It's hard to say out of the room...

“In my Father's house are

many mansions [rooms]:

if it were not so,

I would have told you…”

- John 14:2: Bible

Sometimes it is simply impossible to stay out of that room.  


Actually, there are a lot of rooms in the house.  More rooms than a fellow could possible visit…at least not all at one time.

The reading room is a great place to spend time.  There seems to be so much to learn …things one would never experience on their own…mostly because there simply isn’t time.  Voyeurism at its most meaningful – full of adventures, mysteries, histories of remarkable women and men filling them all.  In the reading room, one gets the sense just how delicate and interconnected we all are.  How the tiniest ripple in the pond of humanity can change an entire course of history.  In this room, it is very easy to say, “I didn’t know that!” or “So that’s how that works!” It is here where one finds a whole range of emotion…out loud laughter, gentle tears, heart pounding excitement, one’s deepest fears…Yes sir, that reading room is something else.

Then there is the music room…what a great place that is.  Wow!  The amount of music that has gone through the walls of that place – it is unimaginable!  It seems the great thing about the music room is the amazing variety of both sound and feeling that comes when listening to all of those wonderful noises – for they are, in many ways simply that…organized noises vibrating through the air (no wires here) and touching us in the deepest of places.  Gospel, rock and roll, country, bluegrass, opera, symphony, folk, musical theatre, African, South American…the words, the rhythms…there is so much, it is impossible to try to recall…sometimes even parts of it.  The great thing about this room is not just the variety, but the way one can find just the right music that touches them…you know, custom fit – tailored just for each one of us.

I particularly like the cooking room – I mean, who doesn’t?  The things in that larder are almost overwhelming, what with the amazing variety and combinations of plants and animals and fish and fowl.  The bounty that passes through this room is awesome.  It’s not just what is there, but the process of preparing it.  Who could not recall the smell of warm bread in the oven or coffee brewing in the early morning hours?  The comfort of having something warm on a cold winter’s day, or cold in the heat of the summer.  There is such an assortment; it is difficult to imagine all the variations. Try closing your eyes and imagine all the food you might eat in a lifetime, sitting in one big pile.  It would be almost impossible to even know where to begin eating all that stuff.

The workroom occupies a lot of time.  In the beginning, of course, lots of is spent in the school room – whether it be learning a mental or physical task… the school room is a must, just to get permission to enter the work room.  There surely are lessons learned outside the formality of school, but NOTHING is accomplished without time spent formally or informally in that place…but the point here is the work room.  The great thing about this room is the continual sharpening of the sword that happens here.  It turns out the work room is really just the schoolroom in disguise.  The more time spent in this room, the better skilled one becomes, and the more skilled one becomes, the more one learns…it is a marvelous cycle!

Lots of us spend time in the management room…the management room – the place where one works through the issues confronted on a daily basis. We are creatures designed to ask questions and to solve problems that pop up as we float on the river of life…you know, the unexpected swiftness of rapids…the water falls…the tree across the way…all of the unanticipated things we engage, problems we solve and issues we undertake.  You see, in addition to question askers, we are problem solvers.  We like nothing better than successfully solving a problem.  This is how the great adventurers and conquerors of history created civilizations…spurred by questions – the ‘what if’ – entering the unknown. Somehow we are just wired that way – success bringing a degree of satisfaction…failure disappointment and frustration. 

Then there is the distraction room.  In fact, one could argue, depending how one spends their time in the variety of rooms available in our house, the distraction room may influence all the others.  You know what I mean…the reading room, the music room, the cooking room, the work/school room, the management room…all of it occupying time to avoid the reality room.

Yeah – the reality room…hmmm.  Sometimes this is a meaningful and helpful place.  It puts things in perspective…creates a sense of objectivity…clarity.  Sitting there quietly and assessing the elements of our lives often brings a little realism to our thought process. Occasionally this room needs the help of others to get it properly furnished.  We don’t always see thing as they are (whatever that really means); so a little assistance from an outside source can be helpful. 

I have avoided talking about the family room.  This room can be complicated…very complicated.  You pick your friends, but you are, well, born into your family right?  This has been a great room in my life.  It provided the foundation materials for all the other rooms of the house…set the context…focused the view…created the basic template.  Even with the loss of my parents, it has remained strong and solid.  This room has a lot of smaller rooms, and one of those smaller rooms is, at this time of my life, the most painful…the ‘brother room.’

The past couple of years, I’ve been spending as much time as possible in the rooms mentioned here, and many more, it might be added.  All of them, however have been colored by the ‘distraction room’ to avoid the ‘reality room,’ but mostly to keep out of the ‘brother room.’

The brother room was always my favorite.  It was secure room…a place of comfort…a known commodity.  It was such a familiar room; it was easy to simply take it for granted.  Even being the single male with two sisters, it has been a great room full of so many meaningful experiences.

