A Compass Points North ... (Revisiting a Revisit: Foster and Adoption)

 First, a link to an earlier entry: Revisiting Foster Care and Adoption

 Second, the videos, starting with the newest: ReMoved #3

Third, the original two: ReMoved, and Remember My Story: ReMoved Part 2

Fourth, What's it to you?

I really don't have a lot to add to the above today, and I admit to being pretty worn out. But I can say this: If you can find it in your heart to love someone who is hard to love, and give them a little something that they would not otherwise have, do it.

Just that: Do It.

Love is never wasted. Kindness is never wasted. 

If you watch ReMoved #3 you'll get the title of this blog.

Spread some Love around.

Yes, You CAN!

Good Christian Men, REJOICE!

 

Good Morning! Merry Christmas!

                Good Christian men Rejoice! With heart and soul and voice! Give ye heed of what we say: Jesus Christ is born today! Ox and ass before him bow and he is in the manger now! Christ is born today, Christ is born to day!

                I’m going to start with something not typically thought of as a Christmas activity: Holy Communion.

                I’m not a stickler for wafer and wine, so if you have even a stray Cherrio and some breakfast juice that will be fine. The references will be from Matthew’s Gospel, chapter twenty-six

‘While they were eating, Jesus took the bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat, this is my body given for you.”

‘Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, saying, “All of you drink from this; this is my blood of the promise poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sin.”’

                And there you have it, the thumbnail of God’s gift to us. All of you know what happened next, Jesus was arrested, tried, then crucified. Three days later he arose fulfilling the promise of life.

                Merry Christmas!

 

Rancor

This should have been posted yesterday. Sorry about that.

This’ll be short. This Thanksgiving our ‘Lustrous Potentate said that we needed to tone down the, and I quote: “Rancor.”

As I recall, I’m not the one who called half of the voting population ‘Terrorists’. So I say:

“People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

‘Nuff said.

Have a great day, folks.

"My Son" a song to live by

 

I’ve become addicted to the ‘shorts’ that come over the smart phone.

I’ve got to do something about that. Not today, though.

Fortunately, I try to feed the algorithm information for its selection of good stuff. And it works. Occasionally I get something good.

Yesterday, I heard a song with the title of, I think, ‘The Other WayAround’; the guy was singing to his son about how much the boy looks up to him, that the (the dad) is his whole world, and the dad tells him, ‘it’s the other way around’. The boy is saying, “Don’t say that. It makes me cry. I’m crying ‘Happy Tears’. I know what he means. I hate crying, even 'happy tears'.

I can’t find the song on YouTube anywhere; I find a lot of 'other way around's, just not the right one. So if you find it, please send me the link. It'll have the lyric: "He thinks I hung the moon somehow ..." Thanks.

It did remind me of another song I’d added to one of my many playlists, and I spent much of last night trying to find it (the reason for ‘many playlists’ is to categorize and keep each individual list short. Well, shorter. It doesn’t work, and I have a long list of playlists. But I digress …). The list it was in was ‘Crazy Country’, and I found a lot of other things along the way: stuff by Home Free (a great a cappella group, btw), Cotton Pickin’ Kids, Homer & Jethro.

And Elvie Shane.

This is the long way ‘round to get to my point. The song: ‘My Son’ kinda says everything about what foster/adoption is all about. It’s not just about helping the children. It’s about filling a hole in your (my) own soul.

How do I explain this without sounding selfish? I can’t, I guess. But the making of one small person’s life as whole as you can has the benefit of making one’s own life whole as well. It’s unavoidable.

Explaining this to people can difficult.

Questions: “Which one is your real child?” They are all my real children. “Well, you know what I mean.” Yes I do. And your question is impertinent. They are all my children. You are only looking for gossip material. “Bless you for the good work you do.” Depending on the source, this one perplexes me. My wife and I are not doing this for ‘stars in our crowns’. We see a need we can meet and we are meeting it. Though people on the outside see this as charity work, it’s not. Or the statement: “I don’t understand how you can love someone who is not your blood kin.” Well, I love my wife, and she’s not my blood kin. “But that’s different!” It is, and it isn’t. But how do I help people understand this?

I think the most hurtful are the statements made by family.

After the funeral for my father-in-law another family member sat with his wife and started listing the grandkids. And left our adopted kids off the list. (I don’t think the person realized I was sitting there.)

That hurt.

I didn’t call attention to it at the time; like I said, this was the day of the funeral for my father-in-law. Nothing would have been served by my mentioning this person's omission at the time, no matter how low-key I voiced it. Mom-in-law knew the truth in any case, as one of my daughter’s children had been living in the home as sort of supercargo while my wife had been helping dad-in-law take care of mom-in-law. It’s all water under the bridge at this point.

However, that child, my grandchild, is now eighteen  and will graduate High School in thirteen days. Scary. She makes me proud.

Yeah, we fight, but we make up. I scold her, encourage her to do better. Take her to task. She takes me to task sometimes.

