Inaccurate Lyrics

 

 Lo, it came to pass that a group from my church passed into yonder community round about Long Island, Virginia and sang goodly carols for a brief time the other evening.  For the space of an hour and a half or nigh on two hours, we traversed the rural roads and made a joyous if not always beautiful sound.

The older people who listened to our singing seemed duly impressed, although certainly our next stop is NOT Carnegie Hall.

As we lifted our voices, I thought upon the words of the carols.  It striketh me that many of the songs that are sung at this time are clearly not based upon reality.  There never was a magic hat that wakened a snowman from his icy stupor, nor was there a man dressed in scarlet who requested a caribou like animal to pull his sleigh because of its oddly colored nose.  In point of fact, I am not totally certain that there is a man dressed in red who lives with elves at the North Pole.

(Somehow, our group neglected all mention of the Klaus, reindeer, and snowmen in our songs.)

The hymns that speak of Christ’s birth are also full of mythology as well, as many are quick to point out.  There is no certainty that our Savior was born at night, that no crying He made, or that there were three magi.  There is nothing that tells us that Jesus was even born “In the bleak midwinter.”  Certainly, snow was not piled "snow on snow" -- at least not in the Judean hillside or the shepherds would not have been abiding in the fields.

I wonder if those who pick apart the song lyrics of Christmas carols have boring day jobs or if they are simply very literal minded individuals who despise poetry. 

It seemeth to me that far more important than the exact accuracy of the lyrics is the reality of Christ’s birth and of the joy that should bring to the lives of those who have come to know Him. 

What songs like Away in a Manger, In the Bleak Midwinter, and Silent Night lack in accuracy, they make up in pure an adulterated joy for the knowledge that though we did not deserve it, God came down to earth to love and minister to us.  For, this baby, born into a poor, common Jewish family, would grow up to save all who believe on His name.

Truly, this is what I feel when I hear Christmas carols.  This too, is what the people of Long Island felt too when we sang for them one chilly December night in Virginia.

Screen Time?

 

“I want your phone!”  The little girl wailed to her mother.  “I want your phone!”

I wondered if the girl needed to call a “lifeline” for a quiz answer or if she simply wanted to check up on the latest war news from the Middle East.  Maybe she had some stocks she needed to sell before the price dropped any more.  Since she looked like she was around three years old, I guessed that neither one of these speculations was accurate.

As the girl continued to make noise, her mother seemed to get increasingly uncomfortable.  “Alright, Josie,” she said at last.  “Here you go.”

Josie took the phone and expertly navigated the password screen and launched You Tube.  It was clear that this wasn’t her first rodeo – probably not her second or third either.

As usual, I began to analyze the scene in front of me.  The younger generation has a significantly different relationship with technology than I have.  My first computer was an Apple II Plus computer that came from a yard sale.  It had 48 kilobytes of memory and line graphics.  It was anything but addictive and playing Oregon Trail and text adventures on it was more frustrating than inspiring.  It certainly wasn't something I carried with me in the car or on my travels.

For kids, though, it is all fun and games, it entertains them when they are sitting in boring waiting rooms and seems to have no downside (other than running down the battery on their mom’s phone).

At the same time, excessive screen time isn’t healthy for kids.  I have recently read the book, “The Coddling of the American Mind” and while it isn’t the focus of the book, the authors make the point that too much screen time is unhealthy for kids.  In point of fact, the Academy of Pediatrics recommends zero screen time for children under two years of age, under one hour per day for children two to twelve years old, and less than two hours a day for teenagers and adults (yes, adults should not spend more than two hours a day starting at screens).

I wonder if the reason that adults have so much difficulty controlling their kids’ screen time is because they are uncontrolled themselves.  Adults should be limiting their time looking at screens to two hours a day or less and yet, the average adult in the United States spends slightly more than seven hours a day looking at screens.  That time is divided up between a number of different things, but 80 percent is spent watching movies, television, and online videos.  18 Average Screen Time Statistics [2023]: How Much Screen Time Is Too Much? - Zippia

The Apostle Paul told the Colossian church, “Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.” (Col. 3:21)  I can think of little more discouraging than for parents to expect children to do things that parents are unwilling to do themselves.

In many ways I feel like an old man yelling at clouds.  Time has moved on.  Technology is here to stay.  We drive horseless carriages around at breakneck speed and have wrist communicators.  We have more computing power in our pocket than the NASA had in its whole operation when it launched the first Apollo spacecraft.

This doesn’t stop this technology from being dangerous, both to us and our children.  More than that, history is clear that what we do in moderation our children will do to excess and what we do to excess, our children will max out.  Screens are addictive and omnipresent.  They need to be controlled or they will rule both in our lives and those of our children – even if they are only three years old.

Odd Things to be Thankful For

 

“Honey,” my beautiful wife told me.  “I have some bad news.”

My tendency towards catastrophizing kicked into overdrive.  “Is there something wrong with one of the children?”  I asked.  “Did you have an accident?”

“No, nothing like that,” Elaine reassured me.

“Then what?”  I was out of catastrophes that my mind could think of, although given another minute or two, I think I could have come up with more farfetched disasters.

“Well, as I was getting into the minivan, the door handle came off in my hand,” Elaine said.  “Now, you have to get someone to open the door for you from the inside – or you can go around to the passenger’s side and open it yourself.”

“Oh,” I said.  “Well, at least that is fixable.”

It is fixable, but it will take several days for the part to come in.  In the meantime, it is a struggle to get into the driver’s side of our van – and even more of struggle to drive if you don’t.

On the bright side of things, it is much harder for thieves to break into our van.  In fact, no one has stolen our van, nor anything out of it since this occurrence.

(I’m guessing that when thieves see our van, they run screaming in the other direction.  But I digress.)

I Thessalonians 5:18 says, “In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.”

For whatever reason, our human tendency is not to appreciate the things that we have.  Health is something that many take for granted until such time as they are forced to wander into my office due to illness.

I trust that we can learn to value the things we have before we no longer have them.  Counting blessings is an important step to experiencing a happier life. 

I can say for certain that I have never been as thankful for a door handle on a vehicle as when my wife demonstrated her mighty strength by tearing ours off.

