On the street

I see cargo trailers and pickup trucks in front of a house on the street. 

Furniture is loaded into trailers as it is carried out of the house. Perhaps it belonged to one of the people who lived there. 

A man and a woman once lived there together. They don't anymore. They decided to stop having lives in the same building. So they didn't really live together, they sort of declined together. 

On the side of a trailer is the name of a wedding planning company. 

Charlotte Airport. Three sales reps sitting talking thinking posturing laughing

• making good choices at the highest level
• Do we fight the fight right now, or wait until next week
• Because it makes sense
• You started it
• I think it needs to be like a deep deep dive. Based on the questions he asks we bring in the resources behind
• the piece of the puzzle that's not defined
• You should be having this conversation with your clients now
• leverage the platform
• you've got to tell the whole package
• body of knowledge. whole story. shiny object on the shelf. 
• easy street
• that could be a harvest blah blah

the lingo changes over time, but not much else

When was the last time someone cried because they were happy to see you

Not counting the day you were born. 

When one is a hospice volunteer, it happens all the time. 

When a drug addict steals your F150

 My truck was stolen last month. Once it was recovered by the police, it was obviously the woman, or man, who stole it, had not yet mastered the art of driving an F150. It was Kevin's truck once. 

Our Lord says to pray for your enemies. I do so by keeping a list of those who have been particularly unkind to me and my family in order to pray for them. This person became #8, and was added to my list on September 5, 2022. 

As I looked through the drug-related trash left in my vehicle it was hard not to feel sympathy for the thief. Especially when you know there was a time in your life, so many years ago, when you could have gone down this path. I grew up in an age when the life of the aimless, drifting, drug user was romanticized. 

In a way I will some day understand, I was preserved from going down to such a defeat. So far.

  

What I heard at Walgreens

I am in line at Walgreen's (on Nicollet in downtown Minneapolis) on November 24th of 2020. The checkout girl did not like the attitude of a customer. 

She said something like this..."well, I demand respect. And if you won't give it to me I will take it."

I have been puzzling over that statement for 24 hours now and I think it is one of the oddest thing I've ever heard a human say. 

The tree down the street

 There is a large old oak tree in my neighbor's yard. It lived to be around a hundred and fifty or so years, and then died. This year. The other old oaks are just starting to shed a few leaves but this one has nary a one, and has not had all year. 

Talk is, the owners have had three arborists out to look at it. I guess in tree world that's the same as getting a second opinion. Yep, it's dead. Or as a Minnesotan would say, It's a goner, ya got that right. They must want to keep it. Though they have only owned that land and tree for about three years, perhaps they feel that such a decision best goes slowly. Or maybe it is something simpler, procrastinating, or not being able to afford the removal, or the hope that maybe next spring it will come back to life. 

Our perspectives differ. Those who live in the house look out the window and see the same huge trunk as the year before. Same same. Those who live down the street see bare branches and death. 

There is this deep thing in us that keeps things in their place. Before Minnesota was a state that tree may have been here. We long for permanence. 

The neighbor should cut down the tree. It's dangerous and is becoming an eyesore. But I understand the reluctance to cut. Just last week I got around to paying someone some money I owed them since 1978. They didn't even know I owed them. It was easy to put off. But I'm getting old. But not like that tree. 

Thoughts on the birth of my grandson, Benjamin

 What a wonderful blessing to welcome a second grandson this summer.

While you are not the first, you are the son of my son, and that makes you special and distinct. Being the father of a son is very different than being the father of a daughter (to state the obvious) and there will be a special set of joys you will bring to your family.  

I have not yet held you, that is several days away. But when I do I will be drawn back to that day when I held your dad for the first time. How wonderful it was, as a man, to hold this small future man in my hands. The first word I will whisper in your ear will be the name of our Saviour, and I will make the sign of the cross on your forehead. Perhaps some day you will be as fortunate as I and will do the same with your child and grandchild, please do. 

How blessed you are to be born to this man and woman. They love you so much and will raise you up to be a true son of our Father. Your sisters will meet you today for the first time and they will get another glimpse of true love as new feelings for you immediately spring forth inside them. 

So much is running through my head as I think about you. I try and picture you as a young man, but that is so difficult. You are a big baby so I imagine you as a big kid and a big man. Ahead lie the St. Louis Cardinals, long hot days at the ball park, other afternoons on some ball field with a team of friends, nights alone studying schoolwork, riding a bike, climbing a tree, driving a car. Each good thing making you more and more into the type of person you should be. 

