The Greatest Week ... With My Brother

Hey Rick! What Ike? Something BIG just went flying. What? I don’t know, but it was BIG!!

Ike with Bandito & Molly

September 2010 was a time of the greatest … in the midst of sad times. As had been our custom for the previous 15 years, over Labor Day weekend we found ourselves attending ‘Family Camp’ in Rockaway Beach, Oregon, at Twin Rocks Camp. Typically, when we return home from trip, be it week or six, we’ll have perhaps a couple messages on the phone. Returning that Monday, we had some nine messages. Strange, it was! The first was from my dad, who lived in Mexico over his last thirteen years, in whom I had not spoken to for more than eight months. Here's that message below...

Ike, unlikely giving Debbie a hard time

The next eight messages were those of urgency. In all honesty, I thought that something went awry with my sister’s surgery, which dad explained was the reason for his travel to California. I would come to find out that is wasn’t Tammy, no, in fact later that Saturday afternoon Dad had a cardiac arrest and died.

The ensuing days provided much emotion as would be expected. One of the primary duties that lay before us, his children, was travel to Lake Chapala (south of Guadalajara, Mexico) in order to attend to dads estate. Initially we had decided that the four of us would make the journey. But shortly after our arrival to Long Beach, California (the most logical place to gather together, due to the proximity of most of the family, as well as dad’s favorite U.S. location of Manhattan Beach) our sisters Traci and Terrie had decided that this should be a boys trip. Their logic, growing up we had never enjoyed a true ‘bonding’ time.

Being the oldest of all of my siblings, biological and step, I had moved out of our mother’s house after my sophomore year of High School to live with our father. I was almost sixteen and Ike had just turned nine. Though I loved my baby brother a bunch, the fact of our nearly seven years age difference meant that most my time as a teenager was spent with my buddies, rather than this little squirt. So, when this opportunity happened, well let’s just say, we made

Ike with Debbie & Charlie Brown

the most of it.

“So, what do you think it was?” “I don’t know, perhaps a cockroach. All I know is that I saw some long antenna-like things peaking over the bed post. I reached my hand back and sent it flying. Where, who knows?”

It had been raining the proverbial ‘cats n dogs’ there in Chapala, such that water was dripping down the wall through the windows. It had taken me a minute or two trying to figure out how to close the windows through the security bars that were on the inside. I had just figured it out, turned off the light and was closing my eyes sometime after 1 AM, when I heard Ike muttering to himself trying to figure out how to do the same. I got up saying, “I got this one” 😊 I showed him what I had discovered and then we both turned off our lights. No sooner had our heads hit the pillow when he let out with his little girl bellow! “Hey Rick!”

Unable to find any death-defying creature, we determined that perhaps it had landed into his clothes duffel bag. We picked it up and carried the bag into the garage. Now remember we’re two gringos, it’s well after 1 AM, in Lake Chapala Mexico. The rain has now been pouring for over two hours, and … we’re in our boxers. We walked into the garage, opened the garage door and began gently pulling out his clothes. Definitely we were being ‘little girls’ (no offense ladies) as we slowly sorted through his bag. We just about had the bag emptied when we heard the door from the garage into the kitchen close. Oh, it not only closed, no, it locked us out of the house. Did I say that we’re two gringos, in Mexico, in our boxers, it’s pouring and we’re still searching for Godzilla? All we could think of was the headlines in the ‘Lake Chapala News’ that would be the last that our families would read about us. “Gringos Imprisoned While Running through Chapala in their Boxers”!

Well, fortunately we did not find ourselves in a Mexican prison. Instead, we found ‘Godzilla’, a 3 inch cucaracha, broke back into the house and fell fast asleep for about four hours before beginning our next day in Chapala, Mexico.

Saying goodbye to the puppies...

After five extremely full and long days of sorting, breaking into dads computers (through a computer geek, not ourselves I’ll have you know), giving or selling most of his household goods, and most importantly finding homes for his two wonderful dogs Molly, a Doberman Pinscher and Bandito, a Pit bull … we finally had an afternoon of rest.

