A BEAUTIFUL DAY

We were blessed with a glorious day today. Blue skies, sunshine and a temperature around 65. I could get used to this. I just need to remind myself that the first day of winter was only NINE DAYS AGO. But we take each day as it comes. The snow was exciting; now it's gone. But it will be back. Lois and I are reminded of when we lived in Florida, how a day like today would be a chilly winter day in December. Be thankful for each good day; there's a lot of other people who have it worse.

NEW YEAR'S EVE

The grocery stores were packed today, as were the liquor stores (we saw them as we drove by). Everyone getting ready to party in the new year. For most of my married life I partied alone, because my partner can't stay awake until midnight. Now that we are older, I have trouble staying awake until midnight. So we go to bed, then roll over when the dogs wake us up at midnight because they hear fireworks. Tonight we had a special treat. We celebrated New Year's with London, England, at 7:00 PM EST, by way of Nashville, Tennessee, with my daughter and her family, by means of speaker-phone. Thanks BBC.

Short blog tonight. See you next year.

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Father, thank You for bringing us through this year. Give us hope for the year to come. Let us love and laugh and live. Be with those who will wake up tomorrow and won't remember what they did tonight. And especially be with those who wake up and DO remember what they did --- and it wasn't good. We're all a work in progress, Lord, and that's what makes us special. We are Yours.

Amen

SO LONG, CHRISTMAS

Some folks leave their decorations up until New Year. Others leave them up until July. Still others never take them down. Not us. We gave them another five days; now they're gone. If you turn the M upside-down, ChristMas becomes ChristWas. As in Christ WAS born in Bethlehem. Jesus's birthday party is over, and everyone has gone home. Now people can stay away from church until Easter. Here's hoping that a growing number of Christmas observers will come to realize that the emphasis is less on who Christ WAS, but who Christ IS. He truly is life-changing.

SIR GIBBIE

Lois and I continue to re-read the works of George MacDonald. She is currently re-reading Sir Gibbie, written in 1879. Neither of us can read through a story without prompting some discussion between us on spiritual truths that we find. This story is about a mute orphan who is the closest resemblance to an earthly angel that anyone could hope for. He is the living persona of I Corinthians 13:4-7. He is eager to do what is put before him, going about his business cheerfully. Even when it was found out later that he was a laird (lord) by birth, it never detracted from his generous spirit. Lois and I compare ourselves to him, often finding that we come up way short. We are too quick to judge and rationalize. Hopefully, that is changing, be it ever so gradually.

PIZZA AND POCKY

Usually once a week our daughter brings her three boys over for a visit; our oldest grandson also joins us. The boys get along wonderfully. They hang out together for a while, then I go get pizza. When I got back with the pizza I asked one of the boys if he brought some pocky for dessert. I first learned of pocky over Thanksgiving when their father and they were trading quips about pocky, like, "My pocky can beat your pocky," or "Let's pocky off to the store." So on Christmas day one boy got some pocky in his stocking. Turns out it's a Japanese biscuit stick coated in chocolate, actually quite good. Normally after pizza we will play some kind of game. But since two of the younger boys got Nintendos for Christmas (their middle brother got one for his birthday), today was different. I can find a book to read or visit with my daughter, and the oldest grandson interacts with each of them, while working his ipod. One of the boys asked me to take the Brain Age challenge. It's a series of problems to solve, the results of which tell the estimated age of your brain. I'm sad to report that I have the brain of a 75-year old --- I'm 63 :(

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Lord, I pray that we can take the concepts of joy and giving from Christmas and make them a permanent part of our lives. I also pray that we might have the innocence of Sir Gibbie, always ready to do good. /// Thank you, Father, that our family from here to Nashville can come into our home and truly feel at home. May they always be aware that we love them dearly.

Amen

THE MAN FROM G.E.R.D.

When you get older your bodily functions become the centerpiece of many of your conversations. Bowel movements and overactive bladders aside, Lois and I are currently discussing our GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease). It's basically heartburn that has backed a moving van up to the base of your esophagus. I have suffered from it for decades; Lois is just starting to take it seriously. I take one prescription medication and one OTC (over the counter) for it, but I still get bouts of irritation. So we're trying to watch what we eat, as well as when we eat, like just before bedtime. You're supposed to not eat 3 hours before you go to bed. But who can stay awake 3 hours and not get hungry? I seriously need some willpower, because I don't want to face the advanced condition that can bring on esophageal cancer. Rev. N (previous blog) got it, and I'm told that it's a painful way to die. We are bombarded with warnings of serious conditions that affect millions of Americans. Yet we still refuse to lose weight, stop smoking and stop drinking. And waiting for a New Year's resolution won't cut it.

PROUD TO BE A DOCUMENTED WORKER

Oh right, I was born here. Well, it had to happen. The Latinos are now upset that, when they sneak across the border into the U.S., they are referred to as illegal aliens. Hello. Coming into this country without going through the proper channels IS illegal. And whether you come from Mars or Mexico, if you aren't a U.S. citizen, you're an ALIEN. As one news reporter put it, "This isn't just pushing the political correctness envelope; it's poking a hole in it." I get the desire they have to flee from the drug cartels and risk their lives getting into the Land of Plenty. But own up to your name, and stop whining about it.

FATHER, KEEP HER SAFE

Whenever Lois leaves the house to go to the store without me, or to a ladies meeting, I pray, "Father, please keep her safe." I've grown attached to her (have been for a long time), and I can't bear the thought of not seeing her again. I don't know if my prayer will actually protect her, but I want God to know that I'm wanting Him to watch over her. And for the record, I prayed the same prayer over each of my teenage daughters whenever they left the house without us. I even prayed it again when I was watching out the window late at night (or early morning) to see the car headlights coming up the street. I don't know if those prayers were necessary or effective, but all four of my girls are alive and well today. And for that I am thankful.

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Lord, you know I've asked before, but I really could use some help with my unhealthy ways. And I pray that when diseases do come (some already have), You will help my mind to focus on You until this earthly tent is discarded. /// Father, I think of You when I enjoy the privileges of living in the free world. I pray for those less fortunate; perhaps they think more of You because they are in need. /// Lord, I can't imagine the heartbreak of losing a spouse or a child. I am truly blessed by those You have given me and have increased my tent by son-in-laws and grandsons.

Father, please keep them safe.

Amen

WAKE UP TO MURDER

The first thing I do in the morning is take my coffee, go online and check out three things: weather, local news, then national/world news. At the top of the local list was a story of a man from a nearby town who shot his wife to death the day after Christmas. No reason was given for the murder. I can't imagine how it must feel to take a life. It's difficult enough to be on the killing end of a military conflict; to forcefully stop the heart of another human, especially someone close, is really hard to comprehend. Your first reaction is that the killer must be crazy, just what the defense attorney would want you to say. I suppose there has to be crimes of passion, along with premeditated murder. Does God love a murderer --- or just a crazy murderer? Where do you draw the line?

MY UNWANTED ALARM CLOCK

For many years I was awakened with coffee and a kiss. Not many husbands can relate to that. I'm not sure when that stopped, but I think that it was my decision. Was I crazy? I never needed an alarm clock because Lois had an internal clock (just like her father) that got her up plenty early. Now we both have a different alarm clock --- sciatic pain. It wakes us up long before any well-respected alarm clock would dare to. We both take the less aggressive prescription pills, along with over-the-counter NSAIDs (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs), but they're only effective about half the night. The rest is spent in tossing and turning. Pain from sciatica is located just above the hip, usually radiating downward along the leg. It can range from excruciating to chronically annoying. But we share the disease with millions of Americans, the only difference being that they have insurance :(

WHERE IS BABY JESUS?

One street over from our house a family erected some plywood cutouts for Christmas decorations, including the Nativity. However, the manger in the scene has been empty from Day 1. We checked every day to see if the baby would show up. Then we decided that Baby Jesus would appear Christmas night, proclaiming his wondrous arrival. Not a chance. It's two days after Christmas, and He's still missing. There were news stories this year about people who paid for GPS (global positioning satellite) chips in their Baby Jesus, so that he could be tracked if stolen by vandals. These people, however, needed to put out an APB (all points bulletin), because the Holy Child never showed up for roll call.

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Heavenly Father, I sometimes struggle with how our world could have been created to allow such atrocities as murder. I can't explain it away, but neither can I give up my trust in You. Let me love where love can be given, and help me to not be brought down by the ugliness in the world. And I know that many others suffer worse pain than Lois and I are experiencing. Thank you for helping us to persevere, and we look forward to those new bodies you have promised. You can call off the search for Baby Jesus. I found Him. He's in my heart.

Amen

MORE SNOW

My daughter did not like to hear that I was out shoveling snow off of the sidewalk. She knew that such activity was a leading cause of heart attacks in winter. It's a good thing she didn't know that I walked the dogs later in our super-icy alley. Oops! But I'm still amazed at how snow makes everything look so beautiful. And when the sun breaks through, the snow begins to sparkle.

