God's artistic skills

While traveling to pick up a friend to take to work, I marveled again at the fall colors. I think Michigan can rival upstate N.Y, Vermont or N.Hampshire, and yes even PA in fall colors. I heard that one day before creation God was painting, and the archangel Michael stopped by to admire his work, only God wouldn't let him see his work in progress. Then one day God called all the heavenly host together and told about his bold new plan to create an earth and all the plants, animals and one man to inhabit that earth. As sort of an architects sketches before the project is started God brought out four covered murals that he had painted to give them an idea of what the 'seasons' on this earth would look like. The first one had a lot of trees with bright green leaves and new grasses growing ... then as the host was 'ouhing and ahhhhhh'ing' God unveiled the second painting. This was far more beautiful than even the first, for in this one the grasses were richer and thicker, like carpets crisscrossing the landscape, and the trees were much fuller and the colors deeper shades of green, with every hue of green included ... this one nearly took their breathe away. After some time of letting them just dwell on the second painting, with great drama God revealed the third painting, It was even superior to the second one, this one was His greatest - His masterpiece. The array of colors was so beautiful the heavenly host couldn't even comment, they just sat there, they had never seen such an other worldly display of colors ... this would be an ideal 'earthly' time in which to live, imagine dwelling in such splendor. Finally, God took away the cover on the fourth painting - this one shocked them as much as the third one had, for instead of the former divine palate of granduer there was only about two colors 'white and black' .. and some sprinklings of dull green or brown here and there, but not very much. There were different shades of white and black, often dismal gray's ..the trees had lost their leaves and in many places looked like what might be called, they couldn't imagine a word to fit until Michael suggested 'skeleton's; yet there was a strange peace even in the lack of color. What happened after that colorful masterpiece to cause you to paint the last one as you did? asked Michael. God replied, 'I guess I just needed some rest; I wanted to sit back and enjoy the beautiful autumn season.' Then I got to thinking what a great segue this sorta colorless season would make, bringing appreciation for the colors that just were[for you do know that those brilliant colors are only temporary] and with absence of all that color the final season would create anticipation for the new birth of spring. So I think these four pictures will complete the cycle of seasons I'm going to create. By the way Michael, what do you think of that cycle? which picture do you like best? do you think you'd like to spend some time down there? Michael, don't really wanting to answer the questions, and certainly not wanting to obligate himself in the future to such a puny planet, sorta smiled, shrugged his wings and disappeared.

Hard copy and old friend

I got this hair-brained idea [rather weird wording seeing I'm bald] to print the articles from my first year of blogging. Since I'm not a techie geek, and barely able to blog, there's an old nagging fear of losing everything to a worm or something; plus my mom and grandma don't use the internet and I would like them to read a little of what I've recorded. My first year wasn't that big, only from May to Dec. so I copied the articles and put them in a binder. One of these weeks I'll take it home with so that they can get an idea of what my blogging is all about. On a different note; while I was home last week visiting mom we went to her lawyers office to set up an appointment to get some of her financial matters updated. The name on the Law Firm included a name I recognized from back in my high school years when I helped coach 'Pee Wee League' baseball. Asking the receptionist if recognized a nickname we used to call the lawyer she replied he still was called by it; then she said he was in his office and might have time to see me ......... that turned out to be a great experience. After introducing myself, he didn't remember me, he remembered the head coach and remembered some high school helpers; That was over 45 years ago, and we still remembered the sponsor of the team and the team color yellow. He stood out to me because he was so energetic, and such a joy to be around; yet he always seemed to have trouble getting a good hit off of the t-ball stand. Yah, he remarked, I never was able to play baseball very well; eventually in high school he gave up on playing the sport and turned to law. After we had talked for a few minutes, I think we both had enjoyed the experience ... who would have guessed?!

