Last Call

Billy Graham Tribute - I can only Imagine from Mike Blakemore on Vimeo.

I love this video. It was made in remembrance of Billy Graham, who just passed from us this week. I was heartbroken when I heard. Not really surprised, (he was 99 after all) just heartbroken.

But there is a tremendous message in this video. And it isn't simply about Billy. Billy, I am sure would like that. Rather it is about God and about a nation created by God who has always called on Him in signs of trouble.

Oh right, how do you get that from this video?" one may doubtfully ask.

Well, it is pretty clear. And honestly, while not trying to take anything away from this man whom I love, admire and respect so greatly, a message of America's love for God had an even greater impression on me from this short, moving tribute.

When Karl Rove (advisor to President G. W. Bush - 43) explains in the video what happened on 9/11 and what it took to get America's pastor to the memorial ceremony, it explains it all. Watch if you haven't already, you will be deeply moved. Because the truth behind it is America calls on God. America wants God in her life. America understands the need for a minister of God to be at our most important events and moments. America believes in the Christian God of the Bible and we want our pastor when we need him. As always, the Reverend Billy Graham answered the call. President GW made sure he was there. We are Americans. We are Christians. We are a Christian nation who knows we need the God of the Holy Bible in our lives...more importantly we want Him in our lives. There is a whole lot of symbolism in that lone jet flying through the sky to a destination in need.

For almost the full entirety of my Christian life, I had a secret thought. I rarely shared it - only with those I thought would understand. I think I will share it now. I always believed, in my naivety, that my mom, my dad and Billy Graham would be of the generation that never had to die a physical death - from Matthew 24:34. I thought we would all be raptured out of here before that happened. I thought I had Scripture to back that up. "This generation will not pass away".... The Spirit of Elijah being translated.... Whatever. Sometimes we misinterpret Scripture - to our demise. Maybe in truth, my crazy thought was really only about me, and my desire to not experience the pain of losing any of those I love. I don't know; losing my mom last year and Billy this week, obviously I was wrong.

Anyway, I have never known life without Billy Graham. My Grandma and Grandpa watched him and read his books. They loved him and encouraged me to watch him. My folks watched and loved him. They helped my siblings and I listen to his message. I attended one of his Crusades in the 1980's in the Tacoma Dome. My son was led to the Lord when he was 2 watching a Billy Graham Crusade on television. Really don't care what you say about that. I know it was real and so does he. I am not disputing that he had to come to a greater realization of sin and repentance as he grew up. In that moment, his salvation was real.

Anyway, Rev. Graham has always been in my life. I knew he wouldn't last forever, but I was heartbroken at his death. It went beyond him simply dying, because I knew his age, and where he was going....it's all good.
 

But where this went for me in my heartbreak was, I couldn't help but feel this is truly an end of an era. I don't think there will ever be another Billy Graham. Not in character, nor in faith, not in purpose. We are truly at the end of an era. Sadly, the public altar call has almost become a thing of the past.

The time Billy was here on earth could not have been more God orchestrated. There is no other time in history that he would have been able to reach the amount of people he reached. He came when the beginnings of his ministry could be captured on both television and radio. But stations were more limited at the beginning, keeping people more centrally focused. The age of printing and the number of books able to be merchandised world wide was never better. We are bombarded today - much of it with stuff that isn't good. He was trusted. There is too much uncertainty today. Air travel took him places around the world easily. Well you get the idea.

He was able to get his message out like no other time in history. If he had come any later, it would have been hindered by modern technology. And yes, I mean that. All the hundreds of television stations would have limited his audience, not increased it, because the public would be so divided in their watching. The social media, phones et al would have limited his message, because it would have to be a shorter message. And it would come without the personal touch required as well as the pause one needs to reach a heart. His message would be more easily distorted, maligned and made fun of. His influence diminished.

Truly the "time [was] now"! Just like Rev Graham always told us.

Honestly, I cannot get beyond feeling like this is the last call. Through his death, we are once again seeing the clips of his stadium sermons. Once again, the age old Gospel message is brought to our attention - which we have not heard in awhile. That is, at least in as great a format as we used to hear it. But we are hearing it again as we honor him in death. It is being repeated through the air waves. But I can't help but feel it is the last call. I am afraid it will be short-lived. The time is now.

