Archive for the ‘Prayer’ Category
Thursday, November 22nd, 2007
“A wiseacre on the Oakland to Los Angeles shuttle this week said the next technological leap would be implanting cell phones into people’s heads. He was kidding—we think.”
—Chuck Raasch, USA Today
Someone on the news said recently that 80% of Americans have a cell phone. I suppose I shouldn’t have been shocked at that, but I was, and it made me feel distinctly in the societal minority, since I don’t carry one. Not that it makes me uncomfortable. I’ve been mildly concerned from the beginning that their use might eventually cause adverse health effects, but if somebody gave me a free iPhone, I would bear-hug them and then find a private spot to dance in my underpants.
Last night, Dana created a wonderful meal with crab-stuffed shrimp for Marty’s 16th birthday, and he showed us his new iPod nano. We got to talking about Apple, with me speculating that the company might be planning to enter the game market. Marty said that idea sounded logical to him, and he predicted it might make its move when Sony inevitably faltered. I suggested that it would probably be a radical leap forward in graphic technology and user interface. He said Apple was sure to compete in that sector eventually, but wondered if they also might decide to make cars. That notion took me by surprise. “Think about it, GrandyJohn,” he added. “Before too long, a car will be basically a computer.”
Sixteen years old. Unbelievable. What kind of a nano-world will exist when he’s my age, and will I make it to age 96 to share it with him? Of course—I need at least another 40 years to figure things out. Will I still be able to get on a bike? Maybe not, but perhaps I shall have created at least one enduring work of art that will have made my life’s journey worthwhile. Hey, if I’ve made it this far, there’s no reason why I can’t declare my personal mid-point and tackle the second half of my expedition.
Joan sent me a delightful poem about becoming an old man who wouldn’t have “a computer or a clock or a phone in the house,” and the desire to “learn something just watching the birds and the weather.” I’d be that guy tomorrow if I had the nest egg, but I don’t, and I won’t anytime soon. Yeah, I know the reasons why. Most of Dana’s contemporaries are beyond their careers, and even I have classmates that retired years ago. I intend to keep working as long as someone will hire me, and, if I’m being honest with myself, I probably wouldn’t have it any other way, because I know I have a lot to learn. A day doesn’t pass without my seeing some creative thing to which I still aspire.
There are times when I think I’m the world’s most miserable excuse for a “multi-tasker,” even though I’m supposed to be able to handle numerous creative goals simultaneously. I was reminded again of this over the past week when I tried to make progress on more than one thing, but the only checklist item I could focus on was my digital illustration for our client in Lexington—which she loved. I was successful in getting past an initial creative block, and brought the process to a very satisfactory conclusion. Something in which to take pride, but all I could think about is what I hadn’t gotten done. In addition to my other assignments, I was hoping to compose a holiday-related “Joe Box,” as part of the local Art Center’s “White Christmas” exhibition, and I also expected to put in another productive session as an amateur stonemason before gathering with my Clan later today. Both of those deadlines slipped by. I’m learning to let them go—to release the sense of perpetual failure—to maintain some modest momentum of accomplishment—to forget about how far short I fall, compared to my expectations. When I grapple with these frustrations, I reckon that most high-performance multi-taskers have a personal assistant or an apparatus of managers, and then I flirt with regrets about not having built an organization around myself, but I have to stop and remind myself to avoid pointless rationalizations. I remind myself that I have an invaluable partner who supports me, and the freedom to achieve any level of personal discipline that I set my heart and mind to attain.
Today is the day set aside to give thanks, and I’m inclined to say, “Thanks for nothing.”
I give thanks for nothing new, because I already have what I need. I have my health, my talent, my independence, and people who love me. When it comes right down to it, that old man in the poem has nothing on me. I can discover delicious food on my plate every day. I can put Häagen-Dazs in my holiday-morning coffee (now, that’s why I exercise!). I can still weep when I listen to beautiful music. I don’t have to take medicine, and I can do virtually any physical thing I can think of wanting to do, and perhaps a few that I shouldn’t, being old enough to know better. I can spend a morning in the woods with a lever-action carbine and bring home to my mate a harvest of young, whitetail buck. I can marvel at my new friend’s ability to extrapolate that primal experience as an entire book of verse written in the voice of Kentucky’s most revered pioneer. I can coax my hand to execute just about any visual style that I can harness my perceptions to absorb. I can express my ideas and longings to others who care about what goes on in my head. I can dream. And I can still tell my mom that I love her.
Thank you, Father, for nothing different than all those blessings from Thee.
“Art is worthless unless it plants a measure of splendor in people’s hearts.”
