The borders of the rising sun spill over the eastern mountains of Uzbekistan, bathing the wondrous city of Tashkent in a golden light. The borders of daily life emerge as a woman sweeps the walk around the fountain park, her quiet work a stark contrast to the chaos of the world around her. Poverty emerges with unyielding persistence—its hand extended, its face pleading for mercy.
The borders of traffic press uncomfortably close, with Damas vans darting through narrow gaps, squeezing past with mere inches to spare. Their speeds are astonishing, their movements reckless.
Abdulvahob all Smiles
The borders of labor are relentless, stretching across six days a week, ten to twelve hours a day. These lives ache for rest, for renewal, for the Lord of the Sabbath to bring them peace.
Our mission in Tashkent was clear: to teach an Emergency Medicine
First Responder course to police, fire, and military personnel. In a
nation bridging past and future, we sought to impart knowledge and
skills to those tasked with saving lives. From classrooms to
practical demonstrations, we watched as our students absorbed every
detail with eagerness and determination. It was a humbling reminder
of how borders of understanding can be bridged with patience,
compassion, and the desire to serve.
There are the borders of hospitality—a warm Russian welcome on a Thursday evening. Toasts of vodka flow freely. “Men drink vodka in Russia, don’t you know?” she says with both determination and laughter. The room is alive with smiles, camaraderie, and warmth. What a difference eleven years can make in a land once cloaked in Soviet oppression. Now, the borders of Uzbekistan slowly open, embracing a new way of life, a cautious but hopeful freedom.
On Friday evening, the borders of Uzbek hospitality take center stage. Pilaf is served, Nurullo extends friendship, and the floor becomes our table, where conversation, laughter, and stories are shared. Photographs capture these cherished moments, snapshots of lives intertwined for a brief but meaningful time.
The borders of their minds are radiant, their intellects sharp. Their hunger for education is palpable, their eagerness to apply new skills inspiring.
The borders of the market burst with vibrancy, offering a kaleidoscope of sights and scents: fruits and nuts, meat, and the unmistakable aroma of bread. Spices are bartered for, eggs exchanged, and melons savored for their splendorous taste.
Children of Uzbekistan
Yet, amidst this cultural richness lie the borders between two distinct worlds—the Russian and Uzbek cultures, each with its language, faith, and personality. Their coexistence tells a story of adaptation and, at times, tension.
There are deeper borders still, those within the hearts of men—prejudice, sin, and darkness. These are the borders I have encountered on this remarkable journey. These invisible walls surround us all, no matter where we are. We live within the bounds of a universe so wonderfully created, and yet we constantly invent new borders—barriers that grow into walls, walls that prevent the love of our fellow man from reaching our hearts.
Might I be so bold as to say I know the answer to these borders? He is the Creator, the one who declared, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” He came to tear down these barriers, to provide a new and perfect way.
May my life be free of borders—open to my family, my friends, and my neighbor, even those halfway across the globe.
This felt like a beautiful anthem to showcase a life without borders ...
First thoughts... what might they be? Not the father I would have
chosen. But... it seems the opportunity to choose your own father is
yet to come.
One time—yes, only one lone time—do I recall
him ever saying, “Son, I’m proud of you.” I do remember hugs
and hearing, “I love you.” Indeed, that is good!
Then there were the baseball games—two hundred
of them. Can you say, “Less than a handful”? I cannot picture,
even in the faintest corners of my mind, a single moment of him
watching me play. I cannot envision his face at any game. But...
surely, he must have been there. Don’t you think?
The above—yes, they are important, but are they
foremost? What is the most important responsibility of a father?
As I ponder this question, my eyes drift skyward
through the bay window. Another sunrise is lost behind the gray skies
of Oregon. Branches sway gently, shedding their final leaves, which
descend softly to the dampened earth. The sight of rain—a comfort
to me as refreshing as the Nevada desert—might be unwelcome to
others. Yet, to many, the anticipation of moisture for the coming
months is neither a welcomed sight nor thought.
This reflection delivers three amazing images of
what a father should be. And some might say, “Only Rick would put
it that way.” But consider this: the astonishing promise,
provision, and anticipation found in a sunrise and rain.
A Great Day!
Born without the choice of who our fathers will
be, I wish that every father would embrace the simple yet profound
promise to provide for their children. A fundamental responsibility
of fatherhood, don’t you think? And while both father and mother
have long since died, I am fairly certain that Richard Ray provided
little for his four children. This truth testifies to the strength of
Elizabeth Anne, who never once complained. How is that possible? How
does a father strike out on this, his most vital responsibility?
Then, there is anticipation. Just as each person
on this incredible planet eagerly awaits another sunrise, or as an
Oregonian anticipates months of gray skies and rainfall, should not a
son or daughter anticipate time with their father? Should they not
look forward to pearls of wisdom born from years of experience,
challenges, and growth? Sadly, we received little of that.
But... this reflection is entitled Three
Fathers.
From Richard Ray, I gleaned lessons primarily
about what not to do as a father. I mean no disrespect,
but...
Papa & Moma Jopp
Then, like a refreshing breeze on a scorching
summer day, in steps Robert Earl. As children, we immediately recognized his
love—not only for our mother but also for us, her children. He made
a promise to her, and that promise extended to us. The
responsibilities our mother once shouldered alone became shared
through marriage.
One rainy fall weekend, a scout trip nearly fell
apart. For Southern California boys, camping in the rain was worse
than being stuck at home writing a book report—remember those? Yet,
in stepped Robert Earl. Unfazed by the rain, he set up camp with the
same joy and energy as if it were a perfect, sunny day. His
infectious smile and cheerful demeanor transformed the dreary weekend
into a vibrant adventure.
