Hello Goldie

Every year it happens. Most are so oblivious with chores or work or shopping or cutting people off in mall parking lots that they have no idea the events occurring before their very eyes, provided they ever hung a bird feeder and paid attention... the goldfinch have arrived in my backyard today!

winter goldfinch by D.McKenzie

My first sighting of the year was last week at the Audobon's Edith L. Moore Sactuary, which actually brought a weird sense of "what's wrong with MY feeder stations?" dejection since there was not a goldie to be found in my myriad of feeders and awaiting finch socks. Then today, with Jaxon and Angela there to verify it: boom! Goldfinch! Six feet from my kitchen window... awesomeness!

With the hummingbirds come the end of summer; the geese prove autumn. But the goldfinch is the undeniable herald of winter in Houston, TX.

I love my life. Thank you Lord.
jim

The Peaceful Middle

Sitting here at my desk this Wednesday night, listening mindlessly to my Mandarin files on iTunes as I distract myself with constant surfing of cybersociety and reminiscing on a grand week of passage: I'm over 50 years of age now.
One of the challenges of being born in mid-December is birthday cards are often anticipated as Christmas cards, and vice versa. I risked opening one from the Captain and saw a cute picture of people from my past poised for Christmas greetings. I followed the invitation and found the other has become a woods-elf; I am thankful for that-- she has enough manmadeness in the day job. May she be richly blessed, richly blessed; and her people as well.

A precious student, who I will call the Rocker, cheerfully greeted me in the hallway today: "Guess what I got you for Christmas Mr. K? Your very own Black Sabbath CD! Aren't you excited?!" --actually... I was blessed she would invite me into her music world, with her black fingernails and Ozzie Osborn stickers and daily updates when I pass her in the mornings about the latest news from some old rocker I thought was already dead! LOL- she's precious... her parents must be a hoot. I listened to my new album titled, "We Sold Our Soul to Rock and Roll"... and folks, I believe 'em. The lyrics were scary, not like demonic scary but how some people can get so alone and lost that they give up and settle for pigslop because of something that happened in life... and they never look up. They never discover the Hidden Treasure, not because it's a mystery, because it is, but because of the paradox of Abba's mercy; because of the magnitude of a beloved, bloodied, bludgeoned, brutalized and buried and born again Jesus who restores those who betray Him with sheep words.

I have no doubt that even Judas would have had a chance to be restored, except... he never looked up.

Cyber people: do not miss this: God loves you and wants to set you free from your self-induced dungeon of despair and depravity; to be able to laugh and dance and have no guilt, not because your perfect-- you're not; and not because you're perverted and rationalize away your own sin-- you can thus never be forgiven... no, I'm talking about a freedom that this world does not understand, a freedom that comes with a blood-drenched corpse, a horrified & grieved Father and a horrible price paid... not because there was no guilt, but because there WAS guilt...  a penalty required, a penalty horribly and willingly paid... because you are His Beloved.

Now go: dance in His forest, His beach, His hillside, ...dance; dance like the weight of the world has been lifted off of you, because it has; dance like a child that has total permission to Be because you are.
His Beloved.

Plate Glass Windows

At a birthday party last night I was privy to a serious conversation between 27 yr olds: "So which is really the 'hard' birthday age: 40 or 50?"..."Oh, definitely 40".
Really.
40.
In half a month I will be a decade beyond what they think is the hardest birthday; I don't see it that way.
At 40 years of age, the 10-year-social-bubble means you can hang out with 30-yr-olds and 50-yr-olds.
When you're 50... the 30 yr-olds are behind this giant shield of glass, so different, so far removed.
So much like being in a monkey cage, when coworkers and ministry buddies are almost all younger than you.
Turning 50 sometimes feels like trying to figure out how to die gracefully, and the passion to reach teenagers for Christ, though it's still there-- now feels like it's done behind giant plate glass windows. I'm guessing that tension is why so many of my peers have stepped out of youth ministry, and tried rationalizing a new gig... it's hard to be the odd-man-out.
Life is good because God is good.
I enjoy my days of simplicity; things have changed, but I'm not dead yet.
I love you, Jesus. Teach me to learn how you love me.

Roach Bait

One of the favorite times of the year is when the first northern brings air cool enough to throw open the shutters and raise up the sash. This week was one of those weeks, when night temperatures toy with the thought of dropping into the upper 50s... marvelous. Almost. There are few days that are so cold that I would wear a long sleeve shirt to bed; I'd rather sleep bare-chested and bundle if it gets too cool at night.

