Happy Birthday Jesus

I was thinking this morning that the “problem” with Christmas is not the fun and fantasy and magic for children, the gifts and food and family for all ages, but that we have not talked and lived enough about the birth of Jesus and what it is really all about. It’s our problem as followers of Jesus, not the world’s problem. I am not so worried about the world taking away the meaning of Christmas but that we have not talked enough about the real meaning. Jesus came into the world as a baby as a gift from God. That is pretty “magical” to me in a very good way. He came to do more than give me some presents but to give me the best present of all, himself. God with us. Jesus left heaven and came to earth to die for our sin and invite us to receive forgiveness and then to spend the rest of our lives following him as disciples. Christmas celebrates that. It’s the best news of all. Have a very Happy Christmas this year in the middle of whatever traditions you enjoy as you share in the Joy of Jesus. Happy Birthday Jesus!

Dependency on Christ

Dependency on Christ.

For those filling out tax forms there is a benefit to having dependents. But no one wants to be a dependent all of their life. People want to be the Head of their Household.

We want to be blessed, empowered, and free.

I think dependency on Christ tops everything. We don't have to carry ourselves. In fact, besides not having to carry ourselves we are able to let Christ carry us. 

I realize that no one phrase summarizes all of life but this one is giving me hope. If it encourages you then I'm glad about that too.

You don't have to go it alone. I don't have to go it alone.

Dependency on Christ. 

Raining on Good Friday

It's raining now and it's supposed to be like this all day and into tomorrow. This is one of the few rainy days that encourage me. Usually, they are a downer and I just want to be outside to walk in the sunshine.

But it always feels right to me when the weather is gloomy on this Friday, the one before Easter. It reminds me that Jesus suffered beatings, mocking, and horrible death. The only way you can call this Good Friday is to look beyond it to the resurrection. And I do.

But on that day when he was murdered in a cruel way it sure didn't look good. Three men on a cross and the man in the middle didn't deserve it. It was a sad day. This is a sad day to think of how he died for sins he did not commit. I'm grateful that he died for my sins and the sins of others, but I'm still sad. Because I don't deserve his forgiveness.

But that of course is the point. None of us deserve it but He gave us forgiveness willingly. Because He loves us.

Yes, Jesus loves me. Oh, how he loves you and me.

Repurposed

Sometimes you don’t know what to call it when you are part of a church that is different than what you think it should be. Maybe you are thinking things are changing so fast. Or things are changing too fast. Or things aren't changing fast enough. So you try to describe what you want to happen.

Revitalization. But that takes a while and you certainly aren’t there yet.

Re-engineered. But the pieces are so separate that you aren’t there yet.

Reimagined. But you can’t see that far ahead and you definitely aren’t there yet.

So here is a word. 

Repurposed. So much that we have doesn’t need to be thrown on the garbage heap of life but if we keep it a new purpose for it is needed. 

Repurposed. Taking what we have in front of us and doing what it is able to do. Perhaps that is taking “Church” and repurposing it to what it was always meant to be. 

We know the ways we have been using it don’t matter or work as much or at all anymore. Maybe they did at one point but slowly they drifted from what the purpose of the Church really is.

The purpose of the Church isn’t to be a landmark in the community. “Turn left at the old first church of ___ and keep going three miles.” It’s not a building. 

The purpose of the Church is not to be a courtroom in the city where people come to be judged and then just told to not do that again.

The purpose of the Church is not to be a post office where messages come in and go out without being examined and shared.

The purpose of the Church is not to just take care of its own and neglect those who surround it.

The purpose of the Church is not just to convert those without Jesus and then send them on their way with a Bible and a hearty handshake.

We all could make a list of what the church is not. A list that we know intuitively just isn’t all that the Church was ever meant to be. We feel it. There has to be more. And there is.

The purpose of the Church is to make followers of Jesus who make followers of Jesus. It's that simple. Some might say the Church exists to discover, develop, and deploy disciple-makers as Jesus commanded. That really works in integrating just a few words to begin a process of how that actually happens. 

But let me go back for a moment at least to the simple way of saying it. 

The purpose of the Church is to make followers of Jesus who make followers of Jesus. You can know if that is really the purpose of the church that you are part of by asking two questions. 1) Are we making followers of Jesus? And 2) Are those followers of Jesus making followers of Jesus?

The often missed question isn't the first one, though it could be in some places. But the more often missed question is are the followers of Jesus whom we have made as a church making followers of Jesus?

We shouldn't expect that to be happening if that is not our purpose. Don't grade somebody on what they have not been taught and shown. 

Repurposed. We can do this. We can repurpose the church we are part of to make followers of Jesus who make followers of Jesus. To discover, develop, and deploy disciple-makers as Jesus commanded.

We can do this but not alone. Fortunately, we don't have to do it alone. But with God leading us we can decide to repurpose the church that we are a part of. And evidently, we can do this even if we doubt.

Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,  and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matthew 28:16-20

Repurposed...with Jesus with us always, to the very end of the age. You are not alone. We are not alone.

More Jesus

As I am listening to the Gospel of Matthew this morning, to Jesus, I am reminded of how I just can’t get enough of Jesus these days. 

I was thinking of a friend who wants and needs to spend more time with non Christians these days. I think he finds Jesus among them. He gets more of Jesus.

Perhaps at different seasons God leads us to himself in the way we need. I’m glad he’s blessing this friend in this way.

As you follow in the way of Jesus let him guide you closer in the way you need in this season of life. Let others, and encourage others, to follow Jesus in the way that gets them closer to him. Don’t get in their way. Get in The Way. The Way of Jesus.

A Rich Life: What is a favorite story about my Dad?

A favorite story about my Dad goes back to when I was in High School and some friends and I started a band. We practiced at someone’s home and I was the lead singer. I didn’t know how to play guitar at that point so others played instruments and did backup vocals and I just sang. It was my first group and we called ourselves Pink Lemonade. Yes, I know, but it was the 60s. 

