Thoughts From the Cemetary

Carl blew writer’s block from his path by literally walking around it; his brain worked best when it simply wandered.  That’s one thing he enjoyed so much about walking – that’s where inspiration poured out easily.  Freedom was as critical to his creative thinking as empathy, logic, and discipline. He just had to forge those thoughts into text.

This is why he decided to walk through a local graveyard for a fresh perspective.  As he strolled past acres of the deceased with whom he knew little about, some things occurred to him: simple yet complex thoughts, humble but powerful, life lessons.

His first thought drifted over some headstones – some large and ornate, others humbler, all costly.   The more said, the more expense, yet only the most significant information got engraved on them.  Words like mother, father, sister, brother.  He noted military service, relevant quotes, and short tributes.  Carl imagined the relationships those people built and the impact they made on others.

He saw nothing about the wealth they’d accumulated, bad choices they’d made, or political affiliations.  He saw only that which mattered and quickly grasped an idea that should’ve been obvious: the dates on each monument stated the beginning to the end.  What mattered most was the DASH between those years (i.e., 1928 - 2020).

Cemeteries are mostly of stone, dirt, and silence; not a lot of color or animation.  Occasionally, mourners left flowers, photos, or other mementos at the grave.  He spotted a colorful pinwheel planted in the dirt.

All were means of expressing love and care for the departed.  You either enter a gravesite to bring love … or nothing.  People don’t visit to spew hate, judgment, or negativity.  “Why can’t we enjoy a life that way,” he wondered, “only with love, compassion, and joy.”

A sober thought occurred to Carl as he continued walking.  Some of the headstone “born” and “departed” dates were sadly close together.  Running his fingers over the marker of a 2-year-old whose life was cut way too short, Carl said a brief prayer.

“Lord every day in this life is a gift, and each moment I spend spreading negativity is a moment irrevocably wasted.  Help me live my life for You, in fullness, with grace. There’s no time to wait!” 

Anxious to return to his writing tablet to recapture his reflections, one final thought surfaced.  No other species has a graveyard for their dead.

Perhaps there’s wisdom in that, in the art of letting go with a sense of love and peace, of accepting that body and soul pass on.  Graveyards need not be grave, yet can be a place to bring the joy of rebirth and renewal of the spirit as we wish our loved ones well on their onward voyage.

Almighty Father, may all those deceased, known to You alone, rejoice in Your kingdom, where all our tears are wiped away.  Unite us together again in one family to sing Your praise forever and ever.  Amen

Trust Over Worry

 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; He’ll keep you on track." ~ Proverbs 3:5-6

Anxious to explore his new surroundings, Lucas decided to push his capabilities and hike the unforgiving Arizona desert.  So hot the sands glittered like gold, he quickly became disoriented. 

Soon his muscles started cramping.  Confused, nauseous, and thirsty – classic early signs of heatstroke.  He drank the last of his water a week ago ... or was it just 5 minutes?  He needed water and shelter soon or the illness would damage vital organs, and even cause death.

As he struggled physically and mentally, he spied a crude, rustic shack in the distance ... or merely a hallucination?  Lucas walked towards it for lack of a better option, thanking God for his good fortune.  He found it unoccupied; probably abandoned long ago. 

Yet it offered luxury from the oppressive heat.

Near the far wall, he spotted a rusty, hand water pump.  Its pipe reached below timeworn floorboards; perhaps a deep source of water, he hoped.  After pumping a few strokes with no sign of water, he felt frustrated and exhausted.

He searched the hut for any other source of water.  Incredibly, he found a full bottle of water hidden in the corner.  Just before gulping its contents, he noticed a message hand-written over its label.  “Use this water to prime the pump.  Don’t forget to refill it when you’re done,” it read.

A frightening dilemma: “Could he trust the note?  Will the antique pump work, or will he be wasting his only chance at survival down a dry hole?  Should he just drink the water and save himself,” he wondered.  

Lucas closed his eyes and prayed, asking God to lift his burden. 

With trembling hands, he poured the bottle’s entire contents into the pump and started working it.  Soon, he heard a bubbling sound and more water than he could drink poured out.

Once revitalized, he refilled the empty bottle and returned it to the original spot.  Fate struck a second time when he discovered a hand-written map of the region.  Pulling a marker from his daysack, Lucas scribbled his own note below the previous instructions: “Have faith. God works and so does the pump!” And headed toward a village less than a kilometer away.

I still need reminders to choose trust over worry.  It’s easy to trust God when everything is falling in line with our own vision and plans.  But trusting Him even when things don’t make sense is hard.  Very hard!

Faith’s essence is confidence in the Lord’s promises regardless of the circumstances.   He’s never surprised, confused, worried, or oblivious.  His wise and loving control brings peace and comfort in those moments when we’re called to trust Him … even when it doesn’t make sense.

