Ch- ch- ch- changes

As I have mentioned previously, there was change coming. Well, it is now here. At least the start of it, anyway. After quitting my job fifteen months ago, I had set out to attempt to accomplish four things. (To not work in off price retail for a while, to spend more time with my wife and son, to hopefully try to work for myself somehow, and to really place trust in God to provide for our needs.)

I had originally thought that we could last a year at our current status. God, during that time, provided us with some unexpected blessings, and it looked like, perhaps we could go another year. But, through all of this time, there were things happening and decisions to be made. As a person trusts in God to provide, that person still has to be aware of opportunities that may come up.

I have, for some time, felt the need or desire to be able to share the things that were happening in my journey of faith, and sometimes faithlessness. That is one of the reasons that I started writing this blog. I also have felt the need to share God’s message of His Son and salvation and hope through trusting in Him. So, I let a couple of churches know that I was available to pastor again, if that was something that would be of use to them. I really didn’t think that anything would come of that, but for several reasons, I felt I was doing that out of obedience.

With all of that being said, for at least the next eight months, I will be the pastor of a church in a small coastal town. My family and I will travel there for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to minister and serve the church, and then come home so T. can still work at the University. It will be a busy time and am not sure the ultimate outcome will be, but we both thought strongly that we still needed our home base to be where we are currently. We have many friends here and those connections run deep, and will need their prayers and support as we venture out to serve.

Several things happened that truly confirmed to us that, at this time, this was what we needed to do. And, as always, God provided opportunity, a working schedule, support, and a place to stay that was far beyond what we could have imagined.
Just wanted you all to know before we hit the road.


Sincerely,
Your itinerant friend

Impending Change part two

I have been in the midst of this impending change scenario for a while. Nothing is conclusive at this time, but there seems to be movement in a couple areas of our lives. We will still have to wait and see how it all plays out. There will certainly decisions to be made. Which sounds ominous, I know, but that is just the reality of things at the present time.


I find it odd when I, or any one else for that matter, say they have a decision to make. Like, all of a sudden I am face to face with a choice and I will need to ponder through things until I come up with the decision. I mean, like decisions periodically and randomly just come into our lives. Truth is, that is all we do. Make decisions. Our life consists of constant decision-making.

Now, I do recognize that all decisions aren’t in the same category of importance, urgency, or of life altering changes, but they all, no matter how small or insignificant seeming at the time, do affect us and place direction upon our lives. What a person decides to eat, in the short run matters not, but in the long run, an unhealthy diet can cause issues later on with bigger and important decisions needing to be made, perhaps, in order to save a life.

But, the reality is that every thing we do is based upon a choice with a decision to make that choice. Or to make the other choice, if we so decide. We decide to get out of bed or to not. We decide to wear a dress shirt or a T-shirt. We decide to eat bacon and eggs or oatmeal. We decide when we need to put gas in our car, or not. We decide to go to work, or not.

Every second of every day is making a decision with the choice laid out before us. And each decision leads us to another decision, which in turn, leads to another decision. And so on, and so on. All this to simply say, I have a decision. Hope I make a good one.

Impending Change

Periodically, I have these moments where I sense that something is going to happen. I don’t mean a doom and gloom prophecy, or a world changing prediction. I just mean, that in my life, there are certain times in which I become increasingly aware that things are going to move in a different direction or path than life, especially my life, is now heading.


And, like I have just mentioned, this is one of those times. In the next couple of weeks, there will have to be some decisions made and choices picked. More on the specifics later but suffice it to say, it will affect us.

For as long as I can remember, my life has been like that. First, there seems to be a feeling in me that something is shifting in my world. Though I cannot, at that particular moment, put my finger on it, or conclusively say what the outcome will be, I do know that it has started. And then I begin to pay attention. And I, even at times, make some little decisions to, well, try to determine the direction the big change seems to be on.

