A Merry Christmas . . .

. . . and today will be the Christmas I will remember for the rest of my life.

Today, my mother received the greatest gift. She no longer feels the pain of cancer. She no longer needs to suffer from her stroke type symtoms that she's had for over 20 years. No more medications. No more pain patches. No feelings of helplessness nor lack of energy. This morning at 10:10 she received her final and long awaited rest. At the young age of 59. She was able to celebrate Christmas with her Lord.

I am sitting here in her house. Actually, I am in the recliner that I spent many nights these last few weeks by her hospice bed. The bed is now folded and out of the way. There are still meds and equipment sitting around the house. There is still the liquid "food" that we used to pump into her stomack through a tube.

Mom had tongue cancer. A tumor at the base of her tongue. She never touched a cigerett. Never had alcohol that I knew of. But for some reason the cancer decided to show up there making swallowing food and meds impossible.

Death is a funny thing. Well, you know. It has a strange effect on us. We sat here and watched cancer take another victum, slowly but surely. And yet I sit here in this dim room in disbelief. Part of me wants to think she is just in the bathroom or she just stepped out for some shopping. But reality speaks louder. She IS gone. We wished and prayed that her home-going would be soon because of the pain that she was in. But now that the day is here . . . it is hard to believe . . . or accept.

In the empty halls echo her voice. Sometimes the young engergitic voice full of love and joy. Other times the weak, labored one in need but no less fill with love and joy.

I said to my wife this morning, "I have said, 'I love you, mom' so many times in my life. And countless times in the last few weeks. But when I heard that she was gone . . . I wondered if she knew. I wanted to tell her one more time . . . two or three more . . . as many times it took for her to have no doubt that her eldest son loved her." I guess it was this morning that I realized that you can't say those words enough. You can't spend too much time. You can't hug too much. No matter how much I did I wished I could do more. I can rest easy tonight knowing that my mom knew, beyond any shadow of any doubt, that I loved her. But I still would love to tell her again.

Now what! I look at my dad who stuck with mom through the wild journey. I see dreams and plans that now have been altered or cancelled. He is relieved that we are at the end. He is sad. He is tired. He is exhausted. He is lonely. He is lost. He is grateful for family. He is blessed by God's timing and faithfulness. But he is at a loss. He knows what he has to do for the calling hours and funeral. But what then. He has forgotten, I am sure, what real life is like. He's dealt with mom's latest sickness for about 3 years. Recently he was hardly ever able to leave the room let alone the house for any length of time. It doesn't help that he is an "on-the-go" type of person. He always has some project going. Perhaps that will be what keeps him going. His business will sustain him through this loss.

I realize that these thoughts are rambling and scattered. I also realize that these times of typing are mostly for myself. I am not sure of too many people who read this. But I had to write something. To organize some of my thoughts so I don't loose track of any of them. Things are so fresh. Overwhelmingly fresh. Perhaps I should wait it out before I think too much. Who knows. Like I said, death is a funny thing. It brings life into perpective. Slowly but surely. But ever so surely.

So I close in order to sleep. Tommorrow we meet with the funeral director to make final decisions. And then . . . we wait. There is more to say but I just can't find the words. Good night.

Here's to you, mom. I love you very, very much.

Sharon Lucille (Beach) Falke
July 4, 1947-December 25, 2006

She leaves behind a husband, Glen; two sons and their wives, Jeffrey & Amy and Richard and Christine; 5 grandchildren, Caleb, Jessi, Drew, Seth, and Luke. 4 living siblings and one brother in heaven, Nancy, Steve, Brad, Kim, and Robyn, her parents (still living) Richard & S. Lucille; and many, many friends and realitives who love her very, very much!

Art . . .

. . . is either plagiarism or revolution.


- Paul Gauguin

For what it's worth.

Take it . . .

A New Approach . . .

The following is a story. It could be used allegorically or it could be just that . . . a story. Comments are welcome.

Today I recalibrate. I looked around and got a new understanding of my situation. I found a new perspective that gave me better incite into my life.

