It's never too late to learn something new. Like last night, for instance. Linda and I had a quiet evening at home, the fire in the wood stove just enough to take the chill off, when about 7:30 I had the bright idea to have a cup of coffee. It tasted sooo good! But at 2:30 am when I was still wide awake, there was a bitter aftertaste of regret in my mouth. It never used to bother me; I could drink as much as I wanted whenever I wanted and sleep like a log. Now, so much as a cup after dinner and I sleep like a baby - up all night! So, at nearly 67, I will go on record that it is possible to teach an old dog new tricks. For that, I'm thankful (and very tired) tonight.
Saturday, April 30, 2016
Caffeine Smarts
April 30, 2016
It's never too late to learn something new. Like last night, for instance. Linda and I had a quiet evening at home, the fire in the wood stove just enough to take the chill off, when about 7:30 I had the bright idea to have a cup of coffee. It tasted sooo good! But at 2:30 am when I was still wide awake, there was a bitter aftertaste of regret in my mouth. It never used to bother me; I could drink as much as I wanted whenever I wanted and sleep like a log. Now, so much as a cup after dinner and I sleep like a baby - up all night! So, at nearly 67, I will go on record that it is possible to teach an old dog new tricks. For that, I'm thankful (and very tired) tonight.
It's never too late to learn something new. Like last night, for instance. Linda and I had a quiet evening at home, the fire in the wood stove just enough to take the chill off, when about 7:30 I had the bright idea to have a cup of coffee. It tasted sooo good! But at 2:30 am when I was still wide awake, there was a bitter aftertaste of regret in my mouth. It never used to bother me; I could drink as much as I wanted whenever I wanted and sleep like a log. Now, so much as a cup after dinner and I sleep like a baby - up all night! So, at nearly 67, I will go on record that it is possible to teach an old dog new tricks. For that, I'm thankful (and very tired) tonight.
Friday, April 29, 2016
What a Woman!
April 29, 2016
In case anyone hasn't heard, my wife is one of a kind...in a good way. There are times (quite frequently, if you were to ask her) that I just about drive her crazy with my antics, and yet she (quite frequently, if you were to ask me) takes a deep breath and lets me go ahead with my antics even when she doesn't understand my reasoning or go along with my shenanigans.
Just a couple weeks ago, I missed out on two different upright basses, both of which were great deals. I had the deals arranged, but the sellers reneged and I was left with nothing. I kept searching, and made tentative arrangements on two different instruments, my reasoning being that I didn't want to get caught the way I had before. Wouldn't you know that both parties agreed to my offers! So now I have two basses, a vintage and a more recent production.
When I first began talking about basses, Linda wasn't too thrilled with the idea. To put it mildly. After all, it's not like we have a lot of extra room in our house. Where would I keep this monster?If we were still in our Cassadaga house, there would be enough room to store an entire orchestra, but not here. The deal was, I could get a bass when I built on a new master bedroom suite on the back of the house. If you walk around our house, you would immediately notice that the only thing out back is grass. I asked Linda if she objected to my closing the deal on both instruments, with the understanding that after comparing them for sound and playability, I would sell one. I even told her that if she did object, I wouldn't even consider the second prospective deal. And I mean it. Our relationship means more to me than any instrument, or anything else, for that matter. She didn't object, so I am starting to draw up room plans in my head.
I don't know if 46 years of marriage has softened her brain or what, but even when she thinks I am a bit nuts, she lets me follow my crazy dreams. My only hope in all this is that she knows there is nothing I wouldn't do for her, either. Even if it doesn't make sense to me. The only problem with that reasoning, is that she doesn't often do things that don't make sense. Except for loving me. And that is what I am thankful for tonight.
In case anyone hasn't heard, my wife is one of a kind...in a good way. There are times (quite frequently, if you were to ask her) that I just about drive her crazy with my antics, and yet she (quite frequently, if you were to ask me) takes a deep breath and lets me go ahead with my antics even when she doesn't understand my reasoning or go along with my shenanigans.
Just a couple weeks ago, I missed out on two different upright basses, both of which were great deals. I had the deals arranged, but the sellers reneged and I was left with nothing. I kept searching, and made tentative arrangements on two different instruments, my reasoning being that I didn't want to get caught the way I had before. Wouldn't you know that both parties agreed to my offers! So now I have two basses, a vintage and a more recent production.
