tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27656612762626027002024-03-06T03:12:39.604-05:00A Life Of BecomingEach step brings us closer to the one that we are becoming. How can I live my life with deliberate intention to do good and to love others?An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.comBlogger173125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-17672170860998587302012-12-05T20:09:00.006-05:002012-12-15T06:34:09.788-05:00West Oak Article in Seneca Journal<span style="font-size: large;">Students shine at West-Oak High</span><br />
<br />
MIKAYLA KREUZBERGER<br />
<br />
THE JOURNAL<br />
<br />
WESTMINSTER — Evan Wooding stands in his West-Oak High School “T-Warriors” classroom and carefully writes down the room numbers for his daily newspaper delivery.<br />
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After loading his cart full of that day’s edition of The Journal, he looks at his friends, classmates Victoria Dees and David Fisher, and peer tutor Levi Neave, and asks, “Are you ready to go?”<br />
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As they walk through the halls of their high school, they’re greeted by smiling faces and early morning greetings from teachers and students alike.<br />
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They stop by “F-Troop” teacher Bonita Jones’ classroom and hand her a stack of newspapers, and then they visit several other classrooms on the first floor,<br />
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knocking politely and entering quietly, before they make their way to the second floor to make more deliveries.<br />
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“T-Warriors” teacher JoAnn Decossas said her students have been delivering local newspapers to classrooms for several years — currently The Journal and The Westminster News — through Newspapers in Education, a national program that delivers newspapers to schools.<br />
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“Teachers love when my kids come into their classrooms to deliver the newspaper,” Decossas said. “They’ve told me it’s a joy to see their faces.”<br />
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Decossas has taught students with moderate and severe/profound intellectual and physical disabilities at West-Oak High for 11 years.<br />
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“We’ve worked hard to build our program, and our newspaper delivery service is just one of many reasons I love my job,” she said.<br />
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In her classroom, she pointed to several high school “peer tutors” helping her students decorate Christmas cards.<br />
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“We have peer tutors come in all day, every day. Any student can become a peer tutor in Mrs. Jones’ or my class. You can sign up for it as an elective, and most of our peer tutors sign up more than once,” she said, further mentioning that several peer tutors have gone on to receive college degrees in special education because of their experiences at West-Oak.<br />
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Neave, a 16-year-old junior, said this is his first semester as a peer tutor in Decossas’ class.<br />
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“I had an open class this semester and I wanted to try it out,” Neave said. “I’ve enjoyed it. When Evan (Wooding) came here earlier this year, he kind of latched on to me. I like delivering newspapers with him.”<br />
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Wooding is 15 years old and well over 6 feet tall; he said he goes to weightlifting class every other day with peer tutor Garrett Mason, 17.<br />
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“I take Evan to our class and we work out together,” Mason said.<br />
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Wooding put his arm around Mason’s shoulder and told him it was time for weightlifting, at which point they promptly left for class.<br />
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Decossas said the faculty and staff also work to include her students in activities outside the classroom, too.<br />
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“Several of my students cheered with our varsity cheerleading team at home football games this year. Keri Sutton, a peer tutor, spent time with the girls working on cheers during class,” she said.<br />
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Fisher, 16, said he plays the base drum for the marching band.<br />
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“The girls love me,” he said about wearing his uniform and marching on the football field.<br />
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Additionally, Decossas said most of her students attend West-Oak’s prom and there have been several students who have been elected to homecoming court.<br />
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“Peer tutors and other students fight over which one of our students they get to take to prom. It’s always a big deal; our kids love it,” she said.<br />
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Principal Kurt Kreuzberger said because of his students’ desire to build a relationship with the T-Warriors and F-Troop classes, he knows that West-Oak’s biggest attribute is its student body.<br />
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“The students in those classes are taken care of by the student body. They’re accepted and incorporated into the school just like any other student,” Kreuzberger said. “These programs, like peer tutoring and the newspaper delivery, translate later in the school day when kids come up and talk to them in the halls and during lunch.”<br />
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He mentioned another popular program that faculty, staff and students enjoy is Jones’ F-Troop café.<br />
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Jones, a teacher at West-Oak since 1991, and aides Cindy Thibodeaux, Jenny Driver, Rashaad Jackson and Arian Calhoun work with their F-Troop students every day to provide tasty treats for teachers and students.<br />
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“In addition to working on math and reading skills in the classroom, we use the café as a way to build students’ social and academic skills,” Jones said. “They make milkshakes, gourmet pretzels, and coffee … we bake and decorate cakes for teachers and make sandwiches for athletes before their games. It involves a lot of interaction and it’s a great way to bring the F-Troop into contact with teachers and students.”<br />
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Briana Coker, 18, made a mudslide milkshake for The Journal.<br />
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“I really like working in the café,” she said as she gave Jones a hug.<br />
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Jones said the goal for her students is to get them ready for the real world.<br />
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“By the time they graduate, our hope is that they are capable to work in the community. The café prepares them for work, and they also visit jobs in the area to find out what they like and dislike,” Jones said.<br />
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Other notable job skills that F-Troop students learn include sewing ripped athletic uniforms, landscaping in the school’s courtyard, at nursing homes and at Chau Ram County Park, among others.<br />
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“We do a lot in our community,” Jones said. “We like to let the community know we’re here.”<br />
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For information about Decossas’ T-Warriors class and Jones’ F-Troop class, call West-Oak, (864) 886-4530.<br />
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<br />An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-7911902818657805852012-11-04T11:30:00.002-05:002012-11-04T11:41:31.566-05:00Chicago Tribune's Injun Summer<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">I</span>NJUN <span style="font-size: large;">S</span>UMMER</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
John T. McCutcheon</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Chicago Tribune</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
September 30, 1907</div>
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Yep, sonny this is sure enough Injun summer. Don't know what that is, I
reckon, do you? Well, that's when all the homesick Injuns come back to play;
You know, a long time ago, long afore yer granddaddy was born even, there
used to be heaps of Injuns around here—thousands—millions, I reckon, far as
that's concerned. Reg'lar sure 'nough Injuns—none o' yer cigar store Injuns,
not much. They wuz all around here—right here where you're standin'.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Don't be skeered—hain't none around here now, leastways no live ones. They
been gone this many a year.<o:p></o:p><br />
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They all went away and died, so they ain't no more left.<o:p></o:p><br />
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But every year, 'long about now, they all come back, leastways their
sperrits do. They're here now. You can see 'em off across the fields. Look
real hard. See that kind o' hazy misty look out yonder? Well, them's
Injuns—Injun sperrits marchin' along an' dancin' in the sunlight. That's what
makes that kind o' haze that's everywhere—it's jest the sperrits of the
Injuns all come back. They're all around us now.<o:p></o:p><br />
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See off yonder; see them tepees? They kind o' look like corn shocks from
here, but them's Injun tents, sure as you're a foot high. See 'em now? Sure,
I knowed you could. Smell that smoky sort o' smell in the air? That's the
campfires a-burnin' and their pipes a-goin'.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Lots o' people say it's just leaves burnin', but it ain't. It's the
campfires, an' th' Injuns are hoppin' 'round 'em t'beat the old Harry.<o:p></o:p><br />
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You jest come out here tonight when the moon is hangin' over the hill off
yonder an' the harvest fields is all swimmin' in the moonlight, an' you can
see the Injuns and the tepees jest as plain as kin be. You can, eh? I knowed
you would after a little while.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Jever notice how the leaves turn red 'bout this time o' year? That's jest
another sign o' redskins. That's when an old Injun sperrit gits tired dancin'
an' goes up an' squats on a leaf t'rest. Why I kin hear 'em rustlin' an'
whisper in' an' creepin' 'round among the leaves all the time; an' ever'
once'n a while a leaf gives way under some fat old Injun ghost and comes
floatin' down to the ground. See—here's one now. See how red it is? That's
the war paint rubbed off'n an Injun ghost, sure's you're born.<o:p></o:p><br />
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Purty soon all the Injuns'll go marchin' away agin, back to the happy
huntin' ground, but next year you'll see 'em troopin' back—th' sky jest hazy
with 'em and their campfires smolderin' away jest like they are now.<o:p></o:p><br />
<u> </u><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
From his pipe the smoke ascending<br />
Filled the sky with haze and vapor<br />
Filled the air with dreamy softness,<br />
Gave a twinkle to the water,<br />
Touched the rugged hills with smoothness,<br />
Brought the tender Indian Summer<br />
To the melancholy north-land,<br />
In the dreary Moon of Snow-shoes.<br />
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br />
<i>Hiawatha </i>1855</div>
