Embrace the Pain

Everyone has a different level of tolerance for physical pain. As for me, I’d say that my ability to handle it is lower than I’d like it to be, but better than it used to be. At least I’m not a crybaby anymore. When I was a kid, the threat of pain caused me to miss out on all sorts of things, and created complications for me that could have been avoided.

For example, I didn’t play football beyond 7th grade. Why not? Fear. I didn’t like the pain of the physical training. I didn’t like the pain of the running. I didn’t like getting hit. I was fearful of the pain of the sport.



As another example, I avoided defending myself as a young person in a number of situations where I was being bullied. Now, I didn’t avoid fighting out of some misguided sense of right and wrong. No. I avoided it because I was afraid of being hurt. I was afraid of the pain. As a result, I was often picked on, and I just put up with the verbal abuse. (I wouldn’t suggest that you test me with that these days.)



As I have aged a bit though, I’ve grown to appreciate some positive aspects of enduring pain. Have you ever considered that?



There is a saying: “No pain, no gain.” The phrase stems from the sports world where you have to endure physical pain in training in order to grow stronger and gain endurance. I remember one time, a number of years ago, when I was doing a good deal of running, and as I was running along my legs began to hurt. They were aching something awful. I was tempted to quit. Then, it hit me….no one has ever died from a “leg attack.” So what if the legs were hurting? It was making me a stronger, healthier person. I learned to put up with and ignore that pain.



Cycling has done a great deal for me in learning to deal with pain. A few years ago, I was on the last leg of about a 40-mile ride, and I had about ten miles to go, when all at once I began to have a terrible, sharp pain shoot into my right knee with every pedal stroke. Can you imagine riding another ten miles with that happening every time you pushed the pedal down? I wanted to quit, but ten miles is a long distance to walk pushing your bike. A couple of years ago, I did a 108-mile ride. About 80 miles into it, I hit a stretch in the ride where as long as I kept my feet going around everything was okay, but if I stopped, it felt like there was a grinder in my knees when it was time to get going again. Once again, I felt like quitting, but I had a goal….and no one ever died from some knee pain….so I kept going and the pain eased.



This brings me to one of my favorite quotes, and I’m thinking about it a bit as I prepare for my 2011 Fitness Challenge. This quote comes from Lance Armstrong in his book “It’s Not About the Bike.”



“Pain is temporary, but quitting lasts forever.”



Pain is a passing thing. It comes. It goes. Sometimes it stays longer than we want, but it still goes. But,….if we quit….if we let the pain stop us from doing great things for ourselves or others….then, the failure is forever.



A little over a year ago, I tore my Achilles tendon. It was a painful injury. Recovery from surgery was actually even a bit more painful. Losing all of my fitness and much of my leg strength was quite discouraging. Gaining a bunch of weight between then and now has been a real set back. This next year will include a great deal of physical and mental pain as I begin to beat my body back into some semblance of healthfulness, but to quit is not an option.



Time to embrace the pain.



About 93 miles into a 108-mile ride.





The Brrum Brrum Song

It’s that time of year again. The time of strings of multi-colored lights hanging from just about anything from which a guy can hang them. The time of chubby fellas in red suits with white beards; some real, some not so real. The time of endless Christmas TV shows, movies, and musical specials. A time that only comes once per year…thank goodness!

Don’t get me wrong. I truly enjoy the season. I like all of those things.

For some reason, there was a time when I didn’t really enjoy the holidays. When my wife and I first got married, I was a real Scrooge; grumpy and disinterested. That has pretty well changed now, and my wife greatly appreciates that fact.

My favorite things at Christmas are the movies “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “A Christmas Story,” the food, the extra time spent with family and close friends, the food, the way that people take time to give, the food, and the Christmas songs. Did I mention the food?

I really like the songs. I like to sing them (those around me may not like that so much), and I like to listen to them on the radio….with one major exception. I detest that Wham/George Michael song “Last Christmas.”

“Last Christmas, I gave her my heart. The very next day she gave it away.” Blah, blah, blah. Over and over again. I’d rather go have my teeth cleaned than listen to that song.

I learned this week that my daughter has her own name for one of my favorite songs. She calls it the “Brrum Brrum Song.” Most of us know it as “The Little Drummer Boy.” I don’t care much for the Rankin/Bass clay-mation TV special, but I really like the song written by Katherine K. Davis. It gets me everytime, and tugs my emotional heart strings.

Why? Oh, okay. I’ll tell you….if you insist.

It’s all in the last few lines. The little boy comes before the newly born Jesus. All those around him have expensive gifts; gold, spices, etc. He apparently has nothing.

“I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum.”

Nothing, that is, but his drum.

“Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum? On my drum?”

That’s all he had to give. Just a simple talent. But, the unwritten thing is what makes it really resonate with me. It wasn’t just that he played the drum. It was that he had a HEART that WANTED to GIVE.

Again, it wasn’t just that he had a drum that he was willing to play.

He was playing with more than his drum. He was playing with his heart. He gave Jesus what he had…with his heart.

“I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum.”

He didn’t just give him a little tune. He gave his best.  He gave his heart.

“Then, He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum. Me and my drum.”

Isn’t that what we all really want? Let’s just cut it all down to the simple things. Don’t we really just want Jesus to smile at us?

Then, go ahead. You can do it….

Pick up your drum and play with all your heart.

Caaamper's Fitness Challenge

I recently had a new idea for expanding my blog some. I’ve been thinking about carrying around my camera and taking occasional photos to post. I like photography, and despite being an amateur, I think I take a good shot now and again. You can look for some of those in the coming weeks and months. However, an interesting thing happened today when I finally got around to firing up my little Sony Cybershot…I found some shots from my personal fitness challenge in 2009; the SFP Challenge.

I had forgotten that I had those pictures. In fact, in the blur of my last year recovering from a torn Achilles Tendon suffered in a softball game about a month after “The Challenge,” I had almost forgotten about the big bike ride altogether. However, looking at the pics, it all came flooding back.

That was a tough day.

The deal was that in 2008, I had gained a bunch of weight. I tend to do that from time to time.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve gone through this weight gain/weight loss roller coaster. One year, I go up. The next year, I go down. Each time I go down, the effort to do so gets harder and harder. So, as 2009 rolled around, I was looking for a challenge that would push me to work on my health and fitness, and be something I would actually enjoy doing. After a little bit of thought, it occurred to me that I had never ridden a century ride.

For those of you who aren’t into cycling, a century ride is to ride your bicycle 100 miles in one day.

As with photography, I fancy myself as a pretty good amateur cyclist. Not a great cyclist by any means, but not bad when I’m in shape. That said, I’d never done the century. I’d done 75-milers, but not a 100-miler. It was one of those milestones that I hadn’t done, but that I did just want to do. It was something I liked, but would be a definite challenge that I would have to work to get ready for.

To make the challenge even harder to back out of, I made it a big public thing. I started telling everyone I was going to do it. I even announced it in front of the whole church where I worship and serve. I wanted it to be so embarrassing to quit that I’d be sure to suffer through whatever physical pain was necessary to complete the task.



