For most of my adult life, I have struggled with a swallowing problem. Many times I get choked up over the smallest bits of food, like a kernel of corn or too much bread. Taking pills like Tylenol is not something I can do, because it simply won't go down. I have had to have several 'endoscopys'; a procedure that basically stretches your esophogus and allows food to travel more freely to your stomach. Nice, huh?
In October of 2002 I was needing yet another one of these procedures. I checked myself in and began the long, early morning wait for the hospital to prepare for me. While waiting with my wife, I suddenly got very fearful and remember telling Konnie how much I loved her and that if anything should happen, I have made certain preparations. She reassured me that this was no big deal and that I had done it many times before. I then told her, 'Yeah, but even the simplest procedures can go wrong'. Boy, I wish I hadn't been thinking those thoughts, because that's what happened.
During the procedure, apparently my 'food opening', as I call it, was so tight that the Doctor could not get his scope past the opening in order to inflate the end of the scope and stretch it out. But he tried anyway and my esophogus was torn.
I remember coming to and feeling funny. I felt like I had little air bubbles all in my throat. I remember my wife being with me and the Doctor pacing the room on his cell phone. He had ordered an X-Ray to be taken and was getting the results. I remember the words, 'He's got a what!?' Not comforting. I then vaguely remember the Doctor hugging my wife and apologizing.... again, not comforting.... not so much.
The Doctor then told me what had happened and that my problem was something that 'we don't treat here. You'll have to go to Wichita'. Then a bit of fear started to set it because they hauled me off to a waiting ambulance and off we went at a very high speed. I wasn't 'life watched', but 'life driven'. During the 80 plus mile drive, a million things went through my head.... 'How serious is this?' 'Am I going to be ok?' 'What about Kaden and Konnie?' 'My Mom's going to freak!' :-)
After arriving at St Francis Hospital in Wichita, I was taken quickly into ICU (The Intensive Care Unit). It gets that name for a reason, it's very intense. Nurses began hooking me up to what seemed like a hundred IV's and monitors. I was given a catheter (sp?) OUCH! And then everyone left.....
Konnie soon came in to see me and not long after, the Doctor who was now in charge of my case came in. I don't remember much of the conversation, but I remember asking him if I was in serious trouble or not. He said, 'I'll be honest with you. You have a 60/40 chance of survival." With that the tears began to flow as Konnie and I began to share moments that no one wants to go through. All the hopes and dreams of a young married couple with a beautiful little boy at home, began to seem like they may not happen. We cried for quite some time and prayed. Konnie then left because I wanted some people called; My parents especially and some friends.
While by myself, I tried to clear my eyes of all the tears. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to think and I didn't know what to pray. I looked up and above the doorway to my room was a figurine of Jesus on the cross. I couldn't help but stare at it. Then I noticed something was wrong with the figure. Half of Jesus' right arm was gone. 'Great,' I thought. 'I got the room with the broken Jesus... that's about right I guess'. I then looked away as if I thought it would jinx me to stare at a broken Jesus.
As family and friends came in and out, and doctor's came by and still had no words of encouragement only caution, I began to look intently on that figure above my door. It finally hit me that indeed this was the Jesus I needed. Not the gold painted Jesus on the cross, but the wooden one in which it showed that He himself was broken. Broken for who? Broken for me. For hours I looked upon this cross and prayed and wept. I knew that some test were coming up that would tell us all if I was to have major surgery that could take my life, or if another cure might be possible.... the cure that only a broken Jesus gives us.
After some time, I forget how long, it was time to see and run the test. My parents had flown in from Houston and were with Konnie. I could feel their prayers. As my bed was wheeled out of my room, I remember looking up at my sweet, broken Jesus and smiling. I knew that no matter what, I was going to be fine; either in death or in life. The test was done and I returned to my room to await the news. The doctor came in as Konnie and I held hands and barely dared to breathe. I remember these words:
"Well, I will be honest with you. It looks like you are healing on your own and we won't have to do surgery. I'll be more honest with you and say that I haven't seen this type of damage heal on it's own, so you are very lucky. We are going to keep you here for several more days so we can monitor your progress, but for now, it looks good.'
Konnie and I smiled through tears of joy and I could not help but give a wink to my sweet, broken Jesus. I didn't deserve it but A miracle had happened and I was being given a chance at life again. Luck? I think not.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I'm bothered at times that I haven't done 'more' with my second chance in life. I still struggle with silly petty things and I often have to force myself to remember the miracle of that time in my life. I complain about things that shouldn't matter and worry about things that don't matter. I'm still healing, I guess. :-)
I also struggle with the fact that this isn't how it goes for others that are sick. Recently we went and visited Konnie's dad, Frank. He is now but a mere shell of who he once was. Our visit was very hard for Konnie. I will never forget that while we were in the room with Frank, Konnie was tending to him and talking to him. He didn't respond much, but you could almost feel that he wanted to. Suddenly Konnie broke down and began to weep heavily. She got up from her father's bed and went quickly to the bathroom. At that moment, Frank sat up very quickly in a move that stunned me somewhat. He sat up and looked towards the bathroom where his little girl had run to. For just the briefest of moments I believe Frank remembered something. He knew it was Konnie and he knew she was sad, and in just the blink of an eye his clouded memory remembered that he needed to go help and comfort his little girl. It didn't last but a moment and soon he was laying back down. His cruel disease took over again and he, again, looked lost. I began to weep.
