Self worth

I Am Not Alone Anymore

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was always there. A loss, not even known for what it was. An emptiness that fell upon every thing that I experienced through my life. Empty of love and lost it when I was a child. I weep now when I realize what I felt that time when the emptiness took hold of me. I always thought it was abandonment. A memory that diffused relationship with everyone. I tried to cope with that memory, not even aware I was doing that. Clever words spoken and written. There were many times when that empty feeling would diminish and it was always the same thing. Smiles and words that promise embracing mutual friendship. I needed to forgive the people that it seemed I was abandoned by. My family did not know me nor did I know them. Relatives that should have known those things too. Inherited behavior, perhaps cultural.

“I believe that God’s purpose in giving us memory is to enable us to go back in time so if we didn’t play those roles right the first time round, we can still have another go at it now…finish with the past in the sense of removing it’s power to hurt us and other people” Frederic Beuchner

Music was soothing then and a smile inside at a moments of beauty got me hooked into that beauty. Songs and orchestral creations still work well. I remember some of those songs. that I played. the phrases of praise momentarily fill the emptiness. ”I loved what you did” or sometimes just a few notes spoken of. It always makes the emptiness fade. I still crave approval and contact. Applause was nice but fleeting, Playing Ashokan Farewell on the violin perfectly, without an accompanist on guitar for example. Fulfilling for a moment. List, Chopin and Beethoven are soothing time and again. A perfect den of pleasure, even driving. Alone.

It was a coldness in my very core that drove me to play well, and now, to write well. A romantic spirit. Those moments are when the emptiness would back off. Approval and love of just me. I did not know why those times of contact and praise satisfy. It seems selfish to enjoy a secret pleasure in being alone.

Isn’t it like that for everyone? Seeking smiles and laughter from people and amazingly, an interest in us that might be a friend. There are few friends that I can contact anytime for their care and seeing me and they myself for what we are. An empty man, perhaps like they are. Leaning on one another like an unmovable roof truss. Solid wood. With knot holes and defects but Oak or Gopher wood. A trust able to withstand bad storms.

Many of them are Gone now from the inevitable event we all must experience. They died. How inconvenient of them to do so. I still love them dearly and I know they still do. One close friend appeared to me just as he was dying. He was 2000 miles away, so it figures friendship and love is eternal. I lean on Jesus often, especially when I am desperate.

Most of those friends were the kind we all need. A phone call or even showing up without calling, just showing up. Not even a hint of inconvenience from the open door. “You were in the neighborhood? That’s over a hundred mile trip! Tell me what’s going on, I feel that you need encouragement and a good hug.

The day of the wall phone is gone. Now we have Facebook and posts telling us what’s right with us. All neat and clean without any tears or embraces of understanding. Isaac Asimov’s robots now have cell phones and good internet. We edit conversations akin to open book exams.

The two years of isolation and fear reduced our civilization to rubble. The covid theatre that had bodies piling up that where not there when the curtain was lifted. No smiles seen from anyone. The old game of keep away. A scowl if you were in public without ‘the mask’ The deadly bat flu made it fearful to come near and we were so much poorer, even crippled by it. We all lost and the stats and graphs and zoom meetings were just party favors for the worthless messages of untimely death. It’s always untimely for everyone. We always think we will live forever. That is true but not in the limited way we think of it.

There was enough money generated by the scamdemic to weigh it by the semi trailer load. Easier to count that way There was no one accountable anyway, Not yet.

I an not alone in my quest now. The world needs good friends and we must learn how to do it. Smiles. Waving from the mailbox at the lake people with cabins just over our hill that are seen in season. I have noticed that a slight smile and a nod are beginning to make a difference. Smiles and laughter ring out as bells from the steeple. Come. Gather together and be thankful for blessings and deliverance from evil. Look upon the world as a small child’s smile at an adoring adult. It opens our hearts as we look upon our world. Not through rose colored glasses but with clear vision. We take off the disguise of indifference and reveal ourselves and see.

This is who we were created to be. I’m not afraid of you. It’s civilization 101. I have been hiding for most of my life and I have began to offer myself to my best friend who is nearby. Close as my heart beats in synchrony with His. Asleep while I am dreaming, He tells me stories of romance and adventure.

