Created in His image; another lesson in Wisdom (101 ) learned

This morning a feeling came to me as I spoke out loud to myself. A feeling of regret, a feeling of grief. And then, a realization came to me; how is this different? How is this different from the One who created me? Genesis 6:6 “And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart.” Oh yeah, God feels regret. God feels grief. And am I ever the cause.

I loved a woman for more than fifteen years with my heart. Not the unlimited heart of God, but with my mortal heart. And the words I spoke out loud this morning as I lay next to the ones she created in her womb were “I love you Sharon.” My very next thought was of regret, “Why did I say that?” How is it that with all that happens and has happened in my life I have not swept this dust from my life?

Why does He love me? What have I done to deserve this affection? I fail Him daily. I am the prodigal son, the prostitute, the tax collector, the very soldier who speared His son in the side. Not just because those examples were akin to me, but by my very actions, by my very callous actions done often without thought. Selfish ambition, selfish desire, unsure of my own self worth seeking approval or recognition from others.

Paul said in his letter to the Gentiles; Romans 6:1-2 “What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound? Certainly not! How shall we who died to sin live any longer in it?” Why do I continue to twist the shaft of the spear into the side of His son? Why do I leave Him to seek my own riches? Why did I pour out my affection without the daily thanks for the very presence of her? And then this thought. I am a selfish man. At times I am ungrateful for the very gifts so freely given to me.

My life was spared. It was not just a gift for me, not just for the children that now share a tiny time with me. I am but a breath in time to God. My children are all of time thus far for me. So, God opened my mind this morning to share a little wisdom. Tears fill my eyes. Didn’t I pray for wisdom about the same time I prayed for patience? Are you not learning both even now? Complain about such little things as a broken body? Didn’t God allow his own sons body to be broken for me? Be careful what you ask for, it can be delivered in the most painful ways. Be careful what you believe in. “Pay attention silly! I have so much more to show you.” Like the man who looks out over the waters to give safety to his charge, He’s a lifesaver.

Be still my heart, be still

It’s been more than six months since I was released from the hospital. The journey to get here has been interesting. Each day I learn new things about myself and about my recovery. Today was no exception. This morning I had some difficulties surrounding thinking.

Sometimes you just can’t think. I really noticed it after I left the doctor, I had parked in the garage at Crawford Long Hospital, but I was unable to find my truck. I finally had to let go of my pride and ask for help. I remembered which direction my truck faced and I remembered that I was facing into a wall; in my mind I had parked facing a North wall, which helps since the parking garage has four directions of walls. I could not remember the floor. Credit is due; the compass in my head still knows north, east, south and west even inside where no sky is visible. I thought I had parked fairly close to the entrance but as it turns out I had parked on the border of level D and E, I am thankful that I was not the first person to have lost his car. Apparently this is a common occurrence at Crawford Long Hospital (Emory University Hospital Midtown), in that they have a man who drives around in a golf cart and assist patients and their families find their vehicles when lost.

At least I was able to remember how to get to the hospital with the help of my GPS of course. The next realization that I might not be “all there” occurred on my way home as I drove down Monroe Avenue. I noticed a Starbucks Coffee at the corner of Monroe and Virginia. Fully realizing the help that caffeine plays in my ability to both stay awake and to think, I stopped to get a cup of coffee. Now there had been a Starbucks coffee on North Highland Ave., so I asked the person who served me how long the Starbucks had been open and was told they had been open several months. I then asked, of course, how long after the closing of the other Starbucks they had opened. She looked at me very strangely. You see in my mind Starbucks closed in January of this year 2009 but according to the person that served me that Starbucks had been closed for more than a year. What further was disturbing in my mind, but not shared, was that I had never seen a Starbucks here and I had passed several times. I’m pretty aware of what the coffee stores are in my neighborhood here; San Francisco Coffee on Highlands just a couple blocks from the house and there is Caribou Coffee across the street from Ansley Mall. And then there is the tea house coffee shop which is the corner of Virginia and Highlands and lastly the Seattle Coffee in the Borders Books on Ponce. These of course do not compare to the coffee pot given to me by my mom that resides on the counter in the kitchen and coffee has become almost a daily staple in my recovery.

