Today is Thanksgiving but Christmas is Coming

Today is Thanksgiving Day and with it we begin the Holiday Season in America. Granted,

commercialization of our most sacred of holidays continues. Every year corporate America infringes more and more on the time set aside for family and friends to celebrate the blessings of Almighty God.

It started as an isolate thing a few years ago when one or two retail companies started opening at midnight. This continued until last year, again with one or two companies, stores started opening at 4 or 5 p.m. on Thanksgiving Day itself.  I suspect our oldest and most widely celebrated holiday will soon only be a calendar holiday like so many other of our holidays. I do not believe America can any longer be called a Christian nation. Not because some other religious group has become dominant because they haven't. We are now pretty much a secular state whose religion is commercialism.

It is not that secularism and commercialism have thrown out the holidays themselves. To the contrary. What they have done is stolen them. Very subtlety and almost imperceptibly they have turned Thanksgiving and Christmas from their created purposes to marketing tools. This has been done principally by using them as the occasion of the "Great Buy." Good old American capitalism at work.

Don't get me wrong. I am not opposed to capitalism. Quiet the contrary, I participate gladly in it. However, there are some things that outrank capitalism and should always temper it. In my mind Thanksgiving and Christmas are two events whose expressed content should always trump our insatiable thirst for more things.

Thanksgiving may well be our oldest official holiday and should be exactly that, a day of giving thanks. George Washington introduced the concept on October 3, 1789 when he declared, "Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor . . .  Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be." Thanksgiving should not only be sacred to Christians but to Americans as a whole and celebrated by all people. It is a day sacred to Americans and should not be profaned.

Christmas is also a holiday that has been embedded in the American psyche from the earliest of times but took on it's present form during Victorian times. It is a time when America (then as now largely Christian by religion) celebrated the birth of Christ Jesus as the beginning of our spiritual redemption. It was to be a time of simple remembrance and thanksgiving specifically for the birth of the Christ child as the fulfillment of God's promise to provide salvation. "Today your Savior, the Lord Messiah, was born in the City of David." (NIV).

In many ways, the demise of Thanksgiving is the overflow from the debacle we have made of Christmas. We have taken virtually every element of the Nativity and turned it into a marketing tool by which we ply our goods. We have done this to the point that we have squeezed all the original meaning of the holiday out. Indeed we are changing our greetings, ostensibly to not offend none Christians  but I suspect it has more to do with marketing than anything else.

I am sure I'd miss some of these trappings but believe me when I say if we ridded ourselves of some of Madison Avenue and Wall Street has done to the holidays we would discover we would be better of spiritually and we would be better off financially and emotionally. In addition, by simplifying the holidays to family gatherings where gratitude is expressed out loud for God's blessings and the birth of Christ our families would be stronger and we would again have strong family traditions that bind us together. This in turn would make for a stronger nation. "Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people he chose for his inheritance." (NIV)

Our modern age has not just redefined our two basic national holidays it has made celebrating as a family . . . especially an extended family virtually impossible. Cousins who were once more like siblings than cousins don't even know each other exist let alone know each others names. Families are scattered all across the country and around the world. No member of our families have the magnetism or strength of person to draw their families home as we did in my youth.

I am fortunate and thankful to the Lord that all of my children have terrific in-laws. I know that they celebrate these holidays with their own families and in-laws when not here with us.  I must confess that I now know how my own parents must have felt at holidays as they had to share their children and grandchildren with the other half of their children's families during a holiday.

But that pales when I think of the multitude of people who will be giving Thanks to the Lord without their families present and come Christmas will be celebrating the birth of our Lord alone as well.

