Best, and Worst, of 2019 -

2019 - Dreams lost, feet fried, friend gone, conflicts arose, project denied, classes retired, empty defined, hours questioned, days counted, patience dissolved, relationships tested, sinuses cleansed, steroids injured, self-confidence tested, sleep tanked, PTSD faced, anxiety maximized, fears arose, stomach ached, hope dissolved.

And yet -

60 faced, Scotland wandered, Idahome'd, brother visited, beach wandered, relationships strengthened, therapy faced, CBD/THC discovered, friendships made, self-care accepted, weakness confessed, limits allowed, family played, love increased, acceptance owned, compromises made, resolve heightened, Schitt's Creek delighted.

This - 

Wise Man and Foolish Man and Houses -

The Wise man built his house upon the rock, the Foolish man built his house upon the sand . . . as goes the children's song, complete with the swooshing of hands as the foolish man's house is washed away.

Taking this song literally - we learn from this that it's wise to build a house that will last forever and ever - on a firm, sure, earthquake and flood proof foundation. And while that may be ideal, is building a house that may be only temporary, a bad idea?

My parents generation was of the wise man camp - build one house, get one job, live there, work there until you retire, then die. Raise the large family, pay off the house, get the pension, and then . . .

My mother has lived in 4 houses in her life - two on the same piece of land in Idaho, one for 18 years, in town, and now the current home for more than 40 years. All houses built to stand, to last, to never be moved away from. She's also lived in some temporary houses - Hawaii, Philippines, cabins - for no more than 5 months in each -  but always kept that tether between the rock house and the sand house tight.

Us kids - all 7 of us could be called "foolish" as we have moved more than twice, built more than twice, lived in the same area in different homes, lived in different towns and states based on careers, family size, life-style choices. And no tight tethers - no going back to home, but going forward to the new home, a new type of rock or sand foundation. While the sand and storm didn't wash any of them away, we said good-bye and moved on.

For my mother, even living in her current home for more than 40 years, she lives temporary, she yearns to go home, while, interestingly, her children call her current home, home. The home she longs for is one that doesn't exist, change has taken away most of what Mom misses, yet her heart is there, not in the here and now. She would still rather have one rope attached to her heart, keeping her pulled toward Idaho.

It's been interesting to live with someone for these 40 years, who has always lived temporary, while building a home we could call permanent. Mother's temporary home has been 6 of the 7 children's permanent home.

And for all of us children - we're baffled, a concept that's difficult to grasp. We may not love the city where we live, yet we love what is inside our house, and we make choices every day to learn to love and get acquainted with this home. We call wherever we live permanent - knowing this will be temporary, yet getting involved in our communities, our schools, our neighborhoods, our landscape.

I love my home; I've lived here longer than anywhere else (except the home I was reared in in Idaho for 16.5 years). I have made it strong, gentle, loving, inviting. Do I think I'll die in this home - no. Do I think I'll live in this home forever - no. Will I be sad to leave this home - no. It is mine temporarily, in the sand, washing away as a new situation comes my way.

Who's wise, who's foolish - does it matter?

Where You Pitch Your Tent -

It’s Where You Pitch Your Tent

By David Hardy

Recently, our church finished a summer book-club reading of David McCullough’s The Wright Brothers. All through the course of the book and the discussion afterwards, I could not stop thinking about my daddy, who, to put it mildly, loved airplanes.  Which, strangely enough, led me to the Genesis story about Lot.

Daddy got his pilot’s license at 16, supposedly without his parents knowing it. I don’t know how you would do that, but that is the story I remember, true or not. By the time my brother and I came along, he was a corporate pilot, eventually joining the Alabama National Guard part-time, flying helicopters. When the last company he flew for sold their plane, he went full-time with the Guard, but ended his flying career back in an airplane cockpit, working as a sort of corporate pilot for the U.S. Army.

Which brings us to Sodom. It was the day of my father’s retirement ceremony when I heard him read this passage from Genesis. He told of how, in 1949, his parents decided to move from the rural Old Town section of Dallas County, Alabama, closer to town, so he and his two older sisters could go to school in Selma. The land they moved to was part of the farm that belonged to the family of my Great-Grandmother Hardy — and right next to Craig Field, built in 1940 by the Army Air Corps to train pilots for the coming war. 

Though admittedly a strange choice for this (or any) occasion, the scripture Daddy had chosen was making a little sense to me now. Things didn’t go so well for Lot, as you might know, but what happened to him and his family came because of where he chose to plant his tent, in Sodom. Daddy’s point was, just like Lot in Genesis, where his parents placed their “tent” — right next to an airfield — had a profound effect on him, albeit in a more positive way. 

Daddy talked about being a boy, sitting on the roof of the house they built, just watching the planes take off and land. He was smitten by flight, and determined at a young age that he would fly.

