Glorious

I stumbled through the door marked "Exit Only" where Jodee and the boys were busy prepping for the day.

"Whoa!" Jodee yelled, "you are early!"

I ignored him and stumbled straight to the coffee pot only to find that it was empty. "Shit!" I muttered.

Taking sympathy on me, Jodee left the 200 pieces of bacon he was frying and led me through making a large cup on his newest gadget.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Going to Atlanta," I answered.

Fruitful trip?" he cheerfully asked.

"Are you kidding?"

He seemed to understand. I waved goodbye and left through the door marked "Exit only"

I drove back home and took Goddess for a walk in the dark sipping on the coffee. This day was beginning like yesterday ended.

Yesterday had been a perfectly good day that somehow slipped away as it went along. Like a handful of sand that I was trying to hold onto, ever so slowly, the goodness fell away, and it ended a bummer.

When I got home, Goddess was happy to see me but I wasn't in the mood to respond correctly so I went through the motions but with little feeling. This morning I was feeling bad about that so took her on a walk at 5:15 before heading to the airport to travel to the Center of the Universe, which is what Atlanta believes it is.

Then I saw the moon lightly kissing the Back River and leaving it aglow and full of love. I wanted to jump in but Goddess pulled me in the other direction. That's the way it is right? We discover the love that we want to explore and things pull us in the other direction. So it becomes a fight to get there. And if we are committed to it, we continue the struggle until we finally find ourselves submerged in love.

Or we walk away from it. I believe that a lot of people walk away from it because they refuse to fight for it or because it is not love that they want but something else. Or because they love themselves more than they are capable of loving someone else.

Now a bright sun is rising and I see that it is going to be a glorious day. I want to be glorious today. I want to be surrounded by glorious people. I want to hold someone who is glorious.

And the rising sun gives me hope. To be where I'm going. In the sunshine of your love.

A Better Offer

Once during a concert, Arlo Guthrie was talking and suddenly stopped and said, "I know I'm supposed to be singing but you can't always do what you're supposed to do."

The crowd applauded and he continued telling his story.

And it's true, you can't always do what you are supposed to do.

Sometimes in life you have to do something else which is normally frightening and scary. It's like jumping off of a cliff. You hope you land in a better place though there is always the possibility of crashing and burning. Still it is something that you know with everything inside of you that you have to do it.

Your friends will both encourage and discourage you as you contemplate making a change. Everybody hates change and does their best to avoid it. But in the end only you decide because you know you have to do what you have to do. You just pray that there are no regrets.

And that is how we live our lives.

Lovers leave one another. Marriages begin and they end. Jobs are found and they are lost. A new born baby is brought into a home as a teenager leaves another one. Careers are discovered and they are destroyed. Commitments are made and they are broken. These things happen every day.

And in the end, it matters most when these things are happening to us individually. I suppose it is best when we are the initiators of doing something else because we know where we are trying to get to. But our actions effect someone else and they are left to cope with change that they did not ask for but have it anyway.

The other day my son Jeremy was talking about taking the time to appreciate the good things that come your way as they are happening. Because they do not last. "We're gonna love it while it last," goes the song.

So we spend our lives looking for those moments. Because there is no day but today. And really no moment but this one to really live. Too many spend too much of their time just getting by or existing in the situation they find themselves in. That isn't living. So you always have to be on your toes to discover the opportunities that make you come alive.

So yesterday I had promised Shirely Sessions that Keller Deal and I would attend the United Way Volunteer Recognition ceremony. I love Shirely and would do pretty much anything that she asks, but yesterday I got a better offer. So Keller and Sarah covered for me and I didn't do what I was supposed to do.

I did something better.

Father Phil

"Is this my friend the Beach Patrolman and the Baptist?" the called asked.

"Who is this?" I replied. "My friends do not call me names like that."

"You Catholic friend from Cleveland," he answered.

"Oh Hi Phil," I quickly responded.

Phil is a priest who has become a friend over the past several years. We like to stand on the beach and conserve seriously about the state of religion.

