Struggles

Lobbyist In Oz

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

And there he was for Dorothy to discover, the man behind the curtain. Pay no attention to him but how could she ignore the blustering sounds? The thundering and loud voice, sending out many thousands of oversize postcards that were so slick that other mail slipped over it. Going to the mailbox for real information was difficult as the lobbyist’s large glossy mailings were in the way. She saw her attention was drawn to the fearful words written in Red or Blue.

She felt she was dreaming when the source of confusion and fear came into view. Pay no attention indeed. As though she can pay no attention to the wind.

There was a battle going on for Oz and it was hard to tell friend from foe.

She met new friends and they were very odd and in many ways, just like her. There was a tough guy that she knew had no heart for the battle and the thunder coming from the Lobbyist. He was very shiny but weak as tin foil.

There was a very peaceful man that also appeared tough in a softer way but confessed he had no courage for battle of any kind. He appeared to be a huge orange cat and roared instead of purring. He was very furry and gentle.

The third one was very odd and actually was trying to be scary! A scarecrow that stood among them all and waved arms of straw and obviously had no brains whatever. The scarecrow made no sense but kept up the behavior nonetheless. The scarecrow seemed friendly enough and had a big smile and with lot’s of laughter but was hard to understand as it kept repeating words. It said a lot of unkind things about Oz and everyone who lived there too.

As Wallace and his dog would say, “no use prevaricating about it” The lion was very tired of the scarecrow and all the lobbying that ‘shouted’ to listen to the laughter. He had enough, and found enough courage to tell the scarecrow to stop waving arms and laughing at him. He pushed back and the scarecrow toppled over rather quickly.

Astonished, the Tin foil man and the huge cat looked where the scarecrow had stood and there was nothing left but what appeared to be blue pants and a blue suit coat with the straw whispering around it. The straw blew away and the gust of wind that brought Dorothy to Oz now awakened her when her red slippers fell and made a loud sound when they came together next to her bed.

It was quite a dream and somehow, she felt it was also a part of her life. Things have never been the same since. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe Esq.

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.

Neither Despair Nor Optimism

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Upon reading the title of this column, it can be confusing. The description of despair is more or less easy to understand. When confronted with the world we are now in, it seems rather hopeless and we lament there is really nothing we can do about it.

Optimism counters that hopeless feeling that there is a relief on the horizon. Believing perhaps in a coming regime change there will be change that is beneficial to us. The banner of someone that promises what we long for, whatever our personal belief is in a better world. For us.

The despair of course knowing that this will not happen and that things will not go as we expect. Optimism takes a hold and we feel that if we just sit tight, everything will work out OK.

Much akin to Pollyanna thoughts. Don’t worry, be happy as a popular song we have heard.

Nothing to be done, or it will be alright in the end. I find it an odd conundrum as both attitudes are in conflict with the faith I embrace. Most certainly, my life and the life of my family is pretty good as my scribe, the gator always says. It is. We have a lovely place to live and many good friends and the ability to move about and enjoy the fruits of our labor. Literally as the garden and labor provides food and repair of things that do break down.

We know, all the way back to the Diache and the Westminister confession, that there is a real solution and a way to deal with our world. A fallen world and one with joy and sorrow. Oppression and helpfulness. A world that has been promised by our Creator that is not our home but a place of formation and life. Not prosperity nor futility experienced with either optimism nor despair but with the answer for everything. Hope.

Hope indeed that can be expressed by us with belief that there is indeed a home for us that will be fulfilling and joyful. All life ends in death and yet the promise we sing in our faith filled rooms with our brothers and sisters is the one answer. Faith.

Through the ages before us, our shinning light has been the incarnation of faith itself. The impossible visit by the Creator of everything that was and will be. He told us centuries ago that our world would indeed be filled with both sorrow and joy. He experienced both things when, hard to believe, impossible for some, He walked among us and taught again and again those things. Do not despair and wallow in fear, do not sit tight and think it will all work out.