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An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-34285350529582208792012-03-31T10:59:00.000-04:002012-03-31T10:59:01.223-04:00Bluebells For Grand Dad<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-hM6WYUQ3BDYTR5a1rpojKAG33C9QOZ9eX92vv_EF1EJ24Wn8O9ugKQt3H1AU5ozsPUWitdeN-6vU6cbAZvO9LSRaLjLOrd0-_a8Ug3T8J-4sTwB7UH2SwLudwgOGJ79DKkZxpPJr2Q/s1600/110423-bluebells-2-1024x768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-hM6WYUQ3BDYTR5a1rpojKAG33C9QOZ9eX92vv_EF1EJ24Wn8O9ugKQt3H1AU5ozsPUWitdeN-6vU6cbAZvO9LSRaLjLOrd0-_a8Ug3T8J-4sTwB7UH2SwLudwgOGJ79DKkZxpPJr2Q/s400/110423-bluebells-2-1024x768.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">Spring has come again, and with it the flood of new life and promise of beginnings. This is a favorite time for many of us. The extended Jones family is no exception. We had an annual family reunion that brought us together from across the country in April. It was a celebration of Roy H. Jones’ birthday but he never wanted it to be all about him. He hoped that we would get together to celebrate each other as well, so we called it the April Birthday.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">Grand Dad Jones was a popular man. He was beloved by his family, treasured by his community and widely recognized as a friend well met, hale and hardy. Part of Roy Jones’ legend was that he never said a negative thing about anyone. He denied this to me once, admitting that he had made a disparaging comment about a woman who had demonstrated poor parenting decisions. He called her in to his office and apologized, but felt badly about it years and years later. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Roy</st1:place></st1:city> died two months prior to his 97<sup>th</sup> birthday. Despite his advanced age, the outpouring of sympathy was overwhelming. We received letters from Senators. Newspapers told his story and the funeral was well attended. Perhaps the most beautiful tribute, however, came from his fifth child, Beulah.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTjqbo3YqW-dR6saKnQnaJiDHeI97uc3WFmeg58wlk_q2mFjQGU2BR5H5aeQmebsCfUFGRsot9XQMP1yuh-jxUJarN0xbCtio-mCBx0pCdXxc-3mvHe1s2sNv4ikEPfwzY6DJAKM3z6A/s1600/Aunt+Beulah+&+GrandDad+Jones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJTjqbo3YqW-dR6saKnQnaJiDHeI97uc3WFmeg58wlk_q2mFjQGU2BR5H5aeQmebsCfUFGRsot9XQMP1yuh-jxUJarN0xbCtio-mCBx0pCdXxc-3mvHe1s2sNv4ikEPfwzY6DJAKM3z6A/s400/Aunt+Beulah+&+GrandDad+Jones.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Beulah Williams and her father, Roy Jones</b></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">Spring came six weeks after her father’s death. He had lived with her for the last several years of his life. Beulah was a good daughter who was devoted, kind, patient and loving. Her home was empty without the presence of </span><st1:city style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Roy</st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">. One mild spring day, she drove her car out to </span><st1:place style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;" w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Allerton</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Park</st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;"> in search of emerging bluebells. The Virginia Bluebell thrives throughout </span><st1:state style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Illinois</st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">. It was Roy Jones very favorite and Allerton was a family gathering place for several April birthdays. Beulah loved the place and was fond of spending hours soaking in the beauty of the park. Somewhere in the shady parts of Allerton, she found some good plants to dig. They were placed in a bucket and carried to the place where her father was buried. That late Spring, and for many thereafter, bluebells flowered on my grandfather’s grave. They were the best and most appropriate memorial for Roy Jones. When all was said and done, he was a simple, beautiful man who was born, grew to adulthood, raised his family, lived and died within a few miles. His legacy is one of compassion and grace. He passed it on to his children. Beulah Williams was not only a recipient of those qualities, but one who continued to model them for the rest of the family.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt;">Thanks Aunt Beulah. I planted bluebells for you and Grand Dad this Spring. You both live on in our hearts and, hopefully, in the way that we treat other people every day.</span></div>An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-7817202987196606662012-02-03T07:10:00.004-05:002012-02-06T11:24:13.735-05:00Light Where There Is Darkness<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK33HStEXi_Vi88gf_Ptd0gl8fn-ZuzW-W3iloXX4bqaEncn1AXJj5m-svx517J5-ZJdlmVUOTsWRJXt9WJ6i4zuH6acotjb000dNFFi-Iy-DQqJR3rxXIXGd5EVUlXtFukEqfhmwX_Uw/s1600/Light+in+the+Darkness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK33HStEXi_Vi88gf_Ptd0gl8fn-ZuzW-W3iloXX4bqaEncn1AXJj5m-svx517J5-ZJdlmVUOTsWRJXt9WJ6i4zuH6acotjb000dNFFi-Iy-DQqJR3rxXIXGd5EVUlXtFukEqfhmwX_Uw/s400/Light+in+the+Darkness.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We have the ability to choose our attitude even in the worst moments of life. This truth was affirmed by Viktor Frankl who suffered interment at Auschwitz and other concentration camps. He lost his wife and parents while a prisoner in these places yet he found that the ‘salvation of man is through love and in love’. Viktor reached this conclusion, in part, by experiencing other prisoners who would walk through the barracks giving up their last piece of bread and offering kind words and hope. This powerful testimony to love helped him survive that which was practically unsurvivable. Dr. Frankl became a renowned psychiatrist and author of at least 32 books (among them "Man's Search For Meaning").<br />
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We are given sparkling little glimmers of unselfish love and grace in everyday life as well. My dear life-long friend lost his father this week. Harry Cox was a great guy. He was a high school and college track star whose records still stand. More importantly, he was delightful company with a ready laugh, humble heart and gracious spirit. There was no long suffering illness that had preceded his death and it was certainly unexpected. I called his son, my friend Gary, to offer the comfort of our friendship and to connect with him in his time of need. It was not long into our conversation that Gary began to tell me stories about my own father and mother and how grateful he was for their love and kindness. He talked about how welcomed he felt in our home and how much this meant to him. He recounted the powerful impact of their generosity. I suddenly realized that this wonderful friend was actually consoling me. He was sharing the joys of our childhood and ministering with compassion even at his own hour of deep personal grief.<br />
<br />
This choice of attitude is not an acquired behavior or ‘second nature’ but rather comes from a broken heart that remains unselfish and called to love. It demonstrates that brokenness is the common bond. It is from our brokenness that we can offer hope. Gary’s closing words on the phone to me were “You are a blessing.” May we all find ways to share such light in the darkness.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-64339674880482650332012-01-15T07:47:00.001-05:002012-01-15T07:55:52.344-05:00Restoring Trust<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqmB1iXBejFh8S84VJjcxuSizDAUjmJ5rbayH9c1WAWg8fBFq4gq6rsMF7cQupKqzKEr5OOUQ-gaE6HhD22YvC3zfVwp1zjb1noKQb-FtSMVQWHkRk3wAhODiIcVH62779-__LZhCyho/s1600/amends.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="363" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUqmB1iXBejFh8S84VJjcxuSizDAUjmJ5rbayH9c1WAWg8fBFq4gq6rsMF7cQupKqzKEr5OOUQ-gaE6HhD22YvC3zfVwp1zjb1noKQb-FtSMVQWHkRk3wAhODiIcVH62779-__LZhCyho/s400/amends.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>The theme this week at our treatment center in Upstate South Carolina recently has been "trust". This is not the easiest point of conversation for those of us who have betrayed ourselves, the ones that we love and almost everyone else with whom we are connected. Recovery from alcohol, drug and other addictions forces us to face the fact that many of our daily interactions were laced with half truths and lies. We could not really be trusted, nor could we trust. Sacred promises were broken as a matter of course. Alcoholics and addicts do not, however, have a corner on trust issues. We have all experienced betrayal and the erosion of faith and belief in someone or something that follows.<br />
<br />
Broken promises, lies, theft and abuse (physical, emotional or sexual) are the most common offenses perpetrated by people that we love and admire which diminish or destroy trust. The remnants of relationships that survive these transgressions are fragile, dysfunctional or badly broken. We are no longer able to go about our daily activities without worry, resentment, fear, anger or sadness. It seems that nothing will ever be the same.<br />
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Living with the burden of violated trust can be as destructive as the offense that caused the problem in the first place. Both victim and perpetrator feel like they are walking on eggshells and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Tension is in the air to one degree or another most all of the time. We are afraid to talk about it because the arguments never end well. So there exists an elephant in the living room that everyone unsuccessfully tries to ignore. We are never fully comfortable with each other. This kind of situation cannot continue and there is no reason to let it do so. We must either take specific steps to resolve the issue or end the relationship once and for all. <br />
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Resolving the issue is always the best idea except in cases of abuse. Those who resort to physical or sexual abuse cannot be given another opportunity to offend. It is too dangerous and the chances of resuming a healthy relationship are practically impossible. Emotional abuse can be just as harmful and destructive. The best idea is to get out and get away from people who hurt us in these ways. It is easier said than done but must be carried out none-the-less. Our obligation is to forgive ourselves for staying around as long as we did and separate from the situation as soon as possible.<br />
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Resolution of non-abusive broken trust is something that requires the active participation of both victim and perpetrator. The recipient of wrong-doing must consciously decide not to be a victim anymore. This requires a recognition of the resentment that exists in the wake of betrayal. Carrying around resentment does no good. It is like dragging a garbage bag of decaying food everywhere we go. It rots, smells and creates a health hazard. We have to put it down and dispose of it if we want the relationship to continue. We have the uncomfortable task of owning our part in the resentment. It is not easy to see that we have participated in a failing of trust when it is so obvious that the other person has committed the offense. The truth is, however, that there is always some part that we have played. Sometimes it is just that we hang on to the resentment but usually is more than that. Owning our part allows us to let go and move on. We can change our behavior but we mostly spin our wheels when we try to change others. Have we carried suspicions without openly confronting the problems? Have we been so eager to please that we ignored the truth? Do we tend to stick our head in the sand? Have I made it difficult to tell the truth in the relationship by promoting guilt and shame? Have I been judgmental and unapproachable? These are all questions that might lead us to owning our part in the situation. We have the opportunity to open up dialogue with the perpetrator, ask for forgiveness, offer forgiveness and make new vows of trust. We must also confirm that we will not accept the offensive behavior in the future. We will live in the present and put the past behind us but we will not be put in the situation again.<br />
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The perpetrator of betrayal has the burden of work to do in creating an environment of trust in a broken relationship. We must openly admit our transgression, ask forgiveness and to do what is necessary to make amends. Amends making is more than admitting our wrongs. It requires direct and sometimes long term action. Not only must we promise not to repeat the behavior but we must also make dramatic changes in the way that we operate. I struggled with alcoholism for the first four years of our marriage. My wife, Bonita, suffered through my lies, half truths and deceptions. She watched as I lived a double life and continually supported and loved me through it all. My offenses were many. When I finally sought treatment and achieved sobriety, Bonita was left with the baggage of betrayal. She had little reason to trust me and there was much work to do. She did her part. Mine was to make a vow to remain abstinent and to grow in recovery. I also made a promise to myself that I would treat her like a princess for the rest of my life. She would never have to do laundry again. I would cook and clean for her. I would remember to say 'I love you" and be a good listener. I would not argue and would present the positive side of my perspective at every turn. It has been almost twelve years and I'm still at it. I try to maintain trust by actively 'telling on myself' to the best of my ability if I have been dishonest or otherwise injurious. Apologizing when mistakes are made and correcting missteps immediately is important in keeping the trust. My amends making has helped to make a happy home for us. I cannot be more grateful. This ongoing attitude of gratitude is necessary if we are to be responsible for betrayal and breaking trust. We must be willing to do whatever it takes.<br />
