Early in the Morning

I looked outside this morning and saw the dew on the grass in our backyard.  I was reminded of something that I experienced for many summers playing golf at Pokegama County Club near Grand Rapids, Minnesota: the water trails left by a golf putt early in the morning.  

My father worked at the local paper mill and his shift began at 6:30 in the morning.  My three older brothers and I would pack our golf bags in the car, make sure we had the lunch mom prepared for us and off we went - ready for a full day of playing golf.  This was a big deal for my mom because it meant that the four of us were out of her hair for the day.  She would only have to deal with six other children - yikes!

Normally, my dad would not be able to bring us all the way out to the course, so we would walk from the start of the Golf Course Road and HWY 169, a total of about 3.5 miles.  (Funny, when we were kids, it felt like six.)  Actually, there were not too many times when we had to walk the entire way.  Someone driving by would see four boys carrying golf bags and determine that we were not a threat - they would offer us a ride.  That was great because it meant we could get started sooner.  Back then golfers didn't start that early in the morning.  Even the grounds crew didn't start until later.  We had the course to ourselves. 

I'm getting to the point of my short story - you know, what reminded me of the dew on the grass outside of our backyard.  Because it was so early and (as I mentioned) the grounds crew had not started their work, the greens were always wet with dew.  If you were the first to putt, everyone else could see the line perfectly.  As you hit the ball, water would spring up from behind the ball as it made its way to the hole.  We never had to worry about the ball washers being empty - they were cleaned on their way to the hole.

What makes this memory so special for me is the time I was able to spend with my brothers.  If you were to ask me then if it was special, I would not have had a clue what you were talking about.  It was golf and I was only hoping to beat the pants off my older brothers (which almost never happened).  But years later, as I have been able to process some of these memories, I understand how important that time was for me, for my brothers and for my entire family.

We learned some things about life other than just how to swing a golf club.  We learned the rules of golf etiquette, which had a lot of "politeness" built into it.  We learned that you needed to treat each other with respect.  For me that was a big thing because I not only had to learn how to respect my brothers, but they also had to respect me.  I'm not saying that our behavior was wild at home, but there were moments.  I mean, you are bound to have that in a family of ten, right?  

Those mornings on the course helped us all with lessons which could translate into life.  You're not always going to hit it straight down the middle.  Sometimes you get penalized and you have to find your way out of a trap.  You can help someone else find their ball.  And there is no need to throw your five iron into the nearest woods just because you think your brother was talking in your backswing and you missed a shot (details on that incident are a bit fuzzy to this day).

Today, my brothers and I try to get together once or twice a year.  We reminisce about our early days of playing golf, assuming we can remember.  I look forward to those moments because they remind me of those days when four boys were in search of being like Palmer, Nicklaus, Player and other greats of that era.  What we discovered was how to be more like gentlemen, treating others with respect and dignity.

I'm sure my parents appreciated that learning!

By Our Own Devices?

High school graduations are right around the corner.  For the past three decades, I have watched young church members from the communities where I have served receive their diplomas and move on to the next chapter of life.  It does bring a person back to their own rite of passage known as high school graduation.  My graduation from Greenway High School in Coleraine, Minnesota was a big moment.  I watched my three older brothers graduate, go to work at the local paper mill, get a car and go to college.  I could not wait! 

So, I wax a bit of nostalgia around this time of year, just like in September when school starts all over again.  So many things have changed over the years.  It’s crazy when you think about it.  I can list the things we didn’t have - no internet, no devices, no smartphones, no computers.  We had rotary phones and still used the party line (google it).  Cable tv?  What was that?  Who needed cable tv when we only had three channels?  And one of the channels came in focus only when someone had to turn the antenna toward the location of the station!  We listened to the radio or played the 45’s - and if we were lucky, we had an eight track in our car.  You haven’t lived until you listened to an eight track.

I know.  Many of you know the list of things we didn’t have and the things we did have.  One of the things which has changed is the comic strip.  I used to read the Sunday comics from the Duluth News Tribune.  Dennis the Menace, Blondie and Dagwood Bumstead, the gang from Peanuts, Beetle Bailey,  Prince Valiant, and Dick Tracy.  That last one intrigues me because of one thing that Dick Tracy had which was a precursor of things of today: the two way wrist watch.  Introduced first in 1946: it was a two-way voice radio that could only receive and transmit audio.  Twenty years later it was updated by adding a small video screen to view contacts.  Little did anyone know that we were looking at the first smartphone. 

There are so many devices we have which supposedly make our lives a lot easier.  I took a quick inventory of the tech items I have in my possession:  desktop and laptop computer, smartphone, iPad, Kindle Fire, Fire TV, Remarkable 2 pad, FitBit tracker, digital hearing aids, vehicles with computer technology including communications, Skylight calendar, and so many other computerized gadgets that are designed to make life simpler. 

Even with all of this, we humans crave things that technology cannot give us - having a cup of coffee with a friend; giving a family member a hug; shaking hands with someone you just met; talking with a group of people all in the same room.  We crave relationship - with one another.  Certainly we love being outdoors in nature (who in Minnesota hasn’t learned how to love that?)  But we are wired to be with one another - to love one another. 

Being in ministry for over thirty years, I have to say we also desire a connection to the divine.  We want a relationship with God, with Jesus, with the Spirit.  Here is a good reminder for what we need today: grow inwardly with God's Holy Word as the primary guide, make certain we pay attention to reach upward toward God, and be mindful that we need to reach out to each other.