I don't mean to sound negative. I'm sure there will be others that come after him. His son, Franklin, is doing a tremendous job. But it is different. We will never see the Gospel message brought to us with the impact and simplicity, nor the degree with which we received it from Billy Graham. It truly is the end of an era.

Last call. The time is now. Just in case....you come.

 

Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

The other day a friend on Facebook posted a "vent" about the way people respond to her beloved fairly new pup - a Pit-Bull. It wasn't really venting, more of just a lament. She was discouraged by the way people respond when she and her husband are out with their dog. People seem nervous, give dirty looks, pull their children in closer, or they move to the other side of the street - that type of thing. People tend to distrust Pits, I guess.

I found it interesting, because just a day or two before I saw that post, I had a similar situation happen to me. Well actually it was the opposite of her situation. I am not criticizing her for feeling the way she feels, just offering another perspective.

I had taken my dad, who is 92, into his barber for a haircut. As we entered the shop, a good sized dog, though obviously still an untrained "pup", greeted us. The dog ran out the door as I opened it, then back in and around our legs, like happy dogs will do. As I got him back inside, it was obvious the owner, a woman barber there, had no control over this animal. As we moved to a chair, I worried my dad would be tripped or knocked down. Sure enough, just as he was about to get to his chair, the dog jumped up on my dad, destabilizing him just a bit. Fortunately I was hanging on to Daddy by this point. I got my dad safely in his seat, and the owner of the dog (the lady barber) apologized for what had happened. So did my dad's barber. I appreciated them both for that.

Conversation continued, and while the Pit kept making his presence known and interrupting conversation, the owner finally had her daughter take the dog to another room. I knew the owner felt bad. So I tried to say something to make her feel better.

Well, being the social idiot that I am, I usually mess up on things like that. "Is he an English Bull Dog, or a Pit Bull?" I innocently asked. Someone I love had an English Bull Dog of the same coloring - white. He had just lost this dog whom he loved dearly and he was on my mind. Further, I had always known full-bred Pits to be brindle, so I really didn't think this dog was a Pit. I don't know everything. I don't think a lot of Pit Bulls even look like Pit Bulls anymore and a lot of people probably wouldn't know one if they ever saw one anyway.

"He's a Pitbull and he is still a pup," was the owner's quick response. "They aren't like everyone thinks," she said defensively. And then a customer in the other barber chair chimed in. "It depends on how they are raised and on their owner," again it was said in a slightly defensive manner.

"Dad actually likes dogs, it's ok."  I told her and everyone else in the shop, trying to make light of what had happened and to let them know we weren't anti-pit. Now, it was probably me that sounded a bit defensive. Good grief. But I also felt the need to explain...as I usually do. I don't like to be misunderstood. NO, it's more than that. I try to avoid it at all costs, probably many times to my detriment. OK, let me say it this way: I HATE to be misunderstood and painted in a different light than who I am, or how I really feel.

I continued my defense, "I'm sure he is fine. It's just that my mom broke her hip by tripping over my Beagle, so I am a little extra cautious when elderly are around any animal. They are fragile and not always real stable on their feet." Anyway, I politely said something to that effect, just to explain reality, as well as let them know the truth about our feelings.

BUT, I do not intend to discuss the yays and nays of Pit Bulls. I really don't know that much about them and I really don't care to know more than I do. I will never have one. They aren't my breed of choice and that is OK. I do have what I think is an interesting side-note. One of my best friend's husband, (then boyfriend) was the first one to ever bring a Pit Bull into our area. He had two, they were brindle. I think that used to be the norm. I know they have been bred for fighting...so fighting is in them, by the very nature of breeding...just like hunting was bred into my Beagle. He comes from a long line of Rabbit Trackers. He has a nose that just won't quit. That is a part of his genes. That part of him works first. I think that is probably the case for SOME Pits in regard to fighting. (And as a side note, if I ever knew someone was using a dog for fighting, I would turn them in, in a heart beat. Don't let me be misunderstood.)

Regardless, I am sure it is possible coloring has been changed and bred out of some lines of Pit Bulls. I guess they aren't all brindle anymore; maybe they never were. Like I said, I don't know the breed that well. And I'm sure there are lines where the fighting has been bred out of this dog, as well. I am quite sure there are gentle Pit Bulls...especially if they are not pure bred dogs, like so many are these days...and if they come from a line not bred as fighters. So there. That is only what I think. That should be OK.

