FORKS IN OUR PATH AND AUTUMN LEAVES

REFLECTIVE VIEW, Jamestown, NC 

The more I think about it, the more I think we don’t give enough thought to the gift of free will we all possess. Of course, free will flourishes best in an environment of freedom which we Americans take all too lightly. I suppose it’s like many things in life—we don’t always appreciate something until we lose it. It’s an old comparison, but free will is indeed analogous to approaching a fork in our path and then making a decision to go one way or the other. We encounter these forks hundreds of times in the course of a lifetime. Sometimes that involves choosing good versus not so good and sometimes it literally involves choosing left versus right. We learned about the unwritten “law of lines” while at Disney World years ago. Since most people are right-handed, they tend to go right when the doors open at the attractions, so it’s always a good idea to move to the left to get a good seat. And as with most all decisions, there are consequences to how we choose. Sometimes those are trivial and sometimes they are very consequential. Sometimes those consequences are immediate and other times they may take years to unfold. 

It’s a good day to write and I’m working at my computer next to the upstairs window of my office. Today is overcast with an early November rain falling outside but the view is spectacular! They say the best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago and the next best time is today, i.e., it’s never too late to make something happen—just do it! I planted the October Glory maple tree outside my window about twenty years ago with the thought in mind that someday it would really be quite a scene. Well, it certainly is today!   The inspirational photo on my desk of our American bald eagle is titled Dare to Soar.  “Your attitude, almost always determines your altitude in life.”

I also recall making a simple left versus right decision that seemed trivial at the time but had immediate consequences and proved to be life-saving.  My two hunting companions and I primarily used two basic techniques to hunt migratory ducks and geese along the central flyway in Kansas. We would either set out a decoy spread in a new wheat field or cut grain field and call the game birds to us or we would go to them by jumping ponds in pastures. On one particular overcast and drizzly November day like today we had spotted a flight of mallards circling a large pond and then going down. So, we drove our truck to an area opposite the back of the dam and proceeded to stealth under their radar to position ourselves in shooting range. 

One of my hunting companions moved to the left of the dam so that he could peer over the top and locate the floating ducks. I was following my other friend through the tall prairie grasses to the center of the dam. When our spotter motioned that the ducks were in range directly in front of us, I moved into shooting position to the right of my left-handed partner. The signal was given to move up, the ducks responded by giving flight and the rapid sound of automatic shotguns shattered the morning silence. In moments, my magazine was empty and I turned to my hunting partner amid the pungent smell of spent gun powder and incredulously asked why he wasn’t shooting. He just looked at me with an astonished expression and showed me his shotgun. He had been using shells that he had loaded himself and later admitted that he had added a little bit of extra powder for some extra punch. The left side of his receiver had been completely blown out! If I had been standing to his left when the shooting started, my head would have quite possibly been next to the blow out. 

Was it pure chance or divine guidance that prompted me to the right rather than to the left? I may never know, but there have been other such occasions that saved my life and the autumn leaves outside my window on this chilly morning take on a whole new perspective as I reflect.

AN INDOMITABLE HUMAN SPIRIT

End of Day, Kiawah, SC

I just recently spent a couple of weeks in a reconditioning facility after total knee replacement. It was my second and thankfully my last, as I only have two legs. As you might expect, life in such a place is not real exciting with your days filled with post operative pain and the mind numbing effects of the necessary pain meds to enable you to work through the required physical therapy. One life lesson learned from the experience is that pain is weakness leaving the body. That’s a good mindset to keep in perspective so that you can keep pressing on with the therapy.

Your world is also compressed within the walls of the facility as you focus on the one goal of rehabbing the body so that you can return back into the world of active living. Any distraction is welcome so that you are not focusing on the temporary pain of regaining your strength. Enter Francine. I first encountered her while getting my tendons and muscles stretched back to normality in the therapy room. Francine is a permanent resident and has become a daily fixture in the room with the staff. She stealth’s into the room in her wheelchair by independently moving it with her feet. And she’s become quite proficient with this method as her hands are apparently wracked with arthritis. After all, I learned that Francine is in her late nineties these days. Her trademark attire is a different colored head scarf that she wears every day of the week. She can’t weigh over 80 pounds. My first impression of Francine was the old woman in the woods in the childhood fable, Hansel and Grettle.

Francine’s mind isn’t quite what it used to be and she can occasionally become irritated, but that hasn’t stopped her from endearing herself to the staff. I’m told that they have gathered on more than one occasion to pay their last respects, only to see her gliding down the halls the very next morning. She was apparently called the pie lady years ago. You can only assume that she sold pies to get by in life. That could explain her habit of carrying a small coin purse with a few dollar bills that she will pull out and methodically count each one and then return them to their resting place. It would seem that she is making change for the sale of another pie. She religiously joins a small cadre of patients and staff outside in the courtyard every day to have a smoke and social time. Then once the smokes are spent, she wheels her chair towards the door and leads a small convoy back inside. Who would possibly try to get her to quit smoking if she has made it this far?

