For My Path

2009-11-10T07:08:00.000-08:00

“Remember When”

I love Alan Jackson’s song “Remember When.” The truth and transparency of the lyrics caught me off guard and I cried the first time I heard it. The first two stanzas set the stage for the rest of the song and for this correspondence:

Remember when I was young and so were you
and time stood still and love was all we knew
You were the first, so was I
We made love and then you cried
Remember when

Remember when we vowed the vows
and walked the walk
Gave our hearts, made the start, it was hard
We lived and learned, life threw curves
There was joy, there was hurt
Remember when

Donna and I got married when we were 21. We were both enrolled in LSU, trying to get through school, figuring out how to be a married couple, and wondering where the next month’s rent was going to come from. Our cinder-block apartment was so small you couldn’t open the oven door and the refrigerator door at the same time. I would get up at night to get a glass of water only to find our kitchen overrun by roaches. I’d run back (that means I’d take two big steps) to our doorless closet in our bedroom to put on cowboy boots (in my underwear) and scream curse words while I stomped around the kitchen attempting to turn as many of those tiny invaders as I could into squished grease spots on the linoleum floor (which I’d leave there for Donna to find in the morning).

I know you too, married or not, have lots of memories about your years of finishing college and entering the workforce. Maybe as you read this, you are in the process of making those memories. Donna and I have laughed and swapped early-life stories with friends for years. I don’t recall any of us saying that those early married years were easy. There were bills to pay, mouths to feed, courses to finish, jobs to get, relationships to figure out, and compromises to be made (like which side of the roll the toilet paper comes out on). All of it seemed so big at the time.

While, at times, the demands of life and work and relationships seemed overwhelming for Donna and I and those in our sphere, they were not life threatening. This is not so for our young friends Keenan and Sarah. They, like us, “vowed the vows and walked the walk.” They gave their hearts and were in the process of living and learning when life threw them a really big curve.

Keenan and Sarah recently graduated from UGA. Sarah just started her career as a pre-K school teacher in the Jackson County school system. Keenan is serving as an unpaid intern working for the Wesley Foundation at UGA doing campus ministry. They are a young couple, in love, trying to figure out the whole toilet paper puzzle and working to make their way in the world. Last week Sarah was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma, a cancer of the lymph nodes. She begins chemotherapy on November 12.

I strive to live out my faith on a daily basis. Some days that is easier than others. I draw inspiration from those around me when I see them dealing with difficult life circumstances, keeping Christ at the center, and being willing to be transparent about their struggles. Keenan and Sarah have been a tremendous inspiration to me. They are keeping their friends and family members up to date by journaling their walk through this difficult time via an internet site called Caring Bridge. I have posted a link to their journal below and encourage you to make the time to read it. Here are a couple of excerpts from Keenan’s journal entries:

“From my perspective, I think the hardest part for Sarah is keeping her mind on what is good. She believes she will be healed, and she knows she will come out of this alright, but the day to day pain and emotional grind wears on her and it can be easy to despair. The most difficult part for me is not being able to control her emotions. There are times when I see her upset and frustrated and it absolutely tears me apart when I can't change that. We've committed to being honest and vulnerable with each other, but sometimes I wish I could plaster a smile on her face and call it real. Instead, I have to learn to perceive her needs when, in some cases, even she doesn't know. I want to learn how to be what she needs. From where I stand, this will only happen by God's grace.”

“JRR Tolkein is one of my favorite authors, and at times I feel like Sam journeying alongside Frodo on his way towards dark and trying places. No burden is fun, nor is it easy, and while Mordor is never a desirable place to go, it is somewhat encouraging at least to know what path lies ahead of us. Now may the Lord continue to give my Sarah the grace and courage she needs to press on, and may he give me (her Sam) the strength and selflessness to see her through the end.”

Keenan’s parents have been two of our closest friends since we moved here almost 20 years ago. We watched Keenan grow up. As I sat on the sidelines of this game that Keenan and Sarah are playing out I had to ask myself and to pray about what I had to offer them to help. Prayer? Absolutely…done. Money? Absolutely…done. Those are easy, right? The question that God challenged me with was this: “How do I use ALL the gifts God gave me to help?” I enjoy writing. I untangle difficult concepts by writing about them. I asked Don and Lori if I might serve them in this way by sharing Keenan and Sarah’s story with others in hopes that you will join us in helping them with your prayers, your gifts, and yes, with the financial resources God has blessed you with.

Keenan and Sarah have asked folks to pray for healing. They are not picky…whether that comes from miraculous and immediate healing, or whether it comes by using the earthly medicines and knowledge God has given us, they’d be happy either way. If you could join us in this prayer effort, that’d be great. If God has blessed you to be a blessing, and you feel led to help this young couple financially, I can tell you that they need that help desperately. The medical bills are already mounting. Thankfully they have insurance through Sarah’s work, but that will only go so far. Sarah will be limited with how much she can work, and Keenan continues to work as an unpaid intern while serving as her primary caregiver. If you can help financially, please see the information below for how to make a tax deductible donation to them.

Finally, I encourage you to ask yourself the same question God challenged me with: “How do I use ALL the gifts God gave me to help?” Whether your eyes are on this young couple or someone in your own immediate sphere, the challenge remains the same. Prayer is invaluable…but do we stop there? Money is needed…but do we stop there? Maybe you are an encourager… encouragers are needed! Maybe your cooking can rival Emeril’s…food is an amazing spirit-lifter. Maybe you read an inspirational book recently that you got something out of and that you can pass along…there’s lots of waiting time when you are doing the “hospital thing.” Wondering what else you can offer to those around you in need? Ask God to show you. He is amazingly faithful.

The lyrics of “Remember When” offer up a reminder of hope:

“Remember when thirty seemed so old
Now lookn' back it's just a steppin' stone”

My prayer for Keenan and Sarah is that they will, one day soon, be able to look back and consider this time in their lives as “Just a steppin’ stone” that moved them (and maybe us along with them) into deeper relationship with Christ.

Striving to Live Love,

Greg

Read Keenan and Sarah’s story here: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/sarahklayman.

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Donation information: Please make checks payable to “Wesley Foundation” and mail to 1196 South Lumpkin, Athens, GA 30605. Write “Keenan Klayman” in the memo line of a check. 100% of your donation will go directly into Keenan’s account. All donations are tax-deductible. For information on the Wesley Foundation: http://www.ugawesley.org/

Correspondence Information: Keenan & Sarah Klayman, 1401 White Oak Drive, Athens, GA 30606

More about ways to live love here: http://projectlivelove.com/

There is an awesome music video of Remember When on YouTube. Check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4tvuDl1FCM

Born to be Wild?