Jesus did that on the cross for us: no device will  ever replace that!

Difficult Times

I had a few days this past year to travel back to my hometown area which shaped me into the person I am today.  Some of you might wonder about that statement, but it is true.  I cannot recall every learning moment of my youth, but I know they were there.  I learned humility, compassion, happiness, joy, achievement, and so many other good lessons for later on in life.  In that statement, you might discover that at the time, I may not have realized at the time when I was learning those life lessons that I was actually learning them - does that make sense?  

For instance, I may not have learned about my youthful decision-making processes until I actually had children of my own, who were faced with some of the same decisions that I had to make.  Even on into the autumn of my life (early autumn - more like the second summer of my life), I continue to realize things that I had gone through as a youngster and what it has meant throughout the years - how I have been shaped by those precious moments without even realizing it. 

One of the things which I have been thinking about a great deal lately is how I have always thought that life was simpler back then.  In fact, if you glance back through some of my posts on this blog, I'm certain I've mentioned that a time or two.  I know that each generation comes through challenging and difficult times.  In the 60's it was assassinations, Vietnam, racial strife, and the Cold War.  The 70's brought more difficulty - Watergate, drugs, high inflation and unemployment, energy crises, political scandals, and the still ongoing Vietnam War.  These issues contributed to a sense of national unease and a decline in public trust in government - something which has resurfaced and fueled the Make America Great movement in recent years.  

I could go on and on.  But this age we are in is an unprecedented moment in American history.  We have a government who is bent on making decisions and choices without the advice or consent of the elected people who are in Congress.  This government has carefully controlled the media to suit its own message - anything else is with fake news or just plain wrong.  We have our own military being dispatched to so-called problem cities to "police" them because the current administration thinks they are not doing their job.  We have sacrificed the dreams of many immigrants for something called safe borders, and our national leadership has allowed deportations to happen without due process.  It doesn't help matters much when the supreme law of the land has shifted its primary concern from the law and the constitution to the whims of the current administration.  I'm not saying anything new when I say that these are difficult times.

I purchased a tee shirt (seen here) that points a little fun at that message, but it is true nonetheless.  Being a music person, I thought it was funny.  On a serious note, I cannot remember ever playing a song that had a 13/8-time signature.  5/4-time - I came across that one a few times - the theme from Mission Impossible was one song which had that time signature.  No, it wasn't easy, but we learned how to play through it with practice and remembering the fundamentals of music.

So, yes, these are difficult times.

How can we expect to endure through them?  The message on the tee shirt might be cute, but the message from these days we are living in can be very frightening.  The way I figure it, the pathway ahead includes following the basic lessons of life we learned growing up.  We continue to respect one another.  We don't give in to negative practices or bullying tactics.  We might need to make changes, so, we need to work hard to make those changes.  And perhaps one of the most important actions we can take is to pray as though everything depends upon God and then work as though everything depends upon us.  Do it in that order.  Always do it in that order.

Eventually, I believe the times will straighten themselves out and an order will be restored.  I just need to return to the basics of a simpler life that I was taught long ago.  I wish everyone would do that.

But that's me.  Others might have a different time signature.

Batteries Plus

Every now and again life brings me to a moment when I am transported back to a simpler time.  It happened today when I was attempting to update the navigation system in my 2017 Ford Edge.  The online instructions seemed simple enough - download the files needed to a flash drive (make sure the drive is reformatted correctly), then with the car turned on, insert the flash drive into the USB and follow the instructions.  Seems simple, right?

Wrong.

When I inserted the flash drive into the car's USB port, I received an error message "LST_ERR05" which I immediately did not recognize.  Fortunately, there was an 800 number that I could call and they would help me with that error message.  Sounds simple, right?

Wrong again.

I called the 800 number which sent me through an automated system designed to make consumers lose their minds.  After what seemed like a maze of numbers, I finally heard a human voice, ever sweet and ready to help me.  This has to be the place where the story gets simple, right?

C'mon man... you know better.

I know this person was smart and gifted enough to help me.  I just had a very hard time trying to understand her grasp of English pronunciation as I hear it.  This isn't a racist thing at all.  I was trying very hard to catch every word, every phrase.  It just was difficult.  After about thirty minutes, I was finally able to get the proper files on my flash drive (the error message was all about not having the latest updated software system - it needed to be the 3.0 203.20.7 version.  I only had the 3.0 version.  Who knew?) 

So, let's go out to the car, start it up and get this update rolling.  Sounds simple now, right?

Seriously, you don't know hard it is to be me sometimes...

The car would not start.  I heard a familiar sound from my past of a clicking battery and what that meant.  The battery was dead.  No two ways about it.  My car was running just fine until I started this whole update navigation file thing.  I knew what I had to do.   I politely apologized to the woman who had been so patient with me for the past forty-five minutes and told her I would not be able to proceed until I got the car started.  She gave me my case number and went on her way to the next customer.  

I remembered where the hood release lever was and tripped it, opened the hood, and located the battery.  Here is where my Back to the Future moment happened.  A person used to be able to just remove the battery cables from the battery which was always located on the driver's side front part of the engine.  It was so easy to get to.  I was looking at the Edge's interior motor parts and trying to recall when the last time I had to take out a dead battery.  It was decades ago.  I used to have a Dodge Dart that I changed starters, alternators, batteries, oil, plugs... I was a regular Gomer Pyle at Wally's Service Station!  I wasn't the only one - we all knew how to do those things - and we did them!  Shazaam!

