Bonnie and I took our grandson to see Journey to the Center of the Earth this afternoon. The plot was predictable, but the 3-D effects took me back to the Liberty Theater in Plainfield, NJ. It's hard to believe that 56 years ago I saw my first 3-D movie, Bwana Devil. I still remember the lion jumping into the audience, and more than one spear coming at us. I ducked then and, on a couple of occasions, I ducked today. There we sat, two adults whose ages total 130 years, and an almost-seven-year-old. The enjoyment level was similar for each of us.
We got our first television set in 1950. It was a 17" RCA set, and we received three channels. It was magic! Color came along, but I left for college before my mom and dad got a color set. That RCA monster served us well until the early 1970s. I grew up on Dave Garroway, Ed Sullivan, Milton Berle, Howdy Doody, The Lone Ranger, Hopalong Cassidy, Roy Rogers and, of course, American Bandstand.
Bonnie and I still had a 21" Zenith color set in the late 1980s. A small girl from our church came to visit one afternoon and asked for the remote. I told her that we didn't have one.
"How do you turn on your TV set?" she asked.
"Like this," I replied, as I walked to the TV set and pulled out the "On/Off" switch.
With awe in her voice she then asked, "How do you change channels?"
"Like this," I answered, turning the knob that controlled the stations.
"That is so cool!" she said. I suddenly felt very old and bordering on being outdated.
I remember reading once that not too many years into the future three dimensional television that produced lifelike pictures would be standard. I also recall that these would not require special glasses.Now that's what I call reality TV.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Open Car Windows
I shared on Tuesday that our nearly-seven-year-old grandson asked me to take him bowling. I did not relate what happened on the way. The light turned red, and he suddenly rolled down the back window. I watched in the read view mirror, amused at his fascination with the fresh air. It did not matter to him that the humidity that morning was 100%.
When the light changed, I used the occasion to educate him about the dangers of open car windows. My adult instinct was to roll the window up, explaining about A/C, heat and humidity, and the advantages of living in the 21st century. Out of nowhere, however, I had a childhood memory of riding in our 1952 Chevy with no A/C. Some nights were so hot in our apartment (no A/C there, either) that we would climb into the car and drive through the Watchung Mountain range with all the windows down. The slight change in altitude made an incredible difference, even if it lasted only a short time. Mom, Pop, and I reveled in the cool evening breeze.
Watching a child explore a new phenomenon is a treat. With the moon roof and both back windows open, air circulated freely in all directions. He smiled and played with the air all the way to the bowling alley; so did I.
When the light changed, I used the occasion to educate him about the dangers of open car windows. My adult instinct was to roll the window up, explaining about A/C, heat and humidity, and the advantages of living in the 21st century. Out of nowhere, however, I had a childhood memory of riding in our 1952 Chevy with no A/C. Some nights were so hot in our apartment (no A/C there, either) that we would climb into the car and drive through the Watchung Mountain range with all the windows down. The slight change in altitude made an incredible difference, even if it lasted only a short time. Mom, Pop, and I reveled in the cool evening breeze.
Watching a child explore a new phenomenon is a treat. With the moon roof and both back windows open, air circulated freely in all directions. He smiled and played with the air all the way to the bowling alley; so did I.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Paint Slinger, Defined
I keep meaning to explain how I came up with the title of my blog: “Paint Slinger.” Danny Kaye, comedian, musician, and entertainer, died in 1987. He once said that “Life is a great big canvas; throw all the paint on it you can.”
Isn’t that exactly what we are called to do in life . . . throw all the paint we can?
The Nootka Indians from Vancouver Island, Canada, put it this way: “You, whose day it is, get out your rainbow colors and make it beautiful.”
God has given each of us an abundance of rainbow colors: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These nine gifts actually compose one gift, the fruit of God’s Spirit, according to Galatians 5:22-23. I don’t think God would mind if you if you added a few colors of your own. I suggest forgiveness and spontaneity, for starters.
Pablo Picasso once said that “Art washes from the soul the dust of everyday life.” Our task in life, as I see it, is to sling paint – God’s love, joy, peace, etc. - everywhere we go, in hopes that we wash away from our souls and the souls of others "the dust of everyday life." The result will be that we make our world a more beautiful place in which to live. What are we waiting for?
Isn’t that exactly what we are called to do in life . . . throw all the paint we can?