No authentic Sukiyaki for Paris Hilton

The Japanese government denied entry to Paris Hilton, who had only days earlier pleaded guilty [again, while on probation] to using drugs. It seems famous people often have such a hard time of learning to change their ways, their stardom has convinced them that they are special. I applaud the Japanese people for their tough stand against allowing people to use their stardom as a liberty that is detrimental to the welfare of their people and country. A further proof that this poor girl still doesn't get it, is that it didn't bother her and she smiled and simply replied, 'I'm going back home, and I look forward to coming back to Japan in the future.' Her arrogance is a bad reflection on us, her countrymen, who do not use drugs for entertainment. And what makes her so sure the Japanese will ever welcome her; maybe all they like is her perfume and fashion?!

A 'bad' marsupial time!

Today while driving to an Amish grocery store to get some Amish made cheeses, which is 22 miles from where I live, I counted 6 dead possum's and 2 dead raccoons [no pastoral exaggeration here]. Not a very good ratio [considering the short distance], and considering the fact the average possum lives 2-4yrs, their life longevity was greatly reduced. Now both raccoons and possums tend to do their foraging at night, which greatly increases their possibly of vehicular encounters because its a lot harder for people to avoid things in road at night than at day. I can't remember the article, but I recall just the other day reading about how 'night time' is needed for our survival, and I thought, well in the case of marsupial's it can be a definite 'death hazard.' I did something crazy and stopped a number of the possum kills [made sure no cars in sight] and noted that most of the possums had been been run over with head shots; which I'm guessing meant they played 'possum'[stopped rather than continuing] and the drivers were not able to avoid them. A couple of other thoughts came to mind, 1]first it might be wise for us to remember that 'our strongest asset can be our weakest link.' 2] I'm reminded that apostle Paul told us 'he gloried in his weaknesses,' for sometimes our strengths can mislead us into depending upon ourselves unwisely; 3] also it reminds me that in order for a strength to stay a strength it too needs to be constantly improved. Playing dead may work most of the time for possums, just as our strengths may more times than not get us out of a tough situation, but for these possums their strength was fatal. I'm supposing that there might also be some communal and national applications here to.

Keeping the Sabbath

In a book that I have graciously been given by our communities Episcopalian priest Gretchen, 'Practicing Our Faith,' there is a delightful chapter by one of the books editors - Dorothy C.Bass - about keeping the Sabbath. She is very resourceful in pointing out the benefits of keeping the Sabbath not only for the Jewish faith but for all of society. As both the Pope and Queen Elizabeth of Britain have recently began to engage a conversation on the societal advantages of the Sabbath I thought I would comment on this subject, especially from the perspective gained from reading Ms.Bass's chapter. I can remember 'keeping the Sabbath.' Dad, coming from a strong Mennonite heritage thought it not proper to eat out or get gas on the Sabbath, at least in my earlier years of growing up. [I should note that in my latter high school years when dad saw the fellowship advantages in meeting a group of people for something to eat in a resturant after Sunday night service he changed some of his rigid Sabbath regulations, we even got two tv's in our home] It was always amazing to me, how on vacation we would have to get enough gas on Saturday to carry us through Sunday, but somehow we could still eat at resturants. Although come to think of it it probably didn't have as much to do with breaking his Sabbath rules as it did mom refused to stop at a roadside park and fix a meal she had had to prepare on Saturday night, anyway it was always difficult for my young mind to figure it out. I remember that dad was quite a sports fan, and even though we couldn't have a tv, on sunday afternoons he was at one of mom's brothers houses watching either the Detroit Tigers or the Cleveland Browns [having to always find a place to go and watch the games I think had a major influence in dad's finally getting us those tv's]. Of course that would give mom and opportunity to drop the in-law label and visit with her sisters and/or parents, and usually a number of us cousins, and neighborhood kids would play games. Remember those days, when we didn't have to be entertained by computer games or tv, we created our own games, full of imagination and adventure ... playing cowboys and indians, thankfully no one got massacred, burned at the stake or scapled; or cops and robbers, there were a few minor bicycle accidents in fleeing from the law, but no broken bones, and we loved to bring our plastic soldiers and tanks and have big battles on sand piles ... and also football and baseball games. There was a large woods not far from where we lived, and the hours we would spend back there, wadding through the ankle deep dangerous ponds full of mosquito's, and frops and turtles, hacking our way through, and ocassionally the snakes that would send us splashing to the other side. The trees we would climb to make sure there were adults following us. The Sabbath was a day of great fun, family and fellowship. The Friday night high school games were signals to the community that the weekend had started, and Saturday would be doing jobs around the house, shopping and family grill outs, then Sunday most people would put on their best clothes to go to church and worship. I suspect the number of authentic believers was far less than the number that attended but there was social value and, as Ms.Bass noted, social justice, in those Sabbath meetings. It was a time where political leaders, business owners, farmers, etc. came together. Tragically we're experiencing less and less of that nowdays. Its too bad that its taken social/religious prejudices to bring us to remember what once was, but if it brings us closer together socially, and religiously then I guess it was worth it.
ENJOY

