Yesterday I experienced something that many of us rarely experience–contentment. I was out walking around my neighborhood as I often do and suddenly I was overwhelmed by a peaceful feeling. Perhaps it had something to do with the beautiful fall day we were experiencing. Not too cool, not warm, just right. Beautiful fall leaves on trees and in yards. Squirrels hopping here and there. Birds flying onto power lines and down into yards. No people around as it was still pretty early on Sunday. To quote the poet, “God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world.”

In this world of constant turmoil and chaos, it is rare to have a moment of total peace but it happens now and then as we take in the world in which WE live and give thanks for what we do have instead of talking about what we lack. I am not just talking about material goods that we may desire. I found myself giving thanks for our comfortable home, our beautiful neighborhood, and good neighbors. I gave thanks for the day and being able to live one more day. I found myself feeling extremely grateful for the life I have to enjoy.

I thought about a verse from St. Paul, “I have learned to be content in whatever state I am in.” I think it may be found in his letter to the church at Philippi but regardless the verse gives a clue to how we can be content in life. To live in the moment and accept life as it is and not be striving for something that we feel we do not have is to be content.

We moved back to Tyler about three years ago. We had lived here for 10 years before moving away and being gone 14 years. We had a large group of friends here when we left and I assumed that when we returned life would return to being as it was before we went away. Time had passed and people here continued to live their lives in our absence and I soon learned that things could not be the way they were when we moved away. People’s circumstances changed, some died, some moved away themselves. Some had new occupations. Some retired and busied themselves with travel and seeing kids and grandkids, as would be expected. Some had new friend circles of which we were not a part so I had to learn to accept that things could not be as when we left here a decade and a half ago.

I mourned the loss of these relationships for a while. After all, we were back in the city where all these folks lived. I came to understand, however, that they had moved on without us in their lives and we had to do the same. It was a painful lesson to learn but one that taught me that I am enough in myself and the approval or even friendship of others is not needed in order for me to be complete.

Buddhism contains a precept that teaches that when we stop striving for things we cannot have we can find contentment. When we decide that the life we live in the present moment is enough, then we can find a peace that cannot be understood. It is that emptying out of ourselves and our desires and our seeking other things or people in order to be fulfilled that helps us to be fully human in each moment that we live.

It is rare to experience inner peace always. Life gives us challenges and because we are human we have emotional reactions to those challenging situations in life. It is in the midst of challenge, however, that we may achieve peace as we are able to gain a perspective concerning our lives and our perceived needs that can bring renewal even in the face of distress. Seeing these things anew and evaluating their importance to our lives will help us achieve that contentment we seek.

A wise teacher and friend taught me years ago to try to live in the moment and I never quite understood fully what he meant by that until recently. To live in the moment means to not desire what we do not have and to be free from possessing what we do have so as to be willing to part with possessions or people if that becomes the case in life.

I look into my closet and find that I need few of the clothes I own. I could give away most of them and not be sad about doing so. I give clothes often to charities who resell them and I am thankful that I am able to do so. To be honest, few of the clothes I have are ones that I wear and I seem to wear the same ones over and over again. Since entering the phase of life we call retirement, I have little need for dress shirts or suits or ties but will most likely just keep them in case I have a need to dress up that arises. I have little attachment to them but the need to rid myself of them has not occurred so that goal is one to set aside for the future.

Giving up relationships is similar to giving up clothes. People are important to us and when they are no longer in our lives we often mourn their passing and what they meant to us. Sometimes death has taken them from us and we mourn and then have to move on. Sometimes they have become different to the place that we no longer have as much in common. Wishing them well even without them being part a part of our lives is a way we give them up and allow them to be who they are even as we are who we are. We do not have to actively rid ourselves of relationships but simply accept that the relationships may or may not be as important as they once were to us.

Contentment is a goal in life for us all. We may not actively think about it but we all want to be happy. Finding a place in life where happiness can grow and be nurtured is something we do daily as we learn to be at peace with ourselves and others.

I am a huge fan of music by John Denver. During the time when he was active in producing music and singing, I collected most of his albums and knew many of his songs to sing by heart. I admired him greatly and mourned just as greatly when he died. He died tragically and much too soon and the world lost not only a great singer but an inspirational environmental activist. He cared greatly about nature and the environment and many of his songs contain lyrics that reflect his great love for the earth and its inhabitants.

One of his songs that was not about nature specifically but about love was called, “Annie’s Song”. It was written as a tribute to his wife Annie. Its’ lyrics reflect natural experiences that spoke to his senses in the same way that his love for his wife did. It is a very singable song with this phrase repeated as a refrain, “You fill up my senses, Like a night in a forest, Like the mountains in springtime, Like a walk in the rain, Like a storm in the desert, Like a sleepy blue ocean, You fill up my senses, Come fill me again.” The list of experiences is sure to be a list of ones that John Denver must have had and they related to him in the same way that his love he had for his wife did. They spoke to his senses in every possible way.

We have all had experiences that speak to our senses. They are called sensual experiences in that they provides aromas we will recall later, sounds that remind us of a place or time, tastes that cannot be repeated, sights that are imprinted on our brains, and touches by nature or persons present at the time we experienced what spoke to us so deeply.

