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.
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
Wind chimes, the delight of the flutter of blown leaves or the sway of a tall tree from a breeze that can be heard. These simple things generate a delight that can be explained that have never been explored in the emotion we feel.
The sudden pleasure and smile within our spirit is not even noticed in some ways. It’s just there. We are mostly unaware of the two forces within and without of us. There is a sudden flash of lighting and the instant thunder that shakes the house as the imprint on our retina starts to fade from the sun hot blaze strike. Nicoli Tesla would stand up clap and cheer every time he heard a bolt of lightning. A miracle all of us have heard of the connection between negative and positive EMF. From clouds that can weigh up to a million pounds!
We can then tremble at the power and fear felt or immediately be amazed in delight at the impossible power in a cloud of water. A thought that brings us to our spirit connection and the calm presence of our familiar lover of our soul.
The wind chimes again come to mind. That storm with the wind and thunder may have played a fast tune on them before they became tangled and perhaps so tangled that they could Knot easily be put right. [pun] Are we then to look about the strings and tubes and give up and toss the whole assembly? Or, take hold of the calm and rightness of beauty in the storm and take it apart lovingly, and bring the chimes back to life.
I have begun to see the connection between emotional storms and the music of the Aeolian harp that responds to the storm and gives us the steady center of our being. Full of sound and fury is the world and ourselves if we don’t listen for the calm and clearing skies within us.
“What if all animated nature be but animated harps diversely framed that tremble into thought, as o’er them sweeps plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, at once the soul of each, and God of all?” A.
Prayer seemed unnecessary. As I heard the breath of God tell me, once again the old saying of no one really knows where the wind comes from and wither it goes. He was telling me that His breath indeed is the breath inside my lungs I can now use this inward gift to praise Him and live in His presence. An Aeolian harp sings and it’s pretty good. Jack Gator
We must be sensitive to nature’s voice if we are to be truly human. This is the whisper of God’s voice to us. I was at a prayer meeting where we were told to find a place where we could, in isolation, pray. I chose to go outside and sit on a porch. I began to hear wind and watched a very tall tree swaying it’s top.
1. Colerigdge Many thanks to the writing of Carl R. Trueman
It’s a real easy thing to do with music, if you play that is. If you play in front of people. A hushed room, listening to every key change, every high tempo from the kick drum. Listening when the whole outfit stops playing and just sings Capella. Most everyone in the band knows their parts and if the sound engineer knows their stuff, the band knows what everyone else is doing at any one time. Applause if you do it right and stay in key. Play off key, just surround it with friendly melody and no one will ever know the mistake. 1,.
The problem begins when you have a ‘gig’ (music world for job to play) and are really not in the mood, tired and just beating yourself up about the gestalt of performance. It’s a huge step to exclusively change from playing every two bit bar within driving range, and change to playing for a worship group or band. After a short while, the change to Holy music from Holly music seems to be harder, much harder. Holy means touching eternity and it’s pretty good!
There is a fallback when you have to play and would rather not. You put your musical skills on the line and play in Georgia Overdrive. Put everything in neutral and just coast. It sounds good but you know it doesn’t sound like anything. Just making the moves. Waiting for a touch from the numinous Lord, waiting to hear ‘those’ notes.
As the joke goes, “it’s OK if you like music” It’s a subtle and yet extremely powerful touch or kiss that thrills musicians. Sometimes you can tell with an ensemble when someone transcends all the sharts and flaps and begins to really play or sing. Rhythm surprises were a favorite fallback for me. I was nicknamed ‘the rhythm monster’ by a square dance group I played with for years. The changed notes or rhythm,they catch attention and start an interest. It can be compared to a flicker of light at sunset in the clouds.
Focus on an unknown algorithm that begins the solving of the connection to the conductor of the music. You can feel Him listening and watching what the Holy music is saying to Him. His delight in the formula found to draw near is palpable.
It’s more than just performing for the Holy one, Jesus. It starts with performance at the outset. Akin to handling a blueprint and ‘playing’ with it. A musical intonation that isn’t too complicated but intriguing. A few fumbled chord changes and the groove is coming into focus. Do your part you hear, it’s just made for you to play.
Use the blueprint to get to the right foundation of the music building and ‘look around’ at the other musical carpenters. They are waiting for the moment too. Suddenly, unexpectedly, a harmonic sounds and two instruments play it together. Improvisation rather than notes on a page. Primitive and not very professional but fun. It’s easier to play jazz if you don’t worry about it. Just play what shows up in your spirit and be delighted when it gets picked up.