The Piano Man

Wednesday night I arrived home on my weekly visit with my mom. To those of you who don't know about her, her recent memory is slipping away, and so I am helping her to get her house in order so that it will take less stress off of her worrying about what she doesn't remember. My mother has always been a stickler for her affairs, and it is wonderful to see the relief she is experiencing, although at times hectic. Wednesday might as I was getting my things arranged my mother was playing on the piano - now mom is an accomplished pianist to say the least. She played for eons in the church and was congratulated by all who heard her .... however, I noticed that she was missing notes here and there, not many but a few. This was completely out of character for her, so when I got settled I went into the piano room and spoke with her about how surprised I was at the missed notes. 'Son' she said, 'I can't read the notes like I used to, and I don't practice like I used to ... right then something in my mind clicked. Ever had one of those moments. As we continued talking about music, a definite love of hers, as she talked about the accordian, harp she had played and the guitar she had started to learn until my father grew annoyed with the practice and sold it one day when she was at work .. dad could be like that. Matter of fact my mother had just gotten to the place where she could play the harp and my sister would accompany her on the piano, came home one day and she and sister went to the basement to play and dad had also sold the harp! Back to that 'click' - I have wanted for more years than I can remember to again start playing the piano, I barely remember the elementary moves and so I asked mom for a couple of beginners books so I could practice...she couldn't believe I wanted to start playing again, but I do. So I took a couple books home, and to my good wifes amazement I set down at our piano and began to practice. Bragging time: I can now play [with both hands] an really easy Negro spiritual. The title of it is
'One More River', I practiced it until I can almost do it my memory, here are the words: 'Noah once he built an ark, there's one more river to cross. He patched it up with hickory bark, there's one more river to cross. There's one more river, and that river is Jordan, there's just one more river, there's one more river to cross.'
I am truly enjoying this part of a new journey in my latter phase of life, and hopefully one day, Lord willing, I can sit down and play from the hymnal and chorus books ............ and maybe even do a duet with the good wife. In telling all of this to grandma[97yrs old.] she told me of how a couple of mom's brothers played duets and even a couple of recitals until the call from the neighbor boys to come and play won the day ... now, she said both sons have told her they wish she would have not allowed them to stop, but there's only so much frustration a parent can handle, she said, and I was getting tired competing with their friends!!
Then about 3:30AM this morning I couldn't sleep, so I woke up and read a chapter from a book I'll talk about in another post, [Practicing Our Faith; chapter on Testimony] and the author talked about how the African American slaves would sing their miseries and hopes and faith in songs ... it was a great chapter as he related their sings to the songs of Miriam, after the Israelites had been delivered from Pharaohs army ... and it added a specialness to the spiritual I am learning to play.

