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Archive for the ‘If life is a river …’ Category

The Phone Call We All Dread

Wednesday, January 5th, 2011

The phone call we all dread: “Your dad has passed away!”

Kathy got her call on December 28, 2010. And so we began the journey we knew was coming, yet didn’t want to take.

I knew all about the pain Kathy was feeling. I got that call on October 6, 1986. I remember feeling numb as my brain began to accept the reality. It took me months before I cried. Kathy began crying immediately. I guess that’s a “Men are from Mars, Women from Venus” kind of thing. Whatever, Kathy’s response was much healthier than mine.

We packed our bags, including our tool box of Duct Tape and WD-40, and headed for Macungie, PA.

I asked Kath to tell me about her memories of her dad as we started the trip. She was quiet for most of the drive. Finally, she chuckled and began to talk. Little did I know how what she shared would influence the next three days.

We met her sister, Linda and brother, Tommy at the funeral home to go through the dreaded funeral plan. When asked if they wanted a minister to conduct the service, Tommy and Linda quickly said no. From their perspective, neither they nor their dad were “religious”. “Dad just wanted to be buried in a pine box without any fuss.” Majority rules: no minister.

That’s when Kathy looked at me and asked if I would speak and read scripture. I said I would be honored. Tommy and Linda didn’t have a clue what that would mean; It just solved a problem that was facing them at the time.

Wednesday morning, Kathy and I started our day in prayer (Duct Tape) as usual. I read Ecclesiastes 3: 1-15, 23rd Psalm, and John 14: 1-7. Kath agreed that we should use these verses in the service. Then I told her what I heard when I asked her to share some memories. She chuckled again and gave me permission to use it in the funeral service. I asked Tommy and Linda the same question (WD-40) when we gathered later that day. The message was being formed in my heart and in my head.

Thursday morning, Kath and I continued our time in prayer. I expanded the scripture readings. Kath’s response was classic. “David, think ‘red neck’. Keep it short.” With that, she headed off to meet her brother and sister for breakfast and I spent time in my prayer (Duct Tape) journal.

I eulogized both my parents at their funerals. That’s a far cry from conducting a funeral service. Yet I felt a sense of comfort as I planned what I would say.

On Friday morning I shared with Kath that which I had written. She gave her approval. When it was time to speak I truly felt at peace. It felt like, to quote Eric Liddell in Chariots of Fire, “when I run fast I feel God’s pleasure.” I truly felt God’s pleasure.

After the service, my new extended family in Macungie PA embraced me in a new way. I was no longer just the “new kid on the block.” I was family.

If it moves and it shouldn’t, use Duct Tape. Not wanting a minister at their dad’s service was a movement away from God. Kath and I used Duct Tape, focused and reflective prayer, to keep Him close at hand.

If it doesn’t move and it should, use WD-40. I used WD-40 to listen. By listening to Kathy, Tommy and Linda, I learned much about the life of their father. I used what I learned to craft a service that made Kathy smile, and that was my goal. Touching the hearts of her siblings and the extended family was a bonus.

Using your gifts to glorify God never fails. Duct Tape and WD-40, the only tools you need to keep God’s two great commandments in good repair.

“In the Blink of an Eye!”

Tuesday, June 22nd, 2010

For those who have wondered where I’ve been, I’ve been dealing with another “Blink of an Eye” event.

Life changes in a “Blink of an Eye!” My life changed forever as I listened to a voice mail on May 18, 2000. That was when and how I learned of my daughter ‘s, Emily’s, attempted suicide. That was the day that I entered into the world of mental illness, not as member of an extended family dealing with mental health issues, but as a father of a daughter who was ill. My life changed in the blink of an eye.

Everyone one of us has had a “blink of an eye” experience: Lost job, lost wealth, death of a loved one, abandonment, just to name a few.

My fiancée, Kathy, complained about numbness on her right side the morning of May 29th. Her speech, facial expressions, balance were all normal. “I must have slept the wrong way”, was her logical reasoning, and off to work she goes. Two hours later, I get a call from Kathy telling me that she still felt numb and thought she should go and “get checked out”! I immediately left to pick her up and take her to the Emergency Room. Within minutes we discover she had experienced a stroke or a TIA, A TIA is a transient ischemic attack, a “mini stroke” that occurs when a blood clot blocks an artery for a short time. Life changed for Kath and me in “the blink of an eye”.

She is much better today thanks to the prompt diagnosis and treatment she received in the next 24 hours. She had a CAT scan, MRI, and more. She was released from the hospital with a list of additional tests to undergo. She’s now on prescription drugs for blood pressure, cholesterol, and an aspirin once per day.