We were fortunate to be with our daughter and son-in-law when they celebrated their first wedding anniversary. They live in Washington State and we rented a house near the Hood Canal for our children and their significant others to spend Christmas and the week after it together. We had enjoyed a wonderful week together in that large house, eating and drinking and playing games together. One day we took a ferry over to the city of Victoria, B.C. and looked around. As the week ended, our son and his fiancé went to the airport to fly home and the rest of us remained. It was nearing the day for our daughter and son-in-law’s anniversary and there was a neat little restaurant not too far from where the rental house was. We decided to have a celebratory dinner there before heading back to Seattle the next day.

The small restaurant was perfect for the occasion, built of logs that evoked a country setting, with quiet and intimate rooms. We were seated near the roaring fireplace and quiet music was playing in the background. We placed our order for an appetizer and dinner and some of us chose a glass of wine to go with dinner. I am not a wine expert but I chose a moderately priced Cabernet Sauvignon to have with my meal. I asked the server about the label and she said it was produced in Washington State, not too far from where we were eating actually. The wine came and the meal soon came and we ate and talked and laughed and enjoyed that evening very much. It may have been just as a result of this special occasion, but that glass of wine to me tasted like the best glass of red wine that I had ever had. I drank every drop and then smelled the aroma of the glass over and over, so much so that my wife and daughter began to kid me about it. I could not let go of the aroma. It captured my senses so much even as the taste of that exceptional meal and the sharing of good company on that special day did.

I will always remember that day when we celebrated this special anniversary. I will remember the sounds of laughter and the joy we felt, the deliciousness of that good food we enjoyed, the aroma of that exceptional glass of wine, the look of love on the faces of those around me, and the gentle touches as we hugged and embraced as we began to leave that special place. All my senses were alive and received messages that continue to speak to my spirit even today.

I sometimes sing John Denver’s “Annie’s Song” to myself and think how fortunate he was to have experienced all the things he named that spoke to his senses in his life. I want to make a list of them and try to experience them myself. I could probably arrange to have spend a night in a forest, to be in the mountains in springtime, to take a walk in the rain, to sail on a boat in the ocean, and if I am lucky, to experience a storm in the desert. All those experiences that he named were ones that happened to him as a natural part of his life. They were not forced or arranged in some way except that he found himself in those places when those experiences became a part of his sensual memory.

The experiences that speak to our senses are unique and special to us. No one else can have those duplicate experiences. Even if I made a list of the experiences that John Denver named in this love song, and tried my best to experience them myself, they could not duplicate what he and his love Annie experienced. The love for his wife that he compared to those sensual experiences in nature was unique and found only in her, even though he had another wife after Annie. The song is not only a tribute to his wife and the love he had for her, but it is also a tribute to life itself. Each experience he named in the song spoke to his senses in indescribable and spiritual ways. He believed that the voice of God came through the voices of nature that could be recognized as one allowed oneself to listen to hear what nature would say to each of us.

Senses are the conduits through which we interpret the world around us. Sometimes we use them without even noticing what is being revealed to us through them. We seem to be on autopilot as we go through life, not even paying attention to the sights and sounds and smells and tastes and touches that are unique, even if we experience something similar repeatedly. To really listen to our senses we have to be intentional to allow them to speak to us, to slow down and take the time to be present to those around us, to enjoy every bite of food we taste and not just gulp it down as something to finish and move on to the next thing on our agenda. We have to see with our heart as well as with our eyes what is around us daily and when we experience a touch that speaks to us in some special way to make note of it in our memory so as to recall what made it rare and ideal in our mind.

John Denver was just another human being who inhabited this planet for a set number of years. He was an imperfect person, as those who knew him best could certainly testify, but he inspired many to do great things and to live greater lives by giving us music to remember him by, music that teaches lessons as well as entertains. When someone leaves us too early, we seem to idolize them and elevate them to sainthood in many ways. The only reason why John Denver may be considered a saint is because saints lived lives that inspired others to also live noble lives. His life and words were tributes to the special relationship we can have with the natural world and the people with whom we share that world. I will always remember the lessons he taught that continue to speak to my senses daily.

We live in a very nice neighborhood with tall trees and birds and squirrels everywhere. It is a great place to walk and enjoy seeing our neighbors and getting some exercise. For the most part, our neighbors are all good folks, it seems. Most people stay pretty close to themselves but they will say hello if you meet them on the street or see them in their yards as you are walking. We know three of our neighbors fairly well, good enough to help each other in times of need and to share the occasional casserole or dessert. Two of our neighbors, however, do not seem to want to get to know us, and that is okay if it is what they want, to just be a bit incognito toward us. I don’t mind the lack of interaction with them, but I do mind their intrusion into the quiet hours with the starting and gunning of their souped-up trucks. Each neighbor has a pickup truck with exhaust pipes that emit loud noise when their are warming them up (why does one need to warm up a vehicle these days?) and once they drive off in them, they gun the motors so that even louder noises are given off. I have never understood why someone wants to own a vehicle that does that unless the driver is a high school male who wants to show off for his friends. These neighbors are both adults, one of which is a retired man.

