The flash and flare in the east and it is time. Move away from the comfort and deep sleep, awaken to dawn. Shut of the alarm clock, rise to the circadian rhythm of my body. Grasp my robe from the hanger on the back of our bedroom door. Close the bathroom door and glance at my tousled hair. A small pleasure in the new toilet seat that lowers itself slowly and doesn’t bang.
There are duties and places to be and now, it’s easier to find things because there is light beginning to arrive from the east. There is a small Brownian movement from the dust and I turn on the coffee maker. Go back in the parlor and open the side draft, rake the coals and put on a few pieces of wood.
I Find the good bread and drop two slices in with the timer set to max. The good bread is heavy. I ponder finding the cash for that upgrade on my cell phone already as I check the wood stove. Can we afford it? After all, everyone in the family has a new phone. Mine is old and I need to be current. It is the state of made things, they are old by the date they are put for sale. New and improved. No ‘good till’ or expired dates on your cell phone, but now I can’t find a screen guard to replace the cracked one. “You have to get a new one, yours is several years old. How much? Only 35 bucks a month forever.
It’s better with the shredded wheat on the shelf, we all know it’s good for a few years on our shelf. Silly thoughts along with dream remnants that linger until they too, pass into the storage area in my mind that is never too full and unavailable now and then.
There is a shuffle and purpose at hand to indeed waken fully and the hot caffeine warms my old ceramic cup. Carefully, set it down besides the fresh toast and open up a book next to the vitamins and various pills. The accouterments of morning rituals. The book now at hand is a collection of short stories that take slow reading to understand. Sarte, Sallinger and the rabbit eared current choice is Tolstoy’s ‘The death of Ivan Illych’
Nothing to it. Toast and coffee and a little orange juice to sluice down a hearty meal of existential writing and with some of the greatest short stories ever written. It’s still early and my son is stirring a bit. I come to the part of the story when Ivan knows he is dying and no one will be honest with him about how they feel about it and him. Only a peasant boy tells him the truth.
A quote from la Rochefoucauld is remembered: “One can neither stare long at the sun nor at death” During the war the thought was, it will come quickly It did to that shipmate on the horizon. It was close but I am OK. Next stop, Palma De Mallorca. Great liberty! My acquaintances ship has been sunk over the horizon. Tough luck. Time to celebrate after freedom from with the liberty boat and have a few drinks in his memory.
We go on, inwardly feeling we will live forever and poor old Ivan, it must have been his diet or that he just wouldn’t go to gymnasium as they advised him so many times. After all, his whist game was more important to him. There was nothing to be done. and here I am hundreds of years later, dressed for a church funeral service. I am Still in my book and almost awake.
A funeral then to go to. The fact that we are soon to be in that silken and narrow box does not cross our conscience. Even when the preacher tells us we are off the hook by death of Jesus’ sacrifice, we do not comprehend the sacrifice, it’s not totally understood. Tithe well and we might walk as Enoch did and not have to suffer as Ivan illych did. That’s it! The second coming and it will all work out! Don’t worry, be happy.
Death is defeated knowledge lingers and we are all good to go. Mourning seems to have passed us by. Ask not who the bell tolls for, it’s you. Old Ivan, it was his time to go. The rest of our family is up and dressed and we drive a dozen miles to the church for a funeral for a neighbors son.
Is there lunch after this funeral? Should be. It’s good here at the church of endless life. Maybe if I get in line before every one else does! I do not want to miss that apple pie I saw as I walked by the kitchen!
No one knows the hour of our death. People of faith in Jesus know what His resurrection means for us. Still, I like it here and I know my loved ones will have Shiva at the house. I do not like to think about the weeping, just as I wept as the coffin wheeled by me and I reached from my seat and gently prayed as the polished wood slid beneath my extended fingers. A young boy taken from us in tragedy.
Live well, love well and spend a lot of time speaking and listening to our creator that knew us when we were yet to be born. “why me?” “why am I here and what am I to do? I ask of Him. He answers gently. “I knew you would know the joy and sorrows of life and I Like how you write and talk about it and Me. That seems pretty good.
