Too Ra Loo Ra

 

Too Ra Loo Ra

 

I don’t remember much about her. She was quite old, and I was young. She lived alone. Her husband died before I was born. She was my father’s mother, my grandmother. Irish to the core. If my memory serves me right, she had a hint of a brogue and liked to sip a few.

 

Why am I sharing this? Well, to be truthful I have been watching way too many Hallmark Christmas movies. Somehow Judy talked me into changing my TV viewing from non-romantic to romantic thinking I needed some cheering up. That included some oldie but goodie black and white movies from the 30’s and 40’s.

 

In the middle of Going My Way with Bing Crosby and Barry Fitzgerald, Bing croons out a tune I haven’t heard in many a year. Sitting at the piano in the rectory where he served as an assistant priest, he sang an old Irish lullaby, Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ra. The tears started flowing and I couldn’t stop. This was the tune my grandmother Tooie (that was what he called her), would sing to me as I sat on her lap. Memories started flowing back: her perfume and her old fashioned hearing aid cord that I kept getting caught in as she hugged me to her bosom.

 

Now that the holiday season is almost over, I am emotionally drained from the romantic tension of Christmas TV. I can get back to real life action movies with a little cable news added in. My advice is be careful about what you watch. It may take you down memory lane with lots of Kleenex.

 

Thanks, Bing, for the memories!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Closed

 

Closed

 

I don’t like it! The fact that our church building stands empty on Sunday morning is almost to much to bear. This year we have been out of it more than in it. Our beautiful log cabin church, the spiritual home for many people remains quiet. I stop by every Saturday to make sure the heat is on and the water pipes haven’t frozen. I’m about to cry as I remember all the celebrations of life held within those four walls.

 

COVID has kept us away. This past summer we were able to gather because the case numbers were down.  Excited to be back we hugged, shook hands and worshipped together. Then realizing that with our aging congregation it was no longer safe to meet, we shut down again. The saints were not happy!

 

Zoom is a wonderful tool but certainly no substitute for in person gathering. Seeing each other on the screen, catching up on each other’s lives helps. Sadly, some of our church family are not tech savvy so even this tool isn’t available to them. So pastoral care is conducted through texts or phone calls.

 

I have pastored for a long time. I never did like cancelling Sunday morning service for any reason. Even when there was a blizzard, I was hesitant to cancel. It must be my seminary training that every obstacle was to be overcome and no excuse to not have church. I realize that we live in unprecedented times. I sense that we cannot go back to the way things were. The new normal may look quite different from the old.

 

I encourage myself with these words from the Bible: “Let’s keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going. Jesus always keeps his word. Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on, especially as we see the big Day approaching.”

First Flight

 

First Flight

 

I miss flying. Since COVID I haven’t flown. In fact, I haven’t gone anywhere. Two vacation trips cancelled.They were the drive to kind so no cancelled flights. The days of hopping on a jet and off to some exotic place are a thing of the past. Who wants to get on a large cigar tube filled with coughing people exchanging carbon dioxide for a couple of hours?

 

Not long ago, I read that an Australian airline was offering a four hour flight to nowhere. You could buy a ticket at full price, grab a seat, enjoy all the amenities of first class and be back home that afternoon. No really, this is true and there were immediate sold out flights. The advertisement was for those who longed to fly again even if you weren’t going anywhere.

 

That brought to mind my first plane ride. I was a Boy Scout, and our scoutmaster organized a plane ride from Minneapolis Wold-Chamberlin Field to Rochester, Minnesota, a distance of 89 mile. It was a one way trip on a noisy prop Northwest Airlines plane. What a treat that was. I still remember the roaring of the engines, the shaking of the whole plane and the thrust of takeoff. I had never seen earth from ten thousand feet. It was an adventure of a lifetime. Not so much on the Greyhound bus ride back home.

 

Since then, I’ve been on many aircraft but none as memorable as that first one. I have flown to the UK, Kenya, South Africa, Mexico, Costa Rica, Australia, Holland, Israel, Jamaica and all over the USA. Big jets and small ones. I even sat in the co-pilot’s seat on a short flight from Seattle to Victoria, B.C. It was a sea plane piloted by a young lady wearing a flight jacket, wrap around aviator sunglasses and a white silk scarf. I think she took a shinning to me.

 

Not sure when I will get back up in the wild blue yonder. No matter, I still have that memory as a young boy, scared to death, on his first airplane. By the way, I sat in coach. That’s where I usually end up!