Or consider the day I was thirteen, playing on my
Colts Babe Ruth baseball team. A meeting of managers and parents had
determined the fields required maintenance before the season. A
workday was scheduled, but like the scout trip, the weather was
dreary, and many opted to reschedule. Not Robert Earl! As others
debated what to do, he grabbed tools and led the charge. His
determination inspired others to follow, and with far fewer
volunteers than promised, the work got done.
Dad, these simple yet powerful acts have remained
with me for over fifty years. They stand as examples of some of the
most valuable lessons I have ever learned. A father’s promise
provided an example—the example of what it means to be a man. Thank
you!
Now, at sixty-six years old, I continue to
anticipate your promise and provision. You have profoundly influenced
my life and the lives of my siblings and all those you love. Robert
Earl, your steadfast example has shaped me, and I have made it my
mission to pass these same treasured principles to those in my life.
And who is this “Third Father”?
The concept, “I will never leave you, nor
forsake you,” is a promise that echoes throughout Scripture. First
spoken to Moses in Deuteronomy 31:6 as he prepared to pass the torch
of leadership, Moses reassures the Israelites and their new leader,
Joshua, of God’s unwavering presence. This promise is reaffirmed in
Joshua 1:5-9, where the Lord speaks directly to Joshua, calling him
to lead Israel into the Promised Land. Both passages are intertwined
with a powerful command: “Be strong and courageous.”
In the New Testament, Hebrews 13:5-6 expands this
timeless promise, applying it to human relationships and daily
provision. We are reminded that God’s presence is not confined to
moments of leadership or conquest but extends to every aspect of
life. His promise assures us that He is with us in every season,
weaving people into our lives in ways we may not expect.
Whether they are beloved companions, adversaries,
or strangers, each plays a role in His divine plan. Additionally,
God’s provision teaches us to place our trust in Him rather than
material wealth or human solutions. In all things, He is our ultimate
source of security and sufficiency.
Our Heavenly Father’s promise is unchanging: He
will never leave us nor forsake us. He walks with us through every
joy, every challenge, and every relationship. His steadfast presence
gives us the courage to be strong, the assurance to move forward in
faith, and the peace to be content, knowing that He is—and always
will be—enough.
So, there it is... three fathers and their son.
Though Richard Ray was not the father I would have
chosen, I know that our Heavenly Father placed him in my life for a
reason. Many of those reasons taught me what not to do, yet
they also guided me to different conclusions.
And even in the imperfections, I am grateful.
Grateful that reflection and grace allow me to glean positive moments
and meaningful lessons. Every experience, even those shaped by flaws,
has contributed to who I am today.
Our Heavenly Father, in His infinite wisdom, uses
every circumstance to shape us, grow us, and teach us. And for that,
I remain deeply thankful.
I recognize that the significance of the father is deeply woven
throughout Scripture, offering us profound insights into its meaning
and importance. From the faith and legacy of Father Abraham
to the tender compassion of the father who runs toward the
Prodigal Son, the role of the father is a recurring theme of
strength, love, and reconciliation. Scripture also commands us to
"Honor your father and mother" (Exodus 20:12),
highlighting the sacred bond and responsibility inherent in this
role.
These examples—and many more—point to the rich possibilities
within the idea of 'father.' My prayer and hope are that I, and we as
fathers, can continually seek wisdom and grace to fulfill the calling
of fatherhood, striving to become the fathers our children need. Let
us reflect the love, guidance, and faithfulness of our Heavenly
Father, whose example is perfect and unwavering.
It has been framed as a contest between the “worst person ever” and the
“most unintelligent woman,” with each side claiming the other is
a “threat to democracy.” One thing remains clear: this has been
another vile display of how not to behave.
No matter how harshly people treat each other, I am grateful to
serve a King, not a president.
In the first verse of 1 Peter 2, Peter begins by instructing us to
“put aside” five traits, starting with one that takes me back to
childhood. Back then, using “bad words” was strictly
forbidden—just the threat of the proverbial bar of soap kept me in
line. But we could say “caca” for some reason. Interestingly, the
Greek word Peter uses here is κακία (kakia), meaning evil or
malice. Close enough to caca for me! We’re to “put aside” all
forms of caca, so to speak—not malign others or act without shame
in breaking moral laws. It means to avoid pure evil in both action
and intent.
Sadly, this word may be the best descriptor for certain candidates
for office. But I digress! As a follower of Christ, I am personally
called to put aside these very traits.
Peter goes on, listing deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander. Lord,
help me put these aside! Yet, how often do we see adults exhibit the
exact opposite of these virtues? Rarely! Peter instructs us to be
like newborns, longing for pure spiritual milk. This should be the
goal for each of us who follow Christ, our Living Cornerstone.
Scripture often uses an imperative tense, which gives weight to
commands. In this chapter, Peter employs six imperatives, beginning
with ἐπιποθέω, or “to greatly desire.” This longing for
spiritual milk is meant to help us grow in salvation, the very gift
Christ offers through the cross.
The second imperative Peter uses is ὑποτάσσω, meaning “to
line up under” or “to be subject to” all human authority—yes,
even lowercase kings. This can be challenging, especially if the
person in power is not our choice.
Today is the morning of November 6, 2024, the day after the U.S.
election. I’ve chosen not to check the results yet; at this moment,
I don’t know who the nation has chosen. It will be what it will be,
and I hope those in authority fulfill their duty to punish evil and
promote good.
