WIDE PLACES

Psalm 119:44-45

 I will keep your law continually,

forever and ever,

 and I shall walk in a wide place,

for I have sought your precepts.

Wide Places

Law-keeping? My ego shudders at the thought,

I want to determine for myself what I should or ought.

But the entropy of myself will destroy in short time,

My own self serving laws and schemes I design.

Your law gives life, yes, If I can but hear,

But I must be open to desire and love, not fear.

Your desire for me is to walk in places roomy and wide,

But to find them I need to let go of my pride.

Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, I pray,

Show me the wide places as I walk through this day.

JMM - 9/3/2016

The Wonder of Christmas

One of my memories of Christmas as a child is of my Dad’s Hi-Fi record scratching out the voice of Beverly Shea, of the Billy Graham team, singing an old Christmas hymn, the name of which I do not for the moment recall:

I wonder as I wander out under the sky,

Why Jesus the savior would come forth to die.

I am by nature a wonderer, I wonder about what makes things work, how to make things better, why people do what they do, why I do what I do, the meaning of things.  Sometimes I even wonder why I wonder so much.  I am more than a little disconcerted to realize that often at the core of my wanting to figure things out is an attempt to be in control.  Understanding at least feels like a measure of control, of my circumstances, of systems, (Organizations, structure, etc.) and at times, people.

I believe that the order of the universe is relational, by that I mean relationship is at the core of how all things work.  The best I can tell, and here I go wondering again, this is so because the One who spoke all this into being is Himself a relationship between the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit (How can we explain that?) and all that emanates from Him bears His mark. 

God desires to have a relationship with us and for us to have a relationship with Him and with one another.  True relationships do not happen if they happen out of “have to” or “ought.” True relationships are driven by desire, a “want to.”  By design relational beings are made to be drawn, not pushed.  Could God force us to obey? He certainly has the power.  Could He manipulate us into a relationship? He is certainly able to do that as well.  But He did not come as a powerful king or a wise sage; He came as a powerless baby unable even to speak.  He came offering Himself and invites (No force, no pressure.) us to be “with,” to follow, Him.  He enables that invitation through personal sacrifice and open hands marked with the imprint of brutal nails.  All this is beyond my understanding...

So what creates desire in the soul of a man? What makes me want to follow?  If my relationship with my dear wife is any indication, it is clearly not perfect understanding of what makes her tick.  The truth is it is often the mystery of what is making her tick that draws me to her.  I am finding it is no different in my relationship with the Father, I am not drawn to Him primarily by what I understand, I find I am most drawn when something about Him just blows me away because it is incomprehensible to me. The thing that most often makes me push Him away is fear.  Fear about what it will cost me to follow, or a fear of losing control (Yes, that control thing again.), or just plain fear of the unknown. 

These two words, fear and wonder, have now become very connected to me.  How do these two words connect?  I have pondered of late that my deepest desires, the kind of desire that leads to intimate relationship is not kindled most by wonder that leads to understanding, but by wonder (Awe) that is beyond understanding.  Here is the beautiful thing, when I am blown away in awe (Fear) I suddenly realize that my fear (Afraid) is gone and I am drawn to the source of that awe and wonder. Two words, rich with double meaning that hold the key to desire.

I am reminded of a statement by C.S. Lewis I remember reading some time ago, that if God is God then why all the fuss about the truth of a virgin birth.  Certainly He could do it if He desired, no problem, if you are God.  No, the real question is not, is it possible, but why would He do such a thing?

So I am back humming the tune with the words playing in my mind:

I wonder as I wander out under the sky,

Why Jesus the savior would come forth to die.

I am in wonder of it all and my innermost being is pulled toward that little One in the manger.

May the wonder of the coming of the very One who breathed you into being fill your advent season.

Have a Heart, Donate a Kidney?

