Quotes of Renown

Authors of beauty and Truth

Healing from Prayer

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There it was, a calling. A nudge of confirmation. A recent column describes the onset of this calling., it began in Sunday School in Minneapolis. I was 10 or so and the Sunday school was held in a tall building downtown. It retrospect it looked like training building for firemen.

The main church was across the parking lot and it held a lot of people and quite a few of them were Shriner’s. Grandpa was a high ranking one and he drove us every Sunday. 23rd degree something. The School teacher made sure we memorized a prayer and I still remember most of it. I was not overly enthused about the whole deal, but I went along. When the teacher passed the offering plate, I would produce my offering and say “I want this to go deep!” Palming quarters as I reached in. Candy money at the store right across the street from School. Perfect store placement. The first fast food outfit I know of.

That short prayer was one that I uttered a few times through my life as though it was a collection of words that would connect the dots I can not. Change things from the magic of words. Akin the the under ones breath muttering from a nursery rhyme that comforts. There is a movie that illustrates a man that does this under decisions of stress.

“Jesus Christ show me today how to walk in every way.” I haven’t used it in a long time and I have some of it askew, but that was as I remember. It was important and seemed like the ham radio I was involved in as a basic ‘call sign’ The two letters C and Q. Seek You.

Much better than a physical comforting like drugs or sitting on Santa’s lap as the line at the department store allowed you to be next. He doesn’t heal, he just helps sell stuff.

Impossible. Imprinted as truth to a young child who believed seeking finds. Something or someone. I remember contacting a Russian during the cold war when the only currency was Duck and cover in grade school. I was a very different child and difference scares people. Some people except other different ones. Those sorts of things worked for me.

I muttered the phrase once when it made a life altering experience. I was addicted to heroin and did not want to be but it was so pleasant took physical and mental pain away. Completely. Ask a former addict or a counselor to verify this. I said it when I was alone with my line on glass and a hundred dollar bill rolled up to snort it with. I then heard five audible words that quoted scripture out of Deuteronomy. A. “Live or death, choose now” I chose life. It was over instantly. I bagged up the heroin and gave it back to my friend that introduced me to it. No withdrawal either. (This event is also in the Motorcycle Pilgrimage series.)

Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. A. Deuteronomy 30:19. It’s pretty good.

Norm Peterson or Jack Gator. Take your pick, the book or the Author. All true stuff.

Conduit Redux

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It began in my childhood. A realization that there was something that delighted and puzzled. While playing on my sisters piano I began to tear up over the slow melody of the moonlight Sonata. Soon, after walking home alone, from grade school, the song was more important than lunch with Casey Jones and Roundhouse Rodney on the TV. It made the school go away. All of it. The forbidden room of his sisters was his at noon and life began anew. Sis’ lunch was at Junior high school and there was no chance of her discovering the invasion. After all, I was born exactly two months after D-Day and understood invasion. I never heard her play on that upright when I was home. She probably waited until I was not there.

A knowing of music is where it began and I still work in that genre. Hearing a song being played or sung for the first time and hearing it afterwards, sometimes audibly like a very soft echo. Recordings, live or remembered have the same effect. Usually the first two measures or so. I even hear the silly song that our new washing machine makes to tell us it is done till it fades!

It then began to occur in a way that an old friend, Judy Larsen, called it the “Twink” or being ‘on all the time’ I see what way the music is trending and also know which notes would fit in to enhance enjoyment and anyone playing or listening to the extra notes. I recently found a CD I was on, recorded in 1979 at the Grizzly Den in Osceola. It was a country swing band, Dandelion Wine. A lot of jazzy stuff and fiddle tunes that I used to play in contests. A few mistakes here and there, but it was pretty good. I also played fiddle with Dave Dudley, a local CW artist with his own bar, Dudley vile, during those times. I also began to want applause on the faces of the audience waltzing past the stage.