So as you give thanks today, whether alone, with friends or fortunate enough to be surrounded by family do so with the words of Don Moen's chorus:

Give thanks with a grateful heart
Give thanks to the Holy One
Give thanks because He's given Jesus Christ, His Son

Give thanks with a grateful heart
Give thanks to the Holy One
Give thanks because He's given Jesus Christ, His Son

And now let the weak say, "I am strong"
Let the poor say, "I am rich
Because of what the Lord has done for us"

And now let the weak say, "I am strong"
Let the poor say, "I am rich
Because of what the Lord has done for us"

Give thanks with a grateful heart
Give thanks to the Holy One
Give thanks because He's given Jesus Christ, His Son

Give thanks with a grateful heart
Give thanks to the Holy One
Give thanks because He's given Jesus Christ, His Son

And now let the weak say, "I am strong"
Let the poor say, "I am rich
Because of what the Lord has done for us"

And now let the weak say, "I am strong"
Let the poor say, "I am rich
Because of what the Lord has done for us"
Give thanks

We give thanks to You oh Lord
We give thanks

*Full Text of Washington's proclamation: By the President of the United States of America, a Proclamation. Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor-- and whereas both Houses of Congress have by their joint Committee requested me to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness.
Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be-- That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks--for his kind care and protection of the People of this Country previous to their becoming a Nation--for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his Providence which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war--for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed--for the peaceable and rational manner, in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national One now lately instituted--for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed; and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge; and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us and also that we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech him to pardon our national and other transgressions-- to enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually--to render our national government a blessing to all the people, by constantly being a Government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed--to protect and guide all Sovereigns and Nations (especially such as have shewn kindness unto us) and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord--To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the encrease of science among them and us--and generally to grant unto all Mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as he alone knows to be best. Given under my hand at the City of New York the third day of October in the year of our Lord 1789. Go: Washington

No, your dad did not get down on one knee when he proposed.

"No, your dad did not get down on one knee when he proposed – because the romantic men know it’s about living your whole life on your knees . . . . And there is now and the beautiful boring, the way two lives touch and go deeper into time with each other. The clock ticking passionately into decades."
- Ann Voskamp

I recently ran across this in a posting on Facebook and I found to be simply outstanding. So, I decided to do something I have never before done. Instead of trying to recreate the sentiment in my own words I decided to link you to the real deal.

Maybe it is because it hits close to my own life experience  . . .  maybe just because it needs to be heard by all you who never experienced one of those choreographed marriage proposals that we see on Godvine.com, Facebook.com and Youtube.com and believe you have missed out on something. It is for all you whose proposal was not recorded on film; accompanied by a flash dance; or publically displayed at some romantic location but none-the-less abides forever in your heart as the moment something special began. I promise you that if you make the trip over to "A Holy Experience" will not be disappointed.  Thank you Ann Voskamp for sharing this. I hope you don't mind my passing it along.

A Few Veteran's Day Thoughts

I must confess that this year I had planned not to write anything for Veteran's Day. Seemed to me anything I said might just be a repeat of what I had said in earlier posts. However, today my thoughts turn to my hero . . .  my Dad!  The more I learn about his war time experiences the more impressed I am.

My father was a member of the USAAF during World War Two from 1942 until 1945. As a member of the 35th squadron of the 315th Troop Carrier Group, 52 Troop Carrier Wing, Ninth Air Force he flew routine and combat missions into "Fortress Europe" from both England and North Africa. He took part in Operation Torch, Neptune and Market Garden where he dropped elements of the 82nd. Airborne. His last major Para drop was Market Garden where for five straight days he dropped elements of the 82nd. 504 PIR at Grave, Belgium, elements of a British PIR and finally Polish PIR. Two of those five days were landings in a Belgium field to offload ammunition and food and then fly wounded soldiers to England for treatment. For all these efforts he received the AAF Air Medal with Oak Leaf  Cluster.

Once the Para drops were pretty much over he flew ammunition and fuel to General George Patton's Third Army . . . often into loosely secured LZ's. When time permitted he would fly wounded soldiers back to England and later France. I was privileged to see his plane leaving a makeshift airfield in Southern Europe loaded with British soldiers who had just been liberated from a German prison camp.

While in England he was stationed at Spanhoe Air Field just north and west of London. It was while there that he met the English lady who would become his wife and my mother. 