I am not building a building or monument. I am not a painter nor do I decorate. But I do have a scaffold. I have a scaffold because that is what I build. Every season. Every year. Every so often. I add more. Higher or stronger. I build my scaffold.

Sometimes I rebuild after weakness or storm. I learn from mistakes. I reset the boards and strengthen the angles. I replace damage and square off the corners. Then . . . I continue to build.

You shake your head and say my work is in vain. I ask you for another board and politely disagree. There is so much to see. So much to learn. So many things to discover. And so I build.

And what do I see. Landscape. Trees and flowers. Hills and valleys. Fields and moors. I see deer, cows and horses. I see roads and buildings. Parks and playgrounds. Churches and prisons.

Most of all I see people. All types of people. Different shapes, sizes, and color. Different ages, experiences, and lifestyles. I learn from people. People have a lot to say if you ask the right questions. And as I am their student I learn to build. I learn to grow.

The more I ascend the more I understand. Like looking over a large jigsaw puzzle I can see how the pieces start to fit together. I start to understand flowers and trees. Hill and valleys. Fields and moors. I start to understand animals and also man-made things. And I start to understand people.

As I process all this understanding I become more clear about myself. About who I am. About why I build. About how I fit. And about how it isn't all about me and how I fit. It's about landscape. It's about people.

At the end of the day I find I am another level higher and a few more boards stronger. I find I am closer to the heavens. Closer to my God.

The building, my friend is not in vain. The more I build. The more I climb. The more I see. The more I experience God. The closer I get to him.

So hand me another board and a handful of nails. Join me as we climb. As we learn. As we build.

For what it's worth.

Take it . . .

It is better . . .

. . . to deserve honors and not have them than to have them and not to deserve them.

Mark Twain

For what's worth.

Take it . . .

The clock is ticking . . .

I am sitting here late at night and I should be sleeping. I will be soon I can tell. But I have been doing a lot of thinking lately.

About what?

About life.

And about . . . not life.

You see, to put it quite bluntly, my mom is dieing of cancer. I don't say that to be cold. I have and will continue to grieve. I love my mom. I will miss her. But there are somethings that makes you think when you are brought face to face with the end of life.

There is, of course the whole, "you don't know what you got until it's gone" side of things. We all have experienced that probablly too many times. With toys when we were kids, to friends, to cars, to jewelry, to pets . . . and the list goes on.

And as annoying as that is there is always the, "how is life going to continue and how is it going to be different."

But the two things that plague me the most, and I am not sure I will give this the time I'd like to tonight, are the "what if things were different" and "wow, our time on earth is quite short".

I will start with the latter.

I feel like I have raced to be a grown-up. Now that I've realized that I have attained that status I want to put on the breaks. Live is spinning too fast. Like I am on a big bike and now that I have figure out how to pedal hard I've looked up and found it is going at a break neck speed. I know we all have dealt with this . . . BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT EASIER. I want to be different. I want to always remember to enjoy the ride. Take time for the people around me. To not take anything for granted. The problem is if you remember all that stuff . . . life still goes on and then . . . it ends. No matter how you live life it will eventually come to an end. So I am plagued with am I doing it right and who really knows and what different does it make. I know I am in God's family but I wonder if my perspective is correct at any given time (oh, that could open up a whole new can of worms.)

Then that leads to the retrospective. I have made a series of decisions in my life. We all have. Some good and some . . . well . . . not so good. As I look back on the road I have chosen I wonder were there some ziggs that I could have taken zaggs. And if I did where would I be? How would I be different? Would I be richer, happier, healthier, Godlier . . . and the list goes on. Then, once I ask myself the "what if" . . . what then! It doesn't do any good to play out the results in my mind because, as I look at my history as it happened, there is always a set of unknown variables. And that is, to me, in a word . . . annoying. I have heard it said, and I am sure I have said it before, "perhaps it is better that we don't know the outcome of the "what if". People only say that because there is no way of knowing. Like they say when you have the falling dream and you don't wake up before you hit bottom you will die. Who's going to test that theory out and how can we prove it.

