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An old man came up to me the other day while I was walking and asked: “Where can I find sanctuary?”

“What kind of sanctuary?” I answer back.

“You know, the place where everyone is safe from everything.” he said

I held my breath and thought, and then thought again. I turned around without saying a word and walked to my car and got in and cranked it. I locked the doors and the windows and drove out onto the highway and got it up to about 65 mph.

“This is about it for now…” I thought

But as far as the future, I don’t know….I really don’t know.

In all things there is change. Some for the good, some not. We humans change so many times during our lives. I only now realize how my grandparents…my parents, felt as they were getting older. It’s a definite change.

We start our lives in a full tub of “life”. We are in the very back corner of that full tub….that tub which is a different level for each of us. As soon as we are born, the plug is pulled and our life starts to drain. The closer we get to the “drain” the faster our life moves. The journey will…change…you.

I saw some of the ways it changed my loved ones as they raced towards the spiral at the end. I’m determined I will not change in some of those ways….and yet, much of what happens is out of my control.

So I suppose I will control what I can, and live with what I cannot control. What more can we do?

What more can we ask except for the chance to try and fulfill our best in life? It’s a true gift to be given the chance to even try. It’s a true gift to not be alone….to have people to love, and who love you back.

From 2013- On prayer.

The year was 1954, and it was the first time I can remember being at the “Old Zion” Baptist Church in Blue Ridge Georgia. I remember it for a couple of reasons.

First of all, I had apparently at that young age already admired my Grandfather’s ability to get up and wave his hands around while people sang. I had no concept really of what a song leader was. I may have even thought that people wouldn’t sing at all unless Grandpa waved his hands around. It was the magic of the waving of the hands which caused the singing. I wanted to be magic too. I don’t remember whether or not I asked permission to do it, but I do remember being up behind the pulpit in front of the choir with Grandpa and “magically” waving around my hands. People were singing for sure, but they were all also smiling. I didn’t know they were smiling at me. I just knew they were happy and I thought it was the magic of the waving hands that was making it so.

Throughout all the years I continued to visit that church during my trips to visit my Grandparents, there would always be someone I would meet out on the street in town, or at the lake, or at the church who would inevitably tell the story about how tickled they were at the little four year old boy who helped his Grandpa lead the music. At first I was a little bit embarrassed about it, but as the “legend” grew it kind of bolstered my confidence in my musical abilities a little to hear how well I sang that day. It was one of the things which kept me singing over the years, and led to me being a soloist, songwriter and the lover of music that I am. Without the positive reinforcement of these wonderful “country” people I might have gone with my natural tendency to shyness and never have been able to perform in front of a crowd. I really thank them for their kindness and generosity.

The other thing that came to mind during the recent service was the way which the prayer used to be conducted at O’ Zion as they called it.

In an “Old Country” Church, anytime anyone prays; everyone prays. If a preacher starts the prayer, it’s not long until all the other people join in praying out loud, each offering up their own separate praises, requests, and wishes to their creator.

When I was little I thought this cacophony was pure noise. But as I go older, it started to take on a different quality. After a minute or two of listening, all of the voices began to blend together into one. There was no longer the ability to pick out one single voice and listen to it, it was impossible.

However, far from being just noise the prayers started to take on a quality of purity and holiness that I have not often felt since. They were almost musical and lyrical in their quality and there was a cadence to them that spoke of a sincerity it is hard to find in today’s world. You knew that God was hearing this and that he could understand each and every one of these simultaneous pleadings. As the prayers began to stop one by one as the individuals finished their contrition’s, it got to the point where it would come down to three, two and then finally just one voice, the voice of the preacher who would always be the one to begin and end the prayers. It was almost miraculous how they stopped. Never, ever all at once, but in an orderly fashion perhaps in the order of the importance of what they had to say or to ask of God.

I sometimes felt like a wind was moving through that Church. Even during the heat of August you could feel it and it was cooling and comforting. During December it would warm the body and cause the soul to glow with love. Some would call it the Holy Spirit. I won’t dispute their word on that. I don’t know if Churches anywhere still pray that way today. I think sometimes people may think it’s rude to pray out loud at the same time as another person. I don’t think it’s rude at all. It sort of just makes sense because then it’s not just a bunch of individuals weakly projecting their unheard mental thoughts towards the heavens, but a bunch of strong worshipers openly telling God their needs.

It makes a difference.

I know it does.

I have seen some posts lately about the way Christmas itself is treated as a holiday. Some say it should be nothing but a “Christmas” tree, and not be called a “Holiday” tree. Some say it HAS to be “Merry Christmas” and not “Happy Holidays”

I personally will say Merry Christmas and have a Christmas tree. But…I am not going to try and “hijack” Christmas as being just for Christians. All kinds of people celebrate Christmas this time of year. I don’t believe that I should tell someone who is a Jew, or a Muslim, Atheist, or any other group who does not believe in Christ that they should NOT celebrate this time of the year.

