Baseball and Music Like Oil and Water? Think Again.

My wife and I attended a symphony concert yesterday at Seattle’s Benaroya Hall. And believe it or not, in the process we learned things about baseball that we never knew.

The event happened to be one of the relatively few stops for the traveling musical multi-media show called The Baseball Music Project that features music associated with baseball – America’s pastime.

My son Doug and his wife Jamie took us to the Concert as my birthday present for this year. It was perfect for an old baseball crony like me.

Using images from the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY, the program skillfully blends the visuals with a wonderful variety of music related to the game of baseball (there are hundreds of songs out there).

The Project is the brainchild of Robert Thompson, who travels with the show and guest-conducted the Seattle symphony orchestra for its three performances.

Thompson, a passionate baseball and music aficionado, says, “We love baseball for reasons and purposes we don’t entirely understand ourselves… there’s mystery in the game. We believe that Shoeless Joe Jackson could come walking out of a cornfield in Iowa at any moment.”

Among other interesting lore, we learned that the lyrics for Take Me Out To The Ballgame, the third most widely sung song in America (behind the National Anthem and Happy Birthday) were written on a New York subway car in 1908 by one Jack Norworth, after his train passed a sign that simply said “BASEBALL GAME TODAY at the Polo Grounds” (then the home of the NY Giants).

He scribbled the words while his train car continued it's lurching ride down the tracks (there’s a photo of the original script in the program whose cover is pictured above – that’s Babe Ruth at the piano). Composer Albert Von Tilzer soon added the music that resulted in the now famous sing-along melody.

The late Chicago Cubs announcer Harry Caray helped to make it a national ballpark tradition by leading Cub fans in singing the song before the home half of every seventh inning. Games were televised nationally on super station WGN-TV, and it caught on at parks around the country.

One of my favorite visuals in the program was the famous Willie Mays back-to-the-infield catch of Vic Wertz’ line drive to deep center field in the 1954 World Series between the Giants and Cleveland. I’m old enough to remember listening to that World Series on radio which the Giants swept, incidentally.

Hall of Famer Dave Winfield narrated the show, and guest vocalists were the talented Misty Castleberry and Forrest Mankowski.

Granddaughters Conquer the Rock Climbing Wall at Quaker Meadows

Being up at 7,200 feet above sea level at Quaker Meadows Camp in the southern Sierras of California was not high enough for our three granddaughters.

They wanted to scale the professionally-constructed rock climbing wall there and go even higher.

Mission accomplished.

Left top is Talli, three weeks from being 12. She can scoot up the wall in about 20 seconds. Hayley, 9, middle right, can zoom up in about the same time. Aubrey, three days from being 4, above, can make it about half way up the wall.

Click on each picture to see it full size. I had to "doctor" these photos, as the low light, black wall and distance from the camera all created problems.

All three girls are very athletic. Talli and Hayley both also attempted the climb using their hands only (without placing their feet on a protruding rock, just against the wall).

They could get past the half-way point, but it takes more upper body strength than is available in their young bodies to make it all the way. I believe their Uncle Loren, an experienced mountaineer, made it up all the way once with hands only.

The girls were able to stay at Quaker Meadows for three more days after their maternal grandparents’ Saturday celebration. They spent their time hiking mountain trails, swimming in the pool, taking part in water adventures in the small lake and sleeping in a mountain cabin.

To say the least, the kids of all ages thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

Home Again

It’s nice to be home again… after a jam-packed week in California. I love California; I lived in the Golden State for almost 35 years.

But I love the Evergreen State even more.

Today it was forecast to be 90-degrees in Sacramento where we flew out of this morning. However it was a cool 65-degrees with a protective cloud cover when we landed in Seattle just before noon. And no smog.

Last Thursday it was a hazy 105 when we arrived in Sacramento. I had to find a small spot of leather on the rental car steering wheel in order to even touch it. I would have blistered had I grabbed the hard plastic circle.

I guess we’re not used to the heat anymore.

On the other hand, in spite of the desert-like conditions, we enjoyed our trip immensely. We got to visit with five couples with whom we've been friends for over 40 years. More blog posts upcoming on that.

And we really enjoyed a full day last Saturday at Quaker Meadows Camp and Retreat Center, some 7,200 feet up in the high Sierras above Porterville. We were there with a large group of Friends (note the capital “F”) celebrating the 50th wedding anniversary of Kennard and Margene Haworth (pictured above), parents of our daughter-in-law Elaine (Gregg’s wife).

The trip odometer on the rental car turned 1,000 miles as we drove into the airport this morning. We really covered a lot of territory, but that’s par for the course when traveling in the expansive State of California.

Methinks we’ll sleep well tonight.

Keep Your Bobber Straight Up (And You Might Catch Fish Like This)

My son Doug caught this Steelhead this morning. Without a guide, on his own gear, and from a river bank.

This gorgeous, anadromous rainbow trout was 29-inches long and weighed over 10 pounds.

Only a miniscule percentage of fishermen enjoy such bragging rights with the wily steelhead. The vast majority of fishermen never even catch one steelhead over their entire life.

According to fish and game department catch results, it is estimated that an average (steelhead) fisher will drown bait for somewhere between 30 and 50 hours for every fish caught. And they’ll usually need the assistance of a guide to reach those numbers (like mine last winter).

Accomplished fishermen, of course, do much better. Doug was on the river all of two hours this morning, in an area new to him, when he blew away the stats.

His wife is out of town for a couple days, so he decided late last night to give the Skykomish River a try. The part of the river he fished is about 40 miles from downtown Seattle.

A good fisherman does his homework. He knew of the river’s fine reputation for summer steelhead and did his research on the best spot to fish.

In recent years the method of choice to try to hook one of these beauties has been to drift a (sometimes) colorful feathered jig under a float or bobber. But it has to be the right jig, the right kind of bobber, the right weight line and leader and the right pole (at least seven feet long with a sensitive tip).

At dinner tonight, while we savored some filets from his deliciously prepared catch, he explained the technique.

The bobber is streamlined (so it will cast easily) and has opposing knitting needle-type points jutting out from the center float. You cast the rig upstream and “mend” (remove slack from) your line so one of the bobber “points” is straight up (which of course means the opposing point is straight down).

This is the only rig posture at which the fish will strike, as it means the jig (bait) is directly under the bobber and both are moving at exactly the same speed as the river current. Any other presentation angle spoils the action and fails to deliver.

When his bobber disappeared on his umpteenth cast, Doug’s instinctive reflexes caused him to pull back and set the hook. He felt resistance.

The fight was on, and 20 minutes later, after deftly extricating the line (and fish) from some underwater foliage while at the same time fighting the fish, he eased the chrome-sided hen onto the shore.

Let me tell you, episodes like this are a fisherman’s dream. And if you’ve never tasted the delicate flavor of a fresh, properly marinated and barbecued steelhead, you haven’t experienced one of the great culinary delights of life. You can’t buy steelhead at the store, so it’s a rare occurrence when you can enjoy it for dinner.

To even have a shot at it, though, you’ve got to keep your bobber straight up.

The Story of the Baggars

B. O. Plenty, the unshaven, tobacco-spitting, earthy but colorful character in Chester Gould’s Dick Tracy comic strip, often proclaimed, “I was the eighth of seven brothers”. (Spend a while thinking about that.)

With apologies to B.O. – and Chester Gould – I can say that “I’m the second of six Baggars”. Not beggars. Not baggers. But Baggars.

We’re not exactly sure how the name came to be, other than the older sister of one of us had a lot to do with it. We do know when it first surfaced, and that was in the late 1950’s and very early 1960’s when all of us were students at San Jose State University (then only a college).

We were also, at that time, all participants in a campus group called “Tri-C”, which was sponsored by the then mega-church, First Baptist of San Jose. The “club” had about 150 student members, and much of our growth in group dynamics occurred there

The six of us lived together as roommates, four at a time, in different sets, during the several years we were all in San Jose. At first we started calling each other “Baggar” (anything except one’s real name). Then our circle of friends began referring to the six of us as “The Baggars”, and it stuck.

The “official” Baggars are Dwight Klassen, Ralph Higgins, Bob Rodde, Jerry Horton, Joe Medal and myself. I knew Bob first (in high school), and then I met Dwight at Westmont College in Santa Barbara. Of course we all ended up at SJSU. Each man is uniquely gifted (personal exemption) and all are productive contributors to their respective communities.

I could write a book – and perhaps I should – about the shenanigans we pulled off as students. But the most interesting and meaningful thing that happened is that those experiences bonded us together for life. We are all still friends, and with the exception of Jerry who lives in Texas (check the web site of his life's passion), we see each other somewhat regularly.