Ike would often say during that week, “I don’t know what I’m doing here. I'm not much help, you’re doing all the work.” First, that was not exactly true. But most important, our sisters were extremely correct … it was ‘the greatest week’ of bonding with my baby brother. He kept us in stitches throughout the week. We walked the dogs until we had to give them up to a beautiful new home. We met several of dads’ friends, not the least were Cynthia, plus Debbie and … wait for it … Charlie Brown. We were treated like royalty. And, we accomplished so much together, that would have been impossible without the other. And our last full day … just happened to be the 16^th of September 2010. To most, nothing special. But for Mexico, it was their 200^th anniversary. A second bicentennial for us to celebrate. How cool is that?

So, I write this blog to my baby brother. ‘Harold Ike’, I love you man!

Note: One of the apps on my smart phone is called ‘Notes’. Within the several ‘notes’ is one that I call ‘Blog Thoughts’. They’re sudden inspirations of blog ideas. At press time there are likely twenty various ideas and/or titles. One within I called, ‘The Greatest Week With My Brother! Lago de Chapala’.

So the idea has been waiting to be written for several months. And is often the case, there was another ‘and then’. Well, and then my baby brother found himself in the hospital a couple days prior to the New Year. Currently he finds himself recovering. Thankfully! But I did not want to wait one more day to tell him just how much that week, in September 2010 meant to me. And thank you sistahs! Pretty smart you are 😊

The 'Will' of God ... Why

Early on August 3^rd (2019) John sent me a text asking if I would share with the ‘Rise Above’ group at Capital Park Wesleyan about my recent experience and travels into the Dominican Republic. The following Monday we chatted for a few minutes on the phone as he clarified that if I wanted, that he’d like me to share in music with the group and then tell them 'why’ I do what I do, giving some examples. So, I thought, “That’s a good question”. I know that I do what I do, but why? I’m not sure that I’ve ever fully explained that, to myself, let alone anyone else.

So, being the type of guy that likes to ‘ponder’ things, I began to ponder. As well, I asked my wife, “Why do I do what I do”? She basically said, “Because you like to serve”, plus you like youth and baseball. This is true. For the past couple of years I’ve seen more and more the Lord directing me toward my Psalm 37:4 desires. That is, “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” And the pinnacle of that desire is: ‘Youth, Baseball and the Gospel’.

As I continued to ponder, the words that resonated most within my thoughts, were … child – will – call…

Born to but a 16 ½ year old girl, I was the first of four children. My biological father would leave months prior to the birth of my baby brother. And though not a Christian upbringing, what I did receive was amazing foundation of strength and character through my mother. And although my father contributed very little time into my life, I consider myself fortunate that I did receive a couple pearls. One of those was in July of 1971 when he took me backpacking for the first time and I was able to witness something, which prior to I had only read about…that was the ‘Milky Way’. And now, nearly fifty years later, the immense beauty of the stars … the beauty of creation, continue to bring joy and emphasis into my life.

If I were to tell my story through song, I believe that the song ‘Beautiful’ by Shawn McDonald ... would tell my story. He writes ...

As I look into the stars Pondering how far away they are How You hold them in Your hands And still You know this man You know my inner most being, oh Even better than I know, than I know myself What a beautiful God What a beautiful God And what am I, that I might be called Your child As I look off into the distance Watching the sun roll on by Beautiful colors all around me, oh Painted all over the sky The same hands that created all of this They created you and I What a beautiful God What a beautiful God And what am I, that I might be called Your child

What am I, what am I That You might know me, my King What am I, what am I, what am I What am I, what am I That You might know me, my King What am I, what am I That You might die, that I might live What am I, what am I, what am I, what am I What am I…What am I…What am I What am I…What am I Beautiful lyrics © Sony/ATV Music

 The song says, “As I looked into the stars”. So, on that day in July 1971 I came face to face with creation. Yet, something was missing. It would not be until almost exactly five years later, on July 25^th, 1976 that I would come face to face with the Creator. The song continues, “What am I that I might be called Your child”. I look into the stars and I see … phenomenal! Yet, God looks at us and He says, “Made in My image”! And Shawn continues, “What am I that You might die, that I might live. What am I, what am I”?