But now…but now as my sister’s health and mind deteriorate at an astounding pace…it is a fearful and frustrating place.  It is a room where knowledge fails me…where the music plays only chaotic dissonance…the food left a little a little too long on the counter…the work meaningless and the management…well, the management seems nothing more than a series of diminishing efforts in a losing battle.  No solution to the problem, no gratification for success…simply the emptiness of the unavoidable conclusion.

For the most part, I stay out of this room…but there are the moments in the quiet of the night when it seems all the rooms I so love, are locked up tight, and I am driven to the ‘brother room.’  It is here where the remembered laughter and joy turns to tears…it is here where the ‘…tigers come…’ to tear at the fabric of memory.

And yet, it is in these quiet moments of despair, when I am unable to keep from sinking into the quagmire of self pity, she comes to me in all the vibrancy and strength that was her life…she comes with the quickness of wit and the quietness we often shared just being together.  She draws me into the memory room, pulling me from the darkness, reminding me there is a context…there is a meaning, even if for the moment it is unknown.  In this room, the air is filled with the knowledge of a lifetime of experience, the aroma of love, the music of faith, and the hope of the yet unseen. 

Of all the rooms God has created in the house that is my mind…it is here in my memories where I find solace for my soul.

- ted

Christmas in January...

“He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Comin' home to a place he'd never been before
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again
You might say he found a key for every door.”

- John Denver, Rocky Mountain High

Clarice and Charlotte had just spent the day at the World Trade Center in Dallas…Bob and I were picking them up for dinner. 

It would be an evening of good food and pleasant conversation – Bob and Charlotte own a gift shop in Brenham, Texas and Clarice had been one of their best customers.  A staffing need had arisen at the store and Clarice enthusiastically filled the bill…Gift shop, an interesting metaphor…for it became clear, in the course of the evening, both of these women were gifted.

We had a Texas style family meal of ‘chicken fried chicken’ (a new and delicious dish for me), fried okra, mashed potatoes and black-eyed peas – not quite the gluten free diet I have been eating at home, but you know, “…when in Rome…”

How did that happen?

Life is a series of opportunities to say yes and to say no.  As the minutes, hours, days, months and years slip by; we are presented with thousands and thousands of circumstances providing the opportunity to embrace or reject every one of them. 

A ‘no’ provides a predictable outcome – nothing happens.  A yes?  Well two possibilities: Nothing happens…or…OR...something happens.  If something happens, once again we are confronted with the next decision – pretty simple right? Well, maybe…

Life can can get complicated…or at least sometimes we find ourselves in complicated circumstances – all of which, in fact, come from simple ‘two possibility’ decisions we have made along the way…so much can happen from those two completely unavoidable responses to the river circumstance that filters through our minds every day.

Dallas this week was the result of apparently two unrelated situations that provided the opportunity to say yes or no.

Everything has a starting point…

In the late fall of the preceding year, I had met Bob on an airplane on my way to Orlando for some business. It was one of those unguarded moments when it becomes clear, in the rear view mirror of life, it was meant to be.  I was flying an airline I don’t frequently use – a ‘two-legger’ stopping in Houston before heading to the final destination.  The plane was full with the exception of the seat next to me.  I was pretty sure it would remain empty and was looking forward to a little extra room.  Just as I was congratulating myself for a little more comfort, a fairly healthy sized fellow got on late, spotted the seat next to me asked if he might take it…this was my new, yet unknown friend Bob.

Circumstance one: I’m flying an airline I seldom use for the sake of last minute convenience.

Circumstance two: Bob is one of the last people on the flight taking the only seat left on the aircraft.

That flight, and the conversation that unfolded, led to a few emails back and forth, you know, getting to know one another a little.  I told him about the blog and the interest I had in writing in a little broader fashion.  He read some of these weekly wanderings and indicated he had done a little writing too.  Then he suggested we write a little together.

A pause…

The strangeness or maybe better said, fate of Bob’s suggestion is the internal dialogue I have been having for the past several years….I would like to write more, but have not been able to find the theme or words. Blogging weekly has been therapeutic – a whole other topic – BUT expanding this exercise has proved difficult. Two weeks before the flight, I had been talking to my wife about this very thing.

Back on point…

So, I find myself meeting a fellow on a plane, exchanging a couple of emails, and out of the blue he suggests we write something together.   Here was the proposal.  Bob would begin with a few pages and send them to me; I would take that and write a few pages back to him.  No rules, no expectations…more curiously, no storyline!! 

That’s write, er…I mean that’s right!!  There would be no story ahead of time.  We would get our installation and add to it with no prompting from the other fellow.  My first thought was, “Are you kidding me?  I can’t do that…I struggle with the weekly writing.  PLUS I really don’t even know Bob!!”

Be careful what you ask for…

I was then reminded of the story of the old man sitting on his porch watching the rainfall.

“Pretty soon the water was coming over the porch and into the house. A rescue boat came and the people on board said, "You can't stay here you have to come with us."

The old man replied, "No, God will save me." As the waters continued to rise, the old man climbed higher into his house.  Three more rescue boats came by to which the old man responded, "No thanks, God will save me."