In March of this year I lay in a hospital bed contemplating the events of the preceding few hours, a surprise diagnosis by my cardiologist of four blocked coronary arteries and the scheduling of my open heart surgery at 7am the next morning.  My son, married and the father of four children, came by to see how I was doing and broke the news that in  January he had begun the process of being tested to see if he was a match to donate a kidney to the husband of a coworker.  It was the first either his mother or I were aware of what he was contemplating and he had not intended to tell us unless things had looked like he might be a match.  With my impending surgery, he felt compelled to broach the subject and wanted to know my thoughts.

Mark  assured us that he would make no decisions until my outcome was known and further noted that there were many hurdles for him to jump before he would even be a candidate.  Unknown to us that was only half the story.

Tony found out in his twenties that he had a genetic problem with his kidneys that would in time cause them to fail.  As his kidneys failed and he moved inexorably through the progression of testing and matching with hopes of finding a donor he, his sweet wife, their son Ezra and the extended family experienced the roller coaster ride of hope, then dashed hopes repeatedly as potential donors were found and then lost for various reasons.  Once getting all the way to the final step, the last conference, two days before surgery day only to have the donor deemed unacceptable.  He had reached the stage where he would have to go into dialysis soon if a match was not found and beginning dialysis would create more negatives for a later kidney donation.

Last November while contemplating Tony’s plight, Mark heard a distinct voice say, “You are a match?”  At the time there were two other folks going through the match process, so Mark, a father with a wife and four children chose to lay low and see how those prospects played out.  By January both prospects found they were not matches and Mark was continuing to feel the devine nudges that became hard to ignore so he began the process to see if he would be a match.  He did not tell Tony or the family that he was doing it, not wanting to create a false hope if he did not indeed match.

A month after my surgery following my granddaughter’s violin recital we were introduced to a delightful young man who was also in the recital and his parents.  As we walked away from the conversation, my son informed us we had just met the prospective recipient of his kidney donation.  When  you meet the sweet wife, the delightful son and the the man who desperately wants to live and care for his family and then you ask yourself the question, “If that were me, would I hope for one willing to sacrifice for me?” It is difficult, even as an anxious, cautious,  parent to hold your son back from what he feels compelled to do.

To make a long story short, I sat his morning in the surgery waiting room, our family with Tony’s sweet wife and family while the surgeons transferred my son’s kidney to his friend. We shared stories of two journeys that God has woven together, marveled, laughed, shed some tears, and prayed.

Psalm 112 was my Psalm for the day, below is what I read and my journal entry for the day...

Psalm 112
1 Praise the Lord!
Blessed is the man who fears the Lord,
who greatly delights in his commandments!
2 His offspring will be mighty in the land;
this generation of the upright will be blessed.

"His offspring will be mighty in the land..." My son is at this moment in surgery donating a kidney to the husband of a lady who works with him.  In the words of a friend to Jan, "her mother's heart is worried and her Christian heart is proud."  This Dad's heart feels the same.  It is such a blessing to see your son's heart desire to give life to another and to consistently take his place in the generation of the upright.

The Psalm continues...
7 He is not afraid of bad news;
his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.
8 His heart is steady; he will not be afraid,
9 He has distributed freely; he has given to one in need..

My son is mighty in the land and I am a proud and grateful Dad.

Thank you, Father, that I can rest knowing he is in Your hands...I feel the strength of Your presence.  We intrust all who are dear to us to Your never failing love and care for this life and the life to come, knowing that You will do for Mark and Tony far more than we can desire or pray for.

Thanks be to God.

Both men are resting well tonight,  I say again, thanks be to God.


**Comments heard today.
Dr. Scott: Tell Mark he can’t do this again.
April (Wife):Tony (Recipient) said the first thing he wants to know when he wakes up is how Mark is doing?