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Trust may be fragile but it can also be mended. It takes everyone involved to do so. There is nothing more important than our relationships with family and friends. They endure far beyond all of the things that we think are so valuable.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-77030294426542063962012-01-06T06:39:00.001-05:002012-01-06T15:52:02.063-05:00An Epiphany<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCzfX_HNBrWpt6zaM7aWqD6kWb1sTTEq-Hf5OdkcLJxYtggRDxhVMCimnWv7hQYan8alkEKbgncZ3rMeE_kOJQp5qyVoJNDelAzpZ_sfxh3NI5p1lgw5UdyuOVsc-HO5A13Xpa8OiDQ1I/s1600/Ah-Ha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCzfX_HNBrWpt6zaM7aWqD6kWb1sTTEq-Hf5OdkcLJxYtggRDxhVMCimnWv7hQYan8alkEKbgncZ3rMeE_kOJQp5qyVoJNDelAzpZ_sfxh3NI5p1lgw5UdyuOVsc-HO5A13Xpa8OiDQ1I/s400/Ah-Ha.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Christmas ends with Epiphany. There is a mystical “Ah Ha” moment associated with Epiphany and it tends to come from the darkness. Many (if not most) of us have reached some point in life where hope seemed to be lost. The experience is sometimes described as a kind of bottomless black hole. I’ve been there and myself and can testify that there is never enough uplifting news or celebration to lift you from that dark place. What it does take is a total shift in consciousness. When this happens, God and nature actually create order out of what appeared to be chaos. The struggle that I was engaged in was pointless. I awakened one night to the realization that the only thing that really mattered was love. This generated a phone call to my wife, Bonita, who had been waiting for my return to the living. We were reunited. My consciousness radically shifted and my life changed forever. It was the perception change I needed to have the courage to face my inner dragons.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is love that provides light and overcomes the impossible. Only love will do. Riches, power and fame are transient and turn to dust. The comfort and security we seek cannot be found in any of these. It can only be found in love. Love endures even beyond our lifetime. Everything else is a footnote.</div><br />
It seems that we are in some kind of wrestling match with life. There is this tremendous struggle to conquer and win. If we could begin to devote only a fraction of that effort and energy to loving God, our neighbor and ourselves it would change the world. Imagine instead of criticizing, picking out the negative and trying to control everything and everybody that we exercised the power of love by listening, empathizing and offering support. What a difference it would make! Outcomes and bottom lines would become irrelevant.<br />
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Today is the feast day of Epiphany. Let go of the worry, hurry and hate. Reflect the love that shines inside of you and be an instrument of that love regardless of your circumstances. This is the true awakening for which you have been waiting. Nothing else matters. So let go of control and let your love light shine. If you persist in it nothing will ever be the same.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-83929177213829827272012-01-01T07:43:00.000-05:002012-01-01T07:43:04.361-05:00Happy New Year 2012<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3qbIeRuSWckpGGoCKbcR6d30RS2lfP5dUk-D43JP9tGIkKvaD71m1_qidtGekKfjoBalx66QYFCIzMrXoP8IjuCBvXAN-SO-tZEaO4B9At1gwmoH_TaIJuQ3bmPrhpcQLVih3-3v0rM/s1600/New+Year.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3qbIeRuSWckpGGoCKbcR6d30RS2lfP5dUk-D43JP9tGIkKvaD71m1_qidtGekKfjoBalx66QYFCIzMrXoP8IjuCBvXAN-SO-tZEaO4B9At1gwmoH_TaIJuQ3bmPrhpcQLVih3-3v0rM/s400/New+Year.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">May God give you... </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">For every storm, a rainbow, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">For every tear, a smile, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">For every care, a promise, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">And a blessing in each trial. </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">For every problem life sends, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">A faithful friend to share, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">For every sigh, a sweet song, </span></em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">And an answer for each prayer. </span></em></strong></div>An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-7976835882685890352011-12-31T07:36:00.004-05:002011-12-31T07:46:42.707-05:00Our Best Resolution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyOtNUORxZl3oCWTtHkCgK0FqvHB0766g2YEjFgNwnMdG8qiyO0u6gwLKtP74CneA-OdZYz1jNKY7A4JKV9dWeT7BP0EB08jW52pEA321d596yWYslmICCDYgZZH2LAKFq1y4APDYPN6A/s1600/Father+Time+Overcome+by+Love+Hope+and+Beauty+1627+Simon+Vouet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="306" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyOtNUORxZl3oCWTtHkCgK0FqvHB0766g2YEjFgNwnMdG8qiyO0u6gwLKtP74CneA-OdZYz1jNKY7A4JKV9dWeT7BP0EB08jW52pEA321d596yWYslmICCDYgZZH2LAKFq1y4APDYPN6A/s400/Father+Time+Overcome+by+Love+Hope+and+Beauty+1627+Simon+Vouet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">A brand new year is coming! Many of us will celebrate with old traditions, friends and loved ones. Some of us will spend a quiet evening at home. Some of us will be alone. No matter how we mark the end of one year and greet the new one, it is customary to list the changes that we hope to make in the coming year. A New Year blessing that I heard once goes like this, “May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions.” </span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">It is true that we usually fall back into the same old habits not long after January 1st but our intentions are good. I think that some of the desire to do better and to be better comes from the selfless behavior that is generated during Christmas. We wish that we could continue to appreciate each other and extend ourselves as we have done for the weeks prior to the end of the year. There is a beautiful work of art shown above by the French baroque artist, Simon Vouet created in the seventeenth century. It depicts Love, Hope and Beauty overcoming Father Time. This is the victory that we long for as we make our resolutions. However, the seemingly relentless march of time catches us up with all of the duties and doings that occupy our every waking moment. Promises to change give way to busy schedules.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There is a story that I often tell which relates to this subject. It goes like this:</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The Devil has become concerned that there are not enough souls entering into his domain based upon calculations of population increase on Earth. He calls his three minions together and casts blame upon them for declining intake census. They are directed, one at a time, to go up to the land of the living and conduct some research that will turn the tide of souls in Hells favor. There is also a warning that accompanies The Devil’s command, “If your idea does not please me,” says Satan, “You will be reduced into eternal cinders by the power of my rod!” The first minion departs and returns shortly. He is asked for his findings and reports that “All we must do is spread the word that there is no God.” Lucifer becomes enraged. “No God! You fool! If there is no God there is no Me!” He points his dreaded staff at the minion and reduces him to ash. The second minion departs and spends quite a bit more time on Earth wandering about in fear of the consequences. He finally returns and has a slight air of confidence. He tells Satan, “All we must do is tell the people that the holy scriptures of all religions are lies and must be destroyed!” The Devil becomes even more infuriated. He screams, “You idiot! Destroy the scriptures? Have you not heard that the rocks and stones themselves will testify in the absence of The Word?” The quaking minion meets the same fate as his fellow. Satan turns to the third of his subordinates. He said “You better make this good!” The third minion spent a long time in his research on Earth. When he finally returned The Devil was waiting with his staff already prepared for destruction. The little minion raised his hand and, with a slight smile, told Satan this, “I have the answer my Lord. All we have to do is tell the people that they have PLENTY OF TIME.” Satin smiled, knowing that the problem had been solved.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We have this moment, here and now. It is our opportunity to not only make a resolution that will be meaningful, but one that will truly overcome Father Time. It is summed up in the wisdom and teachings of the ages. We should not discount it for what seems to be simplicity. For it is far from simple. The ultimate resolution is this. Love one another. After all is said and done; only love endures.</span>An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-26542640142115334672011-12-24T08:51:00.006-05:002011-12-25T08:25:36.744-05:00Wonderful Heroes<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pY2VD3WzpvY" width="420"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: left;">Heroes are not really in such short supply even though they are sometimes difficult to identify. We can find them right alongside the angels in our lives. There is no need for costumes and capes or super powers to rescue us. They save the day in small and sometimes large ways...just because it is the right thing to do. One of the great representations of this kind of hero can be seen over and over again during the Christmas season in the characterization of George Bailey in “It’s A Wonderful Life” by Frank Capra. As a boy, the selfless George Bailey saves his little brother’s life on an icy pond and later stops his boss, Mr. Gower, from accidentally poisoning a customer. He grows up and sacrifices his own plans and dreams to rescue his home town from the greedy clutches of Mr. Potter (who is as despicable as George is virtuous).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_N1VFKZ3cOKudPzKLkPjw3fpTrJOJa8TgxoPWF9obv6rU5yz29WUbHQ9TbEadMUb9KdkMjb6wAQ9mKJ4hboxaXCxNcwVanA8Wn5CbkxbO3lMLjYb67McCfxn6LiEKlDSjMrPBiUK-FqY/s1600/georgedruggist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_N1VFKZ3cOKudPzKLkPjw3fpTrJOJa8TgxoPWF9obv6rU5yz29WUbHQ9TbEadMUb9KdkMjb6wAQ9mKJ4hboxaXCxNcwVanA8Wn5CbkxbO3lMLjYb67McCfxn6LiEKlDSjMrPBiUK-FqY/s320/georgedruggist.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>George Bailey is memorable for his good deeds but is unforgettable because he is so human and so accessible. George is as fragile and flawed as any of us. His brokenness makes him real and allows us to recognize heroism even in our own character. In the story, His Uncle Billy misplaces an $8,000 deposit by putting it right in the hands of Mr. Potter. Potter issues a warrant for George Bailey’s arrest in a show of power and need for revenge.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJWKHy6GIrYpgZ7yaOEHxzUVDnVQCIm5-HfwFH8IyNIUTsSqyQEkQqecM0xFoWK2nL_759JISkpcTCwIZ3yDeZeKiRvFvlw1epvB9Gx1yVMyHROQAL-hWSy6NpQbzn-9lynW-G8nRueU/s1600/uncle+billy+%2526+mr+potter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJWKHy6GIrYpgZ7yaOEHxzUVDnVQCIm5-HfwFH8IyNIUTsSqyQEkQqecM0xFoWK2nL_759JISkpcTCwIZ3yDeZeKiRvFvlw1epvB9Gx1yVMyHROQAL-hWSy6NpQbzn-9lynW-G8nRueU/s1600/uncle+billy+%2526+mr+potter.jpg" /></a></div>The seemingly unalterable approach of destructive consequences or outcomes in our lives causes feelings of fear to intensify beyond toleration. We sense everything as so far out of control that we can do nothing to stem their tide. George Bailey was in just such a predicament. His pending arrest and the subsequent scandal would not only confirm his secret negative self concept but would also ruin his wife, children and family. He tried to deal with the situation head-on but failed to get a solution. George believed that there was no way out. His feelings became more and more exaggerated. Hopelessness, shame, worthlessness and panic can cause people to do things that would otherwise be unthinkable. George Bailey decided to kill himself. The world would be better off had he never been born.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFfRp9Kvh5AsIjkV48UNH8I3JsPGb4S4fRM_MjUGnJCe4RX7tajEnS_FCfn4WdKplWZwkC8vWkEJsuxfcJQK8VplQV-6T3x-TEtaqqM61xXfvHKIwqLzJP5tANgeeeFZKXjawHtfJgbc/s1600/geo+bailey+despaired.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFfRp9Kvh5AsIjkV48UNH8I3JsPGb4S4fRM_MjUGnJCe4RX7tajEnS_FCfn4WdKplWZwkC8vWkEJsuxfcJQK8VplQV-6T3x-TEtaqqM61xXfvHKIwqLzJP5tANgeeeFZKXjawHtfJgbc/s400/geo+bailey+despaired.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>We all know what happened to George Bailey. His eccentric and somewhat simple little guardian angel shows up to stop the tragic plan. Ultimately George is given the opportunity to see just what the world would have looked like if he had not existed. His witness of the real impact of his good deeds and heroism provide a perspective of what is really important. He experiences an inner transformation that dispels self doubt, self loathing and inadequacy. The love, appreciation and warm regard for George Bailey by family and community are ignited in an effort to resolve the impending doom of his crisis. The outpouring of affection, prayer and divine intervention work of course. Everyone is changed including Clarence the angel who gets his wings.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdukep4N7fqpn18Ro5WtErzn-AZaUO2GlOPfdjXYXIyWYwfV6zA6mUiCF0WAmNrqGuX2Y2foD979nO05d93uEz6yuH-7-ToZzdXs9VsDnZj5ijpjpHv-3gJ_Ng8A4X025tXtqi5dmyeB8/s1600/wl_002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdukep4N7fqpn18Ro5WtErzn-AZaUO2GlOPfdjXYXIyWYwfV6zA6mUiCF0WAmNrqGuX2Y2foD979nO05d93uEz6yuH-7-ToZzdXs9VsDnZj5ijpjpHv-3gJ_Ng8A4X025tXtqi5dmyeB8/s400/wl_002.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>We experience one of the profound lessons of “It’s A Wonderful Life” in a variety of ways (especially at Christmastime). Something incredible happens when we give deeply of ourselves without regard for personal comfort. Nothing will ever be the same. Our efforts to provide help to the helpless and hope to the hopeless will shine a light in the darkness that cannot be extinguished. Both hero and victim benefit equally. We are not given any information that would lead us to think that Mr. Potter is somehow transformed but I believe that he was. The ripple effects of goodness can create a tidal wave that will rock the world even of those who seem to have the most hardened of hearts. Another important lesson of "It's A Wonderful Life" is the celebration of the selfless everyday-hero. We are reminded that not only do we need heroes...and there are times when heroes need us...but also that each and every one of us is, in fact, a great hero.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-36077662732222498762011-12-20T07:02:00.000-05:002011-12-20T07:02:25.173-05:00Redemption and Recovery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKqfpyfZ65PGAKejLxT-Tm4vSF94v6LPGvH6gegf5Awj8x6cl_4locaJLvPcEvLeOS4DhoLE-42bToOSJYaW5V_Jr7vWjehV9dYJsHTlxhqpON1Z9-ij5FGmKCwRVYg_HaAxxRt-M8VY/s1600/humbug-scrooge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKqfpyfZ65PGAKejLxT-Tm4vSF94v6LPGvH6gegf5Awj8x6cl_4locaJLvPcEvLeOS4DhoLE-42bToOSJYaW5V_Jr7vWjehV9dYJsHTlxhqpON1Z9-ij5FGmKCwRVYg_HaAxxRt-M8VY/s400/humbug-scrooge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong>Ebenezer Scrooge</strong></div><br />
“Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail…This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story.” ~ Charles Dickens<br />
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The classic Christmas Story is “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens. It has been told over and over, filmed, cartooned and lampooned. Most people know it well. There is a special message for living life in this tale of death. The opening lines, captured above, set the stage for Ebenezer Scrooge’s redemption based upon his friend’s miserly demise. He is visited by this most important ghost forthwith. Jacob Marley wants for Scrooge to avoid the heavy chains that he has been doomed to carry. He warns, “I girded them on of my own free will and of my own free will I wore them.”<br />
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It takes a lot for Ebenezer Scrooge to change his life. He is an unwilling subject and comfortable in his misery. How many of us can admit the same sad condition? We seem to make the frequent choice to just keep doing what we have always done. Sure we have regrets. But it is too late to change now. Is it really? I think not. My own personal transformation from alcoholic to recovery is a testimony to this. In addition, I am surrounded by dozens and dozens of people who are making those hard changes every day. It is inspirational. Lives are not only saved but redeemed in ways that are almost unbelievable.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYsyE8imtTW8A_uNE2r2YCG5T9f-bY7U03cAaXSTO6BeWj707JMb4pQega1ZaAbA0Zx83Zvtj_kk8AyNYjsUF4AcelEycrFljISXZ0vsFjnHt0MJKrfq8NcAAimEXXoJjBLqwgp_5GwDU/s1600/Alistair-Sim5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYsyE8imtTW8A_uNE2r2YCG5T9f-bY7U03cAaXSTO6BeWj707JMb4pQega1ZaAbA0Zx83Zvtj_kk8AyNYjsUF4AcelEycrFljISXZ0vsFjnHt0MJKrfq8NcAAimEXXoJjBLqwgp_5GwDU/s320/Alistair-Sim5.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Redemption is a process. The 12 Steps that were discovered by Bill Wilson, Dr. Bob Smith and Alcoholics Anonymous are a means for achieving such deliverance. They closely match the journey of Ebenezer Scrooge. On the morning of his awakening, Scrooge finds that he has another chance at life. The Albert Finney musical version of “A Christmas Carol” delivers these lyrics in the song “Begin Again”: Scrooge says, “I’m alive! I’m alive! I’ve got a chance to change and I will not be the man I was.” Then the song starts:<br />
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<em><strong>I’ll begin again, I will build my life,</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I will live to know that I’ve fulfilled my life.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I’ll begin today, throw away the past,</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>and the future I build will be something that will last.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I will take the time I have left to live,</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>and I’ll give it all that I have left to give.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I will live my days for my fellow men,</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>and I’ll live in praise of that moment when</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I was able to begin again.</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I will start a-new, I will make amends,</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>and I’ll make quite certain that the story ends</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>on a note of hope, on a strong amen,</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>and I’ll thank the world and remember when</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I was able to begin again.</strong></em><br />
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He then sets out to do the work of repairing his wrongdoing and carelessness. He sends a Christmas turkey to his clerk and his poor family for a feast. Then he dresses and goes out into the town heading for church. Scrooge finds one of the gentlemen that he has berated in his shop the day before. The man had been taking up a collection for the poor and only received a lecture on the folly of his endeavors. Scrooge approaches him, asks forgiveness and makes such a generous contribution that the man is overwhelmed. He tells the man “A great many back-payments are included in it, I assure you.” Afterwards he goes to church and wanders about the streets patting children on the head, assisting beggars and enjoying every sight and sound of the day. The Alistair Sim version of the story has him approach his nephew’s house. He encounters his nephew’s wife saying, “Can you forgive a pig-headed old fool with no eyes to see with and no ears to hear with all these years?” Scrooge makes direct amends. He then goes about the business of living life differently. Dickens puts it well in the closing of the story:<br />
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Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him. <br />
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He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!<br />
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This Total Abstinence Principle was not a way of life that Dickens endorsed. But he was well aware that it was necessary for those who have the mission of redemption in heart and mind. It is necessary for us because we have so much to do. We are beginning again.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhRxXEBV3_JZCdfcEak8vwviGyXIS20vrM3aFCBxq5aXZuaYerIGztsZ_Zu8mKalfDIB57hcg6spwap8zUFjjYIGyH8P0mgZY7H712nDnyz9mnxJi5-HJncvvJN3NOQZ0BNqJWLdU-og/s1600/tumblr_ldzjmseHEc1qejzfdo1_500.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOhRxXEBV3_JZCdfcEak8vwviGyXIS20vrM3aFCBxq5aXZuaYerIGztsZ_Zu8mKalfDIB57hcg6spwap8zUFjjYIGyH8P0mgZY7H712nDnyz9mnxJi5-HJncvvJN3NOQZ0BNqJWLdU-og/s320/tumblr_ldzjmseHEc1qejzfdo1_500.png" width="320" /></a></div>New beginnings are not just about avoiding negativity and wasting time. They are about the death of our old selves. They involve identification with the highest part of us. We are called to live out an expression of goodwill, joy, compassion, generosity, forgiveness, wisdom and peace. When we make this kind of change we will have discovered the touchstone of our souls. We will be able to understand and celebrate with Scrooge as he says, “I am a light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as a schoolboy. I am as giddy as a drunken man.”<br />
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Merry Christmas!An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-3220170250589947172011-12-18T08:30:00.003-05:002011-12-18T09:37:32.392-05:00A High Tech Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5cZCA80fQpJx6PnbDraqQH44FxRhJVv14_QzxfV1x-_YA-m562iR8p2epk99OLCWNr5pX1qhR_INnyII7qCLTYtnNG0o3g9pUET9AaEax3K3Nz5evB6fVipWkC0LW1pDAFLXsrkxzco/s1600/lg_santa_sixtythree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5cZCA80fQpJx6PnbDraqQH44FxRhJVv14_QzxfV1x-_YA-m562iR8p2epk99OLCWNr5pX1qhR_INnyII7qCLTYtnNG0o3g9pUET9AaEax3K3Nz5evB6fVipWkC0LW1pDAFLXsrkxzco/s320/lg_santa_sixtythree.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br />
1963 marked more than a subtle shift in my attitude and desires surrounding Christmas. I was a teenager FINALLY. It had been a tumultuous year for everyone. The President of The United States had been assassinated and an entire nation had watched it unfold before their eyes on television. We were unaware, for the most part, that there had been an end of innocence as well. This would unfold over the next several years. My personal innocence was pretty well over too. Puberty and sexual curiosity were blooming. Certainly Santa Claus was in my rear view mirror. No more wish lists of toys. I had formally announced that I was no longer to be called Bobby. My grandparents were spared from calling me Bob out of deference to their affection and age but everyone else was put on notice. Everything was going to be different.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM68solfucyiZHd9nVfirSC7dSM-q-jC8h1VJEiPYWiBQnt1-hvLdWGE1JzsqUv3Fnw4Obbn9nq6YR5aVSfNe5Um6hCL_Vf9RBihuEyeLkAKNsUU_0BW-HgUNRIS526hiUq1EP-3RsPlA/s1600/stock-photo-usa-circa-america-s-christmas-postage-stamp-shows-the-white-house-and-the-national-65022928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM68solfucyiZHd9nVfirSC7dSM-q-jC8h1VJEiPYWiBQnt1-hvLdWGE1JzsqUv3Fnw4Obbn9nq6YR5aVSfNe5Um6hCL_Vf9RBihuEyeLkAKNsUU_0BW-HgUNRIS526hiUq1EP-3RsPlA/s320/stock-photo-usa-circa-america-s-christmas-postage-stamp-shows-the-white-house-and-the-national-65022928.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>There was no vacuum created just because toys were “out”. I sure was not willing to settle for socks, underwear and sweaters for presents. No sir. The world of high technology had provided a whole new focus for this teenager. I desperately wanted a set of walkie-talkies…and not the Buck Rogers kid toy that had been around for years either. My heart was set on two channel, citizen band, high powered two way radios that would allow me to have field communications with my pals no matter where our adventures might lead us. Just the thought of having it made me feel like Dick Tracy. Closest thing to a 2-Way Wrist Radio that a kid could ever have! Just think of the juvenile delinquents that we could avoid and crimes that we could expose with walkie-talkies! My list of Christmas bounty also included a portable tape recorder. No would-be secret agent could be without a Craig Miniature Tape Recorder. Covert recording of adults would reveal the answers to the many secrets hidden from the younger generation. We could make records of our thoughts and inspirations. The possibilities were limitless. I also wanted Beatle music. The first album, Meet The Beatles, had not made it to the markets and devout fans would have to wait until January. There were still those single 45’s on my list though. Who could live without “I Want To Hold Your Hand”, “She Loves You”, or “From Me To You”? I ask you. Really! So there it was, a Christmas without little kid junk…strictly teenaged material on request.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQcG_tf97issXDeFct9Vbcaq18IcWwB35IFuIpw2A2HjTmv0NHD8uFvCN0m4GHbPuxnWzm65dQH6N_UNt7SoKGyVLipsEDCpn3wWLgR6MGlDZP88aTB4oKoK_y6zKthLPnsYSSP_YaKeo/s1600/dick-tracy-wrist-radio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQcG_tf97issXDeFct9Vbcaq18IcWwB35IFuIpw2A2HjTmv0NHD8uFvCN0m4GHbPuxnWzm65dQH6N_UNt7SoKGyVLipsEDCpn3wWLgR6MGlDZP88aTB4oKoK_y6zKthLPnsYSSP_YaKeo/s320/dick-tracy-wrist-radio.jpg" width="303" /></a></div>Christmas Eve was no longer celebrated at my grandparent’s home on Swisher Avenue in Danville. They spent longer winters in Florida now. Mom and Dad drove Daddy Baum’s Chrysler Imperial down to Hillsboro Beach while my grandparents flew. They were actually there when President Kennedy was killed. I had been staying with my friend, Scott Golden and just across the ravine from my great pal Mark Faulkner. Anyway, they were back on November 24 and a month later we would spend our first Christmas Eve without my dear grandparents. All of the presents were under our own stylish (and controversial) aluminum tree. It was a pretty nice display of gifts. Nothing like the mounds that existed with the larger extended family in previous years…but not bad! We had a nice dinner and went into the Sun Room like three grown up people might to begin unwrapping the year’s bounty. <br />
