Archive for January 2019

Getting Cracked!

January 27, 2019

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                    January 27, 2019

                                  

I can remember my Papaw Helton telling about his experience with a chiropractor. 

“He reached down there and all of a sudden gave my leg a jerk and I said ‘Lord!!!!! Have mercy!’ And then he says to me, ‘Mr. Helton, do you want to come back tomorrow and I can adjust you some more?’ Lord, have mercy…no!”

His retelling of his chiropractor visit probably influenced me for a few decades. I did go to a chiropractor about 18 years ago for a couple of times, but not since…until last week! Back muscle spasms brought me to the point where I was willing to see if a chiropractor visit could be “all its cracked up to be!”

My daughter and son-in-law are patients of Dr. Henry and had encouraged me to give him a try. So I went, a little anxious, but also with my lower back in need of some help. 

Chiropractors have always been suspect in the minds of some medical physicians. But let’s face it! Physicians have been a bit prone to prescribing too many pills. So I went into my first appointment with an open mind.

After x-rays and talking to me Dr. Henry had me position myself on the bench/table and CRACK! 

“That cooperated nicely, Bill! Yes, it did!”

“Okay!” I didn’t know what else to say. I assumed the cracking sound was a good thing, not like a peanut shell being cracked open and disposed of!

“Take another deep breath and let it out. Okay!” 

CRACK!

“Very nice! Very nice!Let’s have you turn on your right side for me.”

It was comforting to know that the two cracks had not paralyzed me, so I turned to the side and got positioned like a high school wrestler about to be pinned to the mat. 

CRACK!

“That went nicely, Bill!”

“It did?”

“Yes, so what I want you to do is ice it some today and come back either tomorrow or Thursday and we’ll give you another adjustment. How’s that sound?” I had visions of my Papaw Helton saying “Lord!!!! Have mercy!”, but I believe I’m better. I realize I’m not 20 anymore, but I’m also extremely active for a guy three months away from Medicare.

Yesterday our basketball teams (V, JV, and C) went bowling and only three others in our group of 30 had higher scores than me. The boys razzed me the whole time because of a little skip I take after I release the ball, but at least my ball hit pins at the end as oppose to theirs! Perhaps they need to get a few adjustments!

I see Dr. Henry again in two weeks for another few jerks. It’s a plot, shall we say, with many twists and turns! 

“Lord!!!!! Have mercy!”

Dysfunctional 7th Graders

January 26, 2019

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                      January 26, 2019

                                   

The definition of the word “dysfunctional” is “7th Grade!” 

Okay! Actually, the definition is “not operating normally or properly.” Otherwise known as “7th Grade!”

Just view a class of 7th graders. About 40% of them are dealing with a mouth full of metal. Several of them got in line twice when height was being handed out, while a few overslept and missed the gift of inches. There are a few who are on task with whatever is assigned to them, while others’ focus can simply be distracted by air! Some are physically changing from kids into adults, bypassing adolescence completely, while others seem to still be passengers on a Frontier Airlines maturity flight, grounded in the land of childhood!

I’m never bored as I view 7th graders. There is always something going on. Maybe that’s why one of the main characters in my first novel is a 7th grader with thick glasses and a lack of friends. I see him multiple times each time I substitute teach.

Yesterday I had a 7th grader who walked around with a facial tissue sticking out of one of his nostrils. Weird, huh? Not for him! Goes with his personality! I finally informed him that it was kind of gross for others to look at and he apologized. He’s the kind of 7th grader who often forgets that there is a zipper on the front of his pants. On Thursday he asked to go to the restroom and then didn’t come back for half an hour. Not because he was doing anything bad, just because he had some constipation issues. He apologized to me when he came back and started to go into detail! I put the stop sign up!

I tried to rationalize with one student who lacks motivation. He didn’t want to complete an assignment and I asked him if he walks home after school? “Yes!” 

“So do you ever get halfway home and say ‘I don’t want to walk the rest of the way!’?”