All done



Ultimately, I didn’t find an organized century ride that fit my training plan and schedule well enough, so I opted to ride the 100 miles alone, but on the Cardinal Greenway near Muncie, Indiana. The completed portion of the Greenway at the time was 27 miles long running from Losantville on the southeast side of Muncie up to Gaston on the northwest side of Muncie. To do 100 miles, I would need to ride the full length up and back…twice. The total mileage of the journey was 108 miles.



I completed the challenge on September 19, 2009. I started at about 8am, and got off my bike at the end at about 6:45pm. 108 miles done. It was a long, HARD day. A special thank you goes to my wife who spent the day driving our car ahead to each rest stop to meet me, encourage me, refill my water bottles, and make sure that I ate something. It had to be a boring day for her, but her help was a tremendous factor in my completing the event.





Then, one month later, I tore the Achilles Tendon. Surgery. Cast. Walking Boot. Months of recovery. Regained weight. Now, I’m back at the top of the roller coaster.

 Time for a new challenge.


It was a wild-haired idea!



Introducing the Mike DeCamp 2011 Challenge. I’m going to complete 2011 miles in the year 2011 by either walking, running, or biking. If you do the math, that would be almost 6 miles every day of the year! Obviously, there will be days when I am sick, traveling, or otherwise cannot complete the necessary miles, so I added the biking to help me catch up during the cycling season. I haven’t worked out all the details and rules for myself yet. You can look for those in the coming few weeks leading up to January 1st. However, there will be both an activity aspect and a nutrition aspect. I’m going to cover both bases.

Wish me luck, and if you want to join me in the challenge, let me know.  I'll be blogging on my progress.

(You can see more pictures from the 2009 SFP Challenge on my Facebook page.)



Thanksgiving Thoughts

Another holiday season is upon us.  Turkeys and mistletoe, cranberry sauce and fruitcakes, pilgrims and Santa Claus.  Ahhhh, the sights and sounds of the season.  The day after tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and I'm looking forward to a feast!  I know many of you are too, plus football and long naps.

But, you know, it isn't called THANKSgiving for nothing.  Besides the pecan pies and pigskins, it is a time to reflect on how we've been blessed.  Sooooo, here's my feeble attempt.  But, before I go too far, I have to make a deal with you.  If you read my list, I want you to do me a favor and post ONE comment... (okay more if you really want)... one comment about something YOU are thankful for.  You can leave it anonomously if you prefer, but I like comments and I want to read what you have to say.

Before the list, a story:

A few years ago, I tried to establish a tradition in our home where we would go around the table and share about one thing each of us was thankful for before we ate our Thanksgiving feast.  I think I'm the only one who had much enthusiasm for the idea.  It could be because when we're trying to do that there's a hot, delicious, crispy bird with all the fixin's sitting right under our noses. 

I will tell you one story though.  It was funny to us...maybe it could be for you too.  We were all gathered in our living room, my family and my nephew's family.  We were going around the circle sharing what we were each thankful for, and when the turn came for my nephew's oldest boy to share (he was in about sixth grade or so), I could have sworn that he said:  "I'm thankful for violence."

Huh!  What?!  We all turned and looked at him like he was some sort of giant fruitcake.

"What did you say?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"I said I was thankful for violins."

Giant sigh of relief.  He's not a psychopath...he just appreciates classical music.  Well, when you grew up on the south side of Muncie, that could seem pretty crazy too, but we were all feeling much better about his thoughts anyway.

Enough with the stories, and on with my list:

I am thankful for...

1.  Nancy Elaine DeCamp--A wonderful wife, an amazing mother, and a close friend.
2.  Angela DeCamp--A beautiful young woman with a brilliant mind and an even more brilliant talent  for art.
3.  Andrea DeCamp--Another beautiful young woman with a heart that knows no bounds in its love and loyalty.
4.  My employer--It keeps us under a roof, clothed, fed, warm, and is a company with integrity.
5.  My church family--They have embraced my family, given me new depth, and put me to work.
6.  God--His patience with my faults, His Grace in forgiving me, His willingness to make me useful.
7.  My fellow elders at Southeastern--They are all very different from one another, but seem to complement one another nicely.  I think our Father has assembled us for a very good reason.  They sometimes frustrate me, but mostly they humble me and support me,...and sometimes give me a good-natured hard time.
8.  Dale Robinson--We became fast friends about five years ago, and I always enjoy spending time with him.
9.  Greg York--This friendship was slower to develop, but has recently been a real joy to me.  (Thanks for the long talks after our meetings!)
10.  Physical Health--Last year, I tore my Achilles Tendon and at Thanksgiving I was in a cast and on crutches.  Over the last few years, I've herniated a disc in my neck, had a stress fracture in my foot, and torn the Achilles.  Each of those events has made it more and more clear to me just how precious physical ability is.  I am way out of shape right now, but I'm on the mend and will soon be back in the action.

I could go on and on...my boss, other friends, folks I work on committees with.  I have much to be thankful for.  I guess I should also say that I'm thankful for Google Blogger.  It's given me a nice outlet.

How about you?  Share one for me please.

Mike's Bucket List

I’m sure that thousands of folks have done this, and some will say I’m too young myself, but I’m sitting here watching The Bucket List on TV, and I’m thinking that you can never be too young to recognize the primary things that you’d really like to get done while you can get things done. After all, no one is promised tomorrow. Should I wait until I retire or get a terminal illness to start? I think not. Time slips by so fast, and the older you get, the more you know that that fact is true.

So, here goes…my “bucket list” as it stands today…in no particular order.

1. Spend at least one night on each continent.

2. Hike to the lowest Everest base camp.

3. Bungee jump in New Zealand.

4. Become a published author of a novel.

5. Spend a week hiking the Appalachian Trail.

6. Circumnavigate the United States by car.

7. Preach a sermon at a major church conference.

8. Drive to Alaska, all the way to the north coast.

9. Witness the finish to the Tour de France in Paris.

10. Ride in the team car at a mountain stage of the Tour de France.

11. Explore the ruins of Machu Picchu.

12. Take a week long horseback adventure into the Rockies.

13. Take an African Safari.

14. See Hudson Bay.

15. Ride a boat on the Sea of Galilee.

16. Raft the entire length of the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon.

17. Spend a week at a fly-in cabin in the Canadian Boundary Waters.

18. Take a bicycle tour of Scotland.

19. Visit each country in Europe.

20. Take my grandchildren hiking in the Grand Canyon.

That’s enough for now. I’m sure I can come up with more as I consider it further.

A couple of things have occurred to me as I’ve written this list. The first is that it is likely a pipe dream to think that I could actually accomplish all of the items on the list, but just attempting it would be a huge adventure in itself. The second is that the list is made up of a large number of items that are largely selfish. There are other things that are really more important in the big picture.

For example:

A. Building a life-long relationship with God.

B. Grow a family to be proud of—DONE!

C. Use my life to help others.

D. Be an influence for good in all of my interactions and relationships.

E. Be true to myself and act with integrity with others.

I could go on, but you get the point. The two lists aren’t mutually exclusive, but to me the second takes precedence over the first. What good would my life be if I accomplished everything on the first, but failed in any significance on the second?

I’m going to chase the first, but no compromise on the second! Now, which drop do I plop into the bucket first?

Treasures on a Speck of Dust

Treasures on a Speck of Dust

Mike DeCamp

 

I have spent much of my life

Wallowing in the depths of self-pity,

Wishing for riches I did not have

And yearning for the roads I did not take.