Fast forward to today.  When I looked at the Ford Edge engine, it took a moment to realize that the manufacturers had located the battery just underneath the back of the engine.  No longer easily accessible, it was wedged in a tiny space that was tricky to remove.  Anywhere else and I was going to get someone else to come and do this for me.  But I did get it removed and $243 tariff free dollars later (I hope), I was ready to install a new battery.  The installation went fine.  No hitches.  No glitches.  Just some blood, sweat, and tears along the way.

After all of that, the updated software never did get installed.  Not yet.  I guess I will wait for another reminder of a simpler time to accomplish that task.  At least my car starts - so, I got that going for me.

Faith Comes by Hearing

This has been a challenging week.  I'm not referring to anything that has been happening in the world.  I'm not talking about the fluctuation in the weather or the stock market.  I'm not even talking about the still high cost of eggs (and what are our plans for dying Easter eggs this year?  Someone suggested using potatoes.  I'm not seeing an Easter Spud Hunt.)

No, I'm talking about something that is really troubling in my life and there is nothing that I can do to naturally overcome it: it's hearing loss.  Yeah.  You heard it right.  Hearing loss.  This past week, it seems like my hearing has taken a turn for the worse.  I think it is the barometric pressure - a change in the weather patterns.  It could also be the tinnitus which I have self-diagnosed myself as having (I will know more in a couple of weeks because I have an appointment with a hearing specialist at Mayo).  I'm really hoping that this is a short-term deal, but I don't know.  It's tough to grow older, I guess.

Like I said, this week has been challenging.  And frustrating - for me and for others around me.  No one appreciates having to repeat themselves just because I haven't heard them.  They give you this exasperated look like you haven't been paying attention when you've been doing everything you can to try and hear everything that's being said.  And as one who is dealing with the loss, it's hard to sit in a room with others talking and not being able to participate because you cannot hear.

It's not a great feeling all round.  Nobody's happy.

Apart from setting up an appointment with a hearing specialist who can change the course of my life, there really isn't much I can do.  I can turn to scripture for help, but there isn't much that said in the Bible about someone who is losing their hearing.  The Bible doesn't explicitly address hearing loss as a physical condition, but it does use the imagery of "deaf ears" metaphorically to describe spiritual blindness or a refusal to listen to God's word.  While that might be timely for the world we live in right now, it's not really applicable to what I am dealing with.

I could study what it means to be patient.  The Bible encourages believers to be patient in trials, to wait upon God, and practice patience in their relationships.  Key passages highlight patience as a fruit of the Spirit and a path to peace and understanding.  One example of a biblical passage about patience comes from Romans 12:12: "Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer".  I certainly could and will follow that advice.  

I can even appreciate how God makes it a point to single out the older adults among us (which I am now a part of) - listen to these words from Isaiah 46:4: "God promises to continue carrying his people through old age, stating, "And I'll keep on carrying you when you're old.  I'll be there, bearing you when you're old and gray.  I've done it and will keep on doing it, carrying you on my back, saving you" (paraphrased from The Message).  I know I have the gray hairs that are a requirement for this passage!

These are all helpful.  I know I will not always have weeks like this.  I'm actually looking forward to the results of my appointment and what it might mean - to hear clearly again.  And to my friends or strangers who are reading this post, I offer a word of encouragement and advice - please, do not take your hearing for granted.  It is just one of the precious gifts of being human.

You hear me?

The Betamax

It was sometime around the early 1980's, I believe, when one of my best friends at the time worked as a radio DJ and he had just started working at relatively new outlet store selling a machine called a Sony Betamax Video Cassette Recorder.  Mike must have been a good salesman because even though VHS had just come out, he insisted the Betamax was the perfect fit for our recording television show needs (up until they invented something that could record a television show, I didn't even know I had that need).  

So, I bought one.  A brand-new Sony SL-20 Betamax.  Over the years it has served its purpose - recording shows, movies, sports events - playing camera recorded events and the like.  But the VHS was a cheaper model which really took hold of the market and Beta taped movies became harder to find.  We eventually bought a VHS video recorder, and the Betamax was rendered idle, sitting unused for years.  Because we had recorded some family memories on Beta tapes, we couldn't get rid of the Betamax.  Plus, there wasn't a really good market for it.  So, it kept moving when we moved.

Advanced technology eventually caught up with the VHS companies... Compact Disks or CDs entered the market and before you knew it, VHS tapes were in danger of becoming obsolete as well.  CDs flooded the stores and homes became inundated with this new way of watching entertainment.  But it didn't take too long before the CDs were on the outs - the digital age had arrived and live streaming became the order of the day.  No more trips to Blockbuster or mailing the movies back to Netflix.

But what of the lonely Betamax?  My machine was still in pretty good condition - or so I thought.  I recall there were some precious memories on some of the Beta tapes and I wanted to convert them to digital files so that the kids and grandkids could enjoy watching them.  But there was a problem.  Who knew that moving eight times in 34 years would cause a machine to have some issues?  So, I found a guy who fixes these kinds of things (for a pretty high cost, I will say).  But I couldn't put a price on a memory now, could i?

I sent in the machine, and it just came back after about three weeks.  Works just a good as new.  Even looks new!  See the picture - mine is on the bottom - the brand-new model is on the top.  It was worth it because it had reminded me of a time in my life that I hadn't really forgotten but was grateful for the video reminder.   

