If I die young...

Death, because of my job, becomes almost routine at times. Working in hospice provides a lot of opportunity to accompany people during their last days. Ninety-nine percent of the people I interact with are older adults - or at least people that have lived past 70. On occasion, we help people who would be considered "young".....all the way down to less than a year old.

I really hadn't expected to write on this topic tonight. Thoughts and different themes were on my mind all day but that all changed this evening when I got the news that a student who I had taught had died. I hadn't just taught him, I had spent a week at a summer camp as a speaker and this kid had been there and was in my class the following year. Sadly, this isn't the first time I have dealt with the death of former students. Reflecting, I can't actually remember how many there have been - whether they were kids I had in class or coached.

It is one thing for me to accompany parents and loved ones as they experience the death of a child when I am not connected to the situation. I've been with families experiencing everything from fetal demises to watching their baby, adolescent, teen, or young adult die right on the ER trauma room table. None of it is easy. However, their is a different kind of pain in my heart when I hear of the death a child that I have been connected to in some way. Only once, so far, have I been called in to help a family only to find out that the person near death was someone I coached.

Teach us to number our days......

I often think how close I came to having my own ticket punched as a freshman in high school. Yep - that is me at the top as a 9th grader. The football picture (#13) is about a week before I was severely injured. As I was tackled my spleen ruptured. However, this wasn't discovered until around 6 hours later. That is 6 hours of bleeding internally. That is not good. Looking back at the timing of the events of that day it is remarkable that I am still here. I got hit at probably about 4:30 pm. Went home, showered, and went to bed with what I thought were just sore ribs or bruised abdomen. However, as the evening went on, the pain increased so my parents decided to take me to the ER. As good timing would have it, I arrived just before a heart attack patient so guess who got priority. A couple of hours later I was literally writhing in pain. After being examined the doctor decided that I probably bruised some organs and was going to send me home. Before discharge however I went into shock because of all the internal bleeding and the poked a little hole directly under my belly button and blood shot out. Don't really remember that part but my dad said afterwards, "I thought we had lost you at that point." Emergency surgery, no more spleen, 23 staples up my gut, and a week in the hospital. Literally, a life-saving procedure.

A good friend of mine once said in the context of being ready to die at any time - "If I'm not ready to see Jesus today, what makes me think I will be ready any time in the future?" That makes a lot of sense to me and I have often thought about those words. It gives me pause to remember that our life here, no matter how long or short by earthly time standards, is a breath compared to eternity. A blip, dot, smidgen.

That is one reason why I like the song that is out now called If I Die Young by The Band Perry. It talks about any amount of time we are given is enough with the proper perspective. Part of the chorus goes:

The sharp knife of a short life, well
I've had just enough time

Jace Watts - It was a pleasure to know you. May we worship together again someday.

A Favorite

My favorite book of all time is Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls. Not a big fan of the movie but the book is like a warm cozy blanket on a cold day. I think the cover describes the book as a story about a boy and two dogs. I disagree. It is really a story of a man who, sitting by his fireplace one night, takes the evening to do a life review of sorts as he recalls to the forefront of his mind the experiences he had as a boy with his two dogs.

I remember our sixth grade teacher reading this book to us up until the last couple of chapters - he left those for us to read silently. I wasn't sure why he did this but I remember looking around the classroom while I read the part where the dogs die to see if anyone else was starting to cry. I know what you're thinking - "Wow, even back as a sixth grader he was sensitive." It was sad, so I cried.

When I think about the story tonight what comes to mind is how it talks about loss and the way hope and comfort emerge in the midst of grief and difficulty. I believe God is instrumental in this. He knows what we need and when we need it. I often consider how I would handle certain situations if they came my way. Working as a chaplain who is around some of the most difficult situations people can find themselves in, I tend to think about those types of situations and analyze how I might be able to cope. What is difficult about doing this is not knowing how God is going to speak to my heart with just what I need at just the right time to catch a glimpse of hope and experience some form of comfort.

Billy's story from the book mirrors our lives. We may not suffer the specific loss he did or in the same way but we will suffer loss. When that loss comes, I think if we are patient, hope and comfort will emerge in a way that is tailored specifically to meet our deepest need. It might not necessarily make the feeling of sorrow or pain go away but it will give strength to continue to put one foot in front of the other and to know you are not alone in your struggle.