My family now is put off by some of the songs like ‘Gotta get drunk’ and ‘ Swinging doors and a jukebox, my new home has a flashing neon sign’ It paid the bills with double bookings that can still see be seen as faint penciled gig dates on the kitchen cabinet door frames that had the old black wall phone nearby. (Soft wood, #2 pencils.) that was before post it notes had been invented. (Early Eighties}

Sometimes it was rhythm changes too. I was known by the square dance band , Duck for the Oyster, as the ‘rhythm monster'(enjoyed often by the band.) Signature and talented music readers can either have fun with it or get puzzled and irritated. Sometimes sung words in syncopation with the written ones. It works. Because I had poor vision and couldn’t read the sheet music in front of me.

One time I thought I had been scheduled to play violin/fiddle with a duet and got up on the stage with them and began to do so. They were a solid duet and they kept looking back at me with puzzlement. I was blocked from engaging with them and so quickly withdrew from the stage. I muttered about my fiddle having issues to keep them at ease. It was OK with me, I didn’t know their set list either.

My improvised music additions led to unexpected events. I was asked by Jerry Garcia to join his group in California, The Grateful Dead, after a jam session in Minneapolis. Why? “Because I liked what you added!” was the reply. I was flattered as there were a dozen guitarists in a circle playing at the same time. All eager to show their talent to the famous musician. I said “thank you but I can’t do that.” California meant meant death from drugs. That band is all dead now. Grateful? Not sure about that. Read about it in Motorcycle pilgrimage 5 and 40 acres of musicians.

Lately there have been other downloads of words that come to me that are not musical. They are answers to prayer requests or just visions of events in words that come unbidden. They just come. Uppermost and undeniable. Often in prayer for some situation for someone I just met or has asked me for prayer. Things uttered that can’t be made up. Situations that arrive fully formed and often, I am reluctant to utter them. Is this just me thinking or is it You Lord? This can be a problem. Discerning our own opinions or thoughts.

There is an opportunity for me to speak these words from the Spirit to someone else. I realize that Wisdom has come with these words at times. Not to speak them would hinder the person being prayed for. Often it is fear leading to my hesitancy to tell of the difficulties that follow the vision. Being a conduit at times can be shocking and my thoughts can get in the way. Mistaking my own wounds for healing others wounds. Jesus is so kind and won’t let me go when it is important to him. I refuse with a shrug and His gentle insistence keeps my attention until I do His will. I tell people sometimes He is the most kind and wise nag I have ever met.

A story I just read was about a Jesuit priest in his middle nighties that got off of a train and saw a very beautiful woman coming towards him with a policeman next to her. She said “It’s him, He’s the one!” The priest sad he was so flattered that he pleaded guilty and spent a month in jail. (De Mello)

The wisdom of the old desert fathers has also helped a lot. Words are just words and silence can be a very good choice. Listening is required of us. Quieting response to people speaking and simply listening to them and the Spirit then conveys understanding. , It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson and Jack Gator

Dream Connection

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

How do you teach a method of connection? What do we connect with? Or who do we connect with? The biggest question for me what is connection? The topic just ‘happened’ to come up in one of the myriad books that I leave around the house. You know, or are, one of those people that read when eating, before sleeping, when waiting for those two things. Skimming, flipping through chapters, some of the pages dog-eared in a good place to start again.

So, the topic of connection was in one of those scattered piles throughout the house and it stopped a thought train with screeching brakes and a trail of sparks on the tracks of otherwise placid reading. Connection. Why would I want to connect with someone I have never seen, but just read about? A connection in a dream about Hemingway I just had? Why try to connect with a great author that has left the world decades ago? There is a way to connect with him by reading his writing and taking notes. Was the dream a connection with my memory, one which I have been missing or ignoring for decades? The dream seemed to be from my best friend who told me important things.