So, the other night I woke up to go to the bathroom and when I got back in bed, suddenly I heard the neighbor behind us start up his engine at about 2:30 a.m. He must have started it and then gone back into the house for a bit because I could hear the rumble of the engine as it sat there and then he came out and drove off, revving up the motor even at that hour of the morning. The noise kept me awake and the frustration of having an inconsiderate neighbor next door to me added to the stress and I was awake for what seems like at least a half hour.

So, this morning, the work crew arrived at 7:00 a.m. at our house to continue work on the construction of our sunroom. They hauled out their tools and began cutting steel rods that would form the rebars for the foundation that is soon to be poured. Their loud saws cut over and over again for about an hour and then they finished and left at about 8:30 a.m., all through with our project for today and going on, I assume, to do something similar elsewhere. The noise they made for that hour was enough to wake up the neighborhood if someone was trying to sleep.

In that moment, I experienced what the Germans call Schadenfreude, a word that means to find joy in the misfortunes of others. Perhaps the word has roots that have something to do with the need we all have to find justice in a world that is often short on it. When we live in a world where the wealthy and powerful seem to get away with murder or engage in shady business and nothing seems to happen to them, we find ourselves wanting someone to have to pay for their misdeeds. There is an inherent need, it seems, to find satisfaction that someone actually has to give an account for their misdoings and to pay for them in some way.

Maybe my lack of sleep because of my noisy neighbor yearned to be recovered by the neighbor suffering in the same way. I have experienced this many times when staying at a hotel where the occupants of the room next to us or above us decided to come back to their room long after we had gone to sleep and woke me up. Sometimes I have called the desk and reported the intrusion but there have been other times I just waited it out for them to tire and go to bed, even if it took an hour or two. Then, the next morning, my being an early riser by nature helped me give them payback as I would talk loudly and turn on the television and sing in the shower and run the hair dryer, all to be able to make as much noise as they did so that their sleep may also be disturbed.

We all want justice. We want justice to be done in the world in every way and in every place. Today, we see those around us who refuse to follow the directions of safety in this time of pandemic by not wearing their masks when they go into public and flaunting their disregard for the shared responsibility we have to protect each other. We have witnessed it in stores and restaurants as people parade around with no mask and some even let others know they think wearing a mask is a violation of their personal rights. Then, when we hear that someone has acquired the virus, we may express concern but, if we were honest, we may also think, “serves them right.” Schadenfreude…

Is it wrong to feel that way and still think you are a good person? I think that Schadenfreude is a natural part of the human condition. It is expressed in many sacred writings of the Hebrew-Christian tradition but also in other places where humans have expressed their feelings about the lack of justice in the world. Job is considered to be the oldest book in the Hebrew Scriptures and the theme, of course, is why do the innocent suffer. Job is the epitome of the most upright human being on earth and for some reason disaster befalls him. His family dies in a storm when the house falls on top of them, his wife survives but she is such an argumentative complainer that she deserves the title, “Job’s Comforter” as do his friends who come around to visit, trying to convince him that he did something wrong to deserve the punishment of God. As he sits in an ash heap scraping his sores that cover his body, he declares his innocence. Job wants justice and he wants all to know that he was unjustly wronged and punished. He is finally vindicated when God comes to Job’s defense and declares him without guilt.

The Psalms are a reflection of the life of the people of Israel, and among the beauty and mystery of the writings is one short psalm that reflects the need for revenge for the misdeeds of others. Speaking on behalf of the exiles who were captured by the Babylonians after the destruction of Jerusalem, the psalmist expresses the feelings most of them were having regarding their captors. “By the rivers of Babylon–there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.” (137:1) The psalm continues with the ideas that the Babylonians tormented them and demanded that they entertain them with “songs of Zion.” The psalm concludes with these stark words hard to hear in our antiseptic world, “Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us! Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!” (137:8b-9) Such is the ultimate of payback. Justice must be done in order for satisfaction to be accomplished.

Finding satisfaction in knowing that others reap what they have sown is simply an admission that life works in the way it does in order to make all things correct. Justice must be done so that the order of the world is in place. Injustice cannot rule the day because the universe demands that harmony be restored. When wildfires burn the landscape and trees are destroyed and animals must flee to survive, the natural order must be restored in order for all to be complete. The scarred landscape must begin to rebuild and heal from the injustice that was done by the careless actions of human beings or violent acts of nature. Once enough time has passed, plants will begin to grow once again and new life will emerge. Restoration will bring harmony once more.

Justice may be the motivating factor in the concept of Schadenfreude. We all want it to happen. We all find satisfaction when justice is done. We all rejoice, perhaps not openly, but in some way when we feel that justice has been done in the face of a world that often does not seem to provide enough examples of justice completed. Perhaps when Schadenfreude is accomplished, another German word exists–Gesundheit! It is not just wishing someone health because they have sneezed. The word literally means “health”. Health can return when justice is done. Health is not the absence of illness but rather a state of well-being that exists when the universe is in order. As we find satisfaction in knowing that justice has been done, then a right relationship is accomplished in the world around us.