The pictures you see below are just some of those precious memories. taken over one Labor Day weekend in northern Minnesota.  Yeah, they are a bit on the discolored side, but that is due to the age of the tape.  Goodness, those Beta tapes are over forty years old!  I took a few still shots of some of the kids' moments that are etched in my own memory.  The thing that is really cool is I see their movements, I hear their voices, I marvel at how small and precious they were at the time.  I would almost pay any price to preserve those memories.

Because kids grow up.  They have their own families and memories to make - as it should be.  This is not a lament over lost time or where has the time gone.

I am just grateful I have a reminder that tells me where part of the time was spent... good family time.  Spent together.  No devices in the way of conversation.  No worries but each day in and of itself.  It was a simpler time.  It was a joyous time.  Don't get me wrong, we had our problems of the day, like any other family.  But we had so many good days.  We watched our children learn, grow and become young people.  I am reminded of part of it because my friend Mike sold me a Betamax.  

Turned out to be a timely investment.  Thanks, Mike!

Advent Meditation

For most folks, this is the time of year to prepare for the Christmas celebration.  Lots of activities to in which to participate... decorating, baking, parties, Sunday School Christmas pageants, sending Christmas cards - just a few of the things we do during this time of year.  

We've been doing some of those very same things.  But I've also been working on a project that started several years ago: the task of reducing the amount of stuff I have in my possession that my kids will not have to deal with one day.  We have made countless trips to Savers and Goodwill, the recycling center, the landfill.  Back in Worthington we filled three huge dumpsters - and we still have stuff.

One of the boxes of stuff I've been going through had several items that actually surprised me.  I didn't realize that I had kept them all of these years.  What are these items, you ask?   They are every year end tax forms since I first started filling out tax forms.  Yeah, no kidding!  From 1974 (the first year I actually started to fill out a tax form) until last year, I had evidently saved every one of them.  Here is a copy of that form (with ss info blocked out for security reasons).

What is wrong with me?  

Don't ask me why... I suppose it just became a habit - something I wanted to hold on to over the years but didn't need to.  I checked this out - a person only needs to hold on to the last three years of their tax returns.  According to a tax expert, a person really should hold on to the past seven years.  And I read this quote which really opened my eyes: No one needs to keep twenty years' worth of tax documents.

Guilty.  Not only guilty, but excessively guilty.  I discovered that I have tax returns from the past fifty years!  Who does that?

Not me.  Not anymore.  Sometimes you just have to make a decision to stop let something that you've been holding ono to for decades go.  Maybe it's tax returns.  Maybe it's a behavior that is actually harmful to you or others.  Maybe it's a grudge and you haven't forgiven that one thing.    Isaiah 43 tells us to look ahead to the new thing that God is doing - forget the former things.  Do not dwell on the mistakes of the past.  

Perhaps that is easier said than done.  But it does hold a lot of merit.  During this season of Advent preparation, get rid of the old things which you've held on to that haven't been helpful at all.  Holding on to them will only tax your spirit.

Get it?

The Mystery of the Cube

I've always enjoyed a good puzzle.  My dad was a big fan of puzzles.  We'd always have a puzzle that we'd be working on, using the card table to put it together.  Of course, throughout the years, little games like Wordle, Scrabble, Words with Friends and the like were always an occupation of my time here and there.  I fancied myself as an excellent puzzle solver.  I could usually figure out any puzzle that was put before me.  Expect one.

The Rubik Cube.

I was never able to solve the cube's secret - getting all of the colors on their own side.  I was never able to solve the progression - turning the cube this way and that until finally all the colors were on their own side.  Out of the blue, I suddenly decided that I was going to do this.  If there was one puzzle that I was bound and determined to solve, it was going to be this one.  I picked up the original Rubik's Cube from the nearest store and started to work on figuring it out.  I have no qualms about using Goggle to help me figure this one out either.  

But I ran into a little bit of a problem right away.  I could not figure out how to get the cube out of the package!  All of the writing on the package was in French (I think).  I took two years of French in high school, so I could tell that there were no specific instructions on how to "ouvrir le paquet" - the French translation for "open the package").  I twisted the package - no luck.  I looked for a tab that might spring the puzzle from its package - not happening.  I even Googled how do you open the package of a Rubik's Cube?  

Nice!  The first hit was the following: To open a Rubik's Cube package, simply locate the sealed edge of the box, usually a glued or taped section, and carefully peel it back to access the cube inside; most packages will have a designated tear line or tab to help you open it cleanly.  Well sure, that seemed easy enough, once I knew the answer.

Solving the Cube will be a different story.  It's complex.  It's not easy.  And don't let them fool you into thinking it's so easy a three-year-old can do it.  Lies!  Nothing but lies!  Even having all of the technological advantages of hundreds of digital clues, it is not that easy to solve the Rubik's Cube.

I think there is a parallel between my inability to solve a puzzle block to solving some of the great mysteries of life: What is the meaning of life?  What did I do to deserve this bad luck?   Why do I press harder on a remote-control when I know the battery is dead?  Why do I always forget where I put my keys?

Just joking on some of those, but it is true that some of the most perplexing mysteries of life may never be solved - in this life.  I've learned to be okay with that.  I don't have to know the answer to everything.  In fact, if I only know a few things, that's good enough for me.  I know my family loves me, even though I am clueless sometimes.  I know that the Vikings may never win the Super Bowl in my lifetime, but I still enjoy watching them each Sunday.  I know I am a better than average pastor, or so I've been told.  And I know that I am not perfect, but I'm not supposed to be.  