'Why' do I do what I do? It is because of 'what' I am. I am created in the image of God. The same God who created those amazing stars is the very same God who created and then restored you and I. Yet, again I ask, "Why do I do what I do"? As well, it is because of you! The plural 'you', whom also are created in His image. 

Paul gives us a great example in Romans 15 of the plural 'you'. In this 'fallen' world there are the strong and there are those without strength, i.e. the weak. We who are strong have an obligation, a debt, it is our due to be strength for those without strength, the weak.

So I know my why. Because I am an amazing creation ... and because 'you' are as well. 

I hope that when you look up into the stars … that you likewise can see phenomenal. Yet, knowing that the Creator, the Savior, He sees so much more in each and every one of us. Don’t you forget that! Don’t ever forget that YOU ... are created in His image!

I am his child...created in His image...this is the 'Why'

In the post that follow I will continue to ponder the will ... and the call

The 'Most' Dangerous

Skateboards in 1978 Christmas Catalog

Our skateboards in the sixties were anything, but ‘extreme’. Compared to major pikes and skateboard parks of today we were like grannies on four wheels. >>> four tiny wheels <<< There was little mention of, “boy that's dangerous!”

So, let me ask you, “What is the MOST dangerous thing that you've ever done yourself, or have ever seen from someone that you know?

I've been told by friends or acquaintances more times than I can remember, that they would never go or never do…blank. As I write, I find myself, with 180 other passengers, once again some thirty-five thousand feet above our lovely planet. And yes, I know a few of whom you would never see in such “predicament”. Yet, even each one of them daily place themselves into “potential” danger as they drive from their homes to…wherever. And you know what, they never think, “Oh no, I think that I might die this time”. >>> “Or look over to their passengers and remark, “Buckle up, because I’m afraid that the next twenty minutes ... they might just be our last”.

Even birth today can be more dangerous than most situations that I’ve placed myself into over the past twenty plus years. Grateful that my sixteen year old mother wasn't placed in >>> or bombarded <<< with the decision of abortion. Though I firmly believe that had it been legal, that she would have chosen life for this now sixty-one year old man. Still, the womb has become potentially the MOST dangerous place on earth.

Divi, Crew and Myself in the DR

That said, how many of you would have stayed home verses traveling to the Dominican Republic after the recent news from our U.S. media? Yet, what did I find … four days in the colonial section of the ancient city of Santo Domingo, as nothing but a peaceful and friendly experience. Then the three-hour bus ride to and from the Jarabacoa area, could easily be compared to the best of our own Greyhound services. And add to these my ten-day adventure at the Pico Escondido Young Life camp, and I ask, “New York Post, where are you now?”

West Darfur - Learning our Languages

But Rick, I think that the most dangerous trip that you've traveled has to be to West Darfur in the Sudan where you were in the midst of insane genocide. No wait, it would have to be the trip to Sri Lanka where the Tamil Tigers were wreaking havoc upon the small island. No, I know, yeah I know, it was thinking that it was a smart idea to drive a few thousand miles through Mexico. Seriously, the 'most dangerous', it has to be placing your butt onto a motorcycle. Yeah, that's the most dangerous! “Did you hear about…” Or another says, “My uncle died fifteen years when a car didn't see him and crossed in front of his path”.

Now let me be the first to say that I’m not trying to glorify my journey or to think that for a moment that what I’ve been so fortunate to experience is placed in a category anywhere close to that which our combat veterans face. Or that those who have died in the DR or other countries are not significant. No, perhaps I write this to make us aware >>> to reiterate the obvious, which is <<< that we must recognize that life is full of risk, and with plenty of danger which presents itself in myriads of ways each and every day. The only escape is, well, ironically death itself. The very reason for which we run from danger, is to escape that which is inescapable.

