A CHRISTMAS MESSAGE

God's Peace, Greensboro, NC

A Toddler's Joy, Greensboro, NC

I wrote a blog titled The Message about a spiritual moment that occurred just over ten years ago which my wife of forty years and I experienced at a relatively small garden park here in North Carolina.  Strolling through the park was a nice break from the rigors of fighting breast cancer and we both had come to terms with the reality of our mortal existence.  Karen had finished the rigors of an experimental cancer drug which she had volunteered to take in the interest of a miracle cure and research for future patients after the cancer had metastasized.  She remarked that she didn’t have the strength to walk far, so we rested on a park bench near a blooming Magnolia tree.  The July weather was perfect for forcing open the beautiful white blooms and the early morning dappled light filtered through the delicate petals. 

I walked over to the blooms to photograph various stages of life and in the process came upon a blossom that must have just opened that morning.  I returned to the bench where we both marveled at its flawless beauty and found a calming peace in its message for us.  It was a message that sustained us for those final fifteen days which followed in the hospital.  The memory of that day and the special place the garden park held for me remained in my heart but I did not return to the park again until last Christmas week. 

My visiting son-in-law and I drove to the garden park while my daughter met a friend for breakfast.  Our primary mission was to entertain and exercise my almost two-year old grandson in a space that was conducive to fresh air and open pathways.  And this park was ideal for such a venture!  He was actively enjoying all the circuitous walkways and it was all that we could do to keep up with him as he exuberantly ran through the park.  The Magnolia tree was still standing, but there were no blooms in late December.  However, we twice passed a tall serene black man in a black overcoat that walked by with a smile that indicated he was observing and enjoying the young toddler’s zest for life as much as we were embracing it.  When I said “Good Morning” with each passing, he only made eye contact and slowly smiled, but his demeanor was unmistakably different from the other strangers we met that day.  And that enigmatic smile has remained with me.

I’ve often mused that although Karen has not been physically present to experience the joy of our grandson, somehow there may be some means for her spirit to do so.  I have the confidence that we will all meet again in a beautiful forever and that promise is certainly enough, but I also know that the magnolia was conveying a message not of words, but of an image of our creator in all that is good.  And I also believe that he uses messengers such as winged butterflies and worldly looking beings to let us know that all is well—especially at Christmastime.        

COPING WITH LOSS AT CHRISTMASTIME

Divine Announcement, Bethlehem, Israel

Losing loved ones as we meander through life is a certain inevitability of life.  Our problem-solving culture likes linear stages in dealing with those loses.  We’ve embraced the five stages of grief proposed by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross in 1969—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  But she was only thinking of those who are actually in the process of dying, not necessarily those left behind or those dealing with the loss of loved ones who have either left mentally or physically but are still alive.  And we attempt to embrace the elusive concept of closure, but we still have to live with either a clear or unresolved loss—which is OK.  Many well-meaning outsiders view our response as depression, an illness that requires a medical intervention, but in the majority of cases people are simply dealing with sadness.  And sadness can be treated with human connection.

I began to better understand these concepts while listening to an interview by Christa Tippett with Dr. Pauline Boss who coined the term Ambiguous Loss in the 1970’s.  Ambiguous or unclear losses involve those with no clear-cut resolution such as divorce, dementia, moving away from loved ones due to jobs or war, MIA’s, etc.  Dr. Boss states that you end up having “one foot in the old and one foot in the new.  And one can live that way.  That may be the most honest way to do it.”  Well meaning folks tell you that time heals all, but that saccharine advice is generally dispensed by those who have not yet experienced significant loss yet.  The intervals between highs and lows in dealing with a loss may expand with time, but they never pass.  I’m not certain that they ever should pass from memory because they’re part of the fabric of our lives.  This is normal.  If you sincerely want to console someone, in Dr. Boss’ experience a simple “I’m sorry” is sufficient.  We can’t fix a problem with no solution.

 If a loss seems without sense or meaning, it will always be meaningless.  Some folks shout to the darkness in anger with God and that’s OK because he can handle it.  I don’t believe he directly brings loss upon his children, but he will be with you to bring good out of a bad situation to provide meaning elsewhere in your life.  I knew a couple who lost a young daughter in a tragic auto accident that carried on her legacy and memory with scholarships and discussions on teen driving.  We don’t have to accept any circumstance that causes grief and sadness, but hopefully we can find a measure of peace and meaning in how we carry on to help others in memorializing a lost loved one’s spirit.

Victor Frankl who survived the horrors of the holocaust famously understood that “Without meaning there is no hope, but without hope there is no meaning.”  Love and hope came down at Christmastime to give all of our lives meaning.

PLEASURE AND CONTENTMENT

Rocket Ice Cream, Denver, CO

CHRISTMASTIME

It’s been said that perfect is the enemy of good.  There’s a rapid decline in time and effort versus benefit once you pass the milestone of good.  Not that perfect may not be a commendable goal, but perhaps there are more fish to fry once good enough has been accomplished. 