And one more thing - I know that Jesus loves me- this I know - for the Bible tells me so!

Checking the Time

When I go to work at St. Mary's Hospital at the Mayo Clinic, I usually park in the East Parking Lot - a huge parking lot for Mayo employees.  I get out of my car and walk a short distance to where a Mayo bus is waiting.  The bus waits a few minutes and then proceeds to the Mayo Clinic downtown where many of the employees work.  I get off that bus and get on another that is called the "intercampus" bus, which drives about ten blocks to St. Mary's where I begin my workday.  I repeat the process in reverse when I am ready to go home.

I haven't met many people or befriended many people on these short bus excursions.  In fact, I do not believe I have met anyone that I even remotely recognize, especially if they work at St. Mary's.  I do recognize some of the bus drivers - there are fewer of them.  There is one common denominator that is present whether I am coming to work or going home that is very recognizable: the number of persons who are on their cell phones on the bus is remarkable!  I looked today when I was coming home and - no kidding - almost 100% of the persons who were heading home were on their cell phones - checking texts or Twitter posts, talking to loved ones, watching videos from Instagram, or if you are old school, checking the emails on your phone.  

I don't have any issues with anyone who is on their cell phone.  I do wonder what life was like before we got them.  I can only imagine I might have met someone and actually talked with them while on the bus.  I can only speculate that over the sound of the air brakes we might hear conversation between people who know one another.  

I do know this - cell phones are an amazing invention that is not going away any time soon.  It was back in the middle of the last century when speculation about what the future might look like was interestingly accurate.  Like this clipping from The Tacoma News Tribune from 1953.  Or the forward-thinking comic strip Dick Tracy, showing his two-way tv wristwatch.  In some ways, these predictions were uncanny in their accuracy.

But there are things that we sacrifice for the convenience and ability to connect is these modern "space age" ways.  We miss the connectivity of relationships.  It's so easy to talk on the smartphone or text someone or even FaceTime with them (which is closer but still lacks that warmth of the human touch).  But in this time in which we live, it is much harder to meet people and talk with them face to face.  

We have forgotten how to do that, quite frankly: how to meet others in the scope of normal everyday living.  Think about it - how challenging is it to strike up a conversation with someone who is using their smartphone?  Or even not using one, we lack the skill set that would have been developed over the years - where we learned how to converse with one another.

Trust me, I use my smartphone everyday:  I check arrangements with our family members; I want to know what today's weather will be like; I need to take a photo of our dog Maisy doing something that only dogs can do; I need to post that once in a lifetime picture instantly on my Facebook account; I check the news; I listen to podcasts; I set up live stream for worship services; I get updates on sports scores; and I can map out the next travel destination.  There are thousands of things I can do with my smartphone.  I would miss many things if I didn't have a smartphone.  I'm confident I would survive, but life would seem much quieter and simpler.

But I can't check the smartphone's feelings like I can when I'm talking with someone about their challenges.  I can't know the pain the smartphone might be going through like I can when someone is hurting.  I can't receive a warm hug from a smartphone like I can from a friend or a loved one.  For as much as the smartphone can bring to my world, it cannot bring me meaningful relationships with my friends - or begin ones with strangers, for that matter.  It requires personal interaction, something we need to be better at.  I do think about what this world would be like if we spent as much time cultivating our one-to-one relationships as we do checking our devices.

I'm not advocating anyone get rid of their devices.  I would guess that some are reading this post right now on a device.  But look up every so often and breathe in the air others are breathing.  Check in with a friend by meeting them face-to-face.  Put the phone down and read a book.  Paint a picture.  Go for a walk to see the fall colors on the landscape.  Don't miss the joys this life has to offer just for the sake of checking your phone.  It will be there.  Give yourself the gift of time.

"Time is a gift. But the wise know that this gift will eventually run out."

Psalm 90:12

Cleaning Out the Garage

Power Outage

Since moving to Rochester in June, Nancy and I have been working hard to eliminate a lot of the stuff that we've accumulated throughout the fifty years we've been together.  There are the incomplete sets of old dishes that are hard to toss away because they have been in your family for so many years and heaven forbid that we should ever get rid of them.  I cannot tell you how many picture frames we have - many with family photos taken throughout the years and some that have no real significance whatsoever.  There are clothes which are on the hope list - hoping that I can fit into them someday (maybe by that day they'll be back in style.)  And, of course, there are the remnants of computer programs from days gone by - computer disks with programs designed to make my life simpler but they no longer work because their technology hasn't kept up with the newer, faster systems.

But the most surprising item that I have discovered in every box tucked away, every loose bag that we stuffed in a box that was tucked away, and drawers upon drawers of knick-knacks inundated with this item.  It's the extension cords.  I have all kinds: 7 brown extension cords, 6 white ones which work inside the house only, 1 six count outlet which plugs into an existing outlet, 2 power strips (I know there are more - these are the ones I've counted so far), and one outlet extension cord that only works with one item.  I have scads of three prong adapters because the previous home we lived in had older outlets, many of them without a ground plug so we needed adapters for them.  