So, there are certain things that a man takes for granted when he goes to bed. Things like: he will not be robbed while he sleeps, or his house will not catch fire, or that he will not be attacked by insects in his slumber. This week a roach tried to eat me.

I should have paid heed to the foreshadowing when this nervy intruder crawled across my neck: I flicked it off, hoping it was a bookmark or something left on the covers and finding in the flicking an object of troublesome mass-- not a bookmark. Seeing that there was no evidence of any intruder, I turned off the light again and tried to go back to sleep, consoling myself with thoughts of how maybe... it was a cricket, ...yeah a cricket, and: "boy, I bet that scared that cricket", etc. I was successful and at that moment before dropping off into deep rest, when I felt this sharp pinch on my left bicep! I quickly looked over in the dim glow of my neighbor's lights and saw the large, dark insect-- eating me!

There are some things that are just wrong: killing puppies; pedophilia in any form; finding body parts in your fast-food, and... being eaten by a roach in your sleep.
So people; it's personal.
They're not only eating the old crust off your toothbrush at night-- they're waiting for YOU.
...thought you should know.

God's Littlest Angel Visited Me this Week

There has always been a special place in my heart for birds.
From the time I was a child I marveled at these amazing winged creatures who symbolized both frailty and freedom. To be honest I started out a bit like John Audubon with the less-than-sustainable methods of shooting and trapping them to get close enough to see their details, though I guess the trapping at least was catch-and-release. I come from a family of hunters and for a child to learn to stalk a starling with a BB gun, that was considered part of the process of skill-honing.

Somewhere along the way I grew into the matured-hunter mentality: all life has value, and to take an animal for food is a humbling process. Perhaps that is why I spend more time watching wildlife from my tree stand than ever touching my bow and arrow. I have seen such amazing things this last decade from my arboreal nest, but I can't remember the last time I took a deer.  Every year I've teased nice bucks beneath me by pelting them with acorns--I just don't want to take them. I'd rather use my bird book and identify some avian species than release an arrow. (I tell myself I'm waiting for a feral hog or spike to come my way. I'm still waiting.)

Birds have become angels to me, messengers to me that my heavenly Abba is thinking of me with love and adoration, like any good Father. So many times in my deepest of despairs or trials have I been visited by these angels. The owl that flew right over me in the backyard as my wife was telling me she was leaving me; my first golden eagle in the wild within 24 hours of asking God to show me an eagle in an exercise of childlike reception (which transformed me!), and then this week with the hummingbirds.

My local PBS station aired a remarkable program on hummingbirds; it boggles my mind that something that tiny travels continents every year in migrations without the aid of a butterfly's sails catching a north wind spawned by the latest hurricane. Yet this week my backyard is a flurry of dogfighting, nectar-feeding angels. The best thing I did was purchasing the third feeder; much harder to defend when there's three offerings.

So this week three different times I've had hummingbirds drinking from feeders that were in my hand. The first time I was holding the feeder up to hang it back into the tree after replacing the nectar (Texas is enduring the worst heat wave in our nation's history and nectar goes bad in 2 days!) and they started feeding before I could get it hung. The second was even cooler: I took a feeder down and was carrying it to the house to replace nectar and they were feeding on it as i walked. But the most amazing visitation was when I was painting my third feeder. Repeatedly birds would hover around the feeder looking at the decorative flowers but not able to discern the ports because they were simple holes with no color to mark it. So I took some non-toxic yellow paint and started coloring in petals around the ports on this feeder, and this female ruby-throat comes and decides she will feed on the holes opposite where I'm working. Folks, there is something miraculous and angelic to me when this amazing creature watches you from 16 inches away, trusting you to not harm it, perhaps understanding the relationship between this tall, naked ape and the gift of nectar that appears. A feathered angel so small and so close that I could have killed it in a moment, yet that would be an act incomprehensible to me, I adore these creatures so.

May I grow to trust the Father like that.

A Meandering Hermit

This summer, as I cruised the steep channels of southwest Alaska this summer aboard a floating city of screaming kids and ridiculous distractions, I heard naturalist adventurer Michael Modzelewski describe his life in Alaska as that of a hermit. What struck me to my core and prompted me to change the name of my blog was his explanation to the married crowd about the special kind of alone-ness that is borne by the hermit: the alone-ness of seeing something amazing, something that defies explanation, something so wonderful that if you were to witness it yourself your life would be forever changed... and you look around... and there is nobody there to share that experience with. That is the special aloneness of the hermit.

