Wednesday, April 13, 2016

How many times did I have to fail?


I failed to learn the proper way to crawl.

My wife says this is why I lack motor skills.

I was a late walker.

My kindergarten teacher and students derided me for never talking the entire year.

I don't think Mrs. Moses knew how to handle it. She told the pupils that "we'll all jump out the window if Davy ever talks." Gracious - I din't want to cause injury.

I was last to be picked on any team in grade school.

In fourth grade, Molly Jo Morris beat me up.

Several times.

Once she was stuck with me on her softball team, so she condescended to reach around me and show me how to tap the base with the bat. Then I got one of my few lifetime hits. Molly Jo took the credit.

Playing T-ball, I was on deck. Tommy Blevins hit the ball. His bat knocked me bloody. Sixty years later my neurologist, studying my MRI, told me I had had a major stroke or blow to the head. It was Tommy's bat.

I failed violin.

I failed piano lessons (because I thought I could play better by ear).

In junior high I failed snare drum.

I taught myself to play Dad's trombone.

I broke the trombone.

In high school, the only job I could find paid 17 cents an hour.

Girls broke up with me.

I had no wheels.

I turned out for football my senior year.

I still hold the state record for most time on the bench.

The Seattle Pacific College maintenance supervisor laid me off.

The Imperial 400 Motel owner laid me off.

I flunked out of calculus.

Facing the draft, I was unable to complete a curriculum in music before my deferment expired.

I transferred to the University of Washington, and in the meantime, the UW changed their course requirements.

I wrote a draft letter to the academic standards committee and demanded I be allowed to follow the older requirements.

My academic adviser said the letter would fail.

He told me to re-write it using the words, "I respectfully request..."

The only way I could graduate on time was to major in radio-television and take classes with the football players.

In the last quarter before graduation - and the end of my deferment - I came down with infectious mononucleosis. I could go to bed or keep going to class. I had no choice. It was either keep attending or be an infantryman in Vietnam.

In Air Force Officer Training School I was 18th in a group of 18.

Because of a mix-up, the Air Force sent me on an isolated tour to Korea, then told me it was a mistake and I was "overage" - an excess officer on a remote tour. To make it up to me, they said, they would nominate me for graduate school.

I was a good boy in Korea and helped build a missionary house.

But my marriage failed.

The graduate school - University of Denver - called me and said my undergraduate grades weren't good enough. I would have to take the Graduate Record Examination.

The university evaluated my GRE scores, and discovering I wanted to major in mass communications, they said, "Your verbal scores aren't very good."

My math scores got me in.

With too many captains left over from the Vietnam era (I never went), the Air Force exacted a quota for the top ratings.

Although I was a Distinguished Graduate with an M.A. GPA of 3.76, I didn't make the quota for performance ratings.

My Air Force boss blew his brains out.

It was up or out for us Air Force officers. Be promoted or leave the service.

My second marriage failed.

I failed to make major.

I was given severance pay.

I joined the Reserve.

Although I survived a total of 26 years, a new general officer cleaned house and retired me.

I took a job with the Army Corps of Engineers as a civilian.

A friend in the Bible study there blew his brains out.

I was retired early.

I took a job with a direct mail company.

I was laid off.

My favorite pastor, with whom I ran the Indianapolis 500 mini-marathon, died of Lou Gehrig's disease.

My pastor in Poulsbo died of Lou Gehrig's disease.

Joining a prayer breakfast in Indiana years later, a buddy there died of Lou Gehrig's disease.

I lost my dad.

I lost my mom.

Now, at 71, I'm slowed by aortic valve stenosis, atrial fibrillation and Diabetes, Type 2.

BUT...God said,

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.”

Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong
I Corinthians 12:8-10

Bottom line: I know where I came from; I know why I am here; I know where I am going; and I know who holds my future. I am of all men most richly blest, and I know the God-given experience of genuine joy and the abundant, full life Jesus promised (John 10:10). I wouldn't trade my life and my nearly 40-year marriage for anything.

Monday, April 11, 2016

JOLTED back to life


I have aortic valve stenosis - leaky valve, causing atrial fibrillation (A-Fib) every few weeks. All my life I've had dizzy spells, some brought on by graphic blood-and-guts first aid discussion, some by vertigo, and some by a heart that wants to rest a few beats.

When that happens, something sets off an alarm in my head. The brain triggers a JOLT of electricity or adrenaline that wakes up my heart and insists on a regular beat. That JOLT feels as though I am passing out. But instead, I'm healed.

I've discovered that if the A-Fib persisted, I am to go to the emergency room, where they will place two paddles on my chest and dispatch a JOLT of electricity.

God thought of it first! 

If I somehow found some primordial soup, shaped it into a heart, and waited 10 billion years, would it start beating? No! It has no blood and it has no brain. In fact, which would have to come first, the blood or the heart? The blood is no use to my body unless there's a heart to pump it. The heart is useless without blood.

And so maybe I should form blood from the primordial soup and a brain and wait another 100 billion years. 

Would the brain know about self-preservation of my organs and figure out how to JOLT the heart?

That's a real stretch. 

God is the answer to all the questions: I am fearfully and wonderfully made - I was designed.

Sometime ask me about my brain full of white ischemic material (scar tissue). 

Last year my neurologist, looking at 2 MRIs and a CT Scan, said I had had a massive stoke or a disabling blow to the head, decades ago. She tested me (I had to identify a rhino and do algebra. 

She said all the synapses had reconnected without any symptoms! 

I'd like to believe a gaseous belch eons ago was that smart, but it requires far, far, far too much faith - a flying leap in the dark. Makes no sense. God triggered my brain and enabled me to figure this out, with indescribable JOY.

God only requires the tiny faith of a mustard seed, and He'll give me even that if I need it.

Sorry, universe, but God has given me a deep and lasting joy. Why should ponder any other so-called creator/creation? (Hint: Romans 1 sorts out the difference between Creator and creation)