I'm not even including all of the power cords I have for outside use (I know it's a double-digit number).  Neither am I including tens upon tens of device cords that have no known devices attached to them, LAN cords which are no longer needed because of the wireless phase we are in, and more earphone cords than I have ears.  Somewhere in time I have devices that each of these cords fit.  But who cares?  If I'm not using the device now and haven't for years, why do I think I need to keep them?  It's insanity!

I can tell you right now I don't need any of these cords.  None of them.  Not at all.  The moment I realize this will be the moment I will have conquered a huge obstacle in life - accumulating things that have no value. 

Listen to how Jesus said it: 

Yeah, I should know that by now.  I don't really consider tens of tens of extension cords and other similar things to be a treasure, but perhaps I can rethink the purpose for purchasing things.  Do I really need it or do I want it?  In most cases, I'm guessing the answer in my life would be "No".  I believe if I do that (and I'm thinking it's harder than just saying it than it is to do it) then perhaps I'll be able to tap into a bigger power source that will provide for anything I might need.

I guess I have some work to do... I need to donate some extension cords so others can access the power!

Reading about the World - Weekly

Life has changed so much since I was a young person - it's actually mind-numbing to consider how far we have come.  Nearly every day, we can look for information on the world wide web through Google or some other search engine.  We see pictures and video of events in other parts of the world live - as they are happening.  These appear on our phones, our iPads, our computers - yes, even our smart televisions.  The information we have at our fingertips is simply amazing.

Contrast that with how we received information in the mid-60's.  At a grade schooler, our sources of information were discovered in the library.  We would walk through the underground tunnel at Vandyke Grade School to the Coleraine Carnegie Library - right across the street.  When you walked in this library, you knew you were in a library.  The smell of the books, newspapers and archives was unmistakably unique.  Books were plentiful.  We would check out the books we thought we would like and we learned about the world through the writings of those books - some classic stories. some true and others pure fiction.  It spurred our quest to learn more about the world in which we lived.  (Incidentally, that particular library was placed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1980 and is still open today, 113 years after it was first built.  You can read more about it here.)

There were other means of learning back then.  Our school library also had what most libraries carried - a set of encyclopedias.  My folks purchased a set of World Book encyclopedias, complete with an annual subscription for a yearbook and a science yearbook that brought all the information up to date.  I remember Nancy and I purchasing a set for our children - way before the internet became a thing. 

But there was one item in my memory that is dear to my heart even as I think about it today.  The Weekly Reader.  During our grade school years, each week we would receive the latest copy of My Weekly Reader.  In our classrooms, we would pour over the information found in each issue, learning about the latest developments in space exploration, world events, and modern inventions.  We learned about world leaders and so many other lands which we could only dream about.  With our teachers leading the conversation, we learned more about the world each week.  We learned together, as classmates.  We learned from our teachers, who we respected and looked up to.  They were our role models of the day.  We brought the papers home and talked with them with our parents, interacting with them about our day at school.  And I would like to believe, we learned from our parents what they thought about the things that we were learning about in school.  We can't even imagine how precious and important those moments were in our early development.

Looking back, I treasure the memories of these instruments which helped to shape us as people.   I believe we have lost a great deal since those days.  

I wonder if we could google that to see if we could find it again.

Stories from the Retirement Files...

July 1st was my official retirement date from full-time ministry.  I've been blessed with so many memories and precious moments I'd have to write a book to document them all.  I've met so many people whom I have consider good friends.  34 years in full time ministry - yeah, it was an amazing journey.

But the journey has changed dramatically.

So quickly - it seems - I have been launched into the long and winding road of retirement.  I have always felt confident about today and - quite frankly - about what tomorrow may hold.  Retirement hasn't really altered those thoughts, but the transition feels different.  I am still adjusting to this different pace I've been experiencing since July 1st.  

Honestly, it doesn't feel like retirement because I am serving as a part-time pastor for the Kenyon United Methodist Church (meeting some very nice people in that church).  I lead worship on Sundays and try to visit the community one day during the week.  I also work about seven to nine days a month as a chaplain at the Mayo Hospital in Rochester (St. Mary's and Methodist), a fabulous location to continue to learn and be helpful to others in need.   

Don't get me wrong... after ten months of anticipating retirement, I have been reunited with my beloved of fifty years (we celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary in August).  Nancy has done a terrific job of decorating and preparing our new home since last October - and I love the fact that we are first-time homeowners.  I am thrilled with the realization that I live in the same town was one of my children and her family.  I am also closer to my other daughter's family.  I anticipate with a quickened heart the ability to travel to visit my son and his family who live in Florida (it hasn't happened yet, but I'm working on it).  I have a great deal to be grateful for and I do have a thankful heart.  God has been so good to us.  

We've been working on the home we moved into this past year... replaced the carpeting with laminate flooring, installing a new bookshelf in my office area, a sewing center for Nancy.  And a host of things that a new homeowner has to deal with - my new favorite place to shop is Home Depot.  Even the greeter knows me by name.

"So, what's your problem?" - you might ask.  

It's the adjustment.  I remind myself that I've been in a community for 34 years... people whom you have walked with in faith, laughed with them, cried with them, been in service with them, challenged them, learned from them.  I served in Worthington for eleven years - Emmanuel Church and Adrian for seven.  I have come to realize how much I appreciated their friendship, their guidance, their faithfulness, their personalities, and their kindness and love.  And truthfully, I miss all of that.  I have yet to replicate those kinds of relationships.  Like I said, it is an adjustment.