Finding Delight in the Company of Angels

The Lord is my shepherd…even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me…

Psalm 23

What is your “take away”?  What have you learned from this experience?  Has it made you look at life any differently?  These are the questions I am asked by my friends and that I have asked myself over these past few weeks as I rehab from my CABG (Short for coronary artery bypass graft) surgery.  Kind of a cool acronym don’t you think?  Try throwing that out at a party some time, “Yes, as a CABG survivor now of two months…” People will look at you funny and sympathize that they also weren’t particularly pleased with their vegetarian diet either, but have I tried gluten free or vegan?  But I digress…

How does one express what it feels like to be delighted in?  Is it appropriate, or arrogant to let on that this is the way you feel?  Is it okay, or selfish to find joy in knowing that you matter to those in your circle of friends?  Can it really be this good to sit in the company of friends?   I must say as one who struggles with needing to work for approval from my friends and from the One who calls me His beloved, this has been a wonderful lesson in, “be still and know.”

I described in my last post, Visiting Hell in the Company of Angels, the incredible blessing of new friends and old in the midst of the CABG experience itself, and have been overwhelmed in the days following at the continued outpouring of love and support from our family and community of friends.  What does it look like?

-       Surprise and delight on the faces of folks when I run into them and the heartfelt,  “It is so good to see you.” The first Sunday I was able to serve communion at the front of the church after the surgery, those words were said to me by those I was serving before I could begin to say, “This is the body of Jesus broken for you, and His blood shed so you will know how much He loves you.”  All words said around a meal celebrating community.  The message?  I am so glad you are still with us.  For me, my response to those words, “It is nice to be seen.”  Yes, it is good to still be with.

-       Meals.  We didn’t cook for a month or more thanks to all the fine food and desserts brought.  The food almost as big a treat as the faces and conversations of those who delivered it.

-       Almost no one shakes my hand any more when they see me, instead I get hugs, yep from all those pretty ladies, but just as meaningful, from the men as well. I’ve had folks search me out after church, come down off their porches, and interrupt conversations so they can give me a hug.  It is amazing all that is said in a hug. 

-       Lots of cards, emails, phone calls and loads of prayers.  A new perspective on prayers, by the way.  I so appreciate the prayers of those who lifted me up when they were not and could not be present, that they would remember me in their absence is humbling and a great comfort.  I noticed too that most of my friends did not feel the need to say a prayer when they were with me, yet I felt completely wrapped in prayer by their presence. Words are important when one is not there, but often not necessary when one is present.  What a gift to be wrapped in prayer in the absence of prayers. 

-       Friends who came and picked me up and took me to lunch when I was unable to drive.  The many who have dropped by for a chat.

-       My neighbors who have not just mowed my yard, but trimmed and blown the drive way while I am restricted from “heavy labor.”

That is just scratching the surface of all I have been given these past few weeks.  I have been greatly loved, not because I am worthy or particularly lovable, but because I am in the company of loving friends and family.  In such company I am finding, worthiness is not necessary, it is a gift given with open hands and hearts.

I read in Isaiah 62:4 this morning that we are called “His delight.”  We are told that God’s people are His body and that He actually lives in us.  His people are His physical presence here. No wonder then that my biggest take away from this experience is that I have truly experienced the presence and the delight of Jesus in the faces of my family and friends.  I have experienced in them what I so desperately want to be true, that the One who breathed me into being doesn’t just love me, awesome as that is, but that He delights in me.  That is overwhelming, and I have been overwhelmed.

Visiting Hell in the Company of Angels

On location for this blog.

