The Art of Saying Goodbye

A friend confessed on Facebook that she has difficulty saying, "Goodbye.", and then leaving (or hanging up the phone). She said, "I don't know if a proper goodbye is taught anymore." I can easily relate to that problem, and wonder if that's the norm these days. Do most people say, "Goodbye." 2, 3, 4 times or more before they finally get the job done?

Well, if there ever was a person who knew how to quickly exit a situation, it was my Grandpa, Arlie White. You see, my grandpa was an engineer with Union Pacific, and whether the train schedule taught him to be prompt, or if his punctuality made him destined to be an engineer, I don't know, but he was the best "goodbyer" I've ever known.

The most outstanding proof of this is a childhood memory I have of a trip to the zoo that went wrong. It was when my family lived in Salt Lake City, and my grandparents lived in Pocatello, ID, about 170 miles to the north. Grandma and Grandpa had come to visit us for a couple of days, and while they were there we decided to go visit the Hogle Zoo. Grandpa and Grandma had planned to go home directly from the zoo.

Now, to fully appreciate what happened, you must first know that the Ainsworths are not good leavers. Perhaps this shortcoming was passed on from my father's parents, but I think my dad was just too "relaxed" to think it worth the cost of being so decisive. I'm afraid I've picked up this tendency as well, but there are trade offs. There is a plethora of useful information that I have picked up in my life after saying, "Goodbye.", that I would never have learned had I actually left or hung up the phone after saying it. If you want to know what I've learned, you'll have to say, "Goodbye." the next time we talk, then hang around a while and listen.

Anyway, back to the zoo. When it came time to leave for the zoo, Grandpa and Grandma went and got in their car. Not knowing the way to the zoo, they had to wait for us to lead them (or so we thought). What slowed us down, I don't remember. Knowing how my own family operates today, it might have been a boy (that would be me) who hadn't located his shoes yet, or it could have been a sudden need for everyone to use the bathroom before leaving, or we may have each been waiting until the others were headed out the door. Regardless, we were dragging our feet, and Grandpa couldn't stand the lack of discipline. Next thing we know, Grandpa's car is exiting our driveway. He's going home!

Another memorable time was shortly after Leslie and I had moved to Colorado Springs, CO, and Grandma and Grandpa came for a visit. It was the first time they had met Leslie. The day they had planned to go home, I warned Leslie not to be offended when Grandpa decided it was time to go home. True to form, when the time came, Grandpa thanked us for our hospitality, said, "Goodbye.", walked out the door, got in his car, and...left. The look on Leslie's face made me laugh, and I had to reassure her that she had done nothing to upset them. Maybe Grandma was always like that, too, but I sort of wondered how many times she got left behind before she learned that Grandpa meant business.

Whatever the "proper" way to say goodbye, I was thankful for the opportunity to remember my grandfather, particularly this beloved trait of his. I realized, too, that though he passed away in the summer of 2002, there was something I never got around to doing.

Goodbye Grandpa.

The True Meaning of Christmas

I recently watched a video on a major news network with this exact title. The video began with a statistic stating a study revealing that only 1.3% of ads currently running mention anything about God or the birth of Jesus. The question is, then, "Has the true meaning of Christmas been lost?" Ironically, the commercial before the video was an ad for Pajamagram, with the focus on giving your significant other sexy lingerie for Christmas. I think they may be on to something.

Sadly, though, the fact that I used the word Christmas in this article will be an offense to some, both Non-Christian and Christian. Of course, if I had subsituted the word "holiday", that would probably offend another group.

We all know that "Jesus is the reason for the season", but if you say it, some will be quick to point out that Jesus could not have been born during this season, the holiday has it's roots in paganism, Jesus is no longer a baby, etc. Add to this parents lying to their children about a fantasy character named Santa Claus, the pressure to spend money you don't have, and the expectation for happiness that can never be met, and you have a sort of "perfect storm" of emotions that bring about the opposite of "on earth peace, goodwill toward men".

It's not my purpose to tear down or mock belief systems. I have my own beliefs, and I feel very strongly about them, particularly some that are in focus at this time of year. My purpose is to encourage people to take a step back from "the front lines", and consider the person who is the central figure of, not only this holiday, but of all of history.

The so called "Christmas Story", is well known. Jesus, the Son of God, was conceived by the Holy Ghost, and born of a virgin in Bethlehem. This miracle of God was a fulfillment of prophesy, an event the Jewish Nation had been looking for for centuries. However, Jesus' birth was not the end, but the beginning of the purpose or meaning of Christmas.

It's tragic that at a time when the world celebrates this beginning, that so many (especially those who believe the story) are at odds with one another, and also at odds with the One who came to bring peace. How grieving it must be to God to have his children arguing over the details of an event the details of which He purposely left hidden.

