From the moment that my siblings and I began processing Dad’s death together, each one of them told me in their own way that they “process things slowly.” I had burst into sobs of loss immediately upon hearing the news, which was radically different from my reaction to when Mum died, when I had been stoic and bottled up my emotions. My dear brother and sisters had their emotional moments, too, leading up to the memorial service on May 15^th; I know they did. I witnessed some of them and instigated others. I had a few, too. Yet we do not mourn hopelessly. Dad is with Jesus, and we look forward to seeing Jesus, too.

Still, I have discovered that following this wonderful time with my siblings, a familiar sorrow is creeping in once again. It began in the 1980s. I was just a little boy. Just about the time I began to realize what a wonderful family God allowed me to be born into, he started changing it.

First, he changed it in very positive ways. Priscilla married Len, and they had Isaac and Nate (with more to follow!). But then Dan graduated from college and moved away. Having my favorite (and only!) brother not at home anymore began a drain on my emotions that has lasted ever since. I don’t write this to hurt him! But he has been so important to me in my life that I have to acknowledge how living so far from him for so long has impacted me. Getting to see him as often as I have in recent years has been a balm to my heart and soul. I’m so thankful to Dan and his wife Sue for coming to Maine as frequently as they have (it’s getting hard to see the computer screen; a bug must’ve gotten in my eyes ‘cuz they’re getting watery).

When God changed our family by taking Mum home, I became very angry with Him. At the same time, though, Dad and I developed a very close relationship for the next five years. It was wonderful, even though it took Mum’s death to make it happen. (There’s a lot to unpack there, yes. I see it, too.) Among the other changes that were good were Dan marrying Sue, Judi marrying Paul, and Mary marrying Logan! All brought children into the world and/or adopted them, and our extended family grew, and grew, and grew. Each expansion brought a deepening sense of love, but also a deepening sense of separation, as we lived further from one another and saw less of each other. We’ve stayed in touch very well, I’d say, but… for such a closely knit family, the partings and extended absences grieve me each time.

I admit here that I am jealous of the people that get to spend more time with my siblings than I do. I am not satisfied that I get to live so closely to one sister and go to church with her. I want to be close to all of them! And yes, I especially want to be closer to my brother. As I told my siblings during the weekend of Dad’s memorial service, Dan is really the one I looked to in my childhood to be my mentor, not Dad. Dad was too busy providing for the family, working for the church, and doing all the other things he’s so often remembered for (and for which I honor him, too). In the five year-span that Dad and I grew close, he even admitted to me that he didn’t know how to relate to me when I was young, and that it wasn’t until I was about 12 or 13 years old that he began to understand how to interact with me. He asked me to forgive him for that, which I did. But that was why I looked to Dan so much in my life!

When Mum entered the hospital to give birth to the baby that turned out to be me, Dan said to her, “If it’s not a boy, don’t come home.” He was tired of all the sisters (3)! Then he wanted to take his baby brother to kindergarten with him for show and tell. He tried to convince Mum that he could take me on the bus, change me when needed, feed me, and keep me with him all day at school. He was disappointed that she didn’t share his confidence.

Dan was my protector in my childhood. He stood up to my bullies. He didn’t tease me as much as he teased our sisters; he’d teach me how to tease them. He’d let me tag along with his friends whenever possible. He treated me well. He still does! For decades, when he called me on my birthday, he’d remark, “Happy birthday, Little Bother Bill! You’re so grown up! You can even speak in complete sentences now!”

Returning all this to my opening comments, my siblings aren’t the only ones to process slowly. We’ve all suffered a tremendous shock and loss with Dad’s homegoing to Jesus. We are thankful that he went quickly. We are thankful that he’s met his heart’s greatest desire at last. But his gain is our loss, and his absence is felt keenly, and we will be processing that for a long time to come. For my part, my sorrow deepened on Saturday as the cousins and Uncle Steve and Aunt Anne left for home. Then we said farewell to Mary & Logan & their boys. As each part of the family parted, my pain increased, for we were no longer whole. Yesterday, we bid adieu to Judi and Paul, and to Nick. Tonight, we will say goodbye to Dan and Sue, Caleb and Abby. I get to see the Murrays more often because they live here in Maine, at least. But the farewells to Judi and Paul and to the Dan MacDonalds are much more painful. This is where my grief is. This is where it’s been since the 1980s. Just when I was old enough to appreciate my family for who they are, they moved away.

