Remembering Roger

One year ago today, my friend took his life. A month before, we wouldn't have been so surprised. Then, he had been really struggling, truly suffering. But we thought he was getting better, and he was--until . . .

It was his favorite time of year. The grass was growing like mad, trees were leafing out, and the flowers--oh the flowers! Gardening was one of Roger's passions. He loved to plant a seemingly lifeless seed in the ground, grinning mischievously because he knew a secret: Within that apparently void pod hid a spark of life.

He--the gardener--rode the roller coaster of life with ferocity. Whatever he felt, he felt fully, and whatever he did, he did wholeheartedly. His yard was a jungle of life, his workshop a maze of projects, and his truck a rolling tool shed. You see, Roger never knew when a project may sneak out of the shadows and attack him; he had to be prepared.

And his voice! No one who ever heard him sing forgot it. A deep, booming bass, his voice reached out with authority and confidence, a commanding tone of wisdom and assurance. The old hymns were his favorites, and he worked them with the same wholehearted devotion with which he did all things. He planted at least as many seeds of life with his voice as he did with his hands. God only knows the number of souls who were touched, and even pulled from the depths of darkness, by that voice.

But Roger had his own darkness, a battle which raged within him from early in life. No one can say for sure what that darkness was, and it matters not one bit. What matters is that my friend was embattled in a war against an enemy only he could see--and dimly at that.

Knowing how it ended, many would say Roger lost the fight.

But not me.

A year ago I was mad. I couldn't believe, after all he had been through, after all we had been through, that he had surrendered. I couldn't understand why, when things were just beginning to look so bright and full of life, he succumbed to the darkness. I couldn't believe he didn't come to me, that I wasn't there for him. I was angry. I was hurt. I was ashamed.

But what happened wasn't my fault, or yours. If there was indeed any fault to be assigned, that has been dealt with between Roger and God. Because, you see, Roger had an ally. The most powerful ally in the world had his back the entire time. With someone like that on his side, there was no way Roger was going to lose the fight. So what happened?

I don't know.

I do know this: God did not turn his back on Roger. God did not fail. God was not uncaring, without compassion, unprepared, or unknowing. God was not taken by surprise, overpowered, or incapable. God was, and is, perfect and right; above all else, that I know. A certain gardener with strong hands and a powerful voice taught me these things.

What I don't know--and I guess it doesn't matter--is what took place in those final moments. Darkness attacked, and Roger was taken to Glory to be with his Savior. An earthly loss took place, but not an eternal one. Do I think God was pleased with the ending? No. Do I think God wanted it to go that way? No. Do I think God allowed it? Undeniably. Do I understand? No. No, no, forever no.

Perhaps one day I will. Perhaps when I'm with that gardener again, when even I can sing without hurting his ears, I'll see more clearly. Maybe then I'll perceive the truth, know God's plan, and understand. Perhaps.

Until then, even in his untimely end, my mentor taught me many things. Never stop fighting. Never give up. Trust God. Have faith. Reach out to those around you. Sadly, he taught me these things not by what he did, but by what he didn't.

So I remember Roger today not with anger, but respect. I put aside the one day, the one season in his life, and remember all the others. The wood smith. The musician. My mentor. The Gardener.

He was a good man whom I still miss greatly, but his wisdom will be with me always.

I'll see you there, Roger. We'll sit on God's porch, talk things over. I'll learn from you again. I'll listen and watch intently as you show me how to do something. Perhaps we can plant a seed or two, sit back in a couple of old wicker chairs while sipping lemon tea, and watch them grow.

Do You Remember?--A Poem

I was thinking of You today, and I wondered:

Your hands, Your feet, Your side--

Do You remember the pain?

When You see the scars,

Does the memory of that pain haunt You?

When I fail, my Lord, does the pain of the spikes come to You?

Do You feel the thorns piercing Your head, the whip striking Your back?

When I lied today, did it hurt You?

Did You feel it, Lord?

Were my words a stripe across Your back, a hammer blow to the spike in Your hand?

When I was angry, did You again hear the curses, the taunts, the rage?

Did You hear me say, "Crucify him!"?

Did I say that today?

When I turned my back on those in need,

Did You taste the vinegar on your lips?

When I held back from You what You have given me,

Did You see me casting lots for Your robes?

Did I pierce Your side with the spear?

A whip, a hammer, a spike, a spear, a crown of thorns--

Did I hold those in my hands today?

Did I?

I am sorry, My Lord, My God, My Savior

Because I did.

I am forgiven because You were forsaken.

My tongue, my thoughts, my wrongful deeds--

They were a whip, a crown of thorns, spikes in your flesh on that day.

But I was wondering, God--

Your hands, Your feet, Your side;

Do You remember?