My mom, who was a Londoner, had received word in 1942 (just before my dad arrived in England) that her fiancé, a fine English chap, had been killed in action at Dunkirk. Somehow during the following year (1943) they met and their wartime story began. I'll  not recount it here but it was quiet a story as the "flyboy" from Hickory Creek, Texas fell for the Lady from London. Suffice it to say he once told me, "it was the smartest decision he ever made when I asked for her hand in marriage." I agree, if for no other reason than it produced me.

Now having said all that I need to say his story is the same story a lot of other soldiers from his day could tell. They all did their jobs. That's probably what makes them such a great generation. They heeded the call of their country, gave their full devotion to the task as assigned, and when they got home they went to work and built a nation. It takes men like the one at he right to really appreciate the meaning of the poppy in the lapel. These are the men and women who have seen, smelled, felt and seen the results of war up close and personal . . .  men like my Dad!

However, let me add that for every one of the men like my father who carried the fight to the enemy there were hundreds of others who kept the supplies flowing, feed the troops etc. And then there are those who have "keep the peace."

I know in my family, and I've said this before: We have had folks who have fought in every major war this country has been involved in. Frances fought in Washington's Continental Army, Robert in the War of 1812,  my Dad and his cousin (Robert Key who was killed in Natal Brazil) both in the USAAF flying C-47's, Robert in Korea (KIA), Ron and Charles Leo (KIA) in Vietnam and others in Iraq and Afghanistan. Add to that the many peacetime soldiers. In my book Hero's all.

So today, I tip my hat to all living veterans and proudly wear my poppy in my lapel for those who died in battle or who have otherwise passed into eternity.

But for me, the veteran hero I wear a poppy for today is my Dad. Thank you for being the man you were. For answering the call to duty; for faithfully executing that duty; and, for living the values for which you fought.

What About the Children?

Today, as I have sat at my desk busily taking care of my business, I have had a little television on to keep me company. I usually just leave it on CNN when I do this and today was no exception. All day long they have analyzed, criticized, condemned and endorsed doing something about Syria. 

Now understand that I do not have access to any classified information; I don't have an inside informant; and have only briefly discussed the whole issue with just a couple of people. But, here is the back story as I understand it. The United States of America is a signatory of the Convention on the Prohibition of the Development, Production, Stockpiling and Use of Chemical Weapons and on their Destruction (Chemical Weapons Convention) . . . CWC for short. One hundred eighty-nine of the world's nations have signed the treaty and all but two have ratified it. The United States is one to have both signed and ratified the treaty. 

The CWC is not the first attempt at banning chemical weapons from the battlefield. The first attempt took place at the Hague in 1899.  However, in spite of their being banned they were widely used during WWI.  Then in 1925 the Geneva Protocol was adopted in which the world again affirmed the prohibition of Chemical weapons on the battlefields of the world.  

It is a credit to both the Allied and Axis forces that neither side resorted to their use during WWII.  Admittedly, Hitler and his regime did use gas in the death camps but he did not use it on the battlefield.  So we have (1) Hitler using gas in the death camps where he carried out his "Final Solution" to what he called the "Jewish problem;" (2) Saddam Hussein used it in the Iranian/Iraqi war on Iranians and again with the Kurds  (his own people) in the north; and (3) Bashar Hafez al-Assad used it on his own people on a large scale in August of 2013 killing about 1400 people about 500 of which were children. 

That's the background.  

Now I cannot and do not try and speak to the geo-political aspects of this. The main reason that I don't is because I cannot get the image of all those children, many the ages of my own grandchildren, laying on the ground wrapped in their burial clothes looking as if they are just taking a nap . . . but they are dead. 

The action of Assad is no worse or better than those of Saddam Hussein or Hitler. They are exactly the same. Disgustingly wicked and these men have become the faces of evil in our generation. It is the brutal disregard for the lives of children and snuffing out those lives with the very thing they must do to live, i.e., breathe, that lingers in my mind. For me the issue is a moral one not a political one. 