2009-11-04T03:45:00.000-08:00

“Born to be Wild?”

Greg Martin

My friend Mike preached one of his first sermons built around Paul’s statement that we are “saints by calling,” and the question of whether we tend to think of ourselves primarily as sinners or saints. As I listened to his message, I kept thinking about something that I am fond of saying. I enjoy hunting as well as shooting sports such as trap, skeet, sporting clays, etc. and I am a member at a local gun club. I often make the connection between shooting and church by saying: "I go to the gun club for the same reason that I go to church. I go to the gun club, not because I am a good shot, but because I am a bad shot and I want to get better. Likewise I go to church, not because I am a saint, but because I am a sinner and I want to get better".

While this typically draws a smile from my listeners, Mike’s message that day made me think that perhaps I might just have it backwards. Perhaps my shooting would be improved if I were to think of myself as a good shot who occasionally misses rather than as a bad shot who occasionally hits the target. Likewise if I am called to be a saint, my walk of faith might just be improved if I were to think of myself as a saint who occasionally sins rather than as a sinner who occasionally walks according to the will of God.

Let me pause here to say that I am a sinner. I know that. Thanks to my wayward older brother Adam and my impetuous sister Eve I was born into a fallen world and I am a sinner only to be saved by grace. Got it.

When faced with a difficult topic I am fond of taunting my Sunday school class with the battle cry of the elementary schooler..."So what?...Who cares?". I think as Christians we have to pick up that battle cry sometimes and apply it to our walk of faith. As in, "So I am a sinner...So what? Who cares?" And, taken a step further..."What am I supposed to do about it?" I'd like to take a swing at answering that...to build on the concept of "saints by calling".

Just because I am a sinner doesn't mean that I am a victim forever destined to act in sinful ways. I am from south Louisiana and I am blessed to be of Acadian descent...a "Cajun" if you will. Cajuns are known to be lovers of spicy food, to enjoy poking fun at themselves, and more often than not, for enjoying the more-than-occasional adult beverage. I am guilty as charged. However, if I did not like spicy food I would still be a Cajun. See, I was born into the culture by virtue of my dad. My dad was fluent in both French and English, and my grandparents on my dad's side actually spoke more French than they did English. I cannot disclaim being a Cajun anymore than I can disclaim being a sinner. I was born into both.

I mentioned that Cajuns enjoy the more-than-the-occasional adult beverage. Which is a fancy way of saying they have a reputation as being hard drinkers; again, guilty as charged. I also happen to be the adult child of an alcoholic. My mom was an alcoholic for the majority of her life. She was drinking when she was pregnant with me (explains a lot, I know:-). Whether I drink or not will never change the fact that I was and am a child of an alcoholic. I was born into it.

And the battle cry is heard..."SO WHAT!? WHO CARES!?" And, taken a step further..."What am I supposed to do about it?"

The issue really comes down to will I react or respond to my life circumstance. (React being negative as in "the patient had a reaction to the medicine", vs. Respond being positive, as in "the patient is responding to the medicine".)

The philosophy applies to my life - all our lives - as sinners. We were all born into sin. So, "What are we supposed to do about it?" I think that that is what Paul was talking about when he says we are called to be saints. God blessed me with Free Will...with the ability to choose whether I react or respond to sin. The answer to the "Who Cares?" question is: God. God cares what you do about it. From Genesis to Revelation the bible documents our heavenly father's relentless pursuit of his wayward children. Because he cares he calls us to be saints - not just for him - but because he knows that when we act according to His will we will experience true joy.

If I think of myself as a saint first, then godly actions are expected and I become acutely aware of any action I take that is ungodly. If I think of myself as a sinner first, then ungodly actions are what are expected.

Let's take something that a lot of guys struggle with: pornography. Let's say I find myself alone in my home at my computer with time on my hands. If I consciously think of myself as a saint, it becomes really difficult to visit those sites. On the contrary, if I consciously think of myself as a sinner then my dalliances into the world of porn are not only accepted, but expected. "Of course I am spending time with my girls...I am a sinner, don't you know...didn't you hear the preacher call me a sinner on Sunday?"

Let's take another biggie for guys: anger. Let's say that my spouse/boss/child/ (you fill in the blank here) says or does something that has the potential to make me angry. If I consciously think of myself as a saint, I am more inclined to respond to the matter. If I think of myself as a sinner first, it is much easier to react in anger. In fact, if I consider myself a sinner I can typically find a way to justify my anger and be very self-righteous about it.

There's another aspect of this saint vs. sinner thing that is very insidious. If I consider myself a sinner rather than a saint by calling, I am much less inclined to hold a sinning brother or sister accountable. The logic goes like this: "I am a sinner because I did _____________ (again you fill in the blank). And, because I did _____________ ,who am I to tell someone else how to behave?" This is the great lie, of course, but many of us buy into it. I call this concept the Apathy of Hypocrisy…(kind of sounds like something Jesse Jackson might make up, doesn’t it?)

The concept of the “Apathy of Hypocrisy” will probably never be taught at the Candler School of Theology but (call it what you want) our understanding what it means is essential to our embracing the paradigm shift of thinking of ourselves as saints first rather than sinners. Since I made the concept up, I get to define it, right? So, the “Apathy of Hypocrisy” says that rather than appearing hypocritical for judging something in my present as compared to something in my past I will do nothing. It is very selfish, really.

The net effect of this concept could be stated as: “I care more about how I am perceived by others than I care about what is best for you.” It is the father who will not talk to his son about smoking pot because the father smoked pot as a teenager. It is the mother who won’t talk to her daughter about drinking and drugging because the mother struggled with the same issues in her past. It is the friend who lost his marriage because he was unfaithful failing to talk to his buddy when he knows his buddy is headed down a similar path.

One of the sales courses I took years ago taught the “feel, felt, found” approach to overcoming objections. Whatever objection a prospect gave could be handled with this simple technique: “I understand how you feel, I felt the same way, here’s what I have found….” I have found it to be a powerful sales tool and a powerful relationship tool. It helps you to find common ground and address concerns quickly. But, in the case of using it in relationship, it requires an aspect of transparency and that can be risky. To apply this technique in a relationship, I have to get over my fears of what you might think of me in order to help you.

