Remembering the Mothers…

Mothers are important. Without them, none of us would be here! They are the subject of a commandment of God, “Honor your mothers…” with the promise of a long life if we do so. I’m thinking today about my own mother, specifically. I think, finally, more than 20 years after her passing, I’m able to honor her, and for that I am grateful. There is no doubt that she was my biggest fan and that she loved her grandchildren so much.

In fact, she loved children, babies especially, so much that she served in the nursery at the last church she attended. I’m sure she spends part of her time in heaven watching the little ones, when she’s not singing in the choir.

My grandmothers were especially important in my life. In many ways they were surrogate mother figures for me along with the many teachers and friends who have “mothered” me along the way.

Ben and his Mommie…

I know today that my youngest son, Benjamin will spend some time thinking about his “mommie.” She is with him every day in his heart, but at some point he will probably wake up and realize that this is Mother’s day and his mom is not here to share it with him. I can’t begin to understand what he is going through, but I’ve walked the path of grief myself over the last couple of years so I am here to support and guide him through it.

I have many friends and loved ones who are going through testing times right now. Some have had to move out of the homes that they have loved for several years. Others have gotten a diagnosis that signals difficult times ahead. Others suffer for their children who are going through tough times. I pray that they know the comfort of the presence of the Holy Spirit in their lives. I know that even in the darkest times, Jesus will meet you and walk beside you, and sometimes carry you through.

Of course, there are a lot of mothers in the lives of my children. My daughter is a mother and I have step daughters and the mothers of my grandchildren who are going to be honored in some way today. This is definitely a good thing.

Loretta and her daughter, Elaina

Today is a good day to let our positive memories of our mothers overshadow those memories which are better forgotten. It’s a good day to forgive and simply love. That’s what I plan to do today!

Learning to Live

I’ve spent a good deal of my life as a human “doing.” I’ve defined myself by my occupation and have internally rewarded myself on my judgment of my accomplishments. In the last few years I have come to realize that this is no way to live.

Learning to live in the moment, to be present, awake and aware to the things happening around me, as my son Benjamin says, IRL: “in real life.” I think that this may be one of the things that Jesus is referring to when he says: “I have come that they may have life, and life more abundant.”

Stepping into an eternal way of thinking may help me to slow down, take things a little easier and to learn to not bite off more than I can chew. I am refining my ability to say “no.” I am learning to pencil in some space in my calendar and to not make every day some kind of rocket launch.

This is not easy for a person who has constructed a personality like mine. I pride myself on my ability to work hard. Ah, wait a minute, perhaps that is the problem. Pride. If I acknowledge that there is a God in heaven. That he has a “will” that might be done on earth as it is in heaven. If I see that I have a part to play in that “will,” even as I fumble around like the proverbial “blind squirrel” looking for my acorns in the dark, I can glimpse a certain kind of peace.

“Be still and know that I am God.” This sounds like a good adage to live by. It’s the being still that is the hard part for me. I get adrenalized pretty easily. When the fight or flight impulse is on me, it is pretty hard to “be still.” And “trying” to be still is counterproductive and frustrating for it is rest and peace that my soul seeks.

I have rituals that I have developed to help me. I start the day praying the “Our Father.” I sometimes walk around outside at the Ranch where I live. I think about all of the loved ones and friends who are struggling with trials, temptations and troubles. And I look to the center of my soul. Sometimes it helps.

Peace to you and yours today.

What me, worry?

“How long will it take?” This is one of the questions that I am asked frequently in my day job as a lawyer. This is kind of like asking your doctor, “How long have I got, Doc?” The truthful answer to these questions is “I don’t know.” Lawsuits and life each has its own time frame, which is out of our control.

I hate it when the professionals (like myself) say, “You have a 50-50 chance…” Really? How about a 10-20-40-8-22 chance? You see there are way more than one alternative outcome to any situation. You might survive the head-on collision on the freeway but be in a coma for 15 years. You might be struck by lightning or be shocked in the bathtub.  According to the beliefs of many, one of the wisest and richest men who ever lived struck a surrendered pose in Ecclesiastes 3. “There is a time to be born, a time to die, a time to sow and a time to reap, a time to be born and a time to die…”

A classic song goes, “You can’t hurry love, you just have to wait, Love don’t come easy now, it’s a game of give and take…” Why are we in such a hurry to get through our lives, both the trials, tribulations and triumphs. We need to slow down, we move too fast, we have to make the morning last, right? Paul Simon had it right I think. Or the country poet Mac Davis, “You’ve got to stop and smell the roses.”