 Later today I’ll most likely be helping her with one last Physics assignment, and the teacher that I am, I won’t be letting her slide through it. I’ll be helping her understand how this relates to the real world around her.

And, like the arrows in the hand of a mighty man, I will help launch one more child into the world.

World, you have been warned, here comes another Hansen!

And you, child-now-grown, fly straight and true. Know that I love you, and you have added as much and more to our lives as we have given to you.

That’s the nature of generosity: as you help someone else, you build strength in yourself.

I don’t understand it; I only can state from experience that it is true.

Be Generous. Take a kid under your wing.  

Yes, You Can!

I Share the Rock Biter’s Despair

This morning, as I sat on the edge of my bed, I found myself looking into my empty hands, cupped in my lap, and I thought: “They look like good, strong hands.”

And immediately I was taken back to the movie, ‘The Neverending Story’. But before the movie, came the book by the same title, written by Michael Ende. I read it before I saw the movie. Interestingly, it was NOT in the children’s section of the library, but in the adult section. Having read it, I agree. Even though the protagonist was a child of about sixth grade or so, and it follows him on a road to self-discovery, it is not a coming-of-age book in the normal sense of the phrase.

But I digress.

The point I’m trying to make is, in spite of all my efforts, I feel all my accomplishments slipping away from me, just as the Rock Biter could not hold on to his friends against the pull of the ‘Nothing’.

I feel that all my efforts to hang on to the good that I have done, and the good that I’m trying to do, it is all being stripped away by forces outside of my control.

In Bastian Balthazar Bux’ universe, it is reborn by his renaming of the Childlike Empress, then populated by his imagination.

The book gets deeper about this, which is why this is an adult novel, not a children’s novel. But the first movie pretty much ends at that point, and doesn’t get into the cosmic verities that Mr Ende was trying to explore.

And this rounds us back to the Rock Biter.

The Rock Biter was a large, clumsy, fearful-looking person who ate rocks for food. But he had a gentle demeanor. And he made friends easily; it was usually those to whom he was trying to befriend that had the problem.

But friends he made, and he was loyal to them to the last.

In Real Life, I am looking at how to finish out my days, and get everything accomplished: making sure I leave a legacy to keep my wife and children doing well, my wife especially. I, too, am trying to be loyal to them to the last.

In the immediate economy it’s not easy. At this stage of my life I’m trying to come up with something that will put money in our pockets, to ‘give back what the locust destroyed’. It’s not easy, and the things to do are so very different from the things I would do if this was thirty years ago.

It is very hard to say, ‘Yes, I Can’, right now. But, I can’t blame the economy, though I’d like to. I can’t blame the ‘gimme, gimme’ people, though they do their best to get in the way of those of us who have a mission to be generous by creating and assisting opportunities, to give a hand up assist to those who need that steadying hand to those who need it.

I can’t blame anyone; the only one I can hold accountable is myself.

As the sign at my desk implies, it is all about attitude.

So when you find it hard to say, ‘Yes I Can’, know that I’m right there with you.

But:

Yes, We CAN!

Revisiting Foster Care and Adoption

In its way, it's all about happy endings.

Not the end of  twenty-three minute long sitcom happy endings, but real happy endings. Real stories of survival. 

ReMoved is the beginning of one such story, and Remember My Story - ReMoved Part 2 is the continuation.  I say 'continuation', because no story truly ends. I'll let the videos speak for themselves. They pull no punches. That they are dramas does not take away from their speaking true things.

That we need a child welfare system is an unfortunate fact. That the children in the system survive at all is a tribute to the strong men and women who make the choice to open their homes, to make a safe landing pad, a haven for these children, to have the patience and strength and bottomless hearts full of unconditional love to share with such children in need. They know, just like the song lyric 'The Only Way Out is Through.' 

All of them saying a version of the same thing: you need to put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving. Another link: The Best Way Out is Always Through. 

Many of us, not to say most of us, are fighting battles every day, battles of 'quite desperation'. Sometimes not so quiet. These children are in their own battles. And these battles are not of their making. What do you do when you are in a battle, and you are powerless?

Let us look at the children in their situations: abusive/neglectful home environment. Not necessarily the financially impoverished environments, but the ones of emotional violence, physical violence/abuse. Those environs where it is amazing that any child could survive, never mind thrive. Look at that, then, and remember: these children often have very little understanding that this is not the way things should be. They only know that this is the way things ARE. They may not like the way things are, but that's all they know.

When something happens to bring these children to the attention of the authorities, these children do not understand that they are being taken for their own good. No. All they know that their world is crashing down. They may have unstable moorings. But that is better than NO moorings. It's been said, 'better the devil you know than the one you don't know'. And that is EXACTLY where they find themselves. As bad as their lives may be to us, the outsiders, it is all they KNOW. And the unknown is always worse than what is known, even if WE know it is ultimately for the better.

Depending on the situation, some children may welcome the escape; they may have an understanding that life has to be better than what they are going through. Even so, in a life full of fear, the uncertain is better than the unknown.

