Becoming Our Parents

   When I looked at our personal calendar for this week, my first thought was, "that looks like what we said about Nana and Papa".

   As they got older it seemed like their outings were either to the doctor or the funeral home, and, as I look at my things to do this week, that is what I see for us, too.

   Three appointments at various doctors, and a funeral on Thursday. That is our week.

   It also seems like a lot of each day concerns appointments in the future, or medicine, or others we need to see, or at least pray for, ones that are struggling in their own world.

   Old age is not for sissies, that is for sure, and we, as well as most of our friends, fit that category.

   As I sit here this morning, I think, and it is not about "woe is me".

   There is a reason each one of us is alive at this moment in time. Why?

   Then the phone rings, and, wouldn't you know it, it was a call from a pharmacy in Florida that furnishes meds for eye solutions.

   I come back to my thoughts about still inhabiting this earth spot. Why?

   Then the phone rings again. Is it an answer to my question?

   Ha, no, it is a call from a nurse about an appointment for tomorrow, just a reminder.

   Is the whole medical establishment conspiring against me?

   Whoops, it is time to put drops in my eyes. But before that I need to get some pills for my wife.

   I guess I will be like Scarlet and think about this tomorrow.

   Right after the funeral...

 

The Safest Place to Be, But Sometimes Hard

   I read something the other day:

   The safest place to be is in the center of God's Will.

   I read that, and I agree with the statement. I think it is Biblical. It goes along with "God is Good" and "His way is best" and "He knows the end of the path" and …

   It may be easy to put out those statements when you are standing on a green and watching a winning putt fall for a championship. I wouldn't know that from experience.

   There are times in life, and not just times but whole seasons of life, where it is very evident to us that, indeed, "God is Good".

   How about other times, seasons perhaps, where I hear God say, "This is the way, walk ye in it".

  I know down deep that this, too, is His Will. But there is no trophy, no bright sunny day, no mountaintop, no accolades, only the fog and knowing where you stand at that moment.

   When I question, the thought comes back in confirmation, "this is the way, continue".

   Then I hear "Trust Me".

   "Don't just sit there in the fog, continue walking as far as you can see, and when you get there, keep walking".

   "This too shall pass"

   It seems OK to question, to listen, but when you keep hearing "this is the path, walk", the safest thing, and the best, is to trust and walk.

   God help me to do just that, in all my seasons...

 

Zach and David

   This has been a good week for golf in the Golden Isles.

   Monday Zach Johnson, a former Iowa native that now makes his home here in St. Simons, won the British Open. That win, combined with his 2007 victory in the Masters, put him in a new category of golf professionals.

   The stories that came out of that Open Championship all talked about Zach's faith, his family, his humility, his emotion, and, of course, his golf game.

   We are all proud of Zach. He has made a name for himself in the world of golf, but, more importantly to us, he has made a name that God honors here on our Island.

   And I am proud that we worship together at our Community Church here.

   I think that the whole world of professional golf is made better by a man like Zach. A man that wears his faith, his emotions, and his love of family right there on his sleeve.

   There was another golfer that I followed over the course of the Open. Of course, the TV cameras were not on him as much as Zach because of what the leader board was showing. The contenders always get the bulk of that time on camera, and the others just play.

   A former British Open champion, David Duval, also played in this year's event, and he did pretty well, finishing at minus 4 for the 4 days at St. Andrews.

   I was surprised when one day I saw his name on the leader board. He was a former World's number one golfer back when. He was set to put his stamp on the professional game when all of a sudden, he kind of nosedived into obscurity.

   That name on that leader board made me wonder about this 43 year old. What was his life like? What does it feel like to continue to play, to compete, when you have been on top. Why do it when you know that some people outside the ropes on each of the tournament courses are asking what happened and why.

   So I read stories on the Internet. Stories of his life, his family situation, both growing up and now, his successes, and his falling off. I confess that I do not know all is going on in his mind as he tees his ball up and continues to compete on golf's professional stage.

   For every one of the Zach Johnsons on tour, there are so many more that play under the radar. There are so many stories of men and women who are out there competing, people that do not garner the headlines.