I am also not trying to defend or attack the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan nor am I too interested in the how of why we ended up fighting those wars and why it took so long. I suspect there is plenty there for us to be angry about and of which we are justified in being weary. But they are not the issue for me here. Let me add this has nothing to do with whether or not I like or dislike any President. It is all about an image that I cannot erase from my mind. The image of all those children dying by the very gasping for breathe they needed to live and all that as a result of their leader's choice to use Sarasin gas.  

Someone will say, "I am tired of the United States being the world's policeman." I am too but who do you suggest we get to take America's place? Who do you trust to make these decisions? The Russians or the Chinese? I find myself not asking why we are the world's policeman because I know the answer to that question. What I find myself asking is, "How is it under our watch it is always the children who seem pay the price?" 

Others will say, "Don't you know we are tired of war?" The answer is yes! I long for the days when men "shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore." (Isa. 2:4). But until God steps into history and "judges among the nations, and shall rebuke many people" wrong will need to be addressed by force.  But when that day of universal peace comes we need to remember that  "to him who knows to do good and does not do it, to him it is sin" (James 4:17). Too often we equate sin with an action taken when it can be equally applied to actions not taken."  As Lincoln said,  "My concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side, for God is always right." 

We all want to join together and sing the words to the old spiritual that says: 

Gonna lay down my sword and shield
Down by the riverside, Down by the riverside, Down by the river side

Gonna lay down my sword and shield
Down by the riverside, Down by the riverside, Down by the river side 

I ain't go study war no more, study war no more, ain't go study war no more.
I ain't go study war no more, study war no more, ain't go study oh war no more.

Others will say it is none of our business or it has nothing to do with our national interests or security. To you I will only quote Martin Niemöller . . . 

“First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out —
because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out —
because I was not a socialist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out —
because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out —
because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me —
and there was no one left to speak out for me. ―”

As long as men like Bashar Hafez al-Assad are allowed to utilize whatever means they choose to hold on to their power the world will be a serious risk. To see those children lying there asleep in death as the result of one man's barbaric act and do nothing seems impossible to me. 

Hardly a day goes by that I do not get something on my Facebook page or in an email deploring the deaths of millions of unborn children through abortion.  People from virtually all walks of life raise their voices in protest; spend their time and their money trying to change the abortion laws; and marching in the streets to effect change and end the carnage of abortion on demand . . . as well they should.

But I must ask, where are those who will cry out for the hundreds of children who struggled to breath and with every breath drew nothing but death into their lungs? Is their death lessened because they are fewer in number?  Who will speak for them? Are they not also among the "innocents."  Must their deaths go unavenged because "we are tired of war?"

I've heard all the arguments why we should not get involved and they all make some sense and I would not argue with many of them and I might, in a perfect world actually agree with some of it. The world in which we live is not always if ever perfect, it is rarely safe and it is seldom fair but that does not absolve us of the responsibility to act on behalf of the innocent.

People die every day by means that are immoral. No war is moral but some causes are so just that they demand a warlike response. To put it bluntly (and biblically) some people are so wicked that they must be cut off from the land of the living. The guilty must pay  - from the mouth that issued the order to the hand that carried out the deed and all those who stand in the way - the guilty must pay! 

Again, I am not too interested in the politics, the economics, the logistics, legality or a whole bunch of other things we could throw into the mix. The truth is, whatever we do or we don't do, there will be consequences to the choice that is made.  Both action and inaction will have unforeseen consequences. But the question that must be answered is, "Is it the right thing to do?" Is it ethical? Is it morally correct? You'll have to decide . . . I already have.

 

Now for my friends taken with Prophecy:  Is it possible that the two wars in Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, the saber rattling by Iran along with the general unrest in that part of the world is nothing less than the gathering clouds of Armageddon?  

 

 

A Family Narrative

Robert Appleby
1852-1934

Tonight I have been involved in a thread on Facebook about growing up in Pasadena, Texas. It has been a wonderful journey down memory's lane as we shared stories and photos that literally brought back to the forefront of our minds things that had been hidden away in the recesses of our minds.

