"That Sounds Kind of Hollow to Me"

Well I have found myself quite busy again and have allowed 11 days to pass between posts. I know everyone has been anticipating this one. I have nothing to say really, I just didn't want my father-in-law to comment again on the freshness of my blog, or the lack thereof.

I had to work on Saturday last week and it looks like a partial day is in store for me this Saturday. Last week I worked with a group of people ages 77-92. The 77 year-old claimed she was 60. Today another 70+ year-old claimed she was 32. The only way she could reconcile the discrepancy between her 32 years and her son's 50 years was to conclude that "there must be something wrong with him." As you can see, the group I was working with last Saturday lacked appropriate cognitive skills. Most couldn't hear so I was required to scream everything at least twice. I had 30 minutes of therapy planned but saying everything twice, I was able to charge 60 minutes. I was instructing on some strategy to improve their memory and in making the point I kind of knocked on my head and made that popping sound with my lips. Without missing a beat the most auditorily challenged 92 year-old stated, "That sounds kind of hollow to me." At which the other 3 members of the group laughed hysterically. I failed to see the humor. How in the world can I be talking loudly, in a pitch below my normal frequency, enunciating deliberately twice and they not hear me, but I make one popping sound and she says that and they all have perfect hearing all of a sudden? I don't get it.

I am learning something about what elderly people are concerned about though. It is not usually what day it is, "Who cares what day it is?" is a question I get often. Many times they are asking where their family is or when they are going to be there. They are concerned about how they are going to pay for this lunch that is way too much food for them to eat. They are concerned about their spouse who is now living alone because they are in the nursing facility. They are battling for their independence as they feel it slipping from their grasp. Many realize they may never return to their home of 50 years. Many suffer depression and anxiety stemming from such losses. Many experience an anger they never knew they were capable of feeling. Most, at some point, come to accept this fate, but there is always something in the air that they just don't want to be there.

I could go on, but I wish most people could get a glimpse of the residents of a nursing facility. I try to see them as people with souls and feelings; real feelings that shouldn't be ignored. Sure it is easy sometimes in our busyness to put off the guy who lays on the call light all day long, or to pacify the lady who has a small bladder, but if it was us or our family member, we would have a different perspective. Most people have plenty of visitors, but there a lonely few who I take extra time with most days. I would encourage Christians to take their kids to the nursing facility and just stop and talk to whoever they see. Kids have a way of brightening an elder's day. They just light up and many smile where they haven't had reason to smile for a time. I promise that you will be blessed as well. It is a great way to serve. The elderly population have insights and perspectives of life from which we younger people can learn and grow. There is much to appreciate from those seasoned by life.

I am thankful that I work in a place that offers me education in living everyday. I pray I am wise enough to ask, listen, and heed.

Grand in My Dreams

I wrote this a couple of years ago and was reminded of it this week.

A dream will not usually wake me up. Though occasionally I not only recall vivid details, I carry the feeling with me for a period of days. This was no nightmare. Quite the opposite actually. I, in my dream, experienced a meaningful sense of euphoric nostalgia.

For reasons unknown, seemingly unprovoked, I dreamed of my days at Wayne, West Virginia. As happens in dreams though, it was like I was outside looking in, yet fully participating and recognized. It began with a throng of people, mostly unfamiliar faces outside under cool, gray skies. Not rain or storms, just overcast. The weather didn't dampen the intensity of my emotion. I had a sense of a return to the past, ushered by present feelings. I was returning to a place I loved, probably the most-loved place from my past.

Entering a building, I find myself in a dimly lit large room, resemblence to a gym, though more grand than the reality. In the distance I hear the faint call of the faceless crowd and am drawn to it by a warmth indescribable. As I make the journey across the room toward the warmth, I hear familiar voices, recall certain events from my past that are filled with meaning. Drawing closer to the warmth and ever-broadening brightness, the sound of laughter and joy eminate. Walking into the awaiting portal, I am transformed into a 15 year-old boy again. The cool dampness of the outdoors is overwhelmed by the joy of nostalgia, for I am back in the present. No longer am I a participant; I am a mere observer. I find myself in that realm of conflict as I desire to bask in the grandness of my dreams while consciousness tugs ever so gently, yet persistently. I awake with tears in my eyes, dripping to my cheek; unsure if they are tears of joy from the experience or tears of sorrow that the connection has been broken.

Why this dream, so vivid, on this night, I don't know. It is sometime in May and I believe we decided to move from Wayne about this time. Laying in bed wondering about a meaning for the dream and some sense of understanding, I had to get up. I wanted to go back to sleep and resume the thought again but was unable. I thought of my wife, looked at her sleeping, then for some reason, I went straight to the bedsides of my two children. Seeing their sleeping innocence, I couldn't take my eyes from them. The longer I saw them, the clearer my understanding. the clearer my task and duty. The meaning of the dream had nothing to do with any certain place, no particular people, no specific period of time. It did have something to do with me; who I was and who I have become, what I will be. I guess leaving Wayne was my defining moment, a test perhaps. God wanted to know if my trust in Him was trust. Wayne, I believe, was the testing ground of my faith. Everything I had learned up to that point was training, instruction from Godly parents. God knew I was getting comfortable with who I was and where my focus was. I needed to demonstrate my faith and dependence on Him. My, how we are blessed when we allow God reign in our hearts and depend upon His guidance.