That’s not a criticism of them, by the way. In God’s good providence, my siblings have followed their Savior’s leading obediently, and they live and work in his provision where he places them. It’s a recognition that in this world there is heartache and pain, and that God’s family desires to be with him, ultimately, united permanently with Christ, where there are no tears, no partings, no sorrows, and no more separations. I am so thankful for Priscilla & Len, Dan & Sue, Judi & Paul, Mary & Logan, and my wife Laurel, and for their godly example of walking humbly with Jesus, trusting in him for salvation from sin in repentance and faith, yearning for the Day when we will be in heaven with Christ, where sin will no longer have any sway over us, and we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

I am in retreat.

All around me, people are experiencing pain and apparent chaos. I say, “apparent” chaos because I know that God is sovereign and that nothing happens by chance. Still, the upheavals of life occur–from a human perspective–randomly and chaotically, unsettling hearts and minds. I am trying to rest in the Lord, to leave my cares at his feet, as the Bible says. However, there are days when I’m overwhelmed to the point of paralyzation, and that is when I go into full retreat. I cannot act because I cannot think. I cannot think because there is too much to think about. I freeze. I sit, almost catatonic, staring into the room, incapable of the simplest decisions, unwilling to smile or care. All I want to do is sit in peace and quiet and let time pass me by. I am in retreat.

Don’t ask me anything. Don’t tell me anything. Don’t expect anything of me or from me. Don’t say I can go home. Don’t make me go to work. Don’t anticipate my thoughts, feelings, or words. Just…don’t. I’m in retreat.

You don’t know how I feel. You don’t know what’s important to me or not important to me. You don’t know why I think or feel this way. I can’t or won’t explain myself to you; it’s too detailed or exhausting to do so. Don’t patronize me. I’m not a kid anymore. I have very good reasons for how I am today. If you doubt me, then so be it. I will retreat. Do what you’re going to do; just don’t involve me in it. You’ve heard what I think about it. I’m tired. I am in retreat.

Everywhere I turn, someone needs me or something from me. God, I can’t. I just can’t. I’m not enough. Without you, I’m witless, helpless, useless. Please, God, fill me up! I cry out to you! I’m in retreat.

On Friday, April 23, 2021, not too long after midnight, Paul S MacDonald left this earthly life behind and went home to be with his beloved Savior, Jesus Christ. In doing so, he left a world of physical weakness and pain, where the effects of this life on his body had slowly degraded his ability to pursue his loves of haying, singing, visiting friends and family, and most importantly, spending quality time with his dear wife. He now rejoices in the presence of God, while we who are left behind experience the mixed emotions of sadness and joy. Sadness for the loss of his companionship, yet joy for the end of his suffering and his home-going to heaven.

Although his suffering and decline had been long and slow, his death was sudden and unexpected. “His mind was as sharp as ever,” was a comment often made by those who spoke with him in recent months. “When given ample time, he communicated just fine.” It was easier to do so in person than on the phone, folks said, but either way, time granted was rewarded.

In the days since his death, tributes and condolences have flooded in from relatives, friends, former students, colleagues, friends of family members–the love, encouragement, kindness, and prayer offered by so many have come in abundance. I would say it is unlike anything I have ever seen, but that would be untrue, for I have seen this twice before. I saw this when Sally MacDonald died in 1987. She was Paul’s first wife, mother of their 5 children, of whom I am the youngest. I saw the flood of kindness again two years ago when my wife was hospitalized and nearly died from influenza and pneumonia.

However, now that Dad is gone, it is SO encouraging to hear what I’ve long suspected: His testimony and life to the grace and mercy of God have indeed touched countless lives with gospel truth. I cannot tell you how many people have written in the last few days and said, “Had it not been for your dad, I never would have come to faith in Christ.” I’ve lost count! Glory to God! Indeed, that is one of Dad’s favorite hymns:

To God be the glory, great things he hath done!
So loved he the world that he gave us his Son,
Who yielded his life an atonement for sin,
And opened the life gate that we may go in.