Walk as I walk He said, follow me to true life and become children of God. This is the answer to all things. Hope which is Grace which leads to Faith, the very gift of God. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator scribe.

with thanks to Carl R. Truman ‘Strange new world‘

Inconvenience Store

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

They seem to be popping up everywhere. In the garden even, inconvenient plants with pretty blue flowers that creep along the ground and invade your strawberry beds and choke out those tender flowers that are usually in the middle of the garden.

You know them, we all do and it’s very inconvenient to remove them and all their offshoots.The dandelions that are relatives and show up at the same time. Akin to the neighbors that come over a lot and want to borrow your chainsaw so they can break it for you.

You are supposed to love those people, really, it’s the actual words of our leader and the man who was God on this planet. A very difficult thing to do. To love these people. Well, he did tell us about the weeds and the good crops but People are not weeds, but often they feel like them unless I am one on the highway. Causing other hurrying ones to point their long leaves at me they grow faster on by me.

I began to wonder about a store that sold all inconvenient things. They too are everywhere and are popping up like dandelions in your neighborhood.

Outside of town and very prominent, lots of them now. They sell many things you really don’t need but it is inexpensive (another word with the prefix of ‘In’) Before you even enter, there is a machine that dispenses movies you won’t enjoy. Monsters destroying things like cities or the world. Heroic men that survive danger to kill the inconvenient people in their lives.

Inside the store (which has an odor of soap you would never buy or use) are things to buy that are not easily obtained without driving a great distance from your small town. Left handed chewing gum and cross threaded light bulbs. A plethora of baked goods that have labels not quite big enough to list poison ingredients and taste bad. Bread that squashes when you grab it.

Clothing that will not fit and as mentioned before a whole aisle of soaps that you would not even want to put in your car for the drive home. The list goes on, but it is convenient to get these things because those stores are close by, Everywhere. They all look the same and are lit like airport runways as another convenient light source for their neighboring homes.

The list is long. Alarm clocks that always slow down ten minutes so your job becomes inconvenient for human resource departments. The help all have respiratory problems, as to be expected. Most of them do know where everything is by aisle and within them. I try to imagine myself, just out of high school in a small town and working the cash register nights. I remember my first job when I was in high school and it was a breeze compared to this work.

Our world is filled with inconvenient things, troublesome things but as an old friend sang, “old and in the way, they will never care about you because your old and in the way” We are not dandelions and we are precious, every one of us. I know this now because my Savior tells me so. He made me and you and loves us all and our creator bought us at a very great price. Not Very convenient to everyone and valued no matter where we are on the shelf of life. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator.

A Moment of Silence

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was one of those wonderful, stunning, and even a personal world changer kind of movie. Perhaps you can bring one to mind right away. For a while, we just watch the film and enjoy and laugh at the times that laughter is perfectly appropriate. It’s a good film I thought. I like it and it describes a bit of real life that speaks to me.

Unexpectedly, those films grab a hold of your past. So clear and so relevant a grabbing that with an astonished response, I became the emotion brought out in the film. It was a well done film and it was expected that the main character would be changed somehow. Brought out of brokenness and somehow, restored to the way that he should be.

There was a scene in the movie that this wounded man was given a simple task by another man, sitting with him in a crowded restaurant. Asked to just think of the people in his life that made him the unique man he was. The only one like him ever made as are the rest of us. Unique and loved and nurtured in ways we do not understand often. One minute of silence. I watched and was silent too. The actors were silent and it was a perfect time for me to do the same thing. Thinking of the people that grew me up and made what I now am .

There were sudden tears as I remembered a long remembered wound. My precious cat that slept with me every night, a real life teddy bear that purred and loved to be with me. It was the most precious thing in my life. The cat loved me and I loved the cat. Grade School onward. A solid thing that a lot of us have or have had that is really special. Some of my friends and family know the story, especially my recent counselor, who at the time knew right away what the cat meant to me.

I came home from junior high school and did not find the cat in my room. Puzzled, I asked my mother when she came home if she knew where the cat was. “Grandpa had him killed because when my new husband and I go on our honeymoon, it would be inconvenient when you stay with Grandpa when we are gone” Speechless and wounded beyond repair, I disappeared into myself for decades of my life. No one ever again be trusted with my precious emotions and loves.

