Where oh where are you tonight?

 Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

I walked into the "Y" this morning and realized I hadn't seen Larry or Jane for a while.

It has been a busy summer, and I knew they had gone on vacation, but I also thought they had returned. 

I asked the front desk to look them up in daxko for me; I would have done it myself, but as we all know, "Y" computers are a bit slow booting up, and it is Thursday, after all. By the time my computer came to life, I would have forgotten why I had started it in the first place, besides; besides, by next Monday, I would be somewhere else. 

BlueBell was at the front desk and found that Larry and Jane had not checked in for 21-days! I was going upstairs to work out, and bluebell dialed the phone to call them. 

I was 20-minutes into my workout when low and behold, Larry walked onto the workout floor! 

I said, "Larry, where have you been?"

Larry responded in true Larry fashion, "Well, evidently, I wasn't here."

he then went into his summer. He had a jam-packed summer with family in town and taking trips. 

We talked about things and about our prayer team meeting. Yes, Larry and Jane are part of our prayer team that prays for people all over the world. 

I told Larry that he needed to check in once in a while. I said that I thought I was on Hee Haw.

Larry said, "Hee Haw, why Hee  Haw?"

So I sang him this song:

Larry just shook his head, looked at the healthy living person, and said, "Did Roger fall off the treadmill again?"

They both laughed; I didn't; it hurts when you fall off a treadmill. Not that I ever did, Hmmm.

One thing that sets the "Y" apart is that we notice when you aren't here. 

We miss our "Y" family and check on them. 

We truly care.

Do you have someone that you haven't seen for a while? 

Have you thought about checking in on them?

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Roger

Frederick, if you don't call me soon, I am going to drive down to your office and sing Where oh where are you tonight!

Yesterday was a busy day!

 Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

Yesterday was a busy day!

A day filled with meetings and a day filled with presents!

I had ordered a popcorn machine for the mobile food bus, and the popcorn machine came in!

Padme was at the front desk when the delivery person delivered the popcorn machine. I'm not sure what you would call the person delivering the popcorn machine if we didn't have the word delivery? Sometimes titles can be confusing, and sometimes titles hit the nail right on the head. 

I met a "Chief Heart Officer" the other day. One would think I was at a hospital in the cardiology ward, but I wasn't; no, the "Chief Heart Officer" was responsible for infusing the organization with empathy and helping people be less mean. I never would have guessed that job; it would have been like renaming the delivery person as the "Chief Present Giver." or something like that. 

The delivery person brought us the popcorn machine, and Padme was so excited; she was the one who requested the popcorn machine in the first place. She ran up, picked up the box, and carried it back to her office. We spent some time putting the pieces together, not that it was complicated, but the instructions weren't all that clear. 

About a million years ago, before I understood the meaning of exaggerating, I took a technical writing class in college. I took it as a prerequisite for a chemistry class. In chemistry class, we had to write out how to replicate our experiments so others could do them. The funny thing about chemistry is if you mix the wrong things or the incorrect amounts of things together, the experiment not only would not work, it might explode. Thus, the reason for the technical writing class. 

In the class, we would write out how to take apart a pen and how to put it back together and then hand our papers to our classmates and have them follow the instructions. It sounded easy enough, but it wasn't. Technical writing is more complex than it looks. 

In my chemistry class, I would write out my experiments and hand them to my pastor; he was quite the theologian. He wasn't much of a chemist, though. This made him the perfect test subject for my papers. If he could properly explain the process of the experiment after reading the paper, I knew it was good to go. 

I wasn't a very good chemist. 

I became a theologian.

I think the popcorn machine manufacturing company hired a theologian for their technical writing, just say-in.

We got the popcorn machine together, cleaned it up, and made popcorn.

We made a lot of popcorn.

We had the summer lunch program going on.

We had summer camps going on. 

We had Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor going on.

More than once, we had to put Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor in a time-out for cutting in line to get more popcorn. 

We had a great day feeding kids and campers. 

Padme said, "If I knew that Roger would buy me a popcorn machine, I would have asked him 3-years ago!"

I entered the "Y" this morning, and the sign said, "Spread your love everywhere you go." Mother Teresa.

I love that sign. 

I will do my best to be even more intentional about loving on people.

Have you loved on people today, showing them you appreciate them and helping them out? 

Has someone shown you love today, letting you know they appreciate you, helping you out?

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

p.s. Wait until Archibald finds out I bought a snow cone machine for the mobile food bus; he will lose his mind!

Friends are a lot like pimples

 Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

I got to the "Y" this morning; I did my initial walk-through and saw that the roll-up door to the auditorium needed to be closed for camps. I helped set up the teen center for another camp and then came up to my office to write a bread and talk with you. 

I started my computer, and as it powered up ("Y" computers can take a while to power up; I am not sure why I think it must be because they were bought in 1992), my friend Dan stopped by, and we chatted. Then, as I was busy getting my emails up, yes, I said emails. I have my YMCA email and my university email. As they were booting up, another friend stopped by and started talking about losing a friend and feeling alone. 

We talked for a while. 

As we talked, I recounted a time in my life that was lonely and not very fun. I talked about how I wasn't looking for a relationship, but one came out of nowhere. How Laurie and I met by chance, and I didn't see her coming. 

I told my friend that friends are a lot like pimples. 

