Tag: faith

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Persistent or insane?

As I sit at my desk by the patio door composing a few thoughts to share with you, I am hearing a repetitive thump against the door from the outside. This door has a reflective film applied to the inside to reduce the sun’s glare and to keep my indoor space cooler. It also is mirrored on the outside to provide privacy. Numerous birds have committed suicide flying into the door thinking they are flying into open space or maybe to engage the image of the other bird in the mirror.

The thump is a lizard. Where I live the lizard is as common as the mosquitoes that they feast on. Color it green and we have hundreds of Geico geckos prowling the yard and patio. They provide great entertainment for the cats confined indoors.

This particular lizard has taken a liking to its image or perhaps it is attempting to snare the attention of any nearby female lizards. He jumps from a chair into the glass, falls to the ground, climbs the chair again and leaps into the image on the glass. Again and again and again. Watching him is exhausting yet at the same time inspiring.

Have we ever been like that lizard? In recovery programs we call it insanity. We drank to excess again and again and again, thinking that maybe this time the outcome would be different. Instead of getting wasted, belligerent and violent, we believed that we could drink sociably, drive home safely, engage with our families lovingly, go to bed happily and arise the next morning for work bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Yeah, guys, that was absolute insanity.

That silly lizard climbs onto the chair, jumps into the mirror for whatever reason his lizard-sized brain is formulating and all he will accomplish is an oversized headache in the morning. Sound familiar?

When was the last time you woke up with an enormous headache trying to remember how you got home last night, where did I park the truck, is my spouse going to serve me eggs or throw them at me when I go to breakfast?

Remembering those times is a blessing, continually living those times is insanity. Where do we stand?

But back to the lizard. The persistence. It is inspiring. We had it when we were pursuing the bottle and now we can apply it to living a fruitful, productive and joyous life with spouses and families. Our Higher Power is awesome.

And Gabby says Amen.

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Introvert! Who, me?

I somehow knew I was different as a young boy when I preferred hiking alone in the nearby woods to playing baseball with the guys. I realized that maybe the term ‘introvert’ fit me when I preferred a night with a good book over a Saturday night socializing with the gang at the local hangout. Yeah, didn’t take much introspection to know that I was following a different drummer in life.

And they, the ‘normal’ people in my life, aside from calling me a wallflower, dull, and uninteresting allowed me to be who I was. My friend’s mother said that I had no personality. In today’s young culture I would have been called a nerd. But I prospered as an introvert. I developed inner strengths, deep personal understanding and a devotion to the quiet things of my world. I learned to study people and tune in to their inner workings. I became the observer at sock hops and in the classroom. I learned first-hand about prejudice and intolerance. Thanks to high school bullies, I knew early in life that some of us were destined to have a difficult row to hoe. It made me stronger and prepared me for the heartaches of being different.

Gosh, the years have passed quickly. And still today, some folks have a need to label who I am. Most often I can take it with a grain of salt. I have learned over my many years to fight back as necessary. That has earned me another label, irascible. Gabby prefers ornery, unpredictable or bull-headed. It confirms his standing with the willy-nilly crowd. And it’s important. If a man fits in with the crowd around him, becomes one of the good ole boys, he hasn’t fully appreciated the nature of autonomy and independence. If he doesn’t learn to assert his right to say yay or nay to the demands put upon him, he will lose the ability to choose what is best for himself. He gives control of his happiness to another person. Perhaps a spouse, a friend, a family member will presume to know what’s right for him.

Once again, I can hear some of you asking, “Gabby, what’s your point?”

Hear me and hear me well. If I choose to embrace a few unhealthy habits that could hasten my earthly demise, then so be it. That is my choice. If I drive too fast or eat too much ice cream, then I will probably die knowing that I have also lived.

If I advocate for the marginalized, the oppressed, the homeless and the other brothers Jesus mentioned in Matthew 25 and when I label myself a Matthew 25 Christian, then I have followed my calling by the entity I label as Higher Power. So there, my judgmental brothers and sisters is a label that I am proud of. Use it!

A few years back y’all didn’t approve of my friendship with a homeless, alcoholic man. I helped him with shelter, food and cash and you chose to see it in vile, ungodly behavior. Well, guess what, sister? That man is sober, living in another state, creating a new life for himself.

Yeah, call me angry if it makes you feel any better, but you can take your smirks and condescension and stuff it in your Bibles or whatever you are reading to justify your intolerance.

As for me, I will rely on the old, reliable, irascible Gabby to find my joy and peace. Brother Gabby is a beacon in a dark sea.

And Gabby says, “Amen, brother.”

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CONVERSATIONS: BLESSED WITH SHELTER

Brother, listen to me for a second. Got something bothering me.

Remember yesterday when you and your pals from church were sitting on the backyard patio smoking weed? Yeah, I saw you and no, I don’t have a problem with what you were doing. As usual the conversation covered many topics that mature men discuss when together in privacy. Well, almost private. I am there always.

Everything you talked about was pretty cool. The weather, the economy, your wives, your jobs and, and of course, the sexy divorcee who moved in just down the street. All of it chatter I’ve learned to expect from a group of back yard pals.

But then, one of you mentioned Tom from two doors down. He has never been part of your group and you think he’s an odd fellow. An RN at the hospital, Tom is a loner, doesn’t golf with you on Saturdays, doesn’t drive a pickup truck, doesn’t sit with your gang to watch the Super Bowl and claims to be a vegan. And I can understand that in your world a man like Tom is pretty weird. But my understanding stopped there yesterday.

