Morren added.

“My neighbor?” Maeve asked. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s a disgusting creature, Molly blurted. “Those tattoos, that yellow skin, his scarred-up face and watery eyes. He looks like a carny who runs the Tilt-A -Whirl. He was out in front of his trailer and gave us a nasty look when we got out of the car.”

“Well,” Maeve asked the group, “was Duffy barking at him and did you give him a nasty look when you saw him?”

Molly sighed loudly. The other two just looked at their hands.

“I don’t know him, “Maeve said. “He stays to himself. There’s something sad about the guy – like he’s had a hard time of it.”

“Maybe so. He is what he is,” remarked Morren.

“We’re here to check on you,” Molly declared.

“Check on me?” Maeve laughed. She poured coffee for herself and the others and sat down.

“Yeah, Moreen and I are wondering why you’ve been so quiet lately.”

“I’ve had things on my mind. Last things things. Do something about Duffy.” Maeve replied.

Molly had Duffy come up on her lap.

“Is that why you went to church this morning?” Morren asked.

Maeve looked at the three of them. “I thought I should become a familiar face around there. I want to be recognized by the gate keepers when I go the way of all the earth.”

“I see that you’ve been reading the obits,” Molly held up the open newspaper.

“My co-worker Eileen died suddenly. Cardiac arrest. I wanted to see what they wrote about her,” replied Maeve.

Molly looked through the obit page. “Let’s see what it says . . .

“Eileen Delaney passed away on . . . at her home aged 68. She will be greatly missed by her family who adored her, friends who loved her, and many people whose lives she impacted in such a beautiful way at Evercrest Nursing Home. Eileen was along-time member of such and such Church. Eileen was born . . . married William Patrick Delaney. . . celebrated a beautiful 42-year marriage. Bill passed away . . . Eileen greatly missed him. She and Bill had many adventures together . . . traveling to Europe and Caribbean and Alaskan cruises. Ballroom dancing and hiking were their favorite pastimes. They are survived by two children . . . three grandchildren. Sadly missed by brothers . . . brothers-in-law, sisters-in-law, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces, relatives and a wide circle of friends. Eileen stayed active throughout her life . . . she was a member of the American Needlepoint Guild. Eileen Delaney’s’ family invites you to join them in celebrating her life. Please attend with your best Eileen stories. The funeral service and burial will be held . . .

“How long have you been working at that nursing home,” Morren asked Maeve.

 “About thirty-five years. Since the divorce.”

“Maeve, you could’ve gone on to get your doctorate in nursing like me,” Molly said. “Then you could write papers, have them peer reviewed, and published in journals. You would be recognized for your work, make better money, and move out of this trailer park.”

“Recognized?” Maeve replied. “I see myself doing what I’m doing. I don’t see myself doing anything else or living anywhere else.”

“Maybe not. But do you hate life? Morren badgered. “I mean, c’mon, you haven’t remarried and you haven’t gone anywhere and now you’re thinking about death. What about life?”

 Maisie spoke up. “Aunt Maeve, do you have a bucket list?”

“A bucket list?” Maeve got up and walked over to the kitchen window and looked out. She was surprised to see her neighbor looking back at her from his kitchen window. How strange, she thought.

“Yeah, you know, things you want to do before you die.” Molly said.

“I had an appointment with a funeral director yesterday to talk about funeral arrangements,” Maeve pointed at her sisters, “so you two won’t have to bother with them – and I have an appointment with Father Flannery tomorrow after work to talk about the art of dying.” Maeve took the Joyce Funeral Home brochure out of her purse and placed it on the table.

“What brought on all this morbidity Maeve?” Molly prodded. “Is it because you are with the dying five six days a week? What about living a little?”

“It’s not morbid to plan one’s death. And besides,” Maeve smiled, “I am thinking outside the box.”

“Not too would be a grave mistake,” Molly came back.

“The funeral director blamed the cost of living as driving up the cost of dying. He said I could pay now or pay later with a payable-on-death bank account accessed by my family.” Maeve sat down and waited for a reaction.

Morren looked at Molly and then at Maisie. She wasn’t sure if that was a joke.

Maisie laughed. “Now I know where I get my weird sense of humor. Aunt Maeve, I meant doing things like travel. You could. . . go see the world, see the pyramids.”

“You want me to go look at tombs? No, thanks. And no, I don’t have a list like that.”

“You could go to Barcelona or Rome and meet some dashing foreigner and be swept off your feet.” Molly urged.

“You know,” Maeve replied. “I listen to the stories of seniors in the home. Their stories are better than romance novels and what’s on TV. The things they’ve seen and done . . . you’d be surprised.”

“I just want to see you broaden your horizons,” Morren pleaded. “You have work. You have a hobby. But with all that that the world has to offer, why not live a little.”

Molly looked at her watch. “Well, Maevy, we came to check on you. My TV program starts in twenty minutes. We better get going. If you suddenly decide to take off to parts unknown let us know.”

Maeve picked up the coffee cups and put them in the sink. She saw her neighbor again standing in the window. But this time he had a gun in his mouth. Maeve yelled “Oh God!” and ran out the door. Molly, Morren and Maisie ran to the kitchen window.

“What’s that creature doing?” Molly scoffed. “If he offed himself there would be one less freak in the world.”

“What’s aunt Maeve doing?” asked Maisie.

Maeve was standing in the rain between the two mobile homes in her blue nurse scrubs. She was saying something to her neighbor but his window was closed. He kept shaking his head. Maeve pleaded with him, “Open your window! Open your window!” Finally, with one hand, he pulled up the kitchen window.

“Talk to me, “Maeve begged, “I’m listening.”

The man took a swig of something and then wiped his mouth with his arm.

“Lady, my best girl died in January been together for fifteen years she was on dialysis my dog Biscuit hell I think some of those mean kids around here ran off with her I lost my job at the steel mill I’m about to lose my trailer.” The man held up a piece of paper. “I find myself in the impossible position of being who I am right here and now.”

“I’m listening,” Maeve replied.

“What are you looking at?” The man jerked his head angrily toward Maeve’s kitchen window where Molly, Morren and Maisie were watching. He waved his gun at the window and the three women disappeared from it. Molly called the police.