The creator of us all, different and beautiful. Loved and embraced as we listen and the world becomes pleasant and we enter into the joy of the Lord. Well done good and faithful. Well done.

It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Photo of my bench on the south hill (the cathedral) built by Soren

It’s so easy when you’re an Adult (1)

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Everyone, I mean everyone had to learn the basics when we were children. It’s obvious even to me. 81 trips around the sun now. Riding a bicycle for example. Did anyone climb on to a 10 speed racing bike and right away began strongly climbing hills with it? Of course not. So how did we get to that point of an understanding and skill to pull it off (starting with a smaller bike with training wheels of course) There had to be a teacher, an adult with knowledge and strength coaching, encouraging and helping us do so.

Another example: Writing and understanding language that is written. No one, not even Einstein, could do so right out of the gate of childhood. First huge flash cards perhaps, gentle words and skill as a teacher-parent to help. The the writing part (Gators handwriting could use some improvement) but as sloppy and ill formed the letters are, imitating the adults writing words to teach. Maybe even holding the child’s hand to help. It works, it’s the way things are done for every child ever born, even you.

As adults, we still need this training. Some call it school or primary, secondary, college an upward learning which still needs an adult with skill and love to ‘hold our hand’ to continue learning. As an example: I play stringed instruments, my son plays a percussion instrument. A side note; the piano is considered a percussion instrument! How did I and they learn how to do this? Another Adult who knows these things.

In my case, even bowing the violin while fingering the notes. Such off key and bumbled sounds caused myself to wince but so did my learning bicycle riding. At least I did not fall off the violin. ‘So easy when you know how’, is said. These are simple thoughts that I am just reminding you of reality, perhaps so obvious, we do not even have it cross our minds. Even potty training. Teaching is a skill not all of us have but potty training is a skill that all parents realize they must do. It’s one of the first classes along with eating spinach.

When we are all grown up adults (except some adults who never grow up), there is a class which I will call finding purpose and the reason we are alive to have one. It’s the big question which, amazingly is put on our ‘back book shelves’ until the inevitable urge to press in and get answers comes.

Many people do not want a complex answer, or one that looks to an older adult that has some answers. Often we ignore them as foolish and misled in their ‘professed wisdom along with other adults. Or their class on a ‘Higher Power’ which is a very beginning of purpose behind door 101. In the beginning class.

There even is a book which starts with those very words! Here is the the name of that book which many dismiss as ludicrous. The Bible. As I have stated in a previous column, It is a book that is written by and for adults and if you don’t want to read it, please don’t dismiss or talk trash about it. Read and understand it’s answer. The answer could be 42 1. That is the number of generations from Adam to Jesus.

There are also many other books which address the reason we are here and what to do about it and I have read many of them. A lot of them say we are here because of a random event that occurred long ago and we are also a result of randomness. These are not books made by and for adults to read. They are a child’s stories that are fun to read. Like most really intriguing fiction that engages our imagination. Many of them tell us there is no purpose to life except to enjoy it and die wealthy. How comforting and absurd.

The Bible tells us the God of all, created us just to give us the choice of loving Him or not. Love cannot exist without us choosing to love. We question the Bible, some dismiss it, some read and understand it. Akin to a Parent that shows us why we are here, and how we got here. God is that Parent and we are His children. At first reading it can be challenging. That’s the best part! You will read it over again. You can start anywhere in it. This book tells us the real meaning of life and why we are living. An old book, written by many authors, and they all have the same subject and the same Hero. It’s pretty good. (To be continued ) Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

1. deep thought computer from Douglas Adams hitchhikers guide to the galaxy.

Darwin, Marx and Walmart at Christmas

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Two men we have heard of, and perhaps even read their writing. Secular and worldly writers both of them. Superman religion is an opiate of the people and illusion, no future. Also evolution that man has worked himself up from the brutes against terrific odds. You can justify your voracious ways. It’s easy to understand these viewpoints which totally ignore the necessity of us to answer the questions which we all have within. Why am I here? What or who made the universe? How can something come from nothing? What is the meaning of life?

Everyone has these questions, everyone. It is easy to deny them though because spiritual things are not seen in this world unless we look for them. We are blind and deaf to the truth. What is Christmas all about anyway and what is black Friday?