“No! That’d be stupid!”

“Think of this assignment as kinda’ being like that.”

“It’s not!”

A girl and a boy were having a disagreement about something like how much white board markers cost and I bring a chuckle to their neighboring classmates when I say to the girl, “You’re like Drama!” and to the boy “And you’re the sequel!”

A couple of students talk to me non-stop like a fire hydrant that has been opened up. I appreciate the conversation, although I don’t need to know the veterinarian experiences of her 12 year old Tabby!

There’s seventh graders who didn’t get the memo that they’re in seventh grade…three grades either way. Some who are still living the world of fourth graders and others who think they deserve to be escorted to the high school prom.

BUT, whereas there are folks who take the “fun” out of the dysfunction, seventh graders put it back in…in triplicate! It’s how they are and who they are!

Unplanned Open Day

January 23, 2019

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                     January 23, 2019

                             

Yesterday schools, the public libraries, military bases, and other spots that are usually open…weren’t! The Colorado Springs area got blasted with a blizzard during the night and into Tuesday. The wind gusts scooted the swing across the deck behind our house. The cover on our hot tub was blown open (and I can’t wait to see what our next utility bill will be)! Roads were closed as snow drifts were shaped and created.

It was a planned day that suddenly became unplanned. Snow days have that effect. What hadn’t become a possibility pushes all the plans out of the way as it goes from the back row to the front and only seat!

There is something refreshing about a planned day that suddenly becomes open and free, unless you’re one of those drivers who gets stuck on the side of the road when the temperature is 4 degrees. There is something freeing about realizing that there is nothing you can do the whole day. You are homebound, away from the classroom or office, whether you want to be or not…and you breathe in a deep sense of peace!

Our lives are consumed by schedules and tasks. When I pastored I would make a list at the beginning of each week that would be filled with all the jobs to complete, the people to visit, and the meetings to attend. It covered a page, two columns wide, top to bottom. I’d cross off completed tasks, but each week the page would get filled back up. 

To be told that it’s okay to chill for a day, to be unproductive, to sit back in the recliner and read a James Patterson novel…it brings a smile to our face. We come face-to-face with the fragile nature of our plans and the harsh truth that we aren’t always the ones who can be in control.

Yesterday I worked on a jigsaw puzzle, read for a couple of hours, took a long nap, and wrote the first few hundred words in a new story I’m writing. In sharing what I did I must say that I didn’t seek to do them so I could have a sense of accomplishment. Each of them happened in the midst of my relaxed outlook.

It was as if I received sabbath rest on a Tuesday. There is a hint of God’s intentions in it, a calmness in the midst of the blizzard. It reinforces my belief that some of life’s biggest surprises come in the unplanned moments.

Christianized Swearing

January 22, 2019

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                  January 22, 2019

                               

I was raised in a household where swearing didn’t happen. About once every five or ten years my dad would be on opposite from  my mom on some issue or situation that he would clench his teeth and say “Shit! Virginia!” Like I said, about once every five or ten years. Other than that no one cussed…ever! 

Perhaps they did behind closed doors or in other places, but I highly doubt it!

I think my Uncle George did because he also drank alcohol. Growing up Southern Baptist I got the feeling that swearing was linked to alcohol…kinda’ like peanut butter and jelly!

So we christianized our swearing. We didn’t say “Oh, my God!” That was like fingernails scratching a chalkboard! We said the accepted “Oh, my gosh!” Gosh did not raise eyebrows, but gosh was simply the bleached out form of God!

My exclamation of choice these days is “Goooodddd Lorrdddd!”, extending the pronunciation of each letter as much as possible. When I’m really upset I shout, “Crap!”

Growing up instead of saying “Jesus” or “Jesus Christ” we said “Geez!” and “Geez Louise!” like it needed a partner!” We only said “Jesus” when our Sunday School teacher was looking for an answer to a question…no matter what the question was! (“What river did the Israelites cross as they were entering the Promised Land? Yes, Bill!” “I think it was Jesus!”)