"Phil," I once told him as we sipped beer and stared at the sea, "My dearly departed friend Vernon Robertson once told me that every successful organization has at least one Son-of-a-bitch. And that is why the Catholic Church has the Pope."

"What?" he exclaimed.

"The people want Priest to marry. The Pope says no. The people want birth control. The Pope says no. The people want Nuns to have more authority in the Church. The Pope says no. See what I'm saying?"

"Well the problem with you Baptist is that you have a hundred thousand Sons-of-bitches all wanting to be the one."

He had me there.

Anyway, he called out of the blue as he ran across my phone number while he was cleaning out some things and immediately dialed.

"I was thinking about you the other day as I baptized Issac," he began.

"Who's Issac?"

"A homeless schizophrenic. A couple of Alter boys had to hold him still as I did the baptism."

"And this reminded you of me?"

Phil laughed. "Well, not you really but your work. I've still got your books and refer to them from time to time."

"Oh, you're the one," I answer.

"So what's been going on?" he asked.

And I told him. From the last time I saw him in June until yesterday. I confessed it all and didn't have to worry about entering one of those musty booths. When I finished he was quite for several long seconds.

"Do you believe in God?" he finally asked.

"What?"

"I think that it was God who made me find your phone number so that I would call you."

"You think God doesn't delegate these less important matters to someone else?"

"Micheal," he chided.

"OK, I believe in serendipity."

Then he went on to tell me that we should talk more often and that if I don't call him, he will call me so I'd better get used to it. Then he told me that I was going to be the focus of his prayers in Mass until we see each other again in June. Then he hung up with a quick blessing of thanks for my life.

I laid the phone on the table on the back deck and propped my feet on the rail. I looked at the bright sun and the blue skies and the green leaves dancing in the salty ocean breeze. And I thought about Phil. And Stacy. And Shirely. Bill. Mary Ann. Keller. Mom. Healing Hands. And the other gifts who somehow appeared over the past several months.

And I thought that in spite of shitstorms that we sometimes live through, God is indeed good.

Getting the Call (For Mandy)

Dr. Guy Gaines Sayles, Jr.is the pastor of the Baptist Church in Ashville, N.C. He is also the person largely responsible for me becoming a minister in the first place.

Our friendship is also the reason Guy has moved so much throughout his ministry. As soon as people discover that he was the person who first suggested that I attend seminary, they partially blame him for everything that I have done as a clergyman. After a while, he can’t take it anymore and God calls him to a new church.

To set the record straight, I was completing my college career, having crammed four years into five, learned about birth control with the birth of Jeremy, and had finally conceded that the band that I was in would not replace the Beatles.

The telephone rang. Upon answering, I learned that it was Guy, who had graduated on time and was now in his first year at the seminary in Louisville.

“Mike, I’m just calling to ask you a question,” he began. “What are you going to do with the rest of your life?”

It was a good question. I had absolutely no idea. College was finishing with me more than I was finishing school. In the past couple of years, my education had finally become important to me (a new born son is a great motivator) and I was determined to learn everything that I had previously missed in life. Because I was raised in the church and cared about my religion, I began taking classes in the area and soon met the seminary bound, already called, Guy.

“I have no idea,” I answered.

“Well, why don’t you come to seminary.”

After thinking about it for a few seconds, I said that this sounded like a good idea, thanked him for the suggestion and hung up the phone. This is how God called me to attend seminary. This is as close to a direct call from God as I have ever received.

During seminary, I became the pastor of the Jefferson Street Baptist Chapel in the inner city of Louisville, and Guy was pastor to a country church in Tunnel Hill, Indiana. We were together often and shared a great deal of our experiences as “professional Christians” with one another. A professional Christian is someone who is paid to follow in the footsteps of Jesus while everyone else has to volunteer.

Our churches were as different from one another as they could possibly be. Guy’s was pretty much a traditional church with trustees, deacons, budgets, an organized and functional Sunday School, excellent music and a lot of neat stuff for the kids to do.

Jeff Street, as it was called, had no deacons, no budget, only one Sunday School class, no music and nothing for neighborhood kids to do except try to break into the normally empty church. In fact, the congregation at Jeff Street actually consisted of only five old ladies who apparently never bothered to learn that a man had to be involved for a church to be in good standing with the Southern Baptist Convention. I suppose that this is why they hired me.