After practicing for a while we finally lined up our first gig. We were going to play at a school dance and we were very excited. I told my Dad about what we had lined up and he said, “No, you’re not allowed to play at a dance.” I was very surprised and of course upset. I couldn’t understand at all how he could tell me that. He knew that we had been rehearsing and how much it meant to me I thought. But he was firm and said that I could not play at a dance. 

Those were the days when some Christians frowned upon dancing and I thought he must not want me to play because he was a Pastor and it would reflect badly upon him. But it didn’t make any sense to me because my sister went to dances and had gone to the Prom several years before. He obviously thought it was OK for her to dance and go to dances. So why couldn’t I play at a dance? It all seemed very hypocritical to me.

But that was just the way that it was and since my dad had said no I told the band I couldn’t sing and the band disbanded without ever playing a performance for anyone. No Pink Lemonade. I was never in a group like that again that was basically a cover band singing hits from that time period.  

I survived. I went on to form a group in a year or so that would sing cover songs plus Christian songs and sing them at church functions for youth groups. I even recorded some of those songs on an album called Blades of Grass which was my next group that was a duo. My Dad even loaned me the money to be able to pay for the recording of it and the purchase of the albums to sell. At some point, I remember talking with someone who knew me from High School who said that Blades of Grass was one of the names that my first band had considered but we ended up choosing Pink Lemonade as our name.

My Dad and I had a really good relationship most times in life but sometimes I would still think about how he had told me “No” in regards to playing at the dance. I carried that with me for years and finally years later, I don’t really remember how many years but definitely decades, I finally asked him about it.

In conversation with Dad, I described what had happened. I told him about the high school group that I was in and that we had gotten a gig to play at a local school dance. I was the lead singer and we were excited and then I went home and told him about it. I told him his response was to say “No, you’re not allowed to play at a dance.” I said I was so surprised because I never imagined that I wouldn’t be allowed to play at a dance because Rosalyn had gone to dances and that was obviously OK with him. I told him that didn’t seem consistent to me.

His response was, “You’re right.” He said it didn’t sound consistent with him either. Then he said that he didn’t remember the incident at all. No memory of it at all. He agreed with me that it wouldn’t be right to tell me that, but that he didn’t have any memory of that ever happening. He wasn’t doubting me. He just didn’t remember it. 

All those years I had carried that with me. One of the few negative memories actually that I had of my Dad, something that had affected me so much I thought. I had carried it but he did not.

It didn’t stop me from singing in groups and it didn’t stop me from loving my Dad. It’s a favorite story about my Dad not that he told me “No” but that he would agree with me later that he shouldn’t have. It reminds me of how sometimes we carry hurts from someone and that person doesn’t carry them at all, doesn’t even remember.  

I’m not glad that I carried that for so long but I am glad that finally I brought it up to him and put it behind me. Dad could have defended himself. He could have said I don’t remember it but then launched into a justification of why he might have said it. But he didn’t. He just admitted he was wrong. That’s a good story. That’s a good Dad.

When God Laughed

One morning I was praying to God, asking God to forgive me and I heard God say, "I forgive you, Rich." I said I know but I don’t want to take advantage of you. Then God laughed and said, "I’m God. You can’t take advantage of me." 

I think what God was saying was that God will always forgive me and I should never be afraid to ask him to forgive me even for the same sins again and again. Because I cannot take advantage of God.

You can't take advantage of God either. Keep trusting. Keep believing. Keep asking for forgiveness, even if it is the same thing you've needed forgiveness for before.

God is not on a budget of forgiveness. There is no 77 or 70 times 7 for God to forgive you. 

You can't take advantage of God. God is God 🙏 And He loves you more than you can imagine.

A Rich Life: What inventions had an impact on my life?

The invention of the light bulb by Edison had a big impact on my life even though it was long before I was born. It is said that before the light bulb people slept an average of eleven hours a night. Now people try for seven to eight hours but often don’t reach that. That is my goal as well and when I am in the seven to eight-hour zone I definitely am more refreshed for the day. But imagine what it would be like to sleep from sundown to sun-up. That would be pretty cool and probably a lot more healthy. But I’m not expecting that to happen any time soon. Thanks, Tom, for the light bulb and for changing the way we sleep.  

The computer age has happened during my life. I used to have paper files and a typewriter but now I write some and keep some journals but mostly I use the computer for communication with others and for work projects. I don’t really want people to give me information on paper because I want it all online now. However, my file cabinet is still used at times when I get encouraging notes on paper and I still have files of cards from my family members and some others. I have the cards my girls made me over the years. Nice to pull them out and see them. 

Of course, another invention that followed after the computer is the internet. The internet lets me communicate quickly with people for work and more importantly lets me be in contact with my girls even when they are far away. I am so grateful for Skype which lets me not only talk with my girls but see them as well. It lets us all be together virtually at times which I appreciate even though there is nothing like being there in person. 

I also appreciate the invention of my Fitbit. It lets me know the time and keeps track of my steps. I like the fact that I can know how much I have walked during the day and over a period of time as well.  

Of course, my Fitbit also tracks my sleep for me which reminds me that it doesn’t get up to eleven hours when it tracks me … because of the invention of the lightbulb. Thanks again Mr. Edison for your invention that still keeps me sleep-deprived, but now I can know exactly how much.

Echo

I run through the woods exploring, looking at the squirrel that just scampered down the tree to greet me, and then just as quickly scurries off. I chase him a bit until it disappears into some leaves. Funny how fast they are for being so little. I’m a lot bigger and I think I can run very fast but they always leave me behind.

As I look around some more I see a rabbit hopping to another one. They must be pals although each one is clearly looking out for its own food to eat. Must be nice to have another friend that is the same. 

Just then I hear my friend call my name, Echo. I think he called me that because when he first got me at the dog pound I barked every time he said something.  Now I hear him yelling my name loudly but not meanly. Echo! He is the kindest man in the world I think. He takes me on long walks in the woods like today where I run off and explore and he wanders and thinks on his own. He’s a good friend. 