Noted gypsy guitar player a generation or so ago, Django Rheinhart was asked what key he wanted to play in. He responded. “Key? What is Key?” Gifted beyond comprehension when he played with Stephan Grapelli on violin. If you can get a vinyl recording of these sessions, hang on to it. It’s worth a bundle. Vinyl, it’s the closest thing to actually being there.
Play well and play with heart and spirit giving you the rhythm and scale of things., It’s pretty good.
There it is, right in the basic and truthful words of the most truthful man that ever lived and walked among us. Seems like a good idea. At least peace would reign and I would not be so concerned about our mutual fence line, or the other one a bit further away. After all, I don’t want all the land there is! I just desire the land next to mine.
It is easy to circumvent in my mind, after all the words are not ‘Love your next door neighbor’ The second part seems pretty simple, ….As you love yourself. Or it’s companion we use a lot; Hate the sin, but love the sinner.
After all, it is the modus operandi of my life. (That phrase usually refers to a pattern or method suggesting the work of a criminal.) After all, when I do something foolish or worse, that which is called sin, I usually hate that behavior. But, I still go on doing that sort of thing and go on loving myself! Sometimes we hate ourselves, I have said that more than once but eventually come around and realize what a really lovable person I am. I just slip up now and then. Forgive the sin but love the sinner. Does that apply to us? Of course!
How to do this thing, extending my self love outward to another? Recognizing suddenly, over and over again that the people in front of me, behind me, all around me are to be loved as they are by our creator. It can be done, I have done it more often than I thought possible. Sometimes several times a day! I need a storehouse of that sort of love to call upon to do this. Always.
The only way to do this is to fix my eyes and mind and spirit upon everything that is beautiful, right and true. The only way for me to do this is worship the living God Jesus who tells me again how to do this. The way he loves me, the way I love myself. More often now, when I find my mind and my eyes and ears fixed on His words, actions, and His incredible life, then I feel Him near. He is always there, of course. When I feel Him, I feel His breath upon me.
Worship music can help do this for me. Sometimes I forget the many times I worshiped with my beloved team. There were times that were overwhelming with God’s presence shining His face upon us. Suddenly the only response was tears on my instruments. The stains of salt water are still there. Colors of remembrance of timeless love given and felt. The whole team felt it when it happened. That is the reason we see enraptured listeners gesturing, raising hands and weeping. I love it when I see them but know the reasons and intensity that are sweeping through their very being.
Over the internet, in person, even helping produce a visual and audio ‘performance’ of a worship team. When I am awake, then I know when I see things and I hear things in that room. It’s glory and beauty inexplicable and eternal. Astonishingly, things that exist forever. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe
A glorious summer day, with my entire family and early in the morning we headed to a nearby town for gravy and biscuits for breakfast. What a good way to start my birthday! I was driven past town, confused until it was announce I was being kidnapped and we were heading to the freeway and to Duluth. It was dreamlike to be on the way to visit that city again with it’s delights and crumbled history. It has been years since we were able to do this, and now all five of us were on the way to a day trip. What a surprise and honor to have a birthday present such as this.
New business’ and yet, there is a building just a block up from bustling main street, an empty Plumbing and Heating building, now apartments with good views of lake Superior. The rich mercantile shipping headquarters of the upper Midwest, empty. The busy city is now filled with people like us, romantically enticed by the oceanic lake and it’s history. Those warehouses were filled with tons of trade goods from everywhere and also from far north at York Factory on Hudson bay, furs and hides by the bundle to trundle to Europe on ocean going ships. This is Duluth history. Mansions nearby built from the fortunes of lumbering and shipping are now tourist attractions.
The iron ore docks are keeping the shipping going , but the warehouses are empty and the only big ships on Superior are ‘lakers’ with the big holds and hatches for iron ore or coal.
We parked up the hill a block and could smell the coffee roasting from our destination downhill. The street we parked on had it’s charm a bit tarnished by rain eroded old building sites with cracked brick sidewalks. A lone street person half way down, ducked into a narrow hidden alley with her purloined shopping cart and completed the contrast. She was muttering a bit to herself and on her way to …somewhere.
We continued down to the main street. Church bells began to ring from a cathedral visible. It had windows replaced with wood and the building next to it was careworn brick and the windows had no sign of life behind them. Duluth, a fascinating city. Old and new, tightly bound together and bursting forth yet again and again because of it’s beauty.
