What's YOUR Bullseye?

Random mental 'overspray' from a short time ago, wending west on I-90 after a brief trip to the suburbs; a.k.a. the Percolator version of "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey"---who, I believe is an actual person; but I digress...

OK, so if Life is a journey with definite starting and ending points, one must be going somewhere. *Clouseau accent* Is it not so? One could delineate two aspects...the Journey and the Destination...connected, yes, but disparate.

Depending on one's Point of View, mind set, hierarchy of values, or whatever label you use to identify What You're About, you may emphasize the importance of the Destination over the Journey, or vice versa. But how often do we really think this through?

At this time of year, i.e., the end of the calendar year, when literal and cyber-mailboxes bear tidings from far-flung family and friends, I tend to take stock-or at least make a stab at it.

One thing I've noticed *"Profound" alert* is that as people keep inhaling and exhaling, time passes, we all get older, and things run down [I think academic people call this entropy]. These run-downs can be failing health, failed relationships, or readjusted aspirations. They may be, rather than run-downs, let-downs. [N.B. Mrs. Goodenough in Gaskell's Wives and Daughters, upon seeing a disappointing excuse-for-a-duchess - "WHAT a LETdown!!!]

In fact, I would go so far as to say that let-downs and run-downs are inevitable and inescapable...and think how insufferable are those people we run into now and then who have yet to be tempered by life's trials? Eeeeeeesh!

Both the Journey and the Destination are important...but I think it only just now occurs to me how easily I misread and misjudge the life trajectory of others, not to mention myself.

What's going on while we're hurtling through space, nodding off, or frantically trying to make course-corrections? What are we even aiming at? And is it a worthy goal? How much attention should we pay to the apparent goals of others, when we really have no control over anyone's but our own?

I think of an e-mail I just read, confirming that the headlight of terminal cancer looms closer and closer in the tunnel for a man with young adult children and tiny grandbabies. There no more brakes to apply, nor remedies to attempt. The only 'suspense' left is when the call will come for this godly man to step into God's presence. It's the destination he's been living for...the destination he'll find himself in when this life is past. But on the way, he and those who love him are seared with pain and sorrow that seem unendurable.

Or the well-known maxi-family whose day-to-day life with one and a half dozen offspring is chronicled weekly on a popular reality TV series. Good grief, what is it with these people, many ask. Since I'm not a member of this clan, I can only surmise, but I don't think they're about flaunting the size of their carbon footprint. I think they're aiming at a bullseye that few would consider valid: not acquiring credentials or property or influence...but forming and molding eternal beings who are living testimonies of what is right and good. Not making the mark all the time; not a foolproof recipe; but an honest, all-in effort that will be shown to be worthy.

And me...what of my own journey? More than half over, no doubt. Expected mix of sweet and sour, high and low...but is my focus clear?

And what's MY bullseye?

When the Answer Comes in Tears

I asked the Lord today to soften my heart over a situation for which, I fear, I am growing hard-hearted; a hardened heart, even as a response to authentic hurts, is not something to give quarter to...it is insidiously destructive, cloaked in justification.

I think it's only realistic to acknowledge this visitor, when it comes calling. But don't put out the Welcome mat. It seems to quickly grow tendrils, which morph into fetters.

So when the tears kept trailing down, as I eased the car into dusky evening traffic, I was only momentarily mystified. This was,appparently, my answer.

I've heard it said that tears cleanse the soul, and even that God puts our tears in His bottle [Psalm 56:8].

I suspect tears also lubricate the heart.

NEW RIDE!!

STOP: BREAKING NEWS---BREAKING NEWS---BREAKING NEWS

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you the following special report..."

As of last evening, a new presence has been noted on Glen Abbey Drive, in the fair hamlet of Loves Park, Illinois...

Editor: Ben Holliday, I have been officially informed that if I want any credible information about the new black sedan resting coyly in a certain driveway, that you--and you alone-- are the Source to query…can you help me?