It’s trying to figure out what is going to happen and when it is going to happen that finds so many of us in that stressful state of mind, worry. Jesus said, “Don’t worry about tomorrow…” Paul said, “Don’t be anxious about anything…” Think of all the billions of dollars that would be saved on anti-anxiety medications if the followers of Jesus could learn to live the Jesus way.

Ah well, that’s what I’m thinking about in the early morning hours this Saturday…

Have a nice day…

“This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it,” entoned Rev. Robert Schuller at the beginning of each broadcast of the Hour of Power. When the warrior-king-poet-musician, David, wrote those words in Psalm 118 I wonder if he was having a “nice” day.

As a follower of Jesus I am trying to learn to live the “commandments of Jesus” as contained in the Sermon on the Mount. One of those commands is, “Judge not.” If you are familiar with the Myers-Briggs Personality test you know what a “high J” person is, usually a big pain in the, uh, neck! They have an opinion on anything and you don’t have to ask to obtain their feedback.  Lately whenever I “judge” anything, I am starting to remember to pray the Larry the Cable Guy prayer, “O, Lord, please forgive me for that, that’s not right, and bless the pygmies in Africa,” ‘Git r done!

You see, I can’t afford the second part of that commandment, “Unless you want to be judged yourself.” (Charlie Wear paraphrase). I’ve made enough mistakes, failures, and have enough people extremely irritated with me that I can’t afford to be doing much judging myself.

I especially get irritated at drivers who swerve around me when I am hightailing it down the highway at about 75 miles per hour! Sometimes they honk! Really? If you are in such a big hurry, why not find the crematorium you have picked out in your well-planned pre-paid cemetery package and go park outside of it! Early! That way you will be on time for your own immolation. Just because I drive like a senior citizen with a light foot on the accelerator in order to save on fuel costs, is no reason to flash me the Hawaiian sign of peace and love when you pass me buy red-faced, eating a breakfast burrito and texting with your other hand, driving with your knees!

There I go again, “O Lord, please forgive me….etc.” ‘Git r done!

Being judgmental robs me of my joy. And that’s not good for me. I want to learn to be like our dear brother, St. Paul, who wrote, “Rejoice in the Lord Always,” and in case you didn’t catch that, “Again I say Rejoice.” I think living a joy-filled life requires a forgiving attitude that takes into consideration another party’s story. This is what I am asking the Spirit to work on in my life. Today! Anyway, “Have a day!,” and enjoy it, if you can.

My good friend, Tim

I’m learning how to grieve. It’s a process. It’s not linear: first, denial; second, anger; third, you get the idea. There’s a lot of jumping back and forth on the scale. If I tried to do it all at once, I think the sadness would overwhelm me. So, I take it in doses that I can handle.

This morning I took a little ride and spent some time with one of my favorite singers, Tim McGraw. I drive, I sip a drink, the window is rolled down and I listen to the music. And then a phrase from one of the songs hits me. I cry. Country music is especially good for this for me. The songs are full of love lost, and regret and pretty often, Jesus. I pray, especially in the morning. My favorite is the Lord’s Prayer: “Thy will be done.” I cry and I surrender to reality. People I love have gone on to be with the Lord. I miss them. I remember.

Sometimes I think about the mistakes I have made, the things I have left unsaid, the people I have hurt. Then I give all of that pain to God. Usually peace eventually begins to rest on me. And I move on. I find it’s best when I’m alone. Just me and the Holy Spirit, who is always there to comfort me.

I pray today, that you will learn early, to grieve. I am mourning, but I am comforted. I am mourning, but I am beginning to feel my feet tap to the beat of a new song. A song of gladness and joy. It’s nearby, very close, just around the next corner.

I just felt like running

 

I now have a much better understanding of Forrest Gump. You know, “Stupid is as stupid does!” Just because you know you are behaving stupidly, it doesn’t mean you can stop doing it. Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit which I have been seriously lacking since March 14, the day my dear wife Loretta died. My reaction to trauma of this kind is a kind of adrenaline overload.

Of course, this is what Forrest experienced when his mamma died. The result: he began to run back and forth across the United States. If you remember the movie, along the way he invented  the smiley face and the bumper sticker for “stuff” happens! So stupid people running can be productive!

My mentor, John Wimber, used to talk about the orange trees during the springtime in Orange County, California. How on a beautiful spring evening you could hear them “groaning” to produce fruit. Of course, this was his way of saying that one does not strain to produce the fruit of the Spirit. You can’t earn them, or get them from indulgences or good works. The fruit of the Spirit comes from “walking” in the Spirit and I am a continual learner in that regard.

I have had plenty of advice on how to handle my adrenaline enhanced experience, running the gamut from which psychotropic medication to take to criticism on my “presentation” to others. Frankly, the half-crazed, adrenaline-overloaded, non-sleeping, running man is not really capable of responding well to this advice. He just keeps “running.” In my case I was running from my calling and my “place” in the world, the Ranch.