Under Guy’s leadership, his church grew in every area. They even paved a new parking lot while he was there to accommodate all of the people who came to listen to him preach. Guy is one of the best preachers that I have ever heard and probably the smartest person I know.

At Jeff Street, I had to get up early on Sunday mornings and drive around trying to convince barely sober homeless people and prostitutes to attend and listen to me deliver a sermon. No one in the inner city could drive and they certainly wouldn’t walk to church, so if I wanted a congregation on Sunday mornings, I had to do round them up. Having never preached a sermon in my life, I developed an alternative style of preaching. This occurred because those who did congregate with me normally slept through my sermons. I tried to develop a delivery that was both interesting and kept Ms. Wynn from snoring.

While Guy continued to grow as a preacher, I developed a sense of showmanship. For example, I looked for ways to speak God’s message without preaching.

At Jeff Street, we were every bit as likely to have alternative worship rather than a traditional service. For example, one Christmas Sunday we held a trial instead of a sermon. Instead of having a choir sit in the choir loft, we chose twelve persons in attendance to sit on a jury in their place. Because I had a robe that came with the church, I served as the judge. Two other members of the church served as the attorneys.

On trial was none other than Santa Claus. His charge was selling out and making Christmas too commercial. (On the previous Sunday, we had watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and everyone agreed with Lucy’s assessment that Christmas is a big commercial racket sponsored by the Syndicate.) Santa Claus himself entered the sanctuary turned into a courtroom, dressed in his red suit with long flowing white beard and was seated across from the jurors in the choir loft. Everyone in the church was wide awake and gave their utmost attention to the trial.

This was Santa Claus, after all, and no one wanted to make him mad lest he not show up at their house on Christmas Eve. Compelling arguments were given by the would-be attorneys, but in the end, he was acquitted by the jury.

As judge, I should have thrown the case out anyway as I observed two members of the jury slide their Christmas lists to the defendant during the closing arguments. This was typical of the Jeff Street approach to formal worship services.

As the years passed, Guy eventually graduated from seminary on time and decided to distance himself from me by being called to another church. At his new church, Guy made friends with a black minister and called me one night to inform me that the people of his town thought so much of his idea to invite this new friend to preach at the revival he was hosting that they were burning a cross in his yard to show their appreciation. Soon afterwards, Guy was called to another church in the more northern part of the state.

It took me several more years to graduate from seminary as I crammed three years worth of education into six. A couple of years later, I resigned my life as professional Christian and began working with homeless people on a full-time basis. Guy has since been called by God to pastor a half-dozen churches and I have now worked with the fragile people for all of these years. He now avoids me at all cost but has become incredibly successful.

I, on the other hand, am having fun.

Taking and Giving

Goddess didn't want me to run this morning. When I got on the floor to stretch and do push-ups she crawled up under me and wanted to play. She had me giggling at 7 a.m. Then I wrapped the bandanna around my forehead and grabbed my I-pod to go for my run anway. She blocked the door in defiance. She can be a real bitch sometimes.

But she was so cute and her tail was wagging at the speed of light so I laughed again and conceded. We went for a long walk instead. The tides are very high and the wind is whipping and Goddess loves this weather.

Making our way to the end of Shirley's sad but holy little dock, Goddess stood still with her head held high. Her gaze was across the marsh and I watched her watch the Back River. This is the first time that I've ever noticed Goddess lingering. She was in no hurry to leave the dock.

So I pet her and give her loves and ponder the day. I feel like a million bucks as I have since Thursday when I ran around the Washington monument and felt myself being reborn.

I ponder the wealth of friends who have been incredible over the pst few months. Each and every one has been incredible. And I think that I have been doing all of the taking lately. I've had so little to give. But the good friends didn't seem to mind so they kept it a one way relationship for a while.

Goddess decides to lick my knee as I think these things. She is ready to go. So we walk. Throughout the past few months I have tried to express thanksgiving for a lot of people. But now I am back and it is time for me to start giving. It feels good to think these things.