Finally, the water overcame the house and the man drowned.

When he got to heaven and saw God he asked,  "Why didn't you save me?"
God replied, "I sent four boats after you man!! What more did you expect me to do?"

I had been looking for a pathway, and out of nowhere Bob entered my life suggesting we write something together….Not only this, he was experienced and could provide guidance.  What more could I expect God to do!!??

So we began to write, and by now have exchanged installments four or five times with about 20 pages of continuity and dialogue – something I have never done.  The best part is that Bob is gentle and encouraging, and by the way, more than a pretty good writer! 

Oh yeah, Dallas….

Bob thought it might be a good idea to get together sometime.  I was going to be in Austin in the fall, so maybe Molly and I could drive from there for a visit.  He said, Austin would be good, but it seemed a long way off…I got it, but what can you do?

A week later, I was asked to participate in a site visit to Dallas the third week in January for a professional society to which I belong.  As it turned out Bob, Charlotte and Clarice were going to be there on business too. He would, by the way, have a little free time. Wait a minute!! After my site visit I would, by the oddest of circumstance, have a little free time.

As an old friend might have said, “Even a dead rabbit would get this.”

It turns out, in the gift store business, storeowners purchase much of what is seen on the shelves at Christmas, in January.  Now, as I learned at dinner, one could wait until June, but by then the best things would be gone.  So here were Charlotte and Clarice betting on their years of experience and good judgment to get ready for Christmas next year.  Here I was for a site visit, and here was Bob…none of this could hardly have been planned by any of us!

There's a meaning here somewhere...

There is little that happens in life that doesn’t require action.  Indeed life really only rewards action.  Well, I suspect it would be important for action to produce a result.  But all of it…all of it begins with an affirmation or rejection of the circumstances presented to us.

Dinner in Dallas was the result of a couple of strangers on an airplane to Florida…in an unforeseen moment in time…saying yes.  ‘Yes’ to the unknown…’yes’ to a destination uncertain…’yes’ to a friendship, whatever shape it may take.  Certainty? There is none, but must everything be certain?  After all, isn’t it really about the journey?

I don’t know where any of this will go, but man, that fried okra was excellent!!

- ted

It’s good to come home...

“Homeward bound, I wish I was homeward bound
Home, where my thoughts escapin',

home, where my music's playin'
Home, where my love lies waitin'

silently for me.”

- Paul Simon

Sometimes you have the opportunity to catch your breath…take a look around and settle into a comforting thought or two.  Life can be so busy with things occupying our time that we don’t often have moments to reflect.

Reflection [ri flékshan]: 1.The act of reflecting or the state of being reflected. 

2 - An image; representation; counterpart. 

3 - fixing of the thoughts on something; careful consideration. 

4 - A thought occurring in consideration or meditation.

Outward bound…

When I was younger, I looked forward to traveling.  I can remember the first time I journeyed overseas.  Well, the first time was to Vietnam and that time was so hectic and full of things to do, from a military standpoint, it is a bit of a blur.  No, the first time would come many years later, 26 years to be precise, when I had an opportunity to speak in Würzburg, Germany. 

I remember sitting in a small circle of researchers in the Marriot Hotel in La Jolla, California.  We had just finished a spine conference and a few of the faculty were reviewing the conference.  A couple of Swiss folks were going to put on a conference in Wüzburg the next year and asked whether I might be interested in speaking.  I said casually, “I think I can do this.  I’ll check my calendar to confirm the dates.” 

That’s what I said.  My thoughts were quite different…“Are you kidding me?? You want me to do what???  Europe?? Pay me??”  In truth, the excitement was so extreme I had to clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking with excitement!

Well prepped…

As a youngster, my mother provided the guiding light for my life.  During the day, she did the things most mum’s do, but at night just before that kiss good night, the stories would come.  Family stories…Bible stories…Children’s stories…Historical stories…stories about practically everything – or at least it seemed so to a little boy.  The world opened to my eyes through the words spoken by this amazing woman, I was privileged to call ‘mother.’

Her family roots were Scottish, but she loved the English.  She told me stories of England and London…enough that I had a longing to visit.  My father’s chosen profession was the ministry – not one that provided much economic freedom.  There would not be money to travel and see the world, so my mother’s stories would have to suffice.  They did, however, light a fire that I would carry to this very day!

It happened and more…

I did go to Germany that year, and on the way home spent three days in London!  My life was now complete.  I felt I could have stayed there forever.  Too soon, the time ended and I reluctantly was homeward bound.  Unexpectedly at the time, I found myself in Europe a number of times in subsequent years…a blessing, no doubt!

Several years later, an opportunity came to visit China and Singapore, places I had only heard about, but had occupied a place of strong interest in my heart.  My friend WingLee arranged for us to make this trip.  I remember, a similar feeling I had on my first visit to Europe…until I actually got on the plane and it left the ground, I was unsure whether this was real or a dream!  China was everything I had imagined and so much more…what I imagined had been started by that woman telling stories to a little boy, just before that kiss goodnight…the reality only confirmed the love that had driven those stories.