Recent research has revealed that too many options actually diminishes happiness instead of promoting it.  Most folks would choose an ice cream parlor that has a hundred choices over one with just a few, but its been shown that trying to worry over the options for a multitude of choices just increases decision anxiety and regret for not possibly choosing the best flavor.  And keeping life simple by choosing vanilla is always a good decision!  I remember that our first family television set had only a handful of channels to watch.  Even then, I had to navigate miles of shag carpeting to change the channel and in some cases my dad actually had to climb out of an upstairs window to reorient the antenna for good reception!  Now I sit in an easy chair with a digital remote at my fingertips channel surfing hundreds of cable options and many times end up watching one of the original network stations.

When one of the wealthiest men in the world was asked by a reporter how much money is enough, he replied, “Just a little bit more.”  We humanoids seem to follow the lead of the mythic Tantalus, who never was able to grasp the sweet fruit that always receded just beyond his fingers when he reached for it.  While more of most things can provide more pleasure, they will not provide more contentment.  Contentment is understood to be a condition of the soul and comes with giving thanks for what we already have in life. 

The wise man chooses lasting joy over the elusive state of temporary happiness and grows where he is planted in the here and now.  Happiness is influenced by external stimuli whereas joy percolates from within.  Home is where the heart is and not a particular location or structure.  Its where we keep our stuff and build a life.  Nothing in this earthly life will ever be fully satisfying, but our positive relationships with those around us can sustain us and render life meaningful.  And our Savior has told us that if we love God and one another, we will achieve contentment.    

FOLLOW THE WAY OF LOVE

Love One Another
Love is the Real Thing

Jesus taught his disciples the parable of the grape vine and its branches.  The vine provides the sustenance that the branches need to bear much fruit.  And he told them that if they abide in him as the branches abide in the vine, they will prove to be his disciples.  When they asked how to abide in him like vineyard branches, he replied that “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, that you love one another.”

The first African-American bishop of the Episcopal Church, Bishop Michael Curry, delivered the message at the royal wedding of Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, and Meghan Markle, an American actress of mixed racial heritage.  An audience of over one billion witnessed the wedding on May 19, 2018 and were captivated by Bishop Curry’s message on the couple’s selection of scripture from the Song of Solomon 8:6-7, noting that “Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.” 

In the introduction of his new book on The Power of Love, Bishop Curry writes that “love is the most powerful force for personal change and for changing the world around us.  Yes, we live in scary times.  Yes, people are hurting.  Yes, people are hurting one another.  But anger is not the key; revenge is not the answer.  The way of love—the love and power of God—is the key to our hope and to our future.  The message of God is very simple.  Love one another.  Take care of one another.  Take care of creation.  And while you’re at it, love me—love God.”

Somehow, one of the top ten ads of all time from Coca-Cola began replaying in my mind when I read this.  When I Googled the title, I learned that the ad man who conceived this iconic song had been diverted to Shannon, Ireland while on a flight from New York to London due to fog.  I know all too well how flight changes due to weather can rile people up!  Bill Backer observed folks who had been enjoying each other’s company earlier but were now raising their voices.  So, he picked up a napkin and wrote “I’d Like to Buy the World a Coke and Keep it Company”.  The finished song added the tag line “It’s the real thing”.  But what is the real thing?  I’d submit its love.  Love is the real thing that the world needs today that can keep us connected!  That’s the subliminal message that resonated!  The jingle was then filmed on a hillside in Italy featuring a very diverse group of singers.  Later, The New Seekers recorded their version of “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing in Perfect Harmony” which also struck a chord with people around the world.

The Way of Love is what Verna J. Dozier called “The Dream of God”.  Isaiah saw the dream in chapter 11 when the earth would be full of the knowledge that God is Love.  We are all brothers and sisters of the family of God.  We are called to not only be hearers of the Word, but doers of the Word!  And when we rally together to support and encourage one another this dream of God can be fulfilled one person at a time for all humanity and all creation.  

 Love came down at Christmastime in perfect harmony!

SEEKING A PATH FORWARD

Ferrin Knob Tunnel, Blue Ridge Parkway

I serendipitously channel surfed onto the CBS Good Morning show today and happened upon a conversation involving the family of Alaina Housley, the 18 year old that was the youngest victim of the most recent mass shooting in this country.  Her body had just been returned to her home town in Napa, California and her father remarked that "We don't believe that her voice will die. We believe that there is a message that's out there."

When the interviewer asked "What's the message?", Alaina’s father simply responded:

"To us, it's to be kind to one another. It's to put down your technology, put down your phones and look at somebody and have a conversation. It's not about gun control; this message is about doing something bigger, to be with your community, to love one another."

"What if somebody walked up to the guy and just asked him how he was doing that day and said 'hello' to him or did something that may have just changed his mind, instead of ignoring, or whatever we're doing?"

When the Son of God was asked by the religious leaders what was the greatest commandment of all the over 600 in existence at the time, he simply responded that we are to love God and love one another.  Period.

Alaina’s uncle, a former news correspondent, was right when he stated that if he mentioned the controversial issue of gun control, the defense shields would automatically be deployed around many people and much communication would end.  This applies to all the controversial issues today that appear to have no viable solutions, certainly those moral issues that those in power seek to legislate.

