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This photo was taken by our daughter, Sarah Timmons, or my wife, depending on who you ask. We were in Rehoboth Beach, DE on Easter Sunday, 2011.


Several years ago, on the way home from a family vacation, I picked up a notebook and quickly recorded an incident that had occurred involving our son. Eventually, I used that story to illustrate something about my spiritual walk as a believer in Christ. Thus began a deliberate attempt to document the significance of everyday events. Almost any ordinary circumstance in daily life can become fodder for another story. This, almost by definition, lends itself to a blog.

Of course, many of the entries here are just ordinary diary style stuff... the stuff of ordinary blogs. Good grief, I don't want to be ordinary.


Friday, July 4, 2025

The Gettysburg Address

(Bliss copy)

Delivered at the dedication of the Soldiers' National Cemetery at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. 

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not hallow—this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln

November 19, 1863.

 

 Picture:

By The New York Times, November 20, 1863. Online: [1] Cornell University library, December 15, 2005., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=624181

Monday, June 30, 2025

Hard to Get

 

Last night I had a dream where I was about to have a meal with some folks (don’t recall who) and instead of saying the customary Grace, I sang the first few lines of this song.  In the dream, I only remembered the first line, and basically mumbled my way through the first verse.

Naturally, I had to look up the song.  It was written by Rich Mullins.  He had recorded a demo version of the song, along with an entire album, and was killed in an automobile accident before the album could be produced.  Rick Elias and the rest of The Ragamuffin Band produced the album after Rich’s death.

The song is basically a modern day Psalm.  In it, the writer expresses his questions  to God.  He uses a phrase we often use… “hard to get”.  Initially, I thought this was referring to the expression we use when we say a person (usually a woman) is “playing hard to get”. 

However, I don’t know that Rich was using it that way. Yes, he was probably using a play on words, but “Playing hard to get” would imply that God feigns a lack of interest in us to encourage us to pursue Him.  I’m not sure that was Rich’s point.  I think he may have been using the phrase “hard to get” to express the idea that God is “hard to understand.”  That would make more sense here, since at the end of the song, Rich basically says “As hard as I try, You are hard to understand.”

And that is the story of our lives.

 

Hard to Get

    by Rich Mullins 

 

You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love
And who get hardened by the hurt

 

Do you remember when You lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread
Did You forget about us after You had flown away
Well I memorized every word You said

 

Still I'm so scared, I'm holding my breath
While You're up there just playing hard to get

 

You who live in radiance
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin
We have a love that's not as patient as Yours was
Still we do love now and then

 

Did You ever know loneliness
Did You ever know need
Do You remember just how long a night can get?
When You were barely holding on
And Your friends fall asleep
And don't see the blood that's running in Your sweat

 

Will those who mourn be left uncomforted
While You're up there just playing hard to get?

 

And I know you bore our sorrows
And I know you feel our pain
And I know it would not hurt any less
Even if it could be explained

 

And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most
And after I figured this, somehow
All I really need to know

 

Is if You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time
We can't see what's ahead
And we can not get free of what we've left behind
I'm reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret

 

I can't see how You're leading me unless You've led me here
Where I'm lost enough to let myself be led
And so You've been here all along I guess
It's just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get

 


 

Sunday, June 8, 2025

Finishing Strong

I was a runner from about the age of 22 until the age of 61.  I stopped running for reasons I don’t care to go into. 

During those years of running, I often participated in distance races.  The 10k was popular when I started, and in later years, the 5k took over.  There’s a thing in racing that I would say almost all racers try to do – they want to finish the race strong.  Some of that is an effort to pass a few runners in the last stretch and comes from a competitive nature.  However, some of it is just a natural desire to cross the finish line as if the race did not take everything you had.  It did not beat you.  You want to finish the race strong even if another runner wasn’t in sight.

That desire to finish strong has carried over into other aspects of my life. I don’t know if finishing strong sprouted out of racing, or if it was a natural tendency that was clearly manifested in racing.

One example is the desire to finish the workday strong.  I arrive at work around 5:30 a.m.  By that time, I’ve had two cups of coffee, and I hit the ground running.  There are things I want to do in that first hour and a half of work, and I do it with vigor. By the end of the day, I’ve depleted a lot of energy, but something in my head makes me want to finish the day like I started.  I refuse to let the day beat me up.

Another thing that comes to mind is my work life in general.  My hope is to work full time another 5-6 years and then possibly retire.  That will put me at the age of 70. By that time things could change… maybe I will need to keep working full time.

What the heck, you may be thinking. If I think about it too much, and in the wrong way, I also question this plan.

I try not to frame that last day at the end of those 5 years as the goal.  Sure, it’s “a” goal, but not “The” goal.

I want to finish my full-time work life strong.  I don’t want to slow down, work slower, be less productive, or be of less value during those last years.  Yes, age will affect me to a degree, but my desire is to press on through it.  I want to finish strong.

I don’t want to approach every day as simply one step closer to retirement. Rather, I want to approach every day as one more day that I have the privilege to do what I do… one more day to be of value… one more day to lift someone’s spirits… one more day to grow through difficulties…one more day to be the salt of the earth.

It is indeed a privilege.  It just happens to be called a job.

Thursday, June 5, 2025

The Journey

 

Nobody prepared me for the season of life we have been easing into for a few years and have officially just crossed into - the “Empty Nest”.

I never cared for that term, although it is descriptive.  With birds, it’s that biological event of young birds leaving the nest to live on their own. 

The reason I don’t care for the term is that as human beings, there is much more involved than physical growth and the leaving our “nest”. We don’t view it as a mother bird does.  We are much more complex.  We have spent a lifetime with our children, and as they leave, we can’t help but have a mixture of feelings.

It is perhaps when the last one flies off that the impact of our children leaving hits us the hardest.

Now don’t get me wrong… it’s healthy to leave the nest… let’s get that out of the way.  The health of it isn’t up for debate, and it’s also not what’s on my mind at the moment. Also, we will always parent to a degree.  We will always be available to our kids. That’s not on my mind either.

The journey… THAT’s what’s on my mind.  I have been encouraged throughout my life, regarding all aspects of life, to “enjoy the journey”, and advised that “it’s the journey that’s important.”  I’ve taken that encouragement and tried to apply it to different situations. Sometimes it’s been a struggle. For instance, I didn’t view college so much as journey to enjoy.  It was something to hurry and get done.

With raising kids, I didn’t have to even try.  I think Tina and I both instinctively enjoyed our journey of parenting. It was never a task we were in any hurry to get through.  Incidentally, that’s a good thing because with four children,  we have been at it for about 30 years. 

I wish there were other areas of my life where I instinctively enjoyed the journey, where I wasn’t so much focused on getting through, but rather where I was fully immersed in the present.

Maybe, just maybe, this was a 30 year lesson of learning how to enjoy a journey without even trying. For that, I thank our kids.  You have indeed been a joy.