Ruined

When I was a child, er... back when I was a much younger child my favorite show was Mr. Rogers. Didn't you love it when the camera panned over the little model neighborhood with it's houses and cars and streets. I used to imagine I lived in one of those houses and it was me who drove one of those little cars. Awesome. I loved the whole show, the coming in and changing the shoes (I wonder which pair he got buried in?) ,the sweater, the land of make believe. I wanted to ride the trolley and had a crush on Lady Aberlin. I thought Bob Dog was the stupidest character ever, Mr. Mcfeely probably drank too much coffee and Handyman Negri was aaallllright. The absolute, can't miss segment though was Picture-picture, you know where he'd put a roll of film behind the picture and we watched as he toured some factory and I was let in on the magic of how things were made. That was so cool and probably the root of my lottery fantasy: Take my winnings and travel the world and see how things are made. After I take care of the poor of course.

Have you ever started a conversation and you're telling a story and you get to a point and you realize you forgot where you were going with it? I think it just happened. Well...poo.

Let's try this... Last year was a really difficult year for me from start to finish with a few highlights here and there.........no. That's not where I was going either.

Ok, so it's a week later now and I may have stumbled into a thought. And it may even fit with the first paragraph. I was in church building this morning with everyone and we were singing this song " Whom Have I But You". Short song that goes like this: (1) Though the mountains fall, fall into the sea , (2) Though my colored dawn, may turn to shades of gray , (3) Though the questions asked, may never be resolved . With the chorus Whom have I but You sung between verses. A really nice song. I wished I believed it.

I was watching a couple of specials on TV this past week on Haiti . Hard to believe It's been a year since the earthquake especially if you look at pictures from then and now. Not much has changed. Still so much devastation and absolute poverty, tent cities and lines of people gathered behind a truck for food and water. I think I heard like 80% of the rubble still needs to be removed. Where is all the money and help that was promised? An easy question to ask and get outraged over but as with many things it's more complicated than it looks on paper. It's a sad, sad situation.

As I was watching the Haiti special and humming the Whom Have I song in the recesses of my brain, the though of the start of this blog wandered into my consciousness and it started to gel. My Dad speaks to me in the frantic whir of my mind. It's like He's juggling a 1000 pieces of a puzzle of my thoughts and He lets a few drop and say's "Here, put those together". I don't know, it sorta works. Then again, maybe I'm just a idiot.

So I live in this miniature model neighborhood not unlike Mr. Rogers'. It looks so real. It smells and feels so real. I like the fact it's nice and tidy and nothing bad happens there. It, for the most part is dependable and comfortable and I could live here forever. And I like that. Yep, a warm and fuzzy world. But it's make believe. As I was singing the words to the song "though the mountains fall, fall into the sea" this morning I thought of Haiti where their Mountains DID fall into the sea and killed so many. Their neighborhood (indeed, there neighbors too) were gone. It's like someone walks into Mr. Rogers studio after his death and tosses his model neighborhood in a dumpster. What was so real is revealed as...make believe.

What has made me smile and also made me grieve is the response of some of the Haitian people. They worshiped God. They thanked Him. They leaned on Him. They said "whom have I but you". I'm sure they were devastated, angry and hurting but in the end, whom have I but you. I pray they do find solace in the arms of their loving God.

Me? I'm not so sure I would. I really do like my make believe neighborhood. My American dream. I would hope I would say "whom have I but you" but it makes me sad that I even ponder this question. I love my Dad but of more value, He loves me. He is gracious and kind and has given me time to work this out which I hope I will continue until the day I walk hand in hand with Him into my new neighborhood, my real neighborhood, with streets of gold.

I can't let go

Did you ever see someone do something and say to yourself "I could do that". And then you tried. Yikes! Not so easy huh? When I was a kid I had a friend who could draw like nobodies business. I remember in 3rd or 4th grade we were doing art in class and he was drawing Disney characters that look so much like the real thing you'd have thought he worked for the company. It seemed so easy- he just put pencil to paper and Micky or Donald appeared. Me? Not so much. I was having a hard time with squares and circles. At least when I paint I stay within the lines which is all I need I guess to make a living. By the way, last time I saw "Mr. I can draw Disney" he was unemployed.