I take medication every six hours to help me deal with the neurological pain. This medication has the side effect of drowsiness. Now that added to the fact that apparently I hit my head pretty hard and I scrambled my brains. The doctors refer to this as brain trauma, but in my mind it is referred to as scrambling the egg. Once I had a cup of coffee and sat for a few minutes, things became clearer to me. While I sat drinking my joe and typing away on my laptop, a friend called and asked for my help. I proceeded to get in the truck and wandered to the grocery store. One of the first places you visit in the grocery store is the produce aisle and as I wandered through produce aisle I noticed sweet peas. This brought a smile to my face and then I began to think why. A memory of childhood sprang to life. It was on a trip to South Dakota from California. In an effort to get me outside like all boys need to be, my mother had directed me to go out back and help my grandfather in the garden. Grandfather was pulling weeds and hoeing. Along the rows I began to pull weeds after they were clearly identified to me. Of course I must have been under 10. There in the aisle upon the right were the sweet peas growing on their vines. I remember picking a pod and stuffing it in my mouth. The sharp and sweet flavor burst upon my mouth. I believe this was the first time I had ever eaten a raw pea pod. A pea is not just the pearl inside the pod, but the entire pod! It was a flavor and experience that will remain with me for the rest of life apparently. I did not have permission to eat the fruit off the vine, but once I made it clear to my grandfather that I had done so, I was given permission to enjoy a small portion. Many years later, I would live in Georgia and experience something. It was the Southern peanut. Immediately upon taking taste of a raw peanut, I realized the similarity and understood why they were called Peanuts. Not long after that I enjoyed the flavor of boiled peanuts. I was introduced to this by my then wife, Sharon. I learned many things through this woman, and I’m grateful for my opportunity to be with her.

So I immediately grabbed a small handful of peas and stuck them in a produce bag, looking forward to the opportunity to plunge a few in my mouth. Once home from the grocery I sat at the desk to type this letter with the peas in front of me. My sense of taste has not fully returned and been developed since its loss, (ah brain trauma) so the pods do not taste the same as I recall they did before my fall and from childhood, but they do have a taste. So today, it being two hours after a good cup of coffee, I can think clearer than I could this morning upon waking. The embarrassment of this morning, not being able to find my truck in the garage and not being able to recognize the location of Starbucks has passed. Now of course there were other minor things that occurred. It has taken me a while to figure out, but I noticed that I have the ability now to be calm while I sit and think about what I’m doing. This is a change from the hidden anxiety and impatience of my business past.

Earlier in the week I helped a friend, the friend who called me to her assistance, so I feel okay sharing on occasion my short comings. I told her of my experience, and she smiled and commented. Apparently I am very hard on myself and I recognize this now, for others often lose their cars in a parking garage. This had never happened to me before, and I live in a large city with lots of parking garages. I did not share with her my inability to recognize a Starbucks, but I did recognize the fact that I am hard on myself, because apparently other people experience the same things more often than I and they have not fallen and bumped their head. As I drove home from the grocery a song came to mind, and I sang it. It was so song of thanks and adoration for a God who is able to heal. I like the icons that sit upon shelves of Buddha and Mohammad and others, my God has no image, and yet he is able to do all things. Reminds me of another story about a fellow named Baal.