I hope to never lose not just the spirit of adventure, but an awareness that The Spirit, His Spirit is, can be our Guide. Even Paul was hindered from heading east into Bithynia. I trust that with appropriate discernment, that the journey ahead will continue to be viewed through the lens of adventure, the lens of service to our Father, and not that which echoes those voices that cry out … 

Rick, I would never do that!

Of the 162 blogs that I have posted over the past decade, this song might reflect the intended message better than any prior. It is a song by Dan Bremnes. Check him out at https://www.danbremnes.com/ Thanks Dan for gifting us with this song! In appreciation, your bro in Christ 

A 'Short' Courtship ... A 'Long' Journey - My Life with 'K'

What began of all places on a basketball court, 

Has now been a life of four decades … much to sort. 

A ready-made family with two kids in tow, 

From Alaska to Oregon we did go.

Bible college and degree, 

Growing in Christ, the Father, you and me.

Our family grew with a kid on Tuesday

… no, not the goat, but what can I say?

A career in the house of fire,

Camping, boating, kids’ activity ... gave much to inspire.

A home…now thirty-two years to this day,

Remodeled not once, but twice, a life well lived as often we did play.

We transitioned to a home of empty nest,

Wow...Our 15th Anniversary

Travel to Mexico, Italy, Spain, brought adventure, new friends ... much rest.

Decade four ... a peculiar journey of life shifting

To Rushmore, BC, across these United States upon our Goldwing.

Friends smile at these two old folk;

Insane and daring as they venture Newport to Roanoke.

Four-Wheelin in Cabo

Now forty years on this the 29^th of September,

In ten more years I do hope that we remember;

 The place, the moment on Bodenburg Butte,
Where I proposed to love, to care for one so cute.

Coast to Coast on the 'Wing'

Challenge in life is often more than routine,

Yet through them all, strength is there in the time between.

We move now into the decade … our fifth,

Who knows the journey, but it is you Karen…I go with.

Where it began ... on 'Bodenburg Butte'

At the Colosseum in Rome

Shackled We Are :)

A 30th Anniversary

To my Miss Karen ... Happy Anniversary my Love 💕

The 'Pat Terry Group' and their song 'With This Ring' was what we had played on our wedding day. It's message is still beautiful today. :)

What's The Duff?

The 'infamous' divot ...

The simple ‘responsibilities’ of life, when not accomplished, oh baby…do they bother you as they do me?

Watching as golfers play past our condo here on the fourth hole at Eagle Crest. A gentleman in his 70's has ‘chip' shot to the hole. While ‘duffing’ his shot, he leaves a ‘divot' behind. He walks forward to retrieve his ball and then returns to the divot. “He's going to replace it”. Or so I think. Oh no, he drops his ball down in order to attempt a better shot. Now, now are you going to replace it? Sadly, no!

The 'guilty' party :(

Though with literally only ‘nine' holes in my golf career and little knowledge of the game, none-the-less, I know that a ‘divot' should be returned to its place with a slight stomp in order to secure its rightful position, properly maintaining the course for those who will soon be playing on the same hole.

Ironically, in the past month I’ve witnessed something that unfortunately we don't see often in current times. That is, I've watched as ten-year-old boys act responsibly. While riding their bikes, helmets on, they stop at the intersection. They proceed to look in all directions, I wave them by, and they return a wave and a thank you. I don’t know if you're old enough to recall, but this is how we operated in the sixties.

A view to enjoy...for sure!

If not obvious … my moral to the story … let us act responsibly! Whether OLD or young alike. And as Christians … perhaps as the Christ, we can proceed humbly with grace and gentleness.

For those who are actually golfers … I found this on pga.com. Just saying!

·       Replace your divots.

·       Turf tends to explode on impact, making it difficult, if not impossible, to replace the divot. In this case, you have two options:

o   You can use the toe of your shoe to kick in the turf around the edges of the divot.

o   Many courses often put containers of a soil/seed mixture on their carts and tees. If this is the case, simply fill in the divot with the mixture.

www.pga.com

“It's in responsibility that most people find the meaning that sustains them through life. It's not in happiness. It's not in impulsive pleasure.” Dr. Jordan Peterson

Plus...one of scriptures most revealing stories of 'responsibility' is found in II Thessalonians 3:6-12. Let's learn to NOT be idle.