And truly, some of the foster homes are as bad, or worse, than the homes they had been pulled from. The system is the system, and the broken parts need to be fixed.

So why are you going on about this, Mister Madman?

Good question. This is where you come in. You can be part of the solution. You can help a child put one foot in front of the other so they can get to the far side of 'Through'. 

You can help them to their 'Happy Continuation'.

You've heard me say, on this blog, that these kids need an opportunity to live a normal life, to have a loving, caring, protective (but not overprotective) family situation. I will continue to say it, and I will continue to encourage people to become part of that solution.

Remember: for these kids going back is seldom an option. Their only option is: Through. Through the broken hearts, through the tears, through the inexplicable acting out. Through the failure to bond, the often unvoiced view that it will be easier not to make friends with this new family ('I'll only be ripped from them, too'). 

By the time you become their next stepping stone to the future, that child or those children may have become emotional icebergs or raging volcanoes of anger. Or both. Generally not a lot in between. Hope is an unknown to many of them.

But, these children deserve a chance. You can be the one to give them that chance.

Because of these things, it will NOT be easy for you. And you WILL make mistakes. Some days you will think you are doing more harm than good. Do your best to do good, ANYWAY.

Remember how hard it was for your parents to raise you. Raising these kids will likely be ten times as hard. 

Remember, like that public service ad says, 'You don't have to be perfect to be a good foster parent. You just have to be there.' (If I misquote, my apologies).

Be there.

Be there. Be strong. Be loving. Be patient. Give grace. Give lots of grace. Keep loving. Keep giving. 

Keep going.

Yes, you can!

(To my own kids: I apologize for all the things I’ve done wrong. Some of these things I knew were wrong at the time, and that is the greatest wrong. I’m sorry. Words are not enough.)

 

Forever Family

There is,of course, more than can ever be commented about. But here is one thing that is high on most people's list: Family.

And for those young ones who are missing a family, finding, and gaining acceptance in, a new family is high on the priority list.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOeQUwdAjE0

The following story is going out to one such family, but I thought I'd share it with you folks here as well.

Critters of Habit

Forever Family

George Bear was elbow-deep in the stack of monthly bills when his youngest cub, LizaBeth, put her small paw on his much bigger paw.

"Papa?"

"Yes, Li'l Bit?"

"What's a 'Forever Family'?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's this girl in class, Tanya, who was talking about her special day. The day she met her 'Forever Family'. She was all excited about it."

"Ah, you mean Tanya Sparrow?"

"Yes, Papa."

"Well, it's kind of complicated. But it's simple, too, when you get down to the basics of it. Are you ready for a story?"

"Is it a Dragon story, Papa?"

"No, it's a real story. The names might be different, but it happened, for real."

"Is it long?"

(smiling) "I'll try to keep it short. It's about a cub very much like you, maybe a little smaller, but she had the same eyes you do ..."

She had a mama and papa, like you do, but life didn't work out for them the way it should have, and the little girl found herself alone.

"That's sad, Papa."

"Very sad, Li'l Bit."

"I bet she cried."

"I'm sure she did. I'm sure she was very lonely and scared."

"I'd be scared, too, Papa."

"Me too, Li'l Bit."

"What happened to her?"

"Well. This cub ended up, for a time, being taken care of by this family and then by that family. And, while she was cared for and loved, she never seemed to end up in a place that didn't eventually - well the phrase we sometimes use is: 'work out'. Things didn't work out for the little cub, and she never got to stay for very long in a place that she could call home with a family that loved her.

Then she met a family that said: 'We'll make a place for you, here, forever.' …”

"Papa?"

"Yes?"

Worry drifted over LizaBeth’s face, "Do I have a 'Forever Family'?"

George took his cub and gently wrapped his huge arms around her.

"You sure do, Li'l Bit. We're your Forever Family, me, Mama Bear, JR, Aunt Cindy, Uncle Larry, Uncle Barney, ... the whole Bear Clan. You're our Li'l Bit, and we're yours forever. You're stuck with us," he said, and growled, "And don't you forget it!"

Li'l Bit giggled, "I won’t, Papa!"

"This cub didn’t want to make friends with this new family. If she did have to leave, like before, with her belongings stuffed in a sack, it would hurt ‘way too much. It took a long while for the girl to trust and believe that this new family meant it when they said 'Forever'. It seemed like the better part of forever before she did believe.

"But, she had a mama and a papa who helped her, and kept loving her, and a brother who called her 'Sister'. He even got into fights with the neighborhood bullies when they were mean to her.

"Eventually, she got the message, and she began to settle in and get comfortable. She smiled more. She even whispered some of her darkest secrets to her new Mama.

"One day, a very special day, the family went to the courthouse. The Judge asked everyone a great many questions. Finally he was satisfied that the people in the girl's home meant what they said when they said 'Forever'. Even the little girl believed it (which was the most important part).

"The judge banged his gavel – "

"What's a 'gabel'?"

