Month: June 2013

June 26, 1976

Published by mhelbert on June 26, 2013

That was the day, 37 years ago, when Hope Taylor and I stood in front of a guy in a robe and said, “I do” to each other. Thirty-seven years… They’ve not been easy years. But, that robed guy told us that they wouldn’t. There are a lot of folks out there that say struggle makes one stronger. They hold up the image of the butterfly fighting to gain freedom from its cocoon. Once its endeavor is over, it spreads its wings with new found strength to fly. After nearly 4 decades, have we emerged? No, not completely. There’s still more story to come. Are we stronger? Yeah, I think so. Have we changed, metamorphosed? Definitely. With the support of family and friends, and especially, with God’s Spirit, we’ll be around to grapple with this marriage thing for a few more years.

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On Being Vulnerable

Published by mhelbert on June 25, 2013

I’ve begun work on a story that I think should be told. This project requires that I dig deeply into my mind. I search for memories, sights, smells and experiences that I can use as structural support for the story and its characters. As I reflect and remember, I realize that there is one thing that I’m really pretty good at. It’s not my job. It’s not playing guitar. It’s not writing. Although, I am pretty good at all of those. No, what I’m best at is something much darker. I am really good at breaking relationships. From my earliest memories I find I have a knack for hurting people. I don’t know why. Perhaps, I’m self-destructive and can’t allow anyone to get too close. I have a constructed a safe zone that no one is allowed to enter. When someone tries to get a bit too familiar, Bam! Explosions and gunfire erupt.

At one time in my life I would put myself out there. I shared my deepest thoughts and feelings with people. Maybe, this was to encourage them to do likewise. Usually, they didn’t and I felt naked and ashamed. Over the years I learned to cope and hold back. If I don’t place my life on the altar of Relationship, then no one can take a knife and cut out my heart.

I envied the Mr. Spock character on Star Trek. Emotionless. I could not be hurt if that emotion was eliminated. But, I’m not Vulcan. Crap! Green blood sounds so cool!

I found that the only safe place to be was in solitude. There, I don’t have to deal with and interact with other people. I don’t have to live up to whatever expectations they have for me. I don’t have to be anxious about not meeting those expectations. But, in a social construct like a community or a family there is always going to be stress and tension. Especially, for someone like me. Yeah, there are times when I like being with others. But, on my terms. I know, this is really a selfish way to live. I should have to wear a sign, “Alert! Narcissist Walking!” At the end of the day, I’m left feeling ashamed and guilty.

In this place, this ‘life’ I’ve built, there is a glimmer of hope. You see, even when I’m alone, I’m not really alone. There is One who knows me intimately. One who is always present. One who sees me at my worst. This One, let’s call him Jesus, understands. He has experienced what I have. He knows failure and forsakenness. When he was murdered he was left naked and exposed. As he offered his final, tortured breath to God, he failed to have faith and felt the reality of being left alone. At that moment, God learned what it’s like to be human. This is a person that I can trust.

So, over time I’ve begun to allow myself to be a tad more open. I try to ‘pull back the veil’ that conceals who I am. It’s hard, to be sure. Vulnerability is dangerous. But, nothing that can happen to me compares with what Jesus experienced. And, nothing can separate me from his love.

Vulnerability…how do you look at it? Is it important? Why? Why Not?

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Welcome Morning!

Published by mhelbert on June 22, 2013

Quiet time between times

Slight breeze barely audible in the trees.

Mouse skitters to safety

At the approach of giant’s steps.

Sitting on blocks of hewn limestone

Unmoving fingers probing the shallow water.

Peace.

I look at the surface and spy hundreds of silver swimmers.

They break the barrier of the air in search of a hearty breakfast.

The appearance is like tiny raindrops in reverse.

A Great Blue Heron dives toward the surface

Dipping its toe into the water.

“Too cold!” she exclaims and returns to the sky.

Purple Martins dance!

Sparrows chirp and sing at the dawn of a new day.

Midges buzz in my ear.

I look up and see pop corn clouds

Buttered with yellow hue from the coming day.

The horizon to the East is veiled in clouds,

Like the curtain on a stage awaiting the grand entrance of the ‘star.’

Look!

Dimly, the first arc of the sun appears

Taking its first steps in its daily walk across the heavens!

Life!

Clouds streak the face of this great, orange disk

Making it look like the grimy face of a child playing in the sand.

Thank You, Creator for the gift of this moment.

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Thank You, Jeff Goins!