A lot of the symbolism that goes with what we call Christmas, does not even come from Christianity. Back in the Middle ages, a lot of “Christian” holidays were placed on dates when other pagan religions had celebrations of one type or another. Their logic was to assimilate the pagans into Christianity by “mixing” bits and pieces of some of their celebrations with some Christian celebrations. A lot of the customs that we associate with Christmas were secular to begin with..or even pagan in origin.

Charles Dickens had a lot to do with how we now celebrate Christmas. The holiday itself seemed to be dying in early Victorian England until Dickens wrote his wildly popular book, “A Christmas Carol” in 1843, right before Christmas. Much of what we think of as a standard Christmas comes from that novel. If you’ve never read it, you need to. I’m sure everyone has seen the movie in one version of another. Dickens was definitely the “man who saved Christmas”

A lot of what many Christians see as being a part of Christmas…the “Santa” part, has certainly been secularized.

Also, just think back to all the “Black Friday” and “Cyber Monday” ads you have heard during the past week. Sometimes it feels like Lucy was right in “Merry Christmas Charlie Brown” that Christmas was controlled by “a big syndicate back East” may not be too far wrong nowadays.

I think that instead of caring so much about whether people say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas” we should not “swat at knats while swallowing camels”

We ought to be examples, by word and by deed, of how we should truly be: friends to all of our fellow man. Feed the poor. Clothe the naked. Give to those who have less than we have. Do it without qualification. Quit worrying about whether or not people “deserve” your giving. Quit worrying about whether or not what you give will be “misused”. If you are truly selfless in your giving, then you will receive your reward no matter what happens afterward. The joy will be in the giving.

Then, perhaps things will be as Tiny Tim said in the book, and “God will bless us….every one”.

People say there is no such thing as magic. I say they are wrong.

The first great magic is light. Without it there could be no life. We humans think we see it, yet we never do. We only see light’s reflection off objects which it strikes. We see just a portion of the total spectrum of light. We see the stars in the heavens at night…and sometimes do not stop to think what we think of as current, could be anywhere from a few years to a few decades old. How can that be, unless it is magic. Light is the basis for all of our electronic communications devices. Without it, I could not “write” this.

Light is definitely the first and greatest magic. Next, will be music….

I will have to say one thing for sure, Arthur Rankin and Jules Bass were two men who were WAY ahead of their time in terms of rejecting the ideas of discriminating against people due to them being “different” in some way. Never heard of them? I’m sure that most of us watch at LEAST one of their works if not more this time of the year. As a matter of fact, I just finished watching “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” again yesterday with the babies. Believe me, if you watch it closely with your eyes wide open to what is going on, you will see a tenderly made cartoon which teaches one of life’s greatest lessons. Rudolph himself, was of course, “different” with his Red Nose so shiny and bright; but there was also Hermie the Elf who wanted to be a dentist and not a toy maker, and all the Toys on the Island of Misfit Toys with their “differences” from regular toys. All the reindeers teased Rudolph about his nose and even the great man Santa discriminated against him due to him being born with a physical difference. In the end, a lesson was learned when Rudolph saved the day for the very many who had previously rejected him. A lot of other Rankin and Bass cartoons also contain different lessons. “Santa Claus is coming to Town” with it’s “Burgermeister” whose dictator like rules kept children from having toys and kept their parents “under the thumb” of a repressive government. Rudolph came out in 1964, and the other cartoons not long after. I marvel at these lessons that I overlooked, or didn’t want to pay attention to, until these past few years when more and more people are coming down on others for being “different” in some manner or the other.

When I was in school I took a pencil and paper with me every day. Right up until the day I graduated High School, and even my last year in college in 1974 it was pencil and paper or pen and paper. I never imagined any other way.

When the electronic age started, I was a Manager in a bedspread and blanket factory. I think I got my first computer in ’87 or ’88. Spreadsheets soon followed, along with emails and memos via the internet. I adapted to these things and I kept up. I had to, or have someone else take my job.

Back when I was still using pencil and paper in classes…often boring repetitive classes, I doodled. It was fun and it made the teacher think you were furiously taking notes. I did some great doodles that I wish I had kept. Some epic doodles. Most often I liked starting with a simply pattern and making it more and more complex as the doodle developed. I found patterns interesting, I found them fascinating. I began to believe there was something more to patterns than I knew.

I was never a good math student. I’ll admit I had a lot of trouble with Algebra. I really like Geometry however, and actually made B’s in that area. It seemed more pattern oriented to me. I took a course at Georgia in “Philosophy and Logic” which continued to focus my interest and belief in patterns. It was one of the most difficult courses I ever took. Try an advanced course in Logic sometime if you don’t believe me.

The more I look at the world, in everything which I see, from the macro photos of plants and insects that one of my Facebook friends so beautifully takes, to the posts which show galaxy after gorgeous galaxy, the more I see repeated patterns. Similar patterns in nature. Similar patterns in all things, from the cells in our body, to our Universe.

