Two Old Men

Marion Berry McKinney, August 31,1919 - August 22, 2010 (Age 91 less 9 days.)

Wylie Columbus Westbrook, September 1, 1919- September 10, 2012 (Age 93) 

Born one day apart and living rich lives that peeked into their ninetieth decades these two men, my Dad and my father in law, have significantly shaped my life.  It probably says more about me than I would like to admit that it is in reliving the memories rather than in real time, that I am able to see how much.

One of my favorite things about reading my daily Psalm is the constant repetition in the Psalms of the refrain, "His steadfast love and faithfulness."  This phrase is taken up all through scripture, but it is in the Psalms that it is repeated over and over that I might never forget.  These two "old men" have been a visuals of these traits of my heavenly Father fleshed out in my life.  Neither man was particularly verbal in expressing their love.  I seldom recall my Dad ever actually saying the words, "I love you," to me, though his hand on my shoulder, his prayers, and his steadfast faithfulness communicated it well.  Wylie was even less verbal, but no less faithful and clear.   

My Dad's greatest accomplishment in the eyes of most who knew him was his mission work in Honduras, 1948-1970. Building a mission hospital from scratch in the back woods of Honduras was a worthy accomplishment.  A man before his time, he left an indigenously led and run,  self sustaining, work that is the model for present day missions.  For twenty years he was the visionary, the leader, the designer, the trainer, and the doctor for what was to become a sixty bed hospital.  Forty five years later the hospital continues to serve the Honduran people.  His last forty years of life  was lived in East Tennessee, mostly in Knoxville, quietly serving his friends, community, and family.

Over the years I have had several pastors tell me that one of the sad things about doing a funeral for someone in their late eighties or nineties is that no one comes.  They have outlived all their friends, and the only ones present are the remaining family.

When my Dad died nine days short of his ninety first birthday there were 500-600 souls present to remember him and praise our Lord for a life well lived.  Most of those present had only heard of his work in Honduras, they respected him for what he had done, but they were there to remember and honor a quiet, gentle man, full of wisdom and kindness who had been very present in some special way to them.   Five months later I attended another memorial service for him in Honduras.  More than forty five years after leaving Honduras there were still over 200 souls who came to remember and pay their respects.  I heard in those days and still do almost weekly, someone's testimony of what my Dad meant to them.

I suspect that in Dad's mind, and to many who knew him, his great accomplishment in life was encompassed in the 22 year hiatus in Honduras, but I believe that was just one example of steadfast love and faithfulness in a life full and rich with many smaller things just like it.

At his funeral I made the statement that it is easy to find myself wanting to do big, significant things like my Dad did, but have come to realize that I cannot be like him by doing big things.  If I want a life that is full and rich like his, I must want what he wanted.  I don't know anyone who wanted Jesus like he wanted Jesus.

Wylie, my father in law, a WWII vet in the Pacific theatre, worked in sales for Belnap hardware when Jan and I met. He loved a good story and carried his file of funny anecdotes to share with the group on the bus tours that he and Esther enjoyed taking for vacations.  Never an "up front" person, Wylie could usually be found doing the things behind the scenes to serve those he was around. He was the one in his eighties driving the bus to get "seniors" to church or setting up chairs for the next meeting, whatever that might be.

When his sister in law's husband died very young, leaving a widow and three young boys, Wylie made sure the boys experienced the affection and admiration of a man in their lives and got boy toys at Christmas.

Wylie did it right from a health stand point. I think "compressed morbidity" is the phrase used these days.  For ninety years he was able to do any thing he wanted, from driving to mowing the yard.  The last two and a half years of his life were a rapid decline in health until he died.  

His greatest lesson to me, in many ways, was those last days.  I cannot imagine a man approaching those last days with more humility and grace than he did.  Always kind, even when in pain or discomfort.  Always with sense of humor intact. Gracious to whomever was tasked with changing his clothes, his diaper, his bed, or feeding him his meal of the moment, he was always appreciative and tried to make them comfortable.