The words we used to express our disbelief, dismay, or anger were indications of our sanctified walk with the Lord. Those “other people” let the devil guide their tongue in speaking the forbidden utterances. 

We took the James 1:26 words to heart. “Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless.”

Saying “Oh, my gosh!” was our own sign that we had a tight grip on the reins. It gave us the false illusion of being aligned with Christ. We were maturing in Christ as we exclaimed “Oh, my word!” 

We were easily fooled. We thought we were saved by using the right words rather than saved by grace. Slowly it would become apparent that people at church who didn’t swear DID DO other things, like gossip, keep a tight rein on their money, and chastise anyone who recommended any kind of change. We discovered that the spoken words were purified but there were bitter spirits and jealous hearts.

We were a bit like the Pharisees. We had tamed tongues and twisted spirits, the right words but the wrong motives. 

I still don’t swear- once again, a byproduct of a household where it was not welcome- but I recognize that it doesn’t make me saint-worthy. Each day I am thankful for the grace of God more and more. My prayer is that He makes me more like a  Mother Teresa and less like that other name that begins with Mother and continues with an “F”!

Handling The Wounds of Injustice

January 21, 2019

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                      January 21, 2019

                            

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere” – Dr. Martin Luther King

Perhaps it’s apropos to the emphasis of this weekend that the Saints are dealing with the pain of injustice!  A trip to the Super Bowl was almost assuredly thrown to the ground just as their receiver was. 

As we watched it- even those of us who aren’t Saints’ fans- we yelled at our televisions, “That’s a penalty!”

But it wasn’t! And we walked away muttering, “That’s just not right!” 

As I said, it’s appropriate for it to be a part of this weekend, a time when we remember Dr. Martin Luther King, who pointed his finger at systems, institutions, and discrepancies in the Land of the Free and said “This isn’t right!”

How we handle the wounds of injustice tells us who we are. It reveals our beliefs, or lack of, our callousness and caring, our self-centeredness and our concern for others. 

First of all, we must come to grips with the fact that injustice is a part of our lives. Rather it be a stolen football victory, the mistreating of a certain segment of our population, or even a student being falsely accused of cheating and suspended from school, injustice has a pocket somewhere in each of our backpacks. It happens on the avenue through town as Mr. Speed Demon races ahead going 65 in a 40 mile an hour speed zone. We cringe and grit our teeth at the gall that the guy has for so blatantly going outside of the accepted driving practices. 

It happens with the insurance companies that seem to rule the medical treatments of our lives. When a cancer patient is told that the treatment he needs will not be covered by insurance it makes us wonder what the purpose of insurance is? It strikes us as unjust to leave the decision of treating a potentially deadly disease to a for-profit company that has already been receiving our money.

So how do we handle the blows of injustice? Do we turn the other cheek? Do we strike back? Do we pout? Do we march? Do we strike? 

When teachers get taken advantage of, or taken for granted, do they just keep on keeping on? When the rent on an apartment escalates by a third while a teacher’s salary goes up 3% do they say “Oh, well!”?

Martin Luther King gave us an understanding for how to approach events and circumstances that aren’t right. He identified it, zeroed in on the roots of its existence, questioned its fairness, and promoted a new direction built on justice for all and hope for the future. Hate can pervert a system to grasp injustice, but hating injustice offers a path towards healing!

There are, however, injustices in our world which we can not quickly change! They become the fuse for our frustration that ignites our anger. Simply put, they become our prayer heart cries that we forget to pray about! 

Prayer becomes the invitation for the God of justice to counsel us about our grievances and take action in the struggle. It becomes “the talking it out” with the Lord. 

We tend to forget that in a world that seems out of control we worship the Lord who is always in control. Injustice will always seek to overwhelm us, but God will always walk with us!