My wife was talking to her boss about the events I am speaking of, and his comment was that I “seemed to have been on a journey to figure himself out lately “. She agreed and said that seemed like “such a perspective probably could cover his whole life… that he’s always been pondering one season to the next.” And, so it stands to reason that I am just keenly aware of the process and details of the journey itself. I just don’t realize it, because my brain doesn’t work like that. I don’t seem to be able to separate and diagnose things like that.

Turns out that I don’t recognize my modus operandi as a human. At least until someone tells me the way I function. For instance, someone once told me that I would enjoy a certain musical artist because the artist, like me, was a dreamer. Me, a dreamer? I hadn’t really thought about it. I thought everybody reflects upon the what-ifs and the possibilities. I thought everybody ponders and wonders, hopes and imagines. That does explain my décor sign that simply has the word “IMAGINE” upon it. Yeah, I guess I am a dreamer.

More than one person has told me that I was abstract. I don’t know what that means. Okay, I know what abstract mean. I just don’t know that they mean when they say I think and speak abstractly. They tell me that I don’t understand because I don’t just think or speak in an abstract manner, but because my entire being “is” abstract. Now what am I going to do with that information? I just take everybody’s comments and observations and placed them in a new manila folder and put them in my backpack and head down the path of life and see where this journey is leading me and what type of terrain I am to traverse. Ooooooh! I get it now, I think. Yeah, I guess I am abstract.

Back to my main point. There is definitely going to be change. Just don’t know what it is yet. And here is where faith and trust comes in to play. When changes happen in life, do we, as people of God, claim the assurance that He is in control and is carrying out His will for our lives? And do we, as people of God, make choices and decisions, based upon our relationship with Him? Yes, and our choices and decisions need to be weighed using those factors, i.e. (He being in control and our relationship with Him).

Therein is the struggle of faith and trust. And perhaps that is the expedition that we are ultimately on. The walk “through” faith. Can’t wait to see what is on the other side.

Mixed Emotions

I know that a lot of people commented and wrote about things concerning September 11th. And rightly so. This past Sunday marked the ten-year anniversary of that horrible day.


Yes, I remember where I was when it happened. Yes, I even watched the events live as it was being aired on television. Yes, I will never forget. It was a terrible. That day, September 11th, will no doubt always be remembered as a day of sorrow, grief, shock, fear, and anger.

There are three people in my life that have, alongside of those memories of the day, different memories. My sister’s birthday is September 11th. My wife has an aunt whose birthday is also on September 11th. And two of our friends have their wedding anniversary on that day. And all of those events should be observed with joy and laughter. But I am sure that for each of them, and all others who have that date as one of significance, the joy seems to be a bit diluted as they also remember.

The Bible says that we are to “weep with those who weep”. And we certainly do. One can’t help but be moved, join in with the sorrow, and yes, even cry about those events from ten years ago. I am saddened by the lives lost, by the grief of the living family members, and the nightmares of the survivors. My pray is that they all come to know Jesus as their Savior. Though it still might not make sense to them, I know a relationship with Jesus will bring about peace. Might take awhile, but it will happen. In John 16:33, Jesus said, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

The Bible also says that we are to “rejoice with those who rejoice”. And we certainly did. We went to the open house to honor the 40th wedding anniversary of good friends. They had pictures from various times of their lives along with wedding pictures. The bride’s gown was sitting out with her wedding Bible next to it. And there was their wedding book with the registry of gifts given and events. And most of all, there were friends. There were young and old friends. There were friends of forty plus years and there were friends of just a couple of years. But we were all there to do one thing. To remember. And in that remembrance, we rejoiced. We laughed, we hugged, and we expressed love.

It was not that we had forgotten the tragedy from ten years ago. No, I am sure that it, and how that day has changed so many things in our lives, was still ever present in our psyche. But it was not, will not, and cannot consume us to the point where we forget whose we are. Because we who are called to “rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep” know deep within us that there is something greater that is here. (Matthew 12:6; Matthew 12:41; Matthew 12:42)
And there we stand.