The Nootka Indians from Vancouver Island, Canada, put it this way: “You, whose day it is, get out your rainbow colors and make it beautiful.”
God has given each of us an abundance of rainbow colors: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These nine gifts actually compose one gift, the fruit of God’s Spirit, according to Galatians 5:22-23. I don’t think God would mind if you if you added a few colors of your own. I suggest forgiveness and spontaneity, for starters.
Pablo Picasso once said that “Art washes from the soul the dust of everyday life.” Our task in life, as I see it, is to sling paint – God’s love, joy, peace, etc. - everywhere we go, in hopes that we wash away from our souls and the souls of others "the dust of everyday life." The result will be that we make our world a more beautiful place in which to live. What are we waiting for?
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Adaptability
Being creatures of habit, most of us do not like to be re-routed. I am typing this in a Word document as I wait for a representative from the cable company that supplies our internet services. I will write now and paste it into my blog when a connection is re-established and I can get on-line once more.
Earlier in the day as I was returning home from a funeral, Bonnie told me on the phone that there were terrible storms in our area. In addition, there had been a bad accident at an intersection through which I normally pass. While it was inconvenient to go out of my way, I felt that I had little choice in light of my wife’s information. I eventually got home, somewhat surprised that the time was not that much different from what I had expected. In fact, the mileage was actually less by taking the less desired route.
“We are experiencing unusually high call volumes. Please continue to hold for the next representative.”
Familiar words are not always the words that we want to hear. They are often words over which we have little if any control. I want to post this blog, but I can’t connect to the internet.
As I ponder this dilemma (not really one, but it sounds more dramatic), I realize that the worst case scenario is that I won’t be able to post this blog. So what? I am not even sure if anyone is reading it. I write because I need to write, and because it allows me to process my day in a journal style article. For the first time in a long time I am writing because I want to write, and not because I have to. Preparing sermons, meeting deadlines for newsletter articles, meeting church grant deadlines . . . these days are gone. I am writing for the sheer joy of writing, and not for any other reason.
Writing demands being adaptable in much the same way as living demands the same. Far too many of us either refuse or became stubborn, and get left waiting at the station. If having to wait a day means posting this rambling tomorrow, so be it. I will not lose sleep over it, or even give it a second thought.
“May I help you?”
What a wonderful combination of words. Someone more expert than me can now address my disconnect problem. Surprisingly, it really wasn’t that long a wait after all.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The simple pleasures
My grandson asked me to take him bowling today, so off we went. I have a bowling ball, but no shoes; he had neither. Fortunately the alley doesn't charge for the ball, but they might as well have. We bowled two games each. The total was $24.75. What?
Here was the breakdown:
1. Since it was not prime time - 5 PM - we paid ONLY $3.75 per game. Total: $15.00.
2. Shoes: $4.75 per pair. Total: $9.50.
3. Grand Total: $24.50.
I'm getting too old. I worked part-time in the alley in Springfield, NJ in the late 1950s. The owner paid me $.25 an hour, and I could bowl for $.25 a game, or five games for a buck.
I even worked at the duck pin bowling alley on Route 22. You had to put your foot on a lever that raised up metal rods. Then you placed the pins over the rods, let the foot lever down, and sat back out of the way. I got a dime per game. That lasted all of one day. I could make so much more caddying at the local golf course. Bowling was another thing, though, for I enjoyed it, and we used to bowl for free occasionally after working a few hours.
I was told as we were leaving the alley that seniors can bowl on Wednesdays for a cheaper rate: three games for $6.00. Two dollars a game I can afford, and I might try that out a few times to see if there are any people I might enjoy getting to know. They also serve coffee and doughnuts . . . like I really need doughnuts.
I priced bowling shoes at Dick's Sporting Goods, Amazon, and a few other places. While the good ones go for nearly $200 a pair, I can get a pair of Dexter's for $21.00. If I bowled four times I could pay for them, based on the bowling alley prices.
Here's the good news. I have probably bowled less than 10 times in the past 47 years since we graduated. In high school I had a 172 average. Today I had the following scores: 97 (quit laughing) and 196. I had a turkey (three strikes in a row) for frames 8, 9, and 10, and a total of five strikes in all. That might get me out again, as soon as I sell some of that stuff in the attic.
