Shining Spirit

Cousin Tommy is recovering quite nicely, thanks.
I’ve warned him about his childish pranks,
but he listens to very few words of advice,
he sets his own course and never thinks twice.
So, my uncle Aubrey wasn’t surprised
when he discovered Tommy in a string of lies.
Tommy insisted he was not to blame,
he knew nothing about the suspicious flames
that burned a field of sweet, white corn.
“I swear,” he said, “on the day I was born
that somebody else did this terrible act,
and I’ll tell you what, as a matter of fact,
I have a witness to prove what I say,
then Tommy turned and looked my way.

I wasn’t about to lie for him,
but without my word, his chances were slim.
The field belonged to Chester Malone,
whose son is as mean as Al Capone.
When the young Malone heard about the fire,
he let it be known that his one desire
was to find the culprit who caused this blaze
and see how far his fist could raise
this you-know-what off the ground.
Two days later, Cousin Tommy was found.

I won’t describe the exact details,
but what Malone did sent him to jail
and Tommy to old Doctor Pendergrass
where he got ten stitches and a right arm cast.
But like I said, Cousin Tommy is strong
and he’ll never admit he was wrong.
“Just one of those things,” he’ll probably say
when a funny prank went astray.
But I heard a rumor just last night
that Tommy bought a ticket to a Martial Arts site
where he’ll learn the art of Jujitsu,
then when Malone’s jail time is through
they’ll meet up in the parking lot,
a very open, public spot
and settle their differences like loving brothers.
But neither will turn his back on the other.
Cousin Tommy will never learn.

Sometimes we all feel inadequate. Just not quite good enough. Missing the magical ingredient…like longer arms, in this case. That feeling is common to us all because we live in a culture that judges, and judges, and judges. A counselor at a major university remembers the day a young freshman knocked on his door, sat down in his office and began sobbing uncontrollably. Final grades had just been posted and the young man made four “A”s and one “B”.

“I made a B”, he moaned. “I’ve never made a B before.” He felt so inadequate because he did not reach perfection by his, or culture’s, standards. The reality of life’s challenges had dawned and it took several conversations before he accepted the truth that no human being is perfect, that making a “B” is not the end of the world, and that one can be one’s own harshest critic and judge.

Jesus never asked anyone to be perfect. Perfection was not the requirement for acceptance into his family of friends and followers. Trying, yes. Not giving up, yes. The willingness to learn and grow and mature in faith…absolutely. I seem to recall a book or maybe a Broadway production called “Your Arms Are Too Short To Box With God.” My friend in the photo knows about “arms too short” but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way. He’ll do the best he can with what he has, and he will cuddle up in his rabbit burrow tonight grateful for all that he was able to do. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but….he will have used his talent, and he will have tried. No one is truly inadequate. Each of us is just equipped differently. An occasional “A” wouldn’t mean much if it weren’t for all the “B”s…or, in my case, “C”s. Rejoice in the gifts you have, use them gratefully, benefit the common good, and rest well in the knowledge that you are not inadequate…not by a long shot.

2 minutes to put yourself into the photo

2 minutes to explore spiritual insights, look for the meaning or the metaphor

2 minutes to express your gratitude for this and all of life’s wonders.

For 2 minutes, look at the image

For 2 minutes, connect your observations to spiritual meaning or metaphor

For 2 minutes, tell God you are grateful…for this and lots of other things

Look…Imagine…Pray 2+2+2=6

This appears to be the year when things fall apart.
If true, I’m off to a very good start.
My muscles can no longer stand the strain
of distance biking with its inherent pain.
The first signs of arthritis annoy my joints
and I know where these signs unhappily point.
If this is the year when things fall apart,
I’m off to a petty good start.

I’m not quite as nimble as I used to be,
while driving at night I can hardly see,
my memory left town a long time ago,
my wife says: speed up, you’re driving to slow.
What’s wrong with 40 in a 50 mile zone?
And I’ve earned the right to talk on my phone.
If this the year when things fall apart…
I will be remembered as “state of the art..”

Birthdays come and birthdays go,
there’s no way to stop them or make them go slow.
Now 80, I’ve given up delicious streusel
for a nightly glass of Metamucil,
which caused my best friend to say with a sigh:
“That Bob is really a regular guy!”
Yes, if this is the year when things all apart
I’m definitely off to a very good start.