The dance continues, but changes…

Since that first trip, there have been many more places, all of which have led to the same feelings of anticipation and excitement.  In my sixth decade, I still feel the same stirrings in my stomach and heart for the ‘unknown’ that lies ahead as I buckle my seatbelt preparing for the next adventure.

Something, however, has changed over these years.  In the oddest of ways, there has been a shift in the slipstream of time.  I am not sure exactly how to express it, but there has been a definite alteration in feelings when traveling.

In the early years (early years being in my forties when I made that first trip), the excitement to go, far outweighed the longing to return home.  The ‘outbound’ simply overwhelmed the ‘inbound.’  It is not that I didn’t look forward to coming home…I did, but it was, well…simply less exciting than heading out.

Somewhere in the mix, a balance developed…meaning; coming home was equally as pleasant a thought as going out.  By now, the curve has shifted.  I still love to go out – there is little doubt of that – BUT coming home…coming home is as comforting a thought as I can imagine.

I think this is a metaphor for life itself.  In the beginning, there is so much going on; there is no time for reflection or thought.  Stuff just happens – you will live forever! 

As time goes on, and enough things have happened to permit a bit of contemplation, things take on a context.  Epictetus says:

“The unexamined life is not worth living, in this way we should never simply accept an impression…but say to it? ‘Just a minute; let me see what you are and where you come from.’ ” – Epictetus, Discourses

As I reflect on the journey thus far, thoughts of mortality are unavoidable.  A recognition that no matter what has been done or accomplished, there is an end…or is there? 

Looking at the unavoidable horizon of life, I find an excitement building for the flight to the next unknown.  It is hard to put this into words…indeed, I simply do not have them…BUT as curious as I am about the impending flight from which there is no mortal return…I simply cannot wait to get home!!

- ted

Unexpected memories...

“Memory…the diary we all carry with us.”

- Oscar Wilde

I hate being late!!

It was close to 9AM, driving on East McCarty street in Jefferson City, Missouri and I was running a little late to the bank.  I had set the meeting a week earlier before leaving San Diego to take care of some family business while visiting with my sister.  The appointment had been set, it was clear I wouldn’t quite make it on time, and for a fellow who doesn’t like to be late…I was a little stressed.

Memories built…

You know how it is when you are doing something sort of mindlessly…listening to music, exercising, driving a car…when suddenly a memory pops into your head.  The trigger could be anything – often unknown.  A memory that you could not have brought to mind if someone had given you money, but there it is, clear as day!

An odd little place…

As fate would have it, I passed the address where Molly and I had first lived after getting married.  It had been an odd little three-room apartment along the length of half the building with rooms stacked end to end…living room, bedroom and kitchen next to one another in a straight line.  Getting to the kitchen, in the back, meant passing through the bedroom in the middle – the bathroom just off the kitchen.  Because the bathroom was just off the kitchen, visitors needing to use it had to go through the bedroom.

Passing that address on East McCarty Street triggered one of those remembrances that bubbled up in my brain until I laughed out loud.  It didn’t matter that the building was now gone replaced by an empty lot!  My mind instantly returned to the apartment with its appearance and ‘feel’ in intimate detail.  Moments like this remind me what a wondrous gift we have as human beings to be able to recall both images and feelings…even smells and sensations.

Off and on we would have a good friend stay with us.  Since we had no spare room, Dick would sleep on the couch.  He and I had started a small consulting business and ran an early morning – 5AM – community fitness program.  Later, in the not too distant future, he would move to Jefferson City, but in the mean time, he stayed with us.

This led to curious privacy issues, because in the night, if he needed to use the facilities, he had to pass through our bedroom.  Usually, I was asleep, but occasionally, I would wake up and see this dark figure tiptoeing quietly through the room like the specter of a ghost.  One particular night, both Molly and I noticed this and got the giggles.  The kind of giggles that are hard to stop once they get going.  Dick trying to quietly slip through… the two of us trying ignore the fact a fellow was going just by the bed…in a moment, the three of us were in stitches…I suppose you would had to have been there, but it was funny!

As I drove by the address on that Monday morning, I was instantly transported to the image of this event and saw it as clearly as if it had just happened!

Who knows how it works…

In the Bible David writes: “…for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.” (Psalm 139:14)  While we live in an animal body – wondrous in its own right – it is the mind that has such an astonishing and apparently unlimited capacity. 

It doesn’t take much reflection to appreciate almost everything we consume in our lives came from an idea in someone’s mind.  Things we take for granted in every day life – from the tiny and intricate to the large and complex –  began somewhere in the recesses of someone’s mind as a simple thought…a simple “…’hmm, I wonder’…‘what if?” – an awesome thing to appreciate.

It would be enough if we had only the capacity to create things from thought and the resources we find around us, but there is more.  David writes in another place: “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him?...” (Psalm 8:3,4).  We have the capacity to reflect and wonder about the grander and unknown things beyond...you know…just beyond the unseen horizon. It is the ‘…just beyond…’ that really drives, or rather draws us.