Fun in the Sun

The 'good wife' and I just returned from Alabama on vacation with our oldest daughter, son in law, and family. It was a good trip. This time we decided to go by airplane, and made it there in only 4 hours as compared to 14. The time saved going down and coming back gave us an extra day to visit. Though I personally like to drive, the time saved certainly is also much easier on my legs. My frustration with flying is not being in the air, but getting on the flight, it just seems like so much hassle. We truly enjoyed being with family, going to my grandson's football game, and gram got to go to a high school choir class, taught by our daughter. On Labor Day we played at the beach in Pensacola, and didn't see or smell any oil; however I did fail to apply enough tan lotion and came away with almost 3rd degree burns on my chest and over abundant tummy. While on vacation I did finish 'People of the Book,' which I enjoyed very much. This is one of the better books that I have read lately that was more than enjoyable. [Of course, I'm partial to historical fiction!] The author tells us that the stains and particles in the old book all had stories to tell of the book's journey down through the ages. I find myself gazing at my grandpa/grandma's old wedding certificate [hanging on my study wall] and wondering now 'how did that one tear happen?' 'who was the one who rescued the certificate and placed a piece of tape, that is so faded on it? 'why did I find it in my one aunt's attic, about to be thrown away after she died, had I not taken? There is, what looks like a water stain across the whole bottom of it that has obliterated the design, how and when did that happen since signatures still appear there? So many questions, so few answers, all because of the influence of the book. One of the authors reaccuring themes is how diverse cultures influence and enrich each other rather than tear each other apart as we're seeing taking place between fundamental protestant religious nuts and radical Muslim clerics. I even thought about the immigration problem with Mexico and wonder why that can't be peaceably solved, America truly is a 'melting pot' and when we give up on that concept we become isolationists and deprive ourselves of the riches of diverse roots. The totally unexpected ending was a delight[1]. After finishing the above named book my son-in-law gave me a book to read. It was called "Haven" and was the historical story of how Pres.Roosevelt in WWII gave permission for 1000 people to escape Hitler's Europe. Although the story eventually .........has a positive ending, I believe it ranks right up with the Japanese concentration camps stories we had in WWII right here in the U.S. Although I am glad that this exodus took place, there could have been so many more that might have been saved. The author provides a section at the end of the book, where years later she tracks down those who came over on that secret passage with wounded AMerican soldiers. There are also some pictures in the middle of the book. I certainly enjoyed both books[2]. BEing out of reading material the day before we left my son-in-law took me to a little book/coffee store where I ended up purchasing another book, 'My Grandfather's Blessings.' I am not very far along in that book, but it is a good read so far.
[1]PEOPLE OF THE BOOK. Geraldine Brooks. 2008, New York, New York. Viking Penguin
Books. ISBN:9780143115007
[2] HAVEN. Ruth Gruber. 1983, 1984, 2000 New York, New York, Three Rivers Press,
ISBN: 081293301X
ENJOY

Chicago Gang Members say Police Harassing Them

As I read this article I didn't know what to do - cry, laugh or what? - as I heard different gang leaders complaining because the threat that the law was coming down on them. In one place a gang leader says, 'gangs are not the cause of the violence, you keep saying gang violence. It's drug-related. It's not gang related.' Now I'm confused, is he saying gangs exist because of drugs, so if we can wipe out drugs gangs will clean up their act, and if this is the case then wouldn't it be to the advantage of gangs to actively be working to eliminate drugs? I guess I have always, mistakenly evidently, labored under the concept that gangs controlled, made money from, and committed murders because of their greed and want to control the drug trade .... well, I've been wrong before. Now does prostitution, conterfieting, gambling, dog/cocks fights and illegal contrabanding fall under the same category?? For a more objective perspective of this article than my opinion you can read it at: http://cbs2chicago.com/local/gang.members.weis.2,1892495.html.

Three Story Day: A grandson, nephew and uncle.