Why is it that some are healed and some are not? Why is it that a man's entire life of memories has been robbed from him? Is there no miracle available for him? As Konnie leaned over and began kissing her father on his cheeks I saw an image of Christ. A Christ that doesn't always spare us from disease and knows that none of us are spared from death, but He is there to care for us and kiss our cheeks and comfort us. I think of Brandon Evans... 32 years old and dying in his parents house. I think of all that they must be going through watching their little boy die.... I don't get it and, as I've said before, maybe I'm not supposed to. But this I do get; Jesus was broken not to spare us from death on this earth, but to give us life everlasting. With the life that we have, comes much responsibility. Are we living up to it? Are we helping and loving others? Are we better today than we were yesterday? If you're like me, the answer is 'some days yes, some days no'. But even that is why Jesus was broken; we can't be perfect, but we can strive to be.
I so wish my friend and Konnie's dad could be healed. But I do believe that there is healing that's taking place. I believe that both men, will someday have life everlasting. In times of suffering like this I'm reminded of a song by the Christian artist Bryan Duncan. The song is Strong Medicine. Take a listen: http://www.kstarheel.com/Strong_Medicine.html
Only God knows why certain things happen and their reasons. But be certain that we can know this.... the same sweet, broken Jesus that healed me is there for us all. Whether in death or in life, He is in control and He will never leave us or forsake us. There is hope, there is life and there is a medicine.
Friday, April 15, 2005
The King of Put-Away Things
There was a man who was on in years. By all rights, he was a good, hardworking man who had recently retired from his job of over 30 years. The job had required much travel from him in every country you can think of from Africa to India. He was often gone from home, but seemed to enjoy what he did. His wife was a kind, gentle gal who supported his career that had, in turn, supported her for so many years. They were happy but underneath all the exteriors of a nice house, nice cars and a nice pension, something was missing. Something always seemed to be missing... in him.
They had but one child, a daughter. She was a typical 'only child' in that whatever she needed in life was hers for the asking and taking. She went to the finest schools and wore the finest clothes, mostly given to her by her mom. She grew in life and love, married and had a son.
But the one thing she did not receive much in life was attention from her father. His distance in the family, partly due to his job and partly due to his lack of attention to her needs, had always left her feeling somewhat unworthy; as if she needed to continually prove herself to him. He seemed so obsessed with work and with purchasing certain things, that he rarely put time towards his only child. He always justified this by saying, 'the bills won't pay themselves'.
Recently her marriage had failed and this was a sore spot for her and her father. He didn't know the man very well, but thought it 'poor taste' to leave the man she once begged him to like, even though he warned her about marrying a man she hardly knew. 'I guess my opinion doesn't matter much to you', he would often say to her. Little did he know, it's all that mattered to her. Never mind that her husband was unfaithful to her and left her, it was still made to be her failure in her father's eyes. Try as she might, she never seemed to be able to please him.
One day the man's wife said to him, 'Today our daughter is going to be visiting; I hope you'll be around'. He looked rather uninterested-interested and said, 'Well, I have much to do around here so you two make out for yourselves; I'll see her when I can.' The wife looked down as if she was nervous about the next words she would say. Almost in a half whisper she said, 'She will also be bringing Timmy with her and he would love to spend time with you.'
The man looked cross at her and said, 'Timmy? Is this another of her boyfriends that is no good? The wife then spoke a bit louder to him as if she was bordering on scolding him. 'Timmy is NOT her boyfriend... it's her son. YOUR grandson. How is it that you don't even remember his name'?
The man stared at her, but more stared through her. His grandson indeed.
Upon their arrival the daughter was nervous for she never knew what to say to her dad. She could never get passed his unending look of disappointment in her. She hugged her mom and then her dad without really making contact with his eyes. Nor did he look into hers.
"Hi grandpa", a young voice said. The man looked down and with a half smile said, 'Well, hi there yourself'.
'Do I get to spend time with you today, Grandpa?', the boy questioned with anticipation. 'Well', the man spoke, 'I have much to do in the garage, but I guess you are welcome to be in there if you wish; just don't go messing with too many things'.
The boy smiled and sprinted off towards the massive garage that was large enough for most families to live in. The wife smiled at him and patted him on the back, half in appreciation and half in encouragement; hoping upon hope that he would finally take some time to get to know his grandson.
While they were in the garage the man's grandson could not believe how much stuff was in there. There was a boat, a motorcycle, furniture, a car and a beautiful bicycle that looked as if it had never had a rider. The boy couldn't help but ask, 'Is that your bike grandpa?' The man looked at it and said, 'Yes, and no', he answered.
'What do you mean?', the boy asked confused by his answer. 'Well, that bike was supposed to be for your mom, but I guess I never got around to giving it to her.'
'Why not?' the boy asked.