Hopefully I will be able to write more. Hopefully I will be able to remember that I have written. I recognize that I am afraid of things unknown. I recognize that I do not understand how I will be delivered from this current circumstance. Yesterday I went to the Georgia Department of Labor, because I’m enrolled in the program for the handicapped to help me return to work. As the man in charge of my case told me about my evaluation the following Tuesday, he commented on the type of jobs that are currently available in this depressed market. Something clear became clearer. I have been fortunate to earn more than the minimum wage. My long-term disability insurance, which paid once a month, is greater than the amount of working 40 hours a week at minimum wage. If I began working my long-term disability insurance is terminated. If I began working the money that my insurance company gets from Social Security is terminated as well. My current monthly expenses exceed 40 hours a week of minimum wage. And this is just to pay for place to live, gas for my car, insurance for my health and 10 year old auto and food from a stomach. It became clear to me why some people choose to live on government aid and not work. What is the motivation to work other than to escape the confines of where you live? It’s not like people in my current economic condition run out and enjoy a local restaurant or local bar or local entertainment. How much more unlikely is it for someone who was just on government aid?

I have understood something in my life in the past year and that is God often waits until we really need something and provides it just when it is needed and not before. I believe this lesson is called patience. This lesson is called trust. And so as my heart longs for the companionship of another, my wallet aches for the sustenance to pay for my basic needs, and my mind wonders about the joys unspeakable that I would have experienced in heaven, I learn patience. This is not unlike the anxious awaiting of his 16th birthday, to be able to obtain a drivers license. This is not unlike the completion of the senior year of school. This is not unlike the day that we are joined with another. The prize is at the end of waiting. And so I speak these words, “be still my heart” In 24 hours I will be with my children, be still my heart and recognize that today is the first day in the rest of your life. What a journey it has been; what a journey it will be.

Wild at Heart – review

This is a book review of sorts. Wild at Heart is written by John Etheredge and is the focus of one study group I participate with. It comes with a workbook that takes you much deeper into the material asking questions that do not come to mind as you read the book, but this is not a response to the workbook. This is not a knee jerk reaction to the literary value of the work and I am not a book critic, I am just a simple man. So, read the comments with the understanding that I write these words more for me than for you, so that I may better understand the material and where it takes my mind. You will note that I use a hyphenate version of the almighty name. This is in respect and because some of my friends are Jewish and if I wish to reach them with my words, I cannot offend them with my misuse of the most high’s reference.

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Each day I learn about G-d’s grace. I was created in the image of G-d, and in that image I am to understand but a small bit of the exuberance, the joy, the pleasure and the wonder of all that is. The wonder of where and what I am is but a drop in a thimble, for how can I begin to consume all that is within my reach; how can I understand the greatness of all that is, how can I compare what I now know to what I will see on that day I am joined by grace with the others in that place He went to prepare for us? So great is our G-d, that our imaginations but pale to reveal him, but yet he instilled in us those things we desire, those things we wonder, those things that please us. And then, we learn. We learn of patience, compassion, learn of beauty, we learn of companionship, we learn of the pleasure from pleasing others, we learn how great our G-d is because of grace. And we live out this life to learn something for the future, to learn how to observe, how to explore. And so as I read “Wild at Heart” I sense a longing to be free of the constraints, the limits of every day city life. There was a time when there was no radio, people spoke to each other. That time had no television or video games to absorb our hours, no endless lists of requirements and rules. We did that which was required to eat, sleep, and wonder at creation, thanking and praising the one who created it all as we laid our heads to rest in the satisfaction of a day. And we were gifted with women who can see beyond our limited sight, because they were created to live by emotion and feeling and guard us from short sightedness. They produce out of love, children who grow to be like us but yet more than were are.

The book points out another key issue in my personality, the need to be admired, to be wanted, and because of that need I strive. I strive to walk. I strive to earn a dollar because of what those earning may provide to gain the further admiration and devotion of another. It is why a man buys a diamond ring. What purpose, what value to a man is a ring at all. It can’t cut my meat; it can’t drive me to work in comfort. It cannot heat or cool my home; it cannot feed me or my family. It is not a prize for me; it is a prize to have the one who wears it.