The man in the movie was crying and so was I. The people who grew us up and made us who we are. One of a kind. Special. Loved. Some that I never forgave. Interesting word, forgive. It seems it means to give something special, a before giving leading to freedom. And yet, Grandpa was kit and kin and had a lot to give in some way to make me who I am. The man in the movie forgave and at the same time, watching and listening, I forgave Grandpa and realized what had just happened.

I am forgiven too. For betrayal, for hurting others, and a list of embarrassing and painful things I have done. Now I realized what was learned. To forgive as I have been forgiven by my eternal best friend. The friend who talks to me and can actually forgive all the bad things and the thoughts that I have kept within. The only man in my life who can do that. When I cry out for freedom from the pain I have embraced so long, Jesus embraces me.

“In the morning and the evening, in the darkness and the daylight, he is with you, He is for you. He is before you, and behind you, and beside you and within you, He is with you. He is for you, He is for you. Amen!” 1.

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator 1. thanks to Steph Mcleod for the inspiration in ‘The Blessing’

Random Life or Free Choice

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

The brilliant Irish Physicist, Erwin Schrodinger put out some philosophical and even Religious thoughts and writings. Nobel prize winner, friend of Albert Einstein and a fellow at Magdelen College. I speculate he possibly met C.S. Lewis who was a Don there (near Oxford) Both of them brilliant. Erwin, the discoverer of the double helix, wrote about Quantum Orbits and illustrated it in a unique way.

Schrodinger’s cat is a famous piece that speculates on a cat in a box that could be affected by a random quantum event. That event would kill the cat BUT the only way to find out if the cat is alive or dead is to open the box. Some speculations of the unified field theory speculate that the cat be both alive and dead!

What does all this high calculation lead us to? There is more to it than meets the mind. In fact, in the year I was born, Erwin wrote a paper titled, “What is Life” It was 1944 if you must know.

Many speculations from recent time, Greece in old times from philosophers abound. Aristotle and his pupil, Plato is a good place to start on logic. Perhaps Douglas Adams and his classic “Life the Universe and Everything” or even my treatise: The beginning and the end and all the important stuff in between. There are a few others at the website.

It all seems pretty heady and things left to those smarter than we are. Are they? Or are they much to same as us. Filled with wonder and trying to find meaning to their lives. As you have discerned, I am having a lot of fun writing about these things. It helps me look deep and find myself in the fabric of life. I have made some very bad choices and also some pretty good ones.

There is a great gift from our creator that enables us to make choices. We can love other people or hate them. We can choose to embrace our lives or live in fear that we are the cat in the box. Waiting for some random event to do something to or for us. Random things like car crashes or winning a lottery. An early death or prolonged life (figure it out, 1944 for me means pretty old).

We want to live forever, all of us and we have a free choice to do so. It’s a promise from our Lord and Savior.

A friend thinks he is just “worm food” when he dies, his choice really. I have been given a very rare gift in choice. Free choice. What a blessing when I heard five words in a locked room: “Life or death, choose now” Addicted to heroin at the time, I chose life. The quantum particle headed for me was gone. Life has it’s weeping and it’s joy and those are with all of us. We can choose life and trust that Jesus is for us, not against us, and he is good no matter what our circumstances. Let Him be your guide, no matter what, and choose him. He will even show you what choices you have if you listen to Him. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator, scribe

Three Shades of Purple

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

The death sentence was hovering over all the graduates in the early sixties. The draft. Norm’s classmate, Vern Norton, came home in a box draped with an American flag. I always liked his last name, Norton. It reminds me of a bike I have always wanted, the Norton Commando. It did not seem pleasant to be shipped of to Viet Nam and die in the jungles for a war most of us did not comprehend.

Most of my classmates were still in college or married and had draft deferments. I was 1A and before being drafted, volunteered for the submarine service and was quickly sent off to Camp Nimitz, San Diego. Upon arrival, the laughing Marine DI told me me my draft notice had just been forwarded.

