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Friday, November 25, 2016

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Our grandson was just about six months old, but it was obvious even then that he and his Mother had a very close relationship. In fact, I noticed back then an interesting dimension of their connectedness. There will be a sudden loud noise or a rowdy outburst by someone-like me for example-and you could tell that my grandson didn't know how he should respond. So instinctively he looked at his mother. His mother knew that, and she had learned how important it was for her to look calm and unfazed, no matter what was coming down. See, he studied her reaction for a moment and then he just obviously decided to do what she did, respond the same way; no tears, no fear. "Hey, Mom's OK. I'm OK."

Thursday, November 24, 2016

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Maybe it was the dumb voices I did. But the kids used to love it when I read "Winnie the Pooh" to them. Tigger with his irrepressible "hoo-hoo!" bouncing everywhere. And Eeyore with his head down and his ever-present gloom. I'd rather be Tigger than Eeyore maybe without the bouncing. I mean, I want to be the one to leave sunshine in the room, not storm clouds.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

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If you're a photographer, you love seagulls. They soar so gracefully, almost like they're posing for the camera. They're beautiful – when they're alone. When they're together – not so beautiful. One gets on a perch, another comes and "boom!" knocks him off. One gets some food, others attack him for it. Actually, scientists put a red band on the leg of one seagull to find out what would happen. He was pecked to death by the other seagulls because he had something they didn't.

Monday, November 21, 2016

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I was watching on TV an anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing, and my mind raced back to this unforgettable personal visit I had to the site of what was a very deadly tragedy. In a pre-September 11th America, that terrorist bombing of a Federal Office Building left most Americans in like stunned disbelief; at least it did me. My guide for my visit to the memorial made it really special and very moving, because he's a state trooper. He was one of the rescuers that day. His recollections of the joy of rescues and the heartbreak of lives lost I'm not going to ever forget.

Friday, November 18, 2016

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One summer our staff had a picnic at the home of one of our volunteers. And this volunteer has a swimming pool. Actually a few people came prepared to go in the pool that day, but I knew one of them would be our son-in-law. He was there only minutes before he was in his swim trunks and diving in. What I didn't expect was who was in the pool with him – our one-year-old grandson. He looked so small in that big pool. But he was loving the water and floating along fearlessly. Not because he could swim, of course. Look, he was advanced – of course, our grandson, but not that advanced. No, his daddy had him sitting in his own personal inner tube, so he had no trouble staying afloat.

Thursday, November 17, 2016

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Our son-in-law was visiting his grandfather in Florida, with a nice Florida view outside his bedroom window-grapefruit trees. It wasn't all a happy view though. Many of the grapefruit were actually rotting on the ground. His grandfather wasn't up to harvesting them anymore. So those grapefruit got all ready to be picked and no one came, and they dropped to the ground and died.

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

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If you've been to Disneyland or Disney World with children, they made sure you got on this cute little ride called "Small World". It's this little boat that takes you on a trip down this winding little canal where these precious little dolls sing to you. They're dressed like children from all over the world, and they're singing this little song to you, which I will not sing. This is not a musical program. But you will remember maybe, it goes, "It's a small world after all." And it's cute – for a while. The problem is they keep singing it to you, around every bend, from every side. By the end of that ride, you are sick of a small, small world!

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

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Years ago a major art gallery sponsored a competition for painters. They were offering prizes for the best painting on the subject of "Peace". As the attenders browsed through the entries, most had decided that one certain painting was almost sure to win. It portrayed this lush green pasture under a vivid blue sky, with the cows grazing lazily and a little boy walking through the grass with his fishing pole over his shoulder. It really made you feel all peaceful. But it came in second. The painting that won was a big surprise. The scene was the ocean in a violent storm. The sky was ominous, the lightning was cutting across the sky, and the waves were crashing into the rock walls of the cliffs by the shore. No peace. But you had to look twice to understand what was going on. There, about halfway up the cliff was a birds' nest, tucked into a tiny hollow in the rock. A mother bird was sitting on that nest with her little babies, tucked underneath her, sleeping soundly. That was peace!

Monday, November 14, 2016

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I met this 87-year-old man one day who had been given a whole new lease on life. His heart arteries were so clogged that his health was deteriorating rapidly. But then the heart surgeon went to work on him and gave him a quadruple heart bypass. In a sense, the doctor created four new arteries and plugged them into this man's heart so his heart could once again get the blood it needs when it needs it. I mean it's totally amazing the difference a skilled heart surgeon can make.

Friday, November 11, 2016

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Missionary pilots are some of my personal heroes-especially since the incredible job they did moving our Native American team across Alaska some years ago. Often there really wasn't much of a runway to land on or good weather to fly in, but they always got us there safely. On one flight, I was in the co-pilot seat (yeah, of all things) in a little six-seater aircraft, and our pilot, Gary, was flying us to a Yukon River village through some low visibility, low ceilings-just generally lousy weather. And as we neared our destination, he said, "I hate this part. We're in the dead zone." "Dead zone" isn't exactly what I want to hear from a pilot when I'm flying with him, so I asked Gary what he meant by that. He described that part of a flight where you cannot communicate with the tower or with any other aircraft. You're kind of all alone. It doesn't last long, he explained, but if you're in trouble or you're going down, nobody knows. It's a lonely stretch. Well, after a couple more minutes, Gary broke into a big smile and he said, "Good. We're back." I smiled, too.

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