All-knowing God, wrap me in your empowering love when I face uncertainty.  How can I be anything but bold when You have my back?  Even though I don’t yet know exactly where this will end, I trust You.  Amen

More Precious Than Silver

 “My God will provide everything you need because of His great riches." ~ Philippians 4:19

On her daily walk to work, Margaret passes several homeless people, or those living on the minimal edge of subsistence.  These are the mentally ill, unemployed, addicted, and those simply down on their luck.  And yes, the chronically lazy.

While her personal finances are tight enough that she often can't afford to give, she often does so anyway, trying not to wonder if they’ll use it on booze or drugs.  She looks them in the eye and greets them with at least a gentle smile when she can't.  That smile may be the only thing that breaks the invisibility they suffer.

Today, a heavyset man carrying a cardboard sign limped toward her.  From behind oversized sunglasses, Margaret studied his clothes, his facial features, and his footwear.  (Her dad always said you can tell fake beggars by their shoes).  This man with dead eyes and ethnic features shuffled closer in timeworn moccasins.  His sign read simply: "Anything Helps."

Margaret opened her oversized shoulder bag and offered to share her lunch with him.  The hungry beggar spied her bulging leather billfold and asked for some cash instead.

She gazed into his eye’s, gauging the depth of his humanity, and did so without hesitation, pulling out two twenties and a ten.

He thanked her with a warm smile.  Raymond, a homeless vet who’d only collected $4.35 since early his morning, shuffled away quietly rejoicing in his good fortune.

Margaret continued on her way reminding herself of the Apostle Paul who taught that God would always meet her needs.

A few days later, Raymond approached her once again on the sidewalk.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “I sincerely appreciate the gift you blessed me with a few days ago, but I’d like to return it to you in the hope that you can give me something even more precious.”  Raymond pulled the same three bills from his pocket and handed them to the astonished woman.

Margaret stood speechless as she took the cash back.

Raymond continued, “Give me what you have within you that enabled you to give me something more precious.  Give me what that love within you that encouraged me to believe in myself again!”  He flipped his sign around with a new message: ‘I’m on a new path.’  Thank you!”

Rumors on the street suggested he entered a rehab program and got a security job at a local hospital.  Margaret never saw Raymond again.

We’re often misled into believing that most homelessness results from poor character, specifically drug addiction or laziness.  In reality, the top three causes of homelessness in the U.S. continue to be: lack of affordable housing, unemployment, and mental illness, in that order.

God of mercy, grace, and provision.  Thank You for the strength You give us each day. Bless those homeless with protection from the elements, with the sufficiency of food and clothing, with joy and peace of mind, and with the security of Your love.  Amen

Hope Renews Itself

 “So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect." ~ Matthew 5:48

On the night of Feb. 12, 2000, Charles Schulz, the cartoonist who drew the masterful comic strip “Peanuts” passed away, ending a work spanning 50 years and 17,897 strips.  In its prime, Peanuts was published in 2,600 newspapers in 75 countries and is thought to be the longest story ever told by one person.

For nearly the entire half-century-long run, one recurring joke was the football prank.  The gag was simple: Lucy kneels down on the grass, holding a football in place for Charlie to kick.  He gets a running start, but at the last minute, she pulls it away (for the first time in November 1952). 

The final panel shows a miserable Charlie Brown laying flat on his back while Lucy gazes down at him, holding the ball, telling Carlie Brown in one way or another that he should never have trusted her. 

Lucy would continue some variant of the football snatch every year (except 1985) until the strip’s final full year.  The same happened nine times in animation.  Schulz kept bringing it back because fans kept expecting it.

Lucy kept pulling the same trick every year.  You might think Charlie Brown would’ve learned his lesson.  He wasn’t naïve or foolish.  He did realize it! 

As the years wore on, the football gag strips usually opened with a jaded Charlie Brown talking about how he wasn’t going to fall for it this time; that he finally knew better no matter what Lucy promised.  He always wound up trying … and failing. 

Two elements kept the gag working.  One was Lucy’s persuasive abilities.  She had a knack for convincing others to do anything.

The second was Charlie Brown’s trust and optimism – a theme central to his character.  Charlie Brown failed often but he never gave up.  Even though he’d never kick that football, even though his team would always lose … he kept trying, believing that things would finally break his way.

They never did!

Depending on your perspective, either he refused to learn from the past or he won’t ever give up on the future.  For Christians, it’s the latter that makes Charlie Brown something of a Christ-like figure.  He doesn’t retreat or give up on others.  His optimism continuously renewed itself.

Hope and goodness are always diffusive; never to be confined.  We don’t know people’s hearts. We don’t know their potential.  And we don’t know what they might do.

We’re told to be like God, which is to love like God.  We become most authentic when we strive to imitate God, when we love to give and when we give love freely.

Lord, help me to find my joy in You - the source of all good things.  A life that draws its strength from You is a life of true happiness.  Help me seek You, as the well that never runs dry so that my optimism flows into the lives of everyone I meet.  Amen

Different Interpretations

 “Don’t fix your attention on visible things, but those that are hidden and everlasting." ~ 2 Cor 4:18

Kara enjoyed this part of her day the most.  She’d pick out a book, dim the lights, then settle into her favorite armchair.  With Annie nuzzled eagerly in her lap, they opened tonight’s book to the first of many smooth, colorful pages. 