Francine is one of the many folks that are hidden among us on the edge of survival. She obviously cannot take care of herself, so all of us contribute to her well being. We have a moral obligation to do so--especially when you come face to face with such a fellow human being in need. Francine entered the therapy room while I was there one morning in a very agitated state of mind. She was looking for her long dead son because she realized that she needed money to buy food. My therapist assured her that she didn’t need any money to receive food here, but she was inconsolable—as if old fearful memories of going hungry were forever scarred into her mind and had somehow resurfaced amid the fog. Finally, she was wheeled back to her area where familiar nurses could calm her down. On another occasion, she entered the room and demanded one of the therapists to open her mouth. After realizing there was no other choice but to acquiesce, the therapist opened her mouth. “Ah Ha”, shouted Francine. “You have my teeth”! Those false teeth of hers are quite probably part of only a handful of material possessions to her name.

ADAPTING TO LIFE EVENTS

Fork in the Road, Greensboro, NC

I had just cleared the on ramp to the interstate highway and was at full speed to merge to the right as the road forked shortly afterward. A formless gray overcast sky was spitting cold rain drops on my windshield. The SUV ahead of me was scattering a fine mist from its rear wheels onto my car as well. As I was focused on the road ahead a rather large white pickup truck raced past my left side to barely make the merge to the right. As he passed my car and abruptly cut in front of me a small pebble was thrown into the mist and hit my glass windshield in the lower section of the passenger’s side.

A few weeks earlier, I had violated one of my present rules of life to never again purchase a new car. I’m quite alright letting someone else pay the depreciation penalty to drive one off the dealer’s lot. However, as I was bargaining for last year’s model, I had to complement the salesman on his finesse in playing one of the most artful games of “bait and switch” that I had ever personally participated in. And now I was experiencing that first ding in my new automobile.

Fortunately, I had recently finished a book on Zen and the Art of Happiness where the author revealed a similar circumstance. It occurred to me that I had two choices; either burst into an uncontrollable fit of road rage, run the offending pickup off the road, pull the driver outside, rip his heart out and spend the rest of my life in prison or I could apply a lesson I had learned from the book; “A situation only becomes favorable when one adapts to it”. I resolved to respond to the event not as a “bad event” but a “good event” which determined what it became in my life.

I’m no longer anxious or a bit stressed waiting on that first painful ding on my new possession. Now I can go somewhere without parking in the far corner of the mall lot and walking half a mile to pick up a new pair of socks. Now I don’t have to drop back thirty car lengths in heavy traffic to avoid getting my windshield inevitably dinged for the first time. Now I can actually use my new acquisition for its intended purpose with less stress in my life. I followed the author’s advice and wondered “what good could come from this”? We can’t unring a bell and we can’t unding a windshield, but we can always choose to respond positively to keep our life between the ditches.

DON’T GIVE UP

Hanging On, Jamestown, NC

Early morning temperatures this Thanksgiving week hover around the freezing mark heralding the onset of winter. Free falling leaves have been spiraling down for weeks as the life sustaining sap is withdrawn back into the core of the trees. All of nature is bracing for the fallow season of freezing weather and cold north winds. And yet, as I gazed up into the naked branches of a clump birch this morning, there are still a handful of leaves that tenaciously cling to the branches. These spirits of the forest know that the race is won by those who strive in the face of adversity; those who spend themselves in a worthy cause; those who exert the greatest enthusiasm; those who know the triumph of high achievement and at least if they fail, know that if they have given life their best shot they will never be with those timid souls who will never know neither victory or defeat. They’re hanging in there and hanging on!

I love the quotation from Calvin Coolidge that I kept with me all through my professional business career. Our 30th president stated that “Nothing in the world can take the place of perseverance. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent”. It’s been said that skid row is full of talented, educated, intellectuals who lacked the prime asset of perseverance. Persistence is a great equalizer when it is applied with more grit and determination than your competitor or oppressor. Don’t give up when you have something left to give. Nothing is really finished until you quit trying. Jimmy Valvano said it best during his 1993 ESPY speech as he fought the good fight against cancer when he left us with the admonition, “Don’t give up…Don’t ever give up”!

STANDING ON THE CORNER

Running of the Leaves, Jamestown, NC

I was casually driving in the climate controlled comfort of my car's leather cabin this morning while listening to a remastered version of The Beatles Abbey Road which I had downloaded onto the hard disc drive of the audio system. A mid-November cold front preceded by a cold rain riding a north wind was pushing its way into the Carolinas, reminding all who ventured out today that the holidays were once again knocking at our doorstep. Passing vehicles stirred rapid successions of mini-whirlwinds of leaf devils, like the dust devils that swirl over freshly plowed farm fields. They gathered in great bands and rapidly joined together in powerful wind gusts to race down the street and along banked gutters. The very high spirited among them raced onto the freeway, attempting to outrun the speeding vehicles in a scene reminiscent of the running of the bulls.

As I rolled past the edge of a local college campus, I caught the eye of a young man huddled on the street corner apparently waiting to cross over to his Spartan off campus apartment. He was wearing typical campus attire with a dark hoodie over blue jeans. He seemed isolated and a bit uneasy as the reality of a raw cold wind penetrated the exposed core of his body and the survival instinct of his psyche.

