It speaks for itself

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You could focus on the President, on the war, on the tragedy of a man paying a high cost to serve his country, of the beauty of a man paying a high cost for serving his country, or you could just marvel at the resilience and the tenacity of the human spirit.

All of that and a lot more is captured in this photo and the story. Make sure you watch the video.

Thank you Staff Sergeant Christian Bagge for your service and for your sacrifice; from a grateful American.

Now what's your excuse for not running this morning.

Until the next time
John Strain

What is real; what is right?

I didn't have to run today, so I took Bear dog for a leisurely walk around the neighborhood. We have a little route where he sniffs, pees, and poops. Between 6:30 and 7:00 AM is a good time to do this, because the sun is just above the horizon and the heat is a few hours away.

It was especially cool this morning, 66 degrees. It is so peaceful and enjoyable to do this and it also gives me time to think.

This morning I was thinking about the peacefulness. Before we walked, I threw the football for Bear. He is so enthusiastic chasing that ball and bringing it back. Being with me and chasing a ball makes him happy and it seems to be enough.

I thought about the squirrels. I gave them a fresh ear of corn and they seemed to enjoy that. A little water in the birdbath and they enjoy a cool early morning splash. I passed a lady in a bathrobe outside with her little granddaughter. The girl was excited to see Bear. "Look at the puppy!" I met a jogger and exchanged greetings.

The pace is nice and easy and the word peaceful seems to take it all in. Now contrast the vitriolic rants on the morning news shows and the images of pain and suffering. A bombardment of bad things, angry people, and hopeless situations comes in unending sorties from the television.

The economy is in trouble, crime is getting worse, global warming is going to kill us all. Politicians and pundits talk about problems and blame them on the opposition, but no one talks about solutions.

Meanwhile, all over the world, people are going about their daily routine. They are taking morning or evening walks. They are laughing with their families. The world is full of people who just do their job. They are not on the radar screen of the media unless they become the victim of some horrible accident.

Goodness and goodwill are all around us. Beauty and peacefulness are right outside your door, but so is anger, hostility, betrayal, and violence.

Sometimes we can go through life and keep to ourselves and to the things we enjoy. Even with those best intentions, the other world has a way of breaking in on us. Sickness, crime, careless accidents, and bad luck will touch us at some time in our life; all the more reason to enjoy the peace you can find.

Reality is what we perceive for the most part. There is a Real and there is Truth. I believe there is Right and Wrong as well.

When the people who live by the letter of the law outnumber the people who observe the Spirit of the law, you get a very bad result. The law and statistics in the hands of ill-intentioned people can be a dangerous weapon. Power plays have been going on since people began living together in societies, so this is nothing new.

Our salvation is in the collective power of good people living by the values and principles they were hopefully taught as children. A child knows the difference between right and wrong. Adults learn ways to rationalize things to where up is down and in is out.

You have more power than you think. Your smile and kind word is more than disarming; it is healing. Have you ever seen anger dissolve from a face because of a smile? Do you know how healing an apology can be to you and another? Can you look outside yourself to try to understand the point of view of another and work toward a compromise? Do you know the joy of giving and helping? Have you known the release that giving up a grudge or granting forgiveness can bring?

All of these things are powerful tools we all have. Even unused rusty tools can do the job. Dust yours off if you haven't been using them. Let go of your anger and stress and enjoy the life that is before you before it slips away. Regrets, remorse, and missed opportunities will haunt your older years if you don't. Make those days joyful; it is within your power.

Until the next time
John Strain

A process and serendipity

I love to learn and it is even better when the lessons are unexpected. When I began writing about my life, I had intended to cover it in a couple of posts. My original purpose was to talk about my eyesight and to explain how being legally blind has shaped me.

The posts became longer and described smaller measures of time. What I learned was that writing about the past was therapeutic. I have realized many insights and gained even more gratitude and appreciation just for drawing air into my lungs all these years.

I have been blessed, cursed, and most everything in between. The task of writing makes one think and organize thoughts about the event so that they make sense on paper or the computer monitor.

If you haven't written your life story, do it. You will see what I mean. I am thinking about things I haven't thought about in years. I am gaining insights and perspectives that are new. The advantage of time and learning sheds new light on old events.

I am always fascinated by how life works. The older I get, the more fulfilling and meaningful things become, even the things I have already experienced.

Writing has been an interesting process and one with an ample dose of serendipity.

Until the next time
John Strain

My life Part XI: Learning patience and humility

Isn't it funny how the life we imagine is rarely the life we get? I had it all planned out. I would go to college and seminary, get married, and then pastor a church in a nice "Leave it to Beaver" kind of town.

