Probably still Christmas. It’s easy to tap into the storehouse of memories, even if it doesn’t hold the same magic and mystique it once did. There’s still the music, the family time, the joy of watching the grandkids’ reactions to the small mountain of goodies under the tree. It still feels like a day that’s set apart– different from the rest, somehow.
The Great Outdoors
Yes, many times. It started when we were kids. We’d go to Vermont or New Hampshire, use my grandfather’s vintage, old, musty, square, heavy canvas tent. We’d cook on the Coleman stove, swim in a brook, and generally enjoy being outside for extended periods of time.
Then I joined the Boy Scouts and we of course learned the finer points of preparedness and really got into equipment and cooking and all things camping. There were many overnighters and mountain trips to New Hampshire, along with hiking and camping in the Sangre de Cristo range of the southern Rockies at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico.
We’ve since been with our own kids, but not for a while now. Watkins Glen State Park was a favorite spot.
Putting a line through it
When I can cross something off the To Do list. I have to make lists, anymore.
When I get the yard mowed and cleaned up, finish a woodworking project, spend some time practicing at the piano, get the year-end tax information gathered and delivered, pay a bill in full, bring the checkbook up to date, write what I consider a decent blog post, visit with the grandkids, help my son with his landscaping business, help around the house and cook a nice meal for my wife and I.
Mostly tangible stuff, where the progress or completion is easily marked, or seen– mowing, painting, cleaning, cooking, moving wheelbarrows full of mulch.
Church work was more nebulous, somehow, most days a more difficult milieu in which to assess progress or productivity. Easter always arrived at the end of Lent, of course, so at least we had that cyclical sense of movement toward a culmination and completion. But then the church year just moved on to the next theme. And peoples’ lives and situations and opinions were always evolving. Or stuck.
Bits and Fluff
-I wonder what Trump and Zelenskyy were talking about at the Pope’s funeral. I wonder if Volodymyr finally got through to him, or if Trump told him he’s on his own from here on out. It’s sounding like maybe Donald has softened his stance a bit and taken a dimmer view of Putin, but there’s little reason to think that anything substantive will develop. If something does change, it’ll only be in service of procuring a Nobel Peace Prize for Trump, because he really wants one of those.
-Isn’t the Hollywood Empire, such as it is, built on sand? It’s an entertainment “industry,” plying escapism and imitation and make believe, known for taking “dramatic license,” with a wildly inordinate amount of money and attention paid to it and its self-important “stars.” One might argue that its prominence in American society has made us weak and distracted, self-indulgent, shallow, seduced by fame and fortune. We need more Tysons and Curies, fewer Hankses and Johanssons and Kardashians.
Lol
Happy face, thumbs up, heart, coffee mug, Christmas tree, various foods, golf-related. The poop emoji has come in handy a couple of times. Sometimes I string a whole mess of unrelated ones together, just for added emphasis or in a mostly vain attempt at being funny and over the top.
Perspective
Dandelions. Scourge or treat for the eyes? I guess if there are enough of them in a grassy field, it makes for a pretty picture, a pleasant and quite striking contrast between green and yellow. But scattered in a small yard, when you’re trying to start a lawn? Not so much.
Remember—there’s no such genus or species known as “weed,” just plants growing where you don’t want them. I wasn’t aware of that distinction until I was older than I’d care to admit.
Music, too
Religion, sports, woodworking, the natural world, cars, technology, astronomy, farming, and whatever is on the grandkids’ minds. It seems it would be difficult not to have an opinion or two on current events– political, environmental, and otherwise.
A starter life, or the only one we get?
I recently had breakfast and a good chat with a pastor colleague. It was fruitful, to a certain extent, but I didn’t get to say everything I wanted to say, or share what was weighing the heaviest on my heart. I held back, for some reason. I feel I’m in the midst of an existential crisis, caught between the rock and the hard place, wanting to believe in the existence of God, but leaning toward the Harari-esque take on things.
There is so much about a journey of faith that’s difficult to reconcile anymore, and this saddens me. I’ve often thought that if there is no God, no rescue from this mundane, sometimes wondrous, and often absurd and savage life, then we have no hope. My hope, for the longest time, dwelled in a certain confidence in the promise of the Gospel message that Jesus indeed arrived on the scene, taught and revealed his divinity and power, died as an atonement for our weakness and sinfulness, and overcame death and the grave to live again– a sign and a promise of comfort for all who have faith.
I wanted to believe this because there was nothing in and of this earthly life that came close to such revelation, such good news. All we get here is a life we had no say in stepping into, a crap shoot, a lottery where the winners are lucky enough to be born into stable societies with leaders who have their heads on straight; into families that care about each other, who have healthy perspectives on what’s important, who show love and humility and have a sense of humor. The losers aren’t losers in the way immature high schoolers use the term. They’re losers because they’ve started at a disadvantage– they were unlucky enough to be born into situations where it would have been wiser and more considerate of the parents to have abstained from unprotected sex. For too many children, and for a number of reasons, their journey often enough is one long, or shortened, undeserved slog and endurance test.
This idea that one must have faith, keep the faith, has died significantly in me. I lament the familiar lament: how long? How long do we wait, do we hold onto the promises, before we start looking around at the plurality of belief systems and the billions who are waiting on their God to do something, not to mention the suffering and growing despair and misery, and throw up our hands and say “What are we doing here?!”?
It often feels like it’s been long enough.
The Big Move
I suppose some might feel that getting married is a risk, but I’ve never felt that way. I’m not a huge risk taker, I guess, but one I can think of is when we decided to head to seminary. We moved away from the area in which we grew up, not knowing for sure if certain things would fall into place and I would make it through the process. There are no regrets, though, other than the occasional lament that my sense of call has waned significantly since leaving Gettysburg.
In that moment…
Daily writing prompt
Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently?
No specific instance yet, but I’m quite sure that over the years there have been moments of inaction that, with the benefit of hindsight, could have turned out differently, and better. It might have been some opportunity I let go by the boards– investing in land, taking certain things more seriously, behaving better, picking up on cues from my wife and either doing or saying something that would have paved the way for a better outcome.
OK. One thing that comes to mind is a missed opportunity to take the high road when we neighborhood kids gathered after supper one night and turned into a mob of sorts, picking on one of the other neighborhood kids who we, in our teenage mindlessness, thought was weird and annoying. I was neither emotionally mature nor brave enough to stand up and say that what we were doing was wrong and actually weak and awful. It still makes me cringe when I think about it.
The good thing is that with a bit of time, and grace and forgiveness, we mended fences and were able to move beyond that ugliness.
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