I used to facilitate a management skills course in employee conflict resolution where the key point was to focus on the behavior, issue or situation and absolutely not on the individual.  If you started the conversation with the offender’s name, the defense shields would immediately deploy—end of conversation!  In the case of contentious issues, we may need an even more basic starting point—focus on our common humanity and nothing else, so that we can inch toward a productive resolution.  And don’t provoke the communication shields to deploy! 

There may be some that will never be open to finding some common ground, but when those who seek to follow divine guidance come together and speak from the heart, some progress can happen.  Perhaps just enough to find a starting path to a better way forward into the light. 

CIRCLE REFLECTION

Circle Egret, Jamestown, NC

A circle is the reflection of eternity which has no beginning and no end.

THE GOD PATH

Mount Arbel (L) & Mount Nitai (R) from The Sea of Galilee

Valley of Doves, Mount Nitai Israel

Footprints, North Carolina

It’s been said that God is not so much to be seen as to be felt.  When we desire to encounter God, we would like to verify him immediately by an empirical method.  But you cannot meet God this way.  God is found in the gentle breeze perceived by Elijah.  The senses that find God are the ones St. Ignatius called “spiritual senses”.  Ignatius asks us to open our spiritual sensitivity to “encounter God beyond a purely empirical approach.  A contemplative attitude is necessary:  it is the feeling that you are moving along the good path of God and love of all things in God-this is the sign that you are on this right path”. .

I too have felt the divine presence in the vocal breezes of Colorado’s Mesa Verde canyons and the solitude of my own backyard.  Our biblical heart is characterized as one of our spiritual senses.  Jesus illustrates this in the Beatitudes when he told the five thousand that the pure in heart were blessed, for “they will see God”.  Hence, the expression that we can experience God with “the eyes of our heart”.  And just as we need relationship with one another to be human, we need contact with God to be fully human. 

Charles Wesley preached that our spiritual senses are the “inlets of spiritual knowledge”.  Our intellectual senses such as rational and common sense can take us so far within the limits of the human mind and our emotional heart can extend our reach to the doorstep of faith.  We may never fully know God, but we can know enough.  One of humanity’s great thinkers, Blaise Pascal, observed that “We know truth not by reason only, but by the heart.  The heart has its reasons which reason cannot know”.  The ultimate paradox seems to be that we must seek God so that He will ultimately engage in divine self-disclosure, one human at a time.

Many of the trails I’ve hiked in the mountains involved beautiful vistas and others were more treacherous paths along a rocky ledge.  Thomas Moore writes that “This is the goal of the soul path—to feel existence; not to overcome life’s struggles and anxieties, but to know life first hand, to exist fully in context.  Spiritual practice is sometimes described as walking in the footsteps of another: Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life.”

PS:

I took the photo in The Valley of Doves walking on a path almost certainly followed by Jesus and his disciples between Nazareth and the new excavations of Magdala near the Sea of Galilee in the Holy Land.  This is one of the few places where Jesus walked that is essentially unchanged or has not had man-made structures erected over them.

FEELING THE SEASONS CHANGE

Daybreak White Horses, Jamestown, NC

All of life is a circle.  Every aspect of time and our own life cycle circles around.  Perhaps that’s why there is a foreboding sense when the chilling temperatures and winds of fall descend on the earth.  If the chill in the air hadn’t caught my attention, the surreal scene as I passed by a local lake at daybreak certainly was cause to pause.  The cool temperatures passing over the remnants of warm summer waters stirred white horses to rise up and gallop over the still surface.

Perhaps at this particular time of the year, all creation serves as a reminder that this life not only has beginnings but also endings for every living organism and even every material object.  It reminds us to strive to live wisely and with a positive intention so that our lives matter and we won’t squander a priceless opportunity.  The imminent fallow time of winter on the horizon reminds us to live a life that will enable us to look back on the winter of our life and not be sad because it’s over, but to smile because it happened.

SHOPPING AT THE FARMERS MARKET

Farmers Market, Colfax, NC

Like many males of our time including my two-year old grandson, I’ve had a romance with vehicles all my life.  And one of my long-standing joys in life is taking a drive to nowhere in particular on a Saturday morning with a coffee and just letting the journey play out until a great photograph possibly presents itself or I stumble onto someplace that commands my attention.

This morning was no exception as I found myself turning into the local Farmers Market on a slightly overcast and rainy October morning.  Since it was still relatively early and the weather was less than ideal, there were few customers walking around and I was eagerly greeted as I passed each stand.  As I strolled around the various marketplaces, one particular stand caught my attention.  I had recently lost a dwarf pine in my backyard that wasn’t able to adapt to its new environment of part sun and relative dryness close to mature trees, so I needed to replace it. 

A smiling woman approached me sensing that I just might bring the luck of that first paying customer of the day.  I explained what I was looking for this morning and she pointed out some small holly bushes that had bright red berries on every branch which I immediately took a liking to.  Then she set the hook for a multiple sale and told me that “I need to tell you that these female bushes will only set berries if a male bush pollinates them, so you don’t come back next year disappointed.”