Here was the breakdown:
1. Since it was not prime time - 5 PM - we paid ONLY $3.75 per game. Total: $15.00.
2. Shoes: $4.75 per pair. Total: $9.50.
3. Grand Total: $24.50.
I'm getting too old. I worked part-time in the alley in Springfield, NJ in the late 1950s. The owner paid me $.25 an hour, and I could bowl for $.25 a game, or five games for a buck.
I even worked at the duck pin bowling alley on Route 22. You had to put your foot on a lever that raised up metal rods. Then you placed the pins over the rods, let the foot lever down, and sat back out of the way. I got a dime per game. That lasted all of one day. I could make so much more caddying at the local golf course. Bowling was another thing, though, for I enjoyed it, and we used to bowl for free occasionally after working a few hours.
I was told as we were leaving the alley that seniors can bowl on Wednesdays for a cheaper rate: three games for $6.00. Two dollars a game I can afford, and I might try that out a few times to see if there are any people I might enjoy getting to know. They also serve coffee and doughnuts . . . like I really need doughnuts.
I priced bowling shoes at Dick's Sporting Goods, Amazon, and a few other places. While the good ones go for nearly $200 a pair, I can get a pair of Dexter's for $21.00. If I bowled four times I could pay for them, based on the bowling alley prices.
Here's the good news. I have probably bowled less than 10 times in the past 47 years since we graduated. In high school I had a 172 average. Today I had the following scores: 97 (quit laughing) and 196. I had a turkey (three strikes in a row) for frames 8, 9, and 10, and a total of five strikes in all. That might get me out again, as soon as I sell some of that stuff in the attic.
Monday, July 7, 2008
An unexpected phone call . . .
What a joy it is to receive unexpected surprises. One of our daughters who lives in France called this afternoon - 9:15 her time - just to say hello and say that she was well, missed us, and loved us. Emails are great. Snail mail is even better. But a phone call - that instant connection of mind and heart, the exchange of ideas, and the opportunity to enhance what is already a good relationship - that is truly a gift of joy.
When one has spoken to so many people over so many years about so many concerns, many of which have been negative, it is easy to take for granted these powerful connections. I have, at times, dreaded phone calls. These days, however, I relish them. "Call me, ya' hear?"
When one has spoken to so many people over so many years about so many concerns, many of which have been negative, it is easy to take for granted these powerful connections. I have, at times, dreaded phone calls. These days, however, I relish them. "Call me, ya' hear?"
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Death and retirement
Retirement does not have a say when death comes. I will be going back to a former church on Wednesday to assist a two-week-new pastor who did not know the women who died. Bonnie has said for years that my best ministry is done during weddings and funerals. I have always taken that comment in a positive way, since it is in these two arenas of ministry that I cannot come back at a later time and say "Folks, I am sorry that I messed up last week. Let's give it another shot."
After 39 years in ministry, I have never been completely comfortable going into the pulpit. I know myself, and I know that on many occasions I have had to tell people what I knew was right and biblical but that I was not living at that moment, try as I may. Guilt used to eat me up, but I realized that I still believed in my message - God's message - and that I was, after all, in need of a good sermon myself. I pray that God will use me one more time this week as I offer words of comfort and encouragement to adult children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren whose loved one of ninety-plus years has gone from this life to a better one.
One of our children emailed me this evening and asked me to pray for his friends T & M who are expecting a baby in one week. His parents are in visiting from out-of-town. They were playing cards and looking at pictures on the computer when a bolt of lightning hit a tree in their front yard and fell on their house. While there were no serious injuries, T's mother was struck on the head with a beam from the living room ceiling. Both lenses from her glasses were popped out and the frames ended up in another room. After getting checked out at the hospital she was declared OK, as were the others. The house took a serious blow, however.
Let us thank God for the blessing of no one being seriously injured, and remember the importance of perspective. After all, it is only a house, and it can be fixed, repaired, or replaced . . . unlike us.
After 39 years in ministry, I have never been completely comfortable going into the pulpit. I know myself, and I know that on many occasions I have had to tell people what I knew was right and biblical but that I was not living at that moment, try as I may. Guilt used to eat me up, but I realized that I still believed in my message - God's message - and that I was, after all, in need of a good sermon myself. I pray that God will use me one more time this week as I offer words of comfort and encouragement to adult children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren whose loved one of ninety-plus years has gone from this life to a better one.