To be alone is in no way a bad thing; for many it is a gift, a reprieve from the noise of a busy world, and I share in that appreciation. A hermit does not have to wait for somebody else to get ready, or worse: bear the guilt of realizing he/she is about to make somebody else tardy because of poor timing. And there is a depth in one's spiritual walk that is profoundly enhanced, leaning into the bosom of Jesus for the intimacy and acceptance that He alone can ultimately fulfill, awakening each day with, "Good morning, Jesus," and concluding each bedtime with, "Good night, Jesus- I love you." But there is something to be said about flesh-and-bone fellowship, too.

Last week I went back-to-back chaperoning student retreats, and over the course of 5 nights I bunked with 3 different sets of men... it was awesome. Yes, some are especially gifted at snoring and others reenact some dreamy story verbally as the darkened room listens to make sense of the prose, but the blessing of laughing with others right before slumber, or awakening to quietly go out for morning devotions while others lie peacefully in their dreams-- that is so cool! It is like the incarnation of scriptural promises like, "I am with you always...". I love being around people.


Some people do not understand my solitude: "Jim, if you like being around people so much, why aren't you dating anyone so you can get married?"


That makes about as much sense to me right now as staying in the water after a shark attack, so that you can overcome your fear, even though you are now bleeding. (It's not the same-- but that's what came to mind so I typed it. In reading this I'm gonna guess that I'm simply not ready for anything like dating, especially in our culture today... so confusing :) .)


Instead I continue to reflect on Paul's words from 1Cor.7 and elsewhere: "...it is good for you to remain as you are... are you unmarried? Do not look for a wife... I want you to be free from concern. An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord's affairs-- how he can please the Lord."


So I meander about in this amazing life, not afraid to stroll by myself yet blessed when accompanied by others-- as I walk into this Adventure called life. Like the Mariposa and the Mermaid, I choose the discipline of thankfulness in all things this hermit encounters. Come Lord Jesus.

Life Held in Jars

When I was a child, I spoke and thought like a child, I acted like a child. And now that I'm a man, I can speak much more effectively and I've wisened up a bit, too. But I still love to look at nature through a childlike wonder.
I have fond memories visiting my cousins and trapping lightning bugs in mason jars, somehow trying to trap the magic of their natural illumination. It never really worked. Worse: they often died before they could be set free. Unintentional death chambers that were intended to brighten life.
How often children's neglect leads to unintentional death; how tragic when one becomes aware of the autobiography of one's past.
What is this need to store things?
To capture something in order to somehow cling to its essence?
And what was the Father thinking when he put the fragility of a butterfly with the mortality of mankind?
We are jars of clay, fragile earthen vessels that have been baked and hardened to serve a purpose but are destined to be broken.
How very sad I am at Chelsey's death.
Goodbye for now, little sister. Comfort your grieving parents in their sleep.

June 2011, in transition?

Half a year from half a century.
I keep reminding myself that I'm not dead yet.
It's interesting the psychic wrestling match that goes on in one's noggin when you don't have any children or significant others to distract you with their lives... this is definitely a passage/season in my life.
I see pictures of myself and am somehow angry at how old I look, angry that I need reading glasses, angry at how my knee hurts going down stairs or how my back hurts getting out of bed. Perhaps the anger is just masked sadness; sadness that I'm going the way of my forefathers, sadness that I can no longer 'compete' for the affections of the maidens, accentuated by the death of my marriage? Sadness for the lost years?
Or maybe fear: fear of inadequacy, that lingering sense of 'good, but not good enough'? The stench of spiritual battle betrays the lies spoken to my soul... how much of my life have I surrendered as homage to that foul Deceiver?
I went to Southwells today for a burger and saw an old friend I last saw 25 years ago. Another old friend contacted me today on facebook... 29 years since we've seen each other.
Twenty-nine years... that's the age of my 'older' co-volunteers with YoungLife.
It is truly a lifetime, 29 years.
The guys in my Bible study talk about sending their children off to college; soon they will be talking about holding their grandkids. There's sadness there, too-- grieving the loss of a child I never had, a reminder perpetuated every year on Father's Day. Makes me want to go live in a cave.
I know that Jesus loves me, that the Father is faithful in His compassions for me. I am not complaining... more like confessing. I know what it is to go to sleep at night alone in a 3-bedroom home, concluding consciousness with, "Good night, Jesus," as I hug the body pillow on my daybed. Every night. That's just true.
I know that perhaps this passage, this transition in life will probably erupt into some kind of sunshiny day and that I may be just hormonal (or sub-hormonal), or maybe this is the family blessing of multi-generational depressive states I am passing through?
There is within me a dissatisfaction with the way things are... it was not so long ago I had mastered the art of contentment. Have I failed in my current discontent?
It's not pretty inside right now, but I'm 50 next winter.. I no longer have the energy to pretend that everything is 'just fine' right now, and I also acknowledge: I'm not dead yet... there is more life ahead of me.
So thank you, Jesus, for what I do have. Thank you that I still have my parents. Thank you that I have a handful of good friends who are trustworthy and can tolerate my funkiness.
I'm not dead yet; help me to live for You, Jesus. Help me to embrace the "abundant life" you promise us.
Speak to me words of sonship, Father... erase these childhood tapes of orphan-spirit.
Help me to experience Your Love, that I may love others well.
Good night, Jesus.
Jim

Life is precious

Doctors told them their fetus would not make it, maybe they should consider "terminating" the pregnancy?

