Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Tall Man

It was just another hot humid day around 1935 when the tall thin man was on his knees turning soil in the flowerbed. He raised his gloved hand to his head and wiped his brow with his wrist. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move in the bushes. Curious, he leaned his head forward and looked closer. Expecting to see a bunny or stray kitten, he was surprised to see a boy.

The Boy, around nine years old, was dirty with a scowl on his face. There was uncertainty, distrust, fear, self preservation and a little hope, all rolled into one muddy face. The Tall Man saw all of these emotions and spoke softly to the Boy. He reached out his hand and offered the Boy a carrot harvested from the vegetable garden nearby. "Hungry?" he asked. Without any hesitation the Boy grabbed the carrot, quickly brushed off a large clump of dirt and ate. The Boy looked up and asked "got any more?"

The two began to chat. They sat in the garden for a bit, and then moved to the lawn. Then they went inside, sat at the table and snacked while the Boy unraveled his story.  Tall Man heard about how the Boy's out-of-work father deserted the family in the early 1930s, and that his Mom was in jail for reasons unknown. This left 5 already neglected children home alone. The older kids knew how to take care of themselves, but the Boy was the youngest of the clan and ran the streets wild. At some point officials corralled the children and awarded them to the local orphanage. The Boy had already heard “Oliver Twist” type horror stories about the place and planned on not sticking around. Sure enough, he split the first chance he got. Right over the fence. To him the street life was safer than the alternative.

The timeline and details were sketchy but eventually the Boy’s story ended where he was found, standing in the Tall Man’s bushes. The Tall Man had a nice home and seemed to have survived most of the Great Depression’s devastating effects. He wasn't wealthy, but had enough to help others. He was a compassionate, giving man and quickly gained the Boy's confidence. Soon, the Tall Man became his temporary legal guardian and a good friend.

During the time the Boy lived with the Tall Man, he learned there was more to life than stubbornly scheming and scrapping to get his way. He had to become a part of the family and learn to cooperate with others. He had to participate by helping out and doing chores, a discipline he grew to like because it made him feel useful. However, there was one chore he wasn’t really fond of. That was babysitting the ‘bratty’ niece. She was 6 years younger than him but knew her power. She insisted they play house, have tea parties and dress the dolls. To a twelve year old boy, that was just about as agonizing as it gets.  Arrrgggg. It was a tough assignment, but fortunately, she only visited occasionally.

For over four years, the Tall Man parented the Boy before he aged out of the guardianship and was released. Again, the Boy faced being on his own. However, Tall Man had trained him well. For the next twenty five years the Boy continued to grow in character and led a rather normal life sprinkled with the usual struggles. He joined the Navy and fought in World War II. Then he became a bricklayer, married, had children, and was divorced. The Boy, who was now my Dad, was very devoted to his family. Since childhood, he promised himself that he would never leave his children or let them go hungry. He would not be like his father.

One day while feeling a little nostalgic, Dad decided to visit his home town and drop in to see Tall Man.  He grew excited, maybe even a little nervous, in anticipation of reconnecting with the man that changed his life. As he walked up to the porch, Tall Man swung open the door, greeted Dad with a great big smile and welcomed him home.

And what a homecoming it was that Thanksgiving Day in 1967. Tall Man’s whole family was there and much to Dad’s surprise, even the Niece. He hadn’t thought of that pesky bucked tooth brat in over 20 years but he quickly discovered a lot had changed. The Niece had turned out to be an attractive confident brunette. It wasn’t long before love began to bloom and they realized they both wanted to play house. After a few months of long distance dating, Dad married the Niece, making her my Step-Mom, and Tall Man became my beloved, Uncle Edward.

 
I Peter 5:8-11

...So keep a firm grip on the faith. The suffering won't last forever. It won't be long before this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ—eternal and glorious plans they are!—will have you put together and on your feet for good. He gets the last word; yes, he does.