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,
Let the earth hear his voice!
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord,
Let the people rejoice!
O come to the Father through Jesus the Son,
And give him the glory, great things he hath done!

O perfect redemption, the purchase of blood!
To ev’ry believer the promise of God;
The vilest offender who truly believes,
That moment from Jesus forgiveness receives.

Great things he hath taught us, great things he hath done,
And great our rejoicing through Jesus the Son;
But purer, and higher, and greater will be
Our wonder, our transport, when Jesus we see.

I miss Dad. I loved him very, very much. I will see him again when I join the heavenly throng, but I miss him for now. This hymn typified Dad’s life. May it be the same for me, and may God receive all the glory!

https://www.pilgrimopc.org/

https://www.facebook.com/pilgrimopc

There is so much in this life that could be said when starting off with a title like this one, isn’t there? I’m sure you could think of at least one scenario in your own life in which this simple phrase has been true, if not multiple times. Life is hard when fear is always lurking just around the corner, and when you feel like no one ‘has your back,’ so to speak, that’s when fear breaks in.

The COVID-19 pandemic has resulted in multiple break-ins by fear in every sector of life. In my workplace, fear held sway when the Moderna and Pfizer vaccines were made available, and less than 50 percent of my coworkers took advantage of the opportunity to take the shots. Many were afraid of the health consequences of getting vaccinated; too few were concerned about the results of not become vaccinated. Now, we’re paying the price of their fears, as we are being required to wear painfully restrictive masks all day during our shifts to prevent one another from inadvertently spreading the virus to one another, vaccinated or not. In fact, 24 hours before the new policy was enacted, a staffer was diagnosed with the virus; because of the close proximity of other personnel, several of them have to be out of work, too. Fear broke into our workplace, leading to fewer than necessary becoming vaccinated, and creating additional health issues for the rest of us.

However, fear-driven selfishness is not limited to otherwise hardworking, generous adults (I call them this because most of these colleagues go above and beyond the call of their duties every day to meet the needs of our clientele, and I am honored to work among them). The clientele are with us because they are not known for pro-social behavior and attitudes. Even with all attempts made to teach, coach, cajole, and guide them into better understanding of expected behaviors and demeanors for life reintegrated with society, most remain intransigent, stuck in their ways, selfish at heart. And the more fearful they become at the prospect of leaving our facility for another one where they may not feel as secure for one reason or another, the greater the break-in will be of that fear–a home invasion of fear, if you will.

During the height of the pandemic in 2020, virtually no clients moved anywhere. All facilities statewide kept their clients to themselves. When moves were needed, extreme health precautions were taken at the sending and receiving ends, and transfers were kept to an absolute minimum. Since the arrival of vaccinations, transitions have become more frequent, as the clientele complete programming in one place and move to the next for their successive stages of development. As always, there will be the occasional client in the community that makes a nuisance of himself to the point that a change of scenery is sought for him, hoping that new faces and spaces will result in greater cooperation on his part. It often works.

Again, though, fear can play a role in such transitions for some clients. Some of my (recently) former students left recently for new facilities. They had made great strides in their development, but they had also failed to help themselves and had made nuisances of themselves. The last part earned them one-way tickets out of here. Another former student–one that I’d known when I first started here many years ago–also left. Several other clients went, too, but those three had been my students, so I felt their connection more keenly than the others. Still, the fear broke in on a client that was so afraid of what might happen to him at his destination that he made an (unsuccessful) attempt on his life. The fear of man is terrible. It cripples the mind and the will to live freely. It blinds the sight of the wise and renders them foolish.

I received word today about a friend named Ann. Ann was a delightful sister in the Lord. She battled cancer in recent years, but it wasn’t the cancer that took her life. The Lord took her home a couple of days ago. When cancer came, I’m sure Ann and her husband Rick experienced fear. I know for a fact that they experienced God’s grace and mercy. When fear broke in, they took it to God in prayer. Today, we pray for Rick and his family, their friends, and their church. Fear will not break in; the LORD is their salvation.

Psalm 27:1 says (ESV):

The Lord is my light and my salvation;
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold^[a] of my life;
    of whom shall I be afraid?

When fear breaks in, will it overcome you? Or will you take it to God?