—Taha Muhammad Ali
Posted in Art, Business, Creativity, Dana, Dance, Exercise, Family, Firearms, Food, Friends, Gratitude, History, Holidays, Hunting, Marty, Mombo, Music, Nature, Prayer, Priorities, Psychology, Studio, Technology, Time, Verse, Words | Comments Closed
Saturday, October 20th, 2007
Bruce had his re-constructive abdominal surgery at U.K. yesterday, and it was a long Friday for all of us. I slept in a deep, dream-filled state, waking up to a bizarre, nightmarish memory (Dadbo being lost in a sinkhole at the farm), in addition to a separate—but quite lucid—idea about writing the definitive history of the anti-fluoridation movement, wrapped in a biography of our erstwhile friend and client, John Yiamouyiannis, the central figure in a decades-long struggle against the corruption of entrenched political power. Yes, it was a rather strange morning, but that’s not uncommon when I sleep like the trunk of a fallen oak on Widow’s Knob.
Bruce came through his latest ordeal with flags flying, although he’s experiencing a bit of severe pain that complicates matters, to say the least. Most of what was left of his long-idle large intestine was stapled to the ileum, and the bothersome contingency from 2005 is history. This should solve the problem of his chronic dehydration. There’s a portion of descending colon that could neither be utilized nor removed, so that segment remains, taking advantage of a previous drain-hole in his side to complete the overall plumbing design. Surgeon Chang seemed pleased with the outcome, considering the very real possibility that he might face no option except shrugging his shoulders and sewing up Bruce’s belly, had the scenario proved too dangerous or daunting. There was no way to tell how “do-able” the procedure might be until the team was inside. Everything was accomplished in less than three hours.
So, now he faces 5–10 days in the hospital. His summer fitness program should give him a distinct advantage in bouncing back. I’m praying he can win the coin toss, as far as the 50-50 chance for developing an infection following this kind of surgery. Once again, he stays on top of the odds, and successfully knocks off another obstacle in his marathon recovery from pancreatitis. The outlook for a potential kidney transplant has just improved significantly. Hang in there, my son…
~ The Saga of Bruce Joel
Posted in Bruce, Dadbo, Family, Friends, Personalities, Prayer | No Comments »
Saturday, May 26th, 2007
Memorial Day weekend is cranking up. Marty and I finally began our driveway project this morning, and Ned is sagging under the weight of ancient blacktop. As America prepares to kick off another summer of fun and God knows what, let’s keep in mind the true reason we commemorate this weekend— all those who fell in service to our nation, and, by their sacrifice, earned for the rest of us the freedom to pursue our happiness. This wire photo helps keep my head in the right place. I also find myself thinking about Dadbo and his war service.
How many fallen buddies did my father mourn and never tell us about? How many friends came out of his first flight-school class, and what feelings filled his young heart when a sports injury prevented him from joining them as they shipped off? How many ended up in Europe as bomber pilots and never came back from those perilous missions? How much did that experience play in my Dad’s drive to see action in the Pacific, and how many friends did he lose in that theater… friends he also chose never to talk about?
Well, I’d best move on to the other reason for today’s entry. The latest message from Joan says that Mombo is doing well. I’ve decided to take the easy road today and post her news in this log. Why shouldn’t I just provide a direct report? Her current role in providing constant companionship for Mombo (with Jeanne, Rachel, and Glenda) has taken her away from blogging—
“A lot has happened since my last note to you all. Mombo has made some great improvements. The breathing treatments that she gets every 8 hours seem to be helping her, and she is now up to 850 on her ‘hookah.’ She has been taking some really good walks ‘around the block.’ Her appetite has returned, so she is eating much more and actually said that her lunch tasted ‘really good’ today. Her spirits are high, and you can tell that she is putting her will into getting well so that she can go home. They haven’t given us a firm day yet, but they have mentioned a possibility of Sunday. It would be nice to get her home on the Lord’s Day. She is so grateful for the beautiful cards and the phone calls from so many of you. Rachel and Glenda have been real troopers in helping Jeanne and me provide Mom with round-the-clock company. She really perks up when she gets a visitor. Today she said her rosary and read several daily readings from the Mass. She also got to see most of DAYS OF OUR LIVES. The case manager here at Central Baptist was in today and is arranging for home health care to come in after she gets back to the Valley. We are very pleased with the care she has had here. Most of her nurses and nursing assistants have been wonderful. Respiratory and physical therapists have also been supportive and helpful. She was so busy today that she did not even get a nap in, so now she is tired out, but, all in all, she is moving down the road to recovery.”