So, the question left dangling in my mind so far is this, “Have I lived?” I have spoken a phrase to some that applies to others, “Regret is the strongest emotion of man. As we look back, we often regret and it molds us into action or remorse.” Yes, I have lived and it is not over yet. I have known the hunt and the hike, war and peace, wonder and awe, life and death. I have known love and betrayal and of the last I speak this: How could I understand the pain of Christ in his heart, had it not been the loss of love so precious to me? She was my closest and dearest friend for 17 years. No, I did not create her. No, I did not know her thoughts and her every action, but I knew her love and her potential to share it completely. Is this what G-d desires from His creation? Does he long for the closeness, the admiration, the communication? I believe he does and when we selfishly turn our backs and go about our way, he must feel the agonizing pain that an “ex” feels or that a parent who loses a child feels. I have said, no man should ever suffer the loss of his spouse because of me, because no man deserves the pain of love such as this lost. How much more appropriate then that G-d should not suffer the pain of our lost soul. After all, he gave his only son for a ransom.

It takes Eldridge three or more chapters so far to ask a simple question. “Who are you?” Perhaps having a man simply evaluate honestly this statement and then Eldredge being direct in his philosophy could be a more productive method of addressing manhood. His direction on who a man was originally designed to be is sound, but the next question that immediately came to my mind was, was this written by a woman? Eldredge projects a view of G-d as masculine, so from a chauvinistic point of view I must presume that it is written by a him. Wild at Heart says that men have a battle to fight, an adventure to live, and a beauty to fight for. It tries to project these activities onto the life of G-d. In the words of the title for chapter two, G-d is “the wild one in whose image we are made.” So, G-d is a wild man? Eldredge’s description of G-d and his “adventure” leaves me with an unbiblical picture of G-d. For him, men are risk-takers and adventure-seekers at heart because G-d is a risk-taker and adventure-seeker at heart. Men are foolish, G-d is not. 1 Corinthians 3:19, “For the wisdom of this world is foolishness to G-d. For it is written, He taketh the wise in their own craftiness.” Yes, I was created in the image of G-d, but this is but an image, and often a poor reflection. I had previously attributed this to a physical attribute more than a mental one and I assume G-d is not physical. Even donkeys could think! Balaam’s spoke to him in Numbers 22. Was the donkey created in G-d’s image. I think not. So, perhaps those that men have been given dominion over are here to report on our ung-dly behavior?

Men are wild at heart, but it is because we are defiant at heart. We seek to go our own way, be free from the rules of society and free from the judgment of others or G-d. Men are wild because we have become so out of selfish ambition, not because G-d made us to defy Him. Yes, he knew the outcome of His work and He was sorry, but alas, He was to provide us a veil, a curtain, a “scape goat” to stand between us and His righteous judgment. How great is our G-d? Well, greater than I can imagine in my foolish wisdom. so am I wild at heart? Yes. But out of selfish rebellion, I am a hellion and bound for there am I except for the Grace of a heavenly father.

I love my new day. I love my new life!

Last night a friend Susan invited me to share some time with her and her good friend Eric. Anytime to spend with people is a chance to not focus on myself. Off I wandered to a local Mexican restaurant within a short walking distance, but also a very short drive for a man who sometimes makes terrible faces when he walks. You know they say a frown wrinkles the face and I am not getting any younger. So, with pleasure I joined Susan and her friend Eric whom I had met before. Eric was pleased as punch to tell me about his newest adventure with Pete the Cat.

Now I happen to enjoy a good read and things take a bit longer now to read. This is just what the dog ordered. Every ‘book’ has a message not obvious to all readers. Some call it a hidden agenda, others call it the message in the bottle. “It floats upon the sea, just trash to most, but to the one who picks it up and finds the message…” Ah Eric! You have a tale to tell.