How amazing it is to awaken,

And step out from among the oblivious

To see the true blessings of life.

To love and be loved,

And to have a life worth living

Are the purest of treasures.

These enrich my life,

Though I am only a speck of dust

Residing upon a speck of dust

In God’s great universe.

Salvation-All About the Relationship

It’s been an uncomfortable week. I’m not sure which is worse…trying to sleep on a bed of broken glass, or trying to sleep with a chest full of congestion. I’ve experienced the second this week. Last night, I fell asleep in my chair until around 2am. When I got up out of the chair to go to bed, my chest was full of….well….stuff. I think I woke up the whole neighborhood trying to clear it out. Nasty is the only word that I feel comfortable using to describe the experience. Here’s to hoping that I’m finally on the downside of this thing! If this post seems a little “out of sorts,” you can blame it on the cold.

Wednesday night, I taught a class at church on the topic of Salvation. Ten minutes before the class was due to start, I had zero voice. Then, just as we are ready to begin…there it was…back in my throat where it belongs. I made it though the class, and then was worn out. I don’t know if the class was any good, but it seemed to go okay despite my ailment.

One aspect of “Salvation” that we discussed on Wednesday is how we so often focus on the negative in order to try to convince someone to follow Christ. Like the billboards say: REPENT or PERISH! So many times, people become Christians in order to avoid Hell rather than to embrace the relationship with the Father that so wants to be in their lives. Other times, they appear to choose God, when in fact the appearance is all there is. Other factors, like family or social pressures drive them to make a commitment that isn’t true to their inner choices.

The bottom line to the whole salvation thing is: God is all about the relationship!

You don’t enter into a relationship to avoid something. You don’t develop lasting friendships by focusing on what you can get out of them. Has anyone really every felt close to someone that they were pressured into spending time with?

If we use those motivations to try to convince someone to come to God, we are only creating a façade that won’t last. Negative motivators usually become de-motivators. You can only scare me into doing something for so long before I will have had enough of it.

The LORD is my shepherd. He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul. Psalm 23 is one of the most beautiful examples of how God wants to be there to bring us peace, restoration, and fulfillment. Take a look at verse 6: Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.


Isn’t that the fulfillment that we all desire. That’s what a relationship with God brings…and, He’s all about the relationship.

Saying of the Day

Be the person today that will lead you to be the person you want to be tomorrow.

Waters of Encouragement!

I had one of those days yesterday. It was one of those days when you just feel like a rain cloud is hanging over you…even inside the house…, and you feel like hanging up your cleats and retiring from participation in this mutual game of ours called life. I felt like just going inactive; like maybe just starting to let life happen instead of trying to have some impact on it. I had joined the major leagues of discouragement!

Why?

It had been a rough week that was capped off by a bumpy Saturday morning. I mean, I’ve got my hands in a lot of activities, and I had begun to feel like I was wasting my time. I just didn’t see much “return on the investment” so to speak. I wasn’t sensing much impact from my efforts. Thus, I began to feel empty, useless, and weary.

I wish I could say that I handled that feeling perfectly. I wish I could say that I didn’t get too introspective; that I didn’t withdraw into a mini bout of depression. If I said it, it wouldn’t be true.

So, what did I do? Well, I took a long shower and poured my pain out in prayer while the water poured over my shoulders. I couldn’t really explain my feelings, so I just asked God to read my heart and make it clear what I needed to do, and where I really stood.

Then, I took a walk, and as I walked down the street, praying, thinking, moping, and pouting, I crossed a small creek. I glanced down its length through the brush and noticed that it had no water flowing. The creek was dry. It occurred to me that it was a good metaphor for how I was feeling. My creek was dry. My spirit had evaporated.

I asked myself some questions while walking. Am I not relying on God enough? Am I trying too hard? Should I just stop trying so hard, and let things flow the way that they will? Should I back out of my responsibilities and quit?

Other than the first question, I really didn’t have any answers. I definitely haven’t been relying on God enough…a personal weakness. But, remember, when I was in the shower, I asked God to show me where I stood and what I should do.

I think that’s what He did.

First, I went to a 1st birthday party for a son of some of our friends, and made a new friend of a young person with a mutual interest in writing. It lifted my spirits to sit and talk about something that I really enjoy doing with someone who is so obviously full of enthusiasm for the same craft (Thanks, Andrea).

When I got home, I had a message from a friend who had started his own blog. He told me that I had inspired him (Thanks, Scott).

Later, we had the Young Adults over from our church, and I sat until late at night talking with some of the guys. I had taken it as a personal project to get this group off the ground, and it has been slow to really get going. It was weighing on me that it wasn’t as successful as I had hoped. Some of my spiritual water had flowed into this program and seemingly had dried up. However, while talking with the guys, one of them told me that his spiritual life had changed 180 degrees from last spring, and he attributed it to the establishment and activities of the group (Thanks, Logan).

After they left, I went to bed. In one of my dreams, I was in a worship service at church and it was obviously a rousing, enthusiastic experience. I looked over, and there was a guy who is a regular attendee, but is not a member, and who is usually stoic in our meetings. He was standing, and worshipping with all his heart, and inspiring and encouraging everyone around him to give praise to God. Here’s the interesting thing about that…our worship is another area that I have been laboring in to try to spur more heartfelt and genuine, enthusiastic, overflowing praise. It has felt a fruitless endeavor. Was God telling me to keep going; that I was affecting people in good ways that I just could not see? I don’t know, but that’s how it felt.

Finally, I went to church this morning, and had two more reinforcements.

First, I was sharing with a friend who is a former elder that I had been feeling useless and that my efforts were wasted. I have a great deal of respect for this man, and I consider him a mentor. He just looked at me and said, “You know better than that. You’re doing a lot of good.” (Thank you, Keith.)

Secondly, I had a guy who has been helping me with the Sports Ministry, which I had established as a means of building fellowship and as an outreach tool, stop me to let me know that we “have a success story” from our ministry! He shared that one of the guys in our football league, who has some troubles, as many young guys often do, was showing some real interest in coming to our church. My spiritual co-worker was excited that we were making an impact. (Thank you, Greg)

Inside, without really forming the words in my mind, I think I finally turned my mind to God and said: "Okay! I get it! I’ll keep going!"

(Thank you, God!)

The Bible says to spur one another on toward love and good deeds. It says to encourage one another daily. Thank you to those of you who have encouraged me. I have needed it the last couple of days. I can’t say the water is rushing down my spiritual creek yet, but it is flowing again. I appreciate you all.

Where Did We Put Our Awe?

I didn’t intend to make this blog all about spiritual things. In concept, I was going to speak my mind on all sorts of controversial subjects; religion, politics, societal change, and any other topic that crossed my path. But, I guess faith seems to have become the dominant source of my inspiration because here comes another one.

Last Wednesday night, I was teaching a class at church…about church…when I came across a line in scripture that resonated with me. Acts 2:43a It says: “Everyone was filled with awe,…”

AWE

Interesting word. I imagine standing with my mouth open; speechless. I imagine feeling small and insignificant. I imagine being overwhelmed by marvel and wonder; sort of how you might feel when standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon.