Sometimes I think he thinks he is taking me on a walk but I know that I’m the one who is taking him on a walk. If it weren’t for me nuzzling at the door to go out he would stay in most of the day and tap tap tap on that machine with a screen. 

But eventually, he does hear me, he sees me, and he opens the door and we go out back through the yard and into the woods. I hear him sigh loudly as we enter the forest. It’s as if he is really breathing now, taking in big gulps of fresh air instead of the conditioned air inside. He needed this and I knew it, plus I needed it too. We’re a good pair.

I keep looking around as I run back towards him. I see him wandering aimlessly calling my name but never worrying. He is confident that I would never leave him, never keep running and not come back to him. I feel the same way about him. He will always look for me and walk home with me. 

He doesn’t really take me home, we walk there together. There is no taking, there is just enjoying the adventure out and then walking home for the life we have there together.

All of a sudden we both see an eagle flying high in the sky. We stop and listen quietly and just watch. He has a look of awe on his face but I’m not jealous. It’s the look he gives me multiple times a day when I run to him and sit by his feet as he works. Or the times I jump on the couch beside him as we watch television. 

Today after seeing the eagle for a moment he takes out his phone to take pictures, zooming in and out, getting some video as well. Then he turns from pointing the phone camera at the sky and starts taking pictures and videos of me. He knows I love to perform and I run around in circles and jump up and bark and he laughs and smiles as I do all of this. Later as we sit together on the porch tonight he will show me the pictures and videos of the eagle and of me. He will talk about how we saw the eagle and how we took the pictures. He will smile and tell me that these are some of the best pictures we have ever taken, especially the ones of me.

He will laugh as I bark saying yes and he will rub my head and tell me he loves me. I will bark in response and nod my head and he will hug me and then get a treat for me and one for himself. 

Sometimes he almost seems to know what I am thinking. Almost. It’s as if he hears me and gets me. Just like he’s in my head, maybe I’m in his head too. Echo.

One Day

One day.

One day you cannot believe that things will ever change, that things will ever get better, that life will ever be better than it is today, and that the situation you are in won’t just go on forever. One day. 

One day you realize that what you thought was impossible to overcome actually is behind you. Things are better. The one you thought would be lost to you or that you couldn’t live with somehow all of that you got through. Today. One day. You realize that without knowing it that bad time came and went. Stand in that one day. Live for that one day. Don’t give up. Remember. One day!

Healing

It is said that healing is too often the missing element in the Church today. As Christ lived he healed, he taught, and he preached.

Now there is often a lot of preaching at people and then if they respond there is much teaching to endure. Healing is too often missing because we have dismissed the Holy Spirit with a nod and thought we could continue on ourselves.

Without an acknowledgment of the Holy Spirit we just “do” church without “being” what only the Church can be. A healing place.

Many places today preach at people. Many places deliver teaching. Those places sometimes are in churches.

The real healing place is the church following the instructions and example of Jesus to do so with the power of the Holy Spirit who he promised would come to us as the Father showed him all things.

We’ve relegated “healing” to the medical “professionals.” Don’t quit on them. They are learning and have many skills and we should be grateful to them for helping us. I am very grateful to the many doctors and nurses and so many others that have and are helping me and others around the world.

They are doing their job. It’s time for the church to do ours.

Healing comes from God and we need to believe that God heals. To do that we need to invite the Holy Spirit to do what only the Holy Spirit can do. Pray fervently and press in to God, fast, whatever that is for you, and don’t give up.

This will take us closer to God than ever before. Notice the word “us.” That is me, that is you, that is the many praying to God for God to break through our diseases, our minds, and our hearts. Sometimes individuals hesitate to let their hearts and minds be changed because they don’t see the church trusting the Holy Spirit. Perhaps they wouldn’t describe it that way but that is what is often happening.

When people think that the church has no power they may be right…if we have told the Holy Spirit that we can handle this on our own.

But if we will humbly invite the Holy Spirit to come into our lives and our churches with fresh power and the Fresh Wind that only God can provide then healing inevitably comes. The Holy Spirit didn’t walk away from us, it was us who shut the Spirit of God out.

Healing is a beautiful thing when you’ve experienced it for yourself or for one you love. God loves the whole world and when we join in that love then healing flows naturally, supernaturally, and the Church experiences healing power and the world is never the same. I am never the same. You are never the same.

Just Let Me Grieve

So many deaths. Again. Children this time and their teachers. Adults recently just shopping. Worshippers in church killed. Hatred expressed. Life gone. Hopes dashed. Futures snuffed out.

Black friends teaching their sons and daughters how to talk to people so they can come home that night, and the next, and not be murdered. It's smart to teach them I know because of the world around us...but it brings tears to my eyes that it has to be done to save their children's lives. I never had to tell my children those instructions just so they might come home.

Latino parents sending their children to school, only a few days of school left before summer vacation. Summer! Yes, as any child is happy for a break. Summer break. And now there is no summer break for them. There is death. Death. Heartache. The death of hope. The teachers murdered too who were spending their lives to make a difference in their community and for these children and their families.

People of various faiths worshipping in a variety of places that used to be safe places but now violence enters so often. Death.

Rambling I know. But the violence just goes on and on. I am sad. Let me just be sad a while. I don't want to just turn to the next story, like how quickly war has left the front and center of our attention, except for those in Ukraine who still face death every day.

And don't tell me about how many people die or are murdered in other ways and we should care about them more. Don't tell me that...right now. I know you are right. I care about them too. But don't tell me that right now. Let me grieve for this classroom. Let me grieve for this grocery store. Let me grieve for this church and these faith communities.

We all have our own problems, I get that. I do too. But just let me grieve for someone else this time.

Sorrow. Pain. Sadness. When will it end? Stop it people.

I know it will go on, I know that. But let me never stop crying out for it to stop. Wishing for it to end. Praying for it to just stop.

