Shannon's Shenanigans

While I am still trying to cough out something meaningful to say, I thought you might enjoy the following link.

In celebration of the first day of Spring here is a blog written my Shannon Spring, a friend and brother in the Lord. He shares some funny moments of his life in rural Alaska last fall.

http://www.sunshinex.com/shannon/

By the way, Shannon cooks some gooooood beer batter halibut and homemade fries!

Peace and health to you!

Cough Out - Breath In

Merriam or Webster, I am not sure which one, says that “coughing” means “expel air from the lungs suddenly with an explosive noise.” I have been doing this for nine days now and I think that along with all that air from my lungs I have also expelled all the meaningful insight my brain may have had. So, I don’t have much to offer the blog-o-sphere this week.

And I haven’t been able to hold my grandson either!

In times like this, when my own life energy is sedated by Alka-Seltzer Plus Night Cold Formula (yeah, I know, but it works fast), I find help and healing in praise and worship music. It is a tool God uses to remind me I am still loved by him and how much he loves you too! It fills the void left by coughing. I can breathe it in and let it take up residence.

So, here is a lyric by Graham Kendrick, the same Brit who wrote “Shine, Jesus, Shine”, that has helped me this week. I hope this is your prayer too.

To keep Your lovely face
Ever before my eyes
This is my prayer
Make it my strong desire!
That in my secret heart
No other love competes
No rival throne survives
And I serve only You.

Train Up a Child: Mac vs PC

Proverbs 22:6 instructs us to “Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” As a grandparent, I have certain responsibilities to train my grandson in all that is good and right. Naturally, this means Rylan needs to learn which computer is best for him. So, I decided it wasn’t too early to do a little experiment by exposing Rylan to a PC and then to a Macintosh.

To begin this experiment, Rylan came to my office to check my PC. He found the PC quite uninspiring and quickly fell asleep.

At home I put him in front of my MacBook Pro and as you can see he had no problem getting the knack of the trackpad.

He was so excited about the Mac I couldn't get him off of it.

"Look Grandpa. this is a cool site!"

"Grandpa, did you know my birthday is coming up in just 11 months and one week.  Can I get a MacBook Pro just like yours?  Please!"

I AM SO PROUD!

Clearing Away the Debris

Recently I had a day or two where it seemed like I was swimming against the rhythm and current of life. A different time zone. I had received some news that was both upsetting and hopeful, disappointing and a relief. It left me confused and anxious and silent and pacing the floor. Then I discovered that at some time on the previous day a large tree had blown over from the vacant lot next door, crashed through my fence, and landed on the roof of my house. Now, under normal circumstances this might have been upsetting, but on this day and in this rhythm, I welcomed the fallen tree.

I spend the next four hours climbing ladders, sawing limbs, breathing fresh air, getting wood chips out of my eyes, stumbling over mounds of snow, making noise, strategizing, and stopping to fix my underpowered chainsaw – again. I got to throw things and cut things and let things fall to the ground. When I was done I was rewarded with the realization that although a section of my fence was destroyed and the cutters torn off, my roof survived, still safely covering my brand new grandson. I was physically exhausted, but my mind and my heart were somehow renewed. I had conquered the tree, it had not conquered me. There is a part of me that believes God caused that tree to fall because on that day He knew that cutting down a fallen tree and clearing away the debris was the healing I needed.

Where in the Voyager is Beatrice Long?

No doubt there will be more about my life as a grandfather, but for now let's get back to the Adventures of My Mariner in Law. I don't know how many of you have been on a cruise ship, but I thought you might like to see more of what these fantastic ships look like. Can you find Beatrice? (click on the photos for a larger view)

Let's start with the most important thing to happen on the inside - dessert!

Here is a partial view of one of the balcony staterooms. The Amundson's used this one. They remind me of bedrooms in one of those big, fancy Class-A motorhomes, but even nicer.

Here is a view of one of the magnificent stairways leading to the Promenade.


The Promenade had a cafe and multiple shopping "opportunities".

Looking up from the Promenade you could see the glass elevators. This was a view of the aft elevators from Deck 5 and looking up to Deck 11. Janet and I rarely took the elevator, opting instead for the stairs. The were faster and burned more calories.

There was a great walking and jogging track on Deck 12.

On the last day of the cruise we were entertained by one of the chefs doing an ice sculpture of an eagle. He carved this in less than 10 minutes!

Did you find her? For the first person who can correctly identify where Bea is, I will send you a free book by Eugene Peterson called, Traveling Light.

We interrupt this program!

We'll return to the "Adventures of My Mariner in Law" after this, but first this message from your sponsor.