Thanks, Joannie, for keeping us all informed. You are a good daughter and an exceptional sister, too. But, most of all, you are a great mother, like Jeanne, and we all know who taught you how.
Get well soon, Mombo, and come back to the Land!
Posted in Blogging, Dadbo, Family, Gratitude, History, Home, Jeanne, Marty, Mombo, Prayer, Television | Comments Closed
Thursday, May 24th, 2007
Dana took Bruce to St. Joseph on Monday for surgery on his arm that would facilitate extended dialysis. Unfortunately, his potassium level was too high, so he stayed until the following day. He had two dialysis treatments (Monday/Tuesday), and then he was in shape to get the procedure. It was a blessing that the surgeon found a way to work on the problematic left side. Bruce had been very reluctant to condone any vascular manipulation of his good right arm.
We broke away from Danville to be with Bruce after his surgery, and then got the good news that he was being discharged. It was complicated for me, because I was trying to remotely handle authorization for necessary revisions to the Band Festival poster, and also make sure the proof got back to Louisville. After we left St. Joe, it was time to pay a visit to Mombo over at Central Baptist. Both Jeanne and Joan were there.
Joan had already told us about the setback on Monday when Mombo’s heart rhythm became erratic. Dr. Martin said it happens in 25% of cases. They put her back on an IV and stabilized with medication. According to Joan, “She got a pretty African violet plant from the Gels Family. Many friends and family members have been by to see her, and she has had some welcome phone calls. She has been pretty wheezy, so they took x-rays,” which indicated fluid in her left lung. My mom told Joan she can feel the power of the prayers on her behalf.
We had a nice visit, but this is the part of the saga when my awe of modern surgical technique collapses into misgivings about extended stays in the hospital environment. Having just read Gladwell’s chapter on the powerful influence of context, from The Tipping Point, didn’t calm my apprehension. She doesn’t seem to have any appetite for hospital food, and she’s struggling with the motivation to get out of bed and walk. Mombo needs adequate care in recovery, but I can’t help but wonder how much the simple fact of just being in a hospital room can adversely affect a patient’s sense of well-being and resistance to potential complications.
I want Mombo out of that place as soon as possible…
Posted in Angst, Dana, Family, Jeanne, Joan, Mombo, Nonfiction, Prayer, Psychology | Comments Closed
Wednesday, May 16th, 2007
Everything felt rotten today. Terie went to the ER with severe spinal pain, and Bruce almost ended up there, too. I was stressed out anyway, because I’ve been trying to get the Band Festival poster to the printer for the past three days. There were last-minute revisions to the sponsor list, plus I’ve had pressing commercial deadlines rubbing my nerves raw. A local reporter keeps calling about doing a feature on my painting, Spellbound By Brass. In a momentary lapse of discipline I say, “If I don’t get this poster right, there will be nothing to toot my horn about.”
Damn… tripped up again by an illusion of chaos and the sense of disorder. Ralph Waldo reminds me that, “There is no chance, and no anarchy, in the universe. All is system and gradation.” I must believe it’s true, even on days like today. I must have full faith in a divine order—the reality and foundation that underlies this “kingdom of illusions.” I must never think I’m too busy not to keep this reality before me, hour by hour. “Whatever games are played with us,” Emerson writes, “we must play no games with ourselves, but deal in our privacy with the last honesty and truth… and taste the real quality of existence, as in our employments, which only differ in the manipulations, but express the same laws; or in our thoughts, which wear no silks, and taste no ice-creams.” Why is it so difficult for me to “see God face to face every hour, and know the savor of Nature” when in the jaws of masticating days such as these—not on a day when it’s easy, but on a day when it matters?
This line of thinking takes me back to my birthday, flying from Dallas to Detroit, unable to pull my eyes away from the images far below my window’s point of view. I was expecting to review my notes from three days of high-intensity exposure to powerful speakers, significant motivators all, but I couldn’t ignore the sights under the speeding craft, the living plains and wooded river bottoms as we crossed the heart of my beloved motherland. I could see the hand of Nature in the centuries-old patterns of meandering watercourses and how the farmers had endeavored to exploit the riches of her fertile, changing designs—everywhere, the evidence of God’s magnificent Kosmos, and it caused my soul to sing. It triggered previous experiences of knowing what is real, in contrast to what I’ve conditioned myself over my life to think is real. I wanted to have that profound knowledge stay with me always, but I recognized it would pass, so I tried to hold on to one point of reality that might “stick” with me—that I am loved, that I can love in return, and that I can be in that reality no matter what is going on around me, no matter what conditions or circumstances challenge my thoughts or emotions. I wondered if I could hold on to that idea, and not fail to safeguard it, as Tolstoy’s Olenin had failed when he returned from nature to the Cossack village. And so I prayed, as I watched America sliding by, knowing there would be times like now, when my resilience to illusion would be shallow in the face of daily influences.