His Grandpa answered, 'Well, that is a long story and you shouldn't be bothered by it, but let's just say that I decided to put it away instead. Some things just don't get used and they are just put away.'
The boy then looked around at the massive collection of things and couldn't help himself but to blurt out, 'Well, by the looks of things in this garage it seems to me that you are the King of put-away things.'
At first the man smiled at the boy's witty and piffy comment, as if proud that finally someone was appreciating all that he had worked for; for he felt like a King at times while he was amassing this collection of 'stuff'. But then the smile faded into a look of concern. For some reason that title, 'The King of put-away things' began to bother him. He began to look around and notice all the 'things' in his garage.
There was the boat that he had promised his wife they would go sailing in every weekend, but they never did. The motorcycle he promised his friends he would use to go on trips with, but as of yet had not. There was a million tools that were bought with the purpose of building on to his house and giving his wife the green house she always wanted, but it never seemed to work into his schedule. There was at least 2 rooms worth of furniture that he wouldn't allow his wife to give away to a family that needed it because, as he said, 'you never know if we'll need it again'.... as if they didn't already have enough. And then there was the bike. The bike that was to be given to her for her 15th birthday, but wasn't because of some small incident that now he couldn't even remember.
The bike, to him, suddenly represented the broken relationship he had with his daughter. For her whole life she just never quite measured up to his demands; so I guess he was punishing her by what? not giving her the brand new bike he had bought so long ago, he wondered?
A gift that would have sent her spirits soaring, he withheld from her.
Suddenly some tears began to fall from the soft eyes of the hardened man. His grandson quickly asked, 'Grandpa, what's wrong?'
'Oh, it's nothing Timmy', he looked away and said.
'I just got to thinking about some things and realized that I need to do something that I should have done for your mom years ago'. With those words he walked over to the bike, dusted it off and said, 'What do you think champ? Can you ride it?'
The boys face lit up and he shouted, 'you bet I can!' 'Well', the man said, 'it's yours'. And with that, the boy grabbed the bike and took off down the long, winding driveway. It was the first time the man had given anything of note to his daughter or grandson.
After that, the man began to change. He began contacting his daughter and spent time with her and Timmy. He took his wife sailing, went on motorcycle trips with his friends and spent 3 straight weekends cleaning out his garage and gave much of it away to those in need. Soon, he would begin building that greenhouse for his wife.
One day his wife asked him, 'Honey, I've got to know. What has gotten into you recently; you seem so much happier?' He just smiled at her and said that it was something Timmy had said to him and that he no longer wanted to 'put things away'; not just material things, but emotional things as well. For he not only dusted off a bike to give to his grandson, but his hard heart got cleansed as well, and that he would share with everyone.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Time is short and your 30 years are here.... how should you spend them then? Jesus has told us not to store treasures here on earth. He made it clear what he thought about 'put-away things'. It's the things we give and do for our families and others that have more value than anything we could possibly buy or store up for ourselves. Maybe it's time not for a garage sale, but a garage cleansing.
They had but one child, a daughter. She was a typical 'only child' in that whatever she needed in life was hers for the asking and taking. She went to the finest schools and wore the finest clothes, mostly given to her by her mom. She grew in life and love, married and had a son.
But the one thing she did not receive much in life was attention from her father. His distance in the family, partly due to his job and partly due to his lack of attention to her needs, had always left her feeling somewhat unworthy; as if she needed to continually prove herself to him. He seemed so obsessed with work and with purchasing certain things, that he rarely put time towards his only child. He always justified this by saying, 'the bills won't pay themselves'.
Recently her marriage had failed and this was a sore spot for her and her father. He didn't know the man very well, but thought it 'poor taste' to leave the man she once begged him to like, even though he warned her about marrying a man she hardly knew. 'I guess my opinion doesn't matter much to you', he would often say to her. Little did he know, it's all that mattered to her. Never mind that her husband was unfaithful to her and left her, it was still made to be her failure in her father's eyes. Try as she might, she never seemed to be able to please him.
One day the man's wife said to him, 'Today our daughter is going to be visiting; I hope you'll be around'. He looked rather uninterested-interested and said, 'Well, I have much to do around here so you two make out for yourselves; I'll see her when I can.' The wife looked down as if she was nervous about the next words she would say. Almost in a half whisper she said, 'She will also be bringing Timmy with her and he would love to spend time with you.'
The man looked cross at her and said, 'Timmy? Is this another of her boyfriends that is no good? The wife then spoke a bit louder to him as if she was bordering on scolding him. 'Timmy is NOT her boyfriend... it's her son. YOUR grandson. How is it that you don't even remember his name'?
The man stared at her, but more stared through her. His grandson indeed.
Upon their arrival the daughter was nervous for she never knew what to say to her dad. She could never get passed his unending look of disappointment in her. She hugged her mom and then her dad without really making contact with his eyes. Nor did he look into hers.
"Hi grandpa", a young voice said. The man looked down and with a half smile said, 'Well, hi there yourself'.
'Do I get to spend time with you today, Grandpa?', the boy questioned with anticipation. 'Well', the man spoke, 'I have much to do in the garage, but I guess you are welcome to be in there if you wish; just don't go messing with too many things'.