One of our children emailed me this evening and asked me to pray for his friends T & M who are expecting a baby in one week. His parents are in visiting from out-of-town. They were playing cards and looking at pictures on the computer when a bolt of lightning hit a tree in their front yard and fell on their house. While there were no serious injuries, T's mother was struck on the head with a beam from the living room ceiling. Both lenses from her glasses were popped out and the frames ended up in another room. After getting checked out at the hospital she was declared OK, as were the others. The house took a serious blow, however.
Let us thank God for the blessing of no one being seriously injured, and remember the importance of perspective. After all, it is only a house, and it can be fixed, repaired, or replaced . . . unlike us.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Little about nothing
As much as I enjoy writing, it has felt good these past two days being able to choose not to make any entries other than this one. It's not that I have nothing worth sharing; rather, it is a matter of making choices. It has felt good to choose not to be bound to this blog or to any other non-essential activity. Enough said.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
One July 4th in Vietnam was enough to create in me a permanent gratitude for all that our nation represents, especially the pursuit of freedom, peace with justice, and profound gratitude for those who went before us and made it possible for us to live in such a great country. My dad served in Germany during WW II. We always went to his American Legion post for the 4th. I still have silver dollars that I won competing in sack races other events. I remember well the laughter and sense of family that he and his friends generated. I also remember the occasional tears that most likely resulted from a jarred memory of some event long ago.
I lost several close friends while serving in Vietnam. I am most proud to have known Jim Graham, a member of the church that I joined while stationed at Camp Lejeune. Jim and his wife Janice were active members, and I recall doing lay visitation with him before he left for Vietnam in 1967. The following comes from the web page of the Congressional Medal of Honor Society:
"GRAHAM, JAMES A. Rank and organization: Captain, U.S. Marine Corps, Company F, 2d Battalion, 5th Marines, 1st Marine Division. Place and date: Republic of Vietnam, 2 June 1967. Entered service at: Prince Georges, Md. Born: 25 August 1940, Wilkinsburg, Allegheny County, Pa. Citation: For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.
During Operation Union 11, the 1st Battalion, 5th Marines, consisting of Companies A and D, with Capt. Graham's company attached launched an attack against an enemy occupied position with 2 companies assaulting and 1 in reserve. Company F, a leading company, was proceeding across a clear paddy area 1,000 meters wide, attacking toward the assigned objective, when it came under fire from mortars and small arms which immediately inflicted a large number of casualties. Hardest hit by the enemy fire was the 2d platoon of Company F, which was pinned down in the open paddy area by intense fire from 2 concealed machine guns. Forming an assault unit from members of his small company headquarters, Capt. Graham boldly led a fierce assault through the second platoon's position, forcing the enemy to abandon the first machine gun position, thereby relieving some of the pressure on his second platoon, and enabling evacuation of the wounded to a more secure area. Resolute to silence the second machine gun, which continued its devastating fire, Capt. Graham's small force stood steadfast in its hard won enclave. Subsequently, during the afternoon's fierce fighting, he suffered 2 minor wounds while personally accounting for an estimated 15 enemy killed.
With the enemy position remaining invincible upon each attempt to withdraw to friendly lines, and although knowing that he had no chance of survival, he chose to remain with 1 man who could not be moved due to the seriousness of his wounds. The last radio transmission from Capt. Graham reported that he was being assaulted by a force of 25 enemy soldiers; he died while protecting himself and the wounded man he chose not to abandon.
Capt. Graham's actions throughout the day were a series of heroic achievements. His outstanding courage, superb leadership and indomitable fighting spirit undoubtedly saved the second platoon from annihilation and reflected great credit upon himself, the Marine Corps, and the U.S. Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country."
Jim was one of more than 58,000 who died in that particular war, and they were but a fraction of those who gave their lives defending America. His death still haunts me, and causes me to think more seriously about this national holiday (I wish we could come up with a better term). Join me tomorrow as I reflect on the price that has been paid for my freedom, and yours, as well. Semper Fidelis ("always faithful").
I lost several close friends while serving in Vietnam. I am most proud to have known Jim Graham, a member of the church that I joined while stationed at Camp Lejeune. Jim and his wife Janice were active members, and I recall doing lay visitation with him before he left for Vietnam in 1967. The following comes from the web page of the Congressional Medal of Honor Society:
"GRAHAM, JAMES A. Rank and organization: Captain, U.S. Marine Corps, Company F, 2d Battalion, 5th Marines, 1st Marine Division. Place and date: Republic of Vietnam, 2 June 1967. Entered service at: Prince Georges, Md. Born: 25 August 1940, Wilkinsburg, Allegheny County, Pa. Citation: For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.