“The mission of CASAS is to assist adults functioning at or below a high school level in attaining the basic literacy skills to function effectively on the job, in the community, and in the family. We accomplish this by assisting state and local education, training, social service programs and businesses in the design and delivery of quality education and training programs that meet the needs of the participants by providing products and services in curriculum management, assessment and evaluation systems.” https://www.casas.org/about-casas/our-mission. Accessed 4/6/21.

The CASAS GOALS tests in Reading and Math are standards in our department for determining a resident’s placement in educational programming, and in some cases, his/her qualification for certificates in certain courses, per the requirements of said courses. For example, the job-skills course I teach, WorkReady(tm), requires that participants have either a high school diploma/equivalency or scores of 220+ on the CASAS Reading and Math tests to be eligible for earning the certificate at the end of the 60-hour course.

As a result, I have some students taking CASAS testing this week to see if they qualify to the certificate-level of WorkReady. Two have already declared their intentions not to take WR if they can’t earn the piece of paper that says they learned anything in the class, while another fellow has said he’ll take the class either way. He took the Math CASAS test this morning and was pleasantly surprised by his score. It wasn’t high enough, but it was much higher than he was expecting. He left the classroom with joy in his heart about that, saying with a laugh, “I’m not as dumb as I thought I was!”

“Not even close!” I called after him. “Not even close.”

In the end, whether he gets his slip of paper saying he learned all the material in WorkReady or not, this man is ready to take this class and learn all he can from it. He stood up from the computer after taking the CASAS Math test and said, “I know more math than I realized. I can do this class, too. I can study math between now and the end of June and maybe pass the math requirement to get the certificate. I’m not as dumb as I thought!”

I replied, “Look, there aren’t many years between us. For too many decades, the educational establishment taught us that math and real life had nothing to do with each other. But in fact, if math isn’t taught in the context of real life, then it’s being taught wrongly. They screwed us up, but we don’t need to stay in that old reality! You with your carpentry skills can apply math and learn to put concepts and procedures to it textbooks style. And yes, you can bring that test score up with some study time. You don’t have far to go.”

How we all “measure up” is based on where we’re starting from and where we’re going to. Bite-sized, short-term goals are needed for confidence-building. As we develop confidence, then we can set the bar higher, push harder, and do more, but do not despise the days of small successes. Build on them and then reach for the stars.

Tomorrow, April 1, is an unhappy anniversary for us. It marks the 11th year since my dear mother-in-law died. Karen Boettger lived a life filled with love, kindness, joy, hardship, sorrow, and fulfillment–much like so many people in the world. She was a beloved child of God, and she rests now in his loving arms. My wife misses her Mom every day. They used to talk on the phone almost daily, and the absence of Karen’s guidance in Laurel’s life has been felt very keenly. Karen’s absence from my life and our kids’ lives has left a large hole where her love and joy once was; I miss her very much, too.

March 17th is an unhappy anniversary, too. This year on that date marked 34 years since my own mother died. Like Karen, my mother Sally belonged to God, so she is with him in eternity, too. These godly women shaped us immeasurably, and we’d love to have them shaping our kids’ lives, too. It is bittersweet for us that they went to heaven so long before us–especially that my Mum never met my wife or my boys.

These unhappy anniversaries are reminders for us that life on this earth is very temporary, and only life lived in Jesus Christ has lasting value. If we become too attached to life on earth, then we would lose sight of our heavenly home and the love of our Savior. Lord, as we remember with sadness the loss of our Mothers, give us grace to look to YOU for True Hope for our future. Thank you for loving us and give us yourself that we, too, can be reconciled to God the Father through Jesus the Son by the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Proverbs 31:10-31 English Standard Version (ESV)