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Sure enough, my dreams had been fulfilled! Dad was the owner of a John Deere dealership and had obtained two extremely powerful Motorola CB, two channel, walkie-talkies that were strong enough for farmers to communicate with each other and families while at work. Wow! There was also the portable tape recorder and Beatle records along with some model cars to put together, the game Risk and, of course, clothes, underwear and socks (Geez). It was hard not to act as excited as a little kid but I was a teenager now. I expressed my sincere thanks as Bob Jones and excused myself to go call my buddy Steve Magin to make the big announcement. We had a tradition of calling each other on Christmas Eve. The phone rang and Steve answered. He asked the annual question, “What’d ya get?” I told him that he wouldn’t believe it. I got the walkie-talkies and the tape recorder. We were going to be in business. His excitement matched mine. REALLY hard not to burst with joy and anticipation.<br />
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I took the walkie-talkies to our Jones family Christmas gathering the next day in DeLand at Bondurant Place to share with my cousins. We sure had a lot of fun talking from the basement to the upstairs bedrooms and all around the farm outside. The rest of the holiday was spent exploring the world of two way private communication with Steve Magin and Gary Cox. Steve would take one of the units back to his house and we could talk under the sheets and blankets from way down the street after lights-out without our parents ever knowing what we were cooking up. Little did we know that our conversations were now privy to the ears of a ham radio operator on Commercial Street…on the OTHER SIDE OF TOWN. It wasn’t until a few days later that we heard the guy actually talking on his big time radio to someone in China or somewhere. Steve and I were talking to each other about important stuff when all of a sudden the guy said, “Hold on a minute. I can’t hear you. Those damn kids are interfering with the transmission.” DAMN KIDS? We were damn kids were we? Well he had been snooping where he shouldn’t have been snooping. We had just as much right on the airwaves as he did. A minor radio war ensued from that point forward. The guy on Commercial Street became another of those adult public enemies along with Steve-the-grouch and Tars Janitars, among others, who had a mission of making our lives difficult. No matter. We would overcome. Endless hours of entertainment would only be enhanced by this person.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53DHA45XiCvPM4DRgHXK5qb35og1ratBxuaR4nr5lnZmCRCptPMqrO2T7GC3P_WV7mKt3d8fyciQvUlKyuMzJRPp_OlKAkcNSoGouCHP6ZX0O8bri2AcfqRPLmLOhM1UH6Q2135XAS5g/s1600/The-Beatles-in-1963-002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh53DHA45XiCvPM4DRgHXK5qb35og1ratBxuaR4nr5lnZmCRCptPMqrO2T7GC3P_WV7mKt3d8fyciQvUlKyuMzJRPp_OlKAkcNSoGouCHP6ZX0O8bri2AcfqRPLmLOhM1UH6Q2135XAS5g/s320/The-Beatles-in-1963-002.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Life had changed. The Beatles blared from my Dad’s stereo system and conversations began to focus on the mystery of girls. High tech had taken over. We used the portable tape recorder to secretly record my parent’s cocktail parties, baited conversations with unknowing friends and made a historic taped session of a day in Duckville. Sorry, no explanation for readers there. Some things just can’t be made public. There are still too many adults listening in.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-6454629214649292612011-12-15T06:47:00.002-05:002011-12-15T10:24:02.315-05:00Christmas Beginnings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBm1wkTjuVLdygw36JbJ8Y5QjHrKu4TiiWjb-RX0_fk90xzwQ53ahtDJ_zR6SiLUtRi1WLqCwbacWGwHXS7S3f9jTEf1IrYA5IE6uF4BK0mtNNVhbhdbb8Q3ET9wjJwqZ408XoVq4PnO0/s1600/The+Shop+Around+the+Corner+%25281940%2529++5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBm1wkTjuVLdygw36JbJ8Y5QjHrKu4TiiWjb-RX0_fk90xzwQ53ahtDJ_zR6SiLUtRi1WLqCwbacWGwHXS7S3f9jTEf1IrYA5IE6uF4BK0mtNNVhbhdbb8Q3ET9wjJwqZ408XoVq4PnO0/s400/The+Shop+Around+the+Corner+%25281940%2529++5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong>From "The Shop Around The Corner" (1940)</strong></div><div align="center"></div>There is a great Christmas present to be found in the movie "The Shop Around The Corner" (1940) starring Jimmy Stewart, Margaret Sullivan and Frank Morgan (the wonderful Wizard of Oz) among others. It tells the story of budding, albeIt confused, love and friendship. Everything points to a Christmas revelation and does not disappoint. Other movies such as "You've Got Mail" were inspired by the light spirit and good humor of this classic. The movie is also gives us reason to look more closely at what life is really offering.<br />
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We are usually in a hurry or at least transfixed by our daily duties and obligations. There is a whir of activity that sometimes clouds our view and obscures the fact that the most magnificent things are going on right in front of us. The commotion and noise muffle the sweet sound of friendship and even deeper possibilities of relationships. Then comes the Christmas season in which the lights, decorations, generosity of strangers and anticipation of something wonderful surround us and give us pause. Suddenly, we become aware of some of the miracles that have been there all along.<br />
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Lonely hearts and missed opportunities can all find healing at Christmas. There is a conspiracy of beginnings that signifies the very message of the season. The world is created anew in the birth of a savior. Kings and shepherds gather together as comrades. The impossible becomes possible. There is no doubt about it. What a great opportunity to look more deeply, listen more closely, and open the gifts in front of us. It must be that the wonderful is coming.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-87043719385053863042011-12-14T07:09:00.004-05:002011-12-14T16:53:24.587-05:00Schemes and Gifts<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsY31LgxtFpHYfDVaSvpnPmTYDSn61obGksoFUjnXFJc45apkIbU87ZDetbAy2thNG5whyq13h6iZKpzrSNyZvfvc3gz7wYbXkJP_w3ORuz88PmO2GKTvZ6niYTDqtNPCr7dj0JXLmhLI/s1600/Cheaters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsY31LgxtFpHYfDVaSvpnPmTYDSn61obGksoFUjnXFJc45apkIbU87ZDetbAy2thNG5whyq13h6iZKpzrSNyZvfvc3gz7wYbXkJP_w3ORuz88PmO2GKTvZ6niYTDqtNPCr7dj0JXLmhLI/s400/Cheaters.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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There is a wonderful story told in a movie called “The Cheaters” in 1945. A wealthy family is having financial difficulty and hatches a plan to gain an inheritance for themselves by hoodwinking a long lost cousin who was the actual recipient. They also scheme to improve their reputation in the community by adopting a “lost man” and bring him to their house for the holidays. They find a news story of a washed-up actor who has attempted to commit suicide and bring him to their home. The actor proves far more than they bargained for and shows them some real truths about giving and living. He discovers the family inheritance plot and reveals the truth through an amazing recital of "A Christmas Carol". The story’s gift is received by the family and everyone is redeemed.<br />
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We go to great lengths to make things happen the way that we want. This is not about making simple plans. It is the process of taking complete control and trying to force an outcome. People manipulate, maneuver and coerce one another in order to achieve their sometimes selfish desires. The result is almost never what was really wanted. Those who have been forced into doing things that they don’t want to do are never very happy participants. Everyone ends up disappointed.<br />
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How do we abstain from plotting, scheming and controlling? The answer is to let go of the notion of outcomes all together. Examine the motivation behind your wishes and desires, get honest about what you need, know that you are loved and release people from your grips. There are gifts that will flow to us when we let go and let God. It is a transforming experience.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-58872333672583731262011-12-13T07:31:00.003-05:002011-12-14T17:00:24.082-05:00Splendid Transformations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimp1V0zSCPjALn2p3zhcAkAOuy3hkaTFwfgd-bJdkeWvthu2n-1xtkSYaYMZLYKriJwrI3U8KULvEyhKIvC08R1MojhYkMhKhEcsFu2gijDrjwdNE30cQ_IQWW-WY48dymh_T3pzt55q0/s1600/WereNoAngels11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimp1V0zSCPjALn2p3zhcAkAOuy3hkaTFwfgd-bJdkeWvthu2n-1xtkSYaYMZLYKriJwrI3U8KULvEyhKIvC08R1MojhYkMhKhEcsFu2gijDrjwdNE30cQ_IQWW-WY48dymh_T3pzt55q0/s400/WereNoAngels11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>From "We're No Angels" (1955)</strong></div><br />
One of my favorite Christmas movies was out of circulation, or difficult to find, for quite a while. It was remade in 1989 but failed to inspire or amuse in the way of the 1955 version with Humphrey Bogart. A favorite line from that 1955 classic is "We'll cut their throats for a Christmas present", Bogie, a convicted forger, remarks laconically. "That might spoil one's belief in Santa Claus." He and his pals, Peter Ustinov and Aldo Ray do no such thing of course. They soften and somehow are transformed into human angels who save the day for the family that they were going to scam. This theme of transformation is universally appreciated.<br />
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Stories, books and movies about transformation are a hallmark of the holiday season. We are fascinated by the incorrigible criminal who has his heart slowly softened by the people and events that surround him. It is captivating to watch the miserly old recluse become generous and loving. There is nothing funnier or more endearing than the fish-out-of-water finding a place to call home in an environment that had been hostile and unwelcoming. We just love to witness these kinds of changes. They lift us up and give us hope. Perhaps there is something even more compelling.<br />
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Rosabeth Moss Kant once said, "A vision is not just a picture of what could be; it is an appeal to our better selves, a call to become something more." It is at the heart of our own journey in life that we would become the ideal person of our dreams. We would love to have a magic wand waved so that our character defects would become opportunities for improvement and then to overcome them in a grand transformation. There might not be a magic wand but there is an illumination to guide us. The love, generosity, kindness and compassion that emerge at Christmas have the power to change us. All we must do is to become willing.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-72664369721205203812011-12-09T09:23:00.003-05:002011-12-13T19:23:14.999-05:00Bringing Glad Tidings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4z1wFDwhShiNoDiHclutonR0Cb9_t5wVBkiUq6hnTeN6KRYepSkb_G3aFLJfbkM8ZmcfGD-QNtUyXmuhk7kfZVVpK4QqJQipmby6tiUhuaABBWpsh_XM7cWCoMJZziZRk5TRdSJ0Uwps/s1600/1951-xmas-cratchit-raise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4z1wFDwhShiNoDiHclutonR0Cb9_t5wVBkiUq6hnTeN6KRYepSkb_G3aFLJfbkM8ZmcfGD-QNtUyXmuhk7kfZVVpK4QqJQipmby6tiUhuaABBWpsh_XM7cWCoMJZziZRk5TRdSJ0Uwps/s400/1951-xmas-cratchit-raise.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong>Bob Crachit's Raise from "A Christmas Carol" (1951)</strong></div><br />
According to the writer of St. Luke's gospel, an angel appears to shepherds at night and said “Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all the people.” It is difficult to imagine the awe and happiness that they must have experienced. I watch the 1951 Alastair Sim version of Scrooge, A Christmas Carol every year without fail. I imagine that the shepherds must have had the same dumbfounded expression on their faces that Bob Crachit had when his boss, Scrooge the miser, gave him a raise and told him that life was going to be different from that day forward. What an incredible privilege it is to bring good tidings, to speak well and to carry a message of joy! The changes that such communication brings to the lives of those who receive it are instant and have a lasting impact. And almost everyone will receive it. Most of us are hungry for good tidings and good news. When we hear it our spirits are lifted, we rise from the funk and the day takes on a glow of possibilities. It is hard to be dragged down after heeding a message of joy. The great change is evidenced in the words of Charles Dickens in the closing of A Christmas Carol when he states "He (Scrooge) became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world."<br />