Published by mhelbert on June 21, 2013

I’ve always been an artist of sorts. One friend has accused me of being “a sensitive musician.” Others just say that I’m moody. The truth is that God has made me this way. Creator has embedded creativity into my whole self. It’s ingrained in my DNA. For more than a year and half I’ve prayed, meditated and contemplated about my life’s calling. “God! You’ve made me this way. What shall I do with the gifts that You have given me?” I have breathed this prayer every day during this time. And, the answer has always been, “Write.” Simple, right? I blogged a little about this last week here.

I’m trying to be faithful to this call. So, I have spent the last couple of months studying. No, I’m not back in the classroom. I’ve been searching the internet for resources and training so that I can develop some skill at writing. One of the resources I’ve found is a young man named Jeff Goins. He is a writer and a writers’ coach. Since I’ve been following him I’ve learned a great deal. Perhaps the most important lesson that I’ve learned thus far has been that I am a writer. Up until now, I was hoping to become one. Jeff has convinced me that there is no becoming. There is only doing. (Sounds a bit like a Jedi master, eh?) Last night I had the opportunity to listen to Jeff and another writer named Michael Hyatt in an online teleseminar discuss some of the ins and outs of building a platform. During the hour long discussion both men shared outstanding insights into getting one’s writing ‘out there’ for others to read. This is the type of resource that Jeff provides. And, most of it is absolutely free! I like free!

In the few interactions that I’ve had with Jeff through comments on his blog, I have found him to be open and gracious. He is concise and encouraging in his responses. (Yes! He actually responds!) In fact, he very nearly gushes with energy and encouragement. I am finding it difficult to not believe in myself when someone that I really don’t even know believes in me so much. So, I wanted to take this opportunity to say “Thanx, Jeff!”

I would recommend Jeff’s site to anyone who struggles with working to become what God has called her/him to. Even if you are not a writer, many of his experiences and insights may be helpful. If you are a writer, they are indispensible.

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On Being “Manly”

Published by mhelbert on June 20, 2013

Yesterday, a Facebook friend posted a link to a site that is all about manliness and manhood. The particular article that my friend suggested is about “How to Create a Lifelong Brotherhood.” He then wrote, “Men, you should read it.” So, I took his suggestion and read it.

The article itself seemed harmless enough. The writer took the position that one of the biggest difficulties facing men today is loneliness. He shared statistics about depression and suicide rates. He looked longingly to the ‘good old days’ when men were part of communities of other men in order to survive in a dangerous world. The role of secret societies in bringing men together was disparaged, but they did, he admitted, seem to fulfill a necessary function for the men who join them. And, I was relieved when I read elsewhere that theirs is not a Christian site. It is a place that encourages men, regardless of faith or lack of, to “live moral, ethical, and virtuous lives.”

Now, I don’t want to dismiss the point that my friend and this writer are apparently trying to make. I do think that people need community. We do not thrive in isolation from others. What I do have a problem with is how these people think it’s a problem that men can deal with in isolation from women and children.

In many evangelical faith communities there is a common fallacy that pits men against women. They will never say it like that but, that is the reality. Men are to be strong. Men are to lead. Men are to do so-called ‘manly’ things. Women are weak and must submit. Theirs is what has become known as a complementary role. For these people, men and women are NOT equal but, are two parts separated at creation. In many ways they are not complete until they are united in some kind of matrimonial ceremony.

I have problems with this position on many levels. However, for this discussion I’m only going to address one. Many in conservative circles like to simplify issues to binary black/white, right/wrong, true/false discussions. We are right, everyone else is not. I’m sorry, gender issues cannot be reduced to this. Females and males have developed different physical characteristics, to be sure. But, that’s where the differences end. All people are capable of filling the same roles, be they clerical or construction. Women can, and should, do anything that men do. Proof of this is displayed every day in the culture at large. But, these men choose to say that this only proves that gender roles are confused. They argue that history shows men and women have always served different functions in society. If we could only recapture that, all would be well with the world. Uh…what? This nostalgia has no real basis in fact. What these men dream of is a return to a world created by Hollywood in the 1940s, 1950s and 1960s. Shows like “Father Knows Best” and “Leave it to Beaver” were about a well-constructed family culture where a man wore a suit and was the principle bread winner, while women wore dresses and smiles and performed domestic duties. Hey, Guys! It’s not real! It’s something that a group of men constructed from cardboard and paint. To believe that these shows reflected reality in any way, shape or form is delusional.

I think that men are actually finding their historic hegemony threatened. Women and others, including minorities and LGBT folks are chipping away at the power that men, more specifically white men, have enjoyed. This is causing a crisis of identity among these men. They are finding themselves marginalized in many ways. It’s uncomfortable. It causes stress. So what? Be a man and deal with it. The world has changed. And it is going to continue to change. Gender equality is becoming a reality. There is NO going back. Yeah, circle the wagons and band together. You can sit around the campfire and tell each other stories about the good old days. Or, we can all embrace the changes and mature into the people that, I believe, God intended.