I woke March 1 feeling well and assuming I was a pretty healthy guy.  I woke this morning, March 8, five and a half days post quadruple bypass surgery very grateful to be in my own bed with no tubes sticking out of my body in places that, the last time I remember, didn’t have holes.  My sweet wife was asleep in the bed beside me.  I gingerly experimented with rolling out of the bed, going to the toilet and slipping on some sweats.  I fixed a delicious pot of coffee, half Starbucks decaf and half Café Monte Verde direct from the mountain slopes where I camped as a child in Siguatepeque, Honduras. It was sooo superior to the pretend coffee from the push button contraption in the hospital cafeteria.  While my half bagel toasted and the coffee brewed I slipped out the front door for a short walk in morning sun slowly dawning over the Smokies across the valley.  Ben, the neighbor’s dog wandered over to give me his morning greeting.  He shot me the “So are we gonna walk?” look and seemed satisfied with just a good scratching behind the ears. Ben’s my walking buddy and we have missed a few days this week for obvious reasons.  I breathed deeply of the early smells of spring and am grateful.  It is surprising that a week ago I could walk a couple of miles and not be the least pushed or tired, now after just eight minutes I need a rest. (Leaving the house on my own was a no-no, Jan says I’m not allowed out of the house on my own and apparently has at least two offers for electric dog fences to use on me if I sneak out again.)  The toaster was buzzing when I got back and after 60 seconds the milk in Jan’s mug in the microwave was too, I frothed it into a fluffy head and poured her morning latte.  Fixing a latte for the woman you love just a day after visiting hell in the company of angels…I tell you my friends, it doesn’t get any better than this. God is so good, and life is a beautiful thing.

So what is this “visiting hell in the company of angels thing?”  Hell will be easy to recognize, but let me introduce you to the angels.  The first angel is my friend Doug, a really funny guy, which is nice, but he is also a wonderful and caring physician, that is even better.  I recommend both to everyone.  It seems my cholesterol was a little high when I got my “welcome to Medicare” physical in November, so Doug suggested that I get a Cardiac Calcium CT scan.  I’m telling you the names of all these bad boys (tests) because, though I didn’t particularly enjoy their company, they are all “good guys.”  The scan is painless, but my CT result was not encouraging.  After perusing the internet to try and figure what a Cardiac Calcium CT was trying to tell me and then further conversation with Doug which put a new light on symptoms which I had interpreted as being “a little out of shape” I found myself being introduced to another angel, Chris, an old friend, but my new cardiologist.  Chris suggested I have a stress echo EKG, a long name for a test that didn’t last very long thanks to my “aching” heart beginning to act up under stress.  A bad result on a stress test leads to the opportunity to prove yourself in a manly way.  Just step to the table and get a heart cath, see what you are really made of.  My friend Chris encouraged me that from what he had seen to date, he expected to find a minor blockage somewhere, would probably put in a stent or two and I’d be home for dinner, but, as he said, “One never knows.”  I went to sleep feeling like I was in good hands, God’s, Doug’s, Chris’s, and yeah, even probably my own, I could handle anything…I eat my “baconators” with one bare hand and fasten my seatbelt because I want to, not because I have to.  Our friend Gina, another angel, was sitting with Jan waiting for Chris to bring the news.  She had warned Jan that you want it to be a long wait before they come to talk to you, that means they are putting in stents.  If they return quickly, uh-oh!  Well we got an uh-oh.  My friends face was on the grim side as he drew circles around the multiple blockages that showed up on the cath images.  My dear wife listened anxiously as he described me as a walking time bomb and that he did not want me to leave the hospital.  Remember, 3 days ago I was a healthy man.  Where is one when “was” goes so suddenly away?  Jan asked if we should go ahead and get it scheduled for some time next week and he replied that it would not be necessary I would be having surgery with Dr. D the next morning at 7am.  “You will notice,” he said, “that I did not give you a choice of surgeons.  That is because this is who I want you to see, he changed his 10am surgery tomorrow so he can see you.”  So that is how I met the next angel, Dr. D.  I can’t tell you how many times I heard while in the hospital, “Chris and Dr. D. you have the best.”  Let me stop and insert at this point, that I have already left off the names of many angels who shepherded me through the process up to now, Lisa in Chris’s office and the ladies who did the stress testing, as well as all the folks involved in the cath lab who prepped me before and after for all that was to come.  Debbie was a God send for my wife, took her on a tour of the whole hospital top to bottom with a running commentary of what would happen at each stop.  I don’t remember all the names, but I will not forget the smiles and the kind and gentle care.