His funeral, like my Dad's, had a chapel packed with folks who came to celebrate, honor and remember a special life.  I heard old and new stories, and met neighbors, colleagues and customers from his work, and "young" men Wylie had mentored through the years.  Each of us present was touched and resonated with the words of the marine honor guard as his flag was given to his wife of 63 years, Esther, "We appreciate his service."

In a world that admires celebrity, bigness, large success, where image is everything, and growth is king, neither of these men will make a top ten list, or be written up in a history book somewhere, but, these two old men have given me something to live up to,  and to live by.  A model of steadfast love and faithfulness.

Many Days

Psalms 34:12

What man is there who desires life

and loves many days, that he may see good?

Does this describe me?  

Do I love life or endure it?  

Do I believe that good endures, “many days?” 

Is one of the attractions of life to me that I may see and do good?  

What is good to me?  

What is the connection between life, good, and many days? 

Do I see these as my hope for what is to come,

 or the reality, grace, gift, of what is given now?

What do I desire and love?

You, O Lord, You alone are life, You alone are good, You alone remain.

  Give me an undivided heart that I may desire life, love my days, see good,...today.

Lord have mercy.

Christ have mercy.

Life in the Labyrinth

Life in the Labyrinth

How does one practice the presence of God?  Is this a question that wrinkles your brow or brings a smile to your face?  Is prayer, in effect the practice of the Presence?  I believe that prayer is being present to the God who is with us. Zephaniah 3:17 "The Lord your God is with you." (NIV). You have heard me quote Robert Benson before, "Prayer is coming to awareness."  The awareness of which he speaks is of course the awareness of the Presence.   "All things can become prayer when I come to see them as such."

The paradox of prayer is that it asks for a serious effort while it can only be received as a gift.  We cannot plan, organize or manipulate God; but without a careful discipline we cannot receive Him either.   - Henri Noewen -

I experienced the paradox that Nouwen speaks about in a wonderful way last week while on a silent retreat* with friends. I was wonderfully helped by a beautiful prayer labyrinth at the retreat center where we stayed.  A prayer labyrinth is a tool to aid us in prayer and consists of an intricate pathway symbolizing a journey into the center where Christ dwells.  Prayer labyrinths take many forms, some like this one that allow you to physically walk through them, all the way to small "finger" labyrinths on which you trace the path with your finger as you pray.  A labyrinth is not a maze, there are no blind paths to trap you. The journey will take you to the center and the way in to the center is the way back out into the world.  Below are some of my thoughts as I wrestled, received, and then rested in the gift of Presence...

Our retreat leader asked us two questions when we began,  "What is word that describes you as you come, and what do you long to receive?"  The two words for me were "open" and "trust.".  I came open to whatever God might give, I came longing to trust Him more.  Why after 62 years "with" do I so often trust so little?  The picture above is the beautiful sight that greeted me as I wound my down the steep path that lead to the labyrinth.  The beauty, the openness made me impatient to go directly to the center as quickly as I can, I could hardly wait to begin...

 But, the Spirit in me said, "Wait, you are not yet ready to enter...be still, sit, and wait..."  And so I sat on bench outside the path, waiting for my soul to be still enough to walk and listen and not run blind and deaf into His presence.

Then...when it was time...I moved to the way in. 

It is so deceptive, you see, the center looks so close, I feel as I enter the path that I am almost there, but the way is blocked and I circle the center, it is  almost within my grasp, but the path turns and I quickly find myself moving away rather than toward.  I wrestle with the noise and the distractions that fill my mind and try to push down the fears that well up within me.  I must accept that the way in includes this movement toward and away...I must "trust?" that the path leads in, I must push on.

Sometimes the way is almost obscured...

...sometimes it brings a surprise that makes me pause in wonder...

...sometimes my focus in on the next step...

...sometimes on the journey as a whole..

...then at last the way opens...and I am home.