After arriving home late yesterday afternoon, from visiting w/my mom in my home state, the good wife told me the following story about one of our grandsons. Our middle daughter professionally cleans houses, and one of the ladies who she was scheduled to clean house for called and told her that her husband wasn't feeling well and would be home that day, and that they would like my daughter to bring her young son so he could play with their puppy [I guess that puppy was too energetic for them], so my daughter took her son with her and he played with the puppy. Matter of fact my grandson wore the puppy out. With nothing to do my daughter asked the husband if there was anything they needed done. 'WEll, he replied, my wife and I have been missing our cat for the last couple days and it has really bothered her, I'll give your son $10 if he can find that cat?' WEll, it took my grandson less than 1/2 hour to return to the house with lost cat cradled in his arms ... 'wow, where did you find him the man asked, in your barn in the backyard,' replied my grandson. That was far too easy for $10 replied my daughter, let him do something else also. WEll, I have a bushel of peaches that need to have their cores removed, replied the man, however for a whole bushel I will need to give him at least $2. So he took my grandson to the back porch and showed him how to decore peaches. It wasn't long when my daughter saw my grandson back in the house just sitting there. 'Have you finished taking the core out of that bushel of peaches already, that was fast?' 'No, he replied, I decided I didn't need the $2 that much. This story has all kinds of applications, especially in our world of the fast buck, and how much energy and time one has spend to earn money.

While visiting with my mom and grandma yesterday we were rejoicing in the much needed rainstorms that had serenaded our sleep and brought a new green hue to their yards, and undoubtedly given growth to the crops that will feed us in the year ahead. Grandma [as she always seems to be doing lately, she's 97yrs. old] told us a story about my nephew that not even my mom had ever heard. Its seems that my nephew didn't like to wear raincoats to school, and when my sister heard it was going to rain she tell him he'd have to wear his raincoat. Now his young fertile mind recalled that in past adult conversations he had heard Great-Grandma B say that her rheumatism was a better indicator of rain than the tv weathermen. So when his mom told him he would need to wear a raincoat to school, he would call Grandma and ask her if her rheumatism was acting up - and if Grandma replied, 'not at all' he would report back to his mom that there was no need for a raincoat because Grandma felt fine! And of course to go ahead and demand he wear a raincoat would have, at least to him, meant that his mother didn't believe his great grandma. So for far more times than not it was off to school without a raincoat ... and far more times Grandma was more right than the weather forecasters. Grandma even got to laughing as she told the story, and of course we did to; a window to our past has been opened, and as though Grandmas just telling the story had a magic component to it, the sun was coming out in all its radiance, as though to say, 'she's right you know!!
There's a cloud of mystery in this story.

One of the things I had accomplished in my visit home was that I inherited a number of old documents [some wills, a death certificate, a couple of birth certificates and a wedding certificate, not bad for one days work]. I was reading through them and came to the Will of one of my uncles. This was an uncle that was a minister, yet
it was also an open family secret that he loved, far too much, the sweetness of the vine, and was predisposed unfavorably often towards the fairer sex. He could be cantankerous to say the least. I really didn't know him that much although I still use his 'portable communion set' from time to time. He had mixed relationships with his family members to say the least. My father, one of the few people his paranoia trusted, and a brother were his executioners[haw, now that's a misspelling, but probably one with more accuracy from time to time than we know about], I mean executors. Now in his Will he left my father, another brother[not the co-executor] and a sister, and four nephews $100 apiece. Now bear in mind that my uncle had quite an inheritance from his wife who died earlier, so a $100 is not much of a gift for him to give. However, to his other brothers [including the one who was co-executor] and his sisters he left them $10 each. For my mother, who really took care of his finances, although he thought it was my father, he left nothing .... and I don't think he thought Dad would be sharing the $100 with her, or Dad's gift might have been less. My mother was always kind to my uncle, even though for some unknown reason he didn't reciprocate with the same kindnesses. When I thought about it the two brothers and one sister he gave the larger gifts too were younger, and the rest, three brothers and three sister, who inherited the smaller gifts were all older; I don't know if there's a link or not? But I do know this, a few years earlier my grandpa had died and a terrible fight broke out among the siblings, this in a supposedly Christian family, and perhaps that might have had something to do with my uncle's Will. I will probably never know, but I won't quite searching.