The Boys of Summer

My son knows his first complete word.  By that, I mean he know how to spell it, how to say it, how to recognize it, and how to sound the letters out to make the word.  He probably knows other words, but this was the whole package at one time.

The word is “ball”.  He spelled it out b-a-l-l, and I wrote it down as he said each letter.  And then he pronounced each sound; b (ba), a (aw) l (el) l (el).  Then he put them all together and said, “ball”.  A great moment in his young career.  Now I just need to teach him how to put the word “base” in front of it.

I like baseball. And fast pitch softball. Always have.  I’m a fan.  Not as diehard as I used to be.  I mean, I don’t keep up with rosters, individual stats, and even team standings, but I enjoy watching a game on TV.  I grew up on baseball.  We played it on teams.  We watched when a game was on the television.  We’d grab a bunch of friends and head off to a ball diamond or create a makeshift field with shirts, cardboard, or extra mitts for bases.  We would go see my dad play.  Sometimes we would have a great “whiffle” ball game going out past the left field fence as dad’s team was playing their game.  Rumor has it, that the day I was born, my dad was playing a game on a semi-pro team.  At least that is what I heard.

One of my earliest memories of a ball game is when I was about five years old.  I went with my dad to a game that he was playing in.  That particular night, they didn’t have enough players to field a team and they were going to have to forfeit until they asked me to play.  I remember being up to bat with my eyes glue to the pitcher as he began his wind up.  I saw the ball all the way, made my swing and “crack”, bat and ball connected.  The ground ball was bouncing toward the shortstop and I was heading down the first baseline running as fast as I could.  And what do you know; I beat the throw.  And I hear the word, “safe”.   That is all I remember about my first game.  But that memory is as clear today, as it was when it happened on that summer night so long ago.

Now, as I fill in the gaps and stay in the logical real world, I am sure it the story is a little different.  The truth is probably more like this.  The real game was probably over or it was just a practice game.  And the adults thought it would be fun for me to take a swing.  The pitcher was as close as he could be and tossed the ball so it would make contact with the bat.  The reason I made it safe to first was because of the intentional bobbling of the ball by the infielders until I touched the bag.  That is more likely how it happened.  But not in my head.

So, my wife and I got to go to a game the other day.  It was our local Single “A” short season farm team for the Giants.  My brother in law got the tickets and off we went.  This actually was the first game that my wife and I went to together.  I was excited to go and see a ball game, but I really don’t really show a lot of emotion when it comes to things like that.  The best I had was what my wife called a “suppressed giddiness” look on my face.  I am not a big “yeller” or “screamer” or “whoop de whooper”.  I just sit and watch the game.  I applaud a great hit or catch.  I analyze a bad play.  And I nod my head when a play is well executed.  My wife, on the other hand, is grinning because she knows I am passively having a great time.

We get to our seats about fifteen minutes before the game starts.  I am a little “bummed” because I like to watch the warm-ups and batting practice. But at we made it before the anthem and the first pitch. 

“What do we do now?” my wife asks. 

“We eat.” I reply.
T: “Now? Before the game starts?”
Me: “Yes, now.”  (For the following reasons.  1. I’m hungry.  2. Going early we won’t have to wait in line as long.  3. Don’t want to miss a pitch.)

So we get our $6.00 hot dog ($5.00 profit for them) and our $3 dollar pop ($2.00 profit for them) and sit down for the game.  Then we will eat other things as needed.  (Later T. got nachos.  Those hot dogs don’t go very far.  And I had some peanuts, a baseball staple). 

