Caustic Compassion

“Supporting laziness or destructive behavior is irresponsible; not a loving act." ~ Rev. Ron Sider

For the 12^th year in a row, Pastor Fowler celebrated Christmas Eve by participating in his church’s Adopt-a-Family gift giving program.

They arrived on time at the chosen inner-city home.  Bare floors had been swept clean, and clutter organized.  A small artificial tree on a corner table blinked with a single strand of colored lights.  Excited children on tiptoes, eyes wide with anticipation, stared over the window’s edge for their first glimpses of Santa’s helpers.

Upon their arrival, Mom greeted the Pastor Fowler and his volunteers, inviting them to come inside.  Her stomach shifted uneasily as she politely accepted armfuls of neatly wrapped gifts.  No one noticed that Dad had quietly slipped out the back door … no one but Mom.

Not until the children had slashed through the wrappings to the treats inside did any of them ask where their Dad was. Mom explained that he’d gone to the store.

The clergyman suspected something he’d never noticed before.  Dad had been emasculated in his own home in front of his wife and children for not being able to provide presents for his own family.  His wife was forced to shield her babies from their father’s shame.  And the children got the message that the “good stuff” comes from rich people.  And it’s free!

Even something as innocent as giving Christmas toys to needy children, can extract an unintended toll on a parent’s dignity.  The Pastor realized that what was supposed to be a joyous process, had an unintended darker side.  The emotional price tag clung to him for weeks.

Everywhere he looked, he began to notice the same charitable patterns - from overseas mission trips to inner-city service projects.  Wherever there was sustained one-way giving, unwholesome dynamics and caustic pathologies festered under the cover of compassion.

There had to be a better way.

The following Christmas, Pastor Fowler terminated the church’s Adopt-a-Family gift giving.  Instead, congregants were asked to give an ‘extra’ gift that year – the gift of dignity to low income parents.

Instead of delivering toys directly to the homes of poor families, donors were encouraged to bring unwrapped gifts to an abandoned warehouse in the city.  There volunteers had decorated a section as “Santa’s (special) Toy Shop.”  Bargain prices were attached to each gift.

Parents from the neighborhood were invited to come shopping for gifts sure to excite their kids.  Those who had no money were able to work in the store, earning what they needed for their purchases.  In that way, parents experienced the same joy as parents across the world – seeing their kids open gifts on Christmas that they’d purchased through the efforts of their own hands.

Parents stated that they’d much rather work to purchase gifts for their children than stand in free-toy lines with their “Proof of Poverty” documents.

Jesus, You embody truth and love.  Help us to transform this world.  Help us to direct our generosity towards effective, uplifting and longer term solutions that liberate, energize, and empower for generations.  Amen

Missing Grandma

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." ~ Matthew 5:4

Holidays are tough when there’s an empty chair … and even emptier hearts.  This will be my first Thanksgiving without my Grandma; she died just weeks before my high school graduation.

It's never about the turkey for me, or the stuffing, or even the fresh-baked pies.  Don't get me wrong, I love all that stuff; Thanksgiving wouldn't be the same without it.  But a day that's all about thanking God for what we have (each other, our health and the food we eat), that’s magic!

Grandma's entire family grew up on a small farm in Iowa.  None of her 13 siblings (including her) were able to attend college, yet she lived a blessed life because “as long as you never stop learning, you’ll never stop growing."

When I walked in the house after our 10-hour trip from Michigan, she would enthusiastically greet me at the door with a hug that smelled of cinnamon and confirmed years of humility and sacrifice.  Memories flooded in faster than I could process.

I’ll not forget the gentle way she used to carry me when I wasn’t yet able to walk; the whiff of warm sugar cookies perfectly timed for my arrival; endless games of Old Maid played with time-worn cards; the sweet taste of her homemade strawberry preserves on buttered toast.

She always sat closest to the kitchen for Thanksgiving dinner, but only after every dish was carefully placed on the table.  This year, Mom rearranged where everyone sat hoping to make her absence less noticeable.  The prayer wasn’t even sad, but we all cried anyway.

If only I had one more day with Grandma, I’d start by thanking her for being born.  She started this crazy family and her legacy lives on.

I’d thank her for her ‘mastery’ in the kitchen.  We spent some memorable times together there.  Her cooking was the best.

I’d thank her for the examples she set.  The love she and Grandpa shared provided the perfect model of how a marriage should work.  The love she had for her three boys set a prime example of how to be a great Mom.  And finally, the love that she had for her grandkids showed us all why loving someone is so important.

If you're fortunate enough to have your grandmother in your life, you’re one of the lucky ones.  I've never in my life met a woman as special as mine.  I'm not sure if it's the way she gracefully handled any situation, or if it was her ability to love every family member regardless of their failings.  But there's something about that woman that makes me strive to be just like her.

Father, fill the empty space in our hearts and at our table.  Teach us to savor the moments we have with one another, to rightly remember what we’ve lost, but also to look forward in hope to what You’ve promised for the future.  Amen

Blind Faith

“Faith is the conviction of things not seen." ~ Hebrews 11:1

It’s a familiar story; a child who simply skipped adolescence.  She’d been dealt a crappy hand in a country of slaves - not to humans but to a life of poverty and hunger to which escape was nearly impossible.  Barely a teenager, she married a man more than 30 years older who forced her into prostitution to support their six children.

