Lady, Can You Spare a Dime?

Posted on October 24, 2011 by jroesler728

By Jean Roesler

Recently I visited the beautiful city of Victoria on Vancouver Island. Taking the ferry to get there meant that everywhere we went we had to walk; but Victoria is easily a walkable city and a great place to explore. Like most big cities, it has its share of street artists, panhandlers, and homeless people. For some, this is a way of life; for others it’s a way to make a living; and for others it’s a way to eek out an existence. For some it’s a choice; for others it’s a necessity.

I confess that my usual response to street people is to avoid eye contact. After all, if you can’t see them, they and their art, their wares, or even their presence don’t exist and I don’t feel as though I have to acknowledge them or give to their livelihood and choices. Another tactic is to conveniently cross the street before you get to them, and then casually look like you are interested in some storefront and that’s why you really crossed the street.

Yet, deep in my heart, I’m always confused, conflicted, and convicted that I do nothing. I tell myself that “I can’t save the whole world” or “I’d only be contributing to an addiction of some sort” or “I’m sure cities don’t want homeless people where the tourists are, so don’t contribute to the problem.” I once read that most homeless people are homeless by choice. I like to believe that, but is it really true? Probably not. I’m good at rationalizing my thoughts and actions though.

On this trip, however, I had a bag-full of Canadian coins that we had collected over the years. You can’t take them to a US bank and exchange them, so essentially they are worthless. My husband gave me the bag and told me to “spend liberally.”

My “spending” was to give to some of the street people. As I gave some coins to a young girl, I read her sign that she held out. Pregnant. I wondered where her mother was and why wasn’t she there to help. What else was there about this young girl’s story? I said a silent prayer for her and her unborn baby.

Another man was obviously handicapped. As I dropped some money into his baseball cap, I noticed at the bottom was a card that said, “Jesus.” The man gratefully thanked me.

Yes this “spending” made me feel good but it didn’t really solve my guilt problem. You see, I can’t save the world. I can’t and won’t help every homeless person that crosses my path (I’m only being realistic here). So what am I supposed to do?

Lord, don’t let me forget that once I was homeless, but by your grace, I was saved and have a home in heaven. Help me to see all the people of your world and when I’m asked, “Lady, can you spare a dime?” maybe what I should hear is “Lady, can you spare a prayer?” That I can do. 

Can you spare a prayer today for someone who needs help?

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Still Missing My Dad

Posted on October 21, 2011 by jroesler728

My dad died 15 years ago. I was given the gift of standing beside his hospital bed in our den when he breathed out and didn’t breathe in.

His death was not a surprise but it was a shock. We had been prepared for what there is no way to prepare. The gratitude I felt for his being released from the body that had stopped working competed with the pain of the little girl in me that desperately needed her daddy. I was 53 years old.

I am thinking a lot about him today because today is his birthday

Grief is a lonely thing in that nobody really gets what it is you are missing. There are some things that only the person who is now gone would really understand.

I don’t even know what to call what I am feeling today or if I need to give it a name at all. Dad and I didn’t use words very often when we were together so it seems odd to try to describe our relationship with words.

There was the day when the wind and the rain leveled a field of golden oats ready for harvest. I saw dad standing on our back porch watching the storm rob us of essential income. I did the only thing I could do. I walked out on the porch and stood by his side. Neither of us talked. I stood with him until he was ready to come in the house and then we walked in together. I think I was about 10 years old. He was my dad but for that moment we were friends.

In the spring he would plow a field all the way from our County trunk road to the start of our pinewoods. The first furrow had to be straight as an arrow. He would set his eyes on a goal and guide that sputtering John Deere tractor through the unmarked ground with never a crook or a curve. When we drove by on the County road we would both look at the straight furrow and smile. He was proud of it and I was proud of him.