"That's 'gavel', and it's something like a hammer or mallet, but not quite. Now hush a moment, this is the best, the most important part. As I was saying,"

The judged banged his gavel, but before he did, he said: 'Little Girl, this is now your family, forever. This matter is adjourned.'

Bang! went his gavel, and everyone was smiling. Especially the little girl. She knew, somehow, that she had a family again. She still wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she knew, at least, that she had not only a bed to sleep in, and food to eat, but people who would love her, forever.

"Oh. She must have been happy, Papa."

"She still is. And, even though there have been rough times - every family has 'em, don't you know? - the love that grew was strong enough to get them through those rough times. And all because one family said: 'We'll be your Forever Family,' and meant it."

"If Tanya’s new family is like that, she must be really lucky, Papa."

"Li'l Bit, there is no such thing as luck. What we call 'luck' is the Hand of God, moving where we can't see it. There is nothing that happens that He doesn't have a hand in.

"Now, then, my li’l cubchild, it's time for bed."

"Aww, Papa!"

"Don't you 'Aww, Papa' me. Git along, now!" George said gruffly, but with a twinkle in his eye.

George was turning back to the stack of bills, when he felt a gentle paw on his shoulder. "You told that story like you were there."

George looked up to see Ethel looking down, her eyes shining.  He said, "Well, I was, for some of it. I remember teasing you when we were cubs. I was kind of mean."

Ethel gave his shoulder a squeeze, "And I remember the thumping you got from my brother, Barney, when he heard you calling me 'Nobody's Cub'. And I remember him telling you, in no uncertain terms, that 'She was so, "Somebody's Cub", she's my SISTER!' And then he gave you one last thump, so's you would remember it."

"Yeah, he hits hard, when he’s riled up. And you sure grew up to be 'Somebody'."

George patted the paw on his shoulder, and looked up at his wife, "We sure do have some wonderful stories, don't we?"

Ethel merely smiled back.

Folks, there are many kids out there that need a 'Forever Family'. If you have the willingness and strength to be a special 'Forever Family' to a special kid, please, by all means do so. The results are world-changing, for the child, but also for you.

Yes, You CAN

What Do You Say When You Don't Have Anything To Say?

Garrison Keillor described it as 'The ability to say things while you're thinking of something to say."

Some people do this better than I do, Mr. Keillor, notably.

I was going to write about personal tragedies, but certain folk would prefer that
I don't share 'family business' ( I suppose even saying that much is saying 'too much'). So, let me just say that it's been a tough couple of years, and let it go at that.

Now that that is done, how are all of you folks? Keeping on? Still keeping the New Years' Resolutions?

I have only one this year: 

"Survive" 

That one will be tough enough, I expect. If that word is a contract, then there are a lot of subordinate clauses that will need to be met as well.

Like:

'Stay healthy'
'Make more money'
'Have more fun'
'Keep loving the family'

And:

"Non Illegitimi Carborundum"*

And, if I can, you can, too.

Yes, You Can!


* You'd best 'Google' it

"We don't serve food here. We serve people."

First of all, this is a work of fiction. None of the names belong to anyone, so far as I know. But, you have met these people before, at one time or another. And if you haven't met a 'Ruthie', I hope you do, soon.


I was talking to Fred and his wife, a wonderful couple once mentioned in Paul Harvey’s Tournament of Roses*, when the man came in.

He came in all het up, and stalked right past the “Please Wait To Be Seated” sign. I could see Emmaline cringe. Emmaline doesn't cringe for much, so I said, "Pardon me, Fred, I think a 'situation' just walked in. Do you mind if I come back in a bit?"

"Sure Eomer, take care of what you need to take care of."

"Thanks. I'll be back." I intoned in my best Arnold voice. That got the usual chuckle.

As I walked up to Emma, the man was just saying: "Do you know who I am!?"

Before Emma could try to answer, I said, "Michael Moore?"

The man turned to me with a glare. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Eomer Dane. I run this place. What can I do for you, Mr. Moore?"

"I'm not Michael Moore!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. May I have your name, please?"

He rattled of an important-sounding string of syllables so fast I couldn't catch them. I mentally named him, 'Sir Loin, of Beef' and determined to just call him 'Sir'.

"Thank you, sir. What can I do for you today?"

"I'm hungry, and this greasy spoon is the only place to eat in this one-horse pimple of a town."

"Why, thank you, Sir. But you seem upset. How can I help you?"

He looked at me as if I was stupid. Self-important people often make that mistake. "I want to eat, now! I'm in a hurry!"

I looked over the lunchtime crowd. A typical Friday bunch, some were folks I know lived two towns over, and regularly made the trip for their favorite meal, or just to see ... yes, they were here today: Little Ruthie and her family. There's only one major business in our town, building farm implements, and Ruthie's mom worked the swing shift as a safety oversight. A stickler for detail, her shift recently won a company-wide award for the longest time without a loss-time incident. Lunch was a special thing once a month thing for them.