Our task, however, is laid out in verse 17: Honor, Love, Fear,
Honor. The first command to honor applies to all, regardless of our
differences. Interestingly, “honor” has a heightened significance
when it comes to authority. The Fifth Commandment and Paul’s words
in Ephesians 6 both state, “Honor your father and mother,” the
first commandment with a promise. Authority deserves honor; we’re
not commanded to love those in power.
Love, however, is specific to the brotherhood of believers. Again,
honor is for authority, while love is reserved for fellow Christians.
This theme of loving one another permeates the New Testament. As
Jesus says in John 13:34, “A new commandment I give you, that you
love one another.” And in 1 John 4:11: “If God so loved us, we
also ought to love one another.” Paul reiterates in Romans 13:8:
“Owe nothing to anyone except to love one another.” Even Peter,
earlier in this letter, commands, “Fervently love one another from
the heart.”
So, I ask, will Christians—whether Democrat, Republican,
Independent, or otherwise—truly be able to “love one another,”
no matter who our next president may be? More importantly, can I live
up to this call?
Peter continues: “Fear God.” While scripture often instructs
us to honor and love God, here Peter emphasizes our need to revere
Him. This reverence is due to the Almighty, the One who has brought
the message of salvation to us (Acts 13:26).
And now, who has won the election? I’ll soon find out.
Regardless, my reverence belongs to the Creator, our Redeemer, and
I’ll honor the new president—whoever they may be.
A memory … a moment … just a simple thought … of someone you
loved. Does it produce a smile? And, what is the first memory that
comes to mind?
I first met Ella in
the mid 1980’s, when she was already eighty-two years old. Our
friendship would continue for the next twenty plus years. Yes, she
lived to over ninety-six years old! And the beauty, it was not until
those last few weeks that her mind and body finally gave up.
I enjoyed many a
time around her dinning room table, chatting about life in Illinois
and Oregon. About her children and grandchildren. The sadness that
she reflected having lived beyond both of her children. The pleasure
that she had cooking for a medical doctor near Chicago. Or singing
with the ‘Senior Voices’. I never heard her sing, but imagine
that it must have been quite the resounding voice.
~ Ella, as a four-year old in 1910 ~
It is now more than
twenty years since Ella breathed her last on the 16th of
February, 2004. Nonetheless … the memory of reading her favorite
scripture, as she sat grinning ear to ear, is as fresh as it was the
many times that I had the pleasure to recite it to her.
Ella Kraisinger
Smetana Krbec … this is for you!
Psalm
136
Give thanks to the
LORD, for he is good; for his loving kindness endures forever.
Give thanks to the God of gods; for his
loving kindness endures forever.
Give thanks to the Lord of lords; for
his loving kindness endures forever:
To him who alone does great wonders;
for his loving kindness endures forever:
To him who by understanding made the
heavens; for his loving kindness endures forever:
To him who spread out the earth above
the waters; for his loving kindness endures forever:
To him who made the great lights; for
his loving kindness endures forever:
The sun to rule by day; for his loving
kindness endures forever;
The moon and stars to rule by night;
for his loving kindness endures forever:
To him who struck down the Egyptian
firstborn; for his loving kindness endures forever;
And brought out Israel from among them;
for his loving kindness endures forever;
With a strong hand, and with an
outstretched arm; for his loving kindness endures forever:
To him who divided the Sea at the End
apart; for his loving kindness endures forever;
And made Israel to pass through its
midst; for his loving kindness endures forever;
But overthrew Pharaoh and his army in
the Sea at the End; for his loving kindness endures forever:
To him who led his people through the
wilderness; for his loving kindness endures forever:
To him who struck great kings; for his
loving kindness endures forever;
And killed mighty kings; for his loving
kindness endures forever:
Sihon king of the Amorites; for his
loving kindness endures forever;
Og king of Bashan; for his loving
kindness endures forever;
And gave their land as an inheritance;
for his loving kindness endures forever;
Even a heritage to Israel his servant;
for his loving kindness endures forever:
Who remembered us in our low estate;
for his loving kindness endures forever;
And has delivered us from our
adversaries; for his loving kindness endures forever:
Who gives food to every creature; for
his loving kindness endures forever.
Oh give thanks to the God of heaven;
for his loving kindness endures forever. ~
New Heart English Bible ~
“Love your neighbor as yourself” … Wish that it could be said
that we enjoyed each and every one of our neighbors. But the fact is
… like some of our very own family members … that will just never
be the case.
Searching
the recesses of my mind … there’s not even one neighbor that I
can recall from Gulkana Street in Palmer, Alaska. Sad, when you think
about it. Then there were ‘Rogers Lane’ and later ‘Orchard
Street’, here in good ole Silverton. Not many neighbors to be found
on either, but we did make some connections. Nonetheless … South
Third Street ... indeed, quite the different story.
Our
arrival onto South Third came in September of 1987. And though that
is the year and month that we perpetually planted ourselves onto this
street, it had previously become a favorite. Every Spring we would make our annual drive down the street to enjoy its bountiful array of
pink flowering Plum trees. Sadly, today only a few remain. You see,
though they presented quite the amazing beauty while they flowered
for those two weeks in the Spring, it was the definite mess that the
plums left behind, makes one understand the reason for their demise.
Those early years included neighbors such as Lloyd and Ginny. Not only
‘next-door’ neighbors, but often their yard became a familiar
landmark for first-timer visitors to our home. How, you ask? I would
tell a friend, “Turn right on Third from Main street. Drive three
blocks, looking for the ‘park-like’ setting on your left. Back up
one house, that’s ours.” I have never known a neighbor who has
kept such a beautiful place. We were always grateful for the amazing
colors that were but a few steps away.