And I watched.  Every pitch.  Some people were leaving early, as the game didn’t end up that close.  I am sorry.  I find that wrong.  In my book, it is from first pitch to last pitch. Because, baseball is about the experience as a whole.  It is more than just the score.  It is the feel, the moment, and the ambiance. It’s the sun, the grass, the dirt, and the bleachers.  It’s the sounds of the game, the cheers of the crowd, the music, the “charge”, and the foot stomping.  It’s the lights, the catching of a foul ball, the mascot teasing the opponents, and the coach and umpire in a disagreement.  It’s the seventh inning stretch.  It’s the “That’s the ball game.  Thanks for coming and drive home safe”.

It is three or four hours of fun.  For the cost, yes, even with the inflated food prices, you get a good bang for your buck.  I know it is long.   A professional umpire once said that “baseball is the only game that you can watch on TV, go mow your lawn and never miss a single pitch”. I know for some it is boring.  My wife even brought a book.  A book!  I wouldn’t let her read it.  Some people just don’t like watching the game, but I love the strategy.  The decision of what pitch to throw, whether to swing or not, to steal the base or not, to pinch hit, to bring in the closer, and the clutch hit or catch that changes the outcome of the game.  I love it.  I love it all. Baseball.  America’s pastime. The boys of summer.  Or in this case the “boy of summer”.  Not sure who I am taking about.  But. . .

My son knows a complete word.  Can't wait until we add "base" in front.  Play ball!

The Adventure

I was part of a church that had for its motto, “Share His Adventure”.  It was a reminder that God was doing something and we could be involved in it.  It was God’s adventure and we were able, if we chose, to join the journey. His journey, His adventure. Now, this adventure journey that we can go on, can and will lead us to great experiences and encounters.  And sometimes, the journey that we are on will intersect with a journey that someone else is on.  This story is about such an intersection.

The last week of July found us in eastern Washington visiting T.’s parents for a few days.  They live on one side of the Snake River and Idaho is on the other.  One day, we all went to a park along the riverfront on the Idaho side. This would, hopefully, be a good spot for me to take photographs and a great place for our little one to run and play and swing. 

The riverbank was and easy little climb and at the top there was a paved walkway.  I took a few shots, but all in all, there wasn’t a whole lot to photograph.  I found a bench facing the river and sat down.  I guess I was hoping something might catch my eye.  And something did.

As I was sitting there, I noticed that there were three teenagers, two girls and a guy, angling their way up the riverbank heading toward me. As they were approaching they said hi to me. And then they asked me this question.

“Do you know where we could buy a Frisbee?”

I told them that I did not, because I was not from here, but there might be some shops down the road.

Them:  “Oh.  Well we’re not from here either.  We are on a mission trip.  Where are you from then?”

Me:  “Oregon.  From the Salem area.”
One of Them:  I have an aunt who I think is from there.  I visited there a long time ago and went to the ocean.”
Me:  “Where are you guys from?”
Them:  “Nebraska.”
Me:  “My dad was from Valentine, Nebraska.”
Them: “Cool.”
Me:   “So, you said you are on a mission trip?”
Them:  “Yeah, have you heard of YWAM?” 
Me:  “Yes, Youth With a Mission.  That’s neat.  So what church are you from?”
Them:  Trinity Lutheran Church.”
One of Them: “So, are you a Christian?” 
Me:  “Yes.  I go to Capital Baptist Church. And my wife and I work with youth and college age group”
Same One of Them:  “ So, you’re a strong Christian then?”
Me:  “As strong as I can be, being me.”
Still Me:  “How’s the mission trip going?  And what are you doing for it?”
Them:  We’ve been at an Indian reservation.  Talking and playing with the kids.  We leave tomorrow.  It has been a neat experience.  We’ve been gone two weeks.  The first part of the trip was a little spiritual retreat reading the Bible and strengthening our relationship with God.”
Me: “It is very exciting to see you guys serving the Lord like this.  Just understand that once the emotional feeling starts to dissipate and you are back home, don’t forget the work and encounters you have had.  Even though the excitement has gone, you did good stuff by  sharing your faith in Christ.”

We then exchanged names and talked for a while about different things.   I could tell that this mission trip had made an impact on A., M., and J.’s life and they were going back to their homes different. 