Bobby Goldsboro recorded a song long ago that told a story about a man imagined all kinds of thing he would do if he were by himself and living a much different life than he had in his marriage. He told about going to a tropical island and enjoying a life of carefree pleasure. Then, as the song says, suddenly he came back to reality as his wife brought him refreshments to enjoy and he realized how good he really had it. The chorus repeats, “It’s great to be in love, I’m not really thinking of leaving the straight life behind, I’m just playing a game in my mind.”

Fantasy is a regular part of the everyday life. Many of us take part in activities or pursuits that allow us to leave our present reality and live elsewhere in our minds for a short time. Movies, music, video games, books, social media—all provide forms of escape. It is amazing the number of people one sees daily with eyes affixed to a phone or tablet or computer, using that device to pursue some non-business activity. We all do it. We leave the present world and find pleasure in something outside of our own lives.

Religion has provided an escape from the present age for millennia. Writers of the Hebrew and Christian canons often described existences much different than the present one. St. Paul often talked about the life he would live when he left his body and even said he would prefer to be in that place rather than in human life but he had a reason to exist here, to fulfill a mission.

The Christian movement has always contained a stream of thought that “the world” was not the place where Christians really lived. It was just a temporary state while the life beyond this one was the real place where Christians were to live. Perhaps that train of thought reflects the hardships of life in the Roman Empire in which the early writers lived when Christianity was outlawed and Christians were forced to worship in secret. Code messages were created so that those who were “insiders” understood what was being said and those who were “outsiders” could not. The book of Revelation is such a writing, secret code that spoke to those who needed to know what the situation was like for them and how to stay safe despite persecution. It was never meant to be a book to speak to persons living in 2020 but was written to people living in the first century.

As people endured hardship or persecution throughout the centuries, their experience was reflected in how they viewed the world and how they desired to be elsewhere rather than have to live through the pain. Wars, famine, pestilence, economic upheaval have all played a part in shaping such thought, both inside and outside the Christian movement.

Christian music of the genre called “Southern Gospel” often reflected this idea of escapism. Writers of this style of music wrote lyrics that described a better place than the world in which they lived and how much they wished they could be there rather than where they were. “This world is not my home. I’m just a-passing through, My treasures are laid up, Somewhere beyond the blue. The angels beckon me, From heaven’s open door, And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.” This song was popular in the early 20th century within Christianity that embraced country and bluegrass music as musical expressions of their faith. It was written during the time when poverty and financial struggle was an everyday way of life for these believers.

Many other songs popular to the Christian movement were written during this time period. They reflect the idea that a much better place exists than the current earthly dwelling place. The biblical description of a heavenly home with streets of gold and gates of pearl and large mansions in which all reside captured the imagination of the impoverished and persecuted. Those living in poverty and pain and persecution had a hope that a better existence could be theirs if they remained faithful to the Christian message. The music provided an easy way to remind themselves of the hope and assurance they needed to continue in the faith.

Escapism is part of modern life also. We need ways to escape the mundane and stressful elements of life. We may seek it in modern technological ways or resort to the same trains of thought that our ancestors held to through religion and music and poetry and the arts. Contained in the need to escape is always the idea that through escaping this world we will find something better. That new life will be one that will be free from what plagues us in this life.

We often read books or see movies that we wish did not have to end. Somewhere in the content of the story we find a world that captures our imagination and provides an escape from what we currently may be worrying about or contemplating that we need to do. The story provides that brief exit from this life into another life lived vicariously through the lives of the characters we see or read about. We enjoy the break from reality we have, even if just for a few hours or days as we interweave our lives into the lives of others, whether real or fictitious.

Perhaps there is no real harm in fantasy or as Bobby Goldsboro sang, “playing a game in my mind.” Maybe it serves a purpose as a stress reliever as long as we do not allow the fantasy to become a substitute for reality or for commitment to our everyday responsibilities. When people become “so heavenly minded” that they are of “no earthly good” then fantasy has taken the place of reality. Even wishful thinking about a better time to come is not harmful in itself but if one dwells on that idea continuously then depression takes the place of hope as one gives up on improving the world in which we live because one cannot see how the current state of affairs can be remedied.

Those in the modern Christian movement who embrace belief in the idea of “the rapture” are often guilty of living in a form of escapism that causes them to give up on our world in hope of being rescued from it and not having any responsibility to make it better. They forsake environmental awareness in favor of pie in the sky mentality. If Jesus will just come and rescue them from this terrible world, then their eternal lives will be better. Those left behind who do not qualify for the whoosh into the sky will suffer as will the planet that God called good at Creation but what is that to those longing to find their escape in God? Their escape provides a self-centered outlook that cares nothing about others or the planet and its non-human inhabitants. As long as they make it, then that is all that matters.

The message that Jesus taught in his day and that billions study around the world was the the Kingdom of God is present and among us daily. These is no need for an escape hatch to open up and take people to a place beyond the blue. The place they seek is present daily in the lives of the humans and animals that call this place home. When we care for others and for the place in which we dwell now, we fulfill the calling that Jesus gave to love others as you love yourself. When we put our own ideas of self-preservation ahead of the needs of billions on our planet whose lives are just as important to God as our own, then we fail to see what our true calling really is. To be responsible for others trumps any idea that my own needs are more important than theirs. And maybe the only escape we can justify is that book or movie that we see occasionally to ally our fears and soothe our souls. Jesus had no one, not even his heavenly father, to swoop him up into the sky so he could escape death on the cross. Why do we think we may deserve better than what he endured?