What do you think about this? Should men and women fill different roles in society? I’d love to hear what you have to say.

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Just for Fun

Published by mhelbert on June 18, 2013

A friend of mine turned me on to this a while back. Being an entertainer by nature, I found this a unique use of visual as well as musical talents. I’m not the biggest fan of pop style music, but I found this intriguing.

Sit back and enjoy!

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A Date with Ladyfinch

Published by mhelbert on June 18, 2013

Sitting in my backyard on a warm, summer evening. A good book in my hands and my favorite potent potable on a table next to me. The sun was warm, but not too hot. There were clouds building to the West, harbingers of storms moving in from the western Great Lakes. At this moment, however, all seemed good and right with the world.

As I read, I kept one eye on the bird feeder in the yard. It’s not much. An iron post with two hooks. On one is an Oriole feeder filled with home-made nectar. These beautiful orange and black birds are like so many people, they have an insatiable sweet tooth. One cup of white granulated sugar in six cups of water. Put it out and watch the fun!

On the other hook hangs our seed feeder. A not quite cylindrical glass container with a ‘roof’ and a seed tray into which the seeds flow from three openings under the glass. We get many visitors. Besides the ‘regulars,’ the Sparrows and Grackles, (I can’t get these folks to stay away. They show up and throw the seeds all over the ground), there are Cardinals and Blue Jays. Occasionally, I’ve seen Flickers and Red-Headed Woodpeckers. And, of course, there are the Finches. The two varieties that frequent or buffet are the Goldfinch and the House Finch.

Of these two, the House Finch is the most regular visitor. They usually show up in small groups, a male or two and two to three females. The males have red-hued feathers on their heads and necks. Many times they arrive and bless us with a song before they jump onto the seed tray and collect their wage. Having been a practicing musician, I know how that works. You show up, play and collect your money. These pipers, however, work ‘cheep.’ The coloring of the females is rather non-descript. Browns and grays with some darker streaks. They don’t seem as vocal as the males. But, I’m no ornithologist. My observations are somewhat limited.

On this particular evening, I looked over the top of my book and pulled my readers down on my nose, the better to see the feeder fifteen feet away. A female was sitting in the seed tray looking rather comfortable. This struck me as unusual. Birds commonly land on the feeder and stand on the edge of the seed tray, grab a snack and fly off to enjoy it. Sometimes, they stand in the tray. But, always, they stand. All of these birds are a bit on the skittish side. Standing, they can quickly escape any threat. This female was sitting! Well, at least as near as birds can sit. She quietly nestled herself into the tray and leisurely picked away at the shelled bounty around her. For no less than five minutes we enjoyed the evening together. I, in my lounge chair, she lounging in the feeder. We were like two old acquaintances gathered in a living room. No words were spoken, but communication took place. She told me that she was grateful for the snacks. “This café provides some of the best black sunflower seeds in the neighborhood. Oh, and the millet is to die for!” I told her that she was more than welcome. “I am delighted,” I said, “to offer you the hospitalitie du maison, my dear Ladyfinch.” My still, quiet presence soothed her apprehension and fear. Her presence and posture told me that she felt secure. Even with a human in the room!

In those few moments I experienced a small taste of Creator’s blessing. I imagined a time before time when the Native People roamed this Turtle Island, a world where all of Creator’s children lived in harmony. Ours, however, has become a world of dysfunction and destruction. Fear has leeched into every cell; every molecule. We even fear and war against the sun, moon and stars. The small creatures of the world fear humans and each other. We humans fear the small creatures…and each other. We are afraid that the economy will falter, or worse. Some are paralyzed by a fear of stepping out of their homes.

Has it always been this way? Some say no. They say that there was a paradisiacal garden very long ago. However, humanity, attempting to grasp at the Divine, brought ruin and destruction. Others say that the cosmos has always been a dangerous place. The fears and phobias that we strive with are deeply ingrained in our very DNA from tens of thousands of years of trying to survive. I’m not sure. One thing I am sure of, for about five minutes on a warm, summer evening Ladyfinch and I shared peace and contentment.

What experiences have you had interacting with God’s good creation? What kinds of things cause you to fear? Feel free to comment without fear.