FOND MEMORIES

We had received a Christmas form letter from a family that attended our house church. They had moved westward in Tennessee and we hadn't heard about them in years. They were such a sweet couple and, at the time, had two shy, but adorable little girls. They've since added to their family. What struck me most was how warm and humble they were. We looked up their address and found that they were only a couple of hours from our Nashville daughter. It would be great to see them again. But you have to wonder what they would think of us if they knew what we believe now. Sometimes I feel like an undercover Christian. I have this gut feeling that many Christians are too comfortable in their faith, with no desire to challenge what they believe. Of course, I could be wrong, but it will be wonderful when, someday, we're all on the same page.

CAR TALK

With 88,000 miles on our car, I decided it was time to have the transmission fluid changed. The folks at Jiffy Lube remind me at each oil change of a number of recommended services for my particular vehicle, all of which hit my wallet with increasing intensity. I'm stuck between "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" and "woulda-coulda-shoulda" when something goes wrong. So I checked the net and decided to accept the advice of my old friends (not personally), Ray and Tom Magliozzi (aka Click and Clack, the tappet brothers). They said do it. So I did.

GAME ON

After several straight days of holiday hustle, Lois and I found a little free time on our hands. I know, we're retired, so we should have a lot of free time, right? You'd be surprised how busy our days are. Anyway, today we took a break to play some Canasta. It's a card game that I started playing with my parents ever since I could hold cards. It would be interesting to know just how many games I've played in my lifetime. Lois and I seem to be pretty evenly matched --- or is it the luck of the cards? The game is relaxing, and we're both good sports. Of course, winning feels so good.

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Lord, thanks for sending those extra guardian angels to keep me upright on the snow and ice today. And thanks for friends of churches past, whose hearts will one day blend with ours in worshiping You. I pray for wisdom on things that I'm not very good at, like maintenance on cars and handling money. Thank you for relaxation, when I can unwind with my best friend. I know that rest was designed by You, and some of us rest too much, while others desperately need it. Help us to have a healthy balance in caring for these mortal tents You have put us in.

Amen

'TWAS THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS

Usually after Christmas I feel a little down; not only the excitement is over, but the anticipation of the excitement is over. But, for some reason, I didn't feel that way this time. We woke up to more snow. Not enough to keep us from going out, but a few inches to keep everything looking like a postcard. It's also special to wake up to the good news that no terrorist attack on the United States had happened on Christmas, despite all of the warnings. I still don't get terrorism. How could a good god want people to kill people in his name? And why would anyone want to commit suicide in the process, not really being sure what is on the other side? It sure gives credibility to the act of brainwashing. Of course our own Judeo-Christian Bible contains passages in which the LORD God gives a similar order. I don't know how I ever believed it. Of course, if it is true, then I am totally missing God's purpose, and I trust Him to straighten me out. I think that we grow fastest spiritually when we are willing to consider (and possibly commit to) change.

HOW MANY BLACK FRIDAYS ARE THERE?

This was supposed to be another banner day for stores due to the plethora of gift returns and after-Christmas specials. What makes a person stand in a long line to return a gift that they don't like, when they could wait a week or two and avoid the hassle? I mean, they didn't even have the thing two days ago. I did, however, take advantage of a great post-Christmas special. After countless times of trying to wrangle my coat zipper back down when it came off track, I decided to look for a new one (coat, that is). Sears had great winter jackets for 70% off. Of course, you always have to wonder if the coat would have ever been on the rack with the original price on the tag. Anyway, at the register I was asked if I wanted to sign up for a Sears MasterCard. I said no, because I couldn't be trusted with one. Actually, I was thinking of Lois, who definitely can't be trusted with one. I know she doesn't think of it as free money (I hope), but she tries to rationalize budgeting low monthly payments that never seem to get the balance paid off. Truth be known, I'm not sure I could even trust myself.

What is it with a government that sets a bad example for its citizens by spending what it doesn't have. If millions of Americans max out their credit cards, it's supposed to be helping the economy. How wrong is that? What I didn't tell the Sears clerk is that I already have a Sears MasterCard. It just happens to be in about 30 pieces, lying in the bottom of some landfill, along with its cousins --- JC Penny, Belk and Lowes. May they rest in peace-es.

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Father, thank you that Christmas is still in my heart the day after Christmas, and may tomorrow be likewise. I pray that the mothers of terrorists would decide to put an end to this chaos. That they would either raise their young ones to live peacefully, or stop having children altogether. And thank you that, at least for now, I have the willpower to not add debt on top of debt. Now maybe we can work on my nail biting and nighttime snacks.

Amen

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL

We woke up to a white Christmas. Not so much snow to keep family away from coming to dinner, just enough dusting to make everything look clean and bright. Lois and I and the girls entered into an agreement some years back that we would stop buying gifts for each other and use our individual resources for their children, and our grandchildren. So far it's working great. Our tradition is to gather at our house on Christmas morning, share a light breakfast and watch the kids open their presents. This morning we started a video hook-up with our Nashville daughter and her family. It was great to be able to see and hear them in our living room. It was short-lived, however, because we kept losing the connection. There may have been network problems on such a busy day, but I suspect that my laptop has issues and is more likely the culprit. The dinner also was excellent and the fellowship sweet. I read a short Christmas prayer by Robert Louis Stevenson. I think the folks at our table are still used to me praying in the usual way, but Lois and I feel that this could be the beginning of another great tradition because the Lord has put so many intimate prayers in the minds of a lot of writers.

AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT

Nothing wears you out like a busy Christmas day. Ours started at 4:30 AM for Lois, 5:30 for me. But it was worth it all and makes Christmas night rest so welcome.

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Lord, thank you for a beautiful Christmas day. Thank you for our three lovely daughters and our six beautiful grandsons. And, of course, our fine son-in-laws. And thank you especially for the birth of Jesus, who would grow up to speak words of truth from You. He would show us how to live and love, and how to make Christmas wonderful, overflowing to each day of the coming year.

Amen

CHRISTMAS COOKING

'Twas the day before Christmas and all through the house --- cooking smells. Lois and I (mostly Lois) worked on Christmas dinner dishes (eating, not washing), with me making a last minute grocery run. It still amazes me what all goes into this holiday meal, and the time it takes to prepare it, only to see it consumed in less than an hour. But leftovers make it all worthwhile.

I WON'T BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

I wrote a letter to jail buddy, who will be spending the better part of the next 20 years behind bars. I still can't believe that he won't be joining us for family gatherings (he never came for Christmas). It is still harder to believe that he did what he confessed to --- aggravated sexual battery of a minor. I have visited him countless times over the past six months, have attended every hearing, as well as the sentencing. Soon I can only write letters, because he will be transferred to a state prison facility. I'm sure there are those who can't understand why I didn't cut him loose from our 12-year friendship when I found out what he did. I did make it very clear to him what I felt about his crime, and he fully realizes the seriousness of it and understands that this is a necessary part of his journey. But God never gives up on us; I feel that I can do no less for J---. I don't know his heart, nor do I know if he is truly repentant, but, if he is, then who am I to hold judgement over him? God can surely be with him through his incarceration.

CHRISTMAS EVE CANDLELIGHT SERVICE

After many years of not attending one of these, Lois and I bundled up and headed down to our local church. The congregation was sparse, but the service was warm and loving. It culminated with communion (all are welcome in the Methodist church) and the passing of Christ's light to each other by way of candles, while singing "Silent Night." It's difficult to not get choked up, especially when Rev. B is always near tears. While I still have many questions about the things of the Bible, and especially some interpretations that have been carried forward, I see a very necessary role of the church and clergy in Christ's kingdom. George MacDonald wrote, "Religion is simply the way home to the Father."

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Lord, I thank you for family and the love that surrounds us. Bring our love to those who can't be with us this Christmas. I know that J--- is still your child, even though he violated a child. Please bring healing to her and forgiveness to him. He welcomes your discipline, because he understands that it is a necessary step toward reconciliation. And thank you for the sensitivity of our pastor --- a good sensitivity that seeks to love and embrace all that she encounters. And, just for the record, I'm not waiting up for the Big Guy; they don't come any bigger than You.

Amen

MORE SHOPPING --- STILL FUN

This was grocery store shopping for Christmas dinner. There will be eight family members around our table on Saturday. Of that group five are vegetarians, two are omnivores and one is a vegan. Try coming up with a menu for that combination! We have three omnivores locally, but our oldest grandson has to skip our meal and join his other grandparents for Christmas dinner. Even though the challenge comes up each holiday, Lois and the girls meet and surpass it with several tasty dishes. I can't say firsthand, but I'll take their word for it :)

FINAL SHOPPING --- WITH A TWIST

I believe this is our second go 'round at what is shaping up to be an annual event. Lois and I gather up the local grandsons, give them a few bucks and take them shopping for gifts for their parents. What a thrill! We enjoy so much being with them, watching them carefully select just the right present, then grabbing a bite to eat. And they all, without prompting, thanked us for taking them.