The boy smiled and sprinted off towards the massive garage that was large enough for most families to live in. The wife smiled at him and patted him on the back, half in appreciation and half in encouragement; hoping upon hope that he would finally take some time to get to know his grandson.
While they were in the garage the man's grandson could not believe how much stuff was in there. There was a boat, a motorcycle, furniture, a car and a beautiful bicycle that looked as if it had never had a rider. The boy couldn't help but ask, 'Is that your bike grandpa?' The man looked at it and said, 'Yes, and no', he answered.
'What do you mean?', the boy asked confused by his answer. 'Well, that bike was supposed to be for your mom, but I guess I never got around to giving it to her.'
'Why not?' the boy asked.
His Grandpa answered, 'Well, that is a long story and you shouldn't be bothered by it, but let's just say that I decided to put it away instead. Some things just don't get used and they are just put away.'
The boy then looked around at the massive collection of things and couldn't help himself but to blurt out, 'Well, by the looks of things in this garage it seems to me that you are the King of put-away things.'
At first the man smiled at the boy's witty and piffy comment, as if proud that finally someone was appreciating all that he had worked for; for he felt like a King at times while he was amassing this collection of 'stuff'. But then the smile faded into a look of concern. For some reason that title, 'The King of put-away things' began to bother him. He began to look around and notice all the 'things' in his garage.
There was the boat that he had promised his wife they would go sailing in every weekend, but they never did. The motorcycle he promised his friends he would use to go on trips with, but as of yet had not. There was a million tools that were bought with the purpose of building on to his house and giving his wife the green house she always wanted, but it never seemed to work into his schedule. There was at least 2 rooms worth of furniture that he wouldn't allow his wife to give away to a family that needed it because, as he said, 'you never know if we'll need it again'.... as if they didn't already have enough. And then there was the bike. The bike that was to be given to her for her 15th birthday, but wasn't because of some small incident that now he couldn't even remember.
The bike, to him, suddenly represented the broken relationship he had with his daughter. For her whole life she just never quite measured up to his demands; so I guess he was punishing her by what? not giving her the brand new bike he had bought so long ago, he wondered?
A gift that would have sent her spirits soaring, he withheld from her.
Suddenly some tears began to fall from the soft eyes of the hardened man. His grandson quickly asked, 'Grandpa, what's wrong?'
'Oh, it's nothing Timmy', he looked away and said.
'I just got to thinking about some things and realized that I need to do something that I should have done for your mom years ago'. With those words he walked over to the bike, dusted it off and said, 'What do you think champ? Can you ride it?'
The boys face lit up and he shouted, 'you bet I can!' 'Well', the man said, 'it's yours'. And with that, the boy grabbed the bike and took off down the long, winding driveway. It was the first time the man had given anything of note to his daughter or grandson.
After that, the man began to change. He began contacting his daughter and spent time with her and Timmy. He took his wife sailing, went on motorcycle trips with his friends and spent 3 straight weekends cleaning out his garage and gave much of it away to those in need. Soon, he would begin building that greenhouse for his wife.
One day his wife asked him, 'Honey, I've got to know. What has gotten into you recently; you seem so much happier?' He just smiled at her and said that it was something Timmy had said to him and that he no longer wanted to 'put things away'; not just material things, but emotional things as well. For he not only dusted off a bike to give to his grandson, but his hard heart got cleansed as well, and that he would share with everyone.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Time is short and your 30 years are here.... how should you spend them then? Jesus has told us not to store treasures here on earth. He made it clear what he thought about 'put-away things'. It's the things we give and do for our families and others that have more value than anything we could possibly buy or store up for ourselves. Maybe it's time not for a garage sale, but a garage cleansing.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Trust and Obey
(Written while Konnie's dad, Frank, lived with us from 2001-2004)
For 3 years (or more) Konnie and I have been helping her dad. He has Alzheimer's and without typing out a 4 page email detailing all the highs and lows of the situation, let's just say that right now it's very, very bad. One month ago we began the process of trying to get Frank, her dad, situated in a Nursing Home in Dodge City. The DAY BEFORE he was to be admitted we received a call from them saying, 'sorry, he's too severe for us'. Nice. He's not too severe for us, but he is for a professional facility. Frank had been slowly declining for the last 3 years, but from the end of June to now, he fell off the cliff. There are 9 stages to this disease and he is in or near the last one: no memory of Konnie or Karen, paranoia, hallucinations... he described it as not knowing whether or not he is sleeping or dreaming. For several days he would follow us around and whisper that 'we all need to get out of here... we're going to die'. He felt people from the past were coming after us and that there were other people living in the house. The point I which I said 'no more' was when the threats starting coming from him in the words of 'well maybe I'll kill all of us'. Scary stuff, considering we have 2 small boys. .
I'm not trying to paint a horror picture here, but just to say that things are stressful and a bit tense now that Frank is back in the house. This whole experience hasn't been about money (as was the Pratt rumor for the first year) or that we love living in Pratt. It has been about helping Frank. Other than a roof over his head and supervision, he's beyond our help. We have also been trying to sell our houses here and consider the possibility of moving closer to where I work, Wichita. That has it's own stresses as well.