How are you living your life, and then one day you look in the mirror, and there is a big red pimple on your face? Where did that come from?

Friends can be like a pimple; you are busy living your life, and then one day, you discover that you have a friend! 

I told my friend how one day Laurie said, "We have been dancing around the "L" word for a while. Why don't you just tell me you love me?"

I responded, "Why don't you tell me you love me?"

Laurie looked at me and said, "Ok, I love you!"

I responded in typical Roger fashion and yelled, "I love you too, but I have baggage!!!"

Laurie just laughed and said, "Boy do I know that!"

As I told this story to my friend, I thought about God. 

So often, people don't want to talk to God because they have baggage; their baggage is holding them back. 

God says, "I know you love me; why don't you just say it."

People respond, "Why don't you tell me you love me?"

God says, "Ok, I love you!" 

People say, "I love you too, but I have baggage!"

God responds, "Boy don't I know that."

She said she tried telling a friend at church about her loneliness. 

Her friend told her, "All we need is God."

I said, "While this is theologically true, I think that it is a cop-out statement; kind of like when you tell someone about a pressing need and they say they will pray for you. Can't you pray and help me move too?" 

I went on to say, "Yes, all we need is God, that is true. I also know we need air to breathe, water to drink, and having toilet paper at the appropriate time is always nice as well."

I will walk close to my friend as she navigates this time in her life. 

I remember when I needed someone to walk alongside me when life was hard. I will pay this forward. 

Have you ever needed someone to walk alongside you during a difficult time?

Have you ever walked alongside someone else during their time of need? 

By the way, Laurie and I didn't meet by chance. God knew what He was doing all along. It was I who didn't know. 

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Do you like surprises?

Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

We had another one of our famous ZOOM meetings yesterday. 

These meetings have become so famous that Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor can't even go out to dinner anymore without him giving someone an autograph. 

Not that anyone ever asks for one before he gives them one anyway, but that is irrelevant. 

Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor opened the meeting with, "Tell me the last time you were surprised?"

We all took our turn telling of the last time we were surprised. Well, everyone except for Darryl. 

Darryl just said, "Roger, tell the group the last time I was surprised."

Darryl is famous for passing the proverbial torch to someone else when asked a question.

The only flaw in Darryl's plan was that he asked me to tell the group the last time he was surprised. 

I concocted a whole long story about a chicken, a duck, and a bowl of mud. By the time I got done, Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor was lying on the ground with tears of laughter, and Darryl had that look of, "If this wasn't a ZOOM meeting, you would be dead." I just sat there and smiled. 

The reason for the question was that Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor was setting us up to be surprised. 

Our association had been selected to participate in a national cohort focusing on Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion; how cool is that? 

It will be a year-long study with an overall plan that will take 3-years. 

You know your "Y" is doing great things when the Y-USA picks you to do something; we tend to get picked a lot. 

I am really proud of our people; our people make up our association, and it is because of them that we get the things done that we do. Don't get me wrong, we know we have a long way to go on the DEI front, but we aren't afraid to take that good, hard look in the mirror and see where we can improve. 

It will be fun to walk this journey.

Some 2,000 years ago, a man walked a similar journey with a group of people. He walked alongside those that had been marginalized, those that had been made to feel less than. He took their hands and told them he loved them. He fed them and taught them. He healed them and gave them hope. 

Those in power didn't like him.

He was busy upsetting the apple cart. 

It was an arduous journey he took.

I sure am glad he took that journey because he saved me in the process. 

I will do my best to emulate him. 

I will do my best to come alongside the marginalized.

I will do my best to sit with those that have been made to feel less than.

I remember something someone once said:

"Blessed are the poor in spirit,

For theirs is the kingdom of heaven

Blessed are those who mourn,

for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,

for they shall inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,

For they shall be filled.

Blessed are the merciful,

For they shall obtain mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart,

for they shall see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers,

For they shall be called sons of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake,

For theirs is the kingdom of heaven"

I will remember this as I go through my day, and I will ponder.

Do you ever ponder the things of God? 

Do you ever wonder what your role is in bringing heaven to earth?

Do you ever think about these things?

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Roger

The Missing Bread Incident of 2022

 Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

So I bet you are wondering about what happened yesterday.

I came into the "Y" with all the intention of talking with you, but God had other plans.

I walked into the "Y", and did the perfunctory, "Hellos, isn't it a nice day? It is so nice to see you...All the stuff that you learn in your 2nd year of Chappy school. I unlocked my office door, and sat down on my bouncy chair, and started my computer; as it was powering up, the power went out in our "Y".." 

The initial power surge fried the computer! 

I spent the first part of the morning calming swimmers that couldn't get in the pool. (No power, no pumps). 

One of the jokes we have in our "Y" is Member Benefits; we like to say, "Your membership dues pay for the chlorine that makes the pool safe to swim in. Because of you, we have plenty of chlorine, so keep peeing in the pool."

Without pumps, no chlorine, without chlorine, well, let's just say the water loses its clear blue complexion.

By the time we got that sorted out, I was hoping my computer would be up and running, with no luck. 

I then went to Open House Ministries, a homeless shelter, and held their Wednesday chapel service; their chaplain was on vacation, so Esmerelda and I went and loved on the residents there. 

When we got back, Padme asked me if I wanted to get a drink; this is code for I need to talk.

I said, "Ok, but it is only 11:30 in the morning. Are the bars open yet?"