The traffic was busy, and the stores were crowded, but our little charges remained patient. I can think of no other holiday that clogs up the highways and byways so. There must be something to this Christmas celebration each year. Maybe Jesus is pleased that we are exchanging gifts in honor of him --- at least for those of us who do it for that reason :(

A CHRISTMAS CARD --- WITH PREACHING

We got a very nice card from Lois's sister and her husband. The card was homemade, nicely done, with the message of God's love to us by sending his Son. Enclosed was a handwritten, 2-page letter from Lois's sister, listing supporting verses that implied that Jesus came to die for our sins. She closed the letter with the promise that she was praying God would shine a light in our darkened hearts. What a nice Christmas wish! We left fundamentalist Christianity; we're not spiritually dead! You'll have to read previous articles to find out what we now believe, but I can assure you it includes God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. If we supposedly have darkened hearts, why are we experiencing so much peace, freedom and love?

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Father, I don't know if you want us all to be vegetarians, but thank you for the graciousness that is shared around our table by such diverse eaters. And what wonderful grandsons you have given us! I thank you for keeping us safe today with our precious cargo. Lord, I pray that Lois's sister would come to realize that she need not fear our destiny. If we don't get anything else right, we would want her to know that we love You dearly and trust You daily for each step we take. I look forward with joy to that day when we will be reconciled with her.

Amen

THE BEST PART OF WAKING UP

Is waking up ... at my age ... pa-dump! The next best thing is morning coffee with Lois. This morning was an early shopping day, so we launched it with breakfast out. Then to the stores. Early risers seem to be in better spirits, and store clerks are still fresh, before the hoard of complaining customers arrive. I'm not sure that she is always aware of it (even though I tell her), but I totally love shopping with Lois. Actually, I love doing anything with Lois. While we, like most marriages, have had our ups and downs over the past 42 years, not many can say that their spouse is their best friend.

This was a relatively uneventful, but busy day, which ended with ---

OFFICE PARTY

Not the drinking and carousing kind. I never could figure those out. Half the people can't remember what they did, and the other half end up paying for what they did. Not really, but I'm sure that a lot of them fall into one or the other of the two categories. All in celebration of Christ's birth. Go figure. This party, however, was actually a dinner (delicious, by the way) given by the doctor and his wife, at a local steak house. I was asked to pray after the salads were served, which was a bit difficult with a tomato wedge tucked in my cheek. Okay, so I don't pray before meals much anymore. It doesn't mean I've left the faith. But the food and fellowship were great.

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Lord, I thank you for my best friend, who remains beautiful inside and out. Thanks again for keeping me ticking past retirement age and for former (now part-time) employers, who have treated me like family for 12 years. Sometimes we didn't get along, but it all turned out well in the end. Thank you for sleep, the time my body rests, and my spirit roams.

Amen

MERRY CHRISTMAS, FOX

I don't know how "fair and balanced" they are, but I admire Fox News for not only boldly proclaiming Merry Christmas, but for inserting Biblical verses in their holiday greetings. All of this political correctness is driving me nuts. It's Jesus's birthday, folks. Deal with it.

THE LONGEST NIGHT

At least a couple of my grandsons were going to stay up last night to witness a phenomenon. The last time a total lunar eclipse occurred on the same night as winter solstice, Rembrandt probably stayed up for it. I don't know if the boys made it, or if they saw it, due to overcast skies, but I hope they did. Me, I was z-z-z-z-z-z.

WORKING FOR THE MAN --- A LITTLE

Now that I'm retired, going to work is quite pleasant. The Social Security Administration allows me to earn a little extra money along with my government retirement checks. Aren't they nice! So I put in some time at the office. I never realized how much stress I had been experiencing until I retired. Now, going in a few hours a week as a consultant, still no stress. Sweet!

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Father, thank you for sending your Son; though many may still not notice, He's made a huge impact on us. And the night sky especially shows me just how awesome your creation is, and how our little, spinning planet is just a dot on your enormous canvas. I'm sorry that I didn't allow you to help me overcome the stress on the job. Maybe you did; it could have been a lot worse.

Amen

LOOK - IT'S A NEWS ALERT!

What's with Fox News? No matter what the news, or how old the story is, the flashing banner reads FOX NEWS ALERT or BREAKING NEWS. It's like the boy that cried "wolf." After awhile you ignore them, then you miss some really important news. FOX NEWS ALERT --- cat rescued off of roof in Jamesport, Missouri --- FOX NEWS ALERT

THANKS, KIA

Why do tire problems always happen on the coldest days? Curse those fancy cars with their fancy do-dads that always break down! Okay, my KIA minivan is not fancy, but it has a tire pressure monitoring system (TPMS) that lights up when it thinks a tire is getting low. Trouble is I've had a tire that kept getting seriously low plus one completely flat tire BECAUSE of the TPMS monitors leaking. And fumbling with the air valve cover with freezing fingers is no thrill.

YOUNG GOODMAN BROWN

I just finished homeschooling my 17 yo grandson on his first expository essay. It was thoroughly rewarding (at least for me), and he did a terrific job. I'm convinced that he has a knack for writing. Plus the assignment put me back in touch with some of the classics, like Nathaniel Hawthorne's short story about a man who loses his faith, then shuns his Faith (his wife), showing how those that seem pious may not be so squeaky clean.

A LITTLE CONSIDERATION?

I came out to run an errand, and someone had blocked my driveway. That always irks me. The inner terror wants to locate the culprit and lecture them with, "Are you an idiot?" "Can't you see that you're blocking someone in, which, by the way, is against the law in the city?" "I should have had you ticketed!" Then the angel on my right shoulder says, "Come on, it's Christmas. Be nice." Then the deeper voice within me says, "Have I not taught you anything?"

SPEEDWAY IN LIGHTS

I love the annual tradition when I load up the grandsons in the minivan and take them through the grounds of the local race track. Bristol Motor Speedway strings up about a bazillion lights in 200 designs that you can drive through, then end up on the track of the World's Fastest Half Mile, finally taking a break in the infield, freezing your tail feathers off while the kids climb aboard a pirate ship and ride the rides. I have such neat grandsons, and I miss the two long-distance ones who would love to join in.

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I pray, Lord, for the truly difficult times that people are having in the world. I pray also for patience for dealing with things and people who push my buttons. And thanks for giving me another year to bask in the warmth of my loving family.

Amen

SHARING MY FAITH --- OR NOT

Lois and I had a great discussion this morning about our involvement with the Methodist church and if what we believe, which is contrary to what they believe, will eventually be a problem. This conversation was prompted by a phone call from the pastor, Barbara, last night. She only called to tell us that Sunday school was cancelled, but we chatted for a little while, and in the course of that conversation she commented on my singing and speaking voice. I told Lois that our new faith was very likely responsible for our view of church and doing leadership things in it. I also said that, if I was honest, how could I not spill the beans, so to speak, to explain why I don't sing in the choir, teach a class, sing solos, etc.? We finally came to realize that we were different with regard to our church re-involvement because Lois could just go to ladies' meetings and keep her faith low. But for me, coming from over 40 years of experience of "performing" up front, and now writing a blog, Framed By Faith, where I basically lay it all out, it's quite difficult to explain why I've changed without coming across as if those things are now beneath me, which they aren't. They're just not where I'm at now. We agreed to proceed, with the Lord giving us wisdom to address things as they come up.

CANTATA

The choir did a great job, as did the soloists, organist, pianist, violinist (Barbara) and choir director. The church was full, and everyone clapped when it was over. I'm still having trouble wrapping my mind around whether this was entertainment or a form of worship. Maybe it was a little of both.

A WALK IN THE PARK

After several successive days of snow, ice and freezing weather, the skies parted, and the sun put in an appearance. It's quite exhilarating to walk the dogs on a beautiful, yet chilly, day. Lois and I are both concerned about the condition of outside pets in our neighborhood, especially when the weather is unbearable. Following a previously failed attempt to get animal control to address the issue, we would almost rather see the dogs die than to see them suffer so. I think God may having something to say to people who abuse pets.

WON'T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR?

I saw her from my window, across the street, fiddling with the water meter cover. I walked over and asked what problem she was having. She said that a faucet was leaking (on the hot side), where her ex-husband (who still lives with her) had attempted to replace a washer. He was working the flea market and hadn't returned home. I said that she could turn off the hot water at the water heater, so that she didn't have to turn off all of the water. She said that the water heater was in the basement and that she won't go down there. I offered to go do it for her, but she declined, saying that he would be home soon. She struggled at turning the shut-off key for the main line, so I turned it for her. Again I offered to get just the hot water turned off. No --- thanks anyway, she said. She would wait for him to get home. We've lived in this house for over nine years, and it's still difficult to get some neighbors to trust you. But I can't blame her; I've already forgotten their names. Some neighbor I am!