I remember Christmas in downtown Minneapolis from my early days while I walked around the biggest department store in the Twin Cities. Daytons. Every large window from the sidewalk had everything anyone desired, Model trains and such for myself and my youthful friends. Beautiful stuff. Exotic clothes, hats and shoes. Appliances unknown along with the latest TV sets and phonographs. Dazzling. We would walk around the store which is a city block square.

The best food. There it was, on the top floor, a restaurant serving food that was totally unadvertised and you had to know it was there to go. Exquisite, tasty and classy linen and crystal water glass’

In a very stretchy analogy, I liken this dichotomy to the secular vs spiritual in our society. After all, like the windows in this story, the world is always right before our eyes. Everything you think you would want is on show. Even other people we lust for because of their shape or the clothing they wear. Wallets full of other peoples money, car lots filled with shiny new vehicles. The latest models that are styled right from Holly wood movies to you. A car that appears to be a knockoff of a Formula 1 racer.

Fast food shouted from the freeways on huge, tall billboards. Exit now! get twenty Grey Bastille French burgers! They’re neatly sliced, and the pastry on the buns is exquisite. Everywhere the world beckons us to experience fulfillment and joy from horse racing to the Indianapolis 500. Advertising has reached another new level. not only at Christmas.

It doesn’t work. There is always someone richer or seemingly famous and beautiful that has a much nicer spouse and life than us. Look at the National Perspire at the grocery check out. Envy on our face as we gaze at the latest scandal with the beautiful wife of the revealed grassy knoll shooter. That doesn’t work either. Pick up a “My home and garden are better than yours” magazine or Readers Disgust and laugh at yourself and your pitiful life. There is hope though! Akin to the hidden treasure atop the department store, there is treasure in our world. Affordable treasure for your life. It seems like a steep price tag but the warranty goes forever. And it can be given away and still held!

The real world is indeed filled with fulfillment, joy and adoration. Our King and possessor of all things seen, felt and seen will give us this treasure and it is yours to experience and hold, forever. It is the treasure we all yearn for and once we have it, we can’t wait to give it to others.

Christmas is rightly focused on giving. The celebrations with bells and choirs and candles light the way to the best gift given. Wrapped in cloth and as delicate and astonishing as the perfect gift.

Sign up with an oath to share and enjoy with others that deserve this treasure as much as you do. You will hear our Creator tell you things and again and again; tell you that you are His treasure and gift from Him and His Son. We must give up on the old, lustful world inside of us and open our hearts to truth and reality, forever. This gift never goes out of stock, it becomes more beautiful the more you give it to others. It cannot be ordered from Amazon or found on eBay. There is a catalogue that has all the details and is available in stores throughout the land. It is also found in bedside drawers in hotels!

It is handed to you as your heart beats strongly and joy and tears overflows. It is truly the gift that keeps on giving. It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

First things First

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There is a strong tendency among men to jump into action. An immediate thought of doing, something, anything that will show the way we feel. An action defined by using our strength or resources to accomplish the task that seems to fit the bill. Demonstrating commitment or love to the world at large or a small piece of it.

I felt he I was really getting through to my family, especially my wife, when I would do something on her behalf. Fixing something, maybe even a meal or a surprise action or gift. It wasn’t enough. That is my love language. I would wonder what I did wrong and why if it felt so good. Why it didn’t last or feel the same to someone else. There was something missing. I don’t listen to her, I listen to myself.

There is a short piece in the Bible (have patience now, this is important) that the most important thing we can do is love our Lord with all our strength, spirit and mind. That’s the first part of two. The second part is a lot like it.

Love your neighbor as yourself. It’s like an instruction manual with only two things to do to find fulfillment, peace and romance. The simple part of any instructions, you have to do them in order. You cannot build a house without first laying a foundation. You cannot lay a foundation without preparing the place. Before that is perhaps the architect’s plan and so forth. There is always a sequence to building and it starts with a vision.

Where does that vision come from? And why does it fit in with your life? Do we do the first things first?

