... today, we remember....
With Grateful Hearts!
Monday, May 30, 2011
Spring Break March 2011 at OneTrueMedia.com
It's late but it was a busy Spring... Here is a brief overview of our trip to Gulf Shores in March
Making a Splash for Christ
When it comes to the subject of baptism, I came from a long line of dunkers: we always held with full immersion.
That was one major difference I saw when we moved from a Pentecostal / Arminian-based church to a Presbyterian / Calvinist-Reformed church - the baptismal font in the front of our church was barely big enough to support a good foot-washing, much less a total body submersion!
Our church also encourages infant baptism; which is given as a sign of the covenant relationship with Christ's family - not as a sign of salvation.
When our children, ages 12 and 9, recently expressed their desire to be baptized, it prompted some discussions and further study.
It is one of the things I really like about our church: everything is done in a very intentional way and for an expressed purpose. For Ab, who had just completed an intense semester in a Communicant's class - her baptism was more of a natural progression. It was the next logical step. Great pains had been taken as a part of the class, for her to gain a full understanding of what the step of baptism represented.
AA's decision, on the other hand, posed a bit of a concern. There were questions as to whether he really understood the meaning of baptism or if he was merely following on his older sister's coattails.
That's when our Family Pastor stepped in. Before the event, we met with him as a family, and he asked Ab and AA pointed questions about their relationship with Christ and just why they thought they should be baptized.
R. and I were asked to talked about what we remembered about our own baptism.
For me, I recalled that baptism was the next step after I became a Christian. It was a time in which I - as a child of about seven - wanted to do anything that was expected of a Christian.
I also talked about how one of the most significant memories about my own baptism, was that we rushed back from visiting my brother in college in order to arrive at church in time for the evening service. Keith - the mischievous teen aged son of our preacher - met me at the door of the church and proclaimed that the water in the baptismal pool was over my head!
In that meeting with our Family Pastor, he also took great pains to explain scripture references to baptism and even provided an encouraging illustration on faith for AA. It was an unrushed, special time.
He went on to encourage R. and I as parents, to take pains to memorialize this time in order to fix it in the minds of our children: this step marked their public start for Christ.
The kids would be talking briefly at the ceremony - explaining why they were getting baptized or talking about how they came to believe on Jesus as their Savior. They wrote out their talks.
They chose to be immersed rather than "sprinkled" so the First Baptist church up the street offered the use of their baptismal pool on a Sunday afternoon.
R. went to work inviting family members, Sunday School and school teachers and special friends to the event.
Ab and AA were the only two getting baptized so the audience consisted of our Family Pastor, an Elder from our church (who also happens to be a cousin), our family, teachers and friends and a kind couple from the First Baptist Church that sacrificed their Sunday afternoon to open the church and help with the preparations.
It was a beautiful, deliberate service. Every step was explained. Every step had meaning.
I was very proud of both kids as they gave their talks, each in a brief but sober manner.
There were thoughts from the Pastor and the Elder and I was able to speak with Ab and AA in front of the group.
The atmosphere was warm and tender... Ab's friends from school hovered around her, AA's very special Sunday School teacher offered her support and encouragement, the love from our families was prevalent.
Then came the actual time for the baptismal.
In both instances the Family Pastor added something to the mix - a phrase that perhaps I had heard before but it was particularly striking for me on this occasion. As he pressed each child underneath the cool water, he proclaimed: "dead to the sin!" ....
...then as he pulled them up he declared - "ALIVE to Christ!".
Maybe that is commonly done, but it inspired me on that day.
What a perfect demonstration of the meaning of this Sacrament! It is a public declaration of one's new life in Christ. A new step in following Christ - a launching into a life lived publicly for Him!
It also perfectly illustrated how that just as Christ was dead, buried and resurrected - we too die to sin... are buried with Him in baptism ... that we may be raised to new life in Christ.
Alive to Christ!
That was one major difference I saw when we moved from a Pentecostal / Arminian-based church to a Presbyterian / Calvinist-Reformed church - the baptismal font in the front of our church was barely big enough to support a good foot-washing, much less a total body submersion!
Our church also encourages infant baptism; which is given as a sign of the covenant relationship with Christ's family - not as a sign of salvation.
When our children, ages 12 and 9, recently expressed their desire to be baptized, it prompted some discussions and further study.
It is one of the things I really like about our church: everything is done in a very intentional way and for an expressed purpose. For Ab, who had just completed an intense semester in a Communicant's class - her baptism was more of a natural progression. It was the next logical step. Great pains had been taken as a part of the class, for her to gain a full understanding of what the step of baptism represented.