 It is easy to think about all the troubles in this world and the many trials you will face, but for now I have to set that aside and simply thank God that you are here. I am thankful for your parents and their love for each other. I am thankful for the wisdom I see in them as they raise your sisters. 

Your family needs you. How and in what way, we don't know. But we know their family is already bigger and better and more complete because of you. There will be things about you that make your mom and dad better parents. There will be ways you make your sisters better young women. When the time comes for them to marry, if you become the young man I think you will, they will think often about the best things about you and your dad, and they will want to marry someone who is a bit like both of you. 

As you sleep in the arms of your mother, you are the image to us of the beauty of creation. You are now with her as we should all be with our heavenly Father, totally dependent, unable to do a single thing on your own behalf. Like us at so many times, you are also unaware of the goodness that rains down upon you. Unaware and thus unable to offer thanks for the nourishment and warmth and blessings that surround you. 

Soon you will be baptized into His Church and the grace of our Lord will pour upon your soul. It will be the start of your walk with Him who will guide you always. How great is the love of our Lord for you, that he called you to life at this time and place. 

Remember me in your prayers, as I will for you. God bless you Benjamin Brooks, and preserve you in his Holy arms. 

Jail time, I need more

Once a month I help conduct a church service at the local jail. Like hospice, this is an "I get to", not an "I have to".

The attendance is usually very light, never more than a half-dozen. After all, this is a fairly small county jail, not a Riker's Island or Folsom Prison.

Today there were three of us. Me and two women in their mid-30s. The Sunday Mass gospel reading for today is the story of Jesus and the woman at the well in Samaria. Many of you know that story, of the discarded, rejected, outcast woman who encountered Christ in two drinks of water. The drink of physical water that she provided him. The drink of everlasting life of living water that He offered to her.

You know the story, we all do. But I know it better from sharing it with two women who are also scorned, discarded, rejected and outcast. Right now. Right here. They knew that woman in the passage. They knew her tears. They knew how hard her life was. Face to face.

We held hands and shared prayers. I will likely not see either of them again. But time and again the gospel message comes to life for me in the faces and voices and tears of the hurting and the dying. I am drawn to them for reasons that I do not understand.

My life has just been so much more than it should have been...

One good thing from this virus stuff

Perhaps when this is all over with guys will discard hugging, as quickly as they seemed to adopt it.
Or is this a Minnesota thing?

When I lived in Arkansas in the mid-80s, men shook hands, boys high-fived. Normal greetings.

When I lived in Missouri in the mid-80s to early 2000s, men shook hands. McGwire and Sosa made variations of the fist bump or fore arm bump acceptable in certain settings.

By 2003 or 4, around the time we moved to Minnesota, men were hugging. It's always been ok in times of extreme emotions, such as a wedding or a funeral. But for the past twenty years or so, men have been hugging as a normal standard greeting. You stick out a hand to shake, and some will say, "come on bud, gimme a bro hug". Yes, I'm about as likely to do that as give you some of Tinkerbelle's pixie dust, a silver chair from Narnia, or a piece of cake from Wonderland.

It's odd and very much out of character for most of us. Which explains why it never made it into the business world. Not the real one. Same with politics and the arts. Toby Keith hugs, Merle Haggard shakes hands. Kennedy and Nixon shook hands. Bernie Sanders and Jeb Bush offer hugs. Hank Paulson and Warren Buffet shake hands. Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos seem more the hugging types.

Anyway, the strong handshake from a strong hand is always welcome, whether during virus time, Christmas time, or any other time.

Sunday worship, western rim of the known world

Two conversations an hour apart. One at a jail, the other at a nursing home. One with a man, the other with a woman. One is dying. One is locked up. Both were in tears.

"I miss my kids. I finally understand how much I hurt them"

"I miss my wife, I wish I could see her one more time to tell her that I love her".

Small things

I volunteer at times with hospice patients. At the end of life, and at the beginning, it is the small things that we often take for granted that can mean so much. Being warm. Being able to sleep throughout the night without discomfort. Having a loved one nearby.

Today I was with a man who wanted just one thing, relief from an itch. He got it.

Those tiny things we don't think about. When was the last time you gave thanks for being able to quench your thirst without assistance? Or walk to the mailbox under your own power? There is so much we don't think about. St. Paul said in 1 Thessalonians to give thanks in all things. For all things and in all things. I don't do it like I should, but my friend today gave me a wonderful reminder.

