Gone To The Dogs

In January I took a journey to our mall. I don't remember the mission I was on but it must have been important enough to have drawn me back into this foreign mission field so soon after Christmas. It was the day I discovered that Eddie Bauer was closing. Now this is not an event demanding sack cloth and ashes but you need to know that after at least a two year absence of wearing jeans [no boycott intended] I found a pair I liked. A lighter shade of blue, relaxed fit and a 30 length. They were perfect. I could now prove to my family I was not a nerd and returned to the world of blue jeans.

My world view of malls, at least our local one, is that they have evolved into a community for those of the Junior and Sr. High School demographic. That's a fancy word for people much younger than me, a time now left to the ages, and waist sizes that are likely much smaller than the one purposefully left out of the afore mentioned blue jean statistics. Malls are for kids!

Now the final blow. The pet store is closing! At least a trip to the mall could be redeemd by a detour into the pet store to enjoy those over priced, too many in a cage, "would you please take me home" puppy dog looks.

I can't say that I ever bought a dog from a pet store in the mall. We got our dogs from families who took you into their garage to pick out your "favorite" from a large cardboard box, or ushered you into their kitchen where they proudly displayed the new litter while a roll of paper towels stood in readiness on the counter for the inevitable puddle. That's the kind of place where Mickey, Fritz, Sox 2, Austin and Bailey came from.

The pet store at the mall was a shopping respite, a place for smiles and seeing the world through a kid's eyes as they wresteld with the energy of a Beagle puppy. Maybe that was the problem. No one bought their dogs there. After all, the mall is for the youth and people who like a warm place to walk in the winter.

My reasons for going to the mall are quickly becoming trinitarian, kind of like my theology. Birthday, Anniversary and Christmas. Valentine's Day gets combined with the birthday. Not the gift, just the shopping trip. I'm not that cheap!

So, where does all of this meandering take us? What's on the end of this leash of loosley connected words and thoughts? Something very important. It's a final thought about our mall, a closing statement about the pet store and an expression layered in meaning.

"Gone to the dogs!!!!"
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Greatness Passes

Late on the afternoon of October 22 I watched the passing of greatness. It was not like the passing of a baton in a track meet, that critical hand off when relays are won or lost. In those moments there is something definitive to see, something you know is coming and you already know what it will look like. It can look smooth, it might look like a stumble or even a dropped baton, but all of those are pictures you have seen before. They are just a part of what happens. On that day in October I saw the passing of greatness in a picture I had never seen before.

My 96 year old grandma died that afternoon. For 54 years I had come to know and love her as, Gram. There was greatness in everything about her. Pregnant at age 15 with the baby that would turn out to be my father, she married and entered a world she knew little about. Her husband turned out to be an alchoholic, an abusive man; but she was just plain great. There was greatness in the way she survived, how she raised her three kids, how she seemed to always have a good attitude about the things that made up life, and in being Gram!

She did not have any of the trappings usually assigned to greatness. She only had one bedroom in her house but most Sunday afternoons there was always room for eight grandsons and their parents. It was, as you might guess, a great place to be. Gram was also a great cook. Not all grandmas are, even though it seems like it should come with the territory. I loved her beef and homemade noodles along with mashed potatoes. Nothing like red meat and plenty of starch to keep a growing boy growing.

That day in October I sat by Gram's bed and listened to her labored breathing. I didn't know if she knew I was there, but I talked to her anyway. I let her know it was OK to let go and find her way to heaven. Remarkably,it was just short time after that when I saw the passing of greatness.

In one solitary moment she took her last breath and greatness left the room, it passed on. I wonder who was there to see that greatness for the first time in this place we call heaven. Would it have been Jesus? Maybe it was an angel or a loved one. All I know is that in one solitary moment that October afternoon I witnessed the passing of greatness.

A little over 2000 years ago the greatness of God came into this world in a small city called Bethlehem. He came in the form of a baby. His name was Jesus. What an incredible twist on the ways of this world. Greatness packaged in an infant and born in a feeding trough. No buildings or magazines named after him. No politicians courting him for an endorsement. No ambitions beyond giving His life away for others, even to the point of His death for their sins and the hope of eternal life.

Gram knew all of that to be true. No wonder it felt like I was watching the passing of greatness in that October moment. I was!

What about you? What do you know to be true?
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Talking to the Butter Man

A trip to the grocery store is not always my idea of a great moment in the day. Where is the adventure? Well, there is the time I left my cart for a moment to walk up an aisle to get something, and when I returned it was gone. I searched the entire store, even scouting out other people's carts, but in the end I never found it. I had to start all over. I guess that was an adventure.

This evening Melodee and I went to County Market. I still call it Cub Foods. I went to prove that chivalry is not dead, and besides that the first snow of the season was due in while we would be shopping. I wanted to come out of the store and experience the new fallen snow. Wow, that almost sounds poetic.

While we were shopping we were jousting back and forth in conversation and I mentioned that in these "unemployment days" I have developed some imaginary friends to talk with and sometimes we even go places together. What happened next could have qualified for commitment if it were not for such a benevolent wife of 32 years.