 

 

Inconvenience

 

Inconvenience

 

I have come to a startling revelation. This COVID is a great big inconvenience in my life. It’s taken eleven months for the lightbulb to come on. My life has changed and so has my attitude. The old normal doesn’t look so bad in comparison to the new normal whatever that is. Every time I want to go out and do something, the inconvenience of COVID says no you can’t!

 

How about putting on that face mask every time I walk out of the house. I’m not saying that it isn’t important for my safety and that of others. It’s just the inconvenience of remembering to do it. If I forgot, people look at me with a stare of shame. Then when I take the darn thing off it always gets tangled with my hearing aids. Is this what life has come to?

 

Wearing a mask for hours on end is beginning to affect my facial expressions and  breathing. It’s getting harder to recognize people. I can’t tell by their eyes whether they are as miserable as me or not. And the six feet distancing is a bridge too far. How can you communicate to people at that distance without shouting. Besides I can hardly hear someone three feet away.

 

Inconvenience is my new mantra. This new way of doing life is becoming more annoying. I try to keep a happy heart but there are days when I long for freedom from COVID. Now that winter is settling in and the holidays are here, there is little chance of celebrating with extended family. That is a major inconvenience.

 

I‘m afraid my selfishness is getting the better of me. In the midst of a pandemic there is need to look beyond myself. All those who are directly affected: family members dying, health care workers way over worked, people afraid and stressed with daily living need my prayers and support not my pity party. What a wake up call for the American way of life.

 

I think I have some more growing up to do.

 

 

Extraction

 

Extraction

 

There I was! I couldn’t believe that I was sitting in the dentist chair again. I have spent an inordinate amount of time and money there. If someone told me what the future held for my teeth, I would have opted for dentures years ago. To late to avoid the inevitable.

 

How I got to this place I blame on a genetic defect and poor dental hygiene. I grew up in an era when the learning curve of dental hygiene was slow. Brushing twice a day was an unexciting chore and flossing had yet to become a gymnastic exercise.

 

Anyway, my dentist told me that in addition to another crown I had two teeth that needed to be pulled. Not the kind of news I wanted to hear at my annual checkup. I opted for a cavity fill instead of a crown thinking that at my age it wasn’t worth the investment. No choice about the extractions. It was either bite the bullet now or face excruciating pain as decay found its way to the nerve.

 

They were very nice at the oral surgeon’s office: pretty, young dental assistants with soft voices assuring me that it wouldn’t hurt. The dentist asked if I wanted Novocain or sedation. Even though the first was cheaper, the later was a no brainer. Before I knew it, I was awake, the teeth were out, and I was handing them my credit card.

 

That was two weeks ago. I kept a strict regiment of ibuprofen as prescribed. My tongue had a hard time staying away from open wounds. The pain was tolerable. Healing came just in time for Thanksgiving dinner. I discovered that wine is a great mouth wash when taken in moderation.

 

The song that kept me sane during recovery was “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.” I just changed the lyrics to “ all I want for Christmas is my two back teeth.”

 

I sense my time in the dentist chair isn’t over.

Thanksgiving 2020

 

Thanksgiving 2020

 

Sitting in the weekly staff meeting at the hospice office, my mind was a million miles away. Thinking about the day ahead and what it may bring, I lost track of time and what was being discussed. Then I heard the words “Thanksgiving 2020”. I refocused. A chaplain was reading a poem about the upcoming holiday. It speaks of the depth of this Thanksgiving. I share it with you:

 

“This is a strange Thanksgiving. Not what we hoped for, not what we expected. Does it help that we’re in the same boat? Maybe. Maybe not. We may be feeling disappointed, frustrated, anxious. We miss those we usually would see around the table on Thursday. We are changing our routines of travel, entertaining, preparing food. We don’t like any of it. That much is true, we might as well admit it.

 

That being said, it is Thanksgiving. The first ones to celebrate Thanksgiving also were grieving for loved ones who had died. They had almost starved to death. They were experiencing illness and fear. They had left behind everything familiar and comfortable. But they gave thanks for life, love and hope.

 

Perhaps we can do the same: Thanks for the breath that fills our lungs and support the life of our bodies. Thanks for the food that comes from the good earth, to nourish us and to share with others. Thanks for those we love, and those who love us. Thanks for the scientists working to save our lives, thanks for that by this time next year, things will be different. Thanks for life. Thanks for love. Thanks for hope.” Rev. Audrey Turner (used with permission)

 

The Bible says: “In everything give thanks for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”

 

 

Pollsters and Prophets

 

Pollsters and Prophets

 

I thought the weatherman was the only one who could wrongly predict and still keep his job. Weather forecasters are notorious for missing the mark. Although, with scientific advances, the odds are getting better. If in doubt, look out the window and be your own prognosticator.  If you live in Montana, all you have to do is wait five minutes and the weather will change.