In the context of the verse, we have a brand new thing. It had just come into existence. It was a new brand of faith that did not yet have a name. There were no Catholics or Baptists; no Methodists or Churches of Christ, and no Lutherans, Episcopalians, or Greek Orthodox. It was just a saving Lord and a group of His followers. No creeds. No divisions. Just people gathered around a new hope. On this particular day, the group had suddenly surged from 120 members to an astounding 3120…all at once…and, they were in awe.

So, here’s my question for you: Where have we put our awe?

On Sunday…in church…our congregation sang the song “I Stand Amazed*.”

I stand amazed in the presence
Of Jesus the Nazarene,
And wonder how He could love me,
A sinner, condemned, unclean.

Chorus:

O how marvelous! O how wonderful!
And my song shall ever be:
O how marvelous! O how wonderful!
Is my Savior's love for me!

I sometimes wonder just how much we think about the words of the songs we sing. Do I really stand amazed? Do I really feel like I’m in the presence of Jesus? Do I feel the wonder? Do I marvel at the Savior’s love for me?

Maybe I’m just suffering from a touch of negativity, but it seems that we Christians have lost our awe. If we have it, why does it not overflow into our voices as we sing? We should be struggling to contain our zeal! If we are marveling at the wonders of God, why do we struggle to share it with others? How can we NOT talk about Him?

Do you believe that in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth? Do you believe that He parted the Red Sea? Do you believe that He brought Daniel out of the lion’s den? How about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego? Did He stand in the fiery furnace with them? And, even more importantly, did God recognize our hopeless, merciless existence and orchestrate all of history to bring us back into a relationship with Him? Do you believe it? Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God…that He died on the cross…that He was buried in a tomb for three days…and ultimately…astoundingly…He ROSE FROM THE DEAD? Do you believe it?

If you do, you must be filled with awe! You must stand amazed!

Where did you and I put our awe?

*I Stand Amazed was written by Charles H. Gabriel

A Father's Legacy

Tomorrow would have been my dad's 98th birthday.  I've been thinking of him quite a bit this week, and I've been anticipating a post in his honor.  It's odd how we so often want to honor our loved ones AFTER they've passed away, and it makes me wish I'd spent more time honoring him while he was with me. 

Ralph R. DeCamp was born on October 30th, 1912 in rural Ohio near the city of Lima.  He was in the middle of a family of ten children.  His father disappeared from the family when he was about ten years old, and subsequently, he and his brothers assumed a great deal of the responsibility of supporting their mother and the other kids.

In the 1930's, during the Great Depression and while in his twenties, he and his closest brother, Earl traveled out west working on farms and ranches, doing odd jobs, and panning for gold.  He made at least two trips; one by car, and the other by train.  No, he didn't buy a ticket and ride coach.  He hopped on rail cars and rode for free!  What an adventure!  I could never imagine doing that!



In the 1940's, during WWII, he joined the Army Air Corps and became a crewman one of the big bomber gunships.  I learned after he died that he flew over 70 missions with his crew and with other crews, filling in for the crewmen on other planes when they were sick or found reasons not to fly.  He wasn't a pilot; rather he was a crewman and manned the guns...dodging flak and praying to survive.  He entered as a simple private and was discharged honorably with six bronze stars along with other medals.  If you want to get an idea of what it was like to fly on one of those planes, watch the episode of Band of Brothers where they are dropping the 101st Airbourne over Normandy.  Wow!  And, he did that kind of thing over 70 times and lived to tell about it...or rather, like so many of his generation, NOT talk about it.  As I said, I learned all this after his death.





Ralph DeCamp is the first guy on the left



After the war, it seems that his adventures came to an end.  He settled in Muncie, Indiana, and got a job at the local Chevrolet plant.  He kept that job until he retired in the mid-1970s.  After coming to Muncie, he met a woman with three small children, and he soon gave his heart to them and married my mother.  I came along a number of years later.  He never traveled out west again, but I suspect he longed to because he often spoke about places like Salmon, Idaho, and I sometimes found real estate books for Colorado sitting on coffee tables in our living room.

But, you know, the the thing that my dad did for me that means the most is that he instilled in me a basic faith in God.  He wasn't a "Bible Thumper."  He didn't even go to church.  In fact, he had an experience as a young person that completely soured him on organized churches.  Even after I grew up and began to focus my own life on spiritual things, he would never visit church with me.  (Perhaps, I'll share the root of that sourness in a future post.)  However, he did believe in God; he loved God.  I often saw him reading his Bible.  He never had an issue with God.  It was people that messed things up for him.

Anyway, back to the story of how he instilled that faith in me.  I was probably only about three years old, and he had me lying on his chest in bed one night.  I can still vividly remember it to this day.  While we were laying there, he said something to me that has ended up being the primary driving influence in my life.

He said:  "Mike, the most important thing that you can ever do in your life is to love God."

That was it.  A simple sentence.  He didn't embed biblical doctrine into my mind.  He didn't make me memorize huge passages of scripture.  All he did was give me a core principal; the most important core principal.  Jesus said that the most important commandment in scripture was to love the Lord your God with all of your heart, all of your mind, all of your soul, and all of your strength.  That was all my dad told me to do, and that has been the thing that has guided my course all these years.  It has kept me on track.  It has pulled me back on track when I've wandered off course.

I have done my best to instill that same core principal in the hearts of my own children.

If you glean anything from this post, let it be this....if you can get your kids to love God, everything else will flow so much easier.  It will guide their decisions.  It will give them a direction.  It will be a beacon calling them home. 

It will change your family.

I don't know for sure what my dad's ultimate destination is any more than any man can truly know another man's fate.  He wasn't an overtly righteous man as folks might define it.  As I said, he didn't go to church.  He smoked.  He cussed.  He had his human weaknesses.  But, what I do know gives me hope.  He loved God, and he cared about his fellow man.  Two things I know about God is that He works for the good of those that love Him, and His first motivation is to save.  He devises ways to bring the estranged back to Him.  I know that my dad loved Him.  I know that my dad shared that love with me.

I wrote the following to be shared at his funeral in February of 2000:

My Dad

How do you describe someone who has molded so much of your life?
Words cannot convey what the heart holds.

How do you honor someone whom you hold in such high esteem?
Live a life that someone else may honor one day.


How do you show respect for someone who does so deeply deserve it?
Imitate him in those aspects that command it.


How do you love someone who displayed his love in so many diverse ways?
Display and magnify this love in your love for others.


How do you replace someone who has meant so much to those whom he has touched?
You cannot.


Goodbye, dear father, my dad.
Your direction, example, and love will live on in those whose lives you have touched.




Written by: Mike DeCamp, February 9, 2000


In honor of: Ralph DeCamp, born 10/30/1912, died 2/6/2000

Mario's Pledge

This morning, as I often do, I watched the first fifteen or twenty minutes of Good Morning America. I guess I have to get my fix of the previous day’s political news, and anything of note that has happened in the wider world before I get going with my own little piece of it. Today, I was touched by the story of Mario Sepulveda, one of the Chilean miners who were rescued just last week after 69 days trapped underground.