“Hey, introduce me” Thinking of all the prefixes quickly to describe the person standing next to you. Uncle, Aunt, child, spouse or parent are the usual choices. We are all faced with that a lot and the easiest one I have found is to say; “We both have the same best friend! That’s how Social situations are the usual place that question is put forth. A gathering. Anywhere really.
If asked we can expound on the situation but it often suffices to settle the polite inquiry. Conversation then can go deeper between the three people. It’s fun to find connections between us. Often it seems serendipitous when mutual discoveries are found.
Some people refer to this as “providential” but to me that sounds like an insurance company.
Many times I have used ‘Miracle’ for so-called chance encounters that are incredible and so complex with place/timing and circumstance, that I like to use the word miracle. Things happen that we can’t explain. I have had plenty of them and have given up on randomness to explain them.
I can tell you about some of the real interesting ones, I have already written of them. They are at my web site publication, ask me and I will give you the location. One of my favorites is the way I met Julie, my precious wife. A miracle, no doubt about it. Undeniable and funny too.
How about you? Do impossibly neat things happen to you that can’t be explained by the Brownian movement of randomness? It happens every day most days for all of us. I look ahead to it. I am willing to venture that is a common occurrence for you too.
Do you have a best friend? Most of us do and of course, as we get older, a lot of them die. Pass away is the polite term for that. My new friend that I share a relationship with as having the same best friend have that in common too. Our best friend died some time ago but is still in our hearts when we talk about Him. He lives on. Eternity is like that. Time can’t stop love nor destroy it.
Talk about miracles! Our mutual best friend didn’t stay dead! He still talks to us. It is very subtle sometimes when we hear from Him. We have to be quiet, real quiet and open in our spirit to Him. No cell phone or text needed. Just listen.
By now, you have figured who our mutual best friend is! The nice part is, He be yours too. He gets around a lot and spends time with many people. Of course, you can ignore Him but the nice part is, He doesn’t get mad when you do. He never forgets anyone and you can talk and listen anytime day or night. No long distance charges. Let me know who your best friend is and chances are, if you have read this to this point, It’s probably the same one as ours. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe
It was always gentle, the touch, almost as though the touch was a memory. At the first time I was surprised, astonished, and did not know who was touching me. I turned and did not know what to say. There was no one there but I knew I was to be never the same. Years upon years passed.
The story of the spoken words, five words with the touch. A healing touch and my life changed. Another five words decades later. A confirming and a beginning of knowledge and my life was now further to destiny. The fire within fanned into flame to show where the small fire had begun to glow.
I was running at the start, always running away from the pain that would not leave. All my life that pain and absence of love was the matrix of my heart. No one would ever get in again, it was too obvious that no one really cared. It was taken for truth that I was beyond all love. Trust was only a word about banking somehow or contracts for an exchange of some kind. I was abused as a child, running away only to find gangs and international smuggling with the usual weapons and anger. Run, they will torture you or kill you. Run and hide once again. Be wary and keep close watch on your heart.
There was a betrayal of an effort of love, love lost and cast away as a raft on the ocean far from land. No compass nor sextant nor even a chart to show what was ahead. Just adrift and always in the middle of the ocean once my land went beyond the horizon. No hope and only death to look ahead to. It was what I put away in a lock box in my heart, thinking out of sight, out of mind. That box was transparent. Most saw in it through my eyes. I knew it was safe in there.
So, adrift in the ocean of pity, I did not know what path I was on but I knew something was happening to me. Getting fed something good and drinking clear good water. No idea where these things were coming from. After all, adrift on an ocean does not include drinkable water. Even tears are salty.
Finally a meeting was available to see the one true love that betrayed me. She was in a bad way, in a hospital of recovery from her own trauma. Drugs used to dull the pain, like a path I also chose before five words began the small fire in my heart and saved me from a bad end. “Life or death, Choose now” Words spoken audibly in an empty room as I was staring at a line of heroin. Obviously life was chosen. The addiction was gone and there was no withdrawal. A miracle that took decades to see who said those five words. Our Lord Jesus. There was something ahead for my life, indeed there is.