Right now I find myself wanting to relate stories from the lore of the Baggars of which there are legion, but I will refrain for now. Maybe such would provide fodder for future posts for this blog (on a slow news day), similar to my “spiritual re-draft” series (well, not really, as we were much less spiritual then).

The photo at the top was taken almost two years ago when half of the six Baggars happened to be together at a party at Ralph's house in the Bay Area. From left are Dwight, myself and Ralph. The three of us, along with Bob, still maintain quite close contact.

If any of the guys ever sends me a pic of the six of us from way back then (Dwight’s the only one organized enough to lay a hand on it if it still exists), I’ll publish it here on the blog.

A New Car Experience – For Cheap

Our car (compact SUV, actually) will soon be almost six model years old. Of course it may not be six full calendar years old, depending on what month it was actually made, but, unfortunately, it was beginning to show it’s age.

Our gravel (think dusty), rather inclined private road takes its toll on the exterior finish and on brakes – to say nothing about small dents and scratches from “moving” objects in parking lots, toll booths and the garage.

Something had to be done, but what? A new vehicle is out of the question.

Fortunately, there is an auto dealer nearby that specializes in car restoration and offers its expertise in same to the public and other dealers via an auto “detailing” service. And I mean detailing.

For a fee, they will scour and polish every square inch of your chariot, inside and out. The degree to which they scrub and rub is the degree to which you pay.

Because our set of wheels was rather “needy”, we chose the very thorough “Platinum” service. The car was in the shop almost two full days.

But WOW. Check the photo above of our “new” SUV.

The wallet was dented for a bit more than two C-notes, but the vehicle gained at least $1,000 in value!

I fully realize that a car is a depreciating asset, but I manipulated my logic to think that I actually put money in my pocket by spending some. And I maybe did, if I were to have sold it today versus what someone would have paid three days ago. But we’re keeping it. Perhaps for another five years, now.

In fact, I’m thinking about trying to restore some shine to the exterior of our 14-year-old black Explorer which continues to oxidize in our garage, though it's doing so more slowly now that it’s been inside.

Must Be the Home Cookin’?

After being overwhelmed here in the northwest this past weekend by the fragrance of pine trees, moist ocean air and Mariners’ pitching, the San Francisco Giants went home and finally won a game tonight.

And what a gem it was.

Highly touted second-year Giant pitching phenom Matt Cain (above) pitched no-hit ball for 8-2/3 innings against the LA Angels before giving up a single. Thanks to Comcast’s “Extra Innings” PPV, I was able to watch the outstanding performance right in my own home.

The 21-year-old Cain got the final out in the 8th inning after giving up the hit and after tossing 120-some pitches. In the top of the 9th, manager Felipe Alou sent out Armando Benitez to mop up, which he quickly did.

But it was a memorable night for the young right hander. The final score was 2-1, as the kid lost his shutout in the first inning due to a walk, a stolen base and a fielders’ choice. His no-hit effort lasted for almost seven more pleasure-filled innings.

Why do I follow the Giants so closely? I lived in the Bay Area for almost 30 years and I’ve watched them play at Seals Stadium, Candlestick Park and PacBell/SBC/AT&T Park. But I was a Giants fan even before Bobby Thompson’s famous 1951 playoff-game home run in the Polo Grounds against the Dodgers’ Ralph Branca.

Believe it or not, I heard the broadcast of that game live on a portable radio which we snuck into our grade school classroom in Chicago. I was also a Cub fan then.

Of course now that I live in the Pacific Northwest, I’m enjoying being a new Mariners fan. The M’s are improving day by day, and hopefully they’ll yet salvage this season and get into the playoffs.

The only time I root for someone else is when they play the Giants. I guess I left my baseball heart at AT&T park.

Bay Area N.L. Baseball Comes to Puget Sound

The guy on the left connected today. The guy above did not. But all the talk here in the Seattle area is about the guy above.

Baseball wags around Puget Sound were lathering at the mouth today, contemplating where Barry Bonds might play next year. For years I have thought that Bonds and the Giants were inseparable.

But I’m not at all sure now, after watching the Giants play today at Safeco Field (thanks to the graciousness of my cousin Joel Narva who shared one of his multiple-game package seats). This was the first opportunity for me this year to watch my beloved Bay Area team in person.

The Orange and Black today looked like the old men they are. I had a hard time finding a starter who wasn’t pushing 40 or over it.

Oh, Barry does what he has to do to get the job done. He even started in left field last night (and homered) instead of being the DH, which he usually is in American League parks.

But what really shows, in a day game after a night game, is how old the Giants actually are. They played today like exhausted old warriors – and lost, 8 - 1, partly due to Richie Sexson’s (the guy on the left, above) long center field home run.

So if Barry is going to play another year – which he’ll likely have to do if he’s going to catch Hank Aaron for the all-time HR record – it’s becoming apparent to me that he just may have to do so as a DH in the American League.

I, too, will join the wags and say that I'd love to watch the home run chase here in Seattle next year.

Creating an Impression

Ever since we moved to the Pacific northwest two years ago we’ve been charmed and elated by the natural beauty.

I took the photo above two nights ago at sunset and happened to catch one of our resident bald eagles eyeing a last minute shoreline snack before retiring for the night.

Just about every day, it seems, nature in one form or another touches our lives with a visual impression worth savoring.

And of course these are the experiences that make living here a continuing delight.

Seattle's Qwest Field – Not Just for Football

The photo above is how Qwest Field looked yesterday as close to 1,400 Seattle Pacific University graduates received their Baccalaureate, Masters and Doctorate degrees.

My nephew Mike Narva (second cousin, to be accurate) was among them, at right, about to receive his B.A. in Psychology from SPU’s president, Dr. Phil Eaton.

Mike’s brother Andrew had received his B.A. in Spanish studies over the Memorial Day weekend from the University of Redlands in California.

Both young men finished their undergraduate work at about the same time due to the fact that Mike had transferred in to SPU, and he had to take additional work because not everything transferred fully for his major. He wisely took an extra half year to complete his studies and technically was finished at the end of last winter’s term.

The commencement speaker was, in my humble opinion, one of the strongest and most interesting I’ve ever heard. Her discourse jarred my relatively complacent value system.

Giving basically a poignant challenge to both grads and attendees, Dr. Barbara Williams-Skinner made a very strong case for Christians to live out their faith and personally get involved in helping those who cannot help themselves, especially victimized children, regardless of skin color.

When God looked down on the needs of humankind, she said, he did not send a check. He sent his Son. She urged us to act accordingly, even if it means adhering to principles that are alien and in conflict with the political order, the social order, and our cultural beliefs.

She is president and co-founder of the Skinner Leadership Institute and is the widow of the late Rev. Tom Skinner, former chaplain to the Washington Redskins and the New York Yankees.

We thoroughly enjoyed having our extended family in our area of the country for such a special occasion, and we had a chance last evening to all be together at a fine Seattle restaurant gathering.

Now Mike and Andrew will focus on their respective vocations that lie ahead. Both are very gifted in their chosen areas of interest. We’ll be watching with great anticipation and also a bit of healthy family pride as they continue their walk down life’s pathway.

Our Family Enjoys SPU Ivy Cutting Ceremony

My cousin Jim Narva and his wife, Kay, are in the northwest this weekend attending the graduation of their elder son Mike from Seattle Pacific University.

Two weeks ago, Andrew, their younger son (by a year or so), received his Baccalaureate degree from the University of Redlands in southern California.

That’s two birds out of the nest within a two-week period. Quite an accomplishment for all.

That’s Jim and Kay, above left, with Mike (in cap and gown with his ivy cutting) and Andrew on the right.

Tomorrow my wife and I will attend Mike’s receiving of his Baccalaureate degree at Qwest Field in Seattle where the NFC champion Seahawks play their home games each Fall. Following the event we’ll celebrate both young men’s accomplishments at a dinner at a restaurant on Lake Union. We look forward to it very much.

But today was the famed “Ivy Cutting Ceremony” at SPU. At an on-campus, outdoor gathering of graduates, faculty, parents and guests, the senior class is honored in a ceremony at which each graduate cuts a piece of ivy from the campus vines which have been placed around them.

The ritual signifies the student’s “cutting himself or herself loose” from one aspect of life and being released to take on another exciting chapter. The event is a long-standing tradition at SPU, and many graduates comment in later years that they remember the ivy cutting as much or more as the actual commencement exercises.

In any case, today’s was another memorable ceremony for this year’s SPU grads including Mike. And what was especially nice is that many of us in the extended family were able to experience it with him.

A Splash of Color To Complement The Green

After the long, wet Spring here in the northwest, everything that grows is doing just that – rather quickly and almost overbearingly now that better weather is slowly entrenching itself.

In fact, up until a day ago, you could have called several areas “overgrown”, at least on our little speck of land. Consequently, this morning we are feeling the “sore muscle” aftermath of a long afternoon yesterday working in the yard.