South Third Street 'Ash' Tree
Those
early years were also enjoyed by Lloyd Mosher. Lloyd’s ‘Mosher
1917’ imprint into the concrete continues marking the antiquity of
his house some one hundred and seven years earlier. It was Lloyd who
settled a slight discrepancy for the age of our home. We had two
documents that were in conflict. One stated the year of construction
as 1942, another as 1910. When I asked Lloyd, he was quick to
respond, “Well, 1910 of course”! “How can you be so sure” I
asked? With a grin as wide as the street he said, “Because I lived
in your house in 1916 while I was building mine”. Ok then, Case
closed!
Next
to Lloyd was ole Elmer & Dora Palmquist. Watching as they slowly
… I mean “slowly”, drove their late model AMC Rambler … aka
“Kenosha Cadillac” down the street was just too darn cute. Or,
they would walk hand in hand … again slowly down South Third Street.
Chatting was always a pleasure! After Elmer died, Dora would
frequently be seen walking, typically with a rolling cart behind, off
to the store or to volunteer at one of several area organizations.
Whenever I was out front and I saw her as she moseyed along the
sidewalk, I would pop out to enjoy a brief chat about her days
activities. Much to my surprise, once when I asked she said, “Well
today, that is every Thursday, I volunteer at Northwest Medical
Teams” (now ‘Medical Teams International). I said, “Seriously?
We’ve supported them for several years, and I’ve traveled with
them four or five times.” We laughed at the coincidence, and
thereafter would include our current activity into our chats.
~ The Bennett's 1920's ~
But
… my all-time Dora favorite was that particular day when I asked,
“So Dora, where are you volunteering today?” With a humble smile
of complete innocence, she was quick to say, “Well, I’m off to
help the ‘old’ people”. Now mind you, she was into her late
80’s by this time. Indeed Dora you are … “Off to help the ‘old’
people” :) Love it!
Our
days on good ole ‘South Third Street’ are approaching
thirty-seven years at the end of the month. We’ve experienced many
changes over these past four decades. Two of the most significant
both have to do with age. On one hand we have watched as the
neighborhood went from families with many children to an older group
with few kids. And now, over the past couple of years … well, let’s
just say, we’re close to fielding two full baseball teams. It is a
thing of beauty to watch as several, I mean several, gather at one of
four homes … disconnected from electronics … they simply play.
Now, as one of those “older” ones, it is a joy. Though there has
been a mom or two, from time to time, that have apologized for the
noise. “Are you kidding me? Children playing” … I have always
said, “No, that is music!”
And
on the other hand … older means, well … We’ve now seen our fair
share of neighbors who have breathed their last. A couple weeks ago …
that neighbor was Kathryn. For over twenty years Kathryn and I
enjoyed many fine conversations. We were never at a loss, reflecting
about our travels, telling about the joy of world and domestic
experiences. Both working for various non-profits. Or, it was very
easy to strike up a conversation about grandchildren. This morning as
I write … Oh, how I would love to walk directly across the street,
just to enjoy one more conversation. So glad that you were greatly
loved by your family, neighbors, and those very special care
providers. Rest in peace my dear friend. Rest in peace!
And
neighbor Terri, she tells me that only a few hours after Kathryn’s
death … a baby was born next door to her. And new breath enters
again onto ‘South Third Street’.
Jesus
said in Matthew 22, “Love the Lord your God, with all your heart,
and with all your soul, and with all your mind. And love your
neighbor as yourself.” Thank you ‘Third Street’ … you have
taught me … taught us … the second most valuable lesson of life.
Today … this day … and tomorrow … might this lesson continue.
Perhaps you’ll never be as chatty as Mr. Rick … it’s a gift.
Ha! But … you too … you can be the one to love your neighbor.
Give it a try … you might be surprise at the gift you’ll receive.
Funny
… or, coincidence … as I’m concluding this, a lady, is walking
down the middle of the street, pushing a stroller with her baby
aboard. And, I ask, “How old”? “Seven months”! She replies.
“Enjoy!” Yep, this is ‘South Third Street’!
Walking through the ‘breezeway’ brought exactly that … a cool
refreshing Maine breeze. Set a mere fifteen minutes from Saco Bay and
the amazing New England coast. This
peaceful farm of one hundred and sixty acres provides the most excellent
venue for the very reason for which our family had arrived. A nephews
wedding to a most lovely bride.
A chair, or a swing under a shade tree could easily allow one to lose
him or herself for hours. Like a family reunion, weddings often connect
those whom you seldom see. Most often, it is
the distance that brings lack of conversation & meetings. Yet
sometimes it is the odd twist of an estranged relationship.
More than thirty years had past. The reason of estrangement … it is
of little significance for this particular blog. During those same
thirty years … many, many visits …
had allowed amazing bonds between mutual loved ones. And though attempts
were often made in those early years, the proverbial door was never
opened. Rather walls … barricades … were in place, with which
communicated
… not now. And, not ever!
The band played wonderful sixties & seventies music. Laughter
& conversations, along with smiles & children playing …
was the most evident atmosphere. A dance
… a hug … a kiss … a picture. Laughing … loving … reminiscing of days
gone by. Special moments for a special couple, and their loved ones.
… Strolling over, I smiled and said, “So, how did we get so old?” “I
don't know.” He said. “They definitely go by fast!” “A very
beautiful venue for a wedding”. I remarked. “Oh yes it is!” He
continued. “Yesterday I took a walk down to the pond and into the
trees.” “We have several venues just like this in Oregon”.
I stated. To which he responded, “I have a sister in Oregon”. Calling
his name, I said, “And I'm her husband”. His bewilderment was more than
striking. I slowly drifted away.