I'm convinced that this disease is evil.... the devils last chance to bring back all our fears and pains from the past and taunt us with it; taking away all the good memories from a good life. He's that sort of Evil that would do such a thing. But one of the most touching moments I've had with Frank was the last time we took him to Haviland Friends. It was just prior to this 'falling off the cliff' week. We were singing hymns and Frank was lost and wasn't sure what we were doing. I would hold up the Hymnal but he no longer reads and didn't know what to do or say. Then we starting singing 'Trust and Obey'.... Frank wasn't sure of the verses and looked a bit frazzled. But when we got to the chorus, without missing a beat, he starting singing as if he was wanting to make a statement:
'Trust and Obey. For there's no other way, to be happy in Jesus, than to trust and obey.'
It shook me. No matter what cruelties his mind was enforcing on him, no matter the confusion, the loss, no matter the rough days that lay ahead a seed from the past was still in place. The seed of that song that he had probably been singing for years was still there in his mind, but more importantly in his heart. NO MATTER what comes from this horrible storm, we will and we must 'Trust and Obey'. There comes that point for all of us. If we haven't faced it yet, we will. When sense cannot be made from what is happening, when God himself cannot be heard because of the confusion, we will still Trust Him. I hope I have learned much from this man who has forgotten almost everything. If not, then it is I that is truly in need of help. We aren't asking for a miracle cure, we are just hoping that those small seeds that are still there stay there and bring Frank whatever comfort possible.
Geoff
For 3 years (or more) Konnie and I have been helping her dad. He has Alzheimer's and without typing out a 4 page email detailing all the highs and lows of the situation, let's just say that right now it's very, very bad. One month ago we began the process of trying to get Frank, her dad, situated in a Nursing Home in Dodge City. The DAY BEFORE he was to be admitted we received a call from them saying, 'sorry, he's too severe for us'. Nice. He's not too severe for us, but he is for a professional facility. Frank had been slowly declining for the last 3 years, but from the end of June to now, he fell off the cliff. There are 9 stages to this disease and he is in or near the last one: no memory of Konnie or Karen, paranoia, hallucinations... he described it as not knowing whether or not he is sleeping or dreaming. For several days he would follow us around and whisper that 'we all need to get out of here... we're going to die'. He felt people from the past were coming after us and that there were other people living in the house. The point I which I said 'no more' was when the threats starting coming from him in the words of 'well maybe I'll kill all of us'. Scary stuff, considering we have 2 small boys. .
I'm not trying to paint a horror picture here, but just to say that things are stressful and a bit tense now that Frank is back in the house. This whole experience hasn't been about money (as was the Pratt rumor for the first year) or that we love living in Pratt. It has been about helping Frank. Other than a roof over his head and supervision, he's beyond our help. We have also been trying to sell our houses here and consider the possibility of moving closer to where I work, Wichita. That has it's own stresses as well.
I'm convinced that this disease is evil.... the devils last chance to bring back all our fears and pains from the past and taunt us with it; taking away all the good memories from a good life. He's that sort of Evil that would do such a thing. But one of the most touching moments I've had with Frank was the last time we took him to Haviland Friends. It was just prior to this 'falling off the cliff' week. We were singing hymns and Frank was lost and wasn't sure what we were doing. I would hold up the Hymnal but he no longer reads and didn't know what to do or say. Then we starting singing 'Trust and Obey'.... Frank wasn't sure of the verses and looked a bit frazzled. But when we got to the chorus, without missing a beat, he starting singing as if he was wanting to make a statement:
'Trust and Obey. For there's no other way, to be happy in Jesus, than to trust and obey.'
It shook me. No matter what cruelties his mind was enforcing on him, no matter the confusion, the loss, no matter the rough days that lay ahead a seed from the past was still in place. The seed of that song that he had probably been singing for years was still there in his mind, but more importantly in his heart. NO MATTER what comes from this horrible storm, we will and we must 'Trust and Obey'. There comes that point for all of us. If we haven't faced it yet, we will. When sense cannot be made from what is happening, when God himself cannot be heard because of the confusion, we will still Trust Him. I hope I have learned much from this man who has forgotten almost everything. If not, then it is I that is truly in need of help. We aren't asking for a miracle cure, we are just hoping that those small seeds that are still there stay there and bring Frank whatever comfort possible.
Geoff
Bliss
2002
CS Lewis said of 'Romantic Love':
"Love as distinct from 'being in love' is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian Marriage) the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God. They can have this love for each other at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allowed themselves, be 'in love' with someone else. 'Being in love' first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. it is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it."
He adds about 'the fall':
"A young man meets a girl. The whole world looks different when he sees her. Her voice reminds him of something he has been trying to remember all his life, and ten minutes' casual chat with her is more precious than all the favors that all the other women in the world could grant. He is, as they say, 'in love'.
Ever been there?
Such is my marriage. There was great passion at the start; one that still exists. But through the day to day activities and stresses of life, there is a quiet love that keeps Konnie and I close. One of the things that, sometimes quietly and sometimes not so quietly, keeps us 'in love' is our son Kaden. This brings me to my point of 'bliss'. The other night, I found my bliss: though I didn't know it was gone.