During Operation Union 11, the 1st Battalion, 5th Marines, consisting of Companies A and D, with Capt. Graham's company attached launched an attack against an enemy occupied position with 2 companies assaulting and 1 in reserve. Company F, a leading company, was proceeding across a clear paddy area 1,000 meters wide, attacking toward the assigned objective, when it came under fire from mortars and small arms which immediately inflicted a large number of casualties. Hardest hit by the enemy fire was the 2d platoon of Company F, which was pinned down in the open paddy area by intense fire from 2 concealed machine guns. Forming an assault unit from members of his small company headquarters, Capt. Graham boldly led a fierce assault through the second platoon's position, forcing the enemy to abandon the first machine gun position, thereby relieving some of the pressure on his second platoon, and enabling evacuation of the wounded to a more secure area. Resolute to silence the second machine gun, which continued its devastating fire, Capt. Graham's small force stood steadfast in its hard won enclave. Subsequently, during the afternoon's fierce fighting, he suffered 2 minor wounds while personally accounting for an estimated 15 enemy killed.
With the enemy position remaining invincible upon each attempt to withdraw to friendly lines, and although knowing that he had no chance of survival, he chose to remain with 1 man who could not be moved due to the seriousness of his wounds. The last radio transmission from Capt. Graham reported that he was being assaulted by a force of 25 enemy soldiers; he died while protecting himself and the wounded man he chose not to abandon.
Capt. Graham's actions throughout the day were a series of heroic achievements. His outstanding courage, superb leadership and indomitable fighting spirit undoubtedly saved the second platoon from annihilation and reflected great credit upon himself, the Marine Corps, and the U.S. Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country."
Jim was one of more than 58,000 who died in that particular war, and they were but a fraction of those who gave their lives defending America. His death still haunts me, and causes me to think more seriously about this national holiday (I wish we could come up with a better term). Join me tomorrow as I reflect on the price that has been paid for my freedom, and yours, as well. Semper Fidelis ("always faithful").
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
"Start moving . . ."
I was up until 1:30 AM, but awoke at 7:30, anyway. Lying in bed, knowing that I had planned to walk again this morning, I was stuck by the words of my seminary roommate, Dave, who still runs regularly. When asked how he managed to run each day, Dave told me that he got his miles in at 3:30 AM. "How do you manage that?" I asked. "When the alarm goes off, I sit up, put both feet on the floor, and start moving." I did not take his advice right away, but I did get out of the house at 8:10. We broke a 123-year-record in Charlotte this morning for the low temperature: 56°. What a great start to a new day.
Three bunnies stopped long enough for me to marvel at their beauty. Birds sang. Other walkers in our neighborhood smiled and offered words of encouragement. Life is good.
I have never been to a spa, but Bonnie and I cashed in two gift certificates given to us by our youngest child. We each received the back treatment . . . one hour of relaxation and pampering. I needed to be pried off of the massage table. While not something that I would want to spend money on regularly, it was an enriching, spiritual experience. I do not think that I moved for the entire hour.
Brett came over for dinner late this afternoon, and we feasted on fresh veggies and Bonnie's famous peach cobbler, complete with homemade peach ice cream. Once again I had the sensation of being spoiled in a good way. At least I was able to help with the food preparation and them do the dishes.
Just for today I was selfish in many ways. God offered me two specific opportunities to minister to people in need of prayer. Strangely, I have felt closer to God these past two weeks than I have in a while. I have prayed more intentionally and read more devotionally. Retirement will be a good path, as long as I remember who I am and to whom I belong. Even in retirement I am learning that I can continue giving myself away to others, but in an entirely different way. Not having to drive all over Charlotte is a nice fringe benefit.
Three bunnies stopped long enough for me to marvel at their beauty. Birds sang. Other walkers in our neighborhood smiled and offered words of encouragement. Life is good.
I have never been to a spa, but Bonnie and I cashed in two gift certificates given to us by our youngest child. We each received the back treatment . . . one hour of relaxation and pampering. I needed to be pried off of the massage table. While not something that I would want to spend money on regularly, it was an enriching, spiritual experience. I do not think that I moved for the entire hour.