She took me to the other side of her display and showed me the male bushes of the same price with the caveat that “the male bushes are pretty ugly but they will service multiple female bushes.”  Not particularly interested in purchasing a trunk full of these bushes I responded that “My goodness, if these guys are not very attractive and also promiscuous, I don’t see how the females would ever pollinate with them!”  Being a good salesperson, she replied “Well that’s because there’s generally only one male available so their options are rather limited.”  “Oh, I get it”, I said, “kind of like beer proves that God loves all of us and enables everyone to mate regardless of their looks.  Does it help to water the bushes with a good craft beer every now and then?”  “Couldn’t hurt”, she replied. 

I still didn’t buy an armful of holly bushes, but after that exchange, how could I not at least buy another bush called Asiatic Jasmine which she then showed me that could tolerate shade, remain celibate and conserve moisture so it wouldn’t diminish my craft beer supply?

PINE TREES AND WISDOM TEETH ROOTS

LAST OF THE PINE TREES, JAMESTOWN, NC

After we transferred to North Carolina from Kansas, we decided to build a house similar to the one we had left, in a development that was nearing completion.  The rather wild vegetation on the lot included about eight maturing pine trees in the back.  Our new backyard neighbor approached me during construction and noted that he had secured the services of a tree company that would remove our pine trees for the value price of one hundred dollars apiece, since they still had full access to the trees and could sell the trunks later.  After giving the offer little thought, we mentioned that “we’re from Kansas and we really like the idea of having towering pine trees in our back yard”, so they remained for a few years. 

And then as the pine trees grew out and began to lose the support and protection of their diminishing surroundings, the shallow rooted, top heavy trees slowly began to topple and lean precariously in ice and wind storms, prompting me to have them removed one at a time.  The process was slow and painfully expensive since the area was now completely built up with surrounding homes and now they are all gone.

Over the years I have had two wisdom teeth residing on the back of my upper set of teeth.  Dental technicians have complained that it is difficult to clean between these two wisdom teeth and their immediate neighbors.  My dentists have all had their eyes on these two teeth for extraction, but I’ve always responded that I like my wisdom teeth and they aren’t causing any problem! 

Then a couple of weeks ago I was innocently watching television and I got a sharp series of painful jabs in the location of my upper left wisdom tooth.  As I got comfortable with these discomforts never returning, it happened again last week, so I scheduled an appointment with my dentist for an exam.  An X-Ray quickly revealed that I needed a root canal procedure in the tooth immediately next to my wisdom tooth that I dearly have held onto for all these years.  Now that I’m finished with the root canal, I need to have the wisdom tooth removed to make way for a crown.  I suspect the other one is on the way out as well.  The final cost will be much higher than simply removing the wisdom teeth earlier.  I now realize I really wasn’t THAT attached to them!

Then it occurred to me that there seems to be a direct correlation between my decisions on both the pine trees and the wisdom teeth.  In both cases, I had the time to make a proactive decision to economically and painlessly remove the impending problem or simply kick the can down the road in futile hopes that the problem would go away.  Well, we all probably have the easy answer to that riddle if we’ve lived long enough!  So, bite the bullet and do what ya gotta do now before the end result is much more painful. 

There’s some wisdom in these sad stories and a moral about making sure your roots are fully grounded!

THE LAST DUCK HUNT

Brother Bob's Duck Camp, Wolf Creek, Kansas

I recently finished a novel loaned from a friend by Nathan Jorgenson about the passion of hunting and life.  The protagonist in the book was a dentist in a small Minnesota community that had recently lost his wife, parent and best friend in the short span of less than two years.  Towards the end of the story he had been caught in an approaching winter storm while duck hunting with his loyal lab and almost lost his life, which brought it into sharp focus.  There were a lot of parallels in my life as well including his three losses in two years as I finished the book on the eve of a dental appointment for a root canal procedure!  One of the man’s revelations during this time of testing was that “when life hurts, that’s how you know you’re alive.”   

    

The story immediately called to mind a life-threatening experience I had years ago during a late fall duck hunt in central Kansas. Myself and two close hunting companions had set out for a huge reservoir well before dawn on a cold-to-the-bone starlit night. Our truck was pulling a flat-bottomed john boat we had converted into a floating duck blind using framed chicken wire laced with long-stemmed prairie grass. We were layered in warm hunting clothes with insulated boots and our pockets were stuffed with twelve-gauge shotgun shells. The bottom of the boat was crowded with dozens of floating decoys and a sturdy anchor. Our faithful black lab, Peanuts, was shaking with the excitement of another adventurous hunt. As we backed our floating blind down the boat ramp and into the frigid waters, we could hear the rush of wings overhead and the feeding calls of the wild mallards that had arrived overnight on the northerly winds. The evening weather forecast had predicted a severe change as a Canadian cold front was expected to blitz through the Midwestern United States. That’s the kind of nasty forecast which is a duck hunter’s dream!  Dropping temperatures fueled by strong winds stirs the migratory instincts of winged waterfowl across the world—and the adrenaline of passionate duck hunters!

