THE GOSPEL

 I have always been somewhat of an introvert throughout my life, especially around people I do not know very well and in social situations.  When I was young I followed the close friends that I had in these situations in interacting with people and was able to pull it off pretty well.  These few friends were easily able to act in a very normal way in groups of people and I just followed their lead in conversations and such until I felt comfortable with what I was facing in a particular moment.  My elementary school school friends, Doug, Mark and Phil allowed me to walk across these social land mines as I progressed.   During my High school years it was Ronnie, Scott and Larry as well as Debbie that filled this requirement that I had in society.  All of these friends may not have realized I was using them as a shield during these moments but I was.  They were good at being social while I was not.

After I met Barbara, she took over that role.  Barbara was as extremely outgoing as I was extremely shy, unsure of myself and very hesitant about putting myself out there for the world to see.   My whole life has been one of hiding the real me to anyone that I did not know very well, protecting myself from being judged by the world concerning my social awkwardness.  Barbara made new friends and her friends became mine.  Barbara participated in social events while I tagged along for the ride.

After Barbara died I found myself left on my own.  My social interactions were restricted to family members, both immediate and extended.  I was fairly good interacting with people that were mine and Barbara's friends, well mainly Barbara's friends that were mine my default, but even in those situations I feel like I was holding back, slipping into that shell that I hid in as a child and young adult.  I became detached from a lot of those people without Barbara to be a social buffer for me.  I simply did not, and still don't know how to interact smoothly in a social confrontation.

After Barbara passed I reconnected with an old friend of mine.  Lisa had lost her husband a few years before I lost Barbara.  We have been hanging out together and are pretty close friends.  Lisa and I are both a little gun shy when it comes to people one or the other of us do not know.  She has become a big help in my tiptoeing through those awkward situations with her friends and I helping her in situations with mine.  We compliment each other fairly well.

Lisa and I cannot be with each other all of the time though because of events going on in her life and things going on in mine so each of us still have a lot of times where we find ourselves on our own to deal with these situations. I think she is making progress while I am still stumbling through each day.

I started noticing a change in my personality over the last several months to a year concerning how I interact with people.  As most of you know I do have a severe anxiety problem that I have been working on for several years.  Now I am trying to deal with it on my own.  The change in this part of my personality is something like this.  Someone starts to talk to me and I respond.  I respond but with a little bit of anxiety thrown into the mix.  I seem to start off ok I think, but soon I notice my voice and actions becoming more animated, I start talking faster and when asked a question at this point my answer turns into this long roundabout way, throwing in facts that are not related taking a long time to say very little in a voice where I cannot control the volume, the speed or make any sense at all.  After one of these encounters I find myself back in the house thinking about what I had said and how I responded and to be totally honest, I feel embarrassed.  I feel ridiculous like I made a total fool of myself.  I end up beating myself up over it telling myself "stupid stupid stupid".

I feel like it hit a new high point of embarrassment lately.  I have decided to return to a church that has been a very important part of my life in First Baptist Grandview.  Barbara and I had left the church in the mid to late nineties because we both felt the church, and the inner politics that come with it, were heading in a complete opposite direction than where we felt a church should be headed.  Let me interject an aside here:  We were wrong to do so.  It showed we had given up on the church and instead of fighting to make changes and corrections, we ran away.  There are members of the church still there that had faith and stayed and pretty much got the church back on track,  I truly admire these people from my past.  It could not have been easy but they did it and now I am going back to a much stabler church than the one I left so many years ago.

Okay you say.  What does all of this have to do with The Gospel?  I feel like I have not given my Christian testimony on this blog which is bad considering how long the blog has existed.  My social awkwardness and my anxiety as of late has brought me to the realization of the changes going on in my mind in how I deal with talking and explaining and people looking at me like I am an out of control idiot.  I feel like I am seen as obnoxious to these people who I am meeting at the church as they try to get to know me.  So here it is.

Dr. Mike Nelson came to Grandview quite a while after Barbara and I had left.  He came to the church when it was at a critical point as far as Grandview saw the church and I believe the church had been damaged.  Not because of the immediate predecessor to Dr. Nelson, but because of the actions of some of the members.  What I have seen in that church is a healing process that has taken several years.  Dr. Nelson has put into place things that the church had lost.  He has led a tweaking of the church constitution, which is badly needed and in reality, a bit more Biblical than the one written so very long ago.  The church is growing under his pastoral leadership.

One of the things that has changed is the way in which the church takes in new members.  Back in the old days, when I became a professed Christian and church member at the ripe old age of ten or so, all a person had to do was go forward during the invitation hymn and profess their faith and belief and ask to be a member of the church.  The pastor would ask the church, more or less, "So, what do you think?  Do we accept them as a new member?" and the church would say "Sure!!" and that was that.  A new Christian and a new member of the church.  It was this approach that led to the situation that made Me and Barbara decide to leave First Grandview.

Dr. Nelson has put into place a format for membership that I feel every church should have.  The prospective member starts to attend the church and begins to be a part of it, just like the old days, but then the changes come.  Dr. Nelson has established a "New Members Class" or seminar in which you meet with other potential members in a class and Dr. Nelson leads a discussion with the group into what the church believes, how it stands on individual faith, belief and character.  After completing the class Dr. Nelson has a meeting with you individually.  He asks a lot of questions concerning your faith, the path that your life has taken over the years, and your over all testimony as to how you came to be a Christian.  During this time it also gives him a good understanding of who you are and allows him to get to know you on a personal level.  If there comes up questions in his mind as to whether there may be a problem, he takes it to other leaders in the church to discuss.  If there is a problem, you are made aware of what it might be so you can work on that part of your life.  If there are no red flags, then he presents you to the church for membership, the church knowing you have been fully vetted.  I see this as cutting off a lot of future problems that could arise down the road, as it did way back in the 90's.

This is where my anxiety kicks in. I started attending services.  Then I started attending Sunday School classes.  My new social personality slipped in and I talked, well like I described earlier.  Then I decided that I was being led back to this church so I signed up for New members class.  Oh my, I felt like my anxiety kicked into second gear when I would try to talk.  I would end up going home trying to figure out how to control my anxiety while in these situations.

Then came my individual talk with Dr. Nelson.  I felt like it was a disaster.  I talked about myself and how I had been raised in the church.  I talked about my family, my parents and my siblings and how active we were in the church.  I talked about how at 10 years old I understood what it meant to be a Christian and had been baptized.  Then cam the married years.  I told him about Barbara and all of her children's choirs she had created over the years in the churches we had attended.  I told him about how I helped Barbara by playing the piano for her kids, how that had turned into playing piano for an adult special needs class and eventually playing for the Children's Church service every week.  I spoke of my years as a deacon at the church.  My introduction to church politics and how that had been a HUGE eye opener for me as far as the church was concerned and how that eventually led me and Barb to leave First Grandview for another church.

At the end of our talk, he observed that I had mentioned the Gospel several times and wanted to know what I meant by the Gospel.  What did I think the Gospel was.  I gave a short quick answer that, in my mind, does not suffice in describing the Gospel.  I told Dr. Nelson that earlier in my life I would probably quote John 3:16 to describe the Gospel but since that time I had discovered 1st Corinthians 15.  We discussed that chapter of the Bible and then the talk was over.

Since that day I have given it a lot of thought.  What exactly IS the Gospel in my belief.  Here is my answer:

The Gospel is the Bible taken as a whole, both Old and New Testaments,  I believe that when you study The Book you can find not only God, but Jesus the Son throughout the entirety of it, again both Old and New Testaments.  The Gospel is The Word Of God, written by men who were told what to write by God.  Many people say inspired by God and I think that works as well.  It is a book that explains to us that God is The trinity, The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit. It is a book on how to live life, a godly life.  It is a book on what God expects of us and a book of God's incredible love for each and every one of us.  It is a book that explains how each and everyone of us are flawed because of the fall of man in Eden and that we can never live up to God's standard.  It is a book that tells how God sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to the earth to teach us and much more.  Jesus was born to a virgin, conceived to be pure and without sin by God.  Jesus was the ultimate Sacrifice to God by God to atone for our imperfections, or sins.  It is a book that gives us hope and assurance that Christ acts as our intermediary between us and God so that our sins are forgiven.  It is a book that tells how Jesus, after being Sacrificed was taken back into Heaven through the Ascension to sit on the right hand of God.   It is a book that tells of God then sending the Holy Spirit to fill our lives and helps us on our journey towards what God wants us to be.  It is a book that saves us from eternal damnation to an eternal life in the Presence of God.  It is a book that tells us that the only way to be forgiven and saved is to believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and came to earth, was sacrificed and rose from the dead to make it possible for God to forgive us of our oh so imperfect lives.