Sometimes Dad made Mom nervous. I tried to assure her that he would handle the situation but she didn’t always share my confidence. One of these times was during hunting season when many hunters used our driveway to get back in the woods to hunt deer. The game warden would usually come and park outside our granary and check to make sure the hunters had bought a tag. What Mom knew as she looked out the window was that the granary door was blocking Dad’s deer for which he didn’t have a tag. Dad just stood there and told jokes to the game warden. When the game warden left Dad would come in and he and I would laugh as Mom scolded and reminded us of the fine we could have gotten but never did. We figured the deer had eaten our corn, for one thing, but also we knew it was important to kill them in the fall because if you didn’t they would die in the winter. (See Blog post “The Power of Love “ from a few days ago for an updated perspective on obeying the law!!)

Last year during an ice storm I was on a road that had a high hill. I was about to turn around when I remembered that Dad would have made it up that hill. I put the car in the lowest gear and crawled up the hill. When I got to the top I smiled. My dad died 15 years ago but maybe he didn’t.

What memories are shaping your life today?

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The Power of Love

Posted on October 19, 2011 by jroesler728

I would say that I am a careful driver. I am attentive to road conditions and aware of traffic patterns. Red lights prompt me to stop and green lights send me on my way. I will yield, merge and right turn only whenever a sign so instructs or prohibits.

The exception to this diligent obedience is adhering to speed limits. If 40 MPH seems safe to me I don’t see why I should crawl along at 25 MPH if there is no school zone and no rationale for the decision. In fact, I find myself impatient with the occasional driver that gets in my way by taking these speed limit signs seriously.

But today I have a new perspective. Today I drove the speed limit. I watched for the sign, lined my speedometer to it and clicked the cruise control. Cars pulled up behind me, realized I was ignoring their attempts to get me moving faster and whipped around me.

Why did I change? It’s not because I was given a ticket. It’s not because I have had an accident. It’s not because I read a book or listened to a lecture. The change is simply a response to being loved.

A couple of days ago my “adopted” son rode with me as I ran an errand that required more than two hours of driving. He was quiet for almost a half hour and then commented that I had a lead foot. I agreed in a way that seemed I was almost proud of it. Before long he reminded me again of what the speed limit was and what my speed was registering.  He made sure I noticed a half hidden police car.

It slowly sunk in that this younger man was concerned about my driving fast because he cared about me. As I processed his remarks I found them grounded in wisdom, some of which he has learned the hard way.

In the few years that I have known him we have developed a bond that can best be described as mother/son. During this time we have navigated some bumps in the road. Some times my visits to him have been in the County jail. Sometimes I have listened as a counselor, confronted as a parent, or encouraged as a pastor.

We are now in a new season where mother/son is the best descriptor of our relationship. Today he is the teacher and I am the learner. I am driving the speed limit today not because I think it is a good idea or even necessary. I am obeying because it is important to someone who loves me.

I wonder how often we rationalize God’s laws placing them under the authority of their making sense to us? Would it be easier to live in obedience if we did so simply because the One who wrote the laws loves us?

How do you decide when to be obedient and why?

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A Romantic Marriage Proposal

Posted on October 17, 2011 by jroesler728

It was twenty years ago that my husband asked me to marry him. He had put a lot of thought into making it a romantic event. We were out for dinner at a restaurant that rotated at the top of a high-rise hotel.  Care was taken to ensure that there were flowers on our table and a bottle of champagne was ordered.

The question was asked in three parts and I answered, “yes” to all three, but I think my husband had only planned to ask the first two.

He knelt down on one knee and asked, “Do you love me?” This was followed by, “Will you marry me?” Having settled those two issues he still maintained his kneeling position. Finally, he asked the last question. “Will you help me up?”

I think he may have submitted our honeymoon to Medicare but the claim was denied. I suppose it was not medically necessary.

What stories do you have of marrying later in life?

