Serving at the Intersection of Despair and Hope..

   This is a story about a real person, a young lady that used to be in our church here on the Island. She was an Emergency Room nurse, then moved away to Virginia, then got married to a Marine Lt. Col, then moved to California where he was stationed. Her name is Lynn.

   She just got back from a 3 week deployment with Samaritan's Purse at their mobile hospital outside the city of Mosul, Iraq. Yes, that is the city that has been controlled by ISIS and is now in the process of being retaken by Iraqi troops with American help.

   Mosul is a dangerous place, with civilians trapped inside a place where the war rages. They face danger from jihadists as well as from the firepower of people who want to rid them of their persecutors. They are caught in the crossfire. They either try to leave the city if they can, or just hunker down and try to survive. It is no picnic for them.

   And it is no picnic for the medical personnel working in this mobile unit set up to minister to those who are caught here. I don't know the percentage, but many of the casualties are women and children. To those Iraqis, these doctors and nurses bring hope in a season of despair. But people also die there. Some are badly hurt when they are brought in, and, in spite of round the clock care and compassion, they do not make it out alive.

   It must be heartbreaking to tend to a wounded child, to pray for him and his family, and then to watch him pass on. You put your heart on the line for him, and part of you must die with him.

   Lynn served there for 3 weeks, caring for all those brought in. She was close to the front lines, and I am sure the sounds of war filled her ears a lot of the time.

   But she volunteered for this, as did the others in that hospital, and she had to make a difference, as they all did. (Lynn on the far left)

   At the Intersection of Despair and Hope, there was also the Intersection of Courage and Compassion.

   One picture says it all about her service:

   Where the ISIS forces leave IEDs behind to further wound and kill after they are forced out, these volunteers leave behind their own blood to help those who might need it soon.

   Lynn is one of my heroes, and I am proud to be her friend.

   And I support Samaritan's Purse as they show the Love of Christ in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

Was It Just a Little Thing?

   Yesterday,  after we had watched our church's 9AM service on the Internet, and then walked outside the condo for a bit, I looked down and noticed a small yellow flower.

   The plantings in this bed sported a different type of bloom than this, so I stooped to look.

   It was small on a tiny stem, and as I looked closely, it was apparent that this yellow bloom was actually growing up through the plant.

   In short, it was a weed.

   Now that I had my eyes trained to look, I noticed another small bloom nearby.

   Another weed flower that had migrated into the planting bed.

   As I showed the two small blooms to my wife, we talked about how a weed could produce such a delicate little piece of beauty.

   Was it just for us as we walked together around the buildings today?

   True, they was just intruders whose seeds had found their way into that planting, but were they insignificant in the great scheme of things?

   God can bless our lives with the "throwaways" of nature, if we only have eyes to see.

   And we can be thankful for "weeds", when they brighten our morning, and show us His Love and Handiwork.

   And we can be Thankful for every small blessing...

   Did God know that we might need a small bit of His handiwork as we walked slowly together this morning?

   No Doubt..

  

A Novel Idea Whose Time Has Come..

   There was a short blurb on the news last night about a Democratic Senator, and others of her party, who had sent a letter to the Republican majority, pledging to help craft a new Healthcare law. Maybe I misremembered, but early this morning, I can't find the story.

   But I want to think about that idea anyway.

   I may be naive, but I want that letter idea to be sincere, and I want the Republicans not to just posture, but to accept it as a plan to help American men and women, not only to have access to the best healthcare in the world, but to have a Congress that supports that idea for everyone.

   In short, I would like to see cooperation in Congress.

   Cooperation would look like Representatives and Senators working together to fix problems that plague the country.

   But most of what I see are politicians of both stripes competing to show how partisan they can be, so they might prove that they need to stay in office, or that their party needs to be in control.

   There is sincere doubt that either side of the debate has a lock on all the best ideas on this, or any other subject.

   Where does concern for the people of the electorate, or, for that matter, all the people of the country?

   One party spends all its time crafting a law that gets rid of the one enacted by a previous President, and the other spends all its time promising to vote against anything put forward.

   Could there be a bill written that could be a compilation of the best ideas?

   Could there be a bill with the names of a Republican lawmaker and a Democratic one in the title? Say the McConnell-Schumer Health Law?

   We can only pray...

   A verse from Mark's Gospel this morning:

"If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand."

   And a warning for all of us..

Undocumented Complications

   A few days back, my daughter shared a story on Facebook about two families in Texas, their lives and thoughts in the current debate on illegal immigration. Here is a synopsis of their lives:

"The daily routines are similar in these two small, prefabricated houses on a flat road paved into the North Texas prairie. Both families raise chickens and dogs, work long days for little pay and pray for better at church on Sunday."