 

Pollsters are a breed of their own. They come out in droves during an election year. Using all the savvy technological tools, they attempt to sense the drift of the electorate. Unfortunately, their tools deceive them time and again. After this past week, many have egg on their face, crying foul as they stand in the unemployment line.

 

Prophets have a long and honorable history dating back to biblical times. It was a dangerous job often ending in persecution or death from those who disagreed. Modern day prophets have it far easier. One can shout from the housetop fresh revelation from heaven without fear of reprisal. Unfortunately, many contemporary seers have found themselves barking up the wrong tree. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around to cast the first stone.

 

Predicting the future on any level is tricky business. Humankind has an inmate desire to know what the future holds. That way we feel more in control and can run from a future we don’t want. It takes a person of integrity to own up to a wrong forecast, election miscall or a word of the Lord that came from wishful thinking.

 

It was Alexander Pope, the famous 18^th century English poet who coined these words: “To err is human, to forgive divine.”  Let us forgive those who lead us astray.

Onboarding

 

Onboarding

 

What? When I first heard the word I though someone was talking about getting on board a train or a plane. The word has to do with a new job. I haven’t applied for a “real” job in over forty years. Finally, I consulted Google. Onboarding is management jargon referring to the process through which new employees acquire the necessary knowledge, skills and behaviors in order to become effective organizational members.

 

A year ago, last July, I applied for a hospice chaplain position. After filling out the required documentation, I had an interview. For over a year I heard nothing. Then this past October I got a call asking if I was still interested in the position. No questions asked, I signed on.

 

The onboarding process was quite extensive. In addition to a security check and personal references, I was required to hand over lots more info. Once that was done, I began the official onboarding process: learning all that is necessary to be part of a hospice team. It is done through online tutorials. From the comfort of my home office I spend many hours staring at the computer.

 

I was introduced to a new world of Medicare and Medicaid regulations, hospice protocols and basic medical procedures for end of life patients. Although I have been around the sick and dying for many years, this was a major upgrade in  medical education. My physician father would be proud of me.

 

Now that I am onboarded, I can begin shadowing (following) RNs, social workers and fellow chaplains to get acquainted with all that hospice provides. This new job dovetails my hospital chaplain position. For those who fear I am chewing off too much for my age need not fear. In addition to pastoring a local church, I find chaplaincy challenging.

 

Besides, it confirms that fact that you can teach an old dog new tricks.

 

 

One Book

 

One Book

 

I remember my father’s warning about the person of one book.  In fact, he strongly recommended that I be skeptical of any person who promotes only one point of view. I understood him to mean that for a person to be well educated you need to keep an open mind. His warning was an encouragement to be a discriminating reader.

 

However, I confess that I am a proponent of one book, the Bible. Before you hit the delete button on your reading devise, hear me out. The Bible is the handbook for living. It contains all that one needs to know about our relationship with God, with others and oneself. You may not agree but crack open the Good Book and read it. It’s the number one best seller of all time!

 

I hope this book review might prick your interest:

 

“ The Bible reveals the mind of God, the state of man, the way of salvation, the doom of sinners, the happiness of believers. Its doctrines are holy, its precepts are binding, its histories are true, it’s decisions immutable. Read it to be wise, believe it to be safe and practice it to be holy. It contains light to direct you, food to support you and comfort to cheer you. It is a traveler’s map, the pilgrim’s staff, the pilot’s compass, the soldier’s sword and the Christian’s character. Here paradise is restored, heavens opened, and the gates of hell disclosed. Christ is its grand object, our good is its design, the glory of God it’s end. It should fill your memory, rule the heart and guide the feet. Read it slowly, frequently and prayerfully. It is given in life, will be opened in the judgement and will be remembered forever. It involves the highest responsibility, will reward the greatest labor and will condemn all those who trifle with its sacred content.”  Author Unknown

 

A Sunday School tune says it all:

 

“The B-I-B-L-E, Yes that’s the book for me; I stand alone on the Word of God, the B-I-B-L-E.”

 

 

Table Talk

 

Table Talk

 

Placed in the middle of our living room is a round cocktail table. My mother bought it years ago in the damaged section of an expensive furniture store. It was given to me when my parents moved into a smaller home. Since then it has followed me back and forth from Minnesota to Montana several times. My son, Nick, restored it to mint condition.