Mario is one of 33 men who have a whole new perspective on life today. They were very lucky. Lucky that they survived the mine collapse. Lucky that they were able to be found so far underground. Lucky that they live in a day and time when technology can enable such a difficult rescue. However, I think they are lucky in a whole different sense. They are lucky because they have been given the opportunity to see what the world looks like after you have passed through the curtain of total despair, and have arrived on the other side. My guess is that what was important to each of them today is quite different from what was important to them on the day they arrived for work before the accident.



In the interview with ABC’s John Quinones, Mario said two things that stood out to me. The first he uttered while kneeling on the beach with his son at his side: “I adore you God. I promise I will never leave you just like I promised when I was buried alive.” The other was said to ABC: “Life is short. In one minute, you can lose it. In one minute, it can all be gone. Don’t worry so much about money. Live your life. Live every second of your life.”



If only those of us who have never faced that kind of terror and survived could really grasp that message and hold on to it! Unfortunately, so many of us require some sort of life-shattering experience before we really reach out to God; before we really feel the preciousness of life.



I am a Christian. God has been an important and integral part of my life since I was a young boy. Even so, I am humbled by “Super” Mario’s simple prayer. It has made me consider whether I truly ADORE my God in the same way. What pressures, what temptations would move me to “leave Him” even for a little while? Am I totally devoted the way that I want and need to be? I don’t think so. Thank you Mario for reminding me of how vital the presence God is in my life!



I really see both of Mario’s statements as intertwined; adoring God and living every second of your life because life is short. The younger we are the more we tend to think that we have an unending amount of time ahead of us. As we age, the more it begins to dawn on us that our lives are truly finite. Even as we age, though, we still tend to think that we’ll always have tomorrow. I’m busy today, so I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m tired this morning, so I’ll go to church next week. I know I’m not really focused on spiritual things right now, so I’ll change that after college….or, after I’m married….or, after the kids are grown….or, after I get that promotion….or, after I retire. Ooops….life is gone.



Thirty three men were dragged out of the depths of darkness last week. What will it take to get us to drag ourselves out of the dark depths of spiritual blindness and the shadows of self-indulgence?

I wrote the following poem a few years ago, but today I am dedicating it to Mario Sepulveda. Remember your pledge to God, Mario. I will.



Open the Drapes
By Mike DeCamp


People are born, people die.
In between, they live a lie.

Once in awhile, someone escapes.
They open their lives as opening drapes.

With the future in sight, and without a mask,
They take on a purpose, a mission, a task.

Going through life, we all have a choice.
Live for ourselves, or God and rejoice.

People are reborn, never to die.
What are you waiting for? Give it a try.

To try is to do, when God leads the way.
It is a new life. It is a new day.

The highway is long, and on it we roll.
But remember the Rock, he paid the toll.

 

A Mother's Doubts

I’ve been thinking about my mom and dad recently. I was talking to a friend this week and recounting the fact that my parents moved in with my family and I about eleven years ago; they both lived with us until they passed away. My dad lived a year in our home, and my mom lived with us for almost five years. It was a tough but rewarding period in my life; some of the most difficult of my days, and some of the most encouraging in other ways.



I’ll share more about my dad in coming days because his birthday is at the end of October, but today I want to write about something with my mom that I still find inspiring. I had shared with my friend this week about the difficult days that surrounded her last week here on earth with us, but my focus in this writing backtracks about three months or so.



When my mother passed away, she was 81 years old. She had never been a particularly religious person, and the only time she ever took me to church was for a few short weeks after my brother died when I was seven years old. She was a loyal person toward her family, and loved me deeply. However, she was often rather gruff, and she cussed a great deal in between puffs of cigarette smoke.



I was born when she was nearly 40 years old, and when I became a Christian as a teenager (thanks to a wonderful neighbor—Emma Ogletree—and a persistent youth minister—Mike Runcie), she was pleased but did not show any interest of her own in pursuing spiritual things. Of course, as I grew older I often encouraged her to look to God. Sometimes I was encouraging, and sometimes, as I look back now, I was just plain obnoxious. Thank goodness that wisdom often overtakes the ignorant zeal of youth!



Over the years, despite my encouragement and pleas, she always held back any apparent desire to develop her own relationship with God. She had reasons and excuses…and, she was stubborn.



When she moved in with us in January of 1999, I had become a little numb to the idea that she might really begin to seek God on her own, but still there was a lingering hope. This hope was realized in 2003, after a number of serious health issues, and after she had been surrounded by our family and our friends for several years. She finally began to open up and share her heart…and her doubts.



What became known is that she really did want to know God, but she had doubts. She doubted her own ability to maintain her faith in Him, and she had doubts about God Himself. Lots of “WHYs” and “WHY NOTs.” By this time, she was studying the Bible with an good friend (Jean Keim), but she just couldn’t seem to get past her doubts.



But, then…..I think God did a number on her doubts.



Nope, it wasn’t a miracle. He just sent someone to deliver a message who didn’t know he was being used that day.



Mom was in the hospital, and another one of our friends, Dan Lafever stopped in to visit her. For whatever reason, he and my mother got to talking about her faith and her studies. In essence, she told him that she wanted to believe, but she just had lingering doubts. Dan responded by sharing a passage of scripture that came to his mind. It is found in Mark 9. In the story, a man has a child in need of the help of Jesus. The man said something to the effect of “If you can, please help him.” Jesus responded by saying that to him who believes everything is possible. That is where the key message to my mother is found, because the man responds by saying: “I believe, help me overcome my unbelief.”



There it was; a situation where someone expressed their faith, but confessed their doubts and asked for help. Jesus responded by healing the man’s son.



My mom found her doorway to faith. She found that she could admit her doubts, respond to God, and then move forward in the faith that she had. She was baptized a few days later. That was August. She passed on to spend time with her savior in early December.



I often find that situation and that passage very inspiring because we all have doubts. It seems that our society is plagued by people whose mission in life it is to try to create doubt in the minds of believers. However, it isn’t the doubts themselves that are the problem, so much as the fact that Christians often find themselves crippled by the guilt that accompanies them. There are doubts in the back of the mind, so the disciple of Jesus feels inadequate or unworthy to allow his or her faith to become known to others and useful to God.



Let me just say that I’ve learned from my mom that the thing to do is to quote the father from the story. “God, I believe. Help my unbelief!” Do that and move on with the faith you have. Like the story of the talents…those who use what they have will be given more with which to build. Your faith will grow. God reaches out to those who reach out to Him.



Below is a poem I wrote about my mom after she had passed:



Visions of Mom
By Mike DeCamp
2004


Visions of Mom flow through my mind

Memories of home, all mixed and combined



If I entered her kitchen by the open back door,

I’d often be fed and come back for more



Big bubbling pots of potato soup

Big wacky cakes with an ice cream scoop



Then, out in back we’d go for a rest

Sippin’ tea in the shade with mom at her best



We’d laugh, we’d joke, we’d argue and fuss

In the end, we’d smile, ‘cause that’s just us



Now, she’s moved on, and these memories I love

I can take comfort from knowing she’s happy above

The Beach and the Ocean (4/27/2001)

I'm under reasonably strict instructions to not discuss my wife in my blog, but I still thought I'd share this poem I wrote for her a few years ago.  I hope you enjoy it.  I still feel the same today as I did then.


The Beach and the Ocean
Mike DeCamp


Through the rise and fall

Of the tides of my life,

You are the beach,

Catching my strife.