The other thing that has happened is one that I could not have expected.  I've done more doctoring since retirement in June than I have at any time in the past.  Just little things... edema in my leg, cataract in my left eye, colonoscopy, echocardiogram, diagnosed with sleep apnea, and an ultrasound on my leg.  I think I'm okay, but it's just been a pretty thorough checklist to make sure that I am okay.  

Welcome to the long and winding road of retirement, Daren.

The Chosen

It's been "another" long time since I have written anything about anything.  Truth be told, I've been a bit preoccupied, working on planning for retirement next year.  More on that at another time.  I felt compelled to sit down and write something about the streaming series that I have been watching.  You may have watched it as well.  It's called "The Chosen".  You can watch it free on this link. 

One promo says this about this acclaimed series about Jesus and his disciples: "A charismatic fisherman drowning in debt, a troubled woman wrestling with real demons.  A gifted publican ostracized by his family and his people.  A religious leader struggling with his beliefs.  See Jesus through the eyes of those that met him."  I'm not certain that this description does the series justice.

I have watched the first season (of three), and it has been very inspirational.  Does it take some liberties with respect to character development?  I should hope so.  Watching how Peter's life is depicted makes perfect sense for the accounts we read about him in the New Testament.  Nicodemus is shown as a teacher who truly desires to learn more about God's love for humankind.   Matthew's background as a quirky tax collector is refreshing to watch.  

The flashback moments revisit important moments that speak to what was happening in that current day: Jesus' teaching in the temple at age 12; Moses making the bronze serpent to save the people from snake bites; Jacob digging the well.  It's a refreshing look at the old, old story that we have come to know so well.  Perhaps too well.  It's a joy to have your heart opened once again to the stories we have grown up with as a young child.

Sometimes I am too slow out of the gate.  I know people have mentioned this series to me in the past.  I would politely nod and move on with life, not taking their encouragement to watch this series to heart.  I am grateful that I didn't wait too long.  I recommend it to you.  Don't procrastinate like I did.  This is one series that is worth the time it takes to sit down and watch it!  Trust me - you'll be glad you did!

Music Appreciation 101

I was taking a trip down memory lane tonight when I came across something I wasn't aware I had in my possession.  (I'm fairly certain that I shouldn't have it either.)  It's music from my high school band - Greenway RPB (Raider Pep Band).  Our band director was a pretty hip guy, always looking for the latest songs that we could play.  We even had a couple of budding composers who put together arrangements of songs we just couldn't wait to play: "Judy in Disguise", "Pain", and "It's Not Unusual" - to name a few.  

As I recall, it was a lot of fun, especially playing for the high school hockey games.  We had a number of rivalry bands which (quite frankly) couldn't hold a candle to our pep band.  Just sayin'.

Music has changed over the years.  I can't say anything bad about the music of today - I just don't listen to it.  However, if I were to offer a comparison, it would be that the music from my generation was perfect for its time.  It was easy to understand the lyrics, which also spoke to the issues of our time.  I guess all music does that, but the music of the 60's and 70's was stand-alone different.  Perhaps there were subtle messages within the music here and there, but it seemed like that music had a decency to it that is not as apparent today.  I'm not trying to rip on the music of today - I'm sure it has plenty of followers who will make the same claims years from now.

My brother had a maroon Olds F85 which had an eight-track player.  I was sometimes allowed to drive it.  There was nothing like driving in a car with an eight-track.  You had to listen to the entire track to hear the favorite songs from that particular band.  It only made sense that you would drive around in order to hear the music from the track.  I think we called it "cruising" in the day.

Music of any kind really has a dynamic effect upon us as humans.  It can take us back to a specific memory.  It can brighten our day or make us more reflective.  It can move us to action.  According to some medical resources, music can provide a total brain workout.  Research has shown that listening to music can reduce anxiety, blood pressure, and pain as well as improve sleep quality, mood, mental alertness, and memory.

Whatever your music of choice, I encourage you to listen to it more often.  Turn off the tv.  Play your cd or your mp3s on your favorite player.  Go cruising to the music.  You never know how it might affect you.  It just might make your day a little brighter!

How Much Is That Doggy in the Window?

Have you ever been so convinced that something is not going to work out the way others think it will?  I mean, with absolute certainty, you are fully convinced that your way is the only way.  No amount of discussion will ever change your mind.  You are rock-solid in your belief and if anyone thinks otherwise, they are dead wrong.  Keep that in mind for a moment.

Three years ago, it was a Thursday night in late March.  I had just settled down to go to sleep.  Nancy was working overnight at the hospital.  I was exhausted.  The COVID pandemic was in its earliest stages.  Everything had shut down - in person meetings, in person worship, plans for gatherings - and so many more events that are important to not only life in the church, but life period - were all shut down.  It was the most difficult time for all of us.  I was emotionally spent.  I needed some rest.

My phone buzzed, telling me there was a text from someone.  I wasn't totally asleep, so I fumbled for my glasses, slightly annoyed from being roused from a rest that I know I desperately needed.  I looked at my phone.  It was from my wife.  She was telling me about an opportunity to get some kind of playmate for our cat, Ruby.  Ruby and I didn't see eye to eye so I wasn't in favor of even keeping Ruby, let alone getting another cat for her.  I wasn't ready to hear it.  My response was "You are kidding right".