Oh...and p.s. ~ I just saw another 70 something golfer do the 'right' thing with his divot. And I say, 'Yes'!!

"I Tell You Rick"!

Bringing a patient to the clinic at Um Tagouk...

“Rick, I’d like you to consider going to Liberia or Uganda”. Africa, I thought. Let me pray about that. I remember the challenge from Ron Hays as if it was yesterday. To be honest, Africa had never been a place that I’d given much thought to. Not that I had anything against Africa, rather, several places had always been on my radar, and Africa was not one of them. As far as praying about this trip, honestly, I don’t recall putting much energy into it. Another week would pass in October of 2004 and Ron called again, this time he said, “I’d like you to consider the Sudan as well”. I’m not sure what changed in my perspective, but for some reason the Sudan, and West Darfur in particular, just seemed to resonate within me.

Karen and I began to support, then, Northwest Medical Teams (today Medical Teams International) in 1985 after the earthquake in Mexico City. Then in 2001, I had the privilege to meet Ron and become a contributor toward the work of NWM Teams EMS program, teaching First Responder and EMT courses around the world. During the five years between 2002 and 2007 I was privileged to be part of three such teams. Though each one brought significant satisfaction and educated countless men and women in developing countries, still, that experience to West Darfur, has always had the greatest impact into my life.

When I hung up the phone that afternoon, I looked over to Karen and mentioned Ron’s other challenge. This time, we both began to pray. Should I go, and if I go, I would love to have a mentor, or connection with someone that would be significant. Why the second prayer, I’m not sure. Yet these were my, they were our prayers. Within two days I called Ron back and said that I would be honored to go to the Sudan and began preparations. Who would be the answer to the second prayer? Or, would the second prayer even be answered? Perhaps I would never know.

The day after Thanksgiving I would begin the journey which required three days before actually arriving into the capital city of El Geneina (Al Junaynah) in West Darfur. My teammate for the trip was a pediatric nurse from the Seattle area. Carol and I would meet in Chicago and then continue through both London and Ammon, Jordan prior to arriving in Khartoum, the Capital of Sudan. A two-day stay was required in order to obtain our credentials which gave permission to travel about the country.

Prayer with James & Asabi in El Genenia

Our compound, in the capital city of more than 200,000 people, was a collaboration of teams providing efforts toward better water, agriculture, well-child care and our medical component. I was shown to my home for the next month and introduced to my roommates, Kenyon, James Sakuka and Dr. Asabi Pierre Misambo from the Congo.

The four teams of the DRC (Darfur Relief Collaboration) were assigned to work in three different communities, though our medical team only worked in the two of Sanidadi and Um Tagouk out of respect of the Red Crescent who was providing medical coverage for the community of Aserni.

Upon our arrival and ready to work, our DRC teams were immediately placed on “stand down” due to some heightened security risk in the direction of our travel. Those two to three days were anything but useless. First, we were able to do some inventory and organization of our medical supplies. Second I was able to give some instruction to Dr. Asabi in regards to two Microsoft Office programs of ‘Word’ and ‘Excel’. What had become almost second nature to me, was all but foreign to Asabi. I was frequently brought to smiles watching the excitement that he was experiencing over these new tools. Later, when Asabi made his way to the States, he would often introduce me as, “This is my brother Rick. He taught me computer”! And I chuckle to myself, “Here I am teaching a surgeon. Seriously?!”

Last, but far from least was the building of relationships. As is often the case, meeting people along the way and upon your arrival most often overshadow the actual object of the mission/operation. Learning the struggle and journey, of which had been so etched into Asabi’s recent years … It was like listening to the life of Corrie ten Boom herself. In the mist of the story, his excitement of how God provided through circumstance after circumstance, brought little sadness, rather it brought great glory to our God. In the process of telling his story, Asabi would often pause … look at me … and say, “I tell you Rick!” He would continue to weave his story from one adventure to another and again he would pause, look up to me and say, “I tell you Rick!”