Like a thirsty sponge, Annie soaked up everything in her youthful environment.  Her creativity whirled even during story time.

Kara introduced tonight’s wordless picture book, “There’s A Mouse In The House” and watched her toddler’s fascination build with each new story.  Cuddling up and winding down after an otherwise hectic day brought them both such joy.

Sharing wordless books with Annie provided an opportunity for literacy-rich conversations.  The imagery in a picture book brought the pages to life, serving as a visual roadmap for the story.  The toddler would study the pictures and create a story in her own words.

Tonight’s tale had a funny, simple plot about a family whose daughter discovers a mouse in their home.

According to Annie, the book was about a poor mouse who’d been abandoned by its furry parents and found itself alone in a large home.  Angry and scared, the mouse escaped, finding its way into the dark streets, where cats, dogs, and other dangers waited to hurt him.

Eventually, the mouse was rescued by a kind girl who invited the mouse to live with her family in a pretty home where she lived happily ever after.  Annie’s story seemed to fit the pictures well, but her interpretation of them completely changed the story’s meaning.

“Do you want to hear my version of the story?” Kara asked softly.  Annie nodded.

According to Kara, the mouse lived comfortably in a house by herself.  A little girl took good care of him, but the mouse didn’t listen to the girl’s warnings about leaving the house.  

He sneaked out one night.  Danger lurked everywhere - cats chased him and dogs barked at him.  Soon the mouse found himself tired and hungry, wishing he’d listened to the girl who’d fed and played with him.  Fortunately, the girl who’d been looking for him the whole time scooped him up and they returned home together safely.

“That’s a very different story, isn’t it, Annie?”  Kara asked as she finished the story.  The sweet child nodded before saying, “I like your story too, Mommy!”

It’s amazing how the same pictures could be interpreted so very differently.  When we look at life through our own eyes, we only see what we’re living at that moment.  We let the conditions around us dictate our responses.

God looks at life differently.  He doesn't judge people or success by the world's standards.  He judges by the person's thoughts and intentions; by their character and their faith.

Almighty Father, help us see life through Your lens: more willing to forgive, more eager to lend a helping hand, more content knowing that our actions have eternal significance rather than just a temporary change.  Amen

Remember When

 “Godliness with satisfaction is itself great wealth." ~ I Timothy 6

The 60s were tumultuous, frenzied … and magical.  Accented by riots, sit-ins, freedom rides, and even music festivals, young Americans marched for civil, equal, voting, and educational rights.  They demanded an end to discrimination, poverty, war, and pollution.  It was one big youth-quake.

I was just a kid until the end of the decade; carefree, innocent, naive.  Looking back, it's a miracle that any of us survived childhood in the 1960s! 

Back then, little kids sat upfront.  Drivers would fling an arm in front of you if they had to stop suddenly.  Seat belt requirements didn’t arrive until the '70s.

Smoking was modeled as cool, healthy, and a sign of maturity.  It wasn’t uncommon for kids to buy cigarettes for their parents, no questions asked.

The things kids climbed over and played on in parks were questionable (think hot metal slides) and not always built with safety in mind.  Parents expected you to fall and get back up without whining about scraped knees and split lips.  Just slap on some Mercurochrome.

Cereal was breakfast; a variety of grains coated with sugar.  You could probably spoon in 4 more tablespoons of sugar before Mom warned you about getting a bellyache.  We chased it with Tang, orange powder that magically became a sickeningly sweet neon drink.

Carpools were rare.  Even first graders were sent to school on their own once they learned the way.  Parents didn’t worry about bad people lurking along their paths.  Dawdling on the way home was allowed so you could stop off for a snack after school.

In Catholic school, we were exposed to several discipline techniques.  The classic was having a ruler smacked across your knuckles if you spoke without permission or fell asleep during morning Mass.  God forbid you forgot your homework.

During weekends and summer vacations, my Mom couldn't wait to kick us out of the house so she could get on with her chores or coffee with friends.  She called us in time for dinner, then booted us back out until the street lights came on.  We were kinda like wild dogs.

The '60s was the golden age of the tan – no UV protection.  Kids would slather themselves in baby oil with iodine and use lemon juice to lighten their hair giving it that California surfer look.

We rode bikes without helmets, played Jarts, and had BB gun wars.  TVs were stored in wooden cabinets bulky enough to be furniture.  Responsibility for changing the 3 channels fell to the least senior kid.

These were times when a handshake could still seal a business deal.  Children were able to just be kids to let their imaginations run wild every day.  I remember those days.  I miss those days.  I can’t believe we survived them.

Father, help me to purge unnecessary things in my life and simplify again.  Getting rid of the access clutter will enable me to address some other areas of cluttered baggage, worry, and stress that isn’t necessary.  Let Your promise be enough.  Amen