Bluffing my way into the hospital as a youth minister working with her father who was the senior pastor at Central Lutheran, I managed to see my lost beloved before me. She was in a haze of recuperative drugs as she sat up on the bed in her room, clothed in hospital scrubs. Dazed, confused and finally focusing on the one she betrayed and had discarded the love we had. She had moved away with a Guthrie actor and hid her engagement ring. Now Right in this moment, I knew this time was different. Only the tenderness for her was in my heart. I again chose life.
She awakened and recognized me and asked; “Why are you here?” Without hesitation, I spoke the words of healing for her too. “Because I love you!” I Said loudly surprising them both and then I left soon thereafter.
I had showed her the wood camper I now lived in and had driven two thousand miles to see her. It was disappointingly impossible for us to see through the recessed windows of the locked area. The small fire in my heart was being fanned into flame. There were my habits still to overcome but the seed of love was beginning to grow within me and the marriage that came decades later to a wonderful woman was right and true. I never knew what happened to the girl I had loved in the hospital. Rumors from old friends then said she was now living in New Orleans.
I found her phone number and asked her to send me the engagement ring I gave her at Theodore Worth park just after discharge from the Navy in 1967. I had met her at the YMCA when I was playing guitar as a paid entertainer.
Sometimes the fear and trauma would return but my wife helped me and with a counselor that said those memories and fears of the past were just that. Eventually I realized there was no danger with betrayal, violence and guns of the past. A word or even a tone of voice was the trigger to be recognized as just a vapor of evil, trying once again to destroy my life with fear. It can happen to you.!
The burning one with fire in His eyes gives us the knowledge that we are, indeed, loved and worthy to tell others of this discovery within our hearts. My heart lock-box was opened and I have never been the same since. The flame of eternal love is burning bright with the Fire in the eyes of Christ. It’s pretty good.
It was a good friendship. An E4 and an O6. That’s a Petty Officer third class and a Captain. We were also neighbors. Myself and Pastor Russ. Neighbors that met riding bicycles on passable blacktop roads. Russ lived about a mile and a half away from me and once in a while, we would go for a ‘spin’. There was another huge difference between us as Russ was a category 2 racer and I just liked to ride. Cat 2 is pretty professional and impressive. He was a very good rider to be with. I learned a lot.
One remarkable day, Russ was riding alone and met a very pretty and friendly bicycle rider. She was riding nearby and as Russ was married to Debra and a pastor, he was safe to ride with.
Not long afterwards, Russ mentioned to me about this woman. “She runs a lakeside camp nearby, it’s called Whispering Pines. Pretty good cyclist too!” Myself as a lonely bachelor, was intrigued. I knew where the camp was and began thinking about Russ’s new friend. Just by coincidence a real woman cyclist that lived nearby and with a job! Obviously fit and friendly. Russ said she was pretty too. I considered calling the camp. Why not?
Meanwhile, that cyclist, Julie, was out in Washington state at a conference. She was at a local bar near the Canadian border and the bartender, Margaret, was gregarious and asked Julie where she was from. She told her where the she was from and the bartender, casually wiping down the bar said, “where in Trade Lake do you live?” “What! No one knows that dinky little township!” Margaret replied, “My grandparents lived in Trade Lake” They had a few things to talk about then.
Margaret, incredibly enough, was an old friend of mine and gave Julie my phone number. Julie put it in her wallet and when she returned to Wisconsin and the camp, tossed that piece of paper into a drawer in her office. A Junk drawer holding device to eventually have some of it’s contents put into a round holding device standing on the floor nearby.
On a particularly perfect day for cycling, I decided to call the camp and asked for the director. I gave her my name and mentioned my friend Russ. I also told her that Russ and I rode a lot together and asked if Julie would like to ride sometime. “It’s that Guy! The friend of that bartender way out west!” Julie consulted the head cook, Cora who was her trusted friend if it would be OK to go ride with me. “why not? Sounds safe, a pastors friend” she replied
So Julie told me OK, and being mostly clueless but aware that neutral territory was not at her place nor mine, I suggested we ride our bicycles towards one another on county road M and we meet that way. I saw Julie coming towards me, uphill and riding strong. I waited for her, watching her technique. Pretty good climber.
We did a short 50 mile ride and I asked her out to eat afterwards. Little Mexico, a great local restaurant with homemade guacamole and chips, they had good Mexican beer too. Cora said: “why not?” And so we went. This time I drove my car, a Volvo wagon with a bike rack on the roof of course.