“I’m here . . . for you,” Maeve pleaded with her neighbor. “I don’t know your name. What’s your name?

“Esau.”

“Esau, don’t die like this.”

“Is there a better way to go about it?

“You could die holding someone’s hand. Can I call Father Flannery?”

“What’s he gonna do throw holy water on me and make it all better hell I was baptized as a little tiny baby and look at me now I done some stupid things in my life but I paid all my debts I am good people labeled not good enough to attend my own daughter’s wedding can you picture that?

“Yes! I can paint you,” Maeve offered.

Esau laughed. “Paint me?”

“Yes. I paint portraits.”

“Lady don’t you see I’m already painted.” The man pulled off his tee shirt. “My cross hain’t bleeding like yours is I got this in Nam.” The man pointed the gun at the cross tattoo. “I got a lot of things in Nam that’ll change a man forever.” He put the gun back in his mouth.

Maeve dabbed her face with her sleeve. Overhead, the sky was growing darker. A sudden crack of thunder and its rumbling off had Duffy howling. Large drops of rain were falling.

“I’ll paint a portrait of you, right now Esau. So your children can remember you.” Maeve said this to buy more time.

“Lady, they want nothing to do with me.” Esau scowled.

“They never will if you shoot yourself,” Maeve replied.

He took another swig from the bottle. “You’ll stand in the rain and you’ll paint me?”

“Yes! Or inside if you’ll let me in.” Maeve replied. “Do you have family?”

“Yessss I havvvvve family,” the man howled. “My best girl has family but you know NO ONE wants to see you until you’re dead.” He put the gun back in his mouth.

“I can call them. Hold on. I can paint your portrait for them. Hold on Esau,” Maeve yelled. “I’ll get my phone and paints.”

As Maeve turned to run back inside, she heard a loud pop. Esau was gone from the window.

Moments later, heavy downpours arrived.