If you look closely, under the cross, you can see where the grass has been flattened.  Something about the awareness of His presence brings us to our knees, it did me, again.  First on my knees and then on my face...so much to confess...my demands, my agenda, my fears, my sin.  When I have let go, released all that I can, I rolled over on my back and...

...looked up into the outstretched arms of Jesus.  

How sweet is that?  I lay for almost two and a half hours listening to the voice of the One who says, "You are my beloved son."  There were times when I would close my eyes and my mind would fill with the worries and the busyness of what is "out there," the committee meeting tomorrow night, the reports to review, you know what I mean...  But, then I would open my eyes and see the cross and feel the rocks that border the center around me and I could feel myself begin to receive the comfort of His presence.  The rustling of the wind in the leaves reminding me of His Spirit in me.  The mystery, the wildness, the reality that the infinite God is here...How cool is that!!

I did not want to leave this place, but I must.  The way out was the way in, the question is, can I take what I have found here out there with me?  Retreat is the place to which we return again and again to find our center in the One who breathed life into us, but it is not the place where life is lived.  It is here that we find what has been given to us to share with those to whom we have been given and who have been given to us.

One the white board when I returned for dinner that evening was this reminder in the words of Juliane of Norwich:

"The place which God takes in our soul, He will never vacate, for in us in His home of homes, and it is the greatest delight for Him to dwell there...the soul who contemplates this is like the One who is contemplated."

This I found in the prayer labyrinth...this gives me life.  Thanks be to God!

*If you have never experienced a silent retreat or are unsure what I am referring to, look into the disciplines of silence and solitude.  I was forty years old before I ever heard of such and for forty years had missed out on the life they give.  I am still a novice, but would love to share what I know if you are unfamiliar with these disciplines.

Jet Planes

Jet Planes

Jet plane, flying so high.

Magnificent streak across the sky.

Leaving a trail, white on blue.

For just a brief moment It feels so true.

I want to feel strong, important, and fast,

but just how long will that image last?

The plane is gone, its trail will fade

Like the grass that withers,

every blade.

There go I, but for God's grace,

leaving clear blue sky without a trace...

That is not an empty sky you see above,

it is filled with promise, 

God's steadfast love.

I don't need my image etched across His space, 

better to be engulfed, 

and to see His face. 

Psalm 103:15-17

Hmmm, so that’s how it feels...

...incline our hearts to walk in Your ways, 

grant that having cheerfully done Your will this day

we may when night comes, 

rejoice and give You thanks.

-Morning Prayers-

So I walked again today.  Everything was more colorful and more beautiful than yesterday, because the sun was out. Today Ben, my neighbor’s obsessive compulsive Chesapeake retriever, flushed a turkey from behind a tree making us both jump.  Quiet and graceful is not how one would describe a spooked turkey in flight, by the way.  Yes, I walked, but I walked alone today.  My sweet granddaughter decided she was too busy, or just not interested enough to make the effort to walk with Papa today.  She was sorry she missed the turkey, however.

I could probably have made her come, her Mom would have thought it was a good idea and all.  Or, I might have manipulated her into coming by promising a treat or by guilt tripping her about making me walk by myself.  She might have come, but it wouldn’t have been the same.  If I had forced her or manipulated her into coming she would have sulked and been heavy footed and slow.  The lilt in her step, the joy that was in her face yesterday when she found the turtle would have been gone.  We would have walked together, but we would not not have been together.  It might have looked the same from the outside, but it would have felt very different on the inside.  So, while walking alone is not ideal it is not as unpleasant as walking with one who is under duress.

God is like that, you know.  He deeply desires us to walk with and to be with Him, but He wants us there out of desire and not duress.  By design we are made to be drawn, not pushed.  Relationship is by nature desire driven or it is not relationship at all.  Can He make me be present with Him? Yes, He is all powerful.  Can He make me be present to Him?  Good question...I don’t believe He can without violating my humanity as one made in His image.  That is the nature of desire, it cannot be forced it can only be invited.  Ahh, and that He does, He entices, invites, pursues, and faithfully desires our relationship with me.  How can I resist that, why would I even want to?  