They chose not to kill their unborn child.

She lives...

http://giftsfromgrace.blogspot.com/

... so does the presence of suffering warrant the death of the sufferer?

...if a child is in pain, should the parents kill their child?

... we do it with our pets, right?

No?

April's Fool, Orlando-style

It's Friday evening; I'm sitting in my lab trying to muster one last push to finish grading biology tests after a 12-day week. So tired. Why?...

Last week I was blessed to chaperon the HCHS band trip to Orlando--that's right, Disney World. There was a competition on the front-end of the trip and our kids did great (Yay Ms Redmon), but the zaniest part of the trip was going around on the rides with "the girls".

My escorts through NeverNever Land were so ridiculously fun, and because most of them were young & married, there really was no awkwardness to it for me-- thank you, JESUS.

So I have to start with describing Tinkerbell, my "guide-to-rediscovering-my-lost-childhood" escort. She grew up around Orlando, FLA, so immediately had a game-plan on how to do each park, starting with the FastPass. The strategy is pure: go immediately to your favorite ride and use your ticket to get its FastPass ticket, then wait in line and ride any nearby amusement. When done with that ride, go use the FastPass ticket; repeat. Beautiful. What's fun about Tinkerbell is she loves to laugh and is...well... crazy. Her idea of Heaven looks a lot like a slumber party in the top of Magic Kingdom's palace with a banquet room lined with princess apparel and unicorns. And there's this fresh sense that all the good things life has to offer are hers to enjoy, and for us oldest-child types-- it's a freedom magnificent to witness.

My second guide, Sleepy, is much like Tinker with the exception that she doesn't let anyone know she's zany until it's too late and you are socially committed with her in a situation. The best-case scenario is to have Sleepy and Tinker together, so they can feed off each other into a vortex of laughter (why is hanging up a phone so funny?).

My last guide I shall call Screamer, not because she's loud, though she can be, but because she can instill fear in co-passengers on a shuttle bus with her, "OMG, OMG, this is gonna be so scary"-- which is very confusing when riding next to her on roller coasters. This is because she gets so worked up and anxious, and starts to go through this pre-ride mental checklist ("ok, I will be needing to use this hand-hold, so you, Jim, will need to find something else to grab onto..this ride is so scary..."), which lulls you into thinking, "Sheesh, what an over-reaction," and then the Tower of Terror throws you around like a human yo-yo at 3-Gs and you realize that "the girls" have already stepped out of the now-stopped box of death and you're still holding onto the allotted side hand-hold with a death-grip that could probably pinch a python in half.

I've never been a roller-coaster rider; I don't like being afraid, and Lord knows I already have enough genetically-bestowed anxiety in my life. So when friends like The Paddle-Partner (aka Snorting Loon) dare me to ride Six Flag's "Batman", it's with great personal angst that I accept. But with this year's Orlando Trip with "the girls", something different happened. It's like I didn't have to be the older, responsible brother-- I could try out rides I would NEVER have ridden solo-- and on the other side, realize that perhaps I'm a bit hardier than I thought going into the thing.

And I wonder if God is like that?

I wonder if God gives us fellow pilgrims along our way, so that when we face the horrors and fears that life's challenges may bring, we can just get a grip--hold on-- scream if able-- and make it through that ride?

I wonder if there is a freedom that awaits beyond the pretentious cloak raised by the demons of fear, a cloak that amounts to little more than vapors in passing through, but in approaching seems more like an impenetrable barricade.

I wonder what it would be like to start seeing all the [crud] that life throws my way as an amusement ride?

That would be very cool.

Note to self

On my desk I wrote a note to myself.
I see it everyday I sit at my classroom desk.
I forget what I see the moment I look away. It says:
"I have an important job to do for God; my time on earth is limited, but probably longer than I imagine. God give me the courage to recklessly obey you!"