Detoxifying Tea!

 

“This tea is terrible!”  I said in a distressed voice to my wife.

“What tea is that?”  Elaine asked in a mild manner.

“This Sleepytime Detox tea,” I replied, still somewhat disgruntled.  “I’ve had Sleepytime Tea before and it was fine, although I guess I'm resistant to its effects because I never get sleepy after drinking it -- maybe that is my super power.  Anyway, it must be the detox part that I’m not dealing well with.  Have you tried it?”

“Sure,” she said.  “It was fine.  I’ve had it many times.”

“Not the Detox version,” I said.

“Yes,” she said firmly.  “I had the Detox version and I liked it fine.”

“I think the problem is that I have too many toxins in my system,” I said, a little defensively.  “My body is revolting at the idea of all of my toxins getting pulled out all at once.  They should have probably used this tea at Chernobyl -- it's just too strong for me.  And where are all these toxins going, may I ask?  Where are all my toxins going to go?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Elaine said.  “You’ll be fine.  It probably isn’t doing anything anyway.  You just don’t like the taste.”

“I need someone to re-toxify me!”  I wailed.  “I’m just feeling too healthy!”

It is funny how people react to healthy diets and activities.  There are people who are firmly convinced that if they put something in their mouth and it tastes good, they should immediately spit it out as it must be bad for them.

Proverbs 13:15, 16 says, “Good understanding giveth favour: but the way of transgressors is hard.  Every prudent man dealeth with knowledge: but a fool layeth open his folly.”

Eating healthy foods is hard to do – at least when you first begin to do it, but in the long run, it is far easier than the alternative.  In the same way, following the path that God has set for us in His word is far easier than the path of sin, even if it looks harder.

The issue is not simply what the path asks of us, it is the consequences of taking that path.  You can choose your path, but you cannot choose where that path takes you.

A path of processed foods and overeating may seem easier.  In the long run, those who choose healthy eating patterns will be glad that they chose that path -- even if they missed an occasional dessert along the way.

It is far better to choose a little harder path that leads to good consequences – even if that path happens to be paved with bags of Sleepytime Detox tea. 

Throwing Pumpkins

 

 

“Mr. Dinosaur wants to kick these pumpkins!”  My four-year old daughter, Elise, held a stuffed T. Rex and made motions as though he was kicking the pumpkins.  Then, she proceeded to kick some medium sized pumpkins herself.

“Good job, Mr. Dinosaur!”  She said, congratulating the submissive prehistoric creature.  Certainly dinosaurs playing soccer is a bit unusual, but then again, in the Waldron house, almost anything can happen.

“Tell Mr. Dinosaur to be careful,” Elise’s dad told her.  “He might hurt his foot if he kicks the pumpkin too hard.”  Elise proceeded to ignore the wise advise of her father.

“Now, Mr. Dinosaur, let’s pick up the pumpkin!”  Elise told her stuffed friend.  So saying, she picked up the pumpkin.  “Now, throw it, Mr. Dinosaur!”

The pumpkin was big enough it didn’t fly very far, but it made a distinct thudding sound as it hit the living room floor.

“I think that’s enough,” Elise’s dad told her.  “I don’t think you or Mr. Dinosaur should be throwing pumpkins.”

“Why not?”  Elise asked.  “Mr. Dinosaur thinks this is a lot of fun.”

“Because the pumpkin will split and make a big mess.”

Elise’s lower lip quivered.  “Dad,” she said dramatically.  “You are not pleasing God!”

Unfortunately for her, Elise’s father remained unmoved.  “Sorry,” he told her.  “You may have received a divine revelation, but for some reason I haven’t gotten the same message.”

Now, Elise’s father and I are very well acquainted and I agree with him completely.  Elise was simply trying to do her very best to leverage the highest power she had knowledge of to help her get her own way.  It is understandable if a four-year old tries to do this, but there are plenty of older people, who should know better, who do the same thing.

A lot of people have not learned this lesson.  I see many people putting their own words in the mouth of the Almighty and it seems to me that this is one of the most dangerous things that we can do. 

It is not simply the idea of us prophesying about future events that do not happen – although I have seen plenty of people do that over the last several years.  When we speak any words that are contrary to revealed Scripture, we are not speaking a divine revelation.

The Apostle Paul said, “For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.”  (II Timothy 4:3,4)

The world around us doesn’t really want to hear the messages of God.  As Chesterton said, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting, it has been found difficult and left untried.”  God does not call us to lives of ease.  He calls for us to give up all in pursuit of Him.  The abundant life is not a life of wealth, but of abundant love, joy, and peace.  On the other hand, the path to being an influencer is to avoid telling people of the trials and tribulations that wait for those who follow the path of Jesus.

I pray that we might listen to the true voice of God and not the silken voice of teachers whose main goals are to get us to like them and to send them money.  More than that, I hope we never put our own words in the mouth of God, even for a purpose as silly as trying to get your dad to let you throw pumpkins in the living room.

Shopping With Your Doctor

 

 

I was sitting at the table of our church’s bake sale stand.  Mounds of sugar-filled delicacies surrounded me. Clearly, the Mennonite ladies' ovens had been working overtime in the last week.

A lady walked up and began to study the pies.  “Is this chocolate chess pie?”  She asked, holding up a pie.

I carefully read the label on the pie.  It said, 'Chocolate Chess Pie' on it.  “Yes, I believe it is,” I said.

She looked up, surprised.  “Oh, hi, Dr. Waldron.  I didn’t know I’d see you here.”

She put the pie down in an almost guilty way.  I smiled reassuringly.  “I’m just trying to help out the best I can,” I told her.

“I suppose everything is healthy?”  She asked.

“Doctor Recommended!”  I said, laughing in response.

Through the morning, I saw people who were patients at our office in Brookneal.  All seemed surprised to see me and a little sheepish at their dietary choices.  Some even explained to me how they were buying these sweets for their “unhealthy” spouse who was too much of a slug to leave the house on a fine October morning.

About mid-morning, I wondered if it wasn’t the wisest thing to have me selling baked goods. I probably should have been at the Vitamins, carrots, and celery table (that we didn't have). 