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Where I come from…and a bit about Where I’m Going

Published by mhelbert on June 17, 2013

I’ve been blogging since 2009. Originally, I started it as part of a class that I was taking in seminary on technology and the Church. The blog was to be an integral part of a website I developed. Well, the website was built, but never published. However, I got an ‘A’ in the class, and that was my focus at the time.

Although I only wrote sporadically, I kept the blog open. About a year and a half ago, I had a heart attack. It was serious. In fact, it should have ended my life. Why didn’t it? Providence; a strong body; luck…I’m not sure. As a result, I began to reflect deeply on my life. I suppose that most folks who experience such life altering events do this. For me, it took the shape of looking within myself. I began to get out of bed earlier in order to spend time with God. Over a few months, this time began to grow until I was hopping out of bed at 3:30 A.M. Ok, people think I’m nuts for this, but it is the result of grace, not willpower, I assure you.

I began to query God about my life’s purpose and vocation. You see, I’ve been frustrated with my life. The things I do to get by in this world vex me. I know; I know; I know that what I am doing is not my calling. So, I turned to Creator for answers. The response? “Write. Just, write.” Ok, God, I can do that! Uh, wait…write what?

This is a question that I’m sure many others are asking. If I am to write, what the hell am I supposed to write about? I whined and cried for months about this. “God! You want me to do this, but You aren’t opening the doors for me to accomplish it! Waahhhhh!!!”

Recently, I have begun to dig around a bit. Perhaps, God has planted some seeds that are beginning to germinate. Writers’ websites have become standard daily fare for me. I must know what it takes to build a successful writing career. Yes, I said it…a writing ‘career.’ For over 40 years I’ve been doing something that is not fulfilling and, for lack of better words, a waste of my gifting. I’ve been very successful at doing something I really don’t like. It’s time to start working at something I do.

Back to the Beginning…

Anyway, I digress.

I wrote couple hundred posts. Most of these, ok, all of these were directed toward a specific audience. That audience was the faith community that I had been a part of for most of my adult life. I wrote to challenge that community. But, most of all, I wrote in order to get their approval. The results were disappointing. I got excited over 30 views in a day. Most of the time, it appeared as if no one was out there. ‘Hello! Anybody there?’

Nope, it was just the echo of my own voice reverberating around an empty chamber. I think that the main reason for this was that I was trying to please someone other than myself.

Reflecting…

So, I began to take an assessment of my life. Where did I come from? What has been important to me? Where does my passion really lie? The responses are freeing.

I grew up in the 1960s. It was a time of social and cultural shifts of the tectonic kind. Continents of social convention and propriety were crashing together creating mountains and valleys that would change the course of modern history. And, I was on the ground floor! By the time 1970 rolled around I was an aspiring young freak and rock-n-roll lead guitar player. Those of us at that time were anti-everything. There was no established taboo or moré that was above questioning. Then…I got a job. It wasn’t a great job. But, I had money in my pocket and gas in my car. I began to forget about my rebellious teenage years. There were real rewards for dismissing the idealism of youth. After all, you can’t by food on principles. You need hard currency.

Spirituality

During this same period of time, I had a spiritual experience that sent my life on a new trajectory. I began to believe in a higher power that cared about me. No one else seemed to. I embraced this fledgling spirituality with gusto! I read books, (mostly the Christian Bible), I went to meetings, I offered my music, and I found a community. To receive such a boon was life giving nectar to a culturally estranged young person. In response, I gave myself away. In order to continue to connect and receive the sap from the root, I left my true self somewhere else. You see, for us, that was called ‘dying to self.’ Yeah, Jesus loved us. He just didn’t particularly care for who we were. So, we had to change…conform to something else. In our case, that was to embrace conservative ideology. We read and learned from people like James Dobson, and later Al Mohler and John Piper. We voted Republican. We put away our rock-n-roll and embraced something called Christian Contemporary Music. (Call it what you may…but, “music” is stretching it.) All the while, I found myself drifting further and further from the person that God had made me to be.

Today

Through several events, not the least of which was 5 years in seminary, I have begun to find my way back. It seems that God loves me for who I am, not for who someone else thinks I should be. God loves the rebellious person who pushes back against the accommodations of culture. Creator has imbued me with gifts that no one else has. Gifts that are to be used; placed on a mountain and not under a bushel. So, I have begun a new blog. I am reinventing myself and my presence in the world. I have no one to answer to but God and myself. I’m too old to do anything else. I’ve spent my entire life compromising, no…prostituting, myself to others. No more!

How do you feel about where your life-travels have taken you? Are you frustrated, like I’ve been? Are you content? Please reply to this and let’s talk.

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The Curse of Dementia…or is it?

