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

When I was 10 years old, I knew in my heart that I wanted to be a teacher. When I was 23 years old, I graduated from Covenant College with a teaching degree in secondary education history. When I was 30 years old, I became headmaster of a Christian elementary/middle school that helped form my goals to become a teacher many years before. At 40, I was unemployed and casting about for the right landing place. 

Little did I know that the best job for me was waiting behind the walls of a correctional facility. First as a substitute teacher for juveniles, and then as a full time instructor for adult learners, the Lord has led me each step of the way in my desire to teach. There are many challenges, but also many rewards, to what I do. It never entered my imagination 41 years ago that becoming a teacher could involve students in prison, but I would not trade this for any other job in the world today. 

As a colleague says somewhat tongue-in-cheek sometimes, we’re ‘making a difference, changing lives.’ We never know of the true impact we make with the men in our classes. We see some appear to make true changes in the lives, and we hope it lasts for them. Every now and then, we hear of a success, or we hear of one that loses his battle after his release. We do our best.

I was raised in Maine, USA, in a little town called Carmel, emphasis on the CAR, unlike in California where they put the emPHAsis on the MEL. And perhaps more accurately, I should say we pronounce it CAHml. But that’s beside the point.

The point, friends, is, where in Maine is my town? With a population of about 1200 during my childhood, it wasn’t large enough to include on most maps of the state, so we just told people we were “about an inch west of Bangor (BANGore)” on the map; you know, using your index fingertip. For people “from away” that were unfamiliar with the situations of towns and cities of Maine, though, that wasn’t necessarily helpful, so they’d ask questions like, “So, are you in the south? The east? Central? North?” And it was never an easy answer. Directions & Angles always played a part in that.

If you don’t know what Maine looks like, this is going to be especially difficult for you to follow, so I suggest you Duckduckgo.com yourself a political map or photo or two of the state so that you get an idea of what I’m talking about. Might want to include a snowy forecast map, too, since that comes into play. For examples:

So, as we look at the above image, how do we describe the directions to locations in Maine? If you live in Portland, then you are most definitely in Southern Maine, right? Or would it be more accurate to say you are Coastal Maine? Western Maine? Southwestern Coastal Maine? Coastal Southwestern? Forget Portland. Rumford. Rumford is DEFINITELY Western Maine. Case closed. Whew. Eastport. Well, it goes without saying, doesn’t it? Coastal! Ha! I kid. Eastern Coastal. No, I joke some more. Easternmost town in the United States, so yeah, it’s Eastern Maine. On the coast, too.

Madawaska, Fort Kent, Presque Isle, Caribou, et al, are definitely in Northern Maine, but you’d be surprised to hear how often Bangor is put into that category, too. It’s a 2-hour drive from Bangor to Presque Isle, per the 70-mph limit. But if you look around that northern area of the state, called Aroostook County, you’ll notice there aren’t a lot of towns; it’s largely unpopulated wilderness. The area of the state of Maine is equivalent to the rest of the New England states (Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Vermont, Connecticut, and Rhode Island), but with a present population of just 1.3 million people. Aroostook County, along with the northern regions of several other counties, is wilderness. But that’s beside the point. I digress once again!

Let’s look again at Bangor (not BangER; BANGore–or as one local Democrat inadvertently says, “BAN Gore”). Depending on one’s point of view, Bangor, ergo my hometown of CAHml, could be in Northern, Eastern, or Central Maine, all at the same time. It all has to do with Directions and Angles. For the OuttaStaytah that thinks Maine is just from the New Hampshire border to Bah Hah-bah, then Bangor is “Northern Maine.” For the political campaigner that’s tryin’ to rally the troops, as it were, Bangor is “Central Maine” when the race is for the U.S. Senate, and “Eastern Maine” when it’s for the Maine Senate or House. But when it’s the weather forecaster, that’s a whole different animal, as we’ll see below.

When the roads dictate north and south, east and west, that’s one way of knowing where in the state Bangor is. But when the weather patterns show up, all bets are off! God’s hands turn the winds wherever He wants them to go, and the map above shows how He often sends them to us, swirling from Montreal to New Brunswick, via Vermont and New Hampshire, with an occasional swipe at Massachusetts. Here is where listening to the meteorologists gets interesting, because when they speak of “from Bangor north,” they sometimes mean “north by northeast, due north, and north by southwest,” but that’s not how they say it. Oh, wait. Did I say “north by southwest”? I meant south by northwest. Well, you get my drift. It’s confusing as all get-out. I will tell you what’s not confusing, though, is that the meteorologists firmly place Bangor in East-Central Maine, settling that argument once and for all.

So, then, where did I grow up in Maine? In the town of Carmel, about 15 miles due west of Bangor (which is inarguably located approximately 200 miles north by northeast of Portland, a city on the southwestern coast of the state), in a region known emphatically as East-Central Maine, where politicians blow hot air that doesn’t melt the ice and snow in the winter, but occasionally will give me a day off when the roads are too treacherous to drive to work, thus giving me the time to write foolishness like this.