Our whole family has been struggling with various illnesses this early winter. On this particular night no one was feeling well; Kaden was coughing, I could barely talk and Konnie was ill just trying to keep us boys going. We generally don't keep 'normal hours' in our house. My job with the Railroad has never allowed for much of a schedule when it comes to bedtime. We are currently living with a 'family bed' arrangement, which we love. This means, we all sleep together. This night we all were laying in bed and it was about 2:00am. Konnie had lit some candles earlier that night and they were burning, giving us our only light. Kaden had been struggling to go to sleep. We were both wore out and drifting off, trying to help little Kaden get comfortable. Finally Kaden's medicine kicked in and we both noticed that he had fallen asleep. As our eyes began to drop for the night, the candlelight allowed us to gaze at one another for just a brief moment. We both looked at this wonderful gift from heaven, our son, then we looked at each other and smiled. It was at that moment that I found my bliss. The two people that I love the most on this earth, were lying next to me drifting off to dream wonderful dreams.
It is for this reason why I got married and wanted kids. It is moments like this that make low paychecks seem like not such a big deal. It's at times like these that I realize life is so good and I should be so grateful to God for all that I have. It is my bliss. What's yours? Find it if you don't know. It's probably right in front of you......
The Passion
So here I am. I'm a month removed from having seen 'The Passion of the Christ". I was tempted to write my feelings about the movie and my experience watching the movie soon after, but I wanted to try something. I wanted to see if the effects of the movie would last. Initially I was blown away with emotion after viewing the film by Mel Gibson. I have never had such a 'real, in your face' experience with my faith. For.... well forever I hadn't really understood what Jesus had gone through for me. SOunds funny coming from a preachers kid and former preacher, but I never really 'got it'. Seeing the look in His eyes (even though it was just a portrayal) was something that shook me to my very core. I don't want this to be a movie review so I'll just leave it with this point; it was more than a movie, it was an experience.
If I had reacted right then, I would have quit my job, sold our house and went back into the ministry. I had a strong feeling of 'what really matters' in life and the feeling that I do a lot of things that don't matter.... like build trains. I know of the gifts I've been given in ministry, but also the stumbling blocks that I keep near me that hamper ministry. I wanted to know longer care about sports..... I mean really, the death of Jesus or the end of a UNC season: which one matters? But the feelings that I experienced were ones that I didn't want to be 'fake' or tossed aside at the first sign of trouble. Could I really change the person I've become and recreate myself spiritually? O:-)
The first week was great. I was a better husband and father than I have been for a long time. I was patient and full of kind words and encouragement's. At work, I tried not to just be 'another railroader' but really tried to uplift people and visibly be seen reading my Bible or talking about the movie. No longer did I want to 'fear' what people would think of me and my faith. Most of that coming from the fact that I have never wanted to make Jesus look stupid. I know that sounds silly, but I've always been afraid to be very vocal about my faith for fear that people would think the faith wasn't valid because I'm not always on my best behavior. But I wanted it to be different from now on. Then the second week, not so good. The third week, a little worse. It's like everything with me, it became difficult to keep my eyes off myself. I mean Jesus is great but I got me to worry about, right? That's the sideways mindset of it all.
To make this post short let's just get to where I am now. Well, I either need to see 'The Passion..." again or I need to just get off the boat. I'm not a bad person but put me in front of a TV watching a Carolina game and I'm the person most pastor's are trying to save. :-) It's ridiculous the value I have always placed on whether or not my team wins or loses. It's growing up in the psycho basketball area of North Carolina that did this to me. People there are just mental about it and I'm one of them. I used to cry myself to sleep when UNC would lose..... and that was just 3 years ago. :'( I've become impatient with my beloved wife. She's supposed to be so perfect in every area when I'm such a louse in every area. I'm back to getting annoyed at work, being bitter over where I live, wishing I had more money, wishing I had more wife time, wanting this, hating that, yelling at politicians, etc. And it's only been a month. What's that say about me? Well, I have a lot of work to do.
But here's the deal about my 'Passion' experience. Normally, I would just morph into my 'old skins' and just be who I am and quit worrying about it. My line has always been, 'well, it's just easier being myself'. That is so not true. The difference now is, I have images of a dying, beaten, bloody Jesus looking at me everytime I think I want to quit. I have the vision of a battered Jesus rising up to take more of a beating when he could have just stayed down and 'played dead'. I have the sight of a weeping Peter denying his Lord and the vision of Judas hanging from a tree after betraying His God. Things need to change. Tomorrow I take a symbolic step: all things UNC go in the trash. Not because they lost tonight, but because a part of me dies with them and it's just silly. There are things I allow in my life that I know aren't healthy and sports is a major one. I believe sports is a great learning tool and educational tool for things like focus, teamwork and carrying yourself with class whether you win or lose. But caring so much about the actions of 17-21 year olds is something that I can't handle and beats me up spiritually so I need to do this to 'clean the closet' so to speak. It's not that sports are bad, they're just bad for bad people. And I'm a bad person when it comes to watching sports. It's also a matter of what kind of 'sports father' will I be for my sons. God help me if I ever melt down at their games the way I do UNC or Carolina Panthers game. It's not acceptable. I use to laugh when the baby would start crying while I yelled at the TV, then I realized just how sick it was that I was 'ok' with that.