Yet, this mind, this curious and for the most part poorly understood mass of protoplasm, protected and locked inside the hard case of our skull, also has the capacity to simply entertain us.  I don’t mean entertain in the broader sense…theater, art, film, song, or dance…I mean just in quiet, maybe even intimate moments when we least expect it.  You know, like driving past a place thirty years in the past and having a crystal clear memory come back…back to remind…back to reflect…back to bring context…back to bring a chuckle or maybe just because!

A momentary step aside…

I know this memory thing can work with reminders that are sometimes painful and not so pleasant.  I also know that when any thought instantly returns to our minds, we can embrace or reject it…we can open the door to further reflection or close it and move away from it.  I believe this kind of conscious acceptance and rejection helps to shape the going forward in our lives.

Back on task…

On this morning as I hurried, late and a bit stressed to make a meeting, I was given the unrequested gift of an event in life that provided exactly what I needed to bring a little relief, perspective and appreciation.  Yeah, I made the meeting…a little late, but in the few minutes it took to get there, I was reminded not just of an event, but a part of the rich fabric of my life, the people in it and the journey that has made it so meaningful this far…

- ted

The early morning hours...

“I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart so long. 

If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can

be together all the time.”

- Bill Watterson, Calvin & Hobbs

It was…as usual…GREAT to see her. 

Through many of our years we have been close to one another and for many years as children and adults, lived in the same house.  There were periods of time when we were separated by school or work, but even then we never failed to find some one-on-one time we treasured.

Same family, same name…

As youngsters we didn’t much value family.  You know the kind of thing that happens.  You grow up in the same house and that is pretty much your entire world. 

In the beginning, you come to the planet ‘…first come first serve…’  For some reason, life doesn’t take dinner reservations.  In fact, when you come to the party, there is no way to know who will even be there!

When I arrived, there was already a ‘place holder’ in the family unit.  My older sister Anne had made her entrance two years earlier – I soon discovered she was the life of the party.  At first I didn’t even realize she was there, but slowly it became apparent someone other than me was getting attention in the space I had come to occupy.

Wait...what about me?

A short two years later, I found myself in the same position as my older sister, when Nancy appeared on the scene.  Quite unexpectedly, one day in May, mother went away for a few days.  She returned with another little person in tow…who invited this person to the dance??  I mean, for two years it had been a struggle getting the kind of attention I wanted in the presence of a more mature and experienced sibling.

It’s hard to say exactly what my older sister felt when suddenly the singular attention she had been receiving turned in to a 50/50 profit sharing deal – I do know what I felt when it became 33/33/33.  My stock had been diluted without a moment’s consultation on the part of my parents…mildly free floating anxiety describes it best.  I mean, what if the shares got further diluted to say 25% or 20%?

Time…what a deal!

As the years passed, this rivalry for attention seemed to shift from:

“Hey, what about me?” to

“Hey, what are you up to?” to

“Hey, you are kind of interesting,” to

“Hey, what’s been going on in your life?” to

“Hey, I’m looking forward to seeing you on the holiday,” to

“Hey, you have no idea how much I love you!”

And so here she was once again.  All Nancy had to do was get out of the car, walk in the room, turn on the smile, slip her arms around me and all was right with the world.  She has the gift you know…the kind that no amount of childhood rivalry or seeking for attention can overcome.  Two things happen every time I see her, even without her speaking a word…I feel a sense of assurance, and for some totally unknown reason, a sense of confidence that whatever has been challenging in the given moment can be overcome.

Family – a team sport…

It was like this today.  She had been gone on business for a while and was coming home.  If you ever played a team sport you will understand the relationship I have with my sister.

At first, in any game, the key is to learn the fundamentals.  This is a totally self-focused task – learn to dribble the ball…run drills…do certain plays from the recipe book…try not to look silly.  Then the game begins.  Early in the process, many mistakes are made…passes dropped…shots missed…other players not being where they are supposed to be.

Once the fundamentals become part of the skill set – winning is the goal!  Mistakes aside, winning is what it is all about isn’t it?  The attention goes to the winner!  What could be better than that??

If you are fortunate to play the game long enough, however, something magical begins to happen.  Without realizing it, you know where the other players are almost by instinct…dribbling, passing, shooting…all of that, simply vehicles for a more mature experience…the experience of love – love of the game.  No, that’s not right…a yearning and love for the integrated play with others as if you were one body, one spirit…simply ‘one.’  There is power in that kind of ‘one.’  Reminiscent of Christ’s prayer in the garden near the end of his life “…make them one, as you and I are one…”

My relationship with Nancy is like that.  So when she came by last night it was all of the above and more.  The ‘knowing’ as it has been for decades…the unspoken feeding we share with one another from a game we have nurtured and grown and understand so well.

A dinner date…

We had some pizza, but that was only an excuse.  Pizza…geeze, we both have an unnatural capacity for the stuff.  I try to keep away from it because I like it so much…I have almost no control – nor does she.  We have this addiction, so it’s usually best to simply stay out of the danger zone – the pizza parlor!  Last night, we bit the bullet and ate our hearts out!