Substitute Poet

January 20, 2019

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                  January 20, 2019

                                    

One of the 7th Grade classes I substitute teach for is Ms. DeKlerk’s Language Arts class. She trusts me with her students (Not sure how wise that is!) and inquires of my availability sometimes several months in advance or, as happened last week, if she happens to see me at school and is considering taking a day away from the classroom…like the next day!

This past Friday was a day in her poetry unit, so I began each class by sharing a couple of poems I had composed. My “hamming it up” Young Life days rose to the surface as I began my first poem with much verbiage about how much it meant to me, and how I often got emotional as I recited it. I talked about how the poem had come to me one night as I lay in bed and unable to sleep, and I entitled it simply “Flowers.” 

I waited for quiet, a long pause when it comes to 7th graders! Some of them shushed their classmates as they anxiously awaited the substitute teacher’s original creation.

And then I began!

“Roses are red! 

Pause for effect and looking as if I was about to breakdown in tears. I bring the back of one of my curled fingers to my lips as if I’m trying to hold it together.

“Violets are blue!”

Pause. “That’s it! Thank you!”

Laughter around the class and several of them clicked their fingers as if they were in a 70’s coffeehouse. A couple of “too cool” boys roll their eyes. The bodies of several kids who enjoy my humor are still shaking with inner giggling!

“And last night I had another one come to me.”

“Because you couldn’t sleep?” asks a dark-haired girl with braces sitting in the front row.

“Exactly! I was laying there and the words just invaded my mind.” Most of the class awaits with smiles on their faces. They have a feeling this is not going to resemble Longfellow!

“If roses are red, why are violets blue?

This is a confusing question for me…and for you!

And why don’t 7th Grade boys comb their hair?

Is it to get 6th Grade girls to stare?

And why are 7th grade girls so dramatic?

Is it because their lives are traumatic?

These are questions that keep me awake…awake…awake

For Pete’s sake!”

More clicking of fingers as I take my bow! 

“Thank you! Thank you very much!” 

As we used to say, now the students say of me, “He was a poet and didn’t know it!”

Too Old, Too Young

January 16, 2019

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                       January 16, 2019

                                      

I ventured to see my Physician’s Assistant this morning about my back muscle spasms. Two months ago when I saw P.A. Mark Smith for my annual physical he said I was doing well, looked healthy, and all my vital signs and blood tests were great!

And then he told me that I’m at an age where the impact sports and activities need to be lessened and it would be wise to switch to exercise activities like swimming, stationary bike, tiddilywinks, bridge, etc. (Okay! I paraphrased the last two!)

Last Wednesday I played early morning basketball at the YMCA, and by Thursday the spasms had arrived. Soooo….I saw Mark Smith again this morning. He looked at me and my chart. 

“So, Bill, you were playing basketball and now have muscle spasms in your lower back?” He gave me the parental look! 

“Yes, Mark!” I said, leaning towards repentance. 

He talked about treatment and then took on his fatherly expression, even though he’s the age of my son. “We talked about steering away from impact activities, didn’t we?”

“Yes!!!!”

“You need to work on your core strength, as opposed to activities where you’re doing a lot of twisting and turning. At your age there’s some things that are going to adversely affect you physically.”

In other words, someone who is getting daily advertisements in the mail about his approaching entry into Medicare may be too old to hoop it up! Back in college I could touch the rim! Now I’m being told I’m too old to touch a basketball! 

But I’m too young for other things, like senior water aerobics, bridge, and scrapbooking! I’m too old to hoop it up with the high school varsity, although I can dominate the freshmen and sophomores (I think!). I’m too old to run the Pike’s Peak Ascent anymore, but I’m too young to join a walking club. 

I’m a ‘tweener’! Too sophisticated for rotary dial telephones, but too dumb for my own smart phone! It’s an uncomfortable age because you realize that most of your life is now in the rearview mirror and the rest of your life has a degree of uncertainty about it.

Too old, too young! Been there, done that! And not sure I’m ready for that! I’m ready for the Icy Hot muscle ointment, but not quite ready to be covered up with a blanket!

Maybe I’ll start playing pickleball!