Maybe, It's Not Over

My wife was out of town so I took advantage of the opportunity and went to see an old friend. It had been a long, long time. Upon opening the door and seeing her…I was amazed…how good she looked. Her mere presence fanned the fires of my fantasies and my memory burned hot with recollections of the wonderful times we had spent together. I pulled back the sheets that covered her and ran my fingers over her skin…the excitement was far from absent and my emotions pulled me back into the past. It was hard to know what to say.
So I applied a coat of Turtle wax and spent the afternoon polishing and remembering the beautiful cloud-filled skies and magnificent panoramic vistas from on high. To view the world from two miles up gives me an entirely different perspective…it’s a chance to back away from the everyday rat-race and take a more detached and uninvolved look at life. Perhaps the feelings are best captured by John Gillespie Magee, Jr in his poem, High Flight.

“Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .
Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.”

Dear Lord Jesus, perhaps my affair with flying is not over.
Please allow my flying to be a way to get just a little closer to You.
Amen.

Being Tested

I remembered to go through the pockets before taking my laundry to the cleaners and found a page I had torn from the Missalette on Palm Sunday. It was marked with my scribbling and folded up neatly. Now I remember why I did it. I wanted to capture those words that had jumped off the page. Normally, I nod off during that long reading of the Passion or get lost in some daydream that’s totally irrelevant. But for some reason the words Jesus spoke to the disciples in the garden found a chink in my armor. “Pray that you may not undergo the test.” Then he comes back and tells them again, “Why are you sleeping? Get up and pray that you may not undergo the test.” Twice Jesus said it. Surely, that means it is important.

I for one do not like tests. I do not like being tested. I freely admit that I am a spiritual wimp and I want life to be easy. So…for me…it appears that this would be very good advice. I am confident that Jesus would not say anything he did not mean. Therefore, I am going to add this prayer to my daily repertoire.

Dear, Lord Jesus, I pray that I may not undergo the test.
Amen.

Sports Fan?

I had to confront the reality that I’m not a hardcore sports fan when I attended an out-of-town softball tournament with my 5th grade grandson last Saturday. I found myself either people watching or hanging around the concession stand…eating. The small town treats…fresh cooked breakfast tacos, hamburgers, cheeseburgers and bakery goods…cried out to be evaluated by my discriminating palate.

Cheering for the wrong team, sitting in the wrong bleachers and not being able to comprehend the rules and subtleties of softball seemed to be my strong suit. In my defense it did seem like every team was wearing the same blue uniform. Why does the ball cross the plate in the vertical plane? Fast Pitch? Slow Pitch? Softball? Baseball? Why? Why? Why does this it all seem so foreign to me?

Admittedly, it was exciting when my grandson caught the ball and when he made a good throw to first base. So I will remain a vicarious participant and enjoy the game through his stimulating enthusiasm and try to look at it through his eyes.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a grandson who is thrilling to watch play sports.
Sincerely, Your Fan
Amen.

The First Spring Cutting

The green haze of oak pollen boiled up around me like some scene from a horror movie. This is the only time of the year that I’m not in love with the huge live oak trees that clutter my "estate". As I methodically circled the yard…not one of the eleven horses balked as the blades of my mower pulverize the numerous toys hidden in the tall grass. Apparently all the pleading, scolding and cajoling was to no avail. I cannot count the number of times I ask the grandchildren to pick up their toys from the yard or how many times I have picked up after them. Now it was too late…for all the little balls and toys left over from Happy Meals or branded with Sonic and Burger King names were gone. Now they resembled vermiculite or some form of confetti with a Mettel quality. An evil sneer came across my face as if to say I told you so. But I knew deep down in my heart this was not the end of it. There would be hell to pay…there would be weeping and gnashing of teeth…and I would be the one who suffered.

I don’t remember leaving my stuff every where when I was a kid…but that was a long time ago. It’s amusing that you never grow up until you have kids, and you don’t recognize that fact until you have grandkids.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for children that have grown up and grandchildren that will.
Amen

Waiting for the Sunshine

After making several improvements and modifications to my solar water heater and spending $22 for plumbing fittings to hook up my $29 pump...I let out a sigh of disappointment…for it was then I noticed that I could not see my shadow. Oh, well! Surely it will not remain overcast forever.

The improvements were removing the black hose from the trampoline and encasing it in an insulated glass cover box...built entirely from scrap parts...installing the 12 VDC pump to circulate water to the holding tank and wiring the photo-voltaic panels to the pump. I even propped the collector box up on a patio chair at a 30 degree angle to match latitude of the earth in South Texas.

Now for the waiting…like waiting for Christmas with the same excitement and anticipation of all the wonderful gifts and blessing…such as hot water.

Life is good, God is great

Wildflowers

Accompanied by my daughter and grandson we followed the ribbon of asphalt as it undulated and snaked its way through the Texas Hill Country. We drove the five hundred miles from South Texas to the high plains city of Lubbock…on our way to grandmother’s house. It was Easter weekend and we were to fetch my wife who had spent the last two weeks visiting and caring for her mother, the family matriarch, whose descendants now numbered one hundred and three…equaling the number of candles on her birthday cake. She has lived a life as colorful and vibrant as the wildflowers that carpet the Texas roadsides in spring and early summer. As we motored our way along the hills and dells we marveled at the numerous Yellow Daisy, Desert Marigolds and Buttercups…the Bluebonnets, Mountain Laurel and Purple Vetch…the White Bull Nettle, Wild Azaleas and Prickly Poppy…the Crimson Clover, Wine Cup and pink Indian Paint Brush. The flora and vegetation seemed particularly vivid and intense this year.

I couldn’t help but think of this remarkable, energetic woman who lead such an amazing life on the west Texas high plains…no stranger to a buckboard, hunting rifle or one room school house…she married late in life…birthed and raised ten children…mostly by herself after her husband died while the youngest was still in diapers. She taught countless second-graders to read…until retiring…well into her seventies.

Each year the flowers bloom in the spring and fade in the summer heat and die in the fall.
My mother–in–law is in the autumn of her life and fading. She is slowing down with each passing day…getting closer to the inevitable that we all must face. Each day bringing us all closer to the unavoidable reality…whether we want to accept it or not…each day brings us all closer to the reality of death…life’s strange paradox…living to die and dying to live.

Whoever thought of celebrating Easter during springtime had a good idea…life renewed…I see the resurrection of new life blooming all around me.

It all sounds so simple from an unattached intellectual standpoint but it’s not…when you know and love someone who mean so much to you it’s impossible to even think the unthinkable without tearing up and gasping for breath. It will be a sad day…sad for us because we will miss her, but a joyous day for her. A new life in a better place. She will finally leave her beloved old pink brick ranch style house…she will be in God’s house…God’s house with no plumbing problems. Hallelujah!

Someday…maybe someday…we will all line the roadsides of heaven each adding a glimmer of beauty to God’s highways and byways.

For this I pray
Amen