Trust

A dozen years ago I finished reading "Prayer: Does it Make Any Difference?" by Philip Yancey. I wrote these thoughts then and as I came across them now I find that they still resonate within me.

Near the end of the book, he quotes Helmut Thielicke speaking to his German congregation near the end of World War 2.

"One day, perhaps, when we look back from God's throne on the last day we shall say with amazement and surprise, 'If I had ever dreamed when I stood at the graves of my loved ones and everything seemed to be ended; if I had ever dreamed when I saw the specter of atomic war creeping upon us, if I had ever dreamed when I faced the meaningless fate of an endless imprisonment or a malignant disease; if I had ever dreamed that God was only carrying out his design and plan through all these woes, that in the midst of my cares and troubles and despair his harvest was ripening, and that everything was pressing on toward his last kingly day--if I had known this I would have been more calm and confident; yes, then I would have been more cheerful and far more tranquil and composed.'"

Now back to my thoughts. God has a plan and I don't see it all. But I want to trust...to trust God more. We don't need to be in the middle of a World War to experience sadness, weakness, fear, and doubt. Every day we wonder why all of this is happening around us and in us and the ones we care about. Still, God has everything under control. I choose to believe that. Someday I will see God face to face but now I see dim reflections. But the reflection shows me Jesus more and more. I will follow the light I have and know that the light is Jesus.

A Rich Life: What has made my faith stronger?

I think my faith has become stronger as I live through the best and worst moments of life. The best moments have made me stronger as I saw God at work and how he worked in the situations for my good. What seemed like the worst moments taught me to hold on to God tightly which made my faith stronger.

The best moments of my life include discovering and marrying my wonderful wife Diane for sure. Only God could have brought such different people together and kept us together for so many years. Trusting in God through this has definitely made my faith stronger. I am not always easy to live with and seeing Diane not give up on me is truly a gift from God. In marriage, I got to see a different aspect of God that I had not seen before. Some would call it the “female” part that can only be seen in a close relationship with a woman. Diane is so godly and so Christ-like and seeing it helps me discover God in new ways. My faith continues to be enriched by her daily life, her witness to me, of what a good mother truly is, of what our heavenly Parent fully is with all of the characteristics of One who is father and mother to us all. I knew God as Father before I met Diane, even though I am growing in that knowledge as well, but being with her lets me see how God cares for us as a hen cares for her chicks. Diane is such a good Momma and that shows me that side of God.

Other best moments of my life include the births and lives of my delightful daughters. Watching them be born and then grow as infants, children, teens, and into womanhood has been such a wonder to me. My faith has grown stronger trying to teach them, love them, and model for them a good father. They both have made the job easy because of their respect and love for me. I hold onto God tightly as I want God to be at the center of their lives as well yet know it is a decision and lifestyle that only they can choose for themselves. I pray for them daily and am so glad for the times we are together and the memories we have made over the years and continue to make. They strengthen my faith as I hold onto God and let them fly on their own yet let them know that I am here for them always.

Then there are the worst moments in life. The times that I have failed God and felt so terrible that I did. The times that I have hurt the ones I love and the times that I have been hurt so badly by others. In these times my faith has been strengthened as I was driven closer to God because there was nowhere else to go. 

In my times of failure, I have to admit that I didn’t feel right away that my faith got stronger. Usually, I felt like I was fighting through my failure and then realizing that I needed to trust God more. God was there for me but I was trying to deal with things on my own. Then when I wised up I asked God to forgive me for not calling on him for help right away and I told him that I needed him to see me through whatever it was. All of that took a while. There was no instant fix. Often I have been a slow learner. I still am but I want God more than anything and I’m holding on to him for dear life. Fortunately, God is and has been holding on to me as well. I am so grateful that he didn’t give up on me in my times of failure or in the times that I acted like I was sailing high on my own. All of this has made my faith stronger. I am definitely a work in progress.

Rococo. Coco to her friends.

Sweeping down the hill filled with light yellow daisies and pastel green grass she bends the wind almost as the breeze moves her along. Casting aside any encumbrance Rococo, Coco to her friends,  runs through the fields and picks a few daisies with a lowering of herself onto her knees and pulling up the daisies and then bounding back onto her feet and down the hillside.

Every movement smooth, masterful as she glides along weaving her way through the trees that begin at the end of the open field. Looking up and dancing with the branches surrounding her as she continues to move forward until she seems to disappear behind one huge tree with low-hanging branches.

Then the tree itself begins to dance and as the wind moves through those branches it makes a sound that is not a howling but instead a beautiful flute-like sound with an enchanting melody. It’s as if Coco and the tree are one and in that unity, the solidness of the trunk and the fluidity of Coco’s movements along with the branches have produced a creation that is alive like no other.

Then, seemingly from nowhere, a pounding drum is heard as from the middle of the tree trunk over and over a rhythm intensifies and rises and falls with the sound of the flute, the melody and the rhythm of the drum dancing inside the tree and the branches and in Coco, still unseen.

As this music continues the branches scroll upwards into the sky, dancing and painting with their leaves and the arms of Coco and her long flowing hair. That hair moves back and forth in the sky making a vision in the clouds that is beyond what mere humans can create and more than the look of any tree living.

Then, as the sculpted heavens show forth such beauty, Coco walks down from the sky down the stairway that is wound among the colors and the wisps of life. She makes her way down ever so slowly still holding daisies from the field and leaves from the branches of the trees and the colors of the clouds in her eyes. 

She smiles and then quietly walks through the trees to another forest and to another field. The earth rustles between her feet as she goes through the fallen leaves and she hums the tune that the flute played as she claps her hands to the rhythm that had come from within the tree. She doesn’t look back but the masterpiece she sculpted with the help of the trees is still there, reaching up and up and up. 

And then she is gone. But the beauty remains. Of Rococo, Coco to her friends.

A Rich Life: Where did I go on vacation as a child?

From my youngest days, we went to visit family in the summer for two weeks then again just after Christmas through just after New Year’s.

