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Surface Tension

Surface Tension

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I had a house full this Christmas and therefore one of the rules of the Christmas season in my house this year was no talking about politics.  I wanted to keep things festive.

So with politics off the table, the debate immediately shifted to something more near and dear to my heart yet equally as volatile…

My toilet paper.

Yup, my choice of toilet paper came under attack.

“It’s too rough…it’s not soft enough… it’s too thin,” yeah I heard it all.

I don’t really care about any of that when it comes to my toilet paper what is important to me is…

Surface Tension.

Now I realize from my Respiratory Therapy days that the true definition of surface tension relates specifically to a liquid.

But I like to apply those same qualities to my toilet paper, you know, binding together, like an elastic membrane so that nothing breaks through.

 

And as you know I don’t usually like to venture into commentary on what may be construed as political. I like to write about important things like meatballs, making fart noises, The Dave Clark Five, and Publix employees snapping my French bread in half, and even toilet paper.

You know, real cutting edge stuff.  But there are recent events that I find are more troubling.  But not necessarily from a political aspect, I don’t really care whether you are a democrat or a republican, or a socialist, or whatever.  My concern is more about our ability to stand together as Americans, bound, strong, like an elastic membrane. Impenetrable.

Like my toilet paper.

Hayley gave me a book to read called Barbarians and Brothers: Anglo-American Warfare 1500 to 1865. In his book, author Wayne E. Lee looks at issues like race and ethnicity in war and also how culture, strategy, and logistics determined the nature of the fighting.   I recently started reading this book and though I am no scholar of war, you don’t have to venture too far into it to find meaning in current events. Lee says, “War is intended to convey specific messages to an enemy; only rarely in history has that message been merely ‘die.’”

You see the elimination of this most recent terrorist with minimal collateral destruction, sent a great message.

Unfortunately, the actions of a rather large number of Americans to align themselves with the enemy afterward, to apologize for this military action, and to even maybe try to limit our future ability to protect our country, sent an entirely different, not so great message.

“It is always distressing to find American citizens who benefit from the protection and assistance of this government lending their voice in any way to governments such as the [enemy, whoever that might be] distressing indeed,” said State Department spokesman Charles W. Bray, according to a July 1972 Reuters story.

That statement was made in 1972 in reference to Jane Fonda’s support of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam (North Vietnam) who was at the time our enemy.

This most recent action against terrorism seems to have generated a lot of Jane Fondas.

 

The attacks on America by the terrorists on 9/11 in 2001 brought our country together and since that time we have been in a war against terrorism.  Last week another terrorist responsible for the loss of American lives was terminated.

Unfortunately, those sentiments that brought us together in the early days of this war have waned quite a bit.

 

Today is Donny’s birthday.  He would have been 33 years old today.  I remember watching the events and the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks unfold on TV with Donny.  I remember his passionate support for the country and the fact that even at the then age of 14 he was ready to sign up for the military and join the fight.

I remember a lot of passionate support for our country back then.

We had surface tension.

But this is America where we are free to pledge our allegiance to Charmin or Scotts; the USA or Iran.  You are free to choose.

Times sure have changed Donny, that passionate support for our country that you had is not as popular now.

I hope someday, out of respect for those who have paid the price of defending us these last almost twenty years, we can get that back again and stop the urge to lend our voices in support of our enemy governments.

To be impenetrable once again.

 

 

 

The Christmas Letter 2019

The Christmas Letter 2019

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Christmas 2019

It’s August 3 and I am at an auction with my father in law in New Centreville, PA.  I drop my father in law off to register then I go park my truck.  Now my turn to register, I am trying to explain to the guy behind the table who I am and my relationship to my father in law when the guy says, “yeah I know who you are.  We didn’t get a Christmas card and letter this year, we usually get a card and letter!”

The next month, on September 14 we went to Kim’s 40th high school reunion and had a great time. But again, we had multiple people asking why no Christmas card and letter last Christmas?