AA's decision, on the other hand, posed a bit of a concern. There were questions as to whether he really understood the meaning of baptism or if he was merely following on his older sister's coattails.
That's when our Family Pastor stepped in. Before the event, we met with him as a family, and he asked Ab and AA pointed questions about their relationship with Christ and just why they thought they should be baptized.
R. and I were asked to talked about what we remembered about our own baptism.
For me, I recalled that baptism was the next step after I became a Christian. It was a time in which I - as a child of about seven - wanted to do anything that was expected of a Christian.
I also talked about how one of the most significant memories about my own baptism, was that we rushed back from visiting my brother in college in order to arrive at church in time for the evening service. Keith - the mischievous teen aged son of our preacher - met me at the door of the church and proclaimed that the water in the baptismal pool was over my head!
In that meeting with our Family Pastor, he also took great pains to explain scripture references to baptism and even provided an encouraging illustration on faith for AA. It was an unrushed, special time.
He went on to encourage R. and I as parents, to take pains to memorialize this time in order to fix it in the minds of our children: this step marked their public start for Christ.
The kids would be talking briefly at the ceremony - explaining why they were getting baptized or talking about how they came to believe on Jesus as their Savior. They wrote out their talks.
They chose to be immersed rather than "sprinkled" so the First Baptist church up the street offered the use of their baptismal pool on a Sunday afternoon.
R. went to work inviting family members, Sunday School and school teachers and special friends to the event.
Ab and AA were the only two getting baptized so the audience consisted of our Family Pastor, an Elder from our church (who also happens to be a cousin), our family, teachers and friends and a kind couple from the First Baptist Church that sacrificed their Sunday afternoon to open the church and help with the preparations.
It was a beautiful, deliberate service. Every step was explained. Every step had meaning.
I was very proud of both kids as they gave their talks, each in a brief but sober manner.
There were thoughts from the Pastor and the Elder and I was able to speak with Ab and AA in front of the group.
The atmosphere was warm and tender... Ab's friends from school hovered around her, AA's very special Sunday School teacher offered her support and encouragement, the love from our families was prevalent.
Then came the actual time for the baptismal.
...then as he pulled them up he declared - "ALIVE to Christ!".
Maybe that is commonly done, but it inspired me on that day.
What a perfect demonstration of the meaning of this Sacrament! It is a public declaration of one's new life in Christ. A new step in following Christ - a launching into a life lived publicly for Him!
It also perfectly illustrated how that just as Christ was dead, buried and resurrected - we too die to sin... are buried with Him in baptism ... that we may be raised to new life in Christ.
Alive to Christ!
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The Rock
As you know, my Dad recently passed away after a somewhat debilitating three years. My Dad always seemed like the strong one in our family: tall, physically strong and stout.
Mom on the other hand, has always seemed more vulnerable - verbal about feelings of doubt or worry; almost fawning over others in fear of displeasing them; and Mom is the only member of my family that I have actually seen faint.
Yet, I realize more and more that she was actually the strong one.
My mother was directly involved -daily- in the care of her own mother for about ten years. This meant that Mom, who lives to spoil people, made sure that she was always as comfortable as possible and that she pretty much had all of her wishes fulfilled.
Almost on the heels of Granny's funeral, my Dad began to display signs of dementia. Soon it seemed that Mom was back in the cycle of providing constant care.
I don't think she has ever begrudged a single moment, has no regrets... and probably would not have done anything differently had she the opportunity to do it over.
My Mom is a rock.
Not only that, she has constantly shown her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren what it means to live.
Mom has always found time to play.
I have a vague memory of being a small child - bored because my brother and sister were both in school - and Mom coming up with some creative project for me to do.
For months - maybe years -she carried a large bruise on one of her legs... I don't know why the bruise didn't fully go away for so long.... but it was a trophy from a line drive, a direct hit from softball, earned during a back yard game with the grandchildren.
Even now, she is always up for a game of Scrabble, in fact when AA and Ab spent the night with her recently, they buzzed with plans of a Scrabble Tournament with Grandmama.
Mom has also taught her family how to pray. Much has been said recently about my father's role in leading his family in prayer every night and Dad did well to instill in us the importance of prayer; but it was Mom that made prayer real.
Because she has always been so open about her own worries and fears, she has also been very open about where she takes those cares. We have always known she takes them to the feet of Jesus.
