"A Chicken named Pit"

Good morning, I pray that the day is finding you well. I apologize for not talking with you for a few days. We have family in town and we are still getting settled into our new home; I know this is not an excuse but I guess I am looking for one and this is what I came up with. Many of you have responded to the “Ziplock incident of 1976.” Bread. I do like all the conversation. There is a group of you that seem to be really interested in the “Dreaded red handled screwdriver incident of 1974.” I will have to get around to talking about that one soon. This morning I started thinking about my favorite chicken. Back on the farm, we had a chicken. Actually, we had many chickens, geese, one rather strange one-eyed duck, Guinea hens, horses, a pet pig, sheep cats, and two dogs. The farm had a corral, barn, two cattle/ horse pens, an area that either sheep or pigs could reside in, if they were so inclined, we also had a chicken coup; our farm was more of a petting zoo and all the animals regarded themselves as part of the family. I think this was because we were not real farmers but people that liked living on a farm. We also had a pit-silo. A pit-silo is a silo that goes down instead of up. If you have ever driven along in the country and spotted a tall huge cylindrically shaped structure, that structure is a silo. If it is blue, it is a Harvester silo: one of the expensive ones; kind of like the John Deere tractors, everybody wanted a Harvester silo and a John Deere, not everyone could get them. A pit silo is just like those tall above ground silos but it is dug into the ground. Our pit silo was made out of concrete, I am not sure how deep it went, there was always silage in it. Silage is code for chopped up corn stalks and other stuff that cattle like to eat; I am glad that cattle like to eat silage because I don’ t think it tastes very good, yes I have tried it, and since cattle find it so appetizing mom did not feed it to us. We had a chicken named “Pit-silo.” She was a rather ugly chicken, as chickens go. She seemed to be in a constant state of molting, which made her look like she was not very well. She was very healthy but the bald patches made her look rather scary. We called her “Pit-silo” because she liked to nest right next to the pit-silo. She had the annoying habit of laying an egg, jumping up excitedly and promptly fall into the pit-silo. One of my jobs on the farm was to get “Pit-silo” out of the pit-silo. The silage was always around 20 ft. down from the top. My job was to climb down the ladder that was on the inside of the pit-silo and chase a chicken. Dad’s job was to lower a metal pail on a rope and after I put the chicken in the pail haul the pail up, remove the chicken and tell me to get out of the pit before the fumes would overcome me. I learned three things on my first foray in the pit-silo. First of all it is round, try cornering a chicken in a space that has no corners. Second, there are pockets in the silage. You could be running along, take your next step and poof your gone. Luckily, I sank up to my chest; still it is a bit unsettling. Third, as the silage ferments; yes, silage ferments. I think that is why cattle liked it so much; deeding time was probably “cattle happy hour.” Gases were produced which could replace the oxygen and you could literally suffocate. I was always worried about suffocating, not the suffocating part, but the funeral part. As I chased this chicken around this cylindrical structure, chickens are fast by the way. I kept thinking about my eulogy. “Roger died chasing a chicken around a pit-silo; he suffocated on fermented corn stalks.” This would be a embarrassing way for a 14 year old boy to go. Eventually I would catch the chicken, and as time went on “pit-silo” would not even run from me. She would lay her egg, get excited, fall into the pit-silo and wait patiently for me to come pick her up, place her gently into the metal pail, dad would pull her to freedom and I would climb out. An offshoot of all this pit-siloing was that “Pit-silo” would come up on the porch, and if anyone was sitting on the porch she would jump right into their lap for a pet. The real farmers would come over and just shake their heads at this family sitting on the porch with a featherless chicken on one lap, a cat in another, a dog resting on the porch, and a pig lying on its back in the lawn. As I sit here at the YMCA, my office is right by the welcome center. I listen to the conversations as people come in. Many of the conversations are about lives that resemble my chasing a chicken in a pit-silo. Another way to look at it is, “life on a hamster wheel.” What I love about our welcome center is that after listening to these gripes, which are actually cries for help, the staff talks about how the “Y” is a place to let the world flow off their backs. People come and workout, they come to sit and read, they come to decompress; we are welcoming community of people that are not so interested in what a person looks like on the outside, we are more interested on what they look like on the inside. We look past “pit-silo’s” and see the beauty of the heart within. “Pit-silo” eventually learned to not fall into the pit. Her feathers grew in and she was a beautiful on the outside as she was on the inside. We see the same thing here at the YMCA; people healing inside, people becoming healthy which shows on the outside too. If you have not been in a YMCA lately, check it out. Chances are there is a place for you. 20 “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, 21 that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. (John 17:20-21) I look forward to seeing you. Blessings,