Deep Winter

I love winter. We say that a lot in Minnesota. Perhaps we do. Perhaps not.

We are reaching the point of the really hard days of the season we love. Highs around zero. Lows somewhere down on the minus scale. It is mid-February and the sun is much higher in the sky than at Christmas, though that fact has not yet made a difference in our temperatures. That will come.

This is the waiting time.

This period of winter is like many times of our lives. Waiting for something. For first grade. For a new bike. For a drivers license. For marriage. For a new job. Waiting for a sign. Some signal that what you wish for will come to be.

I am a hospice volunteer and just spent 15 months visiting a patient with a terminal illness, who became a friend. Waiting to die. I stopped by twice a week to chat, about his family, sports, occasionally his faith. He had the type of illness that shows no real symptoms to others until the very end. As predicted, that was how it played out. On Monday he was happy and alert. On Thursday he was much weaker and knew his last few days were upon him. On Saturday his body was dead.

I have tried to put myself in his place and imagine this period of waiting. For some it is a period of fear and dread. For my friend it was a time to enjoy with family and friends, to ponder his life in its triumphs and regrets, to read, to sleep, to meet a new nurse, to welcome a priest bearing the blessed eucharist. One day folded into the next, one season to the next. Now he is where there are no seasons, and no waiting, only joy and love in its purest of pure forms.

I look around my house for a sign of spring. The snow is piling up. The ice on the lake is thicker than last week. No birds in the air or squirrels in the trees. But the sun is higher in the sky today than yesterday. For a while that will suffice.

In the name of the Father

Pondering the Trinity

One recent evening I was reading the Easter story to my granddaughter, Lilly, who is three. During the time in the Garden of Gethsemane, we read that Jesus prayed. “Why was he praying?” she asked. “What do you mean, why?” I replied. “He’s God isn’t He? What was he doing, praying to Himself !?” In this simple sentence she laid open one of the deepest questions of theology.  

The truth is we don’t know. We believe that Jesus was fully God and fully Man. We can write books about that and talk in our Bible studies about it, but can’t ever understand it. God as man is a glimpse of what God is like and what we are to be as sons and daughters created in his image. His life and love and pain here was a tiny peek at his nature. What does it mean when God takes on all the suffering of the human body? Not as a punishment but as a redemptive act.   

I tried to explain to her that we know God in three ways, or that he shows himself to us in three forms, but dumb down the Trinity and you find yourself wandering from one heresy to another. Fortunately she’d had enough and turned the pages of the story book, to his arrest and death and then resurrection.  

What our talk reinforced to me, is what CS Lewis said so many times, one of the reasons Christianity rings true, is that it is not something we humans would have come up with. The very fact that at times it seems to not make sense bears witness to the fact that it was not man made. 

Lewis said...

“Reality, in fact, is usually something you could not have guessed. That is

one of the reasons I believe Christianity. It is a religion you could not have

guessed. If it offered us just the kind of universe we had always expected,

I should feel we were making it up. But, in fact, it is not the sort of thing

anyone would have made up.”

A three year old heart felt the tug that something fundamental to this story is very very different from every other story she's heard. It has no flying ponies, or talking rainbows. But something even more incredible. A God who is fully one of us and fully God. You need not ask her if it is true, just look on her face and listen to her voice when she says "He's alive!, that's my favorite part". 

I remember you! Weren't you that guy.....

In college I was in student government. It seemed important at the time and was the sort of thing that you list on your resume when you first leave college, before you have a real job. 

One of my college friends in student government is now in the insurance biz in Missouri, and has been for many years.

On his website he lists his bio and career accomplishments. What's still there for this now 60-yr old? His position in student government. In the 1970's. 

After all these years, that is one of the high points of his life. That is so terribly, terribly sad.

Lord, thank you for all the things that really matter, and for clearing my life of so many things that don't.

Taking it with you....

Last week I chatted with a hospice patient. One who insisted he did not know why he was there and that he felt fine. Not resigned to his fate but a fighter who still has a few rounds left in him.

Somehow we got on the subject of retirement and finances and money. He told me... " I never wanted a lot of money, just enough to pay my bills. I never wanted to be rich. All the rich think about is how to keep what they have." That may not be an exact quote but it's close.

I thought about that statement over the weekend. I suppose there is some truth to it, but it also is full of error.

I know wealthy people who think a lot about how best to give their money away. How to use it for the Lord's work. How to be the stewards that He wants. I really dont know any who only focus on how to keep it, though I'm sure there are some.