Please help me welcome my first grandson!  Rylan Nello filled his lungs with air at 10:55 pm, Wednesday, January 28, 2009.  Seven pounds, 15 ounces.  He has already learned how to pee, poop, suck, spit up, burp, hiccup, vocalize (well...cry), and he scored 9 on the Abgar Test.  All within his first 16 hours!  Brilliant!

Mariner in Law, Part 2 "The Kiss"

Aside from her two college age grandsons on the cruise with us, Bea was the only single in our group.  So, we all had a little fun with the idea of scouting the other passengers for a distinguished eligible bachelor suitable for her.  Bea found the cruise director, Eric, to be quite handsome (and funny).  Below you can see her patiently waiting for his appearance in the LaScala Theatre on board ship.  (click on each photo to see an enlargement.)

There were also some good looking and talented ice skaters on board, but she found them a little too fast and slippery.


Inside and in the middle of the ship was the Promenade. It was on a bridge over the Promenade that Bea first saw our Scandinavian captain. Young and handsome for sure, but he never came down from the “bridge”.


Even the towels in stateroom had romance on their mind.


Our first destination was Cozumel, Mexico and it was here that Bea’s luck turned around.


One of the things she really wanted to do was swim with the dolphins. Not only did she experience that, she got a kiss too!


There was no better way to celebrate that kiss than with a tasty tropical lunch on the beach. That scoop of ice cream in middle was even better than the kiss!



Stay tuned for Part 3 - “Where in the Voyager is Beatrice Long?

The Adventures of My Mariner-in-Law, Part 1

The most comments I have ever received to a blog post was my last post about our visit to Space Center Houston – I think it was because it featured my mother-in-law, Beatrice Long, who is very popular. So, I think I will ride this wave of popularity right into the Caribbean and dedicate the next few posts to a photo essay of the adventures of Bea during our family cruise – a belated celebration of her 80th birthday.


The Voyager of the Seas is the third largest cruise ship in the world – over 1000 feet long, 15 decks above the water line, and room for over 3500 paying guests. It is too big to go through the Panama Canal.

Our boarding of the Voyager of the Seas was delayed due to fog, but as they say in Jamaica, “no problem”, there was still more than enough food available in the Windjammer Café on deck 11 and it was here that Bea received her birthday surprise – our good friends Dan and Amundson!



This floating community has over 1700 crew members representing over 40 nations, including Rolonda, our waiter from Lithuania, and our assistant waiter, Rego, from Costa Rica.


And it was an international cast who sang Happy Birthday!



Stay tuned for the next episode of “The Adventures of My Mariner-in-Law, where Bea gets kissed by a stranger!

"Houston, we have a problem!"

I am going to be taking a break from my normal blogging effort for the week or so. This won't upset any of you, I am sure, but I do know many of you are missing Beatrice Long. So, here is a photo to let you know that she is alive and well and enjoying her family. Today we visited Space Center Houston, which is the tourist attraction adjacent to the real NASA Johnson Space Center. The trouble was we didn't have the time or strength to wait in line for a tour of the real NASA facilities. Maybe next time.



We board the Voyager of the Seas on Sunday afternoon and, as Royal Caribbean tells us to do, we are going to "Get out there!"

Bea's son and daughter-in-law join us tomorrow and unknown to Bea our special friends, Dan and Jill Amundson. The surprise should be fun.

The Christmas Eve Appearance

On Christmas Eve this year I accompanied Amy to the hospital for some new pictures. Below is a profile of my grandson using the standard ultra sound technique.



At the urging of us all, Amy asked for the 3D images we heard were available. We all thought it was a different diagnostic imaging machine, but it turns out it is the same machine in the hands of a particularly skilled technician. The result is not a true 3D image, but it is rendered in a virtual 3D environment. The machine takes hundreds of scanned images in layers. Each layer is stacked on top of the another layer resulting in a virtual cube of images. The technician then cuts away portions of the cube that are not needed or are in the way to reveal what's inside. Amazing.



One of my best gifts this year was this opportunity to see God's continuing creative process at week 35.
What a creator!

The Same Old Prayer

Well, I turned 52 last week, but I think my knees turned older than that. Mentally I don’t really feel old, but I do find that what my mind desires today is different than what it desired decades ago when I was “young”. I use to go to a bookstore and look for the newest author, but now you are more likely to find me in the dead authors section. In worship I normally prefer to sing newer “praise songs”, but the other night I found myself making a big deal about singing “A Mighty Fortress”, one of the oldest songs in our hymnal. The older I get the more connected I want to be with what and who has gone before.

In my last post, I made reference to the song O Come, O Come Emmanuel. Did you know that the lyrics of that carol originated from the Advent anthems of Christians almost 900 years ago! Each night, for seven days before Christmas, the Christians would sing one of these anthems, each preceded by a prayer which began with the Latin, “Veni, Veni, Emmanuel”. And the traditional melody was composed in 15th Century France, but was likely a reinvention of 8th Century Gregorian chants -- a long time ago!