The ZipStrip incident of 1976

Good morning, I pray that the day is finding you well. I woke up this morning to the sound of pitter-pat; rain falling softly on the roof of our house. I was cozy in my bed and thought how wonderful it is to be snuggly warm with rain falling softly on the roof. That is when I realized that Laurie and I had moved all the stuff from the garage outside so that an inspector could come and look at the garage. A few days ago we had received an email stating that “they” would like to look at the garage and we needed to move our “stuff” outside so that the inspection could take place. The email went on to say that “they” could not properly inspect the garage because of all our “stuff.” I responded that we would be happy to comply, and that we are more than willing to move our “stuff” outside for the event. I reminded them that the “stuff” was our belongings and we would rather put our “stuff” outside on a sunny day. After much scheduling the decision was made for today, since the weather reports showed sunny weather. Last night Laurie and I moved our “Stuff.” In case you are wondering why I keep putting stuff in quotation marks, it is not because I think it is particularly fun to say; in fact, I could find many other words that are more fun and paint the same picture. It is because I found the term more than a little insensitive. The email could have been written, “We would like to inspect your garage. We will not be able to do a thorough inspection because of the limited access that we have. If you would be willing to help us by moving your belongings to a temporary location for the inspection we would greatly appreciate it.” When I was a kid growing up in Kansas my dad would take on projects that initially I would think 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 there hooves had grown so long that they actually walk on the frogs of their feet. Needless to say, without going into what frogs are, Red could not walk. Dad bought him, we carried him into the trailer and brought him home. I thought dad was nuts. Changing a duplex into one large home. Stucco; a term that describes a lath and plaster system of ceilings and walls. Just think, “I wonder what they used before they invented drywall, “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 huge house and I walked in. He turns to me and says, “Do me a favor and go to Milton’s and get some zipstrip.” 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 think back to my little town, most of the shops had people’s names in them. I had learned over time, mostly from the redhandled screwdriver incident of 1974, to ask clarifying questions. I asked, “How much zipstrip do you need?” Dad, who was obviously frustrated said, “You know how much I need, just go get me some blankity-blank zipstrip.” So I did. I drove the pickup to Milton’s. I walked into the office and said, “I need all the zipstrip 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 zipstrip 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 get back to the house and I walk in with a little pint can of zipstrip. 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 zipstrip to strip the paint on every house 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 ziptrip. Milton had a good laugh. Dad thought it was pretty funny too. I remembered the zipstrip incident of 1976 as I read the email about our “stuff.” The thought occurred to me that I might find some way to make him pay for his insolence. 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) Laurie and I ran outside and covered everything with tarps, the blue ones. We are grateful that the inspections are being done. We are thankful that Christ is in our lives. Christ gives us the ability to see things differently; to not get upset over trivialities. I thank God that thru Christ there will not be another zipstrip style incident of 1976. Blessings,

Thank God for parking meters...Say what?