Ben: Indubitably! I am, without question, the proud new owner of a 1999 Chevy Cavalier!

Ed.: Surely you jest!

Ben: Do I look like a jester? Wait--DON'T answer that...where were we?

Ed.: I think I've lost the thread, too...well, what color is the new chariot?

Ben: Sleek Black…

Ed.: To match your sleek hair, right?

Ben: My hair’s not black.

Ed: OK, well, work with me here…we’ll call it VexCon Black. Ben Holliday! You have your own car! That’s outstanding!

Ben: It is, isn’t it? It looks quite well on me, don’t you think?

Ed: Well, I haven’t seen you in it, but black flatters everyone. Not that you're like everyone...er, I mean, there's no one like you, Ben...you're...well, you're YOU! When did you make this spectacular purchase?

Ben: October 2 of 2010 I finally decided between the two runners-up of my Car Capade…it was down to the Cavalier or a 2001 Plymouth Neon…in a weird kind of maroon color…not quite as cool.

Ed: Is this your first self-owned vehicle?

Ben: Yup! …and it feels like a big accomplishment…it’s like a manhood milestone kind thing, you know to go from non-car ownership to finally having my own wheels.

Ed.: But, be honest, dude, you had to have shed a secret tear or two to know that you were leaving that smokin’ hot, chick-magnet Dodge Caravan behind…

Ben: Hmmmmm... to be honest, I really liked the minivans, plenty of room to haul around the whole circus, you know, but, at long last, it was time for a change and athe Cavalier was the perfect change for me.

Ed.: Do you have certain “Look” you sport when behind the wheel? You know, a certain set of shades, a particular Billy-the-Exterminator bandana, a chilled thermos of M&Ms, or anything?

Ben: When behind the wheel, I sport my Vexcon bandana, a pair of sunglasses (one of my vast collection) and , of course, my Trademark Crooked Grin. And when people on the street see me whiz by, the think to themselves, ‘there goes Ben Holliday, an American Legend.’

Ed.: I'm feeling faint...

Overheard...redux

Miss Cee: "MOM!!!! When were you born?"

Moi: "July 9!!"

Miss Cee: "No, I mean WHEN!!!!!!!"

Moi: "I think it was a Tuesday."

Miss Cee: "No, Mommy."

Ben: "OK, Cec, Mom was born in 1700."

Miss Cee: "Really? Where is that page? I have to fill stuff in on my Timeline book for school."

Ben: "OH-HO! heh-heh"

Miss Cee: "These are all 19s..."

Ben: "OK, maybe it was really ...um, when the pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock...see here, this little guy with the funny hat?"

Miss Cee: "Well, Mommy doesn't wear a hat like that..."

Ben: "Yeah, but I think she likes rock."

Miss Cee: Is THAT on the timeline?

The Tenth Inning...with John Daniel

John, Ben, and their Esteemed Sire have just returned from the Cubs-Brewers game in Milwaukee...they are tired, but still smiling. "Cubs Win!!!"

John: "But only by one point."

Ben: "John, a win is a win."

Dad: "Still a W, buddy, just remember that."

So, how was your first Major League Baseball game experience, Mr. John Daniel, part-time reluctant film reviewer and full-time Cubs and Bears fan???

John: "Well, it was fun, but Mom..."

Yes?

John: "There were a LOT of DRUNK people up there!"

Well, that's bound to happen at an evening game in Milwaukee, you know, buddy, they don't call it Suds City for nothing....

John: "Huh? Well, anyway, when one of the Cubs got a home run I was jumping up and down and cheering and clapping."

Sounds reasonable...

John: "But not everyone was..."

Well, Little Man, remember, you were in Enemy Territory...

John: "No, it wasn't just that...this guy was really...I think Dad calls it 'sheets to the wind' or something...just really too many beers...and he was gettin' mad at me and saying a lot of bad words at me..."

Hmmm, not cool...

John: "But it may have partly been because when we won I started cheering and pointing at him."

Um, did DAD know you were doing that?