My mind instantly turned to how God was leadingme to His purpose. My patience and reliance on Him lead me to Jodi. I opened my eyes again and Anna Clair, sprawled across the bed, lay peacefully asleep. I walked back to Levi's bed and found him, face covered with blanket, also peacefully asleep. Again, my task and duty are evident. My task and God-directed duty is to prepare these two precious souls for lives of service to God. I must instill in them lessons for eternity. They must see in me, Jesus Christ, in all things, at all times. They must see in me a life of dependence upon God for everything. I am humbled by this privilege! Because I don't know when their life lessons will be called into action, I must be vigilant and strong. Never wavering, never compromising, never ceasing. Always leading, always encouraging, always praying. I must give them my faith as a seed. Then I must water and nourish it, tend it. I must feed it with the truth so that when it is tested, it becomes their faith. Oh how sad indeed to lose Anna Clair or Levi, or both of them to the world. My heart could not bear it! Now, more that ever before, with vision clear, I press on to my task and duty. May I have no regrets.

I return to slumber with a renewed vigor to lead my family so that someday my children will recall a certain place, a particular group of people, or a specific period of time and realize that the feelings are who they are; that God has lead them to that place and will always lead them when they depend on Him. I am blessed beyond measure!

"My Kids Are Going to Eat Vegetables!"

As I entered the kitchen yesterday evening from work, Jodi was preparing dinner. I looked at the menu items of pork chops (yes she still fixes them for me), macaroni and cheese, soup beans, and a mixture of vegetables. She then proceeded to tell me of her decision that the kids needed to eat more vegetables and that this mixture was going to be the genesis of it. I looked into the pan and saw corn, carrots, broccoli, those little ears of corn the size of half my pinky finger. This combination was smothered with a cheese sauce. Before I could utter a sound, I heard her say to me in her best motherly tone, "And you are going to eat yours and be a good example to them!!" I thought better of my comment, turned and went to the living room and watched "The Little Mermaid." Me and the kids sat there together, hugging each other, a common goal ahead of us: eat the vegetable blend and like it.

We anticipated the call, "Come on you guys, it's time to eat." It finally came and we slowly walked to the table, unsure of our fate. Anna Clair was the first to see her plate and she quickly blurted out, "Oooooooh! I am not eating this nasty stuff!!" Jodi informed her that her assessment of the situation was not needed to influence her little brother. In reality, Levi didn't need her influence because one look and his sentiment was quite the same.

I dutifully forked the mix into my mouth quickly chasing it with a large swig of tea. Jodi informed the kids that we would play a game to help them eat their share of the vegetables. She appealed to one thing they couldn't refuse: money (so she thought!) They would get a dime for every bite they took. Anna Clair, though saving for a pair of Heelys, pretty much dismissed the possibility that a single morsel of the mix would pass her lips. She excused herself to the bathroom and while she was gone, Jodi put a bite of it on Levi's fork. He was slow to be convinced this was going to be good and eventually, he put it in his mouth. Wails and tears followed and nearly a regurgitation that would have undoubtedly set off an unfortunate chain reaction. He did end up swallowing it and washed it down with his milk. When Anna Clair returned, Levi was ready to report that he nearly threw up twice.

Jodi stated that the two of them were beyond understanding and asked me how the vegetables were. Uh-oh! In that brief moment I had a decision to make. I think I made the right one. I said, "Yes, they are great!" as convincingly as I could, held my breath and swallowed real hard.

My thought was that of all the vegetables we could have tried, a mixture such as I have described was probably not the best. Given Anna Clair's avoidance in the bathroom, Levi's 10-cent bite and my effort, Jodi was the only one who really enjoyed the vegetables. Next time I am thinking green bean (perhaps in a casserole) or potatoes, and I will enjoy them as well.

I am thankful that I was able to eat the mound of mixed vegetables and keep it down so I could be a good example to my kids. I hope everytime I have to give them an example it's a little easier. I am also thankful for Jodi being the best mother in the world to her three kids.

"I Sound Just Like Them, Don't I?"

While driving in the car today, Anna Clair asked me to put one of her CDs in the player. It is one of those "girly" CDs (Hillary Duff or someone like her) All I know is that it has been cleared by Momma. Anyway she started singing away full-voiced on one of the songs and after the first couple of lines she said, "I sound just like them, don't I?" I replied, "Yes you sure do!" And then I thought to myself, "The same way I sound like when I sing along with Johnny Cash. 'I fell into a burning ring of fire...'" Oh the curse of a baritone voice. It's kind of like being barely 5'10".

I started thinking about that as we finished the drive home. Wouldn't it be great if all Christians could say, "Hey, I had compassion on that person just like Jesus did." Or, "My faith is as strong as Paul's." What if we all made the strongest effort to serve like we should? What if we all strove to imitate Jesus in everything? What effect would that have on our lives, our family, our church, our community, our world? Paul said that very thing in 1 Corinthians 11:1, "Imitate me just as I imitate Christ."

Let's endeavor to attain the character traits needed to make an impact on our world. Let's help each other develop them as well.