For me, dollars are like rocks strewn along the road to righteousness. Some days there are just a few decisons to make and they are simple ones. They are like pebbles, little annoyances. Other days there are big decisions, boulders. They don't block the road, they never do. But they always distract, make you look the wrong way, or take a different path.

I have never heard anyone say that having more money brought them closer to Christ, though millions would testify that being without it certainly did.

Post-game comments

Funeral homes have online guest books. You can leave comments about the deceased. It is a very impersonal way to connect to the family during one of their most personal and emotional experiences, the passing of a loved one. 

Today I ran across an entry I made on one of these a while back. It was for someone I had known for a few years who had passed away. Someone I did not really like, nor dislike.The type of person I would not go out of my way to see. Like a distant cousin you don't know very well.

I found myself thinking, "If I would not say these nice things to the person while they are alive, why I am writing them today?"

I am certainly giving the impression to his family that this person was someone I liked much more than I did.

Am I a bad person for doing this? Perhaps this is something we all do, which is the worst excuse there is. There are several ways to look at this.

1) I want to give the false impression to others that I am nicer than I am. That I cared for this person more than i actually did. 

2) In the passing I am reminded that in spite of our faults, we all have nice qualities. (how trite) I want the family to know that I remember nice things about their loved one. 

3) God is telling me that I was wrong to not have reflected His love toward this person. I rightfully feel guilt. I want to make amends but only with a gesture that is tiny. 

Parting Gift

A hospice patient plays the harmonica. "Would you like to hear something?" Plays Blue eyes crying in the rain. I hum along.

a revisit

I spent some time last night with my friend who was mentioned in my July post. The one with the rare muscle disease. I have seen her four or five times since then and we've become even better friends.

As i watched her try and eat, it occured to me that in a small way, she is experiencing a bit of the suffering of Christ. When on the cross he was trapped, in agonizing pain, unable to move. Could not feed himself, could not wipe his face, could not pick up a cup of water, could not cover himself.

While my friend is not nailed to a cross, she is also trapped and cannot move. She has to be fed, and covered and watched over. tapping out a few sentences takes an hour.

I told her what i was thinking, that she was experiencing a tiny bit of the suffering of Christ. I don't know if she agreed with me or not. She just looked at me. We shared a prayer. I went home. Got a glass of water all by myself. Fed myself. Put myself to bed.

The small things become the big things

On weekends I volunteer at a hospice. I do little things like greet visitors, give tours, make coffee, answer the phone. Some days I do bigger things, comfort a family, be a companion to the dying, become their last new friend.

A few weeks ago I watched a one-year old proudly step across a room. She is my granddaughter and she is mastering the skill of walking. It reminded me of how common daily things we take for granted. A skill that it has taken her months to master she will quickly become accustomed to.

For many of us there will come a day when all these little things we think of as easy, become hard. Picking up a cup when thirsty and successfully putting it back down. Wrapping oneself in a blanket when cold. Not drooling on yourself. Being able to say "thank you", for a kindness. 

These are big deals on the front side of life and perhaps even bigger on the back side. All that time in between, we just do them.

With the last of her strength

I have a new friend who has a terrible illness. A rare muscular disorder.


She cannot talk or walk or feed herself. She can only move her hands a little. She talks by pointing to letters on a keyboard. A simple sentence can take minutes and the frustration can bring tears to her eyes. It is a board very similar to the one below.

Her body is falling apart but not her soul.

She types out a message and asks that I send it as a text to her brother. A happy birthday wish. I do and see a bit of a smile on her face and tears on her cheeks.

She types, " Thx big time"
"God bless u"



As her pointer quivers in her failing hand, she points to these letters. P  R  A  Y.

She wants me to pray with her. I am a stranger to her. She does not know how I will respond, or if I am a Christian. But she is so helpless she is long past the point of shyness or embarrassment. So I pray and her tears flow again, not ones of frustration but of joy and happiness.

After this she asks me to read the Bible to her. Isaiah 54:14 " In righteousness you will be established; tyranny will be far from you; you will have nothing to fear. Terror will be far removed; it will not come near you."

She types again. 'God sent u"

And I think, no, God sent you to me as a reminder of how much I take for granted and how little time I have spent serving people like me new friend. On this Sunday morning I can go to church, sing a song, say a prayer, or I can not. This friend, with her last bit of strength, uses a failing finger to point me in the way I should go. As I leave she types, 'Luv Jesus'.