A Christmas Letter from a Dear Friend

I receive this letter from a dear friend ... you'll enjoy reading it, to ...

Christmas 2011

Dear friends and family,

Rather than expose you to my customary annual rant, I decided that giving thanks for the many blessings that have come our way might be more appropriate.  But then, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I am giving thanks for blessings that millions of people do not enjoy.  

This afternoon I visited ... Hospital where I saw many people bent over walkers, others limping along or otherwise in obvious distress and I thought to myself, “Thank God I am not like them,” which of course reminded me of the gospel text where two men went up to the temple area to pray and the one said, “O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity---greedy, dishonest, adulterous…”  So I decided that giving thanks may just be an exercise in self-congratulations and selfishness.  So what can I write that might bring some realistic joy to all of our hearts?

I guess the easiest is to speak in abstract terms and say ‘Christmas is all about Jesus being born among us to bring hope into the world.’  Jesus came to make the world a better place and yet, after 2000 years, it is still a pretty rough place for billions of people (yes, we reached the 7 billionth population threshold just recently).  

People talk about putting the Christ back into Christmas.  I’m not sure what they mean by that, but it sounds good.  Yes, Christmas is all about Jesus together with all its implications.  So, my prayer for you this Christmas and coming New Year is that we all try to understand the relevance that Jesus holds for the world.  

‘Joy to the World’ can be nothing more than hollow sounding words for those who are not touched by the love that Jesus calls us to spread around us.  So together with  our family... I invite you to be heralds of Good News that Jesus came to proclaim.  

We wish you health, happiness and joy in the coming year and peace on earth to all men of good will.  And we pray for all those who are suffering because of the terrible straits of the world economy.  Let us have hope that 2012 will bring greater prosperity to the peoples of our world.

In the love of Christ,

A Religious Experience at AAA

Getting my International Driver's Licence at the local AAA Office - I noticed a banner hanging overhead:

Through all of life's travels, we're always with you.

I thought of Jesus and his promise to the disciples, "I am with you always to the end of the age."

Several brochures caught my eye.

All roads lead to great rewards.


Every road we travel, God at the end of it.

Rewards abundant: the love of fellow-travelers, lessoned learned, dreams achieved, goals reached, grace received and grace given.

The Psalmist asks, "Where could I go to escape your Spirit?" ... there is no escape from God ... every road we travel, be the road glorious or gritty, it leads to God ... God's blessing or God's judgment, and mostly a little of both ... but always God! God at the end of the road. God as the road. And God at the beginning, too.

The other brochure that caught my attention:

A Holiday Gift to last a lifetime.

The gift of Jesus to a sin-sick work - last's a lifetime, and then some.

Nothing temporary about the love of God - Paul writes, "love endures."

Through thick and thin, sick and sin, a lifetime's worth of mercy and blessings, counsel and guidance, hope and peace.

I said to the lady helping me, "I had no idea AAA was such a religious place - the banner overhead and the brochures."

She said, "You're right. I wonder who wrote all of that stuff."

And we both had a good chuckle.

A God-Moment

Out walking one morning, I greeted fellow-walkers as I usually do, with hands held together and a “Good Morning” and a nod of my head. Nearing home, I was thinking about this, and why I do it, and the story, many years earlier, that triggered my decision to greet people in this manner.

As I was thinking about the story, a mother and her small daughter, dressed in crisp white blouse and school-uniform blue plaid skirt, were stepping down their driveway toward the sidewalk, so I turned to them, with hands held together and greeted them. I continued on my way, and then heard the little girl say, “Mommy, why did he hold his hands that way when he saw us?”

Who could resist the moment?

I turned around and asked if I may tell my little story about why I greet folks that way, and Mom said “Sure!” with her little girl hiding behind her.

I began by saying, “I’m a Christian,” and she replied, “So am I,” and with that, I shared the story. 

And, here it is for you, the reader.

Some years ago, I read an article about a Buddhist retreat center. One of the students, while out on a stroll in the gardens, met the Buddhist leader who bowed with hands held together in greeting. The student asked why such a greeting. The leader replied, “Because I see God in you.”

Then and there, I vowed to greet people in a similar fashion, with hands held together prayerfully, in recognition of God in everyone.