We fall short on a daily basis in God's eyes.  Many times a day.  None of us are perfect.  It is impossible.  We are human.  God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit are the Trinity, Three in One.

The Gospel is the entire Bible.  Every word of it given to us by God for us. It is a Book that should be taken seriously and studied and to learn from.  To gain knowledge and wisdom.  I do not believe any man can understand the Bible totally.  There is so very much in it. 

That might sound a bit ... disorganized of an explanation, but that is how my mind works these days.

So, to me that is what The Gospel is.  It is what I believe and what I hold dear.

IMPACT ALBUMS ON MY LIFE

 I saw a video on YouTube the other day where a British man was telling what albums, or singles had "Changed My Life".  I got to thinking about that.  Can a recording of music actually change a person's life?  As far as the path that your life takes you on, all the twists and turns, I don't think so.  Maybe if you became a musician, then I suppose it could, but for most of us others, not so much.  The music I have listened to over the course of life has not had much impact on my chosen career, my choice of a mate,  where I lived, what kind of car I drive ... you get the point.  Music in my life is a side note.  A hobby, a somewhat mediocre talent, a pleasant diversion.  Some music may have had a small influence on my philosophy of life, but I rather doubt it.  Some people are book people, some are movie people and some are music people.  The majority of us are all three but with one taking more of our attention than the other two.  I most definitely am a music person.

I started browsing through the albums that I have on my computer.  This takes a little time.  Over my 66 years on this earth I have managed to collect 2,100 albums that contain approximately 28,300 songs.  This tally does not include all the vinyl albums and singles that I have not yet converted to a computer format.  To be clear, I dedicated a computer just for the storage of music.  I don't know how I ended up with so much music or even why, except for the fact that I love it.  It comes to about 31 albums a year since the day I was born.  Looking at that total makes me think I may have gone a little overboard with my hobby.  Hobby sounds better than an obsession I think.  When I browse through the collection every once in awhile I see an album and something inside of me just makes me stop.  These albums are the ones that must have a hold of something deep inside of me.  As I was starting to write this, I am ashamed to say, another CD arrived from Amazon.  To be fair, It is my third copy of this album.  With the new technology of 2020's fabulous remixes of albums that were recorded in the 60's through the 80's are being reissued that bring a freshness and a clearer sound to the originals.  I do not buy a lot of these.  If I buy a remix it usually means it is a Beatles album or one of those albums that are extra special to me.

 The album that arrived today is one of those albums that has a hold of me and has since I first heard it way back in 1985.  SCARECROW by John Mellencamp was released in the same year as the FarmAide concert that raised money to help the farmers of this great land during a period of time when many farmers were losing their farms due to economic pressures.  Mellencamp is from rural Indiana where he still resides.  It was in that rural town where he recorded the album.  I am not sure what brought me to the point of buying this recording.  I didn't watch most of FarmAide.  I had heard Mellencamp before from a couple of hit singles of his.  Perhaps it was just a timing thing.  I saw the album in the store, I knew that I liked his sound and decided to buy it.  From the first listen though, this thing had me hooked.   This album is basically a biographical album.  The lyrics tell the story of life in the midwest.  The hardships as well as the blessings of living out in the country.  It is a brutally honest album.  The sound of Mellencamp is a style that is hard to pull off in a studio.  It is a raw sound.  There isn't a lot of fancy over dubbing or polishing the sound.  It feels like a neighborhood band you would hear back in the 70's and 80s as you walked around the neighborhood in the early summer evenings.  For me personally, I can identify with every single song on this album.  The lyrics are not fancy or anything.  There isn't a lot of hidden meaning in them.  They come out and hit you in the face with the message that Mellencamp is sending to you.  Yet, I find myself quoting those lyrics from this album many times.  I am sure I have quoted this album on some Facebook posts now and again.  It is an album that sends a message to the American society that all is not sunshine and roses.  It was the beginning of his generation of musicians to bring out the awareness of problems in the world.  Every group of artists have their voice of conscience that leads them.  From Woody Guthrie, to Bob Dylan to John Mellencamp. This is a very special recording.

"Ten Records For A Penny!"  That was the ad that brought this next album into my life.  It was an ad for Columbia Record Club and an offer that my sister Elaine could not refuse.  I remember when her box of albums arrived at the house.  It was somewhere in the time frame of 1969 to 1970 I think.  She owned a little stereo with detachable speakers and one of those evil stack-able record changers that I would grow to despise.  It just did not, and still doesn't, seem right to me to drop precious vinyl records from a height of 6 inches onto each other simply because it is more convenient than getting up and changing the record by hand .... but that is another story.  The day her records came, or soon after, I remember her boyfriend at the time coming over to listen to the records with my sister.  Mom would not allow Mike to go up to Elaine's room, so she brought the stereo to the living room. They detached the speakers and Mike laid down on the living room floor with his head between the speakers.  She had picked some pretty bad records but then again she did manage to get a couple of really good ones.  One album that I heard that day caught me ear though.  People that came to know me over the years associated me with two groups.  One was The Beatles and the other was Three Dog Night.  The day I heard that album for the first time and that moment in time would haunt my mother up until still today, but her ghost wouldn't be a song from this album.  I had heard Three Dog Night a year or so earlier when one of my sisters bought the single "ONE".  I thought it was a very good song and liked it but didn't give it much more thought.  I ended up with most of each of my sisters records and I still have that 45 rpm of ONE.  But this album was different.  The album was their fourth album titled "IT AIN'T EASY".  The songs on this album range from an Elton John ballad to a couple of rockin' numbers to a country leaning song.  I think what grabbed me while listening to this album was not only the variety of songs but the incredible harmonies the three singers created.  This album also contained their first number one hit, a Randy Newman song "MAMA TOLD ME NOT TO COME".  This was the highlight of the album.  Incredible lead vocals by Cory Wells with Chuck Negron and Danny Hutton joining in on the chorus.  That song was the glue that held the whole album together into a work of art that buried itself into my head.  I would eventually buy my own copy of it and after wearing it out purchase a second one to replace it.  By the time it came out on CD I was on my third copy of the album.  I don't consider this their best album, but when I go to play a Three Dog Night recording, this is the first one I listen to.  This album is embedded in my life.  It became part of my music soul.  It began a lifelong love affair with the music of Three Dog Night.  So to my mother, the next time you hear me playing or singing "JOY TO THE WORLD" just to irritate you, thank your daughter Elaine.  This is a very special recording.

 

I have already written about this next album in a post titled "THE IMPORTANCE OF GOODBYE".  I read it just a minute ago and I do not think I can write about it any better than I have already.  It is a 2016 release by Leonard Cohen.  Here is what I wrote:

I have been haunted as of late by Leonard Cohen's last album before he passed away.  Cohen had a special following of fans, some of them didn't even know they were fans.  Cohen's songs were covered by many other artists who got a lot of airplay for their interpretation of his songs.  The most recent group to hit it big thanks to Leonard Cohen was a group called Pentatonix, who recorded Cohen's "Hallelujah" on their Christmas album last year even though the song has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas.  It is kind of like a group of Christian teens who decided to sing George Harrison's "My Sweet Lord" in a Youth for Christ meeting when I was young teenager.  They decided not to do it once they realized that Harrison's "Sweet Lord" was the Hare Krishna, a far cry from their Lord that they thought they were going to praise that night.   See, this is why I always say "LISTEN TO THE LYRICS PEOPLE!".  There are a lot of songs out there that actually have some philosophical meaning if you stop to actually listen to what the writer is trying to say.

Leonard Cohen's songs were like that.  His writing was usually dark and foreboding.  He seemed to always slip in some religious themes in his songs and most of the time his songs wrapped around broken or lost love, lost loved ones and the poor future of our civilization that was to come.  At the same time he was penning these dark lyrics, he was putting them to beautiful melodies.