There is a very old piece of wisdom which I may have mentioned before. It’s from the Jewish Talmud and it is a conversation between a Rabbi and Elijah the Prophet:

He asks Elijah when Messiah is coming. Why don’t you ask Him yourself? He is out by the city gate. The Rabbi complains that the Messiah has deceived him for not showing up that day when He said He would. Elijah laughs and says, “ He didn’t say He was coming, He said to listen”

And so, we make the same mistake, over and over again. Be still and listen.

We jump right into the second part of Jesus’ explanation of all of scripture, of all the prophets to love our neighbor. But again, we gloss over the first command which is Love Him. All of us. All of who we are.

There is no shortcut to loving by going to work. I have experienced this in several ways. I was a part of a ministry in Lino Lakes called, ‘God’s grease Monkeys’ This must be a calling for me!

I was sort of on board with this Loving God command but I wasn’t waiting for that still, small voice of the Lord. I thought I was on the right track, seemed logical. I grabbed tools and showed up, even recruited a some good friends. The ministry was not where I needed to be on my own reckoning. I was Not listening for His quiet voice. After all, I saw the newspaper column that wrote about those grease monkeys, a Sunday edition of all things which I hardly ever buy. Who needs that much fire starting paper just because the funny section is a good memory?

Now, the same thing happens when I try with works of sacrifice to show Julie my love. I do not listen to her as she needs me to listen and not rush into talking or doing. Just listen. That’s how the house is built. Not buying 2 by 4’s when we think that’s all that is needed. Listen and hear well. All of our heart, soul and mind. Love the Lord first by listening to him. He will show us how to listen to others and understand their voices . It’s hard some of the time, but it’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Tis the Season to be Jolly

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Photo taken at Gone Green Recycling

It seemed like an incredible opportunity. Snow cones with jam and maple syrup. Enough snow for sure. At twenty cents apiece it would be thousands. Road side stand. That’s the ticket!

Perusing auctions about the state, I came across a really practical item. Something that could replace my old walk-behind machine and make the long driveway and parking lot be usable. Above photo.

A record breaking season of foot after foot of snow can get tedious as you well know up here in the North Country Fair. There is more than usual grumpiness and complaining in town. Strangers at the post office, smokers outside the bar. It gets to be humorous with everyone. After all, sometimes feet of snow slow things down and tailgating to avoid first in line deer collisions is over for the season.

A lot of folks with the big F250’s and western plows make a decent amount of seasonal money. The problem with that approach was the tall mounds of snow next to the driveways and roads. You know how it was. Cautiously, creeping out to make certain there was no traffic coming. And the mess and eventually, no place to further put the snow! Dump trucks of it after small town America finishes clearing main street.

Snow blowers, good ones, can throw the snow a ways and solve the pile problems. Not everyone had a machine that could effectively throw it that far. Especially the wet and often slushy snow or the ice that the slush turned into at night. In town, of course, shoveling is the only option. Snow blower haze on the next door neighbors windows is frowned upon.

We now have a utility tractor with a bucket, forks and so forth. If the skids on the bucket are set just right, our youngest son (who bought the tractor) can remove the snow without removing gravel from the driveway. The snowblower attachment we had for the Simplicity Lawn tractor needs auger bearings, transmission oil seals too and they are very labor intensive to replace. We have an old walk behind blower that is very tedious as the driveway is approximately 2 furlongs long and quite a big wider. It would take me 6 trips or so just to do the driveway. The parking lot is big and is then done afterwards. We shovel the side walks and various paths to the wood shed and storage buildings. No cattle or chickens this year so the long walk to the barn is not used.

How much to charge and how to contract townships for the tough roads through many lake owners- properties? Fuel, time, repairs would be factors. They used to do it 40 years ago. I would wait out by the door, listening for that diesel engine, snorting away nearby and watch that road grader with a huge V plow punch a path up the long driveway. A few runs if there was drifting. When he got up to turn around, I would walk out to him with a hot cup of coffee laced with Kalua. He knew it was coming. Well received, well given. He came sooner after that ritual was established.

As many of us ‘old timers’ speak of these things, the past including weather, seem more exciting and real. Examples throughout history are that way. It was better than before. The clothes, the people, the schools, etc. Was it? The storms seem to be tolerable now without free flights inside the house with waltzing tornados accompanying you on wood winds.

Would I be happier with a coonskin cap and a flintlock cradled in my arm this week during deer season? I wouldn’t know if I lived then. I would be the same person. It’s always ‘progress’ and under suspicion as we yearn for things but do not really want them.