   That reminds me of a saying I read the other day somewhere, speaking of church and the people who are there:

   "The person sitting right down from you on your pew can be in all kinds of turmoil, without you even knowing it"

   And I might add: without me even caring…

   Sunday I may indeed be sitting on the same pew with a British Open champion, a David or a Zach, and God, please convict me to care, realizing that I can't know their inside stories.

   I am proud of Zach and David, too, and I pray that God will bless both, and they might honor the One that gives them the abilities they enjoy.

   As we all need to do...

Shouting On My Path

   When I contemplate why I do what I do, I am often surprised, and sometimes shamed.

   Take this morning…I wake up, look at the clock, decide to get up and get out .

   Why?

   I like the quiet of the early morning. I say that I want to hear God speak where there are no distractions around to spoil it.

   But what if those distractions ARE God speaking, but I don't give them a chance to be what He intended.

   Two examples:

   As I walked through our old neighborhood, I heard a front door opening and turned to see who it might be. Our former next door neighbor was coming down his front steps to gather up his morning papers.

   My instinct was to give him a "hello" and continue my solitary walk. But I didn't, I stopped and picked up his papers to hand to him. He then engaged me in conversation, and we chatted for a few minutes. He wanted to talk, and we did, probably 10 minutes or so. Nothing earth-shattering, just what was going on in his life.

   As I continued on, coming out of that little section, I noticed a man walking on the cart path across the pond. My first thought was that maybe I should walk the other way, so as to be able to keep up my silent reverie.

   But I walked as I planned, and, as he came out of the path and began to cross the road to the next fairway, I breathed a sigh of relief. He was continuing to walk the path and then would be walking away from me and not toward.

   I would not be pulled away from my personal thoughts of what God might want me to see this morning. Good.

   But, as I looked up, here he came back out of the path and toward me. It was too late to turn back, and so I walked on.

   He wanted to talk about something in the condos where we both lived. So I listened, and then we both went on our respective ways.

   As I walked on down the path toward home, I thought:

   "Had I been deliberately shunning the people that God had put in my path?"

   "How many times had I gone the other way, or just kept walking, when I should have given the other person the courtesy of listening, or at least acknowledging that they were real?"

   "How many times do I use the excuse that I want that time to myself, to hear from God, when He is actually shouting to me to be aware?"

   "Would I rather see deer on my path, because as I approach they will run away, and I won't have to talk to them?"

   The blue heron in the pond watched as I approached him this morning, then turned and flew away. He did not want to talk, but others on my way did, and I was put there to listen, obediently, I believe.

   Selfishness is not good…

   Obedience, even to shouting, is…

   Thanks God, for breaking into my silence today.

   Light my path anytime You want…, Please

Chattanooga, We Used To Live There...

   April, 2007..A shooting on the campus of Virginia Tech, in the college town of Blacksburg, VA. That town had been our home since 2005. We were happy there. We had family there. We had friends there and a good church there.

   But we were not there when the shooting occurred, when those students and faculty were gunned down.

   I remember wanting to go back "home", to be there to grieve for that unimaginable loss. To sit in church and hear what the preacher had to say, what God had to say about this. I wanted to stand in that candlelight vigil on the drill field and show solidarity with those who mourned.

   We knew none of the students or faculty who died in that, although our son who taught there did. Their families and friends had the greater loss, but we grieved for the whole community.

   July, 2015..Another shooting in our "home town". We both grew up in Chattanooga, married and raised our kids there. It was, and is, a great little city, full of good people, our friends.

   Again, we are not there. For twenty years we have lived elsewhere, and, as far as I know now, we had no relationship with any of those who were killed, or their families. We did not know them, but we did have a relationship with the town.

   And, as in 2007, we grieve for the folks who live there. We are saddened by the fact that forever, or at least the next news cycle, people who call that Tennessee city home, will be known for what happened there yesterday. The name Chattanooga will be a reminder of a tragedy, just like Blacksburg was eight years ago.

   The families that lost loved ones share the greater grief, no doubt, and we hurt for them.

   And all the folks that call Chattanooga "their home" lost yesterday, too.

   We too, want to stand with them in this hour.