Just Breathe

Ever get so caught up in what you are doing that you forget the essential small stuff? Like breathing? Seriously, it happens. I do it, and probably so do you.

As a Physical Therapist, I remind my patients every day to breathe as we go through the various exercises and activities to help them get well. Probably 50 times a day--no exaggeration!--I have to remind them to take a breath. They are so caught up in the task before them they forget one of the most basic necessities of life: Breathing.

While I am also guilty of holding my breath when exercising (practice what you preach!), there are many other times in my life when I overlook the basics in pursuit of some goal. I fail to spend time with my wife because I am too busy doing stuff for her; stuff she would rather I leave for another day. I don't take time to enjoy my kids because I am too busy trying to raise them--when what they really need is simply to spend time with their dad. I miss the boat because I am too busy packing for the journey. Life waits for no man, and opportunities lost are hard-found for another chance.

As with most times in life, I write this at least equally for my own growth as for yours. But I bet there are occasions in your life--just like mine--when you are so focused on what you are doing that you forget what needs to be done. Sometimes we all need to take a step back and . . . simply . . . breathe!

Don't neglect your family because you are too busy trying to earn a living for them, or make the house look nice for them, or . . . the list goes on. Don't neglect your relationship with God because you are too busy doing things for God. Yes--we are all supposed to be doing God's work, but not to the detriment of knowing Him and spending time with Him. Don't forget to breathe because you are too busy trying to do life. It's not going to turn out well.

Want some Scriptures to back that up?  Try these.

Luke 10:38-41

Matthew 6:25

Psalm 39:5

I have left it up to you to look for these passages if you so desire.

Maybe doing so is just what you need to breathe.

Rain and Storms in Our Lives

Meteorologists predict an 80% chance of storms tomorrow. I've known this for a few days now, and have had time to make necessary preparations. Windows are closed, outside furniture secure, gutters and downspouts cleaned out. We're ready to weather the storm.

Wouldn't it be nice if the other storms in our lives were so predictable? All jokes aside, the weather forecast gives us a pretty good idea of when we might expect the weather to turn nasty and ugly. I'd sure like to have that kind of forewarning for when my life is going to do the same. Wouldn't you?

But it doesn't work that way. Disturbances smash into the fair weather of our lives like rogue waves on the sea--unpredictable, unforeseeable, and often destructive.

The storms tomorrow are not expected to be severe--just run-of-the-mill Spring thundershowers; but even that could cause some big headaches if I didn't take precautions. What if I left my car windows down, or failed to clean out the gutters, or didn't check the sump pump? Those ordinary storms could wreak some havoc on my world.

And sometimes--snicker, snicker--the Weatherman gets it wrong. Maybe the storms will be more severe than predicted. We might get hail, or strong winds. Lightning could strike my house. We've all seen enough floods to last a lifetime. You just never know.

Aren't our lives just the same? Even when we think we can predict a rough patch of road ahead, and prepare ourselves for that, we often get it wrong. Sometimes we expect smooth sailing, and end up with a headwind. Sometimes we think we've sailed around the storm, only to end up in her teeth. And sometimes, storms come out of nowhere.

There are people in our lives right now who are going through their own personal storms. Some of them we know about, others we don't. Many are just garden variety cloudbursts, others are F5 twisters destroying everything in their path--families, marriages, finances, faith. You will talk to someone tomorrow--at church or elsewhere--who is in the middle of a hurricane, and you (and sometimes even they) will have no clue.

Storms happen.

Are you prepared?

Where is your storm shelter, that place you can go to be safe no matter what life throws at you? Who is your lifeline, your emergency contact to call out to when everything you know is carried away by a flood of circumstances you can do nothing to control? What is your evacuation plan?

If you don't have a plan to weather the storms that will come in your life, may I suggest you take a minute to look at a couple of Bible verses? If you don't have a Bible handy, Google them.

Psalm 32:7

Psalm 34:19

Do you see it? The shelter, the lifeline, the 24/7 Emergency Hotline? It's there. For you.

Do you have a story of how God has been a shelter in your time of storms? If so, share it here so we can all see how God works in the lives of ordinary people. Just like you and me.

Saying Goodbye

I had to say Goodbye to a friend this week. It was one of those bitter-sweet times when you are grateful the suffering is over, but sad your time together here on earth has come to an end. Goodbyes are hard.

I've had to say Goodbye many times--Dad, Grandpa, friends. Those were goodbyes required when the earthly journey of someone in my life came to an end. As a Christian, I know many of those were, "Goodbye, until . . ." But, I also believe some of them were, "Goodbye . . . forever." Those are hard.

Besides the people I have known who have passed from this life to the next, the dreaded Goodbye has been required many times. Goodbye to friends who have moved away. Goodbye to time when obligation calls. Goodbye to dreams whose day has come and gone.