"Who do you suggest I try to hurry along? Those four road-crew guys?" Each was bigger than two of me put together, and I'm not small. Good guys, but you don't want to get between them and their lunch. "The 'Ladies'-Aid Tea' folks in the corner?" They were the blue-haired Jesus lady types, sure to bless you, and any one if them will be on your doorstep with a half-gallon mason jar of the best chicken soup (better than mine, even) you've ever used to get over your flu. I'm sure they race each other to see who can get it to you first. But don’t you mess with them; they’re close to God. "Or how about that single mom and her three kids." I indicated Ruthie's table. "Are you more important than them?"

He glared at me. "Doesn't my name mean anything to you?"

"Frankly, no. But say it again, loud, so the people can hear. Maybe they know you."

Glaring at me, he raised his voice, which had already been audible to most folks in the cafe: "I'm Robert Sarkajanianski!"

Most of the folks looked puzzled at each other. From the Crew Guys' table: "So?" It pretty much summed it up.

To 'Sir', I said, "You seem to have a high notion of your importance. I don’t kow what your standards are, but let me pick one of the least important parties here: How about that family of four there: let me tell you about them. The Mom works nights as a safety boss, over at the factory.”

“So what?” he sneered.

I ignored the interruption, “Her husband used to work there, up until someone forgot to put away an extension cord after doing some maintenance. It was a small thing, but, as such things happen, a trip over a cord here, sent a person into a control panel that started up a machine there, that her husband was working on. He was hurt pretty bad, but the injury itself would have been survivable. He was caught in the machine in such a way no one could get to him, and he bled out." I paused for a breath. "All for a simple extension cord. Sam was a good man, and is terribly missed in this, what was your word? 'Pimple', of a town." Another breath, "That lady is a trooper, though. About a week after the funeral, after all the hot dishes had been finished up, Ellen marches into the office of the plant. The secretary immediately thought: 'Lawsuit' and buzzed her boss. He was just coming into the reception area when Ellen said: 'You need a safety chief. I'm your woman!' She wouldn't take 'No' for an answer, and he, more out of pity, really, and possibly thinking that he could avoid that lawsuit he feared, put her on as safety agent on the same shift her husband had worked.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me she is the best they have now?” Sarcasm fairly dripped from his mouth.

"As a matter of fact, she is. To say that she’s motivated is to state the obvious.”

“Hmmm. I suppose.”

"Sam Junior, Billy and Ruthie are all good kids, and Ellen is doing the best she can, not looking for handouts, and she owns that job she has. She's been training the other safety bosses in the company, but doesn't want to be promoted; she can't be on the lookout for the stray cord or tool left where it shouldn't be. 'Inspect what you expect,' is her watchword."

“Why should she be so worried? She’s already lost her ‘man’. If she pressed a 'suit' she might even come out a rich lady.”

I looked at him, searching for his face for a sign of understanding. Seeing none, I said, “She doesn’t want anyone else to suffer the same way she did, from the same kind of stupid mistake. Some folks turn inward at these times. Ellen turned outward.”

By this time, Emma had taken the checks for two or three groups, and seated new groups in their place. But the people weren't leaving. They were hanging around, watching the show: Me and ‘Sir’.

"Like I said, Ellen does her best; Sam Jay, Billy and Ruthie are all good kids. You want some name recognition? Listen:" I raised my voice, "Hey folks! Ruthie's here today!"

The Cafe erupted in a roar of applause that went on for a full three minutes. Standing ovations are hard while sitting at a table or in a booth, but some folks tried. Little Ruthie sunk down low on her seat, trying to look small, but with a shy, happy smile. I turned back to 'Sir', "Do you know that some of these people travel to this cafe, not for my chicken-fried steak (which is the best around, if I do say so myself), but for a chance to get a hug from Ruthie? There's not a person here that Ruthie hasn't touched somehow. She even has a menu item named for her. There's a story about that," I glanced at 'Sir's face. His glare had fled somewhere, only to be replaced by a sad, sad look not often seen apart from funerals. "But now perhaps, is not the best time for it."

He looked at me, as if coming out of a dream. Along the way his angry glare came back. "Very nice story. Now get me a seat, dammit!"

I looked him right in the eye, and said, "Emma, Do we have a seat for this customer yet?"

Emma, who does her best to be accomodating, looked at the line of people still sitting in the waiting area. "No, Boss."

"How long, do you think?"

"Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes."

Still holding 'Sir's eye, and with an easy smile, I replied: "You heard her. You can wait on the bench with the others, and have a cup of coffee if you'd like, while you wait. Tell you what," I added, "I'll even get you a Ruthie's dessert, on the house."

"No. Thank. You. Don't you know I could buy this place?"

"I rather doubt it, but, if you'd like, I'll get you the owner's card and you can call him."

"Do that!"

From my wallet, I pulled out one of my cards and handed it to him. He snatched it out of my hand, stalked off to the bench, sat down, pulled out a cell phone and started dialing. He had no problem finding a place on the bench; no one wanted to sit near him.