Well, two out of three ain't bad.

The interview in Ohio didn't work out. For the near future nothing was in the works. At the time we were living in Dr. Johnson's Lakeview home while he was on vacation, but that was only a two-week arrangement.

Once back in New Orleans, I spoke with some of the professors at the seminary to see if they had any job leads. We were still awaiting appointment by the Home Mission Board, but we were open to anything. We had our resumes copied off and mailed them out to state offices and anywhere that might be looking for a good husband and wife team.

The two of us were a good deal; two for the price of one. We both had our college and seminary degrees, we were young, energetic, eager, and desperate.

On March 7, I went to an oral surgeon to check out a funny taste I was having in my mouth. Not good news. He told me I had two impacted teeth on my right lower jaw. A cyst had formed between them and was lying on a nerve. The taste I was experiencing was drainage from the cyst.

If I didn't have the teeth and cyst removed, my jaw would eventually just break. Removing the cyst could result in permanent damage to the nerve, which would leave my lower lip numb forever. I envisioned me as a drooler and I was not encouraged.

I needed a surgery to remove the two teeth, cyst, and my four wisdom teeth and it would cost $1600. Without a job, I had no insurance and I was about $1600 short. I was headed toward becoming a homeless drooler.

March 12 was a pretty good day. I called my mother to see if my grandmother might loan me the money. Fortunately for me, my grandmother gave me the money. She couldn't stand to have a homeless drooler for a grandson if all she had to do was write a check for $1600 to prevent it.

That same day, one of our friends called to say they found us an apartment. Someone in their church had a one bedroom apartment in a good location. It was right next to Brother Martin School on Elysian Fields Avenue. To top it off, Tim and Prisca had paid the first month's rent of $275.

They told us they had been praying and saving for us for a long time. We were overwhelmed and humbled by their generosity.

The next day we headed up to Vicksburg to collect our things and move them to New Orleans. It was a flurry of activity and we cannibalized Barbara's parent’s house. We got an old couch with a bright yellow slipcover that became quite a conversation starter.

Everything we needed from pots and pans to her grandmother's old kitchen table went into the southbound U-Haul truck. All of that stuff combined with all of our wedding gifts made a nice little home. It served us well and it will always be our first place.

They didn't give phones away in those days. I paid $80 for a slimline phone and had to lay down a $125 deposit. That was when phone ownership was just taking off.

Barbara was having "female trouble" and her doctor wanted to do a laparoscopy to see what was going on inside her. Her parents were able to get the surgery covered on their insurance, so there were no financial worries. We traveled to Jackson, Mississippi for the procedure.

The surgery went well and she was diagnosed with a mild case of endometriosis. She had to take Danazol four times a day for three to six months.

After spending the weekend in Vicksburg, Barbara was well enough to travel and we headed back to New Orleans.

Two weeks later, it would be my turn to go under the knife.

I may have bad eyes, but my teeth are good. I was 26 and never had a cavity. I was about to have my first experience with oral surgery. I told the doctor I wanted to do the surgery as cheap as possible. He said he could try to save a few bucks on the anesthesia.

If he only used Nitrous Oxide and Novocain, it would be a big savings over using Sodium Pentothal.

The day of the surgery, I was like a lamb going to the slaughter. I didn't figure the procedure would be any big deal. Boy was I wrong.

I hated the Nitrous. It made me feel dizzy and nauseous. I somehow thought the surgery would involve careful, precision cuts, but he just started scraping and gouging with some kind of instrument that resembled a screwdriver.

It didn't really hurt, but I felt this tremendous pressure. I think I left my fingerprints on the chair grips and into the tubular steel. I have a small mouth and he kept stretching it to the point I was about to ask for an episiotomy to give me some relief.

He got the first tooth out and started on the second. The doctor finally stopped and said, "I think I am going to have to give you the Pentothal." By then, I would have paid him a million dollars for it. "Sure doc, whatever you think." At least I didn't wimp out. I took the pain and my manhood was in tact.

That first night was rough, but after that I recovered quickly. I was able to return to work on Monday. No nerve damage; everything came out fine.

One week before my surgery, the transmission on the car broke and it cost $536 to get it fixed. I kept asking Barbara what sin she committed to bring God's wrath on us. That was a joke. I was starting to think Job had it easy compared to what we were experiencing. That was another joke.

What nest egg we had saved was gone, but we had opportunity. Someone Barbara worked for offered us $5.00 an hour to clean her house. Word of mouth got us more houses and soon we were busy all week cleaning houses.