That brief glance shook me out of my complacency and the Beatles music whisked me away back to my simplistic roots of college days in the 1960’s. My father had died of cancer during my sophomore year and I had laid out during the fall semester to earn enough money to continue my education. I sold my customized Ford and eventually lived back at home to obtain a degree. I had worked as a construction laborer and welder on an industrial building expansion project. Just as we removed the immense north doors of the large building to reposition them onto the new expansion, a similar cold front hit the area with scattered sleet riding on north winds that stung your exposed face. We had to finish the job, so we worked out in the elements for twenty minutes and then sought shelter and warmth inside for twenty minutes until the building was secured. I made considerably less money on that job than I currently earn in retirement. But it was enough.

Those kinds of early experiences can define a life. The challenges became a crucible to harden my resilience and move ahead. I eventually also learned that I never stood alone as long as I asked my heavenly Father to stand with me. And here I am today, silently passing by another young man standing alone on the corner, full of promise and hope for the future as he shivers in the elements. I wish him all the best including the presence of his heavenly Father to sustain him, north winds to keep his attention focused and enough hard times to strengthen his resolve.

SEVENTY YEAR GIFT

Autumn Rain Shower, Jamestown, NC

On the Occasion of the First Day of my Seventieth Year on the Planet

I spent the entire morning at my church yesterday presenting the message for our annual stewardship campaign. I enjoyed the experience as it really was the culmination of a lifetime occupied with business, family, spirit, and learning. Our team’s message this year is how God’s overflowing blessings of grace have touched our lives to enable us to act as the vessels of clay that can in turn pour out additional blessings to others in need of both material and spiritual nourishment.

I had risen earlier than usual this morning since I had spent all yesterday afternoon outside in my yard celebrating the glorious fall weather and balancing my morning time spent indoors. It wasn’t that I was so anxious to rise early on a Monday as that my body was in a bit of revolt from the excessive physical labor of planting, raking and pruning which I enjoy. Sometimes the best way to cope with life is to simply focus on the task at hand, get a “good kind of tired” night’s sleep and vow to try again tomorrow. I’ve always liked the closing lines of Voltaire’s Candide after he’s been confronted with all the woes of the world. He acknowledges the brokenness, but responds to his mentor Pangloss with the enigmatic precept that “we must now cultivate our garden”.

So, fortunately, I was up and drinking my morning coffee when a lifelong friend called to wish me a Happy Seventieth Birthday! At this point in life, I try to appreciate every present moment on the green side and the occasion of my seventieth birthday had quite frankly escaped me. Life has been relatively good when viewed from the perspective of the reality of the temporary, broken world we inhabit. And I’m still able to acquire my few needs as they arise, so birthday presents aren’t highly anticipated at this stage. I did, however, receive a book gift card from my daughter and son-in-law, quietly delivered by the UPS guy in brown soon after the call, which was nice. I’ll have it redeemed by sundown!

It’s been a dry season for most parts of the country and the small patch of the earth that I tend was showing signs of stress as I toiled in my yard yesterday. I was satisfied with my labors and retired at nightfall, but I’ve learned that no amount of watering from my insignificant little garden hose can ever match a good soaking rainfall. And then at morning’s first light, I heard the slow crescendo of rain drops on my fireplace flue followed by a more rapid and louder rhythm on the deck outside my window. I reflected on past Mondays as I rose and drove to work on a chilly, raw autumn Monday. I reflected then on how beautiful it might be someday to simply sit at home on a Monday morning and enjoy the blessing of raindrops being poured out over the land. And so I savored the priceless gift.

UP IN THE AIR

Air Force Two, Piedmont Triad Airport, NC

I was on a late flight into Charlotte on a recent Sunday night. I had previously booked an aisle seat when I made my reservations on-line which is my preferred location on a plane after numerous road warrior trips. My absolute last choice is the center seat on planes with three seats together in a row. Inevitably, one or both persons in the aisle and window seats either hasn’t bathed since leaving home to work in the tropics with a primitive tribe of headhunters or they are constantly eating, drinking and listening to loud rap music or an Armageddon movie on some electronic device. And of course, I always cringe when some harried mother boards with a screaming child and begins to eye the seat next to mine.

Well, I didn’t get the personal hygiene person with a strange rash this trip, but I did get the crying baby. And then I noticed as I rose to allow access to the center seat next to me that an older woman in the center seat behind us knew the young mother. It was soon apparent that they were traveling together. Now I was conflicted with a choice—either sit next to the fussy baby for the next two hours or offer my coveted aisle seat to the grandmother in a center seat--decisions, decisions. I weighed my limited options and opted for the center seat in the next row in hopes that the grandmother would be much better suited to quiet the fussy baby. And I have joined other passengers in the past to give up seats to allow family members to sit together on crowded and chaotic flights.

Fortunately, the young man in the window seat to my right was a professional hockey scout and my traveling companion on the aisle seemed subdued enough. After making our introductions, I opened the book I was reading on Jesus’ life and his vision for us to lead lives of love, dignity, compassion, forgiveness, and hope. Since I was in the center seat with my overhead reading light on, I noticed that the young man on the aisle was also casually reading along once we were up in the air. Only when he spoke did I finally notice the camouflage hat he was wearing along with civilian clothing. He acknowledged the Christian book and implied that he had grown up in a Christian home. Then after he had apparently become comfortable with talking to me, he blurted out a serious issue that he had carried home to Tennessee after his return from the Afghanistan war.