Kathy does have residual neurological symptoms, in that her right side becomes weak after our walks. She also noticed the same occurrence after serving coffee to several residents at her job; again, when driving in “beep and creep” traffic having to put her foot on the brake frequently.

We are making changes in our life style which include, but not limited to, portion control, decreased sodium intake, limiting alcohol intake, and daily long walks. I’m sure Physical Therapy will be prescribed too.

It is our faith in God that sustains us, especially in times of crisis. Kathy shares my love for “Duct Tape”, focused reflective prayer. “Duct Tape” is an integral part of Kath’s recovery. We spend time in the “Word” each day, seeking wisdom and understanding. We have open and honest dialog with one another in His Presence. We trust in His Word when He says, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your request to God; and the peace of God which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4: 6-7) Duct Tape will keep us in alignment with our life style choices.

If you share our faith in Christ, you can help by adding us to your prayer list. Please pray for His help in keeping us on our new path to wellness. What we have is so precious; please pray that we will, indeed, grow old together.

A Tribute to Mothers … the night I cried

Friday, May 7th, 2010

I cried that night!

In the mail that morning was an envelope from my mother with only one item inside … her business card. Mom was an artist and had her own “Little Studio” where she taught many a folk the fine art of creating art. Mom taught me many things, but I never caught on to the “art” thing.

It had been more than four weeks since I was held back in my quest to earn my commission as a Naval Flight Officer. I was attending the Naval Aviation Officer Candidate School at Naval Air Station Pensacola, Florida. I could do everything they demanded of me except for 5 chin ups. I passed all the course work required. They even passed me in my understanding of “military barring” … which was a stretch for me.

It was the physical fitness requirements that were my greatest challenge. I had accomplished everything … the obstacle course and “Dipsty Dumpster” included. If you have seen “An Officer and a Gentleman” starring Richard Gere and Debra Wenger, you know what I mean by the “Dipsty Dumpster” and obstacle course. I did it all …. Except for those 5 stupid chin ups.

I remember the first day we were benchmarked on our physical abilities. My Drill Instructor stuck his baton into my belly like he was taking a measurement of my fat. “You might as well quite now, Brown. Fat Bodies like you always DOR (Drop on Request). He achieved his goal. He lit a fire in me that I had never experienced before. I’d be damned if I was going to quit. My Daddy wouldn’t be proud of me if I did.

I stepped up to the chin up bar, jumped and grabbed hold. “Begin!” my DI demanded. “Begin?” I responded. “I’m finished!” I couldn’t do one chin up.

Ten weeks later, I could do two chin ups. The requirement was five. Had it not been for the Viet Nam war and the Navy’s need for aviators, they would have washed me out then and there. But, no! They put me on a PT hold. I was restricted to the barracks, only allowed to go to the gym to work out and to the mess hall to eat.
Week after week for four weeks, that was my life. I could now do three.

Then I opened the envelope my mother had sent in the mail. Inside was her business card, as I said before. On the back of the card, she had written:

Lord, grant me the courage to change that which can be changed;
Serenity to accept that which cannot be changed;
And Wisdom to know one from the other.

I need to openly admit to you that I was not a man of great faith at that point in life. I did enjoy Sunday morning church services because that was the only place the Drill Instructors would not shout at you. Other than that, a strong faith would have been a great hindrance to the life style of a Naval Aviator that I wanted so badly.

I was finally in a place in life where failure was indeed a possibility. I sat on my bunk and read that prayer … I didn’t even know it was the “Serenity Prayer” … and had a conversation with God. I asked Him why me? Why can’t I do these stupid chin ups?

I felt a certain peace that I had never felt before. I left my bunk and went to the head (the bathroom for you non Navy types). There were sturdy bars in the shower stalls that everyone used for chin up exercises. I jumped and grabbed hold of the bar and preceded to do six chin ups. Yes, I said SIX.

I immediately ran to the Duty Office to report my success. My DI said, “Show me”. Back we went to the head. I did the mandatory five. He looked at me and said, “Do it again!” With a deep breath, I jumped, grabbed, and squeaked out five more chin ups. That was a total of 16 within just a few minutes, thanks be to God and adrenalin.

I went out on liberty that night to celebrate my success. Later that same night I lay in my bunk and I cried. I had already gone back on my promise to God … as I have done time and again most of my life.