The Apathy of Hypocrisy keeps us on the sidelines of life. It keeps us from fully engaging in the lives of those around us for fear of how it makes us appear. It is a selfish lie. The truth is: who better to remove a splinter from a brother’s eye than one who has removed a plank from his own eye? I understand how you feel. I have felt the same way. Here’s what I have found…

(Written 4/12/07 & 11/4/09)

"Fit to be Free"

2009-10-27T11:48:00.000-07:00

“Fit to be Free”
Greg Martin

Early on in my working career I was a sponge for information. Every conference, convention or education session I went to I tried to soak up every new good idea I heard about. I didn’t implement them all, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I am sure that everyone in my office hated it when I went to a meeting because I would come back all jazzed about the next great thing. The problem was that a lot of the advice and programs that had gone into orbit for others, failed to launch for us. We followed all the same formulas for implementation, used the same vendors, adopted the same vision and mission statements, used the same marketing techniques, and yet we simply did not get the same result. Their stuff just didn’t seem to fit quite right…and we often lost a lot of time and resources before we figured it out.

David knew how cumbersome and awkward it was to try to work with things that didn’t fit. With a persuasive speech that could not be denied, this shepherd boy convinced a king to let him go up against a giant. One of the little known facts about Saul is that, apparently he was quite the fashionista. Saul knew that you simply wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a stinky old shepherd’s tunic onto the battlefield (too much burlap and not enough metal I guess). So, Saul had compassion on David and outfitted David in Saul’s own tunic as well as a few pieces with a little more bling. Here’s how scripture records the moment in 1 Samuel 17:38: “Then Saul dressed David in his own tunic. He put a coat of armor on him and a bronze helmet on his head.”

When I buy a new pair of shoes I have to take a few steps in them…just to make sure they don’t bind, pinch or slip in the wrong places. I guess Dave knew that too. He was all dressed up in Saul’s stuff and about to go into battle, he needed to know if he could fight in this borrowed equipment: v.39a “David fastened on his own sword over the tunic and tried walking around, because he was not used to them.” Apparently it was not a good fit because he told Saul the same thing I tell shoe salespeople when my shoes don’t fit, v.39b: “’I cannot go in these,’ he said to Saul, ‘because I am not used to them.’ So he took them off.”

About 10:30 last Saturday night God reminded me of this story. The speaker a neighboring church had lined up for their laity Sunday cancelled, and a friend asked me if I’d fill in. I had known about the gig all week and had been giving some thought time to it but hadn’t sat down to put anything on paper…until the night before of course. In search of inspiration (okay, I started out about four hours earlier looking merely for inspiration. By 10:30 I had made the leap from inspiration-seeker to information-thief and was willing to outright steal anything I could find. Did I mention this was my first preaching gig? Well, it was. I was starting to freak out, get the picture?) I was covered up in books, and had spent hours scouring the internet trying to find someone else’s armor to put on. The problem was that none of them fit. And, to make matters worse, I was missing the LSU v. Auburn game while I was looking. (I wonder what David was missing while Saul was putzing with David’s outfit?)

God answered my prayer for inspiration by reminding me of the story of David and then telling me to quit trying to force myself into armor that didn’t fit. After putting up a pitiful fight with God, I closed all the reference materials, quit searching for other people’s sermons I could steal and instead, focused on developing the pieces that God had given me several days prior.

It ended up being a pretty decent message, I think. It tied with the theme of laity Sunday, it had a little humor, it was grounded in scripture, it sought to honor the clergy, and inspire the laity. It had an introduction, body and conclusion. It didn’t run too long. Shoot, I even issued a challenge at the end just like grown up preachers do.

I think the main thing was that – because the message was mine - I had complete peace about delivering it. I was able to free myself up to the Holy Spirit’s promptings to make real-time connections to people in the congregation, the programs that I learned of that morning that the church was involved in, the other speakers participating in the service who were also out of their comfort zones, etc. Because I was comfortable where I was I could focus on others. The potential for a message to be impactful is partly what is said and partly how it is said. Once I was comfortable with what God wanted me to say, I was free to focus on how he wanted me to say it.

I think this is a powerful message for all aspects of our lives as well as the groups we are a part of. Whether it is our approach to a job, a relationship, finances, a diet, a ministry, a program, or a sermon, if we are not feeling comfortable using someone else’s plan as a model we will never be free to be able to hear the still small voice that God often speaks to us in. If you have ever put on a pair of shoes that are a size or two too small, you know just how quickly pain or discomfort causes you to shift your focus away from others and onto yourself.

God is all about our being free. Jesus died to free us from the bondage of sin. God gave us the perfect fit for our lives. Through his Word he gave us the model for a life of freedom. That when we simply do what the Word of God says we have complete freedom. We weren’t created to sin. When we sin – when we try to put on something was not designed for us - it inevitably produces discomfort or pain and our eyes turn inward.

I’m not an advertising executive. But if I was and was challenged to reduce this concept to a few word slogan to make it memorable, I might call it: “Fit to be Free.” My prayer for me, and you, is that we all come to know - and act on the knowledge - that we are “Fit to be Free.”

# # #

"Nibbling the Vine"

2009-07-23T06:27:00.000-07:00

“Nibbling the Vine”
Greg Martin

“You’re not an herbivore, you’re a carnivore!” my daughter reminded and admonished Roxy, as Roxy was trying to eat a vine growing in our front yard. Now, to be fair, Roxy has shown reasonably average intelligence but she is, after all, a dog. There are people I know who might pause a minute to remind themselves of the distinction between herbivores and carnivores. Roxy may have understood the exasperated tone in my daughter’s voice, but I’m fairly certain that Roxy did not stop nibbling the vine because she had an “aha!” moment and thought: “Oh yeah, I forgot…how silly of me. I’m a meat eater. Gosh, what was I thinking?”

I wonder sometimes, if we as Christians can see some of ourselves in that exchange. I will never forget, years ago, long before I bought my first bible, I was attending a Sunday school class and one of the ladies in the class was making the point that – as Christians - we all had to possess “broken and contrite hearts.” I was sitting there nibbling a vine when she reminded me that I was a carnivore. “Oh yeah, I forgot…how silly of me. I’m a Christian. Gosh, what was I thinking?”

I didn’t know what a “broken and contrite heart” was but I could tell from her tone of voice that it was something important. The problem was that I grew up in a culture that taught me that it was bad to break things…sort of like those little signs in country stores stuffed with knick knacks that say “You break it you bought it.” If being a Christian meant I had to have a broken heart you could count me out. I wasn’t buying what she, or the bible, was selling. And, as for the “contrite” part, I didn’t have a clue what that meant.

This lady in my Sunday school class became a friend of ours and, while her method of communicating often was a challenge for me, I came to appreciate her heart for the Lord. I have to admit though that she intimidated me for several years with the language she used. She didn’t mean to intimidate me – she just did. When people are intimidated they tend to withdraw. If the intimidation continues one of two things typically happens: they either depart permanently, or they begin to arm themselves and to push back. I hate running away from problems so I started arming myself.