The next morning after the reunion I attended the Geiger Church of the Brethren, but on this day, I was haunted by the ghosts of Christmas letters past. The sermon that morning included the story from Genesis of Jacob wrestling with God the night before he was to meet with his brother Esau and his family who he hadn’t seen in years. The last time they saw each other Jacob had tricked his father Isaac into blessing him instead of the oldest son Esau as should have been customary thus making Jacob lord of the family and all the other family members, servants to him. Now after all these years Jacob was anxious and even scared that Esau would do him and his family harm as a result. His concern was only bolstered by the fact that his servants who went out ahead to tell Esau that Jacob was coming, returned to say Esau was on his way to meet Jacob with 400 men.  Jacob thought it best to be overly generous with gifts. Surely that would make the best impression.

So, he sent his family and servants out ahead of him with the gifts of many goats, female camels with their young; ewes, and donkeys and cows. Then he spent the night tormented by his concerns of seeing the brother he hadn’t seen in a long time, having enough gifts, worrying about arguments or even worse. He wrestled with those concerns, and with God all night.  As daybreak came upon them, the wrestling ended, and Jacob asked God to bless him.

Sitting and listening in church that morning, still with visions of Christmas letters dancing in my head, I thought, wow, this story of Jacob and Esau seems to have many parallels with modern day Christmas rituals.

Because last Christmas, Kim and I wrestled with our own anxieties over the holiday.  Whether it was the grief that you don’t “get over” and never goes way, stress over normal things like finances maybe, or just being tired, or all of the above.  Christmas at our house last year, as I had told Hayley at the time, was “cancelled.”

In a Christmas time post on my website last December I had written this:

I had always put a lot of energy into our Christmases.

But for the first time in my life I didn’t have a Christmas tree.

And for the first time since Kim and I have been together, we didn’t send out a Christmas card

with a Christmas letter.

This year we just didn’t have the energy.

 

I guess like Jacob, we felt the pressure.  The need to buy too many gifts, the stresses of socializing in the face of grief and loss, the unpacking of just too many memories to put up on the shelves only to take them down again and pack them away for another year.  And I guess, like Jacob, we wrestled.

Unlike Jacob however, our conversation would have been more like this:

“Seriously Kim, how many milking camels do we really have to buy this year? Does Alexa really need another camel?  Haven’t we spent enough?  And do you know what it cost to ship a milking camel?”

And I can’t imagine my wife telling me, “Curt your brother Gary called to say he is coming to visit from California for Christmas.  And he is bringing 400 of his family and friends with him.”

Yup Jacob, I got you!

 

But that was last Christmas.

And on the way back home to Virginia from the Rockwood High School Class of 1979 40th reunion, Kim said,

“You know you are going to have to write a Christmas letter this year.”

 

So, with Alexa, Namaan, Christian, and Ethan coming up to Virginia for Christmas, the kids and grandkids would be together this year for the first time in two years. We started to get the old Christmas spirit back again.

Well sort of.

Since I had thrown out the last artificial tree we owned, the Sunday before Thanksgiving, realizing we would be away Thanksgiving weekend, the time we would normally put up our Christmas tree, we found an awesome deal on Facebook yard sale, drove right over and picked it up.

Now with our “new” used artificial Christmas tree in the back of the SUV, we headed out to have lunch in Leesburg with Savannah and Cameron celebrating Leon’s birthday with Leon’s family.  Hayley was there too with her new friend Malcolm who I had never met.  He seemed like a really nice guy and I liked him.

Then finally Kim and I went home and set up our “new” used artificial Christmas tree to get into the spirit of things. Kim put on some awful 70’s music while we went to work decorating the tree.  That triggered an exchange that went something like this:

“Me and you and a dog named Sue, traveling and living off the land,” I sang along with the song.

“It’s Boo!” Kim said.

“It’s what?” I asked puzzled.

“Boo, the dog’s name is Boo not Sue!” she corrected me.

“I thought it was Sue,” I grumbled feeling a little silly.  Ah it’s a stupid song anyway, I thought.

By the end of the evening, the “new” used artificial Christmas tree looked great, and we had some fun.