She brought me up to date on a couple of her projects.  I told her I was trying to write some, but it wasn’t easy.  Somehow, I felt I didn’t have the words to express the things I felt.  She looked over the table and said what she often did, “You can do it kiddo.  It just takes a little determined focus.”  We laughed a little and shared another story or two, catching up on people we both knew. 

She was telling me about one of the guys at work that had been giving her a hard time.  This narrative has been part of our family dialogue for all of my life…the difficulty women have…in particular the issues professional women often face, to which men seem oblivious…frequently promote.  While a mild irritant, she never complained, but didn’t hesitate to fill me in on the ‘…girl’s perspective…’

Something was wrong…

She was just getting to the point of her story, when I felt a little disoriented.  I wondered for a second if maybe something in the pizza had disagreed with me.  I tried to focus on her conversation, but felt the room slipping away…I tried to get up, but couldn’t.  Someone was tapping me on the shoulder as I fought to stay alert - "...no, no wait a minute..."

Through the mist that accompanies the moments of moving from sleep to awake, I realized it had been a dream.  How could it have been, it was so real…I tried to get back to the pizza parlor to no avail….the ‘person’ tapping me on the shoulder was Leah, one of our cats, reminding me of our morning ritual …was she the dream and Nancy the reality?  I love that cat, but damn – the morning had come.

REM sleep is the part of the cycle that ushers us in and out of the deep sleep necessary for undistracted maintenance and healing to take place in our bodies.  It is the time, going in and coming out, where the dream world fills us with possibilities.  It is a place where the strangest of circumstances seem to be absolutely real, with an odd sort of order.  There have been only a few times, when my dreams have been so reality based…where waking has appeared to be the illusion.

Last night was one such dream.  I have little doubt this night vision could be explored for deep-rooted psychological analysis – I have little interest in that.  Waking to the reality of Nancy’s devastating illness was like finding myself in a bare room, in a small building in the middle of a bleak desert.  An emotional reality  – with all the issues surrounding this – I do not allow myself to fully embrace.

There is just a little more…

Dreams have a way of healing sometimes, or at the very least, help bring vibrancy to moments that are otherwise unwelcoming and overwhelming.  In moments like this, I tell her quietly in my heart, that I am trying to cope, but don’t have the words to express the way I feel.  I sense her looking over the table and saying what she so often did, “You can do it kiddo.  It just takes a little determined focus.”


- ted

Unexpected lessons...

“And Moses was content to dwell with the man:

and he gave Moses Zipporah his daughter.”

- Exodus 2:21, Bible

He was big and smart. 

When he knocked her to the ground, he just walked away 10 feet or so and waited.   She got up a little unsteady on her feet; he walked over and knocked her down again. 

The setting…

Nearly 30 years of my life centered around a small acre of land on highway 24 West in the rural community of Moberly, Missouri.  I came to a small Bible teaching community in 1975, in the second year of my doctoral program at the University of Missouri.  The school program would take two or three years, and I had found a place where I could do a little scripture studying at the same time.  After the war and a few years of school, I was restless and it seemed like a good fit.  While I didn’t know it at the time, those two or three years turned into three decades!

In the early years, while in school, I lived in a trailer on the church property with a couple of other fellows.  I am not sure I have either the time, or the hard drive space to recount the many adventures and stories that occured in those thirty years, but on this Christmas day I am reminded of Moses and Zipporah...not Moses and Zipporah of the Old Testament scriptures, but Moses and Zipporah the dogs!

Oh the weather out side is frightful...

It was winter in Missouri…a winter that had brought a lot of snow.  Not that powdery kind that comes from freezing temperatures high in the atmosphere…the kind that dusts the ski slopes of the Colorado Rockies.  Rather the wet heavy kind that happens when temperatures in the clouds are at or just above freezing. 

This kind of snow creates a ‘…deafening silence…’ found in soundproof rooms – you know the kind.  It falls fast and in big flakes…the kind that comes on the heels of a few mild winter days…the that kind snarls traffic in cities and towns…the kind that packs down and makes the county and state roads deadly…the kind that overcomes the best battle plans of the salt and gravel trucks…the kind that replaces the snow as fast as a plow can clear it, AND the kind that lends itself to wonderful snowmen, angels in the snow, and enthusiastic snowball fights.  Yes sir, the kind that brings out the child in all but the grumpiest of folk who always see the glass half empty!

My friend Moses…

It was winter and a time of year that Moses seemed to love.  While he officially belonged to David, he was for all practical purposes the ‘church dog.’  He was a large German shepherd weighing in somewhere north of 85 pounds (38k).  He looked big under normal circumstances, but in moments of alarm, when his body hair stood on end – he looked enormous and it was breath taking!