How many people would take their doctors grocery shopping with them?  How would their grocery purchases look different if they had him studying every package of fish sticks or oreo cookies that they dropped into their cart?

As a child, I learned the verses, “They eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous and His ears are open unto their cry.  The face of the Lord is against them that do evil.”  (Psalms 34:11,12)

There is Someone who is watching all of our actions and listening to all of our words.  This is true, even in times when we feel like we are totally alone.

God is always watching us, even when don't think about it.  The challenge is to always behave in such a way that it doesn’t matter who sees us.  For those who buy groceries as though their doctor was sitting in their shopping cart watching their every purchase are probably the healthiest folks in the grocery store.

Life Alert

 

“Dr. Waldron, it was the worst feeling in the world!”  The elderly man told me. 

“I can imagine,” I said. 

“I don’t even know what I tripped on.  I think I must have gotten my feet tangled up underneath me and I went down on the ground.  I didn’t hear a snap, but all I knew was that immediately there was a horrible pain in my left hip!” 

“That’s terrible,” I said.  I knew generally what had happened, but the hospital historical documents had been a little scanty on the details.  “Were you by yourself?” 

“That’s the worst of it, Doctor,” Hugh told me.  “Elsie was there, but you know how bad her dementia is.  I might as well have been by myself.  She knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t seem to figure out what to do to help.  I kept telling her, ‘Call 911 Elsie!’ and she kept saying, ‘What’s the number?  What’s the number?’” 

“Finally, I figured out that I wasn’t going to get any help from her and so I dragged myself across the floor to where my cell phone was sitting on top of a dresser and I pulled myself up and was able to call for help.  Fortunately, they came pretty quick and took me to the hospital.  I never want to go through that again!” 

This, of course, is why medical alert companies have sold so many bracelets and necklaces.  I have read that there around 17 million devices sold that promise to alert someone if you have fallen and cannot get up. 

Psalm 145:14 says, “The Lord upholdeth all that fall, and raiseth up all those that be bowed down.”

None of us wants to fall.  The famous quote is that it isn't the fall that hurts you, it is the sudden stop, but regardless of the cause of the pain, as we get older, neither falls, sudden stops, or their aftermath are fun to experience.  

Of course, not at all falls are physical.  Some are of a deeper variety and yet even there, God has promised to forgive and heal and to restore.  We may be bowed down with pain, but He will raise us up, if we only let Him.

It is such a blessing to serve a God who knows our weakness and listens to our cries when we are hurting.  It is encouraging to realize that even on days with more gravity, He will continue to help us up.  He is even better than a life alert bracelet, for He is always there -- even when the bracelet is on the counter and we are on the floor.

Baby Shark Concerto?!

 

“Baby Shark!!” My four-year-old daughter shouted, banging the piano keys like a deaf Beethoven figuring out the main melody of his 9th Symphony.  She wasn't particularly tuneful, but her harmony did keep time with her words.  “doo-doo, doo-doo, doo-doo.  Baby Shark!!”

“Daddy Shark!!” boomed in the second verse with even more vibration of the piano strings.  Elise was wringing every bit of emotion this song had out of it.

“Grandpa Shark!!!!”  Followed by the requisite doo-doos and clashing of keys.  I wasn’t sure if the piano would survive.  I was sure my ears wouldn’t make it.

“It’s the end…  It’s the end…  IT’S THE END!!!”  The last note was a shriek that would have made the fat lady at the opera wish she could hit notes like that, if she had just heard it. Then the sound slowly died away.

“Sounded like Baby Shark,” I said nonchalantly to my son, Vincent.

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you like it?”  I asked him.

“I don’t know,” he said.  “Probably not.”

“I have an idea,” I said.  “Maybe you could someday write a theme and variations on Baby Shark – or better yet – a Piano Concerto!  The Baby Shark Piano Concerto, people would come out to hear it just because of the name.

Vincent shook his head.  This did not sound like a good plan to him and frankly, it doesn’t really to me either.  There are melodies out there that are beautiful and haunting, but the tune of Baby Shark is simply haunting.  Expanding it out to a ten- or twenty-minute classical piece of music sounds like a disaster only surpassed by the volcanic eruption at Pompei.

It strikes me that there are some things that need to be brief.  Preachers and politicians are often fond of the sound of their own voice and say with ten words what could be said with two or three words.

Proverbs 10:19 contains the wise saying, “ In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin: But he that refraineth his lips is wise.”  Quite simply, we are far more likely to get into trouble when we talk a whole lot than we sit and listen.

More than that, a little bit goes a long way.  This is true when it comes to words and speeches.  It is even true when it comes to the song Baby Shark, where a single verse is better than the whole song – even if it is played by a precocious four year old on a Baldwin Upright Piano.

Thoughts on Columbus Day

 

Columbus Day is in the rear view mirror.  I grew up believing that Columbus was a man who spoke truth to power and sailed confidently into the west knowing that he would find the land of Subway, McDonald’s, and Chipotle.  Fighting through hurricane force winds and dealing with the doubts of his men, he finally arrived at a retirement community in South Florida, where he gave all of the native American residents gold plated walkers and promised them, “I shall return!”

Or something like that.

The only problem is that most of we believe about Columbus is false and when you know the truth about this man, it is hard to celebrate a man whose only strength was his bull dog determination to pursue a false idea.

Even blind squirrels find nuts, but we don’t have a national holiday for “Blind Squirrel Day.”

Columbus Wasn’t that Great

There are many websites devoted to unpacking the terribleness of Mr. Columbus.  He wasn’t the only person of his era who believed the earth was round – everyone knew it was round – he was just clueless as to the dimensions of the earth, thinking that it was only 2,400 miles from the Canary Islands to Asia, rather than the more than 10,000 miles it actually was.  Lucky for him the Americas stood in his way or he would never have made it.

More than that, he journeyed not once, but four different times to the Americas over about 15 years of time and never figured out that he wasn’t in the Pacific Ocean – even though many people back in Spain were certain that he was nowhere near Asia. 