Those memories became the springboard for my own family journey. It was in the midst of all those wonderful memories that it dawned on me that my Appleby family was more like a Clan than a family. A Clan is a family but it is an extended family consisting of parents, children, cousins, husbands and wives who interact as a family. It is a place where aunts and uncles are more like you mom and dad and cousins are more like brothers and sisters.

Within the Clan there seemed to always be some sort of ongoing rivalry but when any member of the group was threatened from outside the group there was a closing of ranks and in some cases the election of a War Chief.

Now this was not something that happened in my generation. It was the result of a long journey that began when Robert Appleby stepped foot on Virginian soil and swore allegiance to the Commonwealth of Virginia in 1749. There was a certain wanderlust in our branch of the Appleby family tree so that by that within a couple of generations his  grandchildren had left their footprints and name across Kentucky (then a part of Virginia) and by 1819 was one of five families who were forming the community along Cane Creek that became Poplar Bluff, Missouri.

It was out of that Missouri group that my branch of the tree would grow into its own Clan. Robert and his wife Polly Flowers brought Charles Appleby into this world and Charles and His wife Rebecca Scott gave life to my great grandfather Robert. Robert, sometime after the age of 12 (1864-65), moved with his uncle in North East Texas (now the Plano-McKinney region). On September 2, 1877 he married Martha McGehee and took up farming in Collin County, Texas. Robert and Martha were, as one relative put it at the time . . . "dirt poor." They had no money and no real proper house . . .  all they had was a plot of land, each other and their hopes dreams and asperations.

They didn't have much in the way of the fineries of the day in which they lived but they did have a rock solid faith in God and were known for their character and integrity. They were the beginning of this thing I call my "Appleby Clan." Robert and Martha had eight children (William Lee, Mary Frances, Claud Elberta, Maude Jane, Clyde Delroy, Dora Florence, Minnie May and Jessie Jefferson). Claud Elberta was my grandfather.

For me, my fraternal grandparents were the head of the Clan. My grandfather was a man of great faith and a man who lived that faith. My grandmother, likewise was a woman of great faith and action. I believe it is from her that my girls have received their own drive.  If My Grandmother had been born in my generation she would most likely have been head of some large organization . . . . either business or charitable.

During my lifetime my grandparents, Dad and Momma as they were known, were held in high esteem by their children.  Those children were Ruth Agnes, Buford Marion (my father), Melvin Victor, Edna Mae and James Carroll.  As long as either lived they were held in high regard and honor by their children and grandchildren. Their faithful walk with the Lord was honored in the churches to which they belonged and through which they served. They did not possess much in the way of material wealth to hand down to their children. What they passed down was more significant than material wealth . . . they passed along the sense of family and its importance; they handed down a heritage of integrity, loyalty and fairness; they also passed along a sense of inclusiveness for extended family. As someone who was once a member of the family by marriage and now divorced remarked to me, "Once you become a part of your family it is virtually impossible to extricate yourself . . . you still treat me as though I was still in the family."

They also lived in close proximity to one another from the 1870's until the 1970's. That's almost 100 years. They seemed always manage to live in the same area. To be sure a few would move away, then when the head of the Clan moved the rest of the family, family by family, gravitated back to the same geographical region as the head of the Clan. For my older cousins, most of their memories of family and growing up are anchored in the Orange, Texas area. Indeed, that is where my own journey began.  Several chapters of fascinating family history come from the time spent in Orange.

However, when I was growing up Pasadena, Texas was where pretty much all of the Appleby Clan was gathered.  It didn't matter if your last name was Appleby, Rich, Grace or Caplinger, you were in our family and a part of the Appleby Clan. Others would be added as time past and children grew up and married.

Mom & Dad's Wedding
London Jan 13, 1945

Pasadena really was "our town." We had our annual family conclaves and a whole host of minor gatherings from the late 1940's through the late 1960's.  We worked there, we worshipped there, we were educated there; we formed friendships that will last a lifetime there; we fell in love and married there; our children were born there; and we buried our parents and elders there.