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Lord, help me to be honest about my faith, but wise in sharing it. Keep me from being judgmental; instead let me enjoy life and those living it with me. Thank you for neighbors; please make me a better one.

Amen

My dad was a Methodist from birth. My mother was a Methodist by default. They are both buried in a Methodist cemetery, next to their home church. Most of our married life Lois and I seemed to be drawn to non-denominational churches. I'm not really sure why. I think it might have been because they were so structured. We didn't realize that the very churches that we were attending were plenty structured.

Our current goal is to use church in order to re-build our social network. I know that sounds selfish and contrary to the accepted reason for going to church, which is to worship, but there it is. We had lost intimate fellowship with other believers because some had rejected us for what we now believed, and we were quite certain the rest would if they knew. And we knew that we couldn't attend the type of churches that we were used to because our new belief would ultimately come into play.

Our research of the Methodists showed that, generally speaking, they were open to various doctrines, while being centered on the basic gospel: man sinful, God loves, Jesus died, accept Jesus, go to Heaven. We weren't sure if, being in the Bible belt, our local Methodist churches were more fundamental than the United Methodists in general.

I had already scoped out the UM church on our street. I visited it a couple of times with jail-buddy (see previous article). Lois was not interested in going to regular church at that time. The pastor was a lady. Having finally gotten over my women-teaching-men hang-up, I was pleasantly surprised with what I saw in her. She was tall, with long, flowing hair and a long, flowing robe. Looked like an angel. She conducted the services with such sincerity and love, and she appeared to have the heart of a humble servant.

So when Lois and I decided to visit a few years later, we were pleasantly surprised to find that she was still there. Lois reacted the same way as me. Rev. B had such a sweet spirit and emanated pure love. After a couple of Sundays we took the plunge and attended Sunday school. The ten or twelve people in our class were friendly and welcoming. The lessons from the prepackaged Methodist material contained many things that we now don't believe. But we figured that in order to live in Rome, you had to at least act Roman. We gave some responses in class, but have been careful enough so far not to ruffle any fundamentalist feathers.

We're not sure where this is going with the Methodists, but we are slowly getting to know folks, and we are feeling a little more at home when we go. Nobody has asked us any specific questions about doctrine, so we are safe so far.

Well, that brings me up to date on my journey. So, what's next? I guess I'll turn this blog into a journal, hopefully a daily journal. I'll try to not offend or incriminate anyone :)

And I may not always make a daily deadline. I'm still hammering out a fledgling blog called Framed By Faith, my goal being three articles a week.

And I may go back to titles, just for fun. See you tomorrow. Maybe.

To my great surprise, and with thankful heart, I lived long enough to retire early. And was I ever ready for it! I literally felt a huge load of stress lift from me when I walked out of that office on my last day. I have since returned as a consultant part-time, but I have absolutely no stress with it. I'm enjoying each day that God provides and am looking forward to my next milestone --- Medicare.

I've been uninsured for a few years, and I have a couple more years to go before I reach Medicare age. This is another thing I have been thankful for, that I have had no major heart or diabetes concerns. I never had insurance coverage at work, so leaving the job had no impact on me. I take each day at a time and have often whispered, "Your will be done," when I'm lying in bed, thinking that something might be happening to me.

I celebrated my retirement by going with Lois to Nashville for the birth of our sixth grandson. We stayed for about 1-1/2 weeks and thoroughly enjoyed being there for the event, then we came back to prepare our house for sale (failed attempt, by the way). I went to the local senior center and got all of the information on retiree activities. However, I have yet to pull one off. I went for Scrabble. Nobody showed. I went for bingo. Turns out the others had gotten there early, ate quickly, then played bingo early because they were bored. All over by the time I arrived. Tried to join the bowling group. The schedule kept being changed or canceled. So I haven't been back. Old people are too frustrating!

Lois and I realized that, with our newfound faith, all of our friends were gone. So we tried to hook up with a church, at least for the social fellowship. We had tried bingo at the Catholic church, but being in a smoke-filled room with 75 people who won't even look at you for two hours was not what we had in mind.

We had always wanted to try the Unitarian church in a nearby town, so we decided to check it out. The people were pleasant, the songs were melodious (even though we didn't recognize them) and the messages (non-gospel) were interesting, at times. But we couldn't find God anywhere, let alone Jesus.

This particular church was Unitarian Universalist, and we had researched that denomination online. It came close to what we believed. Unitarian in that there's one God. Okay with that, except that we also believe God has a son named Jesus. Universalist in that God created everyone, loves everyone and is working on making things right so that everyone can spend eternity with Him. That's okay too; we're just different on how we believe he's going to do it.

The church boasted on the fact that you could believe anything and still be welcome there. I wasn't quite sure how they would pull that off, so I was curious. We attended several Sundays. Turns out that they didn't pull it off very well. The preaching/teaching was neither Unitarian nor Universalist. It was heavily humanist with a generous portion of Wiccan thrown in. I was missing having some Jesus in the format. Maybe some god, with a capital G. It wasn't happening there. So we left.

Our next focus would be on the Methodist church that happened to be located on the street where we lived. Would this one take?

If you have a dramatic change in your belief system, I have a word of advice: keep it to yourself.

The single fellow that had been meeting with us rode back with another family from our trip to North Carolina. We found out later that the couple he was riding with had questioned him about what we believed.

The wife of the couple that we all had visited in North Carolina appeared to be an open-minded woman, who was always searching for the truth. She sent us a lengthy email after our visit, asking questions on various doctrinal issues. The sincerity of her request prompted me to respond, taking each of her points and addressing what we believe regarding them. I wrote my responses from the heart, with little to no reference to George MacDonald throughout.

It appeared that I had been set up, because a couple of days later I received a call from C--k, the man of the house who had been getting together with us. He said that they were going to "take a break from meeting." I did not ask him why, but I suspected the reason. One or two days later he sent an email to us, saying that they could not continue with us because we were followers of George MacDonald. I replied by email that I was sorry that he felt that way and that, if they ever wanted to discuss it, we would love to meet them. They didn't.

The couple in North Carolina then sent us an email, bemoaning our apostasy. They attached an article on servants of the Devil, creating a New World Order by challenging the established Christian faith. We didn't reply.

I need to note at this point that at no time do we ever reference George MacDonald. We do love his writing, but we feel that the greatest thing we learned from him is that God loves us dearly and that we should trust His Holy Spirit to teach us. We have also come to realize that God uses instruments in all of his creation to speak to us and that we should never fear to ask questions. We can never go wrong if we earnestly love him and our neighbor, and we should seek and speak the truth in love. It is not for us to attempt to change anyone's mind; that is the work of the Holy Spirit, in God's time. MacDonald also strongly urged that we should never believe him or anyone just because they said it.

We continued to join weekly with the single fellow and an older widow who lived in our neighborhood. We shared a meal and had great discussions on all things spiritual. I believe that we were an encouragement to her. She has since died, and the single fellow is now behind bars (another story).

So on we go to the next part of our adventure.

We had made it clear that we had no intentions of starting another house church. We were certainly not opposed to anyone coming for dinner, including any families from our former house church, but we were not promoting it. We encouraged them to continue to meet.

As a result of our leaving, one other family stopped attending as well. One single fellow asked if he could have dinner with us, to which we agreed. He said that he didn't know which group to pick, and we reiterated that we were not starting a rival group. We would not be singing gospel songs, having prayer time or doing any of the anticipated programs that we had done in house church. I had prepared several printed songbooks for house church, but we left them with the other group.

The other family that left also asked to come to dinner. We should have realized that this could be construed as forming a separate group, but we constantly encouraged folks to attend the other group if they wanted the house church experience. It put us in a bind, because we didn't want to flat-out refuse people who asked to be with us --- even for just a meal.

One day we came home to find our song books on the front porch. We sent them back by another family. They showed up on our porch another time. We sent them back again, emphasizing that we had no intention of using them. This time they didn't come back.

One time we received what appeared to be some important mail for a young girl with the house church group, but it had been mailed to our address. I called her home and spoke to her mother about how to get the mail to her. She was cool to me and spoke of our deception in leaving the group. I told her what had transpired, exactly as I have written here, but she replied that she and her husband did not believe me. I was very sorry to hear that, and, since you can't make someone believe the truth, I wished them well and ended the call.

Over the next few months we began to get together weekly with a few folks. Again, this was at their prodding. No singing, no Bible study, just a meal, followed by casual conversation. A family that we had met in North Carolina asked us down one Sunday, so several of us drove down to be with them. We had a good time with them and returned home satisfied.

We weren't aware that a family member of ours had given them information about what Lois and I currently believed. Knowing him, I am sure that he spoke as if it was the absolute truth, because he believed it also, and this type of approach never ends well. He since has moved on to another denomination, changing what he believes with the wind. But the damage had been done.

I would go on to make it worse.

Venturing away from the security of fundamentalist Christianity is not for the faint-hearted. Be ready to lose friends. You may lose family members also.