When I first began talking about basses, Linda wasn't too thrilled with the idea. To put it mildly. After all, it's not like we have a lot of extra room in our house. Where would I keep this monster?If we were still in our Cassadaga house, there would be enough room to store an entire orchestra, but not here. The deal was, I could get a bass when I built on a new master bedroom suite on the back of the house. If you walk around our house, you would immediately notice that the only thing out back is grass. I asked Linda if she objected to my closing the deal on both instruments, with the understanding that after comparing them for sound and playability, I would sell one. I even told her that if she did object, I wouldn't even consider the second prospective deal. And I mean it. Our relationship means more to me than any instrument, or anything else, for that matter. She didn't object, so I am starting to draw up room plans in my head.
I don't know if 46 years of marriage has softened her brain or what, but even when she thinks I am a bit nuts, she lets me follow my crazy dreams. My only hope in all this is that she knows there is nothing I wouldn't do for her, either. Even if it doesn't make sense to me. The only problem with that reasoning, is that she doesn't often do things that don't make sense. Except for loving me. And that is what I am thankful for tonight.
Thursday, April 28, 2016
At Twice the Price
April 28, 2016
Used to be you could get it for $35; now the cheapest I've seen it around here is $65. Per cord, that is. I'm talking about firewood, our rural counterpoint to electric, gas, and fuel oil. In the cities, if you burn wood, it's for ambience; around here, we burn it to keep the pipes and ourselves from freezing.
For the past couple days, I've been working on our woodpile. Last winter a tree came down in the creek, lodging in the middle of the swimming hole at the end of our property. Last week, Mike brought the village crew in with their equipment, hauled the tree out of the creek, and dragged it up on our lawn. Yesterday I cut it up, and today I split it. You'd be surprised how much wood is in a decent-sized tree! near the stump it had a diameter of about 2 1/2 feet; I tried, but there was no way I could lift one of those up to the splitter rail. Enter my tractor and bucket: I could roll the pieces into the bucket, drive over to the splitter, raise things up and simply roll the pieces onto the rail for splitting. It worked like a dream and I worked like a slave (I was going to say "like a dog," but Emma didn't show any inclination to lift so much as a paw to help) for nearly eight hours. I felt like cheering when I finally split the last piece, but was too tired to even whimper.
I got some quality work from Linda who makes a pretty awesome stack, and some energetic help from Gemma who loves to help. Tonight, I am sore in places I didn't know I had, but feeling pretty good about the work accomplished. I don't know if God had sore muscles after his work of creation, but it does say that he rested. I am pretty sure that rest was with a satisfaction similar to my own as I survey the stack and the pile waiting to be stacked. Next winter, it will warm us well. Until then, those guys who get $65/cord aren't getting paid nearly enough for their work. My body tells me it would be a bargain at twice the price.
Used to be you could get it for $35; now the cheapest I've seen it around here is $65. Per cord, that is. I'm talking about firewood, our rural counterpoint to electric, gas, and fuel oil. In the cities, if you burn wood, it's for ambience; around here, we burn it to keep the pipes and ourselves from freezing.
For the past couple days, I've been working on our woodpile. Last winter a tree came down in the creek, lodging in the middle of the swimming hole at the end of our property. Last week, Mike brought the village crew in with their equipment, hauled the tree out of the creek, and dragged it up on our lawn. Yesterday I cut it up, and today I split it. You'd be surprised how much wood is in a decent-sized tree! near the stump it had a diameter of about 2 1/2 feet; I tried, but there was no way I could lift one of those up to the splitter rail. Enter my tractor and bucket: I could roll the pieces into the bucket, drive over to the splitter, raise things up and simply roll the pieces onto the rail for splitting. It worked like a dream and I worked like a slave (I was going to say "like a dog," but Emma didn't show any inclination to lift so much as a paw to help) for nearly eight hours. I felt like cheering when I finally split the last piece, but was too tired to even whimper.
I got some quality work from Linda who makes a pretty awesome stack, and some energetic help from Gemma who loves to help. Tonight, I am sore in places I didn't know I had, but feeling pretty good about the work accomplished. I don't know if God had sore muscles after his work of creation, but it does say that he rested. I am pretty sure that rest was with a satisfaction similar to my own as I survey the stack and the pile waiting to be stacked. Next winter, it will warm us well. Until then, those guys who get $65/cord aren't getting paid nearly enough for their work. My body tells me it would be a bargain at twice the price.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Overflowing Gratitude
April 27, 2017
It's never hard to come up with things for which to be thankful, but it is often a challenge to think of things that would possibly be of interest to anyone besides myself. After all, you can only get away with dragging out photos of the grandkids just so many times before people start to cross to the other side of the street when they see you coming. That's why I try to look at things from a bit different angle, and try to express it in a different way.