Then, this past weekend I even put Christmas decorations up outside, something I used to do with Donny but hate to do now.  Though unlike the neighbors I put ours up in the backyard so we could see them and enjoy them.

Everything was falling into place.

Everything, except for one thing, Kim’s words,

“You know you are going to have to write a Christmas letter this year.”

Yeah, I suppose so.

 

Post-Script

It has been a year for us that has been different than most.

Kim and I spent less time together this past year than we ever have.  That wasn’t good.

But on the plus side we spent a lot more time with our families than we had in a long while.

We had some answered prayers, and we still have some big ones out there we are waiting to get answered.

I was reminded while at work today that this is the season of miracles, that the birth of Jesus to a virgin shows that nothing is impossible with God.

 Nothing is impossible with God.

I am going to go into the New Year with that re-assurance that the rest of those prayers will get

answered too.

We can take a lot from the story of Jacob and Esau.

Because after all our wrestling, God did bless us too.

And like Jacob’s plea to his brother Esau,  “Please take my gift which has been brought to you, because God has dealt graciously with me and because I have plenty,” we will find comfort in the joy of giving, the reminder that no matter how much time goes by and no matter the problems of the past, our love of family is unconditional.

And as Kim and I enjoy our three little guys this Christmas, I will be reminded that God has dealt graciously with us too.

I hope that you and your families have an awesome Christmas this year.  And if there is anything you might be wrestling with, I hope God is gracious and blesses you too.

And finally, I hope that none of us get any milking camels for Christmas!

 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from all of those mentioned above including Donny too!

Kim and Curt

This was Christmas 2018

 

Oh Well

Oh Well

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I can’t help about the shape I’m in
I can’t sing, I ain’t pretty and my legs are thin
But don’t ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to
Oh well

(From Oh Well, written by Peter Green)

 

Peter Green.

Born Peter Greenbaum October 29, 1946.

Many of you are familiar with Fleetwood Mac.  I have confessed to my being a rather big Fleetwood Mac fan before.

What you may not be familiar with is that originally Fleetwood Mac was called Peter Green’s Fleetwood Mac. The Fleetwood Mac years that included Peter Green was the Fleetwood Mac I remember liking most.

A pretty good guitarist, Peter actually replaced another pretty good guitarist named Eric Clapton when Clapton left John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers.

In 1967 Peter left the Bluesbreakers to start his own band that included other former members of the Bluesbreakers, Mick Fleetwood and John McVie.

 

I have a calendar hanging in my office.

It’s a guitar calendar.

Each month it features a cool photo of a famous or unique guitar and its history.  It also lists birthdays of notable guitar players for that month.

Peter Green was on that birthday list for the month of October,  October 29th  to be exact.

 

You can probably imagine hearing a conversation like this:

Joe: “Hey man how is it going how are you feeling?”

Jack: “Ah man you know I am not really feeling very well, I got this cough that I can’t kick, headaches, a fever that just won’t go away and the doctors can’t seem to figure how to make me well again.”

Joe: Wow that’s too bad, listen get plenty of rest, drink lots of water, and you know I am sure everything is going to work out.  And I will be thinking about you. Be sure to let me know if there is anything I can do for you. I will keep you in my prayers.”

And you can probably also imagine hearing one like this:

Joe: “Hey man how is it going how are you feeling?”

Jack:  “Ah man, you know I am not really feeling very well, I can’t sleep, my heart is racing, I am depressed, I don’t have any appetite, I feel like I am going to lose it at any time  and the doctors can’t seem to figure how to make me feel good again.”

Joe: “Wow man, I am sorry to hear that, that’s too bad, yeah I got an uncle like that too, hey about those Nats huh?”

 

Oh well.

Joe just might not give the answer that you want him to, huh?

 

Due to his mental illness, Peter Green would fall out of the music scene in the mid 70’s.  He would eventually undergo therapy for schizophrenia.   Thankfully he would come back and be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1998 and tour as late as 2010.

 

As is often the case with me, a song sticks in my head for a day and gets me thinking and then you poor folks have to hear about it.   That is what happened when Oh Well played in my head recently and Peter Green’s birthday was listed on my office wall.