We cautiously steered our john boat under the setting moon along the outer shoreline for about a mile or more until we found the familiar sanctuary of a relatively sheltered inlet cove. As first light was breaking the darkness, we began to deliberately set out the anchored decoys in the shallow waters in a wide arc, allowing a center opening for incoming flights of ducks to attempt a landing into the north wind. Then we edged the john boat back into a stand of tall grasses and tree saplings opposite the bobbing decoys. Almost immediately the spitfire strafing began into the decoys. One by one we singled out the lesser point drakes to fill our legal harvesting point totals. Peanuts would just return from jumping into the cold water to retrieve a downed mallard when he was right back into the lake after another. After about two hours of a career day on the water, my teeth had begun to chatter uncontrollably as we all noticed that the winds had picked up considerable intensity and white caps were gathering out in the lake away from our sheltered hunting cove. I cast a glance at Peanuts shivering at the end of the boat as ice crystals covered his wet hair. As I hunkered down behind the grassed frame, freezing rain and sleet were beginning to accumulate on everything around us. Rivulets of ice were forming around every stem of grass protruding from the icy waters. We were left with the sobering realization that we had over stayed our welcome, so we immediately began to retrieve our decoys and head for the boat ramp.

By this time, the waves were treacherously lapping onto the side of our john boat which began taking on additional weight as water instantly froze to the grassed frames. And then it happened! Since we were trying to cling to the relative safety of the shoreline, we had hit bottom and snapped the shear pin that protected the motor’s propeller. The north wind and waves were unfortunately moving away from land, so we immediately began to drift out to the open water white caps. Our weight and heavy clothing would have almost assuredly capsized us into the frigid waters. None of us would survive if that happened and we were faced with the fate of other duck hunters of years past on this lake. I chattered a quick prayer under my frozen breath. Then my friend running the boat found one last spare shear pin taped to the underside of the motor and he quickly installed it with numb fingers and steered back to the safety of the shoreline. Survivor instincts kicked in and we all instantly realized that we wouldn’t make it if this pin was also sheared. So, I grabbed an oar and crawled over the bow of the john boat on my stomach and began probing for the lake bottom. The second the oar hit bottom I yelled into the cutting wind to steer away from shore! We had to move slow enough for me to plumb for the bottom and fast enough so that the northern winds didn’t drive us out to the deadly open water. We labored at this for about an hour as the winds increased, the temperature dropped and the freezing rain and waves continued to weigh down the boat. None of us mentioned the possibility of running out of fuel as the motor strained to maintain forward progress while we zigzagged with and against the waves. 

I would have rejoiced in seeing a ghostly spirit walking across the stormy lake to calm the wind and the waves that were steadily sinking us. But finally, the boat ramp came into view and we crippled into its shelter and safety. The truck was barely able to pull the heavily iced boat out of the water on that frigid late October day.  As the truck heater slowly began to relieve the hurt and pain of frigid skin and bones, I began to appreciate the gift of another chance at life, realizing that spirit was in the boat with us.  I understood this was my last duck hunt even though the call of migrating waterfowl on a cold October night still stirs my soul, especially when they pass by a full harvest moon.  And I now understand another revelation from the book that “the love we have for people never goes away, even when the people do.”

SUBLIMINAL EYEWITNESS ACCOUNTS

Justitia, Heemskerk

I wrote a blog two years ago titled The Catch recalling a memory of over sixty years that occurred when I was a boy playing in my first All Star baseball game.  And this memory has popped up in my mind’s eye off and on all of my life. It wasn’t an experience that the hundred or so other people who witnessed it were even aware of at the time. I alone knew that it was special.  I don’t recall the exact time or place or much else about the game, including whether we won or lost!  I just mainly remember the catch.  Leonard Mlodinow has written a book titled Subliminal about how our unconscious mind rules our behavior.  He covers some extraordinary new research on how our behavior and memory function.  Mlodinow notes that the unconscious tier of our mind is more fundamental than our conscious mind and it is the standard infrastructure in all vertebrate brains that ensures our survival and ability to pass along critical DNA genes.

 

The human sensory system sends the brain about eleven million bits of information each second.  The actual amount of information we can handle has been estimated to be fifty bits per second at most.  Scientists estimate that we are conscious of only about 5 percent of our cognitive function.  The majority goes beyond our awareness and makes our lives possible.  Even if our conscious mind is idle, our unconscious mind is always active!  That’s why it’s always a good idea to "sleep" on a vexing problem and awake with a solution.  One of the most important functions of our unconscious is processing data delivered by our eyes and about a third of our brain is devoted to processing vision.  We receive images in two dimensions and our unconscious creates three dimensions.  Many of us know that these images arrive upside down and our brain presents them to us right side up.  But did you know that there’s a blind spot right in the center of every image due to the connection between our retina and our brain?  However, the brain fills in the dead region based on the surrounding area.

