Category Archives: Life of greatness

{faith, hope, love}

Life of greatness

Close only counts in horseshoes

12 January 2012 – 10:25 am

Last Friday night a firetruck, lights a blazing, turned down our street. We have neighbors across the way who battle serious health issues–I thought it might be for them. But when I peeked out the front window, I couldn’t see the truck; I could, however, see the lights reflecting in the windows across the street. They were definitely on our side of the street. They were definitely close.

I tried to talk myself into thinking perhaps they just preferred parking on this side. Perhaps it was simply a small fire, easily extinguished. Perhaps it was a false alarm. But even as I rationalized, I kept saying, “I hope it’s not at Dennis’ . . . I hope it’s not at Dennis’‘”

Deep inside, I think I knew. I just didn’t want to admit it . . . even when cars kept stopping off at their house . . . when people came bearing food . . . when Monday came and went, and Dennis’ truck never left the driveway.

It was Tuesday before I worked up the nerve to look at obits. Dennis was there. He was 51.

And the tears keep a fallin’. For Dennis was more than our favorite neighbor; he was the neighborhood patriarch. He knew everyone, right down to the woman who delivers our mail. He knew because he made a point to know. You could always hear him out catching up with one person or another. A quiet man, he was not–and he was all the louder when he really got into a conversation. There goes Dennis, we’d say, which always made us giggle.

Then there was spring. We knew spring had officially arrived with the first ting of horseshoes. A landscaper, he created the most magical backyard; complete with a Koi-filled pond, moss covered rocks, shade trees . . . and a small horseshoe pit–the sound of which echoed throughout the warmer months, as natural as the singing of the birds.

I can only imagine the hole he leaves close friends and family. If he loved people on whole, he loved certain people all the more–I can still see their faces, papering the back wall of his workshop. But he’ll leave a hole for the rest of us, too. And that, my friends, says a lot.

Now he leaves us to pick up the slack. To take the time to get to know. At the very least, to say hello. Not just in this neighborhood, but life in general. After all, we have but one life to do our best. And close only counts in horseshoes . . .

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Life of greatness

A Saint by the name of Nicholas

6 December 2011 – 11:03 am

He was born in the third century, in the village of Patara, part of modern-day Turkey. The only son of wealthy parents, he took an active interest in Christianity from an early age. When his parents died of an epidemic, the young boy came to be raised by his uncle, a bishop.

So it only natural the boy, too, would become a bishop. Dressed in a robe of red, he diligenty watched over those in his care. He was known for his kind and generous spirit, using his inheritance to help the poor, leaving anonymous gifts to those who needed them most.

It was his heart of giving that earned him his sainthood.

Of course, as so often happens of ordinary men, who become extraordinary saints, stories of his feats and wonders grew with each passing year . . .

Before long, he was not only attributed to signs and wonders, but magic. His red robe became lined with fur. He took up residence at the North Pole, adopted 8 reindeer, and a factory of elves. And his little round belly . . . it shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly. 

So it was that Nicholas came to be known around the world as Papai Noel | Tomten | Shengdan Laoren | Viejo Pascuero | Sinter Klaas | Father Christmas | Joulupukki | Pere Noel | Kanakaloka | De Kerstman | Mikulas | Winter Grandfather | Babbo Natale | Hoteiosho | Kaledu Senelis | Kerstman | Julenissen | Swiety Mikolaj | Julenisse | Kris Kringle | El Nino Jesus.

 Or simply, Santa Claus.

 

 

 

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Life of greatness

Giving your all

18 April 2011 – 8:22 am

I’m a little sad to see Tax season go. Not the codes or paperwork, mind you–certainly not the money. But I will miss a certain marketer for a tax preparation service. From the first of the year, they hire this gentleman to dress as Uncle Sam and wave a sign at the corner of a busy intersection. He’s had the gig for several years now; and he’s faithful in his work. You’ll find him there day after day, rain or shine, wind or sleet.

And without fail, his wee pups is nearby.

A tiny black mutt, he’s easily missed if you aren’t looking–all the more so if he happens to be sitting near his dad’s backpack. On cold days he sports a little bomber jacket; on windy days, he sits as close to the electrical box as he possibly can. Sunny days are his favorite. Those are the days he lounges in the cool grass, paws crossed, face to the sun.  Occasionally, he’ll get up to greet a passerby, to stretch, or meander over to sit on the warm pavement, next to dad.

