Comments from the Five Cent Seat

2017-07-18T07:53:00.002-07:00

My daughter Brittany wrote a eulogy for my mother who passed on about a year ago. In it she talked of a visit she had paid to her grandmother several summers ago after the spring semester ended, in lieu of any of a number of more enticing opportunities in the mission field abroad. She flew to WI in anticipation of three weeks of meaningful conversation, the making of cherished memories. My father passed away six years prior and as he was "the rock" on which my mother had built her life, her day to day existence was labored through as if in a fog. Brittany recalls the time spent as somewhat anticlimactic, with her and her grandma sitting in the living room watching TCM, Band of Brothers, old WWII movies, everything from the classic age of days gone by with very little conversation to be had. If my mom needed something, Brittany was quick to retrieve it. She was somewhat deflated by the fact that her time with my mom was differing very much from what she'd anticipated. On closer reflection, Brittany came to the conclusion that it was her PRESENCE that meant so much to my mom. The gift was in having someone sitting in the room across from you, even if there's little conversation to be had; of having the space around you filled with life. This abstract concept takes on texture and stark significance to someone in the throws of grief and loneliness. To those coming to grips with the harshness of loss, simply having another person present is not only a comfort but a lifeline. It may have proved less than epic for Brittany at the time, but later in retrospect she realized and was reassured by my mom, that the time she spent with her was so very precious. It became precious to Brittany as well. I will forever be grateful to Brittany for choosing to love on my mom in this way. Especially now that she's gone.

2017-07-18T07:36:00.001-07:00

I spent the bulk of my days as a child running away... both figuratively and literally. I still remember the names of my tormentors. In grade school, I literally had to run from David Bugni, Dale Rosewicz and Larry Groshens. They followed my best friend Kathy and I home every day, taunting us, throwing rocks, calling us names and making our lives miserable. I remember a day in third grade when I came back to my seat to find a "gift": A book called "The Moffats" was laying on top of my desk. Two pieces of paper lay on top of the book, one covering the first half of the title up to the word fat. The other piece covered the last "s". On the first piece of paper "Connie is" was written. So, the message was "Connie is fat." Ingenious.
I remember one incident on the playground that haunted me for a long time. There were a set of concrete stairs going down to the basement of the school, where the boiler room was. These boys pushed me down these stairs and then from the top of the stairs, threw things at me, calling me names. I never told my parents about any of the things that happened at school. I never received any affirmation from them at home that would lead me to believe what these kids were telling me was untrue... only reinforcement from my own brothers, whose names for me included "Bertha Butt". I had no advocate at home, for my mom was too busy helping her sisters raise their children after losing their husbands and pretty much lived inside her own head, dealing with her own torments of loss and grief by lashing out in anger; my dad was at work, either at Ladish, or out in the garage fixing cars. My brothers were vicious as kids and gave me no peace. At dance, my greatest tormentor was a man I spent more time with than my own father, my dance master. His approval meant everything to me as I spent more time with him than my own parents and I was willing to go to any lengths to get it. Because I was borderline stocky for the dance world in which I was immersed (I was 5' 2" and 123#), this man harassed me constantly, picked at me, subjected his daughter and I to humiliation and ridicule by calling us fat slobs, pigs,,, you get the picture. All in front of our peers, who were our competition in that dance world.
So I believed the lies. I lived in shame. I lived in fear that the whole world would come to know how utterly worthless I was. I hid from life in stories, reading so voraciously that my aunts told my mother I needed to see a shrink because there was something wrong with me. They were right, but my mom was a very private and defensive woman, hence, no help from that corner. Not until much later, when it was too obvious to ignore was I brought to a psychiatrist's office because I had shrunk to 70 pounds and didn't even drink water without throwing it up. I had been rushed to the hospital four different times to be put on IV's for dehydration. I couldn't have cared less. All I cared about was the fact that no one could ridicule me for being fat again.

