The Other Side Of Maturity

I find myself regressing back to a child like state.  Both mentally and physically I am aging,  getting old, becoming elderly. 

I catch myself wondering if my fly is unzipped in the middle of church.  

 

My birthday count has exceeded my moronic IQ.  All my conversations are about aches and pains or my latest medical operation.

 

No matter how you put it…when your brown hair turns gray and your gray matter turns to a mushy brown substance you have to start wondering about what comes next.

 

I’m not really worried about leaving this world…as most of the items on my bucket list have been checked off.  I’ve never missed a meal…I’ve definitely been blessed.  But…my concern is “Judgment Day” and the all-just God.  I am not interested in receiving a just reward.  I am hoping that an all-merciful Jesus will step in and give me an undeserved reward.  

 

 

Selfishness is not the thing to do.

Of your rules I had no clue.

I wanted to have and eat my cake.

Finding true happiness far too late.

 

Forgive me, Lord, for what I messed up.

Give me courage to drink from the cup.

When I arrive on that big day.

Mercy is for what I pray.

 

Amen

Philosophy and Funerals

As my birthday count gets closer to the three-digit category I’m starting to recognize more names in that section of the paper toward the back.  

 

As of late I’ve attended a plethora of funeral and perused numerous obituaries of folks in my age group.

 

All of this has given rise to thoughts of my own departure from this planet and how my obituary will read.

 

I can only imagine it will be nothing more than a blank page with two dated separated by a dash and a small footnote than reads.

 

“He came into the vineyard at the very last hour of the day in the hope of receiving an undeserved reward…even though he had no grape picking shills.”

I’m Not OK

Rain or shine I get up every morning and do the same routine. I stumble to the bathroom, climb onto the scales in the hope that I’ve lost a few pounds during the night, dress myself and ingest that handful of pills required for old people. Then I’m off to 6 AM Mass. Maybe it’s just a habit because I seem to do lots of daydreaming and thinking about everything under the sun instead of paying attention to what is going on at the altar. 

Then from out of left field, without fail, I’m jerked back into reality by some uncontrollable feeling that washes over me causing me to hold my breath and clinch my teeth while a tear creeps down the crevasses of my wrinkled face.

 

I may be crazy but it is in that moment that I realize that I’m NOT OK but God loves me anyway. 

Thank you Lord for your love

I’m so glad you sent that Dove

I am week but you are strong

So always let me sing your song. 

Amen.

Aches and Pains

When I get these little twinges…these little reminders of my age…I can’t help but think of my grandmother, my father’s mother. She wanted us kids to call her “Mama” because she said “Grandmother” made her feel old. I was just a child at the time while Mama was probably in her late 50’s. I recall her constant complaining about aches and pains. Us kids thought she was just a grumpy old lady. 

 

But now as I approach my 80’s I can really appreciate exactly where she was coming from. The mere process of getting up from a chair requires a lot of mental determination. 

 

I’m convinced these little aches and pains are God’s way of making me to think about the future…the eternal future…and where I want to spend it. Do I want to spend eternity without aches and pains or the place of aches and pains…a place of weeping and gnashing of teeth?  

 

I say I believe…but…am I doing God’s will or am I just saying “Lord, Lord”?

 

Mathew 7:21

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.

 

A child was I with no need of the cane

I ran about and knew no pain

But now as I circle the drain 

This old body is my bane. 

 

It seems a bit insane to me

To spend a painful eternity

When The Lord has paid my fee

By hanging on that dreadful tree. 

Amen.

Theology?

To me it seems there is a difference between knowing about God and knowing God. 

 

I knew about God…because I was born into a church going, rosary saying, dyed in the wool Catholic family.

 

But, from an early age I was a skeptic.

I can’t say that I didn’t believe there was a God.  

But, l didn’t get it. 

God seemed like a judgmental potentate living in some galaxy…far faraway…or like some “pissed off” pasha who wanted to send me to a fiery hell for not following all the “impossible to keep” rules.  Besides church was boring.  

 

To me…Church consisted of a lot of finger waging, guilt tripping and a lot of unnecessary pomp and circumstance.

 

I certainly did not feel the love.

 

I recall the incident, with vivid clarity…the Sunday I decided I was not going to church…and I didn’t.

 

A second grader at the time, I can still see myself sitting on the back porch steps…shined shoes, combed hair and that shirt my mother made from a chicken feed sack. 

 

That was when the feed store sold feed in 50# cotton sacks with really nice prints.  The feed store was a…    

Oh!  But I digress.  

 

There I sat…on the back porch step pondering the possible consequences of my actions.

 

When my folks returned from Mass my father administered some parental discipline…the kind he wore around his waist to hold up his trousers. 

 

I attended Mass after that…but only physically...mentally, I was who knows where. 

 

And so it was...I spent the next 40 years of my life trying to hide from God… wandering in a desert of secularism…lost in a sea of selfishness…trapped in some self-serving black hole. I went to church because it was less painful than the alternative.

I wanted to run with the big dogs…turning over trashcans and sticking my nose into places it didn’t belong…but my parents kept me on a very short leash. 