Turns out, she wasn't.  You see, Nancy's family has a history of having animals: dogs, cats, parakeets, cows... yeah, that's right, cows.  She loves animals.  Talks to them like they can talk back to her.  I know she wanted another pet.  I just wasn't prepared for that conversation - not after midnight... not during the pandemic... I was convinced this was not a good idea and my avatar emoticon told her so.  It was late - I was tired.  I wasn't going to waver....

...until this.  

Even in an exhaustive state, a guy still has a heart.  One look and that was it.  It was over.  Maisy became part of our family.  She waits for me to come home now.  Like a little jumping bean, she wants to be held all the time.  And she begs for treats by standing on her hind legs, just hoping for some kind of dog treat that she can gnarl on.  But make no mistake about it - she is still Nancy's dog.  I'm just second fiddle... chopped liver... just a glorified benchwarmer... I take a back seat and I'm perfectly okay with that.

As it turns out, I am also perfectly okay with the realization that I was wrong.  Really wrong.  Maisy has been a really good pet for Nancy and as it turned out, for me too.  It's a good lesson to be learned - for all of us.  Our way might not be the only way.  Take a moment to consider another perspective before settling on what you believe to be true.  You won't regret it.

I know in my heart I don't.

Oh, one trade-off... Ruby the cat is someone else's cat now.  I'm cool with that too!

The Beat Goes On

Once upon a time, I played drums in a rock and roll band.  True story.  Actually, I played in two different bands in the late seventies.  Those who know me are saying "Wait, isn't the trombone the instrument you play?"  The answer to that is yes, but I've always held this fascination with the drums.  In fifth or sixth grade (not sure which), the high school band instructor came over to the Vandyke Elementary School and gave music lessons to those young students who wanted to play an instrument.  My choice?  Drums.  I had one of those drum pads on which you could practice your skills.  It was relatively quiet and it seemed like I was on my way to being a drummer, if you can be on your way to doing anything at that age.

Sadly, I needed one thing... rhythm.  I just didn't get the rhythm.  The band instructor did everything he could to help me plug into the beat, but try as hard as I could, it didn't happen.  At the end of the first year, the band instructor said "Why don't you try the trombone?"  So, I gave up my dream of being a drummer and the next year I was learning how to play the trombone.

But the drums kept calling me.  The summer after graduation, I joined a ten-piece rock band, playing my trombone.  We played a lot of Chicago/Blood Sweat and Tears kind of music.  The guy who played the drums for us had a clear double bass drum set.  I thought it was the coolest thing ever.  the band was together for about one year and during that time, I whetted my drum appetite by sitting down at his drum set and playing it.  Lo and behold, somehow the rhythm issues I had so many years before had vanished.  I was able to keep the beat (not bad for a trombone player).  

Later that year, during my first year in college, the pep band didn't have a drummer (I'm actually surprised that we had a pep band!)  So, I took up the task and played the drums for the pep band (which only played during hockey games - which was great because I was on the basketball team and that was all I could handle!)  Fast forward to about 1978 - the summer of that year.  I cannot recall how it happened, but I purchased a Pearl drum set - bass drum, snare, and three toms - complete with cymbals.  I have no idea why I bought it - I'm sure Nancy didn't either.  As it sometimes happens, I knew a guy who knew I had a set and they were looking for a drummer.  Hint: if you own a drum set, then you are a drummer.  I was a drummer.

I played with that group for about a year.  Two singers who were dynamic (and were sisters) lead the group.  We played a lot of Heart/Fleetwood Mac/Linda Ronstadt.  We had gone on the road, playing in a dive in Moorhead, Minnesota when the group decided they needed a drummer with a bit more flash.  Hint: if you own a drum set, but have no flash, you will get no cash.  I thought my drum playing days were over.  I was wrong.

A fellow trombonist knew that I was playing drums.  He was also in a group that played 50's and 60's rock and roll - a group that (guess what) needed a drummer.  I joined his group and played with them for a couple of years.  I bought a double bass white Slingerland drum kit that was every bit as cool as the clear drum set I noodled around on in my first band.  The group eventually disbanded and I sold my set - thought my drum playing days were over.  I was wrong.  Again.

Fast forward to the year 2010.  I was now pastor for a church just south of Stillwater - on the edge of the Twin Cities.  They had a praise band and were in need of a drummer.  It had only been about thirty years since I last played, but I stepped in and once more, I was a drummer - this time for all the right reasons.  Since then, I've played here and there for our church praise team.  I purchased a Roland TD9 digital drum set, added two more toms and four Zildjian Gen cymbals - a set that I don't know what I will be doing with once I retire.  How many 70 year old drummers are out there? 

In the past few years, there have only been a few select opportunities to play the drums in the Worthington area.  Mostly, I've been connected to the City Band and the Symphony Orchestra playing my trombone, the instrument of choice.  I didn't think I'd ever be playing the drums in a group again.  I was wrong.  Again.

Last week, I was contacted by the person who is directing the local high school production of "Hello Dolly".  They were in need of a drummer for their pit band and wondered if I could do it.  I'm always ready to give it a whirl, so I went to their practice session on Monday night, sitting on a drum set that was set up for high school drummers.  It's been fifty years since I was the size of a high school drummer.  I was most uncomfortable as I tried to maneuver my way through the music.  I decided that I would bring my own set next time - a set built for me.  And my shape.  

So, my friends, the beat goes on.  Again.

I don't know that there is any specific moral or lesson to be learned from this memory, but I do know that it's important for us to have aspirations and dreams.  It keeps life fresh and new.  They give us hope for the future.  And hope is a good thing.