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.