For daddy, flight was an obsession. He wasn’t “just” a pilot. Our house was full of books and poems about flight I remember reading not only about the Wright Brothers, but also about the French pioneers Bleriot and the Montgolfier brothers. Our house was full of model airplanes we built. He would take my brother and I flying, sometimes taking off and landing on the runway he made in the cow pasture out at Old Town. On the best days, we would “dive bomb” tractors in the fields of people we knew. I remember us making an airfoil as a science project, making it “fly” by using a hair dryer. He always used sayings about how flying was like life. My favorite was: “Takeoffs are optional, but landings are mandatory.”

It is impossible for me to think about him without thinking about airplanes — or to think about airplanes without thinking about him.

Once he retired from flying, he and Mama moved to Belize as missionaries. While there, he got a serious pancreatic infection from gallstones and had to be airlifted from Belize to University of Alabama at Birmingham Hospital. He never left. 

Thus, his last act outside of that hospital was to make one last flight. True to form, all he wanted to talk about was the plane ride. It was a Learjet, the inside was nice, and the pilots did a great job of landing in Birmingham. From his childhood to his death, he held a sense of destiny about flying — all seemingly caused by where his parents placed their “tent.”

He’s been gone five years now, and I am approaching 50 years of life and 25 years of marriage. I find myself thinking about where we have placed our “tent” and how that will affect the lives of our two girls as they start to find their path in this world. We are entering the “college search” season for both of them. I wonder about how to help them find their way; I didn’t find my own professional path until my early 30s.

My wife and I have built a good life. We have careers that leave us fulfilled and happy. However, if our two girls look off the roof of our house, I can’t help but wonder what they see. What does their “tent” face?  

There is nothing as distinctive as an airfield for them to look at, no airplanes to captivate them. Instead, we have tried our best to place our “tent” near our values, like faith, decency, kindness, goodness, and hard work. 

Those who know me well know I am, by nature, a doubter and a pessimist. I am haunted by questions about our daughters. Have we done enough? Have we given them what they need to create their own independent, decent, and fulfilling lives? Was our “tent” good enough? Did it face enough good things? Most of the time, I believe we have done our best by them, but the doubts and fears are never far.

When I think about my life so far, I often think of a line the great Kentucky writer Wendell Berry’s put in the mouth of the lead character in his 2001 book, Jayber Crow:

“I am an ignorant pilgrim, crossing a dark valley. And yet for a long time, looking back, I have been unable to shake off the feeling that I have been led — make of that what you will.”  

Honestly, despite our different paths, I don’t feel less “led” than daddy. My greatest hope for our two girls is that when they find their paths, they will never shake the feeling they were led there by someone and/or something.

And that one day, as they approach 50, something in this world will make them think of their daddy the way airplanes make me think of my mine.

Merry Christmas 2019 -

Rest and Be Thankful (Scottish Highlands, May, 2019)

My friend's post about Moving On -

I've known Jeremy for about 10 years. He's had quite the life, can tell quite the tales, and he's a beautiful listener. This bit of introspection is what I need right now. Perhaps you do too -

Moving On

Cancer forever changed my life. In many ways for the better. It forced me to simplify and prioritize. To think about death and what I want for the rest of my life. With this emphasis on what I want came a natural result of getting rid of things I don’t want. This included ditching external distractions on one hand such as social media, excessive email utilization, unhealthy eating, and interests that no longer suite my lifetime goals. And on the other hand eliminating internal distractions such as destructive beliefs about myself. I didn’t realize the impact this would have for me in regards to moving on from negative past experiences. This became evident with regular mediation for me.

During my early morning mediations lately, I have been connecting naturally with my inner child. I start with box breathing to settle myself down, getting into a deeper, more present state. With box breathing you imagine tracing a line around a box while you breath or hold your breath for a 4 seconds at a time. Essentially I breath in for four seconds while I trace the box up, hold for four seconds while I trace the box over, breath out for four seconds while I trace the box down, and hold it for four seconds while I trace the box to complete the square. I then repeat until I’m in a connected state. That’s when I connect with the inner me.

Lately I have been connecting with the inner me and am taken back to a particularly traumatic experience from my childhood. I usually hold my inner child while he cries or offer him encouraging words. Sometimes I just sit with him silently as he expresses his confusion, terror, and sadness over the event. Sometimes I become one with my inner child and feel what he is feeling. I don’t know why this has been happening. I just allow myself to go wherever my meditation takes me and this is where it has been as of late. Yesterday though, it was quite different in nature.

Yesterday after my box breathing I had a profound experience. When I saw the inner me, he was super excited and celebrating. We were in the area where my trauma took place, but it was different. There were streamers and all sorts of decorations. Fireworks were going off and my parents were cheering for me from inside a house. The strong impression I had was that I was somehow moving on or graduating. It was as if I had found the healing I was looking for and that it was time to move on. Move on from the experience. Also, move on from the limiting beliefs that came as a result from the experience that have affected me my whole life.

I see understand more now the possibility of moving on from bad things. Perhaps it was mainly the cancer that helped me with this. Or maybe the years of therapy, learning, self help, and grace of God also had something to do with it. Regardless, this mediation session was a culminating event for me. We may never forget the bad experiences and trials we face, but it doesn’t mean we can’t move on from them in time.