Life in the garden was good until we got eager for more. More gold, more power, more success. Pretty old story eh? Why are we like this? We have been given everything that we need, and that is the reason we yearn. I am learning to find satisfaction and joy not around the corner. Right here, right now.

Simple rules from long ago, there are only three of them as I have read: “Be kind, be kind, and the third rule is like those, be kind.” To yourself and in turn, to everyone else. I always come back to the Ardennes forest in WW I as the soldiers began singing Silent night in German, French and English after yet another trench warfare battle. Crossing no-mans-land and sharing precious cigarettes and brandy to celebrate the only true God and lover of all and His birthday. Be kind. It’s pretty good.

Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

Open Windows II

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

As goes a saying, especially in a novel by George MacDonald (At the back of the North Wind), the window in our hearts has to be open for change to enter. Of course, the change has to be done by Adonni. The man of no reputation, the healer and the Abba Father. More on that later.

I used to think that the window was the focus, as could be interpreted in the novel. After all, the North Wind says it isn’t A window, it was Her window. The Holy Spirit’s window.

If the cleanliness of the window was the issue, it would not be good. My heart especially. If you have read a few of these columns over the last few years, you know a bit of my life. Not very sociable is a light term. Speaking of which, another column more recently addressed that issue. Especially church attenders and faithful ones too. Open Windows.

This column is dedicated to the folks that have been attending church for some time, some even since childhood. Deacons, leaders and elders too, attentive and a lot of times, complimenting the Pastor/speaker on their talk. Just say ‘thanks, I needed that’. It’s good, don’t misunderstand me. As had been said by my very closest friend, Julie, “don’t take condemnation”Pay attention to what I am saying without judgment please. It works to think beyond our image of ourselves. Growing up is better and preferred. It’s hard and often embarrassing. We all need to grow, constantly. It’s why we listen.

All this illuminating about scripture can be rather distracting if we are not paying attention to the complete conviction and the very passionate person standing in front of you,saying these important things. It’s not a college lecture on philosophy or metaphysics. It’s not the old Greek style of a famous orator. Taking notes is very good, I do that too. The notes are not the passion. They are to be read now and then. After all , you wrote them for that reason! Just as in school you wrote crib notes for the coming exams. The thoughts of those notes return

‘Watch, look and listen’ just as at a railroad crossing is good advice. If we don’t, it’s easy to get distracted by the speeding train in our minds. “I wonder what’s for lunch?” “That gal I saw in the lobby certainly caught my eye till I remembered God’s word on that!” the worst one for me is “I wonder when church will be over, I’ve got to get some shopping done”

We must open our hearts to what is being said, don’t concern yourself about schedules and perhaps about the dirt on your ‘window’. Throw up the sash and let that cool breeze into your heart. When you start to weep, that is the first sign of successful communication and often, astonishment. Those besides you may ask, “What’s wrong!” The correct answer from me is: “these are tears of joy! I cry at great music too”

A word of caution! Don’t wipe your eyes, just get the run off. Tears are good for you. The Lord says he treasures them for grief and this grief is real. It’s conviction for how short our arrows fall when we think we are making a bulls eye with our life. The voice you hear goes way beyond the speaker in front of you.

Let the transformation begin when our dirty window is even slightly open. It isn’t a window per se, It’s just our guard we have developed to protect our damage and disappointments. Filthy windows, and hard to see into as well. We know the dirt and smudges and they mean nothing to who we are. We are created as one of a kind, a miracle of incredible complexity and unique potential. Throw open the sash and indeed, the tears will flow when truth is heard. We don’t usually hear truth about ourselves supernaturally. It’s pretty good. Norm / Jack

Discarded

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I was in my twenties when I found an apartment that fitted my mood. Recently discharged from the military and I was going to art school! The apartment fit the inherited car from his Grandfather, an old, square shaped Buick sedan. It wasn’t like my first car, the British Racing Green MGA with the real knock-off spoke wheels and Pirelli Cinturados and a Derrington wood rim steering wheel. No, It was the car of my discarded Grandfather, now passed down to me. Discarded because the once strong fireman was not capable of driving or putting out fires anymore. It felt good to me to get that old Buick.