Our house church was losing steam. Families began to leave. Some had several children, so we felt the impact of their departure. One family wrote a letter, sharing honestly their feelings about marital unrest in another family, along with concerns of lack of discipline in that family's children. Another family moved away. Still others left, saying that they wanted to start house church in their neighborhood, some distance away, or they left simply because house church wasn't for them. One family was not comfortable with the meetings and indicated that they might be leaving.

We had not as yet shared our new belief with the group. We only shared it with immediate family and one close friend. We were also still finding our way, sorting out what we had believed with what we may believe now.

I had written before that tensions were mounting within our group (see blog article 12/5/10). The group was not meeting one or two weekends because two of the families were out of town. It was during that period that I felt strongly that the Lord was calling us out. I don't think it was because of the tension in the group necessarily, but it was possibly to prepare us for more teaching on our new faith.

I realize that it could have just been weariness within the group, and I'm willing to accept that. But I do believe that the Lord can direct us in such situations. Lois was relieved to hear of my new desire to leave and confessed that, if it were up to her, we would have left sooner. The next week we received a call from a couple whose home we were meeting at, to see if we wanted to get together the following Sunday. I informed the caller (the wife) that we had been "called out" and that we would not be returning. She was the one with the bipolar condition, that we had met with her and her husband. She asked if it had anything to do with them, and I assured her that it did not. In fact, we have had them over for Thanksgiving dinner and have spoken to them several times since we left.

I also wrote an email to the fellow who had a leadership role in the house church. He was the one to whom the other family had written the letter about marriage and child discipline. He was also the fellow Lois had talked to when we first considered house church. I used email because that was his preferred method of communication, and it was often difficult to get him by phone. He graciously responded by email that all families were free to come and go and that they would miss us.

We found out later that he was not okay with our leaving. Or should I say, he felt that our agenda was to start our own house church and take their families, with the exception of themselves. In hindsight, it would have been better to wait until the church was together and inform them of our leaving.

As our new faith grew and our former house church struggled, the lid was about to come off.

Lois and I are regular readers. I can't really say that we are avid readers, but we read more than a lot of people our age. Several years ago she suggested that I might like to read one or two of her books, which were novels by Scottish writer, George MacDonald. I had seen the books lying around, but I pretty much dismissed them as romantic novels. Not the cheap Harlequin love stories; these were historical romances.

She said that I might like them because they contained a lot of religious references. I was hitting a dry spell in my reading material, so I started reading Thomas Wingfold, Curate, written in 1876. It was an easy-to-read writing style, but went into great detail about hills and houses, tables and chairs, streams and foliage. Boring. However, as I began to read on, I started having a more-than-casual interest in the dialogue of the main characters. They weren't overly churchy (some rarely attended church), yet they spoke of God and Jesus with ease.

They were asked questions that any fundamentalist Christian could be asked today, but they answered graciously, in a manner that made a lot of sense. They also posed questions back; such that any fundamentalist Christian today would have difficulty answering with honesty. It was as if scales had fallen from my eyes. I was starting to see things more clearly, while at the same time seriously wondering about doctrines I had held onto for years.

There were two justifying factors that made this experience phenomenal. One is that I wasn't looking for a new belief system, nor was I questioning what I had previously held to be true. I was involved with church for as far back as I can remember. From teenager to middle-ager I was steeped in the Christian tradition, holding on tightly to the fundamental Christian faith. This centered on the atoning sacrifice of Christ, the eternal torment of Hell and the glorious promise of Heaven for those whose names were written in the Book of Life. I preached, taught and debated in favor of the Jewish traditions of the Old Testament being fulfilled, as prophesied, in the person of Jesus Christ of the New Testament.

I was licensed as a Baptist minister and held positions of deacon and elder in various churches through the years. How could reading a historical novel shake my world so easily?

The second amazing factor in this experience is that, when I began to share what I was learning with Lois, her eyes were immediately opened. If you knew her church background, you would never have believed that she could possibly embrace any of what I had been sharing. She admits to having read the "preachments," as C.S. Lewis called them, but they didn't seem odd, nor did they turn any light bulbs on.

Obviously, this didn't all come about from one little book. I wanted to read other writings of George MacDonald. One of my daughters gave us an article called Hope of the Gospel, that she had printed off of the internet and stuck in a 3-ring binder. This was a small portion of MacDonald's Unspoken Sermons series. I was even more impressed. From then on I tried to get my hands on everything he had written (some 45 works in all, including poetry).

Again, I must point out that I am not easily swayed on anything. And I'm not very open-minded. So what was it that drew me to this new way of thinking about God, Christ and the working of Holy Spirit? I'm thinking the Holy Spirit. Couldn't have been the Devil, because he would have wanted us to turn FROM God, not draw closer to Him.

Lois and I had many wonderful discussions about this new and freeing look at the things of God. What we didn't realize is how it would change our relationship with family and friends.

Let's get the third heart attack out of the way. It was relatively uneventful.

Lois was in North Carolina during the week, working on cleaning my dad's house, to get it ready for sale. I was coming down on the weekends to help. This particular weekend, however, our house church group was coming down to help us build a deck, replacing the rickety one that stood at the end of the trailer. Midweek I was feeling unusual things going on with my heart and went to see my cardiologist.

She did an in-house x-ray and noticed a blockage that had her concerned. She scheduled a catheter procedure for three days later in order to check out the blockage. I was told to call before then if I had any strange symptoms. I called Lois, and we agreed that she should come back, and we would postpone the house church workday. I felt really bad that I had ruined our plans.

Just after midnight two nights before the scheduled procedure, I was awakened by what seemed a significant gas buildup around my heart. I called the cardiologist's answer service. I was told to go on to the medical center where my cardiologist was on staff. Lois drove me there. When we arrived, I was checked out by the ER doc and found to be doing okay. In fact, I felt okay by then and apologized for taking up their time.

The doctor said that my cardiologist's associate would be there doing heart caths in a few hours and that her office wanted me admitted so that they could work me in, given my heart history. Lois had gone back home to rest, and I was to call her whenever I knew the surgery schedule. They woke me up at 5:30, saying that they had a cancellation and could start the cath in about 30 minutes.

I called Lois to give her my "see you on the other side" greeting, but she didn't answer. I then called my daughter, who didn't realize that I was in the hospital. She said that she would get hold of Mom and let her know what's happening. The cardiologist completed the procedure and found another 95% blockage in a major artery. He inserted another stent. This time my recuperation was less painful (like the back pain I had with the previous heart attack).

It's now been almost eight years since that last attack. I'd like to attribute it to eating right, etc., but it appears to be due to a medical decision to treat my sleep apnea. Obstructive sleep apnea is a condition that causes you to stop breathing many times during the night. Aside from excessively loud snoring, the condition can put a tremendous strain on your heart.

My sleep apnea was discovered through a routine trip to an ENT to have a nosebleed corrected. He noticed enlarged adenoids in my throat and recommended a sleep study. The study confirmed it, and the rest is history. I was fitted with a CPAP (controlled positive air pressure) machine, and my nights are snore-less. I still have atrial fibrillation (heart flutters), but the lack of insurance keeps me from having it looked at.

So much for my physical life. Let's move on to the most important spiritual change in my life since my original salvation.

[Insert second heart attack before father dies]

My second heart attack came three years after the first and three years before my father died. The third heart attack would be three months after he died.

Heart attack #2 came on a Wednesday morning at the doctor's office where I worked. It was two days after celebrating the 4th of July at my daughter's house. That day was exceptionally hot. I came to work on Wednesday morning, not feeling very well. The nurse noticed my condition and asked what was wrong. I said that I wasn't feeling well, but couldn't really identify the problem. My heart (or arm) wasn't hurting like the first heart attack, but I was told that I had turned very pale. I took one of the nitroglycerin pills that I carried in my pocket. Not much improvement.

She told the doctor and then put me in an exam room. The doctor came in, asked me some questions, checked my pulse and blood pressure, then said that I probably was at the beginning of a heart attack. He proceeded to hook up an IV, but I can't remember what he was giving me (probably something to keep the blood from clotting). By then I was feeling very weird. The rescue unit was called. It was somewhat embarrassing to be wheeled out of my own office on a stretcher. I told the staff that I would be right back.

Lois was called, and she met me in the emergency room. The EMT had given me a nitro spray while I was in the ambulance, so I was starting to feel better. A cardiologist was called in. He listened to my heart and told me that there was a significant thump in the heart rhythm. He wanted to go in by catheter and take a look. I had to sign all of the necessary release forms and told Lois that I would see her on the other side should I not make it. (I know, very melodramatic.) The hospital staff scolded me for saying that and assured me that I would be fine. I told them that I wasn't being morbid; it was just that I was okay to stay and okay to go.

During the procedure they discovered that a major artery in my heart was 95% blocked. They popped it open with angioplasty, but it collapsed again. They inserted a stent, a small wire device like the spring on a ball point pen, that would keep the artery open. Recovery was more difficult than the events leading up to it, because I had been suffering from sciatica pain. Following this type of procedure, I was required to lay flat on my back for eight hours --- the worst possible position for my sciatica!