The streets are steep, bringing memories of San Fransisco and it’s trolly cars. None of those trolly cars exist in Duluth now but the car repair shops do a brisk trade in brake linings. Bicycles abound and a close look at the back gear cluster reveals chain rings about a foot in diameter. They call them ‘granny gears’ and there are limits to them too.
We enjoyed the perfect coffee and then drove down to Canal Park to join the multitude of people also seeking adventure. The bay touring helicopters buzzed about above as we explored the new stores selling remembrances of the boundary waters north of the lake. Beautiful leather handbags and camp gear ready for a portage but they were twice the price anticipated. Forty dollar hats and Kromer caps for half a days wages.
There is a glass blowing shop, open to the sidewalk as incredible things are made and shaped in the small foundry furnace with long rods. Rolled and cut and skillfully made into useful and beautiful creations. There is a skilled teacher there too and we watched as he showed a student how to make a vase with the northern lights colors twisted into it.
We ate smoked whitefish and the best and perfect onion rings. Those rings did not release the onions when you bit into them as others do. Upstairs I went alone into the violin shop and got an estimate on adjusting the sound post of my viola while a pleasant man conversed with me as his wife was trying out a violin among the many hanging above the cellos. The shop is a treasure on the third floor of the Dewitt Sykes building. Made of brick of course. The building not the fiddles.
The rest of the morning I sat on a bench near a sculptured water fountain. Steel fish with water streams coming from their mouths were delighting children as they carefully walked across the pond on flat stones while their parents walked behind them. I watched the people again and this time, alone on the shaded bench, began to pray single word prayers over the ones walking nearby. Peace, strength, connection. Fulfillment as directed by Jesus who was whispering them beside me.
I was delighted to be directed to an older man when my family was lined up inside a very busy, high quality ice cream shop. I did not want to wait in line and sat outside and until I was shown that man. Perhaps my age? I came to him and asked him if I could pray for him. Somewhat surprised when he was standing there he said ‘OK’ and touching his shoulder prayed for him.
Our last stop was at a distillery where we drank bourbon, scotch and brandy that was as good as I have ever tasted. It was as good as the 14 year old stuff that comes from Scotland. A bit more affordable and we could see the distilling piping and tanks where we sat. It was a perfect end to our day up north as the birthday bird flew me back from the birthday palace with it’s forty rooms, just for storing the cleaning up brooms. 1.
Back to the freeway and home while my oldest son and I joked about the billboards we see on our way on Sundays down by the cities. We saw the same ones with ‘Fear the flannel’ whatever that means. Also the man with outstretched arms telling us he will buy our homes instantly. Three of the flannel and 1 of the realtor. (The count on Sunday drives is 4 and six)
What a present, what a delight to be kidnapped on my transition day to being an octogenarian! I am home alone now as my family is off to work. They sacrificed a work day to be with me and it still is precious to me this morning. Life is pretty good. Jack Gator, Scribe
As mentioned in Sky Palace 1,there is nothing in the Bible that tells us what eternal life is like except for the ‘room’ prepared and the presence of Jesus. As a people with imagination and a hope of continuing some version of our earthly life, we create heaven to suit us. No one has the full picture, for obvious reasons. The price of admission is death and only once I was given a small review by my dear friend at the moment of his death. He appeared for a few seconds and said; “It’s better than you said!” A message from his wife confirmed the time.
Why was I given this very rare gift of seeing and hearing a friend entering paradise?
What did I tell him? Whatever it was, it fell short of what happened and I am excited about that for me. Not my first choice right now, but a reality for my future which is very soon according to scripture. Our life here is just a vapor. There is usually enough time to make some decisions about our eternity.
One of my favorite authors wrote a short story about his vision of that decision and the veil lifted when entering in to forever life, better than we can imagine. The story is called “The Great Divorce” by C.S. Lewis. I recommend this short read.
Why would anyone prefer the Christian viewpoint of life, the universe and everything (Douglas Adams) We all have ‘the question’ of what’s the point? [another recommended book, “What’s the point?” by Misty Edwards.]
What indeed is the reason for our existence? Evolution can’t give us any answer, It’s the impossible religion of life’s meaning. . Embrace it and indeed it will be ‘dust to dust’. As I mentioned before in part I, none of the other religions offer anything but a child’s imagination to that deepest question of our heart. I am aware of the mention of an answer to that question and it is found in the most popular and well read book on the planet: The Bible. From Genesis to Revelation, all the words in it tell us over and over again about a savior who has many beautiful names, the most recognized is Jesus. No chapter and verse need be mentioned because scripture is rich with names and descriptions of this Man who is, impossibly, God as well.