The church property sat right on the highway.  It was the kind of road farmers and others used to get to town and back…the kind of road that claimed the lives of countless cats and dogs finding themselves unwisely crossing in search of a mouse or other small animal living in the surrounding woods.  For some reason Moses had learned to look both ways…he understood death lurked on that ribbon of asphalt running beside the trailer where he lived, and he had a healthy respect for it.

In those early years Moses was a fixture.  While his real home was a pen beside the trailer, he was allowed inside, and there were many nights when he stayed with me in that trailer.

Stray animals were not unusual…

Over the years a lot of stray dogs and cats made their way on to the church property – many stayed until the highway or greener pastures either ended their lives or caused them to move on.  Moses pretty much put up with them.  Putting up meant…if they didn’t bother him, he wouldn’t bother them.  He had seen a lot in his years and seemed to understand détente was the best policy.

During the fall of this year, Zipporah arrived at church.  In the scriptures Zipporah was a Midianitish woman that Moses married.  In Moberly, Missouri she was simply a dog!

By the time she arrived, Moses was a little old to consider her, well in the politest of terms, mating material.  She was skittish and very timid.  In spite of this, Moses tried to engage her.  Yet, almost every time he came near, she would assume a submissive posture and cower.

Old dogs teaching new tricks…

The trailer in which I lived was on the Eastern edge of, and parallel to, the parking lot.  This morning because of the snow, there were no cars other than those parked the night before.  I had wakened and was in the process of trying to determine whether I would head over to the church for coffee.  I glanced out the window to see how much snow had fallen and saw Moses and Zipporah standing in the center of the car park.

Moses walked over to her, and as she assumed the position, he knocked her down.  He then walked away and stood still.  When she got up a little unsteadily to her feet; he walked over and knocked her down again.  This happened three of four times.

For some reason, Zipporah seemed to want to make peace.  With head down, she cautiously made her way to Moses and sniffed at him.  As her nose touched his side, he collapsed to the ground.  This startled her and she jumped back.  Moses got to his feet and trotted away another 10 feet or so and stood still…Zipporah made her way uneasily toward him again.  As before, when she sniffed at him and as her nose touched his coat, he fell to the ground.

This cycle repeated itself several times until Zipporah seemed to ‘get it.’  She realized this was a game, and within the 15 minutes or so as I watched this amazing event, she was running at Moses, trying to knock him down!  The next few minutes, the dogs played in the snow – the youngster and the old man – as though they were both pups.  Moses quit first…she flat wore him out!

I don’t know how animals think, or how they process information, but it is my sense Moses wished he had never taught that dog to play.  For in the few remaining months/years of his life Zipporah was unrelenting in her attention for him.  She would tug at him trying to get him to play with her.  From her perspective, I suppose it was simply unbridled affection…

Moses? Had he known Greek mythology, he might have felt he opened Pandora’s box!  He had produced a creature that gave him no peace.  From time to time he would have an expression in his eyes that said, “What have I created!”  And yet, I am certain, given the opportunity, he would have done it all again.  For me, watching that old dog teaching a life lesson to Zipporah was one of the more unexpected pleasures of my life.

The Christmas season, in spite of all the stresses that come along with it, is a time to be grateful for the health that we have and the life we have been given…a time to be gentle with one another and remember those we love…a time to appreciate the circumstances in our lives that have touched us in meaningful ways…big and small. 

I am grateful for my family, and the people from all over this world God has brought into and enriched my life…there is little doubt, however, in the tapestry of my experiences and corner of my heart, where the brush strokes are subtle and barely noticeable to the casual observer…Moses gently resides.

- ted

Taking time...

"The wind against my face and hair,

The sun against the skin I wear,

To feel its rays so bold and bright,

I know that now my life is right..."

- Alethea Dalton

“Please come by our shop 30 minutes prior to your tour…like a flight if you’re too late you will miss your tour.”

We got there early for two reasons, one because of the preceding notice received in the email and because there was no place to park by the tour shop…this meant we would need to cruise the neighborhoods to find a place for the car.

Not always what you think…

It’s sometimes funny when two people having a conversation both think they understand each other, but in fact do not.

It began with a call with my wife, while I was traveling on business a couple of months ago.  We knew our niece Mariah would be coming for a visit at the end of her exams in December, and Molly wondered whether she (Mariah) and I might like to go on a whale watching tour.

After moving to San Diego, we had done this on a tour boat.  It took us 13 miles (24km) off shore to see some Blue Whales migrating north from Mexico to the Northern Pacific feeding grounds.  On that trip, the water had been a little rough and Molly got a bit seasick…so, it seemed reasonable she would pass on this adventure.

I said, “Sure, that would be fun,” and the deal was made.  As happens from time to time, I did not hear all of the words.  Somehow the word ‘kayak’ didn’t register, and as the date approached I realized this would not be a tour boat, but kayaks heading out from the coastal shoreline of La Jolla (La Hoya) about 20 miles (32km) north of our home in San Diego.

Kayak – WHAT??!! 