©Lena Johnson, Kingdom Venturers, 2024, All Rights Reserved

~~~

Filed under Death, FICTION, Short Story, short story, Writing Tagged with , , , , ,

Not DOA

April 9, 2023 Leave a comment

It wasn’t an Easter greeting card . . . or was it?

The other day I received a mailer from a local cremation-burial company. I hadn’t been online looking for a last responder. My profile must have been purchased on the cyberinfo Stock Exchange:  a person of a certain age who lives in a certain area with a certain income.

The letter starts We need your help.

(I haven’t done embalming, but maybe I could help with the flowers.)

We are conducting a survey to determine how members of our community plan for one of the hardest things a family has to face . . . the death of a loved one.

(Who’s this loved one? Let’s find out.)

The end-of-life service wants to assist with sensitive, caring and professional help. . . We need to know the real thoughts and feelings of individuals just like you. Well, there you have it. It’s documented. I have “real thoughts and feelings” just in case you thought of me as plastic and pitiless. I am not penniless, either, and that brings me to their quest for help.

The one-page front and back letter has a survey of nineteen questions and an offer of an ABSOLUTELY FREE! Final Wishes Organizer if I return the completed survey.

The survey, the letter says, is designed to help the service know what I (and not just any member “of our community”) want and need at “this most difficult time”.  Well, at “this most difficult time” I want free stuff. But the survey didn’t go there. The first question is a wink and a nod come-on.

How old are you? Are you Under 25, between 26-40, between 41-65, 66 or older?

This service obviously knows my age range, where I live, and that I am retired which means that during “this most difficult time” I am receiving a portion of my life’s hard-earned income back as a monthly “benefit” from the government. The death service wouldn’t buy information that was a dead end.

O Death where is they sting? With the number of online and mail solicitations for life insurance I receive, I get the idea that everyone wants a piece of me during “this most difficult time”. When I’m dead they’ll have nothing of me and I’ll like it. And I better die in the next ten years.

The government-run program designed to protect, provide, help, and secure ECONOMIC SECURITY for people in the United States and which has been tracking my income whereabouts since birth, will be depleted by 2034. Social Security will bite the dust – but not because of me. And, if the tear-it-all-down Democrats have their way, our republic will bite the dust before 2034. To celebrate, they’ll erect statues of a Smartphone, Dylan Mulvaney, Barack Obama, a Black-gloved fist, Chairman Mao, and Martin Luther Floyd. Give me liberty or give me death.

Which of the following would you choose – burial or cremation? Hmmm. I would like to bury the elemental composition of my body, 23% of which is carbon. This last will serve as my offset for a life well-carboned. And I would like to cremate my past. Star dust to star dust, ashes to ashes, and a tick up on my final social credit score. I want to be known as the Environmental Dead Person of the Year. Who wouldn’t?

The survey continues with a range of “Show me the money” questions such as Are you currently employed? Are you aware of prepaid funeral plans? How much do you expect to pay for a funeral? Do you have life insurance, a will? Who’s the money person we should be talking to? And, to expand the scope, do you have a need for a cemetery plot? That’s the last thing I need.

(Check the boxes and we’ll tell you which box is yours. We have convenient layaway plans. Come in and check out our waiting room!)

The last question asks if I want more information about funeral planning and the types of service available. If so, I am to return the completed survey in the postage paid envelope with my phone number and address. Should I throw the service an old bone and complete the survey?

According to the mailer, the free guide “provides insightful information about planning ahead”. The guide, no doubt, nudges the reader into preparing for a tidy prepaid end. One doesn’t want to leave any loose ends. I’m half Dutch, so I’m half tidy and half-loose ends, as those who know me would confirm.

Final Wishes? To not be fed plant-based food, to not be vaccinated and fed with vaccinated food, and to die in the shire.

Planning ahead? I’d like to make it convenient for everyone like with my birthday.  But every year I pass my death day and have no clue.

A tidy end? I plan on being there when I die. And afterward. That’s been prepared. I will share in the life of God’s new age and his kingdom on earth.

And, though an old hymn says “I can’t feel at home in this world anymore”, this world is my home. I’m not just passing through. I will return with the Lord and continue to walk around on resurrection ground and reign on this earth as a priest to our God.

You purchased a people for God,

From every tribe and tongue,

From every people and nation,

And made them a kingdom and priests to our God

And they will reign on the earth.”

-The Revelation of John 5: 6-10

*****

Mr./Ms. Rep./Sen.,

When you use my income to fund government programs that are earmarked to benefit interest groups, e.g., “$3 million for an LGBTQ museum in New York, more than $3.6 million for a Michelle Obama Trail, and authorization for the creation of a Ukrainian Independence Park”, you are not benefitting Jen Q Public. You are picking winners and losers. And, Jen Q Public is on the losing end.

Taxation means I have less money to take care of myself. With every tax increase I am forced to give less to my neighbor and to those people who need it via organizations that I can monitor and see results. Taking money out of my hands and stuffing it in your coffers is taking away charity, aka love, and replacing it with impersonal bureaucracy.

As spent, every tax dollar benefits your reelection campaign to do more picking of winners and losers. You do not represent Jen Q Public when you spend money like this. You represent yourself.

I want my money back. I do not want your welfare and your public assistance programs and your public health bureaucracy and your earmarks and your wars. I want my money back. I want to take care of myself and my neighbor. Get your hands out of my pocket.

US leads the rest of the world with $196 billion given to Ukraine amid war with Russia | Fox News

*****

Ornithology Project:

By the streams the birds of the air have their habitation;
    they sing among the branches. Psalm 104: 12

A couple of months ago I purchased a Zoom H4n Handy Recorder to record bird song. Below is one of my first attempts to capture local bird song. I am still learning how to use the recorder and the Audacity audio software to filter out distortion, so bear with me.

In this recording, captured this Easter morning about 6 AM in central Indiana, you will hear me walking toward the birds, wind distortion in the middle, more walking and relocating and then a solo bird song against a background chorus of bird song.

Around the 2 min. mark you will start to hear some wind distortion

Around 2:30 I am walking into the wind and relocating

Around 3:20 the wind distortion ends

Around 3:40 a bird solo

230409-000 Easter Morning Central Indiana Bird Song

These birds actively communicate in the early morning. I’m an early bird, so this research is a good fit for me and my Parrolet Henry approves. Next up: refining my recordings and discerning which types of birds these are.

Just this morning I noticed a nest being built on a wreath I hung on a patio door. the birds of the air have their habitation at my place, too. Soon, new life.

Cornell Lab of Ornithology—Home | Birds, Cornell Lab of Ornithology

Informed Dissent:

The Evidence for Antidepressants Causing Mass Shootings (substack.com)

How the FDA Buried the Dangers of Antidepressants (substack.com)

Fauci Says the Quiet Part Out Loud: “There Will Absolutely be an Outbreak of Another Pandemic…It May be Next Year…” | The Gateway Pundit | by Brian Lupo