Weeds were whacked, bushes were pruned, lawns were cut, trash was hauled and the driveway, every walkway, and the porches were blown clean of nature’s droppings. Today, you can notice the improvements.

One of the most obvious improvements is the accenting color splash in the back yard from the clusters of fresh flowers my wife planted (one such grouping is shown above). She has a real knack for placing them perfectly to provide an ideal complement of tints and hues to relieve the omnipresent natural green tones.

Now, of course, we’ll probably have to get a bench or some chairs for the backyard so we can sit and admire her environmental handiwork. The beauty around us is a constant and comforting reinforcement for why we live here.

We’ll have to put off “sitting” for a bit, however; Kay Lynne is today coping with her soreness by measuring for the kitchen improvements.

Dispelling Ambivalence

Lately, I’ve been trying to conjure up enthusiasm. Maybe it’s the time of the year.

It would seem, however, that with summer approaching, this would be an upbeat time – what with living here in the mostly moist northwest. Isn’t the imminent season when we finally get some extended periods of sunshine? (Not necessarily :-).

We are looking forward to visits from family and friends this summer. That’s an upper! But the porches need painting, the leaky skylights need attention and my wife wants to “upgrade” the kitchen. And that’s enough to give one pause.

In July we plan to drive to California for an extended family anniversary celebration and also to visit our life-long friends there (at least six different couples). That’s also exiting. But both cars need mechanical and cosmetic attention. And that means throwing more money at depreciating assets.

With summer approaching I should be looking forward to the best fishing of the year. That’s usually enough to really make me upbeat. But I just sold my boat (turned out to be too heavy to easily haul around this area.)

Hopefully, though, I can soon find a relatively inexpensive, used, easily trailerable, aluminum replacement for chasing trout (and maybe for taking a short cruise on the Sound on a calm day). This, of course, is investing in a depreciating asset.

I could go on. But I guess I’m just feeling a little ambivalent about things right now.

Wait a minute. If these are my copious concerns, things can’t be all that bad.

Come to think of it, there’re a whole lot of great, anticipatory events coming up. Could I just be whining about a few necessary vicissitudes of life?

Probably so. By nature, I’m usually a total optimist. I really am. I really am.

Isn’t it great how just putting things into perspective can send ambivalence running? See it fading?

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #10: “Passing the Peace” Is Much More Than A Salutation

In the Lutheran tradition, with which my wife and I are becoming more familiar, we often “pass the peace.” It is a warm greeting in which we simply say to one another, “Peace be with you”.

But I’ve discovered that “passing the peace” is a lot more than just a friendly salutation.

Through the years I have thought of “peace” mostly in the sense of “absence of war”. I grew up with the "Peace-nik” generation. Their primary concern was the elimination of war (no matter what the cost to freedom, unfortunately).

So in my normal idiom, the concept of “peace” mostly connoted a state of tranquility that we should strive for but that would be virtually impossible to attain.

I must also admit that I often wondered how just “declaring” a desire for peace (as the “Peace-niks did) would keep the bully away, but that’s another issue.

In a similar sense, I also wondered how wishing peace to or for someone would do anything to actually bring peace. To me, that usually came off like a non-actualizing but nice sounding greeting – mostly around church people.

But I’m now coming to appreciate something much more encompassing. When Christ himself appeared to his disciples – sometimes suddenly and out of nowhere – his first words often were “peace be with you”. He calmed their anxieties without them even asking.

Of course Christ was the personification of peace, and in fact, he was the “prince of peace”. So it seemed relatively easy to understand his greeting in that context.

But, as I said, there’s more. In John 14, at the last supper, Jesus told his disciples, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give (peace) to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid.”

A little later in that fateful evening meal he continued, “I have told you these things so that in me (italics mine) you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

What an empowering declaration!

At the core of our understanding of peace, then, should be the particular and distinctive peace that only Christ can provide.

The peace of Christ is calming. The peace of Christ relieves anxiety. The peace of Christ rises above trouble. And the peace of Christ enables us to overcome the difficulties we may face in our world.

It is no wonder that the rite of benediction with which we are blessed at the close of each worship service (and which, I believe, is rooted in the ancient Aaronic or priestly blessing) includes the words, “the Lord…. be gracious to you…. and give you peace.”

Now, when I have the privilege of “passing the peace” I do so knowing that our Lord himself did it and that it has been practiced by his church ever since the first century. And I do it with the knowledge that its power and blessing is embodied in everything Christ is as the Prince of Peace.

May the peace of Christ be with you.

Piscatorial Fortunes Change Overnight

It’s amazing how different fishing can be from one day to the next.

Early yesterday morning my son Doug and I headed east over the Cascades into the Okanogan country, in the northern sector of central Washington.

Our destination was Conconully Reservoir, adjacent to the little town of Conconully, which in turn is about 10 miles northwest of Omak which is…. Best to just look on a map if you really care. It’s 235 miles and almost 5 driving hours from Seattle.

We heard on the car radio about the incredible Spring runoff going on from the rapidly melting snowpack – especially the Wenatchee River near Leavenworth – but we paid little attention because we were only going to pass through the area on the way.

The Wenatchee River was as predicted – a roiling torrent, like as not seen in many years, but that’s another story.

Rain hit the windshield all the way over Stevens pass, but the weather cleared as we neared Conconully. We “fished” from about 3 pm until dark – with little action and no fish. A skunk!

The resort owner had warned us on arrival. “Fishing’s been slow this week,” she said. The town is in near flood stage from the runoff, and the reservoir is totally full with the discolored water gushing over the spillway of the earthen dam.

The fish were scattered and the water was cloudy, but we gave it a try because we had had very good luck there last summer, as Doug’s 3+ pound rainbow had attested.

But it wasn’t to be this time. What to do now? How could we salvage the trip?

No problem, try Fish Lake which is between Leavenworth and Stevens Pass and where Doug, at least, has never not limited out. Besides, it was on the way home, anyway.

We got up at 5 this morning at the Omak Inn, packed up and began the 2-1/2 hour drive back to Fish Lake. We were on the water well before 9:00.

I don’t think my F6 flatfish even got thoroughly wet before my pole tip throbbed from an attack by a hungry rainbow. And so went the day.

They hit and hit and hit, more than making up for yesterday. We probably caught over 30 fish between us, and Doug brought home a really nice brown trout which he and Jamie broiled for dinner.

If there’s a moral to this story, heed weather reports and don’t fish where they’re not biting. The best part for me, though, was getting to spend most of two days with my otherwise busy son, satisfying, temporarily, our mutual piscatorial addiction.

Mom. Grandma and Wife – She’s the Complete Package

Today is Mother’s Day – the day we set aside to remember and honor the one who gave us life, (with incidental help from Dad, of course).

My mom has been gone for 47 years come next month, and I still think of her frequently – especially on days like this.

In his providence, God gave me another incredible Mom with whom to share life’s journey – my wife, Kay Lynne. In my eyes, she’s a mom who has few, if any, equals. Have you met our two sons?

She’s also a mind-boggling Grandma. All you have to do is ask any of our three granddaughters, like almost four-year-old Aubrey, above left, with her Grandma a few weeks ago at Disneyland.

My wife has given all of herself to her family. It’s the most noble quality, and there is not a higher compliment you can pay a person. She has a seemingly infinite and unconditional love for her family.

She’s the complete package.

Island Lake – Not What It Once Was, But Still Pretty Good

Yesterday I finally got a chance to fish at Island Lake in the Silverdale area while my wife took care of other business in the shopping center.

I had first heard about this lake from my California bud, Ed Wall, who in his younger days lived in 15 different houses in the nearby Port Orchard/Bremerton area. The house thing is another story.

Ed used to go to Island Lake as a teen-ager where at that time (the mid-1950’s) there was an establishment somewhere on the Lake that hosted weekend dances. Seems this popular gal from East (Bremerton) High named Darlene was known to cut a sassy swath on the dance floor there.

Ed didn’t (and doesn’t) know how to dance much, but he’d “hang” there on Saturday nights in his white T-shirt with sleeves rolled up and low-slung Levis, hoping to catch Darlene’s eye.

I guess it must have worked. They’ve been married almost 45 years. (The photo shows Ed and Darlene with their five grandchildren, taken just short of two weeks ago.)



But yesterday, hard as I looked, I saw no dance hall at the lake. In fact, I saw no island either. The sleepy, now darkly-hued but still quite clear body of water is surrounded by hills, homes, cabins, trees and a couple of outlying middle-class real estate developments.

I found a fishing dock at the County Park that has been nicely developed there with a playground, rest rooms, and improved shoreline. They stock the lake each spring with a few thousand catchable-sized rainbow trout, including some larger triploids. With a few even better-sized carryovers always around from the previous year, it offers a nice recreational challenge.