 

Years ago, when Judy and were dating, I invited her to a party at my apartment. When she arrived, I was dancing on the top of the cocktail table. Seeing me there  was not a step forward in our courtship. Nonetheless she married me and along came the table.

 

A week ago, sitting in the living room during the first winter snowstorm, we  reminisced about life. We spent forty five years together. Memories of the ski lodge and the other places we lived reminded us that the table made the same journey.

 

 Our children learned to walk by hanging on to its edge. Almost all of our grandchildren did as well. It almost brought us to tears that right here before our eyes was an important piece of family history. We have grown older, the table remains the same.

 

Almost every holiday, birthday and anniversary is celebrated around this table. Loaded with food or presents it continues to serve us well as we gather together. Sitting in our living room that snowy evening I realized all that this table represented. If only a table could talk.

 

Rumor has it that there is negotiating going on as to who will inherit the round table. Wherever it ends up, it will be cherished. May it continue to be a family gathering place bringing joy to future generations.

Fear

 

Fear

 

“Let me affirm my belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”  Franklin Delano Roosevelt spoke those words at his first inaugural address in 1933. Brave words in the middle of the Great Depression. They echoed in the American spirit for the many difficult years to follow: World War II, Korean War, Vietnam War, September 11th. Those who are ignorant of history can find themselves paralyzed by fear.

 

The truth is that the world is a dangerous place to live. Couple that with the reality that no one gets off the planet alive is fertile soil for fear to germinate into a phobia of life itself. Curious enough, with the onslaught of COVID 19 in the midst of an election year, fear appears to be gaining the upper hand in our country. Fear of what may happen undermines our ability to embrace life to the fullest.

 

Although I am not a fan of social media, I ran across a recent post from someone

who found the following on a sign in a Mennonite store. I am reminded that perspective helps:

 

2000 Y2K is going to destroy everything.

2001 Anthrax is going to kill us.

2002 West Nile virus, 2003 SARS, 2005 Bird Flu, 2006 E.coli are going to kill us. 2008 financial collapse will do us in

2009 Swine Flu will kill us.

2012 the Mayan Calendar predicts end of the world.

2013 North Korea will cause WW III.

2014 Ebola Virus will kill us.

2015 ISIS will kill us.

2016 Zika Virus will kill us.

2020 the Corona Virus will do us in.

The truth is FEAR is going to kill you. Turn off the TV and PRAY and TRUST IN GOD…and wash your hands.”

 

The Bible says of the righteous person: “He is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.”

Candor

 

 Candor

 

Remember the old Westerns on the big silver screen? There was Hopalong Cassidy, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers. Saturday theater matinees featured black and white thrillers of the Old West. One line often spoken by an American Indian to a white man in the movies: “white man speak with forked tongue.” A perceptive statement that you can say one thing but mean another.

 

My observation is that there is a lot of  “forked tongue” talk going on even for an election year. With all that we have been through this year, the last thing our world needs is a lot of double talk. That’s where candor comes in. Candor is the quality of being open and honest. It assumes that my opinion is based on fact not fiction without bias or prejudice. You may ask, “Is that possible anymore?”

 

Candor assumes that I am able to express my views on a variety of subjects without employing derogatory, inflammatory, hyper emotional half-truths in my daily discourse. The discipline of candor means that although I have strong opinions on important issues of our day, I have learned the skill of sharing them without anger, name calling or baiting. I am confident in my perspective but open to the views of others. Just because someone is vicious or deceitful in their words doesn’t give me liberty to do the same. Candor is an important character trait of a civilized society.

 

A little wisdom from the Bible to help us practice candor in our daily speech: “Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slanderous as well as all types of malicious behavior. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Jesus has forgiven you.”

 

Daily

 

Daily

 

COVID has thrown a wrench into my plans for 2020. I am not happy about it. Last February Judy and I were just about to make reservations for our often talked about European Riverboat trip. That along with our summer get together with our children and grandchildren at Sandpoint, Idaho cancelled. Plans to visit churches in our network cancelled. Twice weekly chaplaincy at local hospital cancelled. Lucky life itself wasn’t cancelled.

 

About the only thing not cancelled was my daily routine consisting of rising early (5am), walking the dog, Sunday church on Zoom (now social distancing in our building), lots of reading, extended happy hour, Netflix and Prime. Once in a while sneaking out to McDonalds drive thru for a burger and a shake. Options definitely narrowed.

 

However, I’m learning to live life on a daily basis. In fact, I been asking God to show me how to do this one day at a time. This means I don’t get stressed out about tomorrow while living today. So, I find myself enjoying the little things like watching the birds from the patio. They’re not worried as long as I make sure the feeders are full. Long walks with Daisy that I never took time for before now. Meaningful conversations with my wife that were overlooked in busyness.