In a moment the back office phone rang. I let it go. I knew someone in the kitchen would pick it up by ring three. We get a lot of take out orders. Meanwhile, I said hello to the folks, and got back to Fred. Before I could pick up the thread of the conversation, Louis was at my elbow with the cordless phone, and a strange look on his face. "Someone wants to buy the whole place, Mr. Dane. He don’ soun' too frien'ly though. You not gonna sell are you?"

I shook my head with a smile and a chuckle, and took the phone. Covering the mouthpiece, I said to Fred, "Do you mind being a secretary for me, Fred?" I handed him my pocket notepad. I don't leave home without it.

To the phone: "Hello, how can I help you today?"

I didn't need the phone to hear him say, "I'm gonna buy your cafe today. The only question is how much."

"I'm sorry, to whom am I speaking?" he rattled of his name even faster than before. I asked, "Can you spell that for me please? S-A-R-K, Slowly, please, A-J-A-N-I-A-N-Ski? Thank you." I spelled it aloud for Fred, who was dutifully scribbling. "Mister Sarkajanianski, I'm not in the market right now. Talk to me in a few years, maybe."

He named a ridiculously low figure, "Surely, 'Sir', you must be joking." He then named an equally ridiculous high figure. I let out an impressed whistle, and replied, with a wink to Fred, "That's an awful lot of money. You'd have to wait a lo-o-ong time for the R-O-I to break even. What?! Close the place?! Whatever for?"

'Sir' told me how rudely he'd been treated, not mentioning, of course, how rudely he'd treated the clientele already here. He invented all sorts of terrible, terrible things done to him, none of which were true, how he'd write to Duncan Hines and other folks about it, and I'd never have a scrap of business again. The best thing for me, he said, was take the money and run. Most of these bullies do their best work over the phone. I glanced over to the bench and I saw that the crowd was starting to get a bit ugly.

"'Sir'," I said, "Do you mean to tell me that you'd do all that, just because you had to wait a little bit to be seated?"

"Didn't you hear all the other stuff I said?"

"Yes, indeed, and so did the whole restaurant. About your threat, I think I’ll just take my chances. You seem to think you can buy me. What cell service do you use?"

He named one. I said, "Great. They have broadband coverage here. Does your phone do the web? Good. Try 'Googling’ my name, please."

He hung up with an, "I'll get back to you."

While he was doing this I walked back to the waiting area and sat down next to him. As I did so, I saw that Ruthie, little butterfly that she is, was working her magic among the patrons. She didn’t have particular favorites, but she aims herself at people most needing a smile. It’s wonderful to see a room just sort of take on a glow when she’s been through it. It never ceases to amaze me.

I asked ‘Sir’, "Did you get a hold of him?" He just glared at me. He seemed only to have those two expressions: Angry, and Sad, with Angry being the one he used most often. Then he found the links. I found he had a third expression, one not commonly used, apparently: astonishment.

"You can't buy me." He looked up, startled. I went on, "Even if you could, I wouldn't sell. This place is a hobby, not a business; a labor of love. I run it because it makes me happy, and it makes other people happy, too. Everyone who works here is on the same wavelength. And my best advertising draw is Ruthie, and," I looked him straight in the eye again, right down to the bottom of his soul, "What she gives away for free you can't buy with money." I looked around me. Apart from the two of us, the bench was clear. Fred came by, saying, "Here's your pad, Eomer. Thanks for an entertaining lunch."

"Don't thank me, Fred. Thank Mister S., here. Have a great day!" Fred and his wife left, arm in arm, as they had done so for as long as I can remember, probably since before I was born.

I looked back at my guest on the bench, "Emma? Is there a booth for Mister S. yet?"

"Looks like Ellen and the kids are just finishing up, Boss. Be five minutes to clean the table."

"Great. Five minutes, then. Will that be good enough, 'Sir'?"

He just looked at me, dazed. I answered for him, "That will be fine, Emma. Put a platter of Ruthie's on the table for us."

“Why do you do this? You could do anything you wanted.” Sarkajanianski was truly puzzled.

“That’s why I do this: I want to.”

Ellen checked out, and as the family walked past, a familiar voice said, "Mister, you look sad. Can I give you a hug?" Without waiting, she hopped up on the bench and buried her face in his ribs, wrapped her arms around him the best she could, and squeezed. Then as her Mom said, “Ruthie…” she said, "God loves you, mister." and hopped away, giving him a little wave.

Sarkajanianski just looked after her. The whole thing happened too quickly for him to react in any way except more surprise.

"Looks like Emma has your table ready, Mr. Sarkajanianski. Let's go get you sat down."

He looked at me, "Do you always treat people like this? I mean, people like me."

"Like what?"

"Not taking their guff. Not pushing back, but not backing up. Being polite. Being ... Nice."

"Not always. There was a day I would have thrown you out, and to hell with you. But we don't serve food here. We serve people. And we try to give them what they need, not what they deserve." Glancing up, I see the booth is set, and Ruthie's Dessert was laid out: broccoli, celery, carrot sticks, apple slices, and fresh Alberta peaches.