Fishing is like the drawing thing to me. I see other people do it and it looks so easy - you cast out and reel in the big one. I see it on tv all the time. I know a couple of guys who fish, one for a living and one for sport and they always come home with a boat load and stories to tell. Easy. I go fishing a few times a year with my daughter and we come home with, well nothing. I don't get it. I do the same thing as the other guys and get nothing. There's gotta be some magic incantation or something. Sheesh. By the way, the last time we caught something was when we were standing on the bank holding our cane poles when "Mr. I can draw Disney" showed up and said how he'd caught over 2000 fish in this very spot last year. Right. He told my daughter to bait her hook and 'throw it in over there". She caught one within 2 minutes. I went home to practice my squares and circles.

Like Mr. Disney, I'm kinda unemployed at the moment. I have a job, just no one is calling for painting or handyman stuff right now. I hate being in this spot because I feel like a failure on some level, like I should have been doing something different. Who knows, maybe so. I'll tell you one thing I should have been doing is being more grateful and aware of my Dads provision throughout the year. I feel like I'm the only one who does this: when things are good and going smooth I kind of forget about how much He is instrumental in providing. Now things are bad and I can't pay my light bill and I feel guilty 'cause I realize I treat Him like some big sugar daddy or heavenly atm! And then the thoughts cross my mind like "God's not real" or "life is what you make it" or "He doesn't care much" or "you're broke, you think he cares?". Things like that. And I dwell on these thoughts and I can feel Gods "realness" slipping through my fingers and I feel so...lost.

I went fishing with my cousin once at a pond near his house. The guy that owned the land stocked the pond with bass and my cousin always came home with fish. So we're standing on the bank casting my plastic worm with my new Zebco33 rod and reel combo and as I'm reeling it in BAM, something grabs the worm and off it goes and I whip the rod up and start to reel it in. Somewhere in my frantic reeling the line gets tangled up in the reel and not knowing what to do I start to back up in hopes of dragging the beast on shore (I knew it was bigger than the other fish we'd caught). So I'm backing up, walking along the bank until I run into a fence. With nowhere to go I grab the line and try to pull it in and I'd do it some and then it would slip back through my hands and I'd get a better grip and pull some more then lose ground. It hurt like crazy but there was no way I'd let it go. There was a big fish down there, I could feel him, sense him and he was mine. I just couldn't let go. And I didn't. I finally pulled him ashore and dove on top of him so he wouldn't flop back in. He didn't. Almost 8lbs.!!! Wahoooo!!!

So I'm washing my truck today and feeling frustrated because of no work or money and how I feel stupid asking Dad for money on account of how I ignore Him so often and how it makes Him look look that sugar daddy when I do pay Him mind. And I get down on myself because I know the most amazing, right and perfect thing anywhere. He's so pure. Like a fresh snowfall on a mountain pasture that is so beautiful and smooth and untouched. Breathtaking and refreshing. I don't know, how do you describe God? He's my Dad and He cares about me and He made such a great sacrifice because He does. Pure love. And yet I doubt. In times of trouble and distress I doubt. I wonder why he keeps me hanging. How is the outcome of my life any different than some pagan guy trying to make his way through life? I am such a wretch.

The phone rang today. Some lady I've worked for before wants me to come paint a couple of rooms next week. Not much money but it'll put food on the table and pay the light bill. "I love you you know" He says. "I'm watching and I care." Sigh. There have been times I've wanted to walk away and maybe in my luke warm way I have. Giving lip service but not really living. Sometimes I want to let Him go. But I can't. He's like my fish - I've got something big and mysterious, something special on the other end of this line. My hands are bloody and hurting from the fight but I wont let go. I can't let go. He is awe. He is pure. He is perfect. He is kind. He loves me. He's God. He's my Dad.