Time to rebuild

by | Jul 25, 2020 | Uncategorized

It has been almost twenty years since September 11, 2001. Everybody refers to that day simply as 9/11, but it wasn’t always like that. That fated day started like any other, normal, autumn day.

I was leaving my plant’s daily production meeting when our HR Manager pulled me aside. He told me that two airplanes had flown into the towers on the World Trade Center in New York, destroying them. He didn’t know if it was an accident or if we were under attack.

All air flights were immediately cancelled. Travelers were stranded across the country. The same HR Manager who had just seen the towers fall was designated to account for every one of our plant’s employees. If they were travelling, were they OK? How could we get them home?

The men who crashed four airplanes into the heart of our society had been in our country for almost two years. We had no idea how many more there were or what plans they had. In those early days, I had no idea if I should lock my young family in the house or resume our normal activities. I lay in bed at night wondering if this had been an isolated attack or if it was only the beginning.

The term “terror” was introduced to the masses.

Our nation’s policymakers kicked into top gear, making immediate changes. The Department of Homeland Security was born. Travel became confusing and inconvenient. Trash cans emerged at the security checkpoints, filled with confiscated fingernail clippers. My deodorant and toothpaste suddenly posed a security risk. Racial profiling became illegal even when the demographic of terrorists seemed specific. Three hour waits to enter the airport became normal. Luggage was screened at the designated areas, then rechecked before you boarded the plane.

The Patriot Act was swiftly passed in the largest single expansion of government oversight in history. To privacy advocates, it is still one of the most Orwellian policies ever introduced.

We were living through changes that would impact future generations, even if we didn’t realize it. Although the legal and procedural changes were enormous, there was an even more important battle raging.

Everyone was shocked by the attacks. Nobody knew what more would come. We didn’t understand people who sacrificed their lives to kill innocent people. All that we knew about the “bad guys” was that they were Muslim and middle-eastern. We had to decide how we viewed the generally peaceful Muslim inhabitants of our country. We had to face the fear we felt when we saw a group of men that appeared to be of middle-eastern descent.

Whether we realized it or not, our hearts were the primary battleground. Would we fiercely protect ourselves or reach out in love to our neighbors? Most of us started with the former and had to decide if we would pursue the latter.

We adapted and survived, but it will never be September 10th again.

Two decades later, we are facing another enemy that we do not understand. It also travels among us, difficult to identify in a crowd. Once again the responses seem disjointed and bizarre while we want things “to get back to normal”.

Our elected officials are tasked with deciding what freedoms to limit in the name of our defense. What businesses get to open? Who gets to work? Will schools reopen for the fall? Should masks be required? How many people can gather together? The implications of those decisions are enormous.

We are living through another season of change that will affect generations to come. The echoes of the past are a warning that our hearts, not our laws, will determine who we are as a society. We have to choose if we will defend at all costs or reach out in love.

The danger is slow to find, but judgment comes quickly. Heads covered by turbans are now faces uncovered by masks. We watch people suspiciously as they yawn, sneeze, or cough. The threats are real. How do we resume our lives?

We have had four months to mourn our situation, but it will never be 2019 again. We need to separate what we can change from what we cannot. The sooner we adapt, the sooner we will thrive in this season.

My church was scheduled to resume services this Sunday. Everyone eagerly awaited their chance to shake the greeter’s hand and hug the friends they haven’t seen in too long. We were ready to lift up our voices in praise together. However, as case counts grew, our hopes shrank until the lead pastor finally announced that we will have to wait for at least three more months before traditional services return.

His two-part message also announced the introduction of Circles. They are on-site gatherings at our church campuses with tables holding up to five people each. There are lots of restrictions, but also the first glimpse of resuming our lives. We are beginning to find our way in 2020.

I don’t know how my church family is receiving these changes, but I am as proud as I’ve ever been. In this small step, we have demonstrated that we are bigger than the threat that faces us. Although the virus may mutate, we will evolve faster. Faith, hope, and love are beginning to conquer the fear and uncertainty that has strangled our country.

We will never again wake up in yesterday. We can’t sit back and wait for things to return to a normal that isn’t coming.

Creativity, adaptability, and commitment to change must mark our next season. Maybe Circles are the way of the future and maybe they launch imperfectly. It doesn’t matter. We are beginning to lay the bricks that build our future.

Twenty years from now, we will reflect on the ways COVID changed our country. In retrospect, some of our decisions will seem as naive as the trash cans full of confiscated fingernail clippers. Then as now, we won’t remember each choice, but we will remember what we decided was worth fighting for.

I choose to make my employer successful in an embattled economy. I choose to find a way to worship with others. I choose to strengthen my community.

Just like the Circles at my church, I will have to start small and lay one brick at a time. If my work is torn down, I will start again. Life goes on.

I encourage everyone to choose something to fight for. Find a way to embrace what has slipped away from us. Navigate through the various orders that have posed obstacles. Respect authority but do not surrender what our hearts hold dear.

Our circumstances may be fractured, but our spirits cannot be broken. It is time to rebuild.

I’ve got two projects that are racing around in my mind. One will encourage worship and community. The other is an investment in my family. I’d love to share those now, but they will have to wait until another post and another day. I’ve got work to do building the future.