I am currently reading 'People of the Book,' which I would place in the genre of Anne Frank's Diary, The Cellist of Sarajevo, Sarah's Key and The Book Thief.

An Altar in the World ..... a review

I am a fan of Barbara Brown Taylor, I appreciate her 'inclusiveness' in her writings. That is to say she is unapologetic in expressing her opinion but at the same time invites you to read her from different perspectives without judgment. Sometimes it take me till the end of the book to really get the theme. First I purchased the book because Barbara wrote it, then I figured it would be a book in which the twelve different chapter stood on their own - and was not disappointed, they do; and in standing on their own this meant I could read them at a slower pace, at my own leisure. The title, 'An Altar In The World' and the subtitle, 'A Geography of Faith' indicated a world view of faith, nothing could be further from the truth, to me the author was talking about a 'personal altar' that included all the areas[geography] of my faith. Let's take a moment to review the concept of 'altar.' The altar is normally thought of in terms of surrender, in gospel terms, at the altar I surrender myself, my agenda, my future to the greater will of God. Second, at the altar there is personal consultation with God and I receive great blessing there, and third at the altar my eternal future is again renewed. All of these often come together in Barbara's chapters as submission results in blessing and blessing
renews not only my future but hope to those who I share with. A couple of my favorite chapters was #10 The Practice of Feeling Pain. Now I find that as I get older pain is becoming a closer partner, and I shrink more from its presence; the macho, when I was younger and in the Army, that I used to call upon as a shield rarely makes its appearance in this latter years. The author has appropriately subtitled this chapter, 'breakthrough.' She writes, 'If you have ever made a graph of your life ...then you are likely to note that the spikes in your pain bear some relationship to the leaps in your growth.'[p.157] She is right, not in the sense of 'no pain no gain' but in the sense of the Apostle Peter telling us that suffering is for our own benefit, i.e. spiritual growth. The whole chapter challenged my mindset about pain. I would like to close these thoughts on this chapter with another quote from it, [p.173] 'For those willing to stay awake, pain remains a reliable altar in the world, a place to discover that a life can be as full of meaning as it is of hurt. The two have never canceled out each other and I doubt they ever will, at least not until each of us - or all of us together - find the way through. Chapter #12 was on the pronouncing blessings. Barbara notes, [p.209] '..the world needs us to bless because there is a shortage of people willing to kneel wherever they are and recognize holiness holding its life-giving hand above our heads.' The author is quick to note that giving a blessing is not bestowing holiness, rather a blessing is a result of holiness. I'm often tempted to grumble when asked at family dinners, reunions, etc. to pray [and even at church socials]; can't anyone else pray I've silently mumbled to myself. AFter reading this chapter, which I'm sure I will do many more times, I'm coming to realize 'to ask the blessing is to be blessed oneself,' to pronounce the blessing may be the only time someone will receive one, to pronounce the blessing is to give thanks for what God has done, or is doing in my life. An honest effort is going to be made to realize that being asked to pronounce the blessing is not a chore, but a blessed opportunity .... that pronouncing a blessing is not something routine, or because of some perceived special relationship with our Creator, but a joy that can only come through a blessing. I don't know if any of this makes sense to anyone else, but it is having a profound effect on my faith. This is a book I will continue to reread - to mark up - to question and research .......... thanks Barbara for drawing my attention to my 'altar' and how it becomes the focal point, how it draws all the areas of my life to one central blessing place.
AN ALTAR TO THE WORLD: A Geography of Faith. Taylor, Barbara Brown. 2009
HarperCollins Publishers. New York, New York. ISBN: 9780061370472
ENJOY