It was a vivid dream. I was in the big city and drove by a splendid home that triggered a memory of connection. I went up the sidewalk to the familiar home and was welcomed in by several people that knew me. The memory of living across the street and being mentored by Hemingway when I was a boy flooded in. The books from the fabulous library loaned, hours sitting with ‘Papa’ and being told, someday I would be writing truth with skill to make images with words. Stories of adventure. The dream ended with one of the daughters telling me it was so good to see him again and would I like to stay for a while?

There was a loud noise that sounded like explosions and I was awoken suddenly with a strong wish to remember the dream by writing it down. At four in the morning. (The sound sounded like the summer people having fun blowing things up.) It was only the family dog.

It seemed the dream was a message from my self. Deep in rem sleep, dredging up ‘connections’ that surfaced as reality sleeping dormant. Or was the dream a connection with someone else that had spoken it? I write about life, but to develop a story like this one was ego and wish palpable. Still remembering the dream knew what the connection was and with who.

It was encouragement and confirmation from the greatest authors ever known. “Keep writing, stay steady and tell the truth . Don’t try and make your writing original, write the truth and and write the story as best you can and originality will come forth.” Indeed, the question of ‘what is truth’ was asked centuries ago and the answer was silence. The truth of that life was obvious and the words written about that life still capture and hold us. When truth is revealed, it is a beauty sought.

Sometimes only five words can take your breath away and be remembered forever. Connection. As coming awake again from the dream of life. The reason, the hope, the answer to so many questions. The book that can be read again and again that speaks and shakes our inner man with it’s truth. A book worth dreams awake or asleep. Dreams of destiny and worth.

I was stopped on the sidewalk soon after this column was printed and directly asked; “did you ever live in Spain where Earnest lived?” I answered yes and he furrowed his brow and walked away. I did not mention that when I lived in Spain I was in prison for six months for evading a murderer and running from the military police. It affirmed the column’s legitimacy for that man. It was fun to tell that truth, I left off the prison detail.

As Johnny Cash said: “Sooner or later, everyone comes back to Jesus. The Bible, It’s pretty good.

Norm Peterson

A Door Gunner and the Old Fiddler

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was a beautiful drive, one I take often to a small church about 8 miles north. On Fridays that old Lutheran church gives away bread from a bakery 80 miles south. Every Friday for years they have done so. I pick up as many bags as they will give me as I give away most of to a local secondhand store about 7 miles to the East. Caring Hearts. I like to drive those rural roads.

Today, I drove past a place of good memories, on a lake called Wood and glanced at the places on the road before the lake that I like to look at. Old abandoned houses that used to be pretty swell and houses that have acres of metal junk around them. Wind-rowers, hay loaders, antique bulldozers. Tons of steel, waiting for nothing, akin to tossing old scrap lumber out to be burned out in the field thing. How that stuff got out there and what the price of steel is going for occurs to me. Reminds me of an old forest that is past it’s prime and the mess that is too. Wood lying about is a lot easier to look at.

I drove past wood Lake (we have a lot of nice ones nearby) and remembered an old friend that was a veteran like me. He had it rougher and served on Helicopters shooting people out of the door with a belt fed machine gun. A .50 or .30 caliber. Don’t remember him mentioning that. A war in Vietnam that no one wanted, a war I was drafted into as I was in basic training for the Navy! I just missed that meat grinder. A returning veteran was hated by many Jane Fonda fans. Danny Carlson was this veteran’s name. He was friendly to me and our stories were good to share with one another.

Danny knew I was a country western fiddler on the local bar circuit and he wanted to have some fun and put on a fiddle contest at his lake shore home. OK, I got hold of another fiddler, Bill Hinkley, and we set it up with a stage overlooking the lake and advertising it at the local watering holes. We even took out an add in the newspaper. This was a big deal for towns under 2000.