Adding to an already-desperate situation, her third child, a ‘preemie’ whose eyes had not yet fully matured, was born sightless.   She believed his blindness was God's payback for the things she’d done wrong in her life.

The child, who eventually changed his name to Eivets, grew up undeterred by the “3 strikes against him (black, blind and poor).”

He was a normal kid who occasionally got into trouble.  Normal except that he mastered every instrument he tried (from kitchen spoons, to the harmonica and later the piano).

His mother eventually fled to Detroit, divorced and found work.  They joined the Whitestone Baptist Church where young Eivets developed a personal relationship with God while expanding his musical talents.

God spoke to me, ‘I will make you rich in the spirit of inspiration, to inspire others as well as create music to encourage the world to a place of oneness, hope and positivity.’  “I believed Him and not them!” Eivets recounted.

There he blossomed into a genuine prodigy, learning piano, drums, and harmonica all by the age of nine.  Two years later, while performing for some of his friends, Eivets was discovered by Ronnie White of the Miracles who helped arrange an audition with Motown’s Berry Gordy.  Gordy signed the kid immediately under the new name Little Stevie Wonder.  (E-i-v-e-t-s backward).

The rest is history!

A near fatal accident in his early twenties strengthened Wonder’s Christian faith at a crucial time.  A log rolled off a truck and through the window of his tour bus, leaving him in a four-day coma and a permanent loss of smell.  “I was really just a walking pair of ears,” he joked.  “God kept me alive to use His musical gifts to help and encourage more people.”

For over 5 decades, Stevie Wonder remains at the top, with more than 30 Top 10 singles, over 150 million albums sold, 26 Grammys, one Academy Award, and sold-out shows around the world.  Sometimes though, the numbers don't tell the whole story.  He still works tirelessly to promote peace, love and understanding for all.  And gives all the credit where it’s due.

“We have a great relationship.  If He didn’t want me to sing, He wouldn’t have given me the talent to do it.  He’s always been like a Father to me.  For everything I’ve received [in life] I give all praise to God.”

Father God, I’ve achieved nothing compared to what You’ve done for me. I truly believe that You do miracles through people of faith expressing practical love for others rather than people of faith living lives which cause division and pain.” ~ Stevie Wonder

Guarding the Unknowns

“Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God."

They can’t be returned home to friends or loved ones.  No one knows for certain how, when or even ‘if’ they actually died.  Their remains are memorialized by a cube-shaped sarcophagus on a grassy hillside overlooking Arlington Cemetery; a solemn tribute to the soldiers who died in combat but whose remains aren’t identifiable.  They remain, perpetually, soldiers who not only gave up their lives for this country, but theie identities as well.

There’s perhaps no greater honor than to be selected as a Tomb Guard.  They’re the best of the army’s most elite 3^rd Infantry Regiment – superbly conditioned with unblemished military records.

If recommended, applicants complete an intense training period covering weapons, ceremonial procedures, cemetery entombments, uniform preparation, and military orders.

Tomb sentinels uphold a lofty standard.  They must commit two years of life guarding the tomb, live in a barracks under the tomb, and cannot drink any alcohol on or off duty for the rest of their lives.  They cannot swear in public and cannot disgrace the uniform or the tomb in any way.

The ‘Honor Guard’ is the Army’s least-awarded badge.  It’s the only one that can be revoked (even after they’ve retired) for any act that “disrespects” the Badge.   Only 400 are presently worn (4 by females).

For the first 6 months of duty, Guards can’t talk to anyone or watch TV.  They spend 5 hours daily preparing their uniforms (polishing brass buttons and hand-shining shoes; wrinkles, folds or lint are absolutely unacceptable.).  That’s followed by 3 hours of “mirror time” during which they spin their rifles, check their posture and stumble in private so they’re ‘perfect’ in public.

Guards “walk the mat” in front of the Tomb regardless of weather, sporadic taunts from the crowd, or occasional insect attacks.  They’re only allowed to break ceremonial position to tell unruly visitors to “remain silent while at the national shrine.”  The tomb’s been continually guarded since July 2, 1937.

Sentinels walk exactly 21 steps, then turn and face the Tomb for 21 seconds.  They then turn to face back down the mat, change the weapon to the outside shoulder (always between the Tomb and the audience), then step off for another 21 steps down the mat.  Twenty-one represents a 21-gun salute, the nation’s highest military honor.

Their shoes are specially made with very thick soles to keep the heat and cold from their feet. There are metal heel plates that extend to the top of the shoe in order to make the loud click as they come to a halt.  “I walk my tour in humble reverence … with dignity and perseverance!”

At no other place in America does the sound of click-clacking steps mean so much to so many!