   One sees hope in the tougher stance of the new President on border security, and the other sees danger that their hope of a better life will end in a deportation raid.

   I read about the life of each family. Both struggle with money. Both want a better life. Both are pawns in a political battle of gigantic proportions.

   Just yesterday, I read again the story mentioned above, and wondered about the solution to the problems of these millions of people here illegally, and the feelings of those that feel they are paying for someone else's illegal activity.

   My prevailing attitude was compassion for both, that surely there was a way that this great country could solve a problem that would be right for each of them.

   Then, as the news played on the TV last evening, the story of two undocumented teenagers who assaulted a girl in a high school in Maryland came out, and in a "sanctuary city" no less.

   Which of these people will be the face of the complicated situation, the teens in Maryland, or the family living and working in the US for two decades and fearing a return to the life they had escaped from?

   There are enough heart-warming stories of these folks who are trying hard to get ahead, and enough of those criminal stories, to fuel the flames of passion and conviction of all sides on the immigration debate.

   I saw this image posted on a website:

   We do need to be careful...

      Careful that we don't let our compassion be drowned out by the voices of hate, and

      Careful that we just throw up our hands and say that there is no solution.

      Careful that we don't just depend on Politics to make it right.

   God has the right solution and we need His wisdom

     

Sometimes I Just Wish...

   A few weeks back, after seeing a picture on a web site, we decided to drive down into Camden County (the next county below ours) and take some pictures of our own.

   There was this old church, well off the beaten track, and we needed a day trip just to get out of the condo and see some different scenery.

   South on US 17, into Camden County, the directions of the web site said to turn to the right onto Providence Church Road. We found it and turned. So far so good. It was a nice paved road for about a quarter of a mile, then this:

   And the map we had seen had no mileages on it, so we had no idea how far it was to the church. So we drove, and we drove some more. I wished I had clocked it on the odometer. In my mind it must have been at least 5 miles, but when you are driving at 25 miles an hour to keep from jarring your wife to death, maybe it just seemed that long.

   Surely this had to be the right road, it had the right name on it, and, as the road met up with a real paved one, there was the church on the corner.

   Providence Methodist Church, the church building from 1856, with a real artesian well out front.

    (From the website: A delightful and somewhat rare well sits on the road running in front of Providence. Once common in the south, particularly along the coast, these free flowing wells were called “Artesian Wells”. They were drilled or often just occurred naturally at the surface because of high water pressure in an area.)

   The story is that back in the 1920s, a hurricane had shifted the building from its foundation, and they used a team of oxen to straighten it up. Still leans to the right though.

   This church is still in use today, and from the pictures on the website, the interior is well kept. Looks like the pew seats are constructed with one board. Doesn't look real comfortable, but perhaps they stood a lot or at least had short sermons. The website is here: http://hrcga.org/providence-methodist-camden/

   It also looks as though, someone did not want to throw anything away.

   The old sign was still there, leaning on the side of the building.

   The old outhouse, a little worse for wear, was out back, even though new restrooms were inside.

   It was a neat spot, and I wished for a little time to explore further, but, alas, the gnats were finding me, and it was time to go.

   I wish I could have gone inside, but the doors were locked.

   I wish I could have talked to the folks who still worshiped here.

   And this morning, as I looked again at the shots, and thought about how thirsty I seemed to be, I wished I had taken a cup and drank from that old well.

   Isn't it true, that there are times that all of us wish we had done something, and didn't, and, sometimes, the wishes were far more important than well water?

  

Four Words in a Prayer

   Why do I pray?

   Hannah, in the Old Testament, prayed for a son, and promised to give him to the Lord. God gave her an answer to that prayer, Samuel, and he became a prophet before God.

   Hannah prayed as a needy woman, and her prayer of rejoicing for the answer is found in I Samuel chapter 2.

   So, why do I pray?

   The God of creation is also a God that cares.

   Like Hannah, I am a needy person.

   Four words come to my mind this day, and they form the basis of my prayer for things that are going on in my life.

   I pray for Guidance

   I pray for Wisdom

   I pray for Compassion

   I pray for Peace

   God knows my situation, and He cares.

   Dear God, please hear my prayer and set those four words to work in my life, Today and Everyday.

A Day to Look Forward To...

   I began playing golf at age 14. I played in some junior tournaments, but never did any good there. I loved to play, but practice was not in my vocabulary.