The Woman Who Fears the Lord

^10 [a] An excellent wife who can find?
    She is far more precious than jewels.
¹¹ The heart of her husband trusts in her,
    and he will have no lack of gain.
¹² She does him good, and not harm,
    all the days of her life.
¹³ She seeks wool and flax,
    and works with willing hands.
¹⁴ She is like the ships of the merchant;
    she brings her food from afar.
¹⁵ She rises while it is yet night
    and provides food for her household
    and portions for her maidens.
¹⁶ She considers a field and buys it;
    with the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.
¹⁷ She dresses herself^[b] with strength
    and makes her arms strong.
¹⁸ She perceives that her merchandise is profitable.
    Her lamp does not go out at night.
¹⁹ She puts her hands to the distaff,
    and her hands hold the spindle.
²⁰ She opens her hand to the poor
    and reaches out her hands to the needy.
²¹ She is not afraid of snow for her household,
    for all her household are clothed in scarlet.^[c]
22 She makes bed coverings for herself;
    her clothing is fine linen and purple.
²³ Her husband is known in the gates
    when he sits among the elders of the land.
²⁴ She makes linen garments and sells them;
    she delivers sashes to the merchant.
²⁵ Strength and dignity are her clothing,
    and she laughs at the time to come.
²⁶ She opens her mouth with wisdom,
    and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue.
²⁷ She looks well to the ways of her household
    and does not eat the bread of idleness.
²⁸ Her children rise up and call her blessed;
    her husband also, and he praises her:
²⁹ “Many women have done excellently,
    but you surpass them all.”
³⁰ Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain,
    but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.
³¹ Give her of the fruit of her hands,
    and let her works praise her in the gates.

“If it doesn’t have a pun, it’s not done.” Yup, I actually said that to my class today. I have a group of five men that regularly attend a midday, 90-minute class. Four of them come from the same housing area, and three of them frequently hang out together. They are academically ambitious, so I enjoy challenging their senses of humor with clean memes and puns. It’s probably more accurate to say that I challenge their patience, but since that’s par for the course with anyone that groans at puns, I’d say, “Mission accomplished!”

There are rules in place at work that restrict the number of memes that I can display in my classroom windows, because outside visibility must be kept open for safety and security reasons. Therefore, I use discretion and careful planning when posting my pictures to maximize the humorous effects (along with the occasional inspirational ones) without interfering with facility directives. I get a kick out of my students’ reactions, especially the delayed ones, and do my best to choose memes that will offer the greatest groan, guffaw, or gasp without crossing the bounds of propriety.

The fun today included rattling off a series of puns that were concluded with my zippy statement above. Moments later, one of the men asked to borrow a ruler, which led me to say as I handed it over, “I’m sorry, but they don’t make these any longer.” As he groaned and walked away, I asked if he was “inching back to his desk,” or if he “wanted me to measure my words more carefully.” He sat down a glared at me. A few puns later, one of his buddies rode to the rescue.

“How much does the Sesto Elemento cost?” he queried.

“I’ll have to look it up,” I replied. I googled it. “$2.2 mill.”

“That’s all?” He continued the conversation a minute or two longer before striking up a chat with one of the other men next to him.

“Nice diversion,” I said. He ignored me. “Got tired of the puns, did you?” He glanced my way. “You know, I can make a pun on almost anything. Drive the conversation where I want it to go. Exhaust it. Grill you on it, that sort of thing.” He rolled his eyes. I laughed out loud. “If it doesn’t have a pun, it’s not done.” And I laughed again.

Sometimes I feel like a pressure cooker.

Packed with c4

And a bag of nails.

Knowing my time is coming

And so is everyone else’s

They’d better watch out

‘cuz when I blow

They’z gonna go, too.

Sky high

We allz gonna die.

Pressha cookaz gonna blow

And wez all gonna go

To heaven.

Ka-BOOM

(this is poetry, not some kind of manifesto, k, peeps?)

You and I were not friends, Jamie,
But friendly acquaintances? Sure.
You were in my English classes,
For as long as your ADHD could endure.

A great ambassador for my classes,
Getting others to join and learn.
But as for you, Jamie, you couldn’t slow down.
Your mind always raced, always burned.

Your passion was your Native past;
I gladly shared all the info I had.
But in the end, it could not save you,
Your demons stayed until the last.

We remember your enthusiasm, energy, and smiles,
But if we are upset for now–
You OD’d so soon after release;
We’d hoped you’d make it many more miles.

Triumphs here are measured in inches, not feet,
For people incarcerated or out on the street.
To rise up above takes commitment and grit,
With help from outsiders who don’t give a sh*t
About why you’re there–you are human, so they care.

And when you lose one you’ve helped, it hurts.

No matter their mistakes, their wrongs, or their sins, To love one another is where healing begins.

https://hellopoetry.com/MEMoosePatrol/poems/?tab