After dinner in 2011, Santa Ana

Finally arriving in the field, we were able to attend to hundreds of needs both in Sanidadi and Um Tagouk, where we would set up our remote compound. The nights would be full of West Darfurian food, of course rest, but again of most interest were the continued conversations. During one of these nights, Asabi, telling of the wonder of our Creator/Redeemer, he looked up to me once again and said, “I tell you Rick!” Then in quizzical fashion, he looked in the opposite direction and again back towards me and said, “Rick, I tell you a lot … don’t I?” Smiling I responded, “Yes, my brother, yes you do!”

As I’m completing this blog, one in which I’ve thought of writing multiple times over the years, emotion and tears well up in me. Today, August 22, 2019 … nearly fifteen years from our first encounter, my dear brother in Christ … Dr. Asabi Pierre Misambo … has become a naturalized citizen of the United States of America.

Our first meeting with Lydia & family, July 2018

So, I repeat, “Who would be the answer to the second prayer? Or, would the second prayer even be answered?” Oh, it has most definitely been answered. Answered in such a way, that only You Father could have designed. You, who provided the ability of a young David to pursue over the giant. In the same way You have allowed Asabi and family to have your provision all these years in the mist of their giants. You, our Father, who protected Daniel in the mist of the lions’ den. You have protected my brother until this day. You, who inspired the Apostle Paul to write to the Romans, “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing the suffering produces perseverance, and perseverance character, and character produces hope. And hope DOES NOT disappoint, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” Romans 5:3-5 ESV

And another fifteen years from now, "I tell you Asabi" if the Lord wills, and we are found living upon this earth … that same hope ... that very same hope shall be ours through Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen! ... Amen!

The second song, Agnus Dei by MWS needs to be added to this blog. Asabi, James and I sung it one morning just prior to 5am prayers begun. During breakfast that morning one of the staff  commented how much they enjoyed hearing worship to our Creator/Redeemer ... the Lamb of God. Yes, 'Worthy Is The Lamb'!

Diafonophobia

Ok, agoraphobia…this makes sense to me. I actually witnessed it in a family member years ago, when she experienced a great sense of helplessness regarding life itself and would no longer travel because of it. As well, one day a buddy was underneath my house for a plumbing project for less than five minutes and only feet from the entry when claustrophobia caused his immediate retreat.

And I may even place one onto myself. Yet, if asked, I'm pretty sure that it may well be toward the top of most in regards to phobias. It is called ‘ophidiophobia'. Yeah right, you're making up this word. No, actually it is the fear of snakes. Most will even run from the common garden snake. And I must admit, I’ve stepped back quickly a time or two when found in my yard. But, I've also been the hero a couple of times when rescuing my neighborhood children, and even their mom 😁

As well, you can turn to, what else, but to 'phobia list dot com', to see hundreds of phobias which have been analyzed over the years.

Yet, all of these are overshadowed by the newest, most trendy fear of all, that is “Diafonophobia”. And yes, I just coined the word myself. I even did the almighty ‘Google' search. And the results returned an emphatic, “Your search – Diafonophobia – did not match any documents”. So seriously Rick, what the heck are you saying?

Again, using ‘Google' as our search engine we see that the term “homophobic/homophobia” was first used in 1969. And though “transphobia” tends to be a more recent term, it actually surfaced in 1992.

Today, our culture, the media, constantly bombard us as having one or both of these fears. When in fact, the problem lies within themselves and “diafonophobia”. They have a fear of disagreement!  It is a two-part Greek word, διαφωνεί and φόβος. Most, coming from my position … or as the new termed used, “Talking Point”, are not afraid of homosexual or transsexual people. Seriously, am I afraid of these folks? Perhaps you should do some research. You would find that I along with a great majority who have the perspective in which I hold are not afraid of either one of the above two groups. Rather the fear lies on their behalf. They are ‘afraid’ that we “disagree” with them.