 

And I am reminded by how I feel this is the time of the year when the daylight ends sooner, that many people are struggling.  And not just from the touch of seasonal affective disorder (SAD) that plagues me to some minor degree, but many more to a much more serious degree from a multitude of reasons or causes.

But whether its schizophrenia, or seasonal affective disorder, or post-traumatic stress disorder, or anxiety, or depression, or grief, or some other behavioral disorder or life situation that causes unbearable stress, we need to be attentive and sympathetic to the needs of those folks too.

 

You may have people in your life who are struggling with something.

Actually, let me say that a different way.

You do have people in your life who are struggling with something.  A person that you love, a person that you work with, a person who is your friend, the person waiting on you in a restaurant.

You may not realize it.

Or, you may prefer to avoid it.

You may prefer to say, “Oh well, how about those Nats?”

I have written before, that those brothers and sisters need our help too.

And if we don’t know how to help them, which may often be the case, we just need to pray about it.

Pray for them.

And maybe just listen.

And maybe not say anything.

Maybe just be there.

 

And it could be me, and it could be you.

And if it is, we need to tell somebody.

 

Now, when I talked to God I knew he’d understand
He said, “Stick by my side and I’ll be your guiding hand
But don’t ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to
Oh well

(From Oh Well, by Peter Green)

 

 

Plant Camp

Plant Camp

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Thursday evening I was thanking God for the fact that it wasn’t Monday when The Voice would be on, and it was a travel day for the Nationals so there was no late-night baseball to watch and keep me up.

Nope, it was just a beautiful evening to end a beautiful day.  And a perfect excuse to plop myself just one more time in the chair and enjoy some time outside.

Last week we cut down the banana trees and got what was left bedded down for winter, and we carefully wrapped the four palm trees I had in the ground in hopes they would make it through until spring.

But today we had to deal with those plants that weren’t in the ground.  The many (and I mean many) plants of all shapes, sizes, and varieties that were growing in pots and would have to go somewhere warm for the winter.

And preferably not in my house.

And that is not because I don’t like plants, I do, but my house already looks like a Meadows Farms franchise location.

In case you haven’t figured this out by now, my wife has this really serious plant jones.  She is constantly bringing home plants or starting something from a seed.  My house is loaded with olive trees, fig-trees, money trees, avocado trees, and on and on and on.

At one point this summer I told my wife I was going to attach leaves to my body so she would pay more attention to me.

I was feeling neglected (she doesn’t pour water on me like that).

But I have grown used to it.

Anyway today was the day we had to pack up the big yucca plant, the jasmine, the lemon trees, and the citrus bush, the indoor palm, and the rest of the ten palm trees I haven’t put in the ground yet and take them to plant camp…that is anyone, anywhere that we can find willing to plant sit for the winter.

The decks are bare now.  Whatever is left, mostly ferns, will die off and be replaced in the spring.  There is only so much you can do.

And I guess if your wife is going to have an urge to bring things home, there are worse things than plants.

I should be thankful it’s not cats.

Well, it is almost time for the game to start.

Time to plop down for another night in front of the TV for some local World Series excitement.

Go Nats!

Loading up the truck for Plant Camp
To Every Thing There Is a Season

To Every Thing There Is a Season

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To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-2)

 

This is a bittersweet time of the year for me.

Trying to hold on to the last hint of summer, we spent a long weekend at the beach last week fishing, biking, and getting some rest.

This morning however the temperature was 34 degrees, signaling that it was the time of the year to give up the sanctuary of our back yard that we worked so hard in the spring to build, and begin to get ready for winter.

The time to pluck up that which was planted.

The first time I held my wife’s hand early in our courtship I remember saying to myself, “man, this girl has some rough hands!”

A farmer’s daughter, growing up working on the farm, created those tough hands.

And on a day like this, the time for plucking, that kind of wife comes in real handy.

So this morning the annual ritual of taking down the banana trees began.  This was the most prolific year we have had with our banana trees, and they produced many “pups.”  They also grew bigger than they ever had before.