 

I’m not good at remembering dates but I remember this one.

June 11, 1965…the day a private plane crash took both my parents lives. 

 

Events like this will cause you to stop and think.  One of my thoughts was: “nowI can do what Iwant to do”.  How self-centered is that?

I never told my father “I love you”.…I love you Dad…

I married.  Married for selfish reasons…it was more lust than love. I had no clue about the real definition of love, unconditional love; which is willing the good of the other without any consideration for what you will get out of it.

 

 I went to church because she expected me to…I did notlike sleeping in the doghouse. 

 

But 40 year of doing things my way...40 years of trying to hide from God…my house of cards collapsed.  It was a house built on sand…the house Jesus talks about inMathew 7:27

 

My life was an absolute mess.

 

My business was going down like the Titanic, my marriage was on the rocks, and I was sinking in debt.

 

My ship had sailed…and I was left sitting on the dock of doom and gloom. 

 

At that point living had no meaning.  All my dreams of success and living “happily ever after” had been washed away.

 

I wanted to die.  I didn’t have the courage to shoot myself. But, I felt like dying. 

 

Bemoaning my situation…I sat beneath that orange and white striped roof trying to drown my troubles with a “What-a-sized” double meat/double cheese and extra fries.

 

Despair and depression must have been written all over my face...

 

Because, this fellow, I barely knew, came over and asked me “Are you OK?”

 

Strangely, I dumped my entire load of troubles and tribulations on him. 

 

After patiently listening he asked me    and I quote.

 

“Have youever taken Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” 

 

“You have to say it out loud.” He emphasized.

 

Dumbfounded and speechless...I nodded politely and thought to myself “I’m Catholic...

That sounds like some Billy Graham stuff.  

But…wait…this guy is Catholic.

So what’s going on?

 

Now…I’ve never been accused of being the brightest student in the class (believe me I’ve got the report cards to prove it.)

 

So…for the next two weeks I struggled with this Jesus thing. 

I just could not get Him out of my head.  

 

I couldn’t sleep.  I started to say the only prayer I knew by heart…the “Our Father”… I would repeat it over and over until it put me to sleep.

 

I had tried doing things my way and it was an utter disaster.

 

Finally…out of options…and reckoning I had nothing to loose.  

 

I swallowed hard and in a sheepish, quivering voice…making sure no one was listening...I said it. 

 

“Jesus, I take you as my Lord and Savior”

 

Words cannot express and I cannot describe the feeling of relief and liberation that came over me. 

Some how I knew I was going to be OK…I didn’t understand how but I knew. I could see a glimmer of light; Jesus had rolled back the stone from my grave.

 

Gradually one problem after another was resolved in ways I could have never imagined…  in a way I could not have possibly brought about myself…it had to be some supernatural power.

It was as much of a miracle as the blind made to see, the lame to walk or the leper healed. 

But life continued...with all its trials and tribulations, problems with children, problems with everyday life. 

These were trying times. And I will have to admit that my prayer life would not be what it is today if it had not been for these challenges. I can’t imagine enduring these times without Jesus.

 

I have come to realize that some of the worse disasters turn out to be our biggest blessings.

 

When I look back on my life I now recognize that Jesus has always, always taken care of me…even when I would not have given HIM as much as the time of day. 

 

Jesus literally saved me…saved me from myself.

 

Like the Psalmist says:   “Give praise to the Lord, for he is good: his mercy enduresforever.”  Psalm 118:1  (Retreat theme)

 

Now.  Do I really know about God?  Do I really understand God?   Do I really believe in God?  

 

My God is an unbelievable God…my God does unbelievable things.

If I don’t fully understand Einstein’s  (E=mc2), calculus or chemistry then how can I really understand the Crucifixion? 

Understanding and believing are two different things.

I choose to believe…I choose to trust in God.

I choose to believe in an unbelievable God because he has done unbelievable things for me. 

I believe because, deep down in my bones I know God loves me. 

 

I know because when I think of Jesus hanging on that cross…I have to bit my lip to hold back the tears.

 

At Mass…

While my body tries to maintain a pious posture…my eyes stray to a pretty face, a palomino ponytail, or some inappropriately tight dress. 

 

In spite of my mental inattention and daydreaming…there is always that moment …that moment when I realize I’m the one at the Last Supper dipping my hand into the same the dish with Jesus…I’m the one warming myself by the fire in Caiaphas’ courtyard as that cock crows…I’m the one at the foot of the cross hearing the words “forgive him, he doesn’t have a clue”…these are the moments when this feeling washes over me like a giant wave that comes crashing down leaving me gasping for air, 

chocking back tears, 

and struggling to keep emotions afloat. 

 

The thought that Jesus loves me…selfish me…is overwhelming.

 

Listen to Isaiah chapter  55 verse 8 & 9

For My thought are not your thoughts,

Neither your ways my ways,

Declares the Lord.

 

As the heavens are higher than the earth,

So are my ways higher than yours ways

And my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

 

God’s ways are not my ways. His ways are a paradox. His ways seem backwards, counterintuitive…but I can tell you

 God’s ways work.