“It’s he who commands the respect I protect, her bravery that made us proud.  Surrounded by well-meaning crowds by day, alone in the thoughtful peace of night, this soldier will in honored glory rest under my eternal vigilance.” ~ Sentinel’s Creed

Personal Day

“The seasons display God’s true craftsmanship." ~ Psalm 19:1

Rachel woke early as usual, ready for another grueling ride on the corporate carousel.  She was nearing her wit’s end at work; the strain really beginning to surface.  Lately she hadn’t been able to concentrate, think clearly, or manage her emotions effectively.

“This may be the perfect time for a Personal Day!”  She wasn’t in the midst of a critical project; her absence wouldn’t be a problem for the team today.

She arose from the warmth of a down comforter, lit a vanilla candle, and started a new book.  The air was just warm enough to leave the window open; its gentle breeze fanned the pages forward.

After several alluring chapters, Rachel donned warm socks and a thick sweater.  She considered spending the day vegging out and catching up on her favorite TV shows.  But she treated herself to something far healthier: sunshine, fresh air, and a peaceful walk among falling leaves.

Autumn was her favorite season.  It had its own unique way of bringing beauty by stimulating the senses, by making what could be dreary into the most enchanting natural art.  It brought a fresh start, feeding the soils as is the natural way of life; the grand finale of a successful season.

When Rachel entered the forest her spirits soared beyond the colorful boughs above.  Brilliant shafts of sunlight stroked the carpet of reds and golds before her like a path for Royals.

Rachel bunched her scarf up like a pillow and laid on it on the grass.  She spent the next hour watching the sky as leaves tumbled toward her, dancing from branch to ground, each a colorful flag roaming freely.  The trees beckoned her shout out loud, just to hear a voice echo amidst their mahogany flesh.

Before heading home, Rachel browsed an open-air market shopping for the perfect products for dinner with a friend tonight.  She picked up a loaf of fresh bread, a few vegetables for soup and salad, and a jug of fresh apple cider.

Walking home on what had been a perfect autumn day, Rachel found herself thinking about life’s impermanence.  Time passes … from season to season.  We experience the budding of life in spring and the flowerings and profusions of summer.  Now the leaves fall and bare branches remind us of the fleeting nature of all things and the challenge to live every day to the fullest.

Autumn is the perfect time to hear God’s voice amidst the sound of leaves crunching and the scent of pumpkin-flavored coffees.  She closed eyes in prayer, comforted when He whispered Truth to her: No matter the changes that come her way, He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  He is eternally unchanging and faithful - no matter the season, no matter the circumstances.

Father God, thank You for Your unfailing love for me, Your blessings, and goodness.  Thank You for Scriptures that guide me and see me through times of uncertainty and remind me of Your promises, plan, and provision.  Amen

The End of the Leash

“Some angels choose fur instead of wings." ~ Unknown

Kevin came into their lives thirteen years ago.  A human name for the mixed-breed pup seemed fitting because for all practical purposes, he was treated like one of the family.  And in return, the dog adored children (they had but one), travel (he lived for exploration), and his family.

One morning, Natalie (9), first noticed that he wasn’t quite right.  He’d slowed way down, wouldn’t stop panting even in cool weather and had difficulty walking.  Kevin was finding it hard to get comfortable sleeping and would stare at her, intensely - never wanting to leave her side.

After the Vet’s diagnosis, they all clung to the hope that that he’d go peacefully in his sleep.  But Dad reasoned that dying ‘naturally’ wouldn’t necessarily mean Kevin’s death would be peaceful, quick or calm.  Potentially, it could be terribly distressing.

The time had come … he’d reached the end of his leash.

The day of Kevin’s procedure, the whole family gathered to spend the day with him.  They watched movies together, cuddled him, talked to him, sat in the sun with him, took pictures, and of course made him a delicious steak.  If you’ve ever had a dog, you know that table food is all they think about.

On his final car ride together, they drove up the Coast with his head out the window soaking up the sun and the smell of the sea, which would be Kevin’s final resting place when they scattered his ashes.

Upon arrival at the Vet’s, Natalie picked Kevin up and carried him inside.  He placed his soft, wet nose against her neck and looked up through beautiful brown eyes for the last time.  “I’m sorry,” she muttered softly before kissing him lightly on the head.  “Thank you!”

Wrapped in his favorite blanket, Kevin looked up, trusting them implicitly as he’d done all his life.  He looked exhausted.  He knew.

Within a few minutes, he slipped away peacefully.

Dad and Mom took it the hardest.  After all, they’d know Kevin from an 8-week-old pup.  Mom sobbed openly; even Dad wiped away a few tears blaming his allergies for the watering eyes.

“It’s an unfortunate truth,” Dad said, “that dogs are relatively short-lived.  Their deaths always seem premature and unfair, even if they’ve lived to an advanced age.”

Natalie, however, seemed to accept Kevin’s transition without remorse or confusion.  “I know why!” she piped in.  What came out of her mouth next stunned everyone.

“People are born,” she continued, “so that they can learn how to love and be nice to each other.  Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don’t have to stay as long.”

I’ve never heard a more comforting explanation.

Faithful friend, loyal companion, we say goodbye for now, until we meet again.  You have kept us warm at night, protected our home and offered us unconditional love.  For this, Kevin, we thank you and will remember you forever.  Love, Natalie