The 2020 Wedding

The 2020 Wedding

by | Jul 10, 2020 | Uncategorized

It only could have happened in 2020.

On the off chance that someone picks up this post thirty years from now and reads it, they will never be able to fully appreciate that introduction. It will be like a funny story that you tell a friend who just stares back at you when they should be laughing along. No matter how hard you try to explain, they just don’t get it. In an act of final desperation, you exclaim “I guess you had to be there.” To my future readers, I apologize in advance.

Cheryl moved to Chattanooga last summer to be closer to her grandkids. Her new home was four houses down from my Dad, but their paths never crossed until this February. In an effort to get out of the house and meet some people, she begrudgingly went to a get-together sponsored by the Home Owner’s Association at the community clubhouse.

As corny as it sounds, my Dad met Cheryl at a Valentine’s Day party.

After they’d been introduced, they each noticed the other driving home or taking a walk and made it a point to strike up a conversation. The conversations turned into a dinner invitation or a shared on-line movie.

Then COVID-19 struck.

Instead of creating isolation, the weeks-turned-months of The Lockdown gave them the chance to spend unlimited time together. They realized all the things they had in common, found that they enjoyed each other’s company, and…you knew where this was going from the Valentine’s Day reference, right?

They boldly set July 4th as their wedding date. Potential virus exposure made it a family-only event. They planned a simple ceremony and everything was progressing well until The Spike. The first victim was me and my family. With Texas lit up like a big ol’ coronavirus candle, we had to stay home.

My sister Kelly’s daughter contracted a fever the afternoon before the wedding. I remember when a kid with a low-grade fever was no big deal. In 2020, it is like finding out that you are about to spontaneously combust. Michal will get her COVID screen at the first available appointment, which will be most of a week after the fever that only lasted two hours. For now, she is locked away like Rapunzel. Kelly and her other two daughters drove to the wedding anyway, but wore masks and lurked in the shadows.

The twenty-five minute ceremony was held in a beautiful spot on the bank of the Tennessee River (a hundred yards from Dad’s house) and broadcast on Facebook Live. The minister kept a seven-foot social distance from the bride and groom. The families fanned out as if the wind had blown them, requiring each camera shot to take several seconds to slowly pan the small but scattered crowd.

Preston’s grand-daughter was adorable as she struggled with the bubble shooter before finally aiming and successfully firing at her toes. Cheryl’s family played a song beautifully on the violin and guitar, Kelly’s daughter sang her song wonderfully, and I blessed the happy couple with a closing prayer that was broadcast via a Bluetooth speaker (since I was 800 miles away).

Pictures were taken after the ceremony with people careful not to touch each other and some smiles hidden underneath the masks that were worn in an abundance of caution.

The irregularities may have been newsworthy in a different time, but in 2020 nobody noticed a thing.

The unusual wedding may not be most people’s ideal, but it was Cheryl and Dad’s blessing. Most people will remember 2020 as the year they were cut off from everyone. Cheryl and Jim will remember it as the year they were brought together. Most people will recall 2020 with a shudder because they couldn’t do anything they wanted. Cheryl and Jim will remember it as the year they were never interrupted. Most people will reflect on 2020 as a year that couldn’t end soon enough. Cheryl and Jim will remember it as a season they hope never ends.

When I tell people about the wedding, I get one of two responses. The first response is to laugh that someone would try to hold a wedding in the middle of a pandemic. The second response is surprise that anyone would remarry in their seventies.

I’m proud of my father and his new wife. They knew the ceremony would be nontraditional. They also knew they would have to release decades worth of habits as they build a new life together. That takes courage.

In his new house, Dad probably won’t be able to find his phone charger or know where to put laundry away. It will be weeks before he figures out where to put his rowing machine and even longer before he adjusts to his trusty, green recliner being gone. Cheryl cleared out space in her home after her decorator had just finished. She gave up half her drawers and closet space. Wow!

Each of them let go of the parts of their past that stood in the way of embracing their dreams in the future.

God has good plans for all of us, but they are scary sometimes. We have to let go of preferences and the ideas of “how things are supposed to be” and have faith that He has something even better for us.

So much gloom has hung over the past months. Stay-in-place orders, shutdowns of businesses, remote-only worship services, record unemployment rates, and the looming specter that schools may not open for the fall. Too many days, Kim and I have looked at each other and asked what we want to do tonight only to shrug apathetically and respond that we feel “Meh”.

It is time to dream again. It is time to believe that God has Jeremiah 29:11 visions for each of us and that he will unveil them if we continue to ask. When we have doubts, may God open our eyes.

When I needed hope, God gave me something better than a hillside full of warriors. He showed me my dad, whose open eyes were able to focus on the prize without being distracted by the events that surrounded him. Regardless of all the “only in 2020” moments captured in each picture’s background, every image shows him focused on the life and love that God placed in front of him

I am so lucky to have a dad whose love eclipses his comfort. I am thankful that his hope is bigger than his fear. And he was favored to find a woman just as noble.

Congratulations, Cheryl and Dad. May you have long lives together, filled with love and joy. Thank you for continuing to demonstrate how to live a kingdom life.