As Cohen aged into his eighties, he set out to write a set of songs that expressed what he was feeling as he became closer to facing his own death.  The album was titled "You Want It Darker" which was also the title of the first track on the album.  His health was failing as he finished writing the songs and he recorded it a few months before he did leave this earth.  He had to sit in a chair in his apartment, which was transformed into a small sound studio, to record his final verses.  In an interview about the yet to be released album Cohen said "I am ready to die.  I am not afraid".  Cohen held a strong faith in his Jewish heritage and leaned on that faith as death neared.

I have been a Leonard Cohen fan for many years.  His dark sense of humor seemed to match mine and his pessimistic outlook in the human race seemed to mirror mine as well.  His music made an impact on me that for the most part I kept to myself.  Me and Leonard.  His was the one music I really didn't share with others.  If I could write music, I would want it to be like his.  I kept his music so much to myself, that I am not sure even my wife knew who Leonard Cohen was when I informed her in my sadness that he had died.  I spent a couple of evenings with her playing some of Cohen's tunes on YOUTUBE for her.  A few of the songs she recognized from the covers that had been recorded.  It didn't take long for her to come to appreciate the talent that this man had.

"You Want It Darker" is by far his masterpiece.  The songs are honest, spiritual and looks into the dark of night with more clarity than any songwriter I have heard.  This album has a hold on me and I listen to it often.  The words speak to me and I feel like I understand them and therefore understand Cohen.  This album was Leonard Cohen telling the world "goodbye".  I am so glad he took the time to tell us that.

This is a very special recording.

 

 

 

 My dad loved music.  He loved a variety of music.  We always watched Hee-Haw and while us kids enjoyed the skits dad enjoyed the music.  Lawrence Welk was also a favorite show of his.  As he aged he developed an appreciation of classical music.  His favorite was country music though.  He taste in country ranged from Hank, Lefty and Ernest Tubb to the country crooning of Eddy Arnold, Jim Reeves, and Jimmy Dean.  Along with those staples he absolutely loved the voice of Jim Nabors.  He would play these albums when he was in the mood and I came to appreciate them as well.  I have to put an exception to that last sentence.  I could never get into Ernest Tubb.  I tried, I sincerely did.  Barb and I even took him and mom to see Mr. Tubb do a concert.  I do believe dad was the only one who truly enjoyed that evening of music.  Dad did not buy a lot of records but one year he took me out on a quest for what to him at the time was the Holy Grail.

 

The year was 1965.  Yeah, my thought is The Beatles release of Rubber Soul but for dad it was a new album by Jimmy Dean.  Jimmy Dean had a weekly variety show on television as so many other popular recording artists had.  It was Jimmy Dean's 1965 Christmas special that lit the fire under him.  On the show Mr. Dean performed a song that was on his brand new Christmas album "Jimmy Dean's Christmas Card".  The song was "Yes, Patricia, There Is A Santa Clause".  Dad immediately fell in love with the song and thus our search began.  Little did we know  what the hunt would entail.

Here is the situation.  In 1965, the recording industry was caught in the middle of mono vs. stereo records.  All music lovers were advised not to play stereo records on a mono system.  Our family record player was a "portable" mono record player that must have weighed about 50 pounds so we had to find a mono recording of the album.

 

I do not exactly know how many stores we went to or how many miles we drove that November night.  I remember it was cold.  I also remember that it seemed like every store we stopped in they either did not have the album or they only had it in a stereo format.  I am not even sure if it was a one night trip.  It feels in my memory it could have gone on for two or three evenings.  Maybe this is where I developed the habit of going into a record store and just flipping through every album bin in the store.  It seems like something my 9 year old mind might hold onto.

 

We did eventually find a mono version of the album and we listened to it a lot that year ... and the following year .... and soon it became almost a Christmas tradition in the family to listen to it.  I learned to love that album.  Jimmy Dean had a wonderful tenor voice.  The song that dad bought the album for is a wonderful story song that Jimmy talks through instead of singing.  There was another of those speaking songs called "A Cowboy's Prayer" which is a beautiful Christmas message.  The rest of the album is classic Jimmy Dean.  I loved that album.

 

Barbara and I decided one Christmas that each year we would buy a Christmas album to build up a collection to listen to during the holidays.  I usually deferred to Barb on the selection which resulted in me having to listen to every Christmas album The Carpenters recorded.  On the positive side it also resulted in getting every Christmas album Harry Connick Jr. recorded.  So it evened out.  Then came the year I stood my ground.  I wanted to get a copy of "Jimmy Dean's Christmas Card" that year.  Barbara had never heard of it and I am not sure she was very familiar with the man's music.  I insisted though and she gave in.  It was not a great adventure to find it like I had gone on with dad all those years ago but it was special.  Barbara liked it from the start.  It became part of our Christmas collection.  Actually, I sometimes listen to it outside the holidays.  It is that good of an album.  This album is listened to every year by me.  It takes me back to the dad quest, it takes me back to Christmas season with my family.  It is a reminder of how much my dad really did love music.  This is a special recording.

 

 

 There is a scene in Peter Jackson's "Get Back" documentary on The Beatles recording the LET IT BE album in which Paul McCartney is sitting at the piano while a young man who is interested in learning piano is standing next to him.  McCartney tells the young man that the thing about the piano is that every song that ever existed resides within the keys on the piano.  He is right.  I have always loved the piano because of it's versatility in making music.  You can play bass, chords, melody, the whole song in all it's parts.  It is unlike any other instrument.

In 1964, Dr. Robert Moog introduced the electronic synthesizer to the music world.  It took electronic waves and converted them into music.  It was a monster instrument standing about 6 ft tall with a keyboard and a panel of knobs and jacks that manipulated the signals to make almost any sound you wanted.  It looked like a telephone operator's station from the 50's.  The Moog was a revolutionary instrument that has progressed through the years to be the foundation for car alarms and electronic devices of all kinds today.

A mere 5 years later in 1969 a student of the synthesizer, Walter/Wendy Carlos, put his talents to the test and brought classical music into the electronic age with his album SWITCHED ON BACH.  It won the 1969 Grammy and became a huge seller.  

It is hard to describe how this album made me feel.  It would introduce me in the future to two of my keyboard heroes, Rick Wakeman and Keith Emerson, who were masters of the genre.  The beauty of Bach's music sounded brand new, modern.  It did not sound like something written so long ago.  It brought many music lovers who had ignored classical music into appreciating classical music.  It was not the first classical album I owned but was the one I listened to most.  Well, until Carlos did a follow up double album titled SWITCHED ON BRANDENBURGS in which he recorded all six of Bach's Brandenburg concertos.  But it was SWITCHED ON BACH that had the magic. This is an album that inspires a lot of imaginations from 1969 up to today.  It is beautiful.  It is fresh.  It plays as well today as it did in 1969.  This album changed the way I look and listen to classical music.  This is a special recording.

 

It was a fall evening in 1976 when our friend Mike arrived unannounced right at dinner time.  This was not an unusual event.  Often times either Larry or Mike and sometimes both would show up when Barbara was fixing a meal.  It didn't matter what time of day it would be.  For example, we might have had a busy day we didn't have dinner until 8:30 or so, but sure enough at about 8:15 they would show up just in time for a meal.  This did not bother Barbara.  She liked them a lot and use to joke about the way it seemed that they had a food radar built into their brains.

Anyway, Mike showed up this particular evening for dinner with an album in his hand.  Mike was a good guitar player and always had his guitar with him.  He would play songs in the evenings.  It was something that was relaxing and enjoyable.  Mike preferred country rock and folk music for the most part with a little bit of the new country that was beginning to emerge.  He loved music as much as I did.

The album he brought that night was Willie Nelson's "THE SOUND IN YOUR MIND" which had been released earlier that year.  At this point in my life Willie Nelson was not on my radar at all.  Willie had been writing and recording for decades.  He never broke out into the mainstream of country music though and so being raised on dad's country, I didn't know of him.  I am sure that Mike had played some of his tunes now and then but I didn't know where the songs were coming from.  Mike would just play a song and we enjoyed it.

