Tears

Tears

Not sure when it started. Maybe two years ago I noticed that once in a while, I would tear up. Not sobs but just tear leakage. At first, I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was the dry climate I live in. Could it be that I was having a slow brain or sinus leakage through my eyes. No that didn’t sound right.

Years ago, I had cataract surgery on both eyes. What a wonderful miracle; twenty-twenty vision, something I never had before. Everything was bright and colorful. My doctor told me that there would be some tearing as my eyes healed from the surgery. But that was a long time ago.

No, I haven’t been watching the Hallmark movies with Judy. She keeps pleading with me to overindulge on those Christmas dramas that begin in July and never seem to end. That’s not me. I am more of an action movie kind of guy where in the end everybody dies except the hero (sometimes he/ she dies too). Never a tear shed.

To be honest, I think the tearing has to do with coming to grips with emotions. I grew up in a world where a man doesn’t cry, no matter what. The few times I did cry in public, I was called a sissy; something no man wants to be labeled. At the other end of life, I don’t have to hide those tears.

Not feeling completely comfortable emoting in public, I can’t help myself as I hold our newborn granddaughter. More than a tear or two leaks down my cheek as hold such precious life in my arms. When I read or hear some great or very sad news, tears drip onto my face. Recently I heard someone say, “When you are crying, you are healing.” I believe it.

Did you know that the shortest verse in the Bible has to do with tears. In John’s Gospel, as he tells the story of the death of Lazarus, Jesus’ close friend,  he writes these two words “Jesus wept.” That’s what it means to be human: to shed tears of joy and sorrow. No need to hide them.

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and Stones

Not sure where my grandma got all those pithy sayings that sum up life problems in ten words or less. I remember she had a little pillow in her room that read “a stitch in time saves nine.” I know she didn’t make them up. Probably handed down from generations not dictated by social or political correctness.

One of my favorites is “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” That has a nice ring to it but it’s not true.  As a child coming home from a rough day in school, grandma would whisper these words in my ear as if praying to the saints.

When that bully beat me up on the playground (1^st grade); when the nun told me that I was dumb as an ox (3^rd grade); when the archbishop told me that I would be no better than a shoe salesman (in response to my telling him I was leaving the priesthood); when the church vestry angrily suggested I find other employment (which I did gladly); and when a best friend told me that he was no longer my friend, that’s when I found out that words hurt.

Lest I leave the impression that I have spent a lifetime being a victim of verbal assault, I have a laundry list of people I have hurt with my words. Mostly in anger but occasionally with the intent of bruising another human being with words that can never be erased. I can testify that the tongue, my tongue, can be a lethal weapon if left unchecked. I am convicted about my unbridled tongue every time I read through the book of Proverbs which has a lot to say about good and bad words.

 Here’s an encouraging word from another part of the Bible: “Don’t use foul or abusive language. Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them…be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.”

Friends

Friends

When raising our children, our mantra was “if you want to have a friend, you have to be a friend.” The goal was to teach that friendship is a two way street. You can’t always have your way. There is need to learn the give and take of relationships. Easier said than done.

Upon reflection, I would say that one, if not the most difficult, discipline to learn as a pastor is that of friendship. Over the years, Judy and I have had the privilege of meeting and making many friends. Being pastor gives opportunity to meet and grow with a variety of people from different backgrounds. We have been enriched by these relationships.

I confess that not all friendships endured the test of time. Life experiences involving relationships have taught us some hard earned and heart breaking lessons. The vulnerability that comes with sharing one’s life in close proximity to others opens up opportunity for growth as well as wounds.

Looking back, there are friendships that indeed made us become sensitive, compassionate and vulnerable. There are others that ended in disappointment and heartbreak. Relationships can be a messy proposition. It takes a strong heart to embrace them all. At this point in life, I am willing to admit my frailty in pursuing friendship.

I remember the old Sunday School hymn: “What a friend we have in Jesus…can we find a friend so faithful…Jesus knows our weakness….” The Book of Proverbs has this to say about friends: “There are friends who destroy each other, but a real friend sticks closer than a brother.”

Present

Present

Now that the holidays are over and it’s the beginning of a new year, maybe life can settle down a bit. Storing decorations, rearranging furniture and saying goodby to the relatives are all part of the returning to normal whatever that is. It’s time to take a breather reflecting on the past year and what lies ahead.

Not much I can do about the past. I can call to mind all the good things that happened and thank the Lord for them. All the not so good things I can write off as life’s learning experiences. The good and not so good are now filed in my memory bank only to be revisited when my mind wanders back to the good old days.

The future is something else. What does the coming year hold for me? I can guess but I really don’t know. I can be excited about what lies ahead, or I can worry about what may or may not happen. The problem is that I won’t know about the future until it becomes the present.

Ah! The present; the here and now of life. The minutes, hours and days fly by so fast I need a calendar to keep track of where I am. The only thing that I can do about time is to learn to live and enjoy the present. Maybe that’s why it is called “the present” because it is a present (gift) from God for us to enjoy without the burden of yesterday’s regrets or tomorrow’s worries.

