The minds of old men

I was grocery shopping today. Upon entering the store there is a place with booths so you can order food from the deli and have a place to consume it.

As I passed by there was an old man with his eyes closed and his hand cradling his coffee cup. He wasn't moving.

I wondered, is he asleep, as the effort may have been strenuous and he was resting before going on. Or was he wandering the past in his mind? Was he following the paths of a much younger man when he was more vibrant, more alive.

Resting or dreaming? I don't know.

Where ever I go

Thanks to Neil deGrasse Tyson "Death by black home"

Where ever I go, there I am, and if I am all here, then I can't be all there!

Giggling in the men's room

One of the events that let me know that I was no longer in the United States was heading to the restroom at the airport in Haiti. In entering the men's room I had to step around the lady mopping the floor. Without missing a beat, I stepped up to the urinal and took care of business. While standing at the urinal, another cleaning woman stepped into the room, talked to the first woman in the Creole language and they both started laughing while leaning on their mop handles.

I am a man who I would consider is pretty confident in who I am as a male. But I must confess the laughter made me feel just a little self conscious. 

Poverty tourist

One of the places we visited while we were in Haiti was an orphanage. There were 25 children living there in standards that were above many of their peers in terms of food and shelter. The younger children were very excited to see us. The older kids looked wary. They were all very polite and well mannered. They all looked cared for.

What was hard for me was taking their pictures and having my picture taken with them. It's likely that these children have posed for many people coming through. My discomfort was potentially treating the children like props more than people.

I know it's important to have visuals when we share our experience back home so others can see what we are referring to. But I didn't get into the lives of these children at all. I don't know their stories. We just moved in, took the pictures, took the tour and moved on. I feel a real danger of becoming a poverty tourist. See the sights and head back to my comfortable life.

Got my goat

I turned 53 on Sunday. I was asked a number of times what I wanted for my birthday. I said I didn't want anything. Saying things like "pay off my mortgage" seemed a little too excessive. 

I was referred to a web site where you could purchase things for needy families in Haiti and other places around the world. I now know what I want for times when people want to buy me a present. 

My kids got me a goat. The goat is going to a needy family in Haiti. It's a win-win situation. I can give something of value to someone else and it can still be a present to me.

I love it. I got a goat for my birthday. Some family in Haiti will benefit from my turning a year older. I couldn't be more pleased.

The web site, if you are interested is www. buya.org.

Human Contact

Disembarking from our international flight to Haiti we moved to the National terminal to continue our journey from Port-au-Prince, to Les Cayes on the southwestern tip of Haiti. As we gazed out at the runway,  I got the first glimpse of the plane that was going to transport us there, and I wasn't excited. 

It didn't help climbing aboard the plane to be told to leave my seat in the rear and move to the front of the aircraft for ballast. It 

was unnerving to be so important to the safe operation of the aircraft. Our pilot was Jose, a veteran of the Nicaraguan Air Force, which was somewhat comforting as I was sure he had flown planes in less than stellar repair and had lived to tell about it.

I have never been a big fan of flying. I hate looking out windows of planes to see wings flapping like a bird. The propellers were so close to the body of the plane that if you stuck your hand out the window, (which you couldn't) parts of your hand would go missing.

Launching into the heavens was a little bouncy and I kept telling myself that the plane was designed to take the impacts. There was a beautiful Haitian woman sitting next to me. She kept to herself.

About 20 minutes into a 38 minute flight we were flying across some of the hills and the air got choppy. At one point the plane dropped like the roadway had ended. We hit the bottom without consequence. 

When the plane fell I felt a hand on my leg. The hand squeezed the fabric covering my thigh. About 3 seconds after grabbing my pants the woman next to me pulled her hand back and blushed. She pleaded an apology. We didn't speak for the rest of the flight.

When we feel we are in danger we reach out to others whether we know them or not. Most people would agree that the saddest experiences are suffering and dying all alone. There may be great comfort in the presence of others. Maybe it might be that if we are going down, it's nice to know we are taking someone with us.

Getting ready

He (Jesus) charged them to take nothing for their journey except a staff-no bread, no bag, no money in their belts, but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. (Mark 6:8-9)

Jesus is sending out his disciples to cover more ground than he could do on his own. He tells them to take nothing with them.

I am packing for Haiti. I am thinking through every contingency that could occur. I go over lists. Phone, check, ipod, check, toothbrush, check, deodorant, check, enough shirts, pants, underwear, socks, check, check, check, check. And so on.

Seems a lot has changed since the disciples were sent on their mission trip.

Another thoughtful caring husband

I was at the Valentine's card isle when a man came over to the rack. He said in a hopeless voice how there were too many choices and the cards cost too much. He combed the rack until he found the cheap cards. 

"I know my wife would be angry if I spent a lot of money on a card. I like the sound of $1.99."

Really?