That wise cook had some chocolate cake for our dessert when we returned. After many enjoyable rides later, some of them with pastor Russ, it began to be clear that this whole thing was a coincidence of extraordinary circumstances.
Sometime later when my old friend, Margaret, the bartender, got in touch, I told her the delightful bicycle romance story and then she added one more fact. The exact place on County road M where Julie and I met, was right at the driveway where Margaret’s Grandparent’s had lived. As this story has been told many times, I always say; “It was a miracle, God’s handiwork”.
Julie continued managing the camp until another director was chosen for the job. She moved in to my farm and we played house for a time. We also began working at 7 pines lodge nearby in Lewis. Fresh caught brook trout and fried carrots was the main menu. It was also the only thing on the menu.
The manager was a good fly fisherman and had us, the waiters, put on mystery dinners. All the guests became suspects in the mystery murder and myself and Julie played the hosts of the hotel where the murder was. The manager did not take part in the play as he was busy in the kitchen.
Out of the blue at home, Julie and I proposed and it seemed to make a lot of sense to us. ‘Shacking up’ later on when I became baptized, we realized living in sin was also a description. It seemed good and right. I did get the wedding ring made from my Grandmothers ring. Proposing was an equal opportunity proposition. It worked for us. Still does. More perfect timing. We were married at 7 pines lodge and the wedding was a fabulous affair. The square dance band that I played in (Duck for the Oyster} came to help with the music as well as Bill Hinkley and Judy Larson and Mary Dushane from the Powder milk Biscuit Band. Myself and three fiddlers stood in a circle around my beautiful bride and we played a Swedish waltz, Helsa Hem Dar Hemma.
A Real log lodge with a stream house that straddled the trout stream, that was where we spent our wedding night. The running water made bathroom breaks occur often. It was glorious and one of those memories that is permanently set within us. The dance was at the West Denmark church hall and we still have a photograph of Julie’s dad strutting down the middle of the Virginia Reel dance. More food and leftover wedding cake.
My mom drove up in her Buick convertible to attend our wedding. She almost left in the beginning of the ceremony saying that her dog needed her at home. She stayed with some gentle urging from a good friend of ours. It was obvious that something was going on with mom. Dementia. Her dad had the same issue and died not long afterwards of the onset. Mom was still living in her third home in Bryn Mawr Minneapolis.
After a few years went by and our two children were growing and our farmhouse was rebuilt to double it’s original size. (right before Bjorn, their first born arrived) My Mom agreed to help finance the huge mound system that was needed for the ‘upgrade’ to our home. Bedrooms for the kids after all.
My mother was fading and I drove down at least every week to help her out. Managing the bills and looking after things. Not too long afterwards, about a year, we moved Mom up to our area into a nursing home. Julie had an old pastor friend, Barry, agree to come up to talk to my Mom. however, she died that night and he came up anyway and spent hours with me at the kitchen table. “Mere Christianity” was referred to a lot and I brought up other religions, Buddhism, Islam and my early family attendance at a Christian Science church in Minneapolis. “What about you? What do you think about all this, we are talking about you” It was a very important Question. This was serious and I had a lot think about. Barry slid the C.S. Lewis book across the table and it made sense the more I read it. Still do.
Barry’s church, a Congregational one, agreed to do mom’s funeral with a meal and even light a candle every Sunday for a week or two. No charge. Character in a great man of faith. We began attending as we both were becoming closer to being Christians. Julie already was one, I was still wary.
Soon thereafter, I had a life changing experience at Russ’ church (Russ was in the Navy as a chaplain then and there was a new pastor) . A Christmas cantata was offered and I reluctantly said I would go. Of course, Bjorn and Soren, our sons, were in Jammies, and went up on the choirs risers just before the concert! Great embarrassment for us as we were not well known even though the church was only a mile and a half away from our home. Zion Lutheran.
The Holy spirit overcame me as the choir was singing ‘Mary did you know’. A man in the choir began reciting the words of the song. All I saw was his face and those words changed my Life. Forever. “It’s all true! He is creator of all things! Somebody had to do it! Random evolution never made sense to me.