It is only better if we don't know the "what if" because if we did know we either see how bad it would have been or realize how sad our life really is because of where we ended up. It is probably better to play the cards we've been dealt. To be joyous and content with what we have.

Easier said than done!

So if you have any incite . . . do tell. I need to sleep

For what it's worth!

Take it . . .

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle . . .

. . . was not only the creator of Sherlock Holmes, but apparently, he was a creative practical joker, too. The story is told of one horrendous - although clever - practical joke that he played one time. He just wrote a short, unsigned telegram - all in fun - to 12 of the best known men in England. The anonymous message was the same - only six words - six scary words, "All is discovered. Flee at once." As the story goes, within 24 hours not one of those men could be found.

© 2006 Ron Hutchcraft.

For what it's worth.
Take it . . .

Happiness is always a by-product . . .

. . . It is probably a matter of temperament, and for anything I know it may be glandular. But it is not something that can be demanded from life, and if you are not happy you had better stop worrying about it and see what treasures you can pluck from your own brand of unhappiness.
- Robertson Davies

For what it's worth . . .

At the age of eleven . . .

. . . or thereabouts women acquire a poise and an ability to handle difficult situations which a man, if he is lucky, manages to achieve somewhere in the later seventies.
- PG Wodehouse

For what its worth . . .

Things . . .

. . . are more like they are now than they ever were before.
- Dwight D. Eisenhower

For What It's Worth . . .

Most people . . .

. . . are bothered by those passages of Scripture they do not understand, but the passages that bother me are those I do understand.
- Mark Twain

For What It's Worth...

Good Quote

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.
- Dr. Seuss

For what it's worth . . .

Bang, Bang

I had an interesting adventure the other day. I was at Wal-mart buying a car battery. (That is a story for another post . . . why I was at Wal-mart at 9pm on a Friday night buying a car battery.) Anyway, all that day the skies were ominous theatening to pour buckets. While I was in the store the storm finally decided to hit our area.

As I walked the isles dreaming about car stereos and iPods I could hear the thunder over head. I finished my shopping experience and brought my purchases to the register. As I headed to the exit I could hear the full brunt of the storm. The parking-lot had about 3 inches of water in it. There was dime sized peices of hail bouncing in thru the automatic doors that were, for some reason, stuck open. The night sky flashed with the thunderous lighting like the grand finale' of the July 4th fireworks display. Not one rumble would finish before another had taken the stage in another part of the sky. The winds howled with all their might bringing in stinging shards of ice and water.

In the entrance/exit way there was a young family waiting for a break in the storm. A mom and dad with 3 girls. The oldest of nine, the middle about 5 and the youngest in daddy's arms was around the age of 2. For some reason I was intriged by there responses to the storm.

During the mayhem on the outside the oldest was showing signs of being "scared". I say "scared" because she had a smile on her face. Everytime there was a clap of thunder or a big gust of wind she would try to bury her face into mom or dad while all the time she was grinning from ear to ear. It was like the storm made her feel scared but her experience was developed enough to calm her fears . . . almost enough for her to enjoy the adventure.

The middle child was crying. She was down right scared. With each cresendo of the storm her tears and howels would follow suit. As the sound sub-sided she would try to regain some composer.

The youngest sister was wide-eyed and in awe. She looked from parents to sisters to the storm and back again. She was trying to figure out, one, what was going on, two, if she should be scared like number 2 sister or be calm like number 1.

Their parents? Like most parents of three. They were mostly annoyed. The storm has slowed them down and they were meaning to have the kids in at a good hour tonight. Then they could not figure out what was more annoying . . . the storm, the hour, or the fact that she remembered that one of the windows were left open back at the house.

I then scanned the other shoppers and I made note of their reaction to the hi-sea adventure. I got to thinking about how we look at storms of life. We have different reactions based on our experiences and what we know to be true. Some of us bury our head in the sand and wait it out. Some of us get annoyed. Some of us rest on our past and try to stay strong . . . and even pretend to find joy in it. Some of us become overwhelmed and wide-eyed and we are not sure how to react. Still some build walls and try to pretend it's not there.