We put the album on my stereo and sat and listened.  It is a beautiful album.  It opens with a cover of "Lucky Old Sun", which I recognized from Ray Charles.  Willie sang it differently though.  Softer and a little more emotional than Ray had recorded, which is a difficult thing to accomplish.  It then moved into a faster song, with the rest of the album being soft, thoughtful country songs.  The album ended with a medley of of three of Willies older better known songs "Funny How Time Slips Away/Crazy/ Night Life".   Willie did a beautiful cover of the old hymn "Amazing Grace" on this album.  I fell in love with it and went out the next week to get my own copy.

This album marked a changing of my country taste from my father's country to my own.  Willie was the pioneer of a new sound of country.  This album grew into a few more Willie albums and brought me to Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Merle Haggard and Tompall Glaser.  These artists became the core of my country music.  I still consider it Willie's best album, and yes I am including the classic "Red Headed Stranger" that Willie had recorded the previous year before releasing this one.  Major impact on my music life.  It is, indeed, a very special recording.

 Even though I had heard jazz for most of my life I suppose through background music on television shows, that was just what it was.  Background music.  Pleasant, nice sounding and smooth.  It was my friend Ronnie who really introduced my to actually listening to jazz.  Ronnie has as wide of musical taste as I do for the most part.  He loves music just as I do as well.  Ronnie took to listening to Bob James and had a few of his albums.  It was well polished studio jazz.  He also like progressive jazz like Weather Report.  I did get my own small collection of jazz of that style and enjoyed it a lot.  I still do.  There came a day when I discovered a second style of jazz.  It was improvisational jazz that sounded like a jam session and it was just as great as the polished jazz.

One day I was in a record store at the mall while Barbara was shopping elsewhere in the mall.  This was a thing of mine that I thoroughly enjoyed.  It worked for bookstores as well.  While in a record store I would start at one spot and start thumbing through albums.  I would flip through every album by every artist.  Probably start in the rock section, work my way through the country followed by jazz albums and finally seeing if there was something in the classical section.  I could spend hours in a record store doing this.  Every once in awhile I would come across an album that I had not seen before. and I would study the cover, reading the back of the cover to see what it was about.  Many albums came into my possession in this manner.  On this day I found myself in the jazz section when I came across what is still the most listened to jazz album in my collection.  It was a simple grayish colored album with a small ink drawing of two grand pianos in the center.  Across the top of the album in simple type were written the name of the album.  "AN EVENING WITH HERBIE HANCOCK AND CHICK COREA IN CONCERT". 

Now at that point in my life I was not too keen on live albums. I had a couple of live Albums I suppose.  I know that I did have one that I do consider one of the best live albums ever.  It was Neil Diamond's HOT AUGUST NIGHT.  A concert taped over three nights in 1972 during his "Moods" tour.  Other than that a live album didn't get much of my attention.  This album was bought solely on impulse.  These two artists were piano jazz players and I love piano.  I did not have a Herbie Hancock album at the time but I did have Chick Corea's masterpiece album MY SPANISH HEART which I  loved.  This album was totally different though.

 These two masters of the keys were on stage just the two of them and the pianos during a short tour in 1978.  No backing band of any kind.  Just two beautifully sounding pianos.  They played each others compositions together but what caught my imagination was the improvisation that they played the songs with.  It was fascinating.  The core of the songs were there, but the two of them would go off in different directions, each piano complimenting the other perfectly.  It was (and is) such a beautiful recording.  When an artist improvises, a lot of the times it feels chaotic at times only to be brought back into perfect order.  It was something that I had not noticed hearing in jazz before.  I felt more at ease with the chaos of improvisation rather than the slickness of a polished studio album.

This double record album became a watermark for me.  It was this album that opened a door to other improvisational artist in the future.  Because of this album I came to appreciate and love the recordings of Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, John Coltrane and Keith Jarrett among others.  This album gave me an almost new genre of music and also brought me to appreciate live albums like never before.  I will forever hold this album near to my heart and I consider it one of the best albums I own.  I love it.  It is an excellent recording.

 I was very careful in choosing these albums.  I did not want to just talk about my favorite albums.  If I had done that some of these albums would not be pictured here.  These had to be albums that did make a change in me as far as to how I see and listen to music that goes beyond these albums.  I tried to express how each of these impacted my life and love of music.  I am not sure I succeeded in that goal.  As I was thinking about the albums that did impact my life, I knew they would be small in number.  There should be very few that truly make an impact on your life.  These albums, every one of them did make a change in my musical taste, they opened my mind to new and different things.  All of these records are a part of the music part of my being.  I love and am thankful for each and every one of the albums and the people who introduced me to them.

BACK TO MY HOME CHURCH

 I was raised in a Southern Baptist home.  No doubt my readers are split between "Oh my..." and "Of course you were" and everything in between. It is a fact though and the church had a large influence on the person that I am today.

While I was taken to church from birth, the first church I remember attending was Ruskin Heights Baptist Church in the southern part of Kansas City, Missouri.  The church started as a Mission Annex planted and supported by Swope Park Baptist Church.  Initially it was a little 2 room wooden structure set up on, I am guessing, about 1/2 acre of land or so.  When my memory of the church comes to light they had built a three story brick building with a sanctuary not quite as big as the original Annex.  The original little Annex was still in use and had an addition built on it to double it's size.  When the brick building was built, they used the annex for Sunday School classes, Boy Scouts, and eventually a building for the Youth group in the church. The annex sat a ways away from the main church building with a little sidewalk connecting the two buildings.

It was in this church where I met some of the most influential people in my early life.  My first pastor in my memory was Dr. Loren S. Goings.  This man was so special to me.  It was under his ministry that I accepted Christ and became a Christian.  I was very young, somewhere in the range of 8 to 10 years old.  He came to the house to talk to my parents and me to be sure I understood what it meant to take this step.  Dr. Goings baptized me there.

I learned a lot in that church from the leadership and the people who led me.  My family was at the church whenever the doors were open.  I think I truly began to grow in my understanding as I entered my teenage years.  Under the tutelage of Harry Owen, Ray Jones, Dudley Barker, Diane Reynolds, Noel and Alice Shepard, and Bill and Mary Ann McConnico I grew in what I understood as right or wrong and what was expected of me as a Christian and a member of the church. 

I served on the Youth Council a couple of years and was head of the Youth Council my senior year.  The majority of my friends attended the church with me.  Now I am not saying I was an angel during my time there, far from it.  I caused a lot of trouble and headaches for the adults of the church.  I remember one Wednesday night coming into the church for services after playing some basketball in the parking lot, I came through the sanctuary casually dribbling my basketball.  I was dutifully informed that to do that was disrespectful and I should never do that.  It was reported to my parents and I never dribbled a basketball in the sanctuary again.  Little lessons like that were taught me on what seemed a weekly basis from the adults at the church.

Dr. Goings eventually retired and Dr. J.L. Wilson became my pastor.  He was a great man as well and had a great impact on my life.  I dated his daughter Debbie for awhile which was a good learning experience as well.  I learned a lot from that time with Debbie and her family and it turned out to be an important step in getting me ready for my future.

While I was there another couple joined the staff of the church.  Jerry Olthoff became our minister of music there and he brought his wife Nancy with him.  Soon after that Nancy's little sister Barbara began attending the church.  Eventually Barbara and I would start dating and be married by Dr. Wilson in that church in 1975.

Barbara and I continued to attend Ruskin Heights after we were married.  During a short period of time though things changed.  My uncle, Dr.Melvin Hill, became pastor at First Baptist Church of Grandview.  Shortly after that, Dr. Wilson left Ruskin Heights to continue his ministry elsewhere.  I hated to see Dr. Wilson leave but as it turned out, it opened a new phase in my life.  Barbara and I were not sure about who would be brought in to replace Dr. Wilson but we knew what kind of a man and pastor Dr. Hill was at Grandview.  Barbara wanted to start attending there to see if it was a good fit, but I had serious reservations about having my uncle as my pastor.  We invited Dr. Hill to the house to discuss my concerns and he more than set my mind at ease.  We began attending Grandview and eventually joined the church family there.  We left Ruskin Heights without any complaints or misgivings about that church.  We simply felt comfortable with Dr. Hill as a pastor and we felt quite at home with the people at Grandview.

Our time at First Baptist Grandview began what I consider my coming into adulthood as a Christian and a member of the church.  It was just a few years after we joined that Dr. Hill left for another position in the SBC.  The pastor that replaced my uncle also had a doctorate and was a good pastor.  He preached the gospel.  All seemed well.