Pastor Barry said Christ loves me! I still believe the Holy Spirit was running the spotlight up in the balcony so the man reciting had the light directly on him and the angle of the light reflected right to me. It was the major point in my life. The church is still there and once in a while we go to a smorgasbord there. That experience was so overwhelming that attending would not work. The memory is too strong. I stopped once and told the new pastor about these things and he showed me the sanctuary where it happened. It seemed to encourage him. He has the same last name as ours, Peterson. Small world indeed.
Our marriage continues to grow as Julie was already a believer in Jesus. It was good news to her as well. Many times that story still brings tears to me. You know the feeling. Words began to fall short and it’s hard to speak them. That song, obviously, is my favorite and I weep and worship when it is sung.
Our whole family began attending Pastor Barry’s church near Amery, but with the two boys, it was hard to go 80 miles round trip every Sunday. There was a ministry too even further away at Lake Elmo, it was an automotive repair ministry (God’s grease monkeys) and I continued to be a volunteer there. Our Volvo was filled with food while I was working. I was a foreign car shop owner at that time and I was pretty useful. It was another blessing that continues on in various ways. Every church gathering we attend has miracles when we look. He is pouring His spirit out on us. You too.
Later, at a sweet corn feed at a local church, we met Pastor Roger Inoway and the relation with Grace Baptist, a church association for us began. It was only ten miles away in Grantsburg, Wisconsin.
Our family began attending that church and eventually we started a successful food ministry there. The monthly event was named Feed My Sheep. It was coupled with an automotive repair ministry, Grace Garage. The food ministry was a bright spot for us as we got to minister and pray for the people waiting in an adjacent room. They were waiting to be called to get in line for the food distribution. People still comment to Julie and I about those prayers and some healing that occurred. The church made me a deacon in the process too.
News came that the camp, Whispering Pines, was in need of a temporary manager while it was up for sale. Julie and I stepped into that position and soon after, two pastors showed up on motorcycles at the camp. They expressed interest in buying it! Perfect. Keep the camp Christian owned and run. A good vision for us for certain. We got baptized at Whispering pines soon afterwards. Pastor Barry had never performed a baptism and so dunked us three times. “Father, Son and Holy Spirit” and I saw him above me in the clear lake water. I asked him what he saw as he looked at me. “A dead man” he perfectly replied.
There was a quick transition to those new motorcycling pastors church with the blessing of the Grantsburg leadership. Back south of Highway 8 again! Our family fit in well and eventually became the worship team there. We were licensed as Pastors but weren’t installed. When the two Pastors they were hoping would buy the camp didn’t buy it we left. The camp was sold to a real estate developer and after a neighborhood fight about loosing the beautiful Methodist camp to a developer, it was developed into high end lake homes (½ mile of lake shore went with the camp) It was time to find a church closer to home and after dreaming together about their next move, both of us got the same named local pastor.
That church seemed appropriate and it was only a few miles away. You have noticed that a lot of what is called ‘Church Hopping’ occurred for us. It wasn’t that at all. It was Church involvement and being led by the Spirit. About five years at each house of worship was average. All of it extraordinary and good.
It’s a hard life at times and our whole family has had many challenges from both of our pasts. We are still together and praising the Lord and his way of loving them. Our Lord does not have a plan. He is plan. Now we listen to Him and we follow His leading. The Lord speaks quietly and we are getting better at listening.
We continued singing and playing songs to Him and about Him, writing a few of those songs as well. It’s better than my bar band, and I am not even obligated to wear a cowboy hat. We did move to another church again to a refurbished bar that I played with the country western band! It was a new life about 30 miles away. I occasionally played Viola and the Mandolin there. South of highway 8 again. As I write this we have again been called to another gathering, Eagle Brook in Minnesota. I am working with Bjorn who is the media director and he asked me to become his AD (assistant director) It’s a long drive but he drives most of the way after I drive to his place about 28 miles south. I am also being trained as a camera operator.
We do wear our faith on our sleeves. Just like in my Navy days in a way. This story catches attention to unbelievers. It still catches our attention around May 23rd as well. our anniversary day.