2012-11-17T10:58:00.001-08:00

For Christmas last year my family presented me with a dog, a king cavalier spaniel/poodle mix named Toby. My reaction was not what they were hoping for or expecting. We are empty nesters and our goal is to downsize, to simplify our lives. I didn't see a dog fitting into that vision and was not happy with the thought of a 10-15 year commitment in caring for a pet. My oldest daughter had found him on craig's list and they'd picked him up on the day before Christmas eve. His previous owners had decided he'd grown too large for their taste and had given him over to their friends in order to find a home for him. His behavior indicated possible abuse/neglect and he had never been groomed...ever. Toby would hide under chairs or coffee tables and was pretty skittish around us. While I was trying to reconcile myself to having this new responsibility, I was also finding it impossible not to succumb to this little guy's charms. He eventually ventured out from under the tables and into our hearts. I can't imagine what I would've missed had I not had this little guy underfoot, making me laugh, following me everywhere. Toby is quirky, playful and loyal. Everywhere I go, he is literally underfoot. We have 19 treads going from our first floor to the upstairs and in the course of a day I probably make that flight 15-20 times, every time with Toby at my heels. One time he was racing me down the stairs, hit the bottom at high speed and slid about 5 feet across the tile. I almost peed myself laughing! Most of the time Toby looks like a lamb with curly cream colored hair and the longest eyelashes I've ever seen. He has very large, round liquid brown eyes. I swear there is a human brain behind those eyes. They melt me.
In observing his behavior over the last year, I've drawn some parallels to my relationship with God and what I want it to be like. Toby follows me wherever I go, wants to be with me no matter what I'm doing. I can't tell you how many times I've gone into the bathroom with him hot on my heels and smiled at the fact that this little ball of fur is content to sit at my feet while I conduct the most mundane business of life. He finds joy simply in my presence. This is what I want the picture of my relationship with God to look like. That I would follow Him wherever, whenever, and whatever. Always.

2012-11-01T10:29:00.000-07:00

"Do this in memory of Me." Jesus' words at the last supper have always meant to me that we should practice the sacrament of communion with other believer's as a means of reflection on His great sacrifice for us. Just recently, as I was reading this sacred passage of scripture, Jesus' words took on a much deeper meaning. I am assuming that, once again, I'm settling in at the back of the pack in this monumental realization. Nevertheless, it was one of those "Aha" moments for me.
In the same setting where Jesus uttered these precious words, He also washed the feet of His disciples and exhorted them to serve one another in love... not only that, but to give up their very lives for the sake of each other. In John 21 He said that the greatest among them would be like the youngest and the one who rules like the one who serves. We are all called to be servants after the Great Servant, Jesus.
So, what was the great revelation? When Jesus spoke those words, "Do this in memory of Me," I believe He was not just speaking of the practice of the sacrament of communion. I think He was talking about His being broken and poured out for the sake of others. He was talking about dying to His own rights (He is God and has the right to all things), laying down His deity and desires, being crucified in the flesh for the taking up of the will of the Father for the bringing on of the kingdom of heaven.
We, most of us, live our lives on a daily basis in the pursuit of our own personal fulfillment, even in the midst of seeking to serve God. Those of us who earnestly pursue Him are not immune to the enticement of emotional highs and self-gratification that come from blessing others. I believe the Lord would like to wean us from dependence on anything but the raw desperation of our need for Him and the joy and glory that accompanies existence with a consciousness of His presence. He alone is worthy of such utter self-abandonment. Let us be broken for the sake of Him alone, for the glory of the kingdom, for the love of the Father, for the salvation of a lost world desperate for hope and the love, grace and mercy of Christ.