Then there are those times that God just smacks me in the face with gratitude fodder. Today is such a day. I had the privilege of swapping texts with a good friend who is hospitalized. Yesterday I sent him the lyrics to the old gospel song, "Day By Day And With Each Passing Moment." It seemed to fit his circumstances, and he wrote back about how much he appreciated some of those old songs that we don't hear much anymore. So I am grateful to have grown up in an era when those songs were all we had. They were sung deep into my soul as a teenager, and while I appreciate many of the newer songs that have come out in recent years, I have the privilege of having feet planted firmly in both worlds; something my kids and grandkids don't have. It may not actually be the case, but I feel like the musical well from which I draw is deeper. I know it hasn't yet run dry.
If that weren't enough, just a couple weeks ago I was lamenting a vintage bass I missed out on. Now it looks like I'm going to have to choose between a vintage instrument that will need a slight bit of work and a quality modern bass. The vintage bass is in New Jersey, while the modern one is much nearer, outside Columbus, Ohio. Decisions, decisions! Linda has been quite patient with me, and has acquiesced to having one of these monsters sitting in a corner somewhere, but I do think I'd be crossing the line if I came home with two. Isn't God good to give us choices?
Lastly, tonight I am thankful for sore muscles. I've spent the past two days cutting wood, first the tree that came down in our creek, then tonight, helping our son Nate with some of his winter wood. Between bending over to cut up the logs and picking up the blocked up sections and throwing them on the growing pile, I don't think there's a single muscle in my back that isn't shouting, "Are you crazy!!? What do you think you're doing to us?" At least I'm able to do, and for that, I'm thankful.
It's never hard to come up with things for which to be thankful, but it is often a challenge to think of things that would possibly be of interest to anyone besides myself. After all, you can only get away with dragging out photos of the grandkids just so many times before people start to cross to the other side of the street when they see you coming. That's why I try to look at things from a bit different angle, and try to express it in a different way.
Then there are those times that God just smacks me in the face with gratitude fodder. Today is such a day. I had the privilege of swapping texts with a good friend who is hospitalized. Yesterday I sent him the lyrics to the old gospel song, "Day By Day And With Each Passing Moment." It seemed to fit his circumstances, and he wrote back about how much he appreciated some of those old songs that we don't hear much anymore. So I am grateful to have grown up in an era when those songs were all we had. They were sung deep into my soul as a teenager, and while I appreciate many of the newer songs that have come out in recent years, I have the privilege of having feet planted firmly in both worlds; something my kids and grandkids don't have. It may not actually be the case, but I feel like the musical well from which I draw is deeper. I know it hasn't yet run dry.
If that weren't enough, just a couple weeks ago I was lamenting a vintage bass I missed out on. Now it looks like I'm going to have to choose between a vintage instrument that will need a slight bit of work and a quality modern bass. The vintage bass is in New Jersey, while the modern one is much nearer, outside Columbus, Ohio. Decisions, decisions! Linda has been quite patient with me, and has acquiesced to having one of these monsters sitting in a corner somewhere, but I do think I'd be crossing the line if I came home with two. Isn't God good to give us choices?
Lastly, tonight I am thankful for sore muscles. I've spent the past two days cutting wood, first the tree that came down in our creek, then tonight, helping our son Nate with some of his winter wood. Between bending over to cut up the logs and picking up the blocked up sections and throwing them on the growing pile, I don't think there's a single muscle in my back that isn't shouting, "Are you crazy!!? What do you think you're doing to us?" At least I'm able to do, and for that, I'm thankful.
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Green
April 26, 2016
Green is green, right? Except when it's springtime in Sinclairville. The deep green brown of the spruce overshadows the bold green in the lawn. Down by the creek, the pale leaf buds of the bayberry contrast with the waxy ovals of the Myrtle with its delicate purple flowers. The cascading golden bloom of the forsythia highlights the budding green below them, while the willows shout their early glory to the winds.
I love the nearly infinite variety in the springtime shades of green. It happens at no other time of the year. Pretty soon this display of shades and hues will all meld into a somewhat homogenous green covering the valleys and hillsides. Every place on earth has its own beauty, but I like what I see all around me this time of year in this little corner of the earth. I am thankful that these old eyes can still revel in the glory revealed all around.