Good morning, I pray that the day is finding you well. When I got here today, I was not sure what I was going to talk with you about. I went about my normal morning routine. I talked with staff. I talked with members. I checked in on people, and listened to their stories. I was getting ready for a meeting that I was going to have this morning with a friend. I left the “Y” and drove to my meeting. When I got there, there was a parking spot open close by, and it had one of those old parking meters, you know the ones that actually take coinage. I actually prefer the old ones to the new ones. There are few things more aggravating to me than to put in a credit card for parking. The simple act of putting a dollar or two on a credit card goes against my grain. Throw in the much too often-times-happening; I’m not really sure this is good English, in fact I am quite sure it isn’t, but it was fun to say non-the-less. Scanner malfunction, accompanied by the uncertainty that I am not being charged multiple times as I reinsert my card, over and over again. All the while wondering if some hoodlum is going to come up behind me, hit me over the head, and run off with my card. It’s the hitting me over the head part that worries me the most. I can always cancel my card, which is a real pain, but I can, so the hitting over the head is the real dangerous part of the deal. As you can see, I have many reasons that make me like the old-time parking meters. Even when the occasional meter is broken, I know it immediately and I can move my car, which is less aggravating to me than holding my card out for every Tom- Dick and Harry to see. I park my car in West Vancouver at one of those old-time parking meters, and what do I find? I find a little button on the side of the parking meter. I push the button; that is what buttons are for, pushing, so I push it. Low and behold, it gives me 20 free minutes. How cool is that! I am not really sure of the business plan behind the 20 free minutes; I am sure that there is an MBA out there somewhere ready to critique the whole idea, just as I am sure there is another MBA out there thinking, “Ingenious.” I did not go down any of those roads. I thought, “This is a wonderful blessing, a gift from the city of Vancouver to those that park downtown. I was talking with a staff member the other day and he asked me about faith, and seeing God. We talked for quite a while. I told him that it is easy to see God in blue Skies and puffy clouds. The trick is when you start seeing him in mud puddles, or parking meters. The definition of Grace is, “Something freely given, when there is no chance of obtaining it yourself and no possible method of repayment.” Believe it or not, that parking meter gave me grace. I bet if you look up the business plan for these parking meters the term “Grace period” is in there. If an inanimate object can bring grace to the forefront, I wonder what we could do if we gave it just a little thought. Blessings,

Simplexity

Good morning, I pray that the day is finding you well. Simplexity. I wish that I had made up this word, but I didn’t . I read it in a book. I looked up simplexity in the dictionary and this is what I found, “The word you've entered isn't in the dictionary.” So I entered “simplex” into the dictionary, this is what I found. Simplex (noun) a spatial configuration of n dimensions determined by n + 1 points in a space of dimension equal to or greater than n. a triangle together with its interior determined by its three vertices is a two-dimensional simplex in the plane or any space of higher dimension. While this is a fun and interesting definition, in fact, as this is a mathematical definition for the word, it is a definition that allows me to think in terms of me and the life that I live while simultaneously contemplating God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit. It is a definition that really doesn’t put the cookies on the bottom shelf, It is worded in a way that unless you are a mathematician it tends to make you go, “Huh?” So I looked up another version of Simplex, I looked it up as an adjective. Simplex (adjective) Allowing telecommunication in only one direction. a simplex system. While this is obviously a viable definition for Simplex, as an adjective, this definition is not defining what made me ponder as I read this book. This is a definition for a person that pontificates over the phone. We moved to Kansas when I was thirteen years old. We moved from a suburb of Chicago. Spending my first thirteen years in Chicago formed me in certain ways. We did not talk to strangers, we always walked to school in a group (that is when we walked and not dropped off by our parents in front of the school). People seemed to be in a hurry, not very friendly, there seemed to be a lot going on; life seemed to be in a hurry, rushed, it seemed complex. Spending the rest of my growing up years in Kansas formed me too; or should I reformed me. When we moved, my parents rented a farm fourteen miles from town. I can still remember; that was a funny statement to make, if I couldn’t remember I would not be sharing this memory with you, the first night we spent in that little town in Kansas. We were staying at the motel; we were going to move into the farmhouse the next day or two. Mom made the statement, “I cannot believe that there are no taxi’s here.” I said, “Mom, why do we need a taxi? We can walk across the town in less than 5-minutes.” When we ventured out of the motel the following morning I started to notice things. I noticed that everyone waved at you. At first we thought something was wrong with our car and people were trying to tell us something, we did not wave back. We would stop the car and look it over, never finding anything. After we had been waved at numerous times, people smiled when they waved, but frowned when they passed by us, not waving back. We realized that we were supposed to wave back at them, like saying, “Hello, or hey there.” I noticed that people at intersections would not pull out into the street if a car was coming down the block. In Chicago people pulled out in front of people all the time, if there was room to get your car into the flow of traffic, you went. We found out quickly that pulling out in front of a car in this small town was a very rude thing to do. “What’s the hurry, people would say. In fact, I often wondered why people drove at all, As I mentioned earlier a person could walk across the whole town in less than five minutes. We learned to wave. We learned to wait. We learned that this seemingly simple place had a complexity all its own. Simplexity, the seemingly simple combined with the seemingly complex. I actually like the definition that I read in the book: There are two words I wish I had invented but didn’t: glocal and simplexity. Like the word glocal, which brings together the global and the local, simplexity yokes the simple and the complex. The mystery of simplexity is the complex embracing the simple and the rational embracing the imcomprehensible. (Leonard Sweet, Viral. Colorado Springs: (WaterBrook Press, 2012),44.) Our life with, and in Christ, is filled with simplexity. Conversion is simple, it takes only a moment. Transformation is complex, it takes a lifetime. Jesus when teaching His disciples was asked what the greatest commandment was. Jesus said, “30 Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’[f] 31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’[g] There is no commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:30-31) Simple, simply love. Complex, love; what does this look taste and feel like? Our lives are filled with simplexity. Our faith is filled with simplexity. Let us be at peace with this fact. Let us be at peace with living in the mystery of living our simple lives confronted with the complexity of the higher dimension. Let us not be content with what we already know. Let us be filled with the wonder of a child, and allow Christ to teach us at a deeper, higher plane. Blessings,

