A Perfect Place to have a blowout

President’s Day was a good day for a hike on Sunflower Trail in the nearby Palo Duro Canyon. It was the same place where William and I had our father-and-son excursion a few weeks ago, except we had made a long hike on the Lighthouse Trail. I thought it might be too manly for a woman to undertake, so we decided on a two-mile trail more suited for the only female in our family.

I made a point to consult with my mechanic which car to take on a two hundred mile trip, and he seemed to think the 97 Buick would be up to the task. The starter had been acting up off and on, but I decided to take on the challenge. Wasn’t it a manly thing to take your handsome son and beautiful wife in an old car on a trip to the canyon? I felt good about the trip.

The steering wheel was a bit shaky when I drove down I 27, but I didn’t think too much about it, attributing the problem to the age of he car - some sort of Parkisons disease that most aging car suffer, I supposed. I was dead wrong, and the miscalculation could have easily gotten us killed. The tire on the front driver side was on its way out.

The hike – well, the walk - was pretty good. The scene was acceptable West Texas standard, but all the sunflowers were mere white heads and dry stems. Kathy took a lot of pictures, and William and I kept making fun of her for being slow.

After about fifty minutes of walking, covering about a mile, we got to the highway that marked the end of our walk, but we did not see our car parked on the shoulder of the road. It took us a while to figure out that we had to backtrack in order to get to the place where we started, and by then it was getting late. A park ranger happened by and I waved to him, but he just zoomed by. While we were debating what to do, the guy came back and offered to give us a lift to our car. We were overjoyed, but Kathy acted a little uneasy. We had to ride in the back of the pickup, and being a lady, she was embarrassed to have to do that. But we urged her on, and she obliged.

We got to our car by 5:30, still giving us enough time to drive to Amarillo and have supper with Michael. As we were climbing the steep hill back to the top of the canyon, the steering wheel was shaking pretty badly and I knew something was wrong. However, I kept on driving and fortunately, we made it to the highway alright. I picked my speed up to about 60, and suddenly I heard a boom and almost lost control of the car. Being a good athlete with above average reflexes, I managed to gain control of the car and ease it down to the shoulder of the road. It was still daylight and William, being a tire changing expert, replaced the shredded Goodyear in no time. We made it to the city by 6:30 and had dinner at Jason’s Deli with Michael. Things turned out to be fine. Michael was his usual pleasant self, even though he was irked by us not having the time to go to his favorite sushi restaurant.

Well, I survived to tell the story. The event could have been entirely different, for the blowout could have occurred anywhere. If it happened on the interstate, or on our decent to the canyon on a narrow road, I could easily have lost control of the car, and the result could have been serious. If the blowout had to happen, the Lord made sure it happened in a perfect place - on a flat highway with almost no traffic at all.

We should become more observant of things that seem to happen pretty randomly. If we pay absolutely no attention to them, then we offer no thanks to our Protector.

Help!

Guys, I know the gap between my generation and yours is a lot wider that I have anticipated, so please help me narrow it a little bit by giving me some crucial information concerning dating and courtship of the twenty-first century. This is the subject of my immediate concern, since I have two sons who are in the midst of searching for a mate. I dated Susan for a year when I was a freshman in college. The girl was neither spiritual nor smart, which were the two qualities that I was looking for in a spouse, yet I went ahead and dated her anyway. I had no intention of marrying her, but she was beautiful and a good catch, which made me the envy of my peers. That was one of many dumb things that I did as a young man. So now, please tell me honestly what attributes you are looking for in your future spouse, and why do you date some people even though they are obviously deficient of the important qualities for which you are searching? Help this geezer understand, please.

A Walk

The weather was unseasonably warm last Monday so William and I decided to go hiking in a canyon about a hundred miles away from Lubbock. I was thinking about doing the two-mile trail, but a nice lady in the visitor center encouraged us to go on a six-mile walk instead. “Try the Light House Trail. It’s so beautiful.” For a while I suspended my knowledge of my age and physical condition and decided to take on the challenge. A six-mile walk down and up the canyon might not be a big deal for most people, but for a fifty-five year old man whose longest walk for a while has been no more than two miles in the neighborhood, it definitely presented a little bit of a challenge.

William and I drove down the Canyon and found the trail at the end of a winding road. Before we started, we saw a sign stating that we needed to take at least a gallon of water with us, and worse yet, it also said that one should not take the hike unless he is physically able. Self-doubt began to creep into my heart after I read the sign. “Shall I do it?” I asked myself.