How mobile phones have changed our brains – BBC Future

They are coming for our food . . .

Paging Dr. Malone… US beef and pork lobbyists claim mRNA livestock vaccines will begin this month… – Revolver News

“Martyrdom in Our Lifetime” – Dr. Thomas Williams Warns of the Growing Anti-Christian Assault in America Today (VIDEO) | The Gateway Pundit | by Jim Hoft

Your brain on COVID-19 vaccines . . .

SARS-CoV-2 Spike Protein Accumulation in the Skull-Meninges-Brain Axis: Potential Implications for Long-Term Neurological Complications in post-COVID-19 | bioRxiv

America Has An Egg Problem And It’s Creating Weak Men | Evie Magazine

Why Reparations are Wrong – by Robert W Malone MD, MS (substack.com)

American Banana Republic – The American Mind

They’re coming to free speech away:

French woman faces $13,000 fine for Facebook post calling President Macron “fifth” (reclaimthenet.org)

standforhealthfreedom.com-Shining a light on POLIODownload

*****

“We cannot possibly adjust enough to please the fanatics, and it is degrading to make the attempt.” Christopher Hitchens

*****

The Midwest:

Chicago:

CHICAGO GOES FULL COMMIE: Radical Socialist Brandon Johnson Is Predicted Winner in Mayor’s Race Against Pro-Police Moderate Candidate Paul Vallas | The Gateway Pundit | by Jim Hoft

Chicago’s new mayor wants to start a race war… could be the most dangerous Marxist yet… – Revolver News

Brandon Johnson wins 2023 Chicago mayoral race, defeating Paul Vallas – Chicago Sun-Times (suntimes.com)

Wisconsin:

GOP lawmaker wins Wis. Senate seat, creating supermajority | News | channel3000.com

Liberal Judge Janet Protasiewicz Wins Wisconsin Supreme Court Race—Here’s Why It Matters (forbes.com)

Indiana:

In a statement, [Indiana’s Gov.] Holcomb said it is “important that we recognize and understand” that struggles with gender dysphoria are real. But also said that medical transitions should “occur as an adult, not a minor.” . . .

Holcomb signs gender-affirming care ban for trans youth into law (wfyi.org)

Gov. Holcomb – Do not send Indiana money and support to Zelensky. It is not our war!

“In his tweet Gov. Holcomb stated: “We will continue supporting Ukraine’s defense and sovereignty amid Russia’s senseless invasion.”

Indiana’s governor joins other state leaders on video call with Ukraine’s president | News | wdrb.com

The Green Religion:

Your property first, Jamie . . .

Wall Street titan Jamie Dimon says seize private land for wind and solar builds | Recharge (rechargenews.com)

Ending Racism:

*****

“All My Exes CHANGED THEIR SEXES” 😂 | Buddy Brown | Truck Sessions – YouTube

Filed under Christianity, Death, Easter, Easter Tagged with , , , , ,

Lent in the Time of Coronavirus

April 5, 2020 Leave a comment

“I’m telling you a solemn truth: unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains all by itself. If it dies, though, it will produce lots of fruit. If you love your life, you’ll lose it. If you hate your life in this world, you’ll keep it for the life of the coming age.” -the gospel according to John, 12: 24-25

These words of Jesus were in response to Andrew and Philip. They came to Jesus saying that some Greeks would like to meet him. It seems to be a strange response for a simple request. But Jesus, noting that the “world” was coming to him for answers and for salvation, speaks of his coming death and the means to a resurrected life by following the same vocation. His words define the essence of Lent.

From the earliest days of the church, times of self-examination and self-denial have been observed. The origin of this practice may have been for the preparation of new Christians for Baptism and a reset of their lives. 2020 and the Lenten season is upon us and with it the government recommended “Stay in Place” until April 30th. Easter (April 12th), resurrection day, is the celebratory end of Lent and a restart to new life dependent on what takes place during Lent.

In the midst of the coronavirus pandemic, there is a worldwide intense focus on physical and financial well-being, As we each hunker down and remain sequestered away from the coronavirus, anxiety is compounded: we want to know if we’ll be OK; we want to know where all of this is going and how it will end. The Greeks who wanted to meet Jesus and first-century Jews with their age-old anticipation for a Messiah to set the world to rights had similar concerns.

It is said that Luke, writer of a gospel account and the Acts of the Apostles, was a Greek physician. This being the case, he would testify, if present today, to the infirmities leading to vast numbers of death in the first century. He would recount that there were all manner of infectious diseases, smallpox, parasitic infections, malaria, anthrax, pneumonia, tuberculosis, polio, skin diseases including leprosy, head lice and scabies and, more. Dr. Luke would be the first to tell you that first-century remedies were ineffectual against the afflictions mentioned.

Paul, the apostle to the Gentiles, would tell us how Stoic and Epicurean philosophers dealt with grim reality surrounding them.

The Stoics, around the same time as Epicurus, posited a grim fatalist outlook. Considering themselves cogs in life’s machinery, their response was to lead a virtuous life in spite of “it all”. Materialism and passions were of no interest to them. “No Fear” and apathy towards life’s randomness were the attitudes they wore on their shoulder to appear non-self-pitying. They also advocated for suicide -the ultimate form of self-pity.

The philosophy of Epicureanism, posited by the Greek philosopher Epicurus (341-270 BC) a few centuries before the birth of Christ, offered mankind self-pity with license. Per Epicurus, there was no God or the gods were uninvolved with men. And, for him, there was no life after death. So, mankind had to make the best of the atoms he was dealt. Man was to do so by avoiding pain and seeking pleasure in the company of like-minded friends. Self-pity could be dealt with in intimate and safe surroundings.

Around the first century Epicureanism and Stoicism were evident in Greek, Roman and Pagan life. These philosophies gave words to what was inherent in man from his days in the Garden – a narrative of mis-trust in God. During the first century these philosophies were already fused with pantheism and the zeal to worship pagan deities.

To seek relief, paganism, an early form of Progressivism, enjoined pagans to offer the distant gods sacrifices to secure their well-being. Israel, called to be the people of God, chose to lament – asking God to respond to dire circumstances according to revealed His nature. Many of the Psalms are worship-infused petitions invoking remembrances of God’s ability to save and vows to praise Him as he does so again.

Psalm 13

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
 How long must I take counsel in my soul
    and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God;
    light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
 lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
    lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.

 But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
    my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
    because he has dealt bountifully with me

In the news reports we hear “unprecedented” many times over. Yet, this pandemic is no Black Swan event. History records pandemics, plagues, earthquakes, famines and, all manner of tragedies affecting mankind. In my previous post I mentioned weathering last century’s Asian flu pandemic. And though our response to the current pandemic is “unprecedented” mankind will continue to suffer from unexpected devastating events. Mankind will continue to ask, as did the psalmist (Psalm 22), “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?” We read above that the psalmist has put his trust in God’s unfailing love. He awaits God’s salvation knowing that God has acted to save a remnant of the faithful before.