Padme said, "No, you idiot (I think idiot is her pet name for me, at least that's what I tell myself, she certainly calls me that a lot), I want a tea." 

By the time I got back from 7-eleven with a Gatorade, she had changed her mind along the way and didn't want her large tea with one Splenda in it anymore. She opted for a Berry Gatorade instead. 

By the time I got back, my computer was up and running. 

Thank you, Sabastian. 

But now we were doing Zoom interviews for an open position at our "Y." 

After we finished the interviews, I thought better late than never, but wait, there's more.

Darryl came and got me needing some advice. Evidently, Progressive Insurance had called and wanted him to do another commercial with Flo. Darryl still has PTSD from the last commercial when Flo called him Bigfoot!

I told Darryl that was then; this is now, and I am sure Flo won't make the same mistake again, and if she does, politely explain how that is offensive and not call you that. 

Darryl felt much better; I can't wait to see his next commercial.

At 6pm, I finally sat down and wrote the bread. 

I had written it on God's Calendar vs. My Calendar.

The essence was how I might have a day where my calendar is full of stuff that I think is important. Still, God has a day planned packed full of truly important things, and how if you are attuned to Him, you not only see His calendar day for you but are willing to put your calendar aside and do His will. 

I finished with, "Does God ever show you His calendar with things for you to do, and do you put your calendar down and use His calendar, or just see it and say, I am too busy with my stuff today?"

Something to Ponder. 

I had finished writing the bread, excited to hear your thoughts. 

Before I pushed the send button on the bread, the front desk needed my help, so I went to the front desk. 

When I got back, there was Frederick the Great.

Frederick the Great ate my Bread!

Blessings,

Roger

The Zip-Strip incident of 1976

 

Good morning, 

I pray that the day is finding you well.  

Talking about Tinker has my memory in overdrive. 

When I was a kid growing up in Kansas, my dad would take on projects that I initially thought had a low chance of success. 

Here is a short list of things my dad tackled: 

• Red; no, not the color but an old Appaloosa horse that had been foundered. Foundered is a term used to describe a horse that had become lame because their hooves had grown so long that they actually walked on the frogs of their feet. Needless to say, without going into what frogs are, Red could not walk. Dad bought him, and we carried him into the trailer and brought him home. I thought dad was nuts. Changing a duplex into one large home. Stucco; is a term that describes a lath and plaster system of ceilings and walls. If you ever wondered what people used before drywall was invented, they  used  “stucco.” 
• Installing a hot water heating system all by himself. 

One day dad was stripping paint off one of the window sills of this duplex turned into a huge house, and I walked in. 

He turns to me and says, “Do me a favor and go to Milton’s and get some Zip-Strip.”

Milton’s was the name of the lumber yard in town; it was named after Milton Lampe, the guy who owned it. Otherwise known as Lampe hardware. As I reflect on my little town, most shops had people’s names. I had learned to ask clarifying questions over time, mostly from the red-handled screwdriver incident of 1974. 

I asked, “How much Zip-Strip do you need?” 

Dad, obviously frustrated, said, “You know how much I need. Just go get me some blankety-blank Zip-Strip.” 

So I did. 

I drove the pickup to Milton’s. I walked into the office and said, “I need all the Zip-Strip you can spare.” 

Milton looked at me, seeing that I was more than just a little tweaked said, “What’s going on Roger?” 

I recounted the story and told him my plan. 

Milton laughed and said, “Let’s go to the warehouse.” 

We loaded all the Zip-Strip that he had, everything from pint cans to 5-gallon buckets.

Milton said, “Just bring back what you don’t need, and tell me how it goes.” 

I return to the house and walk in with a little pint of Zip-Strip. Dad, who had cooled off while I was gone, said, “Thank you.” 

I said, “No problem.” And went back to the pickup to unload the rest. 

Dad watched in fascination as I proceeded to unload into the house enough Zip-Strip to strip the paint on every home in our little town. 

A smile came to his face, and he said he was sorry for overreacting to a simple question, especially since the red-handled screwdriver incident of 1974. 

Dad even went back to Lampe Hardware to help me return the Zip-Strip. Milton had a good laugh. Dad thought it was pretty funny too.  

I am much older now and have hopefully learned a little during my life. One of the benefits of memorizing scripture is it tends to come to mind when you are faced with things. This scripture came to mind. “A kind man benefits himself, but a cruel man brings trouble on himself.”(Proverbs 11:17).  

The ZipStrip incident of 1976 has left an impression on me. No matter how busy I am, no matter how frazzled, I try to be patient and answer the question that is asked. 

You know, the "Y" does a great job of not responding negatively to the question, no matter the tone. That is one of the best things that I love about our "Y." Of all the things we do, the one thing we are really good at is loving on people. 

Have you ever had a ZipStrip incident in your life? How did you handle it?

Something to ponder

Blessings,

Roger

 

Things a horse taught me

Good morning, 

I pray the day finds you well.

As I wrote about the screw-driver incident of 1974, it brought back memories. One of my favorite memories was about a horse; this was a very special horse that I grew to love very much. 

Back on the farm, we had a horse named Tinker. She was half quarter horse and Half Shetland pony.

I guess that is why I had a dog that was half golden retriever and half basset hound. 

I seemed to be drawn to the unusual. 