Now, not a man to tell another mans tale. I have a tale of life to tell myself, I will just recognize that “I love my new day, I love my new life!” I recommend that you wander over to Eric’s web page and learn about someone who recognizes that it isn’t about what is said about you or what happens to you; it is about how you embrace either, or both. I hope you enjoy the adventure Eric has with Pete. A smile to my face it does bring and a smile wipes away those wrinkles from terrible faces that I could make.

I love my white shoes

Lazurus

I am pretty sure the yellow jumpsuit, kept my insides, inside.

Lazarus (in Hebrew: El’azar or Eleazar “God (has) helped”). Though I have been a man often too proud to ask for help, God has been right here, helping beyond all comprehension. I have been learning so many thing about life, such as, “Pride comes before the fall.” I know there is a reason I’m here, for against all odds I am. On March 1, 2008 at around six p.m., while my son photographed me diving and my daughter played nearby, I fell in a spectacular skydive, which became tragic just a minute before I would have landed. I fell 500 feet at speeds estimated greater than 70 m.p.h.

I started skydiving again after a 20 year break from military parachuting, in part to turn back the pages of time, for just a year before I had been divorced from a woman I spent 17 years with, losing my wife, my children, my home, my job, and my life’s dreams. I even considered for a brief time cashing in the chips myself. We all suffer because of sin; this is not punishment, but simple cause and effect. Sometimes sin severely affects those around us. And just as a child walking along side us can fall, a child of God can fall and be hurt. I had been severely hurt just a year before by the emotional loss of a woman I loved; the injuries of my next fall were paramount.

God was there with his toolbox and each tool had a time and place. That day a paramedic had also jumped and just minutes before had successfully completed his dive and was heading home for the evening. He heard the cries of astonishment when I struck the ground. Blaine Kunz rushed to my side as my son stood crying out “Daddy” to no response. I had broken both my femurs, shattered my pelvis, ruptured my diaphragm, crushed my heart, collapsed my lungs, the list goes on. Blaine kept me alive until a helicopter arrived to rush me to Grady, 35 minutes away. On board, I had a cardiac arrest before reaching the ICU.

Again, God pulled out a tool on the flight deck of Grady. I was transferred into the care of Dr. Ray Matthews and a team of physicians, nurses, and specialists who performed triage. After reaching 300%, they stopped the triage evaluation. The chances of death were above the threshold and they stayed there for the next two months as my family and co-workers prepared for my death.

In John 11 we read the words Jesus spoke, “Lazarus, come out!” I never heard words, but have been told my first words on waking were, “Please pray for me.” And pray they did. Beyond my knowledge, hundreds of people were praying for me and God was answering their prayers for a purpose. Very much like awaking the brother of Martha and Mary, it wasn’t a reward for Lazarus, but a gift for those around him. Lazarus, like me, was on his way home. God used Lazarus as a tool in his toolbox, and now it is my turn to be a tool.

Each of us is a tool in God’s toolbox; we might not even be aware he is using us. We may be focused on a job, or sports, or a love, or just silly stuff. Are we making the tool any more useful? I have been reminded that God did not act to leave me hanging in the wind. While I recover, my company has closed because of the economy. And now, I pray, God point me. And yes, I want to become a sharper tool, more useful in the BIG picture, not my own little painting. God has a purpose for each of us; we just need to be ready and willing or he will let us “bounce” until we pay attention.

In the beginning…

The name of this blog is “for the fallen” (4thefallen). It was difficult to pick out a name,  many other names I chose had been already selected.  But this blog name makes sense in the regards that we all have fallen.  And so this is not about me as much as it is about all of us .  And so begins the tale of a life. Although this journey through life may seem boring to myself, it is because I have lived it. What I have found is, that life is not about things. It’s not about what we do, but life is about people and the relationships we build with them.  As we go through life we have acquaintances, friends, lovers and enemies and those we just don’t like.  This is to help me recover. What am I recovering from? on March 1, 2008 I had a tremendous fall as part of a skydiving maneuver. We will get to this later. However, it’s important to recognize that I fell about 500 feet and hurt my head in addition to my body, and this is referred to as brain trauma. As you wander through, there may be hyperlinks. Music is such a part of life and the memories we have of it, so the links will take you to a pleasant selection.  Music is often tied to events in our lives.