Mom taught us the relational value of prayer. She taught us - by example - to rely on God instantly and in every situation small or large. As I write this I am remembering two instances recently in which Mom and Dad came to the end of their resources and abilities and turned to prayer: once when they found themselves locked out of the house (if memory serves). After trying unsuccessfully to find some means of entrance they finally prayed -shortly my brother just showed up for a visit and was able to get them back in.
On another occasion, Dad found that he was unable to get out of the bathtub. Dad was heavy and Mom could not lift him. After struggling for some time, they prayed and Dad suddenly had the idea of working his body into a different position which allowed him to leverage himself better and in so doing, escaped the cauldron.
My siblings and I have worried about Mom - if she could hold up under the strain of losing her husband of 62 years. But along with those concerns we have known that Mom is a "rock" - not because she is so feisty and strong on her own but - because she displays a constant willingness to lean on the Rock - Christ Jesus.
And He has consistently shown His own willingness to be a "present help" in every circumstance.
A Letter to the AARP
Still smarting from the trauma of having moved to the "dark side" of a century here on earth... I recently received a sort of mocking greeting from the American Association of Retired Persons.
Yeah, can you believe that?
I have never been a big fan of the AARP: back in the 80's when the organization was first coming into prominence, I happened to be in the life insurance business. My company also sold Medicare Supplement insurance for seniors to cover the expenses Medicare didn't pay.
At the time, Medicare Supplement Insurance was AARP's claim to fame and people were opting for theirs over the more expensive product I had to offer.
Now I am not really still angry over that, I just said it to point out that I have never felt real chummy with the AARP.
This has been compounded by the fact that they have become more and more political in recent years - to the point that they could almost be lumped in with labor unions. The organization seeks to make dependent victims of all its members and presents a very one-sided view with its website articles.
All of that bad blood between myself and the AARP came to a head when I got their invitation to join. So I fired off a letter.
I pretty much made my family listen to the contents of my letter (under the pretense of having them help "proof read" it). Since it is unlikely that anyone at AARP will read it, I am inserting it here for your approval:
Yeah, can you believe that?
I have never been a big fan of the AARP: back in the 80's when the organization was first coming into prominence, I happened to be in the life insurance business. My company also sold Medicare Supplement insurance for seniors to cover the expenses Medicare didn't pay.
At the time, Medicare Supplement Insurance was AARP's claim to fame and people were opting for theirs over the more expensive product I had to offer.
Now I am not really still angry over that, I just said it to point out that I have never felt real chummy with the AARP.
This has been compounded by the fact that they have become more and more political in recent years - to the point that they could almost be lumped in with labor unions. The organization seeks to make dependent victims of all its members and presents a very one-sided view with its website articles.
All of that bad blood between myself and the AARP came to a head when I got their invitation to join. So I fired off a letter.
I pretty much made my family listen to the contents of my letter (under the pretense of having them help "proof read" it). Since it is unlikely that anyone at AARP will read it, I am inserting it here for your approval:
Addison Barry RandAARPP.O. Box 93237Long Beach, CA 90809
Dear Mr. Rand:
I am in receipt of your most recent offer of membership in the AARP. Let me first say that I was somewhat surprised to receive your greeting this soon after my fiftieth birthday.
I will be respectfully declining your offer of membership and would like to point out a few of my reasons for doing so.
The American Association of Retired Persons has apparently evolved into a very large organization. It seems that the organization has used the power of its large membership to assert a claim of representing a large block of voters and thus to garner more political power with elected officials. Yet the organization continually espouses causes that run counter to the wishes of a great majority of its members.
I will not be a party to such insolence by contributing in any way.
This dichotomy of values was most evident during the recent national healthcare reform debate. Your organization supported the legislation and counseled its members to do likewise – knowing that part of the proposed changes would be very costly to Medicare recipients.
Even now your website continues to rally support for what most Americans realize was very poor legislation passed in a very underhanded way.
As I grow older, I do not want to be looking to an organization for advice whose values are so very opposite my own.
Politically, I am conservative. Yet as I perused your website recently, it seems that AARP is all about fighting against conservative values. The articles do not present a balanced view but are rather couched in terms designed to promote fear and inflame the passions.
Our nation was founded on biblical principles recognizing the intrinsic value of individuals and how the freedom we now enjoy was “endowed” by our “Creator”.Groups like yours that seek to build power and effect change by rallying people around their own discontent, fail to understand the worth of individuals. People become only numbers to strengthen the volume of a group’s voice. It is a selfish and short-sighted view and one that is ultimately bad for our country and counter to the cause of freedom.Ironically, this mind-set eventually cripples an organization because there is no free flow of ideas – new ideas are stifled. Only those ideas that fit the format of the group’s message are heeded.