In time, college, war, marriage and jobs began to scatter the cousins (my generation) all across the country. What once was a local clan within the greater Pasadena Nation became the scattered "Clans of Appleby" as we experienced our own family Diaspora. One by one the "Old Ones" who inhabited the land and set the family's character and preserved our heritage began to enter the great beyond. Now that generation has completed their journey and my generation has become the "old ones" among us.  Each cousin has become the head of their own Clan in another place.

This family into which I was born by the grace of God has a marvelous history, and honorable heritage and a story worth knowing and sharing. I remember my father's words to me as at the age of 18 I walked out of the Houston Federal Building where I had just registered for the draft. He said, "Son if they call you to service remember who you are and (1) don't volunteer for anything, they'll send you where they want you or need you, (2) don't do anything you'll regret later in life and (3) don't do anything that would bring dishonor to our name." By our name he meant the Appleby name.

By the way, for you family members who might be reading this you need to know that while largely pacifists at heart that Appleby family members . . .  your family . . . . has served this country in every major war from the American Revolution to the Iraq War and done so with honor. A few have given their "full measure of devotion" . . . . at least one during WWII, one in Korea, and one in Endo-China.

A Our Last Christmas Gathering
2008

I sometimes long for at least one last great a gathering of the chiefs and their families in one last conclave. I don't know if it is a doable thing but it would certainly be a good thing. To have an opportunity to pass down to our children and our children's children the wonderful story of the grace of God as it has played out in our Appleby Clan.  It is a wonderful story . . . I can only hope that we don't forget the story and it gets lost in the sands of time.

Don't Take Yourself Too Seriously and Enjoy Life

I want to give a big shout-out to Don Cole as it was something he wrote on the I grew up in Pasadena, Tx Facebook Page that sparked my thinking for this blog entry.
 

I had to be one of the last people of my generation to embrace social media in general and Face Book in particular. It just seemed silly to me. What would make anyone post what they had for breakfast complete with photo for the world to see? Better yet, what makes them think I am interested in what they had for breakfast?

After time and pressure from friends and colleagues I finally caved-in and signed-up for a Facebook account and was off and running. I started with no friends and now I have hundreds. I discovered that it was a powerful platform for making ones voice heard. I used it to help with my High School Reunion and I used it to oppose a name change for my College (You can read about that in some of the earlier postings on this blog) and I have used it countless time to express my feelings and thinking which were often opposed to one another. Oh yea, and I have used it to display where I've been and what I have been doing and that is part of the genius of Facebook.

For many it is a place to vent their frustrations. My only advice with venting is that you choose your words carefully for Facebook is full of ravenous wolves ready to pounce on your every word. Others seem to see it as their personal political, moral, ethical and/or religious soapbox. I suggest you just politely listen and then go your own way and ignore the ones you don't like unless of course you enjoy debate. More than likely though what  you'll get is an argument.  Get tired of it just click "hide" get really tired of it the click "unfriend."

What I really like about Facebook is that it has allowed me to become reacquainted with my own life as I have discovered friends from my past. Truth is, I have friends on my Face Book "Friends List" from every stage of my life. It is such a marvelous reminder of the Tapestry of my life just to see the names of people who knew me early in my life listed right alongside of those who I met just last week. I know better now what the song writer meant when he penned "trials dark on every hand and we cannot understand all the ways that God would lead us to that blessed promised land." Facebook has been the vehicle that reminds me how different and how much the same our life journeys are.

I join my Facebook Friend, Don Cole, in asking, "What happened to all those years?"  Friends have said to me more than once, "My how the time flies when your having fun" and I remember replying "Fun or not time does seem to fly." But then I remember that time is merely a tool for measuring our movement through life. It is how that life is lived that matters.

The human mind being created after the fashion of the mind of God and our most remarkable feature as a human has this uncanny ability to make time seem irrelevant. Things that happened in our youth live on in our minds as though they happened just yesterday. Scripture speaks of God being the same "yesterday, today, and tomorrow." I have this feeling that there is a sense in which the same is true of those "created in His image and after his likeness."  Perhaps, one day I'll talk about what this means for the belief that we are eternal spirits.