Some who celebrate this holiday may do so with thankfulness for a Savior who came into the world in meekness and humility. Some may enjoy the thought of a mythical character who brings joy to the entire world in one magical night. Others may simply take advantage of the opportunity to make memories with friends and family. And still others may choose to avoid all aspects of the holiday for reasons known only to them.

Whatever group a person may belong to, there is one thing all these people will have in common. No matter how they choose to worship their God, show love in the giving of gifts, build relationships with those they love, or retreat into their own sanctuary, they will do it imperfectly. With this in mind, I believe we should all exercise meekness and humility.

But what is the real meaning, you ask?

In my last post, I wrote about the new birth, and it's effect on believers whose faith may be waning. I did not fully understand the timing of the words I wrote, nor the need I had for my own faith to be stirred up. But God did. That night my son Micah came to me, and told me he wanted to be a Christian. How "soul refreshing" it was to share in this miracle with my wife and son. For me, that moment was full of the "true meaning of Christmas".

John 1:10-13 says, "He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God."

Jesus' birth was truly miraculous, and should give us pause, whenever we consider it. But, for me, the true meaning of Christmas is not that Jesus was born over 2000 years ago in the City of David, but that Jesus came so a young man could be reborn last Saturday in the town of Covington.

Born Again, Again

There is something about an infant or small child that exudes life. Just being near such an one makes you feel younger, more alive.

Having the privilege of witnessing the birth of all eight of my children, I know that when you see something like that, there is something of a rebirth that happens in the observer as well.

Perhaps it has something to do with being so close to the source of life that some of that new life overflows onto you. At least I imagine it to be like that.

Now that my children are older (the youngest is going on ten), I feel like I'm getting further away from the source. Thankfully, God has given me 3 grandchildren who occasionally pour themselves on me, giving me a taste of new life.

As I pondered this amazing process, I realized that our life in Christ is much the same. While Jesus is the fountain of life, himself, from which we must continually draw, there is something about the new birth experience that affects all those involved. Whether we are the instrument God uses to lead a new believer to Jesus, or an observer, or even if we only meet up with one recently converted, you almost can't help but get some new life on you!

And isn't that God's design? Didn't he plan for us, indeed command us, to "be about his business" not only for the benefit of the lost, but also that our faith would remain new, and our lights burning bright? Is there anything that makes us feel more alive than to be near when a "newborn" soul bursts forth into life?

We tend to look at the Scripture's teaching that the "older should teach the younger" and come to the conclusion that the younger have little to give. However, I believe they are intimately involved in OUR salvation experience. Were it not for their new life, and the hope for the future it brings, what would be our incentive for staying alive? Would a farmer continue to sow seed if it were not for the tender sprouts that spring forth from the ground, eventually yielding a harvest?

It's natural for the zeal that we initially experience after our own conversion to wane, and for the "newness of life" to begin aging. But God's plan is for us to share the water of life with thirsty souls, and in the process revitalize and refresh our own drying souls.

Some of you will remember the days of the hand pumps where you needed to save a small portion of water to be used for priming the pump. Without this small reserve, the vast amount of cool, refreshing water just below the surface could not be utilized.

If you are experiencing dryness in your Christian life, perhaps what you need is the priming influence of a newborn soul, whose water may be in short supply, but is right on the surface and overflowing. With it you will be able to tap into the deep well of water in your own heart, revitalizing your parched soul, and spilling over into a river of life.

The Perfect Child

In honor of his 12th birthday, I'm posting a poem I wrote when Ethan was just a year old.

The Perfect Child
(Ethan's Song)

You were to be the seventh child, on you our God had smiled.
The omen of the number sev'n, you'd be the perfect child.

Then at your birth, all was not right, your life was nearly lost,
But for the perfect child God would, must save at any cost.

As time went by, 'twas evident, imperfect you would be.
I cried, "I do not understand! Please Lord, help me to see."

I prayed that God would make you whole, and glorify his name.
But from the perfect One on high, the answer quickly came.

"Son, look again, the six are flawed, perfect the number sev'n.
They all must die and be re-born, before they're fit for Heav'n."

Dear Ethan, you God to us gave, the path to help us see.
Lead us to God and teach us how to love Him perfectly.

What's On Your List

A friend of mine recently posted on Facebook a list of 100 well known books of which the BBC says most people will have read only 6.

If you do a search of "100 best books", you will find many such lists. Because these lists are subjective, they will likely share some of the same titles, but will not be identical.

