She sounds like a therapist in that I was always saying we all make better talkers than listeners.  I spent way more time coaching someone to talk less and listen more.  But there's not a one of us that in the fit of the moment has not spoken out of turn. 

They decided we’d go primitive camping, which means go out in middle of the woods and weeds, beat down the grass and pitch your tent.  Rugged man also thought  rappelling was a great way to bond.  I’m not quite as freaked about heights as Graham McTavish, but I’m close

The subtitles of aging in this culture get intermingled with the reasonable desire to remain healthy.  I’d often been told I didn’t look my age, a compliment well received but influence by the agism of the culture.  I’d even thought of graying my temples in my late 20s when I became the director of the non-profit because I looked too young.  Owning, even honoring our own journeys is a challenge.

Most of us have had the occasion on a flight where after initially introducing ourselves, the seat mate pops in their ear buds or grabs a book sending a clear message, I want no more conversation, no connection.

I was in my twenties when he challenged many of us to start running—to do ‘temple conditioning’ (our body being the temple of God, cheesy but hey).  He did a number of evaluations on each of us, the body fat calculation thing and such.  I bought the shoes, the shorts and tried it—running through east Nashville and Shelby Park.

How about the carbon tetrachloride in the gallon jugs in our garage that my father brought home from work.  When I used it to clean an oil spill, I felt so great breathing those fumes—wondering now how many brain cells I fried.  It’s now banned.

I’ve been so many places across the world and met so many people through books.  I’ve experienced life centuries ago and I’ve made great friends with the authors of my books—some of which I have actually met.  It’s surprising to some that I’ve done so, contacted writers, like somehow they don’t like to idea someone loves their book.

God is rather like my maternal grandmother who multiple times told me I was the favorite of her five grandsons.  Decades later when I was talking with my cousin Stuart, he said she told him the same thing.  My hunch is the other three heard the same.  Is it that unsettling that one can have multiple favorites?  When I’m standing in front of the Blue Bell ice cream freezer at Publix trying to decide, I have multiple favorites. 

In most theories of personality there is what is described as a ‘critical parent’.  Usually one of your parents but it can be someone else closely involved in your life. They are the one who rode you constantly, often with criticism and/or sarcasm telling you what you’ve done wrong at every turn.  Rarely if ever is there a positive word or affirmation crossing their lips.

I know each of us is a messy conglomerate of our genetics and the family and culture that surrounds us.  At times it seems almost like a script to simply be acted out—a destiny.  It is really that set?  All I know is, when someone says “you are deep” as I look from that depth, some days it’s a blessing, others, a curse.  I’d even use the word ‘gift’ to describe it,

The decision was made before we showed up and as a result, they chose to stop their financial support.  Dan was a very good speaker and I trusted him to do a good job, which he did, but minds were closed.  

Until I come to realize all understanding will always be incomplete.  Sadly, this realization, although driven home with age, doesn’t get any easier.  We get weary.  Gee Abram, I’m feeling your pain.  

Sound echoed in there big time.  If a kid got in trouble during the service and was carried out screaming “don’t spank me! Don’t spank me!” the screams echoed right on into the foyer.  The sanctuary doors were like saloon doors (another memory from all the westerns watched as a kid). There would be a BOOM! as the parent hit one of the doors sending it swinging with the one hand they had free, the other dragging the screaming kid.  

Then there was my first private practice office on Crestmoor Road in Green Hills also on the third floor. The elevator in that building was the original prototype—ancient and small. When I worked late and was the last one to leave the building I said a prayer when I stepped in the elevator

Mr. Tubulari was off competing in some grueling athletic event over Christmas—actually a pentathlon of the harshest-possible wintertime activities; a “winterthon,”, Mr. Tubulari had called it.  Dan Needham hated made-up words

Reality is, humanity had not dealt with a pandemic like this in over 100 years.  And yes, along the way, we often felt like we were flying by the seat of our pants—and were.  If you’re honest you’ve done it yourself too often to lie about it. 

The month of January is always a tough one. I know it is for others too. We are past all the pomp, color and craziness of the holidays. Winter tightens her grip for the next several weeks. Then, when you do as I did, start New Year’s Day with COVID…whatever strain that might be, it’s a whole new January bummer.

I am thinking like Eluard, that there are realms of being that we are in simultaneously…now. What we’ve heard about heaven out there is really more ‘in there’. The kingdom is within we are told. This idea offers an explanation of angels and clouds of witnesses who are close, not far.

There is so much in life, in the world right now that separates us—to rip us apart. The pandemic has driven our isolation to even greater degrees.

We’ll practice the Eucharist, anoint with oil and do baptisms but taking off our shoes and socks has gone by the wayside. Even for those of us who claim Christianity, having had our Creator God demonstrate foot washing to us shortly before he died saying, do this for one another—it still did not take with us.