Don spoke in his posting about how it seems like no time at all has passed since we were just kids living a simple life in a small town. He talked about time flying by and how we wonder how it could have slipped by so quickly without our noticing that it had passed until we reach maturity (old age). He concluded that we must have been in some sort of Rip Van Winkle sleep for decades to awaken to the senior life with surroundings and times so seemingly strange to us now.

I share that thought to some degree. The Apostle Paul likened life to a race and I reckon he was right about that. I once fancied myself a "track star" in junior high school running the quarter mile sprint and high jumping. I can still hear my coach saying, "On your money, get ready, get set . . . go" except instead of saying "go" he'd blow his whistle. I liken those early years to the "on your money, get ready, get set" part of that instruction. It was a slow deliberate pace where you took note of the details of getting into the starting blocks and making sure you didn't "jump the gun." But when that whistle blew it was an all-out run. While the race was being run there was "no time to stop and smell the roses." At least not if we expected to win or even finish the race.

However, there were plenty of time between races when  we could have and perhaps should have slowed down and soaked in a little life. Maybe had we done so those intervening years would not seem like such a blur. But, as they say these days, "It is what it is" . . .  whatever that really means.

However we didn't, like Rip Van Winkle, sleep through the last forty years. We just didn't pay attention. We were too busy. We had to finish our education either in institutions of formal higher education or the school of hard knocks. We got jobs; we fought our war or protested fighting it; we started a career; we married and started a family. Many of us have buried our parents and the rest have become care givers as we struggle with our own weakness of the flesh. It wasn't that we didn't think about stopping and smelling the roses, we just couldn't seem to find a time to work it in our busy lives.

I guess it just wasn't important to us at the time. After all, we did seem to find a way to do what we wanted to at the time. I think we allowed the urgencies (squeaky wheels) in our life to take the place of the better things. As Jesus told Martha, she didn't choose a bad thing Mary just chose the better thing.

Somehow . . .  somewhere along the way our priorities got changed. As my friend Don Cole put it, "Adulthood, responsibility and choice of lifestyles will do that. Lying in a lush bed of fresh spring clover and searching the cloud formations for make-believe animals no longer are high priorities to us now. Seniors scour at the sudden thunder rainstorm rather than try to run barefoot between the raindrops."

Ah, but that image of God thing comes back and our minds have, as I have said earlier, have this

uncanny ability to make "time stand still" and as the intro to the original Lone Ranger series always began "We go back to those thrilling days of yesteryear." I still appreciate the smell of fresh cut grass or the air after a Spring shower. I stand on the porch during thunderstorms to watch the lightening and hear the thunder. And, yes, I'd jump in the puddles (maybe with a little less force) if I weren't worried about breaking a hip.

This is not really an article about nostalgia. It is more like an advice column. So here is my advice. As important as it is for us to come to the end of life's with a fist full of memories it is more important that we enjoy the moment in which we are living. For those of us nearing the end of life that involves a lot of remembering but for those not where we are there is still time to build some memories.

Remember that time with your family is more important than time on the job. My friend, don't be fooled, there is no such thing as quality time without quantity of time. Reconnect with friends of a day gone by, touch base with cousins and kin who have not been seen in far to many years. Don't make funerals your family reunion. Express your love to those you love.

Try smiling more and crying less. Hang out with children.  Laugh and smile at every opportunity to do so.  Truth is, none of us knows how much time we have. As I look back over the years I think of those friends who will never grow old because they died young. I attend High School reunions and am reminded that the rest of us a growing old . . . well at least most of us look like we are. Father time and mother nature have not been as kind as mom and dad.  You may not have as many years ahead of you as you have behind you, but they can be the best years of your life if you just don’t take yourself too seriously.

 

BTW - One of the reasons some of us can not see each other for years but when we do get together again it is as if we have never been apart is nothing happened between meetings. Give it some thoughts and stay connected.