Brett came over for dinner late this afternoon, and we feasted on fresh veggies and Bonnie's famous peach cobbler, complete with homemade peach ice cream. Once again I had the sensation of being spoiled in a good way. At least I was able to help with the food preparation and them do the dishes.
Just for today I was selfish in many ways. God offered me two specific opportunities to minister to people in need of prayer. Strangely, I have felt closer to God these past two weeks than I have in a while. I have prayed more intentionally and read more devotionally. Retirement will be a good path, as long as I remember who I am and to whom I belong. Even in retirement I am learning that I can continue giving myself away to others, but in an entirely different way. Not having to drive all over Charlotte is a nice fringe benefit.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Adjusting . . .
For the first time in years, I walked 4 miles before breakfast. Not having to return by a particular time in order to get ready for work was a true joy. I walked for the sheer joy of walking, realizing that I was also giving my body much-needed exercise. It was cool and breezy, a pleasant way to begin any day.
Drawing near to home, I stopped to visit with a neighbor who worked last night. We discussed proper care for flowers and bushes in the midst of drought. I listened; he spoke. I walked across the street and watered our flowers and shrubs. We are allowed to do so on Tuesdays and Saturdays now, thanks to the rain that has fallen as of late.
When Bonnie returned home from yoga, we prepared a late breakfast and ate on our patio under the shade of a large, blue umbrella. After eating, we began doing our devotional reading. One book, a gift from a church family, is for couples in retirement. The theme for this week is grace, the undeserved, unearned love that God gives to us and that we are encouraged to share with one another.
Without warning, a hummingbird flew to the feeders ten feet from where we were sitting. This was the first one either of us had seen this year. What a joy to watch as she drank deeply, unconcerned about us. Perhaps I can live like that today.
Watching the stock market has become a painful act, humanly-speaking, these past few weeks. Whatever the market closes at today will determine my pension from the United Methodist Church. I prayed that this was the time to retire, and I am going on faith that God will provide for our needs, regardless of what the market does. I am selfishly praying that it goes up a bit, say, 1,500 points. I am trying to live with a positive perspective!
An observation: I shared with Bonnie how difficult it has been for me to slow down and not feel that I have so many deadlines facing me. I am taking a few steps each day to bring closure to the move back home, but internally I am feeling that someone is waiting for me to fall behind so that they can point out my short-comings. for all these years, I have attempted to be true to myself and be authentic before God and others. Always, though, there was one or more people within the church who thought that they knew better than me the things to which I should be committing my time. I feel such a freedom now, but still there is that nagging within, that voice, telling me what to do. For today, I choose not to listen. For today, I am free.
Drawing near to home, I stopped to visit with a neighbor who worked last night. We discussed proper care for flowers and bushes in the midst of drought. I listened; he spoke. I walked across the street and watered our flowers and shrubs. We are allowed to do so on Tuesdays and Saturdays now, thanks to the rain that has fallen as of late.
When Bonnie returned home from yoga, we prepared a late breakfast and ate on our patio under the shade of a large, blue umbrella. After eating, we began doing our devotional reading. One book, a gift from a church family, is for couples in retirement. The theme for this week is grace, the undeserved, unearned love that God gives to us and that we are encouraged to share with one another.
Without warning, a hummingbird flew to the feeders ten feet from where we were sitting. This was the first one either of us had seen this year. What a joy to watch as she drank deeply, unconcerned about us. Perhaps I can live like that today.
Watching the stock market has become a painful act, humanly-speaking, these past few weeks. Whatever the market closes at today will determine my pension from the United Methodist Church. I prayed that this was the time to retire, and I am going on faith that God will provide for our needs, regardless of what the market does. I am selfishly praying that it goes up a bit, say, 1,500 points. I am trying to live with a positive perspective!
An observation: I shared with Bonnie how difficult it has been for me to slow down and not feel that I have so many deadlines facing me. I am taking a few steps each day to bring closure to the move back home, but internally I am feeling that someone is waiting for me to fall behind so that they can point out my short-comings. for all these years, I have attempted to be true to myself and be authentic before God and others. Always, though, there was one or more people within the church who thought that they knew better than me the things to which I should be committing my time. I feel such a freedom now, but still there is that nagging within, that voice, telling me what to do. For today, I choose not to listen. For today, I am free.
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