However, some enjoyment ensued as I was recruited into the Blue Jacket’s choir. Singing at graduations and church services for the officers on the base. Three sung notes was enough to either get thumbs up or down to join the choir. The director was a retired Mormon tabernacle choir director and knew music pretty well.

We got to wear dress blues right away and had ‘crows’ sewed on our sleeves so It appeared we were experienced sailors and a little older. Mine was an E6 and the other boots in our basic training were puzzled. I was designated as education petty officer, first class.

Upon graduation I was excited to go on to New London for Sub school and was interviewed with a few more tests. The high school straight A’s in advanced math and a general class amateur radio license at age 12 were the recruiters logical path to the nuclear technician promised. The new interview caught a color vision issue as I could not discern several shades of purple wiring. No tech job for me. No subs. (they are called Boats in the Navy)

A natural move was ‘A’ school as a radio operator and I was immediately put into a teaching position for Morse code and elementary electronics. Weekends off with liberty to visit old friends up the coast was a bonus. I really wanted those dolphins on my uniform though.

Later, serving on the surface Navy in top secret communications, I learned of the accidental sinking of the submarine SkipJack near the Azores. All 99 men lost, the nuclear boat still deep at crush depth. 1965. It might have been me on that boat and I would not be writing these columns nor be the father and husband I am now. The dates are possible, Nukes were new and the Thresher had sunk shortly before.

Saved from my dreams? How and why was I born with a slight color vision problem? It seems there was a plan for my life that has brought me to this place of writing about the one who saved me from an early death.

I am Telling you, the reader, about the plan the creator had for me that does not make sense very often to us. Time and again, I began to see a path that has put me right here. If you examine your life, you can see life changing episodes or decisions that have changed your life as well.

Myself, I was told I would be fired from being published by a newspapers new owner for including Jesus in my columns too many times . I didn’t like that after four years of being published every week (hundreds of columns) It seemed odd to be admonished for being a successful columnist. My readers that I met or knew were encouraged and often entertained by what I write. I assumed the new owner is not a fan of Jesus. I was not allowed to meet with him either. It would have been an interesting conversation.

I quit before I was fired, I was allowed to write a peaceful good by column. That newspapers editor said that he envied my faith. We are still friends. So many things happen in our lives that become path openings to more revealed beauty of the Lord. You know them when you look for them. The good and the bad times, the sorrow and rejoicing. He is with you, He is for you.

Hallelujah! It’s pretty good, Jack Gator

Bullfighter

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 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. Perhaps 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 perhaps 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 perhaps 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 cannot 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

Jury Rigged

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Another word that means different things but is spelled the same is called a homonym. The rigged jury is familiar to most of us. Money or clever selections can rig a jury.

The other rigged is used also as Jerry Rigged which is an old nautical term. A quick fix with material on hand, usually cheaper and somewhat functional. Actuating controls for engines is common. Why replace a broken choke cable and dash knob with an expensive part when mechanics wire wrapped around a small bolt will do! A few classy variations like a rubber grommet in the dash or some spiral wire wrap helps the illusion of good repair. It works.

There is another, less used speaking of our lives that uses this term of patchwork or worse.

There is a traumatic event recent or past that lingers in our spirit. I have several of those and usually it is me that the event happened to. So, I just Jerry rig the memory with small platitudes that make it more tolerable. Making excuses for those things then push them back to a place not quite so dark. ‘Gramps was always crabby and that’s why he said that or did that’ Very forgiving and a good way to turn the darkness into someone else’s. Still, the sting remains.

Realizing that everything that has happened is why I am the way I am and that is the grace of God operating in my life.

“ As long as we stay resentful about things we wish had not happened, about relationships that we wished had turned out differently, mistakes we wish we had not made, part of our heart remains isolated, incapable of bearing fruit in the new life ahead of us. It is a way we hold part of us apart from God” A.

We jury rig our lives with fantasies, self condemnation and internal rage at our life. Embrace God’s vision and grace for our life and see what has been given to us. We grow when we see the way we have grown and indeed, become wounded healers for those we meet.

A. Henri Nouwen ‘Turn my mourning into dancing’