I'm not dead yet, but I have less years ahead of me than behind me.
In talking to a close friend about the pros/cons of dating women in their 30's (who I had a ridiculous crush on), this time frame was painfully brought to my attention." It would be 'unfair' to.." the younger woman (assuming if she were even interested! LOL!), because she's still starting life and I'm.. well.. I'm not dead yet.
It was the truth, and it sucks.

I'm staring at a half-century of life: what do I have to show for it?
I've loved people and I've tried to be faithful to my life's calling to reach high school students with the Love of Christ Jesus.
I've failed to be perfect; terribly.
I've hurt some folks with my words or behaviors; been hurt by others, too. I hate both realities.
It seems like I've only just started learning about Jesus' love for Jim; only just started learning how to love others.
I AM Bill Cosby's video "49"... except for the marital part... that's now gone.

I've enjoyed talking with others my age, but most have kids going off to college or starting families of their own; most of the folks I know are from work or in ministry with me, and most of them are younger. Much younger.

Some say I'm wise; I think maybe I'm just an old dog that knows a bit more about chasing cats than those who still have more years ahead of them. Maybe I'm just a cynical old fart. I like to think of it as pragmatic, but there is sometimes an edge to my words... definitely needs to be filed down... keeps snagging on things, like sensitive people. I don't like that about myself, but usually don't see it until later or when being confronted (though sometimes unfairly---aka, don't ask me something and then get mad when I tell you what you asked for... that's not right).

So Jesus, I'm not dead yet. What can you do with a fairly well-used white man who has a passion for Nature, a childlike curiosity, a hunger for knowledge, a love of laughter and sushi; who has a respect for your written word, but not enough to be so committed that I die trying to reach the lost in places nobody else dares go. Yet you tell us all: "go", right?
So is there hope for us?

I think I'll ride out to Tully and watch Northbrook's soccer game now.
Grading is almost done; there's always tomorrow. Or it doesn't matter.

I'm not dead yet. But I'm not convinced I'm fully alive.
Jesus, I wanna live.
love,
Jim

Day 354

From DivorceCare daily encouragements:

Can God Use Divorced People?
Day 354

Some people feel that because they have been divorced or because they have made so many mistakes in their past, God cannot use them to be godly leaders, teachers, role models, or a help to other people. This is not true. Your past does not determine your future. Read the Bible to discover examples of God using people with unexpected pasts to do great and mighty works for Him.

In Hebrews chapter eleven God lists heroes and heroines of faith. This list includes a murderer (Moses), an adulterer (David), and a womanizer (Samson). These people moved on beyond their failures and followed God. They were used to accomplish God's purpose in their generations.

Before Kay Arthur had a saving relationship with Christ, she was divorced, and she did many things that did not honor God. Today, she is a respected Christian speaker, author, and teacher through the grace of God.

She says: "God chooses the base things, the foolish things, the things that are despised, the things that are nothing, so that no flesh can glory in His presence. He knew what was going to happen to me before I came to know Christ, and He has used that as a platform for ministry. You can step forward into any service that the Lord has called you to."

God has chosen you for a specific service—take the challenge to walk forward in that!

"The base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence" (1 Corinthians 1:28-29 NKJV).

Holy God, I am willing to be used by You. I want to be a part of Your glorious plan in this world. I know I can be victorious through You. Amen.

P. taeda

Needles of twinkling gold
Glistening in post-crepuscular breath,
The glow descends my eastern guardian
To remind me...
Today is a new day.

Happy New Year to Me

It's a New Year. It's been weird but good.

We started this year with birds dropping out of the sky dead and dying, in 3 different states, plus in other nations... mainly icterids, and they said it happens all the time? Um no.

They say the only difference is that technology this year makes it more obvious when it happens, because we share this information with each other--I do believe we all had blogs and email last year, and the year before that... and before that.

So when one checks the online chat-stream, we don't hear: "oh yeah this happens all the time" from all these different citizens from around the world... we cry out, "What the hell is going on? Birds are dropping out of the sky dead and dying.. not sick under a tree or at a water hole... flying-and-now-dead... dropping out of the sky... they were healthy enough to fly as a flock and now they're scattered across our lawns like black crabgrass!"

That's what we are saying to each other.

Crazy.

It's a fresh new year, and I'm pumped about what God has for us!

KSBJ now has NGENradio; Verizon is getting the IPhone; electric cars are now a reality... pretty cool moment.

I am thankful for a clean start.

I am so thankful for what I'm learning about who I am in Christ.

I am so thankful for friends who show me how to love and trust.

I am so thankful for an amazing place to earn a living.

I am so hungry to experience the Power of the Holy Spirit, whether in humility (scary) or victory. Jesus, broaden my knowledge of who I am.

It's a New Year, but it's a good one.