There is a correlation between how the unconscious fills in the blanks for both our vision and our memories!  But that begs the question of how much of the result is accurate?  This question has far reaching implications for memory and eyewitness testimony.  Mlodinow relates that “The organization Innocence Project analyzed hundreds of people exonerated on the basis of postconviction DNA testing and found 75 percent had been imprisoned because of inaccurate eyewitness identification.  About seventy-five thousand police lineups take place each year and statistics on those show that 20 to 25 percent of the time witnesses make a choice that the police know is incorrect because these are ‘known innocents’ used to fill out the lineup.”

Our human memory system is far from perfect, but it’s good enough to retain the deep structure or gist of a situation and doesn’t let the surface structure which we only retain for seconds get in the way.  Later our unconscious fills in the estimated details based on our experience.  And if we bring a certain memory up repeatedly over time, we begin to remember the memory, not the original event.  I’ve read that we actually never recall the original event but our last memory of the event which may by now be somewhat corrupted, as in eyewitness accounts.

Mlodinow questions “Are we often wrong but never in doubt?  We might all benefit from being less certain, even when a memory seems clear and vivid.”

GROUND ZERO 2004

Ground Zero, New York, NY

I took this photo in 2004 at ground zero in New York City. Three years after radical terrorists flew into the twin World Trade Towers the area had been reduced to a gigantic hole in the ground with a lone cross fashioned out of twisted structural steel rising out of the ashes. The cab driver that took us there solemnly mentioned that she will forever hear the pings of the perished first responders’ locators that were hopelessly sounding for days afterwards.  A member of our church was in the south tower when the second plane hit above the floor where he and others were having a business meeting.  As they evacuated down a stairway, they passed many of these responders going the other way, a memory that is seared into his mind forever. 

As we approached the security fence a handwritten message caught my eye.  We instantly knew that we were standing on hallowed ground as we reverently read the heartfelt message; "We will never forget!  May all your souls rest in peace with God in the eternal heavens."  The memory of that day will be forever with all of us.

 May the 3,000 innocent souls that perished on that bright September day in 2001 rest in peace. God must be continually asking, “When will they ever learn”?

SPIRIT WIND

NATIVE AMERICAN WIND SYMBOL

SPIRIT WIND

“The wind gives our children the spirit of life.”—Chief Seattle

They say that God is in the wind and as a boy growing up in the windy mid-western Kansas plains I came to instinctively sense this. I was keenly aware of this especially as I hunted the prairie grasses for wild quail and prairie chickens while the ubiquitous winds carried them away ahead of me.  Jesus mentioned in John 3:8 (just before the well-known John 3:16 verse) that “God’s Spirit is like the wind that blows wherever it wishes. You hear its sound, but you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going.” God made his presence known at Pentecost via a violent wind, fire, and his Holy Spirit.  However, when Elijah needed a message in 1 Kings 19 there was a great wind, an earthquake and finally a fire, but God was not in any of these.  Then God’s message came in a gentle whisper.  It’s up to us to be aware and many times to retreat from the chaos and noise of the world around us and simply listen humbly and quietly to the silence born on gentle breezes.

God has communicated to humankind over the centuries verbally, with angels, in dreams, and through His Son. Since the time of that revelation of himself over 2,000 years ago, he is more to be felt than seen.  I’ve been fascinated by Native Americans because I believe they lived a harsh but harmonious life out in God’s creation every day of their lives. They were convinced of the existence of a Great Spirit and the sacredness of the earth. They viewed winds as the personification of a divine messenger and an autonomous living force.  They observed the path of the winds to be this divine being sweeping through the land.  And they considered this being to be a counselor, a term that also defines the role of the Holy Spirit.  The Navajo, Apache and Hopi use a diamond shape to symbolize the powerful four-fold nature of the four winds: freedom, eternity, unity and balance.

It’s interesting to note that both the Hebrew and Greek words for wind, breath and spirit are the same. God breathed life into the first human beings. The air around us has been described as the kingdom of the heavens. We certainly can’t survive without it. Is it merely composed of natural elements like oxygen and carbon dioxide, or is there something more transparent and spiritual at work in this rarefied air?

When we’re out in God’s creation and enjoying the experience of the life he has given to us, we can begin to feel his presence. I believe God is in these winds more so than anything else in his created universe. And these caressing breezes provide a closeness for some of the most sublime moments in our life as a child of God.

In the Old Testament book of Ezekiel, the prophet had a vision of God leading him to a valley of dry human bones. The dry bones represented the hopelessly and spiritually dead condition of the people. And God told Ezekiel to prophesy that the breath of the four winds would come and breathe into those slain, that they might live. And life was restored as the bones rose up and lived again! Once God breathes His spirit back into a people, they will have new life! 

"Tell me a fact and I’ll learn. Tell me a truth and I’ll believe. But tell me a story and it will live in my heart forever.” – Native American proverb

WAVES OF GRACE

Sunrise Waves

Light beams of grace are carried on timeless waves, wash over us, and are absorbed in the muted stillness between each arrival.

BE THE WAVE.