I learned long ago that most folks who share a serious issue with someone are not really looking for a solution. And we men have the knee jerk DNA to immediately offer one. But people generally just want to talk out their pent up frustrations to someone who can patiently listen while keeping their mouth shut. So I just sat back in my center seat and let him talk through why he came home to Tennessee with this issue and occasionally offered any insights I had gleaned from the teachings I had learned from studying Jesus’ life and words at church and through readings. Our plane soon reached a comfortable cruising altitude and speed. The young soldier seemed to settle down and we toasted small plastic containers of soda drizzled over ice served by our aging steward. Later, friends suggested that perhaps a higher power had a hand in changing my seat assignment and a crying baby led me to a stranger in need of the message in my book and someone to listen to him while up in the air at 30,000 feet. And I’ve learned over the years that many times God will use human vessels of clay to pour out His grace to others in need if we are open to the experience. We’ve all been instructed to go out into the world to teach others of God’s love for His creation—and if necessary, we should use words.

SHADOW COLUMNS

Shadow Colunms, I-40, NC

I was out on the open road recently and encountered another of those “Aha moments” as a passing cloud partially obscured the sun and revealed the sun’s rays shining through to my line of sight. I had learned earlier that meteorologists have actually named these light shafts crepuscular rays. But what I finally realized was that those rays of light had been with me all the time. It was only when a passing storm seemingly blocked them from my sight that I took notice. And what I was really observing were the consequent columns of dark shadows that provided the contrast in the skies above.

Our Carolina church celebrates old time “camp meeting” services for a few Sundays in the summer time. We sing old time gospels and imagine images of folks gathered in gingham dresses and shirts goin’ down to the river for salvation during the Victorian farming days. The spirit of that service brought back memories of my youth growing up in a small church in central Kansas, with the windows open wide on a warm Sunday morning. You could feel the spirit of God coming into that sanctuary on those warm summer breezes. But the invited spirit of God can arrive in many different ways, as demonstrated by a little blond girl that was sitting next to me.

At the conclusion of his sermon, our pastor asked anyone who felt the need to come forward to kneel and pray at the altar for God’s healing touch. And folks of all ages and probable reasons did come forward to be closer to their creator to receive His blessing. As the kneeling rails were vacated, I noticed the young little blond girl nudging her parents. She then reached into the busy bag they had carried with them into the pew and retrieved a small, well-loved, wide-eyed, white lamb. Then the four of them made their way to the altar and kneeled to pray, as the little girl placed the little lamb at the altar among the family. The symbolism was quite touching as the Lamb of God revealed His presence within that family and our congregation to shed His grace among all of us on a bright summer’s morn down by the Deep River.

No one is exempt from the dark days we experience in life, not even God as demonstrated on that Black Friday. But a bright light did shine out of the darkness on Easter Sunday to reveal a way through to the other side. And just as the shadow columns had helped to reveal the rays of light that were there in my presence, the life challenges that were being experienced by those people who had come forward gave us all pause to reflect and be aware of the Eternal light that could help everyone get through those dark shadows.

ONE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

Liberty, One Country, One Constitution, One Destiny, Yorktown, VA

I just had the pleasure of visiting friends who are native to the historic Yorktown, Virginia area. Since I still find stories of human struggle and victory so fascinating, I also found the area to be equally fascinating, especially the final battle of the American Revolution at Yorktown! The end began for British General Cornwallis here in North Carolina when General Washington’s second in command, General Nathaniel Greene, engaged Cornwallis’ troops at the battle of Guilford Courthouse. Greene and his revolutionaries didn’t win this engagement, but they did cripple the opposition who marched on to the Outer Banks and Yorktown.

Destiny awaited both armies at Yorktown via both French and divine intervention. Cornwallis dug in with earthen redoubts and an escape route at his back across the York River if necessary. He knew reinforcements were sailing from New York in the form of 24 British war ships. But the French had deployed 36 warships from the West Indies to assist the young upstarts and they engaged the British ships in the Chesapeake and routed them out to sea. That victory left the ports open to sail ships up the river with siege mortars and reinforcements for the Americans. The French Comte de Grasse commanding his naval army and the Comte de Rochambeau commanding his auxiliary troops joined Washington’s troops and the Marquis de Lafayette to begin a nineteen day siege of Cornwallis’ defenses. He was outnumbered two to one and ordered a retreat across the York in numerous boats. One wave of one thousand men made it to the opposite shore before a severe storm scattered and sunk the next wave. Cornwallis understood the grave implications and surrendered to end the revolutionary war on October 19, 1781.

A 95 foot tall memorial rose above the shore of this hallowed ground near the York River to commemorate the one hundredth anniversary of the struggle. The chosen designer, Richard Morris Hunt, fittingly studied architecture in Paris and left an indelible imprint on the American landscape with such other designs as Biltmore Estate in North Carolina, the Administration building at Chicago’s World Columbian exposition, the Tribune building, the façade of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the pedestal for the Statue of Liberty in New York. Lady Liberty stands atop the site as the cool breezes off the York still power sailing ships and billowing storm clouds pass in remembrance of the deciding blow to the defeated army. And circling around the monument are kindred souls locked in unity for the hope of “One Country, One Constitution, and One Destiny”—One United States of America!

STANDING ON HOLY GROUND

Rocky Mountain High, Colorado
Ground Zero, New York, NY
Peaceful Garden, Greensboro, NC

Four years after we met and were married, my young wife and I spent our honeymoon in and around the colorful Colorado Rocky Mountains and rushing river valleys. I still have a sharp memory of standing together early one morning at the rim of a deep gorge in the Mesa Verde high country. An eagle soared on the winds’ warm updraft and his call echoed off the cliffs. The ancients that had built the stone cliff dwellings in this gorge had mysteriously abandoned their village long ago. As we stood there in the shade of weathered pines and quietly listened to the wind singing in the needles and the great chasm below, we began to experience God’s presence around us. There was a keen sense of awe and inspiration that we were standing on holy ground in the midst of God’s magnificent creation.

Almost forty years later, my wife and I were in New York City in 2004 celebrating my birthday and we took a taxi to the recently cleared “ground zero” site. Our female taxi driver was on duty the morning of September 11, 2001 and soon afterwards. On our drive to the area, she respectfully shared her experience that day and of hearing pinging sounds coming from the destruction for weeks later. It is sound that she will never forget. We stood at the security fence quietly observing the stark area with a lone rusting iron cross that had been fashioned out of the rubble where almost 3,000 souls had perished. I took this photograph on my birth date of an inscription left by another pilgrim. We instinctively knew that we were standing on hallowed ground as we reverently read the heartfelt message.

Four years later, the two of us were sitting on a park bench near home viewing one of the most beautiful images I had ever captured in my camera lens. I had just wandered over to a Magnolia tree in the small garden park where we enjoyed walking together in the cool of the day. My wife was uncharacteristically tired on this morning after a rather severe chemo treatment, but we were both overwhelmed by the sense of peace and love this image gave us. We didn’t quite understand it at the time, but we were once again standing together on holy ground at that moment. Fifteen days later, I was standing with my family on holy ground as she was welcomed into His presence.

The experience of these holy present moments can be life changing.

SLOW DOWN

Fast Ball, Wrigley Field, IL

I recently received an e-mail containing a poem written by a terminally ill twelve year old girl. It was titled Slow Dance and included the request to slow down and not dance too fast. This young girl was forced to mature beyond her years as time was short and she knew the music wouldn’t last. She characterized a day filled with hurry and worry as an unopened gift thrown away. Her final admonition not to dance too fast was that life is not a race, so take it slower and hear the music before the song is over.

The poem reminded me of a baseball I saw in an impressive trophy case years ago in Kansas City. My wife and I had been asked to represent our company at a charity Las Vegas party. It was generously being held at the home of the professional baseball player I most admired at the time. He had lost a good friend to ALS and the event was being held to raise donations for a cure. My baseball possessed father had me playing baseball from the time I could hold a bat without dropping it on my feet. So I was transfixed and blown away when we discovered that we were free to wander around the home which included a workout room and awards den. Most of the rooms were a testament to a long and storied sports career. However, there was one trophy case of signed baseballs that immediately caught my attention. No, it wasn’t the signed Babe Ruth or Lou Gehrig baseballs, as impressive as they were for me. After all, ALS has been called Lou Gehrig’s disease since it stopped short the career of this giant of the game all too soon.

There was a signed baseball in one glassed case that was addressed to our gracious host for the evening and it said, “You’d better slow down. I hear you’re getting to be a lot like me”. It was obviously given to our host during his early single years of fame and fortune before he settled down with a wonderful wife and family. And it was signed by another baseball legend that died after a contentious liver transplant. He'd been quoted as saying, “If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself”. The man’s father had died far too early in life and Mickey Mantle apparently assumed his was the same fate, so he’d lived fast and never slowed down before it was too late. But I believe that baseball did make an impression on our host and it definitely made an impression on me.

Today is a good day to tell someone close to you that you love them.
Today is a good day to hug someone so they know you care.
Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
Today is a good day to be still and know your God.

SIGNS

Sunrise Jogger, Kiawah, SC

People often say that they'd believe in God if he would only show them a sign or appear to them. My response is that every day is filled with all sorts of miracles of creation starting with each new sunrise. Almost every recorded meeting of mortal man and a spiritual being begins with the words, "Fear not", as the experience will apparently scare the daylights out of you! I think I'll pass, thank you. And our creator actually did appear to thousands of people and even walked among us to tell us all we need to know for three years. But we killed him because the people were looking for a warrior king to free a nation instead of a peaceful savior for all mankind. Ultimately, we need that proverbial leap of faith from within to know Him.

There’s a story about a man wishing to know God by some sign. When he asks God to speak to him, a nightingale sings and distant thunder rolls across the land, but the man is wearing ear buds as he jogs and doesn’t hear. When he demands to see God, the morning star reflects in the sparkling waters just before a brilliant sunrise, but the man is running to the west and doesn’t see. So the man shouts to God for a miracle and a colorful flower unfurls its delicate petals while a child is born, but the man keeps his focus on running straight ahead and doesn’t notice. Then the man cried out in hopeless despair that life is meaningless and without purpose, and God revealed a book telling of the sacrifice of the Son he sent to guide him, always be with him, forgive him, and prepare an eternal home for him, but he doesn’t stop long enough to pick it up and read it. The man received many blessings that day, but he didn’t devote the time or attention that was necessary to recognize and receive them as he raced through his life.

We do live in a broken world with lots of trials and challenges along the way. And we can take heart in understanding that God has promised to be with us at all times, especially when invited. God doesn’t cause evil as much as he manages it and is always capable of helping us to bring good out of it. Just as darkness is the absence of light, so too evil fills the void in the absence of goodness. So those speed bumps on the road of life can actually prepare us for the major roadblocks that lie ahead. Every one that we successfully negotiate strengthens our character and faith for an eternal life after this mortal life. And guess what? Many times after we have awakened to a bright and clear morning after facing one of life’s severe storms, we actually find that we are the sign and blessing for others!

VITRUVIAN SUNSET

Vitruvian Sunset, Flint Hills, KS

A good friend on chemotherapy suffered a heart attack early this year which was controlled with the application of a stint in his heart. He knew I liked to photograph the worldly beauty found in things like colorful blooms, sunrises and sunsets. After a few days in the hospital, he was released late in the day. He sent me a message that he and his wife had encountered a beautiful sunset building in the western Kansas sky as they drove home. As he related the experience, a large opening formed in the clouds to release a burst of brilliant light rays “shouting to all that GOD IS IN THE HOUSE”! The scene played out quickly just as they drove into their hometown and heard the sound of church bells ringing. His closing salutation read, “WOW!! Life is GOOD”!

My friend had experienced one of those anagogical moments in life. I hadn’t ever encountered this term until that very morning as I ironically finished a book about Leonardo Da Vinci’s image of Vitruvian Man. It seems that the term anagoge can be defined as the uplifting spiritual sense that is experienced when we encounter glimpses of heaven in worldly things such as aha text or breath taking images. I’m certain that at some point in your life such an image has crossed your path as well. The astronauts of Sky Lab II used it for their mission logo.

The Roman architect Vitruvius first proposed that the human body could be fit within a circle, representing the divine, and a square, representing the worldly. That gave rise to the theory of microcosm, man representing the cosmos in miniature—created in God’s own image. Leonardo was able to actually draw this concept, possibly using himself as a model, and keeping man at the center of each symbol, by lowering the square and positioning Vitruvian Man with arms and legs spread in the circle while overlaying Virtuvian Man standing with legs together and arms outstretched in the square. The iconic image was the culmination of numerous hours of studying human anatomy to gain an anagogical perspective on ourselves and our universe. Leonardo was the consummate Renaissance man whose genius and inquisitive mind literally moved the bar for all mankind.

I had already experienced one of my own anagogical moments while driving at sunset across the Kansas Flint Hills with my daughter and sister. Fortunately, I had a camera at the ready and captured one of those “lucky present moments”. The sun had just been obscured by a passing cumulous cloud revealing glorious crepuscular light rays casting God’s grace upon the earth. I sent the image to my friend after receiving his message. I’m thankful that my friend had this reassuring experience of God’s presence in such a sunset, as he died of cancer just four months later. And the Roman cross that held Christ’s body in much the same image as Vitruvian Man assures all of us that He defeated death and secured eternal life for those like my friend who believe.

BURNING GASOLINE

Passing Jaguar, I-40, NC

We Americans love our vehicles and the open road. President Eisenhower enacted the Federal Aid Highway Act in 1956 to construct 41,000 miles of beautiful ribbons of concrete and asphalt that just beg you to jump on them and drive simply for the enjoyment of cruising out in the open spaces of this great country. The initiative was actually started in 1938 as a national Great Depression jobs initiative and we’re now due for another one to reconstruct the system. If I’d been born one hundred years earlier, I’m certain I would be out riding my favorite and fastest horse over the unpaved hills and valleys on an inviting, sunny morning every chance I got. But in this generation, an open air sports car with a wind deflector works very well. And the prime value of a vehicle for me is measured in units of “satisfaction per gallon”. I use a vehicle to move my body from point A to B like most folks, but I really enjoy the freedom of driving out on the open road as the mile markers mark time and space.

The Second World War delayed the project, but it also provided the exposure of our troops and General Eisenhower to the German autobahn highway network and its enhanced mobility. One myth is that there was a provision for one straight mile in every five to accommodate airplane landing strips, but the mobility of our troops in case of a land invasion along with effective evacuation routes and highway safety were also incentives. However, one significant unintended consequence was the flight to the expanding suburbs from urban centers and the resulting construction of unplanned loops and beltways. The pattern of community development and national priorities was subsequently based on the automobile and its dependency on oil.