It reminded me of the Children of Israel whom Moses led out of Egypt. God fed them daily with manna from heaven. They gathered their food each day. There were no stores or provisions to last them weeks or months.

It was the same for Barbara and I. We did not have money saved, but God provided us with opportunities to make money; and enough money. I would have liked more, but I was happy with enough.

So we cleaned houses and we waited for a job that matched our education and preparation. I was not above cleaning toilets. I joked about having a masters degree and working as a maid. To me, all work has dignity. When someone says they are too good to work at a fast food restaurant, I cringe.

I had my moments of frustration and impatience during those days, but I knew God had a plan. In the meantime, I was living in a nice apartment with someone I loved, I had enough work to generate enough money to live on, and I had good friends to enjoy.

If I had a million dollars, I wouldn't have been doing anything different. I would be with my friends and family enjoying a meal, laughing, and making memories. Happiness is a state of mind, not an alignment of outside conditions.

Change would soon come and we would get a job. We would have to wait until October though. We were living a seven-month course in humility and patience. More lessons were on the way.

Until the next time
John Strain

My life Part X: Rolling with the punches

So far, Barbara and I had enjoyed a smooth ride. Our engagement, marriage, and honeymoon were great. I started to say, "went off without a hitch," but we were hitched. Anyway, since our honeymoon was close to where my mother lived, we swung by to have a day or two visit there in Willow Springs.

The good people of First Baptist Church had a shower for us and we racked up on gifts. I had written in my journal that we had $700 from all of the showers and envelopes received at the wedding.

Getting married was a lot like starting college. It is all fun at first and most folks are patting you on the back and slipping you cash. Sooner or later though, classes begin and the pressure of term papers and midterm exams loom. I didn't know it yet, but the fun was about to be laced with a few sucker punches from life.

The Home Mission Board had sent my file to a church in the Toledo, Ohio area. I phoned them from my mother's house and we decided it made more sense to drive from Missouri to visit them than to drive back to New Orleans and fly up there.

We weren't really dressed or prepared for winter weather, but we forged ahead anyway. On a Thursday I changed the oil in the car and studied road maps. Friday, February 25, 1983 we headed across Illinois, Indiana, and into Ohio. It began snowing just outside of Dayton and we stayed there for the night.

Saturday morning we got up and drove the remaining three hours to Toledo. Actually we were in a small town outside of Toledo, but I am withholding the name to protect the innocent.

Our directions took us to the preacher’s house and after sandwiches for lunch, he drove us to a church member's home who would be putting us up for the weekend. She was a nice lady and drove us around the area to help us get a lay of the land.

On Sunday, I would preach the morning sermon and we would be interviewed by their mission committee. This was all standard operating procedure for the hiring process.

My journal reads for Sunday, February 27, 1983; "Today seemed as though it would never end." I was up at 6:00 AM and studied a bit for the morning sermon. We went to church and attended Sunday School. I don't remember much about the sermon, but I did use my previously mentioned favorite text in Matthew 14:14. It was the perfect four point message. Jesus went forth; He saw a great multitude; He was moved with compassion toward them; and He healed their sick.

Have you ever spoken in front of a group and not felt received? That is how I felt preaching there. Normally, when you preach a sermon, there is a give and take with the congregation. An "amen" or two is nice, a chuckle after an attempt at a joke is considered polite, but these folks didn't do that. They were stoic and their silence was interpreted by me as disagreement or even disapproval. Maybe I was insecure, but maybe I was reading them correctly. The following events of the day would make it all too clear.

Lunch was at a cafeteria type restaurant and we were in a large group. Besides Barbara and I were the pastor and his wife, the lady who was putting us up, and the mission committee. I didn't eat much, but I should have, because I was in for the "Spanish Inquisition" of my life.

One of the hallmarks of the Southern Baptist Convention throughout history is their diversity. Theologically, there was no dogma or articles of faith to which everyone must agree. Instead they had a document entitled "The Baptist Faith and Message." The document was written in 1925 and has been through several revisions.

It summarizes key Southern Baptist thoughts in the areas of the Scriptures (i.e. Bible) and their authority, the nature of God as expressed by the Trinity, the spiritual condition of man, God's plan of grace and salvation, the purpose of the local church, ordinances, evangelism, Christian education, interaction with society, religious liberty, and the family. Source: Wikipedia

The beauty of it all was people could gather together not on the basis of a narrow view of God and the Bible, but on a much broader scale. Baptists were about doing things in their communities and in the world. We had a view of missions that, not only sought to tell people about Jesus, but to help them materially. Baptists had missions and ministries all over the world that fed the hungry, clothed the naked, healed the sick, and taught the children. The idea was to look at the larger picture of going out into the world more than policing the thoughts of individual Baptists.