Six of us were on the dock for the two hours I had my line in the water. That’s 12 fisherman-hours. Three rainbows were caught. That means, on average, it takes four hours to catch a rainbow there.

Unfortunately, you know how short a time I had to soak bait. You can make your own conclusion as to whether or not I caught fish.

The best part of being there, however, was getting to see a spectacular Washington wild life "happening". The guy next to me hooked a fish, but it shook the snare and disappeared in the murky-bottomed drink before he could get it in. Soon the fish could be seen floating belly-up on the surface about 50 feet out.

In less than 10 seconds from the time we spotted the fish, two giant Bald Eagles swooped down from the treetops about 150 yards away. In no time the birds were skimming along like gliders, a foot or two off the water, heading straight for the gasping fish.

While still moving very fast, the lead bird effortlessly snatched the fish from the water with its sharp talons and aerobatically soared upward and back toward the lair with the fish continuing to struggle in the deadly grip.

A perfect precision-like maneuver by the once-endangered eagle resulted in life likely continuing for the pair’s young. I had witnessed a snapshot of nature’s indiscriminate life cycle.

And all of this occurred just a 20-minute drive from home. Is this a great State, or what?

An Airline Who’s Quick On The Tarmac As Well As In The Air

It’s been quite a while since I had made a one-day business trip to another city. Of course that always means getting up at the crack of dawn and getting to bed very late the same night with a whole lot sandwiched in between.

Yesterday I had to fly to Spokane to take care of some pressing things, so I decided to make the trek in just a day. Southwest Airlines has a senior fare (cheapest fare out there) that you can buy with no advance purchase, so I took advantage of it the day before.

The low, easily available fare had, this time at least, offset the airline’s lousy boarding and seating procedures (I HATE waiting in a line to fight for a seat location someone else likely has already taken).

I arrived, finally, at Seatac about 7:45 a.m. for a 9:00 flight to GEG. Twenty five minutes later I had skated through check-in and security and was waiting for the plane to arrive. Being Southwest, the plane arrived exactly on time. Wow, I thought, this is great.

Until, at 9:05 after we had boarded, the captain announced that we would be going nowhere on this particular aircraft due to a sensor malfunction in the right engine.

Usually, this would send me to “ruinsville”. Reason is, I'm aware that most airlines would take at least two or three hours to get you re-routed and to your destination, and I had a late morning meeting.

But Southwest to the rescue.

After we deplaned, they simply moved us over two gates, and we waited ten minutes for the plane from Sacramento to arrive. Normally, it would turn around and go back to Sacto, but because there were far more passengers waiting to go to Spokane than back south, they did what I think NO other airline could do on the spur of the moment.

They made a decision to put us on the arriving Sacramento plane and then sent us off to Spokane within 20 minutes. They called up mechanics from Oakland to fix the disabled plane, and put the southbound passengers on the next plane going south, hardly missing a beat in the days’ routine.

It was poetry in motion by an airline. And the quickest thinking and acting by airline operations people I’ve ever seen. We arrived in Spokane barely 30 minutes later than originally scheduled – an unbelievable accomplishment.

KUDOS TO SOUTHWEST, as they “saved” my day. I even returned home feeling rested because I accomplished what I had set out to do, even though it was a long day.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #9: Trying to Grasp Luther’s Double Negative

Worshipping in a mainline Church for the first time in my life and trying to absorb the meaning relating to same are causing me to stretch the conventions of my spiritual thought processes.

Late last week my wife and I had dinner with two of the Pastors on our Church’s staff. They are the Revs Kent and Alison Shane, a unique husband and wife team who job-share one full time position but each with different portfolios. Both hold M.Div. degrees in theology, and both are ordained in the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America.

Our discussion soon headed into the aspects of Luther’s thought with which we were less familiar and about which we had questions.

After sharing our diverse backgrounds we began to discuss the predictable. What were Martin Luther’s views on sin, the depravity of man, grace, redemption, salvation, etc., etc.? Of course to deal with all of this would have taken years more than the couple of hours we had available.

We ended up kind of focusing on God’s grace and mercy and on how undeserving we are of them. In fact, we discussed how humankind is incapable of doing anything that could earn us even a part of salvation.

I happened to mention that I had found John Wesley’s concept of “prevenient grace” quite satisfactory in this regard; that is, in Wesley’s view God provides even the grace needed before we are even capable of asking for it or experiencing it.

Pastor Alison spoke up and said, “Luther goes even farther than that.”

“Luther believed that we can’t not sin,” she interjected. And by that he believed we could do nothing in and of ourselves to earn or gain salvation. According to the church’s tradition, Luther may have even believed that to ask God for salvation was itself an act of works.

Carried further, Luther believed that when it came to behavior, we humans really have no choice at all. According to the book of Romans we have no free will in this regard. Therefore, God alone could, and must, provide salvation, and in this there is total freedom.

On the way home, with what I’d been taught as an evangelical admittedly lingering in my thoughts, there was one looming question: What, then, is the responsibility of the individual, if any, with regard to pardon, salvation, and attaining the Kingdom of God?

O, I know the easy evangelical answer. But now I’m contemplating these notions from a new angle.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #8: New Discoveries In An Ancient Faith

During my 50-plus years as a Christian, for a myriad of reasons, I had never given much thought to nor thoroughly investigated “mainline” denominational faith practice.

O, what I have missed out on.

I am so reminded each Sunday as my wife and I continue to worship in a “mainline” church, First Lutheran of Poulsbo.

What is apparently happening, little by little, is that I’m beginning to encounter aspects of the faith that either had little or misconstrued meaning before, or were missed altogether.

How could this be true, you might ask? Where have you been for all these years, you might inquire?

Rather than passing judgment on what has been before, I’d instead like to focus on the emerging nuggets of the faith that I’m experiencing.

In this post I’d like to spotlight just one – liturgy. In the past I was led to believe that such consisted mostly of “vain repetitions” and was “lifeless” or lacked "vitality". So I discounted it out of ignorance.

I couldn’t have been more wrong. In the Lutheran tradition, at least, I’m learning that the liturgy leads us through several key elements of worship and faith practice. And because it is rehearsed in one form or another at virtually every worship service it gradually imbeds itself in our innermost being (the transforming and motivating use of the Gospel, as we learned in last Sunday’s sermon).

And I’m now beginning to feel the sustaining effects throughout the week.

I am also confounded as to how I could have been so blind all these years. Unexpectedly, my lifelong quest for a personally meaningful and sustaining faith is now finding location in the elements of faith practice that, in my experience at least, were largely overlooked.

Much of the liturgy is a recitation of scripture – hardly a thing that should not be repeated. Much of it is also a summary of the key creeds and confessions of faith that are the bedrock of Christianity. And much of it is “guided” prayer – making sure that we commune with God not only in the ways we have been instructed but also with a proper attitude.

It all sounds so elementary, but I somehow didn’t connect with it. I regret that. But I’m making up for it as quickly as I can. Thanks be to God.

Some of Us “Have It”, and Some of Us Don’t

Early this past week, as my son Gregg and his wife Elaine were leaving for a Pastors Conference, I noticed his golf bag on the ground next to the car waiting to be packed into the trunk. The bag had a healthy coat of dust on it.

Pastors don’t have a lot of time for golf. But Gregg doesn’t allow that little restriction to affect his game.

As we were chatting several days later upon their return, I casually asked, “Well, where’s the golf trophy?” I should have known better, as Elaine pointed to the back of the house and said, “It’s still in the car.”

Gregg had won the annual Pastor’s Golf tournament – a much enjoyed recreational break at the conclave of Friends Pastors who work so hard all year in their respective churches.

I stand in awe of those who are so athletically gifted. He hadn’t touched a club in almost nine months. Yet, he was able to work out the muscle kinks quickly and make some shots.

I’ve wondered to myself if his best natural athletic talent isn’t on the golf course – his lifelong passion for and stellar performance in baseball notwithstanding. Gregg has what is called a “sweet swing”; the ball just “seems” to go right where it should almost all the time.

A few years ago he and I at the same time got nice sets of new faux “Major Brand” golf clubs, custom fitted for each of us by a California Pastor friend who does this as a hobby. I kidded Gregg that it must have been his nice newer clubs that got him the win.

Funny, my new clubs are exactly the same as his, but I still manage to add more than a stroke a hole to his score.

I guess some of us “have it”, and some of us don’t.

Opening Day

Today was the general trout season opener for lakes in the State of Washington. To avoid the crowds, my son Doug and I went to Fish Lake in Chelan County, near the Bavarian Village of Leavenworth, because it’s one of a few open to fishing year around. The crowds were at the lakes that opened today.

The decision turned out to be a good one. In just over five hours of fishing, we netted over 20 nice rainbow trout – many healthy 12” to 14” “carryovers” along with some of this Spring’s spunky plants.

By Doug’s count, we caught 23; by my recollection we got around 20. Believe Doug. In any case it was enough to release the anxiety created by lack of fishing for the past several months during the winter season (except for one nice steelhead trip).

Before anyone has a conniption about limits (five per person per day on Fish Lake), we used artificial lures most of the time and released the fish safely back into the water. Trout caught in this manner are not counted in the “keep” limit.

Fish Lake is without doubt the most dependable, consistent trout lake I’ve ever fished. Doug has LIMITED EVERY TIME he’s gone there, and that is about 30 trips! I haven’t always limited, but I’ve never been “skunked” there.

All in all it was a great day. The weather conditions at the lake were perfect for fishing, while it rained all day here at home. Usually the opposite is true. Besides, to be able to enjoy a bit of recreation with your son that both of you relish makes it all worthwhile.

Heading for the Finish Line

Yesterday was unforgettable. We watched Talli, our 6th grade Middle School granddaughter (above) run the anchor leg of her 4 x 400-meter relay team at a track meet near the Capitol city of Oregon. And this was after she had endured both the 1500-meter and the 800-meter runs less than an hour before.

I don’t think I ran that far -- even in high school -- during my entire four years.

Add it up. That’s over a mile and a half total, most of it at a well paced sprint. Just thinking about it makes me tired. However, I recall that in my youth, I was pretty fast also – for a full 30 meters, at least.

But, to compete over a mile and a half at speed, all during a single meet -- and in Middle School, no less, with some runners two years older -- that's a real athletic accomplishment!

Talli has inherited some good running genes. Her mom was an outstanding distance runner on her own in high school and college. Her great grandfather on her dad’s side was a decorated Nebraska high school high hurdler in the late 1920’s. And I’m sure there’s more which I’m forgetting.

We’ve enjoyed the better part of this week with all three of our granddaughters while their mom and dad were away at a conference. The metaphor of this blog is also suggestive of a distance run. It’s a great time to be alive.

A Glorious Day… and “Thar She Blows”

Today is another one of those days that explains why those of us who live here in the Pacific Northwest choose to remain here. It is drop-dead gorgeous – not a cloud in the sky in any direction.

To the west of us, the freshly snow-capped Olympic mountains are gleaming in the sunlight, set off by green forests and the deep blue waters of Agate Passage in Puget Sound. Truly, the firmament today shows the fathomless handiwork of God himself.

I snapped the above photo early this afternoon just after returning home from church. A few minutes later I was taking in more of the glorious scene from our front balcony, while keeping one eye on the dog attending to his duties, when I noticed the water stirring in just one place about 100 yards off shore.

Such an occurrence I had not seen before, so I kept watching. Suddenly the turbulent water parted, and a large, ballooning mist shot upward some 20 feet or more into the air. I blinked – and blinked again – and yelled for Kay Lynne.

A large whale had just exhaled right in front of our house. After blowing, she slowly rolled forward, back into the water, and her tail appeared momentarily just before she disappeared. It was a visual I’ll never forget.

I assume it was a “she” because I’ve heard of mother Grays and Orcas guiding their calves into the shallower areas of Puget Sound to more easily teach them a life lesson. Usually the sightings occur in the deeper waters of the main Sound,

We have had sightings recently, however, in Sinclair Inlet in the Bremerton area. But never, since we’ve lived here at least, in Agate Passage, which at high tide doesn’t reach 10 fathoms.

I’m going to assume it was a gray whale because I saw no large dorsal that are distinctive of Orcas. But whatever the species, it was large. I just wish I’d have had my camera on the balcony.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #7: Fresh Meaning for the Easter Season

I’ve been a “Christian” for going on 60 years. But, in a fascinating sort of way, I’m just now discovering some of the richness in the faith that I had obviously just “glossed over” in the past.

Last night my wife and I went to Maundy Thursday Services at the Lutheran Church we are attending. Maundy Thursday is the day during which we observe and celebrate Christ’s last Passover meal with his disciples, just before he was led away early the next morning to be crucified.

The event is commonly known as “The Last Supper”, from which the practice and Sacrament of Holy Communion is derived. But the Maundy Thursday rite embraces additional truths.

First, it is the inauguration of the “Triduum”, the three final days of Lent. In the Lutheran tradition at least, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Saturday night’s Easter Vigil (waiting, as the women did, for the resurrection) are observed as a continuous celebration commemorating the central acts of Christianity, as each day requires the others for full understanding and meaning.

At some Maundy Thursday observances a “foot washing” ceremony is held, signifying the servitude Jesus exemplified as he washed the disciples’ feet as they gathered for the Last Supper. Our service, incidentally, did not include the foot washing custom.

The word “Maundy” is an English form of the Latin word for “commandment”. We also get our word “mandate” from this root. Jesus’ new commandment to his disciples was that they should “love one another even as I have loved you”. His ultimate example of love was to give himself on the cross for all of us.

After a sermon by the Rev. Kent Shane that expanded a bit more on the reasons for this observance, we then concluded our worship with the celebration of Holy Communion, along with the prayer that we will become Christ-like in offering ourselves in loving service to the world around us.

We dismissed, interestingly, with no benediction. The same will be true at tonight’s Good Friday service as well as at tomorrow night’s Easter Vigil. The benediction is withheld until Sunday, at the glorious conclusion of our Easter celebration, when the meaning and message of the season is complete.

Thanks be to God.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation – Log #6: Anticipating Worship

I must admit, regrettably, that heading for church on Sunday mornings has not always been the wonderful experience I would have hoped for. For a long time this has been a source of frustration and disappointment for me.

Lately, however, I find myself looking forward to each Sunday’s worship. I’ve spent a good deal of recent reflection trying to discover why this is taking place. And the truth is, I’ve had a difficult time putting into words the sort of metamorphosis that is occurring.

In discussing the quandary with my wife at brunch after Church last Sunday, I think we might have had an epiphany. We had just experienced a wonderful Palm Sunday worship service at Poulsbo First Lutheran Church, where we have attended, as possible, for more than six months.

As we entered the narthex, we were handed palm branches and told that we would “process” into the sanctuary momentarily. The opening liturgy – Scriptures, recitations and hymns compiled to allow God “to gather us for worship” – took place right there in preparation for our entry into worship.

Then, accompanied by a processional hymn, we proceeded into the Sanctuary to our seats to listen to God speak to us. He did so in diverse ways. We sang hymns. We read Scripture from the Old Testament, from the New Testament and from the Gospels. We prayed together and recited the ancient creeds of the faith.

One of our Pastors, the Rev. Alison Shane, delivered an insightful sermon about the meaning and implications of Palm Sunday, particularly contrasting Christ’s ministry up to that point with that in the (Holy) week just ahead, the last days before his crucifixion and resurrection.

The light went on, I think, sometime between the worship service and our brunch. The key to our newfound delight in worship may hinge on one primary factor: participation.

We suddenly realized that in the “evangelical milieu”, where we had been for the past several decades, Sunday church is a spectator event for the most part. We were entertained by musicians, music groups, drama troupes and media-driven sermons. We were even made to feel good – for the moment, at least. And all we had to do was arrive and get comfortable in a pew.

Sometimes the sermon was even strong enough to impact our lives. And we would try like mad for a few days to effect it. The entertainment factor usually wore off by Sunday night, however, when the boob tube took over with superior amusement. For me, the staying effects of that kind of worship often resulted in what felt like spiritual "let down" much too soon.

In contrast, we realize, in our present worship experience, we participate at almost every level. We process into the sanctuary (at least on last Sunday). We sing the hymns together. We recite the scriptures. We rehearse the ancient creeds. We partake in the Sacraments. We respond to the sermon. Week after week this has had a very positive cumulative impact on our spirituality.

This fresh (for us), seemingly more authentic mainline worship experience has resulted in a discernable change taking place in our lives. It’s hard to quantify, but we know it’s there. For one thing, we are spiritually sustained throughout the week. In fact, we’re already anticipating worship in God’s presence next Sunday.

Thanks be to God.

Photo Reminiscences of Disneyland

Above shows the immense size of the Silver Bullet hanging roller coaster at Knotts Berry Farm. The coaster is ABOVE you and your feet hang loose on this ride and extend straight up toward the sky when you loop. It was Talli's (above right) favorite. Below are Elaine, Hayley and Aubrey on the monster ferris wheel, and below that the three kids enjoy cotton candy on the one cold day when it rained.




Doug, Talli and Gregg are about to be hoisted straight up the tower some 100-plus feet and then dropped in a free fall. Yiiiikes.

Aubrey and Hayley enjoying the happiest place on earth.





Grandma took the bottom pic so we are including her above to show our whole family group. Aubs lucks out and gets in twice!