Tinker was the horse that all the kids learned to ride on. She was a great kid horse. Looking back, I was fortunate to have been able to learn on Tinker. Tinker had her quirks, though. She did not like saddles, so we all learned to ride bareback. 

 Dad would put us on her back, and she would start walking. 

 At first, just staying on her back at all was hard. 

 She would walk along, and before long, I would start to slide off to one side. Tinker would feel me sliding, and she would begin to walk almost sideways, twisting her back in a vain attempt to keep me from falling off. 

By the time I slid down one side or the other, she would be at a complete stop with her back twisted as far to whichever side I had fallen, giving me the classic Tinker look. 

There I would be laying on my back, on the ground, and she would crank her head around and look me straight in the eyes as if to say, "Moron, get up and get back on." I would get back on, which by the way, resembled nothing like the cowboy movies with the cowboy throwing a leg over like a gymnast and riding off into the sunset; no, a kid grabs anything he can hang onto and kind of jumps the best he can and then scrambles and kicks his way back onto the horse. It is quite a process, really. 

 Tinker would stand there patiently, allowing me to pull her mane, kick her belly, lay on my stomach, pull a leg over, and finally sit on her back. She would wait for me to get ready and then start walking again. 

 I would fall off, and the process would start all over again. 

 When we got the walking part down, Tinker would start trotting training. Tinker must have had 15 different trots. No matter how hard I would kick her or say, "Come on, Tinker, let's go." Tinker would just trot a little faster. I don't know if you have ever ridden a horse, but trotting bareback is like sitting on top of a jackhammer. Have you ever seen a baby bouncing on a grampa's knee? That is what I am sure I looked like. 

It is not very comfortable, but Tinker was a kid trainer. 

 She would trot, I would fall off, she would give me the look, and I would scramble back on. After I mastered the trot, Tinker moved on to cantering and finally galloping. I was always amazed, we could be half a mile from the house, and she would just stand there waiting for this goofy kid to get up and back on. 

 The other horses would have bolted to the barn, free of their encumbrances. 

Tinker finally taught me how to ride. By the time she got done with me, I could ride just about any horse. They would try to get me off, but I would sink into their withers like I had crazy glue on my butt. 

 As I wrote about dad and the red-handled screwdriver, I thought about Tinker. I thought about how patient she was with me. I thought how I might never have been able to learn to ride if she had not taken the time to teach me, really teach me, not just go through the motions. As I thought about tinker, I thought about the YMCA. 

I thought about how we have the opportunity to teach kids, adults, and families how to become whole. Really teach them, not just go through the motions. Psychiatrists would call it self-actuated. I thought, what a tremendous responsibility it is. Tinker taught me how to be patient. Tinker taught me that everyone is learning something. I will try to do a better job of emulating Tinker. 

I wonder how often Jesus felt like Tinker. Teaching people, watching them fall and get back up. He never left them either. I bet Jesus feels like Tinker with me too. He never leaves me either. 

Did you ever have a Tinker in your life?

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Roger

The Red-Handled Screwdriver Incident of 1974

 Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

I got to the office this morning, opened my email, and there was an email from a friend of mine in the national movement wanting me to write an article about chaplaincy in the YMCA; the only problem was it was dated December 22, 2021, only 7-months ago. I bet he thinks I don't like him or something. I replied back to him, asking for forgiveness and wondering if he was still talking to me. 

My friend Frederick the Great sent me an article about one of his relatives. The article stated that Reverand William Bishop knew the bible by heart; now that is impressive! I'm the guy standing in front of my locker dripping wet from the shower, trying to remember the 3-number combination I use every day!

Speaking of remembering things. Here is a memory from my childhood.

I do not know about you, but many people live under the old Visa moniker, “Don’t leave home without it.” 

For my father, it was a red-handled screwdriver. There was nothing extra special about this particular screwdriver; it had a red handle, it was a Phillip’s head screwdriver with an 8” shaft. It had a logo on it, something like Craftsman or something, but it was covered with paint blotches. My dad was always doing and redoing things around the house. 

The house was his hobby. 

For most of us in farm country, pliers, along with the proverbial plier's belt holder, so named because it attached to one’s belt and held pliers in it, was the tool of choice. Not my dad; his tool of choice was the red-handled screwdriver. 

He used it for: screwing in screws. Making scratch marks on things when he measured. Opening paint cans, thus the paint blotches. Making the dent required before drilling a hole in something. Tapping a child on the head when needed, usually me. He always had his red-handled screwdriver with him when he was doing a project. 

One day, Dad came into the house yelling, “Clare (my mom’s name) Clare, Claaaaaaaaaaaaaaare!) Mom usually waited until dad yelled, “Claaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaare” before answering; I think she did this just to make sure it was not a false alarm and that she was really needed. It was either that, or she just liked hearing her name in an extended format. 

Mom comes around the corner; the bellowing had already brought the rest of the kids into the room; when dad bellowed, we would come running, it would be nice to say it was out of reverence, but we were not all that well-behaved. We usually came just to see what was going to transpire; cable T.V. had not been invented yet. We were still amazed at the traveler’s drink mug invention that had a lid on it, so dad bellowing was just another form of entertainment for us kids. Mom says, “You do not need to bellow, (I always thought mom caused this behavior by waiting to answer). What do you need, honey.” 