Posted in Angst, Fiction, Nature, Nonfiction, Prayer, Priorities, Terie, Words | Comments Closed
Monday, April 9th, 2007
— I’ve been trying to think of an appropriate way to tell Ian that I’m proud of his new workout discipline and to offer my encouragement, but I haven’t thought of anything cool or clever to say to him yet. Well, in the meantime, maybe this will do.
— One of the byproducts of March is an almost hypersensitivity to the ingredient stimuli that influence my state of being for each particular day—whether or not I’ve exercised, what I’m currently reading, whether I’m on the uphill or downhill side of a deadline, how much restful sleep I had, what kind of a movie I might have watched the night before, whether I began the day with a Rosary, what style of artwork I’m in the middle of, whether or not my Macintosh is acting up, etc. Being more aware of how these things affect my mood and powers of concentration is good, right? I used to just let each day find its own pitch without much thought to this kind of assessment, but now I know I can counter-balance various influences with music, poetry, prayer, stretching, dietary adjustments, or just a quick floor romp with a Yorkie. Nevertheless, there are still certain kinds of creative tension that have a tendency to throw me off my game, but I’m “getting there.”
— My talk seemed to go well enough yesterday morning that Milton wants to schedule it again as a “rerun.” I don’t think that’s ever happened before, but it might have something to do with only two other people showing up.
— Easter was a long day, but it felt like it flew by much too fast. When I waited to pick up Bruce from the hospital, I sat in the car for a spell, listening to my tape of Heston reading from the New Testament. Bruce was ready to go, but they failed to order the wheelchair transport to the exit. Such a silly regulation. I can stand to be around hospitals, but I don’t like them. As it turned out, Bruce didn’t feel well enough for the ride down to the farm, so he stayed home. We stopped in Junction on the way, to get Terie and Marty, and the four of us spent the holiday afternoon with Clan. I drank too much coffee and ate too much food. Had a very nice discussion with Peat about her job as newspaper editor next year. She’s laying the groundwork this spring, which is smart, and will spend some time in Europe this summer—quite a few Clan Kiddoes are following in my footsteps with travel abroad during student years. I found out that Seth has committed to Bellarmine. Looks like Sam Morgan will go there, too, and he’ll run track. We saw pictures of “Baby Molina,” and I got the data to do numerology charts for her and Torrance. Later in the day, I watched Marty conduct battles on the PC with ROME: Total War, and we played on the PS2 together, too. Our best boxing bout was Sugar Ray R against Sugar Ray L. Marty has moved to primarily sports video games because they require more controller skill, plus he’s getting more interested in the world of sport overall, which is having a bit of a spill-over effect for me. I actually cared who won the green jacket.
V & S
Posted in Creativity, Exercise, Family, Food, Friends, Holidays, Ian, Marty, Movies, Music, Numbers, Pets, Playtime, Prayer, Sport, Time | Comments Closed
Tuesday, February 27th, 2007
Last evening, just as I was preparing to depart for a key presentation to the Danville City Commission, Dana was coming up the stairs and hurt the knee she’s been carefully nursing for a month or more. It was weird to leave the house with her sitting on the floor, the painful joint bundled in ice packs.
In my remarks, I provided a formal introduction to B.I.K.E. | Boyle County and our organization’s purpose and priorities. This was the fourth meeting of the newly composed city government. My friends Bill S and Dave A followed, summarizing our infrastructure recommendations and the diverse benefits of creating a bicycle-friendly community. The Commission voted unanimously to approve the “Safe Routes to School” grant application that we developed in collaboration with the city manager. As we approach the first anniversary of our local group, it was a great milestone for our pro-cycling advocacy.
When I got home I realized that Dana’s injury had taken a turn for the worse, so we decided to listen to Hayley’s tournament game on the radio instead of traveling to Garrard County. The Lady Rebels crushed cross-town rival Danville, with our amazing Belle putting the game out of reach in the second quarter (after a slow start). She ended up scoring 25 points, with a strong free-throw percentage.
Dana is heading down to Campbellsville with Terie to see Jerome this morning, and I’m praying for the best diagnosis. Whatever happens, she’ll be dedicating herself to a natural recovery, and I’ll do everything I can to help out along the way.