Who can foretell the leading of the Lord? Jesus guides as he provides and that is challenging and exciting.
It is an essential line in a song our worship group sang. It refers to the essential way that our Lord deals with his will and plan for us. We do not fully understand this. Sometimes not at all.
Our kind and essential pastoral leaders at the time, did not want this line sung. They believed in our leadership in music and even licensed us as pastors. But, they did not understand the basic truth behind the taking away part. The understanding I have is that He gives us the choice. We can embrace a bad choice which he allows as free will or we can do the opposite.
There is always a road sign on that highway we walk upon. This way to join the summer tire club in the midst of a snowstorm is a complex choice. A parable of sorts for me. (we all enjoy parables)
Approximately a half century ago I was given those plain words at a pivotal point in my life. I have told this story many times. I would not be living here with a family and delightful small farm if I had chosen death. “life or death, choose now” A direct quote from Deuteronomy that was audibly given to me. I am still stunned by that grace I was given. Obviously what I chose.
We are all of us given that choice to choose a death or life in many ways every day. Curse or bless. People are in my way. Subtle but the reward of peace in choosing to smile and find a way to give way is pretty good. Simple things but obvious to others at times. Very obvious to me.
I love the smiles and relaxed encounters that occur now and then.
There are so many frowns that remind me to smile at pray. He gives me the joy and the prayer. He can take that away if I choose to frown too. The simple phrase of giving and taking away is a lot more complex than at first thought. He gave so many Biblical people those choices and many times there was a giving and blessing from a good choice. I have read it 58 times so far in my Bible of those things.
It’s very hard sometimes to see that choice. He has allowed so many of my best friends to die. We all die but when you live a long time they are taken away. Was it a choice for them to die?
We don’t know any of that. It involves eternity and that is beyond my comprehension. It’s an entertainment at times to be in a serious discussion with others to deal with eternity. It usually ends with laughter at ourselves and joy at the same time. It’s really pretty good we have a choice to embrace our humanity and blessings to not try to be God and know those things. We grieve and that is necessary.
One man I know chose both life and death, just for me and you. It resulted in eternal joy for all men.
As C.S. Lewis wrote: “God has an eternity to spend with a pilot in a Corsair in WWII going down in flames.” Just the two of them. Do you understand that? I don’t but I love to read my favorite author speculate and challenge my intellect. I set that thought aside most days and go back to it sometimes just for reassurance. I thank God he has given me that man’s wisdom to read and enjoy. I Love it, Life, it’s pretty good. Jack Gator
It was in the middle of the last century that as a preteen I was given the task of taking streetcars to the family dentist. I know, it’s sounds like a long time ago. It was. Streetcars were the way to get around town. Everyone knew where they went. As the buses that replaced them, there were placards in front telling destination and the routes were memorized by all. There were transfer tickets, if you asked for one, that enabled the ride to go further in a different direction.
I was five or six years old when I went by himself downtown and further. The only street gangs were young kids that would roll a big snowball onto the tracks. The same thing as throwing a penny off the top of the Foshay tower downtown. It was the tallest building in town and is still there. Now it’s the smallest tall building in town. Word was if the penny hit someone it would go right through them! Terminal velocity of a coin that weighs the same as a hummingbird. The elevator was free but you had to use a coin to use the telescopes. Or just throw one. It was a Nickle which is much heavier but could buy candy as well. A conundrum to a young anti-social Asperger genius. Three Musketeers or a Butterfinger. Tough choice.
So, onto the trolley (which had to switch the electric pickup mast when a change of tracks had to be done) the conductors had neat uniforms and a coin box with a little chrome handle that he would constantly twirl to sort out the coins dropped in. I Still remember the sound. Right hand, kachinka, clatter, kaching, etc. I would Get off on Hennepin avenue and walk down about six blocks to Washington avenue. There was a news stand on the corner and they always had the latest science fiction magazines. Later they hawked Mad magazines along with newspapers from all over the country. The next trolley would take me to the family dentist. Great, fun trip.
The streetcars are long gone, along with their tangle of electric power wires overhead. The tracks are gone and recently, tracks got put back in for fast and quiet streetcars. Metro transit. Every one misses the ding ding bell and the rattle of the glass and chrome change hopper. At least people my age do.