Ministry? Who knows. My wife says that I should be ok with teaching Sunday School or something like that, but I told her that that's like asking her to fulfill her need for art by coloring in a coloring book. It's not to diminish sunday school, but just to say that I crave for more. But I think I've been missing the point and tonight I furthered that point along by once again watching my family retreat to 'no basketball zones' in our house to be spared injury from flying pillows and remote controls. Hey, those pillows are big ones so it's not a laughing matter. I think of what Christ wants of me on this 'Large' scale and right now I think He wishes for me to start a little more.... well, near home.
It's like I would walk up to Jesus and say,
'Wow, I can't believe you did that for me.'
Jesus says, 'It was why I came here.... for you'.
I would say, 'Yeah, I guess so, but you really didn't have to do that.'
He says, 'Oh yes I did.'
I say, ' Well, that should have been me and I can't help but think there's something that I need to do...you know to repay you or something'.
Jesus says, 'Well, I guess there are some things you could do'.
'What are they?' I eagerly ask hoping it's something like sweep the floor or fold the laundry; something tasking yet, not really requiring much of me (See Rich Young Ruler).
Jesus gazes at me, then looks past me to the TV and says, 'well, you could shut that off to start with'.
I look nervous and confused and say, 'That? Why start with shutting the TV off?' (It's right in the middle of a UNC-Duke game.)
Jesus smiles and says, "So when you are watching these games.... they are games right?..... are you ever thinking of Me and My love for you and the sacrifice I made for you and that so many people living right near you don't even know Me? And would you be in any position to tell them about Me assuming the game doesn't go your way? And what of your sons? Should they really have to go into another room of the house because the game..... I still think it's funny they call it a game...... didn't turn out the way you wanted? You really think that I care about scores and stats? Do you really think I care about whether or not 'your team' does well? What I care about is people. I care about you, your wife, your sons and I worry that they aren't getting what they need spiritually because, again, the game didn't go your way. You keep worrying about this great ministry that you think I'm calling you to and maybe I am.... but what of the ministry in your own home? If your sons don't see Me in you, why do you care if anyone else does? Remember to whom much is given, much is expected and Geoff let's be honest, you were given plenty. What are you doing with it? What are you doing with your time here on earth? Do you not know that I love you regardless of where you live, what you do for a job, how nice your computer is, how current your car is... or what team you pull for? So, again I say, let's start with shutting that off and quit scaring the children.' He finishes me off with 'that look' and a cool little smile to go along with it.
I don't know how we go about 'changing' who we've always been. Frankly, I've never bothered much about doing such a thing. It's a like a New Year's resolution.... are they still around in February? It's just easier being who we are isn't it? Maybe, but is it ok to .... be 'ok' with that? After realizing what is at stake and why we are here, do the 'games' lose their importance a bit? I hope I turn out differently eventually. I want that , but am I willing to take my own 'beating' to get there? We'll see..... nice to know though that I do have one really BIG FAN, and he's behind me.... and infront and by each side of me. He's won the war and is trying to get me through the battle. Now that may be a game worth caring about.
Geoff, the former psychotic UNC fan?.... who knows?
Update:
march 2005
My faith is important me again and growing so. Not sure if ministry is in my future again, but I'm thinking...
I still watch too many UNC games and watching them vs. Duke is a very unhealthy thing.
If I had reacted right then, I would have quit my job, sold our house and went back into the ministry. I had a strong feeling of 'what really matters' in life and the feeling that I do a lot of things that don't matter.... like build trains. I know of the gifts I've been given in ministry, but also the stumbling blocks that I keep near me that hamper ministry. I wanted to know longer care about sports..... I mean really, the death of Jesus or the end of a UNC season: which one matters? But the feelings that I experienced were ones that I didn't want to be 'fake' or tossed aside at the first sign of trouble. Could I really change the person I've become and recreate myself spiritually? O:-)
The first week was great. I was a better husband and father than I have been for a long time. I was patient and full of kind words and encouragement's. At work, I tried not to just be 'another railroader' but really tried to uplift people and visibly be seen reading my Bible or talking about the movie. No longer did I want to 'fear' what people would think of me and my faith. Most of that coming from the fact that I have never wanted to make Jesus look stupid. I know that sounds silly, but I've always been afraid to be very vocal about my faith for fear that people would think the faith wasn't valid because I'm not always on my best behavior. But I wanted it to be different from now on. Then the second week, not so good. The third week, a little worse. It's like everything with me, it became difficult to keep my eyes off myself. I mean Jesus is great but I got me to worry about, right? That's the sideways mindset of it all.