Usually, we would first go and visit my Mom’s parents in the hills of West Virginia, Bomont, up a mountain with a creek running through the property. My Uncle Leo and Aunt Nina lived in the house by the road and then there was a short wooden bridge across the creek to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. 

The house was old, like them, and we loved it, and them more. There was a front porch with chairs and an outhouse behind the house. It was quite a good fortune for us all when they got an indoor bathroom and bathtub put in during probably my late childhood/early teen years.

The house inside was a delight, like a cottage really with a great kitchen where Grandma would make the best food, especially breakfast. I can still picture Grandpa at night sitting in the living room peeling potatoes for the next morning’s breakfast and I remember he had on white socks. Then in the morning, Grandma would fry up those potatoes and also fry eggs and bacon and sausage, and I’m pretty sure there were grits as well or some kind of rice. All I know is it was white. Breakfast was wonderful! We ate and ate and ate. Talk about a country breakfast!

My brother and I would play outside all day long, sometimes in the creek and even swim in it, and pretty often we would walk down with my sister to Opal’s Store. Opal was the local Post Mistress and she sold goodies besides and I think had a gas pump too. I remember always enjoying Honey Buns, a sweet treat that I can still almost taste and enjoy from time to time. But then they were such a treat for my childhood snack at Opal’s. Seeing a Honey Bun now in a store, a kind of cinnamon roll with icing still takes me back.

My grandparents had chickens in a chicken coop behind their house from which they got fresh eggs for breakfast and of course, fresh chicken when we had fried chicken, which I especially remember my Aunt Nina making. The chickens were clucking and making noise and I didn’t want to go in there. I’m not sure if I ever did but they were a sight for sure.

The beds were so good to sleep in. Probably the only time in my life that I got to sink into a real feather bed. It was so soft and I would sink down into it and sleep the night away. 

Lots of adventures at Grandma and Grandpa’s place but after about a week we would get anxious to go to my Dad’s family because there were cousins there about our age to play with.  

So we would say goodbye to Mom’s family in the hills and go into the city of St. Albans and see Dad’s Mom and Stepdad who we called Mamaw and Papaw.  Mamaw had a big boarding house and she would serve them breakfast as well. So we got to stay in it and eat there for breakfast. She ran a diner for a while also. She was fun to be around and was also quite the businesswoman, though I didn’t realize that when I was a child. Papaw was always old it seemed and was very kind and tall and thin and quiet.

When we went to St. Albans we also got to see my Uncle Ivan and Aunt Lillie. They were a great couple and we enjoyed seeing them and they always made us feel special.

The big thing as a child was that we got to play with our cousins, Greg, Connie, and Sherry. They were pretty much the same age as me, David, and Rosalyn and we had lots of good times. They were the children of Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jack who were very fun to be around. Aunt Ruby was so fun-loving and liked to trick people. She made great fried chicken too and always made us treats.

When we grew up together as cousins we would do shows for our parents and grandparents in St. Albans at Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jack’s house. We would dress up, sing, perform, and laugh and there was always much appreciation from the audience who loved to see us having such fun and performing for them. So many good times putting our shows together.

Christmas vacation was a lot the same except shorter. We would head to the mountains and then to the city. The big thing in the city was New Year’s Eve when we had a big party that lasted into the new year and we ate shrimp. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jack hosted everyone and always had shrimp and lots of it. More shows of course by the cousins and we had lots of fun.

Our summer and Christmas vacations as a child were great times with family. I am so glad for those memories and those people.

A Rich Life: What's the first major news story you can remember living through as a child?

I was in my classroom at school on November 22, 1963. We had just come back to the room after lunch. The teacher got our attention. I don’t remember how she did it any differently than any other time. But the words she said were different than any I had ever heard or felt in my life. She said President Kennedy has been killed. I’m not sure if she said anything right there about his having been shot or if she used the word assassinated, but she made it clear that our President was dead. He had been killed. 

It was shocking to hear. I remember that one boy in our class cheered. Looking back he probably didn’t think it was real or he, and his family, perhaps didn’t like Kennedy. Or he was just being funny or trying to be.  But I still remember that he cheered. But there was no more of that. Not from him or anyone else.

I don’t remember the rest of the day at school. Since he was shot on a Friday shortly after noon, we had the weekend at home to find out more. We watched on TV and read what came out in the newspaper. Big bold letters of headlines saying President Kennedy Assassinated and pictures and descriptions. 

We were numb. How could this happen to our President? I was only 13 and our family was Republican but he was our President, still, even though he was a Democrat. That’s the way that it was in those days. He was our President. And he was dead. By an assassin’s bullet.

It was a crazy weekend. A new President was sworn in, Lyndon Johnson, and leadership of the country continued. But we had lost our President. He was so young and so positive. People had called his time in the White House the days of Camelot. Only later would I see some of the tragedies of Camelot itself, but for now while he was alive it was a new day. A hopeful time. Working to put a man on the moon and take care of the needy in our country and help in the world. Such ideals and such hope. 

Then he was shot down. Murdered. Assassinated. 

Two days later, Sunday, November 24, Lee Harvey Oswald, the man who killed Kennedy, was being moved from one place to another and out of the crowd Jack Ruby pulled a gun and killed Oswald. It was unreal. We were still learning about Oswald, it had only been a few days, and he was murdered. 

One more shocking detail added to it all. Later there were investigations of all of it but for that weekend it was just simple details. Our President had been assassinated and then the assassin had been killed.

It was all so big and so horrible. Our President had been killed. The blood-stained dress of his wife, Jackie. The way she stood by the new President, Lyndon Johnson, as he was sworn in as President. The mourning and the grief and the funeral and the processions. 

Sometime later in my teens, our family visited Arlington National Cemetery and saw the Eternal Flame that was at President Kennedy’s grave. The flame was a sign of hope. Yes, he was shot down and died way too young. But his vision of hope would continue. We could be better than all of this. America could be a place of hope for the world.