Tower of Terror

This is the "hot" new ride at Disneyland's California Adventures that all the kids want to go on. It's called the TOWER OF TERROR. As usual, Disney does not disappoint.

The descendants of old Walt have created a wonderful, sort of creepy, story around the 1920's Hollywood hotel, the Tower, long since gone from the scene. Basically, it's an "elevator" ride in total darkness with incredible sights and sounds from inside the old hotel. The "elevator" can also go forward and back in addition to up and down. Of course the narration keeps you wondering what's going to happen next.

After entering it on the ground floor, the "elevator" eventually lurches to the high point of the building, and the doors flash open for a second, giving you a panoramic view of the park and establishing the feeling that you are high up in the air. Then, just as suddenly, the doors close -- and you plunge downward very rapidly, only to be jerked to a stop and accelerated up again for another dose of "drops" in the dark.

It's a great ride and well worth the time. Disney, of course, is unsurpassed in creating a seemingly adequately long ride around 30-seconds of elevator ups and downs.

The Hollywood Effect

You just can't go to southern California without feeling its effects. On our recent family trek to Disneyland, our almost four-year-old granddaughter, Aubrey, succombed to the Hollywood look for an evening. You can't see it in the picture, snapped by her mom, but that plastic-looking "tube" around her neck is really a "light-ring" which pierces the night in a dizzying circle of multi-colored laser pulses. She was HOT!!

Back At Home From Disneyland and Knotts Berry Farm

You meet some incredible people at Disneyland and Knotts Berry Farm. At left is our youngest granddaughter, Aubrey, getting a hug from Snoopy himself on Wednesday at Knotts. She was excited beyond belief.

Our entire family is all back at home now after several wonderful days at the "happiest place on earth". We jammed three full days with nothin' but fun and even got soaked in the rain in SoCal, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise (no lines).

In the days ahead I'll blog more on the subject and throw in a few pics as well. Suffice it to say that it was simply wonderful to have our two sons, their wives, and three granddaughters all together in a place like Disneyland.

Gregg and Elaine and Doug and Jamie are still kids at heart and we really couldn't tell who was having the most fun -- the "adult" kids or the real kids. And it didn't matter. Watch for more in the days ahead.

Applecart Upset

As Christians in the affluent western world, we can’t help but be influenced by our society. As we make various attempts to try to “live like Christians”, often our efforts bear little fruit.

Even “organized” efforts like the fairly recent WWJD (What Would Jesus Do) “campaign” may point us to reflect on the problem but at the same time does little to provide insight into how Jesus (or God) would actually want us to live our lives.

Last Sunday my son Gregg (who is a Friends pastor in Oregon) gave a sermon on the topic that kind of reminded me of the old phrase “applecart upset”, though he titled it something else. Here’s a snippet of what he said:

“My (recent) life … has been one of God yanking me out of the easy path I seem to map out for my life, and sending me down a road that I was not expecting and that involves sacrifice…. The heart of following Jesus is radically different than the way most of us live our lives. Following Jesus is not something which gives us a power or a tool to having all that we ever wanted in life.”

If that’s not enough to make you click here to read his entire sermon as he delivered it, then so be it. But if not, you’ll be missing some great insight on what it means to be a follower of Christ in our “success-driven” society.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation— Log #5: Finding Meaning in Worship

At church last Sunday I was once again blessed with the worship liturgy and meanings gleaned from it. The season in the church calendar now being Lent, inside the front page of the bulletin was a considerable explanation of this time of year and its related significance for us as members of Christ’s church.

During my decades in “evangelicalism” I had become used to what I now refer to as the “shotgun” approach to meaningful worship. The theme for the day or month usually reflected what the church leadership was “led to focus on” at the particular time. Not all bad, I admit. But I personally often didn’t feel “in sync”.

In the mainline church that we now are attending, the focus of worship is guided primarily by the church calendar – something with which I was relatively unfamiliar until recently. In my past church life, Lent was usually casually noted by condemnation of Fat Tuesday, the culmination of Mardi Gras in New Orleans (and elsewhere) and a reference to Ash Wednesday, Lent’s official beginning. Other than conversation now and then among friends about what we were "giving up" for Lent, we usually heard nothing about it until Holy week. And even then, there might only be a Good Friday observance of some sort just prior to Easter – which WAS, of course, rightfully emphasized.

As I have alluded to before in these posts, this new (to me) practice of allowing the church calendar and time-tested liturgies to illuminate our worship experience has provided a wonderful catharsis for my faith journey. Last Sunday was no exception.

The “Order of Worship” consists of three components. First, the Entrance Rite where “God Gathers Us”; secondly, the Service of the Word where “God Speaks to Us”; and, thirdly, the Closing Rite where “God Sends Us Out to Serve”.

In the Gathering Rite we share hymns and prayers of confession, forgiveness and self-examination. In the Service of the Word, we open our thinking to three extensive Scripture readings -- from the Old Testament, the New Testament and the Gospels -- and recite together the ancient creeds of our faith. The pastor usually follows with the sermon. In the Sending Rite, with hymns, shared prayers and the benediction, we are commissioned to daily service as followers of Christ.

Of course the Scriptures and liturgies are appropriately reflective of the liturgical season, but the consistency in the order of worship takes us through the important elements of encountering and listening to God each and every time we worship.

I find the experience uplifting, strengthening and sustaining. And for an old “evangelical” like me, very refreshing. Thanks be to God.

Granddaughters – A Wonderful Gift from God

This past weekend my wife and I were in Oregon, and we had the wonderful experience of spending some valuable time with our three granddaughters. We were primarily there to help out a bit while our daughter-in-law was at a women’s retreat at the ocean.

We thoroughly enjoyed all three of them, but this was a special time for Hayley. It was her 9th birthday on Monday. In the photo above right I caught her in the midst of blowing out her birthday candles. She got them all out with nary a problem!

Hayley is a very gifted girl. She loves and is good at a wide variety of interests, not the least of which is her computer proficiency. Got a Mac issue? Call Hayley.

Her special day wasn’t even affected much by the fact that she was feeling a bit “under the weather”. As is Hayley, in spite of how she felt, she still had fun and in the evening got to open and enjoy some presents from family.

Hayley was also recently honored by having her term project on display at her school. I may have mentioned it in a January post, but above left is the photo of her efforts which I snapped at the school.

She had carefully constructed a Motte and Bailey castle and did a marvelous job. Way to go, Hayley! Click on the castle name in the previous sentence if you are like me – wondering what a Motte and Bailey castle is.

A perfect “capper” for our long weekend was last night’s middle school band concert in which Talli (the eldest) is a member of the trumpet section. Little Aubrey ran out of steam about half way through the concert but did get to see her big sister blow her horn.

In case you hadn’t noticed, grandparents really get off on these kinds of things!

Thankful For Days Like This

Today I went to the big city – well, through it, actually. The trip began with a gorgeous ferry ride on the MV Wenatchee into Seattle. I say gorgeous because the skies were blue with wispy, white clouds, the azure water was quite calm, and the sun radiated welcome warmth, as the temperature was on the cool side.

From the Coleman dock where the auto-laden vessel touched the bank, I headed south through the cargo-ship-lined port, past Boeing field, and then onto the freeway near the Southcenter Mall. I was heading for the southern burb of Federal Way where the headquarters of the global relief organization, World Vision, is nestled in a stand of tall pines and firs – on Weyerhaeuser Way, appropriately.

My mission was to meet with a senior magazine editor who had indicated there might be some writing opportunities for one of their publications. She said that “outside writers” often provided a “fresh” perspective that was good for everyone concerned. That was music to my ears.

Of course I love to write – as witnessed by this blog. But here was a chance to use what one really enjoys doing to hopefully be a small aid in a wonderful and worthy cause.

We talked for some time about the organization and how she came to be a part of it. She’s a southern California gal who came north with World Vision when it moved to Seattle in 1995. I mentioned that my tie with World Vision was that I had personally met and spent a bit of time with its founder, Bob Pierce, back in the early 1960’s

We then chatted about her goals and aspirations for the journal. I was easily hooked as we rather quickly found resonance on an issue close to both of our hearts that fits well within the scope of her objectives.

So now I have a writing “assignment”!

Having discussed the subject on several occasions with friends and with my sons who are in ministry, my mental wheels were spinning as I drove home. I enjoyed taking the longer drive around the Sound – rather than returning on the ferry – because it gave me a few added moments to savor the experience and listen for the thoughts of God on the topic we had agreed upon.

For the next several months I’ll know exactly what to do with any “spare” time. I’ve already started an outline and put a few ideas down on paper. I’m really thankful for days like this.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation—Log #4: Watching For “The Rapture”?

My childhood took place in a Fundamentalist venue. My parents and much of our extended family believed the Bible literally. I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard a preacher say, “God said it, I believe it, and that settles it!”