We got a half dozen fiddlers to show up for the chance for the 1st place prize and the beer kegs would set the stage for some good fun. Bill and I started out demonstrating what fiddling was with Bill’s wife Judy on guitar. Then we started the contest. Bill, I and Judy (official judges) got to sit right up front on the beautiful manicured grass which sloped gently down to the lake. Quite a few people showed up.

Good acoustics too from the water. Near the end, an older fiddle player showed up. He was at least as old as I am now and needed a bow. We got him one and he started sawing away. His tone was off and the speed wasn’t there, but the Bill and I and Judy looked at one another with a nod. This was the stuff of legends. We knew what this man had been and in our ears, still was. Bad bow, arthritic hands, bent over and knowing it was the best he could do. We gave him the 1st place without a doubt. Bill and I were thinking that we can even play at this man’s age we would be blessed to fiddle as well as he was. Uncle Zeke was his name and where he was from and were he went is still a mystery.

“The struggles and events of his life are just the cover and chapter page of the book of his life. The book no one on earth can read is the real story and every chapter is better than the last” 1.

Dan a short time afterwards, died across the road from his lake home in his trucking outfits office from carbon monoxide gas. In his sleep. My wife, Julie almost died from the same danger from a bad propane furnace way out west when she was camp counselor before I met her.

So Every time I drive past Danny’s old lake home I think of these things and ask Jesus, why? Why take Dan and spare my wife with only a bad headache and some temporary cognitive loss’? We will never know until I read that book of real stories that I can’t read now.

Somehow, in some way I find that answer adequate. I still ask why these things happen and am getting better and waiting for the answer I already know. Ask me sometime and I will let you in on what He says to me. Usually stop, look and listen. I am so glad Julie survived that carbon Monoxide and we have this incredible life together. Thank you Lord!

Somehow I know there will be that book about Danny I can read and I will read it with him. I will share those books with my old Navy buddy that will hand me his book as he reads mine. It’s pretty good. I like reading really good books.

Norm Peterson. (aka Jack Gator)

1. G.K. Chesterton “the apostle of common sense”

Common Sense Insights on Love

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

So many books, letters and columns are at my desktop and littered around my favorite living room chair. I read them as I am inspired at the moment and that is why I put post in notes at the pages where I leave off.

It’s a mess and a trip hazard if I am not tidying up now and then. Keep them out of the meander lines of nighttime walks to the bathroom. Common sense.

Lately I have been researching for love and what it really is. I have at least been instructed from early writers like Descartes and Augustine as good starting lines to start at. My usual trivial descriptions are easily dismissed. “I love my guitar”, “I love how that sounds” . I love that look or thousands of songs with essential love me or leave me themes. Movies with passion (Greek Eros) those lists are not endless but my point is, they point to opinions and attractions.

Reading an author that makes me look up from the book and wish I had a pen and pad at hand. Astonished at brilliance and clarity. My hero, C.S. Lewis, said he got a lot of inspiration from authors like G.K. Chesterton and George MacDonald and used their clarity and thoughts in his own writing.

Another example of common sense: “The mutilation of children is not “gender-affirming care.” Anti-white racism is not “anti-racism.” Illegal migrants are not “undocumented ‘new neighbors.’” A bisected cow in a tank of formaldehyde is not an important work of art”. 1.

This tells me that love is coupled with common sense which goes back to Descartes, look him up. He wrote thousands of years ago and he pervades truth which is also found in my favorite small book, John Chapter 17. The best example of love which C.S. Lewis expounded upon. Trying to love your neighbor is not easy, Just treat him as though you loved him and eventually, you will. So what is love? It has respect and admiration built in but it is far more than those things. As I have stated, I would not know my wife if I read some books or biographies about her. I can’t love my neighbor if I looked at a plat map. I can’t even really love fully my God and Savior by reading about Him! There is a decision to go deep into myself, to my core and then be silent and listen to the spirit that gently tells me what love is. The flood of love itself moves within me and is love itself. It is common sense and has always been since we were made.

