I Completely Get It...

I assumed that the two would be unrelated. I thought that the visit I had scheduled this morning with a friend and church member would be completely separated from my 25th wedding anniversary...which is today. I would visit him this morning...then I would set aside the time later this evening to fully appreciate and celebrate 25 wonderful years with Connie.

I assumed the two would be unrelated.

I was wrong.

His wife...as well as he and the rest of the family...is suffering the ravages of Alzheimer's disease. It is not what he imagined here in their 67th year together. It caught him by surprise. She is spending the day at an adult day care facility in order to give her a change of scenery and to give him a much needed break from the necessity of a continually watchful eye. She is, of course, familiar to him. but at times...thanks to the disease...she is practically unrecognizable. Heartbreaking.

I sat with him awhile.

He is...as he puts it...in his 93rd year. His parents were homesteaders in Montana. It is where he was born and grew up. He earned a reputation as an "accomplished handler of livestock." In other words...he broke wild horses...a lot of them. Having spent a little time in the territory myself...I know firsthand how tough the work is. Only when I was there...we had things like combustion engines and tools of all sorts and veterinarians and easy access to "town." He didn't.

Ranch life was interrupted, for him, by the call of Uncle Sam. He was in the Air Force. We didn't speak much about his service. Perhaps he didn't want to...or perhaps we just didn't get around to it on this visit. Nonetheless...it couldn't have been easy.

He met his wife in Philadelphia. She agreed to marry him if he would stay in Philadelphia until her mother died. She lived a long time. In fact, my friend ended up retiring from his job there. He was an oil man...he worked in a refinery which brought in crude from wherever in the world he could find it then piped the refined oil to points north. Tough work.

A cowboy from the wilds of Montana where he endured back breaking work, long days herding cattle and bitter cold. An airman where he endured untold (at least to me) events. An oilman whose work was tiring and dirty.

And yet...none of it was nearly as tough as the "job" he has before him now. You see...his wife is sick. His wife of 67 years. The one he started and built a life with. The one he dreamed with. The one he set goals with and accomplished them with. The one he failed with. The one he parented with, laughed with, cried with, celebrated with and worried with. The one he is completely invested in. The one he loves with all his heart and with all his life. The one who he has stuck by all these years and the one who stuck by him no matter what. She is sick...and he has to watch essentially helplessly.

It is his toughest job to date.

And...I completely get it.

Connie (and I'm sorry in advance for being so public)...we have built and continue to build a life together. We have dreamed together. We have set goals and accomplished them together. We have failed together. We have parented, laughed, cried, celebrated and worried together. I am completely invested in you. The joy of my life is knowing that you are completely invested in me too. I love you with all my heart and life. It has been my very great pleasure to stick by you these 25 years...and I can't express how grateful I am for you sticking by me.

Thank you, Connie, for being with me. I treasure and cherish you.

And thanks to a tough old cowboy, airman, oil man...and husband...who reminded me of much today.

Boys...go kiss your wives and girlfriends. Most of us would not be much without them.

The Pain and the Promise

It's the sounds that get me...that move me to a place of...well...I'm not sure how to describe just where.

I'm here in the Youth Suite of Johns Creek Baptist Church where we've created a Stations of the Cross experience. The visuals are meaningful...but the sounds, for me, are riveting and powerful.

The background music is driving and ominous. Sad. Dark. I can feel a pit in my stomach as I begin to imagine the emotions and sense of doom that His followers must have felt on that Friday long ago.

I hear my friends groan as they press their fingers against the sharp, penetrating tips of the thorns. They groan as they are reminded that Jesus suffered the pain of thorns...and on the cross...took on all our thorns. "Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. The soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head. They clothed him in a purple robe and went up to him again and again, saying, “Hail, king of the Jews!” And they slapped him in the face. "

I hear our people gasp as they taste the bitterness of the vinegar on their tongue reminding them of the bitterness in their own lives...I hear softly uttered, yet urgent prayers for strength carry on. "The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar ³⁷ and said, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself. There was a written notice above him, which read: THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS."

The most striking sound has to be the pounding of the hammer...driving nails into the wood. I know it's coming...I can see the swing...but yet, I jump with every blow. Something shoots through me...it echos. It rings... "There they crucified him, and with him two others—one on each side and Jesus in the middle."

I hear dice tinkling on the table top. Normally...the sound would be followed by cheers or laughter as a part of some board game. But not today...the sound...the tinkling dice...sound vulgar and obscene. "Let’s not tear it,” they said to one another. “Let’s decide by lot who will get it.” This happened that the scripture might be fulfilled that said, “They divided my clothes among them and cast lots for my garment.” So this is what the soldiers did."

Colored markers squeak. I hear the squeaking as I watch people scribble their names on the newsprint on the wall...asking God to remember them...to know them. "But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Ripping...tearing...rending...It sounds dramatic and final. I hear the ripping as our people tear pieces of cloth...thanking God for tearing through the barriers in their lives. "The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how he died,^] he said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!”

I hear clicking...the clicking of a lighter as people stand before the cross draped in black and light a candle. I hear sobbing too...not really sad...more like sobs of relief. As they light the candle, they are reminded that from all this pain and suffering...the light of the world emerges. Jesus...Jesus...Jesus. "When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

The sounds are ominous, sad and dark. I hear gasps and groans. I hear pounding, tinkling, squeaking, and clicking. I hear sobbing. I hear hope. It's Friday people...But Sunday's Coming! Peace.