Tonight I am grateful for people in my life who have helped me in my times of struggle or pain. God has used you to encourage me, support me, challenge me, and simply travel beside me when I needed it. You have been a tangible experience of God's love and provision for me. Thank you. I hope I can be used in the same way.

Who am I?

I remember as part of my chaplain training we spent some time journaling. One of our topics was addressing the question "Who Am I?" I had a hard time taking this serious partly because of the movie The Breakfast Club. If you remember the movie this was the topic that each person in Saturday school was supposed to write on for their essay. At one point, the braniac who had a flare gun go off in his locker sits and contemplates the question mumbling to himself, "Who am I?" while he clips a mechanical pencil to his lower lip and proceeds to move it up and down until the eraser end finds his nostril. This is all I could think of when we were asked to write on the same question.

In Genesis chapter 22 we find God asking a similar question to Jacob as he they wrestle. At one point during the struggle it is God who says to Jacob, "What is your name?" Essentially he is asking Jacob, "Who are you?" And Jacob answers honestly - "Jacob." It was this same Jacob who years earlier was asked the same question by his earthly father - Isaac - "Here I am ; who are you, my son?" And Jacob said to his father, "I am Esau your firstborn." (Gen 27:18) Jacob had lived his life just as his name implied - he was a deceiver. Now when his heavenly Father asks him who he is he answers rightly - I am Jacob - recognizing and professing "I am a deceiver and a cheat."

It is when we see ourselves for who we truly are - separated and in need of God - that the gospel becomes good news and the power of the gospel being able to save us becomes a need and not just another "gift" to add to the pile of gifts already present in our lives. I honestly struggle with both ends of the spectrum on this one. A lot of times I find myself striving and fixating so much attention on how "good" I can be as if one day I will reach a standard where I will no longer need God's grace because I've earned my way. Other times I struggle with feeling so defeated by sin that I cannot rejoice in the fact that it is all about grace and that there is no condemnation for anyone, including me, who believes in what Christ has done for them on the cross. So I am not there yet.

So how do I end this entry? It might be appropriate to leave it open-ended because that kind of answers the initial question - who am I? "A work in progress striving to seek God and what He has for my life as a husband, father, friend, chaplain....placing my hope in what He has done and continues to do and the promises of his word."

I love a song by Steven Curtis Chapman called Miracle of Mercy - it pretty much summarizes how I feel.

If the truth was known and a light was shown
On every hidden part of my soul
Most would turn away, shake their head and say
he still has such a long way to go
If the truth was know you'd see that the only good in me
Is Jesus

If the walls could speak of the times I've been weak
When everybody thought I was strong
Could I show my face if it weren't for the grace
Of the one who's known the truth all along
If the walls could speak they'd say that my only hope is the grace
Of Jesus, the grace of Jesus

But, oh the goodness and the grace in Him
He takes it all and makes it mine and causes his light in me to shine
And he loves me with a love that never ends
Just as I am not as I do
Could this be real, could this be true
This could only be a miracle
This could only be the miracle of mercy

A brief review

It seems that I have been turning over a new leaf for these past few blogs. During the first week of 2012 I have posted more than I did all of 2011 and I've probably used more words than I did since I started this silly little thing. Why you may ask? Obviously I am more mature. Ok - most likely not. Hmmmmmm......what a conundrum. Conundrum? What? Are we playing scrabble now? Who knows. Maybe I should re-title the blog to Words From the Inner Sanctum with Some Pics That Kinda Fit the Theme. I like that title. Mainly because of the word "sanctum."

Anywhoo - I still like pictures and to jot some things down about them - sometimes serious - sometimes not so serious. So maybe I'll just shuss it (because we don't use the words shut-up) and let some pictures do the talking tonight.

Look - Jlyn made underwear for her tongue out of her gum. That public school education sure is paying off.

My best impression of an elf getting ready for the Shamu Christmas show. Flattering.

You know these machines never lie. And you know that sons get their sexy genes from their father.
She is smiling. I bet she didn't consider how many other kids, adults, and senior citizens posed for the exact same picture wearing the exact same wig they pulled off the exact same shelf. Kinda gives you the heebee jeebees eh?

Oh - it looks like someone ordered two lumps of sugar in their tea cup. Yeah, that's right. Shorts and a t-shirt IN DECEMBER. Notice that is the stationary tea cup. I get motion sickness. And no one wants that in their tea cup.