Published by mhelbert on June 15, 2013

For the past couple of years my family has been watching as my dad slowly slips away from us. He has dementia. This condition has reduced a once strong and independent man to a shadow; a wispy wraith trapped within a failing mind and body. I cannot think of a more insidious jailer than this. It has robbed him, and us, of life and liberty and locked him in a cell that is growing darker and smaller with each passing day.

A Bit about Dementia

For those unfamiliar with this condition, let me share a bit of what I’ve been able to learn. Dementia, according to one source, is not a true ‘disease,’ but rather the symptoms of various kinds of brain disorders. There are several underlying causes for dementia. The one that, I believe, effects dad is a type of Vascular Dementia. I had the opportunity to speak with a neurologist who had done an MRI on dad. He explained that the scans revealed evidence of many small strokes. This, coupled with his coronary disease and other risk factors, had ultimately led to his present condition. However, in our day when medical science can ‘fix’ many things, dementia is not one of them.

Back Story

Without going into a detailed, biographical sketch, I’d like to share a bit about events that have led us to this place. As I stated above, dad was predisposed to this condition. Eventually, it was destined to overtake him. But, I believe, there were life events that occurred which caused the disease to grow and flourish. This process has not been proven clinically. It is simply the fruit of my observations.

My parents were married a long time. 62 years. My mom was dad’s life. He adored her. He was the faithful vassal to his Queen. When she became ill, he doted on her. You could not find a more devoted care giver. Ultimately, though, she became too frail for him. We had to find a place where she could receive the skilled treatment and watchful attendance that she required. While this was a difficult adjustment for dad, he adapted. He spent every available moment with her. He sat at her bedside. When she was able, he would take her for rides in the car. His life and hers developed a kind of symbiosis. Maybe, that’s what the Scripture meant when the writer inscribed the words, “and they shall become one flesh.”

In 2010 mom passed. Her weak body, wracked by many infirmities, simply could not carry the life within her any longer. For dad…he lost his Beloved. Many prayers and hugs and tears were shared in those days. Dad slipped into a deep depression that lasted for months. We took him to counselors. His doctor prescribed anti-depressants. We spent more time with him, trying to console him. No, to distract him. But, the only thing that we witnessed was the dementia driving an ever increasing distance between him and reality.

End Game

Within one year the dementia became problematic. Dad’s memory was failing rapidly. He started to forget to take his meds. He would forget to eat. The fragments of memory that he could retrieve became more disjointed and confused. We were able to get the V.A. to provide some in-home care. My brother and I began to go over daily to see that he ate and took his medication. But, even these efforts could not impede the relentless progress of the dementia. Like a tsunami it pushed further and further, drowning and destroying the person that was our dad.

Ultimately, we had to acquiesce and make arrangements for him to live in a skilled nursing facility. As much as we would like, we simply cannot care for all of his needs. We enlisted a local hospice to oversee his medical needs. We had to face the realization that his sojourn would soon be over.

Blessing in Disguise?

A few days ago I was with dad. In the midst of his semi-coherent ramblings, I noticed he made several references to mom as if she was alive. She was just in another room somewhere. At first I was sad that he was becoming so confused. I was angry that he had been reduced to living in such a broken and fragmented world. One of the hospice nurses had explained to me that people with this condition try to access any pieces of memory, no matter how small or disconnected, in order to make sense of their world. Dad was finding the memories that made his world acceptable. Perhaps, in the small room that is his world, he built a place of solace. His sadness and depression have passed. In this world he has as many experiences available to him as a kaleidoscope has shapes and colors. His broken mind randomly juxtaposes the fragments of his memories to create a world, while unreal to us, is very real to him. In this world he has peace. In this world the pain and loss are whisked away. In this world, his Beloved is just in the next room.

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Welcome to a new Blog Home

Published by mhelbert on June 13, 2013

I’m a writer. I write about what I think is important at the time. I write about stuff that just needs to get out of my heart and head. (This stuff’ll drive you crazy if you don’t let it out!) I write about topics that interest me. I respond to bloggers in other universes. Mostly, I write cuz I gotta write.

For the past few years I’ve been living over at Blogger. It’s been a really great time! But, I think that it’s time to move to new digs. I’ve been reading a lot of blogs, and a vast majority of them swear by WordPress. So, here I am. As time goes on I’ll add some fun stuff…widgets and images and stuff to make this a tad homey-er.

I’ve imported my posts from Blogger so that they may be readily available for you or me. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time. Feel free to scroll through them. They will give you a better idea of who I am.

Hopefully, on this leg of my journey I’ll get the chance to meet you.

Won’t you take a minute to introduce yourself. Join in the conversation and let’s write!

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