Green is green, right? Except when it's springtime in Sinclairville. The deep green brown of the spruce overshadows the bold green in the lawn. Down by the creek, the pale leaf buds of the bayberry contrast with the waxy ovals of the Myrtle with its delicate purple flowers. The cascading golden bloom of the forsythia highlights the budding green below them, while the willows shout their early glory to the winds.
I love the nearly infinite variety in the springtime shades of green. It happens at no other time of the year. Pretty soon this display of shades and hues will all meld into a somewhat homogenous green covering the valleys and hillsides. Every place on earth has its own beauty, but I like what I see all around me this time of year in this little corner of the earth. I am thankful that these old eyes can still revel in the glory revealed all around.
Monday, April 25, 2016
Consider the Lilies
April 25, 2016
Every so often, we all need time to just think. Unfortunately, many don't like to do that, so they fill every waking moment with activity, noise, electronic chatter. It's almost as if we are afraid of our own souls, so we hide from them behind a maze of gadgets and busyness. The ancients' world was slower and quieter than ours, but they understood even then the necessity of withdrawing occasionally from the world lest it completely overwhelm us. The silence of the monasteries were like gaps in human life where God was free to enter on his own terms. Today we have those gaps sewed tightly shut, keeping not only God, but our own souls, out.
Evangelical Christians are among the worst offenders. We look at the world around us, see the need, and become overwhelmed with guilt over not having done more to rescue the lost. "How can we rest when the world for which Christ died is going to hell?" they ask, completely forgetting the fourth commandment to observe a Sabbath rest, and crazily believing that the world's salvation depends upon our activity rather than Christ's. Then we wonder why even Christians are medicated and sedated up to our eyeballs.
I wrote about this just a couple days ago, but feel the need to revisit the matter. Much of today was spent in the truck driving to Buffalo and back. Among other matters, I visited a friend in the hospital. He's been a hardworking man all his life, but right now, it's all he can do to lay in bed, read a little bit, and try to pray. When life is constricted in such a way, we are forced to ask ourselves what life is all about, and when we do that, we discover that all the plans and strategies we have don't really amount to much. Even when those plans and strategies are church oriented. I look back over more than forty years of ministry, and wonder how much of all the activity I pushed really accomplished. No, I'm not beating myself up, thinking my life was a waste, but I do believe there were times when I would have been better off backing off and leaving a little more in God's hands. And as I look to the future, I'm not quite convinced at the moment that looking for some big work to do for God is the right course. If God opens that door, I hope I recognize and walk through it, but until then, I think I'll take some of the time that has been given me to try to listen to Jesus and consider the lilies of the field.
Every so often, we all need time to just think. Unfortunately, many don't like to do that, so they fill every waking moment with activity, noise, electronic chatter. It's almost as if we are afraid of our own souls, so we hide from them behind a maze of gadgets and busyness. The ancients' world was slower and quieter than ours, but they understood even then the necessity of withdrawing occasionally from the world lest it completely overwhelm us. The silence of the monasteries were like gaps in human life where God was free to enter on his own terms. Today we have those gaps sewed tightly shut, keeping not only God, but our own souls, out.
Evangelical Christians are among the worst offenders. We look at the world around us, see the need, and become overwhelmed with guilt over not having done more to rescue the lost. "How can we rest when the world for which Christ died is going to hell?" they ask, completely forgetting the fourth commandment to observe a Sabbath rest, and crazily believing that the world's salvation depends upon our activity rather than Christ's. Then we wonder why even Christians are medicated and sedated up to our eyeballs.
I wrote about this just a couple days ago, but feel the need to revisit the matter. Much of today was spent in the truck driving to Buffalo and back. Among other matters, I visited a friend in the hospital. He's been a hardworking man all his life, but right now, it's all he can do to lay in bed, read a little bit, and try to pray. When life is constricted in such a way, we are forced to ask ourselves what life is all about, and when we do that, we discover that all the plans and strategies we have don't really amount to much. Even when those plans and strategies are church oriented. I look back over more than forty years of ministry, and wonder how much of all the activity I pushed really accomplished. No, I'm not beating myself up, thinking my life was a waste, but I do believe there were times when I would have been better off backing off and leaving a little more in God's hands. And as I look to the future, I'm not quite convinced at the moment that looking for some big work to do for God is the right course. If God opens that door, I hope I recognize and walk through it, but until then, I think I'll take some of the time that has been given me to try to listen to Jesus and consider the lilies of the field.