Dad says, “I cannot find my red-handled screwdriver.” 

Mom says, “Have you looked for it yet?” Obviously, she was privy to some of dad’s behavioral traits that we kids were not. 

Dad says, “Of course I have.” Dad starts to shout orders. 

You need to read this next part out loud, using a deep, authoritative voice, much like General Patton would have used in the Battle of the Bulge. 

Dad said, "Kids, you look here. Clare, you look there. I will do the same when you find out a yell letting the others know that you have it. We will all meet back here in fifteen minutes if we have not found it. Go!"

 Ok, you can use your regular voice again. 

Dad spins on his heels to go look, and that is when we found the red-handled screwdriver. 

It was sticking out of his back pocket. He had obviously grabbed it earlier, forgotten that he already had it, and had spent the next thirty minutes looking for it before he assembled the troops to look for it. 

We had two options before us. 

In option "A," we could either tell dad that his precious screwdriver was in his back pocket or in option "B," we could remain silent. For whatever reason, we choose option “B.” 

We did not say a word. 

Dad looked for another fifteen minutes; we pretended to look for fifteen minutes. It would not have been much of a rouse if we had not pretended to look. 

At the predetermined time limit, we reassembled at the staging area. 

Dad was distraught over the loss of his screwdriver and was beginning to pout; this usually brought on mom making him a sandwich that made everything better. That is when Katie says, “Look in your back pocket.” 

Then she giggles; Katie giggles like Betty Rubble for the Flintstones. If you don’t know how Betty Rubble giggles watch an episode, Katie is spot on. 

Katie was the chosen spokesperson for our group. 

She could get away with things that the rest of us could not. It was like she had secret information on Dad that gave her immunity. 

I am not sure what this secret immunity was because the “Ketchup Treaty of 1978” had not been established yet, but I am sure she had something. 

Dad looks in his back pocket, and there is his red-handled screwdriver. 

Dad had become paralyzed without his red-handled screwdriver. He could not even start the project without it, even though he had other screwdrivers and a bunch of other tools.

 The screwdriver had become so important to him that nothing else mattered at the time. It had become his idol. Christ warns us about being too attached to “earthly things.” That having an idol is a bad thing. 

You see, Christ knows that if we get too attached to earthly things, we become focused on the wrong stuff, like a red-handled screwdriver. 

We spend our time looking and not doing. 

There is another parable of a man who found treasure in a field and sold everything that he had so that he could buy the field because he knew about the treasure. 

If we have Christ with us, in our back pocket, so to speak, we spend our days focused on the things that Christ focuses on. If we cannot find Christ, which we often call “A dark night of the soul” experience, we should look for Him, and when we find Him, let go of everything else so that He can be our focus. 

My prayer is as we go through our day that we recognize the red-handled screwdrivers that are in our lives and put them in their proper place, that we let them go and replace them with Christ. 

Do you have a red-handled screwdriver in your life?

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Then Martha called!

 Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well. 

This is a story of a man named Rog.

A poor chaplain barely kept his family lodged.

Until one day, he was cooking up some food.

And out from the phone came a bubbling crude.

Telemarketer, that is.

Well, the next thing you know, ole Rog is throwing a fit.

Telling the marketer, "Oh man, this is it!" 

This is how it started. 

I had come home after a great day! A day in which I had positively impacted many people for Christ, and I was busy patting myself on the back when the phone rang, so I answered it. 

Now, remember this is back in the days before mobile phones. Well, that is not entirely true; we had mobile phones they just looked like this.

You were mobile, just not very mobile. 

It was also before caller I.D. 

Why did I answer the phone if I didn't know who was calling? Well, that is what we did in the old days. We didn't screen calls; we didn't just let it go to voicemail if we were home. We answered the phone. 

I answered the phone because I thought it was somebody I wanted to talk t. After all, I had a great day and wanted to brag about it, very chaplainy, I know. 

I said, Hello?"

The voice on the other end said, "Hello, Mister Butler?"

That was when I knew I had a telemarketer on the line.

I said, "Yes."

The voice said, "Hi, my name is Mike, and I am from AT&T. Do you have a minute?"

I said, "No," even though I did.

Mike said, "Is this a good time?"

I said, "No," even though it wasn't a bad time. I wasn't actually doing anything.

We went back and forth for a while until, in utter frustration, I said, "Mike, I am not interested," and hung up. 

I was in the middle of feeling perfectly sorry for myself when that still small voice said, "All Mike was doing was his job. It was you who wasn't doing yours."

Ouch, that hurt. 

That is when I got mad at God and yelled at him.

I often wonder if it is just me, or do others yell and argue with God too?

I continued to rant, and God continued to listen. 

Finally, I said, "OK fine, the next telemarketer that calls, this is what I will say, "I am so glad you called. I promise to listen to whatever it is you have to say. I may even buy whatever it is you want to sell; if first, you allow me to pray with you and share the good news of Jesus Christ."

God said, "OK."

I thought, man am I smart. The moment I say that I will hear a click on the other end of the line (Yes, we used to hear a click when the phone hung up, You young'uns don't know what you are missing). I can't believe God fell for it! 

I am so smart!

A few days later, I held a Bible study at my house. I had told everyone about my telemarketer idea, and they thought it was funny. 

In the middle of the study, the phone rang. I said, "Oh, I bet it is a telemarketer," and jumped for the phone. 