Life flies by and we only have one to live. It is easy to get weighed down in our past or nail bite about our future all the while missing the God given enjoyment of living today. Each day carries a mixture of the past and the future that can only be lived in the precious present.

If you are looking for a New Year’s resolution you won’t find a better one than what the Psalmist wrote, “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us be full of joy and be glad in it.”

Ivory Soap

Ivory Soap

Watching my favorite holiday movie, A Christmas Story, with friends, I was reminded of what life was like as a boy fervently wanting a BB gun for Christmas. I know what it is like to want something so bad you can taste it and wondering why nobody else shares the same passion as you.

I got two six shooters with a holster and cowboy hat one Christmas. They were cap guns that when you pulled the trigger the gun popped and made smoke that smelled like real gun powder. My brother and I would play cowboys endlessly until our mother couldn’t stand the noise any longer.

My favorite scene in that movie was when a swear word flew out of Ralphie’s mouth in his mother’ presence. Her response was to stick a bar of soap in his mouth as punishment with a warning never to speak that word again. There was Ralphie wide eyed with a huge bar of soap in his mouth unable to utter a word.

My mother was a lot like Ralphie’s mom. There was a time, I don’t remember the circumstances, that a swear word flew out of my mouth in her presence. She grabbed me by the neck, took me in the bathroom, and shoved a big bar of Ivory soap in my mouth. There I was sitting on a stool, eyes wide just like Ralphie’s, choking on the bar. Let me tell you Ivory soap did not taste good. After a forever time, mom reappeared and warned me that the same would happen if she ever heard that word come from my mouth again. To this day I carry a grudge against Ivory soap and refuse to buy it.

Some of life’s lessons leave a bad taste in your mouth. I can’t honestly say that was the last time I swore but I did learn a lesson about watching what comes out of my mouth. The Bible says, “Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”

 

Rejoice

Rejoice

One of the reasons I like the Christmas season is that Jesus gets lots of free publicity with the carols sung on radio, TV and in the mall. Paying attention to the words as well as the music, one can get the whole story about Jesus. For the past several weeks I have preached using the most popular carols. Which brings me to the point of this blog.

While preparing last Sunday’s sermon on O Come, Emmanuel, I had a flash from the past; a sure sign I am getting old. Fifty-five years ago, I am singing this carol in the seminary chapel. Dressed in cassock, surplice and biretta (a clergy hat not dissimilar from a Mickey Mouse hat) in a religious atmosphere filled with the fragrance of incense and the ringing of bells. I was a young seminarian preparing to be a priest, still wet behind the ears on clerical life. “Veni, veni, Emmanuel” sung in Gregorian chant as part of the Vesper service.

Much has happened in life since then: marriage, children and grandchildren, pastoring in two denominations, running a ski lodge and now pastor of a small congregation in Montana. Little did I dream the path the Lord had prepared for me. All I wanted that day in that chapel filled with young men like myself was to serve the Lord.

Interesting how the Lord takes you up on the desires of your heart. Looking back on the joys, disappointments, trials and blessings, I see how his hand directed my steps. I don’t want this to sound too religious. The truth is that for most of my journey, I wasn’t sure the Lord was directing my steps. There were times when I thought for sure he had forgotten all about me. O me of little faith. It was my grandmother who told me that hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

The truth is that  this Christmas like all the Christmas pasts is a reminder the Lord Jesus has come to dwell with us. The Bible says, “The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.” Rejoice!

A Blessed Christmas to all.

Window Shopping

Window Shopping

It all came back to me like a blast from the past. I was walking down Main Street here in Bozeman with my family at the annual Christmas Stroll. The street closed to traffic was filled with food stalls, Christmas lights and people. Passing by a clothing store, I happened to look at the display windows. Two American Flyer model trains were chugging around their oval tracks.

In my mind I was immediately transported back some sixty-five years to my childhood. My father had erected an eight by four platform four feet off the ground in the furnace room. I think what motivated him was my mother who in no uncertain terms told him he needed to do a project with his boys.

On this plywood platform, my dad laid out a plan for a standard scale railroad track. He brought home all the stuff needed to build a railroad: tracks, an American Flyer steam engine and freight cars (Santa Fe engine and passenger cars were added later), track switches, transformer and a train station.

My brother and I did the rest. We laid out the track, build a mountain with a tunnel from chicken wire and paper mâché, set up a town with people, buildings, wired telephone poles and green grass made from coloring coffee grounds. It was a wonder to behold. What fun the two of us had getting it all together, learning how a train works. Our steam engine even had real smoke coming out of the stack.

I spent the rest of the Christmas Stroll thinking about our American Flyer adventure. Before I started to write this blog, I called my brother and asked, “Do you remember when Dad set up that platform in the furnace room so we could build our model railroad?” Well, the next forty five minutes were spent reminiscing.

Funny what can happen when you window shop.