We decided to have our sunroom remodeled a few months ago so we contacted a local construction company and have the job assessed. We bought this house three years ago with the sunroom as part of the house. It had been added to the original house structure back in the 1980s, we are thinking, and it was a kit that people buy to construct a room without having formal construction done by a builder. The add-on sunroom was nice and when it was new I imagine it was very nice but over the years it began to look worn in places and now and then we noticed wetness near the walls that contained large windows. Indoor/Outdoor carpet covered the concrete flooring and it looked fine except near the edges where water had stained it. So, we decided to have it overhauled.

The construction chief came to the house and looked over the job we wanted to have done. After measuring and discussing and thinking, he told us that he felt like we should have the present sunroom torn down and construct a new one. He said that the kit job had served well but it was not really capable of being remodeled. He said that we would enjoy a newly constructed room that would be attached to the rest of the house and seem as a natural part of it. To be honest, the sunroom we had looked like an “add-on”. As one walked from the kitchen into the sunroom, it was obvious that this had not been a part of the house to begin with.

So, we dreamed with him and described what we thought we would like in the way of a new sunroom and he came back with a quote that made us realize we had dreamed too big. What we envisioned was exceptional but our budget required a bit more belt tightening and we scaled back to excellent rather than exceptional. We sealed the deal and plans were made to begin the project soon.

So, the demolition of our current sunroom happened a week ago Friday. We had cleared out all the furniture and belongings that had lived in the sunroom since we moved in just over two years ago and we had one last look at the bare room soon not to exist any longer. The carpet was pulled back to reveal a foundation that looked rocky in appearance, something we did not know was beneath it because we had never looked. We retreated inside the house and soon began hearing the sounds of hammers and saws and other tools and as we looked out the windows we saw the walls and roof and windows being carried away out to a trailer attached to a truck. In just a few hours, the structure that had stood there for over 30 years was only a memory.

That work crew went away and a few days later another crew came to break up the foundation. Jackhammers were brought in and loud noise persisted for a few hours. As the crew left, there were only large pieces jutting up from the ground where there had been the smooth floor for so long. Another crew came a day later and they carried off all those pieces of concrete to heaven knows where and now we await the coming of the concrete crew to put down a form and fill it with concrete and establish a new beginning for what will be built on top of it. Hopes will be built on that foundation as well as walls and new windows and a sturdy shingled roof.

I was thinking about how this process is a metaphor for so many things that happen in life to us. It often takes a complete demolition of something that has existed for years before something new can take its place. I trained to become a teacher back in the 70s when I went to college. I graduated in four years and began my teaching career, thinking that I would be a teacher for all my working life. Then, I got a master’s degree in counseling and decided that being a school counselor was what I wanted to do. After teaching for about a decade, I was offered a job as a school counselor and accepted it. Leaving the classroom behind was not hard for me to do and it only seemed like a transition from one part of the educational field to another so I began working in the counseling field and thought I would have that as my career for the rest of my working years.

For years there was a feeling in my mind and heart that I was not fulfilling the calling that I had received many years ago to Christian service. It began with my participating in part time ministry as a lay speaker and singer and then it began to grow into something that demanded that I submit totally to the call. I needed time to clear my mind and decide if the call was real and if it was total so I accepted a position on a university campus to pursue another degree in the field of education and acted as an assistant to a professor. All the time, I was part of a ministry exploration group and the call became more insistent. I took all the classes needed to earn a doctorate in education and only needed to write the dissertation when I decided to transfer to a seminary to pursue a degree in divinity to enable me to become a pastor. I left everything behind that I had prepared for originally and changed careers at the age of 37. Reconstruction had begun as the old was torn away and something new had to be created.

I attended a seminary that was very liberal in its teachings and understandings of the Christian faith. The professor in the orientation session at the beginning told us that we needed to be dedicated to finishing the degree program we were beginning because if we stopped somewhere in the middle, we would either emerge as an atheist or a fundamentalist. It was explained that the process of theological exploration would destroy everything we had been taught and believed about the faith and a new understanding would replace it.

So, the process began and class after class changed the way I understood the faith that the church of my childhood had taught me. I learned and grew, conversed with other seminarians, reflected upon the scriptures, read authors that enlightened me, and soon, I went home to my family and told my wife, “I no longer know what I believe.” It had happened, just as the professor at orientation described, the faith I brought with me to seminary had been torn down. It was time for new construction to begin.

I continued the course of study laid out for me over the next year and a half and when I graduated from seminary I believed once again but my new understandings were not at all what I had believed as I grew up in a small town and a fundamentalist church. It was no longer important to me to possess the concrete understandings about stories in the bible or tenets of the Christian faith. I emerged with ideas that informed my faith and enabled me to share those understandings with others who needed to hear something to challenge the ideas they had brought with them to adulthood.

Thirty years have passed and along the way I earned another degree in ministry and served several congregations of people, some of whom were yearning to breathe the air of spiritual freedom. Others were not prepared to take the step to live behind the understandings they had held for all their lives. They needed the comfort of the concrete beliefs that nourished them throughout the years. Those who asked questions and sought truth became allies in the process of theological inquiry. They read and discussed books that would question their assumptions and provide new understandings to former beliefs. The call brought me to people who needed to hear in ways they had never experienced in the past.