Posted in Angst, Community, Dana, Family, Friends, Jerome, Prayer, Public Service, Sport | Comments Closed
Monday, September 11th, 2006
It’s our 24th wedding anniversary, but we no longer have this date to ourselves, of course; it now belongs to all Americans.
Dana and I opted for a day at home, trying to enjoy the familiar with mindful appreciation. I did some chores for her; she made two tasty meals for me. At the same time, I was trying to pack for a Michigan trip and finish framing the 50th anniversary artwork for the California B’bachs. I avoided the media all day, since there were already too many things going on in my head. I really had to quiet myself and beckon an Archangel, so I wouldn’t goof up, fall two stories off a ladder, and ruin the day.
Our intimate supper featured the last of my venison tenderloin, wild rice, and Fron’s yellow squash. Sliced organic strawberries in liqueur-flavored yogurt were an exquisite finale, and the bottle of Firestone Cabernet was pure velvet on the palette, shining like fiery blood before the candle flames.
Posted in Art, Current Events, Dana, Family, Food, Gratitude, Home, Jeffrey, Prayer, Wine | Comments Closed
Monday, June 26th, 2006
• He overcame his childhood learning challenges to become the most highly educated and professionally accomplished member of the family—a Clan Treasure.
• Compassionate, open-minded, tireless, inquisitive—all the qualities one would hope for in a physician.
• More than a superb clinician, he’s truly earned the descriptive term of healer.
• Many call him friend—I’ve never seen a person more naturally comfortable in the role—and a generous one he is.
• He selected his mate as carefully as he picked his vocation. He chose both wisely. And now he investigates the responsibility of fatherhood with the same sincere, prayerful, conscientious approach.
• He could have given up. He could have carried hatred. He forgave instead, and unlocked the door to a lifetime of victories.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my “kid” brother. I love you, forever…
Posted in Birthdays, Education, Family, Friends, Jerome, Prayer, Priorities | Comments Closed
Sunday, June 25th, 2006
It’s been sorta push-push lately, so I think I’ll pause in Sabbath Mode until I restore both physical and cognitive abilities, and then it’s back to the grind.
“Why should I hasten to solve every riddle which life offers me? I am well assured that the Questioner, who brings me so many problems, will bring the answers also in due time. Very rich, very potent, very cheerful Giver that he is, he shall have it all his own way, for me.”
— Emerson
Posted in Home, Nonfiction, Prayer | Comments Closed
Thursday, June 1st, 2006
— Month of May workout totals: Swim-2; Bike-5; Run-5; Lift-5; Yoga-9
— The Graybeard Prospector and his Medicine Woman ventured back into the administrative sanctum of the local health care system earlier this morning, making their forceful case for a revivified working relationship.
— I traveled to Louisville today with my colleague Paul to approve the press settings for the Great American Brass Band Festival poster. He came along as the featured artist, and I wanted to make sure he was satisfied with the reproduction of his painting, “Brassy Razzmatazz.” We’ve known and admired each other for a number of years, but it’s another level of personal rapport when you get to spend three to four hours talking together during a car trip. The wildest part took place on the way back, when we were caught in a severe electrical hail storm. Visibility dropped to virtually zero when maximum wiper speed failed to help, and it was all I could do to creep down the next exit ramp, praying to escape any danger. It was the worst weather I’ve ever negotiated behind the wheel, enough for two men to confess to a state of utter terror, after we’d struggled successfully to find a safe place to wait it out.
— Over the holiday, while Dana was visiting Bruce, I decided to dig out my copy of a movie I haven’t watched in a long time—“Nothing in Common.” I can report that I found it just as enjoyable as ever. Now that it’s been twenty years since it was made, the music and styles firmly peg it as an 80s period piece, but that only adds to its enduring charm. You don’t have to be a huge fan of Hanks (which I’m not) to be thoroughly entertained by this flick, which offers a full spectrum of moods and creative attributes. It’s hilarious, sexy, witty, insightful, thought-provoking, sad, and comforting. Flaws are there, if you want to pick at it, but it’s remarkably well-paced and so loaded with talent that you wonder why Hanks hasn’t done more ensemble pictures like this. The setting seems tailor-made for my individual pleasure. If you’ve never seen it, you’ve missed a real treat. Tom plays a 30-ish hot-shot creative director at a Chicago ad agency run by Hector Elizondo, but his up-and-coming career collides with a family crisis when his parents (Eva Marie Saint and Jackie Gleason) abruptly split. Saint’s characterization is delivered with absolute freshness and total believability. Reardless of what you might think of Gleason, “The Great One” will surely captivate anyone with this final performance, a masterful blend of comedy and tragedy, and a fitting swan song for the awesomely talented and complex personality. Now add to that a group of superb supporting players—Sela Ward, Barry Corbin, Bess Armstrong, John Kapelos, and Dan Castellaneta (who would go on to create the familiar voice of Homer Simpson). But make no mistake, the motion picture is anchored by the versatile Hanks at his most physically attractive juncture and by how he takes the viewer on an emotional journey under the able direction of Garry Marshall. When you combine this movie with “Big” and “Turner & Hooch,” it forms the pinnacle of the opening chapter in the astonishing tenure of a true Hollywood Star.