Over the next several years I took three 50+ week long bible studies. I began facilitating small group bible studies and somewhere along the line I remembered that I was a carnivore. I stopped trying to live on milk and I had begun to feast on the meat of the Word of God. Somewhere in the process I found myself having to be more and more conscious of the manner in which I communicated Christ to others. If I was not careful, I too might find myself declaring that, as Christians, we must have broken and contrite hearts.

See that whole “broken and contrite heart” thing comes straight out of Psalm 51. King David had committed adultery with this hottie named Bathsheba and this dude who was like his accountability partner (the Prophet Nathan) called Dave out for messing up. Dave apologizes like no one I have ever known. The entire Psalm is this mighty earthly king pouring his heart out his heavenly Father. Check out just a small excerpt:

¹¹ Do not cast me from your presence
or take your Holy Spirit from me.

¹² Restore to me the joy of your salvation
and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

¹³ Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
and sinners will turn back to you.

¹⁴ Save me from bloodguilt, O God,
the God who saves me,
and my tongue will sing of your righteousness.

¹⁵ O Lord, open my lips,
and my mouth will declare your praise.

¹⁶ You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.

¹⁷ The sacrifices of God are ^[c] a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart,
O God, you will not despise.

Now that’s an apology….like Larry the Cable Guy says: “I don’t care who you are.”

I may not have gotten what a “broken and contrite heart” was when I first heard it many years ago and out of context…but I get it now…when I know, as Paul Harvey says, “the rest of the story.”

I have a dear friend who led the first extended bible study I took. He used to remind us regularly that “Christ reaches us where we are or we will never be reached.” I guess the point of this is that when we are sharing Christ with others we need to be conscious of reaching people where they are, even if where they are is nibbling a vine.

July 2009

"Jeet Yet?"

2009-07-22T06:09:00.000-07:00

"Jeet yet?"
Greg Martin

Southern humorist Jeff Foxworthy has made a career out of observing and commenting on the speech, methods and mannerisms of people; particularly people who have been raised south of the Mason-Dixon line. Through his "You Might Be a Redneck If..." shtick, he has taught the world that "redneck" is not a term of derision, but rather a moniker to be worn proudly by a people who are true to, and find great humor in, laughing at themselves. He has captured, penned, and defined an entire new dictionary of colloquialisms regularly used by his chosen people. One of Foxworthy's hallmark observations is the expression "Jeet yet?" Which any good redneck knows is translated "Did you eat yet?" What a great question!

I love questions. Questions are powerful. Ask any good psychologist, counselor, facilitator, teacher, or trainer if they had to give up either: 1) the ability to make declarative statements, or 2) the ability to ask questions, which would they choose. I believe that they would vote unanimously to keep the ability to ask questions.

In "Tribes", Seth Godin's recently released book on leadership, he says this: "People don't believe what you tell them. They rarely believe what you show them. They often believe what their friends tell them. They always believe what they tell themselves." What we tell ourselves, more often than not, comes as a response to questions we ask ourselves or others ask us. Which is why I believe that most of life's challenges can solved not with answers, but with asking the right questions...and "jeet yet?" ranks up there with one of the best questions we can ask ourselves.

I was meeting with a friend recently who struggles with temptations surrounding pornography. I don't currently have in my inner circle a friend named "Bob" so let's call this friend Bob. One of the questions I asked Bob was "What have you been feeding yourself?" The old cliché about computers of "garbage in, garbage out" absolutely applies to our bodies, and our minds as well as to our laptops.

Please allow me a brief aside about the consequences of feeding our bodies poorly...In 2004 filmmaker Morgan Spurlock shocked the world with his documentary on the ill-effects of fast food in his award winning film "Super Size Me". Spurlock started his epic journey with a very simple question: "Why are Americans so fat?" For 30 days Spurlock didn't eat or drink anything that wasn't on McDonald's menu; he had to eat three squares a day; he had to consume everything on the menu at least once and super size his meal if asked. The negative effects on his body, as quantified by the medical community, were immediate and dramatic. One commentator put it this way: "Spurlock's grueling drive-through diet spirals him into a physical and emotional metamorphosis that will make you think twice about picking up another Big Mac." Garbage in - garbage out. Jeet yet?

Back to my conversation with Bob…he had had several weeks without "incident". I asked him what he had been feeding himself. Not physically, but rather what had he been feeding his mind? What input had he subjected himself to? What images, conversations, words had he consumed? His answer was shocking in what it revealed about him, and I think, about a lot of us. When asked what he had been feeding himself, my friend replied: "Nothing." Really? Nothing? His response was limited by his view of what he thought was necessary for him to succeed in his struggle, namely: consciously abstaining from actively engaging in activities that feed his temptation.

Abstaining from activities that feed our temptations is essential...but it is only one part of a three-part process with the other two parts being awareness and affirmative action. If we rely upon abstinence alone we are doomed to failure. We eventually grow weary of the struggle, we stop being watchful, and before long we find ourselves giving in to temptation - again - and wondering what went wrong.

Awareness is one of the primary keys to success. 1 Peter 5:8 says: "Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour." Consider the area in which you struggle. If you knew that you had an enemy whose sole purpose was to do anything possible to cause you to stumble, would you fight this enemy by simply abstaining from that which tempts you? Or, might you abstain while wielding a sword and being ever watchful?

Back to Bob…when asked "Whadjaeet?" ("What have you been feeding yourself?") and he said "Nothing;" do you really believe that? Do you think he lived, worked and played for weeks without subjecting himself to images, words, and conversations? Of course not. He had simply abstained from the obvious and credited his success to his own action.

The garbage in - garbage out comparison between computers and our minds falls apart in that computers can be turned off. Our minds on the other hand are constantly receiving and processing information. In other words we are never feeding ourselves "nothing". Just the opposite; we are in fact, consciously or subconsciously, relentlessly gorging on information. Billboards, magazine covers, emails, television, music, text messages, phone calls, conversations... even scents, scream at us seeking to tempt us directly, or to distract us from the goal in order that we may be tempted. 1 John 2:16 says: "For everything in the world—the cravings of sinful man, the lust of his eyes and the boasting of what he has and does—comes not from the Father but from the world."

Whether we are trying to abstain from pornography, or anger, or spending beyond our means, or even that extra slice of cheesecake, "the world" that John writes of is only too willing to tempt us with the lust of our eyes. Like it or not, God made Satan the boss of "the world", and he is not limited by only tempting us with the lust of the eyes...he makes full use of all 5 senses. Have you ever heard, smelled, felt, or tasted something that takes your mind immediately to another place or time? And, are those places that you go in your mind always good places?