He loves his job.

Walking in to work, or walking back home, he nearly skips. You can almost see the smile on his face; and you can’t help but smile in return.

The drive to Walgreens, Barnes and Noble, Target, the mall–they just won’t be the same. I’m gonna miss that pups.

He’s the perfect reminder that even if the situation isn’t perfect, we’re blessed with work … that there’s a lot to be said for faithfulness … that drudgery isn’t quite so much when we’re with someone we love.

Now that another season  has come to an end, I hope that gentleman and his faithful sidekick have a new adventure lined up. And I hope, hope, hope to see them again next year …

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Life of greatness

Leading us to holiness

15 April 2011 – 8:27 am

I have these wee “picture lesson” cards. They were stowaways of an inheritance–treasures tucked away in a stack of books that once belonged to my grandmother’s mother. Publications of the American Baptist Society of Philadelphia, they have a photo and bible verse on one side…

A lesson on the other–complete with story, questions, prayer, and “memory thought.” In case you would have never guessed, they’re old. This one, for example, was Volume 30, 3rd Quarter, August 28, 1910.

Their age is evidenced in the lessons. Nearly all include a poem of sorts–an admonishment in rhyme. It usually has nothing at all to do with the story, excepting of course, the one on temperance: ‘If God’s own children we would be, doing his holy will, we must not touch nor even see, the wine that makes us ill.’ *snicker*

Apparently, they forgot the first miracle Jesus performed; or the fact that riding into Jerusalem for Passover, He was heading to a feast where wine was sure to flow.

Speaking of Passover, I often think of the crowd that gathered that day. They had heard the stories … tales of signs and wonders … of Jesus raising the dead, giving sight to the blind, and movement to the lame. He even forgave the likes of tax collectors and harlots. Many saw his works with their own eyes; some felt His touch themselves. The Messiah, the one they had waited for, had finally arrived. There He was, riding in on the back of donkey, not as a king of war, but as the Prince of Peace. They gave him reverence, making a carpet of garments and palm branches. Yet they had no idea what was to come. They could not fathom the price He would pay.

I dare say, we still don’t.

Oh sure, we know the the story, but I’m not sure we truly grasp the sacrifice.

But I guess that’s all part of it, isn’t it?

If we had it all together, there would be no need for a manger. If we knew how to convey the gospel, there would be no need for an example. If we were blameless, there would be no need for a cross.

Yet here we are, heading toward Passover Sunday that leads to holy week.

So it is my prayer for you, dear readers: whether it’s just another weekend, or you intend to wave a palm branch or two, take the time to ponder the true meaning of the holiday … to consider the gift … to prepare to celebrate with a grateful heart …

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Life of greatness

Parties and prayers

16 March 2011 – 1:00 am

In case you haven’t looked at a calendar, or noticed the splattering of green on this here blog, tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day.

We don’t know a lot about Saint Patrick. Legend aside, it seems his work spanned sixty years–and while it aimed for heaven, it lived here on earth. He did not require the clergy of his monasteries to take vows or forgo marriage.  How could they possibly encourage others, if they, themselves, could not understand?  Instead, he had them focus on the work before them–transcribing scripture, studying the sciences, and training others for spiritual labors, both at home and abroad.

Saint Patrick founded 365 churches and 365 schools. He lived through good times and bad; he lived in slavery and freedom.  He encouraged others to do the same.  He was a man dedicated to prayer–and those in his care.

So it is the Irish celebrate their saint with revelry and prayer.  And you know what they say, on St. Paddy’s Day, everyone is Irish.

Let us celebrate in full–with prayers and rejoicing.

Like you, I can’t get the people of Japan off my mind.  As with any sorrow, it probably seems as if the world should stop for a moment.  But life goes on.  So yes, break out the green, dance an Irish  jig, feast on Irish fare–laugh along with those you love.  But don’t forget those who have little more than tears.  Keep them wrapped in your prayers, give if you can.  For it’s not that pot of gold that makes us the luckiest–it’s standing side-by-side, and sharing our burdens.

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