Now, when I sing this song, I can join my medieval brothers who were looking back to Bethlehem as a reminder that the King has arrived, if we will but follow. This Christmas, my prayer is the same as theirs:

O come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Bid Thou our sad divisions cease,
And be Thyself our King of Peace.

O Come, O Come

Normally, I enjoy the Christmas season, but I am having a hard time getting into it this year. Sarah is not going to be here. Amy’s focus is a month out in anticipation of her new son. Our Christmas Eve will be different with my mother-in-law traveling and we will miss Angie dearly. While I can still look forward to calling my family on Christmas Day, my father won’t be there this time.

But, what hasn’t changed is the fact that one night a young father stood over a feed trough and peered into the eyes of his newborn baby. His son, but not his blood; his responsibility, but not his mission. A son bound to scandalous living -- a divine life reduced to flesh and blood. He would grow up to have dirt under his finger nails. My dirt. He would die in disgrace, but rise in glory, affirming the angel cry some 33 years before -- Emmanuel, God with us!

And so I resolve to sing with a new mind and a new heart...

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer

Our spirits by Thine advent here

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night

And death's dark shadows put to flight.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Let My Heart Be Broken

Thanksgiving is over and already I am back to my old ways. I woke up this morning thinking about myself. It is the easiest thing to do. What do I need? How to my needs get met?


Well, one thing I needed to accomplish today was to go through a stack of mail and to pay bills. In my stack of mail was a new photo and the latest school progress report for Limani Kamwendo, whom Janet and I sponsor. Mail from Malawi is always a blessing. I am fascinated by Limani’s drawings and hand prints. I am encouraged to see his progress and the progress of his community, but it also reminds me that my needs are minor and few. So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I say, “Thank you Limani, for reminding me that there are so many more important needs to be met in this world than the needs I first thought about this morning.”

For over 30 years now, my church has used Thanksgiving calendars as a fun and creative way to encourage us to count our blessings and count our money. This year our collected offering is being sent through a ministry called Partners in Progress to help meet the needs of thousands of God’s-created who are suffering in cyclone ravaged Myanmar. So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, to those who organized the calendars I say, “Thank you for reminding me that there are families in southeast Asia who have much larger concerns than the ones that first came to my mind this morning.”

In the words of Dr. Bob Pierce, founder of World Vision and Samaritan’s Purse:

“Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God.”

Leadership

I’ve been thinking about leadership lately. We need good leaders to help establish some measure of order and direction for our collective existence, but choosing one we can live -- that is a hard and messy business. Sometimes I get careless about my choice and just hand over authority to the first person willing to take responsibility, so I don’t have to. I look for a person who will think for me and behind whom I can hide. I say, “Let the buck stop with you”, so it doesn’t stop with me!

If I weren’t so lazy, I would insist on someone who would truly lead me somewhere. I think I would follow the one who, through patience and wise counsel, guided me to the place where I can grow, not wither -- get stronger, not weaker. I would seek the one who, rather than build fences to keep me in the yard, would spend their energy building a home I didn’t want to leave. I would follow the one who willingly blew into flame the embers of hope and goodness lingering in my soul, rather than let me be turned away by the smoke of fear and doubt.

Good leaders are hard to find and even harder to choose.

10 Things a Grandfather-To-Be Needs to Know

I am just about 10 weeks away from being a grandfather. I am sure I will be all teary eyed and blubbery when I am allowed to hold my new grandson for the first time, but to be honest, I’m not quite ready. I still have some questions to get answered before he arrives. So, here is a question for each of the remaining weeks before my grandson goes solo. Feel free to educate me!

1. Why don’t we have grandfather showers, you know, with dumb games and stuff?

2. Why does all the stuff moved out the house to make room for a crib and changing table have to go on my side of the garage?

3. Why isn’t registering at Home Depot or Best Buy just as good as Baby’s R Us?

4. Why is it that a baby is suppose to have all kinds of colorful clothes and blankets and things, but no one thinks they need 5.1 Dolby Surround Sound in the nursery?

5. Why do people ask me if my daughter is eating enough? How could I possible know?

6. Why isn’t a state-of-the-art high definition (HD) digital camcorder mandatory for every grandfather?

7. Why can’t I ever get away with blaming my behavior on a hormone flare up?

8. Do you think it is too soon to buy my grandson a new bicycle?

9. When the time comes, how can I tell my daughter to “push”, without being too pushy?

10. Why isn’t it about me anymore?

Back to That

Well, I just spent a good part of the evening watching the election results. I know some of my friends are disappointed, some are happy, and the rest are just relieved the elections are finally over. I fall in the last group.