Wonderment

   There is a website, Celebrate what's right with the world, one that I look at occasionally to see and read about what others find in photography. It is here:

   http://celebratewhatsright.com

   Last night I came across a blog post on this site that had this quotation from Sigurd Olsen:

“When you lose the power of wonderment, you become old. No matter how old you are. If you have the power of wonderment, you are forever young. The whole world is pristine and new and exciting. That, I think, is the secret to any artistic endeavor - as long as you can be excited, as long as you can wonder about the magnificence of the world and of the whole universe, you'll stay forever young.”

   Wonderment

   We don't live in a static, sterile environment. It is constantly changing, evolving if you will. I can pass by a spot many times and not see anything, but one day there is a change. I see a flash of color and stop to investigate.

   Sometimes the water is different, the light shines on it in a different way. Animals come and go, not that I see their wanderings, it is just that one time they are there and the next gone. Maybe the birds are in a different spot or feeding or looking for food, or just resting (seemingly), or absent altogether.

   Maybe the call to look at the spot again comes later, and I go back. I know it will not be the same, but it is a place that called me once, and I want to see it in a new time frame.

   There is a sense that, what was just a marshy pond of little account, has become a more special place, a spot that I see with different eyes now, and, even if I am in a hurry, when I pass that opening in the bushes, I take a look.

   Perhaps my friend from the other evening will be there, waiting to share some quality time.

   This morning as I walked, I thought about that place. It was only a little out of the way on my usual stroll, so I detoured that way. From down the road I saw that telltale white through the opening.

   Three wood storks, all in a row on that fallen branch, waiting for me I guess.

   So I moved into the soggy ground and watched them for a few minutes. Just them watching me and me watching them. And being glad to be there.

   But I forgot my camera.

   Shucks...

 

A Tale of Three Birds

   We came home from the early service at church, and I went to ride for a half hour or so. Passing by that swampy area where I found the wood stork, I decided to look in and see if he was still around. As I glanced around the lake area, I noticed a great blue heron standing in the middle of the pond. Not having my camera with me on the bike, and not wanting to go back home, I filed the shot away in my mind and hoped that I might see him again.

   The thought kept coming back to me, so, after supper, I decided to drive back to the spot and see if he was still around. I took my tripod and my longer lens so that I might get close up.

   He was not there, or he was hiding from me, but, glancing to my left along the edge of that pond, in an area of fallen trees, I saw a hint of white through the bushes. Stepping in to the marsh edge, I saw a great white egret on a limb out over the water.

   To his left there stood a wood stork standing in the shallows.

   Then further to the right was a posing grey bird, one that I could not identify. He was perfectly positioned on an upraised limb.

   I had gone back to get the blue heron, but here were three wading birds, waiting to be the subject of this small journal.

   So I got the tripod out of the trunk and shot, and shot, and shot some more.

   Then I went back home and tried to identify those three.

   I knew the wood stork, he was easy, and I knew that the big white bird was either a heron or an egret of some kind. The bird book identified him as a great white egret because of his orange beak and black legs.

   But who was the chunky grey wader?

   Again, referring to the bird book, and looking at my shot, I could identify him as a yellow crowned night heron. I had never heard of that bird, but I'm no authority on birds.

   I went out for one and came back with three.

   A good return...

Wood Storks Out Early

   It seems like every time I catch a glimpse of a wood stork around our area, I do not have my camera with me. That happened this morning as I rounded a corner on my bike and saw a big white bird on the 7th green. Coming closer I realized it was one of those elusive (for me) birds. I wanted to get closer, but did not want to scare him off.

   Would he stay there long enough for me to go back to the house, get my camera, and return?

   The only thing I could do was try, so off I went.

   Returning to the spot, I walked up on the green and spotted these arrows pointing east.

   Perhaps he had flown off to look for more food?

   But, no flying for this guy, he was walking calmly across the bridge, heading east back up the fairway.

   If only I had my telephoto lens on the camera.

   If only I had come from the tee area on this hole, and, if only, he was headed toward, instead of away from, me. Now that would have been a shot.

   If I followed him, the only shots I would have were of the west end of an east bound bird.

   So I thought about the hidden pond across the street. Hard to get a view of the water, but maybe this morning there were other storks out catching breakfast.

   Catching a glimpse of white through the bushes and trees, I found another friend.