I can hear a certain song and immediately feel what I felt when that song initially associated itself with my memory. My wife and I first kissed to Led Zepplin's 70's hit song "Stairway to Heaven". Whenever I hear that song it stirs up old thoughts and memories...that's a good thing.

Had he been asked to expand upon the concept, John might have written about the lust of the nose. Sounds funny doesn't it? But, scents are powerful emotional triggers and Satan is not above using them to tempt us. There's a great line in one of my favorite movies, "Silverado" where Kevin Cline walks into a saloon, takes a deep breath and says: "I love the smell of a good saloon". I suspect that most of you know that smell...a mixture of stale beer, sweet whiskey, and second-hand smoke. I admit it - I too love the smell of a good saloon.

Have you ever noticed that printed matter has a distinct smell? Walk into any library and pay attention to what it smells like. I love that smell. I love books. I love to read. Magazines have a unique smell all their own. I don't know if it is the paper or the ink, but magazines smell differently even than books. In years past, I spent so much time with my nose stuck in "dirty magazines" that - even now - I can pick up a copy of something as innocuous as "Good Housekeeping" and, if I am not aware, the subtle scent associated with sinful behavior can trigger a line of thinking, and even action, that is not healthy...and I never even saw it coming.

Abstinence is not enough. Awareness is not enough. I can abstain from eating cheesecake and be aware that I have an enemy that wants me to eat that cheesecake, but if I don't fill my belly with good food, I will eventually starve. I can abstain from looking at porn. I can be aware that I have an enemy that wants me to look at porn but, if I do not take affirmative action to fill the void left by the absence of the poor behavior, I will still fail.

Affirmative action is not defined here in the governmental sense as a set of actions designed to eliminate discrimination, but rather as positive movement toward a pre-determined goal. The affirmative action, stated in terms in keeping with the theme of this devotional, can best be summarized using Checker's (the fast-food hamburger chain) current ad campaign "Ya Gotta Eat".

Jesus ate and we need to follow His example - we "gotta eat". The 4th chapter of Matthew tells of the temptation of Christ. Jesus had abstained from food - for "forty days and nights" scripture tells us. Jesus was certainly aware of the enemy. That part is rather obvious by virtue of the fact that Jesus was engaged in dialogue with him. Christ being who He is could have defeated temptation however He wanted. I believe that He modeled this approach for our sakes - that we might learn by His example. When tempted by the devil to use His power to turn stones to bread to feed His hungry physical body, Christ instead was able to defeat temptation because - previously - He had fed on the Word of God. In the process Christ gives us an object lesson on the very scripture He uses to defeat temptation.

Christ answers the devil by quoting from the 8th chapter of Deuteronomy "It is written: 'Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God." Because He had fed on what the Word of God has to say about feeding on the Word of God He was able to defeat the devil. Wow. I mean really...wow. (Ah...to be able to teach like Jesus!).

So, what's the bottom line here? Defeating temptation requires abstinence, awareness, and affirmative action. A simple way to help us remember this is to regularly ask ourselves and those we care about one complex theological question...jeet yet?

# # #

November 2008

2009-05-07T12:56:00.000-07:00

"Pitching Hissys"
Greg Martin
May 2009

It was about 1991. We were young parents with young children. We had a 5-year-old daughter (Taylor) and a 2-year-old son (Tucker). Our daughter was the perfect angel. She made us want more children. At two, all my son made me want was a vasectomy. He is a passionate man now. He was a passionate child then. The difference is that, at two, his passion manifested itself in what the child experts of the day called "temper tantrums." There are lots of other names for this behavior most of which use sports metaphors that involve "pitching" or "throwing" as in "he threw a fit" or "he pitched a hissy fit," or the abbreviated version which is my favorite: "he pitched a hissy." I don't know what exactly a "hissy" is but I know it is not good. And, Tucker pitched a lot of them.

To make matters worse, he was unnaturally attached to a pair of red cowboy boots that belonged to his sister and that were about three sizes too big for him. He never wanted them off of his feet. When we tried to get him to wear something else, or to take the boots off he would pitch a hissy. He actually wore holes on the tops of the toes of the boots from dragging them behind him as he rode his scooter. Even as a young parent you learn to pick your battles with your children. So, most days - including church on Sundays - Tucker could be seen wearing his red cowboy boots with the holes on top.

Pitching a hissy was bad enough, pitching a hissy while wearing nothing but a diaper and cowboy boots was something to behold. (I had a cousin that did this once, but he was an adult and I seem to remember the cops being called, but we don't talk about that much.) Anyway, such was Tucker's attire the day I penned the poem below.

I have always enjoyed writing, but never been too much on poetry. Tucker was pitching a hissy in his room because he did not want to take a nap. He was kicking his boots against his closed bedroom door while screaming "Mommy!," "my Mommy!" o v e r and o-v-e-r again to try to get out of taking a nap. Over about a 45-minute period - until he fell asleep - he changed the inflection on those two words to sound pleading, demanding, angry, and pitiful. He tried a variety of volume options from screaming, to shouting, to talking, and finally to whispering.

My wife and I, like most young parents, pretty much stayed exhausted from the rigors of life. A nap for us was a cherished rarity. For a two-year-old a nap was torture. With the sounds of Tucker kicking and screaming in my ears, the contrast hit me and before the hissy fit had subsided, I had written the poem below.

While I named as I did, it could just as easily have been titled "A Two-Year-Old's Torture." Any parent who has raised young children can relate to this difficult season that most children go through.

"Tucker’s Torture"
Greg Martin
Written circa 1991

Mommy!! My Mommy!!
I hear you wail through your bedroom door.
Compared to me Sadaam’s who’s sane
If I hear that scream once more.

You plead for release from that awful place
Upon which you lay your head.
As if your very life depends upon
Separation from your bed.

Your mom and I would kill
To take a 20 minute nap, so
I’m afraid we don’t share your feelings
For your feather-pillowed trap.

So for now my little angry angel
The only freedom you shall reap
Is that which ever-so-slowly comes
When you finally fall asleep.

2009-05-05T14:24:00.000-07:00

"The Things They Carried"
Greg Martin
Originally written 10/26/2008

Tim O'Brien wrote a bestseller a while ago entitled "The Things They Carried". It was about the Vietnam war and the men that fought there. The author went into fascinating detail about what soldiers carried with them into battle...from the quantity and weight of their weapons and ammunition to each man's issue of MRE's (Meals Ready to Eat), to the contents of their first aid kits, to the dog tags that hung around their necks. He also talked about the things that they carried that were not provided to them by the U. S. Government, many of which were heavier than what they were issued: fear, resentment, anger, confusion, insecurity, uncertainty, feelings of betrayal, guilt and shame.