Minutes later I returned as he took a picture of a lovely
granddaughter & her boyfriend. “Let me take one of the three of
you”. I said. “Oh no. That's okay.”
He said. Again, smiling, “Please, allow me. You'll never be able to
capture this setting”. “Yes grandpa!” She said. Handing me his camera,
“This button, correct?” I said. “Yes”,
he said. A couple pictures, and I handed the camera back to him.
Though our first twelve years of marriage had us frequently meeting,
usually in New England. Three decades of barricading himself from our
lives … for absolutely no good reason …
had totally erased any remembrance of my face. Of course, as I began …
We're old :) Yet … our face … our smile … too me … unforgettable!
The morale of the story … when does the water actually go under the
bridge. No one … other than the three of us know the whole story. They
wouldn't care if they knew. And
they would think … “You haven't spoke to each other for more than thirty
years because of this?” It is said, “There are two sides of the story”.
Indeed! But honestly … I have long not
cared about the story. I care about the missed time. No … the lost time.
He has absolutely no idea of who she is. What she's been through. The
lives that she has touched. And perhaps … unfortunately …
it will remain so.
For moi … I'm too old to care about the drama! Let's move on. Let's
cross this bridge. Let's smile … Make memories. The world creates more
than sufficient drama
within itself. I'm done with the drama! Perhaps the song is right …
“Don't worry, be happy”. I can not be responsible for you … how you'll
respond. But … I am damn sure responsible
for how I respond. And I choose to respond by floating under that bridge
… Brightly smiling, as the kayak crashes over & through the waves.
Knowing that turbulence is a regular, if not, a daily part of life. And
living as a favorite author puts it, “Stop living … Only when you die!”
…
Joseph, whose wife had recently died, sat on his bed crying desperately.
The agonizing dream was once again a painful reminder of the lost of
his lifetime partner, and friend. ~ He cry's ... saying,
“Mary, you left too soon … You left too soon”. His son, Henry,
having heard his father’s weeping, walks into his bedroom. Setting
aside their profound differences … Henry’s compassion overpowers
their decades of hostility to each other.
The
father, a Judge … the son, a Chicago city Lawyer … brought
together only due to their absolute love of the same woman. To one,
his wife … the other, his mother.
Swiftly
… in lawyer-like manner, Henry attempts to distract Joseph. “Hey,
who’s the best lawyer you’ve ever seen?” He asks. “Come on!
Mines Robert Graham. I work for him. He just … he doesn’t lose.
Now you … Uh” … It only takes Joseph but a couple moments, and
then he responds, “Mr. Shaw. My first job after Law School.”
Then,
as surprising to the audience … is Henry, as he hears Joseph …
his father, then states Mr. Shaw’s full name. “Henry Shaw”, he
says. To which Henry ... with an 'Oh my' look replies, “Henry?”. For the very first time
in his life, Henry realizes the man for whom he was named. A man, for
whom his father greatly admired!
Henry,
most frequently was the author of his own trauma. And, his father,
Judge, most definitely produced a strong arm of strictness, when it
concerned Henry. Judge would say, that due to Henry’s truancy, his
son required this type of discipline. Joseph remarked, “You were
headed down the wrong path. I did what I thought was right”. ~~
Yet, even with their severe history, Henry, from deep within his
core, was able to manufacture some immediate and required compassion.
And
though, as the story continues … and their hostility likewise …
the viewer is brought to the nonpareil scene. Father and son, on a
beautiful Indiana morning … casting from their small fishing boat.
Likely a lake that they had often fished together.
Henry
reaches down and picks up an old familiar treat, to which Joseph
says, “Give me some of those.” Henry grabs a handful of
‘Bit-O-Honey’ and places them into his father’s hand. “You
little gremlins inhaled these”. Dad coughs a bit, and Henry asks,
“You want some water”. Joseph replies, “No”. And then Joseph
asks, “Remember what you’d say if you thought I had one on me?”
In unison they respond, “Where’s my ‘Bit-O-Honey’ old man?”
They chuckle … “Worked every time”, grins Henry.
Joseph,
with a slight sigh, looks away and contemplates … then says perhaps
two of the most powerful words. They are words of affirmation. Words
… well, I’ve watched this scene more than fifty times … and the
response … always … always chokes me up. Even a couple times with
moments of uncontrollable tears. Why? Why does it still hurt?
My
father died nearly fourteen years ago. Yet, our last meeting … the
very last time that I was ever beside my own father … was more than
twenty years from today … then, January of 2004 ... six and one half years before Richard Ray died. Six and one half years before he died ... was the last time we ever sat beside one another. And today, June of 2024 ... the pain ... Why does that pain still reside so deep within my chest? And though not as severe as
Joseph and Henry … Rick and yes, Rick, had been estranged.
Thankfully … only weeks before his death, while attempting to bring
some reconciliation … like Joseph and Henry, we concluded via email
with some positive correspondence. And then … like a miracle moment
… after more than nine months without a single chat … my father
called on the very morning that he died. I would not receive that
message for another three days … as our family was vacationing on
the Oregon coast. A message, that I am grateful to have received …
to have recorded.
So …
Henry, waiting for his father’s reply … looks into his father’s
face. His ball-cap rest upon his head. Joseph, a fishing hat, upon
his. As Joseph says, “You are!” Henry, chewing on another
fabulous piece of ‘Bit-O-Honey’ says, “I am?” Joseph, “Yeah”.
Henry, “What?” Joseph, likewise chewing on his ‘Bit-O-Honey’
says, “The question you asked me about … the best lawyer and
all.” Henry, still unsure of his father’s point … stares with a
slight quizzical look, as Joseph pauses … slowly looks down. And
repeats, “You are!” … Joseph continues, “You picked a person
you worked with”. Joseph with another slight pause, looks down and
then into Henry’s eyes, and says, “I choose you!”