I

Falling in Love with love that is visible in your eyes, your tears and sometimes a tremble of astonishment of Joy that overtakes. This is true love, the words fail me but you know what I am writing about. The breath taking embrace of a long lost person comes pretty close. How about being embraced as a long lost person? I look ahead to that embrace as I enter eternity.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator 1. Roger Kimball

Promises

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Our world exists on promises, made and sometimes kept. I was reading another book from my stack near ‘my chair’ in the living room and there was quite a few older promises from well known people in that book. Quite a few of them. It seems that Kings and rulers of all kinds made the same promises, huge and very encompassing ones. ‘I will give you half of my kingdom’ types.

The one given to a woman at the beginning of nations that she, at ninety years old would give birth to another son. Quite a promise! As a side note, one of her earlier sons would become the founder of the Arab nation. Look it up if you have a Bible. It’s in the first chapter.

Earlier than that time all of us were given a promise we would work the land and our wives would give birth with pain. We, the men from then on would sweat and work hard for our food. Seems familiar whether you work horses to plow or machinery or do other work, we sweat. (If we do real work as we say up North) People who work in tall buildings sweat while they worry but not particularly from physical labor. I assume that is progress of sorts.

There was a promise given to a famous writer and philosopher, Diogenes a ‘few’ thousand years ago by Alexander the Great. Diogenes ( the writer of ‘I think, there for I am’) was sunning himself and Alexander came to him and told him, ask me anything and I will give you half of my kingdom. Diogenes replied, “get out of my light” I assume Alexander was humbled and impressed.

These days, we still promise many things to one another. “I will never forget you” type. Listen every day for them. Mostly without the words I promise but nonetheless, implied. Guaranteed for life (whose or what’s life?) I will build that or do that type of promise. ’till death do us part’ Pretty serious promise!

Somewhat believed ones given with a smirk. ‘I’ll get it to you next month’ a little wiggle room in that one. It seems our world is built on those things, given audibly or implied. Often with laws found in some registry office of some sort. Documented even in the founding of nations. All men sorts of promises. Do this and it will go well for you. Don’t do it and there is a squad behind you with unpleasant flashing lights. You do promise not to trespass? This hamburger will look like the one on the menu?

There is one promise that I know will be kept. As a friend appeared to me at his death from thousands of miles away, he audibly told me, “it’s better than you said!” I told him of the beauty of God and His kingdom when months before I saw him in Maryland. It was a promise shown to me that whatever I promised him was kept. I treasure that vision and it is a solid promise I treasure from our God that he told me decades ago. Real life. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe

The World is confused and We Don’t have to Be

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Some years ago, before the 16th century, our world, and everyone who lived on it believed that our planet was the center of the Universe. Sometimes referred to as the Ptolemaic theory.

An easy thought to digest for mankind up until that time in the late 1500’s when it was proven it wasn’t by Copernicus. He was a genius as a doctor of law, physics master and also a Canon in the church in Poland. Also a master of mathematics by the way.

He proved with calculations that we were a heliocentric system that revolved around the sun. It seemed reasonable with all scripture pointing to our wondrous place in the eye of God.

He made us, He blesses us and is for us not against us. This it truth. We are not the center of the Universe, He is.

Then why was it so easy to miscalculate the orbits of our planets and our moon when we have always been gifted with intelligence and wondrous minds, eager to explore and find new things and even give names to the new things? It is written we named all the animals further back at the beginning of all things. Sounds reasonable. How can you tell a story to your wife about some friendly furry thing without naming it?

So we settled in to this world and almost instantly decided it was a philosopher Descartes moment to declare, “I think, there fore I Am”. No confusion there, I want to be just like God so I Am. No longer confused about anything because I know truth and it is centered around me.