To make this post short let's just get to where I am now. Well, I either need to see 'The Passion..." again or I need to just get off the boat. I'm not a bad person but put me in front of a TV watching a Carolina game and I'm the person most pastor's are trying to save. :-) It's ridiculous the value I have always placed on whether or not my team wins or loses. It's growing up in the psycho basketball area of North Carolina that did this to me. People there are just mental about it and I'm one of them. I used to cry myself to sleep when UNC would lose..... and that was just 3 years ago. :'( I've become impatient with my beloved wife. She's supposed to be so perfect in every area when I'm such a louse in every area. I'm back to getting annoyed at work, being bitter over where I live, wishing I had more money, wishing I had more wife time, wanting this, hating that, yelling at politicians, etc. And it's only been a month. What's that say about me? Well, I have a lot of work to do.
But here's the deal about my 'Passion' experience. Normally, I would just morph into my 'old skins' and just be who I am and quit worrying about it. My line has always been, 'well, it's just easier being myself'. That is so not true. The difference now is, I have images of a dying, beaten, bloody Jesus looking at me everytime I think I want to quit. I have the vision of a battered Jesus rising up to take more of a beating when he could have just stayed down and 'played dead'. I have the sight of a weeping Peter denying his Lord and the vision of Judas hanging from a tree after betraying His God. Things need to change. Tomorrow I take a symbolic step: all things UNC go in the trash. Not because they lost tonight, but because a part of me dies with them and it's just silly. There are things I allow in my life that I know aren't healthy and sports is a major one. I believe sports is a great learning tool and educational tool for things like focus, teamwork and carrying yourself with class whether you win or lose. But caring so much about the actions of 17-21 year olds is something that I can't handle and beats me up spiritually so I need to do this to 'clean the closet' so to speak. It's not that sports are bad, they're just bad for bad people. And I'm a bad person when it comes to watching sports. It's also a matter of what kind of 'sports father' will I be for my sons. God help me if I ever melt down at their games the way I do UNC or Carolina Panthers game. It's not acceptable. I use to laugh when the baby would start crying while I yelled at the TV, then I realized just how sick it was that I was 'ok' with that.
Ministry? Who knows. My wife says that I should be ok with teaching Sunday School or something like that, but I told her that that's like asking her to fulfill her need for art by coloring in a coloring book. It's not to diminish sunday school, but just to say that I crave for more. But I think I've been missing the point and tonight I furthered that point along by once again watching my family retreat to 'no basketball zones' in our house to be spared injury from flying pillows and remote controls. Hey, those pillows are big ones so it's not a laughing matter. I think of what Christ wants of me on this 'Large' scale and right now I think He wishes for me to start a little more.... well, near home.
It's like I would walk up to Jesus and say,
'Wow, I can't believe you did that for me.'
Jesus says, 'It was why I came here.... for you'.
I would say, 'Yeah, I guess so, but you really didn't have to do that.'
He says, 'Oh yes I did.'
I say, ' Well, that should have been me and I can't help but think there's something that I need to do...you know to repay you or something'.
Jesus says, 'Well, I guess there are some things you could do'.
'What are they?' I eagerly ask hoping it's something like sweep the floor or fold the laundry; something tasking yet, not really requiring much of me (See Rich Young Ruler).
Jesus gazes at me, then looks past me to the TV and says, 'well, you could shut that off to start with'.
I look nervous and confused and say, 'That? Why start with shutting the TV off?' (It's right in the middle of a UNC-Duke game.)
Jesus smiles and says, "So when you are watching these games.... they are games right?..... are you ever thinking of Me and My love for you and the sacrifice I made for you and that so many people living right near you don't even know Me? And would you be in any position to tell them about Me assuming the game doesn't go your way? And what of your sons? Should they really have to go into another room of the house because the game..... I still think it's funny they call it a game...... didn't turn out the way you wanted? You really think that I care about scores and stats? Do you really think I care about whether or not 'your team' does well? What I care about is people. I care about you, your wife, your sons and I worry that they aren't getting what they need spiritually because, again, the game didn't go your way. You keep worrying about this great ministry that you think I'm calling you to and maybe I am.... but what of the ministry in your own home? If your sons don't see Me in you, why do you care if anyone else does? Remember to whom much is given, much is expected and Geoff let's be honest, you were given plenty. What are you doing with it? What are you doing with your time here on earth? Do you not know that I love you regardless of where you live, what you do for a job, how nice your computer is, how current your car is... or what team you pull for? So, again I say, let's start with shutting that off and quit scaring the children.' He finishes me off with 'that look' and a cool little smile to go along with it.
I don't know how we go about 'changing' who we've always been. Frankly, I've never bothered much about doing such a thing. It's a like a New Year's resolution.... are they still around in February? It's just easier being who we are isn't it? Maybe, but is it ok to .... be 'ok' with that? After realizing what is at stake and why we are here, do the 'games' lose their importance a bit? I hope I turn out differently eventually. I want that , but am I willing to take my own 'beating' to get there? We'll see..... nice to know though that I do have one really BIG FAN, and he's behind me.... and infront and by each side of me. He's won the war and is trying to get me through the battle. Now that may be a game worth caring about.
Geoff, the former psychotic UNC fan?.... who knows?
Update:
march 2005
My faith is important me again and growing so. Not sure if ministry is in my future again, but I'm thinking...
I still watch too many UNC games and watching them vs. Duke is a very unhealthy thing.
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