When the tide comes in

And my spirit does fly,

You are beneath me,

Holding me high.



When the tide ebbs away

And my heart is slack,

You are my horizon,

Calling me back.



As the waves crash in

And then slip away,

You remain constant,

There every day.



As the beach and the ocean

Are always together,

Our love remains true,

Regardless the weather.



Through the rise and fall

Of the tides of my life,

I thank God forever

That you are my wife.

Hide the Vinegar and Taste the Honey

The other day, I had to send an email to a fellow employee at work with whom I’d had a few…let’s say…”communication challenges,” and I copied a few necessary people, so that they could be in the loop on the particular project. I wasn’t mean. I didn’t throw out any sarcastic barbs. In the message, I was nice and I was polite. The interesting thing was that a few minutes later, one of the “copied” people who had been aware of the previous “communication challenges” dropped a note back to me about me being so nice about things. My answer to him? “You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

It is an old saying, but one I think bears revisiting in many circles these days.

I don’t like to listen to Bill Maher, but it’s not because he is anti-religious, or because he is liberal on some subjects or radical on others. I don’t like to listen to him because he is mean-spirited toward those who view things differently from him. For the same reason, I don’t like to listen to Keith Olbermann. His political commentary strikes me as demeaning. On the other hand, I’m not fond of Rush Limbaugh and some of the conservative talkers for the same reason. I dislike disrespect whether it comes from liberals or conservatives; Republicans or Democrats.

But, what really gets under my skin are the folks who claim to be Christians, who are acting in the name of faith in Christ, but are hateful, disrespectful, and hurtful to those around them that might see or do things differently. There’s the preacher in Florida that is determined to burn the Koran to make a statement about Islam. There’s the little church in the Midwest that sends protesters to the funerals of fallen US Soldiers because of some convoluted reasoning derived from their stand against homosexuality. There’s the folks that blow up abortion clinics or shoot down the doctors that perform them. The list goes on.

These folks are missing the message of Christ. Our Lord did not call us to change our society by cramming our views down people’s throats. He didn’t call us to march in the streets, or form political action committees. We Christians aren’t here to shout down those who disagree with us, or burn the books of other religions. Acts 2:38 doesn’t say to repent, be baptized, and join the Republican Party for the forgiveness of your sins. And, especially, our faith never EVER calls us to kill in the name of God.

Okay, Mike, why are we here then? What are we supposed to be doing?

“Bless those who curse you.” “Turn the other cheek.” “Love your enemies.” “Do unto others what you would have others do unto you.” Do any of these phrases sound familiar?

We are here to spread “good news” that we can have freedom from the shackles by which our own actions have bound us. We are here to give a cup of cold water to the thirsty or a warm coat to the chilled. We are here as ambassadors of Christ to facilitate the reconnection of a loving God to his beloved children.

Do people really think that a huge billboard that reads “Avoid Hell, Repent” is going to give that message? If Terry Jones burns the Koran, will that draw the multitudes to a renewed relationship with God? If we ban some books or boycott some TV program, is that going to change society?

What I am suggesting to you, my dear reader, is that Christians need to but the vinegar back in the pantry and pull out the honey instead. We need to display the sweetness of a relationship with our creator. We need to let the nectar overflow from our lives so that no one can miss the obvious fact that we have been truly changed by the love of God.

Would Jesus Christ burn the Koran? I don’t think so. But I know one thing that He would most definitely do; He would pick up a wounded Islamic Fundamentalist, carry him to the nearest inn, bind up his wounds, and pay for his care. What about you neighbor? Would you?

Penny's Pet Peeve

Penny has a pet peeve. In fact, she is completely ticked off about it. Her highly emotional character has been consumed with anger, and she is about to release it on anyone and anything that enters her path.

You know, we all have them, these pet peeves. It might simply be how someone squeezes the toothpaste tube in the middle, or how someone leaves the toilet seat in the upright position. It may be how your significant other leaves his or her clothes scattered on the floor instead of depositing them in the hamper.

Imagine yourself puttering up the highway. It doesn’t matter which one. It could be I-5 in California, or I-40 in Tennessee. For that matter, it could be the Autobahn in Germany. Anyway, you’re driving along, minding your own business, maybe even speeding a little—unless you’re on the Autobahn—when all at once a little red sportscar passes, then darts in front of your 1987 Chevy Cavalier, only to slow down. Doesn’t that make you a little peeved? Don’t you want to rip his tires off and wrap them around his spindly little neck?

Well, that’s just how Penny is feeling this fine morning. Donald left her all alone again. She hates to be left alone, and it’s driving her crazy with jealousy and envy. He gets to go out everyday and see the world, while she has to sit at home and look at the same four walls. She’s had it up to her neck with his lack of concern about what interests her. This time he will pay! She will sit right there in front of the door, and when he comes in…look out!

When he left this morning, he grabbed Penny by the cheeks, told her he loved her, and said they’d go for a walk and do some talking when he got home. Talk? Right. He does all the talking and she does all the listening. She has to just walk along like an obedient little girl, going where he wants to go, and doing what he wants to do.

Then he walked over and turned on the TV so she could watch it. That’s all she needed, soap operas and Jerry Springer all day long. He must feel compelled to control every aspect of her life. He tells her what to eat. He tells her where to sit. He doesn’t allow her any visitors. She’s had enough! It’s over today!

Sure, she’d tried to express how she was feeling before, but he just wouldn’t listen. Last week, when he’d left her alone, she’d gone into the bedroom and thrown all of his clean laundry all over the room and ripped the bedclothes off of the bed. She thought maybe that would get his attention off of his own little world long enough for him to realize that she has needs too. It didn’t work. When he came home, he was furious. He slapped her around and kicked her until she was a whimpering mess lying in the corner.

This time would be different. She’d had enough of this purgatory he called home. She would make him pay, then leave to find her own life, apart from Donald. So, she waited, watching the door, listening for the sound of his engine and his footsteps on the walk. It would be good; he’d be expecting her to run over and greet him with a kiss like always. He’d want her to shower him with attention, then slink away so he could watch the evening news. Well, not this time. This time she would surprise him.

Minutes turned into hours, and she was still sitting there watching and waiting when Donald pulled into the driveway. Penny’s pet peeve had turned into anger, then to fury, and her eyes were burning embers as he shut off the engine and stepped to the walk. The muscles in her neck tensed as he approached the door.

This was it! Life would be different from this day forward. No more long days all alone in this hot little house. No more taking orders from this pig of a man who cared so little for her feelings. Her opportunity had arisen and she was determined to take advantage of it.

She heard the key in the double-sided deadbolt lock, and she prepared herself for action. Every sense was heightened. She could feel every muscle, every nerve ending. The hair was standing on the back of her neck. Another second or two and he would pay!

The latch gave and the knob turned. She was crouched just behind wall separating the entry from the living room. Donald stepped inside, announced his return, and glanced around. “Penny, where are you?”

Penny emerged from behind the wall and leapt at him. She caught him off guard and wrapped her mouth around his throat, sinking her fangs deeply into his flesh. With one massive thrust, she pulled the life from her master and bounded out the door. Penny was free, as all dogs should be.

