Sixteen Minutes From Home 2-6-2003
“They were sixteen minutes from home,” said Bunny as she told me about the space shuttle Columbia. I had the TV off and did not hear the news. She told me all about it when she returned from working at school.
Once again our nation is filled with half-staff flags proclaiming another national tragedy. Our hearts are filled with emotions so deep that they hurt. They hurt for the families, for the nation, for the world. Images of a striking craft fill our dreams. Pictures of debris surrounded by yellow tape fill our waking moments. We mourn. We cry. We hug. We weep. We pray. We speculate – they were only sixteen minutes from home.
Yes, the astronauts were headed home – to safety. They fulfilled their mission and they were headed home. They were going to be greeted by those who love them. They were doing what they had to in order to return home.
Each one of us is on our own special journey. We have our mission to fulfill. We will return home someday. My mission is probably very much like yours. My mission is to share Christ – with my family, with my neighborhood and with the world. I share Christ in many ways. I share Christ with my words – my words of instruction, my words of supplication, my words of proclamation. I share Christ with my actions – my hands in service. I share Christ with my life – my life as a husband, my life as a father, my life as a child of God. I am doing what I need to do in order to fulfill my mission. When my mission is fulfilled, I will return home. I will be welcomed by Him who loves me with a perfect love.
The joy of my mission is that I really don’t know when it will be over. I live each day as if I am only sixteen minutes from home. I am not alone in my journey. I have my family, my friends, my co-workers, my Christian family that surrounds me, supports me and helps me in my mission. I have the power of the Spirit that fills me and energizes me to complete my mission.
I falter in my mission. I make mistakes. I encounter setbacks. I have the guidance and help of those around me to get me back on track. I rely on the forgiveness of Christ.
I mourn for the tragic loss of the astronauts. I am resolved to continue on my mission. I thank God for those who support me.
Once again our nation is filled with half-staff flags proclaiming another national tragedy. Our hearts are filled with emotions so deep that they hurt. They hurt for the families, for the nation, for the world. Images of a striking craft fill our dreams. Pictures of debris surrounded by yellow tape fill our waking moments. We mourn. We cry. We hug. We weep. We pray. We speculate – they were only sixteen minutes from home.
Yes, the astronauts were headed home – to safety. They fulfilled their mission and they were headed home. They were going to be greeted by those who love them. They were doing what they had to in order to return home.
Each one of us is on our own special journey. We have our mission to fulfill. We will return home someday. My mission is probably very much like yours. My mission is to share Christ – with my family, with my neighborhood and with the world. I share Christ in many ways. I share Christ with my words – my words of instruction, my words of supplication, my words of proclamation. I share Christ with my actions – my hands in service. I share Christ with my life – my life as a husband, my life as a father, my life as a child of God. I am doing what I need to do in order to fulfill my mission. When my mission is fulfilled, I will return home. I will be welcomed by Him who loves me with a perfect love.
The joy of my mission is that I really don’t know when it will be over. I live each day as if I am only sixteen minutes from home. I am not alone in my journey. I have my family, my friends, my co-workers, my Christian family that surrounds me, supports me and helps me in my mission. I have the power of the Spirit that fills me and energizes me to complete my mission.
I falter in my mission. I make mistakes. I encounter setbacks. I have the guidance and help of those around me to get me back on track. I rely on the forgiveness of Christ.
I mourn for the tragic loss of the astronauts. I am resolved to continue on my mission. I thank God for those who support me.
Valentine’s Day 2-13-2003
“Here is a heart, some lace, some glue. Here are the letters – I – L-O-V-E – U. Can you guess what I will do? Make it and give it to Bunny.” This song was in my head as I awoke the other morning. That can mean only one thing – it is Valentine’s Day time. Bunny has sung that song with her little lambs for many years. She has a red construction paper heart, surrounded by paper lace, with bold letters spelling out, “ I Love U” printed on the heart. She then walks around the classroom, singing this song and as the song finishes, she hands it to a pupil while the recipient’s name is sung, “Make it and give it to ____.” That child then repeats this until the whole class has had an opportunity to give and receive the special heart – the teacher’s heart.