I said to the mother, “I see God in you and in your daughter.”

So, should it be for all of us - to see God in everyone. Even in the wrecks of humanity, shreds of the divine yet exist. 

So, greetings to you, dear reader, my hands held together, because I see God in you!

"The Fresh Air Faded" by Bob Dahl

The Fresh Air Faded,  09/18/2011

The fresh air faded quickly as we entered the nursing home. I inhaled and reached for assurance -- my ever present inhaler in my left front pant’s pocket. 

A warm, dry Indian summer day and bright sunshine turned into sticky, stale air and fluorescent gray.

We walked the gauntlet of dozing, drooling, slumping people in wheelchairs. They lined both sides of the hall.  Nurses and aids dodged and scurried, bottles, needles and pans in rubbered hands.  

We ducked into the room.  She sat eagerly looking in our direction.  “Would you like to visit here or should we go somewhere else?” I asked.

“Oh, let’s go down the hall.”  On the way out she pointed back to her roommate and whispered, “We’ll have more privacy.”

“It is nice to see you two, but where is that beautiful Chocolate Lab?”

“He’s in the car. Shall I get him?”

“Get him? I’ve been waiting all day to see Boomer.”

My wife ushered Ruth the rest of the way and I went for the dog.

He jumped eagerly out of the car; I held his leash tightly.  He tugged this way and that. I let him take a pee.  We rode up on the elevator. He sat so quietly. He knew the routine.  The door opened and he pulled me into the hall.  

“Boomer,” she called.

He headed in her direction and I let the leash go. He wrapped it around the wheelchair.  Kisses, kisses, kisses.

Then he settled down and lay beside the wheels.  

Old men hobbled by and asked about the dog.  “Just keep on going,” Ruth instructed them.  They frowned; she looked at us and shook her head. “If they stop, they’ll talk forever.”

We sat in the quiet and then talked about her cancer.  

On the way back to her room with the dog along, the dozing, drooling people who lined the hall on both sides looked up and some of them smiled…at the dog.  

“This is my pastor and his wife and Boomer. They have come to visit me.”

"I Sit on the Porch" - by Bob Dahl

I Sit on the Porch, 0919/2011 - by Bob Dahl

I sit on the small, open air, cedar porch with glass slats for a roof, leaving the door into the great room open to hear the outcome of the golf tournament. 

My wife sits inside under a lamp sewing one of her fabric sculptures on a quiet Sunday 

afternoon.

I set down my wine glass on the wood floor away from where the dog will be and look up to see rain drops on the slats.

My Chocolate Lab wakes, slides off the couch, follows me out of the house and faces me, tail wagging fiercely.  

He barks his whiskey bark, a bone collapsing in his old throat. 

He gags and coughs, courteously turning his head down and away.  

He turns back, looks directly into my eyes as if challenging me, “Come on, buddy. Let’s rumble.”  

I wipe a sleeper from his eye left again by a busy sandman and pat him on his head. His tail swings rhythmically.  

He squints approval and lifts his bony, football player’s knees into the house looking

for his mistress. 

Keep on Dancing

A good friend sent this to me ... one of those good pieces floating around the internet. I enjoyed it, and I think you will, too.

----------------------

This was written by an 83-year-old woman to her friend.

*The last line says it all. *

Dear Bertha,

I'm reading more and dusting less. I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the  garden. I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working.

Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom.

I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank.

"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now

I'm not sure what others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was.

I'm guessing; I'll never know.

It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, tell myself that it is special.

Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance

"The Green Thing"

From a good blogging friend ... http://ninure.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/the-green-thing/ The Green Thing

In the line at the store, the cashier told an older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren't good for the environment. The woman apologized and explained, "We didn't have the green thing back in my day."

The clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did not care enough to save our environment." He was right -- our generation didn't have the green thing in its day.

Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled. ………. But we didn't have the green thing back in our day.

We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks. ………. We didn't have the green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts -- wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. ………. We didn't have the green thing back in our day.

We had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?), not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen, we blended and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. ………. We didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity. ………. We didn't have the green thing back in our day.

We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull. ………. We didn't have the green thing back in our day.

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.

But isn't it sad that the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks were just because we didn't have the green thing back then?