End

By Michael DeCamp (July 6, 2001)

An Attitude Gone to the Dogs

Yesterday, my attitude went to the dogs. I should have known it was going to happen. After all, I’d been feeling a little too cheery; happily bantering with sales clerks, customers, and co-workers and feeling quite unburdened. It all had to come to an end, and I guess the day after a good sermon on anger is as good a day as any.

You see, I have two dogs: Xena, an 85 pound bundle of love, and Leo, the 25 pound package of unbridled energy. Xena, is reasonably quiet and docile. Leo is the snappy, yappy little king of our backyard, and he likes to bark at everything and everyone that passes within earshot. I didn’t know how yappy he was until we’d had him too long to let go of him.

Well, yesterday, about an hour before I was scheduled to go participate in an elder’s meeting at our church, the lady who lives next door had had enough, so she decided that it was time that I knew exactly how she felt. Now, I had known that she and her husband were less than pleased with our little furry character. They had told me before that he was bothering them with his constant barking, and we had taken some steps to alleviate some of the nuisance. We have confined the dogs to the backyard. We bring them in at night so that they aren’t out there barking at all hours. I bought a little anti-bark device and placed it at the corner of our deck closest to their house. I even go out on a regular basis to scold the dog and quiet him down when he goes barkingly belligerent.

Leo has actually gotten better this year. He doesn’t bark at their dryer vent anymore. He doesn’t go crazy when they go into their backyard to grill some chicken or burgers or whatever it is that they grill over there. He is in fact a quieter dog. However, he is still not a completely reformed yapper.

I should also add that I’ve grown a little lazy in dealing with the grumpy little guy sometimes. I’ve slowed down my onslaught of reproofs when he starts to unload his fury at a passing cyclist, and I haven’t always been silencing his protests about the guys that walk their quiet little pooches down the street. I let the battery go unchanged in the anti-bark device. My bad.

So, we are back to yesterday. My oldest daughter was running on our treadmill in our sunroom at the back of the house, while I was fiddling around with some email stuff for work or checking Facebook or something. She was in clear sight of Leo, and he wanted her attention….and he wanted it BAD! He was running in circles, barking and yapping at my daughter through the window. I heard her tell him to be quiet, which is kind of unusual, so I got up to check on the situation. When I went to the door to tell him to “hush it!” there was my neighbor standing at her kitchen window staring at Leo…and at me scolding him.

I succeeded in shutting him up, so I went back to my computer. A few minutes later, someone came to the door. Yep. You guessed it. It was the lady next door who had decided it was time that I knew just how much Leo was getting under her skin. I should add here, that she didn’t scream at me, and she didn’t cuss at me. I think she was actually trying really hard to be as nice about it as she could. The problem is that it was a completely one-sided conversation. She couldn’t hear what I was trying to say. She couldn’t have a logical discussion of possible solutions. Pretty soon, neither could I.

I was now angry. How could she not recognize the steps I’d already taken? Could she not tell that he had improved? Why could she not trust that I meant it when I told them to call me if the dogs were bothering them and I’d bring them in? Why did I see disdain in her eyes when I told her that I really did want to be sensitive to the problem? She went away unsatisfied and upset; leaving me disturbed and angry.

Now, comes the part of how I dealt with that anger. There’s what I “thought about doing,” and then there’s what I am actually doing.

Ideas I thought of:
1. Throwing rotten tomatoes over her house so that they splattered on her driveway and her husband’s truck
2. Placing a whiteboard on the railing of our deck so that it faces her kitchen window in order to leave her some choice messages
3. Spray-painting their privacy fence

I probably thought of some others, but they are lost in the blur of my emotions. My family thought of some others too, but I’ll leave that alone. One woman angry at me is enough for one week.

The problem is…I really understand my neighbor’s problem. You see, I have this empathy streak…and, the truth is that Leo’s yappy bark gets under my skin too. It is kind of shrill and high-pitched when he really gets going, so I can understand how it could really bug someone who might be a little extra sensitive to it. The thing is that I love the little canine mosquito. So, rather than throwing tomatoes and putting up signs, we are going to work harder to deal with Leo. He’s coming in earlier in the evening. We’re looking at an anti-bark collar. I’ve recruited the rest of my household to assist me in squelching the yappiness.

We’ll keep looking for additional solutions. I do want to be a good neighbor. “Do unto others” can be hard to do, but I’m going to give it my best shot. After all, it is the dog days of summer, and I don’t want to stay in the doghouse with my neighbor any longer than I have to.

Apologies and Concrete Turtles

Let me start this installment with an update on my friend in the CCU at St. Francis. If you’ve just happened upon my writings for the first time and you don’t know what I’m talking about, then you might want to read my previous two posts. As for my friend, at my last writing, things looked very much like he was going to pass on. I think I said something like “short of a miracle” or something like that. Well, two days after our prayer gathering in the hospital, he was breathing on his own, responding to people, and they have him sitting up in a chair occasionally. I guess God isn’t quite ready for him to go home.

Today, though, I’m going to change the subject just a bit. Yesterday (Saturday), I attended my family reunion in Muncie. Family reunions are interesting events and fodder for all kinds of funny jokes. I think Jeff Foxworthy has one that goes something like: “If you go to your family reunion to pick up girls, you might be a redneck.” Well, my family isn’t quite that “down home,” but it is true that not everyone knows everyone else. A stranger could easily come in and get a free meal and no one would be much the wiser.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve begun to enjoy these events a great deal more. Learning about my ancestors and my extended family is starting to become a minor hobby, and this was a good chance to extend my knowledge. Only recently I’ve learned that my great, great grandfather, William (Billy) Terrell was a minister. He lived near Windsor, Indiana, but apparently he traveled around the countryside preaching in various churches. This would have been in the mid to late 1800’s. The Terrell’s are my mother’s side of the family, and the cool thing about learning this bit of history is that my dad’s grandfather was also a minister.

On to my two main points from the title of this little blog entry:

First, I ran into a cousin that I had not seen in about thirty years. We aren’t closely related cousins. I think he is the grandson of my grandfather’s brother. Scratch your head and think that one through. Anyway, we were around each other as teenagers, went to the same church, and were active in the same youth group. The thing is, I’ve always regretted some ways that I treated him. I was a bit insecure as a young person, and was often the butt of other people’s jokes, but with him, I could turn the tables and pour a little his way. At the time, I sort of thought it was funny, but I also knew on the inside that I was out of line.

He walked up to me and said, “Mike DeCamp!” and stuck out his hand. I didn’t know who he was, but when he told me I was both happy to see him AND again struck with my own guilty conscience. We visited for a bit, and later we were in the food line together. I decided to take the opportunity to apologize. “I think I owe you an apology,” I said. “What for?” was his reply. “I don’t think I was very nice to you sometimes back when we were kids.” He gave me a blank look. “You don’t remember that?” I asked. “Nope” he said. “Well, good. I’m glad.” Later, I got to visit with his mom, and I got to meet his wife. We had a nice visit, and I have a small load off my chest. Apologies are good for the soul.

Secondly, just outside the shelter we were using is a very old, concrete turtle. It sits in the middle of a grassy section now, but back when I was a kid, it was part of a sandbox play area. This little hold-over from another era has a fond spot in my memories. You see, when I was very small, say three or four years old, my dad used to walk me down Hackley Street to Heekin Park to play. Sometimes, he would even carry me on his shoulders. One of those trips ended at the turtle. At the time, it was an unpleasant thing, but now, as I recall it and think of my dad, it is a fond memory and a sort of connection to my father.

