Falling Far From The Family Tree

So I was strolling down the beach, a place that I love above most others, and the sun was hot, the waves soothing the breeze just right to make it all comfortable. I waved at friends who had waved at me. I strode with happiness, confidence, a smile on my face, and one eye gazing at the ocean. It was perfect!

Then my Dad slapped me on the head and said, “I’ve been here boy!”

My Dad died last June. Julie and I were here and he respected that so much that he waited on us to get back so that we could say proper good-byes and that we loved each other and that he needed a bit of help deciding that it was the right time to go.

There is this photograph of my Dad and my Mom that someone has blown up and Mom has had framed and it was sitting out on family Christmas celebration. It shows my Dad strolling down a beach in Tortolla. He is strolling in happiness, with confidence, has a smile on his face, and one of his eyes is gazing towards the ocean. My Mom is hamming it up for the camera.

Dad is brown and tanned but he was always brown and tan. The man could spend two seconds in the sun and he bronzed for the next two years. He loved the ocean, the smell of the marsh, and his friends.

Mom is all legs as my niece described it and she was. She is wearing a floppy hat and a one piece that shows off three miles of legs and a campy smile for whoever was taking the picture.

It is a photograph that perfectly captures how they were as a couple and as people. They went through a lot, as all of us do, but did it clinging to one another for all time out of fear that there might be nothing else to cling on to. That is what love is in the end I think. We find someone to cling on to and we do it with everything in us. It can be a spouse, or a collection of friends, and a significant other or some combination of these, but there is something inside of us that tells us to hold onto this no matter what it costs.

So I spoke the words out loud, because Dad had spoken so clearly to me. “Thanks Dad.”

Now lets be honest, I am the one who fell the furthest from the family tree. Dad and Mom struggled for years to explain to their friends why I do what I do or do things the way that I do them. My brother has probably given up on praying for me. My sister shrugs her shoulders and tells me that she loves me anyway.

But let me tell you something. I wouldn’t trade that tree for anything in the world.

Oh! And Mom, happy birthday!!!

Natural Ways

I spend a lot of time walking up and down the beach when I am here. Beach Paatrol is what we have dubbed it! I'm not one for sitting in a chair, so stand most of the time or walk. The beauty of the ocean commands my attention most of the time and I swear that I could stare at the waves breaking on the reef for hours.

But there are mountain behind me and palm trees and other islands in the distance. All of which demand my attention too.

And then there are the friends that I have collected over the years. So as I make my way up and down the beach there are countless conversations. Yesterday my friend Jack fell in beside me as I walked and we reviewed the past year. I've known Jack for several years and he is in sales and told me how rotten things had been for his business. And I told him about the good and the bad of Union Mission over the same time period.

Then he paused and pointed to the beauty of the beach and said, "But we have both been blessed with one more opportunity to be here."

I try to look at my life this way. Each moment is a gift and I don't know how many more I will have so I am going to do my best to enjoy the hell out of the ones that I have right now.

And I am also going to enjoy the hell out of my friends because they are all gifts too and you can never be sure if this happens to be your last experience with them or not so I will treat it like it is!

And these thoughts make me smile as I make my way back down the beach.

Creation Happening Around Me

Sometimes you just have to get away. This is one of those times. After an incredibly busy year, and a pretty intense summer and fall, with a looming winter that will keep me moving at a fast pace, it is good just to stop for a bit.

Not that it ever stops, even while I am here in St. Martin. Yesterday was interrupted by phone calls from people who had issues with loved ones or friends and called for guidance and support. I didn't mind because it is what I do.

But yesterday was also a day of marvel for me in that a storm blew through Orient Beach over Christmas and the waves grew huge over the reef that protects this bay. So the waves made it to the shore, which is rare here, and 30 feel of sand was claimed by the sea. Seaweed was littered across the sand that was left.

It happened very quickly. When I am here, I wake up, climb out of bed, stumble to the ocean and fall face down into the water. It is a great way to start a day. Then I return for a cup of coffee and to read or blog. Perhaps an hour later, I return to the beach.

From the time that I feel into the ocean for my wake up refreshment yesterday until the hour later that I returned to the beach, ten feet of sand had washed away. It is amazing to see creation literally happening all around you. I found myself in awe of it.

There is a line in the Bible that I have always liked. We are participating with God in the completion of creation. One version says that we are groaning for the completion of creation, which I take as God does his part and it is up to me to do mine.

So the part that I want to create is a happy me, who loves the people in my life dearly, enjoys my friends, is useful in this world and appreciates God's creation as it is happening around me.

Trying to Touch a Saint

It happened, of course, when I was with Bill Berry. Not the former drummer for R.E.M. but the other guy. There is something about this Bill Berry and I. When we are together it is like spontaneous combustion and stuff happens. He now resides in Virginia and I in Georgia and a great many people like it this way.

So we were at Gethsemane, a Trappist Monastery outside of Bardstown, Kentucky. It is a beautiful place in the hills, with a road lined with majestic trees, and a white wall surrounding the place where the monks live and work. Visitors are greeted by a monk or a volunteer and are told that they may visit certain parts of the monastery, the Chapel, a section of the dining hall, but the rest is off limits.