Grandpa had killed my cat when I was young, because it had to be as Grandpa could not have my cat in his home when Mom and her new husband went on their honeymoon to Sweden. I had no say as I was in grade school and felt discarded, set aside and not worthy of dialogue or even gentleness. Mom and her immigrant husband never went on that honeymoon either. One of those memories of the life of a person now dead but living within me. a.

It felt sort of similar too that my family sold my precious MGA when the draft came in with a whirlwind of death harvest for Vietnam. I signed up first before I could have gone west to the jungles. I went east to the Mediterranean sea instead.

So I sold Grandpas Buick right away, traded it for an Austin Healy Sprite. It felt good to be in a roadster again. Made up a bit for the Green MGA and the cat.

My apartment was a dump. Second floor above a Sherman Williams paint store on the wrong side of the tracks. Corner store, separate entrance. I had a neighbor who was down and out and bummed smokes from me. When I would ask him how things were going, the neighbor always said: “just take me to the dump” That memory reminds me of Marvin the paranoid android in Hitchhikers guide. “I’m not getting you down am I?”

It seems that the latest attitude we all have. “It’s at the end of it’s service life” or “that old thing? Too expensive to fix, toss it” “ You’re what! Pregnant! Git rid of it, You’ve got your whole life ahead of you!” and our favorite: “Heck, he’s over 80. Forget that cornea transplant. I mean really, how many years does he have left anyway?” “Put her in a home, she won’t notice anyway” And so forth. As side note, as I edit this post I just had eye surgery for cataracts and I am 81. Love it! I can drive without glasses now.

Feeling useless because the popular philosophy now is Existential in nature. One man in particular, a philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, went insane in the most beautiful country in the world, Switzerland. He came to the point of knowing the tension and despair for the loss of meaning in his life because of the loss of a personal God. His words are profound: “ But all pleasure seeks eternity-a deep and profound eternity”. Groucho Marks said: ” I want to live forever and I’ll die trying it” Truth from a great comedian.

Our country has found itself discarding our God of Creation perhaps because He is inconvenient and is sort of a kill joy because of all those rules he has. “I can’t follow all those rules in the Bible!” Of course we can’t, that’s the point of the rules. We need Him.

So we discard what we feel and know is not worthwhile to us. An old car, out of date food and personal relationships that are used up and don’t make us feel the way we want to. Or the way we feel we are entitled to perhaps. We have so much ‘stuff ‘ that it gets in our way when we don’t like it or need it. Broken things, old things past their expiration dates. Things that we don’t even remember acquiring. And so it goes on and on until it becomes easier to discard than repair. “That car, it was getting old and anyway, I was tired of driving it” How much different is it when it comes to this? “He was getting on my nerves. All this talk about going to a church marriage counselor! It was his fault, so I divorced him”

It seems prudent to us to just put it in a blue plastic container and park it down by the end of the driveway every Tuesday. ‘Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water! Throw out the tub too!’ I can do what I want, that’s what the world says. Another philosopher, De Sade put it well: “If there is no standard, no real moral base, then that old woman walking down the road can either be helped or run over. No difference if there are no moral standards” Those standards have been firmly set by an eternal infinite loving God who knows us and desires us to love him with the same passion he loves us.

So, it’s our choices, the small ones that make a great impact on everyone. Should I discard this friend? This inconvenient baby? This old fashioned religious teaching? This God who never did anything I asked Him to do?

Always, always our choice to build, repair, embrace and seek truth in the eyes of the Man who is more alive than any man who ever lived. Jesus, the master repairman of old and stressed lives. It’s pretty good.

Norm Peterson / Jack Gator For continuation of this story line see ‘Motorcycle Pilgrimage 1-5

a. Mark Batterson “please, thanks and sorry”

Hey Preacher Man

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Right out of the gate we start with a startling quote: “It is becoming increasingly obvious that those who avoid the painful encounter with the unseen are doomed to live a supercilious, boring, and superficial life…Pastors who see this feel more like circus directors than leaders to a new life”.