Things Boppa taught me

Good Morning, I pray that the day is finding you well. We had a retirement party for a very good friend of mine, Ken V. and his wife Rachel. I was asked to M.C. the event. I joined the Navy in 1983. I was in navigator school down in Florida during the winter months of 1983. Coming from the high plains portion of the United States, I was not used to having 80+ degree weather in November. To me it was just plain hot. I never did get used to having my glasses fog over every time I walked outside. School was fun, and even though I had been to college, this was a very different environment and I missed my family. I would call home weekly just to hear their voices and to find out what was going on. I usually did this on Saturday evenings. Those were the days before cell phones; pay phones were the only option at the time. I had a choice, I either could line up a bunch of quarters on the little metal shelf in the phone booth, and every two minutes or so be interrupted by the operator, telling me to insert another $2.00 or call collect. I opted to call collect. One Saturday evening I called home, my grandfather answered. We called him Boppa. I do not know why we called him Boppa, we called our other grandfather Grampa. I never understand why we give things the names that we do, I try not to think about it, when I do think about it I end up with a headache. I do not like headaches, hence the “I try not to think about it” part. Boppa was a cool grampa. He taught me how to hunt. He taught me how to weld; he was a welder by trade. Boppa accepted my call after giving the operator a hard time about never hearing of anyone by the name Roger. Me yelling into the phone, “Just accept the call.” Him keeping up the gag, and just when the operator is about to hang up, Boppa accepts the call. Boppa was quite the character and always told wonderful stories. Nobody else was home so Boppa and I had a great conversation. As the conversation started to wind down, Boppa told me that he was proud of me. I had an almost uncontrollable urge to tell him that I loved him, but I did not. We weren’t that kind of a family. The guys would tell the girls that they loved them and the girls in the family would tell the guys that they loved them, but the guys didn’t tell the guys that they loved each other, I could give a thousand conjectures why, but we just didn’t. Boppa and I hung up the phone. Two days later, I get a message from the Red Cross. The message simple read, “Your grandfather, Boppa died. Call home. I have been fairly lucky in life. I do not have a lot of regrets. The one regret I do have is not telling Boppa that I loved him when I had the chance. I know that he knew that I love him; at least that is what I keep telling myself. When I called home that day, my actions changed. Not only did I tell my mother and sisters that I loved them, I told my father too. I M.C.’d Ken and Rachel’s retirement celebration Sunday afternoon. As I talked, Boppa came to mind. I mentioned that so often we wait until it is too late to tell someone how much he or she means to us. How many times we let the moment pass without saying those words. I asked everyone to not let this moment pass without telling Ken and Rachel how much they love and appreciate them. Ken and Rachel know that I appreciate and love them very much. My family knows that I appreciate them and love them very much. The people in my life know that I appreciate them and love them very much. How important is it to know that a person is loved? God tells us the following: Better is open rebuke 
    than hidden love. (Proverbs 27:5) It was the last lesson Boppa taught me. My prayer is that we do not miss any more opportunities to let those that we love how much they mean to us. Blessings,

"This Old House con't"