Henry
… with immediate moisture in his eyes, obviously fighting back the
tears, glances down into the boat. The seconds seem like minutes.
Henry, still with his eyes lowered. Joseph … dad, still chewing
with both a slight smile and nod. Pause … more chit chat … Then
Henry reaches for the fishing rod and … before making one last
cast, says, “Five bucks I catch a sun fish before you”. Without a
response … Joseph … Judge … Dad … slowly bows his head. A
half a minute goes by … a ‘Bit-O-Honey’ wrapper falls to the
bottom of the fishing boat. Henry … seeing dad slightly slumped
over, quietly says, “Dad … … Dad”. And I say, “Wow!”
How
I long for … how so many children … they long to hear those words
… “You are!” Please … I urge you. Please … don’t let
another day go by. Before you tell your children … that they are.
You may never get another chance. Oh … how I would love to have …
just one more chance … one time … to hear my dad say … “Rick,
you are!”
Judge, a 2014 movie starring Robert Downey Jr as Henry, and Robert Duvall, as Joseph/Judge. Some definite language that is not appropriate for children. The story ... very powerful!
a favorite ... Mark Schultz ... Lord 'Before You Call Me Home' ...
And ... that last call ... the morning that he died ...
Some call it, ‘The Ditch’. With a gorgeous creek that runs
through its core. Cabins, fields, a lake, horses, and children
fill this place ~ simply called Canyon … View. And indeed it is!
It
was late Spring or early Summer of 1981. Whether it was a potluck, a
church event, or perhaps a barbecue … I do not remember. What I recall
is that Karen and I had began considering life after the Air Force.
Would we remain in the beautiful state of Alaska, and if not, where
would we go, and why? Though my discharge was still a year away, we
needed to begin planning for our fast approaching future. Would we
continue along the military track, or make a change. And, if we
changed … what would that look like.
~ Dr. Campbell ~
High
on our list of considerations was attending a Bible College. Though
Karen had never lived in the PNW … ‘Pacific Northwest’, she was
very open to the idea of relocating there. In 1977 I had began my career as a firefighter
with the Fremont National Forest, in Bly, Oregon. Frequently my days
off were spent venturing particularly around the southern part of the
state. With these travels, Oregon had indeed captured my heart, and I believed that it would do the likewise for Karen. So our search began throughout Oregon, Washington and even into British Columbia.
In
steps Mark Sterns. Both Mark and our family had come to know each
other as we transitioned from one church in Palmer, Alaska to another. Mark
had begun receiving a monthly periodical called, ‘The Bible
Expositor’. The 'Expositor' was essentially a monthly mini commentary from Bible Teaching
Inc, or Canyonview Bible College, in Silverton, Oregon. Most of the
articles were written by the President and Founder of the College,
Ernie Campbell. Though both Karen and I had only become followers of
Christ within the previous five years, the articles found in the
‘Expositor’ brought a definite enthusiasm and interest to dive
further into the scriptures. To such extent that we began receiving
the Expositor ourselves, and even ordered Dr. Campbell’s first
commentary, on the book of Galatians. And since … We might become
residents of Silverton, we began a subscription to their local
newspaper … called, ‘The Silverton Appeal’.
Well
… as they say, “The rest is history”. And a grand history that
it was, and continues to be. Forty years ago today … Oh my
goodness! Of all the significant milestones … crossroads … our
two years at Canyonview Bible Seminary from 1982 through May 31,
1984, indeed stand within the top ten. The highlight was the special
opportunity to become efficient in reading, translating and parsing
the Greek New Testament. As mentioned in Proverbs 16:9, I count it a
great honor and privilege that in the midst of our plans, God
directed our steps to Canyonview in the early 1980’s.
Our
days in ‘The Ditch’, will forever be fondly remembered as a key crossroads in our lives. Thanks to all who participated during those seminary days. And indeed for those who continue be active here in 2024. ... We pray God's rich blessing upon your lives. To Jeff, Barb, Jim, Cheryl, John, Denise, Mike, Sarah, Chuck, Debbie, Toby, Will, Doug, Phil, Renae, Sue, two Beth's, 'Flashlight' Gary, Steve, Mark, Nancy ... and ... I'm sure that I must be forgetting some. Thank you Lord for directing that season of our lives, when we converged onto that endearing 'Ditch'.
'Drift Creek' ~ through Canyonview
And, as Paul Harvey would say, "And now, the rest of the story"! ... When Mark left for Oregon early Fall of 1981, we asked, that after a few months, to send us an update of what he was learning and to tell about the surrounding area. More than two months went by, and we had not received such an update. After sending a letter to Mark, again the mailbox was empty. So, we attempted a different route.
We sent him a 'Multiple Choice' letter. 'A' Are you in a Cult? ... 'B' Have you been taken by aliens? ... 'C' and so forth :) Mark did respond, just not according to our fun multiple choice. Ahhhh! Anyway, his answers were more than sufficient to make a final decision to attend Canyonview/Biblion Bible College. A decision that we NEVER regretted! And, by-the-way ... We were the first couple to take advantage of the two for one tuition offer. A savings of $1,500 per year. Yes! You read that correctly ... tuition was but a mere $1,500 per year per student. For $3,000 ... What an education!!!
And one last thought :) … Just one small glimmer of what that
education from Canyonview Bible College/Seminary provided. An example
through the power of words. And this … the most excellent word for
this particular blog. That word is … παρακαλέω ~ A two
part Greek word, παρα … beside, along side of ~ and, καλέω
… to call. To call beside. In Romans 12:1, it is used as an appeal.