Lent, this Lent in particular, is a time to lament. We want to know if we’ll be OK; we want to know where all of this is going and how it will end. Asking God to consider the dire circumstances and to answer according to his nature, is a conversation to foster during Lent. It is a time to consider that there is an advocate – the Word Incarnate – who pleads for us before the throne of God. He does so with ‘real-world’ experience.

The Son of God entered the unsanitary disease-filled world described above. He is fully aware of the pain, suffering and groaning of his creation and of man’s philosophies, with its grains of thought which produce no fruit. He did not come to give us social justice platitudes. He did not come to create a Progressive party and overthrow the establishment. If, as God-man, he had not made the sacrifice to redeem his creation, then he would have “remained alone” as a philosopher with platitudes. He came instead, as he stated to Andrew and Philip, to be a grain of wheat that falls into the earth and dies in order to bring forth much fruit in his creation.

Per Jesus’ example, Lent is a time to become a grain of wheat that falls into the earth and dies, dies to the flesh on the world’s self-preservation life-support. It is a time to cultivate healthy spiritual habits, habits that produce the fruits that Jesus spoke about when his time of sacrifice was approaching.

As a season for Christians to mark time and to “Stay in Place”, apart for a time from the world’s pervasive influence, Lent is a time for Christians to hunker down, revise routines, and to focus on what matters. It is a time of reflection, repentance and, renewal. It is a time for fasting, growth and, a return to silence and simplicity.

As we do so, we may find that the silver lining we had purchased in the moment, in the midst of dark days of stress and difficulty, was in exchange for thirty pieces of silver. We may learn that the investments we have made – time-wise, financially and morally – are insufficient to carry us forward. We may find that we have greatly leveraged ourselves to control larger and larger positions in life, positions that are more than we can handle. We may have done so to gain acceptance and security from the world. But now there are margin calls we are unable to pay. This may cause us to look to for more security from the world or to God. During this time, we may also learn that our God-given discernment has been used to criticize others and their “sins” and not for intercession on behalf of them.

In the midst of the coronavirus pandemic ‘exile’, we may be wishing “If only someone would push RESET and we could get on with our lives as before”. A RESET button has been pushed. Jesus of Nazareth, very God of very God and the Word made flesh, came into the world to reset all narratives, including the historical Judaic narrative, by keeping his covenant promises. The epigraph, words to both Greeks and Jews, tells us how.

The resurrection of Jesus is the greatest RESET and the only one that really matters. With it, the power of death had been defeated. Remember Jesus telling Martha at the time of Lazarus’s death, “I am the resurrection and the life. And anyone who believes in me will live, even if they die.” (John 11: 25-26) Yes, Jesus wept at the overwhelming sorrow caused by Lazarus’ death. But he knew that he would overcome death and that there would be rejoicing in the new-life fruit his death and resurrection would produce.

Lent in the Time of the Coronavirus is a time for Christians to plant the grain-of-wheat RESET and to be ready to go on with their lives as never before.

Filed under Christianity, Current Events 2020, Easter, lent, pandemic, suffering Tagged with , , , , , ,

Are You Witnesses of All This?

April 21, 2019 Leave a comment

 

Over the last several posts I’ve written about philosophers (Epicurus in particular and Protagoras) and philosophies (Epicureanism and Stoicism). Taken together they state, among other things I described earlier, that this life is all there is. There would be no hereafter in that way of thinking. During the first century the Apostle Paul, the “the apostle of the Gentiles”, encountered those worldviews on the streets where he sold his tents and in the early churches where he taught.

Writing to those in the Corinthian church whose Gentile members denied a resurrection of the dead, Paul responded in a rather taunting manner to their philosophical take on death as final. The gospel he proclaimed – Jesus is Lord, forgiveness of sins, new creation, the kingdom of God on earth has been launched – all hinged on the resurrection of Jesus.

And if the Messiah wasn’t raised, your faith is pointless, and you are still in your sins. 1 Cor. 15:7

After addressing and closing the dead are raised issue with an eye witness defense (1 Cor. 15: 3-8), Paul responds to the heart of the Corinthian objection to resurrection: the nature of future bodies. He mocks their materialist objections using an analogy from nature:

But someone is now going to say, “How are the dead raised? What sort of body will they have when they come back? Stupid! What you sow doesn’t come back to life unless it dies. 1 Cor. 15: 35

No doubt, Paul also heard that Jesus responded in a similar fashion when he rebuked the Sadducees who denied the resurrection (as recorded in Luke 20:38 and below, in Mark 12:

“Where you are going wrong,” replied Jesus, “is that you don’t know the scriptures, or God’s power. When people rise from the dead, they don’t marry, nor do people give them in marriage. They are like angels in heaven.

However, to show that the dead are indeed raised, surely you’ve read in the book of Moses, in the passage about the bush, what God says to Moses? ‘I am Abraham’s God, Isaac’s God, and Jacob’s God’? He isn’t the God of the dead, but of the living. You are completely mistaken.”

In the same letter (1 Cor.15:19), agitated Paul, in talking about people’s motivations in light of their position on the resurrection, recommends Epicurean self-pity if the dead are not raised.

If it’s only in this present life that we have hope in the Messiah, we are the most pitiable members of the human race.

He later quotes a popular Epicurean saying that embraces self-pity and self-indulgence in light off…

…If the dead are not raised,

“Let us eat and drink,

for tomorrow we die.”

1 Cor. 15:32

What was Paul’s background that offered him insight into Greek philosophies? We learn from Acts 21: 37 -39 as he defends himself against highly agitated Jews who clamored for his arrest.  He is brought before a Roman tribune:

“Am I allowed to say something to you??” he asked.

“Well!” replied the tribune. “So you know some Greek, do you? Aren’t you the Egyptian who raised a revolt some while back and led those four thousand ‘assassins’ into the desert?”

“Actually, replied Paul. “I am a Jew! I am from Tarsus in Cilica. That’s not an insignificant place to be a citizen of. Please let me speak to the people.”

Inferring his Roman citizenship, Paul goes on to defend his Jewish background in the face of his Jewish accusers:

“I am a Jew, he continued, “and born in Tarsus in Cilicia. I received my education here in this city, and I studied at the feet of Gamaliel. I was trained in the strictest interpretations of our ancestral laws and became zealous for God, just as all of you today.”

Paul had significant first-hand knowledge of Greek, Roman and Jewish worldviews. Paul was more than able to respond to the Epicurean context of the Gentiles. Paul was more than able to present the gospel in the context of the Jewish worldview, a worldview of monotheism, the Temple, eschatology and …resurrection.

The narrative of the resurrection and an eschatology of the age to come took on great import during the Second Temple Judaism. Other than the words of Moses and some metaphorical allusions to resurrection by Isaiah (Isaiah 26:19) and Ezekiel (37), there isn’t mention of the resurrection in the Old Testament. Those allusions were applied during the Babylonian exile. They refer to the restoration of Israel as a nation and the reoccurring theme of exodus from bondage. The scribe Daniel is the first to mention the resurrection in non-metaphorical terms when he describes the “wise”, the Jewish resistance to Antiochus, not dying in vain (Daniel 11).