It was much later in the end of the century that I was shopping for my first fiddle and a friend in the string instrument world steered me to that dentist! It seemed the delicate skill sets were just the thing for success. Oliver G. Olafson was the dentist/violin maker. He made 26 of them in the 1950’s The auction houses of today know of him and list his violin work as ‘inconsistent’ mine must be a consistent one.
I bought one and my friend bought one too! We called them by special names and they aged well. Since the dentists name was Olafson, mine became Olie.
My dentist was known in Mineapolis’ instrument players circles and the choice was good and neither of us needed dental care at that time. There was no Novocain for their wallets either. The bow cost was even higher. It’s advice from fiddle pros to spend more on your bow than on the fiddle itself. A local shop had a one star N.R. Pfretzschner bow for a few hundred dollars. The bow is now worth 3 to 6 thousand! It’s a nice bow. Musical instruments get better when they get older. Just like us.
That fiddle of mine is so loud that a microphone is usually not needed in small rooms. It’s a beauty. I am not aware of what it is worth. With age comes wisdom..sometimes. So far I have not been listed as an antique writer but who knows. I can imagine the antique road show now. “We’ve got an 80 year old Swedish model that is a little careworn. Still has hair of sorts and speaks pretty good.” A lot of miles left on this one!”
Actually I have already been bought and the price was impossible to imagine. You know the buyer, at least I pray that is so. He was a master carpenter and worked with wood . He is known throughout the world. Ask me if we meet, I can introduce you to Him. Jack GatorScribe
Our world exists on promises, made and sometimes kept. I was reading another book from my stack near ‘my chair’ in the living room and there was quite a few older promises from well known people in that book. Quite a few of them. It seems that Kings and rulers of all kinds made the same promises, huge and very encompassing ones. ‘I will give you half of my kingdom’ types.
The one given to a woman at the beginning of nations that she, at ninety years old would give birth to another son. Quite a promise! As a side note, one of her earlier sons would become the founder of the Arab nation. Look it up if you have a Bible. It’s in the first chapter.
Earlier than that time all of us were given a promise we would work the land and our wives would give birth with pain. We, the men from then on would sweat and work hard for our food. Seems familiar whether you work horses to plow or machinery or do other work, we sweat. (If we do real work as we say up North) People who work in tall buildings sweat while they worry but not particularly from physical labor. I assume that is progress of sorts.
There was a promise given to a famous writer and philosopher, Diogenes a ‘few’ thousand years ago by Alexander the Great. Diogenes ( the writer of ‘I think, there for I am’) was sunning himself and Alexander came to him and told him, ask me anything and I will give you half of my kingdom. Diogenes replied, “get out of my light” I assume Alexander was humbled and impressed.
These days, we still promise many things to one another. “I will never forget you” type. Listen every day for them. Mostly without the words I promise but nonetheless, implied. Guaranteed for life (whose or what’s life?) I will build that or do that type of promise. ’till death do us part’ Pretty serious promise!
Somewhat believed ones given with a smirk. ‘I’ll get it to you next month’ a little wiggle room in that one. It seems our world is built on those things, given audibly or implied. Often with laws found in some registry office of some sort. Documented even in the founding of nations. All men sorts of promises. Do this and it will go well for you. Don’t do it and there is a squad behind you with unpleasant flashing lights. You do promise not to trespass? This hamburger will look like the one on the menu?
There is one promise that I know will be kept. As a friend appeared to me at his death from thousands of miles away, he audibly told me, “it’s better than you said!” I told him of the beauty of God and His kingdom when months before I saw him in Maryland. It was a promise shown to me that whatever I promised him was kept. I treasure that vision and it is a solid promise I treasure from our God that he told me decades ago. Real life. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe
Some years ago, before the 16th century, our world, and everyone who lived on it believed that our planet was the center of the Universe. Sometimes referred to as the Ptolemaic theory.
An easy thought to digest for mankind up until that time in the late 1500’s when it was proven it wasn’t by Copernicus. He was a genius as a doctor of law, physics master and also a Canon in the church in Poland. Also a master of mathematics by the way.