Barbara and I began to get more involved in the church as adults.  Barbara started her children's choir,  we taught second graders Sunday School, and we began to make new friendships with the people there.  A new set of influences from people began to help me continue as a grew more involved.  Barbara became the leader of the Baptist Young Women's Union, something my grandmother Hill would have been proud of.  As we began to be better known we found ourselves on committees in the church from time to time.  I was part of a group of men to plan out Baptist Men's Day at the church one year and I suggested a special speaker to give the message that Sunday.  That year, on Baptist Men's Day on Sunday morning, I nervously stood in front of the church and introduced that man who had baptized me so many years before, Dr. Loren S. Goings as our speaker for the day.  It was a special moment for me.

Then the day came that would bring my maturity in the church to another level.  I was approached about becoming a deacon in the church.  I felt honored.  I felt humbled.  I was not sure if I was prepared for this step.  I took awhile. I prayed a lot.  I thought a lot.  I talked to Barbara about it.  I took it very seriously.  I had watched my father carry out his duties as a deacon.  I attended a few deacon meetings with him on youth weeks in years past.  My father was my example of what a leader in the church should be.  He was a good example.  I came to the conclusion that I was ready for this.  That I was being led to this.  That I could contribute in this role in the church.  I accepted to be vetted, tested accepted and if I made it through those steps, be ordained.  I did not take it lightly.

This would be a situation I had never seen before or since.  For some reason there were not enough men in the church that were either nominated, or accepted the nomination to fill the positions required.  When the vote for deacon that year was completed, there would be ten new deacons to be ordained in one service.  I was astounded.  This church could not get enough men to step into this role that ten new men would be required to be ordained.  That is almost half the deacon board would be freshly ordained with no previous experience.  Looking back on it now, I feel like I should have stepped aside along with a few more of the ten.  The church could go with a smaller deacon board if need be.  New deacons need to learn, to be led into this role of leadership in the church.  I didn't step aside though.  It did not cross my mind at the time.  So one Sunday, the ten of us were questioned, voted on and in the evening service that night, ordained as deacons to the church.

It got more disturbing a little later.  Once the new deacon board was installed, a new Chairman of the Deacons had to be installed.  Somehow how I was on that little committee to nominate a new chairman.  I sat down with three older deacons who I had a lot respect for and we began discussing who would be a good choice.  Names were offered up, calls were named, and declines for the position were given.  It got to the point where the three older deacons with me in this quest offered each other the position and all declined.  Then they looked at me.  Would I consider?  I did not hesitate.  I did not feel qualified.  I had just been ordained.  This was an important leadership role in the church and should be taken by a well placed deacon with experience.  Then they decided to try asking some of the new deacons if they would.  One of them accepted, and the entire deacon board voted in this newly ordained deacon as chairman.  I should have been able to read what this meant at the time.

And so I began my first true leadership role in the church.  I took it seriously as all the deacons did.  I did what was required and at times did more.  I feel I have a clear mind that I did my best.  But problems were beginning to become clear to me.

I began to notice during my first term as a deacon but it solidified during my second term.  Our pastor was a good pastor.  He was not a good leader though.  Members of the church were becoming disillusioned with things going on in the church.  Two staff members were fired during my time as a deacon.  One without any cause that I could see and the other with suspicious situations. 

I began to see the politics that are played out in the church.  I am not sure if it is normal for a church but I would like to think not.  The politics playing out at Grandview were becoming a serious problem.  Some members of the church were feeling disrespected, and rightly so. When there were situations that required discussion and discernment, if you did not agree with what was expected, you might be treated as less than a member.  Personally, I feel like it is the job of the pastor to lead through these situations and the pastor at the time was not a leader.

I began to speak out in meetings saying what I thought was right.  I was on the losing end most of the time but I tried to do what I felt was right.  It was getting frustrating.  Then the frustration became disillusionment, and from there helplessness and disappointment.    Before long Barbara and I were discussing whether we could stay at this church or not.

Then it happened. A situation arose where a person had joined the church the old fashioned way.  They come forward, ask to join, the preacher says all in favor, everyone raises their hand and the person is a member.  There was a problem though.  It is complicated and I won't go into detail here.  The church had decided that maybe they were a little hasty in allowing this person in as a member and so the rumors started and gossiping began and on and on .....

It came down to a Wednesday business meeting to vote on whether to revoke their membership or not.  It went way beyond that.  I have seen people in the church be ugly to each other before, I have seen arguments in the church, but on this night, it was way beyond what a christian discipline should be.  A certain, very vocal group of the church membership became, in my opinion, very unchristian like.  It reminded me of a scene of a village mob fixing to go up to Dr. Frankenstein's castle to burn it to the grown. and that is not an exaggeration. They were set to put people at the doors to keep this person from entering the church.  They would bar the doors before letting the person attend service.  It got uglier and uglier.  I got more irritated and disgusted the longer it went.

Finally I grabbed Barbara by the hand and we walked out.  We talked that night about the situation at the church.  It was totally out of control with no leadership that I could see.  We talked and we decided.  Our decision was based on one very important thing to us.  We agreed that nobody, absolutely nobody should be blocked from entering a church.  I don't care if you agree with their life style, their philosophy, or whatever.  We do not know what kind of situations people may be dealing with that they could use help with.  There is no reason why anybody should ever be disallowed in the church.  To me it is not right.  My mind has never wavered on that.  Bottom line is that we are all sinners, and the church is there for us sinners.  It is not for us to make a judgement on the sins of others as others should not make a judgement on mine.  It is between me and God.  The church is a body of humans who are flawed and who can help each other navigate through this world by trying to learn and follow God's word as much as possible.  The doors to a house of God is open to all.  Period.  When we left First Baptist Grandview, I made the decision that I would not serve in a leadership role of any kind in a church again.  To me it simply was not worth it.

We would not step foot in that church again except for one more time.  Years later one of Barbara's choir kids, Isaac, was getting married in the church and we went to the wedding.  Isaac was more important to the both of us than what happened years ago.  Other than that, I never darkened it's doors.

After  we left Grandview, we started going to a little church also in Grandview that one of Barbara's choir kids was the pastor of.  Keith Gibson is a good man. A good pastor.  It is a good church.  Barbara started a children's choir again and we attended regular.  The church moved a little further south  to Belton and we followed it there.  It was during this time that Barbara's health began to slip badly.  We continued to go to Keith's church until Barbara simply could not go.  It was difficult for her to get out and it was impossible for her to sit in a pew for any length of time at all.  During the time between Barbara not being able to go up until her death, Keith's church had moved even further south to Peculiar, Missouri.  I went a few times but to be honest, it was not only a long ways to go, but I didn't feel much like getting out at all after Barbara died.  Going to work was tough enough for me.

A year or so after we lost Barbara, I reacquainted myself  with an old friend who has also been widowed.  We decided to find a church together as a support for each other.  My oh my we looked for a church.  I had no idea how many churches are out there that are not a church in a biblical sense at all.  We finally found a church that was fairly good.  The plus to this church was it was only a block or so away from a Crackerbarrel Restaurant.  So breakfast followed by church.  It seemed like a good deal.

The longer I went there the more uncomfortable I felt.  It seemed to be closely tied to  Calvary Bible College in Belton and the "sermons" felt more like a classroom lecture.  The Gospel was not regularly preached.  The Salvation message was seldom preached.  It was a good group of people, but if someone came off the street looking for that "something" they would not find it there.  I began to get more and more disillusioned.

I decided possibly another church change was needed.  I tried a church in Grandview but try as I may, it just didn't feel like a good fit for me.  There were just things that they did do and things that they did not do that just made me feel like I was meant to be elsewhere.

It was at this time, just a few weeks ago that First Baptist Church of Grandview started creeping into my mind.  It had been a long time ago since that ugly business meeting.  There had been a few pastors since that time.  Most of the people that had offended my sensibilities so much were either no longer with us or had moved on to other churches.  I looked up the church on their website and started reading it.  They have a younger pastor but not REAL young, I mean he is old enough to have a doctorate and has been there for several years.  I listened to some of his sermons online.It seemed like it was the church I had left all those years ago.

So, I went one Sunday morning.  I was pleased to find a couple of our old friends there and we talked.  The pastor is a good man who preaches the Gospel as I was raised on.  Trish and Scott took me up to meet the pastor after the service and I felt very good about him.