Having said all that, the truth is there are many days when, like my granddaughter, I am too busy or just not inclined to walk with Him. I suspect I miss more than wild turkeys because of weak desire.

Thomas Merton has a prayer that has been of great comfort to me.  Very loosely quoted  it goes something like this, “God, the truth is that much of the time I don’t want You, but, at my core I want to want You, and I know that even my wanting to want you pleases You...”  So I pray the morning prayers, “Father incline my heart to walk in Your ways...” and every now and then, usually when I least expect it, I feel a little shift deep inside of me and I find myself moving from wanting to want to, to actually wanting to, “...and when night comes I rejoice and give thanks.”

I can rationalize my feelings when my granddaughter doesn’t come. I can walk at a faster pace and that is good for my physical heart, but when she doesn’t come and especially doesn’t want to come the loneliness is felt in my heart. 

 Hmm so that is how He feels...to Him?

The field, My granddaughter, and The Prayers

For those of you who have read my blog in the past you know that part of my practice of life includes regular walks in the 85 acres of field and forrest so graciously shared by our neighbor, Bill.  The field is gorgeous in a whole new way now as spring has finally pushed winter aside.  The dogwoods and redbuds splash their color on the tree line, and the wild flowers are beginning to push up through what remains of the winter grass.  The views of the mountains seem to draw you toward them with an irresistible pull.  

It is my custom when I walk to say "The Prayers" as described in Acts 2:42.  The prayers as described in Acts most likely included the Psalms and other prayers for the early Church.  I have found the morning prayer as complied by Robert Benson in Venite, to be helpful to me. These prayers are old and have been prayed through the ages by the Church at regular times of the day and I find that as I discipline myself to pray them, even when I don’t feel like it or am not very attentive, they draw me into His presence.  The “morning prayers” are far less “me” centered and more focused on the One who is, and was, and forever will be.  After many years of reading, “saying”, my prayers each morning I was surprised to discover that they were fixed in my feeble brain and I can say them from memory as I walk... Thanks be to God.

Some of you know that my Son, his wife, and four very energetic grandchildren are staying with us for some weeks as they transition from their time in Guatemala and wait to close on a new house.  Mary Helen has consented to join me as we “go hunting” and walk.  How sweet it is to feel her hand in mine and to watch her alternately run ahead or lag behind as we discover turkey feathers, thus the “hunting for turkeys”, colorful flowers, the red cardinal on the post, or the turtle with yellow splotches on his back.  We agree the turtle must be a Vol fan since he has an orange nose.

The sweetest part has been to have her join me in saying The Prayers.  Truthfully she doesn’t understand much about them and I suspect is only marginally interested at age 6, but she listens as I explain the mystery of joining with the Church world wide in praying The Prayers.  God’s people around the world say these prayers every day on a given hour.  Mary Helen experienced time zones and how it made her time different from ours while she was in Guatemala and I could see her mind working as she tried to wrap her arms around the idea that if some of God’s people pray the Prayers on the same hour each day, as the day unfolds the world, as it turns, is bathed in the prayers of the Church.  How cool is that?  We can be party to all of that when we pray.

It is hard to describe how heart warming it is to say the words, “And now we pray for those with whom we share the journey, those who have been given to us and to whom we have been given...”  Here we pause and say the names of those who make up this circle of fellow travelers as God brings them to mind.  Mary Helen of course named her Daddy and Drew who are still in Guatemala, then remembered the rest of her family name by name, noting with joy on finishing their names that she had just prayed for her whole family.