Our Founders quickly recognized the need to add to our great constitution. And with it came the ‘Bill of Right’s’. The VERY first one … is that of the freedom of speech. Such wisdom which allows us to say, to think … as we so choose. Yes, as a follower of Christ, I firmly believe that our speech should always be with grace and seasoned with salt. Salt, providing a great means, in order to savor our disagreements.

Note: This blog was in regards to the use/misuse of terms. I realize that harm and violence has occurred within people of homosexual persuasion, and some of this from professing Christians. I 100% "disagree" with those committing such. That said, just because I disagree with those who cause harm, it does not place me into a category of "fear", no more than you are afraid of me. So, might we have honest discussion, even knowing that often we will "disagree".

There's Not A Day...

The crew in 1968

This phrase is used often in our lives, but the accuracy of it could well be questioned. That said, though not meant to indicate every single day, still the idea is that often we remember. And that is the truth in regards to how frequently I’m reminded of my mother.

Mom's HS Grad

I was thirty years old, when my mother, but forty-seven, died of cancer. Now thirty years later, at sixty years of age, the memory of this great lady has yet to fade. Always on the anniversary of her birthday, April Fools Day, and that of her death, these are times when she is forefront in my thoughts. Then scattered throughout the year are a picture, a story, a fragrance or a song … especially The Big Bopper’s ‘Chantilly Lace’, or anything with Elvis, that brings Elizabeth Ann Jopp to mind.

There are many things that I believe that she would have loved to be part of. Seeing what her children have done with their lives. And likewise the lives of her grand and great-grandchildren. To have had continued relationship with Karen and the spouses of her other children. These are but a few of the ways in which she would have continued to connect and make an impact in the lives of others. And...what would have been her new hobbies? How many graduations and weddings would she have attended? How would our relationship have grown over the years? So many questions, forever unanswered.

It’s hard to even imagine that today, the 25^th of May, is actually thirty years from the moment of her last breath. On Memorial Day myself, along with other motorcycle buddies, will venture across the Willamette Valley in honor of our fallen loved ones. Though I’m calling it the ‘Jeffer Memorial Day Ride’, in honor of a fallen motorcyclist friend, mom will most definitely be one that I remember as we pay our respects at a couple cemeteries along the way.

My hope is that for you as well, that there is not a day, that a smile is shinning upon your face as something reminds you of one that you once loved dearly.

Elvis and daughter...what a combo! "Take my hand, let me stand, where no one stands alone". What a beautiful thing it is when we able to stand side by side with those we love...and not be alone. 

What lovely family pictures and films are shown in this video. Similar old 8 and 16mm home movies were enjoyed by many of us in the 60's. And though I imagine that Lisa Marie would have loved a different ending, don't we all have that opportunity to make better on the memories that we leave behind.

And to know that one day we can go to the 'Great Known', known in the sense that there is a place that has been prepared for us, where 'The King' ... Jesus, will take us ... to His Father's house. Oh glorious day! John chapter 14...

I was just about to post this when I came across the video below. What an absolute favorite was Tim Conway, who died earlier this month, and what a tribute to him in this video. "Of all the gifts you gave me, your friendship was the best. And I'll always keep you in my heart". Amen...Amen!

Thank you JB Furr for your contribution

A Timothy Pursuit...Why We Do What We Do?

The page sat blank for what seemed like an hour as I reflected on ‘what experience (s) … event (s) changed my life?’ While I was thinking I began a search to see what others had written online. As well, I tried to think of movies or books that I’ve seen or read.

 Perhaps I have no greater experience than that of living this life because of a woman who dug in her heals and made life work…work for me and my three siblings. What she did, how she gave has and will forever change my path of life and living. 

As I continued pondering and thought of my own career, one of service. In part ... due to what I believe is a gift of God…which is service. But as my mind wandered I remembered the day driving with dad down Soledad Canyon Highway when we became the first upon a most horrible of accidents. There was a pickup truck with a canopy and several children inside who were a couple miles from their destination of Magic Mountain, the amusement park. A semi-truck had not seen them stopped at a traffic light and plowed into them. I was thirteen; they were seven and eight year olds and would be in their early fifties today. I don’t think of that day often, but today as I recalled that event I realized once again just how much that very moment changed my life.