Some of us, I suspect, carry some of these things as well as we march through life. Along with the tools of our trade: blackberries and Nextels, keys to the things we own (or that own us?), our money clips, credit cards, business cards, sales brochures, legal briefs, hammers, or wrenches, we carry some other things as well.

Maybe it is fear of failure that you carry. Maybe it is fear that someone will discover that you are not who you think you are expected to be, or that you do not know something that you think you are expected to know. Maybe you are in a tough spot financially or in regards to your health and you find yourself having to depend upon the assistance of others. Maybe you carry some long-festering resentment held toward a spouse or child who does not "understand you".

Maybe you are angry like the cowboy in the Willie Nelson ballad the Red Headed Stranger and you are harboring some deep sorrow and looking for an excuse to fight so that it might make you feel better if only for the moment. And, all the while those who love you are "walking on eggshells", singing the chorus, and praying that the angry man will ride on and the man they love will come home:

Don't cross him, don't boss him.
He's wild in his sorrow:
He's ridin' an' hidin his pain.
Don't fight him, don't spite him;
Just wait till tomorrow,
Maybe he'll ride on again.

It is a reasonable assumption that the apostle Paul's friend, co-worker, and protege carried some things with him too - and not just a cloak and a staff and sandals. He too carried things with him into his life and ministry and service to others that did not hang from his body. He was a half-breed (his father was Greek and his mother was a Jew), lacking in self-confidence, prone to fear and insecurity. And, because of these weaknesses the apostle Paul penned what has become my life verse: 2 Tim 1:7 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind."

God has not given me a spirit of fear. When I am fearful it is not of God. If there is an area of my life that I am experiencing fear, then I am failing to trust God with that part of my life. If I am fearful over finances, provision, relationships, health, etc. then what I am saying is that I trust that God can handle the other stuff in my life...but this part (the part I am fearful over) He can't handle. So, I think I will help Him with it by being fearful. That typically doesn't work so well for me...how about you?

Instead, God has given us a spirit of power and of love and of a sound mind. I don't know about you, but I like that a lot better. I have been through seasons of my life where I have walked in fear so deeply that my wife, who knows me better than anyone but God and me, said that she could "smell" the fear I was in.

Let me say too, that when I was living in fear, that I felt not empowered - but weak, not love, lovable nor loving. And, if you could have peeked inside of my head you would have run screaming from the building because mine was not a "sound mind".

As you continue on your march through life, there may be times that you are tempted to reach into your backpack and pull out a spirit of fear. Instead remember that you carry with you all the things you need and that they will see you through any and every situation. They were tucked away in your pack long before you were even conceived. They were placed there by the Creator of the Universe who loves you more than you can possibly imagine. Power and Love and a Sound Mind are three things we all need to be reminded that are part of the things we carry everywhere we go.

2009-05-02T05:29:00.000-07:00

"May I Have This Dance?"
Greg Martin
Originally written February 2009

My mom taught dance. When we were little, my mom would drag me (and before me, my brothers and sisters) out onto the dance floor and make an absolute fool of herself with us on the dance floor. In the process she taught us that the the dance floor was not a place of fear or intimidation, but a safe place, a place where you could get really silly and have a lot of fun. She made sure we got formal instruction as we got older, but the fun came first. As a result, when it came time for formal instruction we couldn't wait to sign up. We are old(er) now, my siblings and I. At the last family wedding we all still danced - one of us with a cane and one of us with a walker - but we all danced and laughed, and thought of Mamma.

Her lesson has come back to me over the years with my own children: if I could show the fun first, in whatever the endeavor, when it was time for formal instruction there was never any argument; they couldn't wait to sign up. Maybe there is a lesson there about the connection between fun and motivation for our workplace, our families, our spouses, our children, our grandchildren, our friends, our churches...

Mamma was raised during the depression. Her family took in boarders in order to make ends meet. Long after the depression, until she died in fact, Mamma's door was always open, and there was always enough food for who ever showed up. She hated excluding anyone from anything. Everyone was always welcome in our home, and at our table. (This caused some interesting boundary issues between my wife and I early on in our marriage. For some reason, my wife didn't understand why I wanted our home to be a "flop house".)

Mamma has been gone for many years now. I don't find myself missing her much anymore. Most days she chose alcohol over us. But, I rarely dance without her being on the dance floor with me - it is one of the few points of positive connection I had with her.

Anyway, I think she'd really like the video below; it is about fun, and dance, and inclusion. It is also a powerful reminder that dance is not confined to a 15' x 15' square of parkay flooring available only at the occasional family wedding. I have danced in my kitchen, on the beach, on top of a mountain, and in the bed of a pickup truck parked in a yucca field in Nicaragua surrounded by shovels and fresh chicken eggs. I have danced in tuxedos, cutoff bluejeans, swimsuits and, yes, I have danced naked. I can't say that I was dancing naked as David did before the Lord, although last night I did dance (clothed, unfortunately) in church to the sounds of the African Children's Choir (http://www.africanchildrenschoir.com/).

The lyrics of the chorus of Lee Ann Womack's hit song seem a fitting conclusion to this post: "...when you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance."

Click Here for the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlfKdbWwruY

2009-04-28T12:44:00.000-07:00

“Benefit of the Doubt”

Greg Martin

April 2009

Our family was trying to decide what to do on Good Friday. We waited too long to get tickets to the Louie Giglio Passion City Church event at the Verizon Amphitheater. We knew of some of the Tenebrae services at area churches, but that wasn't what we were looking for...

Over spring break and in preparation for leading a mission trip to downtown Atlanta this summer, I had read "¹Under the Overpass" by Mike Yankoski. The city’s homeless were on my mind. "Hey, y'all want to go help out with an Impact Service at Safehouse tonight?", I asked my wife and 11 year-old. "Sure", they said. So, with a quick email to the mission trip team and our Sunday school class to see if anyone wanted to join us, my wife Donna, son Josh and I were off to catch MARTA (Atlanta’s public transit system). We met up with a couple of friends from our church to help whatever local church showed up to provide the meal, message and music to the 200 or so homeless men and women that show up every night looking for food.

In "Under the Overpass", Yankoski describes his experience of choosing to live as a homeless man for several months. Some of his experiences (danger, hunger, despair, exposure to drugs and mental illness) you might be able to somewhat expect. What intrigued me more was his insight into the things we don't think of when we think of the homeless (the way in which churches treat the homeless, the way the homeless support each other, and the gifts and talents that many homeless people possess yet go unrecognized, unappreciated, and undeveloped).