Unfortunately, if you took what the Bible says literally, not only did it not settle much anything, but often more questions arose than were answered. One of the areas of perpetual concern for us was “end times” doctrine.

Are we now living in the “end times”? Are world conditions falling into place to facilitate Armageddon? What is going to happen next?

Fundamentalists – and many dispensationalist evangelicals – believe that the next major eschatological event will be “the rapture”. This is the "predicted" future occurrence when Christ appears in the heavens and calls “true” believers, along with the “dead in Christ”, up, up and away from earth to be removed from the hideous things that will then take place on this planet - such as the battle of Armageddon.

Then, after a period of time with Christ somewhere in the heavens, all Christians of history would return to earth with Christ for his millennial reign – a true theocracy. Somewhere in that time line, however, would occur a great judgment where true believers would be given eternal life and non-believers would be sent away to roast forever. Not exactly comforting thoughts.

As a young boy, I can often remember waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night from a nightmare in which the sky had suddenly become brilliantly bright accompanied by incredible thunder and lightning. I expected to see Christ himself walking on the clouds and reaching out to me, but instead I would always wake up in my dark bedroom wondering what had happened and why I was soaking wet.

The imagery no doubt was from an old black and white movie called The Rapture (redone several times through the years, I think, by well-meaning film makers). This movie was somehow ok to view in church, flickeringly screened from a noisy 16mm Bell & Howell or Revere projector. But we dared not go to a theater to see really good films.

Fast forward some five decades. I still continued to wonder about “end times” and “the rapture” – especially with the likes of current evangelical TV prognosticators like Hal Lindsey, Jack Van Impe and others. Of course I wasn’t alone. Millions have swallowed the conjectures put forward by Tim La Haye and Jerry Jenkins in the Left Behind book and film series.

I’ve recently completed reading a book by Craig C. Hill, a brilliant New Testament professor at Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, D.C., titled, In God’s Time. It’s the best read I’ve come across to help (me) sort out a great deal of (apparently widespread) convoluted thinking on the subject.

Tony Campolo says of the book, “At a time when popular books on the second coming are leading to confusion and a right-wing political mind-set, here is a book that is balanced and inspiring and helpful”. Eugene Petersen, author of the acclaimed paraphrase The Message concurs, saying the book provides guidance “through the verbal clutter and emotional hysteria” of end times thinking.

I’d suggest reading the book for yourself; however, you can get some preliminary info here. Obviously, I can’t do its content justice in a paragraph or two. In a nutshell, Hill suggests that if you try to understand “end times” prophesies by a literal interpretation of the Bible, you’re in a pack of trouble.

Here’s just one thing from the book that astounded me but at the same time gave me hope for a rational future. You won’t find “the rapture” in the New Testament – or in the entire Bible, for that matter.

The idea of TWO returns to earth by Christ (the first being “the rapture” and the second the millennial reign) was invented by 19th century fundamentalists because it was the only way they could make literal interpretations of scriptures fit into their kind of coherence.

A lot of the problem is that much of Biblical prophecy refers to the nation of Israel and was applicable (and probably fulfilled) during and just following the first century. But these same prophecies, if appropriated to the “church” – as do many of the aforementioned prognosticators – could be very well misapplied.

As I said earlier, you need to read the book yourself to capture its impact and perspective. Craig Hill also suggests that we as Christians might be far better served to be living every day for the Kingdom of God rather than trying to comprehend if Magog is Moscow or if Armageddon is around the corner.

Far better that we love our spouse, our neighbor or our co-worker and express it with action as refletive of Christ's love for us, than to lie awake at night waiting for the rapture or for a seven year peace treaty between Israel and the Arabs.

The Blast Blew By (You?:-)

Not great humor in the head, but for anyone who cares, our “Arctic blast” came and went without significance. Oh, it did get a bit chilly at night for a few days, but the sun came out beautifully in the day time to make the temps tolerable.

Of course when the warmer weather came back a day or two ago, so did the clouds. It’s the clouds, say weather wags, that keep the heat down where we can feel it. Without clouds, heat rises and disappears. I assume they mean in the winter, as I’ve been through a lot of blazing hot August days that had no clouds.

With my wife busy with her family for a time, I’ve got ample time this week for reading. Currently I’m paging through Craig Hill’s In God’s Time in which he pretty well bulldozes concepts propogated by some well known evangelical “end times” authors.

It’s interesting how one’s perspective can be enriched when biblical texts are understood in their cultural and religious contexts. Look for a post on the subject sometime soon (yawn:-).

Waiting For the “Arctic Blast”

For several days now, here in the northwest, weather wags have been talking about an approaching “Arctic Blast” of dry, cold air that is supposed to arrive later today and last till at least noon on Sunday.

I’m getting a big kick out of the media “experts” who, instead of focusing on real issues, waste theirs (and our) time with atmospheric drivel.

On the radio yesterday, when my wife, Buddy (our dog) and I were running errands, we heard described, among other things, “how to prevent your water pipes from freezing” (let the faucet drip), “how to insulate your exterior doors so cold air can’t get in” (weather strip them) and “how to prevent your shrubs from freezing” (cover them).

Now, come on, do we need media blowhards giving us this obvious, common sense advice?

I suppose there are people who wouldn’t think of doing anything when the temperature drops dramatically (especially here in the “mild” northwest) but I never cease to be amazed by the media’s “concern” with weather. If you want to know what the weather is like, look or go outside. If it’s cold, put on a coat. If it’s raining, take an umbrella.

Getting advanced warning about an expected drastic temperature drop is nice. But I’m likely not going to remodel my house before it comes. Plus, what they’re calling an “Arctic blast” is two days of temps with a range of a high of around freezing and a low in the teens.

Maybe the weather wags ought to live in International Falls, Minnesota. There, they’d quickly learn what an “Arctic blast” really is.

Great Weather Turns Thoughts to…

In the northwest, a week of spring-like weather in the middle of winter can quickly turn a man’s thoughts to… fishing! (I did NOT forget Valentine’s Day, just to keep things in perspective.)

The weekly emails from Fishing and Hunting News keep reminding me of all the great nearby lakes where they’ve planted some monster 5-lb hybrid trout (I know, I know, but you’ve still gotta CATCH ‘em.)

And then there are the fertile reservoirs along the Columbia River system just east of the Cascades that hold spunky rainbows, winter steelhead and even walleye, all on the prowl right now. Of course that doesn’t even mention neighboring western Washington coastal rivers that are still giving native steelhead a route home to spawn. It’s enough to drive a fisherman crazy.

The boat I got last year is too big and heavy to drag a long way (it’s mostly for nearby Puget Sound salmon fishing), so it’s not quite time to pull it out of its winter slumber under the canvas and get it ready to go.

For this reason, I’m starting to think it might be better to have a lighter, smaller aluminum boat that I CAN drag most anywhere easily and quickly. In fact, I’ve even peeked at a few online ads (please don’t mention this to my wife; she already thinks I’m nuts regarding boats :-).

I don’t know how far in that direction my idea will take me, but maybe in the short term my fishing longings will defer to “sell the boat I have and get an aluminum one” deliberations.

Maybe that’ll keep me from thinking about what I can’t easily do right now (go fishing) due to other vastly more important concerns.

Look Carefully

With available software, images can be "doctored" to create incredible photos. I received these via email from an old friend in California. Click on each for a slightly larger image to get the full effect. I call the one on the top "Hang On!", and the one on the bottom "Alligator shoes" . Enjoy.

Taking a Deep Breath

Today I had to spend much of the day dealing with several personal business things. So it was a good opportunity to pause, take a deep breath, and just reflect on what I’ve been focused on of late – my shifting spiritual formation.

Over the past couple of days I’ve also had several email exchanges with a couple of my old college cronies from the SF Bay Area. These back-and-forth missives through cyber space help to sharpen all of our thinking (I hope) and, from my perspective, offer some very important feedback for my own views.

I’ve known these guys for more years than probably any other friends I have. I value their input and have a high regard for their thoughtful views on “the faith”.

The process has been pleasantly rewarding. I’ve gained perspective, and I hope they have, too. Life-long friendships truly encompass a lot of satisfaction and enjoyment.

Finally - Clear Skies

After every night there is the dawn and after every rain there is the sunshine. I can't remember whether I'm quoting Solomon or song lyrics or my mother, but I'm pretty sure someone said it before. So, even though the Seahawks came in second yesterday in Detroit, today dawned as beautifully as ever.

The best part is that I think we're going to have an almost week-long break in the cloudy, rainy, gray weather we've had for the better part of two months. The sun just barely lighting the freshly snow-capped Olympic mountains was what greeted Buddy and me early this morning as I took the dog out to "express his inner-most feelings". "We agreed" it was great to be alive.