Yes, Valentine’s Day – the day when countless shoeboxes are sacrificed for mailboxes, when paper bags are festooned with red and white hearts awaiting the time when they will be filled with special sentiments of love and friendship. Valentine’s Day – the only day of the year when boys are able to speak their hopes, their dreams to the love of their lives – through the best form of communication known to a grade school boy – candy conversation hearts. “Be Mine,” “Kiss,” “Hug,” and other such sweet phrases adorn the tops of school desks across the nation. Girls also have their supply of hearts, “Yes,” and “NO” will be sent either tentatively or boldly.
Valentine’s Day – a day for the celebration of love. Children naturally express their emotions. Toddlers in the supermarket cart smile at friendly faces, kindergarteners will hug any friendly knee in sight and the young child makes friends easily. It seems we must grow older to learn to doubt, learn to guard, learn to hide. Valentine’s Day allows the cynicism of age to crack. It is now the acceptable practice to jot your true feelings and send them on to the person of your dreams. It even works for grown men. Flower shops offer “men-friendly” vases filled with roses and surrounded by a cute white bear (That is what Bunny received.) Candy companies package gaudy red heart-shaped boxes of chocolates guaranteed to melt the coolest façade. Jewelry stores bank on a year’s worth of guilt to entice men to buy the diamond-covered heart pendant that says “I Love You” for the chosen woman.
I like Valentine’s Day. It is a day set aside for the celebration of love. I love my wife. I love my wife more today than I did yesterday and less than I will tomorrow. Our love has grown and matured. We have been through trials and testing. We have been just the two of us and we have been alone. Even when I am away from her, she is with me. I see her face, hear her laugh and feel her touch. I cherish the look in her eyes when we greet each other. This morning she won’t let me leave the house until I looked at her, “I want to see your eyes sparkle.” They did.
As I celebrate my love for Bunny and her love for me, I see but a small part of the depth of God’s love for me. His love goes beyond the candy, the hearts, the flowers. His love is a love that knows no bounds. His love is the perfect love. My heart rejoices with my love for Bunny and her love for me. My heart bursts when I think about how grand God’s love is.
Jesus loves you and so do I. Happy Valentine’s Day.
Yes, Valentine’s Day – the day when countless shoeboxes are sacrificed for mailboxes, when paper bags are festooned with red and white hearts awaiting the time when they will be filled with special sentiments of love and friendship. Valentine’s Day – the only day of the year when boys are able to speak their hopes, their dreams to the love of their lives – through the best form of communication known to a grade school boy – candy conversation hearts. “Be Mine,” “Kiss,” “Hug,” and other such sweet phrases adorn the tops of school desks across the nation. Girls also have their supply of hearts, “Yes,” and “NO” will be sent either tentatively or boldly.
Valentine’s Day – a day for the celebration of love. Children naturally express their emotions. Toddlers in the supermarket cart smile at friendly faces, kindergarteners will hug any friendly knee in sight and the young child makes friends easily. It seems we must grow older to learn to doubt, learn to guard, learn to hide. Valentine’s Day allows the cynicism of age to crack. It is now the acceptable practice to jot your true feelings and send them on to the person of your dreams. It even works for grown men. Flower shops offer “men-friendly” vases filled with roses and surrounded by a cute white bear (That is what Bunny received.) Candy companies package gaudy red heart-shaped boxes of chocolates guaranteed to melt the coolest façade. Jewelry stores bank on a year’s worth of guilt to entice men to buy the diamond-covered heart pendant that says “I Love You” for the chosen woman.
I like Valentine’s Day. It is a day set aside for the celebration of love. I love my wife. I love my wife more today than I did yesterday and less than I will tomorrow. Our love has grown and matured. We have been through trials and testing. We have been just the two of us and we have been alone. Even when I am away from her, she is with me. I see her face, hear her laugh and feel her touch. I cherish the look in her eyes when we greet each other. This morning she won’t let me leave the house until I looked at her, “I want to see your eyes sparkle.” They did.