So you say, “Well I get the angel part, those are obviously a bunch of really fine folks.  Where does “hell” come in?  It started nice enough in pre-op anesthesia, the nice young man who began hooking me up to various tubes and then proceeded to shave me from top to bottom, and I do mean bottom.  I felt like I was ready to compete in the summer Olympics…shiny clean shave all over, my did I feel fast. Another very special Debbie in anesthesia who knew the right things to say and how to give a hug that mattered to my dear wife as they rolled me away.   D-day was full of angels, you know who you are better than I do, you were more there than I was.  Jan says she hardly had time to think about how I was doing all day because of your loving presence, if I live to be a hundred I’ll never be able to thank you all enough.  Nothing means more to me than your wonderful care of her while I was under. So step up and put on your wings, Robbie and Gina, Doug Messer, Jim B, Billy Blount, Fraser, Jonathan, Clay, Heather, John and Janie, Andy Holt, Ben, Dan and Elizabeth. Lala, Paige and Mike, Buddy and Kathie, Steve, all my kids, assorted (Not sordid) grand kids, Suzanne, Phil and Barb, Harold and Angie, Nan, Bernie and Diane, Robert, Bob and Betsy, Russ and Roberta, Miss Kayla's kindergarten class, and I am sure others I haven’t named.  We were flooded with calls and texts and emails.  All of you are treasures to us.

A word of caution, from here to about noon yesterday I was under significant levels of hallucinogenic drugs, awesome huh?  I had wild dreams, strange pictures that stayed fixed in my mind. Some looked suspiciously like whatever room I was in, but completely different.  Really interesting plots to some dreams, including something very significant about the intensity of a black wine my brother-in-law and I are developing?  One interesting note was the little blue light, like the LED on your cable box that showed up in every dream or image. I'll write another blog when I figure out the significance of the light.   Arrived in the Cardiac ICU after approximately four hours of...actually you may be too queasy for that part.  If you want to know what happened during that four hours you can go to YouTube and search open heart surgery like Jan and I did after returning home post-op. Pretty amazing, but hard to watch.  A new angel in ICU was named Jeff or “MacGyver” or something like that.  He spent 8 years working on Life Star before deciding to devote himself to keeping alive 65-year-old studs like me.  I think he made me a new aorta out of a garden hose and a sweet potato before they sent me up to the cardiac care unit.  Never travel without a guy like that on call.  My son, major star angel, stayed with me the first night and became pretty efficient at playing with the IV’s, getting me to the toilet without flashing the young nurses through my hospital issue gown and other important stuff.  He is sort of the MacGyver type also…I mean it, do not leave home without these kinds of folks available on short notice.  Jeff was replaced by a sweetheart named Courtney, I think she spoke northern, but that may have been the drugs.  Courtney worked hard to get me out of pain at a time when “pain free” didn’t seem to be in the cards.  Next morning Courtney was replaced by Collene (Sounds like Jollene) and that was truly one day of hell.  My chest felt as if all the folks not getting seen on time in the ER were doing a protest march on my sternum, tubes gurgled in and out, and if I got the least bit comfortable someone decided it would be a good time to see if they could squeeze one more drop of blood out of a bruised finger or add another IV to the impressive array I was collecting on my body.  If hell is ultimately about a matter of the heart, and I think it is, I got as much play on what a bad heart will get you as I ever want to see.  The physical is no laughing matter and I know that the spiritual issues are at least as damaging.  I am very suspicious that in that final eternal moment the spiritual pain will be every bit as excruciating and will not be navigated with narcotics.  Gotta say I want no part of that.  They have got to redesign those hospital gowns, I am pretty sure I mooned everyone who walked through the room that night though I never got a second glance, I am guessing it was the shave job?  Collene, I wasn’t kidding, I am in love with you.  What an angel, she gave me pills, pushed drugs into my IVs and battled all day to get me out of pain.  Somewhere about noon that day I got amazing relief from the pain and I actually began to think there might be hope for survival.  I vowed my undying love to Collene and would gladly have given her a kiss to prove it, but I must have done or said something under the influence of all those drugs, she kept a pretty wide birth until change of shift. 

