Curriculum Vitae

 

Curriculum Vitae

 

Lately I noticed my memory slipping a little. I recall past events but when it comes to a specific date and time, I need help. Recently, someone asked me about a certain incident. I had to search my files to find the answer. That’s when I found my Curriculum Vitae.

 

I apologize about Latin again. My life is saturated with antique phrases. A curriculum vitae is a short account of one’s carrier, qualifications and accomplishments; a written overview of a person’s life. I don’t like the word “resume” because it’s French meaning “a summary.” I’m not much on French. How do you summarize a life?

 

Anyway, I found this piece of paper that laid out the course of my life. I prepared this a long ago just in case I got fired and had to apply for another job. It was a skeleton outline of sixty five years of work. No mention of being a golf caddy, a soda jerk, a one man lawn service and dog poop remover. Just a sterile listing of academic credentials and pastoral postings. Not very stimulating.

 

Today if I were to make an updated curriculum vitae it would read like this: stayed alive for seventy six years; survived forty five years of marriage with the same woman; raised four children; getting to know seven grandchildren; pastored fifty years; endured numerous personal, political, social and economic crises; and to date sound in mind and body!

 

Having said all this, I await one more entry in the list of life experiences. It’s found in Bible where Jesus tells the obedient servant: “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful and trustworthy over a little, more shall be given you. Enter into the joy of the Lord.”

 

C’est la vie!

 

By The Numbers

 

By The Numbers

 

Before you think I have finally gone off the deep end, I confess that there are some surprises left in life. During Covid-19 I have lots of time on my hands. Banned from volunteer chaplain work at the hospital because of age (grounds for a discrimination suit) and no travel to our network of churches, I needed a new challenge. After reading fifty books so far this year, I need something else.

 

It was my neighbor who introduced me to a new hobby: painting by numbers. Yes, I thought that was for kids. Little did I realize it’s a major pastime for adults.

When I Googled “paint by numbers” I was shocked by all the companies that sell  painting kits. What began as a way to sell more paint back in the 1950’s is now a major market for people who have time on their hands.

 

Here’s what I discovered. I knew that staying within the lines is a healthy discipline. Following directions, such as using the prescribed numbered paint to the matching number on the canvas eventually produces a beautiful piece of art. While painting my mind is free to wander without falling asleep. Having completed my first work, an up north cabin and lake scene, I’m amazed that I actually painted a picture.

 

Judy and my kids are very supportive with their kind compliments upon viewing my first masterpiece. One comment, “I didn’t realize you had an artistic side.” Neither did I. With that kind of encouragement there is no end to my budding  artistic ability.

 

I read on Google that it’s possible to have a photo of yourself transposed on to a paint by numbers canvas. While marveling at the technology, I don’t have the stamina to spend that much time looking at myself, let alone painting me. It’s hard enough facing myself in the mirror every morning.

 

Back to the numbers!

Precious

 

Precious

 

Remember Gollum, the ugly hobbit in Lord of the Rings, grabbing hold of the ring and calling it “my precious.” Obviously, the ring had meaning. He wasn’t going to let go of it. What was precious to a fictional character may be a piece of jewelry to another. Precious is something of great value not to be wasted or treated carelessly.

 

My precious is three important choices I made in life. At the time I did not see them as precious. The choices one makes, simple or complex, freely or under duress, do alter your course. Some are good, some not so good, a few are precious.

 

First Precious: Early in life I chose to serve the Lord. It wasn’t something that was imposed upon me. It was the desire of my heart to follow God. I know this sounds a little religious but no different than someone choosing to be a doctor, engineer or policeman. I had no idea this choice would seriously alter my world. This choice introduced me to people, places and experiences that greatly enriched my life.

 

Second Precious: Marrying Judy and living forty five years with her has brought a richness that words can hardly describe. Opposites attract. The blending of graciousness, beauty, mercy and the gift of coloring outside the lines continues to stretch and mature me. Four wonderful children and seven grandchildren are frosting on the cake.

 

Third Precious: Montana is my home. Growing up in a large metro area gave me life opportunities. Montana gives me wide open spaces and a lifestyle that enlarges me. From the vast prairie of the Hi Line to the soaring mountain peaks of Bozeman, my spirit soars. Montana, wherever I roam, is a smorgasbord for my eyes. Montana is not just a place, it’s a state of mind that enriches my soul.

 

There is a precious yet to come. It’s written in the book of Psalms:

 

“The Lord’s loved ones are very precious to him, and he does not lightly let them die.”

Labor

 

Labor

 

Today is Labor Day. Proclaimed by President Grover Cleveland in 1894 as a national holiday to honor men and women who by the sweat of their brow made the United States a prosperous country. Encouraged by labor unions, President Cleveland made the first Monday in September a day to acknowledge the backbone of the nation.

 

Now, Labor Day has morphed into the last holiday of the summer. With warm weather, people head to the beach and picnics one more time before summer turns into autumn and then winter. Who can blame anyone who forgets the  meaning of the holiday. Leisure has overshadowed the original intent.

 

My father didn’t forget to instruct his children concerning work. He had a stringent work ethic that he passed down to us. A son of the Great Depression and World War II taught him lessons he endeavored to teach us. It started with daily chores: beds made, rooms cleaned up, garbage put out, dishes done, dog poop picked up. Purpose given to these menial tasks.

 

Looking back, what I thought were meaningless chores to keep his children busy, were in fact the foundation of a work ethic that taught us that work is an essential part of life. Idleness was not the way to happiness. Hard work with purpose and a happy heart would bring both monetary and personal rewards.

I found his wisdom to be true. Thanks again Dad.

 

I can’t help but think of this hymn every time Labor Day appears on the calendar. It puts in perspective the eternal purpose of our labor.

 

For all the saints who from their labors rest,

Who thee by faith before the world confessed,

Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blessed.

Alleluia, Alleluia