There is a pattern.

There are patterns which were used to create all things. There will be patterns which predict the future of all things.

Perhaps everything started off with a doodle somewhere.

Since patterns are repeated, perhaps at some point in the huge pool of time our existence will be repeated.

I am one that does not believe in an end to things. Call me crazy, a lot of people do, but that’s just the way I see it.

One day last week I spent some time looking at things under high magnification. Leaves, some grass, a lady beetle. Lord knows there are plenty of them around here!

I found that what appears ordinary and mundane when viewed with the naked eye is extraordinary under magnification.

You can see the cell structure in the leafs, and it’s so beautifully symmetrical. It’s geometric and almost appears as if it was drawn. As if someone put some thought into how it should look.

Later in the evening I went to take my dogs outside for their sabbatical, and the stars were coming out and looked gorgeous. There were hundreds of them to be seen by the naked eye. Twinkling in shades of blue, red and yellow.

What is obscured by the light of day is beautified by the quiet calm of night.

I truly wondered again if the nature of existence stretches to infinity in both directions? We think we know so much when we actually know very little.

Our society tends to shine a spotlight on all bad things, when we should be magnifying the good, and bringing love out of the darkness and into plain sight.

Does anyone else ever feel it? Even when you are sitting in your own house in your favorite chair, it sometimes sneaks up on you. You may feel comfortable, got your slippers and your robe on, and then you just get a feeling that you’re in a strange place…you are not home. You’re at your house, but you are not…home.

I get that feelings sometimes, and it’s a strange thing. I go outside and look up at the stars sometimes and I wonder, why am I here and not there? I saw a gorgeous, unbelievably beautiful panorama photo of the night sky that someone had taken with a special HD camera. As far as the eye could see into the photo, were the little specks of distant stars. Millions and millions of them. I felt out of place just sitting here in my chair and looking into that photo on my computer screen. What is out there? Is there a heaven out there somewhere? Are there millions of other worlds out there which are “Earth like” with life on them? The scope of my existence sitting here looking at that became so tiny…so insignificant. How does it really matter what I am doing here on this little speck of dust? Is this really my home, or is my home somewhere out there?

Based on that line of thinking, one could become quite depressed if one were inclined in that direction.

But then I pulled myself back into this world. Into this existence. Into my existence. I took a deep breath and got up and went and looked into the mirror. I looked as deeply as possible into my own blue eyes. At first nothing was apparent, but then I looked again. Deeper and deeper I looked and then I saw some tiny specks glowing deep within…like stars. I knew I was home. And I knew that no matter what happens or when, I will always be home.

Omnia Sunt Bene.

All will be well.

Thanksgiving….my favorite holiday of the year. Even more so than Christmas. Even more so this year of all years

Last year on Christmas I was in Redmond hospital.  My chest  had been sawed open and they grafted four arteries into my heart and bypassed the ones that were almost totally stopped up.  I was laying there for well over 6 hours, and was on the heart-lung machine for over an hour. Motionless and essentially lifeless for over an hour, while a machine held my life in its brainless hands. Thank God for technology and skilled doctors, because I did live. I lived, although for the first week I sometimes wished that I had not. But now I’m glad I did.

It snowed in Northwest Georgia on Christmas, last year…the Winter of 2010, and I missed it!  I was so out of it still, that I couldn’t even look through the hospital window to the beautiful white Christmas that had finally come, and covered the ground below in an ultra white quilt of purest white. After all those years, it had finally arrived….and me, well…I was barely alive.  It has taken all that time since then to truly recover.  New Year’s of 2011 came and went, and I was sick as the veritable dog with the flu.  Can you imagine all the coughing while trying to hold your chest to keep it from popping open?  A trip to your doctor’s office and in his back door to see if after all you’d gone through, you were STILL gonna die!  But, somehow I didn’t.  Somehow, I lived.

Now Thanksgiving is here!

On Thanksgiving all of the family will be here and the extent of the stress is whether to have another spoonful of dressing, or some more ham.

I used to put more and more stress on myself about Christmas every year, by worrying about what to give to who and is it enough, and yada yada. This year, with things as they are, Christmas will be a little more “homey”  Things may even be homemade! But, I have finally decided that it’s gonna be ok. I would be fine if the only thing I get for Christmas is an “I love you” from my family.

I could NOT have made it this past year without them, especially my wife. You don’t know about love until you have to have someone wait on you hand and foot because you can’t wait on yourself. You don’t know about feelings, until one of your children or grandchildren walking through the door to see you lifts your heart to the heavens.

This year, in the year 2011,  I am thankful just to BE here…just to be able to be around and love the best family any man could have. I’m thankful to be able to think and feel  I’m thankful to be able to try and piece together this past year,  and try and remember where the time went, and what has actually happened.

So, come on Thanksgiving. Come on and let’s move forward with life. Come on and let’s have turkey…and pass the dressing please!