"Let's go and get some food into you. Emma?"

"Yes, Boss?"

"Make sure we have plenty of coffee, we may be here a while."

"Sure thing, Boss."

I may have another convert.


* Actually not, but it gives a sense of how old they are.


Can people be converted this easily? Maybe not. But, it's worth a try.

Yes, you can!

Priority One

What could keep a dedicated computer nut away from his favorite keyboard, and not adding to his favorite blog for almost a month?

His favorite little girl.

Not to mention trying to keep the household afloat.

June was busy, but July was busier, with trips to the big city, rushing our little one to Children's Hospital a total of three times (not counting scheduled appointments).

I only just discovered the hospital library has Internet access the last time we were down there, but limited to 1/2 hour sessions.

Such is life.

Not to worry, though. The bigger picture is looking good, our little girl is doing better. Life is slowly approaching its more-or-less nominal status again. All with a layer of known uncertainty on top of the unknown uncertainty.

What do I mean?

The Unknown Uncertainty is stuff like:

• getting hit by a car
• getting hit by a meteor

• getting struck by lightning

You know, the stuff you know could happen but isn't likely to. Like getting childhood cancer.

Thankfully, our little girl doesn't have cancer.

But, she has had seizures.

If the first time, one-and-a-half years ago, was the last time, then we wouldn't be so nervous. But it hasn't been. Especially these past two months she's had several days of nothing but seizures.

On the other hand, most of the time she is seizure-free.

However, we are watching extra closely, just in case.

That's what I mean by Known Uncertainty.

We have to be careful to not second-guess ourselves and our child; to not over-protect her, to let her be a kid and not a fragile hot-house flower, untested by normal weather.

It gets a tad nerve-wracking.

On the other hand, we have had mountains of support, prayer, even an offer of a Sioux cleansing ritual, by way of helping her get better. You can't buy such love and giving, and I am wonderfully grateful to all involved.

Thank You.

You folks collectively and individually have helped in ways you don't know. I don't know the full extent of your concern, either. All I know, is that our child is still our happy child, still spreading sunshine, giving hugs wherever she goes.

Thank you for helping her spread her love throughout her corner of the world.

Just in case you thought you don't make a difference.

Yes, You Do.

P.S. Just so you know, all of her tests have come back clear: no known organic cause. That means the docs are still scratching their heads. But no injury, no tumor, no visible flaw in brain development. All signs that she will eventually 'grow out' of this. Our trips to Children's Hospital have reminded us, as bad as it is, it could be much worse.

Have a great day!

Yes, You Can

"My weapons are..."

It's funny what occurs to a person in a half-doze.

I was laying on the couch, trying to encourage our little one to go to sleep, watching Disney's Pocahontas (historically inaccurate, but more on that another time). I was succeeding in dozing off myself, while little one was still a bit restive.

While dozing (and I'm sure this phrase is not in the movie) these words came to me: "My weapons are light and love."

Odd weapons, don't you think?

But not so odd, when you realize our mission in life is to bring people together.

"A new commandment I give you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, love one another. By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you have love, one for another." - John 13:34,35, (Madman's paraphrase).

Strictly speaking, these weapons wage war on our true enemy, the powers of darkness. They negate the powers of darkness, and allow those who have been bound by them to see the light and feel the love. However, it can take a lot of loving to break through the walls of darkness and let the light shine in on a person's heart and soul. And we risk much hurt along the way.

But isn't it worth it? When you were reclaimed, wasn't it worth it? I thought so.

So use the weapons of light and love to defeat the true enemy, and win a soul to freedom.

With Christ's Help,
Yes, You Can!

Anger - Forgiveness

Two sides of a coin.

Anger does little good for most folks.

Certainly there are times to get angry and stay angry until the reason for the anger is resolved, wrongs are righted, injustices satisfied. Most wars are finished (and sometimes started) on the idea of a wrong to be righted. Sometimes it's even true.

But that's not the kind of anger I'm talking about.

I'm talking about the little rages we have when someone cuts us off in traffic, insults our dignity, or otherwise offends us. Such small things can have tragically large consequences. For instance:

= Someone makes a lane change to get to an exit. The person cut off races down the same off-ramp hard on the tail of the first, striking the vehicle, and both cars are totaled when the both go off the embankment. Result: Property damage and injury to both people.

= A man fires a gun on New Years Eve. He misses his intended victim and the .44-cal slug pierces the wall of a home. Result: an innocent young girl dies in her sleep.

= A twelve-year-old shoots a six-year-old in the school yard for 'dissin'" him by stepping on his shadow. I doubt she knew what she had done wrong. Result: one child dead and the other - still a child - incarcerated.

Yet, such things could be avoided if we taught forgiveness on the part of the wronged party instead of conflict resolution by gunfire. Most things are accidental or unintentional, and most people would make a small change to not offend if informed. The grace of giving way covers a lot of pains. So does forgiving, and not remembering the slight, or the hurt, or the debt.