I was parked with the shopping cart in front of the butter section while Melodee was picking out her favorite flavors of yogurt a few feet in front of me. That's when it happened. I heard a voice saying, "Excuse me, Sir". I thought someone was behind me wanting to get to the butter, but when I turned to look over my left shoulder there was no one there. Strange! Within moments I heard the same voice and the same words. When I turned to look over my right shoulder this time, there was no one there. I was starting to feel a little like Samuel and wondered if I should find some guy named Eli in the store to understand what was happening.

At about this time I realized there was a man behind the butter shelves and he was talking to me. You know, a little like the guy on the orange juice ads. He wanted me to tell him which shelf had the sign for Prairie Farms butter, and so I told him there were actually two shelves with that signage. We spoke a few more words never realizing that by this time Melodee was watching me talk to the butter shelves.

I wonder what people think and what we look like when the Spirit of God is talking to us?
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Red Shoe Prints

There is nothing quite like a trip to Lowes, in fact it is more like a mission. It is one of those moments in a man's life that is definable, focused, task oriented and finite [as opposed to going on forever like shopping]. It is, like I said, a mission. There is none of that exploring,comparing or even deciding. Heaven forbid any man would ever be caught deciding in a store. You do that kind of detail work long before you pull out of your driveway!

On a recent mission to Lowes I was deeply embedded in the manly thought process that allows you to focus on one thing and block out every other noise on the planet. Not knowing exactly where I was headed, signage was of the up most importantance. I was not lost so there was no need to stop for directions. That's what signs are for. However, the one sign I did not see was the one that said "wet paint" or at least was designated as wet paint or "stay off this spot on the floor". Who would put two yellow cones at knee length when a man on a mission is looking up for critical information? There are many strange animals on this planet of ours but I don't think even any of those have eyes in their knees.

Do you know how totally impossible it is to disguise the fact that you are the one who just walked through the fresh, not even close to being dry, red paint. You could run for the front door but your tracks would follow you. You could take your shoes off and carry them in your hands but then again that would seem a little strange at a Lowes store. This is where men are on finite mission!

As a follower of Jesus I would like to think that somehow my feet have found their way through the crimson stain that was left at Calvary. I would like to think that wherever I go I leave some of that red footprint behind me. That should be the definable, focused, task oriented and finite mission of a man. What do you think?
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The Trip to Yellowstone

Does everyone remember their first family vacation or is that just me? Maybe you can let me know. I was 8 years old and we were headed for Yellowstone National Park. By today's standards it probably would not even compete with a Disney vacation. How could thermal geysers, white water rapids, Rocky Mountains, giant waterfalls, wild bears, wolves, buffalo and camping in the woods be better than a roller coaster and a run-away train?

I remember all kinds of stuff from that 1961 vacation. My dad had borrowed everything; tent, camping stove, lantern, sleeping bags.....maybe even the money for the trip. I'm not sure about that last part. Somehow he got it all packed into our two-tone blue 1958 Chevrolet. It was a Biscayne.

I sat behind my dad. I don't know how that became my place but it just always was. Maybe there is some unwritten rule about first born males being awarded that seat, or maybe it was just easier for a dad to reach back with his hand right before "one more time and I will pull this car over!" Anyway, it was a great trip.

There are three things from that trip that are still with me today. Things that are applicable to my current journey with life. Sitting behind my dad on family trips, I was always studying maps. I don't remember us ever having an atlas but we always had those state maps that you pick up at the Welcome Center; open them up, and then pray you will be able to figure out how to fold it back so that the picture is on the front. I always wanted to know where we were, where we were going, and how we would be getting there. That back seat is where I became a navigator. Today I find myself doing the same thing. The map has been replaced by the Bible and I try hard to turn over the navigation to the Holy Spirit; but I'm looking at where I am, where I need to be, and how to get there.

The second thing I learned came from my mom's passion to avoid at all costs those incredibly fast paced, almost super-sonic raceways known as interstates. We didn't do our family vacations on dirt roads but we avoided the risk of "busy highways" and stayed on state and US routes where the other cars were coming right at you and maniacs were trying to pass you at any moment. Talk about risk! Looking out the car window I wanted to know what it would feel like to get on the interstate, to take the risk. I think I am still feeling that as I consider the next step in my life.

The final thing was not really something I learned, it was just something that became a part of me. As we travelled west across Iowa, Nebraska and finally Wyoming. I would see the large hills [well maybe not in Nebraska] and finally the incredible Rocky Mountains and there was always the desire to climb to the top of each one that I would see. You might call it a sickness but it was something that was inside of me. I wanted to climb, to experience the feelings that came with it, and capture the view from the top. I wanted to climb because it was there. It's still a part of me. It's why I go to Colorado and climb 14,000 foot mountains. It will be a part of the next adventure in my life.

It's truly amazing what you can learn from the back seat of a 1958 Chevy on the way to Yellowstone. What are you learning?
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