Now it is time to set aside our uncomfortable alliances, tone down our run away rhetoric, and take a deep breath. The truth is we still need each other. Let’s get back that.

The Shack: A Book Review

Reading a book is a risky thing. If you are not careful a good story, even a fictional one, read by an open and thinking mind will change your life. God knew this. The “Good Book” is full of stories of great men and women of faith, epic battles, heroic deeds, evil men, family tragedies, and overpowering love. The parables of Jesus, though truly told, are fictional stories. And even though the book of Revelation is one big allegory full of imagery and metaphor, revealing biblical truth in an imaginative way is more than some people can bear. Often we have a hard time with any human author who uses imagination and story to push out the walls of our theological box and who dares tackle the ambiguities of life, especially faith life. So, beware of what I say next.

The Shack, by William P. Young, is a dangerous, wonderful, subversive story -- that everyone should read. As long as you don’t get caught up in the theological nuances’, and therefore miss the whole point of the story, this book will expose the crusty, lifeless, religious thinking that bends our understanding of the nature of God and replaces it with a fresh (and I believe Biblical) look at the triune God who “so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son.” Where God’s voice has been reduced (by us) to just words on paper, this story will bring God’s voice to life. This book is not a systematic theology, nor does it say everything in perfect proportion; it is simply the story of one man’s struggle to find peace with God and with a world where tragedy, guilt, depression, anger, and doubt rule the day.

Read it if you dare, but only if you want to know more about a God who is “especially fond of you.”



(Note: If you do read it and would like to talk to someone else about it, let me know. If you are interested, I have a recording of the author explaining how the book came to be and why the story is told the way it is. I found it very moving.)

Only Two Kinds of People

There are only two kinds of people in the world, those who agree with me and those who don’t.

What am I going to do about those who don’t agree with me? Now that we are down to the last weeks of a presidential campaign, I face this question constantly. Most news outlets (and especially talk radio) have seemingly given up even trying to be objective and have instead embrace opinion and the power of telling it slant. By example, they tell me that when I find anyone with whom I disagree I am obligated to make them out a villain. In so doing, I apparently get a license to take their words out of context, impugn their integrity, assume their motives to be evil, and call them names. Above all, it is now my duty to use fear to motivate those who are less “informed” than me, unless I want to be seen as weak and labeled a coward.

Fortunately, Jesus was not silent on this problem. In fact, Jesus had a name for the person on my right or the person on my left with whom I do not agree -- he called them my neighbor!

"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?"
Jesus replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." (Matt 22:36-40)

Here and There

Janet and I flew home from Wenatchee on Monday. We were on the “milk-run” flight, so I had plenty of time to think and meditate. Flooding my mind were the images and sounds and relationships that tell the story of my father’s transition from his old life to his new one. I continue to see crisp images of the recognition in my father’s eyes when a loved one came to visit, and the pale, lifeless skin of his body an hour after he had vacated it. I can still hear the laughter of last Saturday’s Celebration of Life when my father’s friend told one of Dad’s favorite jokes, and I can still hear the labored breathing of his last day. I will not forget the feel of my father’s right hand grip, while he still could, or the feel of my wife’s embrace when my tears finally came.

There is one image that comes more often than others. On Tuesday morning, when we entered the hospital for the last time, we all passed an inside window that revealed an empty room. One hour later, as we were leaving the hospital for the last time, we passed that same window, only now there lay a beautiful newborn baby. If the hospital walls had been thinner I think that at the moment my father’s earthly breathing fell silent I would have heard the first triumphant cry of this wonderful new life.

PRAISE to the creator of new life, both here and there.

A Life Well-Lived

How do you measure a life well-lived? If you use financial wealth as a measure, my father’s own life was mediocre. If you use one’s status as a mover and shaker in the community, only one or two locals might think Dad’s life mattered. If you judge a well-lived life by considering athletic or political achievements, Dad hasn’t lived well at all. My father achieved little according to a culture that values self and superficial accomplishments, but I chose to measure my father’s life by one of his last conversations.

On September 27th, my father suffered a severe stroke that marked the beginning of the end of his life. It will forever eliminate his ability to achieve worldly success. But, on Wednesday it did not stop a half paralyzed man from remembering what he had invested his life in when, with slurred and broken words, he uttered, “I don’t know what I would do without my family.”

It is a rich and successful man who can spend the last days of his life affirming how it was love that ruled his life and love that shaped his family. In the Transitional Care Unit of the hospital, money, power, and prestige mean nothing, but love means everything.

I stroked my father’s face and kissed his forehead.
“I love you, Dad.”
His sleepy eyes opened again.
“I love you Son.”

A life well-lived, indeed.