Tom has a homeless friend, a man running a streak of bad luck. He tents in the nearby woods, finds work in the neighborhood doing odd jobs and yard work. Tom helps his friend with food and a listening ear when needed. He offers a warm place to stay when the temperature drops below freezing. I love Tom. He gets me. He walks the talk that y’all hear at church every Sunday when my words from your pastor get an “Amen, brother.”

So, why do you think Tom’s friend is a neighborhood problem? I heard you saying that. Does he threaten you? Does he steal from you? Does he trash your yard? Does he covet your wife? Does he dishonor your God?

Why do you want to wipe out the little camp he has created for himself? Are you offering an alternative? Maybe a hand up to a better situation? Maybe your church could sponsor him. Ever think about that? Food, fresh clothes, a few dollars pocket change can be life-changing for an unhoused man struggling to survive.

I understand your fear. Each of you is just a job loss, a health crisis away from facing the same insecurity that Tom’s friend faces every day.

But as I see it, y’all are judging Tom and his friend. Give it up, bro. That’s my job. Love ya.

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conversations, blessed with food

Hey man, just wanted to talk to you about something that’s been troubling my heart.

Remember yesterday, brother, on your way to the grocery store to buy a few things you needed for dinner? That man standing on the corner holding a sign that said, “Hungry, please help.” Remember what you did, bro?

You rolled down your window. He came to your window with a smile and anticipation. Not at all threatening or demanding. And what did you do? Remember?

You told him to go get a fucking job and gave him the finger.

You didn’t see what he did or hear what he said as you sped on down to your grocery store. He folded his hands over his chest and said, “God bless you, man.”

I saw it and it broke my heart.

Now, what could you have done differently?

Maybe you could have given him that 10 bucks you won in last night’s poker game with the guys. Yeah, a bunch of rowdy, cigar smoking buddies they were, but they’re your friends from the Tuesday night prayer group from the church you attend every Sunday.

Or maybe you could have said, “Jump in, let’s go to Wendy’s and get burgers and fries?” He may have had some interesting stories about his camp in the nearby woods and what he has to do to survive every day.

But you thought he smelled ripe and you didn’t want to stink up your car.

Yeah, I saw it all brother. I was standing next to that man. “Inasmuch as ye have done unto the least of these, my brethren, ye have done unto me.” matthew 26

You didn’t know that man was also a veteran like you. Only he did not come back to the States as blessed as you. No, he suffered deep emotional scars that followed him for the rest of his life. Couldn’t keep a marriage together, couldn’t hold down a decent job, couldn’t maintain a home and ultimately found himself living in a tent in the woods. No, he wasn’t camping, he had no options. Considered suicide but faith in the Lord would not let him do that either. Like I said, no viable options.

He served his country but became a throwaway, broken statistic. And, my brother, he was hungry like you were as you drove to the grocery store. His faith kept him shiny side up in the worst of times, times that most could not endure nor want to survive.

And, he was a Christian like you profess to be. Just alot less lucky in things of the world.

“For I was hungry and ye gave me no meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me no drink; I was a stranger and ye took me not in; naked, and ye clothed me not; sick and in prison and ye visited me not.” matthew 26

And Gabby says, “Amen, Lord, I hear you.”

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yesterday

Gabby is lounging lazily awaiting the first of numerous football games scheduled for today. It’s Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving Day. Probably too much to eat yesterday and a natural proclivity to take the benefits of retirement to heart attribute to Gabby’s casual approach.

We ate well. Roast turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, stewed sweet potatoes, and choice of 3 pies including apple, pumpkin and mince. Gabby, a product of the Pennsylvania Dutch culture chose the mince pie. But unlike Grandma’s mince meat pies of years ago, this version had no beef nor was it served drenched with a shot of whiskey. We thanked our Lord for the bounty and ate heartily.

How was your meal? Was your dinner table loaded with the wealth we have become accustomed to? Or did your family scale back due to the difficult times we are enduring as a nation? Many folks did not have the resources to celebrate the abundance. Especially those folks who necessarily rely on SNAP, the fed’s government nutritional assistance program, scrambled to provide food for their tables as the Potus and his minions denied funding for SNAP.

Several of Gabby’s and Larry’s friends from years past have been unhoused men who had hit on hard times. They survived in challenging conditions. They were grateful for their Lord’s provision and lived many days by a simple faith driven by determination and brotherly love for one another.

Howard had a part-time job as a dishwasher at a local mom and pop restaurant. He regularly came home with an overflowing bag of food that the restaurant manager had planned to throw in the garbage.

“Nothing wrong with it,” he proclaimed. “It’s good food.”

Indeed, it was good food that Howard saved from the dumpster. We all ate well since the restaurant’s specialty was Italian fare.

Another friend proudly boasted of his dumpster-diving skills. He observed numerous businesses and knew when each disposed of its out-of-date sandwiches and snacks. His favorite was the Wawa store on the corner. They had the best Cuban sandwiches even when they were a day over expiration date.

So, Gabby and Larry can only ponder as they remember those good days with loving friends. Did the Potus, his family and members of Congress who defunded SNAP fine dine yesterday on dumpster specials? If not, they ought to try it for Christmas. I’m too old and creaky to climb into dumpsters for food but I am blessed with friends who can and for that I am sincerely grateful during this season of love and gratitude.