One by one we dropped them down leaving about four to six inches of the plant above the ground.

We collected the leaves of the hardwood trees that had fallen, having served their purpose now laying in colors of red, orange, yellow, and brown in our yard.  These leaves will serve a different purpose now, to try to preserve the life of what was left of the banana in the ground as winter sets in.

So we covered the short stumps of the banana trees with the dead leaves.  On top of the leaves we laid the clippings of the tall grasses from our yard leaving some of the grasses up for the birds and as protection for the fish in the koi pond.  Then finally on top of the dead leaves and the tall grasses, we made a thick layer using the leaf of the banana trees themselves.  Some of these leaves were over six feet long.

Once the banana trees were tended to we dug up the bulbs to be brought inside for the winter and wrapped the palm trees with bubble wrap and a bed of pine needles.  This will be my first experience with trying to get a palm tree through a winter.  With bubble wrap and duct tape, the four trees I planted this year in the yard were ready.

It was a good day, and now as I sit on my deck without the privacy of my banana trees, I realize they had served their purpose all summer long, and today we served ours, working hard all day to hopefully bring them back again in the spring.

 

Yesterday our mail contained an envelope addressed to Donny from the Franklin Mint.  After seventeen years to get a piece of mail addressed to Donny caused a bit of a pause.

Because I guess I realize that to every thing there is a season.

And I understand a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted.

But sometimes it’s hard to understand why that to those who are born, the time to die could come so quickly.

Couldn’t we have just wrapped them in bubble wrap and duct tape just that one time and protected them?

I don’t suppose.

I guess there is a time to every purpose under heaven, even if we don’t understand.

The Harvest, We Reap What We Sow

The Harvest, We Reap What We Sow

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Observe them carefully, for this will show your wisdom and understanding to the nations, who will hear about all the decrees and say, “Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people.” What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the Lord our God is near us whenever we pray to him? And what other nation is so great as to have such righteous decrees and laws as this body of laws I am setting before you today?  Deuteronomy 4:6-8

 

The laws, the rules we live by.

The speaker introducing the message at church this Sunday used the analogy of playing with fire.  Our innate insistence on sometimes challenging wisdom, rules, and laws out of a curious need to know more,  or the feeling that we know better maybe. Our inability to trust what we are being told, our need to learn it ourselves… like playing with fire, until we get burned.

 

I am in western Pennsylvania again and this time of year it’s the harvest, the time when you reap what you sow.

It was a good week, the predicted rain held off and “the boys” (Kim’s brothers Kerry and Keith,  and nephew Josh) were able to finish harvesting the soybeans in the fields down by Scullton and return the two large combines back to the farm to be moved to another field when work started again on Monday.

Unlike the last time I shared my harvest experience, a time when there was uncertainty in my life and uncertainty in our country with the upcoming election, I didn’t get to ride in the combine.   But by the end of the weekend I would feel that it was me who was benefiting from the reaping.

Having moved from the intro message delivered in the sanctuary to the basement classroom for Sunday school, we discussed Deuteronomy some more and the laws being passed on to the new nation of Israel.

Later those same rules to live by would be shared to other nations through the life of Jesus and his disciples.

On this Sunday, as we always do when we are at Kim’s home in Somerset, we attended services at the Geiger Church of the Brethren.  I have been to church here many times over the last twenty years, but not until this visit was I ever at the Geiger Church of the Brethren for their communion.

The Brethren have communion only twice per year. That may be because it is different.  Communion for The Church of the Brethren is not just the bread and cup.  It is referred to as the Love Feast.

And the Love Feast does include a meal as you might guess, but more importantly it includes, just as Jesus did for the disciples at the Last Supper, the washing of feet.

Only after they wash each other’s feet, a simple meal is served.  And finally after the meal the bread and the cup, the body and blood of Christ is served.

So just like Jesus did at the last supper, I sat in a chair while another brother washed my feet, then dried my feet with the long apron tied around his waist, then he kissed me on the cheek and blessed me.  When it was my turn, and I received the apron, I washed the feet of the next brother behind me.  I dried his feet with the apron around my waist, kissed him on the cheek and blessed him. Then I untied the apron… and so on and so on.