It was during the intertestamental period that scribes began writing about the resurrection of the dead, among many other topics of concern during late Second Temple Judaism. The Qumran community kept these writings in clay jars within caves in case the community was taken out by the Romans.

The Jewish religious leaders in Jesus’ time knew these writings, e.g., The Epistle of Enoch and 2 Maccabees. The disciples knew them. Paul knew them. The writings were talked about in the synagogues and on the streets. These writings offered a Messianic hope for the coming day when God would put things right. In the meantime, they stoked courage against the looming threat of Roman authority. It is very likely that Mary and Martha would have known about these writing as well. It appears that Martha had an understanding of them when she confronts Jesus after her brother Lazarus dies.

When Martha heard that Jesus had arrived, she went to meet him. Mary, meanwhile stayed sitting at home.

“Master,” said Martha to Jesus, “if only you’d been here! Then my brother wouldn’t have died! But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask him for.”

“Your brother will rise again,” replied Jesus.

“I know he will rise on the last day.”

(Notice the role reversals from the previous Mary and Martha encounter with Jesus in their home? Martha, the fussbudget homebody, is now interested to hear what Jesus has to say. She goes to meet him. Mary, who doted on Jesus at his feet, stays at home where she grieves and perhaps sulks that Jesus wasn’t there for her brother. She was given another chance at Jesus’ feet.)

Jesus responded to Martha.

“I am the resurrection and the life,” replied Jesus. “Anyone who believes in me will live, even if they die. And anyone who lives and believes in me will never, ever die. Do you believe this?”

“Yes, master,” she said. “This is what I’ve come to believe: that you are the Messiah, the son of God, the one who was to come into the world.”

Jesus responded to Martha’s eschatological understanding with, in effect, “I am revising your understanding with personal present tense knowledge of me”. Jesus then asks for Mary. Proximity to Jesus matters and not only for Mary and Martha’s sake but also for Jesus’ sake. He wants to see for himself the loss, the grief and the pain we feel. He would carry our griefs and sorrows to the cross and then remove the sting of death with his (and then our) resurrection.

When Mary came to where Jesus was, she saw him and fell down at his feet.

“Master!” she said, “If only you’d been here, my brother wouldn’t have died!”

When Jesus saw her crying, and the Judeans who had come with her crying, he was deeply stirred in his spirit, and very troubled…”

Mary and Martha witnessed the resurrection of their brother Lazarus. The three of them would learn of and perhaps be among the over five-hundred brothers and sisters who saw Jesus alive after his resurrection (1 Cor. 15: 5). All of them were witnesses of the things that came to pass. And what came to pass was not a doctrine or a philosophy or an apparition – a ghost. It was bodily resurrection.

No mere manmade philosophy, ancient or otherwise, could ever revive the dead or comfort the living in their loss with “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” No amount of pleasure reduces the pain we feel. No amount of materialism and its cheerleading proponent Progressivism – a political pandering to self-pity – will provide hope for today. Those philosophical positions are about nursing wounds. Those philosophical positions are ephemera compared to the reality of the bodily Resurrection of Jesus and the new life offered to those who believe.

Only the Resurrection and the Life can reverse the downward spiral of mankind and provide hope that doesn’t pass away with a meal. Live in the present tense Resurrection and Life as Mary and Martha and hundreds of early followers of Jesus did.

Are you witnesses of all this? Of the resurrection? Or, are you witnesses of the Easter bunny? I think that’s what Paul had in mind when he mocked the Corinthians.

Empty tomb

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The Resurrection is the central theme in every Christian sermon reported in the Acts. The Resurrection, and its consequences were the “gospel” or good news which the Christians brought: what we call the “gospels,” the narratives of Our Lord’s life and death, were composed later for the benefit of those who had already accepted the gospel. They were in no sense the basis of Christianity: they were written for those already converted. The miracle of the Resurrection, and the theology of that miracle, comes first: the biography comes later as a comment on it. Nothing could be more unhistorical than to pick out selected sayings of Christ from the gospels and to regard those as the datum and the rest of the New Testament as a construction upon it. The first fact in the history of Christendom is a number of people who say they have seen the Resurrection.

– Miracles, C.S. Lewis

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When We All Get to (New) Heaven (and New Earth)

February 25, 2018 Leave a comment

 

Just the other day I saw this picture, a billboard remembrance of Billy Graham, posted in a Tweet.

“Gone home” brought back memories of the spurious teaching and preaching I have been under for many years regarding the end of one’s life. If we say “home is where the heart is” then yes, Billy Graham went home. If we say Heaven is our final destination, as I have heard so often in sermons and songs then no, Billy Graham did not go home.

Am I being picayune? I will tell you why I do not think so. Like with the constant preaching of “ministry, ministry, ministry”, so much of my life in attendance in a Bible church setting has been under the preaching and teaching that someday we will all be taken up and away from this ‘God-forsaken’ mess. We will either be ‘raptured’ or die. Either way, as the sermon goes, we will be taken up to our final resting place in heaven. As far as I am concerned that preaching is dead wrong for at least a couple of reasons.

First, the “rapture” is a fantasy imposed onto Scripture. We should see the Scripture in the context it was written and not add fantasy notions to it. The Apostle Paul, by the Holy Spirit, gave us the imagery of Christ returning in power. In 1 Thessalonians 4.15-16 the Apostle “Paul is casting a vision of Christ’s return wrapped in political overturns (he actually does this a lot!)”. There will be no “rapture”. “The Late Great Planet Earth” and the “Left Behind” series of ‘end times’ books are also fantasies imposed on Scripture. These books are not worth your time.

Second, when we die we do go to heaven – the place where Jesus is. And where Jesus goes, we go too. He will be returning to the worlds that are created for him.

You see, “heaven” is just a way station, an intermediate stopping place. Heaven can be thought of as a station set between principal stations on a line of travel. Think railroad. Heaven is not our final destination. Heaven is a way station along the way.

As such, heaven is not a retirement community, as has been implied by so much preaching and teaching and by popular songs and hymnody. I remember singing “This world is not my home I’m just a passing through” and wondering, “Is that all there is? If we’re just passing through what was the point of all this? Is heaven some hyper-imaginary place where I put my feet up after a life of work? There are many more escapist songs just like “This World…”.

I remember singing “When we all get to heaven…” and “I’ll fly away” and “When the roll is called up yonder, I’ll be there”.

 

Now, why would God create a new heaven and a new earth if “heaven” was your final destination?