My blood pressure had dropped to 60 over 40, and they couldn't give me anything for pain. Even my daughter urged them to help me. I had just read in C.S. Lewis's devotional book, The Problem With Pain, how we should not ask to be delivered from the pain. We should instead pray that the Lord would be with us in the pain. I tried it. Then I fell asleep. How, I don't know. I awoke later with a nurse leaning over me. No pain. I asked if she was an angel. She said no.

Other than my family, I had two visitors while I was in the hospital. One was the nurse from my office. The other was the pastor of the EV Free church. He gently chided me for not contacting him, that he had to find out through a third party. It was then that I realized that we had never become fully committed to that church. And I felt strongly that we would never be.

The last time I saw my dad alive was on a Monday morning. I stopped by his hospital room on my way back to the office. He asked me to clean his partial (dentures), and then we talked for a few minutes. He said that the hospital was having trouble with his insurance, so before I left, I met with the billing person and gave them the correct filing information for his claims. Then I came back up the mountain to my job.

Later that week, on a Friday afternoon, I was working, anticipating my weekend trip to NC to spend time with Lois and my dad. Then Lois called. My dad had crashed again and was not expected to recover this time. The doctor wanted a decision about putting him on a respirator and possibly inserting a feeding tube. Even though my dad had said that he didn't want to be resuscitated, I was unsure about this move. I talked with the doctor that I worked for, and he said that I might want to allow the respirator until I got there to assess the situation better. I was just about to call Lois back, but she called first. He was gone.

The day before his death, my dad was having a rough go of it. He was thrashing around in the bed, as if he was fighting the inevitable. He received a brief visit from M--l and a friend. They were laughing and joking, but he was unresponsive to their lightheartedness. M--l was all bubbly and talking about how he would be fine soon and get out of there. She was totally oblivious to his condition as he lay there before her. He didn't respond, and they left.

While it's hard to lose someone close, I will never forget the beautiful experience that Lois relayed to me later about my dad's final moments. He was doing some more thrashing, but then calmed down. Near the end he pulled his oxygen mask off and appeared to breathe normally. Lois said that color came back into his face and his eyes were clear, as if he had been completely healed. Incredibly, he appeared to look ten years younger! A nurse came into the room to check on him, but didn't put his mask back on. She signaled silently to Lois that the end was probably near and wanted to know if they should do anything more for him. Lois shook her head no.

He began looking around the room. My aunt, who was also in the room, told Lois that he might be looking for her. They were standing on each side of his bed. He laid back a little, and began to stare in Lois's direction. My aunt thought that he was looking at Lois, but Lois said that he was fixated on something or someone over her shoulder. There was no one else in the room. And then he was gone, eyes open. Lois closed his eyes. The staff, who had monitors at their station, did not come in for a few minutes, apparently to give Lois and my aunt a few peaceful moments with my dad.

He had died on a Friday, just like my mom. This time I decided to have the funeral on Monday, unlike my mom's, which was on Sunday. The funeral home arranged for a military funeral at my request. I went into the same visiting room as my mom's, where my dad's body was laid out. We received friends and family in the same adjoining room. Most of our house church group drove down and surprised us at the receiving.

On Monday afternoon we had the service in my dad's home church. It was raining, and I was asked if they should move the military portion of the service inside the church, without the 21-gun salute, of course! I said that I wanted the event at the graveside and prayed that the rain would subside.

As we were led into the church, M--l stepped forward from the foyer and asked if she could sit with me. I was numb and replied that it was okay if my family agreed. They didn't. My daughters cut her off in line and pushed me forward. My musical daughter played, with trembling hands, and sang a hymn. The pastor did well with the message, but my heart was not ready to hear his reference to my dad's "beloved M--l."

After the service was over, the funeral staff were prepared with several big umbrellas to escort us to the grave site, next to the church. The rain stopped, completely. The service went well, including the military volley. Then we proceeded to the fellowship hall, where church families had prepared a wonderful meal for us. The sky started sprinkling. Thank you, Lord.

My dad seemed to be improving. He was in good spirits, but had trouble eating, complaining that his tongue was sore. In anticipation of his recovery, we began to make plans for his recuperation after leaving the hospital. Since we couldn't convince him to stay with us for awhile, Lois bravely volunteered to temporarily move into his NC home to care for him. I would drive down on weekends.

We packed her up, along with our two dogs, and made the move. She went every day to see him at the hospital and would call me in the evenings to give me updates. The hospital staff were very helpful and caring. He celebrated his 82nd birthday by receiving a small cupcake with a candle, along with his meal --- neither of them consumed, because of his loss of appetite and tongue sensitivity.

When I arrived for the weekend, he reminded me of the family reunion on Sunday. I said that, under the circumstances, they would understand if we didn't go. However, he insisted that we attend to represent him. We did so, and I announced his status and condition to the family members. He usually prayed over the meal, so I stepped up to fill in.

The following week I was called to the hospital. My dad had crashed. By the time I arrived (2-1/2 hour drive), he had stabilized. Lois was with him. I saw the cupcake on a side table, still with the candle in it, wondering if he was ever going to eat it.

He remained on the same floor of the hospital, in the cardiac care unit, and his room number changed three times. Clotting was still a problem. He was still receiving oxygen through a nose tube. We were called into a private meeting with a pulmonologist one evening, after Dad had taken a turn for the worse.

The doctor told us that this particular night would be critical and that the plan, should my dad survive, would be to insert a basket-like device in arteries leading to the lungs. This would trap any clots coming from his legs. He was beginning to receive whole blood infusions, because his own, oxygen-poor blood was wreaking havoc on internal organs.

The doctor went on to say that, while it was very natural to reach the end of our road in life, we, unfortunately, have the technology to help a person suffer for a longer period before they die, all in the interest of keeping them alive. That was profound. But in my dad's case, instead of dying with dignity, he was fighting like a tomcat.

I was told that his pastor was called in, and so I visited a few moments with my dad alone first. We discussed the fact that he may not make it through the night. We didn't need to have the "Are you saved?" discussion, because I already knew that he was a professed believer. He understood his situation and admitted that he was okay with dying.

The pastor arrived. He was a warm, friendly and intuitive fellow, who had a genuine love for people. He himself suffered from Krohn's disease, but he never let that get in the way of his service. We had a similar discussion that I had had with my dad earlier. The pastor prayed with us and then left. I settled in to spend the night in my dad's room. Lois had gone home (the temporary one) to take care of the dogs and rest. My aunt stayed in the waiting room.

During the night the oxygen level alarm went off a few times, and I adjusted his mask, where it had moved from maximum intake. I prayed, not necessarily for his life to be spared, but that the Lord's will would be done with him. I was prepared for God to take him, as well as being ready to nurse him to recovery. The rain was coming down outside.

I had managed to stay awake until about 5:30 a.m.. I went out to the waiting room to check on my aunt, and she encouraged me to lay down on a couch for a few minutes. I told her to wake me when the doctors started making their rounds. Then I fell into a sound sleep.

I was awakened when Lois arrived, much to the delight of other waiting room patrons, who couldn't sleep due to my extra-loud snoring. The doctor reported that, because my dad had done so well, they would proceed with the surgery. The device was implanted, and my dad was moved to the last room he would see.

One annual event that we never missed was the family reunion on my dad's side. It was held at his home church on the second Sunday of October, which happened to fall within days of his birthday. My dad used to ride to this church in a buckboard wagon when he was a child. The church was about a mile and a half from his home.

We knew that his health was in decline. He was eighty-one and had congestive heart failure. Ten years before this he battled bladder cancer. Now he couldn't catch his breath walking across a room, but, after sitting in the exam room for half an hour, would tell the doctor that he felt fine. He wasn't lying; it's just that, sitting still, he did feel fine. How often do we hide the real truth without realizing it?

We had been getting reports from my aunt that his feet and ankles were swelling significantly, and I felt that we needed to check it out firsthand, even though it was a week before the reunion. We thought we would come early and surprise my dad. We had to drop a casserole off at the house on the way to the church. My dad's car was still in the driveway, even though it was past time for Sunday school, which he attended faithfully.

Upon entering the house, I found him sitting in his recliner, all dressed for church (always wore a suit and tie), not moving or snoring. I thought he was dead. I called his name, and he jerked awake. I asked him what he was doing, and he said that he was going to Sunday school, but had sat down for a few minutes and fell asleep.

He had difficulty moving around, and we recommended that we all skip church that day and just visit. Even this time he asked when we would be leaving --- just for planning purposes. We ignored it, and Lois began to prepare lunch. After the meal he said that maybe we could play some Canasta, to which we agreed. But before we could start, my favorite aunt arrived.