It is hard for me to sort out how many of the claims about Mr. Columbus are true.  What is certain is that he enslaved many of the native peoples, using some of them brutally to do hard work on the islands and sending others into slavery in Spain.  Thousands of them died under the lash and more died from illnesses like Small Pox that devastated the local populations.

After his third voyage, Christopher Columbus was removed as governor in the New World by King Ferdinand and was sent home in chains.  While he was eventually released from prison, it seems clear that he was not a good governor and was removed for a mixture of reasons, including the brutality with which he treated the Spanish colonists and general mismanagement.

In fact, for the next one hundred years, he was seldom mentioned in histories of the Age of Discovery.  America was named after a different man -- Amerigo Vespucci -- and Columbus faded into the background of history.

Why do we celebrate Columbus Day?

Honestly, I am not totally sure.  It is a bankers holiday, which means that most of us don’t even contemplate not going to work.  The only way I know that Columbus Day has been and gone is that there is less junk mail in my mail box than usual.  On the other hand, 26 states don’t have any sort of holiday on the second Monday in October and only 16 states still recognize this day as Columbus Day.

Those states that still celebrate this day are renaming this holiday to Indigenous Peoples Day.  So far, seventeen have done so, but I’m guessing that more will follow suit down the road.  I think this is totally reasonable – it isn’t as though Columbus discovered some scientific breakthrough – in point of fact, there were already people in the Americas for centuries before he ever showed up.

More than anything else, this day speaks to me of the danger of elevating individuals based on the stories that have been spun about them.  We want to believe that men like Columbus, Jefferson, and Washington were great men, that the United States was blessed by the Almighty from the beginning.

The problem is that these people were human and they were fallible.  Whether or not they deserve statues is beyond me (I don’t think Columbus does), but the issue that we have is that when we elevate humans to god-like status, we feel obligated to defend them, even to minimizing or refusing to admit their flaws.

I think it was just this sort of thing that the Apostle Paul was addressing when he told the Corinthians, “Follow me as I follow Christ.”  (I Cor. 11:1)  Paul wanted no statues, he only wanted people to follow the true leader.

The only one that we should deify – the only one who is truly worthy of statues is Jesus Christ.  He is the only one who did not have feet of clay.  Everyone else – generals, athletes, and even preachers -- have flaws that show up under the magnifying glass (some with out it).

Church Family

 

 

It was Saturday morning, just before 6 am when I jumped in my truck.  The sun wouldn’t be showing his sleepy head for another hour.  The morning air was cool, and the dewy grass in the various lawns I drove by completely undisturbed.  

Most of the houses didn’t have lights on at all.  The owners of them were quietly (or loudly) sawing the sorts of logs that would build no homes. 

As I pulled up at my church, I could see a group of men already working to get charcoal burning.  It was chilly, but already, there was warmth coming from beneath the grill area where half chickens were lying, waiting with bated breath to get grilled to perfection. 

Over the next three and a half hours, we worked together, chatting, flipping the chicken pieces as they needed it, and checking each one's temperature before taking it off to put in coolers.  Eventually, around 9:30 am we were done, the last chicken had left the grill, ready to be taken over for a fund-raising sale. 

A few days later, our church was together again, this time to help clean up a home that needed a fair amount of work before one of our members could move in.  Once again, there was a good turnout.  People brought tools and spirits willing to work and much was accomplished before we settled down to eat pizza on the lawn. 

I have thought much in the subsequent days about the church as a family.  Luke 14:26 says, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” 

I think that most of us try to turn this passage into a comparison.  Jesus is simply saying that we need to love Him more than our fathers, mothers, spouses, and children.  Maybe that is partially true, but I believe that Jesus was indicating that those who enter into a new relationship with Him are entering into a new family as well. 

We need a church family around us.  It isn’t that we need them to come over and mow our lawns for us, or baby sit our children, or even fix us meals when we are feeling ill – although a good church family can and will help with all of those things.  We need them because they, like us are on a faith journey and together, we can grow closer to our Savior. 

I feel sad for those who say that they love Jesus but do not have a community around them to love and encourage them through life.  

Many years ago, God looked on the first man and said that it was not good for the man to be alone.  So, He made for him a beautiful bride.  In the same way, God looked at Christians and knew that it was not good for them to be alone.  So, He created the church.

The church has such a bad name these days that I sometimes think we should rebrand it.  If we called ourselves, "Fallen people who are desperately trying to follow Jesus the best that we can together, but who still mess up an awful lot," then maybe people would get a picture of what the church really is.

The only thing I know for sure is that whether it is grilling chicken together, studying the Bible together, or even pulling up carpets together, I love doing things with a community of people -- even if we are far from perfect.

Working Hard?

 

“You know,” the older gentleman sitting across from me said.  “I was talking to a neighbor of mine (he's  an older farmer) the other day and he told me that he just ploughed one hundred acres.”

“Oh?”  I said, absently.

“Yup,” he said.  “I told him he didn’t do anything of the sort.  The tractor did the ploughing and he just sat on it.  It took time, but not effort.”

“I guess you let him know, didn’t you,” I said.

“Sure did,” the man said.  “We were at a farmer’s market the other day and this lady was talking about all the honey she’d produced this last year.  Well, I told her that was nothing to be proud of – why, the bees did all the work.  Now, if she had really made the honey herself, well, that would have taken some real talent.”

“You’re pretty good at letting people know when they are taking credit for someone else’s efforts?”  I asked.

“Oh, they know I’m joking,” he said.

I laughed and yet, I wonder how these comments are received.  It is awfully easy to be critical of other people’s effort or lack thereof.  We grow up on the cloud of the knowledge that we have it so much easier than the generations that came before us.  They are quick to let us know how much harder things were in the "Old Days."

When I got into medical school and waded through the challenges that med school offers and after that, on into residency, my mother (who is also a doctor) told me about how much easier I had it than she did.  She did more frequent call nights.  She had to draw her own blood for lab tests and run them down to the lab herself.  Truly, I didn’t know the meaning of hard work.

Now the shoe is on the other foot.  Residency has gotten easier in the 23 years since I completed it and now, I could say that the resident physicians have no idea what hard work really is.  Even if I could say that, I wouldn’t because it isn't true.