Reconstruction happens in all areas of life. We often reach places in life where we must leave behind the past and emerge into something new that has been created out of the process we become devoted to as a result of our restless spirit or emotional distress. We at times become so new that the past is no longer relevant and we must move on to new directions in life. What is revealed to us is something new that becomes a natural part of who we are. It is as if we have always been the way we now appear to others. Our former life is gone and the one we now live is who we are.

“In every end is a new beginning…” meaningful words from a song I know and perhaps from a poem. We see this played out in life from the time we are born and until we die. Every day we change and become different, shedding old cells and growing new ones. Each morning we arise and we are not the same as we were yesterday. We have learned and grown, forgotten and decided, and we have had experiences that have shaped us into becoming the people we are.

Why are some people as they are? Psychologists who study human growth discuss whether it is nature or nurture or a combination of both that shape us into being the human beings we are. They have studied why some people succeed and some are doomed to failure it seems, why some people take risks and extend themselves in new experiences while others recoil in fear at the thought of doing something they have never done before. It certainly seems that our lives are affected by those around us, by those important to us. We become what others expect us to become unless we break out of the mold and become daring in the way we live our lives.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the country in which we live and the people who live in it. I have been comparing our country with other countries similar to ours and noting the differences that make each country unique. I guess our closest neighbor with which we share a common border and language is Canada. Our Canadian neighbors have only 37 million people residing in their land, a tenth of so of the 331 million Americans on our shores. They have about the same number of citizens that live in California but their land mass is the second largest in the world. They share our official language of English but also recognize French as an official language and many Canadians are bilingual either by birth or necessity due to occupation or educational need.

Canadians have a reputation of being nice people. What a great reputation to have, to be considered to be nice. It’s not just that individual Canadians are nice folks but their country has an ethos of being nice to one another and considerate to all. We have traveled in Canada a great deal and I can testify that it is rare to meet a Canadian who is ornery or hostile or unfriendly. They may be a bit shy and reserved but once you get to know a Canadian they are generally as friendly and helpful as one can be.

Americans overall are probably as friendly as Canadians but Americans have a reputation of being loud and even obnoxious at times. Yes, most Americans will come to the aide of others who are in need in some way and will even strike up a conversation with a stranger on the street corner or in a doctor’s office waiting room. Americans, however, have somehow become convinced that their opinion matters more than the opinion of others and that they must somehow convert others to their way of thinking or they have not satisfied their role in life. Why are two neighboring countries with so much in common so different when it comes to their general outlook on life and their outlook on how they get along with others in the world?

I formulated an opinion as to the reasoning for this quandary a few years ago when we were visiting Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island (P.E.I) Canada. It is the provincial capital of PEI and also the home to the Government House where the conference for confederation was held in 1864. That meeting was attended by representatives of the provinces of Canada to form a country. The Maritime Provinces and Newfoundland scheduled the meeting and then Ontario and Quebec were added as participants. This was the beginning of the formation of the country of Canada and led to it becoming the land size it is today with ten provinces and three territories. Their country was formed by convening a peaceful meeting that even included social activities at which they ate, drank, and danced and produced a charter for confederation.

Our country, the United States of America, on the other hand, emerged from a war against a King from the same country that Canada owed its existence, the United Kingdom, and fought that war and subsequent wars against the Britain and other countries to become the land mass we are. We are scrappers in origin and by nature, it seems. Our forebears were, first of all, people who had left the land with which they fought for freedom, and they disagreed and separated because they thought their voice had not been heard concerning their quarrels with the King. Some were Scots-Irish, some were British, some were pious while others were irreligious. What they had in common was a general dislike for the government they left behind and against which they rebelled. So, they became loud and boisterous and demanding. The social fabric of the land they established was built on the right to demand one’s rights in the face of tyranny. People can be nice to one another but generally rude and obnoxious if the situation demands it.

Canadians and Americans share a common heritage but we became very different nations in many ways. Our recent election cycle illustrated how divisive a people we have become. We are divided into mindsets that incorporate our thinking that we have the answers and know the way things should be ordered and if someone does not agree with us, then we can choose to have nothing to do with them. They are dead to us. The result was social division into camps and ostracism of our neighbors with whom we share many things in common but all it took was a sign in a yard advertising promotion of a certain candidate and we were ready to throw away all we may share in favor of our allegiance to a party or a person.

I once got misty eyed when I sang “My Country, Tis of Thee” or “America, the Beautiful”. I once had a lump in my throat when I heard stories of deep devotion and allegiance to our country that caused brave men and women to give their lives in service to this land. The last four years has made me a different man in many ways. I rarely if ever think of my patriotism as a litmus test for being a good American but for some reason some in our land chose to elevate one’s devotion to this land as something necessary to display to others in a salute to a flag or a hand over the heart when it passes by. My faith in America is not for show for others to observe. It is something that lives quietly inside me to be renewed through Americans being and doing what we have always done, which is to live and act in ways that are just and merciful and kind to others. Those may be values we still believe in but our national role models for the past four years have not promoted that way of life. I am still an American but think of myself as a citizen of the world community also. American is a great land but it is not the only great land. They are many lands in the world that have citizens who live and act in honorable ways and who promote lives of justice, kindness, and hope. There are countries in the world who are for all their citizens with universal healthcare, education for all, and retirement benefits for all the elderly. In some ways, their way of life is strengthened because they want all their citizens to receive those benefits, not just those whom their government feel deserve them while others do not.