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation-- Log #3: Affluence Can Dull Our Sensitivity to Real Need

The growing disparity of wealth in our own country (think New Orleans), to say nothing of the relative gap of possessions between the U.S. and the third world (think parts of Africa - or Central America at left), has occupied a lot of my recent thinking.

The reason is simple and obvious: how can I as a follower of Christ continue to live in the spoils of relative luxury, when there are those both domestically and elsewhere who have virtually nothing?

Last November my son Gregg preached a sermon in his church that helped to shape my contemplation of this issue. One of Gregg’s sermon points was that it’s not difficult to understand the Bible’s teaching; our challenge lies in doing something in light of the enormity of the need.

One of the ironies for me personally is that my “bent” in life has been very entrepreneurial. I always believed, and still do for the most part, that “he who takes the risks and endures the pain, deserves the reward”. If we didn’t have the Hewletts, the Packards, the Gateses, and many others like them, we wouldn’t have what we have as Americans – the most successful economic system in the world.

No, the problem is not in the achievement. What is coming into focus for me, however, is the misbehavior of excessive accumulation and self-indulgence as a result of our relatively huge affluence (does Enron or World Com come to mind?).

Rather than considering the apportioning of at least some fraction of our gross prosperity to those in desperate need, we sooner acquiesce to our selfish human instincts to continue hoarding. Of course these considerations are all arbitrary, but at the same time, it’s an unsettling dilemma for a discerning Christian.

All my life I worked hard (some of my close friends might question that :-) so that at some point in life I wouldn’t have to worry about an ongoing need for a paycheck. I even had my own small ad agency for a decade, but mostly my working life was spent as an employee of one company or another – even a very large evangelical church (did I think this would score brownie points with God?). What I had anticipated sort of came to pass but not in the way I had imagined.

A few years ago as I was beginning to approach “retirement” age, my wife and I were very fortunate to receive some estate proceeds from my dad and stepmom’s holdings as well as from my wife’s parents’ properties. O, we didn’t become rich by any means, but it did put us in the position from which, with social security and other small earnings infusions, if we managed the resources well, we could get by without either of us “having to have a job”.

When the full realization of all of that hit me, I felt (and still feel) extremely grateful. We had finally “arrived” at what I had been working for all those years. But I am never forgetful that it took estate proceeds from thoughtful loved ones before us to actually bring it to pass. Since that time we have invested fairly well, and now we are able to focus on enjoying our married sons’ families and our three granddaughters.

That should be the happy ending to a nice story, right? Wrong.

My wife and I are now increasingly aware of the fact that our good fortune has placed us in a relatively privileged group of “haves”, and we cannot put out of our minds the vastly larger number of those who “have not”. Why should we be so blessed just for being born in this country and to our particular parents?

I must admit that the realization of arriving at a certain point caused us to relax for a short time. I even had the thought that it was good to live in this country and not have to worry much anymore about the pressures and drudgery of a day-to-day job or about struggling to keep our heads above water financially. In my twisted appraisal of things, I felt a degree of relief; now it was “other people” that would have the worries – not me or my family.

What sheer nonsense and condescendance on my part – to even go near the arrogance of contemplating distance between one’s self and others who might be relegated to the tedium of earning a living – just because I now didn’t have similar anxieties. I am ashamed of that.

But, on the other hand, don’t most Americans, including Christians, think that a degree of financial independence is what we all work so hard for? And shouldn’t we feel good about it? Possibly.

But wait! Get a glimpse. Have I already forgotten that Christ, as God’s son, emptied himself of everything – unfathomable wealth, power and majesty – and gave it all up with his life on a cross so I, in turn, could live forever and ultimately share in that glory? And didn’t he do that compassionately and willfully, while I (along with all of humanity) was incapable of self help?

I am becoming persuaded that what Christ voluntarily did on the cross for me, for you, and for all of humankind, we who have the means must now do for the victimized and desperately needy of whom we become aware in one way or another.

You can let your mind wander as to how that might be accomplished. The point is we need to be about “building the Kingdom” with what we have instead of focusing even more on accumulation.

Henri Nouwen, in his book, Compassion, points out that Jesus “requires us to unmask the illusion of our competitive selfhood, to give up clinging to our imaginary distinctions as sources of identity, and to be taken up into the same intimacy with God which he himself knows.”

Nouwen continues, “This is the mystery of the Christian life: to receive a new self, a new identity, which depends not on what we can achieve, but on what we are willing to receive” (and by extension, also give).

This is the kind of thinking – and living – I want to imitate as part of my rejuvenated spiritual formation. Compassionate action is a worthy consideration for me and for every follower of Christ, even though the challenge is daunting. I need to get busy and find a way to lay a brick in the Kingdom.

Almost “Super” For Our Seahawks

For me, it’s like “deja-vu all over again”, to quote Yogi Berra. The Seattle Seahawks are finally going to the Super Bowl where Sunday they will find out if they are the best football team in the NFL. But for me and our family, it’s eerily like it was in January of 1982.

That was the culmination of the season of “the catch” when Joe Montana hit his tight end Dwight Clark at the back of the end zone to enable the San Francisco 49ers to beat Dallas and go on to their first Super Bowl Championship. If this could be the first of multiple successful trips for Seattle as well, that would be beyond wildest dreams.

There are more eerie “links” between this year’s Seattle accomplishment and that of the 1982 red and gold machine. Seattle’s head coach, Mike Holmgren, was once the offensive coordinator for the 49ers. Hawk defensive coordinator, the recovering Ray Rhodes, was once in the same position for SF.

Dwaine Board, Seattle's current line coach, actually played on the Forty Niner 1982 Super Bowl winning team. I’m not sure off the top of my head if either Mike Holmgren or Ray Rhodes were there in the 1982 SB, but I know that both were an integral part of the 49er rise to glory in the 80’s.

Want another "eerie coincidence"? The 1982 Super Bowl was also played in Detroit (actually Pontiac, MI)

Here's still another interesting “twist”: the 49ers have five Super Bowl wins, and the Steelers (Seattle’s SB opponent) have four SB victories. If Pittsburgh wins, it would tie them with the 49ers and the Dallas Cowboys for all-time Super Bowl Titles. So, being a life-long 49er fan as well, I’m pulling for Seattle not only as a local “fanatic”, but also as a “Steeler-Stopper”.

This is being dabbed the “biggest” Super Bowl ever, playing on the Roman numeral symbol for 40 – “XL” – which also denotes “extra large”. It’s going to be big for sure – especially if the Seahawks win. Then Seattle will finally be able to truly call its team SUPER!

Re-Drafting My Spiritual Formation-- Log #2: Negotiating the Journey

This is just the second post in the faith journey series during which I hope to convey some adjustments I’m making after examining the apparent cracks in my spiritual formation. It should be obvious that our spiritual formation shapes our understanding of our faith and how we live it out.

In recent years I have been rather dissatisfied with my spiritual formation (“fundamentalist” upbringing and long-time “evangelical” approach to beliefs). I realized that my views in many cases were not consistent with what I had been recognizing they should be for a follower of Christ. The inconsistencies became too perceptible to ignore.

A short time ago, we acquired a wonderful little dog. He’s a very smart Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. Buddy constantly follows my wife or me around the house – virtually everywhere. He just wants to be with us, and he is totally focused on us.

He even ignores his food just to be around us until we finally sit down to eat. Then, and only then, will he go over and consume the food in his dish. He is modeling us as closely as a dog can.

If I’ve gotten anything at all from the recent books I’ve read, I’ve grasped one thing. If we as Christians want to be true followers of Christ and actually help fashion the Kingdom, we, too, must model his teachings and his behavior.

I realize that most Christians, including evangelicals, would agree. However, it's important to me to do so in a manner that is consistent with understanding the contextual implications of Christ's imperatives and how that might affect today's applications. How does historical and cultural understanding of his teachings affect today's implementation?

The difficulty with the evangelical approach, for me, is that it too often takes strictly at face value what Christ or the apostles said or did, without scrupulously considering what it meant in the then religiously-charged Jewish culture that was influenced by Roman rule. What it could or should mean for us today might be either less emphatic or a whole lot more inclusive, depending on the translation we're reading and the cultural biases or political conditions at the time.

There are many complexities with this, of course. Christ lived 2,000 years ago in a culture whose people had definite expectations regarding a coming messiah. How, then, do we extrapolate from these teachings and apply them to our lives in our culture?

Fortunately we have lots of help. Theologians, historians and astute thinkers have been illuminating the Biblical teachings of Jesus since the time he lived on earth. And of course we have the canon itself, plus a wealth of church history and tradition to enrich the process.

My recent readings have helped immensely in providing some fresh (for me) thinking on some very knotty faith issues amidst our affluent society and post-modern thinking. My next post in this series will deal with one of them.