What are my earliest memories of childhood?  As I have witnessed on television, when psychologists begins to analyze the person, he often refers to their past and asked them about earliest memories. I believe they asked these questions, to familiarize themselves with what our problems might be because this is when we began our dysfunctional life. It is also a way of gaining trust and confidence. I may not know you, but I wanted you to trust that what I say is a true reflection of this life. I want you to understand that life is not about me, life is not about you, but life is about who put us here and why.

You can probably tell from the beginning of this text that I refer to religion or faith at times.  It is part of my life.  I am not proselytizing or trying to get you to believe the way I do. But it is my hope that you will look at my life and reflect upon your own and determine who you are, why you are here, and what you’ll be doing the rest of your life.  Life is all too short. In a span of time, we are but a breath.  It is said in the end, we will all stand to reckon for why we were here, what we said, what we accomplished and what we failed to do.  When I was younger, I often heard said, “Wait until you are my age  and have children of your own; life will become clearer.” Yes, it is true, and there was nothing written by those who said that phrase way back then that I was aware of, to help me make my journey.

So where do my memories begin? Folsom California, around 1965.  It was then and here that I learned to ride a tricycle and a bicycle. It was here that I learned that nudity was not appropriate in public.  It was here that I became fascinated with my dad’s work outside in the yard for ourselves and others.  I was born into the Lutheran Church. My father and mother had been Lutheran.  My first memories were of unhappiness between my parents, between them and their faith.

I was not even five yet and had run away from home already.  Of course as I recall it, my mother offered to help me pack.  Once we had packed she came to the realization that I had come into this world with nothing and therefore I should leave it with nothing and so I was sent out the door into the darkness.  I was afraid. I cried, and I returned home.  I have no doubt that looking out the door during my discovery was a parent to make sure I was safe.  Of course, this realization probably did not come until I had children of my own.  It was here in Folsom that I discovered theft. And this is the beginning of my correlation between life and the 10 Commandments.  I always assume that the 10 Commandments were rules; rules to make my life more difficult, rules to prevent me from enjoying the things I wished and desired.  But now as time has passed I realized that the 10 Commandments are divided into two functions; One to help us understand our relationship with God and two to help us understand our relationship with others.  “Thou shalt not steal.”  My grandparents on my fathers side had given me a wonderful tricycle one that was powered with a chain and the back wheels ran the motion of the trike.  Apparently it was quite a gift and the wants of others. In an attempt to recover the fleeing trike, I jumped upon t and was pushed to the ground breaking open my head. The bump is still on the back of my head and I am sure a phrenologist would delight in the knots on my head.

When I grow up, I want to be a policeman

I think they discovered I was pigeon toed about this time and put me in corrective braces as well. “Run Forest, run!”

It was also an important time in my life to recognize that weight standards are set by averages.  And so while you may have been considered overweight, and I considered underweight, it is a sampling of everyone that produces the average weight. Another fine example of this is the body temperature, 98.6.  It is apparently the average temperature of persons, I have never maintained this temperature, unless I had a fever.  The normal range of human body temperature varies due to an individuals metabolism rate, the higher (faster) it is the higher the normal body temperature or the slower the metabolic rate the lower the normal body temperature. Other factors that affect the body temperature of an individual is the time of day or the part of the body in which the temperature is measured at. The body temperature is lower in the morning, due to the rest the body received, and higher at night after a day of muscular activity and after food intake.  I assume that my calm demeanor now was a result of my metabolism then. I understand that in 1965 the information was not well distributed.  So, why do I point this out in a blog about my life? . You should not feel guilty about your weight. As long as you are happy, ignore the critics. “You’ve gotta die of something.”  Now it is true that others view your weight and you will make decisions based on who they you are and whether they’re attracted to you or not not based their prejudice.  You may make decisions to change your appearance based on the opinion of others.  And this is where you need to realize that it’s not about the things we do, but the people we know.  Not all people are worth knowing. You cannot judge a book by its cover.  Of course some of us are shallow, and we desire to have a book with the pretty cover and end up with blank contents or something we just don’t desire to read. Thank television and print publications for not displaying the average person, but the “perfect” person. We should take care of what we are given, but looking back over the years,everyone has been guilty of one of the seven deadly sins mentioned by Dante.