The question really isn’t whether people are working as hard as each other or past generations, but whether they are doing their best and fulfilling the tasks set before them.  There are no medals given to residents who stay up for 36 hours straight, nor special awards for farmers who plow a field with a team of oxen rather than a tractor.

Colossians 3:23 tells us, “Whatever you do, do it heartily as to the Lord and not to men.”

Clearly, we are to work hard, but I suppose there is no reason that we have to do something the hard way – even if once upon a time our grandparents did it that way, and they survived.  There is no reason to pit the efforts of one generation versus another generation.  

More than that, we don’t need to judge the effort someone else is putting in.  They know if they are doing their best and that should be good enough -- even if they happen to use bees to produce honey, rather than gathering the pollen by hand and making honey by hand the way real honey farmers do.

Beginning Somewhere

 

“What are you doing Elise?”  I asked my just-turned-four years old daughter.

“I’m drawing,” she told me. 

I looked at the paper she had before her.  Her sketch looked like a bunch of squiggles.  “What is it?”  I asked her.  “Is it a picture of boa constrictors attacking an alligator?”

“No, Dad,” Elise said, much like an abstract painter discovering that a gallery had accidentally hung her painting upside down.  “No, they are balloons!”

“They don’t look anything like balloons,” her older sister, Victoria said.  “They just look like scribbles.”

I squinted at the image.  I’m a bit biased, but I have seen worse artwork in my time on this earth.  “I can see the balloons,” I said.  “You’re doing great Elise.  I’m looking forward to seeing more things your draw.”

Elise didn’t say anything.  Instead, she picked up a different marker and started making more marks on her paper.  Some might have said she was scribbling, but there was an intentionality that belied the abstract nature of her drawing.

This world is full of critics.  Some of them may even live in your own family.  They are quick to tell you how your efforts are not unique, and you aren’t particularly creative.

It is easy to feel discouraged.  What is the point of making an effort when you will never be the best at anything?

I take photos.  I often find myself struggling out of bed at 5 am to wander out to some neglected spot to try to take a few images of the sun showing itself to the waiting world.  I am no Ansel Adams and there are hundreds of better photographers out there, but that doesn’t really matter.

What matters is that it is something that I enjoy.  More than that, if I can capture just a fraction of the beauty that God placed in this scene, that is enough for me.

I worry about the future.  Artificial Intelligence will write better than beginning writers and I wonder if many will simply give up and let computers do the work for them.  If so, where will the future Tolstoys and Tolkiens and Twains come from?

The problem is never that you had to begin somewhere.  The problem is that you gave up and stayed there.

So, I would give encouragement, not just to my own daughter, but to every budding, struggling artist and writer – to every musician and painter – keep on!  The scribbles of today may become lines tomorrow and someday they will even become coherent visions that speak to others.

Carry on!  Even the greatest of painters began, just like my daughter, scribbling balloons on blank sheet of paper.

Parable of a Wife Inspired Visit

 

 

One day, it came to pass than an older gentleman walked through the hallowed doors where I ply my trade as a medicine man.  Though he paid me for his visit, yet it seemed that he little needed my services.

“I take note,” I told him.  “That thy blood pressure seemeth quite high.  Yea, the top number approacheth and verily, it is equal to 170.”

“Thou does not know whereof thou speakest,” replied he, in a gruff voice.  “I didst check it once, six weeks anon and it was more or less fine.”

I paused, assembling the forces of my mind and began again.  “I see as well, that on thy last blood work, thy blood sugar and cholesterol were elevated,” I remarked, in what I hoped was a non-threatening voice.

“I have looked into these-here medicines that “doctors” (this he spake in such a way as to make it sound like as if he was saying the word “quacks”) like you put upon gentle folk like me.  Truly, I would rather deal with sugar and cholesterol than to have any of thy “wholesome” remedies.”

I shrugged.  “Thou must do what thou must,” I said.  “As a wise man once said, ‘I can but show thee the best path, but whether thou takest it is Plum up to Thee.”

The Older Fellow made a face.  “Thou canst show whatever thou desirest,” saith he.  “I am here to make my Wife Happy and now that I have Done My Duty, I will run along.”

I said no more and our interesting dialogue was at an end.  But, lo, I am quite certain that his wife would not be happy, did she know his attitude or the content of our conversation.  For, it doth very little for Someone to Go to the Doctor, if he doth not listen to what the doctor says and avail himself of it.

It seemeth to me that many “Christians” have the same idea.  These well-intentioned folk have the delusion that what makes God Happy is to go to a building once a week and sit with other people, who are also making God Happy.  More than that, they have liked the right posts on Facebook and even shared that post that Facebook was trying to shut down that quoted the Lord’s Prayer.

Micah 6:8 says, “He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?”

It intrigues me that the three things which are spoken of are loving mercy, behaving justly, and acting with humility.  Mayhap the Prophet Micah had not heard of the Wonders of Facebook or even of Church Attendance, yet, even if he had, I think God is still desirous of more than having His children show up and Go Through the Motions.

That isn’t to say that it isn’t good to do these things.  I do attend church, but it is with the understanding that it is not to Make God Happy, but to encourage me in the Pursuit of Righteousness.

For those who show up at church, but do not pursue the path of Jesus wholeheartedly are much like a man who goes to the doctor because his wife wants him to but does none of the things the doctor recommends.

Beautiful Teeth?

 

“You have beautiful teeth,” the lady told me.  I am not certain what the correct response to this statement is, but since the woman was a dental hygienist and had her hands (and instruments of torture) in my mouth, I said, “Mrggth…”

“I’m sure your patients appreciate your welcoming smile,” she went on.  “I think there’s nothing like a smile to let you know that someone is glad to see you.”

Once again, I made a muffled grunting noise.  Somehow, I’ve found conversations at the dentist’s office are a trifle one sided.  Maybe I could record some responses ahead of time for future visits and play them at appropriate moments.

I began to contemplate what she had said.  I don’t have beautiful teeth.  They are strong enough and I haven’t had to have many fillings over the years, but my teeth aren’t straight and never have been.