Last week I went to a Sunday School class he was teaching and noticed how well he interacted with his parishioners.  I listened to him speak and teach the Bible and it is sound doctrine as I understand it to be.

I feel like First Baptist Grandview was my home church once upon a time.

I haven't made up my mind completely yet, but I think it might be my home church once again.  I feel good about it.  It is a comfortable fit. 

 

THE QUEEN IS DEAD : SORRY DO NOT CARE

 Queen Elizabeth II died yesterday.  Sorry but I don't really care.

I hear and read all this sorrow being expressed over her death.  What a great person she was.  How she was the People's Queen.  She was such a great leader.

Blah blah blah blah blah

Barbara had a fascination for this family.  I never understood it.  They are more of a soap opera than the Kardashians.   

When I see the British Monarchy, I see a system that mercilessly oppressed people under their rule around the globe and still do to this day.  What was the great Ghandi fighting with his peaceful protest and hunger strikes throughout his life?  The British Monarchy.  What is the turmoil in Ireland based on?  The British Monarchy.  What did the colonies in the new world fight for independence from?  The British Monarchy.

This Queen was born into her position.  She did nothing else but be born.  The Royal family thrives off the backs of the over taxed working people.  Her whole life has been supported solely by those people who really do work for a living.  Members of the Royal family are not elected, do not work their way up a social ladder.  The queen occupied basically a ceremonial position in Britain.  They have no real power.

They are simply born into a particular family and the Kingdom is laid at their feet.

To me, there is no greatness involved here.  It is simply a birthright.

I see them as almost being worshiped by the people of the world.  Dangerously close to being false idols to many people.

Have we not heard the stories of how she treated the People's Princess Diana.  Even Diana got to her position only by marrying into that family of leeches.

No, they are not special. They are not leaders. They happen to born at the right time in the right family.

Move along, nothing to see here.

SILENT FEELINGS

 This writing is of a personal nature of myself that not many people know about.  I hesitate to even write about it but seeing as I am coming up on my 66th year on this planet, I figure what the hell.  There are not many people left that I can irritate or push away by writing about it.  I doubt if I will be around much longer anyway for it to matter.  I do realize that it will sound like I am playing the victim card and most people that know me will see it as such.  That is not my intention,  I don't see myself as a victim but the things I write are intrinsically real to me.  No doubt many people will see read this and roll their eyes repeating the mantra I have heard throughout the course of my life, "Oh well, it's just Bill being Bill"  and dismiss it.  That is fine with me.  I am too old and too tired to keep defending myself and explaining myself.  It tires me and I end up being sad and alone until I correct what I have said or done to everyone's satisfaction and go back to being quiet, withholding things inside and pretend that I am who people think I should be.

I was raised to be quiet, listen and do what I am told or what was expected of me.  I was not taught to express myself.  That wasn't my job.  My job was simply to listen.   Looking back over my life there have been very few people who focused on my thoughts and feelings and intently listened to what I was saying.  Actually I can think of only three people in my life who did.

My grandfather was one of those three.  Grandpa would ask me questions about things in the world, things in life.  He wanted to know what I thought and how I felt.  True, I think his main goal in this excersize was so that he could correct me.  I knew this but the fact that he listened, actually listened to my thoughts and feelings made me open to his corrections that he gave me.  I took his words seriously.  I did not always agree with everything he espoused but I learned to listen, to hear the ideas he was expressing.  I learned from the old man that listening involved several parts to it.  To listen, to focus on what someone was saying and to try to understand what they were trying to say.  To be open minded and be willing change my thinking if I heard things that could possibly be different than my thinking but at the same time could be correct.  I learned to be willing to be wrong in my thinking and feelings and to change if I felt it was correct to do so.  My grandfather did change my thinking on some things.  Some things he did not but it wasn't because I wasn't listening to his words.  It was just that I felt that for me, my thinking was proper for me as an individual.  He was good with that result as long as I gave his words the respect they deserved and I tried to understand his feelings and thoughts.  We are all different after all and no two people think or feel the same way about anything.

 When I speak of my grandfather and the two of us talking and listening to each other most people who think of him and me talking see it as a political nature.  It wasn't.  Some of it was political but most of it was philosophy on life, faith and feelings that reside deep inside all of us.  He was a great listener and was a great one on one explainer of what was inside of him.  I learned more from him than anyone I suppose.  I learned from him to listen.  Not to listen passively but to listen and truly hear.  I never achieved the ability that he had in listening but I can say I have tried to be as good of a listener as I could.  I am what I am I suppose.

I also learned from him that it is okay to have feelings.  It is okay to show your feelings.  It is okay to have your feelings hurt, or destroyed to the point where you just cry.  Crying does not have to be external or on display but you can cry on the inside or in private.  Feelings is the core of what we are made of I think.  Our feelings determine how we think and how we express ourselves and what we believe.  When your feelings get hurt by somebody it can make you sick on the inside.  It can mess with your head.  It can really mess you up.

 I think I got a little off track talking about grandpa.  It happens when I remember him and talk about him.  I think the main point I was trying to get across was the importance of knowing how to listen to how other people feel about things that happen to them.  To try to understand how events effect a person.  To understand that we have to be careful with words and actions.  They can cause damage.  I am not very good at that.

I grew up in a good family.  My father was a great man, and my mother is a good person.  I am lucky to have the siblings that I have.   The thing about growing up in my family is probably the same thing in a lot of families I suppose.  There isn't a lot of intimacy in my relationships with them.  I do not think they really understand me, who I am, what I think and most important they don't understand my feelings.  It goes the same for my extended family.  My cousins, Aunts and Uncles do not have a clue what I am on the inside.  It seems the general rule of thumb is to not try to know me.

Yes, this is all about me.  It is about my feelings.  How I hurt.  How I feel about what I can or can't do or say.  I try not to be a selfish person but I think I am at that point in life where I can be just a little selfish.  Call me self centered, self righteous, what ever you want to call me.  Bottom line is that I have feelings and I get hurt just as everyone else does.

Before I go to far, I want to say that I do realize I have hurt many people's feelings.  Hurt them bad.  I have tried to always apologize for that when I realized that I have.  To anyone who I have done wrong, I am truly sorry.  I have a quick temper and a quicker mouth that gets away from me at times.  I know I can't take my words or actions back and make them disappear.   I would if I could.  I am human just as all of you are.

 Here's the thing.  There are times when I can express my hurt to some and it is taken as if I am attacking, when in reality I am just expressing my hurt.  I am not looking for apologies.  All I am looking for is somebody to listen to me.  Somebody to hear me.  Somebody to understand me.

It seems that when I do express things like this, I lose friends, loved ones, and nothing I can say or do can repair it.  It seems that I am not allowed to say I have been hurt.  I am expected to sit quietly and listen to the many times and ways I have hurt people and to try to make it right but keep quiet afterwards.

 I have learned to keep quiet when it comes to my feelings.  Once in awhile I break that silence and it ends in a disaster.

So I am alone.  Maybe not physically, but emotionally.  I am alone in my mind, holding everything inside, all my emotions just sitting inside not able to be released.

Yes this is a whiny writing.  Yes it is all about me.  I am human and I can be hurt too.  Nobody wants to hear that though.  Bill is supposed to be quiet about such things.  I can say this though, I get hit more than I hit back.

 SO, to everybody I have crossed by opening my mouth, I am truly and sincerely sorry.

Take care everyone.  Love you all ... some more than others.  To the friends and family that I have loss because of my mouth, so sorry.

I'll go back to keeping silent when it comes to my feelings, 

 

BARBARA ANN CLARK - THE FUNERAL

 Today marks four years since Barbara's funeral.  I have written three previous pieces about Barbara and her life but have neglected to write about her funeral service.  I think it deserves at least a small writing.

In 1981 a gentleman arrived at our house and knocked on the door.  He was from Floral Hills Funeral Home and Cemetery.  He was calling on us to talk about pre-funeral planning.  I figure the reason why we invited him in to talk to us was that we had experience with the funeral home.  Barbara's mother was buried there and my Uncle Melvin was buried there as well.  He explained that the cemetery was opening up a new section of the cemetery with a new way of parsing out the plots.  It sounded strange at the time.  Instead of Barb and me buying two plots, this new system would allow us to purchase just one.  This is the strange sounding part.  The two of us would be buried together in the single plot, one of us over the other.  The result of this new area was that while it would cost more than a single traditional plot it would be far less expensive than buying two separate plots for the two of us.  After talking with him the both of us thought it made sense and so we let him talk further into the idea of pre-funeral planning.  He talked about everything that we could set up in 1981 so that when the time came when one of us passed away everything would be paid for and available.  He left us some brochures as we asked him to let us talk it over and set an appointment for him to return to talk to us in a few days.