It’s hard not to be reminded in that moment of what Jesus was reminding the disciples;  take his message, and live by God’s rules as he had lived out for them to see, in the time leading up this last meal of fellowship.  By washing their feet he was demonstrating the ultimate act of love for your brother, in humbleness and service.

 

Now, we have another great nation that seems to be in constant turmoil.  As a nation we may not have our God as close to us as He used to be.

I can’t help imagining our leaders, our members of Congress, experiencing this act of love and service to one another; each taking their turn to have their feet washed, dried by the apron, and finished with a kiss on the cheek and receiving a blessing.   Then turning to the member in the next seat, kneeling with the basin, washing and drying their feet, a kiss on the cheek and a blessing.

And so on and so on.

 

Might be different vibe in the room after that.

You reap what you sow.

 

So he got up from the meal. Took off his outer clothing. And wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with a towel that was wrapped around him.

I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

John 13: 4-5, – 15-17

Awesome…I Have Plenty of Time

Awesome…I Have Plenty of Time

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The clock above my kitchen window says it is 7:00 o’clock.

“Awesome,” I think to myself, “I have plenty of time.”

The problem is the clock above my kitchen window reads 7:00 o’clock all the time lately.

That is because the battery is dead.

But most mornings, even if it just for the briefest moment, I forget, and out of habit I look up at that clock and think:

“Awesome, I have plenty of time.”

 

The last couple of weeks our attention has been on Hurricane Dorian and chicken sandwiches.

Because of my little guys, I was selfishly relieved that the hurricane didn’t impact south Florida as initially predicted. But I can’t help feeling a little ashamed of that selfishness after viewing what happened to the Bahamas.

Then to make it even worse the total anarchy of the situation led to the desperation of looting by armed residents.

While on the flip side of that dose of reality, we had the unreality of desperation with Popeye’s Chicken sandwiches.

Chicken sandwiches that caused chaos and disorder with disgruntled customers, threatening lawsuits; a group rushing the restaurant with at least one brandishing a weapon just to name a couple.

I don’t even eat chicken.

But if I did I wouldn’t want to have to carry a weapon to go buy a sandwich.

I can’t imagine walking into a Burger King brandishing a weapon and rushing the counter for their veggie burger.

Truth is I am not against owning a gun; in fact, the situation that presented itself in the Bahamas, in my opinion, is exactly why you should own a gun.

Who knows when you and your family may find yourselves in these desperate conditions where lawlessness prevails?

 

But this is not about guns.

It’s about time.

The unpredictability of it.

And running out of it.

 

This has been a different summer for Kim and me.

Unlike last year when we got out on our bikes four or five times week, this year we simply got out on our bikes four or five times.

And the excitement and the anticipation of spending time on the kayaks we got for Christmas has so far resulted in only two trips.

All that said we wouldn’t change the summer we had if we had the chance to.

Our parents are in their late 80’s and even 90 in my dad’s case.

Time with our parents we may not have plenty of.

That clock hasn’t stopped.

And that has been our priority and our pleasure this year as I have written before.

Today we remember that eighteen years ago 2,977 of our brothers and sisters boarded planes and went to work all with their own excitement and anticipation of whatever it was they were looking forward to in their lives.  And just recently the husband of a friend of Kim’s drowned off of Cape Hatteras while on vacation with his family. He was just 61, and no doubt had plenty of plans for the future.

 

 

But I am 63.

And the clock above my kitchen window says it is 7:00 o’clock.

Awesome…I have plenty of time.

 

Post Script:

Prayers go out to Frankie Chuday and family, the people of the Bahamas and others affected by Hurricane Dorian, and the individuals and families of those still suffering from the attack on September 11, 2001.

Apotheosis

Apotheosis

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My word of the day, that arrives in my email each day,  on Monday was apotheosis.

It means the best point in something’s development or a perfect example.

The sample sentence was “He is the apotheosis of kindness, treating everyone with dignity and respect.”