2012-10-31T11:25:00.001-07:00

I've never been witness to a hurricane or an earthquake, a tornado, wildfire, volcano or major flood. I've never had to flee for my life or run for cover in fear. The myriad ways that God's power is physically manifested are dreadful and devastating. These physical displays of His power and glory are not necessarily signs of His wrath, but they must demand our attention and force us to confront our limitations, our finite nature and powerlessness. One would think that to stand in the midst of such overwhelming evidence, even the staunchest of atheists would reconsider his beliefs. I can only imagine...
Although I've never escaped death as have those that have survived any of these natural disasters, I know what it is like to live in fear. It was a different type of fear, yet fear nonetheless. I experienced it on a daily basis, walked alone in dread, lived with no hope, no end in sight. The terror was internal, in the privacy of my mind. The fear would be greatest when contemplating an eternity of this existence with no end to it. It almost drove me insane. This loneliness and terror characterized my life before I met God on my knees in the parking lot of the KISS club in Las Vegas.
I know so many of us as Christians believe life to be unfair here on earth as we watch the wicked prosper, and as we see people who've rejected God live lives that appear to be full of joy and peace, seemingly devoid of serious tribulation. We find much solace in knowing that this life is but a vapor, that our trials build character and conform us more greatly to the image of Christ. All this is true and the Bible says we should consider it joy to face these trials as a testing of our faith which will produce character, perseverance. I believe this to be true. The validity has been tested in my own walk.
I also believe that we live in a world of great pretenders. It is not chic to show need, nor posh to display anything but cool acceptance of one's lot. The starving artist has that certain edgy attraction to those not walking in his shoes. He's foregoing a more cushy lifestyle in order to embrace his angst and grit.
We don't live with him inside his mind as he grapples with his loneliness and fear, venting his discontent and confusion in song, art or other means of artistic expression and terrified to be vulnerable in relationship. We don't see his insides as he lives life out aloud. We have no idea what it is like behind his closed doors. I can guess, because, again, I have lived it. If you have not reconciled yourself to the God of the universe you might have experienced it too... the fear, the discontent, the inability to passively accept the evil and sin in this world with what we know to be right and true. Then, there are those who appear to live in sweet contentment, possibly experiencing no need for anyone or anything apart from their own efficient selves. Maybe not all are called... I don't know, and will not be audacious enough to judge. Yet, even if your life is cruising along swimmingly and you think you want for nothing, you still live in enemy occupied territory with a choice to make. And as much as each day is a gift, it is not a given.

2012-10-31T11:01:00.002-07:00

I understand the atheist's obstinance in demanding that the rest of the world embrace his viewpoint and admit that God, a Supreme intelligent being, does not exist. It is only true that our actions and decisions are of no consequence if there is no great Judge. And if even a small faction of people are left with the freedom to expose the holes in the atheist's faith- and yes, the atheist does espouse a belief system or faith- they risk having that faith held up to scrutiny.
I'm certain that preachers, theologians and evangelists throughout history have postulated ad infinitum on the lunacy of their arguments when contrasting the evidence on both sides. Yet, I understand their vehemence. It is not so much a disbelief but a refusal to submit, a fear of the cost. It is a position usually marked by emotion, not evidence. You would have to have been everywhere in the universe at every time throughout history in order to make the claim with any credibility that God does not exist. Let's face it, man believes he is afforded greater freedom of expression when life can be lived without restriction or consequence... or does he? I have lived both ways, so I think I can speak from a relatively objective perspective. It is utter folly from the bird's eye. And what evil does this way of life give license to? It is easier to deny the existence of God, for contemplation of Him can be overwhelming and frustrating. There is no containment of the knowledge of the Almighty One. This side of heaven we remain shortsighted. Our earnest seeking, although yielding a satisfying experience of Him in relationship and bringing about fullness and abundance of life, a divine pleasure in knowing Him thus, one can only assume it pales in comparison to the intimacy and glory of eternity lived not only in His presence, but in utter communion and fellowship with the richness of all He is.
Paradoxically, it is acknowledging His existence that begins the journey that leads to an understanding of the true freedom the atheist was seeking all the time. As we grow in knowledge of Him we are confronted not with a cold, distant, impersonal being who demands perfection and has no compassion or patience with our humanity. He is not a stoic judge who condemns. On the contrary, we see a God who was willing to lay aside His deity to get down in the trenches with us. We are met with tenderhearted Compassion, a judge rich in mercy who LONGS to forgive and grant pardon and a Father's fierce love and protectiveness. We are free to be exactly who He created us to be in the safety and joy of His presence.

Until I had children of my own, my understanding of Him was two dimensional. I'd had catechism as a child and went to church on Sundays. I remember sitting in church on a Saturday, waiting for my parents to come out of the confessional. I was around 7 years old. The church had a floor to ceiling slab of marble that stood at the head with the cross of Christ on it. I sat in that church, dimly lit by candles, looking up at the altar with a child's longing to know the One "behind it". I had experienced the deaths of my grandfather, uncle and 4 year old cousin. I had experienced several years of molestation by an older cousin. I had experienced the fabric of my family life change rapidly as my parents took over the care of my 5 cousins who had lost their father and essentially their mother as well who was unable to deal with the loss.