Calling one, or many together to do what is right. As well, for
example in I Thessalonian 5:18, or Colossians 4:8 … to encourage,
or to comfort. Paul wanted the followers of Christ to be encouraged …
to be comforted … to call them beside … place his arm around them
… that regardless of the circumstances that currently surrounded them, or you,
that they, and you can be encouraged. And so … I have been so very encouraged
over these past forty years … through the appeal of scripture …
and the urging of others … to continue the course, and be comforted
until this very day. And then tomorrow … and then the next. And
once again I say, “What an education”!
And in closing ... Might the 'Alaska' state flag proudly fly over the 'Ditch' once again :)Insiders joke
I guess that this must be ‘Milestone’ month. Fifteen years ago
this year my maternal grandmother died. I wrote in May of 2021 a blog
in tribute to her that is entitled, “Her Smile”. Later this week
I will post another blog that dates back exactly forty years. And
today ~ well, today marks the thirty-fifth anniversary of my mothers
death. I’ve written many blogs on her behalf, so what to compose within this particular one?
I’m
reminded of her dear love to my beautiful wife. Mom loved Karen, as
she did all of her son’s and daughter-in-laws. And Karen always
sensed her deep love. Our one regret is that we only had mom for
the first ten years of our marriage. Oh how much we would have
appreciated, how Karen would have appreciated additional caring
conversations, and special times together.
Portland Rose Garden ... 1985
Fixing Brandi's Hair for our wedding
It
was mom … making it a priority to attend our wedding, even though
we were in Alaska at the time. Treating Karen (along with Brandi &
Josh) with such tender love and attention. Being there for everything
that Karen needed her for, yet never pushy or overbearing. As well,
Mom was the one who said that she would like to fly up to Oregon for
the birth of our youngest. Once again, attending so preciously to the
needs that were Karen’s. Mom never made it about herself. And it
was mom, who so gently encouraged Karen during our Ohio visit in
their home. While Karen dealt with a serious and stressful moment
over a scary situation with our children, mom provided just the ear
to be listened too, comforting words, and the arm to embrace.
And it would be mom and dad both at our home, then on ‘Orchard’,
for the great strawberry blunder. Or, would that be 'blender'? The Willamette Valley was a most
perfect location for some of the most delicious berries within the
United States, and Strawberries was no exception. So with berries
placed into the blender … mom, dad, Karen, and the three kids …
all waited for dad’s most heavenly strawberry shake. The taste buds
were ready to be delighted on this most spectacular warm, blue sky
summer afternoon.
Obvious ~ Right :)
Checking
the status of the ‘shake-master’, Karen walked into the kitchen
to discover that her guy was stirring his masterpiece with a wooden
spoon while the blender was in full operation. With a quizzical look,
she said, “You should probably turn the blender off when you’re
stirring”. To which I calmly replied, “It’s ok, I’ve got a
good grip”! Walking toward the backyard, the wooden screen door had
barely closed, when … yeah, you saw this one coming, as did Karen.
Oh … but was this an accident? The entire crew walked into our
recently cleaned kitchen. With smiles of … ‘I told you so’.
Only to find Rick, straw in hand … sipping the 'seemingly
accidental' strawberry shake off of the clean kitchen counter top.
Nearly forty years later … boy, was that one tasty shake. Too bad
the rest of you didn’t get to try it :)
Thanks
mom for these and many other ‘Endearing Memories’! They are
fondly & eternally found within the recesses of our minds.
Under
the same roof, yet … for years … we found ourselves no closer.
Our eyes … would turn away. Our arms … never to touch. The hate …
it was mutual. The streets, they were my home … The drugs … the
buying – taking – dealing … this was my life. The tattoo’s …
the piercings … these were my purpose … my reason to live. Change
… never possible – except for one who is the master of
impossibilities. A man … a child … not even his mother did love.
Though I was guilty of a shameful life. I was not guilty for the charges that they placed against me. Charges that indeed would send me to
prison for a very long time. A prison cell … this was to be my next
home. Except for God … His mysterious ways …
His challenge … with one purpose … to bring that very change.
Why I agreed … No reason, other than – the fact that he cared.
Someone cared. "Three times", he said – "And if after those three times … you
do not become a Christian … I will walk away from Christ."
So, on the following two Sundays I found myself in church.
Nothing … absolutely nothing! If this God was real … he was real
only to these crazy, insane people in this church. A third day … a
third time was out of the question. There was no reason. There was no
purpose … no change that was possible. My life … Stop trying to
change me! Let ... me ... live ... my life! Yes, my life! Leave me be!
Why he persisted … only God knows. But he called … “Jarol,
you said that you would attend three times, not two.” With disgust,
and with my blood boiling and my teeth gritting … I agreed,
one more time. One last time! Yes, one last time. And then, please
stop!
As I expected … the third time came as no surprise. They sang …
they danced … they preached. Wanting to leave before anyone could
come over to greet me, I slowly began to walk out. It was my
intention. I smirked. “These silly, foolish people” … I
thought. “They call themselves Christians. I’m better off on the
streets!” ~~ I find no other reason that I turned around … other
than the Father … Calling me. “Jarol”. I no sooner turned, that
I found myself walking to the front. Bowing … who is this? “Jarol,
you are broken. You no longer need to be a slave to your
brokenness.”
I don’t believe that I’ve ever been as broken as Jarol … but,
I as well, yes, I have indeed been broken. I ask, “Who has not”?