It is the wasted talent that I was reminded of on Good Friday. Upon arriving at the ²Safehouse, we visited with the men and women who had begun to line up in preparation for the message, music and meal that would be provided. One of the first in line was an outspoken man who introduced himself as "Jimmy Jackson Atlanta". Not "of" or "from" Atlanta...just "Jimmy Jackson Atlanta" as though "Atlanta" were his last name. Donna and Josh visited with him awhile and Jimmy Jackson Atlanta kept telling them that he was on YouTube and that they should check him out there.

In 12-Step parlance the saying goes this way: Q: "How do you know when an addict is lying?" A: "His lips are moving". Harsh I know, but tough love can be that way. Anyway, you learn pretty quick not to put a lot of stock in what folks on the street say. They are not all addicts. They are not all mentally ill. However, they live on the street for a reason. Respect them? Yes. Treat them with love and care? Yes. Believe them? ...maybe. Scripture calls us to be "shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves." Translated to our Good Friday experience that looked like our listening with a caring ear, but not relying on information received to help our financial portfolios. But then there was Jimmy Jackson Atlanta and his insistence that his 15 minutes of fame was memorialized on the internet...yeah right.

Anyway, it was a God thing that we were there because the church that was supposed to provide the meal, message, and music didn't show up. It was a "fishes and loaves" moment (or maybe a "PBJ" moment) when the 5 of us and an awesome group of college kids from Clark Atlanta (who just happened to stop by as we did) were recruited by the Safehouse staff to start making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and mixing up lemonade to feed the hungry crowd. The kids from Clark Atlanta did a great job of bringing an impromptu message and music, and Jesus fed His children that night. And yes, there was enough for everyone...but that is a story for another day. This story is about Jimmy Jackson Atlanta.

We got home late that night...the food prep took longer since we had to make the sandwiches, we got caught in a hailstorm sitting in a friend’s car waiting to have the boot taken off of her car, MARTA seemed to be running slow, we had a long ride from the train station home in the rain...I had already forgotten about Jimmy. He was just one of the many characters you meet when you go to the Safehouse. Joshua, however, had not.

As soon as we got home Josh got on the internet looking for Jimmy Jackson Atlanta. How do you explain to an 11-year old that most of what he heard that night was probably not true? I was busy living in the "shrewd as serpents" half of that verse from Matthew mentioned above, while Josh was happily exploring the internet standing on the "innocent as doves" half and giving Jimmy Jackson Atlanta the benefit of the doubt.

Well...guess what? God was not done teaching me yet. Turns out that Jimmy Jackson Atlanta is on YouTube. Turns out that Jimmy Jackson Atlanta loves Jesus, isn't afraid to talk (or sing) about Him, and Jimmy Jackson Atlanta has talent. Accompanied by the sounds of the street you can’t help but appreciate the passion and promise in his message. Imagine that...

About his song, Jimmy says, "It’s about keeping yourself motivated and knowing that the Lord is always with you to back you up." You don't have to be homeless to appreciate that message...

Check it out if you have a couple of minutes: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YL7Qufo7YYA

Maybe Jimmy's talent isn't wasted after all.

**********************************

¹http://www.amazon.com/Under-Overpass-Journey-Streets-America/dp/1590524020

²http://www.safehouseoutreach.org

# # #

2009-04-23T11:54:00.000-07:00

“A Thief in the Night”

Greg Martin

April 2009

“What are you going to call the baby?” I asked my 19-year-old son who had learned a few weeks prior that he was going to be a daddy. “We don’t know the sex yet” he informed me. “I know”, I said, and went on to explain how his mom and I had felt uncomfortable referring to our firstborn as “it” when it was too early in the pregnancy to ascertain their sex. So, instead, we simply referred to the new baby as “Pony”. “It” was just too impersonal. “Pony”, on the other hand, was asexual (allowing us to avoid a predisposition toward either sex) and somehow easier for us to tolerate. As I write this now, I am tickled that we did not worry about a predisposition toward giving birth to a member of the equine family, but it all seemed to make sense at the time.

“So,” I asked again, “what will you call the baby until you know the sex?” “I don’t know” he replied, “It kinda looked a little like a dinosaur on the sonogram so I guess we could call it ‘Dino’”. So, “Dino” is what it became, at least for my wife and me. I am not sure that the name stuck with my son or his bride, but for the next several weeks this was how we referred to our first grandbaby growing inside our daughter-in-law.

I was not expecting to be a grandfather at 48. I frankly had not given much thought to at what age that news might come, but I was fairly certain that I would have envisioned hearing this news when I was in my mid- to late-fifties – certainly not 48. Life has a way of getting in the way of our best laid plans… So, after adjusting to the shock of how this news made me feel (it’s all about us isn’t it?) initially (which was old), I got really excited about the thought of having a grandbaby.

All of a sudden I found myself being drawn to other expectant moms and infants and toddlers that I would see in church, or in the grocery store, or at the park. I realize that that doesn’t sound very manly. (Somewhere after 40 I found I quit caring whether the things I thought, did or said fit anyone else’s expectation of what is masculine or not). I am proud to tell you that I thought that the itty bitty outfit my wife brought home to give to Dino was way cool. She and most of the family pegged the baby to be a boy, so the outfit was appropriately in blue.

In our family growing up there were lots of kids. I am one of 6, we are or were all married, and each family has been blessed with multiple children. I am an uncle to 14, and now, a great-uncle to I’m not sure how many. Great-uncle’s were ancient when I was a kid. I was a great-uncle at something like 40 years old (I was the last of six and there are 21 years between my oldest sibling and me – and yes, the math all works out). I told my niece I would be a great uncle to her child, but I never wanted to be referred to as a great-uncle…that little line between the two words just made me sound too old.

One of the games we played with my nephews and nieces and that my wife and I later played with our own children was a game our family called “stinky feet”. The game is very difficult to master…you grab a baby’s feet, make a big show of sticking their bare feet up to your nose, inhale deeply and then make a face like you just smelled something that came out of your paw paw’s underpants, while saying “peeeeee eeeeeewwwwwww…stinky feet”. I don’t know why, but I have yet to see a baby who doesn’t laugh when you do this. When we first learned that we were going to be grandparents I texted my son and wrote “Cool! New piggies to play stinky feet!” Now that’s damn manly, I don’t care who you are.

A few weeks later we had a young couple who are on the mission field with our son and his wife stay at our home for a few nights. Derrick and Jackie have an 18-month old boy named Elijah. Elijah, rarely hit the deck as he was passed from my wife to me to our daughter. We all went to church together and confused many in the congregation who thought somehow that they had missed a memo and that this was our grandbaby. Elijah helped us to rediscover what it means to deal with a baby. About the time that Pastor Tommy was hitting his stride in his Easter Sunday sermon, Elijah was untying my brand new yellow bowtie and thought that it would look better if he sucked on it awhile. That would have made me really irritated when my kids were Elijah’s age, but for some reason it was a lot of fun with this Dino proxy.