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We all have the opportunity to bring good tidings and spread them wherever we go to whomever we meet. It is just as easy as carrying a downcast, forlorn, morose and melancholy demeanor. We can surprise and delight people with a different message. We can make the astonishing offer of Scrooge when he says, "I'll raise your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Bob." Now is the time to make the change. What is your good word? What do you have to add to the positive flow of life? What personal benediction do you have for your fellow human beings? Find the answer and carry the message! It is Christmas time. Life is good. By the way, it is always good...and always has been!An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-63554038486215857502011-12-07T12:14:00.004-05:002011-12-07T17:40:34.481-05:00Pearl Harbor ~ 70 Years Past<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwIr64DvYV10AkNj0D9HRTBvMH2J3YHJE6i4McEFTGMd-j0vNhoMakQgRE5RyZ8gMqxc2hyphenhyphengBHF340p9dzHKNPo3wtpxOnnEXK7IA76aSbcpaMU3WK3zm9cS4SDUmvv59SNFQwBmRO_0/s1600/USS_Arizona_Memorial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTwIr64DvYV10AkNj0D9HRTBvMH2J3YHJE6i4McEFTGMd-j0vNhoMakQgRE5RyZ8gMqxc2hyphenhyphengBHF340p9dzHKNPo3wtpxOnnEXK7IA76aSbcpaMU3WK3zm9cS4SDUmvv59SNFQwBmRO_0/s400/USS_Arizona_Memorial.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">USS Arizona Memorial ~ Pearl Harbor</span></strong></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The 70th anniversary of the Pearl Harbor attack which brought the U.S. into World War Two will take place today - at the exact moment the bombing began. 70 years is a long time. For those of us who are from the Boom Generation the day defined our childhood. For our parents generation the day redefind the world as they knew it. My Dad was listening to The Chicago Bears and Chicago Cardinals play in an NFL season ender that had great implications. The date that would "live in infamy" was announced and had more significance on the lives of players and listeners than anyone could have imagined. Dad signed up and served as a Naval Officer in the Marshall Islands at Kwajelin.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilpv4I-mLLD6PDggg8qJgF7yjtVxQCqdsrVFoTtLj_ksStwnGtNvsZJl0ovYS00v8z4tsKWawoUNE-jF8OgnPdMNOd-KieogZDYxmSWE7I3BDbd14GuPNLvIMUdHKj7GPb5eLB6QZjuMo/s1600/bears-1941.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilpv4I-mLLD6PDggg8qJgF7yjtVxQCqdsrVFoTtLj_ksStwnGtNvsZJl0ovYS00v8z4tsKWawoUNE-jF8OgnPdMNOd-KieogZDYxmSWE7I3BDbd14GuPNLvIMUdHKj7GPb5eLB6QZjuMo/s400/bears-1941.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">1941 Chicago Bears (Most of the team served in WWII after Pearl Harbor)</span></strong></div><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">A large ceremony to remember the Americans killed in the devastating attack by Japan will take place at 8am Hawaii time (an hour after this post is being written). 70 years ago Pearl Harbor was hit by hundreds of Japanese fighters, bombers and torpedo planes launched in two waves from aircraft carriers. Four of the eight U.S. Navy battleships at the base were sunk in the surprise assault, as well as several cruisers, destroyers and anti-aircraft ships. The attack was intended as a preventive action in order to keep the U.S. Pacific Fleet from interfering with military actions the Empire of Japan was planning in Southeast Asia against overseas territories of the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, and the United States.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBzxhFes_NKYvEILArAtb5YRf4g_SfzhKGbZwas8EkpRbw5RABbdX3XF-7aZWfpl830zkYEnnkZaXyCVjNgpwdqdZJSKQqGxqG9NaEmBejunoBoGhF8xs4LzqbWWrslLLUJCghfrla5k/s1600/g19930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFBzxhFes_NKYvEILArAtb5YRf4g_SfzhKGbZwas8EkpRbw5RABbdX3XF-7aZWfpl830zkYEnnkZaXyCVjNgpwdqdZJSKQqGxqG9NaEmBejunoBoGhF8xs4LzqbWWrslLLUJCghfrla5k/s320/g19930.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The base was attacked by 353 Japanese fighters, bombers and torpedo planes in two waves, launched from six aircraft carriers. All eight U.S. Navy battleships were damaged, with four being sunk. All but two of the eight were raised, repaired and returned to service later in the war. The Japanese also sank or damaged three cruisers, three destroyers, an anti-aircraft training ship, and one minelayer. One hundred eighty-eight U.S. aircraft were destroyed; 2,402 Americans were killed and 1,282 wounded. The power station, shipyard, maintenance, and fuel and torpedo storage facilities, as well as the submarine piers and headquarters building (also home of the intelligence section) were not attacked. Japanese losses were light: 29 aircraft and five midget submarines lost, and 65 servicemen killed or wounded. One Japanese sailor was captured. </span></span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Few of the people who served at Pearl Harbor are alive today. The Greatest Generation is almost gone and the survivor group that has gathered each year is disbanding after today. This day has been called Rememberance Day. Just as an aside...my Dad left the Navy for home on December 7, 1945. Let us never forget the heroes of Pearl Harbor and World War II. Thanks for your sacrifice.</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"></div>An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-79185831147563283472011-05-29T07:49:00.001-04:002011-05-29T12:06:39.671-04:00Memorial Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfONsOaqOHMj3FNqUvhcIJsNPOJiqjyMlKi7bJNoYOg6n6OZ-Qwku6ctCRlgfUG65ouuQ_3Ge-HCetE-BbygAxOJjTIj8PtXUZr5EcTaNaTijoF8Fn5bqtKhJ3bhkDkmAEKt6p5vMY1cU/s1600/Baum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfONsOaqOHMj3FNqUvhcIJsNPOJiqjyMlKi7bJNoYOg6n6OZ-Qwku6ctCRlgfUG65ouuQ_3Ge-HCetE-BbygAxOJjTIj8PtXUZr5EcTaNaTijoF8Fn5bqtKhJ3bhkDkmAEKt6p5vMY1cU/s320/Baum.jpg" t8="true" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">Baum Family Plot, Woodlawn Cemetery, Indianola, Illinois</span></strong></div><br />
Memorial Day has always been a day of remembering for me. My family prepared for the day by decorating the final resting places of loved ones. Mother and Aunt Helen would split the cost and energy of buying and planting flowers in Indianola, Illinois. Mom had the sad job of filling the urns and trimming the plot in Spring Hill Cemetery in Danville that had room for many but held only the remains of my sister who died of cancer at age 5. We visited graves and I heard stories about great grandparents and other relatives that had played important roles in my parent's lives. Dad might talk some about World War II, but never with many details. The discussion was mostly about the end of the war, not the horrors of battle. There is a video that is terrific taken of VJ Day, when the Japanese surrendered to Allied Forces in WWII. It is well worth the watch (be sure to turn up the sound...the link is below the picture)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDTB5bmQNO6MQAZBGysGH7uMBjgibQmyDjqXub_KRYfS0DX5G7GIdT5VMbMktobZEvRCuqCYIcG-j6IMfubIrLyb6MehIYPT2gBqFVmv8TzlsQAvvxfQBzd069sASO_sjirB8AwmLWfY/s1600/VJ+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDTB5bmQNO6MQAZBGysGH7uMBjgibQmyDjqXub_KRYfS0DX5G7GIdT5VMbMktobZEvRCuqCYIcG-j6IMfubIrLyb6MehIYPT2gBqFVmv8TzlsQAvvxfQBzd069sASO_sjirB8AwmLWfY/s400/VJ+Day.jpg" t8="true" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://vimeo.com/5645171">VJ Day in Hawaii</a></div><br />
The rest of Memorial Day was all about celebration. School was over. The swimming pool was open. There were parades and pony rides for little kids. The air of every neighborhood smelled of charcoal, hamburgers and hot dogs. Summer had started.<br />
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I think that the whole idea of Memorial Day is about remembering and telling stories. We will forget about the great lives and sacrifices made if this process is not honored. Each generation loses something of the one that went before. That is the way of things. More is lost, however, if we fail to pass on personal memories of family, friends and life that "used-to-be". It is a way to connect with our roots and a reminder of who we are. Moreover, this is an opportunity for coming home. Our long journey from place to place, person to person and experience to experience, can be tiring and overwhelming. Memorial Day gives us the chance to return to the familiar. There might not be a way to physically return to the places that we called home. We might not be able to visit or decorate the resting place of our ancestors. But, what a great time to pull out old family photo albums and tell the children and grandchildren about our loved ones who are gone. Let's spend some good time together by remembering this Memorial Day.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-39194987440516253382011-04-24T07:16:00.001-04:002011-04-24T07:29:29.148-04:00Easter Sunday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkNYHUVU33_JhrPSTMvvEG7g4oVTnpaH6j4szJkN98f2-nptvCYp38TMsvXuzRBbQ-bYAEoyTlgsgOhNMHUrKVV-Pw5r-Hy2Ni40Ld4Ah9FEX8pBcz8CsaO86C5Yo6yivMhDTIXNn6EE/s1600/picture-of-the-garden-tomb-of-jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkNYHUVU33_JhrPSTMvvEG7g4oVTnpaH6j4szJkN98f2-nptvCYp38TMsvXuzRBbQ-bYAEoyTlgsgOhNMHUrKVV-Pw5r-Hy2Ni40Ld4Ah9FEX8pBcz8CsaO86C5Yo6yivMhDTIXNn6EE/s320/picture-of-the-garden-tomb-of-jesus.jpg" width="281" /></a></div><br />
There is a most profound question that is raised on Easter Morning. It is posed by two men in dazzling garments who appear in a tomb, a burial chamber, to people who have come to verify the presence of a corpse. The shock must have been incredible and the question more than compelling. They asked, "Why do you seek the living one among the dead?" This remains as intriguing now as it was two thousand years ago. There is an empty tomb where we expected an abomination. There are angels when we anticipated the horrific. There is new life where we foresaw death.<br />
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We are called out of bondage on Easter. We are called out of our narrow thinking and limited perspective into a new dimension of understanding. It transcends the boundaries of religion, government and ideas about ourselves. We are called to a new life without the comfort of "black and white" even to the extent that death is no longer death. Earthbound eyes can no longer be fully trusted. The spiritual experience is no longer separate or something that happens outside of us. We don't have to wait for an apocalypse to find salvation. The salvation has already been given freely <em>to one and to all</em>. The kingdom and Easter are within each of us right here...right now.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-70114560737487155682011-04-23T18:52:00.001-04:002011-04-24T06:28:06.862-04:00The Easter Vigil<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivT3DOal33v0sXpwB4ymvHIFyvDmsnQOBE0oFI1UzsR0cJu6I1gWqqWq2_PtngJuMNOTI6gWzc-IxXCmANOfM_pSDh5B8gmg68BfkKFaXp32wOHax_aXYzSB_M0uYiwqAs0Na5XZf6CfE/s1600/1109673%257ECandle-Light-Emerging-From-the-Darkness-Posters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivT3DOal33v0sXpwB4ymvHIFyvDmsnQOBE0oFI1UzsR0cJu6I1gWqqWq2_PtngJuMNOTI6gWzc-IxXCmANOfM_pSDh5B8gmg68BfkKFaXp32wOHax_aXYzSB_M0uYiwqAs0Na5XZf6CfE/s320/1109673%257ECandle-Light-Emerging-From-the-Darkness-Posters.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>There comes a time when someone dies who we love dearly. It is devastating. Family and friends surround us, bring food and support that is at least vaguely comforting. The funeral and burial happen in a matter of such a short time. Then we are left alone. There are promises, some of them kept, of staying in touch. But within a few days we are on our own. People go about the business of living and so must we. The silence and emptiness is unbelievable. It is a time of being between two worlds. Nothing seems real anymore and we reside in a state of unknowing. Our relationship with life is being redefined. This experience is played out in The Great Easter Vigil.<br />
