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Category: Life goes on…

Shame on Me

Relationships are difficult for me. To begin with, most of the time I’m far more comfortable with books than with people. Books can transport me to other worlds; other eras. They do not have unrealistic expectations of me. Nor, do I of them. We can be friends. People, on the other hand, always have some expectations. They have their own agendas that may or may not be in the best interests of anyone else. These relationships are messy. I don’t like messes. I’m not comfortable sharing my space with others. Over the years I’ve constructed thick barriers around myself in order to protect me from the mess, the hurt and unwanted intrusions that invariably force their way into my life.

Yet, God seems to desire that we humans live within a community. At the very beginning of God’s self-revealing are the words, “It’s not good for humans to be alone.” I find that even in my solitude, my self-willed ‘aloneness,’ there is a place in my heart that desires companionship. Honestly, I try to fight that. I’ve fought hard. There are very few people that I let into my life, my heart, even a little. And, no one with whom I’m totally available to or vulnerable with. But, why? I know some people who seem to have no problems being open with others. They are the ones who can make friends easily. They are the ones who can talk openly about themselves. In some ways I envy them.

I haven’t always been this conflicted. I wrote a little about that here. There was a time when I was a happy kid who trusted people. I enjoyed being with friends playing at the rocky beach of Lake Erie near my home. We built forts in the woods and rode bikes. We raced HO gauge cars and built model airplanes. In those days, I would have never been caught with a book in my hands. I had to be outside with my pals.

As I reflect on this perceived paradox, both desiring solitude and companionship, there is one thing that continues to surface. As time moved forward I began to notice that sometimes the things I said and did hurt others. I found that my tongue was a useful weapon. Without thinking I would unsheathe it and cut someone deeply. And, I felt shame. Shame…that is the one thing that I keep coming back to. One definition of that word is stated as “a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety.” Yeah, I can see that as a ‘catch all’ definition. Whether real or perceived, some word or action causes one to feel guilty. The shame gene kicks in and gives shame the emotional impetus to rise to the top of our consciousness. As Pink Floyd sang, “Another brick in the wall.”

Another definition that I found, however, I think gets closer to the issue. I read this quote on another blog recently. It comes from a book that I’ve not read yet. The author, Brené Brown, wrote in her book Daring Greatly, that shame can be viewed as the “fear of disconnection — it’s the fear that something we’ve done or failed to do, an ideal that we’ve not lived up to, or a goal that we’ve not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection.” Fear? I thought we were talking about shame! I think that Brown has captured something profound. We hide our guilt. The shame emotion drives us to do that. We certainly don’t want anyone else on the planet to know what kinds of nasties are living in our hearts. And, we don’t want our dirty laundry hung up for everyone and anyone to see and judge our uncleanness. So, the fear of losing relationships or the connectedness that God built into humanity causes the shame that covers our guilt. But, shame also builds walls. The very fear of losing our place in the community becomes the thing that breaks community. No wonder I’m such a basket case! I feel like Dr. Doolittle’s pushmi-pullyu.pushmipullyu

What to do? Actually, I’m not sure. That’s something that I continue to consider. There are some who would say that I just need to have faith and God will set things right. Besides being an overly simplistic approach, I’ve tried it. It doesn’t help. Others may suggest that confession is good for the soul. Yeah, but confession may also break community. Perhaps, practicing vulnerability. After all, shame tends to make one take great pains to keep from being vulnerable. We’ll look at this later.

What do you think? Are there any folks out there who can relate to these things? Or, am I the only person who has these issues? Please leave a comment and let’s think through this together.

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June 26, 1976

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

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?

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

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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Moods and the Necessity of Keeping On

Again, it’s been awhile since I posted anything here. Honestly, I just haven’t felt like sitting in front of my computer and creating something that I think someone…anyone…would want to read. Now, for someone who enjoys writing, that can present quite a dilemma. What happens when a writer just doesn’t feel like writing? I don’t know. What happens when a doctor doesn’t feeling like ‘doctoring’? Ok, that’s not the same. But, you get what I’m alluding to. I have plenty to write about. That’s not the problem. And, hopefully over the next week I’ll get some of that out here. No. My issue has been that I just haven’t been motivated to do this.
The situation is exacerbated by the fact that as I have been praying over the last year and a half about vocation, I keep being impressed by one word. ‘Write.’ My response to this voice has been, ‘Ok! Great! Uh, write what?’ That’s a pretty big question. If God wants someone to write, you’d think that there would be some kind of follow-up. “Ok, now here is the inspiration. I have a project in mind and I want you to get ‘er done! Write this…..”
Well, that’s not how it works, apparently. Recently, however, I have been motivated to move forward. With what, I’m not sure. But, since it’s harder to hit a moving target, I thought I’d better get to locomoting. I’ve set a deadline of May 31st to have a project set. Not sure if it will be fiction, non-fiction, poetry or a ‘project to be named later.’
That’s where I am this morning. Fortunately, I am on vacation for the next 10 days. Who knows what the next week will bring? Already, this A.M. I had a memory return to the front of my brain. A memory of adolescent love. Hmmm…. For those who know me well, this could be a dangerous endeavor. But, one must follow where the muse leads, I guess.
I’ll try to update this blog from time-to-time about this leg of my journey. But, getting the brain and hands to communicate can sometimes prove problematic. We’ll see. After all, it is a journey…not a project.