I kept hoping that the “buddy” brothers and sisters, somebody, nobody, everybody and anybody would step up and do the things that nobody else but I can do. Unfortunately if I am gone, the “buddys” don’t water the trees or pick up all the trash. Here is a truth I have figured out: “There is only one unique me, and I do have a function and purpose in the world.” I have also come to realize that in the midst of the pain, and perhaps the misunderstanding of others, there is one who comforts and understands always.

He is the “buddy” I am clinging to as I navigate the pain of remaining at the place that holds so many memories, both good and bad, of Loretta. When I figured out that Arizona is only a temporary fix for the “running” and grieving man, my soul found peace. I am not done “growing up” nor am I done grieving, but I’m getting better at both things.

Forrest running to the ends of the east coast.

I have resigned as Superman

It is kind of sad when you wake up to a truth about yourself that is embarrassing. It’s too long an explanation, but because of my parent and childhood issues I am a rescuer. Early in my career as a lawyer I discovered this and nearly quit. Clients would come to me with problems and little money and the next thing I knew, their problems were my problems.

Now being a rescuer is not all bad. People and organizations need rescuing. But sometimes the drowning man simply wants to drown. Sometimes the failing organization simply wants to fail. It annoys people when you save them against their will. Usually after engaging in some sort of act of this kind, the thanks I get is…well, it is worse than no thanks at all. In the last several weeks this drive to save the world against its will has taken a heavy toll on ME, let alone the rest of those I am so busy saving.

So there it is, I am going to leave the saving up to the only one who can save. Instead of insisting on applying my expertise to a situation I am going to lean back and relax. All of you people out their yelling fire, call an actual fireman!

Love Never Dies

If you have been reading my blog or if you are a friend of mine you know that I have been having an “existential crisis” since the beginning of last December. The precursor to my nervous “break-through” happened a year ago on Mother’s Day. On the way to brunch I became aware of an abyss of deep-seated and unresolved emotions about my mother.

These unresolved feelings began when my mother began a series of psychiatric hospitalizations and suicide attempts in my pre-teen and teenage years. Although not successful in taking her life her numerous attempts left a deep scar in my psyche which has clouded by entire life, mostly with a lot of misdirected anger.

Starting in December I began to face and then unravel the past hurts with my mom. I sought and received psychotherapy. For a time I tried medication to deal with anxiety and sleeplessness. Eventually I had a cathartic experience that relieved a huge amount of the burden I had been carrying.

For the past twenty-some years I had never visited my mother’s grave, just one more symptom of my angst. It was the day before easter and Loretta and I were taking my granddaughter Annie home. The cemetery was on the way, impulsively I turned in and we began to look for my mom’s grave. Twenty years is a long time and so we were unable to find it. Ben and Annie were running up and down the rows of gravestones while Loretta and I looked more methodically. I didn’t have any great expectation or ritual to perform at the gravesite, but I did want to find it!

After a trip to the office, with map and instructions in hand we returned to the general vicinity where we had been looking, and suddenly there it was. It had been so long that I didn’t remember what we had put on my mom’s headstone. Cleo Charlene Hight Wear, my mom’s name when she was married to my dad was in capital letters on the first line. The second line read: “Mom and Grandma.” My mom was a very sweet person who suffered from “smiling” depression. After her time of severe psychiatric disturbance she went on to live a life of connection to her children and her grandchildren. She babysat for my kids on a daily basis for a number of years.

When she renewed her faith and rejoined the church she naturally gravitated to the nursery. She loved children, especially babies. It was herself she didn’t like.

And then the third line on her gravestone, “Love Never Dies.” When I read those words the sob immediately escaped and I began to gently weep. As I stood there by my mom’s grave I felt her love for me echoing long past her death. My wife, Loretta stood with her arm around me as I wept. Ben and Annie put an easter egg on the grave. We hadn’t brought flowers.

And then I was remembering the love of God. The Love that has echoed throughout eternity. The non-ending, and eternal love of God. Who, knowing full well the mess we would make of things made a plan to rescue us from our mess, all because of love.

Yesterday we celebrated Mother’s day with Loretta. Cards and Mexican Food for lunch were the order of the day. I thought about my mom, and my grandmothers, and my great grandmothers, the women who held together my family over the years. They were a strong group of women who faced trials. The love they had for their children and grandchildren reverberates past the grave and touches their descendants today.

Father, thank you for your unending love and the love our mothers, Amen.