One of Them:  “I still can’t believe how beautiful it is here. With the mountains and trees.  It’s just gorgeous.”

At this point, I look at the surroundings as well.  All I see is brown dirty hills and scrawny little trees.  Coming from the Northwest, my standard of beauty is Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainer, the Cascade Range, the mighty Columbia River, evergreens side by side, packed together like sardines, and the great Pacific.  Eastern Washington, compare to that, is wanting.

But coming from Nebraska, as they were, and coming from flat, this is a welcome and noticeable change.  If they liked this, they would love Oregon.

One of Them:  “Can we pray with you?”

Me: “Yes, and I want to pray for you guys as well.”

And there we were, a high school sophomore, a junior, a senior, and an adult standing in a circle on the edge of a riverbank holding hands and bowing our heads. Three Lutherans and a Baptist joining together with one heart and mind praying for one another.  We were just four people from the Midwest and from the Northwest, together with our God. I would argue that this was no coincidence.  After we said goodbye, I couldn’t help but wonder if their initial question of wanting to buy a Frisbee was their way to open up a conversation about Jesus to a stranger.  

As they were on their journey sharing His adventure and I on mine, we were, for but a moment, put together.  And even though they came west for one purpose and I came east for another, we met.  And we rejoiced together.  And we encouraged each other.  And I believe we, in some way, recognized that even though our Christian journey takes us on different paths and experiences, that journey will always lead us to one place.  At His feet.

What a journey!  What an adventure!

 

"Stranger" Things

My son never met a stranger. It is very interesting to observe my three year old in action. Walking down the aisles of the grocery store and also at the checkout line, he is there with his ever so friendly, “Hi, how are you?” And I think he really means it.


We were at an antique mall at the coast a while back, and as we turned the corner a gentleman walks by and my guy says, “Look, my friend! Hi, how are you?” And the other day sitting in his shopping cart he sees some one walking his way and he got the biggest grin and said, “Hi, friend.” It was as if he had just seen a close friend and the joy was pouring out of him. The thing is, I’d never seen that guy before in my life, and unless my son is sneaking out of the house and cruising the town at night, he has never either. My boy is just friendly and outgoing.

Who knew two introverts could produce such a strong extrovert. Yes, my wife and I are introverts. Most people can easily tell with me. My shyness is often mistaken for being standoffish. My need for solitude can be misdiagnosed as self absorbed and uncaring. One person had noted that I “keep my cards so close to my chest, that I don’t even know what they are”. My wife is less introverted than me, but she is. She has learned how to be in a crowd and be friendly, but her nature is still that of introversion. And we have the personality tests to prove it. Yes, we are both INFJ’s. I’m not sure how my boy would test, but the first letter is sure to be a big old E.

There are, I believe, a few reasons for my “never met a stranger” son. One is, well, he’s three. And when one is little like that, there seems to be this innocent freedom and an unawareness of danger. I recognize the issue here as this world is a scary place and not all people are good and kind. More about this later. This brings me to another factor of his outgoing friendly attitude. He has a good environment in which to grow. I am especially speaking about the church we attend.

I have mentioned before that he really likes church. When we arrive, he will make a beeline to his favorite person, the Sunday school clerk, Miss F., and give her a great big hug. And now he seems to have added “Hi grandma,” to his vocabulary. He will proceed to call the other ladies there, who seem to fit that description, in his mind, “grandma” as well. There is, in no particular order, grandma F., grandma L, grandma N., grandma M., grandma R., etc. I am sure it is easy being so friendly and outgoing when you have so many great grandmas in your life.

I would be remiss if I did not mention that, even though my little I. has so many grandmas, he has only one, and only ever one “Nana”. She is my wife’s mom and my guy thinks the world of her. And his “Papa”. He enjoys talking on the phone with them. And when we visit, my guy is in play “heaven”. There is the “run down the hall and yell” game, the “go fish” game, and the “hide and jump out of a room to startle game”. I am not sure who loves these games the most.