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Only a part of Christianity observes The Easter Vigil. I'm not sure why it isn't more universal because the ritual is quite powerful. The church is stripped of all vestments and ornamentation on Thursday night and remains barren through Good Friday and all day Saturday. The water is drained from the fonts. Lights are extinguished. It is dark, silent and empty. This is that period of in-between that we suffer after the funeral when family and friends depart. Visiting the church during this time prior to the Easter Vigil is somehow comforting. It gives us a sense of the universal experience of grief. Then the most wonderful thing happens at dusk. People gather outside of the church where a fire is started. The priest lights the Easter candle from the fire and then everyone lights their own candle from it. The light is returned to the inside of the church. It is the victory of light over the darkness, good over evil, love over hatred and joy over sorrow. This is the promise of new beginnings.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-40679467967922111022011-04-22T07:16:00.004-04:002011-04-22T07:26:39.254-04:00Woundedness<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRG3TtL7xr-OfgTeroctHA0u4cGqY3oKqfCH5QqwqqLtyOfTA135eYUhmW06Z2SFKZvZawGg1BTwUPoY0nDfRIFhM3o_i5xBKzSzCou-RFHqclIbr8NLhJD5uS2rLg7bRGEIXn19YYlTE/s1600/good-friday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRG3TtL7xr-OfgTeroctHA0u4cGqY3oKqfCH5QqwqqLtyOfTA135eYUhmW06Z2SFKZvZawGg1BTwUPoY0nDfRIFhM3o_i5xBKzSzCou-RFHqclIbr8NLhJD5uS2rLg7bRGEIXn19YYlTE/s400/good-friday.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There is no possible way to avoid the bruises and wounds that are received in life. They begin at our very birth and continue until death. Bruises and scrapes certainly hurt and are troublesome but we move on despite them. Wounds, however, are another matter and demand attention. Sometimes a wound feels so dark, deep and ponderous that it becomes a black hole from which nothing can escape. It is unbearable. No light can escape from the prison of injury. Our entire lives seem to be sucked in and defined by the wound. Any joy or happiness that came before seem distant and remote, almost as if they never happened at all. We have been stripped of our defenses exposing our vulnerability and mortality. The trauma has overcome us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am reminded of a version of The Fisher King when I think of woundedness. This tale is of Arthur who receives what would have been a mortal wound at the hand of The Black Knight. He is carried to an inner chamber where it is expected that he would die. The magical relationship that Arthur has with Merlin, however, makes death impossible. He lingers on and on as the wound drains and festers in horrible fashion. Merlin appears and informs Arthur that he can only be healed by water being poured from the Holy Grail (the cup that Jesus used at The Last Supper) over the affected area, Arthur sends his knights to the four corners of the world in search of the Grail. Each returns empty handed despite the most fervent efforts. One day the king's cook is preparing dinner for Arthur and decides that he just cannot bear to carry the meal to him. He is sickened by the grotesque, odorous wound. He snatches a young boy who he has taken in as an apprentice and sends him with the meal to Arthur. The boy approaches the king, unsure that he has found the right person at all. Arthur groans, "What is your business here boy?" to which he replies, "I have come to bring food to the king. Do you know where I might find him?" "I am your king" says Arthur. The boy looks doubtfully stating that he doesn't look much like a king. Arthur goes on to tell him about the battle, the wound, the magic and the Grail. The boy asks how one might even recognize such a cup and the king describes it as an ancient, simple wooden vessel made by a carpenter. Perhaps it was rather rough-hewn but beautiful to behold. None of his knights could find it and Arthur was ready to give up hope. The boy summoned all of his courage and with wide eyes said, "I have seen such a cup!" The king responds in disbelief asking where it might be. The boy tells him that it is just behind the curtain a few feet from the place where Arthur lay. He confesses that he sometimes hid behind the curtain and peeked at the curious patient with the horrible gash not knowing he was the king. Arthur orders him to retrieve it. The boy fills it with water which is poured over the wound. The miraculous healing is instantaneous. The king is saved, he adopts the boy, and...well you know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It is difficult to understand that the wounds we receive throughout our lives are the very source of our strength, character and identity. This is the lesson of Good Friday. The healing that happens as we endure and overcome them makes us aware of the part of ourselves that is invulnerable to being wounded. We transcend the wounding and our wholeness becomes realized. Like Arthur we are led to the realization that the healing power was always within our grasp. It cannot be obtained through will or force but only through childlike trust. Then when we ask for help it is given. Like Jesus, and with Jesus, we will transcend it all.</span>An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-39944305889376329412011-04-21T06:43:00.002-04:002011-04-21T06:51:54.297-04:00Betrayal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="312" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YRx2I5I7WvBmrYixfQgjSU1jjM12w_Eh8iPvAqnZLOJu1RnicVbPo2f1Jb1oMwfJOH_UaLt0DsQOGdhmzEBzN1zCAXwp2kY0WlEYaewUZfWW_Rv9Tu8RlUC0k5Ng1EnaGBrHAabkrlQ/s400/Betrayal.jpg" width="400" /></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">We certainly don’t like to talk or even to think about betrayal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The concept is disturbing and the act seemingly unforgiveable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Playwright Steven Dietz said: </span><span style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">“One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.” </span><span style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Yet, we have all been recipient of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, we have all committed at least small betrayals even to those that we love the most.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How victimized we feel when betrayed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How diligently we try to hide our betrayals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is anger and sadness on one side, shame and guilt on the other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No other action draws such deep emotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ask the pitiable question: “Why would they do this to me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there is no answer to follow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The one who betrays slinks into the night.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The greater the trust that one puts in another person, the greater the impact the betrayal has. The impact is always enormous. We feel as if we will never be able to trust anyone again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can we ever allow ourselves to become vulnerable in the future?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There comes an utter sense of helplessness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the pain and passive sense of loss turns active. The presence of retaliation looms heavy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This scene plays out as we mark Holy Thursday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus is betrayed by a kiss from his dear friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Confusion turns into violence as Peter draws his sword and cuts off the ear of a soldier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Jesus’ response is stunning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stops Peter and restores the soldier’s ear with his healing hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His action forgives his betrayers.</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If it is true that we are both betrayed and betrayer, we must search for the common humanity that exists in both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The confidences that have been compromised, the love that has been scorned and the trust that has been stolen beg for only one remedy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That single antidote for the poison of betrayal is forgiveness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Separation, isolation, resentment, woundedness, and rage can only destroy both victim and perpetrator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither can continue to exist with any measure of real hope without forgiveness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It may seem a bitter pill in many ways, but forgiveness is the vital medicine for healing betrayal.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-bidi-font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I will begin to forgive those who have betrayed me and pray for forgiveness from those who I have betrayed.</span></span></span></span></span></div>An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-49235573626081842312011-04-19T06:24:00.002-04:002011-04-19T06:27:06.752-04:00New Beginnings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-C9aFzgxjhZ8nU-hYKPho0FIEwh_eil8s8ov186P9w3dAYdYLuJhFUTkSYFMMhXb-qIB_CYuqwrmWixCUzeHgdDR6Rn1D1zxu6_8AYcKtKkTl6TU6bdeOCtkdz0OCaJpGZ0q5Qw9rew/s1600/New-Beginnings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-C9aFzgxjhZ8nU-hYKPho0FIEwh_eil8s8ov186P9w3dAYdYLuJhFUTkSYFMMhXb-qIB_CYuqwrmWixCUzeHgdDR6Rn1D1zxu6_8AYcKtKkTl6TU6bdeOCtkdz0OCaJpGZ0q5Qw9rew/s400/New-Beginnings.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Easter and Passover remind us that we <span style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">have the incredible opportunity to begin again with each sunrise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The things that did not turn out well, disappointments, tragedies and troubles of yesterday have vanished into thin air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The new beginning is here and now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can we ever imagine the amazing things that might happen if we fully participate in the process of today as it unfolds?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We drop the idea of expectations and adopt an attitude of gratitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course good things will happen and some tough ones too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The outcomes are determined by our positive thinking and resolution of beginning anew.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Walter Winchel once said that we should: "R<span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">emember today, for it is the beginning of always. Today marks the start of a brave new future filled with all your dreams can hold. Think truly to the future and make those dreams come true.” We give up on dreams too easily. They take a back seat to the daily grind of obligations. I once had a young patient who was struggling with very painful issues of abuse and addiction. He was only 14. The gritty determination to be well that he had was inspiring. At the close of his treatment he was on the road to real healing. His mother asked for a few moments after his last session. She thanked me for all of the help and began to weep. What would become of her when Shane graduated from high school in a few years and she was left alone? Her whole life had been dedicated, as a single Mom, to raising her only child. Her dreams of becoming an attorney had dissolved along with her marriage years ago. I asked her a simple question. What would it take to start studying to be a lawyer right now? She was dumbfounded. That was a ridiculous question. She could only possibly work in one class a semester (and that would be damn hard). It would take ten years at least. I asked another question followed by a statement. What will happen if you don't do it? In ten years you will be alone, working at a job that you hate. Or you can be a lawyer in ten years. The choice is yours. She looked at me strangely, thanked me, and left.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">I was living in the mountains of North Carolina three years after that conversation in Champaign, Illinois with Shane and his mother. I got a phone call one evening and it was Shane. He was bubbling over with news that he had just graduated from high school. I congratulated him and told him how proud I was. We talked for a few minutes and he asked if I would like to say hello to his Mom. I agreed and he put her on the phone. We were both thrilled for her boy. Then she told me her own great story. She had pursued the idea that we had talked about three years ago and things had gone well. Very well. Her announcement floored me. She was going to sit for the Illinois Bar that summer. Her dreams had come true. Her positive spin on 'can do and will do' had changed her life. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="color: black; font-weight: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The next time we face a difficulty we have a chance to wrestle with a ‘can do and will do’ state of mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ‘can and will’ improve our situation rather than agonize over it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ‘can and will’ have the life that we have dreamed of having.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing that can stop us is giving in and giving up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span>An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-78546297436397212552011-04-04T06:26:00.009-04:002011-04-04T09:34:07.063-04:00Living The Questions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1m970LBNdw6_Waa17q5ng1ik352lxw3QSv4UDqrhbMzB4jkgssbey5VanFKRMvHSz9qBakrNw5VChsvHHLRDvlyqXGzKV37hAOUeRL9EI520gdzLMRo0WqY7dVRDyoYWd8DKNYhU9jM/s1600/Sun+in+hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1m970LBNdw6_Waa17q5ng1ik352lxw3QSv4UDqrhbMzB4jkgssbey5VanFKRMvHSz9qBakrNw5VChsvHHLRDvlyqXGzKV37hAOUeRL9EI520gdzLMRo0WqY7dVRDyoYWd8DKNYhU9jM/s320/Sun+in+hand.