The revelation that this man knows everything in my heart is almost too intimate and shameful to bear. The realization that at my deepest, I am not nice, not pleasant beneath my public face is universal truth. Look in your heart and be truthful to yourself. There are thoughts and actions and desires hidden, even from ourselves! The evil and wickedness of the world is not ‘them’. In the wise words of a cartoon character, Pogo: “I have met the enemy and it’s us”
The miracles that happened when Jesus asked for them are stunning and impossible. Does anyone know somebody that raised a man dead three days to life? He Turned the world upside down with more incredible acts and words than are possible for only a ‘good teacher’ or as some say, ‘just a man’. At His execution by torture, a Roman officer suddenly stated; “Surely this man was the son of God” Why was this statement made and recorded? Jesus being baptized by John with the audible words as Jesus came up from the water; ‘This is my Son in whom I am well pleased’
Or ,how about the thief on the next cross asking for remembrance when Jesus came into HIS Kingdom? That thief was granted forgiveness on the spot for his simple heart statement. I am stating recorded words from many authors before and after the life of Jesus of Galilee.
My favorite quote is when King David was given the vision of his future great great… grandchild Jesus. 14 generations away. It’s Psalm 110 “Yahweh said to Adoni, sit at my right hand and I will make your enemies your footstool”. Take it and embrace it or argue it away. Life or death, your choice. Always is, always will be. Track me down if you want and I will tell you the the truth, I don’t create truth, it just is.
And there I was, with a dual citizenship of a prayer volunteer and a media volunteer. I thought I was going to do something else and moved my ‘vocation’ or calling to another location so I could pray for musicians that pray with their music. Vocation comes from the the word Vocare which means To Call. It’s not a career. A doctor who has a career has first been called.
If we have found the peace that passes all understanding and can wait patiently, we will indeed be called. In the waiting room in hospitals, we wait to be called. That is somewhat similar, although we do not sit and wait for 30 years or so in that room, reading magazines that are not to our liking. I have been ‘called’ many times in my life and often it was after waiting a while. More than 30 years actually. I moved about a bit however and did do a lot of reading. I was waiting for Vocare and I did not know that.
Student, laborer, Naval radioman, movie projectionist, musician, auto mechanic and other ‘random’ occupations, traipsing through life and falling into various professions. Random it seemed and some of those jobs are better left unwritten about. Why this drifting about with a precious life to enjoy? Dependent on a breeze to detach me from the branch of my life and float down to yet another location, a wandering sign. It seemed so random but here I am, my odometer has spun around and my body is rusty and noisy but it still works.
One night, I was called and that Vocare has led me places that have utilized skills that I acquired along the snow drifts traveled. Lately, that calling has led me to a place that I would not have guessed but the life and training has equipped me to do so. Ears trained to hear beauty and eyes to see it. There is more to come, always is for us all. Singing prayer with others for years, often just us facing a room filled with empty chairs. This led to a Vocare to pray for other people as I knew prayer was a connection to eternity and it’s creator.
A good friend introduced me to a large church to help him pray. I was immediately struck by the hunger I felt there because it was the same hunger I feel. Now those chairs were filled with people that felt the way I do. I knew what to tell them. He is with them and He is for them. It was the connection with my calling to feel the presence of our Lord.
I was gently reminded by the team leader not to reveal details or struggles of my life, just to listen to people and reassure them and pray with them for their fears and sometimes with tears between us. It was good and right and I felt fulfilled and called to this. Compassion.
It often takes a wounded one to extend healing to another. 1
An opportunity to join my son at another campus came up. He is the director of the media team there and I could ride with him as well. (it’s quite a commute of 60 miles)
I immediately requested a transfer to the prayer team to that campus. It was hard as I had made friends of volunteers and with team leaders. The transfer came through and I began at the new location. When I arrived, the prayer team leader informed me that his team was adequately staffed and I would be put in reserve. I began praying for staff and volunteers as the opportunity arose. It was my main desire at the first location actually. My son and I get to the new location early and it is easy to connect with staff and volunteers.
It works well and I am also able to visit and pray with the band. My son invited me to join his media team. There were vacancies most of the time and some of the positions were advantageous to good production. I began training in various consoles As I write this, I am in the position of assistant director. Very rewarding. I have access to the rehearsals and just listening to them I visualize where the story is being told with the musicians. This enhances the visual and auditory structure of the story we are responsible for presenting.