"I’ll get even!"

How? Is it worth the hurt returned?

"Yeah, but he owes me!"

Yes, but will he ever care?

"I'll never forgive him until he begs for it!"

You may have a long time to wait. Ultimately, who is being hurt by your action?

"He is!"

Only if he knows, and cares. The Roman soldiers were only doing a job when they nailed people to crosses. Whether they were forgiven or not was beside the point to them. But forgiving his executioners I'm sure enabled Jesus to die a more peaceful death.

"Cold comfort!"

But comfort nonetheless.

The truth is the only person being hurt by our un-acted upon anger is ourselves. And if we do act on it, often times we hurt more than what we intend. The proverb of "A man who seeks revenge must first dig two graves," is truer than most of us want to admit.

So, forgive.

Of course the truly contrite person will appreciate the forgiveness and mutual healing is apt to occur when the one injured forgives the one doing the injury. Relationships are restored that way. Sometimes that healing starts when we forgive the other without waiting to be asked. The person in the wrong may doubt that forgiveness is even possible.

I've managed to offend someone in particular, who told me, when I tried to apologize, that she neither gave nor accepted apologies. Our acquaintanceship ended at that point, as she continued to be raging mad against me. I tried to apologize a few more times after that, and gave up when I saw that it was pointless. It did explain a lot about her, however. You see, I'd been waiting for her to say "I'm sorry," concerning some slight she had given me, and she was never going to do it. I moved on.

I wonder if she still pulls up her anger and stokes its furnace regarding that personal bad day I had that spilled out on the rest of the people around me. I needed a lot of grace that day. And in that light, I could understand how she felt justified in "Never forgiving me." I knew I was contrite. I also forgave her for not forgiving me. I hope she has found the wisdom of forgiveness since then.

And yet I do the same thing she did: I trip over some memory and I'm flashing white-hot anger again. I try. I try to forgive, grant grace, ignore, whatever. What doesn't work is hashing it out in my mind again. When I fight these ephemeral battles over again I'm usually in no shape to be kind to anyone, including myself.

When I practice forgiveness, including forgiving myself for my own shortcomings, I do much better. In a weird way, though, the other is more "fun." It's hard to explain, except maybe to an adrenaline junkie, but part of me enjoys the rush, even as it threatens to destroy me.

Forgiveness is more for the forgiver than it is for the forgiven. The rush to destruction is sidetracked. Peace has an opportunity to calm, to mend, to heal.

In short, forgiveness brings us closer to that place where God dwells.

Let go of your anger. Forgive the offender. Let peace flow in.

Yes, you CAN!

HOW WELL THEY KNOW ME!

The same email came from two different directions and into my inbox on the same day:


Today Is National Mental Health day!

You can do your bit by remembering to send an email to an unstable friend.

(Well...my job's done!)

Some days, it's not even worth chewing through the restraints

How well they know me!

And, as I like to say, a little insanity can be a healthy thing. IF it can make you smile somewhere along the way.

And a good suggestion from my wife, a very wise woman, is to sing songs of praise, even when you don't feel like singing anything. It's easy to sing praises when we feel on top of everything. But the time we need to sing praises and be in our Father's arms is when everything is on top of us.

And I may have just offended some of you.

Those of you who don't have some sort of relationship with Creator God just now felt slapped in the face. I'm sorry, as it was NOT my intention to offend. But, part of this blog is to tell you what works for me. If you don't have such a relationship it may not work for you. The odd thing is, though, God meets us where we are, He comes more than half-way: He comes all the way. If you start to sing praises (or, if you feel like you can't sing, merely speaking will do), even if you don't feel like it, He will come to you. You may find that it is an experience you want to repeat.

Despite what you may have heard, God is not willing that any be apart from Him, but He is also respectful enough of our feelings that He will not force His presence on us if we do not want him around. And even Christians push Him away. Or put Him in a box they take out on Sunday.

Hence, my depression cycle: I did that very thing.

My wife is wise. She told me that even if I only sang that simple children's song we are teaching our little one, it would be enough to start the process:

Jesus loves me, this I know

For the Bible tells me so

Little ones to Him belong;

We are weak, but He is strong!

Yes, Jesus loves me,

Yes, Jesus loves me,

Yes, Jesus loves me,

The Bible tells me so!

It's not so much a 'Belief' as it is a 'trust'. If you need verses to back up the song, here are two:

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." - John's Gospel 3:16-17 New International Version (NIV)

"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" - Paul's letter to the Romans 8:1 (NIV)

Christianity is not so much a system of rules (though many think it is) as it a relationship with someone who has an interest with you. It is true that if you live by the 'rules' of Christianity you will generally be considered a 'good person'. Remember, though, that's what the Pharisees thought they were doing, and along the way they lost the love for God, and missed experiencing the love of God.

Anyway, I've wandered a bit. The idea is to find that smile that belongs to you. Even more, to find that joy that belongs to you.

God Bless, and,

Yes, You Can!