After complaining to my friend that her list favored Jane Austen and Charles Dickens, and lacked some of my favorites, I realized that there is only one list of 100 books that is essential, and that is the one you build yourself. Everyone should have a list of at least 100 works of literature that they have read.

The National Endowment for the Arts recently released a survey showing that over the last six years, the percentage of adult Americans who read works of literature has increased by about four percent. According to the N-E-A, more than half of adults read fiction, poetry, or drama. While this may show a good trend, it still means that nearly half of American adults never pick up a book, read a poem, or enjoy a play.

These days our minds are occupied with Facebook, Twitter, movies and television, and video games. So why is it important to read? The problem with entertainment is that so much of it is passive, not requiring our minds to be engaged. When I watch a movie, I don't need to use my imagination to picture the scenes because that's already been done for me. I may have the impression that I am engaged, but the fact that I don't remember the movie I watched last week tells me I was only being amused.

A literary work, on the other hand, asks me to get involved, to use my imagination and exercise my memory. And it asks me to make judgments on what I've read.

Another benefit of reading is vocabulary building, which has been linked to intelligence. Think of it as growing your brain in order to hold more words. Exercising your mind, by reading or some other mental stimulation, has also proven to ward off dementia.

One advantage technology has brought us, is the availability of great literary works in digital form. When I purchased my iPad, I did not have this benefit in mind, but with iBooks (Kindle, etc.) I now carry an entire library of books wherever I go. Now, when I find myself standing in line, waiting on my doctor, or flying on a plane, I can open any book in my library and make good use of the time. And even more wonderful, many of the books that you will find on these "best books" lists are now in the public domain, and can be downloaded for free!

So if you don't already have a list of your own, use one of the "100 best books" list as a place to get started, or ask a friend for recommendations. The important thing is to get started. And if you've already got a list, keep expanding it.

Ray Bradbury's book, "Fahrenheit 451", tells of a time when books are outlawed and burned, and the only way books are kept alive is for an underground organization to "become" books by each member memorizing one. It's ironic that today, if all the books were burned, nearly half the population wouldn't miss them.

Remember, "The person who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the person who can't read them." - Mark Twain

Who are these people?

Leslie and I went to a symphonic concert at Bass Performance Hall (home of the Fort Worth Symphony Orchestra) for my birthday. The concert featured works from Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninoff and Ravel, culminating in Ravel's Bolero, a favorite of ours.

We enjoy going to these concerts to add a little refinement and culture to our lives, in an atmosphere where professional musicians combine with excellent acoustics to provide a truly wonderful experience.

Of course, the fact that the building is designed so that the most delicate note can be heard in the farthest reaches means that the patrons must maintain quietness to keep from spoiling the experience for others.

In spite of directions to this point, and the explicit instructions to silence cell phones, there is always someone who neglects to do this, and this concert was no exception.

To my astonishment, I heard cell phones ringing, and people coughing and talking. Worst of all was the woman sitting behind us who spoke loudly to her friend about what she was hearing.

I was thinking, "Who are these people who cannot follow simple directions in order to be considerate to other people?", especially at an event such as a symphony? Then my own cell phone began shouting it's answer to my question!

You see, when I set an alarm on my phone, it still sounds even when my phone is on "silent", and about 3/4 of the way through the concert, it reminded me that I needed to call my mother, something I want to be sure to do every week.

So, who are these people? They are people just like me, who intend to do well, but have moments when they fail. People who suffer embarrassment when, in spite of their efforts, come off looking like a buffoon in a very public setting. Furthermore, just like me, they are souls for whom Christ died.

The next time you are tempted to criticize someone for their behavior, remember that you, too, are one of those people. I know I will.

I know right where everything is!

"Don't touch anything on my desk, I know right where everything is!"

I don't know how many times I heard my dad make statements such as this when trying to explain to my mother that she shouldn't try to organize his desk.

As I sit at my desk, laptop nestled into a spot I cleared for it, writing this article, I'm convinced that this organizational method is hereditary.

My wife, through the years, has learned that cleaning up my desk (much like she cleans up my sons' room when she can no longer stand the disarray) is no favor to me, nor to her.

But today I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm admitting that my "organized chaos" is inefficient, and unproductive (which is harmful), and stems primarily from procrastination (which is also harmful). So today I'm going to sort, reduce, prioritize, label, assemble, file, and systematize everything on my desk and in my office. Then I will begin the process of changing my habits to prevent the chaos from returning.

I'm certain that once this project is completed, I will be much more efficient and productive (which is helpful).

Except for one thing. Right now I know where everything is. In fact, as I look over my desk, I see my dad. And as I consider my habits, I see him, too. What if in the process of organizing myself I lose him? Right now I know right where he is.

I think this project can wait a while longer. I miss you, Dad.