He proved with calculations that we were a heliocentric system that revolved around the sun. It seemed reasonable with all scripture pointing to our wondrous place in the eye of God.
He made us, He blesses us and is for us not against us. This it truth. We are not the center of the Universe, He is.
Then why was it so easy to miscalculate the orbits of our planets and our moon when we have always been gifted with intelligence and wondrous minds, eager to explore and find new things and even give names to the new things? It is written we named all the animals further back at the beginning of all things. Sounds reasonable. How can you tell a story to your wife about some friendly furry thing without naming it?
So we settled in to this world and almost instantly decided it was a philosopher Descartes moment to declare, “I think, there fore I Am”. No confusion there, I want to be just like God so I Am. No longer confused about anything because I know truth and it is centered around me.
I am tempted still to have those thoughts in a way. I am the most important person around and so, it’s all about me. I don’t expect everyone to acquiesce to me, but it wouldn’t be out of place. Isn’t that a core belief until we realize it isn’t the truth? A baby knows these things about being the absolute center of the world. We grow out of it with a few tears in our wake. Some of us regress back to childhood and becoming egocentric and selfish are the result.
The truth is, in our neighborhood here in our small solar system, we all revolve around the Son and He is glorious and indeed gives us life and light. We have been given all things and the little we can even see about physical orbits, there is an impossible explosion of light, heat and the source of growth itself visible. The Revolutionibos Orbium Colestium or the Revelation of the Celestial Spheres from Copernicus. He was fearful of blasphemy charges when his discovery was made known. Fearful for his life. 1.
I have dreams and visions of the rest of our ‘known’ universe and since I was born here, reared here and grew up here I know absolutely nothing about things millions of light years beyond the beyond. Someday after the usual right of passage we all go through, I will know about these things.
Numbers that fascinated Copernicus and now me that are incomprehensible. There are a billion seconds between us and when Christ walked with the Apostles! A billion minutes between us and creation has been calculated. That one is up for debate, but it is probably pretty close.
There is even confusion about XX and XY in our times and how to define life itself. I think that has been pretty well figured out for quite a long time. Confusion resulting in separation between God and government on these things. It’s a very non brave new world indeed if we don’t have the courage to stand for truth. I shave in front of a mirror and it still shows the front of my face. “How many fingers Mr Smith do you see?” “six”
At the very least, I am not confused about the center of our universe that has the Son there.
Again, as a friend wrote and sang: “I’ve never seen a Son like this before” 2.
1. famous scientists. Org 2. Jon Thurlow Thanks to Richard J. Foster for research archives
A very famous story, known by many people. Daniel in the Lions den. I first saw this painting by Henry Tanner a few days ago when my pastor showed it to us. What does it mean in a much deeper way? Very deeper.
It is the way of survival, it is the way of freedom. The only way to live and be free indeed.
In today’s times there is much unrest and many choices to face the lions and listen to their snarling and growling, or turn our backs on them and listen to the only truth there is.
This wisdom is not only found in religious gatherings, it is everywhere if we listen. An old story from Milano, Italy. A famous orator, Victorinus, was questioned by Simplicitius with a simple question about the orators Christian faith: “But I do not see you in church” to which Victorinus replied “ do walls make a Christian?”
He later was baptized and stated; “We are in this together and we walk our pilgrim path in fine company, fine, faithful company indeed”
Walls indeed, do not make us Christians. Walking the narrow road, looking neither left nor right and although we are fools, we shall not go astray. This is the pilgrimage we face today. Is the world OK and in our life, everything is fine and we do not mind the insanity of our times. You know the things I write of. Sacrifice of lives, chasing the world’s ‘wisdom’ of our own creation. Making ourselves the creator of our own version of life and becoming the new slaves of popular choice and political correctness. Ostracized, cursed and sometimes, thrown into the den of iniquity where we face our accusers and the lies that spew out calling us haters and such.
The only place we can look to for the truth is to Jesus the Messiah, the Christ and his Rock of eternity will make us free, free indeed. Turn from facing the lions loud and fearful voices. And face your creator for his voice. Our choice, that is why we were created with free will.
With thanks to Edward W. Schmidt and Jason Strand Jack Gator
Painting by Henry tanner courtesy of the National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.
Jack gators grace notes 