How do you deal with what you have to go/have gone through?

For me . . . I guess it depends on the situation. I guess it depends on our experiences. I have seen peace that passed my understand in my mother who was told the her cancer had given her 8 months to live. I have felt frustration and lack of any peace by a simple little idiot light on the dash of my Escort (again fotter for another post).

I have been told that we are given only what we can handle.

I don't believe it. Jesus was given more than he could handle when he was taken to the cross.

(NOTE: some of you more biblically versed out there might be thinking of 1 Corinthians 10:13 which is often quote in tough time "God will only give you what you can handle." You will find that the verse is referring to temptations and not storms of life.)

Things just happen. Things will happen. We can't change that most of the time. But it is how we handle the storm is what is important. We don't get far asking why. Sometimes that info isn't really helpful anyway. Why do we bother.

Do I have an answer? Yes and no. I can give insite in my experiences only. I can not give insite in to what you are going through. I can give sugguestion and an outsiders perspective. But I do not have the answers. The suggestion . . . Jesus says come to me and I will give you rest. That's all I can do for right now.

For what it's worth. . .

I have been asked many times where are some pictures of my wife and kids. I guess I always had planned, and am planning, to put a family website on the free space that came with our internet provider. But until then here is a sneak peak of the fam.


Here is my awesome wife, Amy. I hear some of you saying that I have to say that . . . she is my wife. And though that may be true. But I still think that way. She is very creative, intellengent, Christ-centered, disciplined and you can see very beautiful. I also have to say she is awesome because she puts up with me. Again I hear you say, "you have to say that." Yes, but it is still true. I have had a roller-coaster ride of carreer, emotions and spirituality in the last few years. She sees more in me than what I see in myself. She won't let me settle with anything less than what God has for me and for our family. See, I told you she is awesome.





Here are my kiddoes. And most of the time I remember they are a gift of God. They are a gift of God always . . . I just forget sometimes :). From left to right:

Caleb is 11 (just turned) and is the most like me. Jessi is 9 and is much like Amy. Drew will be 7 and is most like no one in our immediate family . . . definately his own kid. And so is Seth who is 5. Also shown is our black lab/boxer mix named Chloe.

There they are . . . my fam. Stay intouch for info on a website coming soon.

Good day!

Walking in Grace

Or should I say living in grace?

I have been doing some reading lately. And . . . It is unlike me. If you are not a reader the I would suggest this book . . .

"Blue Like Jazz" by Donald Miller

OK. I do understand the irony of telling non-readers to read a book . . . A non-reader telling non-readers . . . oi

Now that we are beyond that, Miller writes in a very art-filled way. He even describes things and situations by color. The title for instance. (Kinda like the Chris Rice song, "Smell the Color Nine".) Rambling again . . . sorry.

In this book he talks a bit about grace. Here's my explanation in my own words.

Everyone, and I think with this I can get away with saying everyone, has a view of what a Christian is. Whether they are one or not. And everyone, again this is legal, has an idea of what a Christian should be. I bet I can safely say that most, if not all (again with the clarifying, argh) Christians would not consider themselves what they should be. To me this has become quite interesting lately.

Never, and I think I can get away with this absolute, has a pregnant woman ever said, "I wish I was more pregnant." Like you may have heard before, and if you haven't the statement is still true, you are either pregnant or you aren't. You can't be more than less. You can be further along in your progress . . . Closer to your due date than your sister for example. But you and your sister are both as pregnant as they come.

So, how can one be more Christian than another? That there is a loaded question. Well, in light of the previous paragraph one would have to say no. But people all over the place don't live in that reality. It seems as if we have a unwritten rule book called, "How to be the Best Christian . . . Ever". We then live our lives according to our interpretation of that book. If you drink you aren' t as good then if you don't. If you miss church you better have a good reason or you slip down in the standings. If you tithe and how much. Do you swear? Do you smoke? Do you drive a Ford? Do you vote Republican? Do you have a tattoo? Earring (guys)? Listen to secular music? Watch R-rated movies? Let your kids play with Pokemon or read Harry Potter?