   There is some kind of moral in these incidents, but I can't figure it out.

   All I know is that I was glad to have been in that spot on this morning.

   And God, through nature, blesses me once again…

   And, if you find arrows in the morning dew, follow them and see what is waiting for you.

   No telling...

Yellow Cards and Plans...

   I confess, I am not a big soccer fan. To me it has always seemed like a 90 minute game (maybe more) with rare instances of scoring. It was mostly about running, up and down, up and down and then more up and down.

   But I have followed the Women's World Cup matches over the past few days, reading about it in the paper and on the Internet, even watching the games on TV. It was more about watching a local player on the world stage than anything else, but I did get caught up in the drama of the games.

   Morgan Brian, from right here in St. Simons, was on the US Women's National Team, one of the best players in the country, and also the youngest on this team. She had starred in college at Virginia and had been drafted to play in the pros. As good as she was, she was a substitute on this team, and her playing time in the first few games of the cup was limited.

   I'm sure Morgan's plans were to be a contributor on this team, but her role just seemed to be one of support and readiness to play if needed.

   Then came two yellow cards to a US player and an automatic suspension for the next game. The US coach, Jill Ellis, inserted Morgan into the starting lineup, and the rest is history.

   Different players, even ones playing the same position, have different strengths, so the US coach changed her strategy, along with changing players.

   A headline on the Internet from Sports Illustrated:

Brian's ascension settles midfield, fuels USA's run to World Cup title

   A change of plans, or, as the magazine put it, a retooling of the strategy because of a personnel change, made the difference in the performance of the whole team.

   USA 1 China 0
   USA 2 Germany 0
   USA 5 Japan 2 (and the World Cup to the USA)

   I am reminded of a verse in Jeremiah 29:

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

   Coach Ellis had a plan for the tournament. It was a good plan and worked for the early competition. But that plan changed, and. according to the article, that made all the difference in performance.

   I am reminded that our plans need to be held in soft hands. Not clinging and grasping hands, but ones able to let go and embrace a change.

   God can and does help us plan, but sometimes what we think are our best plans for life are just that, our plans, not His.

   His are the best, for us and for all those around us.

   Hold on to plans with soft and flexible hands. God can bring change.

   Even with the penalty for two yellow cards.

 

Those Who Serve

   Sitting in a patriotic service the other day, there came the time when all of the various military branch songs are played, or sung, and the men and women who served in those areas are asked to stand and let the crowd express their appreciation. I realize a lot of what people have given our country by their service, and I am always hesitant to stand with them when the Army song is played.

   Most of the time someone with me will comment like, "go ahead and stand, you served", and my reply is usually, "but my time was only in the Reserve, and I had no active duty time except training at the annual two-week summer camp. I don't deserve any recognition."

   To me, that kind of service pales in comparison to so many who gave so much and stood in harms way. I never heard a gun fired in anger in all my 7 years in a weekend uniform.

   In contrast some of my friends served years on active duty, some in overseas posts and some in conflicts that truly was hazardous duty.

   All this came to my mind the other day when Mayre and I were out in Long County looking at some old churches. As I walked through an old cemetery, I noticed one tombstone.

   This man had died in the Pacific Theatre in the last year of WWII. He had given his all for our country. Since this stone was in his memory, I presume that his body was not recovered or it was buried in a war cemetery somewhere over there.

   I joined the Army Reserve in 1956, two years into college. My term of enlistment was 6 years, 4 in the Reserve and 2 years on active duty. My reason was simple: I would be able to finish college before I had to go on active duty, and I would not be drafted.

   Before I graduated, my enlistment term was changed to 7 1/2 years in the reserve and 6 months on active duty.

   As I served in various Reserve outfits where we lived during those years, no one ever sent me orders for active duty, so I continued with my life, giving only that 1 weekend per month and the 2 weeks in the summer. It was not hard duty. There was talk of being called to active service when the Berlin Wall was built and during the Cuban Crisis, but it did not happen.

   When the opportunity came to re-up or take my discharge, I opted for the later and hung up my uniform without ever having to serve in an active status.

   Looking back, I guess I would have served my time if called, and I would have served if one of my units had been activated for any reason, but it never happened.