All that except the turtle, who presented himself today, was the first day. Today as we walked we talked about the opening phrase... God said, “Let there be light,” We talked about gifts, that a gift is not deserved or owed.  If they were deserved or owed they would not be gifts, merely payment of an obligation.  Gifts are freely given and are precisely not an obligation of any kind.  We talked about how “Let there be light,” is a gift of a new day and how good it is of God that He gives another day...then she ran ahead, down the hill, full of glee calling for Papa to hurry.

I continued my prayers aloud as she swirled first ahead and then behind, but she was in step with her hand in mine when we reached, “And now we pray the prayers that Jesus taught those He called brothers and sisters and friends...”  Her sweet voice chimed in as we began, “Our father who is in heaven...”

God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light,

And God saw that the light was good...

It is sooo good!

Thanks be to God!

Why am I cast down...?

Psalm 43:5-8

Why are you cast down, O my soul,

    and why are you in turmoil within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,

    my salvation and my God.

My soul is cast down within me;

    therefore I remember you

from the land of Jordan and of Hermon,

    from Mount Mizar. 

Deep calls to deep

    at the roar of your waterfalls;

all your breakers and your waves

    have gone over me. 

By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,

    and at night his song is with me,

    a prayer to the God of my life.

So, my traveler friend says as he gazes thoughtfully into the distance, "There is nothing quite like the lights of Singapore on a beautiful spring evening, the lights of Istanbul are probably the most exotic, and the romantic lights of Paris will take your breathe away, but there is nothing as beautiful as the tail lights of my children's minivan as the leave the driveway after a long weekend with the grandkids."

The deep gray black of the sky is split by the light pink, then increasingly intense colors ridged by the the bright orange pushing down on the dark silhouette of the Smokey Mountains.  My grand daughter, Shirley Temple, as her mother calls her, this morning asked if sunset was coming up yet as we took them to the airport long before dawn.  As I watch the beauty of another dawn I wrestle with the conflicting emotions welling up deep inside me.

My son and daughter in law with their four kids, ages 7 and down, flew out this morning after spending a "4 week" Christmas hiatus from their water project in the Ulpan valley of Guatemala with us.  For two "empty nesters" accustomed to our routine and appreciative of our peace and quiet, you can imagine the whiplash of 24/7 rug-rats, toys underfoot, a perpetually full dishwasher, a constant stream of meals and snacks, trips to the playground, visiting the horses, nerf gun fights, star wars movies, and a dryer that never stops running.  Sandwich in a mission trip to Honduras for me and preparing for the sale of Jan's parents home of 50 years into the mix and, well...

I shared my traveler friend's story with several grandparent friends and we have all laughed, I have expected to feel something of that elation myself when those tail lights lit up, especially after the addition of a fifth week due to Shirley Temple's onset of pneumonia and subsequent "forbidden to travel" order from her pediatrician on their scheduled eve of departure.  Each of the other three proceeded to get sick in the ensuing week and I, with great empathy proceeded to join them with a GI flu bug, yes, both ends participating at once, thank you.

But, as I watched them wend their way through security this morning on their way to the gate, I feel more cast down in my soul than elated.  It has been a wonderful, hard, way too busy and out of control few weeks full of airports, cluttered old home places, sometimes whiney kids, warm snuggles, broken Spanish (and English for that matter), tears, intense conversations, sweet little voices that say "Papa" and make your heart melt.  Revisiting Guatemala has been been good and hard, exhilarating and confusing at times.  We have processed and prayed, run and rested, wondered and sometimes wept, and now once again we send them off, four little munchkins, my son and a daughter, thankfully in the arms of the One who is steadfast love and faithfulness.

Am I really down cast, or is it just fatigue? I don't know and it really doesn't matter...I am thankful that even as I write and contemplate the Psalm above, given to me as I watched the sun rise this morning...I can't say that I hear the roar of the waterfall yet or feel the crashing of the breakers...but, somewhere deep inside me there is a wave rising and the smattering of hope that I, and my family will know how much we are loved by the One who is steadfast love and faithfulness.

We serve a wild and amazing God, what a trip!!

Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy!