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Archive for January, 2012

Honest to God #4 …dressing down for America…

11 Jan

We can all agree that these are difficult economic times. Four years ago, many of us hoped that Barack Obama would be the President who could turn our country around. We hoped he would eliminate the petty partisan bickering that had for so long stifled any genuine political change in the United States. We hoped that he might somehow lessen our national debt, improve our job possibilities, and solidify our shaky economy.

His election was akin to a religious frenzy. But that religious-like fervor has passed…and we still have difficult economic times. It is no surprise that the Republican Party is now frantically searching for the political savior that Obama failed to be.

I’ve personally found the recent Republican campaign antics to be a ridiculously futile attempt of wealthy politicians to relate to the American middle class, let alone to our country’s poor. Some of us still smile at the memory of Mother Teresa gingerly fingering the lapel of President Ronald Reagan’s suit. “Mr. President,” she noticed, “you paid too much for this suit.”

Are we Americans so naive as to overlook the fact that all of our politicians paid too much for their suits? I suppose that’s why we see them sporting jeans and open collar shirts on the campaign trail. I suppose that’s why Michele Bachmann, Rick Perry, Rick Santorum, Tim Pawlenty, Newt Gingrich, Ron Paul, and Herman Cain all exaggerate their humble beginnings. Even the wealthy Jon Huntsman and Mitt Romney claim they understand the pain of being poor, since their ancestors were poor…back in the day.

Wake up America. All of our politicians paid too much for their suits. And they all dress down in a feeble attempt to feign camaraderie with the rest of us. There is no conceivable way that Newt Gingrich, who receives $60,000 per speech, can even remotely understand what it feels like to be poor.

I refuse to ever accept as a political savior, anyone who has to dress down in an attempt to relate to me. I refuse to accept as a political savior, anyone who was not born in a stable, amongst the stench and dirt of reality. My savior was more poor than wealthy, more refugee than ruler, more ridiculed than elected.

My savior didn’t have to dress down to relate to me. And for what it’s worth…my savior was more political than any Republican or Democrat will ever be.

 
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Honest to God #3…when faith and hope are lost…

04 Jan

His son is an adorable little boy…a precious gift from God. Like most little boys, his son is sweet and loving one minute…yet uncontrollably mischievous the next.

But his son is not like most other little boys. His son was born with a chromosomal deficiency which results in autism, ADHD, obsessive compulsive disorder, sensory processing disorder, speech delay, and countless behavioral challenges. His son is not like most other little boys, since there are only 300 other children in the world with this disorder.

It is no surprise that his faith and hope seem lost. It’s hard to have faith in a God who allows such things as chromosomal deficiencies. It’s hard to grasp that single thread of hope, when a steel cable seems vital for a family’s survival.

I’ve personally learned not to blame God for what some wrongly consider to be “mistakes” of nature. My friend’s son is not a mistake…he’s a miracle. I believe in a God who created the world through evolution. And I find it absolutely amazing that the cells, chromosomes, and DNA strains that God created have combined and evolved into these miraculous beings we call human.

Obviously, over the evolving generations some anomalies and abnormalities have occurred. It is up to each of us as to whether we consider these anomalies to be miracles or mistakes. (I might ask if Elizabeth Taylor’s violet eyes were a mistake…since violet eyes are more of an anomaly than autism.) My friend’s son is a miracle…to consider him as anything else would be a mistake.

I don’t worry about my friend’s fragile thread of faith…surely God understands the frustration and concerns which continually flood the caregivers of special needs children. I worry about his desperate need for hope. His son’s chromosomal deficiency is not some silly phrase that will be outgrown in time. The deficiency is lifelong. The medical community doesn’t offer much hope. The educational community struggles to offer guidance and hope, but funds are sorely lacking.

My friend has promised to read this posting. I’m sure he anticipates my providing him with more hope than I’ve been able to provide here. Maybe you have a few words of hope to share with him. If so…please comment. He’ll be waiting…

 
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…an after-Christmas tradition…

01 Jan

I remember an old friend who had a wonderful after-Christmas tradition. Every year, before the Christmas tree was unceremoniously undecorated, he’d spend a few hours sitting by the lit tree reflecting upon his life.

During this quiet time of reflection, he’d consider all the people who’d passed through his life…all the individuals who’d had a positive impact upon him. Then, each year, he’d select one of those persons to whom he’d write a letter of gratitude.

Several times he wrote to different school teachers, at one time to a Boy Scout leader, at still another time to a basketball teammate from high school. Once he wrote to a former employer who’d overlooked several flaws, and offered him a second chance.

Four years ago he wrote to me. He mentioned several conversations we’d had many years ago. He thanked me for things I’d said…things I don’t remember saying…things I probably didn’t really say…but things he somehow attributed to me nonetheless.

No one could ever know how much his note of friendship and appreciation meant to me. His words were a lifeline to a drowning man.

I thought about him tonight. I wondered if tonight is the night he’ll be basking in the Christmas tree lights. I wondered which friend he’ll select this year…who will be the fortunate recipient of his gratitude. Yes, I thought about him tonight…and about the impact his after-Christmas tradition had upon me several years back.

Our Christmas tree is still up…so I still have time to adopt his tradition as my own. If your tree is still decorated, maybe you’d care to join him too.

 
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