Gethsemane was also the home of Thomas Merton, before he died, a famous monk and author of many books including The Seven Story Mountain. He was an anti-war activist and a hero to many seekers of faith.

Bill and I found his grave, laid among all the monks who had died, marked with a small white cross that bore his name "Father Louis". Then we decided that we need to find his cottage. Because Merton was a world renown author, he lived in solitude in a small cottage somewhere inside the monastery.

So we climbed this wall, helping one another to the top and jumped over. Our timing could not have been worse as two monks decided to use the same moment to walk underneath where Bill and I had jumped.

While Trappist monks are known for taking vows of silence, we startled them out it, and they shrieked. Bill and I merely looked at one another. I think that I cursed.

Then they happily led us out of the monastery without saying anything more leaving us where we had entered.

At the gate, Bill looked at me and shrugged his shoulder. "Well, at least we tried."

So we drove to the other holy spot that Bardstown is known for, their Tavern where Daniel Boone visited and we drank a pitcher of beer. Or two.

And we toasted how close we had come to touching a saint.

The Sound of God Calling

If you have been following this on Face Book you know that I am in St. Martin. It is a place that I dearly love. Julie and I were happily knocking off visiting Caribbean Islands until we found here.

It is the only island with two different nationalities --- Dutch and French. The story is that a Dutchman and a Frenchman met on the top of Paradises, the mountain on top of the island and they made a wager. They both loaded up the other with wine. Whoever could walk the further without passing out could claim the island for their country. France controls two-thirds. The Netherlands controls one-third. Meaning the French can drink. And those from Holland can’t.

I do not know what this means about health care in France or socialism but the food is to die for and the wine is good and cheap. But if you are a hater of the French, everything is more expensive on this side than the Dutch side but it is also much more laid back. Laissez Faire! I love it!!

Anyway, I was in the grocery store yesterday, which is a trip. The campiest Christmas music that has ever been played was being played, but you can have a beer while grocery shopping in St. Martin so it is not that bad of an experience. The place was packed and the shelves were pretty much cleaned, but you know what? Every kid in there was singing Christmas carols to the tops of their lungs, helping their mothers, and how could I not help but not smile at them? The kids were all brown signifying what we will all look like one day, I guess. It made me thank God for Christmas.

Then on Christmas Eve I danced. With Julie. With people that I met the other day. And with people that I do not know. But we all touched and smiled and twirled and wished one another holiday greetings.

Then I sat with Carlos, my dear friend, and Paul a friend of Carlos who we are growing fond of, and we talked and laughed. Julie disappeared somewhere in here, after giving Carlos kisses, and then it was time to dance so I left them too and danced.

Then it was Christmas morning and I woke early. The kids and I exchanged I-love-you’s and then the rain came, and now we spent Christmas day listening to the rain in 83 degree weather. It is a great way to spend Christmas. Julie has her computer opened and is doing whatever she does and I have my computer opened doing this and if someone walked by in the rain they would think that we are playing battleship.

So I have bounced around the Inter-Net and told people whom I love that I love them on Christmas. And those campy Christmas carols are playing on the radio. And I am thinking about those kids singing to the tops of their lungs. And my wife who lives in Atlanta now and I miss a lot. And my kids whom I dearly love. And all of the friends who I took the time to say that I love you too today, I miss them too.

But you know what? The sound of the rain is the sound of God calling to see if everything is ok. I have to go now and answer. Everything is fine.

Happy Christmas/War is Over

"And so this is Christmas and what have you done?"

Well, a lot actually.

I said goodbye to my Dad this year after he waited on me to return from from being out of the country so that he could see me one last time.

I spent a lot of good times with my children and that means that we laughed a lot. One of the best times was in Fernandina Beach having lunch with them and my Mom while we all helped Julie come up with reasons she loves the South (every year there are Civil War re-enactments for a war that the south lost and they still lose them in the reenactments!)

Julie moved to Atlanta and ours officially became a commuter marriage so everything is brand new again as she explores new paths of her growing as I do mine still based on Tybee Island.

My dear friends at the Breakfast Club continue to nurture me through the beginning of each day with coffee and laughter.

Face Book has allowed me to stay in touch with loved friends across the miles and across the years.

There is new life at work with Keller Deal, Skip Eloge, Lauren Milmine and a new fresh attitude that makes it fun again. And Charles remains a constant with his decorated trash can.

The International Street Medicine Institute, the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation Local Funding Partners Program, the Interagency Council for the Homeless, the Step Up Savannah Board of Directors and the other groups that I am honored to serve on keeps me learning new things.

And I am still blessed to live beside the ocean where I touch the miracle of creation most every day.

Happy Christmas Everyone! Thank you all!

A Trashy Christmas

Well, Charles found Christmas after all.

When he comes through the offices to empty the trash, he rolls this huge can down the hall and pours the office cans into that one. The holiday spirit evidently got the best of him because Charles has decorated his trash can. He wrapped the can with Christmas wrapping paper and then tapped candy canes all around it. I must say that it is the most festive trash can that I have ever seen.

I have tried to come up with some profound insight into the significance of Charles's decorated trash can but can't find one. Only that my adopted son and mentally ill friend has found a way to celebrate the season.

What a gift!!

Happy Christmas All!!