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Like a Fragrant Offering

Posted on October 14, 2011 by jroesler728

by Jean Roesler

As a runner, I eagerly await the day when the cool crisp air of the fall season will replace the hot and humid air of summer. Morning runs bring on a refreshing vigor and an appreciation for the change. My normal running route takes me into a local park that winds its way around a small pond. There are days in this season when it just doesn’t get any prettier: a painted blue sky, a bright sunny day, brilliant colors of red, orange, and yellow, and a still pond that reflects the colors like a mirror. A beautiful picture.

On a recent run to the park on one of those picture perfect mornings, I was treated with an entirely different view. Instead of seeing the trees reflected in the pond, I saw that the entire pond was filled with morning fog created by the cool, crisp air meeting the relatively warm waters of the pond. Slowly the fog was rising as the sun rose in the sky and warmed the air.

The Holy Spirit brought to mind the vision of the fog being the prayers that would be said in a few days by our senior adults at our annual prayer retreat. As the entire pond was covered in fog I was overwhelmed with wonder and joy at the multitude of prayers that would be said. It was as though the pond was an offering bowl and the prayers were like a fragrant offering rising up to our Lord.

On the morning of our prayer retreat as I rounded the corner to the park, I could see that there was only a whiff of fog around the edge of the pond and once again the pond reflected the beautiful colors of the trees. I smiled to myself and thought that the pond was “empty” because the Lord was already answering those prayers that would be said later that day. It was a comforting but as I continued to run, I noticed that there was a deep layer of low-lying fog in the wetlands just on the other side of the running path. What joy as I saw these “prayers of other people” starting to rise up to the Lord as the morning sun began to warm the air. Occasionally along the path I would see the fog cross over from the wetlands and into the “offering bowl” of the pond. As a ran into the not very visible mist there was a drop in temperature, just enough to let me know it was there and I thought of these as prayers for me by friends that I might not even know they are praying for me. What a delight!

Are you seeing the mist rising like a fragrant offering or are you seeing only the fog of the uncertainties and problems of life? Perhaps you need the Son to shine in your life so that the prayers for you might also rise like a fragrant offering.

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All of a Sudden It Crept Up

Posted on October 12, 2011 by jroesler728

If we are an aging person we have no way to explain the title of this post but it has been our experience. I was reviewing life with a Senior Adult couple in our church lobby recently.  As they told of their granddaughter’s plan to spend time in Spain I said, “That will give you a place to visit.”

They both shook their heads and together said that they had gotten old.  “All of a sudden it crept up,” the wife explained.  As my friend made this statement she caught the incongruity. “How can something like that be?” she mused.

Her husband tried to help by saying it was like “Jumbo Shrimp” but that didn’t really help.

Aging both stuns us with its suddenness and lulls us with its subtleness. I really don’t look in the mirror very often because I would rather picture myself at the age I feel rather than the age I look to others.

But maybe both views are important. My thinking of myself as young needs to be held in tension with the reality of my years. Then I can dream about all the things I still want to do even as I prepare for the day when I will need to let others do for me.

I pray that I can look through this bifocal lens with faith because all of a sudden it will creep up. Where are you on your journey toward becoming an older person?

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A Spectacular Color Show

Posted on October 10, 2011 by jroesler728

When you plan a weather dependent event and the elements cooperate perfectly you may be asked if you had placed a special order requesting these conditions.  This was my experience last Friday as we held our Senior Adult Prayer Retreat at a local nature center.

A gentle breeze encourages the shedding of leaves as the sun reflects the blazing glory of the autumn colors. The temperature and humidity are perfect for walking the trails and eating a picnic lunch.

Our prayer and praise sessions are being held in a comfortable room with glass walls. It is quite natural to acknowledge our Creator and marvel at His work.

As I lead from a podium in the center of the room I recognize that most of the participants are in the autumn of their lives.  Most are familiar with grief and acquainted with suffering. Many left the comforts of a known environment to join me for the adventure of a day together listening to God. We celebrate God speaking to us through His work, His world, His works and His whispers.