 My latest sun is sinkin' fast
My race is nearly run
My strongest trials now are past
My triumph has begun

They Were Just Boys

I just finished watching a Memorial Day Presentation on PBS. I make it a practice each year to watch this presentation which is hosted by Manny Manzano and Gary Sinise because it is simply one of the best. During this year's presentation the late actor Charles Edward Durning was used to represent the men and women who fought and died during the Second World War. 

I rarely get through one of these things without tears running down my checks and a lump in my throat and my voice dropping nearly an octave. This is partly due to the presentation itself and partly because the presentation is a salute to a group of people who cannot hear or  appreciate it . . . the men and women who died in the service of our nation. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for all that was sacrificed by so many to sustain the freedom I enjoy.

I am aware, and in the past have said so in this blog, of the sacrifices of family and fellow citizen in every war since the American Revolution to preserve that liberty. It moves me that people I never knew would believe so strongly in individual liberty and national freedom to offer up their own liberty, freedom and life for me to possess the same. To them, though insufficient, I can only say "Thank you."

However, what makes it such an emotional experience for me is that two of the most important men in my life served during the Second World War. One was my father-in-law, Floyd Dees and the other was my father, Buford Appleby.  Both of these men survived the war and neither of them ever shared much about their war experience.

My father was 29 years old when he became a part of the United States Army Air Force. Drafted immediately following the attack on Pearl Harbor Dad became and expert with regard to B-17's and C-47's. He was among the first men to be sent to Europe and North Africa. Having transported a B-17 to the Eighth Army Air Force in England he eventually found himself assigned to the IX USAAF, 52nd Wing, 315th Troop Carrier Group  34th Squadron. . . a combat group.

Dad would drop elements of the 82nd Airborne (504 parachute regiment) in the early hours of the
morning on June 6, 1944. He would also drop the elements of the 82nd during Market Garden at Grave in Holland as well as Operation Husky. He would finish the war with the Air medal with an Oak Leaf Cluster. Were it not for his personnel file I would never know just how much of a role he and his buddies played in the European Theater of Operations because he just never spoke of those experiences.  A great book on the subject is the late Michael N. Ingrisano's  Valor Without Arms: A History of the 316th Troop Carrier Group, 1942-1945 

I mentioned earlier that my Dad was 29 when he went into the USAAF and that made him one of the older men. In fact I recall one of his friends tell me that the only reason they didn't call him "Pop" was there was another man in the group older than him.

During the winters on his many trips to the Front he must have given away dozens of flight jackets, gloves and boots to weary infantrymen. This brings me my point. He once told my sister that after delivering gasoline and other supplies to Patton's 3rd Army they would often bring a plane full of wounded GI's back to Amien, France for medical treatment. Then he added with a great deal of pathos, "They were just boys."

I have thought about that phrase, "They were just boys" many times since. With the exception of a handful of men like my father they were all "just boys."  The men he dropped in the early morning hours of the Normandy Invasion were really "just boys."  The same was true of Market Garden and Husky. He knew every time a stick left his plane that many , if not most of them, would not be coming home. But it wasn't until he saw them being loaded into his plane as wounded soldiers he realized just how young they really were.

That's why I get so emotional. They were young, so very young. These, as he called them "boys,"

were giving up all their tomorrows for me to have a life of Liberty and Freedom. Don't misunderstand, none of them wanted to die but they were willing to die so I could have the life I enjoy. And die, many of them did. Nearly 400 thousand lifetimes were sacrificed so I could have my life . . . so you could have yours.

Each one of those lives had family they loved, dreams they cherished, hopes they aspired too and yet they gave them up so that you and I could have what we have. I don't know what their lives would have been had they not died on the battlefield. I rather suspect that all they wanted was exactly what I have. 

So I get weepy eyed when I think about their sacrifice. I get a lump in my throat when I weigh what they gave up and it just breaks my heart that they cannot hear my "Thank You." The only way I can pay the debt I owe them is to live well the life they gave me through their sacrifice.  I can only honor them by living my life to it's fullest.

Take a good long hard look at the life you are living. Does it justify their sacrifice? Is it being lived well?  They invested in your life. Whose life are you investing in?