Day 8: Lent 2024

Lord, God, I need Thee ever hour. I live in a body that disregards what is best for me, craving things that would bring me more medical problems. The battle with my physical self continues even as I age and I am not able to function as I once did. You know what I need and I pray that you would continue to bring to my mind actions that will keep me from temptation. Lord, You also know how my mind battles to keep You foremost. I am like a small child, easily distracted when I worship, when I pray and in my everyday walk. Help my heart to stay sensitive to Your leading, my mind filled with Your word and my behavior guided by the actions of Christ, my example. I know life without You is worthless, wandering and wasteful. I long to live a life that will point others toward Christ. In Jesus’s name.

Tribute for Gary

Gary was my personal alarm clock my senior year in high school. Our junior high was condemned Gary’s junior year, my senior year which meant the first bell rang at 6:15am each day. My undiagnosed sleep apnea meant many mornings I slept through my alarm clock. Gary was faithful to bang on my basement window to drive me out of my slumber. Gary’s mischievous, infectious smile was another memory I have of my friend. His passion for basketball, which were manifest in one-on-one games on his slanted driveway at Richards-Gebaur AFB, were a constant demand of our friendship. His laugh, which was more of a chuckle, and the proverbial peace sign were all part and parcel of Gary’s nature. I am grateful to have shared a short span of life with Gary and his positive nature. I have included an excerpt from a short story/memoir that I wrote recently recanting some of the adventures we shared together.

An excerpt from “Front Wheel Drive Mudding”

Time generally changes all of us but more so during our high school years by virtue of the car and its freedom, allowing us to broach our coming adulthood with a new level of independence. Many times, God’s grace prevents tragedy, other times our own recklessness and stupidity exact an expensive cost. Recently, we lost our mentee, Gary, to non-Hodgkin’s cancer and the brutal impact of Covid. I took it hard when I found out about his passing as I had begun to write a series of short stories recounting some of the tales we shared this past summer on Gary’s back porch in Athens, Ohio. He had picked me up at a nearby campground where Jane, my wife, and I were staying. We were passing through on our way to an extended trip to the Great Lakes but I had purposedly amended our trip to have a day with my old friend. I hadn’t seen Gary and his wife Margie since they showed up for my surprise 40^th birthday party, planned by Jane. Gary proudly showed me around Athens before we had lunch and then settled in for some catching up at his house. He gave me some tips for my travel to lower Michigan. In particular, he pointed out some great things-to-do around Silver Lake, an area where his mother had grown up and where his family continued to vacation at for years. As our time wound down, I pressed him on the issue of joining us for the 50^th anniversary of the class of 1973 at Belton High School in 2023. At first, he was non-committal but relented somewhat when we both agreed that his connections to our high school was stronger with me and Tim, other than his classmate and friend, Keith Parks. He said he would certainly think about joining our upcoming celebration and that I should keep him posted. After our visit, I talked with him by phone, sensing his fragility, and desiring to keep our renewed connection fresh. Seeing requests for prayers for Gary by Margie on Facebook, which I unfortunately checked irregularly, I called Gary’s mobile phone only to have the call go straight to voicemail. Intuitively, I knew before I searched the Athens obituaries but the confirmation of his passing still hit me in the gut and took my breath. Tears flowed as I read the account of my deceased buddy that was so alive just months before and sat with me on his beautiful enclosed back porch. As memories of Gary flooded back, I recalled the front wheel mudding tale of Tim’s Fiat and the horse laughing we enjoyed at his expense. It was then I realized death doesn’t destroy our memories, it merely crystalizing them in order to preserve the genuine joy we share in each other’s presence.        