In other words perhaps, a lot of people that attend meetings about spiritual matters about God (out there or up there) instead of God within us, become part and parcel of that superficial life. As I have written before, the casual and totally insipid greeting of “how are you doing” countered with “better than I deserve!” is also boring and superficial. ‘You have no idea of what you deserve” is my immediate thought. Either that greeting is met with confusion or a laugh. I try with “I recognize your voice and your face but not your name.

The name section of my mind was wiped out by the seizures I had years ago and I casually refer to that issue as my rolodex got deleted. ” I’m Larry” is followed by a little laugh and glance elsewhere in the lobby and the encounter can get better or can end right there.

Close encounters of the non kind. (another column observing most of us are trapped in our own little existential world ) It’s easier not to go there. It’s easier to look for that Lazy Boy chair out in the sanctuary and watch the Bible on the cell phone (lighter in many ways and easier to carry) Nothing gets in or out is the lock down. It usually begins and ends with our mind focused on what to say as someone is speaking. I do not listen well, at least I know that.

I so want to get to know people. I like their face and I can see curiosity and perhaps an open depth that is obedient to more. It is reassuring in some way, reassuring that we odd ones do not get past that door. So close! Maybe this time I will find a soul that is curiously seeking. Eager to explore. To hear someone else besides myself. If asked, I will speak of these things and reveal my self. The many self’s that made me who I am this day.

The baby dandled on my mother’s lap, the reclusive and secret sensualist youngster. A reluctant military man. A young drug addict and a seeker of pleasure from women. A hardened and extremely powerful railroad track worker. These are the bodies buried in the family plot but are still within me. I do not live in those bodies any more and can briefly remember some of those things. This is intimacy within myself and can be shared with trust with another. We all have those burial plots.

The invitation to look closer and understand me as I will see who you are in return. Who are you and why are you? It’s a basic question to ask of the One that created us and if I listen quietly, I can hear an answer, in dreams, thoughts and once in a very great while, an audible kiss of the romantic one who created me.

We are told to rise for the intro of the excellent music production and I dutifully get up and instead of singing, open my Bible and read in a Sotto voce voice. Usually, the scripture I randomly pick is in harmony with what is being sung. I do like to sing but after many years of choir and performing, I sing harmony that pleases me. It throws people off nearby. Same phenomenon singing happy birthday. I like the alto/bass parts. It’s hard to sing melody for most, let alone try that with someone next to you going an octave below with a third or fifth.

Eventually, the sermon is presented to the room. No one rises. It is much easier to follow along with Bible in hand and for some, much easier to journal. The pastor/minister/priest gives a dissertation on the scripture at hand, in a few cases with interpretation in original languages. Greek, Hebrew and Latin. I appreciate that, illumination and thought provoking for certain. Exegesis of The Word and the scholarship of seminary shows forth. Brilliant really. It paints pictures in my mind but still does not engender an intimate relationship. That is the next step for me. Asking about life and complex emotions and fears.

If I could read an excellent book about my wife or her reading one about me, Intimacy is not brought forth. Love letters are are in the Bible and that’s what I like. Talking to the one you love and hearing back. An intimate relationship. Everyone loves to get a real letter. Hand written ones especially.

Quite a few times I have heard what I needed to hear. Passion, exhortation to go deep, deeper than we think we can go. Dive into our heart and meet Jesus there. Listen to Him, allow Him to speak and guide us. The ministering gives us the opportunity to move in the waters of life. How deep under the water with Jesus do we want to go? Let that sink in. The minister is not a social organizer, he wants us to awaken to life itself. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

With great thanks to Frederick Buechner, Mark Batterson and Henri Nowen

Unexpected Grief and Joy II

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There is a special quality to working alongside a son. Here I am with Soren, our youngest son and He is completely reconstructing my old shop. This photo was taken as we were both mildly bleeding from the usual construction hazards. Or, in this case, deconstruction before construction.

We have all done these things. New curtains and carpets, out with the old and in with the new as the saying goes. It was with more than trepidation that a task came to the forefront of our lives. The ‘tearing down and rebuilding. Two forty yard roll off dumpsters sort of thing. Nails and ancient dimension lumber. Insulation above that appeared to be cotton candy coated with mice having their own free wheeling toilet and dining areas.

All of it, the windows, sill plates and trusses. 30 by 40 or so. Fifty years ago it was old when I bought this farm. I was so nonplussed that I went to the old log barn and brought our my fiddle and played it. April 1, 1976 and I had just arrived with a moving van. In the rain.