Now I enjoy that dual role of prayer and media volunteer! Another combination of vocations. My background in radio production was a great help. Communication headsets and lots of dials and switches were familiar. I was called to communication at the age of 13 after all. Amateur radio and attendant electronics and Morse code skills. The initial contacting of other radio operators begins with the letters CQ or Seek You. It seems to be a similar calling to Seek and connect. Perhaps that was the training I needed to enter into these two worlds of prayer and production of an environment that embraces it.
People on the production teams are successful if they are never noticed. All the lights, sound and video screens enhance the story, the greatest story. We even wear black clothing that does not reflect light so we are not seen by the cameras which need reflected light.
What gifts I have been given by our Lord! A Vocare to listen and to see and then help others hear and feel the presence of the eternal God. Random it is not. You too have been prepared for a vocation to serve the world and reflect the love of Christ. Even if you wear black clothing you reflect that light. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator
It seemed to have started back in the fifties, An uneasiness, the knowledge that there was no future, for anyone. There was a war and it wasn’t the usual war for a child in grade school. Suddenly the sirens became active and it sounded like the battle for Britain in the old grade school classroom. Becoming a musician playing piano, I liked the low bass notes as the siren dropped octaves and finished akin to a huge motor coming to a stop. You know the sound, every small town in America has one.
It’s a horn and it rotates just like a Leslie B3 organ. Whooping and penetrating with incredible sound pressure from high on the highest building in town. The tornado warning horn. It means extreme danger and take cover. Right away. ‘Duck and cover’ under your desk, the one with metal and wood and then you will be safe from imploding windows. Waiting for the brilliant flash and having seen the Nevada test sites from WWII, the houses blown to bits by a wave of impossible destruction, obliteration. The desk and you would be vapor and the world, as you know it, would disappear along with your Hopalong Cassidy lunch box with a delicious Skippy peanut butter sandwich inside and a tasteless ‘delicious’ apple included. Maybe a thermos of chocolate milk too.
The bomb did not show up, but my belief in a world of wonder and beauty would disappear into the vapor of a lost reason to live. Many times I have had similar excuses for my behaviors.
Those things made me who I am but now, I can glimpse what I am becoming because of Divine providence. This side of eternity, we do not understand many things. I don’t.
It was so easy to look inward for my purpose and my strength. To believe I was the captain of my life and as I stated in one of my columns, inconvenient, every one and every thing was in the way of my fulfillment. Fatherless and basically homeless while living at home gave me the opportunity to create my own world. The church I was taken to every Sunday, all the special clothing and titles and programs was organized by what seemed to be a circus director. Keeping the show going and making certain everyone knew their place. The stained glass ceilings were pretty high up there. Even a scaffold wouldn’t take you high enough to break through. Corporate.
I went inwards and created a world I could control. All the pitfalls were mine to enjoy and even embrace counter culture that embraced me as one of their own. Timothy Leary’s famous quote, [Smash your brains, crack em] Communes that promised freedom became another church with rules and behaviors. Give us your truck, we need it for the farm project. Living in a house that had 30 people with only one bathroom. There was no such thing as privacy. It became surreal and everyone had a path they couldn’t wait to share.
I was in several communes for awhile, a long while. I grokked the ‘youth no future’ crowd. Again, we were masters of our universe that was a spinning cluster of stars within our bellies. Wisdom abounded and it was rubbish. More circus acts. I got older and eternity knocked so gently on my spirit and bid me come. “Leave that life behind and follow Me” Jesus said, a real life, real moral values not special robes and adoration. Just be who you were meant to be and embrace real life.
When asked what his goal was in life a man responded “ Get to college and get a good degree. Then go on to increasing positions in the work place to gather wealth. Then I will have enough money to send my kids to college.”
There is a song by Blood, Sweat and Tears , spinning wheel and it ends with a verse that says: “ Some one is waiting, just for you” Who is waiting just for me and for you? Special us and all our wheeling around is just on training wheels.
I’m going to hop on that Norton Commando 650 and catch up to Elijah and his flamed out chariot. We can ride, side by side, and park on the sea of glass and shout and sing. Creation and created in awe and wonder with eternity to wonder and see Him turn his face towards us and give us peace. It’s pretty good, Jack Gator, Scribe
With much thanks to Henri Nouwen‘s The Wounded Healer
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 Gator1. thanks to Steph Mcleod for the inspiration in ‘The Blessing’
Jack gators grace notes 