We spent the next hour or so talking about his health. We suggested that he go to the Emergency Room to get checked out, but he refused. We even suggested that he take a few days and stay with us until he got to feeling better. We live near a large VA facility, where he could get treatment as retired military. He declined the offer. So we visited some more, then Lois and I headed back to Bristol.

The next afternoon I received a call from Lois, who had received a call from my aunt. My dad had collapsed at home and was transported to the hospital, where he was admitted into intensive care. I came home and called the doctor in order to assess the situation. We weren't eager to take the 2-1/2 hour trek back down there immediately, unless he was in danger. According to the doctor, my dad was in danger. His oxygen level had dropped significantly, and blood clots were forming in his body.

We packed quickly and arrived at the hospital that night. Waiting for us was my aunt, M--l and her daughter. My aunt pulled me aside and told me that M--l had my dad's wallet. She apparently had been called by my country aunt (who had found my dad), and she arrived at the hospital first. She used the credentials from his wallet to get him signed in. I asked her for the wallet, and she turned it over to me. I thanked her for helping him get admitted.

We waited for news on my dad, and a short time later, a doctor came out to update us. He addressed his information to M--l, but my aunt jumped in and said, "Talk to him (pointing at me); he's the son. She's the girlfriend." So from that point on, I was in charge. But I relied heavily on Lois for advice and encouragement.

After awhile we (the immediate family) were allowed to visit him. I asked him how he was doing, and he said that he was feeling fine, just a little weak. I told him he gave us a scare and that maybe the docs could get him back on his feet. The hospital required the visits to be kept short, and as I was leaving, I choked up and told him that I loved him. He replied that he loved me too.

I didn't realize at the time that he would never leave that hospital.

Another significant death occurred during our years of house church. After my mother died in 1991, my dad and I were actually starting to get closer. Lois even convinced him that it was OK to hug his son, which he had never done before.

He visited often, and we included him on trips that we took. We kept up the tradition of the canasta games, and would often times help me with gathering and splitting firewood. I liked when he helped me, because he would tire easily and say, "Don't you think we need a coffee break?" I always jumped at the opportunity.

He seemed perfectly happy living alone, but would occasionally talk of the need for female companionship. He actually had proclaimed it before my mom's funeral. Almost a year following my mother's death, he got his wish. M--l was a thin, fairly attractive woman, around my dad's age. When we first met her, Lois and I both felt an eerie similarity between her and my mother. But after getting to know her, the similarity ended.

M--l had just finished off an engagement when she met my dad, because her fiance had died suddenly. My aunt dubbed her the black widow of that town. I knew she wasn't after my dad's money, because he didn't have any. They went on weekly dates, and he would drive his old car a half hour to pick her up each time. She rarely came to his place.

They had made an agreement in the beginning to not let their relationship interfere with their individual families. Holidays and family gatherings would be celebrated apart from each other. Any time we visited my dad, he would annoyingly ask when we were planning to leave. "...not rushing you, I just wanted to work our visit in with my plans with M--l." I sometimes would respond with, "Well, we can leave right away. We don't want to get in the way of your plans." I'm not proud of those responses. As I've said before, for years I have acted like an idiot, off and on.

As their relationship grew, he would tell us more and more about her family. Occasionally, we would be pressed into meeting her daughter or a grandchild. My dad hinted at marriage. I told him that he didn't need my permission and that he should understand that she could never replace my mother. So each year we expected to hear from him that they were married. This lasted for a little over nine years. No marriage; just friends. We suspected, and confirmed after his death, that they were more than just friends.

One Labor Day weekend he came to visit us. He announced that he would have to renege on his original agreement with M--l. He really liked being with her family and would, this year, prefer to spend Thanksgiving with them. I calmly replied that if he would rather not be with us, then it would be best if he didn't come. The rest of the visit was normal and pleasant, and nothing more was said about his promise to M--l to spend the next holiday with them.

He was unable to keep that promise.

We opened up our home for house church to begin meeting on Sunday evenings. We weren't ready to give up on day church yet. I played the guitar and taught mostly, but we also gave plenty of time for anyone to share. The meals were excellent, and the fellowship was comfortable. We had more families come and go, and other families stayed. Our numbers swelled to around forty.

At that point it was time to cut EV Free loose. I contacted the pastor and informed him that we were leaving. He asked if there was something wrong with the church, but I replied that we felt that the Lord was calling us into house church, at least for the time being. Since I was teaching Sunday school, I went alone for a few weeks and then left.

I have fond memories of house church, because there was a level of intimacy that cannot be experienced in regular church. At the same time we were unable to share corporately things that were being told privately. Like marriages that were struggling. Or openly discussing differences in doctrines. Our worship was surface. While this can be found in any church on any given Sunday, it felt different in the close relationships of house church.

We spent about seven years meeting in each others homes, even traveling to Wise, Virginia and Hendersonville, North Carolina. But there was tension gradually building in our little church. Some ladies had begun to take more and more time to teach the children in the meetings, rather than take them into another room. When we tried to address that, we were met with opposition from them and at least one of their husbands.

Another woman suffered from a bipolar condition and had problems in her marriage. Her behavior in some meetings made some of us feel uncomfortable. An outburst in one meeting prompted me and another fellow to call a meeting of the men. That only made matters worse. Lois and I met alone with the couple and had a very good discussion of several matters. We felt that reconciliation had been achieved.

I think my age must be getting to me, because I'm getting confused as to the order of churches that we visited or attended over the years. I know that at some point we were attending a Presbyterian church. We liked it because the pastor had interesting sermons, and the music was innovative.

Whenever we liked a church, we would expand to Sunday school attendance; and we did so here. We hadn't considered joining the church because of our bad ending experience with Rev. N's church. We were happy just being regular-attendees. At the Presbyterian church I was careful not to take on any leadership responsibilities. No song leader, teacher or governing official. This might have been because of my opposition to the Reformed doctrine of Calvin.

A few months into our church experience, someone asked our Sunday school teacher (in front of us) if we were members. He replied that we were almost members, that we had just not taken our vows yet. Now, outside of my wedding and United States Air Force vows, I was dead set against any other vows. I began to feel the pressure, so we left.

It's interesting to think about the fact that we (I) never faced a problem head-on and lovingly and honestly dealt with what made us feel uncomfortable. We always preferred to just move on.

Next up was an Evangelical Free church in nearby Kingsport. We had read some things about the EV Free churches, and we were particularly pleased that they were vow-less. We also enjoyed listening to Chuck Swindoll on the radio, and we knew that he was with the EV Free church out west before he joined up with Dallas Theological Seminary.

The local EV Free church was meeting in a storefront, and our first visit was pleasant. The people were warm and friendly, and the pastor also had interesting sermons. For some odd reason, unlike the Presbyterian church, I was more inclined to open up by doing several solos (singing) and teaching children's Sunday school. I still avoided church politics.

The church was quickly outgrowing its current location, and we learned that plans were already underway to purchase another building. A few of the members were well off financially. The new home would be a church whose members had outgrown their building and needed to go bigger. I helped with the physical move and continued to teach and sing at the new location.

About the only reason I can think of for us eventually leaving this church is that we became discouraged by leadership decisions and the pastor's role in them. At some point in time we became aware of the concept of house church. This is usually a group of non-denominational believers who meet in each other's homes. They share a meal, and the "service" is generally an open forum format.

We found a website online that identified a local house church organization. Lois called and spoke to a man whose name was on the website, but he gave very little information about house church. He didn't feel it proper that he should speak to the woman of the house, and I wasn't at home. That particular response was so odd to us that we never called back.

While we were attending the EV Free church, we were also having a Bible study in the home of some friends who had also left Rev. N's church and were now attending the same church. We also became good friends with a fellow that Lois had met walking our dogs in the park. J-n was a pleasant man, a few years younger than me, who was quite interested in spiritual matters. We invited him to the home study, and he was eager to attend. A professor and his family (four children) were also meeting with us. They had also left Rev. N's church.

J-n shared that he had been meeting with a house church for a few years, but that the numbers had dwindled down to just one family. He asked if he could invite them to meet with us in the Bible study, to which we agreed. On our first meeting we found them to be a very nice family --- husband, wife and six children. They started coming regularly, and we soon learned that the father was the same man Lois had spoken to on the phone.

After some time meeting with us, they invited another family from Wise, VA, about an hour's drive from here. That couple had two little girls and were very nice as well. Realizing that our numbers had swelled, we began to seriously consider having our own house church.

[another insert before we left Rev. N's church]

My first heart attack --- how could I forget? As this is my spiritual journey, then I consider major medical events spiritually changing, and therefore life-changing.

It was a sunny summer evening. When I got home from work, the table was set, and Lois was preparing dinner. We were taking care of our (now) oldest grandson, and he and I dipped into a jar of peanut butter in advance of the meal. I recall being quite hungry. It didn't seem to curb my appetite, because I ate supper with a fervor.