I said, "Hello?" 

The voice on the phone said somewhat hesitantly, "Hello, Mister Butler, this is Mike from AT&T."

I said enthusiastically, "Hello, Mike! I am so glad you called. I promise to listen to whatever it is you have to say. I may even buy whatever it is you want to sell; if first, you allow me to pray with you and share the good news of Jesus Christ."

I waited for the click.

Mike said, "Ok."

So I prayed with Mike and talked about Jesus. After about 20-minutes, we did the sinner's prayer together.  Then Mike hung up without ever talking about his AT&T program that he had called to sell me. 

The bible study just sat there stunned. 

Over the next few days, the phone calls started to pour in. I talked to one young man for over two hours before telling him that he better try to sell me something or he would get into trouble. 

He said, "this job sucks; what you are talking about is really important." 

This went on for months.

I would get home and spend my evenings talking with telemarketers about God, and they never would try to sell me anything. 

Then Martha called!

One day I came home from work, and the phone rang. I picked it up and said, "Hello."

The voice on the other end of the line said, "Hello, Mister Button (Right then and there, I knew I had someone important. Her voice sounded very authoritative, and it had that 'speaker box' sound) I am Martha from AT&T."

I started with, "Martha, I am so glad you called; I promise to lis.." that is when Marsha interrupted me. 

Marsha said, "Mister Button, my people only have two minutes per phone call, and you are taking up too much of their time!"

I laughed inside; I was getting scolded for simply answering my phone.

I responded, "Martha, I was unaware of the two-minute thing. But now that I do, I am sure I can work with that."

Martha retorted, "Mister Button, you don't understand. My people have a job to do and can't just talk to you all night!"

I replied, "Martha, I know your people have a job to do, but you see, your people did call me. Martha, I am a pastor, and I have a job to do too. So, Martha, I am so glad you called. I promise to listen to whatever it is you have to say. I may even buy whatever it is you want to sell; if, first, you allow me to pray with you and share the good news of Jesus Christ. Martha, do we have a deal?"

Martha said, " No!" and hung up on me!"

I just stood there holding the phone, recalling the encounter in my mind. I had a picture in my head of a conference or training room, Martha at the front and all these telemarketers at the table. Martha was going to show them how to handle someone like me. Martha had called me to yell at me for wasting her employee's time. What a turn of events. 

AT&T had backlisted me! 

I didn't have to get mad.

I didn't have to threaten them with a lawsuit

I didn't have to place my name on a no-call list.

They also must have sent the word out since the other companies stopped calling. The only problem was, now I wanted them to call;  I would collect the spam mail from the mailbox and magazines and fill them out; pretty soon, the telemarketers would call and I would get to say my spiel again. 

This worked all the way up until the robot calls started coming in. 

That was a sad day. 

I had discovered two things:

1. God is smarter than I am.
2. If I just do what God calls me to, amazing things happen.
3. If I give up on what I think I am entitled to and look at the opportunities staring me in the face, my job gets much easier.

I know that is three things and not two. One of the best things about being a theologian is not having to worry about the math. 

Do you ever argue and outsmart God, or is it just me?

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Roger

Anny said, "I found a dime on the floor!"

 

Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

One of my many jobs as a chaplain is to bother people, or if you prefer, pester. 

When I was in the church, I pestered the whole church. Now, as a chaplain, I pester individual people. Most of the time, I am pestering Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor, if for no other reason as to keep Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor from pestering the staff. It is quite the undertaking, one that I do not take lightly. In fact, if I am not available to pester Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor, I ask Frederick the Great to pester him. Frederick understands the importance of pestering Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor. Otherwise, Trevvvvvvvvvvvvvvvor busy's himself by running around the "Y" autographing things.   

Today I had some free time, so I decided to pester Anny. Anny was busy doing cash sheets and deposits. Anny was asking me questions about...Hmmm, I forgot; I guess I wasn't listening after all. 

We were talking schedules and meetings and important stuff like that. As we spoke, Anny found a penny that had dropped out of one of the cash bags. 

Anny said, "I am glad I found that before I opened another bag and wondered which one it came out of. It would have driven me nuts!' 

I mentioned how DA used to count the cash while he ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He said that is how he kept his immunity up. 

We had just finished talking, and, as I turned to leave, Anny screamed. I thought she had seen a mouse or a spider by the volume and pitch. 

I turned and said, "What's wrong," as I did my best to balance on the chair I had jumped on. 

Anny said, "I found a dime on the floor!" She had seven cash bags in her hand. 

I looked at her and said, "I am leaving now." 

Anny came out of her office a few minutes later and said, "I found where the dime belongs!" It was as if she had found a Christmas present.

The look on Anny's face reminded me of something I had read somewhere.

"Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Doesn't she light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents. (Luke 15:8-10)

As I think about Christ and how he loves me and all His creation and rejoices when He comes into a relationship with a lost ragamuffin, creating a found and loved ragamuffin, it makes my soul smile. 

Anny's reaction reminded me of that. 

Do you ever see things that remind you how much God loves you?

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Roger

p.s. I am so glad that Anny doesn't read this stuff, or she would find out that I had put the dime on the floor:) 

The Cliffs of Dover

 

Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

I’m still thinking about my canoe trip with Laurie, Holly, and Bob (Otherwise known as Neffery).