So, with his personality, age, and environment all factors for his expressive extroversion, we try to encourage him to grow in his “no stranger” policy. It is a shame, however, that we will have to share and teach him that he also needs to be careful and discern good situations from bad situations. This is the nature of the world. But, I do not want to squelch that which clearly seems to be a quality or attribute given to him by God.

I want him to be friendly. I want him to be nice. I want him to think the best in people. I want him to be hospitable.

We live in a world where fear, uncertainty, hatred, and loneliness are the prevalent attitudes of the time. What better way to extinguish them, than with a hearty and well meaning, “Hi, how are you?” What better way to show and share the love of Jesus than being truly welcoming and bighearted? We must never “neglect to show hospitality to strangers”. Who knows whom we might have entertained?
My son never met a stranger.

"First Post of the Week"

Names are important. They not only are for identification, they are also for characterization. I will admit that, at least in the United States, we name our children names that we like and not so much as to build or develop their characters.


We like catchy, memorable names. And the more unique, the better. And the more famous and rich we are, the “uniquer” we get to be. Names like Apple, Moon, and Fantasia are good ones. We, who are the middle-class, are left with Celery, Asteroid, and Reality. Somehow, those are not as impressive. Or just add a “wa” or “na” at the end and presto, you have a new name. Sometimes, we name our children after relatives, but mostly we name because we like it.

But people used to name based upon the circumstance of the day or a character trait during the time of birth of the child. Just take a look at the Bible. Many people were named with a name of significance. Like Moses, meaning “drawn out” since Pharaoh’s daughter drew him out of the water. And Jesus, whose name means “savior”. Or they changed their name to bring emphasis to a change in their life. Saul changed his name to Paul, which means “small” or “insignificant” to highlight that he was not about who he was anymore, but he was all about who he now is with Christ in his life.

Businesses and organizations also need to think hard in choosing a name that best reflects who they are and what they want to be know for. Good choices are imperative for good business. Which brings me to my story.

We took a “short” four-day trip to eastern Washington to visit T.’s parents. As I have mentioned in an earlier blog, there is a section in their town that I have dubbed “church alley”. There is a four-square block section that is home to eight churches. Seriously, you drive past one on the corner and behold, you pass another church on the next corner separated by each other’s lawn. They all seem to be painted white as well. And also, there are other churches that have “sprung” outside of the “alley”. And not to mention the churches in the adjacent town on the other side of the river. Just cross the bridge and you are in a new town and in another state, but for all intents and purposes, it is still the same one big community.

I began to notice, as with any city, that many of the churches had the word “First” in their name. They were, in no particular order:
First Christian Church,
First Presbyterian Church,
The First Church of God,
First Assembly of God, and
First Baptist Church.

Adding the ones in the town across the river, we have:
First Assembly of God,
First Baptist Church,
First Church of Christian Science,
First Church of the Nazarene, and
First United Methodist Church.

Now that is a lot of firsts! I envision the early settlers coming to this spread of country and deciding a church of their denomination was needed, and so they built a building.
“ We need a name,” they surmised.
“ First one in the area, so let’s call it First Baptist.”
“Great idea.”

(Enter into the valley, Presbyterians who build a building.)
“We need a name,” they surmised.
“First one in the area, so let’s call it First Presbyterian.”
“Great idea.”

(And so on, and so on.)

Sometimes, in larger cities, you will see The Second Baptist Church.
“We didn’t quite make it, but we were close. We’ll call ourselves Second Baptist.”
“Great idea.”

I know that I am making light of this, but I mean no disrespect. Really. I just find it odd that we church goers seem to be the only ones who name ourselves in this fashion. I haven’t seen “The First Grocery Store”, or “First Chevron Gas”. It seems to been uniquely ours. I don’t believe the churches are named from a prideful or arrogant heart. I think it more of a significant historical time-line moment. I still think it strange.