A good word, I thought, one I will try to remember.

 

Robert (not his real name) had given up.

After years on the waiting list for a liver, he decided to take his name off.

According to the United Network for Organ Sharing the Model for End-Stage Liver Disease (MELD) is a numerical scale, ranging from 6 to 40 (gravely ill), used for liver transplant candidates age 12 and older. It gives each person a ‘score’ (number) based on how urgently he or she needs a liver transplant within the next three months.

Now at his appointment, Robert learned his number was going up, and according to his physician he had about six weeks to live.

Robert’s first shot at getting a liver was foiled by an unrelated infection somewhere else in his body that  was enough to make the transplant procedure too risky.  For Robert now, lightning needed to strike twice, and that didn’t seem likely.

So at that moment in the doctor’s office with just weeks left, it seemed hopeless.  “Take me off the list,” he said.  He had some work being done on his house and figured he would just spend these final weeks making sure that got done right.

On his way back to his North Carolina home however, Robert had second thoughts.  He called his doctor back to say he wanted to stay on the list.

 

Lee Dingle, a 37-year-old engineer from Raleigh, North Carolina was playing with his kids in shallow waters on Oak Island, south of Wilmington.  Lee Dingle was married and had six kids. Four of those six kids were adopted.

“My partner, my love, and my home died today after a freak accident. Lee was playing on the beach with three of our kids yesterday, and an intense wave hit him just right to slam his head into the sand and break his neck,” his wife, Shannon Dingle, wrote on Twitter on Friday, July 19.

It has been reported that 55 people in need of transplants received Lee Dingle’s organs.

Shannon Dingle also advised people to “make sure your loved ones know your wishes,” because even though her husband was a registered organ donor, the consent still needs to come from next of kin.

 

Ironically, Mr. Dingle passed away from his injuries on the same day that we lost Donny, also an organ donor, 17 years ago.  It was also a Friday.

We will never understand why God’s plan for Donny and Lee Dingle was not what was to be expected.

We don’t know either why God’s plan for Robert included a slowly failing organ.

 

We push back when we read in the Bible that we are to give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

Because that’s not always easy.

Yet we remain faithful.

 

And as for Robert, the weekend following his doctor’s appointment, the appointment he when he almost gave up, he received his second chance.

We will pray for Robert and his family for healing and the fulfillment of what it is that God has planned for him.

 

And my family will also pray for the Dingle family, as we know there are no words at a time like this, except prayer that make any sense.

 

Apotheosis…it seems to work for Donny and Lee Dingle.  “They were the apotheosis of kindness, treating everyone with dignity and respect.”

Yup, a good word I think.

 

A Go Fund Me account has been set up to assist the family of Lee Dingle.  If you would like to donate here is the link. The photo of the Dingle family is from the Go Fund Me page.

 

Feet Faddish

Feet Faddish

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I see people posting these photos of their legs and feet on social media all the time.

I don’t really understand why anyone would want to see a photo of my feet but I thought it might be fun to participate in this social media fad.

 

Finally.

A day on a weekend that I am home.

A day on a weekend that I am home and it is not raining.

Can you believe it is the 13th of July and I am just opening up the pool?

Crazy right?

 

Kim wanted me to clean the garage today.

But I thought nah…

 

Take it easy.

Sit by the pool, under the palm tree, and relax.

Well, I am not quite sitting under the palm tree yet.

That is the palm tree to the left of my feet.

Maybe in 10 or 12 years if I am still here, I will actually be sitting under the palm tree.

 

Cameron told me this morning that when I am not alive anymore, he wants my truck.

That caught me off guard a little but hey you never know.

You never know what God’s plan is.

 

So today, I think I will just sit by the pool, next to my little palm tree, and look at my feet.

The garage will be there tomorrow.

Me, and days like this, may not.

Happy Birthday Baby

Happy Birthday Baby

Comments 2 comments

Today is Kim’s birthday and we are 270 miles away from each other.  We have kind of become used to this routine this year as we each run some cover for our aging parents.  Kim’s in western PA and mine on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.  Sadly, it has become more efficient to split up on weekends since there never seems to be enough time to cover all our bases.