For Jarol, his brokenness brought change. A life of change, that
included a different kind of ‘cell’. A bible study ‘cell’
group. Learning about forgiveness. Learning about a God, One who sent
His son … Jesus … to die at Calvary. To die for the sins of the
broken. And then … don’t you love ~ ‘And then’s’? And then,
Jesus rose again the third day. Hallelujah! We too are raised with
Him to a new life. A grateful life of service. A life that has
received abundant grace. A life to love the One who has so loved us.
There is baseball …
there is ‘Xolos’ baseball in the states of Sonora and Jalisco, Mexico. Baseball, to the Miskito
children in Nicaragua … and now El Salvador. There is RSA … Reid
Saunders Association … There is ‘Jarol’. Whose life on the streets brings a unique
ability, and opportunity. One, that I do not have. Is this, was this
Your plan? What we set out to do has been accomplished. Or ... is
there more? I ask. I pray. Is there more? Baseball … Jarol, from
the streets of El Salvador. And … thousands of cartel children
abandoned by their fathers. “Lord, I ask. Are You leading? Is there
suppose to be more? And if more, what does more look like?”
For now … I am
grateful for a second visit … a second ministry offering to the
people of Ahuachapán. I am grateful to have the opportunity to take
baseball to this beautiful area. I am so grateful to have met so many
wonderful people. To be blessed beyond my greatest imagination. For
now I have added another name to this guy, whose uncle Ronnie called
him ‘Kid’. Yes, I am now "Richard Alan Jopp Imaizumi Vega
Gutierrez Asabi Ruiz Alvarado Williams". :) Thank you Jarol, Ester
and Sofie, for allowing me to become part of your family.
~~ Where and how the Lord directs from here … Through time and
prayer … His journey, and His plan will be laid out before us. As
spoken by the apostle James, “If the Lord wills”. Indeed, “If
the Lord wills”, the orchestrator of this life will make known, and
will put into motion the steps that He will direct. As Jarol turned
around on that third time, and was lead to the altar. As the Father
called him to salvation and to a life of service. So we come before
Your altar Lord. We commit these thoughts onto You.
Might these songs by Zach Williams (no relation) touch your heart for what the Father can accomplish to the broken. "I'm no longer a slave to fear. I am a child of God"
Why not??? As they come ‘phishing’ for us, might we return the
favor … Let us be fishers of men.
Just
in the past two days I’ve posted two vehicles for sale on two
different sites, including ‘Facebook Marketplace’. Oh my
goodness! The first (and so far only) three responses of interest
have come from those on “Phishing” expeditions. What a sad world
of people who would rather steal than work. So, I’ve decided that
if they are going to go “Phishing”, so will I. Ha!
First,
a word to the wise … or, as may be the case, the unwise, or naively
gullible. In this electronic ‘www’ world … where the internet,
that has many wonderful qualities, it can also be a place for the
most reprehensible of mankind. They would rather
“phish” for your information, rob you blind, and be absolutely
fine while completing their shameful behavior.
How did I recognized the ‘phishing’ of “Will”, “Michael”, and “Noel”?
“Michael” was the best. His/her spelling was correct, and then
during our correspondence, provided me with what appeared to be a
legit email. They start slowly, asking about the vehicle or product.
They want to arrange a time and location. I would suggest a store.
But then ~ ‘Boom … shakalaka!’ “Can you send me a VIN
(Vehicle Identification Number) report”? That, by itself is not a
problem. The problem lies in the website that they wish to use. I let
“Michael” know that I already have a report from the website that
I’m using. To which “Michael” replies,
“Sorry but I haven't heard about this site
before so I'm not sure about it. I trust the data of the site which
I've used before so I would appreciate it if you can pull one from
here.” It is clicking onto this site, and providing information,
when the “Phishing” expedition receives its “Hook, line and
sinker”. Gotcha!
From
here on out, I will begin any interest with my product with, “I
have a verified VIN Report, so please do not request for one”.
Also, do not provide phone numbers or any other personal information.
So …
what have I done, and will continue to do? I am, and will become a
true 'Fisher of Men'. Like me, a sinner, they as well have a need for
the cross of Christ Jesus, our Savior. For whom, in the next two
weeks, we will celebrate ‘Easter’. The man from Galilee, who
became the Rabbi and Master for twelve, and would die at the hands of
the authorities. He shed His blood on a cross made of wood. They
placed Him in a tomb. But ~ Thanks be to God ~ the tomb could not
defeat Him. No! On the third day, Jesus rose from the grave, for whom
we celebrate.
And
you too ~ Romans says, “All have sinned, and fall short of God’s
glory”. And continues, “But God demonstrated His love for us,
that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for the ungodly”. I
don’t know about you, but myself, along with these “Phishers”
of men, are placed into that category. “But, the free gift of God,
is eternal life through Jesus”. And what are you, and what can you do
about this? Know that your sin, that my sin, that the “phishers”
sin, has separated us from a holy God. But God, even when we were
dead in our sins, because of His mercy, He saved us. And Romans again
continues in chapter 10, verses 9 & 10 with, “If we confess
with our mouth that Jesus is lord, and believe in our heart that God
raised Him from the dead, we can be saved.” Why, “Because with
the heart, one believes”, that Jesus has provided the righteousness
… He has rescued us from our sins. And, “With the mouth, one
confesses and is saved” from those sins.
In
the gospel of John, Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the
life, no one comes to the Father, but through me”.
I
ask, “What will you do with this information”? For me, thanks be
to God, I believe in the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus
Christ. And with such, I choose to be a “Fisher of Men”. And will
continue to state such to these lost “Phishers” of men. Might God
have mercy on their souls, as He has on mine.
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