Back home, Goddess continues to play while I jump on the phone and call a friend who is handling some rough stuff right now. There is the sad weariness that I have come to know too well as I traveled through the dark places. But there is also laughter that erupts through. And I hold on to the laughter and tuck it in my heart because I want to grow it so that it becomes a constant thing.

And Goddess backs up between my legs wanting me to rub her. So I hang up the phone with a lighter heard and play with her. It is the start of a great day!

Loss

Now the winter has come
to eclipse in the sun
that has lighted my love for some time

And a cold wind now blows
not much tenderness flows
from the heart of someone feeling so tired

So sings George Harrison in one of the saddest songs that I have ever heard. Titled "So Sad," it is about loss.

Over the past year and a half, I have learned all about loss. I've lost a major program, a friend/employee who I trusted completely, a piece of my reputation, my Dad, and my wife. That is a lot of loss in a relatively short period of time! Most of the time I didn't think that I could bear it but somehow I did.

The first two things to know about loss is that it makes you sadder than you ever thought you could be and that it leaves you bone tired. All of the time! The saddess and the weariness are so heavy that it can litterally drive you to your knees on the floor and your own sobs are the only noise.

"Don't they know, it's the end of the world?" as another song goes. And in the aftermath of loss, this is what we quickly conclude and in a sense, that is right, because our world is no longer the same as it was. That world has come to an end.

But life goes on.

And you are amazed that life goes on. How? Why?

Then when you are on the floor sobbing, your dog licks the tears away from your face and you hug that animal as you never have before. Or a friend stops by unannounced and uninvited and makes you get up and deal. Or someone you knew but didn't know cared reaches out and lets you know that you are loved anyway. Or an old friend calls and makes you laugh when laughter is the very last thing that you want to do.

And it goes on like this for a while. Much too long. And you remain sad and tired. and you visit all of the dark places. And you love the darkness.

Then you notice the sun rising. The skies become brilliantly blue. The ocean becomes like glass. Your heart begins to jump when new friends and old friends touch it. And the darkness begins to fade, ever so slowly.

And you can be doing anything. Running around the Washington Monument. Listening to your I-pod. Thinking about new friends who have touched your heart. And without a moments notice, you are reborn. Alive again. Feeling and sensing everything at the same time. On fire! Yourself again! Yet different. Richer because of the loss.

The Land of the Rich and of the Brave

"Did you see how much those rooms cost?" Herb asked as we made our way down the escalator at Reagan National.

"Yep, that's why it is only the rich who play up here," I replied.

Not that we didn't see the poor. Homeless people are everywhere in Washington D.C. You can't help but step over them as you make your way through the city. They are huddled in blankets or shake cups begging for alms. Mostly they are ignored here.

Then there are the protesters who seem to be everywhere. Peta was screaming about animal rights. Earth Day people were everywhere. In fact, the Mall was assembled for a huge rally. Last night when we were leaving dinner, a lone woman with a loud speaker called us murderers, though I'm not sure why. I had a fish taco and I guess it could have been her fish at one time.

But mostly we found ourselves surrounded by people who have means. They were smartly dressed, very articulate and, well, most were beautiful. At one point I looked at Lauren and said, "If you act like you belong, they will assume that you do."

But we had good friends who are big guns with us. Jane Terry, Carol Holladay and Bob Hurt shepherded us around, making introductions and arranging last minute meetings that we requested. We saw Senators and Congressmen and the people who run the agencies. At the end of it all, we knew that it had been a very good day. Good things are going to come because we were here.

That is how the game is played. It is like everything else. It's all about relationships. Who knows who. Regardless of if you are in a homeless shelter or in Congress. And next week we have a conference call with the White House because of our friends.

And we will do what we've done for the last two days. Explain what we are doing and ask if others can help. Then we will do it again. And again. Then hopefully people will start to believe in us. Because of our track record. But mostly because of the relationships that have been cultivated.

It is exhausing work that didn't end until 10:00 last night. Now I am glad to be heading home to stare at the ocean, laugh with my friends, and surround myself with healing hands again.