June is always a wash for us anyway because of our church yard sale which Kim and I are heavily involved in.  That may sound silly in the context of opening up your garage door on a Saturday morning, moving some things out on to the driveway and then parking yourself in a lawn chair while you collect money.

I have written about this event before. Physically it is the most challenging thing that I do every year.  Not even taking into consideration the three weeks we take to prepare, think of it as walking five or six marathons in a 36 to 48 hour time period while carrying someone’s donated sofa.

This year, more than ever, I could really feel it.

This being my birthday month I was also required to renew my driver’s license.  I opted to get one of those real ID’s.  So one rainy morning a couple of weeks ago I got up early went to the DMV which is always a painful experience and this one was no exception

I brought my birth certificate, my W-2, my mortgage statement, my electric bill, my marriage license, and what was left of my social security card.

The guy at the information desk asked what I wanted to do, then asked to see my birth certificate.

My birth certificate is very fragile.  Taped together after all those years of being carried in my wallet from back in the day when you could get served at age 18 and sometimes you needed extra proof of your age.

I smiled and handed it to the guy making small excuses for its condition due to the fact its shares its age with me.

He looked at it and said, “This is not a birth certificate.”

Catching me off guard I said, “Excuse me? This is my birth certificate…it’s been my birth certificate, well (stammering now) …since I was born!”

(Boy that was a really smart thing to say, I thought to myself)

“It is not a birth certificate it is a registration of birth certificate, you need to get the real birth certificate,” he replied.

I continued to debate the authenticity of my birth certificate but to no avail, the guy says, “Would you like to come back with your real birth certificate or just renew your license?”

“I will just renew my license,” I said dejectedly.

And then there was my doctor’s appointment.    I get great anxiety over picking up the phone and making a doctor’s appointment, it takes a lot of self-debating.  However, this time in the week’s leading up the yard sale, the chronic pain in my legs, the mysterious growth on my skin, and the pain and lump in my armpit finally motivated me to make the call.  Truthfully the axillary pain and lump was the decider.  So at 7:30 a.m. on the Monday following the yard sale I scheduled my appointment.

Low and behold as is typically the case when I make a doctor’s appointment, a few days before, the chronic leg pain I had been experiencing for months subsided and the axillary pain and lump disappeared so basically I looked like an idiot going to the doctor. I assured him (he is a new primary for me) I wasn’t a hypochondriac and I really had symptoms…once.  At the end  of the exam he gave me one of those polite, patronizing come back to see me when you have more serious boo-boo’s send offs and I left swearing that the next time I visit a doctor it will be out of the back of an ambulance.

 

While going through my garage earlier this month looking for items to bring up to the church yard sale,  I found a post card from thirty years ago that Alexa had given me on my 33rd birthday.

It read:

Dear Daddy

I love you a lot

It is very fun having you as a dad

I like you very much

Rember (sic)

We have to buy something for Browies (sic) (tomorow) (sic)

I love you being the big 33er

Love

Alexa

 

I think I figured out that Alexa would have been six years old when she wrote this.

I don’t even remember her being in the Browies…I mean Brownies.

 

What is the point of all this?

Not sure.

I guess now being the big 63er causes me to reflect.

The grueling physical weekend I had last week reminded me I am not young anymore and I can’t do what I used to.

My experience renewing my license shows the challenges of change and bureaucracy.  Some problems can’t be fixed no matter how much tape you use.

The pain and swelling in my armpit was a red flag for me on how quickly my situation could change and had me wondering if I was okay with my life up to this point and was I in the right place with God.

A post card from thirty years ago shows me how fast thirty years can go by, and what I don’t remember about my kids growing up.

Now sitting across the table from my parents, I see the preview of what is to come since I am the next generation, and wonder if my kids will do the same.

And being 270 miles away from my wife on her birthday tells me that sometimes there are things in life that that are more of a priority, like our parents.

But also, how much I miss her.

Happy Birthday Baby.