Jan stayed with me the second night so I tried not to flirt with all the nurses. Besides, the pain started to kick back in and ruined the mood.  There is nothing like your wife angel when things get bad…and mine is top drawer.  The woman who sticks by you in these kinds of things is a keeper, I hope you know that.  Day three started like day two with awful pain that nurse Ratchet seemed a little too cautious to attack head on and it was all I could bare.  Thankfully Collene gave me a second chance and came back for another go at me.  It a fairly short time she had me believing again.  I swear I do love that woman.  I was getting nauseous and my bowels were in some kind of uproar protesting everything so Collene, that sweet thing, suggested a suppository for some relief.  Well I tell you, I got some relief all right, but that bathroom will never be the same.  And that Collene? I told you she was smart and sweet, she delegated all that toilet duty stuff to my son, so as not to embarrass me I am sure.

Day four someone turned up the lights and down the pain.  All the meds started working and the required stroll to the elevators and back became something looked forward to rather than dreaded.  Eric and “activity” Betsy were my rehab angels, big smiles, big muscles and gentle hands both stellar folks.  Day four they began to take out tubes instead of adding them to my impressive array and I began to get encouraging words from everyone about it looking like I might get my chest tube out and go home the next day.  “We just need to get the chest tube out,” they would say and then turn away quickly and begin to hum America the Beautiful or something.  Suspicious how no one wanted talk about removing chest tubes, but that was for tomorrow and how bad can tomorrow be when you’ve made it this far, right?  Another angel, my daughter Sarah, stayed that night to watch over me.  I behaved my self and didn’t subject her to toilet purgatory.  She has no idea what I saved her from.

Day five, Dr. D shows up with the great news, my chest tube is coming out, (America the Beautiful, remember?) and if my x-ray looks normal I get to go home.  Now remember I warned you about this account being written under the influence of drugs, but you should know that this next part is totally factual.  There are no embellishments of any of the details.  The RN showed up to remove the chest tubes wearing six inch stiletto heels and leather pants with some sort of wild upper garment which I cannot describe due to the immediate sharp pains I began to feel when she stepped onto my chest. Her job was to hold my chest down while the PA did her best to turn me inside out using the fire hose stuck in my chest.  That ole tube had apparently developed a pretty intimate relationship with the inside of my chest and was very reluctant to move on to bigger and better things.  The RN danced, the PA pulled, and somewhere down the hall someone played America the Beautiful, then just when I was sure the gates of hell were about to burst open, it was over.  Robbie and Phil had warned me it would not be the highlight of my stay and whooee were they right.  Now I’m a dentist and I cannot begin to tell you the stories I’ve heard about root canals…I promise you, not in the same ball park.  Ms. Martha the RN is a jewel, but whoee she wears a mean pair of heels.  Of course it took longer to get the final x-ray and discharge than we would have liked, but it gave us time to say our good byes to a bunch of wonderful folks and take one last trip to the elevator and back.

I woke up this morning in my own bed, no tubes protruded from my body and my dear wife was lying beside me.  The dawn was magnificent; the coffee smelled wonderful, the walk was invigorating.  I am an extremely blessed man and God is good… Thanks be to God and to all His angels.

**The first draft of this blog was written the morning of March 8 as it says.  My sweet wife convinced me after a first reading that I might want to let it sit and do a rewrite once I was no longer taking drugs.  I must admit she was probably right, I just hope my current lucidity has not altered any of the facts.

***For those reading this blog who are of that company of angels who have and continue to walk with us, you have my undying gratitude.  Your presence, prayers, cards, texts, calls, food, and friendship will never be forgotten.  It might seem crazy to say, but it has been true for me, "Visiting hell in the presence of Angels is a taste of heaven."  I love and appreciate you all.