Many of the physical bodies are evidencing the wear and tear of years. The Bible tells us that outwardly we are wasting away. Yet, that is not our focus. Faces are glowing with the joy of worship. Tears are gently shed as the Holy Spirit breathes on hearts.

We stand amazed that our Creator is genuinely interested in talking to us and listening. The created world is showcased by the care and nurture of the nature center staff. The hearts of those who have known the loving care of Jesus are showcased as they worship.

Autumn is ablaze with His Glory!!!!

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Not With That Name

Posted on October 7, 2011 by jroesler728

I grew up on a farm 8 miles north of a town of 1000 people. No one was ever sure that a thousand people really lived there but that was the number painted on the sign that identified the town’s name. We heard that we needed that number to avoid being called a village but I don’t know if that is really true, either.

What I do know is that everybody knew everybody and knew what everybody did, said and thought. Some of this community awareness happened because people talked to and about each other a lot. Indirect information was also easy to get. Because we had a party line it was easy to quietly lift up the receiver from the wall phone and listen (as an invisible third party) to the neighbor’s conversation. We only had one lady on our party line that was unable to listen without being discovered. This is because she had a bad case of asthma and her noisy breathing alerted us to her listening ears.

Growing up with all these ears and eyes made the phrase, “It takes a village to raise a child,” seem simply like a description of how life was. Most of the time I loved the sense of being careful to protect your reputation. I wonder, now, if the reason I am longing for community is because most of my friends think we are doing life together if we meet once a week, once a month or on occasion.

But, my purpose for posting this blog is a memory of coming back to this town a few years after I had left it and finding there was a new store on Main Street with a sign “variety store.” It was well-named. As I sorted through the various items I found a few things that I wanted to buy. When I was ready to pay I realized that I didn’t have any cash with me. I had my checkbook but I was not known to the owner of this store and the address on the check was the city where I now lived.

I gave the owner of the store, who was also the cashier, my check and asked if he needed identification. He looked at the check and smiled. Then he said these precious words, “Not with that name!”

I am thankful for a family reputation that has allowed me to inherit a name that is known for integrity. I am amazed at the grace of God that allows us to inherit his name. May we be mindful today of the name we represent.

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How Long Do Flies Live?

Posted on October 5, 2011 by jroesler728

I love to be with friends who ask questions I have never thought of. This week there were three of us driving around in a van looking for odds and ends that you need from time to time to make life work. This friend, whose questions often make me smile, had been trying hard to let a fly out of the back window of the van. After several unsuccessful attempts she asked, “How long do flies live?” The unspoken thought seemed to be, “Maybe it would be easier to just let it die a natural death.”

I googled the question on my I-phone and learned that the question had been asked before. I bypassed the news that they can lay 500 eggs and settled on the life span of one to four weeks.

Wanting to keep the conversation casual, I called to the back of the van and said, “I think that one will live about a week.”

“Oh, then,” answered my friend, “Let’s just let it have a nice life if it only has one week left.”

The driver of the van, who is a carpenter, offered to make it a casket. I started planning the memorial service.  It felt good to laugh.

Let yourself laugh today!!

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Don’t Miss the Rainbow

Posted on October 3, 2011 by jroesler728

This morning I got a text message from a friend who is traveling. “Went through the most horrendous storm on our way here but got to see a wonderful double rainbow because of it” As I reflect on this past decade of working with Senior Adults this is descriptive of what I have learned from their lives.

Aging is, indeed, a diminishing experience in many ways. The journey gets harder. These bodies become more difficult to live in. But the rainbow promise holds true: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far out weighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18.

We usually think of the glory as being associated with heaven and that is true, but there also are glimpses of glory (rainbows) here. If we belong to Jesus, the same Holy Spirit that lived in Him when He walked on earth lives in us. This Spirit does not get old or sick and He is renewing our lives each day. In fact, His power is made perfect in weakness, even if the weakness is due to aging.

To become an older Christian is an opportunity to experience more excitement in your last decade than in your first. Let’s not miss the rainbow!!!

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