I’ve found it amusing lately in observing how many of my fellow motorists seemingly find it difficult to distinguish between driving fast and speeding. There seems to be a Pavlovian response for many folks when they’re approaching a sports car out on the interstate highways. Even though the legal speed limit may be 70 miles per hour and I’m cruising along at about that speed, they apparently have an instant infusion of testosterone and instinctively must speed up to pass. My car could keep up with them, but I don’t need a ticket and higher insurance rates-- or a confrontation with a stranger that’s having a postal kind of day. So I generally just let Scotty speed by at full warp speed and quietly wish him a good day. And occasionally on a day like today, I have the satisfaction of waving at ol’ Scotty as he is being pulled over a few miles ahead by Captain Kirk in a flashing interceptor land rover!

THE GREEN SIDE

First Light on the Course, Kiawah Island, SC
On the Driving Range, Kiawah Island, SC

One of the golfing legends I heard years ago at my first company golf tournament concerned the origin of the “Golden Garbage Truck” award we gave to a golfer who had demonstrated a certain demeanor on the course. It seems that the president had teed off on a road side fairway with a wicked slice into the windshield of an oncoming garbage truck. The disgruntled driver approached the tee box demanding what the offending golfer was going to do about it. Our long retired president, without looking up from addressing his second ball and completely in the zone, casually replied that “I think I’ll turn my grip over just a little bit to the left”. He was totally immersed in the present moment and would handle replacing the guy’s windshield after the shot.

Today’s Golf Channel presentation of Live from Kiawah reminded me of that little story and an encounter I had a few years ago at one of the golf courses on that beautiful island. We were walking up to the driving range and I casually asked an attendant, “How’s it going”? He didn’t stop what he was doing and quickly remarked, “Well, I woke up again on the green side of the grass, so it’s going to be another good day”! What a great reply on a beautiful island golf course on a perfectly beautiful morning and what a beautiful mantra to live by every morning! Every day we walk this planet is a gift to be relished and appreciated. Every present moment is where life is played out for us to either squander or grow on our journey. And every day teeing it up on some of God’s most beautiful real estate can be as good as it gets on the green side!

HUMILITY

Four Horseshoes, Jamestown, NC

The crusty old cowboy had a reputation around the county that he was very prideful and could never admit to ever being wrong about anything. The town blacksmith knew this all too well when he saw him wandering into his barn. He had just finished hammering out another horseshoe and tossing it into a box of sawdust to let it cool down. The sun weathered cowboy entered and reached down to pick up the horseshoe. Upon immediately noticing that the hot shoe was burning his hand, he quickly tossed the shoe back into the box. The blacksmith slowly looked up from his work and quizzically asked, “Too hot for ya”? “Naa”, shot back the old cowboy, “it don’t take me too long to look at a horseshoe”!

The words of Micah 6:8 inform us that God would like us to walk humbly with him. But this world teaches just the opposite. Unfortunately, the old saying that pride goes before the fall is all too true. Once we get too full of ourselves we begin to believe in our prowess and superiority. We gather our prized athletes and raise them up on platforms and adorn their necks with gold and silver medals. That’s the example we parade before all the people. And it is good to work hard to excel in life. We’ve just got to be conscious that we’re not gods and remain aware of our humanity with some humility. And once we cross out the “i” in our life, we’re left with the cross (t). We become less self-centered and more God-centered for others.

HAY BALE TALE

Kansas Hay Bales I,II,III, Lake Kahola, KS

Sharing life on this planet is a lot about relationships and learning about human behavior in the “school of hard knocks”. Not everyone treats you the same or acts the same for sure. My brother-in-law recently shared a story which revolved around a 1950’s conversation between his parents who lived on a farm in central Kansas all their lives. This particular “lesson learned” is now securely in the verbal lore of the Flint Hills. And it also reinforces one of those eternal lessons which states “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me”!

It seems the farm family had a neighbor who was not only tight with his money, but had developed a severe character flaw. Frank had sold the neighbor about seventy dollars worth of prairie hay and the neighbor was exhibiting a reluctance to pay for it. So Elsie asked Frank to visit the neighbor and collect the past due money. When he returned, she asked if he had collected the debt. “No”, Frank replied, “he said that he didn’t have any spare money right now”.

Frustrated, Elsie requested that Frank try to barter for an equivalent number of young calves. When Frank returned, she asked how many calves he had brought home. “None.”, Frank responded, “He said he didn’t have any calves he wanted to part with right now”. Elsie then demanded to know what Frank was going to do right now.

“Well, Frank matter-of-factly replied, “I’m not going to sell him any more hay”.

End of conversation.

End of story.

Frank didn’t get mad. He didn’t think about retaliation. He didn’t lawyer up. He simply chose to avoid dealing with the unethical man again and left him to deal with himself. And a few prairie hay bales seemed a small price to pay for the lesson.

“Trust everyone, but brand your calves.”

MAYBERRY VALUES

The Andy Griffith Show, Mayberry, NC
Copyright Paramount Pictures

Doing the Right Thing

“A ship’s compass will enable it to steer in the right direction
by always knowing True North”


The folksy Southern manner of North Carolina’s favorite son, Andy Griffith, was silenced with his passing on Independence week 2012. Andy Griffith got his big break in 1953 in Greensboro when he spoke to a life insurance convention and related a comic tale about “What it was, was Football”. Capitol Records soon sold 600,000 copies of the comic account--and the rest is an American success story.