No one turns down the blessing…

Last Sunday I got to feed Jesus. A bunch of my co-workers were having a party at my friend’s warehouse. We were BBQing Tri-Tip. We were eating chips and salsa. We were making sandwiches, beans and we had a little cole slaw. Someone got some cookies. We were getting ready to feed Jesus and we were having a lot of fun together.

One of the couples are the assistant managers at a senior low-income mobile home park. They told us that Jesus lived there. We thought, let’s take some tri-tip sandwiches and cookies and go there and feed Jesus. There wasn’t an elaborate plan and we didn’t have a big team. Just four of us. I hadn’t ever done this in quite this way but I was pretty excited.

As we got to the park our assistant manager guides went to their home. They have been warned that they could get in trouble if they feed Jesus. They did have this advice. Start with space 155, they need what you have.

And so we were walking down the street almost to its end. I was asking the Holy Spirit, “How do we do this?” The reply: Go to the first door and knock. From years of sales training I had learned that when you are a stranger knocking on the front door, it is important to step way back after you knock. Don’t knock in a timid way. Give the door a good rap! And so I did. “Hello,” I said, “Anybody home?” No answer. And so I knocked again. My team waited patiently near the front of the mobile home, and then there he was: Jesus in the form of Yvonne.

“Hi, Yvonne, my name is Charlie and the Boss sent me with a gift for you.” She had a smile on her face and looked at my quizzically. “The boss?” she replied. The Team answered for me, “God sent us.” “I have the best tri-tip sandwich in the Central Coast, prepared by the famous chef, Roberto Ostini, how many sandwiches would you like?” “We have four people here.” Okay, here you go, and here are some cookies.

So far, this was going pretty well, I thought. And then a flash of inspiration: “May I bless you?” I took her hand and prayed: “In the name of the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, I bless you. May the peace of God be on this house in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” A big smile was on Yvonne’s face and so we moved to the next house.

House after house person after person we gave away BBQ sandwiches and cookies and the blessings. We were invited into a home to pray for a woman who had surgery on her back a couple of days before. I prayed for her healing. Tears filled her eyes. She said thank you. Blessing upon blessing was given. Smile after smile as we fed Jesus.

It came to me then. If we only had a minister we could come back next week and invite people to join us for a sandwich. We could read from the Boss’ manual, maybe our co-worker Paul’s first letter to Corinth, chapter 13. The one about love. We could share some bread and remember what Jesus did for us in his life and on the cross.

When we left, we left the blessing. We had spread the love of Christ with tri-tip. I was happy.

I cried last night…

I cried last night. A close and dear friend and mentor of mine was recently diagnosed with colon cancer. The picture of health, my friend was scheduled right away for surgery. That was about two weeks ago, and he came through the surgery and is recovering according to plan. However, the report is not a good one, Stage 4 colon cancer.

My medical professional wife looked up the explanation on the internet and as she read, I cried. My friend said, “I am finished with my profession. Now it’s time to focus on my family, my children.” I have reached that stage of life where my friends are stricken with disease and I can’t help thinking, that could be me. So I cried, for my friend and for myself. The ability to cry is a blessing. It cleanses the eyes and washes the soul.

A couple of months ago when I heard that another friend had passed away in the night an involuntary sob escaped, but I wasn’t well enough to cry.

My friend is assured in his faith in God, as I am. He is at peace with that part of his life. And so, I am praying. For my friend, that his spiritual self will increase as his flesh battles the disease. And I pray that he will have many more years to pursue the ministry that God has given him, to help others. He’s done it for years in his profession, I pray he can do it for many more years as his vocation.

And I pray for my wife’s parents. Her mom with a diagnosis of cancer while her husband (my wife’s dad) is recovering from open heart surgery. My wife is praying that her dad would recover from the surgery and have some quality of life, at least for a little while.

And so I cry, even as I write these words. So much hurting and loss. We fear death, yet we face death. Better to love life and face death unafraid with the sure knowledge that to be with the Lord is a surpassing blessing. A few years ago I played Tim McGraw’s great anthem, “Live Like You Were Dying” on a seemingly endless loop. This is a truth we will all face sooner and later, we are all dying. Recent movies, like Matt Damon’s Hereafter and Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson’s Bucket List focus a spotlight on the basic human need to understand where we fit and where we are headed from here.

I have friends who have died and lived to tell of it, and others who have raised people from the dead. With the easter season upon us, we have to know, there is no resurrection without death. The apostle Paul said: “I die daily.” I think he was saying, I’m dying a little ever day so that Christ can live a little more in me each day. And so I cry, but through the sorrow and the hurt, the joy is just around the corner. Because of Jesus’ death I have the hope of a resurrected life and the promise of an eternal kind of life starting right now. That is good news, even if heard between the sobs.