 

              

 

 

Tribute to Master Chief Wesenburg

As a new deck hand aboard the USS Kalamazoo, I was unfamiliar with the preventive maintenance routine for the multiple stations topside on the oiler. I was a green horn in so many respects when I was assigned to grease the ¾ inch steel braided cables used to transport fuel and stores to other ships. MCBM Wesenberg saw my lack of commitment as I tried to coat the cable with grease. I was concerned about the small fissures of steel that were breaking off in my hand and getting crud on my new uniform. Honestly, I was doing more dabbing of grease than I was coating the cable. It wasn’t more than a couple of minutes into the detail when the Master Chief of the Command inserted himself into my world.

“You afraid to get dirty?” he asked rhetorically. Not waiting for an answer and while still decked out in his clean khakis, he reached down into the bucket, grabbed a handful of black sludge, and began properly coating the steel cable.

“Don’t be concerned about overcoating this line” he instructed to the neophyte who was more concerned about not getting dirty than getting the job done.

After a quick minute he nodded for me to join him in the work. Truthfully, his demonstration challenged me rather than instructed me. His clean uniform, full of service medals as well as his name tag, did not encumber him as he intently showed me that he was not above doing the lowest, nastiest job on the deck.  Once I started mimicking Master Chief, he found a rag, wiped his hands, but continued to encourage me while I pressed on with my work.

The impact of those short 10 minutes of instruction were many. First, Master Chief’s attention to detail was spot on. Secondly, he could have easily derided me but he chose to challenge and encourage me. Third, he could have used his rank and prestige as a means to avoid a tough work situation rather he relished the chance to use his seniority as a way to define expectations for his charges. Finally, we connected on a more personal level as my time aboard the deck crew continued. He got me assigned to the Wardroom during mess cooking, ultimately, I got to serve as the Captain’s cook personal mess hand. Later, I struck for a rate change to serve as an Operations Specialist and Master Chief Wesenberg was an advocate for me.

During my professional career as an educator, I have shared this story many times, particularly when I taught Business Management at the high school level. The moral of the story was always, never get too big that you won’t do the toughest job. Thank you, Master Chief Wesenberg for humbling yourself to teach a new deck ape not only how to grease a cable but more importantly, what real leadership looked like.

Little One

Little one still being made in the womb

By the one who defeated death and the tomb.

What joy it will be to see your small face

Shaped by the hand the still pours out grace.

The unknown for us is….

                The color of your eyes, the shape of your toes

                The dimples in your chin, the crook of your nose

Is already known by Him who made all.

He sees you now in the womb and when you are quite tall.

We relish the time when you are a baby,

Decked out in your outfits, a little dirty maybe,

Most importantly, healthy, vigorous, and bright,

A joyful reflection of His Holy Light.

 

2-22-2014

Revised 3-14-16

Clouded Days

I had a floater break loose in my eye just the other day

The kind that makes a ghostly shadow, always in my way.

The doctors chalked it up to age, no damage to repair

And yet I feel no older, except for my thinning hair.

It was and is a reminder of the tenuous nature of life.

Each blink and freshened gaze are momentary strife.  

Despite my worsening vision and the body that house it

I will keep on pushing on, through this visual pit.

I could choose to focus on this interim distraction

Stay worked up about it, make it my sole attraction.

But like so much in life the floater comes and goes

I blink again and think I really have such minor woes.

Unlike my colleague chair bound, adorned with lifeless limbs

Or the plight of many others unable to sing Your hymns.

Still even more are dulled to hear the early spring birds’ call

And the jaded sight of others means that don’t see things at all.

Self-pity is an empty, wasted, and debilitating emotion

So I blink once more again; re-focus my sight’s devotion

To the family that I love; God’s gift to never die.

How can I grieve the vision of just one clouded eye?

 

2020

 

 

 

Following The Wind

Following Wind

The gentle wind follows

As I make my way slowly but surely to a far-away land

Somehow, that far-away place doesn’t seem quite as far today

I feel more and more like an individual man

Each day brings more of a sense of responsibility

My emptiness seems less hallow

As I search for a new way

For my life to follow

Memories seems less inviting

Dreams seem more possible

Life is more enticing

As it ticks uncontrollably away

 

1977

Revised 3-11-2016