2012-10-31T09:40:00.000-07:00

Sin duped the whole human race with the folly of self-preservation. We squander our precious time frantically searching for the fountain of youth... with the next new fad which purports to rejuvenate us, resurrect what has decayed and deteriorated or to at least stay the hands of time: vitamins, supplements, superfoods, exercise, organics, anti-aging tonics, cosmetics and surgeries that will reverse the signs of aging. We will decay and eventually die. We are all wearing out and there's nothing any of us can do about it. So why do we throw time and money at such a futile endeavor? Ironically, it is time that is precious, not youth. Youth is wasted on the young for it's value can only truly be appreciated by the passage of time, through life experience. How we spend our time tells a lot about us. Our days and minutes can be pregnant with life-affirming, significant activity or wasted taking spin class with the hamsters. The only One who can preserve us is the One who saves us for all eternity. We have to stop living as if this is all there is...

2010-08-31T13:47:00.000-07:00

The cross of God was fully intentional...from the foundation of the world the lamb was slain. It is the gate through which anyone can enter into oneness with God; it is not a gate we pass through, it is one wherein we abide in the life that is found there. The cross exhibited His nature which is love. He is ultimate, abandoned, unabashed love, with no agenda or expectations, no hesitation. Childlike in its totality and lack of inhibition, blind to withdrawal, it offers itself with no thoughts for appearances or fear of rejection, with no concern as to the possibility of unrequitment. We can't even begin to understand or exhibit or even desire this kind of transparency and vulnerability in our relationships apart from the safety of that actual experience of His love. There is too much at stake; unless our identity is grounded in this love we can't take the risk. But if we have experienced that heavenly abandoning of our earthly fear because we've been captured by His lavish grace and mercy, all bets are off. We have total freedom to make fools of ourselves for love's sake, for His sake. Ah what sweet peace when I can truly say "you can't touch this".

2010-03-13T10:24:00.000-08:00

So many of my young adult years I wasted precious time comparing my insides with the selves that others chose to reveal to the world. I inevitably came away not simply bereft, but discouraged and ashamed. If I had thought to consider that the lives I viewed from my perspective were potentially very different from the lives these others lived behind closed doors, or under even greater concealment, inside their own heads, I may have been spared the existence of the "terminally unique". No one lived in greater shame than I. There were none that had as much to hide and the daily pretense at normalcy exhausted me. By my own fear of discovery I was consigned to an emotionally solitary trudge through these years and a firm affirmation of the validity of my hopelessness. I had no concept of God other than the assurance that He disapproved of me, must agree with my self-assessment and so I was resigned to my fate. I quite literally threw up my hands in surrender and determined to live in utter defiance for having been relegated to such a fate by a god heralded as "loving" by those who did not know Him as I did or surely must have been dealt a "winning hand" by this higher authority I'd come to regard as mean spirited and capricious indeed. What had I ever done to warrant this sentence I can only describe as an endless "agony of the soul"? There was no escape from the daily torture and no end in sight. Even thoughts of death provided no solace as I had no doubt this god existed, that he obviously held me in contempt, and I was surely to be relegated to an eternity of even greater anguish. There was nowhere to run...
And then I met Him. I was so very wrong. Even now some twenty years later, the memory of what I've been spared leaves me shuddering in relief. I cannot rightly explain feelings that run this deep. He is everything to me.

2010-02-26T12:27:00.000-08:00

My life is separated by a bold line of demarcation, dividing it thus far into two very distinct eras which I have labeled BC and SC... that is, "before Christ" and "Since Christ". The disparity between these two is so vast that it gives credence to the the truth of 1Corinthians 5:17. I can't reconcile the person I was to the one I am now. I don't recognize her. Sometimes my recollections make me shudder, other times they make me sick. Most often I wonder how I lived through the years BC and always I stand in amazement of the grace of God and the life I now live in Christ. People today look for signs and wonders. As a good friend of mine used to say, "All I need is the "sign" of the cross and the "wonder" of my salvation to lay me flat on my face before a God I will never fully understand this side of heaven, yet find I cannot live without. Oh how I love Him...

hello!

2010-02-25T20:17:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my blog... if you have a nickel you're invited to eavesdrop.