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth. The first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven, from God, prepared like a bride dressed up for her husband. I heard a voice from the throne, and this is what it said: “Look! God has come to dwell with humans! He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them and will be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or weeping or pain anymore, since the fist things have passed away.

The one who sat on the throne said, “Look, I am making all things new….” Revelation 21: 1-5

Compare Genesis 1 and 2 and Revelation 21 and 22. Creation was meant to be a place where God dwells with his creation. Creation is the temple designed by God where He is to dwell among his people. Consider the Garden of Eden, Consider the tabernacle, the Temple, and now the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in us who are the temple of the Holy Spirit. Consider the new heavens and new earth where God dwells with his people. The work of Jesus on the cross is a work of creation’s redemption, of restoring Genesis in Revelation. The life of Jesus and his death on the cross is for the reunification of heaven and earth. You and I, after passing through the way station of heaven will return and take up roles in the new created order.

Jesus, in fact, will be returning with Billy and all those who have gone on before. Jesus is not giving up on his creation. Jesus will be returning to put things right and he will use us to do so, since when we see him we will become like him. In the context of current church life, Paul writes:

“Don’t you know that God’s people will judge the world? And if the world is to be judged by you, are you really incompetent to try smaller matters? Don’t you know that we shall be judging angels?” 1 Cor. 6:3

The reason I write this post is to get instill the reader with spiritual momentum that will push one past the grave and past the “final resting place” thinking and towards the dynamic of the Kingdom of God on earth. With your death you are not being put out to pasture. Rather, you are being resurrected and repurposed to do the work of the Kingdom of God on earth where God will dwell with you. Lay up for yourselves those ‘retirement fund’ thoughts now.

Filed under 2018 Current Events, Christianity, Death, end times Tagged with , , , , ,

“Imagine” Juxtaposed

February 21, 2015 Leave a comment

Previous posts attempted to expose the Epicurean influence on modernity: the exclusion of God from the garden of good and evil and replaced with Darwinian materialism under the influence of man-made reasoning: “cogito ergo sum”.

The posts also revealed the inclusion of ‘reasoned’ or ‘rational’ people into the high-horse club of scientism. This exclusive club is governed by those who have the power, perhaps the raison d’état, to control the inputs and outputs of desired ‘truth’. “What is truth?” Pilate asked (when he thought he had the force of the whole Roman empire to define it.)

As I wryly mentioned in my previous posts the above either/or, God/science dichotomy came, at first, philosophically, from what I call Epicurus’ “High-Horse” Mal-ware. This mal-ware has since been downloaded over the centuries into each century’s modern man’s psyche. The devastating effect of the Mal-ware was to disable the AND gate of your truth tables. It was not to be used in queries.

Now, like the historically recorded scene of two thieves each hanging on cross with Jesus hanging between them, I offer a similar juxtaposition of two end results, two disparate “Imagines”.

One “Imagine” is Epicurean, God dismissed, materialistic, nihilistic and personified in the likes of former atheist Christopher Hitchens, materialist Barack Obama and fatalist Beatle John Lennon:

 The other “Imagine” is God-inclusive. Here, God is the nucleus, the epicenter of being and meaning. Here, God and science coexist as Lion and lamb, creation being the sublime work of His hands, His signature found in the molded clay.

God’s Kingdom, now begun on earth, has become a dwelling place for all who see His light and follow it. True reality is made known to His followers by the Holy Spirit. The earthly spectrum of sodium street lights, of tungsten lights, of neon lights, of mercury lights, of halogen lights, of xenon lights, lights all of which enable us to see our way on earth are sourced from the Prism of Eternal Light.

“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” C.S. Lewis

At His appearance we will then know Him as He knows us. That Eternal Light you see is Love, not short-lived Epicurean fireworks and party favors. 

 

Footnote: The above song by MercyMe was played during my son’s funeral service, about fourteen years ago. Justin was eighteen when the Lord took him home in a freak car accident. The police reported that it was a clear, sunny and dry day in Texas as Justin drove down a frontage road and lost control of the car. No other cars were involved. No drugs or alcohol were involved according to the Police report.

 Justin had recently graduated from high school. The afternoon of his death he was driving back from his girlfriend’s house. We don’t know why this happened. We just know that we will see him again and this is not final. The Joy that only God’s True Love can give replaced the deepest loss I have ever experienced.  Physics caused the physical death. But, Justin lives on.

 Sure there is pain, loss and evil in the world. But God is greater than any of these, if you let Him be God in your life.

Filed under Atheism, Christianity, Culture, Death, Evil, Science Tagged with , , , , , , , , ,

Father’s Day – June 15th, 2014

June 14, 2014 Leave a comment

G. K. Chesterton once said:

 “We are to regard existence as a raid or great adventure; it is to be judged, therefore, not by what calamities it encounters, but by what flag it follows and what high town it assaults. The most dangerous thing in the world is to be alive; one is always in danger of one’s life. But anyone who shrinks from that is a traitor to the great scheme and experiment of being.”

One year ago, on June 15th, 2013, this year’s Father Day, my dad went to be with the Lord.

 His and my mom’s life verse, found in Romans 8:28, made Chesterton’s challenge a forgone conclusion in my dad’s life:

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

My dad did not shrink from life. Rather, he served his God, his wife of 64 years, his family, his grandchildren and his great-grand children with great zeal. Though not one who could sit through a ‘moment’ my dad kept moving.  He kept taking photos so as to capture the ‘moment’ while thinking ahead about the next ‘moment’, the next high tower to assault. (And, yes, I am the same way.)

My dad lived a life of service.

He served as a village trustee and then later as mayor in a major suburb outside of Chicago. I wrote a post about Memorial Day when my dad was mayor: The Rectitude of Silence.

My dad worked two jobs when funds when needed. With four hungry kids funds were often depleted. Yet, on some Saturdays my dad would take us to Sandy’s for a hamburger, fries and a shake. He would also occasionally take us to the YMCA for swimming. I suspect, though, that he did this so that mom could regain control of her mind. He was a thoughtful husband.

My dad also served the Lord’s church as a Sunday school teacher. Often with theology books, concordances, etc. spread out before him on the dining room table I would see him handwriting his lessons. He believed the Gospel to be the power of God unto salvation. And, as a Moody Bible Institute alumnus (the Alumni President, at one point) he believed the Bible to be God’s Truth.

My father was adamant about the Bible’s literal truth. His understanding, I believe, was born out of a time when liberal theology came to the fore and challenged the Sola Scriptura interpretation. And, he knew from personal experience that Scripture is the power of God unto salvation.

Some would be put off by my dad’s sometimes strident letters to some of his children and grandchildren, letters meant by him to separate the wheat from chaff. As a parent of four, I understood his motivation. I understood his reasons, his heart of love and his desire that all of his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren would come to know the One true God before all else. In true Pauline style he pushed the point home.