I am tempted still to have those thoughts in a way. I am the most important person around and so, it’s all about me. I don’t expect everyone to acquiesce to me, but it wouldn’t be out of place. Isn’t that a core belief until we realize it isn’t the truth? A baby knows these things about being the absolute center of the world. We grow out of it with a few tears in our wake. Some of us regress back to childhood and becoming egocentric and selfish are the result.

The truth is, in our neighborhood here in our small solar system, we all revolve around the Son and He is glorious and indeed gives us life and light. We have been given all things and the little we can even see about physical orbits, there is an impossible explosion of light, heat and the source of growth itself visible. The Revolutionibos Orbium Colestium or the Revelation of the Celestial Spheres from Copernicus. He was fearful of blasphemy charges when his discovery was made known. Fearful for his life. 1.

I have dreams and visions of the rest of our ‘known’ universe and since I was born here, reared here and grew up here I know absolutely nothing about things millions of light years beyond the beyond. Someday after the usual right of passage we all go through, I will know about these things.

Numbers that fascinated Copernicus and now me that are incomprehensible. There are a billion seconds between us and when Christ walked with the Apostles! A billion minutes between us and creation has been calculated. That one is up for debate, but it is probably pretty close.

There is even confusion about XX and XY in our times and how to define life itself. I think that has been pretty well figured out for quite a long time. Confusion resulting in separation between God and government on these things. It’s a very non brave new world indeed if we don’t have the courage to stand for truth. I shave in front of a mirror and it still shows the front of my face. “How many fingers Mr Smith do you see?” “six”

At the very least, I am not confused about the center of our universe that has the Son there.

Again, as a friend wrote and sang: “I’ve never seen a Son like this before” 2.

1. famous scientists. Org 2. Jon Thurlow Thanks to Richard J. Foster for research archives

Bullfighter

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A saying I attribute to Sitting Bull. He spoke of the two wolves inside of us as well. I wondered about this wisdom this morning and ran across more wisdom from Michelle O’Rourke. The little bulls are the battle we have with the little deaths we all must experience in our lives.

The loss’ of physical strength or stability in using what I have left. The bull of my early times swinging spike malls and 16 pound sledge hammers. I agonize over that when I should just join that death with me being the matador and the bull, joined with that blade.

We all have them, those little bulls we embrace. The world inside that speaks failure and personal weakness or loss as the source. To rise up from the sand and brandish the blade and put that snorting thought to death. There are also the worlds many wolves that linger, just beyond the glow of our inner campfire. Eyes lit and eager to pounce upon our sense of worth and trample the fire.

That indeed is the leader of the wolf pack, sense of worth destroyer. I think I am worthless because of changes that come to us all. Physical strength, provision fears. What will become of me when those around me see this?

We indeed do change as we approach death. In old age or in disease or accident. All of us.

My favorite quote from Woody Allen: “I am not afraid of death, I just don’t want to be there when it happens” Why do I cling so hard to my little bulls when I know they must die with me as everyone knows. Playing games within that Jesus will return and I will just be caught up with Him. Maybe I am akin to Enoch and will just ‘leave’ (after a long life) or Elijah who ascends in a flamed out custom chariot with really fancy custom wheels.

Better to listen to our God with his Mighty hand and outstretched arm that delivers time after time and tells me how much He loves me and will never leave me. Loves me the way only He does.

Many times He has shown me my true worth. Small things that are even bigger than the wolves that whisper and howl. He says, “Go here and talk to someone I will show to you” A purpose and all I have got within me. The reason I have had things happen that I can’t explain as excellent and good. My life unfolding with a mystery of loss and gain. Not embracing my mind and the abilities that I have been given as my very own brilliance and creation.

Indeed, the blade must go deep and true to put to death all those thoughts of self importance.