If there was a Mr. America contest, I’m sure I’d be knocked out in the first round because of my smile.  And yet… I do think that smiles are important – regardless of how straight your teeth are.

One of the things I noticed with COVID masking was that I couldn’t see people’s smiles any more.  Maybe people weren't smiling as much anyway, but it felt like something was missing.  Regardless of what you thought about masks, they took away one of the best methods for making someone feel comfortable – a smile.

Proverbs 13:13 says, “A glad heart makes a cheerful face, but by sorrow of heart the spirit is crushed.”

Our faces are windows that reveal what our hearts are experiencing.

More than that, smiles are just like yawns.  They are contagious.  It just takes one person smiling in a workplace and a heavy atmosphere starts to lift.  Smiles are meant to be shared.  Nothing should hold back our smiles – not even teeth that aren’t straight or beautiful.

Talk Like a Pirate?

 

“ARRRRGH!”  Quoth I to my patient who had seated himself upon the chair closest to the door.  “Avast ye, matey!  What art thou a-doing here, ye scurvy knave?”

“Ahm,” spake my patient, seriously discomfited with my fiercesome manner of speech.  “Excuse me?”

“Arrrgh!”  I said again.  “I said, what be ye doin’ here, ya land lubber?”

“I’m here for my check up,”  my patient answered, in a feeble voice.  “You were going to check on my sugars…”

“And what have ye been eatin’?”  I queried.  “Shiver me Timbers!  Mayhap ye have been chasing Little Debbie around the Kitchen – if ye catch my drift or Perhaps doing a Tango with the Twinkies.  We’ll do blood work for certain!  I’ll draw it with my very own cutlass and if I find that your sugars are high – why – why, I’ll keel-haul ye!”

A trace of fear passed across the visage of the gentleman sitting across from me.  “Why are you talking like that?”  He questioned me.  “Where’s my doctor?”

“I am your doctor!”  I cried in a loud voice.  “I am the Dread Doctor Waldron, Scourge of the Spanish Main and Viceroy of Delhi!  Look upon me, ye mortal and cower in fear!”

I could have cut the silence that entered the room with my cutlass.

“I’m going to send you to the leaches to draw some of thy blood,” I proclaimed.  “You scallywag, If I find thy A1C is up, why I’ll make you walk the plank!  I’ll feed you to the sharks!  I’ll have you see the inside of the Locker of Mr. Davy Jones himself!”

“Oh,” I finished.  “Listen, you bilge rat, I would have you hear that our office will be sending you a survey in a few days.  If ye value your scurvy self, ye will see that the marks are high.  All tens, you hear?”

International Talk Like a Pirate Day is only a month away.  September 19^th is the official day and Pirate Waldron would recommend that ye practice a little ahead of time.  Ye wouldn’t like to be caught napping by the Coast Guard, now would ye?

Tis fortunate that above dialogue is simply a figment of my (overly active) imagination.  For, while it might feel good to wax piratical when dealing with others in our lives, it is unlikely to help most situations.  I believe that most of my patients would prefer to seek attention from a medical man who does not speak like a pirate nor listen to medical advice from a doctor who rants and raves like Blackbeard on his third bottle of grog.

The Apostle Paul wrote to the assembly at Colosse, “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you should answer each person.”

Those who are wise would do well, to be certain, not only of what they say, but of how they say it.  For oft times a man will listen to a gently phrased encouragement, while he will stir up a hurricane when he feels under attack.

Personally, I think that I will forego piratical curses on September 19^th in favor of words with kinder phrasing -- and not just to help my office surveys.  I may even leave my cutlass at home too.

The Wrong Notes

 

 

One day, it came to pass, that I found myself sitting in the sanctuary of my church.  Now, this is not surprising, for I attend there frequently when I am not Out of Town.  Further, I appreciate muchly both the singing and The People, for they Love Jesus and Encourage me Greatly.

Now, as I sat in my seat, the singing came to an end, and I realized that I had been called to the front to share a Sermon.  Now, this also was not too surprising, for I have been known to teach and even preach within our little church.

I went forward to do what was asked of me and standing at the front of the church, I looked out into the congregation.  Now, I must confess that I do not picture people sitting in their underclothes when I am speaking.  I am not certain who thought that practice would be Helpful, but I find it distinctly Not Helpful to calm anxiety.

Forthwith, I opened my Bible and removed some sheets of paper which entailed my notes on the subject of Abram and Lot.  Except, looking at these wondrous fair Sheets of Papyrus, I found that they had none of my hieroglyphics on them, but rather writing that looked much like that of my fair wife.

Lo, I studied the first page and found that it was a recipe for Zucchini Brownies.  Now, Zucchini Brownies are Delectable and Moist and Tasty and The Bomb and All That, but they are not a subject for a Sermon.  In fact, I do not know for certain if either Abram or Lot ever tasted Zucchini Brownies, but I think not.

I turned to the next page, hoping Beyond Hope, to find something Worth Preaching About, but found a wondrous recipe for Peach Jam.  Now, once again, I have had Elaine’s Peach Jam and it is Worth Talking About – only not on Sunday morning.

It was at this point that I raised my head to the congregation, when by a Wonderful Stroke of Providence, I heard a beeping sound start and I realized that it was my Alarm Clock.  It was time to Wake Up and get ready for Another Day.

Now, when I was a boy, I hated any story that ended with the words, “And with that, he woke up and discovered that it had all been a dream.”  Except, that in this case, I was Awful Glad that it had just been a dream.

I have been told that oft-times our anxieties are revealed in our dreams.  Verily, it is true that I worry much about things, many of which may never come to pass.  I worry that my children might not grow up to Love Jesus.  I worry that my patients might not be as Healthy as Other Doctor’s Patients.  Apparently, I even worry that I would bring my wife’s recipes to church and try to preach from them.

I have often pondered the solution for anxiety.  I have heard Ministers say things like “Let Go and Let God” at which point, I picture myself holding onto a rope on the side of cliff and wonder how letting go will help God out.