Immediately after supper I went out to mow the grass, as I had done many times before right after a meal, whether it be wood-splitting or fence-mending. This time was different. As I started up an incline in the backyard, I began to feel a tightness in my chest. It felt like I was having an allergy attack, a familiar experience that would be quickly relieved with an antihistamine. So I downed a pill and sat down to rest a moment before finishing the mowing.

The tightness never lifted. In fact, it started to become painful, extending to my left shoulder and upper arm. Knowing the basic symptoms of a heart attack, I called the number for my doctor's office. The office was closed; the answer service said that whoever was on call would call me back. In a few minutes a female physician's assistant called back. I knew her; she attended our church. When I described the symptoms, she said that I was very likely having a heart attack. Because of our location outside the city, she recommended that Lois drive me to the emergency room rather than wait for volunteer emergency transport.

Lois strapped the grandson in his car-seat, and I climbed into the passenger side. As we traveled, the pain and pressure became quite intense, to the point that I began gnawing on the seatbelt.

Two humorous things happened on the way to the hospital. My two-year-old grandson was excited about the trip, continuously pointing out things to me. "Grandpa, look at the trees! Grandpa, see the doggy?" I could only wince and grunt. When we arrived on the hospital campus, Lois turned on a road that she thought led to the ER entrance. We ended up on the helicopter pad. I remarked, "Wouldn't it be interesting if I died because we went to the wrong place!"

A short turnaround brought us back to the ER. The physician's assistant had alerted them, and a couple of medical staff were waiting for me with a wheelchair. They took me into the trauma room and began to ply me with questions, while hooking me up to various pieces of equipment.

Two more people arrived shortly to provide spiritual assistance. One was Rev. N. He immediately took control of our grandson so that Lois could stay in the room with me. That single act was a godsend. The other savior was my doctor's associate (my own physician was out of town). He got real close and began to pray in my ear. I honestly don't know if it was the medication they were giving me or the spiritual support I received, but a tremendous sense of peace came over me.

I looked over at Lois and saw that she was sitting there calmly, not smiling, but not seemingly distressed. Didn't she think I was going to die? Why wasn't she upset? She told me later that she figured that if she had "lost it" (broken down), they would have her leave the room, and she wanted to stay with me.

The ER docs told me that they had administered a clot-busting drug and that I was stabilized. The were admitting me to the ICCU (Intensive Cardiac Care Unit) to watch me through the night. The ICCU visiting schedule was very limited, so I'm not sure who came in to see me. I was pretty foggy, but I remember someone coming in and kissing me on the forehead. Lois also told me the next day that a hospital staff member had approached her the previous night to get her to sign a release for my organs should I not make it. She was furious, especially since they asked her right outside my sliding glass door in the ICCU. I heard nothing.

The next morning the cardiac surgeon came into my room. He said that the clot-busters didn't do a good enough job and that they had to go in and take a look at my heart. They were going to start with a heart catheter, but needed my permission to take additional steps, including open heart surgery, if they find the situation warrants it. He gave me the odds of survival at each level of treatment. I asked if I could get a second opinion, like my doctor's associate. He replied that I could, but that his schedule was very tight, and if I waited too long, he would not be available until very late that night.

Dr. B came in, and I shared my concern that I had to make a quick decision. He said that the surgeon was the best around, and that he personally would recommend the procedure(s) for his relative. Then I asked if I could talk to my wife.

Lois came in. She assured me that I was in God's hands and that she would like me to do whatever would help my damaged heart. I signed the papers.

I was taken back for surgery within the hour. The result was that they only had to perform angioplasty in one artery in the lower backside of my heart. This involved feeding a tube through my upper leg into my heart, then inflating a balloon on the end of the tube. The procedure successfully opened the artery, and it remained open. I was out of work six weeks to recover. I was told that a myocardial infarction (heart attack) always left permanent damage to a portion of the heart, but that it was a very strong muscle that could recover and continue to function properly.

Now that my physical heart was on the mend, my spiritual heart was being treated. I received get-well greetings from a lot of fellow-believers. Church members visited me in the hospital and prayed with me. This was a plus from my fundamentalist background. If I had a heart attack today, few, if any, people outside my family would check on me. I think I would miss that.

I was very thankful for another chance at life. I was determined to be a better husband and father. But, unfortunately, with time and with life getting back to normal, the prideful me would not do anything in return for God adding extra years to my life.

My heart attack came two days after my 49th birthday. But it would not be my only one.

My mother died on a Friday. Normally a funeral would be three days later, but we wanted to allow as many relatives as could come the opportunity to do so. We planned the funeral for Sunday afternoon at my parents' church. My favorite aunt stepped in to help me and Lois with a lot of the arrangements. As I mentioned before, my dad just seemed to be along for the ride. He certainly wasn't in shock, but could possibly be feeling a bit of guilty relief. Their relationship in their senior years was rocky, at best.

We searched the trailer for her will, as well as any insurance policies that might help cover funeral and burial expenses. No will, and expired policies. This, of course, didn't deter us from proceeding with the typical arrangements: nice coffin, receiving/viewing at the funeral home, funeral support at the church and a nice double headstone for her grave (with a starting date for my dad already engraved).

After they had her body prepared at the funeral home, Lois, my aunt and I went to give our approval. She was laid out in a casket in an adjoining room from the family receiving area. Lois and my aunt went in first, then I went in alone. All of the typical cliches for this event ran through my mind. "They made her up well; she looks good." "Looks like she's sleeping." "Looks peaceful." What came out of my mouth was more like, "I know you're not in that body." "I miss you already." "I'm sorry that I wasn't a better son." "Lord, take care of my mother." Not a tear did I shed in that room. But when I rejoined my wife and aunt, the sobbing erupted. I don't recall feeling embarrassed --- just helpless.

My parents attended a United Methodist Church out in the country, only a few miles from where they lived. As Methodists go, the current pastor-du jour was a woman. My fundamentalist background had basically put me against women in leadership positions. The Apostle Paul warned about it (I Timothy 2:12), but God may have approved of it (Judges 4). My dad and I had a brief discussion on the subject. I pointed out the specific New Testament references forbidding women to have authority over men. He said that he had read those, but then he went to the Source. Yeah, like I'm gonna believe that God told him it's OK to have a woman preacher! Or did he?

The lady pastor was not very personable, in my book, but she was who we needed to conduct the funeral service. She called Saturday morning and, upon hearing that the funeral was to be the next day, asked if we could go over the details on the phone, because Saturday was her "laundry day." Boy, did that burn my hotcakes! Needless to say, I don't remember anything she said at the funeral. I had tuned her out, and I'm not proud of it.

I had never cried before my mother died. Well, almost never. I bawled after the car accident when I put three fellow teenagers in the hospital (see blog entry 10/6/2007). I never recall crying after that, no matter what happened. I think I saw it as being strong. But following my mother's death a new tenderness had sprung up in me. It would take many years for it to grow, but I would easily tear up over many things --- death, loving moments, even one of those squishy family movies.

The asked if I wanted to see my mom again before we left the hospital. I said yes. They took us back to a room in the ER, where her body was covered with a white sheet, but her head remained uncovered. The nurse cautioned me to not move the sheet, because they had not "cleaned her up yet." After another bout of crying, I approached her and kissed her on the cheek. It was still warm. My dad didn't seem to address her at all; it was as if he was just a friend, coming along with me for moral support.

We talked on the way home, and I fought the urge to scold him for scolding her at the meal. He was all I had left, and I had to maintain a good relationship with him. When we got back to the trailer, he began to scurry around, straightening up the place for the visitors and relatives who were sure to come. He asked me to go outside and do some weed-eating. I was glad for the opportunity to be occupied. While I was working outside, my uncle Otho from across the street came over and addressed me as Clinton, one of my dad's neighbors. It was then that I knew he was already in the clutches of Alzheimer's. I told him who I was, then I told him about my mother. Then he turned and walked away.

Lois and the girls arrived just after dark. I was never more happy to see them. While it may not have appeared so to my daughters, I always missed them greatly when we were separated. And my dad was right. The relatives began to descend the very next day. From that day forward, and with the exception of my favorite aunt, they gave their condolences, then proceeded to ask what we were going to do with this or that of my mothers things. They also would assert the fact that this or that item was either promised to them by my mother, or that it was really theirs, and my mother had taken it. To make matters worse, my dad went around the room offering various things of hers to people --- while her body was still warm, so to speak!

Weeks before her death, we had visited my mom and dad, and at this visit she went through a modified soul-cleansing, if you will. One of the things she confessed was that she had given birth to what would have been a big sister to me, but the child had only lived a few days. I had already confronted them with my birth certificate many years before, citing that it identified one previous stillborn child; they both, at the time, claimed that the record was in error.

Also on this visit she strongly encouraged me to, upon her death, get a U-haul truck and load up just about everything, saying, "Your daddy doesn't need much to live on." I asked what he thought about it, and she said that he would be fine. I wasn't. Of course, she was concerned about the relatives (all on her side of the family) converging on her "treasures." I thought about this when it actually happened. When my dad died eleven years later, we rented the truck.