The Andy Griffith Show from the 1960’s has been immortalized in endless television reruns centered around the make-believe town of Mayberry. One article from the New York Times neatly summarized the Andy Griffith Show’s “simple but appealing formula: characters would confront a problem, then resolve it by exercising honesty or another virtue”. The local Greensboro News and Record observed that “The show was not a caricature of Southern life so much as a tribute to it. Mayberry’s residents were sometimes petty, envious, greedy or arrogant, but they almost always came around to doing the right thing”.

In Micah 6:8, the bold prophet answered a question many people wonder about today: What does the Lord expect of us? Micah’s answer has been defined as the Old Testament in one verse: God calls us to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with Him. The first of these three expectations requires us to do what is right, regardless of the consequences. We find an example of such courageous obedience illustrated for us in the lives of the first-century apostles. According to church legend, all but John died horrendous deaths by doing the right thing and proclaiming their faith in the teachings and the resurrection of the Son of God.

It’s also been said that the New Testament can be summarized in the short response Jesus gave to the Pharisees who were challenging his wisdom and authority. They asked him which was the greatest commandment in the law and by that time they had added hundreds of them to their religion. Jesus basically answered in Matthew 22:40 that we should love God and love others.

And one of the greatest challenges of living in a postmodern world that shuns absolute truth and creates a blurred line between right and wrong is to discern and then choose to do the right thing. The failure of leadership in the Penn State Sandusky scandal now joins similar ones in the Catholic Church and the Boy Scouts of America. Sadly, when faced with the choice of doing the right thing for the abused children, the leadership of these institutions chose to do the self-serving thing.

THE BEATLES FOREVER YOUNG

Meet the Beatles 1962, Manhattan, KS

This morning’s cover story in USA Today featured the golden fifty year anniversary of the launch of the mop top lads with a cheeky attitude from Liverpool—The Beatles. They entered Abby Road Studios with producer George Martin in 1962 and the rest is history, including a world sales record of 600 million albums later. Our little band of engineering students at Kansas State University literally wore out the first LP vinyl record to hit the states that year! When Martin lectured the band about their shoddy equipment and then asked if they had any complaints, George Harrison summed up the groups’ persona by replying, “I don’t like your tie”.

The article attributed an incredible convergence of factors and an inexplicable charisma for their phenomenal success. Again, Harrison summed things up by explaining that “the world used us as an excuse to go mad”. I think that was extremely insightful, right up to the present day “Bieber craze". A quick search reveals hits on Justin “with a hat on” and another “with no shirt on”. But I like a quote from Beatles scholar Martin Lewis, who observed that “they left seven years of brilliantly recorded music and a perfect corpse that kept the mystique and beauty of The Beatles intact”. They “disbanded” at the top of their game and forever fixed their youthful image in our minds. Of course, not everyone follows their example. I attended a Rolling Stones concert in Raleigh about six years ago which folks were dubbing the Social Security Tour. When lead guitarist Keith Richards introduced the show, he mentioned that “it’s good to be in North Carolina again---actually it’s good to be anywhere”.

I was first introduced to the phrase “live fast, die young and leave a good looking corpse” while reading the book Knock on any Door by Willard Motley in high school. This credo of a young man from the slums on trial for murder became a clarion call for disenfranchised youth. And since then I’ve observed people that become frozen in the prime time of their lives that evolve into something larger than life. We humans seem to idolize even more those notable people that exit stage right in their prime such as Vincent Van Gogh, James Dean, JFK, Martin Luther King, etc. John Lennon was shot four times in the back and murdered at age 40 in 1980. Don McLean’s haunting lyrics to Starry Starry Night were written in homage to 37 year old Vincent's untimely suicide. Billy Joel had a hit song during the Vietnam era lamenting that only the good die young. Jesus Christ was crucified at the age of thirty three. And all of these untimely departures imprinted a legacy in our minds as being “forever young”.

INNOCENT INFLUENCE

Two Generations of Blood Donors, Blowing Rock, NC

I recently received an e-mail from an old high school friend who had written about another classmate that had been killed in Vietnam on February 24, 1969. He was manning a 50 caliber machine gun in the back of the lead jeep of a fuel convoy when they took a direct hit from a Viet Cong rocket. That emotional remembrance led to a short exchange of e-mails regarding our fallen friend whose name we both had independently sought out on the black granite wall on the National Mall. In the course of that exchange, my friend mentioned that he had been employed as an engineer after completing a four-year undergraduate program. He was encouraged to enroll in college when I drove by his home one day in 1960 and invited him to accompany me. And he had always been grateful that I did. I really had no idea, but fifty years later, I’m humbled and also grateful to know it now.

Ironically, I was facilitating an adult class this morning at church about the influence of fathers and parents in general. And the discussion moved along to sharing examples and stories about our father’s behavior that we saw as a positive influence on the direction of our own lives. As it turns out, many of these examples did not have to be earth shattering. But they all made permanent marks on young impressionable minds that have lasted a lifetime and have now been passed on to the next generation as well. We can never underestimate how our words, actions and the unspoken language of our lives are silently, innocently influencing those around us. I fully expect someone in heaven to one day tap me on the shoulder and thank me for helping to save their life through the blood donation I made for a complete stranger at the time!