Jana Reiss and Mormonism -

She's good, and I can't think of a time I've disagreed with her perspective.

Two, just this week, that ring true to me, and while I thought about elaborating, her words are enough.

https://religionnews.com/2019/12/12/the-stubborn-faithfulness-of-liberal-mormons/

https://religionnews.com/2019/12/10/postcards-from-the-protestant-decline-in-america/ - Mormons are pretty slick in how they respond to this decline - namely - make them feel (not only feel, but required) to be needed.

Carol Lynn Pearson - No More Goodbyes -

Talk by Carol Lynn Pearson

Encircle Summit, December 7, 2019, Lehi, Utah
Given to 500 LGBTQ youth

“WHAT DO YOU THINK GOD THINKS OF YOU?”

I’ve spent the last year re-visioning heaven, re-visioning God. And I recommend this to all of you. If you don’t like the word “God,” think “Source” or “Universe.” But let’s just simplify and call it God.

My question for you today is: “What do you think God thinks of you?” Not what does your mother or your bishop or your pastor think. But God Himself and God Herself--as I know, and I hope you know—that our Creator is a magnificent partnering of the feminine and the masculine.

I’ve been writing new poems, and one that I like a lot concludes with this line:

“God spoke to me this morning and said, ‘How I love the thought of you. Here’s another day—just think what you can do.’ ”

I stumble a lot and sometimes feel lost in the dark, but when I’m in my right mind I really think God loves the thought of me, the thought that is me, the thought that is you, and the thought that is each of us.

In my poetic mind I sense God as the Great Thought, the First Thinker—“I think; therefore I am the Great I Am.”

So what do you think God thinks of the thought that is you?—as a person and as an LGBTQ person. Have you outsourced that thinking to someone else that you believe knows God better than you do?

And if that someone else thinks that God thinks you are evil or wrong or just not good enough, do you accept that view even though it leaves you in a place of despair?

My book “No More Goodbyes” tells too many stories of the terrible goodbyes we continue to say to our LGBTQ sisters and brothers—to ill-fated marriages, family alienation and suicide.

One of the stories I tell in this book is of my gay friend Brad. He was a convert to the LDS Church, loved it deeply, did everything right, served a mission, knew he would be healed of what he thought to be a curse. He was not healed.

He told me through his tears that he knew God must hate him, that he was surely destined for the lowest part of heaven and he’d just as well go now. He gathered a large supply of pills, took them one night, knew he would have about fifteen minutes, drove directly to the Provo temple, sat on a bench and watched the night sky. He said to me, “I chose that place because I thought there would be kind angels there who would take me in and care for me.” And shame on us that we were not those kind angels here on earth taking care of him.

Brad was in a coma for two weeks but survived. What Brad thought that God thought of him was not only false, it was death-dealing. As you know, that story continues to play out all too often. We must change our perception of God. And most urgently we must change our perception of God’s perception of us.

Once God revealed, “I am Love.” To me that means, as expressed in the little song you may have sung—“Where love is there God is also.” Meaning to me that wherever we find real love—in any community—in Islam, Catholicism, Mormonism, in no ism at all—there God is. And meaning that wherever in a heterosexual union or a homosexual union we find real love, devotion, honor, patience, kindness, faithfulness, there too is where God is.

My very dear LGBTQ sisters and brothers, you now have under the law equal opportunity to create relationships. Please use that opportunity to think not just in terms of sex but in terms of love. Sexual attraction is not a destination, it is an invitation, an opportunity to create love. And being loved thoughts of a loving God, creating love is our calling, our reason for being.

Falling in love is a beautiful step, but rising in love is the destination.

We will all mess up, sometimes big time. But that’s why we have each other. As I write in the final paragraph of “No More Goodbyes”:

“We take turns, then, don’t we? When you are caught on any plain where love is not, I will gather what I have and bring what I can. And when I have used up all my love and am stranded in the cold, I will watch for you to appear with fresh supplies. That way we can make it, I think, all of us. We can be sufficiently creative and sufficiently kind that we will draw circle upon circle upon circle, bringing each other in, leaving no one out, joining, linking, enlarging, until the pattern of the whole human family, seen through the eye of God, is complete.”

So this is the gift I leave with you. As you are going about your life, the happy times, the harsh times, please pause for a moment and say to yourself—

“God spoke to me this morning and said, ‘How I love the thought of you. Here’s another day—just think what you can do.”

May it be so.

Chris Clark, ALS, and Living Life to Its Fullest -

I've admired Chris Clark for many years. When I learned that he had ALS, my heart broke. Why do bad things happen to good people? Top question on my "To ask God," list.

This video presents Chris and his family in a great, and true, light. Thank you, Chris, for your goodness.

December -

The last month of this decade! What are my plans?

Finish Christmas gifts and distribute, this week.
Decorate the house for Christmas, this week.
Entertain - our home or children's, or elsewhere, all month.

Sleep.
Heal.
Cut down on sugar.
Be positive.
Be grateful.
Exercise.
Enjoy every single moment of this month to the best of my ability.