The folks at this little church in Ohio saw it differently. They were separated from the community (sinners). There was a clear delineation for everything; no gray areas. You were right or you were wrong and they knew which one they were. Their minds were made up and did not want to entertain any new ideas. Why should they? If you know the truth, what else is there?

Here is another portion of my journal from that Sunday in February 1983:

After lunch, we drove to the mission and we were interrogated. It was miserable and on top of all of that, the building was freezing. To make a long story short, they were more like Independent Baptists. They were pious, arrogant, and strict separationists. They saw rock music as evil, the Bible was inerrant, the Second Coming according to Hal Lindsey, and if you did not believe exactly like them you were wrong, evil, bad, and a heathen.

Barbara and I were made to feel like heathens. The ordeal went on for two and a half hours.

Barbara and I sat facing the mission committee on the dais, which was as close as we could get to the heating ducts. The outside temperature in the daytime was only 20 degrees and the heat had been turned off in the church. It had to be in the low 30’s in that building.

The questions started out in a familiar way. I had debated and argued as sport in seminary. It was a good way to understand your own views on different topics and issues. I had argued with fundamentalists and this was another of those debates.

The difference was that these folks could give me a job. Do I tell them what they want to hear? Do I tell them what I really think? I tried at first to ride the fence. I wanted to answer the questions in a way to set them at ease, but not misrepresent my views.

It didn’t work.

They persisted in the questioning to the point I took the gloves off and said exactly what I thought about my opinion and theirs. I was respectful, but I wasn’t going to roll over.

It was nerve racking and I knew Barbara was uncomfortable. She was freezing and arguments tend to make her nervous. One of the lines of questioning that stands out is this one:

Them: What do you think about Christian rock music?

Me: Do you mean groups like the Imperials?

Them: I don’t know their names. (He said it as though I had accused him of frequenting a gentlemen’s club.)

Me: I like it. It was one of the things that got me thinking about God in the first place and ultimately led me to the church and now the ministry.

Them: Then you don’t think it has a demonic beat?

Me: Huh? Demonic beat? I think what makes music good or bad is the words, not the tune.

You get the idea. The questions were loaded. They wanted me to recite the party line back to them. I knew their party line and didn’t agree with it so I couldn’t give them what they wanted. In return they gave me their scorn and we were looked down on as those educated idiots from seminary.

They also questioned me extensively about my eyesight. They asked ridiculous questions having to do with day-to-day tasks. I was waiting for them to hold up their hand and ask me how many fingers they were holding up.

I later learned that the pastor complained to the Home Mission Board about sending a handicapped person for the position, but that is another story.

Journal entry:

After the questioning, we went to another church member's house for cake. Back to church and more talk, finally by 1:00 AM we were in bed. I was convinced this was not the place for us.

I guess this was another blow to my idealism and naiveté. I figured the important thing was the work, but not at that place with those people. I was sad, not just because the job wasn't going to work out, but because I saw it as an unnecessary waste of time. Folks spend so much time bickering about minute details most people couldn't care any less about.

When Jesus walked the earth He was always blowing folks like that out of the water, but they persist nevertheless. It is one thing to have a difference of opinion or another theological view, but it is altogether different to look down your nose at the person holding that viewpoint.

The next day we couldn't get out of there fast enough. We drove to Florence, Kentucky just outside of Cincinnati, Ohio. I really didn't want to spend another night in Ohio. It was just a thing then. Today I hold no ill will toward the great state of Ohio.

We settled into our hotel room with some cokes and a nice warm Pizza Hut pizza and enjoyed the last episode of M*A*S*H on television. It was the end of the program's eleventh season and at the time, was the most watched single episode of a television program ever. Do you remember where you were during the last episode of M*A*S*H?

So life threw me a sucker punch. I would guard against that one the next time. Little did I know, there were more punches on the way. Left hooks and uppercuts I couldn't imagine, but Barbara and I rolled with each one of them. Somehow we survived, but it was a joint effort of our deeds, God's grace, and a lot of help from friends and benevolent strangers.

Looking through my journal about those days it is like my own version of the poem Footprints in the Sand. Problems would come, but solutions would too. I see it more clearly now than I did even at the time, but God was there; He always has been; He always will be.

Until the next time
John Strain