Goodbye is rarely easy.

But . . .

Goodbye can be good.

It's a matter of perspective.

Goodbye can leave room for Hello. How? Let me show you.

I'll never have another Dad, but in his absence I've had the great privilege of men in my life willing to be my mentors. Friends will never be replaced, but new friends will be made. Dreams lost will be mourned, but dreams anew bring ambition and hope.

Sometimes we have to say Goodbye to be able to say Hello to what God wants us to have. This is hard to see, especially when the pain of Goodbye is so close, but often--looking back through the lens of time--we can see His hand at work.

Why I Write

I have a lot of reasons for writing.

Writing, for me, is fun. I enjoy the process, and am learning every day just what a process it is. I used to think authors just sat down and typed whatever came to mind, but now I know just how untrue that is. A lot of work--research, editing and rewriting, struggling to find the right word or words to convey a thought or describe a scene--goes into every single sentence. And then, you go back and do it all again, because what you wrote the first time wasn't what you wanted to say at all. It's slow. It's frustrating.

I love it!

I love learning, researching and investigating, finding alternate theories on this or that and pulling out nuggets of truth. I enjoy going through the dictionary or thesaurus (I know, I know--boring!) to find just the right word. I even like reading something I've written and realizing it's horrible--because I can fix it and make it right.

You see, I like to be in control.

When I write, I think I control everything. I control who is in the story. I control what everyone does. I control their emotions, their responses, their actions and reactions. I even control the weather, and right now, in Central Illinois, I'd really like to be able to do that in real life!

But I can't.

Writing is an escape from a reality I cannot control, but a temporary one at best. And even then I realize how many things are beyond my control. If what I write is to be believable and readable, rules have to be followed. The sun rises in the east. Men and women are created to be different. Lightning comes before thunder. Heaven and hell are real. Jesus Christ died on the cross for our sins. These are realities that exist and must cross over even into my world of fiction writing because they are undeniably true. Why?

Because God says so, and He is in control. Not me.

Writing helps me to understand that. Writing brings me closer to God because I have to consider Him in everything I say. Even in fiction, I believe His truths are irrefutable, and I feel a powerful obligation to obey them.

I write to understand God better, and, hopefully, help others do the same. His love. His mercy. His grace. His rules.

So, a couple of questions.

First, for those of you who write--whether it be a blog, a book, a journal, or social media--why do you do it?

Secondly--If you could control one thing in your life, what would it be?

Share your responses below. I'd love to learn more about you.

Getting Started

Have you ever prayed and prayed for something . . . only to pray some more . . . and then, when you least expect it, God answered? And not with a "no," but with an emphatic "YES"?

That's where I am today. My journey to today began . . . well, at the beginning. But for brevity's sake, we'll go back about 10 years. That's when I decided I wanted to write a book. I sat at my computer and, over the course of several months, wrote 90,000 words that somewhat flowed together.

Voila!

I thought I was done. I mailed (remember snail-mail?) query letters and sample chapters to five or six publishers, and waited. One by one, the responses came back.

"Thank you, but . . . uh . . . no thank you."

So that was that. I wasn't going to be a writer. Which was OK; I have a lot of other things to keep me going. A great wife, one (now three) great kids, a good job, hunting, fishing--you get the picture. Life would go on.

Fast forward to six months ago.

I got the bug again. The dreaded writing bug. And I got it bad. I dug into the old files and found that awful manuscript (moved across three computers by this time--thank you God that I didn't just leave it to rot!). I read it, (prayed) re-wrote it (prayed again), re-read it (prayed fervently), re-wrote it (prayed some more). . . nine or ten times. Not exaggerating here. I have all the old formats.

One day I decided it was time; actually, God told me it was time. Believe what you will. He did.

I sent out queries, cover letters, proposals . . . and waited.

Rejection, rejection, rejection.

But one wonderful day . . .

"Please send me the full manuscript to read."

I made it out of the slush pile, that infamous bottomless pit where query letters go to die. A Literary Agent wanted to read the whole book!

Off it went. Out the door went my patience. I checked my email every hour, often times more than that. Mr. Agent read part of the book, requested a phone call.

The Call!

But no, not yet. More days passed. Then--glorious day!--he said yes. He would represent me. He made no promises other than to try to get my book published.

And that is where we stand today.

We have an agent. We're past the starting line. We're in the race. You see, we are in this together, you and I. I can't do this alone.

But we are just getting started.

Will you walk with me as I traverse this winding path ahead? Join my blog. Visit me on Facebook.

Pray for me, if you would.

And, my question still stands. Have you ever prayed for something . . . only to have God say yes?

Tell us about it.

I'll be back every week, maybe more.