As I listed those statement above I could imagine some people having a cow . . . Really?! How could you be a good Christian and ______________? You fill in the blank.

You know what. It doesn't matter.

That's what I said.

There was this group of people in the Bible that Jesus could never get along with. They were always trying to find ways to kill him or at least turn the crowds against him. The ironic thing is, these guys were the "holy of holy". The knew all the rules, kept all the rules, and even wrote a whole bunch of them. They helped people realize the error of their ways. If they were so holy then why didn't they mesh with the Son of God? In short, they were all about the rules. Jesus' whole motif was about love. God's love. God so loved the world that he gave Jesus for that world.

Let me explain . . .
I have four children. My children all know that they are just that . . . My children. They are not like the neighbor kid that can only come over if he calls first . . . And when he does he can only stay for a limited time, like until its time for supper. Also, they are not like the pet dog that is only allowed on certain furniture and in certain rooms. For the most part they have free reign of the house. They don't call before coming over . . . They don't even have to knock at the front door to come in. They know that if they come home from school and walk into the house, go straight into the living room they can crawl up on daddy's lap and be loved and accepted. That's the way it is. They are my children. They belong in the house. They belong with me.

Like all households, in our house their are rules. Nothing too far out of the ordinary. Don't leave your shoes on past the entrance way. Don't write on the walls. Don't touch the stove just to name only a few. We have these rules because we love them. And because we love them we want them to live in a nice house and to stay safe. In turn, they follow the rules because of the same reasons . . . They know we love them and so forth. If my oldest son runs in all excited about winning his soccer game and forgets to take off his cleats he doesn't his loose his rank. He isn't demoted to neighbor-kid status. He gets reminded (well, re-reminded) of the rule. He heads back to the entrance way to remove his shoes . . . Of course this is after he gives me the highlights of the game. As a good father I would be more concerned about hearing his story than the rule that was broken (I often am quick on the rules . . . Hence the "good" part of that sentence. I'm still learning.) There may be a consequence for the broken rule like having him get down and clean the mud that he tracked into the living room. But he is no less my son than he was before the indiscretion.

I could give other examples but I am sure that you get the point. If you are a Christ Folloer and If you do something wrong, whether by mistake or on purpose, you are still in. You may have consequences. You may have to break a habit. But the biggest thing is that God loves you. And those mistakes or sins have already been taken care of. You stand up, dust off your clothes, and continue living in your Father's house. It is your house. You are his!

There are things we shouldn't do. Some are clearly spelled out. You know, those based on the seven big ones: Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger, Greed, and sloth. Some things are a little more gray like: drinking, smoking, movie ratings, and political bent to name just a few. The "big ones" are there for use to protect ourselves and we should do them because God loved us enough to tell us about them and help us break free from them. The grey ones . . . Well these I call convictions. If you feel God is tell you not to do one of these than you had better not. But you better not force those convictions on everyone else. Those things are between you and God. If you feel free to do on the grey ones my suggestion is two fold. Moderatation is the key. And consider others with those convictions. Don't gloat. Don't condescend. God doesn't love anyone more than anyone else.

One quick note for those of you who say, "Isn't that like fire insurance? I accept God's grace and then I can live life however I want." On the contrary . . . If we truly love God we will live in his grace and under his suggestions for living. We live that way because we trust he knows best. (He does . . . That's what makes him God.)

In conclusion, there is nothing we can do to break free from our selfish selves (a topic of perhaps another blog and another theme of Blue Like Jazz.) God has done the work for us to be break free and be freshly clean (which is the only way we can enter heaven and hang out with him for eternity.) We can't make God love us more than he does. So it only makes sense that we live life in freedom and not wear a yoke that binds us by rules.

I have rambled long enough (can I get an amen.) I will leave you with a Hillsong song called.