THE REST OF THE “VINEYARD” STORY

Vineyard, Internet Domain

Our pastor used the parable of the Workers Paid Equally as this morning’s breakfast devotional.  Jesus tells a story of a vineyard landowner who went into the morning marketplace and hired workers for the day who agreed to one denarius in exchange for their toil and sweat.  He went out again during the third, sixth, ninth and eleventh hours and hired more workers promising to “pay whatever is right”.

When evening came the landowner had his foreman gather the workers and began paying them in reverse order of their hiring.  Each of them received a denarius.  Predictably, the workers that were hired first began grumbling that they should have received more pay.  But the owner rightly said that he wasn’t being unfair and had paid them exactly what they had agreed to that morning.  After all, didn’t he have a right to do what he wanted to do with his own money?

This lesson really isn’t about monetary rewards, but if we peel back the onion skin to the next layer, we learn that Jesus was teaching about salvation.  We shouldn’t begrudge anyone who repents very late in life since in actuality none of us earns eternal life.  Its all about grace and forgetting about the other guy so that we can focus on those blessings in our lives that we tend to take all too casually.  One of the criminals being crucified with Jesus later on asked for salvation from the One securing it for all of us and was granted it immediately.

Before the true meaning of this parable could be discussed, however, one of our senior members who had successfully retired from his thriving business, interjected “And that’s how unions were created!”   

It took a while before we could get on with our devotional.  

THE SANCTUARY OF A MOUNTAIN STREAM

Vail, Colorado

Gore Creek

STREAM SONG

Shakespeare was a man of incredible insight and observation of human behavior and the world around him.  So, it was no surprise to stumble across his observation that “The earth has music for those who listen.”  Of course, there’s a great distinction between music and noise for the most part.  I’ve observed that there doesn’t appear to be any distinction for some bands, but that’s for another post.

All of us need quiet time to sort out life and clear the cobwebs of the mind so that we can carry on with the business of living.  One ideal place to be still and meditate on life is in the sanctuary of a consecrated place where sacred worship is held, but in my view that can either be inside a building or out in nature.  A wildlife sanctuary provides protection from predators.  And I’ve always found sanctuary beside a cold, gurgling mountain stream rushing over polished glacier stones and calling out to me as they plunge headlong toward their origin in the vast oceans.

These tranquil waters need no interpretation, as God sings universal songs in nature that stirs our soul.  The moving waters of a summer mountain stream have slowed now that the initial wild rush of the spring snow melt has passed.  The soothing sound of Aspen leaves rustling in the cool breezes coupled with the stream song tranquilizes the senses and leaves one at peace within the consciousness of the universe we inhabit.

We consciously and subconsciously find comfort and solace in all of these sounds as they complete the unique playlist for the soundtrack of a life.  A sage native American Indian proverb still provides relevant wisdom from the people that spent their entire lives out in nature:

“Listen to the wind, it talks.

Listen to the silence, it speaks.

Listen to your heart, it knows.”

HIGH-COUNTRY SUMMER’S DAY

Mountain Sun, Vail, CO.

Mountain Rain, Vail, CO.

Gentle breezes move in a Bernoulli fashion through the valley.  The light green aspen leaves shimmer in dappled sunlight contrasted by the pastel white branches.  The slow but relentless waters of fresh snowmelt runoff gurgles over the boulders that have been “tumble polished” by centuries of wear.  Swift swallows dart in and out over the water which is moving along in the deeper side of the creek.  A trio of black crows soar into the pine trees as the wind slices through the green needles.  Then they glide down to the smoothly ground rocks on the shallower dry side of the summer stream to sort out their next move.  After much agitation and arguing, they seem to make peace with one another and elect to fly away up into the aspens as a golden eagle catches a thermal updraft and soars high above them.  

  

Cyclists silently roll over the designated paved paths near the water’s edge regaled in full gear.  The knobby tired rental bikes are designed for mountain trails that beckon downhill racers and uphill enthusiasts.  Gondolas are constantly migrating in silent procession up and down the mountain side on invisible cables in the distance.  The silence is only broken when they pass over the stalwart iron posts that support them. 

The soothing sound of Gore Creek never ends, unlike the repeating sound of ocean waves rhythmically washing onto sandy beaches.  The song of the mountain stream is punctuated by the innocent voices of small children playing in the crisp air over a swimming pool.  They shout and giggle as they tread the water’s surface on tubes and arm floats. 

A large stand of aspen trees with their straight white narrow trunks lines the mountain side near the creek, as higher elevation green pine trees receive the baton and transition on up the slopes.  Swaths of green meadows laced with red Indian Paintbrush belie the rapid activity of skiers in the wintertime.  The slate and green metal roofs of mountain homes can be seen jutting through the aspen and pines between the mountain stream and the ski slopes.  Mankind has imposed his will on these pristine highlands as well, but the natives have embraced the notion of living in harmony with nature and designing homes that harmonize with their environment.