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Arrogance of Medical Doctors Ticks Me Off

I’m sure that many folks in this country have experienced this. You ask a doctor a question and they, condescendingly, ask what your medical background is. Like whatever they may say is so far above your puny comprehension that they cannot be bothered with such things. Or, you tell a doctor that the course of treatment they are taking is not working. They say, ‘Trust me’. They think that they cannot possibly be mistaken. After all, they have gone to medical school and done their residency and now are gods that can pronounce truth and justice to the uneducated minions.
I’ve had this happen to me twice. The first time my mother had just had a very serious surgery. One of the pieces of equipment that was designed to safeguard her failed. Because of that, the doctors gave her too much fluid and almost killed her. During her recovery I went to the attending physician and asked about her condition. He looked at me and asked me what my medical experience was. I looked at him and said that I didn’t have any. I was the concerned family member that he was going to talk to…NOW! That got his attention and he took pains to explain what was happening. As a result, we moved my mother to a facility that was far better equipped to help her.
This past week another doctor tried to impress with her vast medical knowledge and experience. My father has been in a skilled nursing facility for rehab from surgery. During his stay he became restless and, as the staff reported, combative. I can see that. He has dementia and doesn’t understand much of what is going on around him. The staff physician prescribed a medication that was supposed to settle him down. After a couple days, we noticed that he was becoming agitated and unresponsive. We asked to review his meds and found one that could cause the symptoms we observed. When I questioned the doctor, she assured me that the meds were safe. There was nothing about them that could cause what we were observing. The problem was, we KNEW his behavior. We have been attending to him for the last year and are very aware of all of his issues. What we were seeing was something drastically new and dangerous. We continued to question the doctor. She continued to tell us to ‘trust’ her judgement. Finally, after more than a week, the doctor started to take us seriously. We had told her and the nursing staff that Dad’s behavior was abnormal and most likely caused by the meds he was getting. (Now, it helps that I’m married to a Nurse who deals with these meds. She was instrumental in helping us get our message across to the attending staff. But, what about everyone else who does NOT have someone to help?)
Anyway, the doc discontinued the medication that we suspected was causing problems. Gee, after one day Dad’s condition has improved. Whodathunkit?
My point in this rant is that medical professionals, particularly M.D.s, cop an attitude of omniscience that only Yahweh can claim. Family and friends, those who are with the patients day after day, can help when it comes to abrupt and drastic changes in behavior and condition. For these doctors to simply blow off our concerns and observations is simply arrogance. Arrogance that could very well cause harm. Perhaps they should read the Oath again…I will prescribe regimens for the good of my patients according to my ability and my judgment and never do harm to anyone.

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Be Still and Know that I Am God

Be still and know that I am God.
I get up in the morning and rush to eat and get my coffee
Be still and know that I am God.
Hurriedly, I take 1 hour, no more, no less for prayer and meditation
Be still and know that I am God.
Throw food in a bag a run off to the salt mine
Be still and know that I am God.
Put out imaginary fires and ping-ping like a Balley ball
Be still and know that I am God.
70 MPH home to workout, feed Bill, eat, crash…crash…crash
Be still and know that I am God.
Sleep, dream, toss, awaken…………….
I get up in the morning and rush to eat and get my coffee
Be still and know that I am God.

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International Women’s Day

I was going to wait until tomorrow to get into this topic. But, I found out that today is International Women’s Day. So, I thought better of it and am going to share this now. One of the things that I’ve been trying work through for the past few years is the idea of egalitarianism. It’s more than abundantly clear that the Biblical witness testifies to the equality of gender. There is no longer any male or female in the body of Christ. We are all Yahweh’s children. As such, we are compelled to love and respect one another as equal beneficiaries of God’s grace and mercy. That’s why it breaks my heart to read reports such as this:
http://news.yahoo.com/half-girls-south-sudan-forced-marry-140334618.html
We talk about equality in this country. Yet, we are mostly ignorant of what happens in other parts of the world. It seems inconceivable, (yes, I like The Princess Bride), that this kind of activity can still happen in the 21st century. It should be! Yet, in many parts of the world women and girls are considered property for the benefit of the male population, bought and sold like cattle. As Christ followers, we are under a mandate to express God’s love to ALL creation. Hey, folks…that includes women. Yet, we in the West tend to gravitate to hot button issues like abortion and education and 2nd amendment crap, while real, human, flesh and blood females are being treated worse than many of us would treat our pets. I don’t know about y’all, but I cannot sit idly by and do/say nothing. This must end!

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Thoughts…

Humanity marches ever onward.
Tho there are no more lands to conquer,
No people to displace,
No new territories to plant our banners,
No fauna to drive to extinction,
No minerals to exploit and deplete,
No place left to spread our disease.
Gone, the proud people of the Land,

Gone, the free Range,
Gone, the mighty Bison stampeding o’er the plain,
Gone, the trees and woodland creatures,
Gone, the innocence of this place.
O, virgin continent!
Lost to the ravishing of the rapist who overpowered you
And took Your virginity.
Exploited for a moment’s gratification…
Left lying in your own blood.

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