V & S
Posted in Business, Community, Exercise, Friends, Movies, Personalities, Prayer | Comments Closed
Monday, May 29th, 2006
I need not stand in my family cemetery today to have an overwhelming sense of gratitude for those who have put on a uniform to serve our nation. They performed the duty, often dangerous, at times fraught with extreme peril. There are those in every generation who meet the necessity. I owe them too much, even when they changed their minds after returning home. Some of them did not make it home, and I join with those who offer this day as an inadequate memorial to the magnitude of their sacrifice.
† God bless their souls.
Posted in Community, Family, Gratitude, History, Prayer | Comments Closed
Friday, April 28th, 2006
There are flaws in all events, and the time will come soon enough for our annual “post-mortem” evaluation, but overall, The Salvation Army Appreciation Dinner was a great success. I can’t describe the sense of relief and satisfaction that today brings, other than to state that those are the feelings dominating my mood. I sense perfect timing for the new cycle that arrives tomorrow—a cycle of change and new projects.
It was good to see my sister Jeanne at the dinner, representing the 10th Planet, one of the new “Business Partners in HOPE.” Cliff was torn between being there and attending Hayley’s Boyle-Danville softball matchup, and he decided to wear the Dad cap. That’s just fine—there will be more Salvation Army goings-on for the rest of our lives, but children have fleeting intervals that are quickly gone forever.
I missed my chance to personally invite Seth at Easter, but there he was with his mentor, Mr. Durham! A superb opportunity for him to learn more about the Army and solidify his sense of achievement in Liberty last Christmas season. I also heard the good news that he’ll be attending the Governor’s Scholars Program this summer.
David and Lee were there, plus all the great friends of the Army’s mission in our five-county area. Divisional Commander Major Howell was a fantastic guest speaker and his address was a tough act for me to follow, since, as Vice Chair of the Advisory Board, I was to give the closing remarks and prayer. The Spirit was right there to boost my delivery, and I did as well as I think I’ve ever done in front of a large group. I’d gone with my intuition when I developed my speech, but wasn’t entirely confident of its appropriateness until Major Howell spoke, and then I knew that everything dovetailed with precision. Divine design? Amazing…
Posted in Cliff, Community, Family, Friends, Jeanne, Prayer, Scripture, Time | Comments Closed
Saturday, April 8th, 2006
Joan was sweet enough to bring Bruce to our home, on her way back from Indiana.
Bruce in our home for a visit. Today, tomorrow, and through Easter.
Father, I AM grateful to Thee,
From every shadow I AM free…
Posted in Family, Gratitude, Prayer | Comments Closed
Sunday, March 26th, 2006
March experiment—day twenty-five— I spent my 30 minutes of silence at Mack’s increasingly dilapidated cabin praying fervently for my uncle, who’s fighting his way back from critical care, so he can get the heart surgery he desperately needs.
I ran back to Danville afterwards, just as I had run the five miles out to the cabin, but my legs became alarmingly stiff at nine miles or so and I had to walk a bit. I smiled to think that only a few minutes before I’d been advising J M on how to accomplish his 50-miler next month. Obviously, I’m no ultra-marathoner these days. When I mentioned it to Dana at breakfast she reminded me that it’s been four years since I did mine. True enough.
After the silence, our friend J R (Buck) shared eloquent words about how an aging athlete faces the traumatic decline of the physical body. Fortunately I have no experience with this subject, so far. Uncle Joe does—more than he deserves.
For decades, there was no greater advocate for physical fitness in Southwestern Ohio than Joe Sullivan. He’s had a positive influence on hundreds of educators and literally thousands of young people. He introduced things like tumbling mats and trampolines to the region and designed numerous state-of-the-art gymnasiums. And that doesn’t even touch on his contributions to coaching or his achievements as a college professor. You would think that he’d earned some points that would spare him the pain and indignity of a physical breakdown—he of all people, but it looks as though the Lord makes no such deals. Grace, on the other hand, is another issue.