But that isn't my point. My point is, because of past experiences, or "word on the street", common thought, or whatever, our views can be distorted just like anyone else's. The people in the barber shop that day thought I was afraid of Pit Bulls. They made an assumption about me based entirely on the notoriety the breed has received. They were wrong. But most everyone present let me know it was so - that I am afraid of Pit Bulls and that I thought the dog shouldn't have been there. Well they were right on one point. I don't think he should have been there. But it wasn't due to his breed, it was due to the fact that his owner couldn't handle him. I didn't even know whether the dog was a Pitbull or an English Bull Dog. He had the coloring of the Bull dog, so that was my first guess. My fear was that regardless of the breed, that in the dog's exuberance it would knock over my dad and hurt him. I would have had the same concern, if it was a Chihuahua running in and out of his feet. What is right is, until she learned better control of her dog, he probably should not have been there. At least one person acknowledged that fact after she left. "That dog is entirely too much for her," one gentleman observed. Bingo.

So I will leave the subject of dogs, but let me give one more example to get to the point that I would like to make. One example triggered the other memory, and I think it's important. Several years ago, I was teaching Sunday School at a church different than the one I attend now. As is the case with most churches, it was this church's policy to make sure the same person pick up the child that was the one to drop off the child - this, for the child's safety. It was a small church, so they probably weren't as strict as some churches; nor did they have the fancy numbers, or wrist bracelets for identification. Nonetheless, we tried to be careful at this little church.                             

I remember one time, a grandma dropped off her child to me at the beginning of the service. I don't remember if the child was male or female, and I don't remember if the grandma was black or white, or anything about her. What I do remember is the grandma didn't come back to pick up the grandchild; the mama did. The mama was one color, the child was another. (Is it OK to say it that way?) I don't remember which was which. When she came in to say she was there for her child, I looked a bit confused. You know that socially awkwardness I often exhibit, that I wrote about earlier. Well, she immediately thought my confusion was due to the difference in the color of their skin, and she was obviously irritated with me about it. She let me know of her dissatisfaction with my reaction, and she let me know without much understanding. I wasn't as tired and cynical back then as I am now, or I probably would have set her straight right then and there; explaining exactly what I was thinking and letting her know how wrong her thinking was. But I didn't. I just politely told her, that I just wanted to be sure of the child's safety and that I was following the policy of the church that the person that drops off the child must be the one to pick up the child.

In a larger church, I probably would have been fired, because I let this woman take the child without questioning her further. It didn't matter the child knew her. Parental kidnapping happens all the time, which is the reason for most churches' strict policies. So there. I don't do nurseries or Sunday School anymore...much too cynical for that or too old, or socially awkward or whatever...however you want to look at it. But anyway, the point here, is not the color of anyone's skin, or difference in skin. The point is once again, this woman assumed something about me that was simply not true. She assumed my reaction was due to her real or perceived experiences that may have been similar to what she now thought. Maybe it was only due to all the usual talk of racism, discrimination, political correctness, or a real or imagined offense. Who knows? I sure don't. I just didn't like someone thinking the wrong thing about me and then lecturing me for it.

So now to the point I actually do want to make. I simply wish we could get to the place where we are all not so easily offended. I wish we more often would give others the benefit of the doubt, before assuming the worst. I wish we could more easily see the best in someone rather than the worst. And I wish it was always OK to speak the truth.

As well, on the other hand, I also wish it was OK to make judgment calls for ones own life. If someone doesn't want to be around Pit Bulls, that should be ok. This could be a case of walking circumspectly for someone; or erring on the side of caution. What's wrong with that? Pit Bulls DO have a reputation. We don't have to LOVE Pit Bulls. That isn't required of us. We won't get away so easily, however, with not loving angry mamas. We need to love them. But is it ever OK to correct them? Is it ever OK to stand up for oneself when someone believes the wrong thing about you? Political Correctness in today's age would have us believe it is not. Christianity is headed that same route. Don't offend. Ssshhhhh...don't try to explain. Silence is becoming the norm. Just accept everyone and everything. Those who try to speak up are frowned upon these days and often badgered into silence.