Listen to the creator of all things brilliant. He will give you all the encouragement and worth you ever have needed. He will turn your losses, your grief, and sadness into joy as you dance in the light of His light. Sit at His campfire and the wolfs of the world will not dare approach. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator

Old and Useless

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Not very long ago I was meeting some new people and was introduced to their family. I looked upon one of their children and he said to me “ You’re Old” I agreed and was nonplussed at the child’s observations and his immediate truth telling. Yes, I agreed, I am at least 8 times older than you. I felt a little sting. Aren’t we supposed to say afterwards: Wow you look great! I never would have guessed that you are that old.

I’ve said to several people and meant it too. I’m doing pretty good as my scribe puts it. Very active physically but there are deterioration’s that come with age. The saying is with age comes wisdom! Sometimes.

I can get a bit cranky without any knowledge of the segue to judgment. Usually these days when I am driving and get passed by a roaring vehicle on the double yellow only to have to slow down a half mile ahead as they turn left. Thinking quickly that I am commanded not to call anyone a fool, I use a Russian word and of course, the Lord does not speak Russian.

I indeed am old and gnarly but I have a nice smile. Shoppers at the big box smile back when they see me. Why am I not as blocked or mission focused as others are? They roar by me too, only to turn one aisle ahead and stop with another cart parked in front of them. I just shake my head briefly and cruise by as I look upon the crowded aisle of indigestible instant meals in boxes. I like Ramen but it’s not in that aisle. Betty Crocker meets the Roadrunner on aisle 5.

A piece of wisdom comes to mind from a Chinese story from approximately 2400 years ago. Looking upon a very old and twisted tree and relaxing in its shade were a young man and an older one. The older man said the reason the tree was there for them was it was useless for lumber and so left to grow old and large and give us comfort from the sun. Useful indeed.

The stumps around it testified to many chairs and tables There were no benches there. It indeed had grown well and it was very old. I like that story as gnarly as I am, I indeed am not useless either. You are now reading the wisdom I have read from before Christ our Savior. He does not consider me useless and neither does he consider you useless either. The vehicles that pass me on the highway are just eager people on the highway of Holiness. Perhaps they are eager to meet our Creator and lover. I must embrace that wisdom and I will smile and bless them. I’m getting better! It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe.

Many thanks to Chuang Tzu amd Henri Nouwen.

In Retrospect

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

A beautiful October morning that started with windshield scraping and is now showing the glisten of maple leaves in bright sunlight. Drying just for me to gather and spread onto the strawberry plants within our garden.

It is October 16 as I compose this and I decided to sit in the living room sunlight and read a delightful book, A year with C.S. Lewis. It is a gift to me from one of my mentors and good and loved pastor. I read the quotes and entry for today and realized that today is the day that C.S. Lewis’ The lion the witch and the wardrobe was published in 1950.

I was six years old then and had just entered first grade at Loring Grade School about six blocks away from our home in North Minneapolis. My sister, Diana, was in fifth grade and soon to be in Junior high at Patrick Henry School about six blocks away to the east.

A few years have past since then and I have been through the usual life we all experience. Again, in C.S Lewis’ The problem of Pain, there is wisdom that struck me today as encouraging. This book was quoted in my Calendar for today and the assurance of my life unfolded.

“I have seen great beauty of spirit in some who were great sufferers. I have seen men, for the most part, grow better, not worse with advancing years…” 1.

As the sun advanced across the living room floor, I began to see my life once again. Many interesting escapades and many close calls along with poverty, imprisonment and bitter sarcasm resulting from my embracing that pain.

And yet, somewhat recently, I have begun indeed growing better and not filled with fear and hatred of the world and myself included with it. A gentling and calming that surprises my family and other friends. I still keep my wit and humor but it is now tempered with a romance of life that gently pushes the pain aside. I like it and the opportunities to give the little bit of that transforming Grace from our Lord are coming forth. The thrill of action and prayer abounds when the transformation and healing come forth from Him.

There is great hope and Faith growing within me and those are the very gifts of God.

It’s pretty good.. Jack Gator scribe

1. C.S. Lewis The problem of Pain The type writer photo is the one that Jack and Warnie Lewis used