Jesus said, “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.”  Verily, this is a true statement, but for an Anxious Man, figuring out how not to drag tomorrow’s problems into today is a Challenge.  It seems to me that our focus is to be on the Things of God.  If we pursue the Kingdom of God, mayhap we will not have as much attention to focus on the worries of tomorrow or the regrets of yesterday.

Our Heavenly Father knoweth who we are and of what we are made.  He wants us to trust Him – even to get us through a public speaking experience with the Wrong Notes.

A Parable of Unusual Ingredients

 

 

One Sabbath Day, the Family of Waldron returned from Meeting House to find a pleasant aroma wafting from their Crock Pot.  Aforetime, this was likely to be the aroma of pot roast, carrots and potatoes, but since my daughter hath developed the dread malady, Allergy to Alpha Gal, it was chicken and Black Beans that was stewing to perfection.

So it was that we sat down to dinner and ate and drank to our heart’s (and stomach’s) content.  When we rose, it was not because the food was all, but because our Starving Appetites had been defeated fair and square at the Dinner Table.

Then, my beautiful wife rose.  “The meal is not quite ended,” quoth she.  “For I have slaved in baking for ye all and now I have two pies – one is peach and the other custard.”

Now, it seemeth to me that the world is divided into three groups – those who like pie, those who like cake, and folk who are ill.  Verily, I fall into the camp of those who prefer pie and so I was pleased and called the meal Very Good.

My younger son asked for and received a piece of the custard pie. 

Perhaps he noticed and perhaps he did not, but the eyes of my wife and I were upon him whilst he ate this pie.  “Dost thou like yon pie?”  I asked him.

“Verily,” he saith.  “The pie is very good, and my mother is a great baker to make such a thing.”

It was then that we sprung the surprise upon him.  “Dost thou know what type of pie thou art eating?”  I queried.

“Yea, Custard Pie,” answered Elliot and then after a Pregnant Pause.  “Thou hast not poisoned it?”

“No, my son, but it is not just any Custard Pie.  Yea, it is pie made with the goodness of Zucchini Squash in it and we hid it from thee, for we know that thou believest that thou dost not like Zucchini and therefore would not have eaten it if we told thee Straight Out what was in it.”

My second son looked aghast, as if he had just been informed that the pie had Arsenic Sauce upon it.  Then, he had made choking sounds – trying to convince his laughing family that he really was In a Bad Way from Toxic Zucchini.

“Thou canst not fool us, nor dost thou need Activated Charcoal to neutralize that which thou hast eaten,” I said.  “For thou didst like the pie until thou knewest that it was made with squash.  For, the pie is Plum Good and thou knowest it right well.”

I thought much on the subject of hidden things and how our human tendency is to judge things on their appearance and our Preconceived Notions of how they are.

So it was that the Prophet Samuel, when he visited David’s father to anoint one of Jesse’s sons to be king, judged the older ones to be more worthy.  They were stronger and older and seemed the more fair and yet, God had chosen David to be king in Saul’s place.  He told the prophet, when Samuel was contemplating one of the older ones, “Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart.”

It is sad if there are things we miss out on in life and folks that we choose to ignore, because we have Judged them By Their Cover.  For lo, there is much more to a man than the length of his beard and whether he have a tattoo of a camel on his left forearm.

I pray that we might see and judge aright – even as God has judged us.  God has placed many people in our paths that are needful if we can but see past our initial judgment of them.  For mayhap we might even be able to enjoy a Wonderful Pie, even if it was made with a disagreeable ingredient.

Practicing Muchly

 

One day, in the House of Waldron, there went up a din as of the voices of a great people at war.  Sadly, though, there was no voice of an intruder within our household, but merely the voices of my two eldest children.  They were crying out with emotion filled tones so that even those living in Indonesia might, perhaps, have heard them, had they only known to pay attention.

"Vincent Waldron!"  My eldest child spake in an anguished voice.  "Thou hast practiced more than Thy Fair Share!  The time has come for thee to pause thy practicing for a time, times and half a times!"

"Anna!"  Vincent responded in a voice as filled with despair, as if someone had eaten the last chocolate zucchini muffin and had left him only crumbs for breakfast.  "I know that it fair Drives You Crazy that I practice my String Bass muchly, but it is no Skin off thy Nose, for I would have a place in the orchestra this fall and that taketh much work.  Further, you play flute and therefore I will not steal thy place within the orchestra -- not though I was ever so much better than I am."

"What is the problem?"  I asked my progeny.

"We are keeping track of half hours of practice time for the orchestra camp in August," Anna told me disgustedly.  "My dearest brother has already practiced five hours more than I have!  Even worse, he continueth to practice muchly and I would have him Slow Down, so that I mightest catch up a little."

I frowned.  'Tis an interesting and sticky problem to deal with.  Most parents struggle to get their children to dedicate themselves to practice, but my oldest children play their instruments a great amount.  They practice thus without a Nagging Word.  They are not always so dedicated to household chores, but that is Another Story for Another Blog.

"Anna, Anna," I said.  "You have much care and worry, and I am glad that thou desirest to practice.  Yet, it is not a great trial to thee if thy brother practices also.  Yea, if he should pass thy total by fifty hours, yet, if thou hast done thy best, what is that to thee?"

The Apostle Paul wrote to the church at Colosse, "Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not unto men." (3:23)

A great challenge presents itself to each one of us.  First, we are to do our very best, working whole heartedly to accomplish the things set before us.  More than that, we are called to perform our tasks for an Audience of One.

Perhaps it seems that we fall behind -- that our best is worse than the minimal efforts of our co-workers.  Just so long as it truly is our best, we have nothing to be ashamed of and Our Master will gladly accept the gift of our service.

For, though we may fall behind ever so far in half hours of practicing, if we have used our time wisely, all will be well.  Verily, there is much to do in this world than simply practice musical instruments -- even if orchestra camp is looming ever closer on the horizon.

A Parable of Zucchini

 

Lo, on a certain day in the year of Our Lord 2023, I went forth to my Garden and behold, it was more like to a very weedy field than to the Garden of Eden.  Yet, even in the midst of the weeds, a few plants did fight a desperate battle for survival against the tangle of invaders.