Divine Humility

A favorite from CS Lewis in his book, The Problem of Pain:

God, who made us, knows what we are and that our happiness lies in him. Yet we will not seek it in him as long as he leaves us any other resort where it can even plausibly be looked for. While what we call "our own life" remains agreeable we will not surrender it to him...We are perplexed to see misfortune, falling upon decent, inoffensive, worthy people - on capable, hard-working mothers of families or diligent, thrifty little tradespeople, on those who have worked so hard, and so honestly, for their modest stock of happiness and now seem to be entering on the enjoyment of it with fullest right...

Let me implore the reader to try to believe, if only for the moment, that God, who made these deserving people, may really be right when he thinks that their modest prosperity and the happiness of their children are not enough to make them blessed: that all this must fall from them in the end, and that if they have not learned to know him they will be wretched. And therefore he troubles them, warning them in advance on an insufficiency that one day they will have to discover...

I call this a Divine humility because it is a poor thing to strike our colors to God when the ship is going down under us; a poor thing to come to him as a last resort, to offer up "our own" when it is no longer worth keeping. If God were proud he would hardly have us on such terms: but he is not proud, he stoops to conquer, he will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to him, and come to him because there is "nothing better" now to be had.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Music and baseball

Like I have said before, I am not musically inclined. So when my daughter asked me to take her to the Richland School District Music Teachers Performance I had my reservations. Since everyone else besides myself and my daughter are sick I got nominated to take her by default. Don't get me wrong - I like music and I play a mean air guitar, drums, and lead vocals when I am in my car by myself.

As I was watching these teachers perform I couldn't help but appreciate the talent they shared but the enthusiasm with which they shared it. Being a former teacher I think the most important thing a teacher can bring to the classroom is their love for kids and their love for what they teach. I especially enjoyed the beautiful music that was produced by the collaboration of teachers when they played together and even included middle and high school students in their ensemble.

It is hard for me to say this but music has the upper hand I think to athletics - or at least the team sports that I played and coached, namely football and baseball. When you perform musically as a team you bring just as much enjoyment to an audience as a team does when it plays well and wins. However, most high school athletes are unable to play competitive team sports such as baseball or football much past college (if even in college) and certainly not for a lifetime. Music is different. The "teams"performing tonight were of all ages and by the looks on their faces they were really enjoying what they were doing.

To me, there is much beauty in watching a perfectly executed hit and run or squeeze bunt but I must say that listening to the music tonight in the company of my 9 year old as she laid her head on my shoulder was pretty ok too.

(Pics are Philly Orchestra Bldg and Philly Stadium)

Gratitude and Wonder

A favorite author of mine is Ravi Zacharias. From the first time I heard him speak at a World Missions Conference while I was in college, I have been challenged, enlightened, inspired, and shaped by what he writes and shares through his sermons and lectures. In his book, Recapture The Wonder, he connects gratitude and wonder.

"The first necessary component of wonder is profound gratitude."

Honestly, this can be a struggle for me at times. I can easily get focused on what has been lost or what I don't have or what situation I find myself in and throw my own personal pity party. Gratitude is something I even resist at times because it feels like its wrong to "put on a happy, thankful face" when the feeling isn't there. I experience this sometimes with the families I work with on how to balance thankfulness with loss. Sometimes people feel guilty for acknowledging things to be grateful for in the face of loss. Once people can see that the sadness they feel over the loss is actually a testimony to the value of the relationship they once enjoyed gives them a better grasp on why their grief can feel so overwhelming. C.S. Lewis once said - "The deeper you love, the deeper you hurt. The joy you felt then is part of the pain you feel now."

Ravi makes the point in his book that gratitude runs much deeper than mere thankfulness or shallow emotion. His description is not only challenging but inspiring as well:

"The gratitude I am speaking of is not sporadic. It cannot be spent or exhausted. It is the transformation of a mind that is more grateful for the giver than for the gift, for the purpose than for the present, for life itself rather than for abundance. It values a relationship rather than any benefit made possible by the relationship. Even more, it is the capacity to receive, rather than the gift itself, to trust even when the moment seems devoid of immediate fulfillment. It is more than happiness. It is more than peace."

When I sit and reflect, even as I am typing this, I really do have so much to be grateful for and that is ultimately a very satisfying and fulfilling way to end the day. Not having all the answers or grief or problems solved, but acknowledging that, as Ravi states so well, that "the world is larger and more beautiful than my little struggle. There is a larger context."