As I celebrate my love for Bunny and her love for me, I see but a small part of the depth of God’s love for me. His love goes beyond the candy, the hearts, the flowers. His love is a love that knows no bounds. His love is the perfect love. My heart rejoices with my love for Bunny and her love for me. My heart bursts when I think about how grand God’s love is.
Jesus loves you and so do I. Happy Valentine’s Day.
Memories 2-20-2003
“We will clean out the closet,” Bunny tells me as I begin my vacation. Yes, for the next week I will be at home cleaning, organizing and eliminating the accumulations stored in our basement. I have a week to sort, store and shelve those items that have been an important part of our lives but have been relegated to storage for one reason or another. This is a task that I both anticipate and dread.
I anticipate the wonderful memories each piece, each box, each picture will evoke. I look forward to many happy surprises as once-treasured items are brought forth and examined. It will take many hours as we share with one another the stories behind each piece.
I dread this task because I will have to choose. Most of the treasures we have stored have special meaning or had special meaning at one time. It is not easy to discard. I want to hang onto the box, paper, or object. I want to be able to touch it, to smell it, to be reminded of why I have this object in storage. It is part of my make-up. It is my baggage. It is part of who I am. It defines me. Sometimes the memory that the object elicits is not a pleasant one. That also is hard to discard. I want to bring back the feelings of anger, mistrust, or fear. I want to nurture those feelings so that I can relive the moment. I want to justify my emotions.
As I wade through the piles of boxes, I will be in emotional overload. I will experience the full spectrum of human emotions, often two or more at the same time. Yet it is a job that must be done. I need to simplify. I need to consolidate and eliminate. It is at the point that the amount of room available is not as large as the amount of room that is needed. It is time.
As I process the boxes this coming week, I can also take inventory of all those memories that I harbor deep inside my mind. I have some past grudges that I like to take out and examine every now and then. I have past injuries to my spirit that I love to air out and relive. I have lots of baggage that clutters my memories. It is time to consolidate and eliminate. It is time that I clean out my memories and give them away. It is time that I live out the words of Psalm 55, “Cast your cares on the LORD and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous fall.” God removes my cares and eliminates them. I must let go of my baggage. I must unpack the boxes of worry, doubt and fear and give all of the contents away. That is a hard thing for me to do. I want to hang on to the boxes and build more storage for them. No, I must let go.
I thank God for His cleansing.
I anticipate the wonderful memories each piece, each box, each picture will evoke. I look forward to many happy surprises as once-treasured items are brought forth and examined. It will take many hours as we share with one another the stories behind each piece.
I dread this task because I will have to choose. Most of the treasures we have stored have special meaning or had special meaning at one time. It is not easy to discard. I want to hang onto the box, paper, or object. I want to be able to touch it, to smell it, to be reminded of why I have this object in storage. It is part of my make-up. It is my baggage. It is part of who I am. It defines me. Sometimes the memory that the object elicits is not a pleasant one. That also is hard to discard. I want to bring back the feelings of anger, mistrust, or fear. I want to nurture those feelings so that I can relive the moment. I want to justify my emotions.
As I wade through the piles of boxes, I will be in emotional overload. I will experience the full spectrum of human emotions, often two or more at the same time. Yet it is a job that must be done. I need to simplify. I need to consolidate and eliminate. It is at the point that the amount of room available is not as large as the amount of room that is needed. It is time.
As I process the boxes this coming week, I can also take inventory of all those memories that I harbor deep inside my mind. I have some past grudges that I like to take out and examine every now and then. I have past injuries to my spirit that I love to air out and relive. I have lots of baggage that clutters my memories. It is time to consolidate and eliminate. It is time that I clean out my memories and give them away. It is time that I live out the words of Psalm 55, “Cast your cares on the LORD and He will sustain you; He will never let the righteous fall.” God removes my cares and eliminates them. I must let go of my baggage. I must unpack the boxes of worry, doubt and fear and give all of the contents away. That is a hard thing for me to do. I want to hang on to the boxes and build more storage for them. No, I must let go.