Just the way he handled the situation led me to believe Valentine's day at his house may very well be red hot, without the romance, or maybe it would be cool blue.

The man buying the card allowed us access to his inner thoughts, perhaps trying to win some sympathy. I didn't see any women huddled in the isle that looked sympathetically to his plight. What I think he needed is a group of guys staring at the cards. They would make good sympathizers.

But alas, today there was very little testosterone congregated at the card rack. If he wants less choices and more guys gathered around him in a sympathetic herding mentality, he needs to show up the morning of Valentine's day, when shopping turns desperate and the choices are narrowed immensely. And sometimes the markdowns start early. What wife wouldn't be appreciative of that?

"Snow" Dandruff

This morning it was 14 below freaking zero.  The wind was howling which dropped the temperature down from that as well. 

I am not always careful to make sure my hair is dry before encountering the elements. I went out to warm up the car. I retrieved the morning paper at the end of the drive.  The time it took to get the paper and get back in the car, my hair looked like a frozen Albert Einstein hairdo.  

I got the brush out and ran it through my stiff frozen locks. As I combed, a layer of frosty dandruff peppered my shoulders. This of course turned to droplets as the temperature warmed in the car.

I use a dandruff shampoo every day, but in checking the label, there is no ingredient that combats "snow" dandruff. I think the missing ingredient may be a touch of intelligence.

Stereotyping

At the restaurant there was a woman there who looked like the rock star Annie Lennox, frosty hair cut short,  a sophisticated buzz cut. She came in with her entourage, a husband, a three year old and an infant. The infant started crying and the husband, who didn't look like a rock star, went to get water for formula.

The child moved to wailing, its little tongue quivering with rage. Rock star mom worked steadily to mix the formula in the bottle while cradling the screamer. She didn't look frustrated or unfeeling. The infant received the nipple like the host and instantly quieted down. Mom and infant became the maternal pair. 

Rock star mom became just "mom" as she doted on her infant.  Cold demeanor gave way to loving and nurturing, and the relationship looked as familiar as any mother and child.

The mystery within

The other day I talked with someone who was struggling with an impulse that she felt she could not control. As she talked, there was confusion as to where those thoughts came from. We had to conclude that it was a mystery; something to be uncovered.

Life is a parade of paradox. I believe I know myself so well, and yet I am surprised when I butt up against mystery within myself. There are pockets inside me that when I attempt to open, I am filled with wonder and fear as I move toward understanding. 

And I am overcome by the mysteriousness of it all.

Heading for Haiti

Wednesday 2/13/08 I will be leaving for Haiti for six days. I will be going with three other people to a town called Les Cayes which is on the South West Peninsula of Haiti. We will be meeting with pastors and local leaders. We also will be touring an orphanage to understand the needs and how we can help.

Already the music club at my school has decided to raise some money for the orphanage. They are doing a fund raiser in March at the Cabooze in Minneapolis with the proceeds going to the orphanage.

Haiti is one of the poorest nations in the western hemisphere. Political instability and unrest have kept this nation in poverty. Prices of imports have increased the price of food in a country that depends on imports. One article about Haiti came out last week talking about poor Haitians eating dirt cookies to fight hunger pangs. The link to the article is  http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/front/5496676.html

I will be able to say more when I return. I am excited at the opportunity to be able to help. Stay tuned.

Ripples of despair

I was driving down the road and it hit me, what does any of what I am doing in my life matter? What game am I playing at? Life took on an air of immense futility. I felt a ripple of despair, it lingered for a moment, and then it passed. And I didn't hit anyone driving near me.

I am normally a pretty confident person. When those times of questioning come, it troubles me. I didn't use to ask that question of myself as much when I was younger. As I get older, these ripples comes more and more.

I have been told that if I keep a cell phone on all the time, I should turn the phone off for a minute every other day or so, to reset the service, identify the new towers and download any updates.

Maybe the lapses in confidence that I experienced may be resets as well. I can answer myself "Yes it does matter, so get back in the game because the team needs what you provide.

Pain perspective

Last week I got sick. It came on quickly and devistated me for a day, which was not bad. Several weeks ago I shoveled some heavy snow and tweaked my back. Shards of pain accompanied my movement for about two and a half weeks. 

Pain gives me the opportunity to wake me up to how fragile my life really is. I can believe that I am self sufficient. Being sick or hurt I experience my limitations and allows my perception to change. My existence starts revolving around my pain and attempts to avoid more pain. Life takes on whole new dimensions and I get a peek at how frail I really am. 

I speak only of the pain that comes and goes. Those who live in real pain on a daily basis, could speak volumes more about living with the limits of frailty, and how pain has forged new perspectives.

Jesus product

The smooth voice crones "get to know this Jesus, He wants to know you. Just dial 1-800-xxx-xxxx. Someone is standing by to answer your questions."

I was struck by the infomercial quality this radio spot took on. Jesus, it appears, has been reduced to a product.