Back to Folsom California.  It was about this time that I, a mean independent little cuss, a true image of my father, took my tricycle and rode it all the way to the A&W restaurant to order french fries and a root-beer.  Not long after the young lady took my order, it was discovered that I did not have a concept of money, had no parents nearby and was not going to pay.  Because the young lady working there was concern that I was there without a parent and across the street from the main entrance to the Folsom City Prison, the police were called.  I remember the black-and-white cruiser from Mayberry RFD with the red bubble up on the top. I recall Andy Griffith being a calm and polite policeman.  This is my memory of the Folsom city police.  I was directed to ride my trike in front of the officer and return to my home.  It was soon discovered that I lived much further away than was anticipated and my tricycle was put in the trunk of the police car and I in the backseat. This was my first ride in a police car.  When I arrived home and my mother was chastised by the police officer for not monitoring my whereabouts, I was beat.  Now being a father myself and understanding anger, I fully understand that a child should not be punished when you are angry. First let me clearly state I was not an abused child.  I recall different devices of implementing the punishment, usually on my behind. There was a hairbrush and a ping-pong paddle and the belt. And these instruments were used to prevent my mother from hurting her hand and to remind me that my conduct had been unacceptable.  Yes there were times when I would walk away from the punishment bruised, but I do not think it was the intention but the result of anger.

I remember my father taking me to the top of the hill at a nearby church, allowing me to learn to ride my bicycle. Down the hill I went, the speed high enough to keep me from falling. But falling I did.  And so it was early in life that I began to understand that we fall.  I already fallen off my trike and then had fallen off my bike.  As school year’s approached, I would be pushed down by bullies. And then I would do silly things, like those things that I did in the California jumping from the roof of my house into a pile of raked leaves.  I also recall riding my two wheeled bicycle without training wheels as best I could up the home made ramps to jump over bowling pins and bottles.  Sometimes we fall, and sometimes there is someone there to pick us up. Sometimes we need to get up, brush ourselves off and continue the journey.  The question is not, ‘will you fall?’, the question is when?  It is not an issue of gravity so much as it is a law of nature itself.  Man has fallen from grace of God.  Adam and Eve chose to make decisions themselves, and bypass the protection of God. In the garden there was a tree and partaking of its fruit would open the mind to all things good and evil.  God had attempted to protect ourtheir lives by saying don’t eat from the fruit of this tree, “for when you eat of it, that day you will surely die.”  And so we see that falling is directly related to death. It is all about choice; choices that we make determine how our life will be remembered.  I see that clearly now.

My introduction to school was kindergarten.  It was here that I met Smokey the Bear, learned about snails and hamsters, mice and laughter, and the kindness of women outside my home.  Yes it is here that began to realize that girls are what I wanted in my life.  As I gazed upon them. They were lovely, and they were kind, different from the boys I knew, and the men who spoke roughly.  In our society most of the teachers are women.  They mold us and make us and we learn from them.  I once read a button that said,” if being a mother was easy, any man could do it.”  To that, if being a teacher was easy, everyone would be one.

The next installment of my life will be titled “Stuck in Lodi again.” Oh Lord, perhaps you remember that song. My first memories of good music are Creedence Clearwater Revival.