 

I am reminded of these words of Jesus: “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”

 

A little chorus we used to sing in church comes to mind. “Thank you, Lord, for this fine day. Thank you, Lord, for this fine day. Thank you, Lord, for this fine day right where we are.”

 

Wherever you are I pray you can rest in this fine day!

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fireplace

 

Fireplace

 

Finally got around to contacting the chimney sweep to come and check the  fireplace. It’s been a few years and the stack and flue need cleaning. The leaves are starting to turn. Montana winter is not far away. Time to prepare. Burr!

 

In years past I would grab the chain saw and head for the woods. When Judy and I ran the ski lodge at Bridger Bowl, I would cut, split and stack three to four cords of Montana fir to make it through the winter. It was a chore I enjoyed. This was the precursor to hunting season. Ahead, there would be a lot of evenings around the field stone fireplace.

 

Now the time has come when I order a cord from a dealer who delivers a cord to my front door. This takes the fun out of an autumn ritual but it’s better than looking at a cold fireplace all winter. I enjoy stacking it in the garage. A good feeling to know I am prepared for many evenings in front of a warm fire.

 

When the days grow short and a chill in the air, Judy and I pull up our easy chairs, pour ourselves a glass or two of wine and warm ourselves in front of the fireplace. Once in a while family or friends join us. Most often we enjoy the solitude, embracing the time together.

 

Here’s a short ode to the fireplace. Some anonymous poet caught its essence on paper:

 

Although upon a summer day,

You’ll lightly turn from me away.

When Autumn leaves are scattered wide,

You’ll often linger by my side.

And when the earth the snow does cover,

There you will be my ardent lover.

 

A new season warmed by the fireplace.

Thank You

 

Thank You

 

Two nice words! Wondering why I haven’t written about them before. These  words were drilled into me at a young age. I remember my mother and grandmother lecturing me on the importance of saying “thank you.” I was told it was an essential part of politeness. It made no difference to whom it was said but very important on how it was said.

 

Our culture seems to have lost this ingredient of common courtesy. Two simple words go along way in acknowledging kindness in an increasing atmosphere of hostility. They are the building blocks of refinement in social decency. How easy to complain about this or that and forget that two words can change the atmosphere.

 

I am working on my “thank you” of late. I noticed how it touches people who serve me. The checkout lady at the grocery store, the person who helps me with the self serve bar scanner machine at Walmart. Just to see someone smile because I remembered to say the magic words.

 

I discover that I am happier when I acknowledge a person’s help. Waiting in line for anything tends to raise my blood pressure. Then I remember that others are just as important. I smile and let then in ahead of me. They say thank you. I perk up and smile.

 

My biggest thank you comes first thing in the morning, thanking the Lord for a new day and the last thing at night for all that he has provided. I know it sounds a little religious but saying those words sets my heart at rest. I have much to be thankful for and I have great need to say it.

 

Here’s a little song that helps me remember:

 

Thank you, Lord, for this fine day.

Thank you, Lord, for this fine day.

Thank you, Lord, for this fine day

Right where I am. Alleluia!

Sunshine

 

Sunshine

 

Most days, on my early morning walks, a song comes to mind. I don’t sing out loud, letting the neighbors sleep. I hum a tune as I recite the words in my head. Some mornings worship songs come to mind. Other days childhood ditties pop up. Every once in a while, I tap the Pandora icon on my iPhone and listen through my hearing aids. The marvels of modern technology.

 

Doing this daily, I discovered that by the end of a mile and a half walk my attitude is significantly improved. I don’t wake up grumpy or down. But it does take time to shrug off sleepiness to embrace the day.

 

I am blessed to live in a beautiful part of the country. These morning walks are a visual smorgasbord of nature. The sun rising over the mountains that surround our city. The voices of nature welcoming the new day. The sounds of the city coming alive. All part of a symphony of a new day dawning. Even Daisy, my walking companion, joins in the chorus now and then.

 

What brought all this to mind was the song that popped into my head as stepped out on the sidewalk this morning. It’s a tune I haven’t heard in years. As a hummed the chorus over and over I noticed a lightness of step and a smile on my face. I first heard it as a child when Doris Day sang it back in the 1950’s. You may remember it as well. If, by chance, you don’t know the melody look it up on Google. I guarantee it will bring a smile to your face and a lightness to your heart.

 

Here’s the chorus:

 

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey

You’ll never know dear how much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

 

Now smile!