We did discuss planning for the future in this area of life.  We were, after all, planning for our future in almost every other area of life.  We were putting money into a 401K retirement account every paycheck.  We had purchased our house from Mr. and Mrs. Allard.  He was a teacher and coach of my sister and he coached me in football and baseball.  She had given me piano lessons for several years.  We had just finished paying the first actual new car that we had bought.  I had purchased life insurance on myself in addition to the life insurance the company offered to protect Barbara and our future child.  We also had started the process of adopting a child.  The things that this man was laying out for us seemed like the logical thing to do. We decided to follow through on the pre-funeral plan and spent the next few hours going through brochures with him.  We picked out our caskets.  We selected the marker that would be placed on our plot.  We selected and paid for the cards that would be given to those attending our funeral.  Everything was paid for except for the renting of the chapel and the opening of the grave when the time came.  Barbara thought that we may want a funeral in a church instead of at the funeral home so we left that off.  Otherwise, everything was taken care of.  Barbara was 26 and I was 25 when we bought everything that would be needed for a funeral.  In about 15 years it would all be paid for and not a worry for whatever the future held.

Now we move forward to July of 2018.  Barbara was facing a surgery that was extremely risky.  Neither of us knew what the outcome would be going into that surgery.  During the month or so before the surgery Barbara began getting things in place.  She only discussed with me what changes would need to be done to the house and our schedules when she came home from the hospital after the surgery.  We made changes in the bathroom.  She had already been forced to store her clothes on a lower plane than she use to be able to have.  The kitchen had also changed since she started getting worse.  Cabinets we not used much.  The kitchen table became her cabinets.  To me it was a disorganized mess, but to her it was what she needed and she pretty much knew where to find things.  

The night before the surgery right before I went to bed, she called me over to her chair. I sat in my chair next to her and she turned her computer towards me.

"I have something on the computer I want you know about," she said very seriously. 

 She pointed to an icon on the computer.  Underneath the icon was a single word. "If".

She tapped the computer screen with her fingernail.

"This file is for you just in case."  As she said this her eyes never left me.  She wanted to be sure I understood.

"In case of..??" I asked, with an idea of what the "in case" was.

"You'll know.  I don't want you to open it until it is time to, ok?"  She was still staring at me so seriously.  I knew exactly what she was referring to now.  "If" things did not go the way we were expecting them to. "If" she did not come home.  I promised her I would not be opening that file.  Her eyes got a little wet and she patted my hand as I gave her a kiss goodnight.

As we left the house on the morning of the 16th of July, neither of us were thinking, or at least talking about anything other than the outcome being that she would come home. As she went into surgery and we talked for the last time, kissed for the last time and expressed our love for each other the last time, the knowledge of the "If" file left my mind.  

As the week progressed and the reality of what the outcome of this week was going to be I remembered the "If" file.  I would come home to take care of Dutch and rest a little before heading back to the hospital.  During those few hours at the house I would open her computer and stare at that icon with "If" underneath it.  I did not open it though,  It wasn't time to open it yet. I would return to the hospital still holding out hope that I would not need to open it although as the week progressed it became painfully clear that I would be opening that file.

July 22, 2018.  In the morning the the nurses were checking Barbara constantly.  The ICU doctor came in more than usual checking on her.  I stepped out in the room for a second just to think and was approached by the hospital chaplain.  She talked to me a bit although I can't remember what was said.  She was basically holding out a hand to me if I needed it.  That was the day that Barbara's vitals all crashed at once and I left the room while they tried to stabilize her.  That was the moment I realized I would be opening the "If" file.

July 23, 2018. The doctor came into Barbara's room and put her hand on my shoulder.  We talked about the situation.  All that could be done had been done.  They began to take her off of life support as I gave her one last kiss.

My mind was racing as I walked out of the ICU for the last time.  I was blessed to have my sister Karen there with me, my cousin Ellen and other cousins.  Barbara was gone.  I sought out Ellen and asked her to call Floral Hills and have them start getting the paperwork for Barbara's funeral arrangements moving, which she did.  While I was phoning Barbara's sister and telling her what had happened, Ellen was getting things moving.  She came back and told me the funeral home had the files and were beginning to get things together.  It was arranged that I would go to the funeral home ... you know I can't remember if it was the next day or the day after that.  

Anyway, I got home in the afternoon of the day that Barbara passed.  My neighbors were sitting out on the front deck of the house next door waiting for news.  I talked to them and that little group remembered times with Barb with me. It was something I needed.

It was that evening when I was alone that I reluctantly turned on Barbara's computer.  I stared at the "If" icon for a few minutes before opening it.  I won't go into detail about what she had written but it was an amazing file.  She started by telling me to carry on.  She was ok now.  She told me she knew I would think I could not do it, but I had to, if anything for Brett.  She said that mine and Brett's suits were in a dry cleaning bag in the hall closet along with our white shirts.  She had Lori take them to be dry cleaned. 

She asked if I would ask Keith to do her funeral.  Keith was Keith Gibson.  He had been in Barbara's first children's choir and had grown up to be a minister.  We had started attending his church several years before and he had become the man we knew as our pastor.  She listed the music she wanted played.  One of the songs, not surprisingly, was a song I had never heard of.  Barb was much more up to date on music than I was.  When it came to music for me, it had might as well been 1974.  She also said she did not want a lot of flowers because I wouldn't know how to take care of them.  Instead, she wanted people to make donations to the Missouri Baptist Children's Home, where we had adopted Brett from.

She had everything planned out "If".  

Karen went with me and Brett to the funeral home to meet with the funeral director and make the final arrangements.  I did not have to pick out a casket.  I did not have to do much of anything.  All that hard stuff was already done and paid for.  The funeral director asked me about flowers and I told her about the children's home, but I would like a spray for the casket but I had my own florist that I was going to use.  I told her I would be using Kamp's for the spray.  She looked surprised and told me that was the the funeral homes florist.  She asked me why Kamp's and I told her about my grandfather and our family history with Mr. Kamp. So the spray for her casket came from Kamp's and that was good.

I was also instructed by the funeral director to bring some clothes for Barbara the next day.  I had no idea what to do when it came to that.  On the drive home I tried to think about outfits that Barbara liked, but how would I find them?  Would I be able to put an outfit together?  When I got home I walked back to Barb's room to start trying to put something together for her.  I walked into that room and there, laying on the bed, was an outfit laid out.  I cried at that point.  She had thought of absolutely everything.

The funeral was set for the next Saturday July 28, 2018.  Keith came over to talk to me and Brett about Barb.  He pretty well knew a lot about Barb but it was good to talk to him about her anyway.  He told me he was honored to speak at Barbara's service.  This was the first inkling of the impact that Barbara had made on people's lives.

So now the funeral, which is what this was supposed to be all about.  It was sad but good.  We had rented the big chapel at Floral Hills.  I knew Barbara had a lot of friends, classmates from high school , people she had attended church with, I just had a feeling a lot of people loved my wife and would be there.  That feeling proved out on that Saturday.

I am not a good people person.  That was Barb's job in our relationship.  she dealt with people while I just followed.  That Saturday though I had to stand there with my son and sister in law as people came to pay there respects to Barb and to offer their condolences to my little family.  It was not easy.  There were people who I knew their names but had never met.  There were people I had known through the years with Barb.  There were a lot of people.  The showing of love that people had for Barbara was ... I guess overwhelming.

They played the songs that Barb had wanted and Keith talked.  Keith talked about Barbara and how he had come to know her as an adult.  He talked of her smile and her laugh.  He talked of her impact on his family, on his children.  He talked about Barb's love for sweatshirts that had funny sayings on them that referred directly to herself.  He spoke of her impact on so many peoples lives.  He finished by telling the story of Barb's faith and how anyone could have the faith and assurance that Barb had.  He spoke the Salvation message, which I was very pleased with.  Barbara would have expected him to do no less than that.