Thank you, but no-thank you. I will not be contributing even the small $16 for an annual subscription. Further, I request that you no longer send me such offers.
Sincerely
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Dad
Many of you will already know that my Dad passed away almost two weeks ago.
During his final days, thoughts flooded my mind of things I would like to write about him.
The days of solid and intense busy-ness and distraction that followed, seemed to drain those thoughts right out of me.
Dad had open heart surgery in 2008 and never returned to his former state; dementia, that had already set in prior to that, worsened.
I told my sister that when they rolled him off to surgery that day -smiling to keep from crying- it was the last time we really had seen Dad.
The nearly three years that followed, allowed my siblings and I to try and say those things that we needed to say.
Dad was very tenderhearted but he seldom let it show. He avoided drama at all cost and used humor to divert attempts at tender conversation. So we didn't have those tearful good-byes. Instead we laughed.
Laughing is how my family deals with things.
The day before Dad died, he appeared to be sleeping soundly most of the day. Family and friends gathered around his bed most of that day and laughed.
They joked (he was the brunt of much of the humor but it was wielded in a loving way), they told stories, they laughed.
I talked with my sister about her husband's parents. When his father was dying and they were both in different hospital rooms at the same time. They wheeled his bed into her room where this lifelong couple shared a tender good-bye.
I told my sister that such a scene just wouldn't happen with our Dad.
But I do remember some tender moments:
When I was very small, maybe five or six, Dad and I had traveled to Social Circle, Georgia one evening. His brother from California was in town and many of Dad's nine siblings were all there. During the course of the night I was cutting up with a much older cousin and ran into the jagged edge of a chain link fence. It cut a little gash over my eye and I was distraught. I can remember the safety I felt in Dad's protective arms. I also remember the comfort of sleeping in the back seat on the ride home.
On another occasion, Dad must have been rotating the tires one Saturday. I asked, and he let me help him. When it was time, he would let me know and I was to "jack-down" the car.
Soon it was time and when I began my duty, the handle on that old bumper-jack got away from me. I found myself being repeatedly smacked in the mouth by that jack handle.
Again, I remember Dad - quickly and tenderly taking me up in his arms as blood poured from my lips. It wasn't a very bad injury - a busted lip. After I was cleaned up and lay recuperating on the couch, I can still remember feeling something like pity for Dad - because of his own sense of regret.
There was a Saturday that Dad took me on something like a hike. I'm sure that some of my Cub Scout friends must have been talking about hiking and I must have begged Dad to take me somewhere.
We ended up walking up through some woods behind the construction site for a new school in our town. I remember we found some kind of skeletal remains - a cow or a deer - what an adventure.
Not too many years before he died. I remember Dad -in a rare moment - commending me on not raising my voice to my children. He talked about how well they behaved and then spoke with some regret about getting angry sometimes when he and Mom were rearing us. For me - that has been a very affirming memory.
I can't begin to know the lessons that will come from this man's life and our last few years with him. I don't want to be too quick to wrap it all up and summarize it.
I can say that he loved his family. He couldn't say it much - it wasn't his way - and besides he would cry if he did. But he loved all of us.
He loved God. From his childhood, he wanted to serve God. He led us children into an appreciation for God's Word.
He loved to laugh and to make others laugh. Sometimes his humor was - as my uncle said - "rough around the edges" - but he liked laughter.
You see, laughter is how my family deals with things.
During his final days, thoughts flooded my mind of things I would like to write about him.
The days of solid and intense busy-ness and distraction that followed, seemed to drain those thoughts right out of me.
Dad had open heart surgery in 2008 and never returned to his former state; dementia, that had already set in prior to that, worsened.
I told my sister that when they rolled him off to surgery that day -smiling to keep from crying- it was the last time we really had seen Dad.
The nearly three years that followed, allowed my siblings and I to try and say those things that we needed to say.
Dad was very tenderhearted but he seldom let it show. He avoided drama at all cost and used humor to divert attempts at tender conversation. So we didn't have those tearful good-byes. Instead we laughed.
Laughing is how my family deals with things.
The day before Dad died, he appeared to be sleeping soundly most of the day. Family and friends gathered around his bed most of that day and laughed.
They joked (he was the brunt of much of the humor but it was wielded in a loving way), they told stories, they laughed.
I talked with my sister about her husband's parents. When his father was dying and they were both in different hospital rooms at the same time. They wheeled his bed into her room where this lifelong couple shared a tender good-bye.