Good morning, I pray that the day is finding you well.   I have a huge hole in my yard.    We are starting to fix up, “This old House.”  A bread that  I had talked to you about earlier, if you don’t recognize the title and want to read it, all you have to do is go to; rogerbutton.blogspot.com and it is there waiting for you.  When we are finished we will have restored the house to its former glory; I am not sure that is the correct analogy, I am being drawn to say, “When we are finished we have restored the house to its original condition.”   You will have to excuse me, the Parents Night Out coordinator just came in………………   Ok, I am back.   I am going to be a clown for Parents Night Out.  Parents Night Out is a program that we put on at the Clark County Family YMCA, where parents of young children can bring their kids, leave them with us, and then have a few hours to themselves and reconnect without the need to parent.  The  coordinator brought in a clown nose and glasses for me to try on.  We have a wig and a hat.  There will even be silly string involved.    The kids love Parents Night Out.    The parents love Parents Night Out.   We all love Parents Night Out.   It is fun to have so many kids, just having fun at the YMCA.   When I think about how amazing the house will be when we are done, I get excited.  I know that it will take time, and I am ok with that; what makes me nervous is when there seems to be no forward motion. When I contemplate Christ, I get the feeling that He thinks the same thing about us.  How in so many ways we are like, “This old House.”  I cannot help but get the feeling that Christ views us as diamonds in the rough.  He has a vision for each and every one of us, and excited about all the possibilities.  I cannot help but get the feeling that Christ too, worries about lack of forward motion in our relationship with Him.  How much He wants what is best for us and if we just let Him show us and we listen to Him and do what He says, we can be like “This old House” and be restored to His original intent for us.   One of the reasons I love Parents Night Out is that I get to see the children who are happy, and show their love for others so willingly.    There is a story in the book of Luke, where people were bringing their babies to Jesus: 15 People were also bringing babies to Jesus to have him touch them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. 16 But Jesus called the children to him and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. 17 I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:15-17)   I am excited about all the possibilities for Parents Night Out.   I am excited about all the possibilities for the house Laurie and I are restoring.   I am really excited about the work that Christ is doing on my house.   As you go through the day, are you seeing the work that Christ is doing?   If you do, I would like to hear about it.   If you do not, my prayer is that you take another look.   Blessings,

This old house

good morning, I pray that the day is finding you well. I awoke extra late this morning, I slept hard. The house that Laurie and I live in is conducive to relaxing, contemplating, and sleeping. It is an old house that someone love for a lifetime, grew old, eventually left the house to live in an assisted community and eventually died. The house has sat vacant for a number of years. There was no one to live in it and it too started to feel its age. It is in the country, next to a river, and does not have the noise that one typically associates with living in town; it is not silent though. There is the sound of the river that flows past our house, there is the sound of the breeze that rustles the leaves in the trees, there are the sounds of the birds talking. Ducks can be seen swimming along the river's banks. There are even the sounds of something living in our walls. The first time I looked at the house I thought, "nice location but it needs a lot of TLC." Laurie saw the house and thought, "This is home." As we discussed the house, I would tell her all the things wrong with the house, and she would tell me, "Look at all the possibilities." During our "house hunting" experience we looked at over 60 homes. During our house hunting experience we kept coming back to this house. To be honest, at first I was just placating Laurie. I would agree to come look at the river house because it made her happy to look at it. Over time, I started to catch her vision for the house. Over time, I too began to see "all the possibilities." I could see the houses potential. This morning, I am sitting in the house talking with you. As I contemplate this house, I am thinking about Christ, I am thinking about Satan. Satan, would be the one who would look at me and tell Christ, "Look at that old guy. He is broken, he is a mess. He is not worth the time it would take to fix him up and make him whole and strong and healthy." Christ would say, "Look at all the possibilities." As I think about this, I realize that I had the mindset of Satan regarding this house; Laurie had the mindset of Christ. Satan likes to look at all the negative things in the world and point them out. Christ, while never being blind to the things that are broken still has the ability to see the potential, the possibilities, the goodness that people have in them, no matter how hidden this goodness is. Satan likes to create noise. Christ likes to create tranquility. I am so glad the Christ was not afraid of the things that were living in my walls. I am so glad the He took the time to work on my house. I am so glad that He looks at my house as a project, a work in progress. I am so glad that Christ loves me and wants to live in me. Christ loves you too. Christ likes to live in you. Satan likes to keep things vacant, alone, unloved and delapitated. What kind of house would you like to be? Blessings,