Holly threw a fit when she saw her name.

She said, "It isn't like Holly is a bad name or anything. In fact, I like the name Holly, but (And when someone says "but" you know it is coming so get ready) it isn't Jazzy enough, I want a Jazzy name."

So I will now refer to Holly as Jazmin. She better like that one, I am feeling kind of snarky this morning and I am sure she wouldn't like the next name on the list.

Ok, back to the story. 

As we canoed along the Gilbert River, our idea was to stop along the way and have a wonderful lunch. Jazmin is a fantastic cook and makes many scrumptious eats. I am an amazing eater who loves to eat many scrumptious foods, so we get along well.

After canoeing across sturgeon lake several times, going this way, and finding the entrance to The Gilbert River, I started looking forward to lunch. As we paddled and floated down the river (one of the many blessings of going with the current), we began to look for a place to land. There was only one problem: the river banks did not have a gentle slope. No, the bank of the river looked more like the Cliffs of Dover; the only real difference is they were not white. And, while they weren’t 100 feet tall, they might as well have been. There was no way any of us would get on land without getting thoroughly wet, or in my father's words, “A good dunking.”

As we paddled and floated along Neffery was getting braver and braver about making a landing. Eventually, he spotted a little inlet.

Neffery said, “This looks promising; I think we can land here.”

Jazmin responded, “No, we can’t.”

Neffery, with a quick comeback, said, “I am going to try.”

Neffery turned his kayak toward the inlet and paddled in.

The next course of events is Neffery’s account, as I didn’t get to see it firsthand. The current had floated me past the inlet.

Suddenly there was this big commotion that ended with a bunch of screaming, spiritual language, and the sound of splashing.

Eventually, Neffery came out of the inlet and said, “We can’t land here.”

Neffery was utterly soaked, discombobulated, and more than a little beside himself.”

Jazmin and Laurie, the compassionate women they are, were laughing their heads off.

I must admit I was stifling a good laugh, and only my chaplain training kept me from falling out of my canoe with laughter.

I said, “What happened?”

Neffery said, “Beaver!”

I said, “What about a Beaver?”

Neffery replied, “I fought off a killer Beaver!”

(It is a good thing we had our GPS on so we can see the fight and flight)

I said, “A killer Beaver? Did it have big nasty teeth that went gnash, gnash, gnash?”

Neffery replied, “Yes, just like that.”

I said, “You have been watching too much Monty Python, Killer Rabbit indeed.”

“What really happened?” I asked.

Neffery replied, “I fell out of the kayak and had a heck of a time getting back in. Darn Cliffs of Dover.”

We never did find a place to pull over.

I was pretty hungry by the time we finished our river trip.

Neffery was pretty hungry and wet.

We all had a great time paddling the Gilbert River, seeing many wonderous things, having fantastic conversations, and enjoying our time together. 

As we all recounted the day, we began to talk about how God was in our midst, that we could feel and sense Him during the smooth waters and even during the battle with the beaver. We talked about how our little trip was a microcosm of life.  It was easy to allow Him in during the beauty of a sunny summer day, and how we had to look a little deeper in the dunking but still see Him there as well. 

We all decided that we would make this trip again. Next time we will intentionally invite God to come with us. Not for His sake but for ours. He would be there anyway; we just need to remind ourselves that He is in the center seat of our canoe.

I just need to remind myself that if God is my co-pilot, I am sitting in the wrong seat!

Where is God sitting on your trip through life?

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Roger

Look there's a Bald Eagle!

 Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

I took a couple of days off to go camping and canoeing with friends. 

I wanted to go to Clear Lake and camp there for a couple of days. I had reserved a couple of spaces at the campgrounds a few months ago, and when I say I, I mean Holly (Not her real name, but every story goes better with a name attached). Holly reserved the campsites. 

We were all excited to go until I mentioned that Clear Lake doesn't have flush toilets; that was when Laurie said she wasn't so excited anymore. Laurie is partial to flush toilets, especially those attached to a house. Laurie was still willing to go, but the campsite wasn't the only thing with reservations. I packed up the car, put the canoe on top, and was as giddy as a kid at Christmas. That is when we got a call from Neffery (Holly's husband), and he told us the engine in his car blew up. I told Neffery (I just call him Bob for short) that I was sorry about his car and said, "use my other car." We can still go camping. Bob loved the idea and said ok. 

A few minutes later, Bob calls back and says, "Holly is throwing up buckets and is really sick." 

I said I was sorry that Holly was sick, and could he get a picture? I had never seen anyone throw up a bucket before."

Bob replied, "She isn't really throwing up buckets; it is just a metaphor for really being sick." 

To this, I said, "Well, if you are going to use a metaphor, why don't you say, 'Holly is throwing up barrels and dump trucks! That would be a lot sicker than throwing up buckets, just say-in."

I think they were all conspiring against me, all because of the no-flush toilet thing.

We changed our plans; we waited a few days and then went for a paddle on Sauvie Island.  It was a wonderful day. We saw 6 or 8 bald eagles ( It is hard to count on your fingers when you are holding a paddle), fish jumping; we even saw some wild cows! It was a beautiful paddle going along the tree-lined channel.  

We had been paddling for about an hour when Holly said, "Look, there's a Bald Eagle!"

Neffery said, "Where?"

Holly said, "In the tree."

Neffery said, "Which tree?"