I’m posting the picture so you can see it, but imagine me as a four year old sitting in the sand underneath this turtle playing with some other kids. Well, one of those kids was a little girl who didn’t want to share a shovel or bucket or some other toy, and I got mad; so mad that I grabbed a bunch of sand and threw it in her face. Of course, like all little girls, she had to cry and run off to her mommy. My dad dragged my little behind out from under that turtle, gave it a really nice new shade of red with his belt, and off we went back home. It’s funny how I can be so fond of that turtle when it was such a traumatic event at the time.

I shared the story with my nearly eighteen-year-old daughter, showed her the turtle, and we shared a good laugh about how impossible it would be for me to get under that thing these days. Later, I took a long walk with my great, great niece, and we ended up at the turtle. (She is my brother’s, daughter’s granddaughter…another one to wrap your mind around.) A new generation gets to pass by a place that holds many memories for I’m sure an uncountable number of other people. I’m glad I got to share a visit to it with her.

I don’t know that I have a moral to this posting. I just thought I’d share these things with you. If there is a moral, I guess it would be to apologize when you need to, and hang on to your memories. And, don’t skip your family reunions!

Time is Filled with Swift Transition

In my most recent post prior to this one, I wrote about eating lunch with a couple of customers and receiving a very distressing phone call about a good friend of mine who had suffered a life-threatening pulmonary embolism. As I published the post, he was still in the CCU at St. Francis Hospital, and we did not have a good idea of whether he would recover or not. Well, today…one week later…I was again having lunch with a couple of customers, and again I received a distressing call regarding my friend. He is still in the CCU, and the tests are showing that his brain activity is well below the level that is normal. Let us just say that hope is waning for his recovery short of God working a miracle. As I write this, I am expecting more information tomorrow.

During the lunchtime phone call, I was honored as his friend to be invited by his wife to join the family in a meeting this afternoon to discuss his condition, and as I drove back to Indianapolis from the Louisville area, the following song began to resonate in my mind:

Hold to God's Unchanging Hand
(written by Jennie Wilson)

Time is filled with swift transition,
naught of earth unmoved can stand,
build your hopes on things eternal,
hold to God’s unchanging hand.

Chorus:
Hold to God’s unchanging hand,
hold to God’s unchanging hand;
build your hopes on things eternal,
hold to God’s unchanging hand.

Trust in Him who will not leave you,
whatsoever years may bring,
if by earthly friends forsaken
still more closely to Him cling.

Chorus

Covet not this world’s vain riches,
that so rapidly decay,
seek to gain the heavenly treasures,
they will never pass away.

Chorus

When your journey is completed,
if to God you have been true,
fair and bright the home in glory
your enraptured soul will view.

Chorus

At the time, I had no idea why this song suddenly came to mind. It just “out of the blue” started playing in my head and I began to sing the lyrics to myself…and to God. I found it comforting somehow as I contemplated my friend’s circumstance and the pain that his family was feeling.

However, during the family meeting, the “why” became quite clear to me. This meeting was not the typical gathering of distraught family members breaking down with the pain of the overwhelming loss of a loved one with no hope beyond the life they know. Rather, this was a gathering of friends and family bolstered by the hope of God. The pain of the loss was evident, but so was the knowledge that my friend was in fact a Christian, and as such, he has the sure expectation of passing from this life to the better one with his Lord. One after another, I heard the voices of loved ones placing their pain in the hands of God; placing their trust in His wisdom and will; knowing full well that their son, brother, father, husband, and friend had spent his life walking with his savior; holding on to His hand. There was no hint of doubt; no underlying fear. There was only the confidence that a real walk with God can bring.

If my friend’s journey is in fact completed, then I am confident that through the Grace of God, his soul will soon be viewing his bright home in glory. Selfishly, I’d rather keep him here for a bit longer…well, years longer…, but if God is calling him home, who am I to stand in the way of his reward. After all, this is what his life has always been about.

Time truly is filled with swift transition. It waits for no one. The older I get the more I realize two things: 1. Don’t take your friends for granted, and 2. Hold to God’s hand…because His hand truly is the only unchanging thing we CAN hold to.

Best Friends Forever...Really?

As I write this, a good friend of mine is lying in a hospital bed in the Critical Care Unit at St. Francis Hospital. He is fighting to survive after suffering a pulmonary embolism at age 50. When I heard about his situation, I was sitting with two customers and a coworker at lunch at a nice little restaurant in Warsaw, Kentucky. It was all I could do to contain my emotions for the duration of the lunch. Even contained, my emotion was evident. As soon as I could, I broke free of them and headed home so I could get to the hospital.

Last year, I lost another friend. He had a massive heart attack at age 52. He died alone in his home over a weekend, and it was a day or two before anyone found him.

These two situations have made me think about how we (I) tend to take our (my) friends for granted. When I got word about the hospitalized friend, it had been months since we had spoken and perhaps a couple of years since we had spent any time at all together, and even longer since it was “just us.” When word passed to me about the death of my other friend, it had been almost a year since I had spent any time with him. I still can’t believe he is gone, and I often think about calling him when I’m down close to where he lived.

You know, some people change friends like they change shirts just jumping from one to the next, to the next. That has never been the case with me. If you become my friend, it is very difficult to get me to drop you. If you look down my friends list on Facebook, you’ll find people I’ve become friends with very recently, and you’ll find people like Tena and Cheryl whom I’ve considered my friends since I was just a small boy.

That being said, I am ashamed to say that I have neglected a great many of those friendships. Some of that neglect is natural, I guess. We’ve grown up and gone in many different directions in life. I’ve moved. They’ve moved. I’ve gained responsibility. They’ve gained responsibility. Situations change. It is the nature of life, I suppose.

Some of those disconnected friendships, are really surprising when you suddenly realize that it’s been 15 or 20 years since you last spoke. I mean, when you parted the last time, you had no idea that you wouldn’t connect again for so long….right? At least that has been the case with me. I had no intention of letting that much time go by. A few days become a few weeks, weeks become years, people move, phone numbers change, and the next thing you know, they are just gone like they fell of the face of the earth or something.

I mentioned Facebook earlier. That little creation has done wonders for reconnecting old friends. I mean, I have reestablished friendships that I had thought were long lost. I’ve found people that I previously had absolutely no idea how to find. Some of the most recent are Collin, Jerry, Karen, and James. I love that.

You see, I really cherish friendships. What is life without friends? Some are closer than others just naturally, but regardless, they are all very important. I really like the quote from the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Clarence the Angel leaves his little Mark Twain book for George Bailey, and he writes this quote inside the front cover: “No man is a failure who has friends.” That statement is so very true!

So back to my friend in the hospital, I visited him today. He was lying there with so many tubes running from him that I couldn’t readily count them all. He was sedated. He had a ventilator tube running out of his mouth so a machine could help him breathe. There he was…my friend whom I’ve been taking for granted…fighting for his life. I told him to keep fighting. I told him that when he got better and got out of there, we were going to go to a late movie like we used to. I pray that happens.

To you who are reading this…find an old friend and reconnect this week. The fact is that they will NOT always be there.