I thank God for His cleansing.
Titles 2-27-2003
Bunny and I have moved six times since we were first married. In each of the moves there have been boxes labeled “Memories.” With each move we packed more “Memory” boxes. This past week we had the opportunity to open and sort each of the boxes. It was exciting to look over the accumulations of the past thirty years. Each box brought forth pictures, papers, certificates, cards and more that we have kept as reminders of a special event in our lives together. More than once we had to pause and reminisce. We especially enjoyed the old pictures. I forgot that sideburns were once in style, miniskirts were appropriate for teachers and that leisure suits should have never been worn. Yes, we have aged.
Even more touching were the pictures of the children. We relived the births, birthdays and all of the special events of the kids’ lives – days of soccer games, Little League, dance recitals, basketball games, plays and Scouts. Many happy memories were packed away. What was particularly fun for us was the sorting. Each child will receive a box with his or her special certificates, awards, or memories.
As I sorted through the boxes, I was reminded of the many titles that I have been given. First I was “son.” I was the son of Richard and Marjorie. Then I was “brother,” to Randy and Danny. Most of the items in the boxes started with when I became “husband,” to Bunny. Then came the “father” years. Richie, Bobby, Becky and Russell each gave us a lifetime of happy memories. We have been blessed.
Other titles came through the years – “Father-in-law,” “teacher,” “principal,” “Board Member,” “Master of Ceremonies,” “Chairman,” “Committee Member,” “Cast Member,” “Scout Master,” “friend, ” “Director,” “Co-worker” and “Coach.” Each title brought with it a special set of tasks and responsibilities. Each title generated a special set of memories. We had a ball going through all of the boxes and renewing our memories. I have – we have – been blessed. We have had the opportunity to make a living at that which brings us happiness. We have been blessed with many good friends and co-workers. We have loved and have been loved at each step along the path of life.
There is one title that stands out from all of the rest – “Child of God.” Yes, by my baptism I was made a child of God. This title also brings with it a special set of tasks and responsibilities. But unlike the other titles’ tasks and responsibilities – being a “Child of God” gives me power – the power of the Holy Spirit. I have been loved and am loved. This title came at a great price – the suffering, death and resurrection of God’s Son. As we enter into the season of Lent, it is fitting that I am reminded of how much I am loved. You, too, are loved.
Even more touching were the pictures of the children. We relived the births, birthdays and all of the special events of the kids’ lives – days of soccer games, Little League, dance recitals, basketball games, plays and Scouts. Many happy memories were packed away. What was particularly fun for us was the sorting. Each child will receive a box with his or her special certificates, awards, or memories.
As I sorted through the boxes, I was reminded of the many titles that I have been given. First I was “son.” I was the son of Richard and Marjorie. Then I was “brother,” to Randy and Danny. Most of the items in the boxes started with when I became “husband,” to Bunny. Then came the “father” years. Richie, Bobby, Becky and Russell each gave us a lifetime of happy memories. We have been blessed.
Other titles came through the years – “Father-in-law,” “teacher,” “principal,” “Board Member,” “Master of Ceremonies,” “Chairman,” “Committee Member,” “Cast Member,” “Scout Master,” “friend, ” “Director,” “Co-worker” and “Coach.” Each title brought with it a special set of tasks and responsibilities. Each title generated a special set of memories. We had a ball going through all of the boxes and renewing our memories. I have – we have – been blessed. We have had the opportunity to make a living at that which brings us happiness. We have been blessed with many good friends and co-workers. We have loved and have been loved at each step along the path of life.
There is one title that stands out from all of the rest – “Child of God.” Yes, by my baptism I was made a child of God. This title also brings with it a special set of tasks and responsibilities. But unlike the other titles’ tasks and responsibilities – being a “Child of God” gives me power – the power of the Holy Spirit. I have been loved and am loved. This title came at a great price – the suffering, death and resurrection of God’s Son. As we enter into the season of Lent, it is fitting that I am reminded of how much I am loved. You, too, are loved.