Grandma Tales

We got drums.

While it is technically correct that the drums belong to Jono, and that Jon paid for most of them, and that he is the only one who uses them, and that drums would not be in our basement except for Jon's lifelong desire to beat on something legal, still -- we got them.

All of us. All of us, and the neighbors. All of us, and the community. All of us, and all those who drive by on River Road. We all have drums now. All God's children got drums. Drums are loud.

Grandma got drums. Although I'm not sure if she really gets that she got them. The drums sit under her room. Because of her hearing aids, the full aural equation of sound does not reach her eardrums, but something does. She doesn't know that it's drums. But she knows it's loud. She knows it's Jon. She knows she doesn't particularly like it. Especially when Dr. Phil or Bill O'Reilly or Wheel of Fortune are on the TV. And it especially annoys her when Jon competes with the Golden Girls.

So a couple of days ago, Grandma brought out her TV remote. She often forgets now what the thing does, and she mixes it up with the other remotes within her reach -- a remote for her lift chair, a remote for her electric heating blanket on the lift chair. You can imagine trying to find O'Reilly and having your chair lift you up and out instead. Or thinking that you just cranked up the heat, only to have Dr. Phil shouting at the top of his lungs. It's confusing. So she brought out the TV remote for a consultation.

"What's this thing do?"

"It's the remote for your TV, Mom."

"How can I get it to stop?"

"You mean turn off the TV?"

"No. I mean Jono. What do I press to get it to stop?"

"You mean the drums?"

"That noise! How can I turn it off?!"  She looked at the remote, pressing buttons and listening to see if anything happened. Some people might do this to be funny. Grandma was being funny, but not on purpose. She thought there must be a button that worked on Jon and his drums.

The great thing about hearing aids is that you can take them out. We found the button. For Grandma. I don't have hearing aids. Yet.

(Luckily, the kid is doing great with the sticks. There's been more dancing in this house since we got drums. Dancing is good.)

More Grandma Tales

I thought you'd enjoy this:

We're coming up on the annual Freeland Walleye Festival. Freeland is where I live. Walleye is what's in the river. The Festival celebrates it all.

So, in the spirit of civic involvement, and because I love to fish, and because walleye is good eating even if it's loaded to the gills with dioxins, I entered the Freeland Walleye Festival Fishing Tournament last year. And I fished on Sunday. After church. For an hour. Maybe. It was raining.

Fishing on a Sunday is verboten to my mother.

Anyway, I found this note today. On a Sunday, maybe that Sunday, my mom had this note delivered to me at my fishing spot in our backyard on the Tittabawassee River:

Dear Ron,

Your mother does NOT like you fishing on Sunday.

And I'm sure your congregation won't like it when they hear you do SUNDAY fishing!

P.S. I love you anyway, and please come in and get some supper.

Love,

Your Mother.

'Nuff said.

 

Awakening

I woke up at 2:30 a.m. Monday night. I don't know for sure, but I could swear I was singing this song out loud (no confirmation from Linda). If it wasn't on my lips, it was in my brain, and when I startled awake, the lyrics were right there. This has always been my favorite hymn, and expresses much of my own longing and my own thinking about being a pastor and a Jesus-follower. In fact, the words are so close to me I hesitate to share them with you. But I will. Sometimes I sing this in an empty auditorium.

Spirit of God, descend upon my heart.
Wean it from earth; through all its pulses move.
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as Thou art,
And make me love Thee as I ought to love.

I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies;
No sudden rending of the veil of clay;
No angel visitants, no opening skies.
But take the dimness of my soul away.

Hast Thou not bid me love thee, God and King?
All, all thine own, soul, heart and strength and mind.
I see Thy cross; there teach my heart to cling.
O let me seek Thee, and O let me find.

Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh;
Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear.
To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh,
Teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.

Teach me to love Thee as Thine angels love,
One holy passion filling all my frame;
The kindling of the heaven-descended Dove,
my heart an altar, and Thy love the flame.

Making Sense of the Health Care Bill

Here’s what it sounds like the Health Care Bill will do for me, which is all that matters, right?

• I will live forever. Medical attention for all my health needs is my right, guaranteed by the Constitution and my President. Whenever I get sick, I can go to the doctor, and I don’t have to worry about who will pay the bill. The older I get, the sicker I get, doesn’t really matter. As long as I stay out of unstoppable automobiles and avoid very heavy objects dropping on my head, I will always be able to be fixed. I have a healer, and his name is Obama.
•  In the unlikely event that I die, it will be because my government thinks it is time to go. I’m glad to be relieved of this decision, because it’s getting more complicated. Since the government has guaranteed my health, and since nearly everyone can be kept alive for a long, long time, it makes sense that at some point someone has to decide that my time is up. Time to pull the plug, disconnect the machines, and say goodbye to the best health care in the world.
• In the next three or four years, my country will give me everything I need to be well, and it’s all free. So in the next couple of years I’m going to meet my doctor. I imagine that he and I will become pretty good friends, since I plan on visiting him once or twice a month. Since it’s not going to cost me anything, apparently, I may as well get my money’s worth.
• After three or four years, expenses for this whole thing begin to hit home. But by that time, it will be my kids, and then their kids, who will be paying for it. I’ll be close to retirement. I really like the way these laws work—you get all the wonderful benefits for several years before the actual costs begin to come due. It makes the whole thing seem almost—affordable.
• Since the government will be paying for my health, they have built into the law a lot of provisions for keeping me healthy. For instance, from now on all chain restaurants have to include calorie counts on their menus. And we’ve heard, “As goes New York, so goes the nation,” so soon all salt, fat, sugar, and refined white flour—basically everything that tastes good—will no longer be available, because the government wants us healthy. Even though this sounds like a bad thing, I’m happy about it. I’ve never really been successful at self-control, so letting the government control me might work out.
• Taking that idea to its logical conclusion (this is all very logical, right?) it seems to me since the government wants me to be healthy, and since the doctor is free, he could write me a prescription for a health club membership, and it would be covered by the government. I hear they have really nice hot tubs and saunas at health clubs. And smoothies. I love smoothies.

Anyway, that’s what I’m picking up about this whole thing. All I can say is – thanks for the bennies! I love America!