My mother had influenced my life a thousand miles away. She knew I was depressed because I couldn’t do five chin ups. I later learned that she and dad were secretly hoping that I would wash out, thereby not having to go to war. But they never said that. She just sent me that prayer. I guess her prayers were answered because I never went to war … but that’s another story.

Mothers are like that! They profoundly influence our lives asking little in return. Please remember your mother this weekend.

Not too long ago I learned that one of my daughters was experiencing one of the biggest challenges of her life. I didn’t know what to say or do. Then I thought of my mother. I did what my mother did and sent my daughter the “Serenity Prayer” on the back of my business card. A few days later she called to say thanks. She put it in her wallet which is the same place I put my mom’s card, forty years ago. It’s still there today.

Thanks Mom! I miss you dearly, but am reminded of your gentleness everyday by the art work throughout our home.

Birds and the Bees

Friday, August 14th, 2009

Well, mostly birds. I haven’t thought much about bees until I sat down to write a head line that might draw your attention and curiosity.

I always took birds for granted … until I started to feed them. Now, they fascinate me.

Like a fine tuned Swiss watch, birds began to arrive at our home this past spring, immediately going about building nests. They would come to our feeder early in the morning, and late in the afternoon for food … off and on throughout their busy day just for a snack.

All of a sudden the sounds of their singing would awake me at 4 AM, before the sun was up. Their babies had hatched and like all babies, when hungry, they are noisy. Activity at the bird feeder increased to a frenzied pitch. May and June, we couldn’t seem to fill the bird feeder fast enough.

Whys that you ask? No, not squirrels. Chipmunks! Big fat chipmunks! They were climbing inside and eating beyond their fill. After many attempts to block their access, good old tin foil saved the day … and the food for its intended use … the birds!

It’s August now. The birds sleep in. The birds are eating less. Having never spent much time thinking about birds before, I began to wonder why. Then I noticed that they are beginning to gather in large flocks and eating something they seem to find yummy in open fields. Bugs I guess. Bugs I hope! You go Birds! I like birds a lot more than bugs.

It seems to me that they are getting ready for their upcoming return to the south. They are living in community rather than their own nests. They flock to trees close to our home in the evening, singing in chorus at a volume that makes spring sound quiet. And then, on cue, they all go silent for the night.

Why? Why do birds follow such a strict yet changing routine? How? How do they work together in such harmony from the moment they arrive until the day they leave? Why is it they seem not to worry about food … oh, yeah! I forgot! We feed them. But what about the birds in the forests?

What’s your point Brown?

A friend of mine is the Executive Director of a Mission for the homeless. He left a very lucrative business career in search of work that would give him more meaning and purpose to his life. He found it. Every day he sees people at their very lowest. People who are homeless. People who suffer from drug and alcohol abuse. People who are victims of physical and emotional abuse. People who suffer from mental illnesses.
As I listened to some of the stories he shared, I began to think about birds.

Birds are not homeless! Why? They take personal responsibility for building their own home. I don’t know if there is a drug and alcohol problem in the bird community. If there is, they hide it quite well. Or, is it a matter of taking care of their own? I don’t know if there is physical or emotional abuse in bird families. I don’t know if there is mental illness in birds. All I know is what I see. Birds seem to being doing quite well.

Humans, not so much.

I realize that these are rhetorical questions at best. I believe that God is the Creator of the universe. I believe that He created us in His Own image according to the scriptures. He created the birds too. So why is it that the birds go about all their life long days performing tasks to insure their survival while we, the smarter species, can find so many ways to make life miserable? I’m just asking!

I’m curious, too. What do you think?

If life is a river …

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009

I feel like I’m in a rubber raft with my best friend, slowly drifting down stream on a warm sunny day. I know that there are white waters ahead, but for now, I’m enjoying the calm.

I used this analogy in the Introduction to my book, “Duct Tape and WD-40 … a parent’s guide to understanding the mysteries of a Bipolar Child”. I understand that this analogy works well for those of us who do not suffer from Bipolar Disorder. Those who do suffer might find themselves in continuous white waters, or stuck in a never ending slow whirlpool far from any sunlight or friends.

My undying hope is that the work we are doing through NAMI National Alliance on Mental Illness will help more and more who suffer to sometimes experience the calm flowing waters of life, too. From its inception in 1979, NAMI has been dedicated to improving the lives of individuals and families affected by mental illness. If you are not familiar with NAMI, please visit http://www.nami.org/ From the first support meeting I attended in 2001, I found a new world of friends who understood all that I was experiencing as the father of a teenage daughter suffering from Bipolar Disorder.

Come on in! The water’s fine!

David