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Don't Be a Dummy


Before video games and DVD players…way back in the old days…my brother and I used to put on our own puppet shows and presentations for entertainment.  We would clear out a section of the room and create a mini stage out of blankets, cushions and chairs. We’d prepare a detailed script and took turns being the director. However, no matter what we planned usually ended up as ad-libbed comedy.  We also had a favorite record…a vinyl 45…that we lip-synced to. We rehearsed our routines to “perfection” for hours just because we had so much fun.

Another one of my favorite pastimes was my ventriloquist dummy, Jerry Mahoney. I’d practice and practice trying to talk without moving my lips. I experimented with using visual distraction, while speaking words that were harder to disguise. I learned as much as any 9 year old could about moving the dummy’s mouth and head in human pretense. Of course, to my family, my performances were force fed but they were delighted when I was invited to perform a routine at school. I’m sure all I did that day was tell a few non memorable riddles and jokes, but people were listening. I liked that. Puppets have a way of commanding attention.  And, I think, I liked being in control. If Jerry Mahoney had had a choice, I’m sure he would have preferred speaking on his own behalf. BUT Jerry DIDN’T have a choice. He had to ‘say’ what I told him to. He was an extension of ME. I controlled his every move. His head, his mouth, his impotent dangly arms. He was my PUPPET.

First off, God does NOT want us to be His puppet. He wants us to love Him freely as a child would and choose Him to be our Lord. And even though we might be in total agreement with God’s great plan of redemption, it’s human nature for us to want to be in control. We strive to the point of ulcers to be in control of our destiny, our freedoms, our rights and the remote. Plan your work and work your plan! We want to know that what we plan will turn out exactly as intended. We have even learned to factor in the unpredictable. We use cell phones, email and Facebook for immediate communication. We buy insurance and open savings accounts for financial emergencies. We make lists, carry day planners and install apps that will make our planning easier and more efficient…but yet, are we really in control. Or, are we just making back up plans and causing tension headaches.

There is a freedom for us when someone else is in control. When we were children, we believed in the unseen, we laughed at ourselves, and we didn’t make plans passed what cartoon we wanted to watch after dinner.  I believe it’s time we learn to relax as children do and let go of the script. It’s time we spread our hands in surrender and let Life’s Master Director set the stage. Let Him be concerned about the props, and the characters. It’s time we listen for His cues and enjoy the wild ride of an ad-libbed comedy. Just because it’s fun.

Biblical Reference: Matthew 18:2-4


Jesus called a little child to come to him. He stood the child in front of the followers. Then he said, “The truth is, you must change your thinking and become like little children....The greatest person in God’s kingdom is the one who makes himself humble like this child.

Monday, July 29, 2013

Un-Tangled

When I was a kid, about 8 or so, I had a marionette.  He was a slender figure in a tuxedo and most often I pretended he was a concert pianist. I would dance him around on the table or floor and then I’d have him play some air piano. After pretending for a while, like most 8 year olds, I tossed him aside. When I returned to resume imaginary concerts, somehow he had become a jumbled mess. His leg might be stuck up around his head or an arm permanently tied behind his back. His head cocked to one side. 

Time and time again I went to my dad with my mess. He’d be in his chair watching TV when I’d approach. He’d look at me with a sigh and ask the usual rhetorical questions. “How in the world did this happen? or ” What the heck?”  Sometimes the untangle process was easy and other times he sent me away so I wouldn’t be there staring at him. Knowing me, I was probably giving him suggestions, too.

He never failed. No matter how long it took, my dad always came through and untangled my strings. He was also my go-to guy for getting my necklaces out of knots. Whether the problem was my own fault or my little brother’s, he was always there and was good at what he did without assigning blame.

Got strings? Are they tangled? I know a Go-to Guy who specializes in untangling our life messes. And He is really good at what he does.

2 Corinthians 5:17  17 When anyone is in Christ, it is a whole new world. The old things are gone; suddenly, everything is new!