A few years later after loosing my track worker job due to a back injury, it seemed a good idea to open a repair shop for foreign vehicles. After all, there were at least a dozen of them in the county. A kind and clever snap on dealer had me rebuild his 280Z for the tools it would take to do it. It ran quite well and I was off and running. 1979 and I should have a plaque, it’s there inside and doesn’t hang on the wall. It dangles about 3 and a half inches between my ears. Memory.

Sliding wood doors and no heat with a somewhat usable floor and foundation.30 x 40. I was 30 and could do anything, just like my son to come. The barn and chicken coop and old silo foundation were gone soon along with the summer kitchen much later. Oak 2×4 boards that held nails strong enough for mild tornadic winds. A time lapse film would appear interesting.

There isn’t much of it left in this photo. The floor and the Brick were left a few days after this

photo. Small injuries were the norm for all the family and friends that helped. Nails, metal siding and roofing, splinters from 75 year old dimension lumber. I was the only one that got nailed with a falling black walnut as I worked outside gathering those green tennis balls off of the ground.

Prep work. Building the trusses and putting up the walls and gently hoisting them onto them. As I write this, the rear you see is ¾ done with wiring and roof steel to do. Then inside walls and some shelving for all the shop sorts of things. Chemicals, parts and screws and bolts. Things all shops have in abundance. Possibly a new bench and a place for the freezers filled with venison.

Last night we pushed in the pile of inside particle board and after that goes up, the freezers go back. somewhere and the hoist is then clear for our car’s oil change and other chores. First is the install of the new hydraulics for the Kubota tractor and attendant bucket to complete the outside roof and siding. Getting closer to winter! Below freezing tonight here in the NW of Wisconsin and today, also bring up firewood to the rack on the porch for the parlor stove.

Fun, fun, fun till daddy takes the earth tilting it’s way from the sun. The design of a master creator to give us seasons of growth and hibernation, Heat to grow and snow to slow things down. Not withstanding the hydraulic snow blower on the tractor installation.

Rakes for shovels as the glory of creation gives us all another trip around the sun. 81 times around for me, how about you? Norm/Jack

Synopsis of a Fool on the road to Redemption

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A recall of my life is now being revealed to me, bit by bit. Indeed all the mistakes, roads taken that had no outlet or were literally dead ends, were there to take me to a place I did not know I was going. This is the reason I was given the opportunity to write this book. I thought it was my idea!

The Author whose books anchor a sagging bookshelf in our library, has given me hope and excitement as he has done for so many. C.S. Lewis. The first name Jessie Seline and I decided on for my Fiddling Gator identity was Jack. {It was Clive Staples Lewis’ nickname.}

So many authors have that first name in fiction writing and Jessie and I decided it was perfect. Punchy like Jack Dempsey. Masculine and only four letters long. It stuck after being known as ‘Mr Gator’ for years. That story comes to light in this book. A simple newspaper article about my role as a judge in a fiddle contest with a cartoon of an alligator, rocking back on his tail. playing the fiddle.

I know, without any doubt, that our Lord Jesus has me on speed dial to my spirit. I did not even know I had a phone like that before others before that have those, taught me how to listen. I listened when I was a big fool and now I am a tool. Those two letters are close on keyboards and are pushed with the left forefinger. Pointing the way to Him.

My counselor, Mr. Beeves, told me he had never met a man with more trauma than I. He also told me it would always be in my mind and would have six tenths of a second to turn off the reaction of fight or flight to perceived new trauma. Recently, I have asked Jesus to have a USB port put into my head and a jump drive with a program to dive deep and encase those memories where they belong. The past. He has recently acquiesced to that request! Very recently. I did not know He could do that or that I could ask. Look for the port if we meet and I will split hairs with you and show it to you.

Go, Set and get ready. Go to Him set your heart before Him and with Him, and you are ready. Stay on that Highway to Holiness, for “the road to hell is an easy slope, soft underfoot with no warning signs” a. I have asked many friends that were near death to meet me as I ‘cross the bar’ to eternity. I saw one of them leave with five words as he disappeared: “It’s better than you said!” It is.

a. C.S. Lewis