The plot that Barb and I have is not far from the chapel at Floral Hills.  We had decided to forego using a hearse to take Barbara to the site.  Our nephews and a couple of cousins acted as pall bearers and walked next to Barbara's casket as we walked out of the chapel, across the drive and down to the grave site.  Me and Brett followed them and all of the people who had come to pay their respect for Barbara followed us.  It was special.  I think Barbara would have loved it.

At the gravesite, Keith read scripture and talked more about what death is, what it means, and what comes out through death with having faith in God and the resurrection that gives that assurance.  It was a wonderful service and I can not ever thank Keith enough for his words on that day.

After the funeral family and friends went over to my cousin Ellen's house for a dinner that would allow all of us to remember Barbara.  To laugh about things she had done, to remember her and to express how blessed we all were to have had her in our lives.

I was exhausted when I arrived home that evening.  I sat up all night thinking about our life together over those 42 years.  I thought of good times, bad times, fun times and rough times.  We had been through a lot.  For some reason she thought I was worth working hard to stay together.  I honestly do not understand that.  

In the days following the funeral, I began to adjust to my new life.  Barbara's wish for making donations to the Children's home was followed as I sent checks totaling over $500 to the organization that had given her our son.

Dit-MCO had given me as much time as I needed after Barb's death and I took that time to accept my sister Elaine's invitation to spend some quiet time in Alabama while I made mental adjustments.  Eventually I returned to Missouri and went back to work.  I began to work on starting a life without her.  For the first time in my entire life, I was living alone.

Thank you to all of you who attended and for all the prayers given during that time.  Thanks to a special set of people who gave me support during that time.  My sister Elaine and brother Bob.  My sister Karen.  Cousins Ellen, Susie, Pete, Eric, Jerry and a special friend Phil Vinyard who was there at hours early in the morning to check on me and Barbara and for being there early that last morning of Barb's life when I was feeling so helpless and alone.

Barbara showed tremendous strength and courage to prepare for whichever way the surgery went.  I will always admire her and be thankful to her for that. 

I am continuing to move forward in life without Barbara.  I still love her.  I miss her.  I always will.  But I know that Barbara would not want me to sit and fade away from life.  She said so in the "If" file.

HYMNS REVISITED

 I have been hearing and singing hymns the entirety of my memory.  These hymns that were sung out of hymnals helped form my love of music and an expression of the faith I was raised within.  The old hymns are and always will be a major part of my life.

The vast majority of hymns that I grew up learning and singing were from the Baptist Hymnal.  It was a blue canvas hardback with gold inlay on the front identifying the book as such.  From my research I believe the hymnal my church used was published in 1956, the year of my birth.  The 1956 copyright of this hymnal pretty much coincides with the creation of Ruskin Heights Baptist Church where I attended.  This was the hymnal that I was raised on.

Baptist Hymnal (1956)

I came to know this book very well.  In the back it contained  "The Church Covenant".  This covenant spelled out an oath of sorts in what the church's role was in relation to it's members and what the members role was to the church. It also had around a hundred or so responsive readings that were designed as a way for the church as a whole to read scripture together about a Biblical topic.  These were in the format of the leader reading a paragraph with the congregation responding by reading the next paragraph.

There were many hymns in this book that I don't think were ever sung by the church.  Then there were hymns that were THE hymns.  The classics.  The hymns that Christians of every protestant religion knew.  The Christmas carols and the songs for Easter that were mainly sung once a year. The hymns that had been around for a hundred years or more.  Softly and Tenderly, Sweet Hour of Prayer, Blessed Assurance and so many others.

We usually sang only three verses of a hymn for some reason.  Most hymns have four verses and a chorus.  We more often than not sang the first two verses, skipped the third and sang the fourth.  I have no idea why.  I knew this book so well I knew the number associated with the hymn.  Hymn number 188 was Amazing Grace.  Hymn number 1 was  Holy, Holy Holy and so on.  Overtime I unknowingly memorized the verses from these hymns, memorize every word and this is what I want to write about.

As I grew into my teenage years without realizing it these hymns became almost meaningless in an unconsciousness kind of way.  I knew the words.  Honestly for most of the songs we sang, the hymnal was not required.  Back in those day, they didn't have a big screen in front of the church with the words spelled out.  If you wanted to sing in church, you either knew the song, or if it was an odd song that didn't get sung very often you need to open up the hymnal.  You kind of had to make an effort in those days to know the words that were supposed to be sung.

Over the last 15 or 20 years in many churches the hymnal has disappeared.  In the modern day church the old classic hymns are not sung very often.  (As an aside, in the modern day church, most do not even have choirs, which I feel is a loss to the worship experience.)  Hymns have been replaced by "choruses".  These are modern day songs written fairly often.  They do seem to present the basic foundation for the theology of the church, but unlike the old hymns, they have not stood the test of time yet.  It is this new form of hymn that has dislodged choirs from the church being replaced by a band, for lack of a better term, consisting of whatever instruments the church members who are willing to perform can play.  Usually there is a guitar and a piano, more than likely a bass and sometimes drums are included.  The church organ is not found in these new churches and I find that very sad.  The sound of a Sunday morning organ playing old hymns resides in my mind as one of the most beautiful sounds there is.

Now the moment I experienced that brings about this writing.

The church that I now attend sings these new choruses a lot and they use the big screen in front of the church to display the words of the songs.  One thing I do appreciate about this church though is that they consistently sing one of the "old hymns" from days gone by.  Sometimes they sing two but most of the time it is a single one.  I look forward to that moment in the service when I hear the old familiar tune of a song from my entire life start to be played.  I do not have to look at the screen for the words as they are still etched in my memory and it feels like a service from long ago.

April 15, 2022 was Good Friday.  The church had a Good Friday service that night.  They have these special services every year on Christmas Eve and Good Friday.  It is a time to set aside and focus totally on the Christian meaning and significance of the holiday we are about to celebrate.

The sanctuary was darkened with the lights turned down low as the pianist played quietly in a smoothing manner.  I sat in my place on the back row as I usually do and on this night I did some deep looking into myself meditating on where life had led me over the last 65 years.  I thought about where I was in life and how I got here and the role that God had played for me during that journey.

After everyone had settled down and the sanctuary had quieted the piano came to a soft silence.  The music director stood up and and asked everyone to join him as we began our worship.  As always the words to the first song for the evening went up on the big screen.

The words were the lyrics to one of my old favorite hymns When I Survey the Wondrous Cross.  The piano began an intro to the song and the people began to sing this beautiful hymn.  For me, though, my eyes landed and stuck to that screen and the words that were on it.  Ordinarily in a case like this I would close my eyes, sway to the music and sing the words I knew oh so well.  Not that night.  I read the words for probably the first time in who knows how many years.  I put the words together in my mind and for the first time in a very long time found myself searching for the meaning of those words.  This song told a powerful message.  It was a testimonial of the faith and belief of the writer.  The writer of this hymn had given his testimony to possibly a billion people over the years.  His testimony was strong.  It was meaningful.  It set out a blueprint for how I should look at the significance of this moment,  I read each and every word of that old hymn and realized I had lost all meaning to what it was saying over the years.  This hymn, one of my childhood favorites and through the rest of my life, had become just words. The meaning of those words had faded with time.  As I re-interpreted the words and what they meant I felt a familiar feeling from my childhood when that hymn had become special to me.  I felt a lump in my throat, I felt a gratefulness and a thankfulness for the testimony that the writer was relaying and felt the old familiar meaning of it deep within myself.

That night they sang only the old hymns that I had grown up with.  I did not sing a word.  I stared at the screen during every song breaking down the meaning and the message of each of them.  They were all familiar songs from my childhood.  The Old Rugged Cross, In the Garden, Low in the Grave He Lay and with each of these songs I found the meaning and message that I had found as a child and had lost through being too familiar with the song.  The words had come back to life.  The songs re-emerged into my mind as something of the essence of my belief and my faith.

I look at that big screen at church very differently on Sunday mornings now.  I search the words to find each individual message that each song is telling.  I even do that for the choruses.

Good Friday 2022 was an eye opening experience for me.  It was one of the most important Good Friday's I have experienced.  I am so thankful for all of the songwriters who give their testimony in song to more people than they could ever possibly imagine.