   As I married and had a family, my golf days were mostly taken while on vacations with friends. Probably less than 10 times a year did I play, but I did well enough to have some fun with the game. When you know you can't compete on a very high level, just getting out on the course is something to look forward to.

   In the late 80s, I joined a new club not far from our home out in the country, east of Chattanooga. A friend of mine, Earl Marler, had purchased a house in the development around the course, and he asked me to play on Saturdays. He also gathered two other men, who lived on that course, and for several years, we were the first group on the first tee every Saturday. No matter the weather, except pouring rain, we played. Some mornings we would have to wait for the greens to lose their frosty covering, but we got the round in. And we walked all 18 holes each time. No wimpy carts for us. No sir!

   Sure we competed on a friendly basis, and we each played to win, but I realized that was not the reason I got up and went out on those cold mornings. It was the camaraderie among the four of us that was the draw. It was a thing to be looked forward to each week.

   Earl Marler, Walt Klepper and Victor Kalafa were the three that I joined with. All of us played at about the same level, with some good shots, several bad ones, and, every once in a while, a great one or two. But it was our time, and we had fun together.

   In 1995 we moved to St. Simons, and a whole new set of people to be around. I played more golf than ever before. We lived on a course, and I jokingly told everyone who asked, that I only played golf on days that ended in a Y, and that was a true statement. I could walk out my back door, walk 9 holes and come back in the house in about an hour and fifteen minutes. Mostly I played by myself, but occasionally with a friend or two.

   After we moved to Virginia for three years and then returned to our Island, I began playing every Friday morning with three guys from church. Again, we played early each Friday trying to be one of the first groups out on the course, and, also again, we played in all types of weather, everything but thunderstorms.

   Jim and Patrick were still working, and Fritz and I were retired. Still, we all looked forward to Fridays. It was a special time, and I think we knew it.

   Maybe a couple of times a year, we would play in some charity tournament.

   Sometimes if the field was no too large, we won something. We may not have been the best looking group, but we smiled a lot and just looked forward to a golf challenge together. The winners of this particular flight received a golf flag from the Ryder Cup, signed by Davis Love III, framed and everything. Winning a prize was good, but playing together was better.

   As I think back on these times, it was not hard to put the golf experience into perspective. Some days we hit the ball well and scored OK, some days not so much.

   But looking forward to a day each week, with three other guys that you enjoyed being with, made all the difference.

   And one time, way back in 1992 I even won a portion of a club championship. Don't tell anyone that, since it was a relatively new club without a ton of members, the competition was limited, and maybe that should be a story for another day. The clock is on my wall.

   Thanks Earl, Walt and Victor, and also Jim, Fritz and Patrick. And Rudy, Carroll and Jim when we were in Ooltewah, and Bruce and John while we were in Blacksburg.

   You guys made an early morning round of golf memorable and worth looking forward to each week.

   And each of you were put by God into my life at a time you were needed.

   Relationships, even ones formed by play, are much more important than any game.

Chickens and Cars and Trust

   Like millions of Americans, last Tuesday evening I listened to a speech by the new President of the United States, Donald Trump.

   This is a quick summary of what I heard in his remarks:

   We (speaking of his new administration) will:

      Fix the Education system so that not matter your status or wealth or where you live, you can have the schooling you need to succeed.

      Clean up violent crime, everywhere, especially Chicago.

      Get rid of illegal immigrants who commit crimes, and are undesirable.

      Bring back our military so that no one will attack us.

      Bring back American jobs from oversees.

      Secure good jobs, clean air, clean water.

      Lower taxes and more wealth in each man's pocket.

      Fix our infrastructure and bring new jobs in construction.

      Get rid of excessive government regulations that stifle prosperity.

      Secure the borders of the country to keep the "bad" guys out.

   I was reminded of a political slogan from the 1928 election of President Herbert Hoover.

      "a chicken in every pot and a car in every garage"

   In November of 2008 and 2012, the American people elected our first black President. They trusted that he would bring a new era to the country and unite us to greater things.

   In November 2016, millions of Americans voted for Hillary Clinton, trusting that she, as the first female President, would be a new level of equality to the country.

   And, in November 2016, other millions of citizens elected Donald Trump, the first non-politician businessman, and trusted that new prosperity and the rule of law and might would prevail to make (and keep) everyone happy, safe and prosperous.

   Trusting in a party or a government or a man or a woman is risky at best.

   Think Republicans with Herbert Hoover in 1928…

   There is only one trust that will not fail us in the eternal scheme of matters…(from Proverbs)

"Trusting in a man (or woman) in time of trouble is like a bad tooth or a foot that slips."

"Whoever trusts in his riches will fall."

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding."

   Amen