John Denver’s high-country anthem, Rocky Mountain High, bemoans the sight of “more scars across the land”, but responsible developers can also attract people who grow to know and love this mountain life and thus live in concert with the land while working to preserve it.  I’ve always embraced the revelation that John experienced upon coming to this place on earth and realizing that he was “coming home to a place he’d never been before.”  Some folks say that also applies to heaven.  This is a place where “you can talk to God and listen to the casual reply.”

The late afternoon winds suddenly begin to gust as the aspen leaves shimmer even faster.  A rain shower swiftly moves through the valley as native Indian fire spears strike the higher elevations and booming thunder drums resonate off the opposing mountain sides.  Then as the showers pass, sunbeams from the lowering sun are split in the prisms of a legion of rain drops to reveal a brightly colored rainbow drifting away across the valley.  And as daylight recedes a starry, starry night high above the pollution of city lights appears and “the shadow from the starlight is softer than a lullaby.”  

THE GOOSE SWEATER AND TIBETAN PRAYER FLAGS

It has been about thirty summers since my wife Karen and I boarded a gondola in Vail, Colorado with our young daughter.  We had crossed the continental divide the day before and stopped by a high-country meadow where we photographed her sitting on a fallen log amid colorful alpine flowers in a hand-crafted sweater with a goose neck extending down the sleeve.

This morning I, my daughter, son-in-law and grandson of almost two years boarded another gondola to the top of Vail Mountain in the Rockies.  My wife who succumbed to breast cancer exactly ten years ago had saved that goose sweater for a future grandchild and he was wearing it this morning.  We walked a looping trail in anticipation of duplicating the image taken those thirty years ago in Colorado at the top of the world.

The morning’s atmosphere was a perfect sunlit temperature in the low seventies with gentle cool breezes passing over the mountain.  As we completed our mission and strolled back to the hiking trail, small colorful flags strung between two pine trees caught my attention.  Further investigation revealed traditional Tibetan Prayer Flags gently waving in the breeze.

My son-in-law was aware of their significance, being placed where one desires to bring harmony to the surroundings.  Tibetans believe that as the flags are blown by the wind, prayers and mantras on them will spread goodwill and compassion into all pervading space.  Even the colors of the flags have symbolic meaning for this harmony and the earth’s elements such as blue for peace and sky, yellow for knowledge and earth, white for purification and air, green for prosperity and water, and red for compassion and fire.

As the wind blows through the flags and moves them, the vibration of the prayers and the spiritual intention permeates the area.  The wind slicing through pine needles and whistling around the mountain always moves my soul to the consciousness of a divine creator.  Perhaps the colorful flags waving for our attention in this special place today may have been acknowledging that the sweater was symbolic of our combined destinies and an indication that we were walking the right path.  And they were reminding us that we were not alone in this sacred place that reaches to the heavens.

GIMMIE A MULLIGAN

"While We're Young!", Blue Hills CC, MO

SECOND CHANCES

A Mulligan in golf or a Gimmie putt is never allowed under the rules, but has become somewhat commonplace for the friendly, social game and recreational golfers that play less for trophies or money and more for the enjoyment of the golfing experience.  Both of these practices can also speed up the game and allow the group waiting behind you to keep playing at a reasonable pace.  Or as Arnold would say, “While we’re young!”  However, if either of these concepts involve an official competition or a “money shot” such as playing skins, then they’re not allowed.

A Gimmie putt is generally agreed upon and given by other players in the group if it is inside the leather of a standard putter grip and the hole.  A Mulligan is simply a second chance or “do-over” and the first errant shot is forgotten and now out of play.  So, if your Mulligan turns out to be in even worse trouble, tough luck!  If you go ahead and putt a Gimmie that has been conceded and you miss, you must also count the missed putt.  You do not have to pick up a Gimmie, but the whole point is to move along off the green. 

Most Mulligans are given off the first tee, especially when golfers have rushed to make an early tee time or have not played for some time.  If the shot is winged into the woods or a lake, a second shot in play can keep the game moving, as long as the golfer doesn’t spend extra time searching for the first ball.  However, in more recent times, golfers running a charity tournament have quickly found that they can easily raise extra money by selling limited mulligans to team members to be used for any errant shot during play.  That practice seems to have given rise to some groups allowing Mulligans off the front and back nines for tee and fairway shots, but not putts. Purists say “golf isn’t a matter of life or death.  It’s much more than that.”  They lose sight of the reality that it’s a just game.  Games are played with an agreed upon set of rules.

Nobody is quite sure when and where the term Mulligan originated, but it must have preceded 1949 when it made its way into P. Cummings’ Dictionary of Sports.  Most agree it may have started with an Irish golfer named Mulligan or even a bartender taking a freebie shot.  Somehow the term just meandered into the sport, quite probably because the practice is such an equal opportunity for everyone in the group.  If you don’t use a Mulligan in a round, you’ve probably had a very good day!  Besides, golf is a career to the professionals who play a very difficult game at another level.  But it’s a game and needs to be somewhat fun to the poor slob that is attempting to escape from the everyday world and simply enjoy life for a few hours.  And the universal second chance for just about everyone will always lift your spirits and give you renewed hope for redemption on the next shot!