John: [ignoring the foregoing question]- "Well, the other guy was telling me the Bears would never make it to the Super Bowl again...and he kept saying the F-bomb..."

Oh, lovely! Probably because you were proudly wearing your Bears hoodie up there in PackerLand, huh?!

John: "Well, he was just *shrug* giving me lip because he doesn't know who the best team is..."

Well, you know, when anyone starts Giving You Lip, it's time to mind your Ps and Qs...

John: "Peas?"

Another Matter of Definition

Here we are again, gentle readers, back again at 9-11. The ninth anniversary of the most significant attack on American soil in my own humble lifetime, and probably in most of yours.

Far from being the galvanizing force it was in its immediate aftermath, 9-11 this year is fraught with discord...those attacks were not an innoculation against fractiousness in our society; if anything, nine years on, they seem to have served as an injection of continuing upheaval. Just check out all the hoo-haw chronicled in the headlines of the last few weeks...the virtual firestorm surrounding efforts to establish a Muslim 'Cordoba' community center in close proximity to Ground Zero, the literally incendiary plans of Rev. Terry Jones to burn copies of the Quran, the warnings of reprisals against deployed American troops...the dominoes keep falling.

[I have been plenty exercised about the afore-mentioned Muslim center and have sputtered away considerably at the trusty keyboard here, but have spared you the unsatisfactory results (be glad). Far better that I direct you to a well-wrought column by Charles Krauthammer on this subject...if I can find it, I will post the relevant link here shortly.]

But today, this news item snagged my attention:

"FIRST LADIES VISIT SHANKSVILLE
SHANKSVILLE, Pa. (Sept. 11) -- The victims of Flight 93 are an inspiration and all who visit the rural field where they died on Sept. 11, 2001, will now "see how a scar in the earth has healed," first lady Michelle Obama said Saturday at a memorial service at the crash site honoring the 40 passengers and crew who died.

Former first lady Laura Bush joined Obama in rural western Pennsylvania, marking a rare joint public speaking appearance by two first ladies. Obama thanked her predecessor for helping the country through the difficult days following the attacks...Future generations would come to the site, she said, to "see how a scar in the earth has healed."

"It is truly my prayer today that all who come here will be filled with hope," she said."

Well, now, I must say, hope was not the first thought that came to my mind when our family happened by the clear, low-tech sign announcing the site of the Flight 93 this summer. Nope. We were driving home from our week in Washington,DC, our family vacation destination this past summer. Shanksville, as its name might suggest, is small town, rolling, green rural Pennsylvania. I doubt that many noticed they were driving through it prior to 2001, and I can testify that two months ago as we drove through, it would be easy to miss the white painted sign. But, Mr. H. slowed our vehicle and pulled over to the side of the two land road for a few minutes so we could read and remember...and explain to the younger Hollidays who were 10, 7, 4 and 1, respectively, when that rural field became an unplanned landing site.

Chalk it up to my more melancholy temper, but hope was not the emotion that sent a few tears trailing down my cheeks. It was sorrow for the death and destruction to which this site bore testimony. And awe at the selfless courage that drove victimized air passengers to thwart the evil scheme of evildoers. And anger.

Not having the ability to read the intent of Mrs. Obama or her speechwriter, I can only speculate that her reference to "hope" was meant as appreciation for the valor if the Flight 93 passengers. But, such virtues do not spring forth in a vacuum. A quick perusal of transcripts from cell phone calls of those passengers made minutes before impact makes it clear that many of them were drawing on a Source outside themselves to overcome what others had 'meant for evil.' If anyone needs a refresher, check out Let's Roll, by Todd Beamer. There's nothing unclear about what Rock he was standing on. His hope had a Source.

Hope IS important; I agree with Mrs. Obama on that. But let's be clear about how we define it--because it makes a difference. Without the real source, it's just empty rhetoric, devoid of the power so desperately needed. Real hope only comes from the Lord.
"Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD his God"
Psalm 146:5