The above thoughts are a result of reading through chapter sixteen of the book of Acts. Talking about the apostle Paul, Luke writes, “And he came also to Derbe and to Lystra. And behold, a certain disciple was there, named Timothy”. The passage continues to tell of Timothy’s upbringing, and how he would join Paul through many futures adventures and missions.

He who never walked, began to walk!

As I read this passage I couldn’t help but wonder if Timothy had been mentioned prior to this moment? Or, had Paul previously been to this area? We only have to go back two chapters, approximately five years of time and we see that Paul had fled a stoning in the town of Iconium and wound up in Lystra. It is here that Paul happens upon a “certain man” who had been lame since birth, never having walked. And I ask, ‘Did Timothy know this man’? As Paul was teaching, the man was listening. And I ask, ‘Was Timothy listening as well’? Paul then gazes upon the man and sees that he has faith to be made well. Paul then says, “STAND up on your feet”! Then Luke says, “He JUMPED up and walked”! Don’t know about you, but just the sight of this…I’d have to say, ‘Hallelujah’! ‘Hallelujah’! And so I ask, “Was Timothy shouting ‘hallelujah’?"

So they story continues with the town folk wanting to worship Paul and Barnabas as god’s. The crowds even bring a sacrifice in their behalf. But Paul and Barnabas refuse this praise saying that, “We are but men, the same nature as you”. And so…yeah, you know my question… "Was Timothy witnessing this as well?"

Paul, left as dead in Lystra

Well the crowds, you know crowds…they turn on Paul. They could have simply rushed Paul and his associates out of town, but no, that would be to kind, to easy. No, the crowds in turn begin to stone Paul; they stone him to the extent that it appears that Paul is dead. And once again, "Was Timothy watching this behold before his very eyes?" To be presumed or appear to be dead…this had to be an awful beating, an awful sight to have seen. And Timothy, he may have been the age that I was when the semi plowed into that pickup. It’s not a sight you soon forget. No, it’s a sight you NEVER forget. The impact (no pun intended) changes you, who you are, where you go from that point forward.

In a similar vane as the tomb, or to the man who was the subject of this story, or as Paul Harvey would site, “Now for the rest of the story”. Acts fourteen twenty continues, “While the disciples stood around him, he arose and entered the city.” Now, wait a second! Paul…appeared…to be…dead! He was dead! Luke doesn’t provide sufficient time to even begin to grieve in the story. Were there minutes, maybe even an hour before Paul arose? Or perhaps, he just arose. But if it was the prior, I could see Luke being so excited of what just transpired that his pen could not delay ... And so, Luke was shouting, ‘Hallelujah’! Hallelujah indeed!

If Timothy was at this scene, had he walked away after the beating? Was he distressed that this man who had given someone from his own town, a man who had never walked, a new lease on life? Did he hear from others what took place after he walked away with his heart deeply grieved? Or perhaps he saw with his own eyes Paul standing up from this death defying experience? Either way, I must ask, “How was Timothy changed from these amazing events”? Timothy would never, no never forget this moment.

So, five years later … “There was a certain disciple”. Timothy…had become…a follower of not Paul, rather the one for whom Paul taught, He in whom the tomb was left empty.

I believe that it is very possible that Timothy was a witness to the events that day in Lystra nearly two thousand years ago, an event that forever changed how he lived. Sure he was raised in a ‘God-fearing’ home, but as we all too often have seen, that is not enough. Timothy experienced something that made him a disciple.

You and I … we may never have this kind of experience, but the same One who left the tomb empty … the same One who empowered Paul the ability to give this man a new ‘walk’ on life (pun intended!), is the One who can change you forever.

From this blog my hope is to continue to pursue that direction that Timothy took. I want to follow his steps and the instruction that Paul would give while writing two letters to one he called ‘son’. How many blogs and how often will the life of Timothy find their way into this blog? Don’t know! I just know that I get excited when I think about what Timothy, a young man, a boy, might have experienced that day and how that experience forever CHANGED the entire course of his life.