I still remember. I still hope. And the first song at our wedding that we danced to was from Camelot. 

A Rich Life: What advice would I give my 20-year-old self?

At 70+ the advice that I would give my 20-year-old self is to enjoy life. Lots of things are going to happen along the way that will try to take your joy but don’t let them. People will question your motives but if you believe that what you are doing is right then keep doing it. Be kind to others but in your kindness don’t let them hold you back from the life that you were made for.

Of course, that means that you will have to discover that life. You will have to become the one that God created you to be and that becoming is a lifetime adventure. Seeking it out will bring you lots of happiness and just enjoy that when it comes. You don’t have to always be looking for the next thing. Take joy in what you have and appreciate the family and friends that you have. They won’t always be there so love them while you can.

Especially your mom. Hug her as often as you can. Don’t be so busy with school and work and friends that you don’t go home and see her. She loves you. She gave you life. Hold on to her as much as you can as you look for how you will be an independent adult on your own. Though you will be independent you will always need your Mom. When she is gone you will wish you had written her more, called her more, visited her more. But then when she is gone don’t beat yourself up. Take those memories, those regrets, and use them as a reminder to care for your Dad and your sister and your brother and your friends, and don’t take them for granted either. 

You will discover whether it is for a short time or a long time there will never be enough time to be with your parents and siblings. Love them, love them, love them. And when you have a family of your own, which you doubt now that you will ever have, hold tightly onto them. Not in a way that strangles them but in a way that lets them know you are aware that the moments together are far too short and that the years go way too fast. So enjoy them. Love them. Bring your best to them and bring out the best in them.

You care deeply about justice and peace and you will discover that the two collide at times. Still, don’t give up on either of them. That passion for them is deep in you and your life will be better for working towards them in your unique way. The passion you have for what is good and right needs to be extended to others as well, that how they see the good and the right could be the way. Don’t be afraid to change, to admit you were wrong. It’s hard to believe now when you are 20 but everything you think isn’t the only way to see things, isn’t the only correct way. Give others some slack.

I know what is in your head, that you can back off from a difficult discussion because you are OK with them being wrong because you think you are so right. That will work for you but someday you will see that more often than you thought, they were the ones who were right and you were the one who was wrong, or at least might be wrong. 

Hang on to hope and in times when it seems to be gone, grab for it anyway. You will feel hopeless at points but you don’t need to stay that way. Others won’t know how you are feeling inside but reach out to those you trust and love and let them remind you of the hope that exists even if you can’t seem to see it yourself.

Reflect hope to others. Don’t keep it to yourself. Just as you need it the world desperately needs it also. Your family will need it. Your friends will need it. Strangers will need it. They will see you as a hope-filled person and you need to share it with them. You will do that. You will reflect hope.

And that, my 20-year-old self, is how you will enjoy life. That’s what I want for you. That’s the advice I have for you. Enjoy life as you reflect hope to others and experience it for yourself.

A Rich Life: What was the neighborhood I grew up in like?

I lived in a bunch of neighborhoods as a child, good places, but I would say that the fourth one, Barkeyville, Pennsylvania, was the one that I grew up in.

Our family moved to Barkeyville when I was ten years old. I started fifth grade soon after moving and I went to Victory Joint School. I rode the bus there and developed some good friends there at the school and in Barkeyville.

Barkeyville was a little village along Route 8 in Pennsylvania. It was small, and it was a great place to grow up in. My Dad was a Pastor so we lived in the parsonage owned by the Barkeyville Church of God. It was an older two-story home that had three bedrooms upstairs. One for my parents, one for my sister, and one for my brother and me. It had a coal furnace in a section of the basement and a coal chute down into the basement from the side of the house for the deliveries of coal.

There was a yard all around the house but not much of it was in the front between the porch and the road. On one side of our house, there was a E.U.B. church, Evangelical United Brethren, which was a group that later merged with the Methodists to become the United Methodists. I don’t know how United they ever were but in my twenties, I ended up working at a United Methodist Church in Ohio that had been E.U.B. before the merger, and much later I worked at a United Methodist Church in Iowa that had been Methodist. The two seemed to have different histories in their approach to the Bible, at least that is how it appeared to me.

Anyway, the churches in the Barkeyville area were friendly with each other. It was just that some people went to different churches. Fortunately for me, they were friendly because one day I was playing catch with someone in the yard between our house and the E.U.B. church, which I wasn’t supposed to do, and I threw the ball too hard and too far and it crashed through one of the stained-glass windows. I felt really bad about it and knew I was in trouble. My Dad worked it out with the other pastor somehow and the window got fixed and I never played ball near that church building again.

On the other side of our house, we had a garage. On the back of our garage, there was a basketball hoop that I shot baskets into a lot. It was great to have it right there. In the yard between our house and the garage, there was enough space to put up our tent sometimes in the summer and camp out with my friends overnight. It was so much fun to do as we would talk, stay up late, eat snacks, and play Monopoly and other games. 

Behind the house, separated by just a little bit of a field but visible from our house was a cemetery. A big old graveyard with old tombstones and the moon would shine over it at night and sometimes my friends and I would go there. It was a scary place.

It wasn’t always scary outside though. I remember one night that I felt God speaking to me and it was a powerful moment for me. The moon and the stars overhead and a real feeling, a knowing, that God was speaking to me. Not a voice that I or anyone else could hear but a voice that spoke into me. That would have been in the 1960s and it has stuck with me all of these years.

At the back of our backyard, there was a cable that stretched from the dog house for a nice distance so that Skippy, our dog, could run freely but not run away. Skippy would run back and forth with the chain around his neck connected to the overhead cable. Sometimes we would take him off of the cable and take him for a walk. But that didn’t work out very well because he was so strong that we would get dragged along. So almost all of the time Skippy was connected to that cable. 

