I Was Not There

I Was Not Here

Little chubby checks and dark black hair, but in those days I was not there.

Cooing, crying and grunting sounds, yet I heard not one, for I was not around.

First steps along the furniture, then hand to hand, yet not mine you reached out to.

Cute shoes, dresses, and frilly things to wear, but not able to smile at these, for I was not there.

Mama, papa, mommy, daddy, they're just words, but precious ones I missed, wish I heard.

Family pictures, laughter and family time, back then I did not call you mine.

Birthdays, Christmas and Easter too, many special days spent without you.

Scraped knees, crocodile tears for which to care, for even these I was not there

Yet time did come when close we'd be, high in the Ferris wheel you called to me

Hi dad, hi mom with smiles so wide, a name I'd behold with great pride.

Days went by, a year, then two, and finally the day I adopted you.

What's mine is yours and yours is mine, even till the end of time.

Good days enjoyed with camping, sandlot ball, then teen years came, our lives began to fall.

Away from each other, I wish it not so, but life does bring twist, heartache, apart we did go.

A son, a daughter, then your baby girl, life spun so fast as if in a whirl.

Today they're grown, hard to imagine somehow, when I think of life then...and now

Years have flown by, so many they be, once was close, now separated the three

No replay in life as on TV, wish it was so, the difference perhaps we'd see.

What would we change, our lives much better, I can think of a song, maybe a letter.

I would sing it aloud, I would tell of the story, parents and child living solely for His glory.

I long for the day, when dad is the name, you proclaim with a smile and without shame.

No more can we do, than what we have done, our daughter you are till the setting of the sun.

So we'll wait for the day, wait till you say, to be part of your journey...along life's highway

Little chubby checks and dark black hair, only in those days I was not there.

A 40th Birthday Celebration...A Good Day it Was

From the Beginning

 Though our circumstances of 'adoption' are quite different...none-the-less... 

'Love does take you in, takes you in for good. When love takes you in...for good'. I love you, dad.

Dia De Los Ninos...Fun and Free

Dancing and music dominate the venues along the Malecon this day called 'Dia del Nino'...Childrens Day here in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. To my surprise about 99% of the thousands of guest are Mexican families.

Sometimes the best activity is simply to watch. And 'watching' I did as 'break dancer's' included two boys in a dance contest. Then there was the two year boy while standing amongst the giant crowd watching a fabulous band that played for several dance groups. The little tike would glance back at me and point, as if I didn't see the dance directly in front of me. After his third time of being so cute I finally noticed what only he had. It wasn't the band, nor the dancers or even the crowd of 2,000 plus, no his attention was focused on the fireworks off in the distance. 

Finally while strolling down the Malecon I decide to sit adjacent to what Karen has termed the 'Alien Circle', i.e. 'La Rotonda del Mar' (The Roundabout of the Sea). My location provided the perfect spot to simply watch. Mostly my attention was captured by the families taking, or attempting to take a photo while sitting in one of the 'roundabout' chairs that was directly in front of me. There was the family of eight all with brilliant pose and smiles less one boy. His attention was on anything but the camera. When the word was given to smile he would force a glance and his best smile. The photographer must be fast though, because in only a moment his eyes were surrendered to all the activities elsewhere. Then there was the family of four with grandpa taking the picture. The youngest daughter never did get in the picture, because no sooner as they had placed her on the chair, she was off to jump back in the rented push car which brought just the smile they hoped for, only not with the family. Later a husband captures a photo of his wife, all the while their two teenage boys were making faces as if to say, "here we are waiting for our boring parents taking 'another' picture, while all these cute girls are passing our way". 

Perhaps the greatest of sites to be watched...was just that of of families enjoying a fun evening together. Smiles, laughter, holding hands and the occasional wayward child was more than one could expect of a free evening out.

Wheelchair Thief...I Think Not

Some simply have bags, others suitcases or backpacks...many though, in order to travel with their "essentials" load their household items unto the proverbial 'shopping cart'. Most often they appear to be in a chaotic mess. But I can't imagine much difference if I had such living fortunes or should I say "misfortunes".

Though a 'typical' night shift in our Willamette Valley emergency room can surely bring out those living on the edge of life, our recent 100 degree day in early June just seem to multiply the typical. Often I find myself confounded, dismayed and sadden by the lot that many have come to call norm. Such was the case on this unusually hot summer’s night. I'm not sure if because we share the same age...or, even the same name, or because the story of his world travels, if they even be true. Maybe it was the fascination in his occupation as a water geologist, or his walks along the life of homelessness...Whatever the case might be I felt myself drawn to his life's journey and where that journey might lead next. 

Many hours had past, his symptoms deemed unremarkable, discharged from the hospital at 2:30am he once again stepped out into his homeless world. Watching through our multiple cameras we wondered just how far he would take one of our department wheelchairs. I have no doubt that it would have been much further than what we allowed. Perhaps even today he would be found wandering through the Willamette Valley with a wheelchair. As I approached him in order to recover it he called out to me by name with a friendly voice. "Sorry", I said, "You can't take the wheelchair". He understood and gently responded to my request. It wasn't until offering to assist him with his backpack did I realize its weight. I too would have wanted the wheelchair to push the backpack, rather than carry it. It seemed heavier than any that I'd ever hiked with, even in my youth. At that moment I wished I could have offered the wheelchair to him, or at least help find a place to rest the remainder of the night. He said, "Thank you" and began to walk into the darkness. 

Homelessness...I know it's complicated....I know that it will always be part of the fabric of life. Still, it pains me to think of those of whom this is their experience. 

At times there seems to be little that we can offer. Perhaps at minimum, we...I can offer to listen. Richard is not the first nor will he be the last homeless man that the Lord will place in my path. My desire ... to be an instrument of the Lord...if for nothing else - of compassion.

This blog was written while sitting in the shade on a bench at the 'Zena' cemetery in the Spring Valley area of Oregon. What a special view it beholds. As I write I'm reminder that short of the amazing efforts of my mother Elizabeth 'Liz' Anne Jopp, I too could easily have experienced the life of homelessness. 

Whether written by St Francis or not, this prayer corresponds greatly with the above blog…Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where there is doubt, faith; Where there is despair, hope; Where there is darkness, light; Where there is sadness, joy.