Holly responded indignantly, "The green tree."

Holly was always a help that way. 

I couldn't help but take in the beauty of God's creation and how He creates such beautiful things. Even the way the herons would fly so majestically. The only suggestion I would give God is to give the Heron's a better voice. 

Holly would say, "Herons are so beautiful until they open their mouth."

Laurie said, "I agree, kind of like Roger."   

I am unsure what she meant. I will have to ask her sometime.

Anyway, when I sit back and look for the wonderment in creation, in life, I find myself utterly amazed. 

I am back at work now, in the "Y," and I am still looking through, what I call, my God glasses. When I look through those glasses, I see the wonderment and beauty of all the lives God created, even inside a building. 

Do you ever look through "God glasses"? 

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Roger

 

My Grandkids want to get a Frog

 Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

I got to the "Y" this morning and BlueBell was at the front desk, I scanned my card, unlocked my office, put my stuff in the office, and then walked back to the front desk and moved my little button on the wall from "out" to "in".

As I turned to go back into my office Sabastian was standing there. 

With all this brain power available I decided to ask them a question that I have been pondering.

I told them that me grandkids want to get a frog, but I don't know all that "getting a frog" entails.

Bluebell said, "Well you need an aquarium, and some pond stuff to put in it."

I replied, "I figured that out already, but my question is around water. How much water do I put in the aquarium; how deep should the water be?"

Bluebell said, "That depends on the frog."

I replied, "Really?"

Sabastian then interjected, "Yes, some frogs like lots of water, some like a little, and some don't need much water at all."

I said, "Wow, I didn't know."

"Oh, yes," he went on, "In fact some frogs spend most of their lives out of the water, like 80% of their lives are on dry land."

I said that I had no idea about all that that, and when I asked the pet store they gave me a totally different answer.

Both Sabastian and Blue asked, "What did they say?"

I told them that the water only needs to be knee-deep, knee-deep.

I then went into my office, shut and locked the door before they could break the "Y's" code of conduct by killing the chaplain.

One of the things that I do for the "Y" is help develop trainings. don't get me wrong the Y-USA already has some really great trainings, I just add to a training or reinforce a training so whatever we are training on has a better job of sticking. I look around the association and talk with people; I ask them what areas they feel weak in or I ask the Execs what would be helpful for their staff to know. Sometimes Darryl just tells me to make a training that he would like to see. 

I like course creation, it is fun for me.

All that to say, I have been doing a lot of listening around our association lately and I think we need more training on speaking and listening. I am fond of saying, "Listen with the intent to listen, not the intent to respond." I notice that most people in society aren't really listening, they are just waiting for their turn to talk. 

I am also fond of saying, "Speak  with the intent of being understood, not merely heard." 

The "Y" already has a listen first training that is really good. I think we could use another training that comes at it from another angle that might help support that training. 

I will have a conversation with Darryl and see what he thinks.

In the meantime I will continue to do my best to listen, really listen, and to speak in a way that is easily understood. 

I will ask myself, "Am I really listening, or just waiting for my turn to talk?"

Do you ever wonder about this stuff?

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Roger

You can't fit a round peg into a square hole

 Good morning,

I pray the day finds you well.

God has been pestering me lately. 

He wants me to talk about circles and squares. I told him that I have already talk about that, and He said he wants me to talk about it again, Uggg. Fine, it is like He is the boss or something. 

Quick question, does anybody else ever argue with God or am I the only one? 

You can't fit a round peg into a square hole; just another old adage that is used to describe something that is so different that it just won't work. We use it when we talk about all sorts of stuff, one of which is people, "That person just doesn't fit here." 

You can't fit a round peg into a square hole.

I know what you are saying, "Yes, you can it just needs to be small enough." Ok Einstein, you are correct, lets just go with the adage on this one so I can get God off my back. 

Quick question, "How many degrees are there in a circle?"

Answer, 360 degrees.

Another question, "How many degrees are there in a square?"

Answer, 360 Degrees.

Yet, another question, "How many degrees are there in a triangle?"

Answer, 180 degrees.

And Yet, another question, "How many triangles does it take to make a square?"

Answer, 2. 

So you see, a circle and a square have that in common.

More questions, "What is a circle made up of?"

Answer, "A bunch of tiny straight lines with very obtuse angles."

Yes, it is true. If you were to put a circle under a theoretical mathematic electron microscope you would see a bunch of straight lines. 

Straight lines, angles, and degrees, quite a lot in common.

Both of them even have an inside and an outside.

Circles and squares actually have many things in common. In fact, they have more in common than they have differences. 

"Hey, what about triangles?" you ask. 

Nothing really I just threw them in because I think it is cool that two of them make a square and a square is a lot like a circle.

So why do we have that old adage, "You can't fit a round peg in a square hole?"

It is simply because the person saying it isn't in relationship with one, or the other, or even possibly both of them.   

From a distance, it would appear that a circle and a square are very different. But, when you get to know them, you see they are very much alike. 

God has been pestering me to talk with you about this because He loves all of His creation and is saddened to see people that actually have so much in common look at each other as squares and circles; placing people in categories and labeling them as "Not us." 

Why can't we see the commonality in each other, celebrate the things that are different, all the while knowing we have more in common than not. Give each other Grace and work on loving our neighbor.

Something to ponder.

Blessings,

Roger