   When I try to explain my reluctance to be recognized for serving in the Army, and give a person my record, the question is usually asked, "but you would have gladly served wherever and whenever the government ordered, wouldn't you?"

   And I guess I would have, but I still keep that feeling of inadequacy when I see and hear what others have done and are still doing.

   I am proud to have worn the uniform, but prouder still of those who have done the same and gone beyond. Their's was true sacrifice.

   God Bless The United States of America and the men and women who have helped to preserve our land and the freedoms that we enjoy today.

 

 

Frying Pan Story

   There was a story in the local paper this morning:

   It seems that someone reported a suspicious car around 4am yesterday morning. The police found the car to be stolen, and the suspect took off on foot. Trying to evade the officers, he climbed over a 12 foot fence, topped with barbed wire, and jumped down on the other side.

   Sounds like an agile person, but his agility did not help in this case. The fence he had scaled was boundary of the Federal Law Enforcement Training Facility (FLETC). Not a good choice.

   This suspect was looking for a way to stay independent, but found the opposite.

   We are all looking for that freedom. Freedom to be and do what we want.

   But there are fences that we don't need to climb over.

   Sometimes we seek to flee from God and His commandments. We don't realize that these roadblocks may not just restrict us from some things, but actually are good for us. They are "love" barriers, not punishment fences.

   They may also keep us from jumping straight from the frying pan into the fire.

Deer, Don't Just Look, Listen...

   I started off yesterday with a sighting of 5 deer over on the 5th fairway, and they became part of the plot of the post that morning.

   When we came home after a short trip, around 5pm, we rounded the corner to the condo and there were 3 adult and 1 youngster, frolicking outside the fence. Well, 3 were looking in and the young one was doing the frolicking. Once I drove in, and they did not move, I decided to see what they were up to. They wondered what I was up to.

   It seems I could hear them talking as they looked my way.

   Mama: Look at those two-legged things inside the fence. I guess they need to stay in there so they will not get hurt.

   Junior: Are they smart, mama?

   Mama: Smart? I think not. They are the ones enclosed by the fence

   Mama: Let's move on, nothing to see here. We've got roaming to do.

   Perhaps they were a part of the early morning herd and knew they would not get bitten if they stayed outside the fence.

   I had wondered about their conversation in the early day, now I know. They just wanted us to be safely enclosed for the night. Now they can be worry free for the evening.

   Next time you see deer looking at you, listen real hard and see what you hear.

Stopping to Consider...

   I have to confess. I like things in order. I may even like being in "a rut". I like being "right" and having facts to back up my position.

   I am not a fan of ambiguity. I want to be dogmatic, knowing that my thoughts are in line with the way it "really is", and unafraid to let others in on the truth.

   I want God to look at all I do and say, and conclude that here is a man that is "fair, balanced and unafraid" and sure, and right.

   So why do I have such a hard time coming to grips with all that is going on in the world right now? Why am I questioning and unsure?

   What am I called to do? How do I deal with this sense of disquiet in my soul?

   I pray to God before I go out to walk, a prayer for His vision for me and for my thoughts as I go, a prayer for understanding and purpose, for the things that He wants me to realize. I look for a reason for the struggle, and think that maybe the journey of the struggle is the point.

   My walking is kind of predictable, same golf course paths, same neighborhoods, same pace, same time of the morning, but today, at the first fork, I turned right instead of left.

   After a few yards up that path, I stopped. There was movement on the right side of the fairway about 200 yards up. I slowed my pace until I could see that there were deer out. As I continued up the path, slowly, I noticed they were doing the same thing as me, stopping their eating to watch me, as I was doing the same.

   My journey up the path was interrupted as was theirs. Were these deer wondering about me and my motives for being there?

   It seemed as though I was supposed to stop and observe, then walk, then stop again several more times until they disappeared into the woods, and I was left alone on my walk.

   That short episode seemed to be symbolic of my thoughts these past few days. I read or hear the news about what is going on in our country, and I immediately have a reaction and form an opinion, but then I'm called to look at some other things that give me a clue as to what "the others" are thinking and their reasons. My snap judgements may not be as balanced as I thought.

   My original reactions and ideas may be right on, or they might be in error.

   But I doubt it is ever wrong to stop and consider the other side.