I want to recover the emotion I once felt when I sang the stirring songs of our national past. I want to hear the stories of bravery and courage and sacrifice. I want to know that our leaders are role models of the way we want to live and want our children to live. I want to feel that this land is one that offers hope and healing and happiness to all who live here or who desire to live here and not just for the wealthy and powerful in society. I want to know that our values mirror the values of all in the world who strive for a better way of life so that we all can unite in ways that go beyond human understanding. I want to be free to speak of such hopes and values and not be afraid that someone will attempt to silence me because they fear my values are not in line with what they value in this land. I want to worship or not worship in the way I choose and allow others to do the same. I want America to once again be the place where I feel at home, and not wish that we were like our kinder, gentler, gracious neighbors to the north, with whom I feel a special kinship, even if I have never lived there.

We have encountered death twice in the past three months. Each of us has lost our mother. They were ten years different in age but each passed quickly, with little struggle. One was in hospice care and death was expected at any time. The other was at home and then in the emergency room and then in a hospital room for less than a day and suddenly departed. One passed gently with some family members gathered around her bedside. The other had a barrage of hospital personnel surrounding her until finally they gave up trying to prolong her life and allowed her to leave us. Both left one of their children as the one to pick up the peaces and settle the differences and sort out their lives in a quest to discover who they really were and what they really cared about.

My mother was the one who died suddenly after a very short hospital stay. She was 93 years old and had verbalized many times that she thought she had outlived her usefulness. “Why am I still here?” she would say. I would always respond that there must be a purpose for her to be here or God would not have allowed her to continue to live.

She was a survivor. She outlasted two children, a husband, and a daughter in law, all who now lay beside her in the same cemetery plot. She survived three broken hips (one twice, of course) wherein she received medical treatment and physical therapy and did her exercises and rode her stationary bike so she could be back up going about her business, driving her car, and visiting the shut-ins regularly.

She had an agenda to fulfill weekly, things that had to be done. There was an order to her schedule each week that included shopping, going to doctor appointments, going to church meetings, seeing her friends who could no longer drive or get out of the house much, taking food to those who could not cook for themselves any longer, and watching hours and hours of television daily after she had read her Bible and devotional books. She kept the roads busy driving her old 1998 Mercury Grand Marquis at the maximum allowable highway speeds. She did not think of herself as a “little old lady” even up the time of her death.

When my mother-in-law died in November, my mother attended her funeral with my wife and me and went to the luncheon prepared by the church members at my mother-in-law’s church. I made the mistake of telling those ladies that my mother was 93 years old. They began to encircle her and speak to her in ways that we often speak to people her age, lovingly but also as if being 93 is a rare condition. They offered to allow her to sit down at a table while they “prepared a plate” for her but she would not hear of it. In fact, she was very offended by their suggestion and told me loudly about it when I came to sit beside her in the church hall. “They treated me like a child,” she complained,”as if I could not get my own food. I know how to choose my own food and I don’t want anyone else to do it for me.” She bemoaned this injustice long and loud and would not drop the subject until I tried to stop listening to her and began to talk to others across the table. She reminded my wife about this offense when she took her to her house. She may have been 93 but she thought she was 50 years younger.

My mother’s church honored her last fall at their church homecoming for being the longest surviving member of the church. They called her forward and gave her a plaque and took her picture. When I called her that afternoon to check on her, as I did daily, she told me about the honor and I acted surprised even though a church member had called me earlier in the week to tell me about this surprise for her. I told her that was great and she should hang the plaque in her house. She paused and said, “Where would I put that?” I told her that she had plenty of wall space to fill so anywhere she wanted to would be good. She said she did not want anyone to think she was boasting about her honor and the plaque remained on the floor near her bed until her death.

My mother-in-law was a quiet, gentle spirit, always showing her love for others in quiet ways that may have been unrecognizable. My mother was a spitfire, blazing the trail of service and compassion for all to see. She lived by the motto some have said, “I would rather wear out, then rust out.” She wanted to go and do and see all she could while she could and she did all that up and until the day she died. She loved God and her neighbors and wanted them to see her love in action. There is much more to write about her but I will stop. I do not want to embarrass her, wherever she may be, because she probably would think I am bragging.

Robert Frost wrote a poem called “The Road Not Taken” that begins “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And Sorry I could not travel both” and concludes with the words “I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.” (Robert Frost, 1916) The poem helps the reader understand that the road that we choose to travel in life will make the difference in shaping us into the people we will become.

I had a conversation recently with a friend regarding modern travel. He was espousing the benefits of air travel so that people may reach their destination in the least amount of time and not bother with seeing what may be between one’s beginning point and one’s ending point. I was arguing for experiencing road trips occasionally, so that we can see all the things along the way that we may encounter, sometimes surprising serendipitous things that we would never have seen otherwise from 35,000 feet in the air. This friend’s point was that once a person has traveled a road and seen what is between two places, then traveling that road again is not necessary and is not really a good use of one’s time. We agreed to disagree without actually saying those words.

