Month: August 2020

Every day is a gift.
No new thought there.
But, what about a week after you, or someone you love, has been involved in an accident that could have easily taken or dramatically changed your life?  What of tomorrow then?

Will tomorrow be another day of chasing another set of tasks that will lead to another set of things to do?
Will tomorrow be another day of resenting some, envying some, scheming against some?
Or,
Will tomorrow be a day forgiving others, seeking reconciliation, love?
Will tomorrow be a day of nurturing empathy, learning what will make a difference, and then – do that?

But, what about a week after you, or someone you love, has been involved in an accident that could have easily taken or dramatically changed your life?  What of tomorrow then?
A new clarity of thought.

Every day is a gift.

Thank you, Lord, she’s home
Unsteady on her feet, but she’s home
Needs lots of sleep, but she’s home
There will be challenges to come, but she’s home

She smiled, to be home

Thank you, Lord, she’s home

Today began as a beautiful late-summer morning.  A coolness in the wind belied the scorching heat that would dominate the late afternoon.  A perfect time for a bike ride, and so, that is our habit.

This day seemed exceptionally pleasant.  We ride by a newly cut field commenting to one another on our bike helmet intercom how good it looks freshly cut.  The field to the right of us is uncut and, just as we were noting that to one another, a deer bounds up and across the field followed closely by another.

“See the deer to our right?”

“Yes, I see them and a third one is following.”

“Maybe we can make the curve in time to see them as they head for the creek.”
Peddling hard will take the sharp curve faster than normal but the day is so fine why not.

Then, the sounds over the intercom.  A slight gasp followed by a loud crash.
“What happened?”
No response.
“Beth, what happened.”
No response.
Turn around and peddle hard, peddle fast.
“Beth, are you alright?”
No response.

There she lays, her bicycle near her feet, no movement.
“Beth, Beth”
No response.

Leap from the bike.  Blood oozing from the back of her head, dripping from her mouth, her breath coming loudly.  Call 911, place a hand on the precious woman who holds my heart, who bore our six children, who now lays here breathing harshly but with no other movement.  Eyes closed but not as they are when she is sleeping.  There is something tragic in this sight.

“My wife was just thrown off of her bicycle and is unconscious, she is bleeding from her head and mouth”
Instructions come and are followed, few remembered except ‘don’t move her’, ‘keep her still’, ‘the sheriff and ambulance are on their way lights and sirens’.

Very calm, very focused the voice of 911.  God bless him whoever he may be.

Her eyes start to flutter.  How long has it been?  Seems forever, seems no time at all.  She moves her hand over mine and holds it tight.

She starts to try to move.
“Please sweetheart, it’s better for you if you don’t move”

“Try to keep her from moving, the sheriff and ambulance are moving as fast as they safely can, lights and sirens” says the calm voice.

She starts to try again to move.
“Please sweetheart, it’s better for you if you don’t move”
Keep a watch on the road to make sure no cars come too fast around the curve.
Her hand holding tight to mine as though she will never let go.
Hearts as one

“I need to move”
“Please don’t move”
“But it hurts”
“I’m so sorry it hurts but please just stay still”
The eyes flutter shut.
“Stay with me Beth, please stay with me”
“Mumbling”

To our lifeline on the phone “How much longer?”
“I know it seems like it’s been a really long time, it’s been 6 minutes and they should be there soon”

“I need to move”
She’s awake again
“No, please don’t move, it could be bad for you if you move”
“But it hurts”

Carefully unclasp the helmet strap to make her a little more comfortable. Wiping the sweat from her beautiful face and shade it with a hand.  It’s not much but it’s all there is to do.

She has given so much.  To her children, her grandchildren, her husband.  And all he can do is wait as she holds his hand close.  He feels her breath move in and out.

We pray.

Sirens.
“I hear sirens, it won’t be much longer sweetheart”
“I need to run around the curve and make sure they know we’re here”
“Ok”
She said ok!,she understood, that is good right?

Prying her hands off, running around the curve to see.
They are still too far away, run back to her.

Hold her hand, wipe the sweat from her face.
Run back around the curve and, at last, here they come, the sheriff’s car followed close by the ambulance.

Neighbors show up – so reassuring, why is it so reassuring, it just is.

Answer a few questions, watch as the EMTs move her on to a backboard.  Help place her legs on the board, watch as they lift her to the gurney, and move her into the ambulance.  Answer some more questions.  Step inside the ambulance and hold her hand again never wanting to let it go.  But no, new rules, can’t ride with her.  Can’t even meet the ambulance at the emergency room, new rules.

Neighbors stay and pray for her, for comfort, healing, wisdom for the medical team.

Such beauty!  How can there be such beauty in the midst of such chaos and ugliness?

Blood drying in the street while beauty shines through the hearts of neighbors.  God is good.

What follows is a day of prayers, of asking for more prayers, of weeping, of despair, of wonder at the willingness of others to redirect their lives for her.  A day of enormous appreciation for a God who’s loving kindness is everlasting.  But also, a day of doubt, of trouble, of fear.

Oh God please heal her, bring her back safe and whole to her family.

Today is done.
Only God knows what tomorrow will bring, but please Lord, let her smile be a big part of it.

The Spring of 1994 witnessed the brutal murder of almost a million people and the rape of almost a half million women, inside the boarders of a country the size of the state of Maryland.

The cause – fear and hate.

Fear and hate are the primary manipulation tools employed when trying to coerce others, especially large groups of others. They are especially effective because those under their influence rarely know they are being manipulated, and vehemently deny that fact when confronted. In our, educated and sophisticated culture, It is always considered the “other people” who are influenced by such simple-minded tricks.

And therein lies the challenge.

As we journey toward our mysterious future it would greatly behoove us to acknowledge that we are all susceptible to being manipulated by the purveyors of fear and hate. We must confront the fact that some of those who influence our lives the most do so through the use of fear and hate. Often disguised in the form of ad hominem abusive and derogatory references, as well as comic ridicule and meme, it undermines rational and intellectually honest thought.

The challenge is to rise above the belief that only “other people” succumb to such crude manipulation. We must become aware of the manipulative practices that bombard us every day. We should cultivate within us an alarm that responds to messages that strive to instill within us the belittlement of our neighbors. Yes, our neighbors… the “other people” are, in fact, our neighbors.

We are now a society divided. For every topic of the day, we align behind manipulators that would have us believe those on the other side, the “other people”, are less than we. Less intelligent, less aware, less caring, less capable of detecting lies, less, less, less. What we must do is work to overcome those manipulators and accept that our neighbors, even those we disagree with, are our neighbors and deserve to be heard. Throw off the chains of arrogance, intolerance and judgement and love your neighbor. And, if you are a Christian, this admonition comes from no less that the one who’s name you bear. Do not bear His name in vain. Love you neighbor.

Rwanda thrives today because the people chose forgiveness and reconciliation over fear and hate. Now, living as neighbors, Rwandans have much to teach us.

Shall we learn from them or allow history to repeat?

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “Stick to the Devil you know.”

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “The Wages of Sin is Death.”

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “If you don’t work you die.”

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!