I will continue to pray the Hail Mary for Uncle Joe.
Today’s sight bites— The march of ditch clutter, to the lower left of my stride, a parade of Newport packs and green Mountain Dew bottles—c-l-i-c-k—Little Caesar’s cartons—c-l-i-c-k—blue Bud Light cans—c-l-i-c-k—Long John Silver’s boxes—c-l-i-c-k—red McDonalds French-fry pockets—c-l-i-c-k—Arby’s bags—c-l-i-c-k—dip containers, soda straws, and orange candy wrappers—c-l-i-c-k—with the helpless notion that I should at the very least interpret all this as an artistic statement, an homage to Kurt Schwitters called Scenic Kentucky Highway 52…
Tomorrow— Drawing a good friend in Africa, plus an important call to Virginia (the Mother of Presidents, not Mombo—the Mother of Me—although that’s not a bad idea)…
Posted in Art, Dana, Education, Exercise, Family, Friends, Mombo, Prayer | Comments Closed
Thursday, February 23rd, 2006
On my way to the pool today I saw Danny loading the John Deere that he’s hauling to Kansas for his son William. You have to know Danny to understand how a conversation about a diesel tractor can shift to theology within a couple minutes. He mentioned the concept that, at certain times, the fate of the whole world can hinge on a single prayer. Merton might have said that, and I don’t doubt it’s true. To believe otherwise would rationalize away the value of all prayer, wouldn’t it? A discussion of accountability followed and then salvation and then the loneliness of Christ’s path. I said, “But his mother was with him at the beginning, and right up to the end, and her role was crucial,” and Danny replied, “So, there you come full circle—with the potential of a single individual to contribute great good or great evil.” As I continued my walk to campus, I couldn’t help but wonder if the Father had tried to send His Son at earlier times, and an angel’s warning had been misunderstood or ignored, so the infant had been slain, along with the guardians. And then I was in total awe of the significance of parenthood in general… with the awesome responsibility of it all. I was filled with gratitude for having such a wonderful mother and happiness that she was still with us. I prayed that it would be so for a long time.
Posted in Awe, Friends, Gratitude, Mombo, Prayer, Priorities | Comments Closed
Monday, January 30th, 2006
Bruce‘s visible energy level was dramatically better today, a relief after several days of obvious discomfort and fatigue. This morning we had a visit from ND, who was kind enough to spend some time telling the account of his own horrible ordeal with pancreatitis, defiance of death, and long recovery. Believe it or not, his personal saga dares to upstage even Bruce’s amazing story, proving the adage that someone else has always experienced something worse—two years in the hospital, with a year of that without food, and over 80 surgical procedures. Even though his wife was a nurse, she couldn’t handle the intensity and walked away after the first two months. His internal organs were kept outside of this body in plastic for days until his abdominal cavity was clean enough to accept them back. His weight dropped from around 225 to under 70 pounds. He had to overcome countless temptations to give up or take his own life.
ND is an incredible man, with a depth of belief that was thoroughly tested. He is enormously blessed and gives full credit to the grace of God, without reservation. Very new people on this earth are alive to tell such a story, and I’m withholding his name to honor his privacy. He doesn’t talk about this on a regular basis and only to those he thinks will be receptive to the meaning of his personal testimony.
Sitting with ND and experiencing Bruce’s reaction has started to work some kind of quiet change in my attitude. Last year, Bruce always told me he’d get well enough to come back to Clan Valley. I have a new level of trust and respect for his ability to make judgments and decisions about his own life and the difficult challenges he’ll continue to face in the months ahead. Dana and Terie are driving him home, and how he chooses to deal with the various dysfunctional situations in his Indianapolis environment is something he’s capable of handling in his own way and in his own time. I believe he’ll do the best he can, and he’ll ask for help or advice if that’s what he decides he needs. Otherwise, he has my love, encouragement, and prayers for his complete recovery.
If you don’t think it can happen, it’s probably because you haven’t met the man who sat in my living room today, who lives each day as a gift from the Almighty, runs his own small business, and is back to benching more weight than I’ve ever dreamed of putting on the bar.
Posted in Dana, Family, Prayer, Priorities | Comments Closed
Sunday, January 22nd, 2006
I hadn’t been feeling the tenderness in my knee, so I figured it was time to start running again. My waistline had been telling me the same thing for over a week.
I ran the full cross-country course out at Mack’s farm, half before the “Shared Silence,” and half after. Milton talked about how he categorizes and charts modern myth theories. I was still thinking too much about a couple movies we watched with David and Lee last night.