To one of these plants I went and stooping, I collected not one, but two cylindrical vegetables.  Proudly, I returned to the house with my new friends tagging along.

“Look, O children!”  I crowed, holding a loft what I had found.  “Thy Father, Master Gardener that he is, hath discovered not one, but two zucchinis in our garden.”

Forthwith, my son Elliot, made a terrible groaning sound, like unto a door turning upon very rusty hinges.  If I did not know better, I would have suspected he had some dread malady like The Flux or perhaps Squinsy.  “O, My Father,” spake he.  “Far be it from me to Rain on Thy Parade, but lo, it is but a few days since thou didst last plunder the garden.  On that day, like today, the only thing we gained by it was an Awful Big Zucchini.”

Verily, my younger son well-nigh despises squash, even as a forest fire fears a heavy rain.  Though, as far as I can discern, the zucchini plants have never done him any harm.

“O, My Father,” spake he once more.  “Why didst the Creator make something like zucchini and further, in a world with freedom of choice, why wouldst thou plant such a thing in a beautiful garden like ours?”

“I know not the answer to thy first question,” I said.  “Although perhaps twas that when Adam fled the Garden to earn his keep by the sweat of his brow, God decided to give him a little boon – a plant that would bear well, even when all other vegetables fail.”

“As for the second question,” I continued.  “Thy mother and I both like zucchini – hence our willingness to foist this gourd shaped cross on our family.”

As I contemplate zucchini, I see little reason for hatred.  Seldom does one actually taste the squash.  Instead, the zucchini adds moisture and texture, even while the other ingredients have room to be themselves.  For zucchini is not like pumpkin or corn, where it needs to be the center of attention in a recipe, but rather it enhances the other ingredients to create such a delight as zucchini bread.

I wonder if we could do better at emulating zucchini in our lives.  It would be a veritable blessing if we were able to enhance every situation we find ourselves in, without requiring those who are around us to conform themselves to our likeness.

Therefore did the Apostle Paul say, "Wherefore receive ye one another, as Christ also received us to the glory of God."  (Romans 15:7)

A world in which each one of us attempted to enhance the qualities of others, rather than forcing them to become feeble images of ourselves, would be a wondrous place.  Let us then act like zucchinis, loving and encouraging others around us to be their best selves.

A Nice Camera?

 

 

“You must have a really nice camera,” the lady told me.  “Your photos always look great.”

“I guess I do have a nice camera,” I said.  “Although, I have learned how to get the most out of my camera too.”

“It must be nice to have a camera that can capture such beautiful colors,” she said with a sigh.  “I just use my phone for most things and I guess it’s OK.”

“True,” I said.  “Phone cameras are quite capable these days.  They are probably more capable than a lot of the film cameras people to use in the past.”

“You probably have special filters you use on your pictures?”  She asked.

“Not really.  I tweak things in Lightroom, but I try to get things right in my camera so I don’t have to do a bunch of editing after the fact.

I have found the discussion of photography to be a discouraging one.  Most people are convinced that the true source of great photos (not saying mine are great) is awesome cameras and lenses – with a hearty helping of Photoshop poured on top, like sausage gravy on biscuits.

The reality is that taking good landscape images requires waking up early (sunrise is often somewhere between 5:30 and 6 am depending on where you live) and struggling out to a location where you can capture some beautiful light – before the sun ever peeps above the horizon.  Using a tripod is helpful too, as it allows you to keep your camera steady in those moments when it is too dark to have a fast shutter speed.

More than all of that, it takes effort to learn how to get the most out of a shooting situation.  When your photos don’t look the way you want, you need to sit down and think about what settings you messed up and how you could fix it in the future.

This is the way it is in life.  You generally get out of something what you invest in it -- and maybe just a little bit more.

The Apostle Paul said, "Not that I have already attained or am already perfected, but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold on me. (Phil. 3:13)

So many people claim that they want a deeper relationship with God.  They want the sort of confidence that the great men and women of faith had.  I am convinced that the issue is not that people don't have the right version of the Bible, or lack the right devotional books.  The issue is simply that folks aren't willing to sit down and focus themselves on their Heavenly Father.  They don't cry out to Him and they don't listen to His voice.

If anyone could have claimed to have things down perfectly, it was Paul, but still he saw much that needed perfecting.  Still, he pressed on to deepen his relationship with Jesus.

So the question comes clearly, what do you spend the moments of each day on?  If you spent half the time you spend online or Netflix on your relationship with God, what would it look like?

There is no investment better than pouring ourselves into our connection with our Heavenly Father.  What we do today will decide who we are tomorrow.

Let's not live as though the only reason that someone has better pictures is because they have a better camera.

Of Banjos and Lawn Mowers

 

"I'm playing the guitar!"  Elise said dramatically, to anyone who would listen.

"Interesting," I said.

Then, Elise picked up a fly swatter and began to gently strike the strings of the guitar with the flying insect killing device.

"I've never heard anyone play a guitar with a fly swatter before," Vincent commented.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"  I asked and got no answer.  In fact, the silence was fairly deafening.  "Vincent, do you know the difference between a banjo and a lawn mower?"  

"You can play music on the banjo?"  Vincent hazarded a guess.

"No," I said.  "You can't tune a banjo!"

"That doesn't make any sense," Vincent said.  "You can't tune a lawn mower."

"You can tune the engine of a lawn mower -- tune it up," I said.  "Anyway, it is more of a joke making fun of banjos than it is a statement that elevates those who play law mowers in the orchestras across our great land."

It is interesting how easy it is to identify someone else as "other."  Whether it is violinists calling violists slow or the rest of the orchestra making fun of banjo players, it is all too easy to make fun of someone else.

Paul told the Galatians "For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ.  There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female; for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." (Gal. 3:26,27)

The point, of course, is not that everyone is exactly the same.  Oboists, violinists, and even accordionists all have different talents and yet all are accepted with God on the basis of Jesus' atonement.

Our tendency is to exclude other groups as not worthy of the kingdom, or simply needing to clean things up before they can enter in.  Instead, God makes it clear that His grace is broad enough to reach all groups -- even musicians who play guitars with fly swatters.