Many people would simply rather be offended. Just let them, I guess. That shouldn't be OK, I don't think. We should want better. I do understand there are times for silence....for biting the tongue. There is Scripture to back that. I just notice the older I get, the harder it is. Shouldn't it be the opposite? There is also Scripture that says we should speak the truth.

SO! The truth is I really love mamas and babies and Pit Bulls and Chihuahuas. To love mamas and babies is commanded, but I will never have either of those breeds. That should be OK. Just don't be mad at me for thinking you know what I am thinking. And please just don't let me be misunderstood.

New Years Resolutions

I typically don't do New Year's Resolutions. In the past, for as long as I can remember, I asked God to give me a word for the New Year. It would be something that I should focus on throughout the year.

This year, I decided I would continue with that, but that it also might be time to give the whole New Year Resolution thing a try. But I can't seem to choose just one thing on which to focus. Once I  started thinking about it, I found there were several things that I wanted to work on and accomplish. That was always true in years past, as well.

I realized in other areas of my life, I  have always made lists. Well, I have made lists in these later years, at least. They help me remember what needs to be done, yes. But they also help me feel a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. I like that "checked off" feeling, so it inspires me to do everything on the list. In fact, I cannot rest until everything on the list is done. Some of that perfection stuff, or Monk stuff...or maybe just plain crazy stuff that resides within me. Anyway, I have to get it done. Soooo, I decided I would make a list and call it "New Year's Resolutions" and see if I can accomplish any of it this year...this month...this week? How far will I go?   

It all seems forever away, but we know how fast a year can go. Maybe I will add some things to this list, if I think of anything else. But this is it for now. And actually, I doubt I can even fit it all in, this year, when I think of all this entails.

• Lose Weight - get back to the weight I was at the kids' wedding.
• Spoil my animals, while I still have them.
• Clean and organize computers
• Organize all photos
• Organize books
• Clean out back room of house
• Clean out Folks' storage
• Organize Items that are not mine, but that I am in possession of.
• Pray more
• Study more
• Ride More
• Pause more
• Read more
• Write more
• Scrapbook
• Photography -  maybe a new camera
• Work more in yard, garden and barn
• Make a She-shed in barn. Spend more time there.
• Organize the memory items I have kept of Matt's. In short, organize everything!
• Throw out...minimize...make room for life.
• Be kinder, gentler, slower.

I found myself already beginning the organizing stuff. New Years Eve day, I was already going through a few items that have been carelessly stored for months now. Organizing is really on my heart, in fact I woke up to that word this morning. I hope I can do it. I have a hard time throwing things out.

Diet starts today, because I cheated on New Years Eve and the day before, knowing the end was near.

(Side Note: I wrote this January 2nd, but didn't get it posted until today. So far, in the weight category, I have gone up and down, up and down with 3 - 4 pounds.)

So there it is. Let's see how far I get with any of it. - ORGANIZE!

 

 

You Ole Crook!

Mama -  I was so thankful for a day at home and a chance while working at menial jobs to think about my mom. Well if you can call shoveling out two automobiles from several feet of snow, menial. But a multitude of memories came to mind throughout the day.

When my work was done and I finally had a moment to sit before the fire with a cup of coffee, I reached for the recent Decision magazine that had just come. But instead the little matchbox holder on my fireplace caught my eye. I  looked at the worn red holder and couldn't help but reflect once again. I had decided to keep this little container for my own when I moved my folks out of their home. It was old fashioned and now rare; one that my dad had in the basement, work room of our home with the wood stove. I knew where he had gotten it; it was my Grandpa P's and I am pretty sure it was hanging in Grandpa's wood shed for as long as I remember...all the years of my childhood.

That led to more thoughts of my mom. Yep, I knew why this was happening throughout the day. She had been on my mind when things were finally a bit slow for me....well not so much slow, (shoveling snow, you know) but free to do my own work at home rather than something for someone else. Oh wait! They aren't my automobiles. ;-) But you know what I mean. Being outside and working on my own, (and truthfully, releasing some anger) finally gave my mind time to unwind and to think, to process and to remember. And those thoughts were to continue at rest as well.