On the other side of our garage, there was a lane that ran back to the cemetery. It was very narrow, just wide enough for one vehicle at a time. On the other side of the lane was a Feed Mill. Lots of farms surrounded our little village so a Feed Mill was very important. After the Feed Mill, there were a bunch of houses on both sides of the road. Directly across from our house was the Barkeyville Church of God where my Dad was the Pastor. I have a lot of good memories there. Singing in the children’s choir, going to Sunday School and worship, all-night (late night at least) sings, midnight New Year’s Eve music and worship, and just being with my family and friends there. It was a good time. A great place to grow up in. 

God was part of my life. Jesus was real to me. It was a simple but real belief. God was guiding me and I knew it but of course, that didn’t mean I didn’t have the ordinary wonderings and wanderings of any boy. Sometimes I would push my limits with my parents but I am so glad that I had limits and rules and was taught right and wrong. And I knew that my parents would always love me. I never doubted that. 

Behind the church building was a field we used to play baseball in when it didn’t have a crop growing. So it was rough to play in it but it was close and we didn’t mind. Beside the church, across from the E.U.B. Church was one of my friends and we would play soccer in their backyard and also put on musical shows for our families. Right beside that family was the family of my best friend. 

His family got a pool table one year and I wanted to play but my mom, in particular, didn’t want me to play pool. She minded my going over there because she liked the family, his Dad was a school teacher, but I wasn’t supposed to play. I never told them that I played but I guess my Dad probably knew and maybe my mom too. I never lied about it. They just never specifically asked me if I had played when I came back from there. 

I couldn’t figure out why my Mom was so much against pool since we played ping pong at different times, including my Dad over the years, and it didn’t seem any different to me. It was just another game to play. When I got older my Dad told me that Mom had grown up in a rowdy coal town in West Virginia. In that town, there was only one place that had a pool table and it was a bar, a very rowdy bar where men drank and got drunk and had fights, and played pool. She had been taught that pool was evil and so she didn’t want me to play. She was protecting me I suppose. But of course, playing pool in a bar with fighting drunks is a far cry from playing pool at the house of a friend. So yes, I disobeyed my parents and got away with it. It’s interesting the things parents pass on to their children because of their own upbringing. But this didn’t get in the way of the love and acceptance that I always felt from my parents.

Oh, and we weren’t supposed to play cards either since that was considered sinful. But my brother and I did late at night and sometimes with friends, in my Dad’s study, with cards, and the chips to bet with from our Skunk game. We didn’t play for money but it seemed more fun to at least bet with chips like real poker players would.

So Barkeyville was a good neighborhood to grow up in surrounded by church buildings, a cemetery, a Feed Mill where you could take small critters that you had trapped, and friends nearby up and down the road. And a Service Station at the bottom of the hill where I could buy a bottle of coke for a dime on occasion.  

It was the place of my boyhood with adventures in the woods past the cemetery where we shot at dragonflies with BB guns at the rock quarry that was already unsafe enough. But we were kids and we survived playing outside all day and only coming in for meals. Everybody in town knew who I was, and who everyone else was also, and in those days everybody looked out for each other. So my parents weren’t worried that we would get away with anything and more importantly they knew that if I was hurt someone would help me until they could get to me.

I was 16 when we moved from Barkeyville in the middle of my Junior Year. We moved less than ten miles but we moved into a small city and they had a different school for me to attend. Fortunately for me, I met some wonderful people there who were kind to this country kid. I am grateful for my adventures in Grove City...but Barkeyville is the place I grew up in.

Barkeyville was a place where I could ride a bike, deliver newspapers, play baseball and soccer, sing with my friends for my family, and hear from God. So many adventures for a boy. So many lessons were learned. But that’s how you grow up. And Barkeyville was that place for me.

A Mystery of Terror in South Africa

South Africa had always been a place that I dreamed of visiting until those dreams became nightmares. Everything that I had hoped to find on holiday became a terror to me at night.

I saved money for the last five years to be able to fly from New York to South Africa and then spend three full weeks there before flying home. Now after just a couple of nights there I was already thinking about flying home right away even though I would have to pay a fortune in change fees.

The flight had been a long one and I had gotten some rest on the plane. I was grateful for that. Upon arrival, I was swept up in the beauty that is South Africa. As soon as I could I got out of the airport into the countryside away from the city to see the land and relax and read and write and be restored from working so hard all the time. I really needed this time away and the first day went great. I had made arrangements to live with a family who would provide a room for me to sleep and food for me to eat and the chance to experience South Africa in a more personal way.

They were great people, so welcoming and it seemed like we were family almost from the first moments. Right away we were out riding in a Range Rover and seeing the beautiful scenery that was all around and even a few animals. I loved the sound of my hosts’ voices and the joy they seemed to possess just showing me their home country. I learned more that first day than I had learned in the previous months of studying up for my trip. It was an amazing first day.

As they showed me my room which was actually a separate one near their house, I was told that they hoped the bed would be comfortable for me. I replied thank you and that I was sure it would be. The husband and wife looked at each other in a kind of strange way and then told me to make sure that I slept in the bed. I thought that was odd because of course that is what I was planning to do.

Their response was to repeat themselves and tell me that I was to sleep in the bed. Even if it ended up not being comfortable for me or it seemed hot I was to sleep in the bed. I told them that it would be fine and that I had slept on the plane coming over and if I could do that I could sleep easily in this bed.

They looked seriously at each other and then smiled at me and wished me a happy sleep and said they would have breakfast for me at 8 in the morning which would allow me to sleep in a little after the travel over and the ride around that we had done all day. I thanked them for their hospitality and told them that I was definitely climbing in bed right away to get a good night’s sleep to be ready for the adventures of the next day.

As soon as they left I put on my sleep shorts because the room was hot and then I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. I noticed as I sat that the bed seemed higher than normal. My feet barely touched the floor even as I stretched them a little. Otherwise, the bed looked pretty normal to me, a nice big bed that was perfect for me with plenty of room to sleep. 