Early training…

As a youngster, I spent my summers on lakes in the Muskoka region of Central Ontario, Canada.  My mother had been a camp counselor for many years before marrying my father.  She made sure her children learned to love the water, but also have a healthy respect for its potential dangers.  We had to swim certain distances before we were permitted in boats, and further distances before getting in boats alone.  Water play brought great fun, but there were rules.

Canoes and rowboats were part and parcel of our summer lives.  We had a motorboat and some water skis, but my favorite was always the canoe.  A canoe on flat-water lakes can be magical…kayaks on the ocean – uh, I had no idea!

A little preparation…

Not wanting to appear completely uninformed, it seemed reasonable to take a kayaking lesson before the event.  So about three weeks prior, I headed to a local kayak shop, got into a wetsuit; then spent two hours learning paddle strokes and how to get back in the kayak if for some reason I fell out. 

The instructor was great and the lesson turned out to be much more fun than expected.  In fact, aside from a paddle with blades on both ends of the shaft, and a little less stability than a canoe, things seemed pretty natural…well, that would be until I slipped into the water to practice getting back in the kayak. I’ve lived in San Diego a few years, come here for decades, and been in a number of oceans on this planet, but this was my first time in California coastal waters. In case you have any misconception, the waters of the Southern California coast are ICE COLD!  Point of fact, they are in the high 50s  (14-15C)…they just feel freezing!

Named for the wind…

Mariah flew in for her break and when the 'kayak day' arrived we dutifully got an early start so that we could find parking and not ‘…miss the plane...’  In the winter, Gray Whales come within a mile or so of the coastline as they migrate south to their warm water spawning grounds on the Baja Peninsula of Mexico.   This meant we would only need to paddle a mile or so out to be in their path.  In the summer, boats take the kayaks a fair distance offshore for the Blues heading north.  In the winter, for the Grays this would not be necessary.

We been great friends pretty much all of her life.  In 25 of those 28 years, I don’t remember having to carry a conversation even once.  We have one of those connections that don’t lend themselves to an easy explanation…just a familiar comfort and easy talk.

When she was young, we were around each other all the time.  I would occasionally take her with me on a business trip and we would try to do something special together.   In some ways, I took those occasions for granted, and then before I knew it, she grew up and wasn’t around as much.  It wasn’t planned…just the process of life – we moved away; she went on to university and graduate school and work and now medical school, and well, our time together less frequent…in truth I covet every minute.

Our relationship has few barriers, our sense of humor is similar…many of our interests follow similar paths, and where they don’t, we find ways to share our points of view.  While I have been, for many years, the older one with the broader life experience, her life pathway is on a rapid course and I am often amazed at the things she knows and what she teaches me.

In recent years with the events in her mother’s life and the rigors of medical school, her load has been remarkably heavy.  Coming to Southern California for a few days would help recharge her batteries, AND Molly and I are great at ‘…love bombing…’

False start…

We got to the shop, slipped into our wetsuits, and headed to the beach with the other six hearty souls.  It turned out the weather did not cooperate, the water was not safe and the adventure was cancelled.  We crossed our fingers and decided to return the following day.

The next day was perfect…all hands on deck – well, at least two souls in a kayak – the adventure was on! 

 

The kayaking took place on the La Jolla Ecological Reserve.  While we were on top of the water, underneath is nearly 6,000 acres (2,428 hectares) of an underwater marine reserve with kelp beds and underwater canyons between 600 and 1000 feet (183 and 305m) deep.  Reefs keep the water relatively calm, and chillier winter temperatures bring dolphins and other sea life closer to shore.  It is also the reason whales come so close to shore in the winter, and the reason we had come!

In the first instance, we did not see any whales.  Having said that, there wasn’t much else we did not.  A nearby school of dolphin entertained us.  They had a baby with them and our guide explained the pod would be careful to protect it from anything potentially harmful…even us!  There were leopard sharks beneath, sea lions and seals in the water and along the shores. 

Hundreds and hundreds of Cormorants (birds) nested along the cliffs.  They flew toward the sheer vertical walls at break-neck speeds, like an aircraft on final approach to the runway.  At the last minute they would flare up and land on what appeared to be a tiny perch where they had built their nests.  It seemed a miracle they could find their address!

After two hours, we headed back to shore and to see whether we could get through the surf without capsizing.  Mariah and I caught a wave just right and made it to the beach still inside the kayak – Success!

The music has to end…

In three days, Mariah’s break will have had its run and we will put her “…on a jet plane…” back to the snow and chill of Mid-Missouri.  In three days, the magic of our time together will be done.  In three days, once on the flight, we will long for her return.  

There are discussions about a fourth year rotation out here and a possible residency as well…yet we know her life is moving forward to the calling for which she was born, and while we are tightly connected, ultimately our times together will be fewer.  

“Time!” In life, other than love, what could be more precious?

 You see, the kayak adventure was just another excuse, another reason…as every hike, drive, trip, live theater, movie, pizza and time together over the years has been...an excuse for us to share a little proximity…an excuse to be able express the richness of love and care…

There is little doubt - in life and love, every moment counts!

- ted