But speaking of firsts in this “spiritual” conversation, there is one “first” that reigns.

“And He is the image of the invisible God, the first born of all creation, for by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on the earth, both visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities - all things have been created by Him and for Him.” Col. 1:15-16

“He is also the head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the first born from the dead; so that He Himself might come to have first place in everything.” Col. 1:18

The “firstness” of Jesus means that He alone is the heir of all things and is uniquely supreme. And His most desirous thing is to be “first” in your life.

Third Encounter

Traveling with our three year old is easier now than when our son was younger. But there are a few conditions and obstacles that have to be hurdled. It is easier because we are packing lighter these days. Gone are the infant carriers, the playpens, the bottles, the specialty foods, and the multitude of clothes and other accessories that go along with a baby or young toddler.


Now he can sleep in his cot or in the extra queen bed, depending upon the amenities of the motel. We still bring some toys, but we can pack them in a small bag. And his clothing also fits in a smaller section of the suitcase. There is, however a trade-off as we bring a little DVD player if it is a long trip. And we will make longer stops so he can burn off some energy. And I have learned that ground floor rooms are preferred. Then we don’t have to worry when he runs around in the room. Getting a corner room is also helpful, so we just have to be aware of one side for the noise level.

The third encounter of our vacation was in one way small, but it made my thought juices go deep. It happened while we were at the motel in Brookings. We were at the second to last room of the all ground floor motel. As we were settling in, our “neighbors” park their big white car. It is one of those cars driven by old people or a brother-in-law. And sure enough, out of the driver’s side came a gentleman in his eighties. The back seat of the car is well packed with hanging clothes and boxes.

The man first opened his motel room and proceeded to open the passenger door where his wife was sitting. It was quickly apparent that she was in need of a lot of assistance. He brought her walker around and slowly, because he is being ever so careful and because of his own age, helped her to stand, or stoop. They slowly make their way into the room, which took about seven minutes. Once seated, the husband begins the first of many trips out to the car to bring in the needed supplies for their stay.

Lately, I have been trying to be aware of opportunities to engage people that cross my path. I am extremely introverted and I am forcing myself to become intentional in these situations. I ask the man if he would like some help bring in the rest of his items. He politely declines my offer but he does stop for a second to take a break. I make my move to spur on conversation.

I told him where we were from and that we were here for a couple days to visit the Redwoods. He said that they were from Sacramento and dove up because they were gong to attend a memorial service in a couple of days. He told me that this wife hasn’t felt good for a few years and she doesn’t move too well. And he was taking care of her the best that he could. “It’s hard, sometimes, but what are you going to do?”, he said.

Later, in the early evening, I heard him trying to start his car and it just wouldn’t turn over. A relative of his came over and they decided to call a mechanic in the morning. I told them that if they needed some food, I would go get it for them. He said thanks but they would be fine.

The next day the couple went with their relatives and a cousin stayed to wait for the tow truck. Realizing that the man forgot to leave his credit card, I volunteered to wait with the car as he went and got the card. So the elderly cousin left the keys with me and just as the tow truck came both the cousin and the car owner showed up. And off we went to the Redwoods.

Here is what this encounter let me know. I appreciate love that is costly. Even though this may not be how that man envisioned his days, he is a testimony of what you do for the sake of love. You endure. You do what you need to do. And you don’t complain about it. You take care of those who are in need.

I also recognize that if I want to purposefully show and share God’s love, I will have to be the one to take the initiative. I will have to “un-introvert” myself to place myself into the journey of others. This is a world that, in some ways, has lost the human contact aspect. With self-checkout at grocery stores, ATM’s, and Redboxes, the interaction of human to human diminishes. And when the Internet is thrown in, with online shopping, online banking, and online movies, human contact can be eliminated all together. I can even get a college degree in my pajamas at my own home.

Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy all of those conveniences. Which means, I will have to work extra hard starting, developing, and keeping new encounters and relationships. There are some things can’t be done self-service or online. Like mercy, kindness, and encouragement. And since, children of God, those are supposed to be our specialties, let’s get out there and “encounter”.

For Everything There is a . . .

The second significant encounter of our vacation was one that I missed because I didn’t go far enough. My wife, fortunately, did not miss the encounter.

We were in Bandon down at Old Town going through the shops on July 7th.

My little one did pretty well, but it is getting more difficult to go into art galleries, as the setting is usually quieter than three-year-old lungs. So after some sight seeing and visits to the local retail establishments, we were ready to go. We got I. buckled into his car seat and then I noticed on the side of a building a little sign that said “Art Show”.  I told T. that I would just run in and see what was in there.

Walking through the door and into a large open area, I saw that the paintings and photography were lining the walls. It doesn’t take me too long in galleries to recognize what I am being drawn to and what does not capture my interest. And nothing in here has necessarily caught my attention. There was also no one else in the room with the exception of two people sitting behind a table on the opposite side of the place. And there was a big open space where there was no art at all. It was as if the artist had already taken down their display. Unimpressed, I only viewed one area and left.

I went to the car and told T. to go look if she wanted to, but there wasn’t much there. She decided to go in and I stayed in the car with the boy. I am not sure how long she was in the building, but it was longer than I had expected. As I glanced in the side mirror, I saw T. coming toward the car with a small paper bag in her hand. I thought that she must have found something to buy.

So here is what we know:
The empty spot on the wall was for a local artist to display his work, but he couldn’t make the show. On June 14, his baby girl was born. They named her Sequoia Iris Reed Rodrigues. Three days later, little Sequoia fell sick. After taking her to the hospital, that little girl was diagnosed with ‘septicemia, an infection in the blood that the doctor said randomly occurs in one in a thousand babies for no known reason.’ And the next day on June 18, four-day-old Sequoia passed away in her mother’s arms.

The people sitting behind the table at the art show were friends of the parents and had held a memorial there for Sequoia the night before. The bag that T. had in her hand was leftover from the service. It contained seeds from a sequoia tree and an iris bulb to be planted in her memory. The man at the table told T. that he felt like he ‘had to do something’. T. could tell that the events had left an emotionally moving impact upon the man. T. wrote a little note of sorrow and encouragement in the journal for the family and then left to go to the car.

This is what I missed because I didn’t go far enough. The story, however, has not left my mind and heart since hearing it. It is tragic enough to lose a loved one, but for that family to go from sheer joy at the birth of their first born to horrific sorrow at her death in four short days, that is, for me, inconceivable. And yet, stuff happens. Bad stuff. And somehow, we are to move on and continue our life journey, wounded and limping with but a short memory of happiness and a longer one of sadness, and all the while knowing that God is there and He cares. And somehow, somewhere, and at sometime, He will bring about good in all of this.

Perhaps little Sequoia’s family have already recognized this based upon these two quotes from her memorial.

“Sometimes love is for a moment …

Sometimes love is for a lifetime …

Sometimes a moment is a lifetime.”

In spite of the pain:

“We would rather have one breath of her hair,

One kiss of her mouth, one touch of her hand,

Than an eternity without it.”

I hope than you will learn two things from this encounter I have shared with you. The first is that life here on this earth is ever so fragile and it may end suddenly, so it should be lived doing that which is right and good. And the second is that the only place where you will find lasting peace from your restlessness, complete forgiveness from the things you’ve done wrong, and ultimate comfort for your sorrows, is in, and only in, a relationship with God through trust and acceptance of Jesus as your Savior. Trust that He paid your debt by dying on the cross and through believing in Him you can live the life God has desired for you to live. Even if it is only four days.

We have the bag with the sequoia seeds and the iris bulb. Time to plant a memory. It is the season.  Turn, turn, turn.

P.S. “here is the memorial website”:
http://sequoia.iris.muchloved.com/