As I sat there more with the door closed the room got even hotter. I had expected heat so that didn’t bother me but the height of the bed still seemed strange. I looked underneath it and saw that the legs of the bed were up on bricks. It was the several bricks that made the bed so high. But the bed was sturdy and I wasn’t worried that the legs would come off of the bricks so I just laid back to get some sleep.

Instantly I was out. If there is one thing that I know how to do it is sleep. Fast. I was asleep so quickly that I hadn’t even pulled a cover over me which actually turned out for the best because when I woke up a few hours later I was sweating a lot even without covers on. Wow, this place was hot. I needed some air.

I walked over to open the door but discovered that even with it open it was as hot as before so I went ahead and closed it and walked back and sat on the edge of the bed. As I sat there sweating I realized that my feet were cooler than my arms. It was cooler down on the floor which of course makes a lot of sense since heat rises.

It didn’t take long until I decided to just sleep on the floor because it would be cooler but then I thought of what my hosts had told me, to sleep in the bed. I wondered what their anxiety was so I looked around on the floor for bugs and spiders and such but the floor was very clean just like the whole room was. So I threw a sheet on the floor and a pillow on the sheet and lay down and promptly fell to sleep again. I told you I was a fast sleeper.

Fast asleep and then fast awake. I felt something sliding up my chest towards my neck and I opened my eyes and saw a horrible creature. It was very small and a cross between something human and some primate of some kind. I had never seen anything so ugly and it was staring me in the face as it crawled up on me. I rolled over and it fell off but as I lay still and thought that I must be having a very bad dream it touched my bare legs with its bony fingers and I saw blood, my blood, as it scratched me more and more. 

This time as I rolled away I got up onto the bed as fast as I could and looked down into the darkness and couldn’t see anything. The rest of the night I hunched in the middle of the bed and eventually fell into a fitful sleep just before dawn. 

At 8 my host knocked on the door and said that breakfast was ready in their kitchen and to come over as soon as I was ready. I threw on my pants and then socks and then shirt and ran my hand through my hair and dashed over to breakfast. I must have been quite a sight to them.

She looked at me and asked how I had slept. I lied and said it was a great night’s sleep and that’s why I was late for breakfast after sleeping in. With knowing looks they murmured to each other and then asked if the bed was comfortable for me. I told them the bed was great and that I looked forward to sleeping in it the rest of my time with them.

As I ate I kept picturing that horrible creature. What was it? Had it just been a nightmare after my long trip and lack of sleep the last few days? In any case, I had a long way to go on my three-week stay and I’m sure tonight would be better. I put it out of my head as I got energized with breakfast and went out on what was a normal day for my hosts but was what I would call a safari.

All that day we saw antelopes and elephants, hippos and rhinos, and even more. Of course, they weren’t all together but stretched out during the day and we had lots of time to talk about the animals and the culture and the land and history. I saw so much and took some notes, but mostly just looked and talked and looked some more. I took pictures that I knew were all the best that I had ever taken. I couldn’t get enough of it and the day stretched out longer and longer. My host, who was also a great guide, was very excited seeing how excited I was and he took me further and further to see more and more.

Then as we saw the most beautiful sunset that I had ever seen he told me that we had better turn towards home. I told him that I wish that we could just camp out here and enjoy what must have been an explosion of beauty in the stars at night. A terrified look came over his face and he said no, he would never camp out here and that we must get home. With that, he turned towards home and we came back at quite a pace, bouncing and careening around corners through the dark until we reached his home.

Upon arriving back he walked me to the door of my room and reminded me to make sure I slept in the bed and wished me a good night’s sleep. I told him thanks and that it had been an even better day than the first one and that I was looking forward to tomorrow. I got ready for sleep, pulled out my journal, and slid onto the floor with my back against the bed to take more notes of the day, things that I didn’t want to forget. I wrote and wrote and wrote until, exhausted, I fell asleep and rolled onto my side on the floor.

I was in a deep sleep for several hours and then started having the strangest dreams. I say dreams because they kept happening one after the other as one would end and another one begins. That creature who I had seen the night before was in every dream. Scratching me with his long bony fingers. I would push him away and fall fitfully asleep again but then the next dream would start and be even worse than the first as I felt deep scratches in my back. One was so horrible that I awakened with a lurch and saw him reaching towards my neck and I jumped up and into bed, crawling to the center of the bed. I breathed heavily for a long time and moaned and seemed to hear another moaning that was not my own. 

Totally exhausted I collapsed onto my side on the bed and slept until once again I heard a knocking on my door and the voice of my host that hoped I had slept well and that my breakfast was ready for me.

I lay there a bit longer and then pulled on my clothes and walked over to breakfast, not even attempting to hand comb my hair. I sat down in the chair and just started eating, slowly, and drinking in the coffee cup after cup. My hosts didn’t say a word. I was thinking of having them drive me to the airport. But this had been my dream. I wasn’t giving up. Yet.

After breakfast I had my senses back it seemed so I asked if we could go out in the other direction where we hadn’t been and see more of the countryside. Yes of course was the response and after splashing some water on my face I was off with him for another adventure day.

It is hard to even acknowledge this but it seemed that this third day was even better than the others. I hadn’t thought that was possible. We saw more elephants walking and then splashing in the water and saw birds that I had only imagined flying above and making the most beautiful sounds. The sky looked amazing and the pictures I was taking would probably be incredible to see when I looked at them later.

Then a lion walked towards us. Easy going. Not a worry in the world. I was terrified but my host told me that I could take a picture of the lion if I did it all very slowly. No fast movements. I slowly raised my camera and snapped one picture. The lion just kept walking towards us. I froze as it stopped. I took another picture and then another, not even daring to breathe.

Then the lion turned and slowly walked away, and that was that. I could breathe again. I told my host that we could go back now. That was what I needed for that day.

As he drove home we chatted more about what we had seen and how the animals were part of his homeland, of his life. He looked at me and asked me if the lion being that close was the most afraid I had ever felt. I said no, not even close. He nodded and said, make sure you sleep in the bed tonight. I nodded back and said yes sir.