So what do I know about theology?

Not much…but I do know this:

 

Jesus, If not for You I would be lost.

For You have died and paid the cost. 

It is Your love I truly savor.

So here’s to You my Lord and Savior.

 

Amen.

Winter 2021 in South Texas

It has been a difficult week. We have been out of beer and chips for three days. The house temperature has dropped to a bone chilling 68F and I can’t find my electric blanket. I had to go outside and refuel the generator twice. We have been surviving on hot homemade oatmeal cookies, hot homemade biscuits and homemade chicken noodle soup. The TV cable was out and the Internet was sketchy for several hours. We had to resort to the primitive practice of reading for entertainment. 

This unexpected cold snap has chilled my desires to experience my much thought about winter adventure in Alaska. 

Thank you Lord Jesus

You continue to please us

Mother Nature may snow

And the wind may blow

But no need to cower

Those in the know

Will continue to go

To the One with the power.

Amen

Anniversary # 53

I spent most of the day with Miss Mary trying to remember our first date.  It seems old age, Alzheimer’s or dementia has clouded our memories.  I finally decided and Mary agreed that it was the time we went to the Dance Hall in Slaton, Texas some twenty miles from Texas Tech in Lubbock.  I recall we were with two other “Tech” couples and all crammed into an old Plymouth that smoked.  But fifty plus years ago all the old cars smoked.  Every one was of drinking age except me.  So, yes, alcohol was involved. The evening was spent dancing around to tunes like Bob Wills’ “Big Ball’s in Cowtown” and Nat Stuckey’s “Pop at Top Again”.  By the end of evening my teeth had become numb (I suspect alcohol induced numbness) and my sides ached from laughing.  Mary and her crazy friends were and are the most entertaining, down to earth, real people I know and we all remain friends to this day. 

In celebration of this fifty-third year for marital bliss I took Miss Mary out to eat. Unfortunately the Sonic Drive In was packed, not an empty parking spot one.  So we ended up at the Olive Garden and were seated and a romantic booth off in a corner all to ourselves.  Admittedly the facemasks spoil some of the romance but the “unlimited salad and bread sticks” quickly captured my attention. 

 

Well, it has been a great day spent with my favorite girl friend.  

 

Happy 53rd Anniversary, Miss Mary

 

Love

Gene

Unfinished

Confined to the house in my convalescence after being run over on my bicycle by a mini van.  I decided to clean off my desk.  A job I had successfully avoided for the last eon.  That’s when I came across and old notebook of my unfinished thoughts, musings and half-baked ideas.  

This is one I titled “My Luke Warm Christianity”.

I squirmed in my pew as Father Patrick delivered his sermon about “the sins of omission” asking us if we had done all we could do...about all the missed opportunities…about all the times when we could have done more. 

 

My cocoon of self-righteousness was starting to feel a little uncomfortable.

As I’ve aged I have grown out of the desire to do the bad things…sins of commission...or maybe I’ve lost the ability to do them.  Whatever...the point is…I’m not doing any good things. I have certainly passed up many occasions to have done more.

Dear Lord, Jesus, give me the wisdom see the opportunities you send my way and the fortitude and stamina to carry through.

Amen.

Morning Prayer

The King of love my shepherd is, 

Whose goodness fails me never; 

I nothing lack if I am his 

and he is mine for ever.

Where streams of living water flow,

To rest my soul he leads me;

Where fresh and fertile pastures grow,

With heavenly food he feeds me.

Perverse and foolish I have strayed,

But he with love has sought me,

And on his shoulders gently laid,

And home, rejoicing, brought me.

In death's dark vale I fear no ill,

With you, dear Lord, beside me;

Your rod and staff my comfort still,

Your cross will ever guide me.

You spread a banquet in my sight,

My head with oil anointing,

And let me taste the sweet delight

From your pure chalice flowing.

And so through all my length of days

Your goodness fails me never;

Good Shepherd, may I sing your praise

Within your house for ever.

Psalm 23 paraphrased by Henry Williams Barker 1821-1877

Being Happy

There is something about getting older that tends to focus ones thoughts on the future... a future that passes through and goes beyond that hole in the dirt. 

In my situation it is painfully apparent that the road I've traveled is much longer than the road that lies ahead. All of which gives me cause to ponder what is really important...being happy.

Being happy...It is a choice. I can choose to be happy or I can choose to be unhappy. I can choose worry and anxiety or peace and joy.

It is said that all good judgment is derived from the consequence of bad judgment. I have employed this trial and error method many times. 

And over the course of many years of bad judgments and bad decisions I have come to the conclusion that God knows best...not me. So, I can skip all the bad judgments and decisions and go with God’s plan and therefore be happy. 

I have decided to take God and his recommendations seriously. 



It’s taken a lifetime to figure this out.
And now I want to scream and shout.
wasting time down the wrong road.
May cause your world to implode.

Now Listen to this advise
No need to think about it twice
Listen to the One who really knows 
The One who died and arose

At whose Name every knee will bend
The one who is everyone’s friend
No need to look any farther.
It is Jesus Christ and the Father.

Amen.