My wife and I are experienced travelers, both by car and by airplane. We have driven through 48 of the 50 states in the US and most of the Canadian provinces. We have flown across the ocean repeatedly to Europe and used all the modes of transportation once we landed. There are places one cannot reach unless one does fly because there are not roads to take us there. Crossing the Atlantic Ocean is one of those places. Once one’s airplane touches down on foreign soil, however, one can decide how one will go to other places. We have taken the train to many destinations in Europe but we have also rented a car and driven, learning the peculiarities of driving an automobile on the Continent and in the United Kingdom, the former being preferred to the latter but we still did it.

Regardless of whether I have driven many miles in our own country or in other countries, we have always discovered things to enjoy in places we would never have known if we had not taken the time to explore and see what was there. I know people who take planes to go from country to country in Europe and never experience the culture of those places outside of the large cities where the airports are. How great it is to look out the window of the car as you drive down roads you have never encountered before and stop at places that catch your eye to try to talk to people, to sample the products they sell, or to buy something special to bring home with you at trip’s end. There are experiences imprinted on my mind that I would never have had if I had not ventured into the unknown and discovered the way others live.

One of our most memorable experiences happened in the fall of 2017 when we traveled to Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. We visited our son and daughter in law in Berlin, took the train to Frankfurt, rented a car and drove down the Romantic Road, joined a tour group in Munich for a short tour in Austria, and then spent 3 days with a Swiss Farm Family on their farm staying in their home with them. To reach them, we had to take the train from Bern to another city, change to a smaller train that stopped at every little town, get off in one of those little towns and take a small bus up the mountainside and get off and walk a short distance until we turned a bend in the road and saw the Swiss Alps looming large above the farmhouse where we would stay. This family shared their home, culture, and food with us and we left as good friends at the end of our visit with them. It was worth all the trouble it took to get to their home in order to experience what we did with them.

Perhaps that is a metaphor for life as I see it. The journey of life is what counts. It is what we make of that journey that nourishes and teaches us and helps us understand what the rest of the human family is like. We have had similar experiences in other lands and in our own as we slowed down and enjoyed the journey, learning from others around us and teaching others what we have learned on our way. Getting to a place the fastest way you can is not always the point of the journey. Sometimes it is seeing what is around you as you travel that counts the most, even if you think you have traveled that road before. The road is sometimes different and you are a different traveler each time you venture out into life.

I am so fortunate to live in a wonderful neighborhood with good neighbors around me and beautiful scenery to admire. This neighborhood is one of the older ones in Tyler, going back to the late 60s or so and it was a forest in which homes were built. The developers of the neighborhood had the wisdom to not cut down any trees that were not necessary so as to build homes and today when I walk around the neighborhood it is like walking in a forest with large tall trees everywhere. Watching the birds in the trees and the squirrels scampering across lawns is a delight.

Now and then residents find it necessary to cut down a tall tree for whatever reason. When I see a tree crew at work cutting down on of these tall beauties, I mourn a bit for its passing. I know that such is necessary so as to not have a tree fall on your home or because a tree has a disease that cannot be conquered and cutting it down is the best remedy. When I see the tree being leveled, I wonder what birds have made their homes in it or what other creatures have used it for safety or survival.

One day I saw a new family move into a house down the street from us. The house had been for sale for a few months and had been sold at last so now new residents were moving in. As I went for my daily walk soon after they arrived, I saw a tree crew beginning to cut down two tall trees in their front yard. I did not see any outward sign that they had tree disease, although that could be the case. I wondered to myself if they had thought the trees could possibly fall on their house one day and wanted to avoid that issue so cutting the trees down prematurely was their solution. I have never talked with them about that decision because I do not want to seem to be an intruder in their affairs but if I have the chance I may ask about their reasoning in cutting down the trees.

We have a very tall and very old pine tree in our front yard. The tree expert that I called one day to inspect our trees said it could be over 100 years old. He admired it and said for us to continue to give it plenty of water. He said the same thing about our two tall cedar trees that line the sidewalk that leads from the street to our front door. One has mushrooms growing on it and a yard man had told me that it was diseased and would have to be cut down and he wanted my business to do that task if I decided to cut it down. I sought advice from this tree expert who said it did not need removal, only soil taken from its roots to allow greater oxygen and to give it plenty of water. I would mourn the loss of these cedars which provide wonderful shade in the summer and homes for the local wildlife. These trees are like friends who greet me each day when I go out for my morning walk. I would miss seeing them if they were not there.

How much we take for advantage the natural world around us. The trees and shrubs are as much a gift to us as the human beings we have in our lives. The animals that use them as their homes and the bugs in the soil are part of our natural environment and should be cared for and nourished as much as we can. John Muir explored the West and especially the Yosemite Valley and attempted to encourage all to value the natural world and do all we can to preserve it for future generations. We can begin this task at home, in our own neighborhoods, by practicing socially and environmentally responsible actions in regard to the place where we live and the other creatures who inhabit it also.