I also understood that I needed to research truth for myself and stake my own claim in the Kingdom of God as he did long ago. I thank God for my Christian heritage formed by my father’s faith. He proved Romans 8:28, ergo, once again, proving God to be true to his word.

Beyond being a Sunday School teacher my dad served as church chairman.  He and my mom also served as the mission’s committee chairpersons. It was through their ministry and their gracious hospitality that I met dozens of missionaries from across the globe. I would meet them and hear their stories during our Sunday after-church meals featuring mom’s pot roast.

Wow!  Little wonder that now as an adult I love maps and geography. World maps and the pinpoint missions were posted on the walls of our church ~ more high towers to assault for dad and for mom.

The photo below was taken just about three weeks before my dad left us to be with Him who is the Resurrection and the Life. My dad is in Good Shepherd hands. So, I am at peace. Still, this moment in time, tomorrow, will be hard to gather all those thoughts in. Yet, I have not lost a father. Heaven has gained a saint who needed a well-deserved rest ~ and lots of hugs.

 dad-mom-me 

  I do not fear death because, like dad, I embrace the One who is the Ultimate Ruler and Redeemer of this World.

Unlike my dad, though, I do not believe in a ‘literal’ young earth creation story. Rather, I see Genesis One and Two to be poetic true myths about what God wants us to know about our beginnings.  Beyond this, based on my studies of genetic scientific evidence and quantum physics, I completely accept old earth theistic evolution ~ a Creator God whose spoken Big Bang sparked the machinations of evolution, thereby creating worlds known and unknown. I believe the Holy Spirit breathed into Adam and Eve a soul, giving them moral Absolutes in their spirit’s DNA..

As dad and mom together believed I also believe in Romans 8:28, knowing that God is good …:“There is but one good; that is God. Everything else is good when it looks to Him and bad when it turns from Him.” C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Now, to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen. I Timothy 1:17

 

 Aside:

I once called my dad on Father’s Day from Saudi Arabia: Father’s Day 1985

 

THOU hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and Death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way;
Despair behind, and Death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
Only Thou art above, and when towards Thee
By Thy leave I can look, I rise again;
But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
That not one hour myself I can sustain.
Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art
And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart

John Donne, The Holy Sonnets I.

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Pour ma mère

March 9, 2014 Leave a comment

 Remembering dad…

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“To Be or Not To Be” Has Always Been the Question

May 28, 2013 Leave a comment

It’s been a while since my last post.  I have been away visiting my mom & dad.  My dad is close to death.

 I drove out to see my folks when I heard that my dad was failing fast.  We expect him to leave us soon.

 I spent several days with mom and dad.  I was able to speak and pray with dad.  He is ready to die.

My father believes that God is faithful to His Word and that he will be in the Lord’s presence soon.

 My father is coherent but feeble. An oxygen tank and a pump supply air thru his nose into his lungs and into his blood stream. There will be no more doctor visits for him.

 My dad is a Godly man. He has done the work of the Kingdom of God here on earth: reconciliation, redemption, giving, witnessing, intercession and many other good works.  And he has been married to my mom for almost 64 years!

 Each of us siblings is praying that dad will quietly pass over into the presence of the Lord while he is in his chair or in his bed. I will miss dad. (I am the oldest child.)

 While there I met with my siblings to talk about future things regarding mom.

 “The LORD cares deeply when his loved ones die.”  Psalm 116:15

 A photo of mom & dad & me:

dad & mom & me

 While visiting mom and dad I was able to catch up with my siblings and their kids.  Wow!  The kids have grown! 

 I am not a ‘Facebook’ kind of person so I haven’t seen the latest goings-on with each relative. How much I have missed!

 My sister-in-law is also not a ‘Facebook’ kind of person.  But she and I are into drama.  She invited me  to go over to nearby Liberty U to see my nephew in Hamlet.   Her son had two roles:  Rosencrantz and Laertes.

 The play began outside and then each scene was set in a different location around the Hancock Welcome Center ~ inside and out.   

 As we moved outside to the balcony a glorious panoramic view opened to us:   the sun was behind and below the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance, the horizon gilt with gold and rose.

 The gravedigger scene ~ “Alas, poor Yorick …”~ was hilarious.

 At the play’s end there was a clash of swords. Laertes and the rest didn’t survive the sword fight or the poison. Death was strewn everywhere.

 And then I was reminded of what G. k. Chesterton once said:

 “We are to regard existence as a raid or great adventure; it is to be judged, therefore, not by what calamities it encounters, but by what flag it follows and what high town it assaults. The most dangerous thing in the world is to be alive; one is always in danger of one’s life. But anyone who shrinks from that is a traitor to the great scheme and experiment of being.”

Hamlet tickets

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Flowers of the Field

April 13, 2013 Leave a comment

I went for a mammogram on Good Friday.  This was my first mammogram even though I am about ten years from retirement.  I put off health tests ( I tell myself)  because I am so busy.

 After the images were taken I was told that a radiologist would review my scans and send a report to my doctor. This would take about a week.

 The following week I waited anxiously because of what happened as I left the medical office: 

 I opened the door and walked over to the elevator.  There a few feet away were two women facing each other. One of the women, clutching papers in her hand, turned away when I came out the door.  Waiting for the elevator I could hear the other woman, perhaps her mother, comforting her:  “It will be OK.  You will be alright.” I quickly realized that the woman had received some bad news from the radiologist’s report. She was quietly sobbing.

 A lot of things go through your mind when you are in medical limbo. For me there was fear, then anger and then calm took over as I give the matter back to the Lord.

 The next Friday I came home from work and found the report in my mail box.  I wondered why they sent me the report.  They told me that my doctor would get the first look.

 Well, I was relieved to find that the mammogram was “normal.” The staff wanted to let me know right away. 

 The tentative calm became a sigh of relief and then a prayer for the woman at the elevator:  “Lord, please remove all cancer from this woman’s body. I ask this in the name of Jesus.”

 Maybe five years from now someone will pray for me as I stand by the elevator crying. Life is like that.

 ***

 It was during this time of waiting for the radiologist’s report that I heard the shocking news that a coworker had died overnight. 

 This man was slightly older than me.  He died of a brain aneurism ~ in an instant without any warning.

Something like this gives one pause:  How close to death am I?

 Yet, I do not fear death.  It is a matter of perspective.

 I know that even though the dust I am made of will crumble and return to the earth I will live on within the dancing embrace of the Trinity ~ as a flower of the field that never withers or dies.

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