But now, I want to write about some of these memories - not really for anyone, but myself. Some day, if I were ever to forget, I can look back and remember. The memory will be written down. I think that's ok. For those reading, I suppose I use my blog, too much as a journal. Anyway, I digress.

Something I have thought about writing about in a blog post for some time is the hanger on my dishwasher. My mom made it for me, several years ago so that I could know whether my dishes were clean or dirty in my dishwasher. It says "Clean" on one side and "Dirty" on the other. It is so cute!! But my mom felt bad when I got a new dishwasher and there was no longer a place to hang it. Later, she bought me a little magnetic hook. It sounds silly, but at the time, I didn't know what the hook was for. It was a busy time, I suppose, and I never made the connection. Mama was so pleased when she gave it to me, just assuming I would know the purpose. I thanked her for it, but I really never understood. It wasn't until shortly after she passed away that I looked at that little hook that I had placed on my refrigerator and it hit me like a ton of bricks. That hook was for my "Clean/Dirty" sign!!! How could I not know that!! Oh Mama, I am so sorry! I probably didn't thank you properly either! In that moment, I moved the hook to my dishwasher and quickly placed the little "Clean/Dirty" sign on it!

As you can see in the photo, it works perfectly! I hung the "Clean" side for this photo. Mama would like that better. ;-) And truthfully, as bad as I feel about not understanding, I think my mama would be getting a good laugh at me finally realizing what it was for. And that makes me smile.

Another treasured memory is my knitted green slippers that covered my feet as I sat in front of the fire. For years Mom would make me slippers, whenever I let her know I needed a new pair. They were a treasure for me then!! I loved her slippers best. But when we moved to our new home, (well over a decade ago, now) the carpet was much worse for wear and tear on my slippers than at our other home. So I wore through them faster, but she was always ready to make me a new pair. This pair of slippers she kept for me at her home so there would be something for me to put on while I worked there or had to spend the night there. She kept them just for me...

"Don't let anyone else wear them, ok, Mom?" I had asked when I told her I wanted to leave them there at her house. Whenever I would arrive, she would say, "Do you want your slippers?" And she would go fetch them from her closet where they were placed away just for me. She wanted me to know, no one else had worn them. That was my mama. Wanting to please her kids and do for us whenever she could and however we liked. I don't wear my slippers all the time anymore. I want them to last as long as possible. This is the last pair I have that she made that remain without holes.

So there...there are a few of the types of memories working through my thoughts as I worked today, but also as I sat down to rest.

So like I said, as I got comfortable in my chair to read, my mama popped back into my mind - the matchbox holder, the catalyst this time. As my heart grew heavy again, I realized at moments like these, I need to start thinking of her in Heaven instead of reliving all these memories that make me so sad. Now I think those memories are good for me too, at times. But sometimes it is time to think of something to alleviate the grief.

Picture her in Heaven. It was like God spoke this to my heart. And so I did...and my first thought was of how happy she must have been seeing her folks again. I immediately pictured her with them. How she loved her dad! I was reminded of the special relationship they had. They would be playfully bantering with each other, now together again, I thought. And I pictured my grandpa sitting in his big easy chair, gently tapping the leather arm with his fingers, rolling them from his little finger to his index finger. He sat with a content smile on his face. Then all of a sudden in ran my mama, pretty and vibrant and young.

"Well, you ole crook!" She verbally jostled with him while laughing from deep within.

And right then, I knew this was a moment sent by God to comfort me. I hadn't thought of that phrase in years. In fact, I am sure I had forgotten all about it. It was what my grandpa would say to people as a greeting. And people who knew him, said it back to him as well. Well, especially my mama. It was their way of affection in greeting each other.

Now if anyone has read this far, don't misunderstand. I am not advocating being able to see into Heaven, or any communication from the dead, or anything weird like that. I simply think this was a gentle reminder from God, that everything is ok. And yes, God does that. My mama is good. She is in Heaven, with Jesus and with people she loves. The phrase simply made it real for me. It let me know this was a caring word from God.

I started to cry. Grateful for the memory, grateful for a time to reflect; grateful for healing tears, and most of all grateful for the assurance that my mama is doing far better than what I focus on here - that she is gone from my presence. She is that - gone. But she is far better. She is with Jesus and also with that man she lovingly called an "ole crook". And that makes me smile...through tears, but I smile.