The Constant Gardener
The best thing about it is the editing. The worst thing about it is also the editing. That doesn’t mean it won’t win awards, but personally I think they went a bit overboard on the final product. Nevertheless, it’s probably a masterpiece, but, for some reason, I’m not sure about that.
Broken Flowers
Bill Murray may be Hollywood’s greatest facial minimalist since Buster Keaton. I could be wrong about this, too.
Although totally different, both movies were very creative. Both had superb casts and great music. On some level I think I’d already accepted this as a given, so I really doubt if either of these films will stick with me for very long. Maybe I’m just a little burned out on motion pictures lately, or, more likely, my thoughts have been occupied most of the day with something else.
I have afternoon plans to go to Lexington with Danny and attend a full Latin Mass—my first since the 1960s.
Posted in Exercise, Friends, Movies, Music, Personalities, Prayer | Comments Closed
Monday, December 26th, 2005
If my offhand remarks about the Catholic Church were imprudent or disrespectful, I apologize. It was not my desire to cause distress to anybody, especially at Christmas. No one who knows me should fret for one second about my spiritual well-being. My faith is deep and integral to every important thing in my life, but my prayerful relationship with the Creator has little to do with traditional religion, and I came to that realization nearly twenty-five years ago. Nothing essential in my daily activity is disconnected from the heart of Christ. I have no disunity with those who equate the presence of God in their lives with a loyalty to the church of their choice or upbringing, but it’s not my personal path. I struggle with my own imperfections and unmet potential, and have no meaningful place in my life for adding to those personal challenges the travails of a flawed church structure. I would no sooner seek to improve my soul’s condition by limiting my sacred practice to the beliefs of a single religious institution than I would try to become a better swimmer by wearing my street clothes and shoes into the pool every week.
Posted in Prayer | Comments Closed
Sunday, December 4th, 2005
One of the world’s most dangerous rebels has been blown up in a remote tribal region of Waziristan—Hamza Rabia, the No. 5 or No. 3 senior man (depending on who’s doing the ranking) in the al-Qaida terrorist network. Unidentified sources report that the explosion was the result of an air attack from multiple robot craft.
The Terminators are on the move. Thank goodness they’re under the control of the good guys. Let’s all pray it stays that way.
Posted in Current Events, Prayer | Comments Closed
Wednesday, November 30th, 2005
Bruce is out of surgery, doing well, and will go directly back to the fifth-floor renal unit rather than into critical care, and that’s the best news of the day. The surgeon said he broke up and removed a pool of pus around the spleen the size of a “small dinner plate.” He irrigated the area and put in a “rubber-band drain.” When I asked him if he had to remove the spleen (something they warned might be necessary), he said, “No.” It looks to me like he tried to get the most benefit from the shortest procedure and smallest incision, since Bruce can’t handle much time under anaesthesia until he gets stronger. This postpones for another operation the intestinal reconnection and a minor pocket of infection around his nonfunctional, transplanted kidney, which could disappear on its own, if all goes well after today.
Pam said she was told that Bruce is only the second patient in the history of the medical center to survive this long after such a severe case of pancreatitis.
Ave, Ave, Ave, Maria.
Posted in Bruce, Family, Prayer | Comments Closed
Thursday, November 24th, 2005
Inspired by David’s 103rd Psalm, I share this in the spirit of the early pilgrims, who used five kernals of corn as a symbol of their gratitude.
Kentucky Thanksgiving Prayer
Father, I see the first kernal and know Your forgiveness is complete.
Thank You for being a God
Who absolves my sins
when I pledge in my heart to move forward with my life and trespass no more.
Father, I see the second kernal and know all healing comes from You.
Thank You for being a God
Who provides complete wholeness
and grants me the trusting heart to accept that I may never comprehend Your divine wisdom
—whether to restore a body with Your grace, or bestow perfection with heaven’s embrace.
Father, I see the third kernal and know the redemption of Christ.
Thank You for being a God
Who would offer Your only Son
to be a living mediator and the true path to Your everlasting kingdom.
Father, I see the fourth kernal and know Your love and compassion is without qualification.
Thank You for being a God
Who invites me into Your heart
each time I accept the opportunity to serve Your children instead of thinking only of myself.
Father, I see the fifth kernal and know the blessings You provide will never end.
Thank You for being a God
Who is eternally giving
and finds me worthy of Your unfailing gifts, if I can only remember to stop and ask.
Father, You are so magnificent.
Thank YOU, Thank YOU, Thank YOU, Thank YOU, Thank YOU.
Amen.
Posted in Gratitude, Holidays, Prayer | Comments Closed