“Let’s go, dad,” William urged as I was standing at the entrance, conjuring up the possible scenarios if something were to happen to me on the way, and the very thought stayed with me throughout the hike. I wasn’t concerned about my well being, really. I just did not want William to have to run all the way back to the car to get help from somewhere. We were in the middle of nowhere and our phones were out of range. I didn’t want to put my son through any kind of crisis. Such a nagging concern sort of robbed me of my joy of looking at the muti-colored walls of the Canyon glimmering in the afternoon sun.

It took us about three hours to finish the walk, and I survived to tell the story.

When the late Jimmy V found out he had terminal cancer and wasn’t given much time to live, he kept on saying, “I am so sorry” to his children. I had trouble understanding why he kept on making apologies to his daughters then, but I started to get it after I began to raise my boys. It mattered little if I had a stroke or heart attack in the midst of my walk, I just didn’t want to put son through that crisis, that anxiety and fright. Sounds irrational, doesn’t it?

On Being Funny

I have been accused by my boys of trying too hard to be funny, but that really isn’t the case. If there is anything to it at all, only the opposite is true. I have been trying very hard not to be funny, for I have always considered funny folks to be superficial people who really don’t have anything to say but a bunch of empty words designed solely to draw laughter from equally empty people.

Funny people are mostly clowns who are inflicted with an inferiority complex and who try to do anything to draw attention to themselves. We can tell much about a generation by looking at who their heroes are. Who are our heroes these days? Letterman and Seinfeld? Jay Leno and Conan O’ Brian? I fear for this generation of young people. I really do.

The fictional characters that I disliked the most when I was a graduate student were those duds in the so-called “Comedies of Manners” who seemed to spend their entire life engaging in battles of wit. O how I hated them and deemed it a great insult to my intellect that I was even required to read about their exploits of conquering women by their wits.

Please don’t tell me that I am funny, because I take that as an insult, and the last thing that I would try to do is to say anything for the sole purpose of drawing a laugh. Believe me, I am deeper than that.

Giving

Picture with Kathy without boots

“…if it is contributing to the need of others, let him give generously…”
Ro 12:8

One of our friends from college paid us a visit with her two children over the holidays and she gave me two hundred dollars to buy a pair of boots before they left. “It will make you taller,” she said to me jokingly.

I have been looking for a pair of “platform shoes” to elevate my height for quite some time now, but most of the shoes that I have bought were from thrift stores with heels well-worn and shoe laces thinning.” I am getting myself a pair of boots this time for sure,” I assured myself.

Equipped with two one-hundred dollars bills, I drove to “Boot City” down Nineteen Street off the Loop by myself and picked up a pair of brown leather boots with one and half inch heels. I felt like a true Texan when I put them on and walked around the store and, most importantly, I did feel a little taller. The shoes probably pushed me up close to my wife’s height. I was excited. I bought the shoes, but thought better of it when I was debating whether to purchase a cowboy hat or not, deciding that I probably would look ridiculous with the hat on. It would cover half of my face and I probably would look like a clown. Being short is no shame, but trying to fake height by adding a different apparatus on myself sure is.

I went out to eat with my wife that night with my new Levis and boots on, and for the first time I felt I was about the same height as my wife. I was pretty jolly.

If happiness could be purchased, my friend probably had done the job. They were the most expensive pair of shoes that I have ever bought, as far as I can remember. I would never have done it without her generous help. After paying for the shoes, I still had some money left. What should I do with the leftover? I questioned.

I should have given it to Kathy, for my friend probably meant it for both of us. But I resisted the idea because I really needed a little green to make my wintry heart a bit more colorful. A little cash in my pocket does warm my heart and makes me more cheerful. “Most people my age are probably dealing with stocks and bonds, yet I am still handling dollars and cents,” I said to my friend jokingly. But come to think of it, I am a lot better off than this guy who often frequents our house and asks us for a few dollars.

“Do not give him cash. He may take the money to buy drugs,” some people warned me.

“Well, that might be a risk worth taking. What if he is truly hungry?”

Kathy gave the same guy a twenty dollar bill a while ago, and the man said to her joyfully: “I am going to “Jumbo Joe’s” to get myself a good meal!”

I was able to buy a pair of shoes with the money given to me and it brightened my day a little bit; and the homeless man was able to buy a good meal that he might have yearned to have for some time. When we give money away generously, nothing but goodness will take place.

“What should I do with my cash?” I reached down to the bottom of my pocket and felt the smooth texture of my change from the hundred dollar bills.