Sunday, April 24, 2016
The Witness
April 24, 2016
Don Sunshine. Yep; that's his real name. He travels around teaching Christians how to share their faith, something most of us find a bit intimidating. He hacks away at the fear factor that most people have as they worry about what others will think of them if they start talking about Jesus Christ, and does it in a gentle, yet convincing manner. Following worship today, he led a three hour seminar which was well attended and well done.
Many of us when we think of witnessing have this image of a sweaty guy in a white shirt and black pencil necktie holding a twenty pound Bible in one hand and grabbing his victim by his collar with the other, hollering right in his face, "Don't you want to get SAVED?" Or we think of Mormons or Jehovah's Witnesses knocking on our doors at inconvenient times, pushing literature at us, trying to convert us to their religion.
I've been through Don's training before, and have actually taught similar material myself. What I've discovered though, is that it is easy to fall back into old habits of inertia when it comes to sharing my faith. Being an introvert, I don't initiate conversations easily, mostly because I don't assume people are interested in what I have to say. This however, is backward thinking. My real problem is that I'm more concerned with what people think of me than I am with what they think of Jesus Christ. It's not about me. That's probably the most important lesson that I need to remind myself of over and over again. What I've learned is that if I am interested in others, and express that with sincere questions, doors open. It's a mindset of asking God (as Ron Hutchcraft is fond of saying) at the beginning of each day to open doors, open people's hearts, and then to open my mouth. The best way I've found to actually initiate conversations is to find out what is important to people and then ask if it's ok for me to pray about that for them.
This afternoon I attended a recital by the young woman who is president of the bass society at the college. She graciously welcomed this old guy into the group, and led the cheering at my feeble attempt at the recital I had to give. Her recital today was a beautiful performance followed by a reception filled with friends and family. I didn't have opportunity to talk with her as I had hoped, but I did talk with her parents and wrote her an email congratulating her and telling her that I would be praying for God's best for her through the summer. It wan't much, but it was more than I would have done even a few years ago. It was simple though, to demonstrate interest in what she was doing, and letting her know that she matters to God. What he does with it remains to be seen, but rest assured, God knows how to do great things with the little stuff we offer to him. I am grateful for Don Sunshine's ministry, for the simplicity and sincerity of his presentation, and for the opportunity to crack open the door for this young woman today. I am praying God will use my words and circumstances that only he can arrange, to reveal his great love to her.
Don Sunshine. Yep; that's his real name. He travels around teaching Christians how to share their faith, something most of us find a bit intimidating. He hacks away at the fear factor that most people have as they worry about what others will think of them if they start talking about Jesus Christ, and does it in a gentle, yet convincing manner. Following worship today, he led a three hour seminar which was well attended and well done.
Many of us when we think of witnessing have this image of a sweaty guy in a white shirt and black pencil necktie holding a twenty pound Bible in one hand and grabbing his victim by his collar with the other, hollering right in his face, "Don't you want to get SAVED?" Or we think of Mormons or Jehovah's Witnesses knocking on our doors at inconvenient times, pushing literature at us, trying to convert us to their religion.
I've been through Don's training before, and have actually taught similar material myself. What I've discovered though, is that it is easy to fall back into old habits of inertia when it comes to sharing my faith. Being an introvert, I don't initiate conversations easily, mostly because I don't assume people are interested in what I have to say. This however, is backward thinking. My real problem is that I'm more concerned with what people think of me than I am with what they think of Jesus Christ. It's not about me. That's probably the most important lesson that I need to remind myself of over and over again. What I've learned is that if I am interested in others, and express that with sincere questions, doors open. It's a mindset of asking God (as Ron Hutchcraft is fond of saying) at the beginning of each day to open doors, open people's hearts, and then to open my mouth. The best way I've found to actually initiate conversations is to find out what is important to people and then ask if it's ok for me to pray about that for them.
This afternoon I attended a recital by the young woman who is president of the bass society at the college. She graciously welcomed this old guy into the group, and led the cheering at my feeble attempt at the recital I had to give. Her recital today was a beautiful performance followed by a reception filled with friends and family. I didn't have opportunity to talk with her as I had hoped, but I did talk with her parents and wrote her an email congratulating her and telling her that I would be praying for God's best for her through the summer. It wan't much, but it was more than I would have done even a few years ago. It was simple though, to demonstrate interest in what she was doing, and letting her know that she matters to God. What he does with it remains to be seen, but rest assured, God knows how to do great things with the little stuff we offer to him. I am grateful for Don Sunshine's ministry, for the simplicity and sincerity of his presentation, and for the opportunity to crack open the door for this young woman today. I am praying God will use my words and circumstances that only he can arrange, to reveal his great love to her.
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