So You Would Come

Before the world began
You were on His mind
And every tear you cry
Is precious in His eyes
Because of His great love
He gave His only Son
Everything was doneS
o you would come

Nothing you can do
Could make Him love you more
And nothing that you've done
Could make Him close the door
Because of His great love
He gave His only Son
Everything was done
So you would come

Come to the Father
Though your gift is small
Broken hearts, broken lives
He will take them all
The power of the Word
The power of His blood
Everything was done
So you would come


Russell Fragar
1996 Hillsong Publishing (Admin. in U.S. & Canada by Integrity's Hosanna! Music)

Pix of me in Brno, Czech Republic

I am still figuring out these blogging features. I thought I would put in some pix of me while I was in Czech Republic in June (more news on that later.)

This is a cool alley way that we found. So I ruined it by standing in front of it :). Any who. Like I said . . . more news on all of that later.

JF

Where to go from here?

So I just got home from having coffees with a friend of mine. He and I are getting aquainted after literally 10 years of seperation. I will refer to him as J.

J is a mover and a shaker. He is amazing at what he does in the business world. There is no telling where he is going to end up on the months and years to come. But what so impressive about him is not what he does and how much money he is making as much as it is how much fun he is having doing it. He loves his job. It isn't work to him. Confusious says that if you find a job you absolutly love to do you will never work a day of your life. That is what attracks me to J's way of life. He is happy. There are a few other people that I know that love what they do. I have found, that no matter what is that they do for a living, their way of life, out look on life, everything about them is very attractive.

So, as usual, I am force to look at my life. Do people feel the same about my and my job. I have a job that not anyone can do. There is skills and talents that are required. Some of those things come very easily for me and I find it quite difficult to put my finger on where I learned them. Other aspects I dread. I loose sleep over.

It is hard to say that I will do this for the rest of my life. I might. I might not. I feel like every point of my life is a learning experience for the next part. The thing is I have tons of unrelated interests.

I met a man once who was trying to figure out what we wanted to do with his life. He tried different job avenues but wasn't satisfied. Until on day he decided to sit down and write out all the things he loved to do. Money was not an issue. He dreamed big. When we exhausted his list he sat back and read over the results. He tried to figure out what he could do with some or all of the intrest represented on the page. And he did, today he runs a one man mission organization where he takes youth groups on camping trips, canue rides, cross country skiing, etc. He even does retreats where he cooks, teaches, leads games and singing or all of the above. He does make that much money but he is happy and he is good at what he does.

So I follow his lead . . . what do I enjoy doing?
Here goes:
Anything that involves music. Performing, recording, arranging, consulting, writing, touring, etc.
And everything that goes a long with that. Working with equipment such as computers, keyboards, sound systems, midi, samples, and the like.
But I love video editing as well as web site creation and maintaning.
I realy want to learn more of 3d rendering and animation.

I tend to think that I would do well to be my own boss. I get stagnate doing the same thing for too long. But I have a family that I need to support.

I don't know. And I am sorry that I don't have the answers for who ever reads this blog. But I am on a journey and I don't have the faintest idea where I am going end up. This writing is, perhaps, a tool to help me figure that out.

Thanks for listening . . . any insite would be welcome!

Yo

A Time to Say Goodbye

What once was . . . will never be
When dreams just wisp away
The trueist glimpse of reality
Came into focus just today

I saw a light there in the dark
A tiny sliver, faint and strained
I heard the lull of laughter start
Then in a blink 'twas again

Release the hand and turn around
Close your eyes, there is no sound
Take the steps, be on your way
There are no reasons left to stay

A brick, a wall with morter sturdy
Row 'pon row fixed to divide
How easy it is to mend a wall
Then to fix the wrong on either side

Tears have fallen, guilt was hung
Hearts left broken, and songs unsung
The words of why still hold no gain
The souls inside still flinch in pain

Where is hope when dawns the death
When lonesome souls their solace seek
At journey's end with empty nets
And summers fall to winters bleak

How green the grass, how blue the sky
A perfect world in my minds eye
But pushed too far, too fast to fly
One thing is left to say . . . good-bye