I told my sister that such a scene just wouldn't happen with our Dad.
But I do remember some tender moments:
When I was very small, maybe five or six, Dad and I had traveled to Social Circle, Georgia one evening. His brother from California was in town and many of Dad's nine siblings were all there. During the course of the night I was cutting up with a much older cousin and ran into the jagged edge of a chain link fence. It cut a little gash over my eye and I was distraught. I can remember the safety I felt in Dad's protective arms. I also remember the comfort of sleeping in the back seat on the ride home.
On another occasion, Dad must have been rotating the tires one Saturday. I asked, and he let me help him. When it was time, he would let me know and I was to "jack-down" the car.
Soon it was time and when I began my duty, the handle on that old bumper-jack got away from me. I found myself being repeatedly smacked in the mouth by that jack handle.
Again, I remember Dad - quickly and tenderly taking me up in his arms as blood poured from my lips. It wasn't a very bad injury - a busted lip. After I was cleaned up and lay recuperating on the couch, I can still remember feeling something like pity for Dad - because of his own sense of regret.
There was a Saturday that Dad took me on something like a hike. I'm sure that some of my Cub Scout friends must have been talking about hiking and I must have begged Dad to take me somewhere.
We ended up walking up through some woods behind the construction site for a new school in our town. I remember we found some kind of skeletal remains - a cow or a deer - what an adventure.
Not too many years before he died. I remember Dad -in a rare moment - commending me on not raising my voice to my children. He talked about how well they behaved and then spoke with some regret about getting angry sometimes when he and Mom were rearing us. For me - that has been a very affirming memory.
I can't begin to know the lessons that will come from this man's life and our last few years with him. I don't want to be too quick to wrap it all up and summarize it.
I can say that he loved his family. He couldn't say it much - it wasn't his way - and besides he would cry if he did. But he loved all of us.
He loved God. From his childhood, he wanted to serve God. He led us children into an appreciation for God's Word.
He loved to laugh and to make others laugh. Sometimes his humor was - as my uncle said - "rough around the edges" - but he liked laughter.
You see, laughter is how my family deals with things.
On Fifty
"no"
"...fifty is NOT nifty...
There. I've said it and I'm not taking it back.
Since I don't play very well with children my own age - I haven't really experienced the strange association of these two sing-song words... nifty ... fifty.
Arent' there other words that rhyme with fifty?
What about "thrifty" - now I like that - it sounds Benjamin Franklin - ish - I guess someone of my age would.
Maybe someone could ask me if fifty was thrifty.
Perhaps someone could flatter me by giving me credit for possessing the energy to by flamboyant by asking if "fifty is shifty?"
Ten years ago, I was surprised by how good forty felt. I really felt that it was possibly the best time of my life. That's why I am so perplexed by this new decade... I don't feel like I did when I was forty.
Needless to say, I am not warming to this new age very well.
"Fifty" just seems old - it sounds old.
Heck, it is old!
When my Dad was my age, all his children were out of high school and only one late arrival was still at home... he had four grandchildren already.
Lately, I have come to the realization that I probably will not be around on this earth as long as I have been around already.
It's like the third day of a week's vacation: The first day paces along amazingly slow. You rise early and keep checking to be sure the time is right - you can't believe that time is moving so slowly.
Day two is closer to normal, but you keep saying "oh I've got almost a whole week here after today".
Then you wake up for the third day and the day passes like one of those stop-action-photo films.... the sun just glides across the sky.
You wake up the next morning realizing that technically, it is your last full day of vacation... then it's over.
Life's brevity is becoming more apparent to me.
There certainly are some good things about getting older. Old guys can get away with a lot of things.
Fred over there can pee his pants and folks will just say ... "oh he's just an old guy"
You can belch ... or do a lot worse ... in public and when little children point and laugh, their Mommies will say, "shhhhh dear... he's just old".
Maybe that's what worries me about getting old... I don't want that to become an excuse.
Dad used to lament about an old guy in the Bible by the name of Barzillai (2 Samuel 19) he had been good to King David during one of his times of distress and when it was over, David invited him to come to Jerusalem, to live under his care for awhile. The octogenarian used his age as an excuse, pointing out that he could discern very well, he couldn't taste what he ate or drank and he couldn't hear the good singing that filled the king's palace. Barzillia seemed to stop living before he died.
I don't want to do that.
Even if life doesn't always leave me feeling "nifty" - I pray that God will help me to drain all the goodness out of every day He grants me.
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