“Well, I will probably keep it for another day,” I decided.

Insomnia

I usually wake up at least once every night, a habit that started to build when Rob was an infant and woke me up several times a night. I can probably count with my ten fingers the nights that I have slept without interruptions since my children were born. “Parenting is not for cowards.” How true it is!

I have become less and less courageous ever since I became a dad. I guess I had a lot more to lose and the apprehension of loss made me walk a tightrope everyday. I think having children probably had the same effect on Kathy as well. I can hardly envision she was once the girl who took flying lessons and ventured out to an island nation at the tender age of 26 sight unseen, and while she was there, she would ride on a moped without a helmet, speeding down a rice-paddy-lined road. We are now a late middle-aged man and woman who often clutch themselves in fear. Why? It all started with having children.

Now you know why I have insomnia.

It’s fortunate that our Heavenly Father does not need any sleep, for if he did, he would not get any because his concern for billions of his children would surely keep him from getting any shuteye.

“I am afraid of having children because I will be just like you, constantly worrying about your sons,” Rob said to me once. Well, he might be on to something. I am a coward from birth, and have become more cowardly by the day. I desperately need a brave heart.

“Children should not travel far when their parents are still alive, and they should have a clear direction if they do,” wrote Confucius. Of all the ancient Chinese virtues, filial piety was probably the most esteemed. Considering how far I have traveled from my parents, I have fallen way short in that aspect.

“O by the way, I am going to Beijing next Tuesday,” Rob said to me over the phone. I guess my insomnia will not get better any day soon.

I am not who I am

“…but rather think of yourself with sober judgment…”
Ro 12: 3

Do we continue fighting against our inherent weaknesses or simply give up since we haven’t achieved a lot of success doing it so far? Surely we cannot accept ourselves as who we are, because who we are really is not what we ought to be. If we think that we have arrived at our final destination, we will not launch another journey.

“Please come to watch this video presentation with me on Wednesday at our school,” Kathy pleaded more than once.

“Well, just a bunch of old ideas wrapped in a new package,” I replied rather sarcastically.

“I am sure you can learn something new from it. You won’t have anything to give to other people unless you take something in from time to time,” she insisted.

“I don’t want to go.”

I am sure the program that my wife mentioned might have a lot to offer to me, and I will easily become stagnant if I don’t learn something new everyday, but my intellectual pride somehow keeps me from reaching out and gleaning new insight from other people. I have already accepted what I am as who I am and what I have become as who I will always be.

“Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” Gaining new knowledge through life-long learning is not as vital to us as building ourselves up in love through much loving. I still have a lot more to improve as a person of charity than I do as a person of learning, and resigning myself to the reality that I am just who I am is entirely unacceptable.

“I am what I will be.” I should keep this as my motto.

Isn’t this exactly the way the Lord views each one of us? Aren’t we all diamonds in the rough in our Heavenly Father’s eyes? If this isn’t so, why does he continue to cut and chisel this rough stone of ours and will not cease until he gets to the core to carve out diamonds and to look for gold.

To see who we truly are is to get extremely disheartened and discouraged, but to envision what we shall become is to be comforted and encouraged. Why should I give up on myself if the Lord keeps on holding onto me? Why should I give up hope on myself if the Lord remains so hopeful of me?

“You should give up smoking cigarettes,” I told a new convert who was evidently a heavy smoker, for I could tell by his nicotine-stained teeth.

“I have tried before,” he responded.

What he needed to do was to quit viewing himself as a smoker. He as a person should not be defined by what he has been doing for so many years. What he needs to do so desperately is to restore the image of God that was placed in him when he was created. We are not made to be druggies or addicts of any substance or pornography; we are rather created to be like our Father in heaven, holy and righteous.

“That’s it,” signed the husband who was holding his wife’s head up as his son was trying to pump oxygen into her dying mother’s mouth. I struggled to find words to say to ease the tension and soften the blow of death in that gloomy hospital room, but ended up saying nothing at all. What could I have said to comfort the middle-aged man who had just lost his wife of twenty years and to two boys whose mother wouldn’t be there for them henceforth, at their graduations and weddings, to rejoice with them in their joy and to suffer with them in their sorrow?

Surely the body that had been tormented by disease for years wasn’t what she was meant to be nor would be. The deceased has become something that we can only imagine and envision by faith, and what she is is far more glorious that what she was.

That’s what brings us hope. We are not who we are; we are who we shall be. So we continue waging war against ourselves, against what we are, to achieve what we really are.