The bottom line here is that we were “all in” with the thought of the new addition to our family. The writer of Proverbs had a pretty good handle on this from a grandparent’s perspective when he wrote: “Children’s children are a crown to the aged”. Not to be outdone, the Psalmist penned a few memorable verses for parents as well:

Sons are a heritage from the LORD,
children a reward from him.

Like arrows in the hands of a warrior
are sons born in one's youth.

Blessed is the man
whose quiver is full of them.

Dino was on his way to becoming a crown, a reward, an arrow, a son (or daughter), an heir, a nephew (or niece), a cousin, a grandbaby, a great-grandbaby, an in-law, a member of our tribe as Seth Godin might put it, a person, a living, breathing, thinking, loving, precious child of God. But, life has a way of getting in the way of our best laid plans.

William Shakespeare put it this way: “Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.” My son called me at the office last week. He was incoherent. His o’er-fraught heart was breaking and all he could do was groan. I waited for the words to come. After what felt like an eternity, and through a voice wracked with sobs he managed to choke out the message that every parent (and now I know every grandparent) hopes never to hear: “We lost the baby”.

While my wife and I were anticipating the arrival of our first grandbaby, my son and his wife were making major emotional investments into their relationship with each other and this new being that had almost instantly become the axis around which their world revolved. And, as a globe whose axis is removed rolls about without direction so, for a time, did our family.

It was not my son’s or his wife’s grief that took me by surprise. I expected that. It was not my wife’s grief that caught me unaware; her “tears come down” easily as my African friend Antonio once observed of her. It was my own grief that came like a thief in the night and took the axis off of my globe. I just didn’t expect that this news would affect me as it has. After all, I’m a man and you hear of this happening all the time. Besides, I had not actually played stinky feet with Dino. I never met him, nor held him, nor bonded with him in any way. I never smelled him after his bath. I never touched that funky soft spot on his head. I never compared the size of my body parts to his. I never felt his whole-hand grasp around one of my fingers. I never comforted him when he cried. I never gave him a horsyback ride. He never fell asleep in my arms. I never laughed over his losing Cheerios in the folds of fat on his legs. I never saw the funny face he made when he tasted his first pickle. I didn’t get to find toys, food, and other fun treasures in his diaper when I changed him. I never gave him a piggyback ride. He never pulled my ears or mussed my hair while riding on my shoulders. He never puked on my suit. I never…he never…we never…they never…so, why the grief over the loss of a child I never knew?

The answers for me have come through the lives and stories of friends and family. And, there are a lot of them. More than I ever would have imagined. Middle-aged men whose voices would crack as they were reminded of their own similar loss over 25 years prior. Women - loving, caring, compassionate women - who burst into tears at the mere mention of our hurt and who shared heart-wrenching stories of their own loss and grief. Grandparents who have grieved over their lost grandbabies. Adult children who testified that one of the only times they ever saw their dads cry was over the memory of a child lost through a miscarriage.

Most of the articles I read on miscarriage grief are from a mother’s perspective (no surprise there). But, the observations, advice, and insight from and for grieving moms can serve as a healing balm for anyone touched by this form of loss. One writer put it this way: ¹“…you can never really stop grieving. It's never quite as overwhelming as it is in the beginning, but it remains a part of you always. You may still remember the date of the loss and the due date of the baby who should have been born, and every time that date passes, you remember. You can go on to have plenty of children, and still you remember.”

Another writer summed it up this way: ²“Miscarriage involves a number of potential significant losses and is a complex grief that can involve an additional kind of suffering that is not necessarily present with other types of bereavement. Not only have we lost our baby, we are suffering from the effects of a birth and a death and we usually do not have a baby to bury. A funeral normally gives others their cue of how to behave appropriately and when there isn't one they are often at a loss themselves and may not even realize we are grieving. This adds to our stress as we can then feel we need to explain this, whereas with a still-birth or loss of a child, everyone is aware of the devastation and expects us to grieve. People may not want to talk about what has happened and it's the only thing we can think of.”

³James Woods, director of Obstetrics and Fetal Medicine at the University of Rochester and author of Loss During Pregnancy or in the Newborn Period says, “The veil of silence that our society casts over the topic of miscarriage makes it very hard for women and families to get the information and help they need when they go through this surprisingly common experience. I think it's important for people to realize how devastating this can be emotionally, far more so than they ever would have imagined."

Many of the resources mention that healing and closure can be helped with something that memorializes the life that was to be. Funeral services help us to heal when we have lost someone but, to me, the traditional funeral service fits a miscarriage like a shirt that is a couple of sizes too small.

My 11-year-old and I have been working in our back yard to divide a huge patch of daffodils. Daffodils are bulbs that bloom in early spring. The flowers are among the most popular due to their unmatched beauty. I like them because they are about as easy to grow as weeds and they truly are stunning. The “experts” say you are supposed to wait till early summer to divide them…the bulbs didn’t get the memo…stick ‘em in the ground whenever you want and they’ll grow.

So, it occurred to me that this Daffodil garden we were working on might serve as a suitable memorial for Dino. “Dino’s Daffodils” has a certain poetic ring to it don’t you think? Daffodils blooming life is anywhere from six weeks to six months, sorta like Dino’s was. Daffodils are perennials serving as a lovely, recurring reminder of this life that was. Daffodils symbolize friendship. And, unlike a tree planted as a memorial, Daffodils can be shared with friends, particularly with friends who know the loss of miscarriage. In the ⁴1600’s Daffodils were taken out of the weeds and put into the garden, sorta like Dino was taken out of the weeds of this life and placed in God’s Garden. Whereas a funeral didn’t fit as a memorial, I think this little patch of flowers fits like a favorite pair of jeans. I hope my family thinks so too.

In 1804 William Wordsworth penned “Daffodils”

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

My desire for my son and his wife, my wife and our family is that when we are in a “vacant or pensive mood” and Dino flashes upon “that inward eye” that our hearts might with pleasure fill and dance with the daffodils.

*************

Footnotes:

¹http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art34075.asp

²http://www.miscarriagesupport.org.nz/grief_issues.html

³http://www.mothering.com/articles/pregnancy_birth/miscarriage/solitary-sadness.html

⁴http://www.theflowerexpert.com/content/mostpopularflowers/morepopularflowers/daffodil

Additional Resources on Dealing with Miscarriage Grief:

· Resources on miscarriage from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_b?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=miscarriage&x=0&y=0

· Grief Unseen: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1843108054

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