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves</span><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">~ </span>Rainer Maria Rilke (Letters to A Young Poet)</span></span></div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The spiritual concept of “living the questions” has been somewhat maligned by religious fundamentalists for the past several years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has been misunderstood as a modernistic, self centered approach that threatens the institutional Church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The answers, it is said, are readily available in scripture and the teachings of those chosen to lead their congregations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is some truth to this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Institutions always fear that which might challenge doctrine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These kinds of challenges have historically created chaos which threatened the very foundations of religion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Martin Luther’s confrontation, for example, set Christianity on a path that ultimately changed the way that people worshiped and fragmented the Church into many segments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Living the questions sets us on a course of individual exploration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It does not confine us to established doctrine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is important to remember, however, is that it does not discount or discard that doctrine either.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma;"></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">G</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">od gives us a grand invitation to be something new in the world. Living the questions is about following a path into the answers rather than accepting someone else’s solutions. When we live the questions in our conversations, we are in dialogue with the people around us. When we live the questions as a way of life, we are in dialogue with life, itself. When we live our questions, we are always discovering new answers to them. Perhaps we shouldn't even speak of "answers". Perhaps living a question, living an inquiry, is like living with a fruit tree that continually generates fruit for our nourishment. There is never anything final about any particular apple from an apple tree. More will follow. They don't answer, they just nourish. Ultimately, questions can take us deeper into the meaning of our lives.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There are questions that lie hidden in our hearts. We notice them living within us if we look at our past and present lives with care. Some have been with us for many years; some may be fresh and new. Some may excite us; others terrify us into keeping them hidden. How we can learn to live these questions creatively, so that they move us toward living into the answer? We begin by recognizing and honoring the questions that we are already living. This is difficult because living the questions can be uncomfortable. Ours is not a culture comfortable with ambiguity: we want certainty, a clear-cut solution; we want to know what's right and what's wrong. Questions are meant to have immediate answers, so those that don't lend themselves to obvious or convenient answers get hidden away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Some of the most disturbing questions are those that we have been asking since we were quite young. Who am I? Where am I going? What does this all mean? There is substantial work to be done in following these. God asks us questions that are meant to lead us. Scripture offers us the first question from God to man: “And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day; and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the garden. And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, ‘Where art thou?’</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Where are you? Are you where your body is? Or where your mind is? Are you living fully in the pain and frustrations of the present? Or are you daydreaming about some past that never really was? Or fantasizing about some future that never will be? Are you standing up to be counted? Or are you going along with the crowd? Are you accepting the cost of your freedom? Or are you hiding among the trees of the garden? “Where are you”, the first question from God to man. Questions are very valuable. Our culture rushes for answers, but no answer means anything until we have followed the question.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We are afraid of questions. We think questions make us seem stupid or incompetent. The questions actually are our entrances to larger life. Not what we already know but what we have yet to learn is our growing edge. The poet Rilke counsels us to learn to love our questions. I believe there is a loving God, that God loves me, and that God loves all human beings exactly as God loves me. Following the questions is about this very faith. Faith is not only the decision to risk; it is also the power to make that decision. It is the courage to be, to affirm yourself in the face of all that denies us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Following the questions gives us an insight. It gives us the ability to say YES to ourselves when everyone seems to be shouting NO. It is also about being able to listen to that NO and hear what message it is sending from which we can profit. It takes a leap of faith toward a spiritual dimension. When we refuse to discount that NO but accept it as a component of our own path toward the answer, we are no longer bound by the model that set by those who are shouting NO. We will find the freedom to continue our search and point ourselves in the direction of God. We will be able to respond to God’s question “Where are you” with the answer “Here I am”. We will trust that if we move today by the finite and partial light that is given us that we will know more and different things tomorrow than we know today. We can be open to new possibilities that we cannot even imagine today.</span></div></div>An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-10545923766931176802011-04-01T07:34:00.003-04:002011-04-01T16:33:03.258-04:00A Sense of Humor<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_NRjzZK7L4Eu7_fxs4qgYYWiZwELyZd6aJf9FveSUkumy_7AQOLxsYpUXlZWrfU3P8GzDyVTh2wKRSbP_ROZ_BpXZSYpL70QtuKWtfdlYbgTavxEU4JNyiKeshCoG269yDLvHoBy_00/s1600/uncle+milty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_NRjzZK7L4Eu7_fxs4qgYYWiZwELyZd6aJf9FveSUkumy_7AQOLxsYpUXlZWrfU3P8GzDyVTh2wKRSbP_ROZ_BpXZSYpL70QtuKWtfdlYbgTavxEU4JNyiKeshCoG269yDLvHoBy_00/s400/uncle+milty.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong>Uncle Milty with Lucy and Ricky (Now that's funny!)</strong></span></div><div align="center"></div>Angels can fly because they take themselves so lightly. This phrase is attributed to Gilbert Keith Chesterton. He is obviously reminding us that we adults mostly engage in a somber approach to our daily lives. We forget to appreciate the humor and fun that accompany us. We do battle with our work, our finances and even our recreation, friends and families. We take inventory at the end of the day of what we have accomplished. We examine our to-do lists as if we have to prove we are worthy of breathing air. One of the paradoxes of life is that by taking ourselves lightly, we are actually better able to frame ourselves and our work more seriously. There seems to be an effort afoot to hide this great truth. It is not unusual to see grim faced people working at our grocery stores, banks, retail businesses and churches. They seem to be burdened with all of the great weight of the world. This demeanor is so prevalent that anyone who greets us with cheerfulness is almost suspect. What is happening to our collective sense of humor?<br />
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I work in a field of dire circumstances. The people that I serve (and who serve me) are engaged in a life and death struggle between addiction and recovery. Yesterday, I encountered a young man who embodies good humor. He has suffered plenty of loss due to his addictive disease yet continues to find fun in life. Tom sat across from me in my office and began to weave fun into our conversation. "Can my dog benefit from buprenorphine?" he asked. I was caught off guard and stammered out some line about dogs having similar pain receptors to humans and all mammals. This was his opportunity to spin a tale of doggie pain due to a medical condition, a veterinarian who admonished him for titrating the poor little guy too quickly off of his pain medications and finally the pet's withdrawal symptoms. Fido was sniffing at the medicine cabinet. Would Suboxone be an appropriate measure? I finally got it and joined in the fun. We talked in mock seriousness about Doggie-Anon and Pet Narcotics Anonymous. It was just great. Tom has not only embraced his own recovery but is having a good time with it. He is taking himself lightly.<br />
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There is certainly a time to grieve. There is also a time to celebrate and live life fully. We need to take notice of all the beauty and riches that surround us. We are not called to mourn our lives away but to give thanks, receive pleasure and be good to one another. It is time to have a good laugh. Let's break some of our adult habits and let loose with a joke. It will do no harm. Let's lighten up and fly with the angels. By the way...we are starting a chapter of NAP (Narcotics Anonymous for Pets) in Greenville, SC. Feel free to google us and bring your dog or cat to the next meeting. But only if they have admitted that they are powerless. <strong>SERIOUSLY</strong>.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2765661276262602700.post-8076171112993625342011-03-25T10:57:00.002-04:002011-03-25T19:23:58.831-04:00The Beloved<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZzyp9XipoOrcZDy-kEKvUeU251e8bZX9TGrozZK7G0NqKPLyx5oV5kuJQpiQbKncX_WpPX0N-kC9PW8T96FLOORBRb4fA8BCZ5mY4iiZ5QcloOl0-P843Eim4R_zm1zKjINvpK5i5QE/s1600/saint-francis-372x522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZzyp9XipoOrcZDy-kEKvUeU251e8bZX9TGrozZK7G0NqKPLyx5oV5kuJQpiQbKncX_WpPX0N-kC9PW8T96FLOORBRb4fA8BCZ5mY4iiZ5QcloOl0-P843Eim4R_zm1zKjINvpK5i5QE/s320/saint-francis-372x522.jpg" width="227" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Where there is hatred, let me sow love,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">where there is injury, pardon</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">where there is doubt, faith,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">where there is despair, hope,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">where there is darkness, light,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">where there is sadness, joy.</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">O Divine Master,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">not so much to be understood as to understand,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">not so much to be loved, as to love;</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">for it is in giving that we receive,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,</span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>it is in dying that we awake to eternal life</strong>. </span></div><br />
The life of Saint Francis is a model for our relationship with God. He gives us the exemplar of lover and beloved. Francis had a love affair with God. His personal story teaches us that we each are called to be the beloved. We are the ones who are pursued by God throughout all of time and eternity. We are chosen by him and carry the mark of his unqualified, unconditional love. Why, then, are we continually struggling? Why do we experience such sadness, lonliness, darkness and pain? <br />
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The paradoxical nature of our lives can be better understood when we absorb the Saint Francis Prayer. Troubles and difficulties that plague us can begin to be understood as gifts that lead us...just as the prodigal son was lead…back home and into the loving embrace of God our father. We hear the words that were given to the resentful son: “I am with you always and everything I have is yours” <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><strong>(Luke 15: 11-32).</strong></span> The Prayer of Saint Francis tells us that it is in forgiving that we are forgiven, in loving that we are loved and in understanding that we are understood. In other words, God seeks us regardless of our situation. This love is the very basis of our identity.<br />
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The knowledge of our incredible identity can enable us to make better decisions and improve our relationships with loved ones and other people in our lives. It allows us to discard negative depictions that detractors might try to hang around our shoulders. We are able to understand that the perspectives of others are truly only opinions and are filtered through their limited experiences with us. The only clear vision of our identity is the one of God, the lover. If we can only grasp a small measure of this identity and this relationship we will begin to act unencumbered by negativity. All we have to do is to remember who we are.An elephant for breakfasthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17135744405381708111noreply@blogger.com0